Win On Diagonals

in this day and age where more nut-ball fantasy prevails in our so called leaders and their boosters minds…then in the those spell-bound minds of leaders of past times where bacteria were confused for demon eggs, or George Burns was still and errand boy…….

‘crackpot realism’ is a term I had encountere while reading a book by C. Wright Mills a few years ago…the title alluding me, but dealing with things white collar…crime, idiocy, sociological conditions….et cetera…anyway i came acorss a passage by Wright in A. Cockburns piece on Counterpunch this New Years Eve……

Crackpot realism” was the concept defined by the great Texan sociologist, C. Wright Mills in 1958, when he published The Causes of World War Three, also the year that Dwight Eisenhower sent the Marines into Lebanon to bolster local US factotum, Lebanese President Camille Chamoun.

“In crackpot realism,” Mills wrote, ” a high-flying moral rhetoric is joined with an opportunist crawling among a great scatter of unfocused fears and demands. .. The expectation of war solves many problems of the crackpot realists; … instead of the unknown fear, the anxiety without end, some men of the higher circles prefer the simplification of known catastrophe (ah sort of like….religion

…but they have a demented happy ending in some of those doctrines…you know that Calvanistic limited number of halos at the door and what not…)….They know of no solutions to the paradoxes of the Middle East and Europe, the Far East and Africa except the landing of Marines. … they prefer the bright, clear problems of war-as they used to be (when was this exactly?…) For they still believe that ‘winning’ means something, although they never tell us what…”………………….Yes…Winning…it only means something to a coterie of shit stained white shoed……..show populists……..but this is degenerating into name calling so i’ll stop..

 kind of feel bad about this, I whispered to myself walking out of the place.  I was at a Chinese joint…take out, ordering some beef and scallions with white rice when an older black couple came in behind me.  It soon became apparent that they were regulars, as they discussed the new owner of the joint, who they had some hostility to if read ‘bitch thinks she all the egg none the roll’ correctly.  I asked myself, does a free soy sauce advertisement calendar carefully hanging on the inside of a Getty Station inside bathroom door solve world hunger.  No, I concluded.  I asked myself a number of fiercely irrelevant questions as Jesus Christ himself was sweeping up with even arm movements, a make believe upstairs busy preparing the 22^nd century Chinese fast food cuisine that you desperately wanted special abilities to even remotely fathom the recondite possibilities of in advance.

I said to myself in a voice reminiscent of my usual speaking voice: “egg em’ on about how the specials are more expensive and don’t include certain items gratis.’  These throw in items seemed to be from what I gathered ones  that they only truly wished to have only if they didn’t have to toss any extra do-re-me on the that crooked massacred counter table the hue of an accidental experimental cotton candy blue diarrhea.

“It always came with the broccoli.”

“A dawler more, confused, hah? Not wing…sliced…”

“Naw, the coke was there too. Not a dollar, how much, free.  Say’s here….(not looking at menu…but rather eyeing my pack of Lucy Strikes lights that I was spanking before opening…)  NO, says COKE FREE, look.”

The woman really wanted broccoli which did not come free with an order of chicken wings but only with various sliced chicken dishes in addition to other types of orders. It cost a dollar more.  This failure to see the apparent limitations of ordering the wings in lieu of throw in items not thrown in set off a round of wonderfully confusing banter that I loved as it grew gnarly with the kind of stuttering repetition that raises the vexatious nimbus of wickedness above my snowy head accompanied by rapturous sounds of an other worldly timbre.  Yes, the pronunciations, speaking styles, gesticulations, and general odd and confusing confrontation of this episode rely in part on the ethnic/generational chasm between the two groups.  I must state hear for those extremely sensitive souls that I did not just ignorantly delight in poking fun of the two party’s alleged inferiority in the ways of communication or am purposely stereotyping for the crude slimy ha-ha of it all.  I’m not, so there.  

I kept on muttering to the man that it used to be a fairer deal at this joint, one could get a free coke can with their meal.  An annoying kid started screaming into a refrigerated unit.  I had never been in this joint, nor do I generally eat foot I don’t make or that is not free because I’m cheap for one, but also because I prefer making food myself.  I jibed about the possible 3 cent surcharge on hot mustard in a loose/flippant way, and the older black couple and myself laughed as the woman brought back only one order of fried wings, broccoli, pork fried rice, when three were ordered.  As I left the Chinese take out joint, I heard the mellifluous cacophony of a mantra that dealt with the words: extra, dollar, coke, no three, not one, you confused, very still, where’s that boy, hate this new one, very, not three cokes all three, right, naw!  Happy new year!

…display a very funny email i got from this guy selling me a keyboard.  I wish i sort of knew how to write in a language enough to mangle it….oh wait..I DO!.

Domenic,

I apology for no sending the Alesis KBD on 12/26 as promise.

I wife took the box that I have reserved for the keyboard with all the

other stuff ( left-overs) from Chrismas gifts to the garbage and it was

gone by the time

that I realize it.

I have to make of my self a garbage rat (my bold) and go around to the dump areas

at Home Depot, Wallmart, etc to find the adecuate box until today that

I was able

to find the right one.

You keyboard is now package and will be ship tomorrow morning.

yours,

Frank

On Dec 26, 2006, at 9:40 AM, Domenic Maltempi wrote:

> Thank you …

>

> —–Original Message—–

> From: fisabel@verizon.net [mailto:fisabel@verizon.net]> Sent: Saturday, December 23, 2006 8:08 AM

> To: Domenic Maltempi

> Subject: Re: Alesis QS6.1 keyboard Synthetizer-No Tyros or Rolan

Mllions ‘cannot read well enough for karaoke’

By Paul Bignell

Published: 17 December 2006

                                    Amalgam (V.O.)
           
Some world.  This world may or may not be, May Day or polluting victory parade, screaming ticker tape stuck in you’re teeth, oh what a hoarse throated seer! Alright, have to get it out… Maybe better off if I could score but still not slowly lose, pills or magic boos for a new high that just acts like the perfect step ladder… one swiftly pulled out to do whatever job at hand, help you reach in, keep your equipoise, keep your enemies gulled…
 

 How about something that would allow me to walk into a Czechoslovakian wrestling festival as a total stranger in this whatever land of blending inanties, recognizing none of the humor, that ability to get a hold on the power of de-familiarzing it all, making it real funny by really knowing the familiar and accepted…understanding every damn word as the beer is ordered, lewd jokes are shared, secrets told, truths are lied about with honest spit flying, numbers screamed waiting for the actor to catch his breathe, even for just three hours or so of just laid back rhapsody, knowing it all instinctively, right then! Live to rhapsodize another day too!  No more reading little words crawling across screens, flaking into irrelevance, making every moment more relevant beyond other communications, even making telepathy more interesting, more polyphonic.  Now who wants to take away my inside-outside agents, my beyond narcotic together-maker?  We’re not playing revolution here, can’t turn us into a car commercial, dolts biting on the burnout thread, prey to a weasel.  We must go on, yes, that’s a yes.  We won’t be ratted on, reacted against.

These cornuted creatures sing till the sides of your mouth begin quivering.  HEre the late REV Hislop squeezes his mad sponge to those mouth-tongues that are beyond slaking.  But I love these little horned creatures from NOwhere.  In my mind they are gentle, trapped in a stare down with bits of cinema debris and footlights while the credits roll up and up long after the cinema is closed. S O SP EA K REV Hislop…….I Kugol Nosneakers implore you’re dead 18th century theological ass:

Cut up Rev Hislop talk from his pamphlet entitled:

The Two Babylons
or The Papal Worship Proved to be the Worship of Nimrod
and His Wife
By the Late Rev. Alexander Hislop

First published as a pamphlet in 1853–greatly 

 has been known all along that Popery was baptised Paganism (if only..!)

The name for a bull or ruler, is in Hebrew without points, Shur, which in Chaldee becomes Tur. From Tur, in the sense of a bull, comes the Latin Taurus; and from the same word, in the sense of a ruler, Turannus, which originally had no evil meaning.!  (note: pecu…for pecuniary…related to the coin of the tyrant…also has link to a bull or PECU..dm)

The ox-headed Prince of Heaven The Horned one,” is thus found in Japan, it cannot be surprising that the symbol of Dagon should be found in China.

mysterious beverages” were composed of “wine, honey, water, and flour.” Rome symbolised as a “Woman,” holding in her left hand a cross, and in her right a CUP, with the legend around her, “Sedet super universum,” “The whole world is her seat.”Here, then, we find that Brahm is just the same as “Er-Rahman,” “The all-merciful one,”–a title applied by the Turks to the Most High, and that the Hindoos, notwithstanding

their deep religious degradation now, had once known that “the most holy, most high God,” is also “The God of  god of fire loud resounding sea

Section V
Lamps and Wax-Candles

robes of ceremony, attended by the priests in surplices, with wax-candles in their hands, carrying upon a pageant or thensa, the images of their gods, dressed out in their best clothes

 the horned band gradually passed into the modern coronet or crown with the three leaves of the fleur-de-lis, or other familiar three-leaved adornings.

i recently was lucky enough to come upons some beautiful images made by a man named Matthew Woodson out of St. Louis, MO.  

www.ghostco.org

 They are not cheerful scenes, nor morose in some tuneless way…but are careful works you don’t mind dying a little inside of on a day when you might have a pinch extra ))Lwww.ghostco.org