Propaganda, hyperbole, Machiavelli and Bush reproduction

I'm constantly in danger of getting booted off this site, because far too often I can't help myself from calling people on their BS. To refer to them as writers is overly generous, more like purveyors of poorly conceived nonsensical rhetoric and limping propaganda, at times concealing some clandestine agenda (though often unrealized even by themselves). Anyone who reads my writing knows exactly where I stand on a number of subjects. I have no need to hide behind cleverly worded rhetorical drivel. Ask me a straight question and I'll give you a straight answer. My heartland values won't allow me to try and slip some overly stylized, cleverly worded (if not if not particularly literate) veil over my intent, feelings and ideas. Mostly I try to ignore these charlatans, but then I remember, all that is necessary for tyranny to triumph, is for good people to do nothing. Whether I am good people is debatable, but I try.

I've become accustomed to listening for those code words often woven into the tissue papers of hyperbole. Words that just kinda’ wash over you like a wave of overly homogenized milk; rather opaque and impenetrable until it's dissipation leaves you with a thin wet sheen glistening all over your consciousness, which if not quickly washed away will soon sour and harden, leaving your mind encrusted with a layer of wreaking decaying antimatter. These concentrations of pseudo-subversive ideas presenting themselves as something new (actually just the rehashing of same old crap) must at times be confronted, for my mind to find its peace. If you swim in this ocean long enough, this thirst quenching propaganda’s incredulity loses all palpability and you may be tempted to drink deep from that teat. But suckling that decaying cream leads down the path of pretense, lies and fear which so often has led to the death and destruction of innocents, and leaves me with heartburn (I've got acid reflux). Some would say this is the way of man, to destroy, and for all practical purposes this can hardly be denied. But all too often those who are mesmerized by the propaganda are those in power. And their decisions invariably lead to conflagrations involving millions when their Machiavellian tendencies emerge.

I'd rather speak for those who can't speak for themselves, the "people" (not "the folks") who do the majority of living and dying and crying in this world. Those people who go unseen and unrecognized under the noses of the movers and shakers. But without them, the wheels of this world would quickly come to a halt. My neoconservative buddies like to tell me these people provide an important service, freeing up the lives of the ruling class, providing them with leisure time so necessary for thought and reflection, thereby advancing the forces of civilization. So they believe there is a vested interest in keeping people ignorant, a large number of people in fact so that they can do what is best for all, and winter in Aruba.

Actually I think Niccolo Machiavelli must be doing back flips in his grave over how his writings have been distorted. The poor guy, all he wanted in the end was a job with the Medicis. I imagine him sitting around with Jesus as they commiserate about how it all went so terribly wrong, over cappuccinos (with double B&Bs on the side).

But I can't really fault the ultra conservatives because after all someone has to fight the evils of multiculturalism, intermarriage and Affirmative Action. But I have to draw the line when they start talking about repealing the Civil Rights Act and The Voting Rights Act (but I guess that one doesn't really matter since they've already gotten around it). Maybe we'll get the poll tax we back again. Because technically it is constitutional and why should the government pay for those expensive elections we have. Let the people who want to vote, pay for it, just like they used to. Best to get government out of everything, education, health care, incarceration, law enforcement, Social Security etc. just let those market forces take over. Let the government concentrate on wars, taking over territory and infiltrating other governments, all those social services are just draining our war machine. If you're going to be an empire, then be an empire, after all we're not the British, we are Americans we'll bring a new meaning to the word.

I was once fearful of corporation’s takeover of everything, but that's just a pipe dream, we'll do it the old-fashioned way. Just go out there and kick everybody's ass and take all their Shit, leave them sitting in a pile of mud and blood where they came from. After all, the Romans did it, dismantled the Republic and replace it with Augustus. All hail Caesar (King George), for those who are about to die we salute you. But beware the Ides of March Caesar for your Marc Anthony (Colin Powell) has quit his job in disgust. And Brutus (Cheney) doth stand too close at hand. Et tu, Dickey?

But just as those purveyors would have you believe, as long as it's done in the name of God, Jesus, Allah, America etc., you are surely on the side of right and good, no matter what you should do flying one of those banners, it is for the best. You are sure to forgiven if you are truly repentant. And if you buy that, I've got a thousand Vestal virgins who will suck your Saint Peter till you are emptied and cleansed of the last ejaculatetory remnant of mortal sin and your soul goes completely flaccid.

The idea of original sin is rather fascinating but confusing to me. It is pervasive throughout Christian thought, the belief that you were born with sin upon your head. I always wondered does this sin begin at the moment of conception. The moment when that foul hard drinking, pot smoking, coke sniffing fly-boy lothario of a spermatozoa (who for the sake of expediency I will refer to as George), burst through the virginal lipid barrier of the innocent, untouched, chased, librarian, teacher egg (who I will refer to as Laura)? Here's how I imagine their conversation

George --"Well hello little lady… Did you know I was a jet pilot...? That's right; I was a hotshot in Alabama. Fighter planes actually… almost went to Vietnam. -in that Texas drawl- I really wanted to go, even tried to get my dad to pull some strings for me, but they said I didn't have enough flight time (none actually). So I just stayed here and hung out, just waiting for you to come along darlin’. Damn you look good, like a Texas sunflower. Here, just look at my tail, you gotta have a tale like this to be a fighter pilot."

Laura --"Please, give me a break, you know how many Georges I've seen today, and they've all got the same tired line, maybe if you picked up a book once in a while we'd have something to talk about. But all you've done lately is get wasted and party with the good old boys. I can't believe you actually went to Yale. And pretending like you're not interested in having a political career, ha, when everyone knows you will. I'm hoping I'll find something better actually."

George --"Okie Doke, but don't you know who my daddy is? Don't you know we're related to the kings of England (but not the Queens, none of their good sense of course), we are destined to rule; it's built into my genetic structure. Don't you want to hook up with a meat eater? I really know how to barbecue, I am from Texas ya’ know (not really, but he is a true Texakin)."

Laura --"Oh, I can just see it now, we'll make an offspring, and I'll have to watch them on TV when they get busted for drugs, or what ever it is that you do. I don't need that drama. Just my luck you're caring all that crappy DNA." No thanks I think I'll just let you join your brothers over there. See them down there all those little Georges that got here before you, they're just too pooped to pop now. And you'll be joining them soon! When they first showed up I was a little flattered, all of them rubbing up against me wiggling their tails in my face, but after awhile it just got to be a pain, and some of them were really nasty, you wouldn't believe the stuff they said to me, talking about their barnyard sex fantasies, sheesh. So I don't think so I ain't into chickens."

George --"What's the matter with you hunn’, don't you want to be a zygote? You know what happens to spinster eggs that refuse penetration don't you? You'll get fleshed out in the next douche. So I'm guessin’ you must be a prude, too good to combine with the next president of the United States (Georgie goes for broke)."

Laura --"Yeah yeah, keep flapping your gums big boy. How is a guy who can't run a second rate baseball team going to become the most powerful leader on the planet?" -though secretly she is taken with his bravado-

George --"I know I know, I don't look too bright, but I've got a plan. I'm the man with the plan don't you see," he says puffing his cell membrane out.

Laura --"Well you are hung like a white blood cell, and I'm not getting any younger here. I guess I'll have to give in to one of you sooner or later, so bring that whip stocker over here and start priming the pump big fella. But I'll tell you right now before we go any further; I'm not making any boys. I'm not taking that chance".

Georgia --"Aw come on, I've simply gotta have another Bush to carry on the tradition."

Laura --"Sorry, I'm not helping to perpetuate some patriarchal monarchy, on this I stand as firm as the Rock of Gibraltar, so you wanna get busy or what?
-Tapping her mitochondria impatiently-

The rest of course is reproductive history.

Or possibly it's the moment of birth where sin is imprinted upon you, as your mouth and lips and penis rub so incestuously along your mother's vaginal tract, squeezing and grinding and shaking you until you are expelled from her sexual orifice. Is it any wonder that we all spend the rest of our lives trying to get back there? Or at least the heterosexuals, because the sissy boys will take no pleasure in this passage, so I guess they are relieved of that early burden of sin. For in all likelihood this will be the last time they will travel those hallowed halls. But the lesbians must also bear the same weight of sin as we boys from this act -- for they too will know the never ending hunger for coochy. Somehow it doesn't seem fair that the girls and the girls who like girls get a pass. But nobody said this sin stuff was fair.