Politics and Chicken Sex

An old piece I wrote while at college on the east coast in 2003 before the war in Iraq.

People will love bad movies and hate good movies, and s**t will overflow from a clogged toilet while people lift their feet to avoid the fece-water. . . and women will be pinched or hollered at by perverted men while good men are clubbed and destroyed for believing, and standing up for what they believe in.  Bosses are still a******s and will be a******s, and some will be good, but few and far between, and we will be encouraged to get our kids into the best pre-school so that they can get into the best kindergarten and then the best elementary school and middle and high school, and the cycle of rinsing our children in the best water we can find will continue, and they will all emerge searching for a college and looking the SAME, having all been rinsed and bathed, scrubbed clean and prepped in the same water, all identical, and those strange kids who took a year off to see India or Bhutan will be receiving the rejected rich kids spots in that hard to enter college. . .  And bombs will drop over Iraq and Afghanistan and maybe Pakistan or Korea, and back home 'true Americans' will throw their Burger King or McDonalds wrapper on the floor and say, 'damn towel heads deserved it.  F*****g with the good ol’ U-S of A!"

Others will rally and poets will come recite bad poetry that isn't even about peace, but they have lost the idea of having a POINT to their babble, so the rants will flow like a wanna be rap, but it's not rap, forgive me, it's 'beat,' and the crowd will be awed or bored by the fast outpour of words and no peace will come from it.  Signs crying for peace and not war will glide in circles protruding from the protestors, and all the while masses of different, separate, 'peace' organizations will run their booths nearby and sell t-shirts to make a profit, earning their dinner money from another’s desire to stop conflict.  But that's what it's about, right?  We gotta eat, he has to eat and she does too, and bush needs to eat an exotic meal on crystal dishes and HIS friends need to sleep and eat in mansions that employ almost, ALMOST, as many people as Jennifer Lopez.  Oh, sorry, is it 'jenny' now?  Or is it back to j-lo?

Maybe the revolutionists will burn something.  Burn flags again, bra's, houses and government institutions.  BURN THE MAN!  I heard someone today state that we shouldn't eat the cafeteria food because it came from the school and the school was part of the INSTITUTION, man, it's part of THE MAN, man, we eat that and we eat THE MAN!

God forgive us!

But the revolutionists have always been here and always been there, and I’m not saying they're wrong, because, s**t, I don't like this setup either.  But they gave us bush and gore and we were left scratching our heads trying to pick a lesser of two evils.  It was like a choice between being stoned to death with pickles or drowned in a giant jar of mayonnaise (costco maybe?).  No, it wasn't like that, it was worse, like choosing between coffee laced with arsenic or tea laced with arsenic.  But we chose since we had to, and the blacks, or African Americans is it now? (at one point it was a conflict between negroes/blacks), claimed to have been screwed by a funky ballot.  This last election I showed up and they had COMPUTERS there, ready to take my order.  I protest voted, clicking on all democrats, even though I had no knowledge about any of them or their beliefs, because bush sickens me and scares me and makes me laugh.  Clinton may have gotten gobbled in the white house but we weren't on the verge of f*****g ourselves in the a*s by making enemies of the world.

“The economy takes two terms to have effect, so everything that's going to s**t now is Clinton’s fault," a friend told me.  Really now?  And bush has NOTHING to do with any of our economical crisis?  Enron, Enron, Enron, my friends.  Enron.  And if we want to bash Clinton, lets think of this. . . What about Mexico’s current state?  If you haven't been, you should go and take a look in Mexico City. . . you may be fooled and think that you're in a s****y American town.  Maybe better.  Clinton loaned them an arm and a leg and they DID something with it, and they REPAID IT EARLY.  Anyone ever consider that if you make friends you don't have enemies?  Yea, I guess we could go bomb them and then bomb those other b******s, and when we piss off enough of the UN we can bomb those fuckers too, but why not work to make FRIENDS of enemies and then they won't want to kill us.  I once heard that 1/10 of our years military spending was enough to feed all the hungry in the world.  We can't give up one tenth?  Is it too much to ask for 10 cents out of a dollar if it means we can feed our enemies and make friends of them?

Of course it's not that simple.  We send relief and the big honchos in that country's government keep it all for themselves and their friends, while the poor stay poor and broken.  Like bush is so much different though. . .  and sometimes our 'aid' is completely misused, like in Guatemala, where the fat prick leading down there used the money to increase his real-estate and murder more and more of his own people.  America is great at funding murderers.  So we need force, don't we?  We need someone to enforce the spending, cause if no one enforces the rules then the bad men will break them.

And we come closer and closer to a new Vietnam and half of the youth is excited to protest and ditch class to have sex and do drugs while being 'radicals' and anti government, as the other half wants to kick the s**t out of the wanna be hippie half.  I don't want either one.  I’m watching the world crash down around me and hoping that I die before it gets too fucked up, and planning to get my tubes tied so that I never bring a child onto this planet.  The coward’s way out you could say.  But, it's fitting, seeing as I’m a coward AND selfish.

So the posters of bush being compared to different breeds of ape will be posted, and the poet will preach so quickly that we don't catch a word, and then he will have his way with a groupie in the back, a groupie who was only a groupie because he was on stage.  And friends, I must say, the power of a STAGE is staggering in ways of attaining women.  If the male is pedestaled then the female seems to think that he has something special, that he deserves the position. . . but that's another topic.  So our revolutionists won't bathe or will bathe infrequently and philosophize to each other on meanings and non-meanings and ways to teach everyone everything, and then they will go smoke their pipes and bongs and drink their beer from their cans and as they look at their puke in their trash bins they might realize that they don't know what they're fighting for, just fighting to fight, the same as the soldiers and marines who don't care what the international policy is and whether it's about oil, they're just fighting to fight.

Where will it go from here?  The troops will land with high spirits wearing their anti-chemical suits and as they stand guard all night, unable to sit because you CAN’T sit in those suits, they will be proud.  I will be proud of them for their guts and willingness to give up their lives for me.  And when the s**t goes down and their suit tears on a rock during a fire-fight, and they feel the anthrax or chicken pox or cold virus, whatever Saddam has cooked up for us, entering their systems, and maybe feel their insides rotting, dissolving, disintegrating, they might think, "s**t, I could have been home f*****g my wife and tossing the Frisbee with the dog. . .” the machine guns will be laid out and the tanks will roll and the bombs will DROP, bammmm, booommm, and s**t will EXPLODE!  And bush will get his rocks off thousands of miles away from the action while his oil buddies pat him on the back and the new generation of hippie screams, "we don't want your stinking war!" at the Whitehouse steps, unheard and uncared for by anyone that matters.  Unless, until, they get big enough that a notice HAS to be taken, but even then, who thinks bush will listen?

Meanwhile I’ll sit back and take classes like a good student and maybe get laid once or twice, maybe write a piece of fiction that someone likes and maybe attend a peace rally, stand in the back, cross my arms and wonder if we have a chance.

Coffee with arsenic, tea with arsenic, it's still arsenic, and in the end, we're fucked.

Author's Note

My style is intentionally rambley, with certain disregards for grammar. I hope you enjoy :)