Thomas Jefferson

$23 Lecture On Why the Young Must Defile the Currency

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Justice can be found by taking cerebral baby steps. It’s never far from the truth, which any child or enlightened adult can reveal instantaneously if confronted by a wrong. Law, on the other hand, is determined by a toddler with mouth sewn shut, glued to a Rube Goldberg ball, and sent rolling from the better part of a day (a minor traffic ticket) to upwards of oblivion or longer (premeditated revenge killing). The tremendous apparatus of law was constructed by the children of wealthy planters and industrialists who raised an outlaw nation on the strong backs of recently descended Africans and dirt poor Ellis Island immigrants. Law made slavery, the Civil War, tenement houses, and 400 homicides in Chicago last year. Today the government snubs its free citizens with constant monetary reminder of oppression’s dark past. Law works ’round the clock for the owners of a society, both antebellum and modern. Yesterday the planter class. Today the banker class, skeevy private plane persons who are probably not too far removed ancestrally from the planter class. Hence, slave owners in our wallets. People who owned/own people. Presidents who owned less people before becoming President, and then got to be head of state, and bought more people to make themselves richer. They were dirty privies. Yesterday and today.

Many established university historians make the argument that these men were products of their time, as if every one born American had a 3/5 person to call their own. White women and men without property, and all little farmer girls and boys not of Africa were burdened by the same good fortune wrought by a slaver economy. No. Not even close. A majority of dark people were owned by a small “planter” class of Caucasian men, who needed a culture of racism and prejudice to reap their private goodies.

Yet no matter how crisp and clear my hindsight, arguments above do not justify pasting these “men of their time” on today’s currency. We have a diverse freer nation now. The land is ours, inherited by revolutionary thieves, who themselves inherited it from metal working colonial squatters. So why are they still “owning” our coinage? Have no other good men and women been born from their usurpation? Why people anyway? How about the woodchuck, turkey, pickerel, or pike? How about a purple mountain majesty, a geyser, a Great Lakes chain? Canada trades a loon and an English Queen. Freakish. But at least no slaveholders.

_DSC1306 _DSC1311

So, to the above piece. Three presidents who owned (and got rich) off slaves. I painted a lectern because I think all good Americans need some educatin’ from time to time. I took a $1, $20, and $2 bill and glued them to the top. I carefully cut out the heads on each and lobbed them over to Frederick Douglas to juggle. I replaced the cut out holes with heads of decent and good people from revolutionary America. Phillis Wheatley where Washington was. Absalom Jones in place of Jackson. Finally, Benjamin Banneker to replace Jefferson on the forgotten, yet still circulating two dollar bill. I also invisible-inked the money with a fact about the slaveholding history of each. A black light reveals the truth. For instance on the twenty dollar bill one who possesses the necessary equipment will read the following: “Jackson was paternal with his slaves although I do not think he fathered any.”

_DSC1338 _DSC1339

On the left side of the lectern is Washington holding the true meaning of the Declaration of Independence. Phillis Wheatley was a poet who did not general the death of anyone nor own another human being. Leave it to the hyperactive painter to misspell her name. Sorry Phillis.

_DSC1335

On the right side is Jefferson, excited in the prospect of ravaging young girls. He will father a child with one of his slaves. Kind of like the guy in Cleveland who stole three girls off the street and locked them in his basement for ten years. Benjamin Banneker was not known to be a serial pervert, and he authored a beautiful almanac.

_DSC1315

On the front is Andrew Jackson, the most vile, with his face burning off in Hell. Absalom Jones was a clergyman who tended to plague victims during the Yellow Fever epidemic in Philadelphia in 1794. Coincidentally, George Washington, featured on another panel of cowardice, hightailed it out of the infected city and didn’t come back until all the bugs were dead.

$23 Dollar Lecture On Why The Next Generation Must Defile the Currency

There are three shelves in the lectern, each depicting slave quarters at the estates of the currency Presidents. They read respectively:

Mount Vernon B&B—Sleeps 18

A slow day in Monticello (notice the empty whipping post)

Winter at the Hermitage—Old Hickory let us cook his old horse

I plan to show the lectern at my local art association. I will invite the history and economics departments from out state college, and local school districts. There is so much our children can learn from our money. They never asked for the hero-making of lessor men. Why do we give them these dead racist kings? I wish to see a just currency replacement before my grandchild’s first lemonade stand. These Presidents are historical. Each has an importance to history. But they were not good men. Intelligent? Yes. Crafty? You betcha. So was Adolf Hitler. I forget now… Which euro honors his triumphant legacy?

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The Eighth Cardinal Sin Must Be The Pursuit Of Happiness

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Here is a study in the human justification of “happiness and all else be damned”. In the age of resources, it could be the great sin that fuels the other seven, and sadly, solely responsible for our final collapse. At least now I know why Jefferson declared it—so he could justify the Louisiana Purchase from a third party, own as many slaves as was necessary to seek happiness, and love make with the attractive ones whenever he got lonely from all that happiness finding.

Even well drillers just want to be happy. So do the anti-well drillers. The fracking protestor doesn’t want a company from Texas feeding subterranean New York State with toxic juices. He jumps up and down with a sign and some friends, and drives his Mexican made Volkswagen 30 miles north back to his warm cozy Christmas house, heated respectfully by rural North Dakota. Likewise, families in Puebla, Mexico appreciate the pesos generated from the Jetta-making plant, but hate the smell and the silver metal dust cutting into their kid’s scalps. It’s a trade-off for happiness. How else will they afford cable TV and French wine?

A boom economy in North Dakota keeps Lewis and Clark State Park lodge stocked to the rafters with bottled spring water from Maine. The recycling plant in Williston runs 24/7, and nowadays all residents are familiar with the new parts per million science, and therefore happier.

There is no human moral high ground in this debate. Even photovoltaics have to be made somewhere, out of unnatural, non-renewable things. Factories are never earth-friendly even when producing giant rectangular sun-catchers. We could live under a tree by the river, like Ratty in The Wind in the Willows, or all cozy tea-like at Mole End with the frack froth seeping up from the floorboards.  Then we could pursue human happiness like rodentia in the wood, that is, with an amazing frack induced picnic luncheon of: “coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwidgespottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater—”

“‘O stop, stop,’ cried Mole in ecstasies: ‘This is too much!’
‘Do you really think so?’ inquired the Rat seriously ‘It’s only what I always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are always telling me that I’m a mean beast and cut in very fine!’”

Poor Kenneth Grahame was nervous about the future. No doubt he sniffed in the harsh, coal field stench of Nottinghamshire at some point in his life. Perhaps Toad was the pursuit of happiness amphibia incarnate. He was an ignorant spaz, buying up whatever was offered for immediate gratification, checking his many deeds off on the cardinal sin list, while thinking everyone else a simpleton. For it was only a matter of time before ratty, mole, and even cantankerous badger would want to race about the countryside in a newfangled automobile.

This painting shows nature finally joining those whom they cannot beat. I hate hydrofracking. I hate my pile of packaging waiting to be recycled even more. A sack of oats and brown sugar would get the worst rat character through a hard winter. No need to drive over to the supermarket once a week for a 12 ounce box of already chewed Cheerios®. And any mole could tell you that the cooper would make a tub for the peanut butter if the cooper wasn’t executed by the always boy Peter Pan, henchman for ConAgra. We, the glorious anti-hydrofrackers have not yet learned how to stay put and buy in bulk. We think it’s okay, this day-to-day world we participate in, as long as the water is as pure as our water factories can make it.

The poisonous web. I am sticking with my hypothesis—that we need to go all mid eighteenth century with access to anitbiotics before catalysts like nuclear winter and cancer water make it so without the hope of repair. Hence, follow through with my anti-fracking show in the spring. Keep the potable water flowing while pursuing our sickly happiness.

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$23 Lecture On Why the Young Must Defile the Currency

_DSC1312

Justice can be found by taking cerebral baby steps. It’s never far from the truth, which any child or enlightened adult can reveal instantaneously if confronted by a wrong. Law, on the other hand, is determined by a toddler with mouth sewn shut, glued to a Rube Goldberg ball, and sent rolling from the better part of a day (a minor traffic ticket) to upwards of oblivion or longer (premeditated revenge killing). The tremendous apparatus of law was constructed by the children of wealthy planters and industrialists who raised an outlaw nation on the strong backs of recently descended Africans and dirt poor Ellis Island immigrants. Law made slavery, the Civil War, tenement houses, and 400 homicides in Chicago last year. Today the government snubs its free citizens with constant monetary reminder of oppression’s dark past. Law works ’round the clock for the owners of a society, both antebellum and modern. Yesterday the planter class. Today the banker class, skeevy private plane persons who are probably not too far removed ancestrally from the planter class. Hence, slave owners in our wallets. People who owned/own people. Presidents who owned less people before becoming President, and then got to be head of state, and bought more people to make themselves richer. They were dirty privies. Yesterday and today.

Many established university historians make the argument that these men were products of their time, as if every one born American had a 3/5 person to call their own. White women and men without property, and all little farmer girls and boys not of Africa were burdened by the same good fortune wrought by a slaver economy. No. Not even close. A majority of dark people were owned by a small “planter” class of Caucasian men, who needed a culture of racism and prejudice to reap their private goodies.

Yet no matter how crisp and clear my hindsight, arguments above do not justify pasting these “men of their time” on today’s currency. We have a diverse freer nation now. The land is ours, inherited by revolutionary thieves, who themselves inherited it from metal working colonial squatters. So why are they still “owning” our coinage? Have no other good men and women been born from their usurpation? Why people anyway? How about the woodchuck, turkey, pickerel, or pike? How about a purple mountain majesty, a geyser, a Great Lakes chain? Canada trades a loon and an English Queen. Freakish. But at least no slaveholders.

_DSC1306 _DSC1311

So, to the above piece. Three presidents who owned (and got rich) off slaves. I painted a lectern because I think all good Americans need some educatin’ from time to time. I took a $1, $20, and $2 bill and glued them to the top. I carefully cut out the heads on each and lobbed them over to Frederick Douglas to juggle. I replaced the cut out holes with heads of decent and good people from revolutionary America. Phillis Wheatley where Washington was. Absalom Jones in place of Jackson. Finally, Benjamin Banneker to replace Jefferson on the forgotten, yet still circulating two dollar bill. I also invisible-inked the money with a fact about the slaveholding history of each. A black light reveals the truth. For instance on the twenty dollar bill one who possesses the necessary equipment will read the following: “Jackson was paternal with his slaves although I do not think he fathered any.”

_DSC1338 _DSC1339

On the left side of the lectern is Washington holding the true meaning of the Declaration of Independence. Phillis Wheatley was a poet who did not general the death of anyone nor own another human being. Leave it to the hyperactive painter to misspell her name. Sorry Phillis.

_DSC1335

On the right side is Jefferson, excited in the prospect of ravaging young girls. He will father a child with one of his slaves. Kind of like the guy in Cleveland who stole three girls off the street and locked them in his basement for ten years. Benjamin Banneker was not known to be a serial pervert, and he authored a beautiful almanac.

_DSC1315

On the front is Andrew Jackson, the most vile, with his face burning off in Hell. Absalom Jones was a clergyman who tended to plague victims during the Yellow Fever epidemic in Philadelphia in 1794. Coincidentally, George Washington, featured on another panel of cowardice, hightailed it out of the infected city and didn’t come back until all the bugs were dead.

$23 Dollar Lecture On Why The Next Generation Must Defile the Currency

There are three shelves in the lectern, each depicting slave quarters at the estates of the currency Presidents. They read respectively:

Mount Vernon B&B—Sleeps 18

A slow day in Monticello (notice the empty whipping post)

Winter at the Hermitage—Old Hickory let us cook his old horse

I plan to show the lectern at my local art association. I will invite the history and economics departments from out state college, and local school districts. There is so much our children can learn from our money. They never asked for the hero-making of lessor men. Why do we give them these dead racist kings? I wish to see a just currency replacement before my grandchild’s first lemonade stand. These Presidents are historical. Each has an importance to history. But they were not good men. Intelligent? Yes. Crafty? You betcha. So was Adolf Hitler. I forget now… Which euro honors his triumphant legacy?

_DSC1316