The Journal
Serving the Metropolitan Area
Since 1872
October 31st
MASSAGING the MOB!
By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential
candidate
Syndicated
by Acme Features
Once I
made my mind up to retire from the Congress, I decided to have me some fun.
Now, maybe I
oughtn't to have done a few things after... like giving the talk radio and
‘publicans ideas about that poll tax which Tillerman stole out from under me,
or punching out Sikes on the anti-suicide commission. Oh, I wasn't wrong;
he richly deserved his thrashing but maybe I ought also to just have beat the
crap out of that other little twerp from the class of fourteen... as said he'd
go home after two terms, then didn't... 'stead of sayin' he had a "purty mouth"
and kissing it with the C-span cameras running. Hell, I’m already in the crappits
with the Babtists for my divorce and the what came after, and most Americans want
to see cockroaches violated or knocked tumblin' down the Capitol steps,
domestic and foreign currency flying from out'n their pockets!
And all that shuddering
about “concussions” – that’s just more liberal gloom and doomin’ – I’ve fallen off’n
a few horses in the day, played football too. Kid died the other day, playing soccer? Shake it off and get back in the game. You can lose your mind when you get old – that’s
what getting old is for. Look at Djonald Unchained, as the Don Jones
people called him, or President Joe or Bernie!
Fact is, most see the
politics as a game, or entertainment – and even before the rise
of Trump like a diseased sun over Coldsore Mountain - contrary to that scolding
by Carl Boggs, out in L.A. that, where it "degenerates into a remote
spectacle," after which, then: "the most rational act may well be
cynicism and withdrawal." The few
independents on his side finally deserted when he fired Mike “Lock her up!”
Flynn and Shawn Spicer, Bannon and the Mooch. He’d stopped being fun! (And they all ratted him out, all except
Spicer, that dancin’ machine!)
(And then embracing
Mad Vlad Putin. Fun again!)
Trouble is – you may
wish to withdraw from politics, but politics ain’t gonna pull out of yours. This analogy, as once related to war, was
propounded by Leon Trotsky, I think, or else the Souljacker… and still holds,
right as rain.
Entertainment… now that matters if'n you're de-skilled,
de-educated and de-sensitized, almost to the extreme of those poor ol’ folks in
Alabama nursing homes they let the ants eat up. Americans, even before the
plague, were mostly un- or underemployed, or doin' the Amazonian sixty,
seventy-hour workweek between three jobs, likely without overtime or benefits
or restroom breaks... some, now, with wires n’chips stuck into hands and
brains, as run back to computers in Provo, Utah, then broadcasting into the
mandatory earphones: "You are not working as fast as the person next to
you!" every forty-two seconds or thereabouts. We're dissed, pissed and
kissed-off... and it shows in the quality of what little we do produce.
One of my most humiliating
weeks came just a while before I retired, when I took this junket to some EU
trade conference and had to endure being lectured by Hungarians... effing Hungarians!...
all riled up because the crap they imported from Germans and the Japanese was better
than ours'n. Could've made the excuse as most of what's stamped Made in America
is really just “assembled” hereabouts with constituents as come
from China, Mexico or points south or east, but... I suspect... that wouldn't
exactly have been burnishing the reputation of the Land o'the Free, Home o'the Brave.
Ain't just Hunkies
complaining, of course. The South African Nadine Gordimer, as concluded History was agin' us explained that: "Americans cannot give back to
blacks a lost identity."
"While the nation
used cheap, young black labor for centuries," points out Troy Duster of
the National Council of Crime and Delinquency, "the new generation faces,
for the first time, both the rejection and massive irrelevance of their
labor."
Makes some of those
statewide mandatory marriage schemes a little suspect. "At the minimum wage,"
proclaimed Gregg Easterbrook of the Los Angeles Times, before the ACTA in four states pushed it back
down to $4.30 for "trainees" (as are those anybodies of any age as work for six
months, then get laid off and have to go trainee themselves someplace else), "an
unskilled man who wants to work and marry offers a prospective wife less than
the government offers via the dole."
This narcississism fellow
from the Don
Jones funny farm, Lash LaChristopher...
someone as that... well, he said once Americans stopped gazing at themselves in
mirror (presumably because our mirrors had cracked for lack of the
maintenance), what would happen would be total breakdown, the Last Crusade,
ultimate war of "all against all!" Like in Iraq, where we kicked out
Saddam and got this anarchy an’ corruption finally put an end to by Zazzbo... formerly
the Ayatollah Ziz al' Abbozziz bin al' Barzon... as snuggles up to Iranian fruitcakes,
Jazreel terrorists and opium smugglers, the allsome!
As warned critic Albert
Murray on that PBS jazz series, as ran a couple of years back: "You cannot
embrace Entropy."
Ain't as if we
haven't known we'd have to face the music some day... be it free jazz, al Jazreel
or Zazzbo, Doggy Style or else "The Syncopated Clock" as counts down
these last minutes until the North Korean birdies take flight and the last
American worker's replaced by a Chinaman, a robot or a rat. As columnist Dick
Nolan put it, "in order to support all those paper profits, plus the
enthusiastic usury of the banking system, working folk have to pay an
ever-increasing portion of their wages just to keep a roof overhead." Of
course that was back when there were working people, as had
houses and wages... until gumment gave the green light to merge the banks with
airlines, break up the phone company and scramble everythin' round with olive
oil and the media peppers and onions until the whole rotten pile fell over and
lies stinking, now, like dead, fat Uncle Freddie on the kitchen floor of a
Thanksgiving afternoon of old (as when the friends and family gathered, before
the plague) as nobody wants to drag out back and bury.
Now it ain't my
intention to deny Americans an occasional sojourn in mental Fantasyland... if
we didn't dream, most state lotteries would collapse, and gumment would have
even more problems bailing out the schools. So, let's shake it off, paste on a
smile, admit that our troubles, while legion, are minimal when stood against
those of most of
Or when there’s a fourth
party to slice down the margin of victory a little more; or a fifth, or sixth…
Might not win,
but... like Teddy Roosevelt and Fightin' Bob's bull moozers, crazy Ross and
them Wallace boys, George and Henry... I do intend to talk sense and have fun,
the both!
All them smart fellows
laughed when Austin Tillerman, myself and others started trekking out
door-to-door, starting with people in militia compounds and ghettos, talking
those of 'em as would hear into turning their longings for decency and for
community into positive actions of be-longsomeness,
like cleaning up neighborhoods, painting fences and pitching in when those
floods hit Ohio and Missouri last year, or after Hurricane Quincy picked up
where Katrina left off and selling made-in-America firearms and cosmetics.
We're gaining altitude
and momentum... and without having the use of gumment helium or one of them secret
all-secret military blimps as floats away trailing metal cables that drag along
beneath and short out power systems. Our
enterprise remains the lifting of vision for all Americans so that we may break
through and finally begin to see blue sky above this forest of leafy
tribulations. And then... watch out, all you as ain't with the CNC program!
It warn’t Jack
Lemmon nor John Lennon but, I believe, Ron Reagan's own Navy Secretary, John
Lehman, as admitted: "Power corrupts. But absolute power's kind of
neat."
|
CLICK the CATFISH to go to
PAST and PRESENT EPISODES of "BLACK HELICOPTERS" and to OTHER JACK PARNELL COLUMNS |