The Journal
Serving the Metropolitan Area
Since 1872
November 2nd
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 Goneaway
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, the Mooch and the Musk. 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, triple rents 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."
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