* Surgeon Generals Warning* (for the uninitiated-- this diary drips with venom, sarcasm and snark. The Booman Tribune does not endorse the diarist, does not endorse any of his personal habits nor a single word of the following. Reading this diary will not make you laugh, will likely undermine your morals and your sexual health as well as "dumb down" your obviously superior intellect. Make comments at your own risk.)

:) :) :) :) :)

First, let me just say how gratified I am that my fellow frog ponders have drafted me, donkeytale, to craft our website's reply to the scurrilous excuse laden wussified memo sent to us by the kossacks in response to the torrent of outraged criticism levelled at the Big Orange by the little green for so clearly and painfully obviously selling their souls to the devil in Las Vegas last weekend, as reported in glorious detail by all major news media outlets.

I was selected for one reason and one reason only and that is because I, donkeytale (nee pete richards), have been guilty of selling my soul to the Devil on any number of occasions, and so can empathize in the correct progressive tradition of always extending empathy toward the enemy. Curiously, each time I sold my soul, for some reason, the Devil or his media consultant quickly arranged to let me have title back.

I think I may have even been termed an ingrate, or words to that effect. Who woulda thunk the Devil would be just as thin skinned as your run of the mill mildy left wing political blogger? Troll rated me right out of Hades he did. 666 times.

Well, f*ck old Beezlebubba as I like to call him, for today we have a much more evil presence in our midst with which to deal, the Almighty Kos Monster itself, a twelve million headed gargoyle of apparently uniform support of some guy named Warner from Virginia.

I find it difficult to express my outrage, my indignation, my complete flabbergastedness, at our receiving a memo which purports to speak for 12,000,000 page views per year as if they were all in solidarity over there. As if. DUH!

But how can you completely turn away from your mildly left wing progressive political ideals and throw your support behind Warner NOW??!!??Just for a few free drinks and canapes??!!?? I always suspected you kossacks of being a bit light in the loafers, if you know what I mean. Your supposed to make the swine pay up in the hundreds of thousands, not just a provide a few crappy generic brand cocktail parties.

(How were they by the way? Did Warner really put on the dog? Real Food Network like food or just those ugly little dried up wienies wrapped in pie crust?)

Uh, earth to kos...its way too early to sell out yet....the 2008 election doesnt take place for 2 1/2 more years....get Jesse Jackson to give you some pointers on how to truly shake down the bozos before you schedule next years event, which someone tells me is going to be held at a baseball park in the middle of an Iowa cornfield? WTF???

And why throw your support behind some old Reptublican warhorse who has seen his best days way way back in the rearview mirror?

I mean after all, he WAS once married to Elizabeth Taylor, sure, give the guy his props, but wtf?

As anyone who read Eddie Fisher's autobiography (like my mother Donkette for instance) will tell you straight up, Liz was a bit of a handful in her day.

Oh well, at least Warner had the good sense to dump her out on her fat a** as quickly as he did once he caught onto the prima donna act.

Jeesh, he could have saved himself a lot of time and trouble before marrying the aging starlet simply by purchasing donkeytale's complete GBCW diary collection (available only online at Powells for $6.66, plus shipping and handling). A careful reading of my ego-drug-and alcohol induced powertrips would have given him a cautionary sense of the harmful effects of prima donnaism on the life of a true public servant.

Rumor has it that Liz has even stopped den mothering Michael Jackson's cub scout troop and no longer does anything but sit inside her huge Bel Air Mansion all day, popping sleeping pills, swilling Dom, and hitting on the hired help.

She's already married and divorced the carpenter, the flooring installer, the cabana boy and now it can be revealed......Arthur Gilroy, who was doing a little handy man work at her luxe manse between gigs when he found himself stuck out on the coast a few years ago after that whole latin jazz thing went "poof".

Even Arthur couldnt take it when that piker Antonio Banderas was revealed to be a "lip syncher." Thank God AGs come back to the east coast where he can enlighten us all on a regular basis without all those cloying faked up tricked up hollywood h*gs chasing his a** all over their well appointed boudoirs... Thanks AG. Thanks for everything. So in closing, let me just state unequivocally for the record.........hi my names pete and im an internet junkie!

:0) (0:

Oh I feel allright honey. I have a pain under my ribcage that wont go away but you know what? I think I m going to be more afraid when it stops hurting. for now the pain is my friend, sitting right here beside me.

mother it will be ok. you know that right? everything will be ok?

i know.

mom did you ever hear of a poet named anne sexton? she was popular back in your day i think?

oh yes. killed herself. she was a nymphomaniac according to killy kelly.

did you ever read her poetry mom?

no dear.

did you ever feel like killing yourself mom?

hundreds of times. you know your father. felt like killing him a few times, too.(laughter)

remember when you got divorced that time and then a week later you turned up pregnant? how old were you then?

I remember the night i miscarried and almost died in the operating room. too much blood lost. i was anemic. i wonder how life would have been different if i had that baby?

was it dads?

no.

mom can we be completely honest with each other for the remaining...

i have always been honest with you dear. it was your father who taught you how to lie.

oh come on mom. you told me plenty of lies. you lied about the baby.

I lied to the doctor but not you.

but you didnt tell me the truth.

what truth?

that the baby wasnt dads you never told me until right now.

and so now you know the truth?

yes mom.

i have always been honest with you dear. honestly? we all know the truth about everything instantly. well before we are capable of the words in our minds. words are the smallest specks of dirt. a hair in your mouth. little monsters with lives of their own. lives that will outlive yours if you are not careful. if you dont know that by now then you dont know very much about honesty yourself mister. and thats your fathers fault. (laughter, coughing)

In yet another example of the world going to hell in a hand basket, noted black holologist and childrens book author Stpehen Hawking said Tuesday that it is imperative for the human race to begin colonizing the Moon and Mars within the next 100 years, since he believes the earth is imminently threatened with extinction from either (or both) a man made or natural disaster of cataclysmic magnitude.

In an apparent seizure of donkeytalesque schizophrenia, Hawking made these startling comments at a news conference intended to publicize his new book "Understanding the Universe for Children".

Hawking, wheel chair bound because of ALS, gathered a group of tykes closely around him and then promptly proceeded to scare holy shit out of them with some of the direst predictions ever made this side of the mildly left political blogosphere regarding the fate of our doomed planet.

"I am issuing a challenge to all three year olds," Hawking said. "As your teenage siblings will tell you without you even asking, your parents have completely f*cked everything up....Legos are the essential building blocks of the universe. You better figure out a way to get your dads to stop cussing over that 78,000 piece Starship Enterprise he's been diddling with the past couple years and urge him to find a way to make that sucker fly to the moon!Pronto!"

Hawking delighted in watching the kids laugh and slap high fives with each other as the incompetent earth killing dads smoldered silently in the background.

"While there isnt much to do on either Mars or the Moon, I believe we already have the ability not only to maintain human life there, but also to hardwire these planets for video game technology and the Cartoon Network. Bring along enough Coco Puffs to last a couple hundred years and life as we know it should be fairly sustainable."

When one skeptical reporter asked Hawking to explain how humans, the very same people who have ruined earth, will be able to do any better for themselves elsewhere in the universe, Hawking brushed the question aside.

"I dont talk to journalists, except for that Ar**ndo guy from DailyKos. Is he really going to stop posting or what?"

When asked if he was a member of DKOS, Hawking shook his head "no".

"As a rocket scientist, of course, I am interested only in the meta side of the blogosphere. All that third rate political analysis bores me half to death. We dont have time to argue! The planet is doomed and it really doesnt matter whether Warner, McCain,Feingold or Hillary win in 2008 (although I do believe that dope Frist stands no chance of getting the Reptublican nod). These kids need to get the hell off this planet NOW."

Hawking admitted that he had heard President George W. Bush propose sending manned spacecraft to Mars, a policy brief which was issued by the President during the 2004 presidential race.

"I think Bush would do well for himself if HE could get away for awhile, say a couple of lightyears, then come back for a third chance. Right now it is clear to me that he is stuck in a double reverse negative time warp, which means that no matter what he tries to do it will turn out badly for the entire human race. This guy couldnt sell a space heater to an eskimo and at the rate he is going it wont matter because the eskimos will soon need air conditioners anyway!"

When asked about the Hawking press conference, Bush press flunky Tony Snow broke down in tears. "To see President Bushs vision of a colonized galaxy confirmed by one of the greatest scientific minds in history is just awesome! Needless to say, the president has pledged to continue furthering those policies which will lead to the complete destruction of the earth and thus speed up the time for his familys departure." Snow told a gathering of reporters that First Lady Laura Bush had already purchased four first class tickets on the first flight "outta here."

Snow refused to set a schedule for the worlds ultimate demise, other than to say he was fully confident in the presidents ability to "make something happen during the remaining two and one half years of his second term."

"As you know this President likes to tackle the big subjects and here we have one of the biggest!"

When asked how colonization of outer space would play with the fundamentalist base, Snow grew angrily dismissive. "F*ck those pew jockeys. Don't need them anymore. We cant run for reelection again anyway."

 

AFTER AUSCHWITZ

Anger
as black as a hook
overtakes me
each day

each nazi
took at 8 am
a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan

And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail

man is evil
I say aloud
man is a flower
that should be burnt
I say aloud
Man is a bird full of mud
I say aloud

and death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his an*s

man with his small pink toes
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse
I say aloud
Let man never again raise his teacup
Let man never again write a book
Let man never again put on his shoe
let man never again raise his eyes
on a soft July night

never
never
never
never
never

I say these things aloud
I beg the Lord not to hear

--Anne Sexton

A Donkeys prayer

We never know how high we are
till we are called to rise
And then if we are true to plan
our statures touch the skies

The heroism we recite
would be a daily thing
did not ourselves the cubits warp
for fear to be king

--Emily Dickenson

You can all put away the Fitzmas decorations. A viscious right wing conspiracy known to some idiots as "reality" has once again made a mockery of the predictive ability (also sometimes referred to as the tin foil thought process) of our dear Assistant Supreme Leader.

Personally, I have never been more embarrassed, except for the time I was outed by my first wife for sticking my thumb up my own a** to see if if I could simulate the experience of a**l sex (I know what you are thinking--but this was simply RESEARCH for an as yet unpublished novel).

Apparently, my thumb lacks the girth required for statistical validity. My unpublished novel lacks "realism" according to all 74 jerkoff editors who to date have rejected my gay masterpiece. Hey, you dont have to be a criminal to write crime stories, do you?

They just dont understand my version of fantastical neo realism, thats all.

Yeah, and Einstein worked at the post office or somewhere too. Moral: just because you have figured out the very foundation of the universe doesnt mean you are necessarily entitled to be a regular on the recommended list, not to mention EVER make the frontpage, where until very recently we all had to read about "Fitzmas" "this Friday , no next Monday, maybe Wednesday".

Here at the BT, more newbies are coming to this site every day, and who knows, one of them might be an editor for a book publishing house who knows exactly what it feels like to have his own thumb stuck up his a** and who therefore might be willing to give Donkeytale the book publishing contract he so richly deserves. But how can my Important Work ever be taken seriously again now that this website has been denigrated once more by all the embarrassing tin foil hattery tossed around so blithely by its assistant proprietor and bossman?

He's too busy running down all the outing Ar**ndo diarists to see that he is just as FoS as any of us are, the only real difference between him and us being that he is An Important Blogger and that we are not.

Sure, he got the information on the "pending" Rove indictment from another blogger, not a real journalist, so how can we blame him? Everybody outside of the bloggers themselves know that blogging is not same as journalism, but he is a good guy, a trusting soul (after all he's reinstated donkeytale at least twice), and he went with his gut.....blame the NYT or the WaPo for this outrageous abuse of prosecutorial indiscretion.....not the blogosphere.

Blame it all on the SCLM, the Reptublicans and Mark Warner. Arm**do its your fault since like Fitzgerald you are nothing but a sleazeball lawyer. Why you even worked for Wal Mart you piker!

Never blame the blogosphere. We are nothing but anonymous anomalies of amateurish auto eroticism.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Pardon me. I have some more research to do...and no, Dr. Soling, I have not been smoking hashish this morning. Its way too early yet....

First I thought about entitling this, one more in a continuing series of GBCW diaries, Why I Write. But then I realized that even I am not particularly interested in following that thread down to its final sleep inducing conclusion.

Second I am an entrepreneur. Thats French for people who do things. I am a doer. Or as some of my friends say I am a double doer. neat. no ice or soda please.

third I am sick of hanging out with losers. therefore I, donkeytale, just like the mighty kos before me, prefers to change you losers into winners rather than become a naturalized Reptublican, which kos and I both know in our heart of hearts is what we both should be and will likely become anyway after we both skyrocket past the 30 mil marker on our way up the Big Board.

"Together, together you and I"

fourth I think Warner has only about as much chance as Romney anyway and what the hell is the difference between the two? Oh Romneys a Reptublican? Really, and an entrepreneur as well? No shit?dewars man? course not.

fifth hes from Massachusetts although I thought he was from Utah? Oh well...Arkansas, Illinois, New York wtf the difference?

sixth I say we need to become the party of humor in order to win back the whitewash house. And no, I am not calling for the densely layered, ultrahip even inaccessible at times but always right in the face of the intended target biting satire of say, a Colbert or a donkeytale. no i am calling for the more gentle, uplifting sonorism of a Letterman or a Stewart. populists.

Guys that wont scare your progressive grandmother much less the Great White Middle Class Suburbian/Exurbian reptublican leaning Undecideds--you know, the endless sunbelt subdivisions of chuckleheaded boredom consumers out there who decide each and every election. I have learned from experience: get them laughing and you've won 99% of the battle....

seventh for instance when they try some stunt like swiftboat why dont we just crank out the exact same ad campaign but change the name from "kerry" to "bush"? Get it? "Bush wasnt on the river that day..." jon stewart's sonorous voice...see what i mean? and the possibilities are endless so we can counter anything that that dastardly Karl Rove will throw at us, even as he is running the Reptublican campaign out of wtf federal country club/steel bar inn the Big Blogosphere finally gets him tossed into.

eighth the bloggressive fest 2006 was a great success but in my mind placed squarely into high def that in order to be truly considered the "Talk Radio of the Left" YOU MUST WIN SOMETHING. You who own this free enterprise exercise in capitalistic like progressivistic reactionism have upon yourself all the pressure to produce in the flesh. Why not? you get to sit around all day in your underwear or wtf and watch tv, play games on the internets and use and abuse millions of progressivistic reactionaries as you so desire and its all because of us, the plebeian masses, the progessivistic reactionaries ourselves, who have built your media empire ( and all its second tier knockoffs as well) with our visions, our intellects and our anonymities. Why shouldnt we hold you, the mighty kos, accountable for wtf happens in 2006 and 2008? with the victory comes the spoils but with another loss your meat gets spoiled.

fast.

Bet on it.

wtf?

ninth good show! especially the wwf-like sniping back and forth with that ingrate booman....

tenth i would xpost this on your orange crush as per the "blogosphere integrity statement regarding meta diaries which criticize the Supreme Leadership" but alas I was banned there a couple years ago or so. I readily admit that I deserved the banning, as I have also readily deserved my previous bannings at BT (twice)and RedState (dont ask). Instead I am asking, nyet, I am demanding both forgiveness and clemency plus $250,000 cash in unmarked twenties for all the trouble you have put me through with this internet addiction of mine, this affliction of my anonymous soul which you and you alone have created and are solely responsible.

Lets see now, with triple damages your bill comes to an even 750k. Something tells me after this weekend your bank account will be able to handle it....

eleventh learn to laugh at yourself and it will be easier to take when everybody else is laughing at you too.

twelfth may the lord your god (wtf you deign him or her or it to be) bless all of your actions on your unique and individualized road to paradise

thirteenth hi my name's pete and im an internet junkie. Ciao

After an exhaustive journalistic-like investigation, which included such harrowing assignments as being embedded as a conga drum in a Latin jazz band, and subsequently being forced to play deep throat in a parking garage with the band's bass player while posing incognito as a female back up singer, Donkeytale (nee, pete richards)has learned that Arthur Gilroy, noted Blooger and eminent critic of the blogoshere is none other than..........ductape fatwa!

When confronted with the evidence by the FBI, Gilroy immediately broke down and confessed that not only was he fatwa, but that he was also Americanforliberty, susanhu, MSOC, Bluebird of Happiness, Wilfred, demfromct, knoxville progressive, brian nowhere (nee, Brian Crowder), Jesus Christ, Osama bin laden and in a completely twisted shocker of a revelation......DHinMI, as well as the murderer of both OJ Simpson's and Robert Blake's wives.

"I was stuck out on the coast after that whole Latin jazz revival thing died down so unexpectedly" a sobbing Gilroy confessed through very real tears.

"What can I say, I needed a gig... I couldnt face the thought of going back to Long Island every Saturday to render yet another Latin jazz tinged version of 'The Bride Cuts the Cake.'"

Gilroy calmed down somewhat when told by authorities that he stood an excellent chance of escaping the death penalty and that he would likely be allowed to continue posting his prized diaries from the prison desktop as long as he could muster a regular bribe for the prison librarian.

ductape fatwa was unavailable for comment but, through his publicist, promised to post a 12,500 word anagram on the subject "Of Blogger Anonymity...As The Founding Fathers See It," by next Thursday at the latest. Stay tuned to this diary for further developments....

Donations to the Arthur Gilroy Defense Fund may be sent by certified cashiers check or money order to:

donkeytale
c/o your local Fascist News Network station
Anytown, USA.

Please make payable to "pete richards."

Bet on it.

You--

complex explorer of
the polyrhythmic
underside
and dirty toenails

Me--

no musical ear
stuck inside
a barbed wire
shithouse

nowhere

Ok, now I am signing up for Ms. Palmieri's seminar, knowing full well that my chances of escaping the plebeian hell of the blogosphere and making it all the way up to Media Nirvana are about as good as the chances of Howard "the Christ" Dean's wife ever appearing with him again at any future campaign event.

Personally, I hope "the Christ" just says no and stays home in 2008---he can stay home in 2006 for that matter too, for all I care about that rube. Fricking loser. Give me Warner or give me (Her)seth!

Now, I would definitely cast my vote for Deans wife if she ran-- a demure yet self possessed and obviously very intelligent woman, a physician, a caregiver. So, why is she married to this nut case who let his entire one chance at an upset to rival all upsets--even the historic Donkeytale thrashing of DHinMI in their classic live weblog Ultimate Fight (missed it? maybe because it appeared exclusively on my new blog of record The Donkeys Tale, which so far hasnt been read by anybody--except as a nonpharmaceutical cure for insomnia--and even then only by me) go down the tubes precisely because he was not well schooled enough in the arts of hog calling on national TV?

Everybody in Arkansas, including the Big Dog hisself knows its

"suuuuuuEEEEEEEE!"

not "RARRGHHH!"

You got to know how to play in the red states if you want to win, as opposed to being a highly principled, frozen stiff of a loser from Vermont or, may God help us, Massachusetts (again).

Anyway, I am now cautiously approaching Miss Palmieri to ask if she might be available for some private tutoring later on back in my hotel room.

" Um, no, not at all," she is replying, businesslike as all get out. "This is TV punditry training not Arkansas Governor training---thats a different seminar and much, MUCH more expensive."

She is looking down at my threadbare Levis and BooTrib teeshirt, her expression pointedly saying it all. I might as well not waste my time--or hers, ever again, on any matter.

"I aint sayin shes a gold digger...." I am singing softly under my breath, as I leave the seminar. I wonder if they offer any free karaoke at YKOS?

Face it dumbass. You will never be a pundit. You will never be Arkansas Governor. You will never be anything. You will never even make the frontpage of that second tier knockoff blog where you spend so much time tormenting your soul venting your already overvented spleen and completely wasting the few good years you have left.

Dont you have a life?

What the hell are you doing here in Vegas? You are nothing but an old anachronistic analog time piece set against all the future bigtime digital movers and shakers of a vast and powerful web-based mass political movement which easily rates the front pages of the New York Times and the Washington Post, yet hasnt to date accomplished a single damn thing of note except (1) outing a gay ex marine stud for hire turned fake urinalist, and (2) a book contract (a very unremarkable book at that) for a young ex soldier-turned-web-entrepreneur who seems to be morphing into a fey latino Donald Trump right before all our astonished eyes.

And where the hell is that fatwa guy? I came here expressly to attend his seminar "Deconstructing My Viewpoint For Idiots," figuring it was right up my alley. Now I find the seminar lasts for thirty six weeks and he forces you to read every damn sentence! Cheeky a-hole!

There is just so much to do here I dont know where to begin...

Madman in the Marketplace and his liberal street fighters have a hospitality suite of their own downtown at the Meteor Blades Hotel and Casino (formerly known as the Union Plaza). Back in Meteor's day those Teamsters knew how to party! Drinks on the house if I can beat MITM arm wrestling (but, alas he is one tough SOB) AND I will finally get to meet that Wilfred fellow. As soon as he comes out of the restroom, according to Mr. Marketplace. He keeps assuring me that Wilfred is going to reappear at any moment but he's been in there a long time now, others have been going in and coming out, theres only one toilet in there and I don't want to miss the next free laser light show under the canopy on Fremont Street...

Hey! KO! Over here brother! So tell me, what the hell are you up to these days?

Still blogging?

The main point for me in all the hooha over Armando, who always treated me decently by the way, even when I was acting my own insane clown posse over there, is that you cannot very easily extract todays "left wing" from the corporate culture. Coopted is a word that comes to mind.

I will freely admit my own culpability. I am a business person. Sure, I practice a style of business that differs tremendously from that of say, Scrooge, but there are certain elements of business life that would make any good sixties style progressive, especially those employed in the "helping" professions, aghast.

An objective presence, say a deity from on high, might not notice much difference between Americans from roughly the middle to the top of the economic ladder when it comes to guilt by association with the Beast. Regardless of professed political progressivism.

A side point, in Suskinds diary, he mentions something about a journalists rights? Is Armando a journalist? Are any bloggers performing journalism in these blogs?

While I too am protective of my real identity, mainly because it makes me freer to use my friends, family and acquaintances as characters in my little autobio comedies, anyone who really knows me can determine from a close reading of my always cogent and excellent posts exactly who I am.

Lucky for me, nobody really cares.

Besides, now that he has been outed Armando will no doubt get a book contract and maybe even a TV gig if he is good looking enough.

The blogosphere is so badly overrated in just about every possible way (and mainly by the blooging proprietors themselves)that these little melodramas are increasingly the most interesting part of the entire phenomenon.

And what will happen to the lefty blogoshere IF and WHEN the Democrats regain control of the federal government?

Its bound to happen sooner or later. Even a blind horse wins a race by accident once in a while, especially when the opponent is a chimpanzee in an oversized dunce cap who cant do anything right.

I say we keep trashing the Temple...

In a seeming coincidence, the City of Las Vegas has just announced that, in addition to being site of the first annual Yearly Kos Festival, the self styled City of Sin has also been awarded exclusive rights to host the 10th Annual Hooters Swimsuit Pageant, apparently for the 10th year in a row.

According to the Hard Rock Hotel Sports Book, Maryscott O'Connor has been installed as the early 6-9 betting favorite to sweep all awards at both the Kos Festival and the Hooter's Pageant.

It was not immediately known whether Ms. O'Connor's film-crew-in-tow will be allowed into the swimsuit competition. However, according to the producers of the highly popular "Liberals Gone Wild" series, videos of both events will soon be available on all major late night cable TV outlets for only $6.66.

All proceeds from sales of the videos will be donated to help fund John Kerry in the principled, valiant struggle to change his own mind about supporting the War in Iraq.

Stay tuned to this diary for further reports...You will NOT see this story anywhere else, not on FNC, CNN, AP or OUI.

Bet on it.

President Bush's popularity is falling faster among his base than an old dick who cant remember his viagra connection.

According to Pew Research polling numbers released yesterday, Bush's popularity has plummeted among all groups since December 2004. Ouch, my dog just bit me!

Two of the poll results stick out.

EVANGELICAL PROTESTANTS

December 2004 approval- 77%
Today- 55%

Yes the same people who you just know are determined to beat all those muslim wankers back to the middle ages by systematically taking over the military, the three houses of the federal government AND overturning our cherished rights to cheap and easy abortions, as constitutionally guaranteed by our extremely progressive founding fathers.

Yes the same ones who cynically go off to foreign locales to promote photo ops with dying AIDS victims instead of truly fighting the real fight against this scourge of humanity like all good liberals who never fail to use condoms when cheating on their husbands, wives and/or lovers (of either sex).

Me, I've gotten to the point where I require a condom just to masturbate. It simply doesnt feel right anymore, this skin on skin interaction.

Rubber means never having to say you're sorry.

SOUTHERNERS

December 2004 approval- 56%
Today- 36%

Yes the same red necks white sox and blue ribbon beerhounds who have completely destroyed the free world as we knew it back in the day of the extremely progressive founding fathers are also turning away from Bubba W. Bush in large numbers.

Who woulda thunk it almost two long long years ago that these unwashed backwoods morons--you know the ones who squat in trailers without trailer parks and allow their always naked kids to climb up into and pretend drive that blocked up Chevy in the front yard as you and I speed by on the highway to NYC or SF--who woulda thunk that only about 1 in 3 would support Bubba W. today?

HAVE FUN IN VEGAS

But dont forget to wrap that sausage.

She stood quietly at the window. I had brought her to me to provide instruction. My life had become a mess again. The tangles of time,people,alcohol, madness.

For years I had struggled against myself, kept myself heavily secured in emotional chains, mental bondage, a slave to others. I had worked very hard against all odds to remain a failure and had failed even that test. Accidental success had only deepened my misery. There are no chains wrapped tighter than those forged by easy success.

She took the glass I offered her and sat down across from me.

"What was your first job?"

"You mean as an adult?"

"No. Your first job."

I thought for a moment.

"My dad was a gardener. When I was eleven he made me work with him Wednesday, Thursday and Friday all summer mowing peoples lawns."

Not a single friend of mine missed a single moment of his summer that year, I recalled with an acuity not diminished one bit by the passage of some forty odd years.

"Was your father the best gardener?"

"Not really. He did a lot of qauntity over quality I would say. We hustled."

"Did you know this at the time, that there was a better way?"

"Well, sort of...the wealthy people always hired the nisei gardeners to tend their landscaping. The nisei were the best gardeners. Some of the designs in BH or old Pasadena...unbelieveable."

"The nisei were interned during World War II. They seemed very bitter about it. They stayed to themselves."

I remembered a schoolboy crush I had on the daughter of one of the nisei in our town. She never returned my valentines card. Never even thanked me for the big heart shaped cherry sucker I left on her desk.

"Yes. They were born in America, in fact were among the earliest residents of southern california and yet they were imprisoned for years simply because of their japanese heritage." I always know my facts, even when the knowledge makes me unhappy.

"You have a lot of lawn. What is your favorite part?"

"The side yard by the patio."

"Yes, its lovely. You must make it perfect."

I looked at her.

"Do you know what is "perfect?"

I looked at her.

"Go work on your lawn until it is perfect."

I looked at her.

"You will know when it is...and when it is not. Perfect isn't a picture in a design magazine, no matter how glorified. It cannot be found in anyone's yard. The perfection I am talking about cannot be attained outside the place you inhabit. It cannot exist for anyone but you. The award winning lawn of your neighbor can never be your perfection."

I looked at her.

"You will find perfection only as a feeling which arises within you. Most important you must make yourself open and available to it. Otherwise, there is no path."

I looked at her.

"The goal of your life is to maintain your perfect lawn each day. As you do so and it becomes a routine habit, the feeling will transform into an attitude, an attitude which you may then bring into other parts of your life."

I looked at her.

"An attitude which you can only build one 'perfect lawn' at a time."

She rose and walked out the french door to the patio, then stepped back across the threshold.

"Its a big yard and there is still some sunlight..."

She left quietly without saying goodbye. I stared at the open door for a moment, felt a sudden heaviness pass through my body, then got up and went outside.

Sometimes
a glass of ice cold
truth pain

is worth much more
than all the acclaim

a celebrated blogger
(such as you and I)
might attain

(self ziplocked suicide of the soul)
(self censorious my doggerel)

Not gilligan
not the skipper
nor the attendant
Cabinet pricks

Not dobson
not falwell
nor pope bentadick

Never the bogeymen
I reflexively see
for public enemy number one...

is always me