Sunday, March 10, 2019

the most fun wins

I'M IN A PRETTY BAD MOOD: every day now: so it's not a mood anymore...
...it's a state of affairs.
every one is self-absorbed: Ayn Rand has One on her side. {Luckily we got da rest of us.}
it's a national, maybe world-wide, disorder. but worse, it is pathological. the death of cool-munal activity is appalling. it might be the end of family super-nano structure of human society.
no big deal for me. my daze for that are over.
but i fear for the future. we lose families we lose stuff like killing for fun being a crime:
now one can say, "But it was really FUN!"
or C'mon. He looked at me funny...and he was making fun of me!
shit fire, man!
so much funny is true; and not a joke anymore. it is simple news.
drones are us.
you cannot say i did not do it my dog did? right?
but we say it was our fucking drones, collateral damage.
are you or i becoming collateral damagees of some other sort of attack on our consciousness?
and what is with "casual-ties" are these ties you were golfing? what is "casual" about having yer legs blown off?  wanna bet? let's make our army use bayonets only.  OKAAAAAy? and se how many want to go then.
we sending peephole to push murder buttons is not heroic.  What kind of vet it that? he/she (because a teen age grrrl could do it) kills from 9 to 5 in a trailer park somewhere south of Vegas and then we gotta tell some mad dog cops to stop shooting mad angry outcast black boyz to men for waving their cell phones in surrender or for skittle in da hand. or for selling ciggies on da corner.  yeah i want our cops policing the illegal CONTRA BAND ciggie world for Camel patent protection and chewin' tobaccy too...@ 3 for a dollar
     are ya crazy? look at yer bad self? are you angry first thang in da mornin'? are you fried at daze end? do you wanna go out and kick some ASS or get some? do ya care about anyone not related to your Bad Self? could you SPEAK your inner truth to a committee with truth serum in their test tubes, while you are taped to a chair under a big white light. huh? cud you ?
    me either.
    i'd wanna get up and blow there heads off...
    So what is so different if you go to work and the boss puts his hands up uer skirt and tell yo you suck and ought to get busy...and stay late for a change instead of coming in late...and thus you will be docked 20% this week for last week's errors you made and if you don't like it come in here an' sit on my sofa a while and we'll take a look at my lap, uh, top.
    then you google him and find out he majored in religion and went to catholic seminary school for the life of the church...and was transferred into US BIZ nest for a clean start from what ever was under that black strip of nada they got there....
    500 cases in Illinois. and my waitress fren' from VIET NAM! who says she's catholic and that the pope is NOT infallible! he's justa man--NOT what i heard from my "snapper" friends--which was . vague reference over my head at the time, to the RED SNAPPERS they had to eat on Fridays.  OK  i LOVE red snappers. i would give up my life for them if i knew for sure it would work out.  but it won't. not salmon. nothing will work out wanna know why?   but first let me tell you the POPE answered that news from Illinois calling if FAKE news of course, and saying there were only 185 cases of . pedophilian priests . in Illinois pending still on da tableau.... shit fire. the Pope is Son of God. Son of Jesus just like all us guys and we are sons of da Sunshine and that impregnating da Mother{s}.
    here it is mutha phucka: there is a very anguished crew of cultists, large, fat, and trailer parkey slightly inbred by their daddy's love that believe in the coming of the "pocket-lips." where god comes down to eat us all and make us part of his big dick.
   this means they vote for death all the time.  OK. i say go ahead die. swim off to Fukushima for all i care.
but ain't dying. not yet. not til da smoke blows away from dis last cigarette.
   andthismeans we are entering da generation of da cull. and here how it comedown on y'all, white boys and grrrls...blacks already got der welcome wagons out: welcome to da hood dey sayin' it often and sayin' it loud. proud, not to be da canaries in our coal mine but tuff enuff to begin da fight back. got a black friend? call her/call him. tell him you gonna get it right right after yo read this: they got two mass weapons of mission disaster capitalism coming out NOW!

1. This i worry all about in my suspect novel, VAGO, which they won't even read. and that is a new virus...which being of life itself and in da over all mix, don't got da slave mentality yet so well. it morphs unaccountability in any way it feels and so might circle round and kill whitey by mistake or even hit da rich if they sleep on da wrong side or sumpin....but they got it. for sure. we each got about 6 viruses in our every cell, yep. except may bone cells.  i dunno. so far copacetic with human existence, but if you think under your orders guess again.

2. nano-particles.  first the idea: it comes to all great minds about the same time:  thank you ver' much, Adele. plastic does not rot. it will not break down in Nature (remember HER) from way back when god was unne femme?  yessir. i do. Mother Nature. Her only begotten d. Gaia, that thin film of life that surrounds, coats, and embellishes this home (eco-) Mother Earth of ours. Plastic has no home in here. it jsut gets smaller. look at your tooth brushes, look at your tires...see how they gradually disappear. OH but that OK, they just wash into the ocean.  right? is that NOT what you think?
    i'm just saying. nano- is really small. it can fly. it can move around insid eda clams and oysters that are nature's vacuum cleaners f da salt water that surrounds from it's place on 70% of this home's surface.  facing da sun every day. going through heating an' freezing and being eaten by each life form up da food chain until we get back to red snapper and salmon. and wait there is more: did yo know that people who live near to freeways get more lung cancer. take a look at your tires before and when you turn 'em in for new ones.  pull out your tape measure. go 'round. lookit yer toothbrushes used...and where did all da blanco go? we each use about 4 tooth brushes a day. we put plastic inside of every paper cup. paper would dissolve holding hot coffee.
    But don't worry! we got Corexit. yeah. when Antonia Juhasz went down with the NOIA submariners she had to stay inside da boat...under the Gulf of Mexico, home of Gulf Oil, and BP (20% owned y Da Queen Bee of En-glands-of-fire and brimstone...just like Q> Beatrice owns 20% of Shell). Monarchy gonna die hard, they gonna die olde die not gonna die out. we are. CAP means head. KAPUT means dead. Capital means descended from da only Heaven on Earth, which we called NON-archy to us, the bastards who done got us to here.
    Never mind that. What antonia saw ans filmed, was the slush at the bottom of the Gulf, which means not sand, not plants of any kind. No Seaweed. no clams no fish no like a DEAD zone because the COREXIT sames the beaches after spill by making all the oil blobs sink instead of float.  No more wash up on da beaches at all. only sludge on da bottom about 6 inches deep and it slides around when the NOIA people stepped on it...in waves it moves out from yer feet.
    So if yo a fish put on yer N-95
    Put on some sun screen and get ready for a new ozone revelation: you will be spreading nano-particles of titanium oxide into, not on top of, your skin and thus into your capillaries and thus into your blood stream and into your brain and maybe just maybe other nana-particles in cosmetics and stuff all kinds of wasted,  burned-out, lost, and unwanted stuff lost in fires or just tossed into the land pits for rain to wash AWAY...into the big god-given sewer of Man...lappin' upon da beaches where every grain of sand wants to be da beach and every grain of salt wants to become a grain of sand and da sand is praying fo' a little shower to wash dem white grains back to where dey came from. and no one knows what it is....just that for sure it is...there is must be...
something that makes us uncomfortable, uncertain, foggy, scared, selfish. Makes us itch.

3. See? If a human cell was big as a football stadium, a virus would be like the football. But the RNA, or controller of viral behavior would only be the laces. And when the football hits the stadium--topped and full of fans all working for the game! and their slime and food and playahs and product like a big jar of chicken soup--the laces would swim down to the lines and finding the right one take over control of hundreds of new stadiums to be built alongside the freeways of our body politick...as if their rule was to make football into the tumor or cancer of our social structure.
    But then the laces would also have problem, maybe, in that inside of this tender string of genetic info we call RNA, might be a speck that if it was a football the virus RNA, the laces we met up above, would be like the LesserAntilles or Indonesia and that speck of nano-stuff man-made to make your cheeks blush or your skin reject and reflect the evil ol' sun might just dissolve that viral RNA and any other RNA or DNA or ribosomes, or molecular structures we call Life, into pink goo...which deprived of water, salty or not, will dry into a hard blob of bubble gun like rock upon the bed post of what was once Home of Life.
---o---

anddendumk:
   This is most likely a natural progression. I'm in a group of people who have been hit on da head. Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBU for short.
I am the next-to newest. I have had mine for 19 months, the newby about 8 guess. Some for 4, 6, 12, years or more. You have to think more when you have this. Think differently, break some old habits; and some are broken for you. We change or it hurts. WE sleep if not more, then more importantly. We are concerned about sleep. WE cannot drink alcohol. some do. but the theory is that alcohol kills brain cells, while we are trying to grow, and re-grow, some.
   Most likely theytellus, we shal find new routes of thought up there, The braindon't rebuild much. It detours. 
    Like that. Bright lights are a nuisance. WE forget names, places, and where we put things: we got to get more organized. It's hard to in advance. Hard to plot out stuff. And slow to respond.
    For six months i could not read out loud in public.
    Here's some of the stuff i learned so far: Put things in their places--esp. files in their folders. Slow but sure: gramma said, do One GOOD thing well every day. Not only does everything happen for a reason...you can find good, and bad, reasons for everything that happened. Maybe. First, let's make it happen. Then relax about the result. Tomorrow's another day. maybe. If it gets here. But remember: Today is the best day of your life! why? because yesterday's gone, and tomorrow never gets here. 
    That way we can analyze cause and effect. One day at a time. Every concussion is different because we are all like snowflakes, made of water but into different shapes. WE might even find out that it's only Love, at least, at Last. That lasts.

   And we can hope that that love: love of Life, love of children and one another. love of gender and school and work and sleep and food and daybreak and sunsets. and voila! clean air and water! love might decide to save us, from oil and coal and co2 and greed and selfishness and cruelty, which is the only way avarice can win.
   Remember:
   The side that has the most fun wins.

Friday, February 1, 2019

...system is da problem...




…system is the problem...
           jimmy.mankind@gmail.com

We cudda had it all, but we could never get enuff.
We clothed ourselves with the pelts of torture.
The warmer we made our bodies, the colder we became inside.

We always took “Nien!” for an answer
From corpo-rat systems that could not say yes.

They are like doctors in the death camps,
Saving the babies only for them to be executed later.

Humans have become the canaries in their own world-wide “clean” coal mine.

We ran out songbirds long ago.

We are dancing on our tomb.
We are oblivious, always craving nepenthes.
The Ultras are the evil-doers and they know it. But they do it anyway. Thus we know they’re criminal: they separate babies from mamas to send a message of putting 15,000 children in jails. This is how we know we are all dirt to these  darkened spirits. A few hope to do good some day, after they do evil “just a little bit longer.” Their “evil” is LIVE spelled backwards. That is so profitable everyone else—except us “useless eaters”—does it with them. We are complicit in this slow motion holocaust even as we conspire our getaways.

WE have to keep up so we let ourselves believe their lies, delusions, myths: the TLC of Torture, the Sanctity of Wars designed to create more WARS and not 
The end to War.
WE discover that 1/9th of US (11%) cannot find enough to eat. In this time of “prosperity” under the religious redemption of the money myth. The money, power and assets of the Elites, all float upon our debt. While we sink deeper, they buy up every material thing on Earth. The Upper 10,000 owns Planet Earth except for the seas where they toss their Plastic, Oil, and old meds.

We are nothing more than a big fat Bananablama Republic with a more 
sophisticated style of corruption. WE make nothing for ourselves. Our money is an Illusion, and “our” money is the God of All Things. Even tho’ money is a tightly trained parade of electric monkeys seeking only to get back to ground One. 

Dead Zones crowd the oceans, kill our soil, and guide our brains.
Chrystal meth is the new body and blood in our Communion with the Beast.

Fields of grass will kill you by the drinking of milk from cows that chew those poison lawns.

Kale is the new Geiger counter along with arugula & red lettuce. As strontium 90 flows from human breasts. And a class war takes up our attention; but it is not as advertised: right and left have merged in an attack —in Medieval Memorium— promulgated by the Undead Past upon the Unborn Future: another pyrrhic victory for the algorithms of the law and its blind, deaf, dumb, and mute God of Dick!



We believe in our Econ 101 as if it were a religion.  Religion has become a Business.  And Government is the Economy, stupid!

We believe money is the god of all things, yet our money is an illusion.
We are dancing on our tomb.  Even as our infinite constant growth on our finite home is Gaia’s cancer.
And I say, if we can Imagine Heaven,  why not imagine Heaven Here, where we can use it; Not one you have to die for…fighting those who are willing enough to die for their. Own version…

rather a Heaven we all simply enter after our birth.

Why not? It’s our invention. WE can place Heaven wherever we want it, need it, and/or deserve it.
Instead we are Mosh pit bulls dancing on our crypts…as if celebrating the dis-inheritance of the Meek.

WE cudda had it all: peace, love, happiness, good work, in trust, and a future secure for all as long as the Grass shall grow and the Sun shall shine.
But we could never get enough…so…we conserve ourselves w/i da System only to learn you can naver change da System by working w/i da System because da System is da Problem…

This is takeover/makeover of a poem they already published before but I don’t care if it is better or worse. it’s only a poem. It breathes as it breathes it changes and so does the world of humanity the planet and all the species we will have to save or replace…follow on a straight line into the most resistance…your only god is the One yer walkin’ on.

There is a class war going on, but not the way you think: it is the attack of the Undead Past upon the Unborn Future.

They deceive us with the undead algorithms gleaned from past decisions of an unjust system…so you cannot…work for change within da system by workin’ through da system when da…




Return, start over, reboot, reload, repeat, revise..., it's OK to change.

~~jimmy

the &th blessing+




"Fascism is capitalism plus murder." - Upton Sinclair

7 blessings you can bless yourself with:

1. be honest--the truth will out.

2. be humble--no one is perfect.

3. hang onto your dream: 1st have one. no one can dream it for you.

4. be brave--you must speak! Act!

5. get up whenyoufall--you will fall. no one is perfect. learn from failure.

6. trust the people: those around you and also the process they and you share...and will most likely need to pass through.

7. Have faith in yourself: do what you love. so you can enjoy every step in the journey as much as the one that carries you over the threshold.



...AND Mexico will pay for it!

end of world report:


end of world report:
by willie gulagero…

clock says ten seconds. 

just long enough 

to get informed:

the only humor that cares 
is black humor.
noir is the light we have left.
darkness is faster than the speed of light.
how do we know?
no matter where light goes
darkness is already there 
...waiting for it.
{with open arms, by the way}
Dark matter rules and dark matter is invisible.
how do we prove love?
With open arms.
Opposites attract:
we just have to get used to it.
leave dreamland behind.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel, 
But it is not a train coming at you. As you may fear.
the only hope/light in the tunnel is the light/hope you carry with you.
It is the hope for peace.
the only systems that matter
are those that
save the planet.
The only religions that tell the truth
make peace 
with all 
the other religions.
the only love that matters
is the love you give.
And the only God on Earth
Is the One you’re walking on.
What does that tell ya?
Could this BE a better planet? 

Willie Gulagero

Saturday, June 23, 2018

end of world clock


end of world clock
     by
jimmy gulag  

end of world clock 
says ten seconds.
just long enough 
to get informed: anywhere. 
EVERYWHERE now.   
I said, NOW!
the only humor that cares 
is black humor.
Noir is all the light we have left.
Now we know.
Darkness is faster than 
thespeedoflight.
how do we know?
no matter where light goes
darkness is already there 
…waiting. 
With open arms, mind you.
we just have to get used to it.
leave dreamland behind.
the only hope
is for peace.
the only systems 
that matter
Are those that
save the planet
the only religions 
that tell the truth
make peace with 
all the other religions.
the only love that matters
is the love you give…
...and a man-child, petulant,
spoiled, impulsive, bratty man-child,
who, born on third, 
thought he’d hit a triple,        
shall not lead them outa here.
no. not for long.
Only the strong go wrong.
Only the brave believe
ONLY da MEEK survive.
They have to stick around
To inherit da Earth. 
Success is the only thing we 
Can argue with.
Failure goes away 
By itself.
Thank you, religions,
For making too many babies.
Thank you for making 
Our children into our own 
Privately sacred social security.
Why don’t you believe the old saw:
That a rich man has about as much chance of going to Heaven 
(on Earth) as camel passing through the eye of a needle?
Is it charity you support 
or Is it power?
What if charity was fake and 
Inadequate and power, uhmmm….
Let’s see…
Is gluttonous addictive and self>propelled.
{Kinda like wars for more wars.}
You cannot argue with success,
Can you?
And da Church must survive,
Uber alles. Por favor.
So tell me: wise old one,
how does god define 
fascist?

Oooops…
It looks like you ran out of time.
Or did you only run out?
—-o—-

Sunday, November 5, 2017

i always wanted to write a back story novel....please don't tell anyone about this novel idea. i want to try it and be the first to fail.  no one will buy it. anyway. they'll scoff:
where does it go? they'll ask. who cares about his fictional guy who was born grew up so what and went to high school in communist china and got caught up is a sweep by young reds and put in soliltary for 1,000 years of cryogenic experiments using kryptonite and by hard work became a neo-action hero who can kill you with his thoughts.  OMG. end. of. story.
    but wait! then what? you go guy! grrrl! write what he does with that and Voila! you have comic book.  sorry, "that's all folks."
of course, if yu skip the back story yu got superman. in chinese, with a 1.5 BILLION readers.  oh never mind.
    i'll do it myself.

Saturday, May 27, 2017

i thought the game was over.

when i woke up this mornin’...i thought the game was over.

when i woke up this mornin’ ...it hurt somewhere indecipherable to turn my ass from right to left.
when i got up this mornin’...my knees went ouch! as i rolled up outa bed like i done a couple dozen thousand days before... yeah...
then i looked in the mirror to find out i was uglier than yesterday,
no where near 21 anymore.
when i woke up this morning i was old. 
so i went out for breakfast, like i did so many times before.
and the place was Saturday morning at a home away from home called Tyger’s Restaurant...full of mom’s and dad’s with little kids in tow.
as i observed the flow of life coming up through the dream s and needs and wants i remembered days gone by…

it was the children: same as always.  no change there. 
(or do they know somehow that this is an emergency
--they’ll of course not have the words for)?
they came in in waves...i enjoyed the sweet parade.
i forgot that i was too old when i woke up this mornin.
and i felt i had time on my side.
my mind rolled back to yesterdays long gone.
and i thought there might be only two things you might 
want to say 
to yourself 
when you feel old and tired (and in the way.)

first: that it’s good to think you don’t want this to stop.
second: you would not at all mind to play this one over
again from start to finish up to 
what’s yet to come.

when i woke up this mornin’ 
i had no idea i’d feel so young:
when i woke up this mornin’…
when i thought the game was over.
was
now the BEST day of my life.
my play at life was a simple string of miracles
no doubt...i was confused a lot.
miracles aren’t that easy to digest.
to wrap your baby brain around.
you guess.
and each day is blessed
with truth and love and fear of failure
when all you get is this.
tomorrow never gets here.
it’s just another splendid 
way to play.
---o---
look!
up there, over those mountains. once so dark 
so foreboding.
…here comes the sun…

---o---

[this one is for meghan and the kids.]

writ may 27 2017 & i a.m.