Month: July 2016

Gun Loins and A Closed Letter To Bernie Sanders


“Even With All That Extra Overtime Training, Paul Could Not Keep His Lips Off Gun’s Smooth Steel Barrel” 2016. Acrylic on stolen paper, 15 x 22″

There is something decomposing in the neofascist state. Donald Trump will become the next President of the United States. Hillary Clinton just picked a man nobody knows for VP. Everybody  knows you Bernie, millions would run to the polls ecstatic for you, and you caved in to fear of your own newly acquired power in supporting a Clinton Dynasty during what you called an ongoing political revolution. A tiny fraction of the millions who registered Democrat will go to the polls for Clinton. Clearly, you must see this. I have little doubt that some professional outside force influenced you to endorse more of the same. The majority of your supporters wanted a King Sanders to finish the New Deal. Yes, that was dumb. Many progressives have no idea who their congressperson is. Could be a gun-lovin’, serial Christ sniffing, right-wing, pretend religious, Confederate fear-monger who loves to flag sex with a federal government that legislates cultural laws and military spending. You know this. There is precedent. Ron Paul couldn’t get Congress to change. He wanted liberty, yet instead got a bunch of tea-partying chanting bigots on parade. By abdication, you have turncoated to send a giant wave of confusion down the ranks—confusion to turn into anger and then nationwide apathy. Everything is just more cuckoo after you Bernie Sanders. You think that you can keep moral high ground with the knowledge that both Republican and Democratic nominees will kill a whole lot of tan and brown people when picked for the monster prize. Trump will egg it on in the cities at home (das Vaterland Fürher), and Clinton will give Boeing a cluster bomb boost with more Middle Eastern children’s body parts to practice with (business as usual). Both are disgusting human beings. And you claim to support one of them. What, in the name of our future, does that make you? Politics as usual. Several thousands, maybe a million, will struggle to hold tight to morality through a three month stream of media brainwashing, and cast their vote for a Gary Johnson, Jill Stein, or even neighbor Fred or Freida next door, who never in their lifetimes had anyone killed, roughed up, imprisoned, harassed, nor even purposefully embarrassed. It will be enough boost for the electoral college to choose Trump. And it is because of you—the only candidate to have a positive rating in this entire election process of insanity.

You took the fear plan, Bernie, hook, line, and Lake Champlain sinker. You fell for it so twentieth century! Jeff Bezos and the CIA won. “No Donald Trump ever!” Well, here’s a little truth. At least, as far as the law knows—Trump has never killed anyone. Clinton has voted and promoted the death of about a million human beings. Is this the game we play now to pick our Kings and Queens? Who is qualified to kill more people, to drone more babies, to threaten the use of more nuclear weapons?

“No solution is off the table. We shall use any means necessary to end the world. Thank you. Good night. Now which Secret Service gun knob can I oil?”

How presidential. Thank you for protection Mr. billionaire, Ms. grandchild hater, Mr. pretend Jewish man.

Donald is an unloved dandy. Hillary is a little girl monster who tortures mammals and lies and changes her eyes. Bernie still thinks he’s a rabble-rouser from 1968. All the young people are going to change the world and not morph into vile and disgusting careerists at the first new car smell opportunity.

After igniting a passion for cultural rebirth and national sanity, you went inside yourself like a tired and frightened old man.

Here Bernie, I want these things, to name a few, from a federal government:

Passenger trains, exceptional care for the elderly, a national health care system, General Mills burned to the ground, Keebler imprisoned, Boeing jettisoned to the moon; I want Netflix to have a flaming stick inserted colonly, schools that teach the joy of living, and streets to be named after artists and writers.

I do not want these things, to name a few, from a federal government:

100 interns per congressperson, any energy source that will blacken my kid’s lung, or potentially have her cat bear a litter of six-legged kittens. I do not want a military larger than Canada’s, an oil pipeline through Sioux territory, nor another Rupert Murdoch crotch rot Budweiser commercial.

Every federal vote I make from now on will depend on a candidate of a very similar kindred spirit. It is not up to the powerless to change the world. That is a heavy burden to bear for people who by the very reason of not being powerful, are not strong enough to restructure a nation.

But you are, or were anyway. And then you stopped.

Oh well.

Write-ins from now on.




The Past Is My Future At Walden Pond

I wrote these thoughts last July while on holiday to Maine and Massachusetts. Last night, my car was stopped in the middle of the road by a teenager bending over to show me his butt. I let him finish his act of devout humanism and drove away with only a loud, exaggerated laughter sound and an evil eye contact made. The phrase “arrogant ignorance” was on my lips for the rest of the day. I thought about an upcoming interview I did for a Moscow gallery where I am presently exhibiting work. I used the phrase “arrogant ignorance” to answer a question about American Stuckism, or lack thereof. I told the interviewer about “the song of crickets” I usually receive after posting negative, unhappy, or critical work online. Last year after posting this short essay, just one sensitive human being bothered to read it in order to like it. Or, many read it, and no one liked it.
Either way, I post it one year later to test an ongoing hypothesis—that Americans have no desire to commune, that all is surface, that critical thinking and dreaming is a dead duck to modern propriety, the latter which abides by the developing Donald Trump mantra, “Everything is keen and great as long as we masterbate”.
Also, I just like the message and think it important.
Heck, maybe many people were out that day, exercising, dining properly, ignoring children, or participating in the 10,000 things that aid in lost memory of mortality.
I’ll try again, for the sake of my sanity. Okaji is free to go for a bike ride:)

Tam and Friends

_DSC6099 Henry Thoreau checking a text.

For two years, Henry David Thoreau lived in a tiny house he built on the northern shore of Walden Pond. He was a philosopher who, like everyone else, ate and slept and voided excrement, but unlike anyone these days, drafted a life worth living to a nineteenth century humanity rife with bacteria and virus that did not play nice. In my opinion, the memory of his fingernail dirt has more value on the exchange market of a modern earth turning than the life of any president or prime minister. He could conduct a future rife with wisdom to any poor boy in America over the age of eleven wrapped up for just a day in his great coat. Thoreau— a higher prince than a modern Buddha, less of a dandy than flutey Krishna, and all the glory Jesus would have become if Texas never happened…

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The Blue Gun


From Moonlight In Groundspruce Woods


Once again I was reminded of my duty, last night, while gathering books for my daughter at the college library. I must pick the books for her schooling, because even before she was an impressionable zygote I knew it was my responsibility to introduce her into a world gone wrong. Homeschool is the only way.You can read about its wonderland later. The college library has a “teaching” materials section, and I am very fortunate to have a borrower’s card, though one must dig through the surface rot to reach the rich compost. A biography of George Washington for third graders is good for them like an LSD laced hot lunch. It is insane to prop up the individuals of the past, especially the demented kings. Once in a while I stumble upon a real winner, though. There still exist ambitious artists to create captivating text and illustration. Fortunately for our family, many sell out to the mega-billion dollar publishing industry soon after college, when their egos feel the irrepressible urge to pass the tests of American business success. The math and sciences never lack in colorful and intelligent teaching aids hot off the press. Good spelling and grammar are found in beautifully written literature “for children.” A few of these books read aloud each week have built an appreciation for language and expression that could never be “taught” by close to well-meaning elementary school teachers with pedagogic certificates and master’s degrees.

On this night I stumbled upon yet another reminder that homeschooling is the best choice for parents in a comfortable economy. It was a book depicting the lives and efforts of about 25 people who were murdered during their struggle for civil rights. Each year was dedicated to one of these real heroes. The author included detailed backgrounds of the sacrificial lambs with lots of pictures per page and official reaction from local, state and federal governments. The same old story of a young boy being shot in the face for the crime of rudeness. Some baby girls dismembered in church for praying to a dark skinned god. Full, detailed accounts of the horror and injustice of that turbulent time. It would take at least a couple of months to complete the book in a classroom setting.

Yet it would inspire just what the assimilators fear the most: a new majority of angry citizens. Several subjects could be cross taught using the reader. Subtraction and logic: Forty negros get onto a bus. Thirty-seven walk off alive. The police arrest nobody, the governor nods, and the President sneaks a parfait into Marilyn Monroe’s bed. Therefore, how many honest and good people fill positions of power? Science and government: Genetically, every human being on the planet can trace their roots to specific peoples of Central Africa. So when little Johnny pledges allegiance to the flag, he’s actually promising to defend the same institution of cowards and criminals who enabled or participated in the lynching of his ancestral brethren. History and Citizenship: In the Western Hemisphere more cultural time has passed under the presence of slavery than during its absence. 360 years of shackles, chains, whippings, and crying rapes outdate the outlawing of legalized brutality by over a two to one ratio. Every light-skinned boy and girl in America today has Thanksgiving dinner with some bigoted moron relative who would like to see the dark skins brought down by any means possible, (and vice-versa, I assume). This is the cultural reality of the present which only a true sense of history can teach. So when the light-skinned fireman dies off the job in a helmet-less ATV crash, little Johnny and Julie can practice good citizenship by stoning the magnificent firetruck funeral procession, brought to them by the racist, tax-paying grown-up fearmongers in their lives. The latter think a dead firemen is a hero even if he doesn’t die in a fire.

It can’t be helped. They learned in elementary school that once there was slavery, now there is not, so everything’s a-ok. Justice, compassion and even intelligence were never prerequisites for success in a culture of oppression. Especially for those on the right side of skin color. We need books like this brought into every school, if the powers that be truly desire a national identity. I don’t think they do. I think they want baseball fan delivery truck drivers, “Dancing With The Stars” dollar store clerks, a whole population of eyes and ears to aid in the advancement of marketing and advertising. The wizened kids make for rotten fascists. I believe that the educational landscape will not change without a national catastrophe. And the few outlaw parents who are raising children to think for themselves are probably building a new intellectual class that will not benefit at all in a race between nature’s revenge and the greed of the powerful few.

Stalin and Hitler were not very friendly to people with the most electrically active synapses. More sneaky power-ogres, like Woodrow Wilson and William Clinton, supported the stupidity of a national education to do their dirty work. Jingoism and cultural retardation cannot have generational support when all the children are taught out of love to direct their anger upon the guilty. Now who’s guilty?

Read a book on the civil rights struggles of the 20th century. Or salute your local dead fireman while the state force feeds a processed and packaged education to your progeny. It needs a ready supply of morons to fuel the ignorance fires of the future.

Our Ancestors Would Whip-Finger Noose, Then Drag the Avarice Nurtured Today


2012. Acrylic on press-cleaning sheet, 15 x 7″

Politically, my countrymen adamantly hover atop the cracks in the facade. There is less of a superpower here than a loony one with big stupid guns. Culture however, has already fallen, and visibly smashed itself on the ground floor. Arrogant ignoramuses scorn intellectualism, artists are reduced to begging their neighbors, poets have perfected writing on every emotion excepting “hate for a change”, where an overall live and let live philosophy has warped into a “I am so afraid of you that my eyes hurt” kind of fear that has everyone scuttling back to their shelters like terrified crumb stuffed-cheek grubbing chipmunks.

My country of mind-disabled men and women is mostly an unhappy place of unbearably disgusting one-upmanship.

Which is a shame since Noam Chomsky continues to declare this United States the freest place to live on earth.

Noam lives inside his own sticky bubble. One tends to lean cognitively dissonant when a highly endowed university supports your genius forever. Yes, we are free, to conform. We are free to say mean things about plutocrats or welfare recipients. A man here is both toddler and doting parents to himself, put on the couch each night, his free speech zone, to marvel at dross and yearn for longer life without living. The plumber is free to read a book on psychology, to instruct his children on mathematics, to wine and dine romantic love until the end of his time, but he does none of these things unless Hollywood or The New York Times or the NRA tells him that now it is time to think about the joy of living beyond his next purchase.

And that time never comes. Philosophy is the weaker enemy of propaganda. And propaganda, like the U.S. military, never had any intention, post WWII, of picking on anything its own size.

July 4 is Independence Day. Read the Declaration of Independence. Obviously not such an oppressive government lover, that wily Tom Jefferson. Tough words from a guy who enslaved women to have sex with them, and later helped ratify a constitution that declared Tom the lover to be making it with a tiny three-fourths of a person.

Still, slavemaster and bigot Tom, as leader of a nation, could easily fit a Hillary Clinton/Donald Trump morality beneath his dirty pinkie nail. Moderns cannot seem to understand, Hillary Clinton hasn’t any slaves, but she (and her husband) have killed many politically incorrect, innocent brown children, and Donald Trump enslaves cheap labor around the globe in order to construct more triglycerides about his midriff—both have no existential problem with the existence of Fruity Pebbles® or nuclear missiles, and both are truly disgusting human beings.

Read the Declaration of Independence, and think on why Americans have no intention of taking on a corrupt government ever again.

My take on the reason for communal mass cowardice? A majority of people (always myself included) are getting paid. Pringles® still line precious supermarket shelf space, and all Americans have allowed themselves reduced to three-fourths of a person or less. However, trumping these depressing observations, is the sad truth that most are about as deeply curious for their children’s future as pickles on smeared hot dog plates.