Politics Is Poopadoodle

Has Been, Will Be

I read or hear so much incomprehensible bullshit from the Presidential candidates and their electioneering organizations, yet I'm not sure that I've heard anything BUT shit. All of them are guilty politicians of the first water, opportunists in every moment of their lives. I wouldn't trust any of them to be able to dig a six-foot hole, though I can guess what they'd do if they finished digging--they'd expect you and me to jump into it and let them kick dirt in over us. Maybe Ralph Nader wouldn't, but he hasn't got a chance to win. They all talk a good talk, but none of them are really prepared to smack down all or even very many of the evils of American government or relieve even some of the evils of big business. Politics is just trying to get your own way over the other guy without having to kill him. That IS worth something, but it's not worth all that we proclaim. None of these shitholes (politicians, remember?!) know how to be polite, how to stay on point, how to not shoot to kill, how to refrain from "mocking" their opponent. They don't even believe one another to be human. I'd be glad if they all died, except that we'd then lose half the planet in one instant. Then, later, no matter how we intended otherwise, others would slowly de-evolve into the same rapacious Me-Me-Me sorry fuckers! If you think that I don't think very clearly, it's probably because there are too many politicians currently making too much noise and fouling the air that you breathe. So choke on it!

Have A Good Time

Or Get Laid
E. B. White: "I get up every morning determined to both change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult."

Old And New Musical Proclivities

A Few Vacuous Thoughts

I used to pay more attention to music, I must admit. i used to know, sometimes own, every album of certain artists. I quit that a long time ago. I seldom know the entire body of any musician's work, unless that artist has been dead for 30 or 40 years. I quit buying Dylan albums when he got his head so stuck in the Religion jar and I didn't like it very much. He returned to my good graces later on, but I never took up buying every record again. Certainly, it's not safe to buy an album without having heard it somewhere first any more! I made a less conscious decision to ignore Joni Mitchell's records after her head got stuck so deep in the Jazz jar! That's not to say that it wasn't pleasant music she was making. I didn't like it as much as formerly, though. It just wasn't the same. I never did care one whit for Van Morrison's religious kick, so I never pay any attention at all to his releases. Lately I have just bought compilation albums of other old artists. Two different ones of Elvis (I'm drowning in Elvis!). One double-CD of Simon and Garfunkel. One single CD of Ray Charles. Almost forgot, a double Doors CD. Probably the wave of the future, if not the Doors Of Perception. As for newer musicians who are recording music, I like them, but I'm not much attracted to owning them. It will be a big surprise if I buy any of their recordings. Hell, despite some years of buying CD's, I'm still tempted to say "records" more than half the time and I'm not aware that anyone even makes "records" any more. It used to be such intense fun for me to keep track of music--in magazines, in the record stores. Nowadays, I am mysteriously satisfied with the radio for large periods of time. My tastes are just not as particular. I still like Mozart. I still don't like Lawrence Welk. I still think Dylan is weird as hell, but also am unconscious genius. I wouldn't want him to be President, but then neither would he!

So Good, So Bad

These lyrics are so good and yet what it's talking about is so bad! I tried to find a YouTube of the song, but couldn't so far. I Will Dream (Emmylou Harris/Kate McGarrigle/Anna McGarrigle) In my imagination You are my dear companion And l'm the one you cling to And your voice still calls my name Before your heart began to wander And mine was torn asunder Before the fairer and the younger Before the cryin' game All those girls with their long dark tresses Waltzing out in their Sunday dresses All their sweet soft warm caresses Cannot hold you like l do And though you say you do not love me And your dreams are never of me I will dream my dream of you In my dreams you are the swallow Coming back to Capistrano And l'm the sound of the bells you follow But in this world dreams don't come true Still when you're lost out in the desert When your fire's a dying ember The last light you remember Will be the light l shed for you Mine is no ordinary star love I see exactly where you are love And no one else could shine that far love To bring you safely through And though you say you do not want me And made no promises to haunt me I will dream my dream of you The sorrows flow down like a fountain Over the miles beyond our countin' More than the flowers of the mountain Or the raindrops in the sea But if Heaven's just a dreaming Surely my love will be redeeming And you will dream your dream of me

Sexist Advice, Okay?!

Or, Bring It On!
Answer to the last stupid question I read (somewhere on the Internet): "Be sure to have sex with her first, unless you're just a great guy."

Good Sense?

W. C. Fields: Horse sense is the thing a horse has which keeps it from betting on people.

Heart of Gold

HEART OF GOLD
by Neil Young

I want to live,
I want to give
I've been a miner for a heart of gold.
It's these expressions I never give
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
It keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

I've been to Hollywood
I've been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I've been in my mind, it's such a fine line
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

You keep me searching for a heart of gold
I've been a miner for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old.

Winding In The Sheets

You Woke Me For This?

I got up this morning before the 9 o clock alarm, though not by much. Getting up early doesn't do me much good because then it seems like my bones are EVEN MORE creaky that they are on other days. I move so slowly that it still takes me an hour or 90 minutes to be standing, showered, fully clothed, all my pills counted out into the day's compartments, hair combed, bladder relieved, et al. I used to jump out of bed directly into my clothes and hit the door (grumpy, I admit) with no waste of breath. Now I'm a mass of aches and pains, cursing man and God and every inanimate object I come in contact with! I mean, every variation of "god damn", vulgar and violent. It's as if it's the fuel that propels me or the "wind beneath my wings" (that's a funny one). Sometimes the worst experience of the day is to drop the tiny yellow Glipizide pill onto the carpet--it invariably bounces it's tiny self under the dresser where I can't see it. I have to crawl (there is no "get") down on all fours to have any chance of seeing it and retrieving it, and I curse God all the way. I guess it's my way of cursing myself and all of existence, but I address it to God. I curse a little extra if I never find the pill! I wish they wouldn't put those pills in the "push-out" cards like that because it's all I can do to push them out (i use a nickel) AND maintain a sense of where the pill is on the other side of the card! It may or may not fall into my other hand! Fuck those creeps who evidently think this is "childproofing". I'm tempted to hire some child who's still flexible to open all the medication containers for me. Though I have arthritis, it's not too bad in my fingers, but my neuropathy compensates. My sensation is limited, meaning I greatly favor cowboy shirts with snaps, not stupid buttons. Damn buttons!!! Meanwhile, my legs are doing the same damn crap. I'm creaky and I'm slow and I'm more ornery than I've ever been. You get my drift.

Big Dollar Hat

Who's that shifty-eyed creep that I espy? Some dude with a new hat. I sometimes look better, but not much better!

The second pic is so you could see the feather. No doubt acquired painlessly. I could've bought more than 30 of my infamous Wal*Mart hats instead. Yipes. We will not discuss here any of the procedures the hat company used to create the hat because I want to enjoy it. For once in my life, I'd like to have a nice hat! And I DO like the expensive son of a bitch! It's softer than a--. Well, we won't go there!

Ain’t Arousal Wonderful At Sixty? I got my new black jacket And my new white shirt And to top it off a new gray Fedora With a brand new pair of jeans berneath it all. I’m dressed to kill If some woman will Just hold still for an hour or so! This kind of murder takes time, You little vixen!

Out Of The Blue

Nader who, you say?

Go To Bed, Stupid Git!

It's too damn late! What are you doing up?

A Little Lack of Help from Google Adsense

No Daddy Around When You Need One

I guess I need a "personal adult" to take care of all my messes around here. One thing I didn't mention in my previous post about the help I give to strangers is that I never make any money off it. It's not that I'm so good or so altruistic. The reason for it is simply that I've tried, but found Google's Adsense as frustrating as many newbies find those parts of Blogger that I advise them about--in short, the corporate master is completely obtuse and if you can't GUESS it, they won't tell you. Bastards all! So I have tried to put the Adsense system on my MFBQ site, and sometimes almost succeeded, but they keep pushing me back. It's now all so long ago that I don't remember any damn password or key or love offering that the certified Idiots would be tempted by. I even tried signing up again, but they know you have an account, so they just make it impossible. Okay, I'm an idiot, I should do penance, yes, but why is there NO PRICE I CAN PAY to get out of purgatory? I can't get through to Adsense, nor is there anywhere that you can go begging except to God himself, for you need to remember your password to even ask help of the Adsense Help Group on Google! I think I'm one of a few million insignificant shits who just dirty the living room floor and foul the air and who just don't get it about Adsense while the Blogger/Google megacorp are raking in the corporate graft with billions more people! After the revolution, sign me up for the fire bombings of all their stony buildings and all their stony faces! I wouldn't piss on the Adsense portion of Google if they were on fire. I might piss on them while they were trying to eat or sleep, though! But I'm getting carried away, I guess. Why is there no equable Daddy to take care of these things!

A Little Help From My Non-Friends

All my friends are going to be strangers

At times there may be twice as many, but every day there are at least 1 to 3 emails from Blogger's victims asking for help or directions. These writers don't know me, they just find their way to me from all over the planet (and maybe the universe?) to ask for advice. I'm not even one of the main (or really knowledgeable) advisors in this self-appointed kitchen cabinet sort of enterprise, but I manage to come up with some kind of answer 2 out of 3 times, and the other time I fake it, or pass the question on to one of the other know-it-alls! On days when I get no personal emails, it's something interesting to keep me from bitching and bellyaching. It helps me get through the day (and part of the night)! It keeps me from killing you all!

Elvis Sings Dylan?

If you'd rather skip it, it's not like I asked you to kiss me! It's all right, don't think twice...

It's not like I ever did anything with these YouTubes, so if it breaks your teeth or fouls your breath, I uh wuh--what?! I don't know!!!

Shelfari, Tarzan?

There's No Jane, Either!

Introducing Shelfari in the sidebar, pretty far down the list. (There's a bookmark for it listed at the almost-top of the sidebar.) In my list, ir shows books in order that I recently listed them in Shelfari, not in the order that I recently read them. Once in a while, I'll list the book I've most recently finished. But if three others pop into my head, you're likely to see them. If anyone's really curious, you can keep clicking next to see more books. To see my whole "shelf", go to this dump.

More Cheap Talk About Truth

Sir Winston Churchill: "Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened."

Health and Happiness

Bloop Me All Night Long

What? Only 2 emails today? I need more! No Blogger questions to answer? Christ, neither loved nor needed! No one beating on my door so they can offer to fuck my brains out (anything's acceptable, though I hope you're a woman or at least human). My brains are pretty much damaged already, so you probably couldn't do much more harm... Ah, but some of you are still very pretty, aren't you--thank God for that. How do you do that, I wonder? Maybe it's makeup. Maybe because you stopped eating all that infected chicken or all that intended-for-Alpo horsemeat or maybe you just increased your B12 shots!

Ellen Foley

Don'tcha just love the singer Ellen Foley? Many might remember her as the skinny prosecuting attorney on TV's Night Court. So she's an actress, too, though I'm not sure she's even had any roles since that year or so of Night Court. Anyway, I admire her music more--not to mention her skinny good looks! (Oops--I just Googled images of her and found some fat photos of her. At least, it looks fat on her, though maybe it's just the contrast!) Nobody stays the same. Guess I was ignoring that 25 years passed by while I was screwing around and savoring my memories more than my life.

I'm not even sure she still records.

Check out these YouTubes:
We Belong To The Night or,
Shuttered Palace (God knows what it means!)

Renewing My Texas Driver's License

I came late to all my computer and/or Internet connections, so it is that I just finished my first Online renewal of my Texas Driver's License. I'm not sure if Texas was doing this before, but it's the first time it came to my attention. These things always make me nervous, though; this is probably only the fourth or fifth thing I've ever paid for online and I think I still suffer from My Father's Trepidation about this new-fangled process of blindly giving your Visa card number to some unseen stranger on the Internet. Oh, well, this time it's The State--so surely, that's no stranger! Their nose has been in my business for ages! Of course, there's nothing to keep The State from charging me 3 or 4 times, so I fail to see the safety in that. There is no safety anywhere. Somebody said that. It was probably me. I think it's funny, though, that the Gatehouse Supplies Company that I charged money to the other day seemed more demanding that The State of Texas! Of course, the supply company can't cut off your oxygen quite the way that Texas can. Most of us can't live without SOME degree of driving! We don't really need fucking stupid charge cards, but we really need the damn car to spend some of our money, whether it's cash or plastic! I may charge plenty at Wal*Mart, but they sure don't deliver.

Night And Day

Dogger Gatsby: I look forward every day to my next night of sleep--but when I sleep, I dream of nothing, sometimes to my dismay.

Distemper

I've got my $3 dark blue hat on, so piddle on all of you!