Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Friday, December 31, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "We shouldn't eat the rich" has died after being gnawed to the bone by a horde of addled geriatrics while on a skiing vacation in Aspen, Colorado. Born in the halcyon days of brotherly love and public order, the Opinion served to guide the less fortunate of the nation in their eating habits, admonishing them to refrain from dining on the wealthier members of society. After a pleasant childhood spent eating slaughtered animals, it left its home and became deeply embedded into the fabric of the social contract, free from any hint or pangs of cannibalistic urges.

After the fall of the Dark Prince in 1974 the Opinion spent the next few decades touring the country, sharing its message of Wealthy Free Eating as part of the They'll Shoot You if You So Much as Try and Nibble Them campaign. The promotion was so successful that no rich people were eaten in the United States for the next 35 years (the rich did continue to pay to have people lick them) even as poverty was increasing its presence. It was only when the richest citizens tried to fuck everybody out of their Social Security that poor mouths began to salivate when riding the bus through wealthy neighborhoods, and slowly the forks began to rise in anticipation of an orgy of flesh. As the New Year came knocking on the back porch door, barbecues across the 50 states began to sizzle and spit with the grease of bankers, insurance magnates, lobbyists, media moguls, fossil fuel executives and trust fund niblets, with nary a vegetable to be seen. Care for a nice Pinot Noir with your Upper Class Cutlets? Perhaps a slice of Derivative au Vin?

In lieu of flowers the family of the Opinion asks that you use caution when attempting to consume the rich, advising that a little patience goes a long way. Sure, upper class have the police and the military, but they'll run out of bullets eventually, and when they do, bam--they're what's for dinner.

***

NOTE: this is the last in the Opinuary series. I have been honored to serve the General in my capacity of murdering an opinion a week for the better part of two years, and am grateful for the company of our devoted and agitated commentators.

My respect and admiration for the the General knows no bounds--his writing is so good it's almost like he's doing a parody! He's that good! May his prostate never dangle!

My best to all, and may your Opinions live to a ripe old age before collapsing in a heap of rot and despair. In lieu of flowers dance with a fern.

(Originally posted at Jesus' General.

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Friday, December 24, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "No One Should Ask, No One Should Tell" has died after years of asking and telling (off the record, mind you). It will not be buried right away but will instead lie in state for a few months, or until enough time passes that gnarly, old men can be distracted by the neighbor's kids playing on their lawns. Born 17 years ago, the Opinion was a perfect fit for a nation that was already comfortable with living as many lies as it could think up. Eventually, after discharging thousands of soldiers for the sin of putting their naughty bits where Yahweh didn't want them to, the military softened its stance and withdrew from the battle. And then toweled off.

The family of the Opinion thinks flowers would be lovely. Remembrances may be made to the land where the clouds are far behind, where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops, that's where you can donate, because just over the rainbow there are armed forces practicing and employing their deadly trade. Straight, gay or a combination thereof, the Country of Record keeps the wars a coming...

(Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! If you're gay and in the military don't tell anyone yet--those in a position of authority might get a hard on for you!)

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Monday, December 20, 2010

Can You Find the Ghost in this Picture?



Look carefully at the above image. Some people claim they can see an apparition in it, a ghostly specter haunting the otherwise prosaic scene. I must confess I could not find it, but who am I to say that another is wrong? Who indeed am I?

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Love is There



there are days still sitting
in crates out in back
we ran out of forklifts
we could not move the stacks

there are nights in the boxes
no longer for sale
the moon and the ocean
a bucket and pail
and waves that are lapping
as we let fly the sails
we tack in the dark of the night
on an endless sea

the stars are overhead
above a child's heart
we are sailing beyond the dream
after a promising start
and when we wake up
in the sand at the end of time
we'll all be doing fine
done with time

i am done with time
i am done with time
take my hand tonight
the stars will shine
we are all that's left
we are all that's left
and yet the stars will shine
and that's divine

the river won't turn around
and drop us off back there
where the days were long
and you had flowing hair
i've seen the old men cry
when their women die
i have to tell you
love is there

the stars are overhead
above a child's heart
we are sailing beyond the dream
after a promising start
and when we wake up
in the sand at the end of time
we'll all be doing fine
done with time

i am done with time
i am done with time
take my hand tonight
the stars will shine
we are all that's left
we are all that's left
and yet the stars will shine
and that's divine

Friday, December 17, 2010

The Opinuary Column

SONG FOR JOHN BOEHNER*



From Gail Collins
Boehner is opposed to extending unemployment benefits for the jobless, and he wants to kill off the law that guarantees health coverage to all Americans. So you know when he starts weeping when his wife says she’s “real proud” of him, it’s not a sign of softness.

In 2007, he cried while delivering a speech on the floor of the House, in support of funding for the war in Iraq. “After 3,000 of our fellow citizens died at the hands of these terrorists, when are we going to stand up and take them on?” he sobbed.

Then this year, he voted against providing money to take care of our fellow citizens who became ill while doing rescue and reclamation work at ground zero after the terrorist attack.
America: where pathology meets unfettered avarice, and then they go fuck their brains out.

*Loudon Wainwright III wrote the lyrics to "The Man Who Couldn't Cry" which he sang on his fourth album Attempted Mustache.

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Monday, December 13, 2010

Adieu to Phil


Phil
1996(?) - 2010

***

we said goodbye to Phil tonight
he had a grand farewell
may he roam among the horses
and find new tales to tell

***

Old Phil on the wagon trail
Grab him by his harness and his wagging tail
I said Old Phil on the wagon trail
Grab him by his harness and his wagging tail


Adieu to a five-year house guest. Adieu to Phil.

Friday, December 10, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "The Emperor has no clothes" has died after being strangled, denied service and publicly disparaged by the world's most powerful leaders, all of whom own reams of magical, invisible thread. Last seen staring into a mirror while repeating the cryptic mantra Pay Pal, Visa, Master Card over and over, its bloody carcass was placed inside a cave, after which a stone was rolled in front of the entrance, blocking anyone from coming out or going inside. Subsequently, rumors began circulating that after the giant stone was rolled away the Opinion was nowhere to be found, rumors that have not been substantiated. So far no lepers have been healed, but the story is still young enough for wonders to appear.

In lieu of flowers the family suggests that you take a modest action that would bring music to the world--though your wallet by itself has but a small voice, when it joins a vast chorus the resultant symphony echoes throughout the firmament. The mighty will tremble at the sheer power and glory until the ancient and all but dormant gods themselves are roused, as the earth itself groans and grumbles in the mighty din. Sing! Sing! Sing!

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Friday, December 03, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "The FBI would never spend months nurturing the murderous fantasies of an angry, disenfranchised Somali-American teenager" has died from a self-inflicted gunshot. Friends of the Opinion have stated off the record that 'it was only a matter of time before it expired.' Meanwhile, X Box's "Kill Everyone Over and Over Again, and Do It In 3D" continues to make a nice buck.

Former President George W. Bush, whose violent, destructive fantasies had also been channeled by advisers to ultimately kill, wound and displace hundreds of thousands of Iraqi citizens, refrained from comment while on his book tour. Had Bush been recruited by the FBI instead of major corporations billions of taxpayer dollars would have been saved as his invasion would have been fake, but white people don't want to talk about that. It's much, much better to be angry and afraid of a menacing, alienated black Muslim. Had Mohamed Osman Mohamud directed his juvenile, apocalyptic machismo toward Iran instead of a city in the United States we would be singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.' Remember: Bush stood in front of a banner that read "Mission Accomplished" after his bombs went off. I guess it all boils down to who you know.

One last thought: if you give a man a bomb you help him blow something up for a day, but if you pretend to help him kill thousands of civilians at a Christmas Tree lighting you blow him up for the rest of his life. Or words to that effect.

A Celebration of Manipulated Mayhem will be held in Portland in February because, well, we're talking about February, and nobody really gives a shit in February, so if you want to have a public event by all means go ahead, do it in February. Except not on Valentine's Day--don't hold some namby-pamby event on Valentine's Day. But now that I think about it, exploding chocolates would be cool.

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