Lies Of Convenience (America's Number One Export) II

The president hugging the Dalla nurse who had the ebola virus 

What can be said about the people, and specifically the conservatives, who were willing to exploit irrational fears about a killer virus for personal and/or political gain - while loudly calling the first black president incompetent? That they don't deserve our respect? That they don't deserve to be thought of as decent Americans? That they're simply unethical liars? 

Or how about they're typical white people, doing what typical white people do to anyone they can, and that's why America engaged in slavery and Jim Crow and racism against blacks (even though it knew it was wrong) and is still so screwed up? 

Personally, under white supremacy's Drudge-dominated mediasphere, roll 'em all into one and I'd say you're onto something,...

 

Muse Ick (Outside And Away)

 

 I'm exhausted. 

Almost 3 days straight of getting up around 4AM, and staying at the mixing board until 11 or 12 at night, just to happily get up and do it again. 

 

If my body can keep up, it's my version of Heaven.

My brain basically shorted out yesterday, leaving me to wake up (in bed somehow) not knowing who I was, where I was, what day it was - anything. 

Still, I'm a traumatized man who hasn't felt this content - this normal - in years. 

Like any specialized animal, I was made to do this. 

   

 Drop me an email at The Macho Response (at) Gmail and I'll start sending you free music, as it's being created. 

I tore myself away today. Got out of the house, took a long walk on purpose.

Looking at the newspapers, there's still not much going on, so the media's still playing charades, hoping someone will make a guess that, somehow, will finally make-something-happen where they didn't notice anything before. 

Drudge, like everybody else, is making shit up, changing his focus daily, fishing for something - anything - that'll have legs.

   

I won't wait, thanks.

I understand all-too-well how it works now. 

How - even in this world of miracle cures, cults and quacks - nobody's got anything, nobody sees anything, and nobody's gonna do anything, so they'll make shit up in the meantime, because you know it's coming,...global warming. 

Plus, if they report on that other stuff, a lot of their friends will go to jail, so furthermore, cancer's out there, Hillary's the best qualified, gay guys are all sweetness and light, and blah, blah, blah.

There's a fungus among us.

I learned that last line in the foster homes, heard usually as a greeting. 

Not to be technical or anything, but that's really how it works, honest.

Instead, raid the library's documentary section and catch 51 Birch Street, a fine little (somewhat disturbing) film about marriage and family, that had a lot of parallels to my own story, settling something within me. 

I'm never quite sure if true acceptance of what's happened is possible for me anymore, so that's quite the feat.

Waaay better than getting riled up over stupid conspiracy theories.

 

 Or leaving the house even, now that I think about it,...

 

You Have GOT To Be A Follower To Make This "Work"

Jesus, I've been mentally insulted before I've even had my breakfast:

Ed Driscoll has noted that Ann Althouse said "Drudge does commentary. You just have to figure out what he's trying to say with his juxtapositions — Drudgtapositions." 

To which I reply, really? Why, "professor"? Why do we "have to" parse his bullshit? Is wasting our time, allowing some guy in a fedora to get us all pumped up, over what 3/4 of his stories add up to - nothing - really in our interest? How?

TMR readers should ask themselves - since Ann or Ed can't seem to challenge their own bullshit - do you actually learn anything from Drudge's links, or are you merely titillated by them? If you're honest, and find it's the latter, then just admit reading all three of these assholes (plus Glenn Reynolds of course) is nothing more than a distraction from actual political engagement and, thus, no more edifying to the body politic than visiting a quarter porn palace. 

Or are you going to prove me wrong by reminding me how these "friends" of yours guided conservatives - and President Romney - to that "easy" victory last November? 

 Yeah - that's what I thought. The proof is in the pudding: 

 All these useless professors coaches are "teaching" you is how to flub a lay-up,...

DRUDGEry

DRUDGE has got Rush Limbaugh saying "'We're in midst of designed class and race wars'..." 

To which I reply, sure, and you guys are playing into it perfectly. 

 DRUDGE has got John Boehner saying Obama’s goal is to 'annihilate' the Republican Party. 

Which, last I checked, is also what we were trying to do to the Democrats. 

 DRUDGE has got to grow up one day,...

 

Dreamy

"Israeli police have arrested a suspected cult leader who is believed to have fathered dozens of children by as many as 30 women. He is being held on suspicion of rape, slavery and incest.

Goel Ratzon, 59, brainwashed the women into staying with him in squalid, overcrowded flats in Tel Aviv, police claimed, following a seven-month undercover investigation.

Mr Ratzon was arrested on Tuesday, when police raided three apartments, where they found 17 women and 39 children.

Police said they have since kept him away from TV cameras for fear he may send secret messages, ordering the women to hurt themselves."

Rob Crilly, reporting a story that doesn't make The Drudge Report very often - the tale of a real live cult leader being captured - one who might even be trying to send secret messages to women (Ooh, ooh!) like The Telegraph.

Aptitude Test

I crashed out in the evening, yesterday, after another pretty good day. I've been having a string of good ones lately, making money and making plans, so I guess I'm almost single in my head again:

Things are starting to work out.

I woke up about 10 PM, a bit confused about where I was, which is typical for a foster kid: except when I was married, my life has been just one long series of places, none of them "home" as others understand the word, so awakening requires a constant reorientation with time and space.

I reach for my wife. Oh. Yea. Right.

Fuck.

She's one of them now.

I get out of bed and check Drudge and Instapundit. Nothing there worth noting.

Michael Jackson's still dead. Weird. He even died weird.

I surf around a bit, do a few posts, and then realize, as much as I want to, I can't go back to sleep. I couldn't care less what's on television.

What to do, what to do?

I purposefully left my cigarettes in the truck so I don't smoke in the house. I slip on a pair of pants and head outside, grab the pack and sit on the tailgate, blowing smoke up at the sky.

This is going to be a long night.

A guy rides by on a bicycle and it reminds me of the millions of late night forays I used to make around San Francisco. I liked The City then, before it revealed it's NewAge underbelly to me. And one night in Wissembourg, France, the ex and I went for a long 4AM walk around her village, with her pointing out significant places from her youth. It was fun and romantic because it was night, and we were together and, though we were there, we were two "moderns" who had left such an ancient world behind us. Or so I thought.

I can't block out the thought that she's doing other things with someone else now - like killing people - and I wince. Why aren't they in prison after that jerk lost his medical license? I figure I know why and, deciding not to torture myself, go back inside.

I'm new around here so I look online for a 24 hour diner. There's a Middle Eastern place that sounds interesting, so I finish getting dressed and head out with my iPod and a stack of unread newspapers in my hand.

As soon as I plug the iPod into the truck's radio, Billie Holiday singing "All Or Nothing At All" comes on. Yep, that's why I've got this thing, I think:

To hear about the real thing and not that "Put Your Love In Me" bullshit the radio passes off to others.

I barely even look at women anymore. What's the point? In a NewAge culture of being "non-judgemental", people are basically being encouraged to do the wrong thing - and, after being discarded from a 20 year marriage, I'm never putting myself in a position to go through this kind of pain again. "All Or Nothing At All"? I'll settle for nothing, thanks.

As I turn onto the freeway to head Downtown, I feel the rush of the open road take over. The freeway's empty, so I roll down the window and hang my head out, letting the wind refresh my senses. I step on the gas, hard. A live recording of my own band, Little White Radio, comes on, playing my song "I Am The Sky" and I decide things aren't that bad: I've got a nice place now, two cool roommates, and cheap rent. My bills are almost all paid off and, so, I'll be back to playing music again soon. It's what I do and I'm good at it: The roar of the crowd on the recording assures me of that.

When I get Downtown, I look for the Middle Eastern joint but it's not there. Probably closed down. I see a 24 hour Mexican spot and pull in to the parking lot where four white bikers in leathers are talking. They eye me suspiciously, more because I'm parking near their rides than thinking I'm a danger. I give 'em a nod as I get out and they nod back, returning to their conversation.

As I approach the front door of the restaurant, I can see it's filled with Samoans, all dressed and acting ghetto. I don't need this shit, I think, but I go to enter anyway, because I do need food.

Shit, the front door's locked with a big chain on the inside. The place is open but only the Drive-Through is for customers - the Polynesian giants are just friends of the employees, hanging out. Fuck.

I head back to my truck but, seeing the bikers, I ask 'em if there's someplace I can get a decent meal, inside, at this hour. They look at my armful of newspapers and speak as one: "There's a place on 5th.".

Oh well, what the hell. I guess I'll go there.

When I arrive at the dive, there's a drunk guy who immediately tells me he's bored, been drinking red wine, and "looking for a girl who needs a place to stay". Whatever, dude.

I go into the greasy spoon and the waitress is nice and streetwise, bringing my coffee without me asking. I order the "Hearty Breakfast" and open the first newspaper to a story about Sarah Palin quitting as Governor of Alaska. Nobody understands it, and she's indignant. Mitt Romney's moving up in the minds of the GOP. At this point, I think, I'll take Mitt over the others:

He's a Mormon and motivated to do more than struggle to keep his pants up, that's for sure.

Nowadays, that seems like a rarity, whether we're talking about politicians or not.

The rest of the news is boring, or stupidly reported, reflecting the cookie-cutter mentality of the masses - every paper rehashing the same shit - so I finish my meal, leave a too-big tip and head out, pausing in the parking lot for another smoke. Starting up the truck, Chuck Prophet's song about his love for a crazy woman, "Storm Across The Sea", comes on and reminds me of my ex again. There's no escaping music, man:

How did I pick so wrong?

As I hit the freeway to head home, I decide there was nothing I could've done. From the day my father and mother did the deed, unmarried and irresponsible, I was destined to deal with this long line of people who refused to think about me as anything but a burden to their ever-changing wants.

My moms is now a hardcore Christian. I met her when I turned 40 and, later, had to break it off because she refused to stop sending me religious tracts. I don't know what she thinks God's doing for her but, Lordy, he's sure working a mindfuck on me.

I roll down the window and hang my head out again. Glancing at the clock in the dash, I see it's 4AM. I'll get home and get some writing done before work. Today's going to be a better day, I tell myself. It's got to be:

I can (almost) imagine I'm the one in the driver's seat again.