My Congressman’s Last Town Hall


My Congressman’s Last Town Hall 2018. Acrylic on cardboard, 22 x 28″

The original title to the post was “The End of Wussy Psychosis”. After some thought I changed it, knowing the many nice people on earth who would balk at content with a title like that. The wussies are the scaredy-cat mentally disturbed who possess these semi-automatic infant pacifiers to protect themselves from everything gentle and alive surrounding them, and also that big sky which is bound to fall at any moment in their minds.

It is an anecdotal fact that adult children who possess these people killing shoot-shoots have no sense of irony, and are without the curiosity that forgives children wayward thinking. I posted this painting on Instagram with my usual hashtags dealing with art and paintings, and added embellishments such as #nra #nrawussies #suzieskirtnra #abnormalpsychology, and #babieswithguns. And wouldn’t you know it! I received several likes from suspect psychopaths on social media about the country and world (most likely country). Suspect because their Instagram icon was either an American flag, or one of those child-murdering beauties that Congressman Katko (NY-24) is posing with at the town hall in the painting above. So I go to their pages to confirm identities, and yes, plain as day to any psychiatrist or FBI agent with a trained eye—psychotic behavior with over 50 images to prove it. From crazypants Code-xyz, and his deepthroat image love affair of Jesus holding an AR-15, to USAsexysuzy in a thong firing the same model at pretend human targets beneath the great blue sky in the Arizona desert.

What the hell is wrong with these people’s minds, (and there were plenty more), to be so damn afraid of their own shadows? Maybe because their shadows are black? Does their chicken little terror prevent them from seeing the painting and sensing perhaps the opposite of love for the big metal penises they sleep with at night? Just a pinprick of confusion, and one would think USAsexysuzie might peek at the hashtags and see #nrawussies and think twice about “liking” the post of the gentleman poet who paints. Especially if the latter is convinced that USAsexysuzie is three Walmart® trips away from mowing down kids playing in the park, or hating 75 more liberals enough to kill them with guns and ammo legally supplied by my supersexy NRA wussy Congressman at the town hall.

Which brings me to the true meaning of the painting.

Congressman John Katko (NY-24) is charged in my morality with conspiring and aiding and abetting a domestic terrorist organization. No, no, no sillies—not the Sierra Club! Yes, those nature rats can get pretty dangerous walkin’ and talkin’ tough, shouldering their automatic seedlings and wilderness preservations. Danger, danger, I know. However, the Sierra Club has not lobbied to kill children in a school for over a century at least. Yet the NRA has. And if it takes an army of neurosurgeons to lobotomize the violent psychosis in the disturbed minds of USAsexysuzy and Congressman John Katko (NY-24) , then so be it. New Congresspeople can write up those necessary bills.

Now, in all seriousness, my representative John Katko (NY-24) has taken money from the NRA, a domestic terrorist organization. I don’t need the divisive FBI to declare its lobbyists in Washington a terrorist cell. If the typical agent can’t scroll an Instagram feed with the hashtag “nra” and find over a hundred terrorism leads a night, from crazy folk espousing the virtues of their leader organization, then said FBI agent is not doing her job. After the blocked seventh psychopath, I knew there was something very wrong in the state of the United States.

First and foremost, we need to state the obvious and no longer allow for obfuscation. Here:

The NRA, via the United States Senate and Congress, is a  domestic terrorist organization. Those in government who accept monies and/or give support to a lobby that promotes weapons access to domestic terrorists, are themselves aiding and abetting said domestic terrorism.

Meanwhile, duck when you see a pick up truck. You just never know, right?

Thanks John Katko (NY-24), for the out-the-door and anywhere terrorism on our streets and schools. I am so proud of your psychotic leadership!



The Problem With Politics Is Gossip, Not Feeling, Which is Art and Literature


“My Teeth Overhear Their Fate at the Periodontist” 2015. Acrylic on canvas, 20 x 16″

The Twitter editor of Empty Mirror, an online weekly literary journal, tweeted this on February 5, 2018: “Cleaned a bunch of the political stuff out of my feeds and I feel so much better.”

And that was that. Contemporary literature died. The people who came to read about the dead Beat poets, or dead Henry Miller, or perhaps dead political screamer George Orwell, found a zone free of annoying, present-day political matters, such as nuclear proliferation, Syrian refugees, or the coming environmental catastrophe that even the dinosaurs wouldn’t get the chills to witness imaginatively. The editor freed his or her feed from U.S. politics that, since WWII, have ballooned, by the breath of a mighty superpower, to lord over all life on earth and atmosphere.

Hurray. At Empty Mirror we can adorn our meditative consciousness with the fineries of life brought to us by writers of the past. Or, at times, click into some present day, university graduate’s careful art to keep our precious, unearned joys leagues away from dirty politics.

Here is what I say: There is no literature or art without politics and philosophy. Everything good that came before (in modern times) has been provided by super sensitive people reacting to the political environment of their day.

Writers and painters today have a slick, state of the “art” smartphone and a two-year contract with a corrupt and very political corporation.

Enough said.

Unart comes from comfort. Ask any artist alive today, if you are able to find one on or offline.

Those who do not want their minds sullied can clean their Twitter feeds or react like Barbara Bush when asked about her son’s philosophy of having other people’s children’s legs blown off by Empty Mirror’s tax contribution to American politics:

“Why should we hear about body bags and deaths? It’s not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that?”

Perhaps the editor of Empty Mirror, who no doubt is a kind and sensitive person, views art and artist how another editor of a garage press reacted to my efforts on what turned out to be the last time I tried to get an unartist to recognize a work of art.

From Just Another Stuckist in Oswego:

I have theories about this starving artist dilemma. Many spring from the field of social psychology. Here is one:

None of us are any good until many of us say that some of us are.

Each failed writer or painter needs, more than talent, a promoter with Biblical outreach. If Beyoncé (accent on the e) wore the teeth image (painting above) to don her Super Bowl outfit, I would be rich and known richly by morning. Target® would call for a wall hanging product line, and the New York Times would best seller me. If Oprah got caught reading less trite and inane crap, maybe some of you talented writers could afford rent as well as dinner, and miraculously the Media-CIA Industrial Complex would suffer sinking ratings of its perpetually popular “Let’s Dumb Down America Now!”.

All fine literature, music, and art is relegated to obscurity if not considered salable by a connected media entity. Here is a rejection from a book publisher I received a couple weeks ago, followed by a quote from Henry Miller who wrote meaningful desk chair philosophy at a time when art was the artist, and not bullhorn announcements from high-rise promoters about the “state of the art money”.

You do seem passionate and, as you wrote, “determined,” so I’m sure this won’t stop you at all from continuing your search for a publisher. I would like to suggest you consider self-publishing this manuscript. Just from reading the first sample parts you sent me I can tell you it’s going to be a very difficult sell to any indie press. Forget about even going to the majors via a literary agent. It occupies too much head space, in my opinion, and while that’s not a bad thing at all for some readers who enjoy that sort of thing, commercially this would be extremely difficult to convince anyone to spend any money on reading your words. Even if you have some clout due to your painting, it is pretty thick stuff to get into and stay into. I don’t mean this to sound mean at all. I just feel that this is the kind of book that may have a life as a self-published work. Save yourself the time and trouble of querying anyone else and publish it yourself, then I would suggest perhaps focus more on the marketing end of the book rather than getting one of us snobby publishers to approve it lol. I hope you’ll agree.

A nice, honest rejection. I agree with him. I prefer to self-publish. But to make me a marketer of my own work is like asking a corn farmer to peddle boil-in-a-bag on the street corner. Doomed to failure before the manure is spread.

My reply:

Thank you for a fast response and helpful criticism. Self publishing is the right way to go. Whitman peddled “Leaves of Grass” door-to-door, and look where that got him! No one then (or today) would publish Whitman’s work to make a living, yet countless entities do exactly that today. For me, it has become some personal badge of honor to be an unread writer in the 21st century. Like threshing wheat over a storm water grate. Very nothing, and yet some thing very good too.

Just doesn’t pay the bills.

Here is Henry Miller:

Most of the young men of talent whom I have met in this country give one the impression of being somewhat demented. Why shouldn’t they?  They are living amidst spiritual gorillas, living with food and drink maniacs, success mongers, gadget innovators, publicity hounds. God, if I were a young man today, if I were faced with a world such as we have created, I would blow my brains out. Or, perhaps like Socrates, I would walk into the market place and spill my seed on the ground. I would certainly never think to write a book or paint a picture or compose a piece of music. For whom? Who beside a handful of desperate souls can recognize a work of art? What can you do with yourself if your life is dedicated to beauty? Do you want to face the prospect of spending the rest of your life in a straight-jacket?

I suggest all writers to read Miller, as Miller wanted to be read. Read me first. He’d dead. And I could use an art-paid-for loaf of bread.

Empty Mirror should understand this age old dilemma if it wishes to represent the greats of modern literature. Allen Ginsberg was not apolitical. He was politically agitated, turning his private anger into digestible, public art. Henry Miller, Jack Kerouac, any literary celebrity of the past whom we prop up today was, while living, a rabid politico or shoot-from-the-hip philosopher.

I believe the editor of Empty Mirror is probably sick of the political gossip he/she sees and hears, rather than politics as they pertain to the present and future machinations of the human race. The former is a game played online by bored and unfulfilled human beings—a kind of collective in-group solitaire to stave off the agony of emptiness which fills up in those people who are unable to express or seek art and literature to comfort them in difficult times.

However, I hope Empty Mirror can see that it wouldn’t have a platform to stand on if it were not for politics of the past which goaded so many artists to react to a world gone wrong, in their time. Reaction to the insanity of world wars, nuclear weapons, the devil in capitalism, religion’s vice-grip, ignorance and fear of the masses, etc., were not deletable on the intellectual browsers for most of the 20th century.

It’s good to kill the gossip, but don’t ever lose the politics. So many people suffered angling you, dear Empty Mirror Twitter editor, toward an easier life. If you want to understand art and artist, never become a Barbara Bush, who just closes the door to the ugly which we all are until the time when we are not.

Enter the reactionary writer and artist of today who would become known tomorrow if editors and gallerists were less apolitical gatekeepers, and more sensitive to the needs of those who express the culture freely.

Welcome the politics, Empty Mirror Twitter editor, yet seek the artist who can turn the lack of generational courage into a work of art.

¡Viva el politics in art!


My Countrypeople of Stupid

sweetheart skull

Midwest Beauty Posing With Jap Skull Sent By Beaux in Philippines 2013. Acrylic on press cleaning sheet, 17 x 9″

Mainstream Democrats and Republicans are 30 weeks or days away from imitating the 1940’s Life Magazine photo spread of the sweetheart from Nebraska posing with her polished “Jap” skull sent by her beaux stationed in the Philippines. I have experienced this stupid before when trying to argue any point with teenaged potheads (I was a young philosopher-in-training among drug dealers in junior high). They just don’t have room in their brains for reason. Everyone is the enemy or everyone a friend, depending on the high, and if there’s a promise to pizza before bedtime.

Adult and lightly educated Americans are losing their tops over the existence of a billionaire ignoramus for president. In the process they are posturing themselves lower than the meanest celebrity politician to rise to power since Ronald Reagan. People who dreamed themselves representatives of “the left”, are acting more “right” than a paranoid J.Edgar Hoover. And the pretend “right” is acting left sometimes, if their rich owners tell them to, yet still remain just as upright and sociopath as yesterday’s “shock and awe” of light brown children.

The present day Republicans are many second generation bigoted Dixiecrat sympathizers who jumped ship in 1964 when civil rights legislation was just too much trouble for white people afraid of black people. They had no place to go but to the business party, else drown in a sea of obscurity, admitting the U.S. of nuclear insanity a facsimile of its Soviet lover’s one-party system.

At least the first generation owned its bigotry proudly via excellent TV footage of police dogs and fire hoses.

And ethnocentrism (a natural offshoot of prejudice in any weak brain) has come to be expected from these angry faux-Christians of Confederate longings. President Ike Eisenhower saw the great nasties of man war, which made him a powerful bigot. Kennedy was a super bigot too, but he looked attractive enough to let his wife adorn fashion magazines, so all was right with the world while the U.S. blockaded the Cuban people from pursuing freedom and happiness. “Blockade” is elite speak for the phrase “punish the poor and proud, to death if need be”.

I guess Democrats were idiots too 50 years ago. However, being the “opposition” party meant disguising true evil intentions with fine and polished “doublespeak”. Otherwise time would catch on that post nuclear America has since been a one party system, with fringes of sanity circling the periphery of Wall Street and Pentagon politics, plying a loose skepticism (built on obeyance and fear) among the general public. No matter that a few million Koreans, Cambodians, Vietnamese, El Salvadorans, Iraqis, Afghanis, Libyans, Syrians, Yemenis, and Somalians killed in the name of sirloin steak and warm cornbread for the “Commander of Death” in charge, even when the “kinder, gentler” boss was so sane a democrat Lyndon Johnson, Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and Barack “the deporter” Obama.

I am living in a time when Twitter® gives ordinary friends and parents of children a platform to practically beg their government to commit high crimes to innocent people of other nations (Russia sanctions). Who cares what economic sanctions look like when applied to vulnerable populations—their candidate lost and she must be vindicated! Else democracy is destroyed, even while the 20 richest people on earth continue their control of half the human population’s total wealth. Hurray! Extended genocide, and our candidate wins!

It’s living crazy, politics in America.

I’ll just keep painting and watch while my comrades lick the boots of the wealthy political classes. I have watched gentle people become quickly rabid when pressed by bad systems. Gentle, well fed people, don’t seem to know what to do with their boredom besides fear strangers in another nation enough to punish them their KGB king.

The simple truth is this: Extremists are killers with eyes wide open. Moderates are super-killers, afraid of losing their paychecks.

And people like me?

Moralists in a moral-less land.

Dust off the shelves for the foreign skulls, gentle bigot sweethearts of the next war. Make room for your own too! There’s no escape when the atom splits.


Dear Economists, I’d Like To Know How This Thing Got To Control All of Mankind’s Arbitrary Wealth


2015. Acrylic on paper, 15 x 21″

The greatest poindexters of money science cannot explain this phenomenon. Everyone is confused. Even the President of the Kansas City Fed can’t explain what the heck is going on. She knows Janet Yellen has a string of lunch dates scheduled each business day far into the new year, and in closed Fed circles, is known to screw up the 20% tip nearly every time.

How has history led us to a cabal of black magic money manipulators? Especially in this age, when even small children know that our coinage is pretend. A couple nights ago I traded a painting for an electronic gizmo that can turn a banana into a keyboard space bar. I never once thought of the little, old magic lady in the painting allowing for me the opportunity to engage in trade. Where was she a 104 years ago? Geeze, Edison invented electric light, got rich, and touted American ingenuity without Fed Chair approval. America had factories, automobiles, airplanes, butternut squash, and children that still played with neighbor children on the street. Even lasagna was ready to become popular nationwide. Where the hell were these old bozos then bossing the earth around with interest rates and secret billion dollar loans? The text in the painting comes out of her high school yearbook. It appears she didn’t even like money. Psychology club, the editor of the school newspaper… What was the “Great White Father”? Scary stuff. Though certainly not money love.

The one glimpse of her future I ascertain from the yearbook accolades comes from her membership in psychology club. I have been studying social psychology of late, and read about a study performed on Nazi doctors who got to pick out those who would die for Hitler’s Final Solution. The author of the study found three types of doctor personalities which identified their acumen in a system that already institutionalized evil. There was the sadistic doctor who liked it a lot, a doctor who went “by the book”, following orders without a visible care, and finally the doctor who didn’t appreciate the process at all, but reluctantly agreed to appoint children to the gas stations because society told him that this was the thing to do to keep society in tact.

It is not difficult for a clown-around American like myself to understand how any single human being, once the editor of a school newspaper and member in the Minuteman club, rises to a station of life where all of earth’s trade more or less is directed by her liver-spotted hand. Not difficult at all, given its probable psychological reasons. We, that is, all homo sapiens of earth, are the Nazi doctors’ nurses, orderlies, and candy stripers performing an institutionalized evil with polished éclat. We don’t just look at the thing and declare, “This is wrong! This cannot be!”. No. We help carry out the financial evil by forces we like to think are under our control, but never ever are.

I just went to Ms. Yellen’s credential sheet on the Federal Reserve website telling us all is right with the world, so shut up, and go back to work, Mr. and Ms. Current Employment Statistic! Anyway, she has quite an impressive climb through the best institutions money can buy. Brown, Yale, Berkley… The Nazi doctors went to college too. They became doctors. And all of Germany helped them with the mass murder of their neighbors and friends.

Are there no economists out there to explain this phenomenon? So many colleges! So many economists! I believe the problem is one of status, and a majority wanting to look in a mirror and see Paul Krugman. Of course this is a very slow pathway to lessening  inequality. Those doctors in Nazi Germany got paychecks too, and all was fine and good until it wasn’t.

So once again, a challenge to economists everywhere. How does Janet Yellen and the Federal Reserve provide work for my wife, an education for my daughters, and a poorly kept basement studio for yours truly? Show the painter his monumental ignorance if it will make me nearly as money smart as the least one of you. I for one am thoroughly exhausted watching lessor men and women like Greenspan, Bernanke and Yellen achieve monumental human control because of Nazi doctors like yourselves.

Perhaps a Nuremburg awaits these kings and queens of finance, their multitude of sycophants, court jesters and ignorant congresses.

Probably not, as long as their smoke and mirrors keep our puppy bowls full of what is supposed to be yummy.

Seven Dingleberries Judging a Fool

2016. Acrylic on paper, 22 x 15″

From December, 2016.

I hate the word too. It makes me cringe. Certain words do that to me. Maybe I am grossly synesthesiac. I get a physical reaction to the utterance of some off color words. “Chunk” has the same effect. My muscles tighten. I visualize the word as a big square box and myself pushing it away. My sister and I made up a word when I was nine. “Balooka”. We were saying it all day long and that night my grandfather died. It was then I understood that words have power. A lot of power. A single word killed my grandfather. I imagined the awesome effect of whole phrases let loose on a population.

And day after day, all over the world, bad words are uttered carelessly. Innocent people suffer. Somalia could become a safe and happy land if wrong words were outlawed. “Boeing”, or “army” would be a start. Eliminate “general” from the vocabulary and local children will one day enjoy a worry-free ice cream cone on Secondo Lido Beach. Take out “warlord”, and not only do mothers look forward to motherhood, but some arrogant, ethnocentric English or American journalist gets his mouth washed out with soap.

Last night on the radio before Barack Obama spoke about why being a U.S. President is hard work killing people for the Pentagon, an NPR reporter named three nations’ governments: Russia, Iran, and then, with mention of Syria, spoke the word “regime” in place of “government”. Ah! There it is! Another word to make me cringe. I have been pushing that big box away ever since George W. Bush began his campaign to shrapnel embed every Iraqi child north of Basra that his toy night vision goggles could spy pleading for mercy.

Now “regime” is a perfectly normal word, unlike “dingleberry”. However I believe the press as well as the President know its cringing power over Americans. We have heard its negative connotation more times than the people of North Korea have heard their equally powerful word “leader” spoken of in the positive.

I believe for the majority of people, words, even bad words, spoken over and over, can eliminate the initial cringing effect over time. Hence North Korea, and the dribbling idiocy of its people. And also America, where HBO and Donald Trump have made the word “pussy” as commonplace as “shit”—two words that I believe should be kept under one’s breath while scolding your cat for having her “diarrhea” miss the litter box. Those words make me cringe. One is a cat. One is so obvious and therefore unnecessary to talk about, and the last, in my mind, reveals the image of U.S. Civil War prisoners in Andersonville lined up on a plank suffering their dysentery onto the Georgia sand.

Finally, this week I have heard the word “homeland” uttered twice on the radio. Our executive leader in Washington thinks Americans are losing faith in their government because of “partisanship”—another nasty word. Maybe for some. Especially the behavioral wanna-be North Koreans. Not for me though.  “Homeland” is the big white box I am pushing away and away. In it are all the foul-mouthed fascist lawyers pontificating an unlearned patriotism, agreeing on the common usage of more cringing words to aid an American regime in the further dissolution of a peaceful humankind.

NPR, my government radio station, likes to use the word “homeland”. Nazi radio used “Vaterland”. Both have already amounted to the same thing. Hitler and his foul-mouthed dingleberries used it to kill lots of people within old and new German borders. Likewise, our “homeland” dingleberries use it to kill lots of people outside United States borders, and set its own peoples intellectually against each other like starving rats in a cage.

Some words make me cringe. My modern Presidents, their “generals” and “intelligence” officers just don’t get it. They do not represent anyone at all. We have been disenfranchised. I did not want to vote for Hillary Clinton because as my senator, she voted to shrapnel embed other people’s children. Likewise, I did not want to vote for a New York City billionaire who is obviously so discombobulated as to not know how to behave around a naked cat.

You curve your arm and pet from the head downward. You’ll know by the top of the spine if she’ll let you continue down the tail and up.

Been Very Busy this Past Week Exhibiting and Painting and Space Staring


“Just Keep Pressing On” 2017. Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 18″


“Are You Passionate?” 2017. Acrylic on dead man’s canvas, 18 x 24″


“The New and Slightly Improved Landscape of Mandy Schandt” 2017. Acrylic on canvas board, 20 x 16″


“Illustration of Space From the Back of my Tongue to the Underlayment of my Solar Plexus Whenever the Mouth Engages in Small Talk” 2017. Acrylic on slab of Styrofoam®, 12 x 16


“How to Break a Person’s Will Without His Being Aware of It” 2017. Acrylic on cardboard, 22 x 21″


This Week I Painted Some While Lake Turned and Weather Charmed


“I Know Lake Ontario Doesn’t Look Like This in April, but Maybe It Should” 2017. Acrylic on birch panel, 24 x 24″


“Only Jay Leno and Other Jingoes See the American Dream From Outside the Dollar Store” 2017. Acrylic on 500 piece puzzle for a dollar. What a deal!


“After Sacrificing 23 Pieces of Crap From the Dollar Store, I Planted This Baby Pear Tree” 2017. Acrylic on dollar store frame, 8 x 10″


“Dollar Store Frozen Chicken Cordon Bleu and Blueberry Muffin on Ceramic Plate Made in China, $3.08” 2017. Acrylic on plate, dinner plate size


“This Dollar Store Clipboard Does Not Want My Dream of Mexico Unless I Make It So” 2017. Acrylic on Chinese dollar store clipboard, 10 x 14″


“How I Look and Feel at the Dollar Store in Town” 2017. Acrylic on dollar store frame, 8 x 10″


“Even at 50 My Attempt at an Imaginary Alligator Should Spark the Professional Curiosity of a Bored Psychiatrist” 2017. Acrylic on paper, 15 x 11″


“For Those of You Living in 1 of the Other 195 Nations, the Reason Americans Don’t Love Trains Anymore is Because Our Brains Have Been Usurped by Cognitive Dissonance Aliens” 2017. Acrylic on Stepanov packaging particle board, 12 x 16″