oh boy. i was ready to go off and draw parallels between lewis carroll’s work and the united states government’s three chambers of madness.
i have since decided to say, “fuck it,” with a low-degree of wiseassness to offer on the matter. anyone can see it. i don’t have to connect any dots.
i can only move forward on that shit when i’m gregariously witty or chock-full of coffee.
i don’t doubt i’ll walk this road again, venting impotently-opinionated yammerings about politics on stupid, pointless wars run by criminals for criminals about criminals, but not today and hopefully not tomorrow.
let me say this and let it go:
STOP THE WARS
i’ll probably make it part of my shtick and blurt it out like i’m suffering from a politically-driven form of tourettes.
but i digress….
when you know that it’s – in the end – about intergalactic farming, what can you really say?
what do you say when a planet of lizards, one mighty step above humanity in the milky way, call their gastronomic AND our economic shots, based on the most basic of rules best put into words by ginger rogers who said, “a girl’s gotta eat.”
fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly…and lizards gotta grift.
imagine being at the whim of a host of greedy, mindless buffoons who have no sense of right or wrong any longer, like common sense was distracted by something shiny. those martian lizards know their business and consequently, their feasts are epicurean wonderlands – if you’re into that kind of thing – where their properly-stuffed charges are fed the finest of everything, propped-up with promises of economic invincibility and outright arrogance. the link above is almost three years old and it’s like i wrote it yesterday, that’s how little things have changed.
that is unless if, “worse” of the same counts.
let me return to ginger rogers in my black and white world..
i thought of ginger because the film “stage door” appeared on turner classic movies again.
they were celebrating lucille ball’s hundredth birthday by showing her history in film.
she had a medium-sized part in the this film and to use the lexicon of the day (1937), lucy was “quite a dish.”
from this black and white i went to another one……
i gathered maxx and headed out to gateway national park.
i planned this a few days earlier, mainly as a promise to my dog.
i make promises to people, animals and assorted inanimate objects. i always did and always will.
i do my best to keep these promises.
i thought of these things when i drove over the marine parkway gil hodges memorial bridge.
i decided, instead of driving to the fishermans’ parking lot (where i met the grifting lizard guy – the one who looks like omar sharif and sounds like eduardo ciannelli four years ago, as well as the park policeman who, last week, asked me if i had any drugs), to double back and park at the side of the beach where the three-par golf course is located.
walking toward the sound of water crashing on the shore, i turned back and took this photo.
somewhere in the lighted area is where i parked the car.
as i looked at the receding patch of light, i thought of it as a painting on a large, black wall.
that’s sort-of like it, maybe.
the portraits in my head are always better.
we walked ahead.
the semi-cool, off-shore breeze seemed a little waterlogged. looking left, my eyes captured four lights illuminating the final stretch of the beach’s cement walk….
taking this photo, i thought about how little i’ve been using the camera and when i did, how it’s always been at night.
i also recalled sitting somewhere amid these four lights. years ago i sat in a beach chair under a cement overhang and watched an extraordinary lightning storm followed by blinding rain.
there was a smattering of humanity on and around the beach that day and i came to the consensus that we were feeling like a humanity of the ilk who build houses next to volcanoes.
this moment came and went.
i laughed out loud and maxx jumped up, taking my right forearm into his powerful jaws and biting into my arm.
he does this when he’s pleased or excited.
now i think it’s his way of laughing with me.
the last time here, i was writing extended paragraphs to my dearest friend, 160 characters at a time, trying to simulate e-mail. she doesn’t consult her computer any longer, i’m sure of it.
as i walked onto the sand, i could see white, churning water and hear the smack of waves on the shore. high tide. reaching the wet sands, i turned west toward fort tilden, walking about a quarter-mile.
all-at-once i stripped down, jammed my clothes into my record bag and hung it on a wooden post buried in the sand. calling maxx, i turned and ran to the ocean, diving into an incoming wave, my stomach skimming an ocean floor of seashells. coming up from under, i was pelted by a series of waves that sent me shoreward. i rode one in and looked around for maxx. he was comfortably placed on the sands around the wooden post where my bag was. as i approached him, he got up and began to dig into the sand, throwing clumps and sprays into the air, some of it finding its way into my bag over three feet in the air.
he’s got great aim.
is this a good place for political thought?
out here, in a place reserved for love and serenity?
i delineated these thoughts;
we’re living in a country where a portion of it really hates the black guy in the white house.
the black guy in the white house thinks like a cross between the president jack nicholson character and the pierce brosnan character in mars attacks…the trailer for the film is perfect for putting american thought into perspective and i don’t think i need to explain it;
so, here i was at 11:30 at night, alone on a beach, thinking this nonsense. given the option of considering my dearest friend, the one who always gets a moment or two here, i wondered what makes me tick better – sadness or despair – and quickly decided neither.
this is idle chatter. i mean none of it.
my only wishes concerning how i feel about these matters are;
1 – politics – that someone smack the president across the face and holler, “wake up – they hate you and never want to be your friend, not even for a minute. they mock you and call you all sorts of names behind your back and some of them do it even to your face.”
2 – my friend – morphine and love.
i googled “morphine and love” and there is not yet a song by that name. i call “dibs” on that song title.
i’ll get on it right away.
oh, and that deck of cards thing;
because of all those umbo boxes spurting out all those numbers everywhere, all over the place, this is what i propose –
double or nothing.
e.g. – greece goes to the EU and let’s say they owe them 130 billion dollars. they cut the cards and if greece has the high card, the debt is eliminated. if they have the low card, they cut the cards again until they win.
then ireland, italy, spain and everyone else does it.
in america, we can play it with ourselves. i guarantee we’ll win. we’re america, we always win, right?
in a matter of a week, everyone will be winners, everyone’s slate will be clean, everyone’s books will be balanced.
it’s pretty-much what we did a few years ago and it’s what the teabag-republicans were pushing for all through the debt ceiling debate.
got it covered.
“ok,” i thought to myself gathering my stuff and my maxx, walking eastward, back toward riis park and my car…, “fixed those little problems.”