Post Progressive Pomp

Hover over the image to read the prompter right-way round.

Click the pic and flashback to another of his brazen brushes with MLK.

Or watch Brother Cornel's take. Amidst Professor West's personal display of dutiful displeasure at the subversion of "prophetic fire" for pomp and circumstance and the shrouding of righteous rage beneath political criminality, he still evinces a smidgen of what BLCKDGRD might call "not ready for Obamapostasy" through an expression of gladness at retro-theoretical smaller catastrophes and a professed possible pliability of the smaller dastard under pressure.

I don't know if that makes West more like King or the president, but like to believe the former, and still can't say for sure that pressure hasn't made the latter what it might - a dastardly chief - but doubt that's the case and think it doesn't matter.

Reasoning circles around all enemies, foreign and domestic

It's shaping up to be a banner year for the weapons industry. And that's saying a lot, to say the least.

In a continuation of their role reversal with the French, the Germans are either "letting them" go at Mali, or "leaving them" there (on their own). Leave it to a big-Cred soCialist not to blink when sending in the warm jets. Francois Hollande, LBJ salutes you.

But not so fast. Apparently Germany's top dogs' & cats' discomfort with their press' syntactical ambiguity brought them out of their bunkers and into focus.

They will not be leaving the frogs in the lurch. Not that they were gonna. And the best news is that what's bad for Islamism is also good for business. You can put stock in it.

And while America leaves everybody all the way down-and-out to its beloved Hollygooders to tweet the absurdity of neo-nativist gun obsession and the untoward influence of the NRA and small-arms manufacturers, Bo Rama 2.zorro is having a stellar January, even before his re-swearing on Honest Abe's bible. Can I buy stock in drones? And will they be green? I just love techtalk.


Thank you, come again.
Though I'm not sure of its linguistic origins, "I keep coming back to (something)" would seem to imply that one keeps getting away from it, as well. Or it could be that sometimes shit just lays low for a while, to remain relatively unnoticed after comin' 'round the bend and rolling down hill.

Hardcore antiwar activists of yore haven't forgot Eisenhower's outgoing military-industral-complex speech on live TV, and though they've passed it on to those who keep coming back to it, it is significant that the warning turned out to mark the redoubling of the three-initialization of the White House more than it was a warning shot heard round the world. JFK, LBJ, & the CIA may not have saluted the former general-president, but they sure took his cue.

I hafta admit to rolling my mind's eye at least once when someone's referenced the Ike-MIC address. But it really does remain relevant and, when you consider the bottom line, exponentially so. That's what I am trying to get back to here: The only freedom they're fighting for over there is the freedom to fight itself, to pile the stakes higher, and that, above all else, is what contributes to this consistently reconsecrated culture of violence.


The Law of Likelihood
I do wonder how many gamers would step away forever from their gaming consoles if it were suddenly revealed that simultaneous to the BLAMS on the screen, they'd actually been maiming and killing in meat-space. My guess is that those who kept right on at it would do so firstly out of sheer boredom, slightly more than a sense of patriotic duty, with affected violent impulse or a desensitization thereto coming in at a very distant third. The same goes for the motivation to shoot up a college campus or kiddy kindergarten. What else is there to do? Be all that you can be or nothing at all.

It shouldn't be surprising that there are those who wanna maintain a right to buy and keep sundry shooting devices at home, even unchecked and unbalanced on their hips. And it's reasonable to expect that there are those who fear them. But does the latter group realize that the former group makes up the lion's share of the troops and their ideology? Are they aware that when Golden Globes are given to those big- and smallscreen representations of heroes of the national security state (and standing ovations to former presidents of nuance) that they are admiringly ogling and cheering the same people who mock their mamsy-pamsy ways while leading them around by their nanny-state noses?

If anyone needed guns to protect themselves from tyranny, it'd be the ones who've never held them in the first place, yet the wackos with the guns don't stand a Chinaman's chance against their chain of command, and anyone possessing the biggest guns with anywhere near a correspondingly big brain will rise to a position where they, too, might profit enough from all this human sacrifice financially that they could build a shield between themselves and those who, proverbially, shouldn't have the guns in the first place.

But like the coming of the next messiah, the American example abroad foreshadows hope domestically, irrespective of the legal status of its citizenry's privately-owned big or small shooters, no matter the degree and location of the weaponry's ultimate concentration.

There is hope for Americans who worry they'll be caught under the appendage of dominionist domestic despotism; or invalidated under the martial warrant of west-wingers; or surrounded by armed radical separatists; or bound by combatant crony capitalists.

One day, they, perhaps you, might vie for the beneficence of humanitarian arms manufacturers, and a network authorized to organize the interveneering.

S P E R T S now w/ xtra lynx!

To Bonds or not to Bonds? That is on the form, and in the form of a question. Whether 'tis feebler in the mind to ignore the syringes with arrows of 'roid-rageous fortitude, or to take pen against a ballot of troublemakers, and by opposing send them away until next year:

Baseball is not golf. It is not a gentleman’s game, nor does it pretend to be. Baseball has a culture of cheating that goes back to its inception, of loading up the baseball and stealing signs and corking bats and yes, of drug use. All amphetamines became controlled substances by 1965. Players who took them did so illegally, just as steroid users did. Of course, amphetamines didn’t shred the record books in the same way.

That bit reminds me most of how Charlie Hustle became a speedster, which would one day transform hitting legend Pete Rose's nickname into at least a treble-entendre (when you include both his gambling and greenie activity). Anyway, I think that all baseball's banned substances, amphetamines included, if not that which led to shred the books, certainly added tabs. And how! And like, wow, man!

Speakin' o' shredding and hallses of fame, what about big baseball buff, bassist Geddy Lee? Such an extra-league enthusiast was he... that a fraction of his balls of fame made it into the Negroes. Dude actually had one that Satchel Paige had thrown.

A few hundred miles over from Cooperstown on the shore of an only as eerie as it is large lake rests the Hello, Cleveland Hall of Bass, Guitar & Drums (and Vox & Keys and MCs and Samples & Breaks). It's a house of pop and/or poll notoriety. Among the enthused throngs at this year's induction ceremony will be those who believe there exists such a thing as "the best" at playing an instrument, which would be the case any year, I'm sure, but this time in triplets, because Kanodean raccers RUSH are being enshroomed.

What if it were revealed that Geddy Lee wouldn't have been able to play the harmonic break in YYZ were it not for a diet of lumpy mashed potatoes and anabolic gravy? Or that Neil Peart had taken the under on Van Halen's advanced reunion tour ticket sales?

Is the reason why Pete Rose continues to be the only baseball player officially banned from its hall of fame because betting on baseball skates a slope to throwing games? Or is the real reality that Roids Rule!? <On my 'If I Were King' List is Lance leaping all over Oprah's couch-of-contrition delightedly declaring just that.)

Why should a continent that claims an inability to get out of bed in the morning without the use of psychopharmica restrict its entertainers from doing all they can to entertain?

Let all Halls of Fame be Halls of Infamy, with a place in the corner for the purists and prudes who'd either prefer to look the other way, or hire a cop for every creature and design a blood-test for every one of our pathetic enhancements.

Interview with a Blood Clot

"diese ‚fiese' Frau Feinstein"

As I arrive at the clot's current residence, tucked just inside the skull behind the right ear of the outgoing secretary of state, I am initially greeted by indifferent curds, who come off surprisingly disengaged and nonthreatening. The surroundings are pedestrian. To say that the place is sparsely arranged would be generous; there is no furniture in sight.

They lie about on what appears to be the brittle remains of beanbag chairs, made literally tacky, I'm guessing, by disregarded party-phernalia. But there is a certain oppulence in this decadence.

As I take my seat in the same vein, in rolls a clump of a figure draped in a crusty terrycloth bathrobe and carrying a short tumbler, which has the appearance of being an extension of both the previous evening's revelry, as well as the clot's personality.

Clot von Hills: When you said 'morning' you weren't lying.

diary von davidly: It's afternoon.

Clot: Whatever, dude. I'm surprised you aren't over clamoring for an exclusive with Fiscal Cliff.

dvd: The doctors say they're treating the SoS with anti-coagulants. Is the party over?

Clot: Party? This is my life. I'm just going with the flow.

dvd: There aren't any plans to enter your host's brain?

Clot: Surely you can tell that I don't make plans? Anyway, she's not my host... any more than I am yours.

dvd: Sounds more like you're shirking responsibility than denying being culpable.

Clot: You know, they call me the great equalizer. Like, there are all these rich and powerful people in the world who can squash you like a bug whenever they damn-well please, yet any one of them can be brought down in a heartbeat. Do you realize how many times your heart has beat since that very first time you bat an eyelash?

dvd: Would you ever want to be the cause of a stroke?

Clot: I don't want things. I'm the result of things. And those things didn't cause me as definitively as something else caused them. The source for your story lies elsewhere.

dvd: Where would that be?

Clot: How the fuck should I know? I just do what I'm told, like everybody else.

dvd: The doctors are confident of her recovery.

Clot: Even if she did die, there'd always be another.

dvd: But it's rumored that she's weighing a presidential run in 2016.

Clot: Which came first, the rumor or the plan? Either way - beware the treacherous venality of banging glass ceilings.

Look, for longer than I can keep track, I've been supplying her brain with oxygen. Then one day she cracks herself on the head and everybody's all, "Beware of the glob!" and the internets are filled with a call to prayer from the likes of a Rothchild for chrissakes. You sure can't make that shit up.

dvd: Should I be talking to Lady Rothschild?

Clot: That'd be about as effective as interviewing the professed messages in her "mailbox" [said with finger-quotes], if only a little less tedious. Or diese „fiese" Frau Feinstein [again with the finger-quotes (this time Teuton type)].

dvd: You referring to the senator from California's strong support for the recently extended FISA?

Clot: I'm referring to futile conversations with blood clots.

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