Rants. raves and ramblings from celestial circles . . .

Posts tagged ‘The X File’

HEY I WAS ALRIGHT, THEN CAME THE REVOLUTION

How did we inherit this? I thought we were trying to make it better. Now here we are struggling along the old beaten path, only to find out things are worse. In the early days, gangs meant the Boy Scouts, or the kids living on Sycamore Lane against the chumps on Oak Drive. We would plan the encounter for days, only for it to wind up turning into a ballgame. It doesn’t work that way now, dude. It’s more like hack ’em up permanently.

At night we would drive around. Some of us might have a beer, we would yell at girls or paper the grumpy neighbors house. Man, we didn’t machine gun ’em in a pile of blood.

The cartoons were kinda’ rough. Maybe that’s where all this started. Popeye would get a little ugly with Brutus. Now you see eyeballs and arms and brains all over the place. It’s just not cool! We waited a long time for these years, just to have them screwed up by some punks in the wrong direction, or the greedy money hungry old fools making good on their adolescent shortcomings. Go home with it.

Hey, I’m hip. It’s America and I am an immigrant living better than any previous generation. I am not going to put up with this ‘tomorrow isn’t getting any better’ bullshit. If it doesn’t get any better tomorrow then it never will.

I think there are still real people out there in America. They work hard, they are honest, and they are just trying to stay ahead. But they get screwed bad everyday, by the politician, the white collar crook, the blue collar crook, by their employers, the judges and all the rest. This shit just won’t go. If the kid wants to be a ‘man’ and play with a gun maybe he should be living with the adults. Let them start paying us back just like their friends behind the costly steel bars. We need more road signs and other things that don’t compete with private enterprise. 

When I was growing up we thought ‘wow, man, bad news’, Vietnam and hell were one and the same. We thought our generation would live and die at war. But a couple of wild hairs, a few cowards and a few more even worse worked to change it. Then everyone was spiked with a heavy dose of freedom. But they forgot the main ingredient. It is the core of what we did it for.

Somewhere is this good hard working pioneer value. It is so frail. And there are so many bad pioneer losers. Their voices are louder. They get all the publicity.

Get naked and find a life. You attach your organism to whatever you like, but give the kids an even break. A clean break. Don’t push it. Face it, there isn’t much difference between what you buy at the drugstore and what they sell on the streets. It all depends on what you have and what you don’t. The dudes pushing the stuff are richy, rich, rich. What a burn.

No man, we didn’t plan this shit. Just like we didn’t plan Aids. We thought we were a little smarter than the Beatniks and the Hippies, if we could just get a grip. If we could just tighten up and lighten up. It didn’t happen dude, now we are just bitching. Where in the hell did the good shit go? And where did they stash all those good ideas? I’m gonna’ keep looking pal. And every time I see a cow bend over backwards I’m gonna’ kick it in the ass. I owe it to them. Clean it up, get capitalistically environmental, almost like organized religion. I hate that phrase. You know I always kinda’ figured it was too late for us, but I’m still thinking ahead.

THE STORY OF X

ONE IN THE BUSH IS WORTH TWO IN THE DESERT

THE STORY OF X

PRESIDENTS FOR SALE

Beware of bumper stickers selling colors with dollar signs. The colors don’t ever fade. The dollars evade. I found an old sticker stuck to my rump. It had the same old bump and the same old hump. Same old hand on the same old trump. There are only two kinds of candidates. Bandits on a legal run. 

Legality is a state of mind. The elephant doesn’t ever forget. The donkey keeps the mule in stride from calling an ass an ass. There is a hair on the dog, if you can pluck it it may break the camels back. Keeps them all on track.

They run side by side. The winners are losers and the losers are won. A face blurts out from the magic glass box. The only thing you can’t feel is his saliva hitting your face. He slovenly spits at you while he tells you that he loves you. One for the left and one for the right. And one from the man who is always caught in the middle. 

I, we, they, will keep them coming. Or keep them from coming. Keep them smiling and laughing and crying and paying. Mostly paying and praying, for God knows what comes next. Another policy, another cover. And then some more undercover.

He stands alone at his moment of glory on his most unholy pulpit. Honest, determined, concerned, dedicated with dollar signs glowing brightly. One in each eye. If you push him in the right direction, stuff his mouth with green meanies and keep his pretty toes clean, he will be your man. Your man on the scene. Your man for all reasons, with little if any logic. And George Laborworker opens his daily paper. The headline boldly reads ‘Presidents For Sale’. With a dollar fifty nine in his pocket he turns the page. The sports section is always on his side.

THE STORY OF X

THE PIMP AND THE PAUPER

THE STORY OF X

REMEMBRANCE: PAGE THREE

THE STORY OF X

REMEMBRANCE: PAGE TWO

REMEMBRANCE: PAGE TWO

THE STORY OF X

REMEMBRANCE: THE STORY OF X

THE STORY OF X

Tag Cloud