Hey baby.

This is turning into like our regular thing, you know? Like, we’re, like, going steady…

I want you to meet my parents.

Come back!

Harold of the Rocks
Primus
Suck On This

It was a weekend’s eve,
I had sex on my breath
I was lookin’ for somethin’ to see.
With a borrowed black
leather and my best fishin’ hat.
Well it was just Wendy O. and me.
We called old Swamp
Up on the telephone
And said we was comin’ on
Down to pick him up
and then, he said,
“Hey Swampy, me and Greeny’ll come along –
But only if we can bring a friend.”
“His name is Harold.”
I said “Okay.”
Now, we had a
Swamper, Greeny, Wendy O, Stanley, Harold of the Rocks and me.
We hopped into my Dart
And headed for the nightbreak
To see a man they call Schooly D.
Harold he’s a friendly guy.
He rambles on and on.
He’ll talk the balls off
a rhinoceros.
fact is he just doesn’t
make much sense.
Well Stan said
“This guy’s pretty bizarre Gus.”
Harold of the Rocks.

I saw Harold at a
party Trouzy threw
Late one night.
I said, “hey man,
Do you remember me?”
He said, “O’ course
I do Snapdad and
Let me tell ya right
‘Bout now I’m lit
Up like an ol’ Christmas tree.”
Hey bro you know I’d
like to thank you once
Again for let’n me
Hang with ya’ all across
The bay. when I
Look back at that
night I get me a
Warm spot across my heart.”
Then he shook my
hand, and walked away.
That’s the last I
Seen of Harold.
Harold of the Rocks.
So in the end,
Swamper and Greeny
Finally succumb to
The ways of Harold.
And in doing so
Each gave just a little bit
Of his soul away.
What a couple of dumbshits.

To Whom It May Concern:

Listening to the radio this morning, I heard something that cuts directly to the heart of why people are worried and angered by George Bush’s extra-constitutional power grab. In reporting on the Virginia Senate race between incumbent Allen and former Navy Secretary Jim Webb, the NPR newsreader said “Allen accused Webb of wanting to allow terrorists to bring lawsuits against their captors”.
That is a huge problem, and went unchallenged by NPR. They are ACCUSED TERRORISTS. That means the government says they are, and they say they are not. Or might be, if they were allowed to plead their case. Whether or not they are terrorists must be decided by a court, and the accused must be allowed to see the evidence presented against them in the presence of counsel, or we are nothing more than another tinpot dictatorship. These are not fancy, new ideas I’m espousing here. They’ve been around as long as man has had conception of justice. Since we stopped, or at least thought we’d stopped, torturing confessions out of people and burning them at the stake.
Without the right to trial by jury, habeus corpus, and the other hard-won civil protections, we are nothing, just a dictatorship. We all need to ask ourselves how we’d wish to be treated in that situation. This is the only way we can keep ourselves from falling into the slime pit of jingoism and ultimately Fascism.

“Civilization will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest.” — Émile Zola

American Steel
Rogue’s March
“Insurrection Ave.”

They wanna isolate the left
…isolate the right
…and all of us
They’re gonna polarize the blacks
…polarize the whites
and everybody gets caught up in the fight
I read revolution on the Berkeley walls
while the red threat waved to the comunist fall and from down here
I read four letter words on the bathroom stalls and in the union halls

American Revolution is unfinished
there won’t be peace until there’s justice
I’ve got my home-made bombs homespun charms
I’ll meet you at the corner of Skid Row and Insurrection Ave.

I get no dough from the Pentagon
I can’t subsidize my family ties with the IM Fund
keep the workers working the Guvna say cool off
some cool off but I’m feeling red hot
I’m feeling tension in the melting pot
They’re gonna blur threat and catastrophe
they’re gonna blur class lines
they’re gonna blur all the history you can’t defeat an enemy you can’t define
They’re gonna urge you to God and country
they’re gonna urge you to cross picket lines
and while the trading is free far overseas they’re retouching borders we’re all chained behind

I’d seriously recommend anyone who likes music with power and conviction to listen to American Steel. Their latest isn’t even as heavy duty punk as Rogue’s March, although even that had a few moments of ska, reggae, and motown influnced musical adventurism in it. The title track and this one are almost worth buying that album by themselves, and they threw in a few other kickass songs besides. There’s some MP3 links in the artist site link above.

i was driving home tonight, and i started thinking about a lot of things we take for granted. i started thinking of the fact that i can go home and be relatively certain that my house will not be bombed by planes dropping munitions from the stratosphere, or run over by bulldozers covered by armor and protected by massively armed soldiers.

i thought of a scene, and maybe you should think of it. it’s probably not real. but at the same time it’s intensely real, in the sense that it happens to real, living (at least for now), human being like you and me. i thought of a child, playing, in the supreme confidence of his parents telling him all is well, a child occupied with child-thoughts, like, “Is that possible?” or “I bet I can do that”. a child bending their head upwards to an odd noise, seeing, in the blue of the sky, black specks becoming visible. a child seeing bombs made in our country, or licensed by our country for other unbelievably poor people to make, coming into view, this bizarre otherness of something appearing in the sky, a place reserved for wonder in this child’s eye. i imagine that they continue in their interminable path and eventually explode at the predetermined place, established by central command or bombadier or whoever makes the decision that day, and the force shoves me back, and the shockwave pushes dirt and stones and broken metal and glass and anything else between me and it into my small body. it tears me apart. my body is destroyed by shrapnel from bombs. i don’t know why this is happening, or how people will react, or how others will justify it. all i have is a puzzled look at this otherness dropping from the sky, and the pain and surprise of my small body being torn to pieces by immensely destructive weapons, weapons dropped by men who will never see me.

now justify bombing. for gods sake, justify it. the idea that we can do this, we can attack and destroy, like we’ve done in cuba, the phillipines, iraq, grenada, panama, iran, afghanistan, venezuela, hawaii, the entire contiguous US, the sudan, libya, and anywhere else in the world…it makes me want to kill myself to not be associated with it. i look at my beautiful daughter and think of all the other daughters killed by bombs and artillery and mines and small-arms fire and i want to not exist.

think of who these weapons are dropping on when you cheer the army or air force or navy. think of it. think of the massive de-humanization that needs to be imposed for a man to believe that everyone in a city he is bombing is guilty of what he’s being told they’re guilty of.

think of it, please. it’s being done in your name

Word.

Artist: Arcade Fire
Album: Funeral
Year: 2004

Crown Of Love

They say it fades if you let it,
love was made to forget it.
I carved your name across my eyelids,
you pray for rain I pray for blindness.

If you still want me, please forgive me,
the crown of love has fallen from me.
If you still want me, please forgive me,
because the spark is not within me.

I snuffed it out before my mom walked in my bedroom.

The only thing that you keep changin’
is your name, my love keeps growin’
still the same, just like a cancer,
and you won’t give me a straight answer!

If you still want me, please forgive me,
the crown of love has fallen from me.
If you still want me please forgive me
because your hands are not upon me.

I shrugged them off before my mom walked in my bedroom.

The pains of love, and they keep growin’,
in my heart there’s flowers growin’
on the grave of our old love,
since you gave me a straight answer.

If you still want me, please forgive me,
the crown of love is not upon me
If you still want me, please forgive me,
cause this crown is not within me.
it’s not within me, it’s not within me.

You gotta be the one,
you gotta be the way,
your name is the only word that I can say

You gotta be the one,
you gotta be the way,
your name is the only word,
the only word that I can say!

This song starts with a sweet-ass old school sounding 3 beat measure, with hammered piano keys accenting each beat, and an overwhelmed-sounding singer. after some cool emo fun it segues into a little rock and roll over the last line and some “la la la”ing.

Great song

Fuckin Big Dog Bill Clinton gets in a little slapfight with Chris Wallace. He’s been getting pounded by the wingers at ABC/Disney for “not doing enough” to “get” Bin Laden. And he brings up an interesting, and pertinent point, which I’ve hammered on for five years:

AT LEAST HE DID ANYTHING AT ALL. Which is 100% more than what Bush and his idiot crew did for NINE FUCKING MONTHS AFTER GETTING IN OFFICE. THEY DID NOTHING. Clinton tried.

You remember what Bush was doing? MISSILE DEFENSE SHIELD. Remember that shit? Motherfuckers. 9/11 was his goddamn fault because he pulled government attention away from terrorism. He lied about what he was doing for the 9 months until the worst terrorist attack in our country’s history.

Know what’s better? He fucking did a curtain call a few years later in the idiotic crap surrounding KATRINA. remember when we saw the cronyism in his government appointments? “Heckuva job Brownie.”

Mkay. I’m a little fucking pissed, still, 5 years later. The fact that Bush is still in office, and the country is reacting with such a huge, collective yawn to the incompetence, corruption, greed, and destruction they represent us to the world with, makes me want to just jump in front of a bus.

…War in Iran.

Global Research
Washington Report on Middle Eastern Affairs

And there’s more.

Scott Ritter

Americans, along with the rest of the world, are starting to wake up to the uncomfortable fact that President George Bush not only lied to them about the weapons of mass destruction in Iraq (the ostensible excuse for the March 2003 invasion and occupation of that country by US forces), but also about the very process that led to war.

courtesy Propaghandi. Not exactly the gentlest poetry, but important nonetheless. I’ll put up a fluffy happy one next week.

A friend of mine dropped me a line, it said, “man, I gotta run to the USA. I got no money, got no job.”
She skipped out of Mexico to stay alive.
You’ve got a problem with her living here, but what did you do to help her before she fucking came?
What did the country do?
What did the people do?
I stand not by my country, but by people of the whole fucking world.
No fences, no borders.
Free movement for all.
Fuck the border.

It’s about fucking time to treat people with respect.
It’s our culture and consumption that makes her life unbearable.
Fuck this country; its angry eyes, its knee-jerk hordes.
Legal or illegal, watch her fucking go.
She’ll take what’s hers.
Watch her fucking go.
Fuck the border.

Some people have to stay and fight for survival in the country they live in while others have to leave to survive.
Corporations cross international borders all the time in search of people to exploit for profit and no one stops them.
They call it globalization.
On the other hand, the victims of corporate domination are told that they can’t cross borders in search of better lives, and are forced to stay and deal with the social, economic and environmental messes the companies leave behind when they inevitably move their operations to places with even more “favourable business climates (re: lower wages, lax environmental laws, tax breaks).
Looks like capitalism and human-rights don’t mix.

Get Your War On.