The Journal

 

Serving the Metropolitan Area

 

Since 1872

 

 

August 27th

 

ENTER THE DRAGON!

 

By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential candidate

 

Syndicated by Acme Features

 

"I’ve always rather admired the Chinese.  I suppose that’s because most of them are so far away."

                   -Charles Bukowski (1982)

 

"When the duck drops, say the magic word and win a hundred dollars!"

                                                - Groucho Marx (symbolism being cheaper in the 50's)

 

          Carl Sagan and Jodie Foster got their "Contact" wrong... warn't Hitler's speechifying as kicked off our televised Symbolic Age but good ol' Philo T. Farnsworth, out of Beaver, Utah, throwing sixty seconds' broadcast of a good ol’ US dollar sign which... even flying out at light-speed, would have made it only halfway to Proxima Centauri two years later before losing a lot of credibility, back there in 1929.

          Symbols make us sit up, clap, weep, slobber like Pavlov dogs (or bark, like Hillary Clinton), salute... and vote! Remember Willie Horton, Nixon's bad shave and that little girl picking flowers when Goldwater's nuke went off? That rat-puke Georgia cracker flashing doctored pictures of one-arm, no-legs veteran Max Cleland with Saddam and Osama to get elected in that session between the older Bush brother tending towards proximity to Confederate flags to out-nword John McCain and America's 911-inspired homosexual marriage panic four years after, simultaneous to Dubya sellin' off our port security to Dubai while Johnno was reduced to crawling to the Christers for forgiveness – so’s he could get his ass whipped, next time out, by the Urban Spaceman?  Who then sold America down the river to Spook Central, them Deep Statesmen Blue Meanies of Vietnam, Latin America and points darker as now get regarded as blue state heroes in comparison to the President with the red cap and funny hair as tells us how much he loves poorly educated Americans.  Hillary barked until Mister Trump turned into President Trump – partly as a consequence of Russia fomenting those Halloween FBI e-mail attacks, but mostly as a consequence of her own arrogance and scheme to out-cozy Djonald Unchained’s cozy bears.

          Symbols!

          Orientalism, that’s what this dirty ol’ racist would call it!, sibilant symbolism – baldly stereotypical dastardship missing only carpets, pointy slippers and eunuchs (hopefully unmarried) slithering about with daggers behind damask curtains of dragons breathing opium fire. Maybe some wicker furniture, a peacock or two, some Danish cartoons, Fu Manchu and an open can of gasoline. Disasters waiting to happen.

          "It isn't important that the words mean anything," counsels advertising man Tim Mayfield, an expert at devising so called "Japlish" to sell cars and electronics. "The important thing is that they sound good."

          Morty Scow, that California Congressman as displays Catfiscist tendencies now and again, calls it Glyphic Thinking. GT simmers underneath the crust of Western reason like a vein of Aztec gold (or Juarez sewage, if you will), surfacing on the wrong side of the border wall against which hot-button issues are pressed... law and order, values, virtues, "the children" and the such.  And, on the other hand, those people…

          Law and order's halfway glyphic already, being as some of those entrusted with homeland security have strolled beyond catching homeland robbers and killers to prognosticating thoughtcrimes. Mr. James Quinn Wilson's theory of broken windows makes the sense to some... if you prohibit broken windows, public urination, panhandling, graffiti, as the theory goes, Scott Peterson, Martha Stewart and the Sandusky Strangler will take their business elsewhere.

          Symbolism, strained through the New Frontier of Contempt, breeds such chaining... employment of one despicable characteristic to despicabalize another, tangential trait, property or person. Back in Gold Rush San Francisco, there was this politician Denis Kearny, famous for blaming everything on the Chinese... attaching riders to chuck out the damn Chinks to every scrap of legislation he could get his paws on. It would seem even Orientals are not immune from round-eyes whose Oriental thinking runs to strings of chained ideographs.

          Back to the Quinnster - one of his poodles, John Leo, set some sort of record for chaining homelessness with crime back in the last century: "the plight of beggars and the homeless"... "80% of city residents felt that begging and homelessness were serious, pervasive problems on the subway"... "Get the homeless and beggars out of the subway" and so on until the final absurdity "69 percent of Americans think the homeless should not be allowed to panhandle." (As opposed to political candidates!)  The gentlemen Leo and Wilson knew, very well, that not all homeless panhandle, not all beggars are homeless, and most of those polled resent being panhandled (or robbed or raped) by anybody... whether the perps reside on park benches, on Central Park West, in a Mexican slum or in a Washington lobbyist’s office. But who gives a rat's ass about truth when there's an opportunity to score points against a despised population, especially one as seldom votes and retards property values! And doesn’t yet have The Bomb.  Therefore, these days (since the Russians do have nukes and the Chinese a basement full of our IOUs), the Costa Ricans.

          Symbolic GT engenders reverse-chaining, too... the FBI having squandered thirty years and thousands upon thousands of dollars trying to prove Groucho Marx was a Commie mastermind, not to mention Dick Nixon's obsession with John Lennon! Liberal Squeamish countered with litigation against the "Lion King" hyenas as racial stereotypes (giving The Donald some of his best glyphic doubletalk… Lyin’ Ted, Lyin’Hillary, Lowlife Omarosa and so on… or "Forrest Gump", as defames the mentally challenged, and have forced public schools to stop publicizing honor rolls as insensitive to the aggrieved Bart Simpson brigades; our communities of sloth and stupidity.  And now we got the squeamish mobilizing to ban this cartoon movie on account of it making fun of allergies.

          "It is important to be sensitive," one authority waffled during the "Lion King" fiasco, "...however, at some point, sensitivity gives way to paranoia."  I do not mean to imply that Cecil, the Lion King’s assassin, was “sensitive” but, since the Hunger Games, bows and arrows are considered rather cool, in a Nativist American Way, although that’s probably racist, too, and deserving of a lawsuit by… somebody…

          That litigation! Why shouldn't parents of those kids killed by this nut down in San Diego, as took out twenty-one junk food junkies and wounded several more, sue the company? "Basically, McDonald's should have had some type of security guard on the premises since they had knowledge of various criminal activity that occurred in that area in the last several years," pontificated the plaintiffs' lawyer, James Frantz.

          Well, there was a security guard on the premises... James Oliver Huberty, in fact… the perpetrator!

          "Though America has major, long-term crime problems, the public understanding of crime is clouded by politically and commercially powered fantasy," wrote Katherine Dunn, a reviewer of "The Mythology of Crime and Criminal Justice" by Victor Kappeler and Gary Potter, coupla homeboys out at East Kay Why.

          The President says that news is fake news and his lawyer, Rudy, concurs: “the truth is not the truth”.  On the other hand, Potter and Kappeler say politics and media focus on failure... the more epic and spectacular the better... because disaster heightens ratings and the stock of oil companies, gets people out to vote and give money. "Failure breeds scary stories, which produce fear... failure feeds political campaigns and spawns social-work programs," they say, "...failure is where the money is." (my emphasis)  Which probably means a Democratic blue wave for at least some years to come!

          Now I don’t cotton to schoolhouse killers, and burned my NRA card after their board voted to arm known terrorists as are already on the “no fly” list, but the gun lady on television over the weekend does have some credibility in assigning the culpability for mass mayhem to the media.  Not that the victims and survivors of Parkdale and Palmdale and Sandy Hook were professional actors spouting fake blood and paid off by somebody… George Soros, maybe, or Hillary or Obama, but she does have a point that “crying white mothers” jack up ratings for the “legacy” media, whatever that is.

          Brings me back to Morty's discussion of the GT which... if you read up on science, represents one sort of step backwards into old-fashioned ways of seeing the dragon whole, then trying to focus in on more relative parts, rather than receiving information all chopped up digitally, like on letters of the Western alphabets, CDs and DVDs as reduce real time to pixels and those new TV sets from Prague we have to buy because the cable companies got together to change transmission standards, making junk of all our perfectly good old TVs from Japan which stopped working just a’fore Superbowl Sunday, last year.

          There's no question digital thinking's more faster, efficient and "with it"... as many paid-off foundation thinkers will write books about, to tell you. Symbolism, however, comforts... it takes a load off the mind to point, click and believe as this poll found that 42% of Republicans and 17% of Democrats believe that any news with which they personally disagree has to be fake… a conspiracy. The trouble with digital thinking is that rigidity it imposes which becomes, at an extreme, foundation for all sorts of unpleasant philosophies, as contribute to worldwide moral decline and even, in semi-Communist Vietnam, devaluation of the dong. (Calm yourselves, that's what they call their money, over there!)

          What do you expect from a population that’s gobbling up remakes of “The X-files” and “Twin Peaks” not to mention all those new shows, videogames and movies as portray Americans as clueless colluders with the Deep State conspirators, the Russians and all those aliens as came down from the sky, not over the Mexican and Canadian borders.  Folks as didn’t know, but were told that we could tax those Chinese imports and that it somehow wouldn’t come out of our pockets, nor would the dragon queens and kings over there not retaliate by boycotting and tariffing our exports…

          Which, seeing as that last year’s Farm Aid hoedown was held in Hartford, Connecticut of all places – home of Mark Twain, the insurance people (and maybe, out in the boondocks, a little tobacco!) this little ditty occurred to me of a Farm Aid Sunday afternoon amongst some no good relatives and amidst the sweet scent of Willie Nelson terbacky, fried chicken horses and their excrement as opposed to… well…

TOO MANY PIGS!   (see Attachment One)

          And Philo Farnworth's glyph keeps on soaring out, waiting for some distant culture of little green squids to haul it down with positronic telescopes and so, symbol by symbol, begin to understand the nature of them as run that angry little blue planet, third out from that otherwise unremarkable yellow star.  It crossed the path of that Trappist dwarf star ‘round eleven twenty-two sixty-three, giving any inhabitants of its seven habitable planets time enough to get back to us.  Then, maybe, take action...

          Anyone up for Sheriff Joe’s cameo in "War of the Worlds III" - as is goin' straight to cable and the little red vending boxes, that one as replaced the Scientologist with Seth Rogan… or was it James Franco?  (Never have figured out the difference a’tween those two!)

 

CLICK the CATFISH to go to PAST and PRESENT EPISODES of "BLACK HELICOPTERS" and to OTHER JACK PARNELL COLUMNS

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ATTACHMENT ONE…

TOO MANY PIGS (originally for farm aid 9/22/18, edited to the present American surplus while Chinese porkers are dying off from a mystery disease) 

(to the tune of “Under the Boardwalk”)

Well my pappy died back in the day, left me his spread in Carolina,

And I was doin’ mighty fine raising hogs I could sell there in China.

The hours were long an’ the smell mighty wrong,

But the payout for pork, well it was nice.

Them China diners needed lots of my swine, a

To fry up with their pork fried rice.

Now I’m American flagged, union made, from my cap to my shoes

And I pay all my taxes, hire legal and fly the red, white and blue.

But now I feel kinda bad, and just a little mad,

Cause them trade wars put my life in a spin

Tho’ while I’ll follow the law, hell I just never foresaw

The kind of sausage I find myself in.

Chorus:     Too many pigs!  (they be eatin’ up all my feed)

                   Too many pigs!  (just ain’t the sort of trouble I need)

                   Too many pigs!  (running themselves all round n’ around)

                   Too many pigs!  (droppin poo all kinds of where on the ground)

                             Too many pigs!

Now the domestic market prices round here, they just drop like a stone,

I’m cuttin’ back on the fat, the fatback and the gristle to bone.

All of that business I had, used to feel really glad

For the money that I’d be makin

Trade wars just killin’ me, all us farmers agree

Can’t sell one skinny slab of our bacon.                                                        Chorus

Still the bills piled up and them hogs, well they just kept on eatin

Hill o’ bills killin‘ me, tween the feed and greed, took a beatin’.

Politician dropped by, looked me dead in the eye,

Told me boy, I can feel your pain

But we have to stand strong, and I’ll promise ‘fore long

You’ll be a-selling them porkers again.                                                         Chorus

When the bank took my spread and our home, sheriff pointed, said Go!

But they didn’t want one single hog from the lot, don’t you know?

Then some others as I standing under the sky

Put the change we had left in a kitty,

Then we loaded a truck with the pigs and their muck

Drove it north to the capital city.                                                                  

Chorus:     Too many pigs!  (set ‘em free ‘round the Cap’tol Mall)

                   Too many pigs!  (gruntin’ and snufflin’ in Congressional Halls)

                   Too many pigs!  (diggin’ up flowers on the White House lawn)

                   Too many pigs!  (be smellinpoo out there long after they’re gone)

                             Too many pigs!