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MY PARENTS WENT TO TEHRAN AND ALL I GOT WAS A LOUSY T-SHIRT DENYING THE
HOLOCAUST!
Just
by the way, President
Ahmadinejad, from the western
mountains of Iran, you can see the
Golan
Heights, and from there you
can
easily see a museum in Israel
named
Yad Vashem, which has
acres
of irrefutable evidence that
6
million Jews (and 5 million
‘others’) were murdered by the
Nazis…just so you know…asshole.
more
Bush bashing
CATASTROPHE!
Iraq
is a nightmarish disaster, and the finger of blame is squarely pointed
at George W. Bush. You own this one, dude. It will wind up 3 or 4000
dead US military, hundreds of thousands of Iraqis, and two trillion
wasted dollars. And how the GOP hates to let actual citizens get a
little benefit from the government, cutting money to states and food
stamps, but there was apparently a couple TRILLION bucks lying around to
waste on this fiasco.
First of all, Iraq isn’t a country—it’s a fantasy constructed 75 years
by the British as they were beating feet to get the fuck out of that
godforsaken shithole. Second, the situation isn’t turning around with a
few thousand more troops—which we don’t have. It will only prolong the
inevitable, and you were supposed to be smart enough to know that,
dumbshit. Third, when your family is in the oil business, and the vice
president is a major player in the “military-industrial complex,” and
you both directly profited from said unnecessary war, you certainly can
understand why some of us are a little suspicious. That’s all.
His whole War on Terror sucks, quite frankly. We let Osama get away
from Tora Bora—are there not 50 men brave enough or skilled enough out
of all the money we’ve poured into the Army to go up into the mountains
and snuff that piece of crap? I’ll bet we do, but the decision was made
to let unreliable locals take Bin Laden (for ‘their pride’) and they
subsequently ‘accidentally’ let him escape. The Department of Defense is
too busy ferreting out a few fags to hire Arab translators or find
worthy operatives in this fight. Whatever this is—clash of
civilizations, religious Armageddon—it’s going to last decades, and we
are stumbling out of the blocks. There are 2 BILLION Muslims, 300
million Americans; they’re tough and hungry, we’re spoiled and lazy—I
don’t like those odds.
The solutions?
1) We need Allies. Kiss the ass of our once and future Allies—the West.
2) Divide and conquer. Sunni versus Shia.
On-line poll
What do you LEAST
want to see in the
ocean next to you?
--Shark
--Condom (used)
--Jellyfish
--Condom (unused)
--number
two
Hell
Orders More Fuel—
Saddam and Fidel Coming
Lou
Siferr, VP in charge of Temperatures
and
Discomfort, was in panic mode after
he
heard Saddam Hussein and Fidel Castro
were
due in the next couple months.
“The supply is tight to begin with, and with
this
excessive addition of punishing lakes of
fire
and incidental flame-age to torture these
two
murderous dictators, we are looking at a
run on
fossil fuels,” said Ciferr, nervously
swallowing a shot of Maalox. “I don’t think
propane is gonna get this done.”
Propane and propane accessory
salesman Hank Hill begged to differ.
“The clean-burning, even heat produced
by
propane is just the thing for this particular
business model.”
What do you think of Ahmadinejad?,
Hill
was asked.
“That boy ain’t right.”
Deal
Or No Deal proves one thing
beyond question: the average
American is a reckless idiot!
Playing The Race Cards
NATIVE
AMERICANS: We had our land
stolen
by the white man, after he cheated
us and
infected us with smallpox and
broke
many treaties
ASIANS: At last you got casino rights.
We
were lured to America by false
promises and forced to work at low wages
taming
the West for the railroads
HISPANICS: That’s your fault for believing
the
lies about a new continent full of
prosperous opportunity. We had our land
stolen
from us and now have to sneak back
in to
reclaim what should have been ours
all
along.
BLACKS: At least you weren’t dragged
here
from your homes against your will and
enslaved.
JEWS:
All you guys are whiners. Imagine
having
a family, home, and business, and
then
one day a bunch of Nazi punk thugs
take
it all away and put you in a death camp.
GAYS:
We’ve got the trump card. Asians,
Hispanics, Indians, and even slaves were
allowed to fall in love and marry, and we’re
not.
When the Jews got to Dachau, we
were
there already, wearing pink triangles
OTHERS: You win.
GAYS:
Yeah baby!
Michael Jackson must
be a big movie fan; I heard he’s seen “Unaccompanied Minors” hundreds of
times!
Foley, Heggerd Come
Out of Rehab ‘Totally Cured’
Former
US Representative Mark Foley has emerged from rehab claiming he is
completely off young guys.
“I’m happy to say I no longer lust after young boys. They are 100 per
cent off my mind, and out of my fantasies. I don’t dream of fresh-faced,
corn-fed blonds from Iowa, or wanting to oil with sunscreen their
willowy bodies. I’m not attracted to members of various junior
gymnastics team, or the firm, dimpled ass-cheeks of a skateboarder.
Young, well-endowed boys of color no longer attract me, and I certainly
could care less what a teenager might be wearing, and even less
interested in what they aren’t wearing. Long talks with them about their
sex lives bore me now, and I certainly could care less about their
slang, sheer love of thrills, and embrace of earthy passions. My long
private hell of hot adolescents stripping naked and rubbing against each
other is over.”
His future plans?
“Christian youth counselor.”
In a related development, Foley has invested heavily in Johnson &
Johnson stock. “I like the sound of that company. Mmmmm!”
Heggerd’s is even more a success story.
“I’m so glad I don’t have the number of a male prostitute who can score
meth in my pocket and that I’m not going to call him as soon as this
interview is over,” said the reformed sword-swallower. “Just the thought
of thunderous orgasms high on stimulants with someone you’re deeply
attracted to repulses me. It certainly isn’t the fear of getting caught
again and losing my cushy job preaching fire-and-brimstone to the
gullible.”
New
Year’s Eve Baby
Drops
By White House
to
Ring In January 1st;
Gets Shot in Face
by Cheney
Rwandan Orphans Donate
Food Money to Help Dallas
Cowboys Receiver Terrell
Owens Cure His Stupidity
Starving child victims of genocide in the beleaguered
African nation of Rwanda gave their United Nations
relief
money to a team of Viennese psychiatrists
dedicated to helping NFL player Terrell Owens get
the
mental care he so desperately needs.
“Sure, we’re hungry, dirty, diseased, and getting
conscripted into brutal kid armies at 8 years old
while
7-year-old girls get raped or sold into slavery.
But at
least we’re not Terrell Owens. That guy is
strange. I mean, what a sick jerk. To get kicked off
team
after team, betray his teammates, sleep on the
job,
and literally spit in the face of his peers, that’s
really
sad, and really a person in dire need. I won’t
eat
tonight in the hopes he can re-acclimate himself
back
into human society,” said a long-winded N’gule
Madagogo, 6, of famine-stricken Botswana.
Miami
Beach isn’t a city, it’s a scam
How
about those Brandsmart theme song singers? They are INTO it!
Yodeling like their lives depended on it—and maybe they do!
INTERVIEWS “OUT THERE”
Frankenstein
These
Bitter Times: Thanks for stopping by.
FRANK—I was in the area avoiding torch-wielding villagers.
TBT—What
is UP with those guys?
Frank—I honestly don’t know. I must have done something
to
tick them off big-time. They always seem to have their
panties in a bunch about sumpin’. Every little thing and
they’re waving pitchforks and carrying on. Extremely inbred
you
know. Marry their second cousins, enjoy NASCAR,
vote
for Bush. You know the type.
TBT—You seem to have a fascinating effect on people.
FRANK—Right? Like it’s at all interesting that I was
assembled from dead body parts dug up at night in
cemeteries by a hunchback mongoloid and re-animated by
a mad
scientist using electricity generated by lightning
bolts
at the height of an incredible storm in a cool old
castle. I mean, Yawnsville, huh? You know what I’m saying?
TBT—You’re really afraid of fire? You seem so strong.
FRANK—That’s a myth. I’m saying, I’m TIRED. I suffer
from
Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I guess Igor dug up a
yuppie
corpse along the way.
TBT—Any regrets about your body part choices?
FRANK—I’m not complaining, I’m only pointing out,
when
you go out to steal a dead man’s penis, why go to
the
Dutch graveyard when there’s a perfectly good Negro
one
down the street. Simply common sense. I feel a
schoche cheated maybe.
TBT—You seem to be obsessed with genitalia, cuz you
keep
bringing it up.
FRANK—Actually that’s you.
TBT—You
and Bride of Frankenstein: irreconcilable. Why?
Was it
her hair?
FRANK—We’re fundamentally incompatible. I like long
walks
on the beach, Henry Mancini, and crossword puzzles,
while
she prefers being a fucking bitch.
THE
WINDOW SHATTERS FROM A BRICK.
FRANK—Gotta go!
TBT:
Call when you get home!
I
don’t believe in God,
or an Afterlife
—which
is great news, because I’m
usually wrong about
everything!
I Debate the Bus Bench
Billboard
BILLBOARD: When your kid’s home room
teacher knows who he eats lunch with and
you
don’t, that’s a problem.
ME:
How nice it must be to be you. Now I
have
to know who my kids eat lunch with?
How? I
have to work. You know, hold down
a job?
Of course his teacher knows. What
the
hell else does he have to do? He’s
walking through the lunch room, sees the
children, notices who is friends with who.
Big
deal. I can’t drop what I’m doing to
prowl
around campus; they don’t want
parents there anyway—you need a pass
to go
on-campus. I don’t expect the teacher
to
know what my kid wears to bed—or do
they?
Ewww!
WHY
DID I HAVE TO BE BORN OLD INSTEAD OF RICH AND CUTE?
Bossa
Nova Explodes
in
Rage: “Quit Blaming
Me
for Everything!”
“I’m
just a dance song. I’m not
responsible for marital infidelity,
your
World Cup loss, or global
AIDS.
I am a cool beat, timpanic
riffs
and percussive climaxes,
groovy
threads—no more. And
those
death threats are uncalled
for.”
said the song, screaming,
flipping over tables and throwing
ottled
water at terrified sycophant
hangers-on in his fading
apartment far from Rio’s most
exclusive beaches.
“It’s been worse for me than
him,”
complained the Lambada.
“I am for-beeden.”
Angelina Jolie’s Lips Declare Independence; Form New Country
These
Bitter Times are written
by
folk artist Jeff Tydeman, who
was
considered retarded but has
made
the leap to eccentric and
is now
shooting for ‘quirky.’
jefftydeman@atlanticbb.net
I
depend on donations until
we
figure out how to harness
this
marvelous talent God
has
blessed me with!
These
Bitter Times
These
Bitter Times
A
festering boil upon the body public, oozing, etc
I WANT
MY SHIT TOGETHER, BUT RIGHT NOW IT’S FART APART
Here’s wishing you and
yours a non-suicide-inducing Christmas
The problem with
quantum gravity:
--fails
to resolve conflict between Newtonian
and
Einsteinian physics
--foot
and breath issues
one of
these will offend you
SPEAKING AS A LAPSED
CATHOLIC,
I THINK IT’S VERY RUDE
OF THIS
ELIJAH NOT TO CALL IF
HE DOESN’T
THINK HE CAN MAKE IT
IT’S TERRIBLE OUR
TROOPS WON’T
BE HOME WITH THEIR
FAMILIES AT
CHRISTMAS, BECAUSE
THEY’RE OFF
HAVING A GOOD TIME IN
THE DESERT
PHYSICIST POSITS THAT AGE
CAUSES “LIGHT REFRACTION”
Professor Joey “Fingers” Pannucci, of the famed
Eschuche de Roma, has discovered that age acts to bend
the reflective properties of light in such a way that older
people tend not to be seen by the young.
“I first noticed it walking by a girl’s reformatory in
the bad part of town. Although I could see the naughty
young ladies clearly, they apparently could not see me,
preferring instead to laugh and talk with each other.
Strangely, a young man walking right next to me was
seen and flirted with, whereas I remained unnoticed.”
According to Prof. Pannucci, as molecules in the body
get older, they decay at a faster rate, perhaps releasing a
heat cloud that blocks the proper functioning of the rods
and cones in young womens’ eyes.
“The resulting glare highlights the beauty of buildings
and streets, causing young ladies to see these objects in a
new, fascinating way, so they stare at these familiar sights
rather checking out a handsome, distinguished man moving
close by.
“It certainly can’t be me,” he added. “At 5 foot 6, 290
pounds with thinning hair and thickening glasses, I remain
every bit the hot boy-toy that girls found irresistible thirty
years ago.
“The only items to cut through this light-refraction wave
phenomenon are money, credit cards, alcohol, or car keys,
which can be seen from up to a mile away.”
FREE MOVIE IDEAS, GET
YOUR FREE MOVIE IDEAS
We have so many fantastic ideas for movies, we can
afford to give the lesser ones away.
THE INCONTINENT GARDENER
--Lady runs back and forth from tending her
petunias to the bathroom, finally settling
on a dark spot behind the bushes
FOCK THE FOKKERS
--Hilarious third installment of the hit series,
features Ben Stiller, Robert DeNiro, and
Kim Jong-Il as crazy Fokked Up Old Fokker
DEATH RIDES A SKATEBOARD
--Slasher movie with cute teenagers solving a grisly serial
murder as they ride around on skateboards and roller blades
and surfboards and listen to current popular songs. Did I
mention everyone is young and cute?
THE SORROW AND THE SUFFERING (FOREIGN)
--Poor Chinese family loses everything as typhoon causes
a fire which leads to the death of little babies and finally
all hope as a black gloom settles over the earth.
MUSEUM OF NON-CONTROVERSIAL ART OPENS
Tulsa, OKLA—Local residents were finally treated to a museum they could
enjoy without having to suffer through the indignities of having to think
or encounter thoughts contrary to what they’ve been told.
“No crucifixes in urine, George Bush getting sodomized by Arabs, or
homosexuals cavorting like they’re people.” Said Sandy Bumscratch, museum
curator, “just nice, pleasant images. See, here’s some collected Dagwood
and Blondie cartoons. Haha, that Dagwood isn’t sure he wants Blondie
taking a job outside the home. What could be more cutting-edge than that?”
“I like that I can bring my kids here, and when we leave they’re just as
stupid as when I brought them in,” agreed Tipsy Momm, a farmer’s wife. “I
really enjoyed that tribute to Friday night high school football. And the
porcelain dog collection—where do they come up with that stuff?”
Room after room of the two-room former meat-packing plant are jammed with
Coke bottles, black velvet paintings of Elvis kissing Jesus, Rod McKuen
poetry, and cosmic drawings of swirling spaceships piloted by gorillas.
“We especially enjoyed the Best of Pax Television exhibit,” agreed Steve
Swill, local alcohol enthusiast, “that ‘Prognosis Murder’ gives me goose
bumps.
Only one small glitch spoiled an otherwise-perfect Opening.
“A small boy walked into the ladies room by mistake.” Recounted Curator
Bumscratch, “and we had to explain there were two different sexes. He
burst into tears at the thought and many folks were concerned he might
start asking questions, but the moment passed when his mom gave him a
quick hit of Ritalin. Pretty soon he was staring at a Can You Find Waldo
display with the rest of us.”
BUS TRIP
I’d really like to have to go to
“Not In Service”;
Plenty of buses head that way!
SUGGESTION: Why don’t we liven
things up by giving bus routes more
fun names. Like 8.5. Or 2 and a Half.
Maybe we could give them human
appellations: George or Shirley.
Wouldn’t it be fun to say, “I took Phil
to Aventura!” Or, “I rode Sarah all
the way into the city….”
EDIFICE COMPLEX
INTELLIGENT DESIGN VS EVOLUTION, PART 19
Q—If humans evolved from apes, how come there are still apes? Huh
Brainiac?
Explain that!
A—If you build an addition on your house, you still have the house, you
idiot! You people are so hung up on clinging to the details of a parable
(less kindly=fairy tale),
that you’re missing the Big Picture of Life, God, and Eternity.
INTERVIEWS “OUT THERE”
Today it’s off to the zoo and Ellie the Elephant.
TBT—ELLIE, HOW’S IT GOING?
Ellie—Just standing here, suge. How are you?
TBT—PRETTY NICE HABITAT. YOU GOT THE ROCKS
AND YOUR OWN LITTLE WATERFALL…
Ellie—And the steel bars, don’t forget them.
TBT—OUCH!
Ellie—I’m just kidding; it’s not so bad. At least I don’t have lions
jumping out at me. That’ll age ya. I think it’s sort of sweet
they poured the concrete to look like rocks, like I wouldn’t
notice. The waterfall’s good, but it gets kind of mossy, and
then they add ammonia or chlorine or something. Don’t
start me on the maintenance of the waterfall. A sore spot….
TBT—ANY CHILDREN?
Ellie—One, a boy. He was born 36 inches, 200 pounds.
TBT—YIKES, EPIDURAL, ANYONE? WHAT’S YOUR DIET?
Ellie—I’m a Vegan—I eat plants, though they’ve been cutting down
because I’m-get this-too fat. It’s all right. I just trade for more.
TBT—THE ANIMALS TRADE?
Ellie—We have a crude barter system here in the zoo. For instance,
they give me oats, which I don’t like, and I trade them to
the monkeys, who always have way too many peanuts, so on.
TBT—WHAT KIND OF ELEPHANT ARE YOU?
Ellie—Oh wow, I know it has something to do with the ears….
TBT—YEAH, YOUR EARS ARE SHAPED LIKE WHERE YOU
COME FROM. IN YOUR CASE, AFRICA.
Ellie—(Crabbily)If you knew, why’d you ask then? My family’s been
bred in captivity for generations now, and Mom and Dad were
never big on the past. They were all, we’re in America now, so
we’re Americans. Dad even wore a cowboy hat there for a while.
TBT—HOW EMBARRASSING!
Ellie—IT WAS! I only know for sure that my grandparents were in
a circus that traveled around Italy, France, and Greece, following
the tourist trade.
TBT—SOUNDS ROMANTIC.
Ellie—Not at all. The owner was cheap and cruel. He hit and starved
the animals—some Turkish sonofabitch. I had an uncle get hit
by a train, causing it to derail—that’s not something you see a lot.
TBT—ANYONE DIE?
Ellie—My uncle, and a couple humans, I guess.
TBT—YOUR TRUNK IS COOL. YOU DO A LOT WITH IT?
Ellie—Just eat and breathe and dig and pick stuff up, that’s all.
(Proudly) It’s very specialized—over 60,000 muscles there.
To compare, you have only 600 muscles total in your puny bodies.
TBT—IT’S LIKE SHAQ STANDING NEXT TO PEE WEE HERMAN.
Ellie—I don’t know who those people are.
TBT—DO YOU REALLY HAVE A GOOD MEMORY?
Ellie—See, that’s just a myth. It’s only because we live so long. Of
course I’d recognize past homes and stuff like that, where the
elephant graveyard is—you’d have to be a simpleton not to,
but as for short-term memory, well, I’m as bad as, uh,…
TBT—CHEECH AND CHONG WITH ALZHEIMERS?
Ellie—I don’t know them, either.
TBT—ANY FINAL THOUGHTS?
Ellie—I’m not too complex. I’m pretty much what I appear to be—a
big, ponderous quadraped who steps on things and goes berserk
in bad movies.
TBT—LIKE OPERATION DUMBO DROP?
Ellie—Time for you to go.
ADMINISTRATION NEWS
HOMELAND SECURITY CHIEF
CHERTOFF TO CHANGE NAME
Wash—Michael Chertoff, Bush’s hand-picked
buddy who heads Homeland Security, has decided
to change his name to The Wildly Ineffective
Michael Chertoff.
“It just seemed easier, since that’s what every
one was calling me anyway.” Said the Wildly
Ineffective Michael Chertoff.
BUSH TOURS GULF COAST FOR
30TH, 31ST, 32ND AND 33RD TIMES
Baton Rouge—In an effort to help folks forget how badly
he screwed up Hurricane Katrina, Pres Bush once again
toured the blighted areas of Alabama and Louisiana.
“I’ll be here every day for a year if you’ll forgive me,”
he chuckled. “Heh heh. They’re Red states, so we need ‘em.”
“Fuck off!” Cried a bystander.
“Sure, I’ll fuck off. Heh heh. I’ll hop on one foot if it’ll
help how I didn’t notice or care a Category 4 Hurricane was
going to waste an entire American city.”
Next up—A tour of Iraq, our schools, an AIDS clinic, gas
prices, and the floundering economy.
“These are hard problems,” he said, “and they require
plenty of photo-ops—show I care! Heh heh!”
WHO AM I?
I was born in a small town. I had a drab boyhood. My father was a minor
functionary; he was aloof and distant—sometimes he hit me for no reason at
all. My mother adored me and told me I could do no wrong. My father died
when I was twelve; I was glad. I drifted through my teens without a male
role models. There was a war and I joined the army of the big strong
country next door. I showed a lot of zeal and was promoted; bigger things
seemed to be coming until I was wounded during a poison gas attack. The
war ended while I was still in hospital; we had lost; I sobbed
uncontrollably upon hearing the news.
My adopted country lost everything and soon I was living in the street,
hungry and desperate for work, along with my fellow comrades. The only
people who seemed to do well were the people who hadn’t fought in the war.
It seemed clear to me they were responsible for our defeat. I pictured
myself as an artist or architect but hard times pushed me towards
politics; I joined a fringe party. It turned out I had a flair for public
speaking and soon I was leader of the little group.
We tried to take over the country one day. I got arrested and sent to jail
for five years. I wrote a book. My popularity grew as the nation continued
to flounder through hard times and social chaos. Shortly after my release
I was elected to office in the government, which I soon took over. I
abrogated unpopular treaties, built roads, and re-started the army. People
were proud again.
If I had died right then, I would have been remembered as a great
statesman.
WHO AM I?
WHO WAS I?
Hitler.
INTERVIEWS “OUT THERE”
Today we interview a portable toilet.
NAME? Jean Baptiste, the Port-A-Potty from Port-Au-Prince. Please excuse
the stench, my friend. Is crazy how many people use me.
NO PPROBLEM. DID YOU ALWAYS WANT TO BE A TEMPORARY SEWAGE RECEPTACLE?
Feces always bin in dee Baptiste blood, mon. My beloved grandparents were
holes in the ground. My father and mother bless their sacred souls were
wooden sheds. (Proudly) I don wan to brag, but I am dee firs’ in mee
familie to treat human waste in a chemical bath.
I’M SURE THERE’S A LOT PRIDE Well, I bump into a lot of my relatives at
these relatives and they say how happy I look.
IS THERE ANY PREPARATION? I always try to make sure I’m fully stocked with
wiping paper. Besides that, it’s the luck of the draw. Sometimes only
urine, other times, well, you can imagine…
PET PEEVES? People who throw regular trash in dee hole. That is NOT my
chab, mon!
MOST SURPISING ASPECT OF YOUR WORK? I am always shocked at how much sex
goes on inside me, mostly men, alone or together. That is not God’s plan,
mee friend! When I am alone wid me lady, it is a nice occasion, not
something to do with the shit and piss smells.
I SEE YOUR POINT. IS THERE A MISSUS PORT-A-POTTY? I met a nice woman
john—a jane—in the dee parkin’ lot at Dolphins Stadium. If I work wid her
agin, I’ll ask her out.
ON A DATE? WHERE WOULD YOU GO? Oh, we could be at the beach, Lincoln Road,
a construction site—anywhere folks hang out and have the need to relieve
themselves.
AMERICANS SAY YOU’RE TAKING THEIR JOBS. I’m taking work they cain’t be
bothered to do, or think dey too good for, and dat’s the trod!
ANY GOALS? Well, I’m leading me dream life, but for my children I would
hope for something more permanent, a standing structure with plumbing
maybe….
GOOD LUCK! T’anks mon—now get da Hell out!
Bushies offer ‘rest of
Alphabet’ Sex advice
To Stop spread of HIV
Hot on the heels of their breakthrough
method of slowing the AIDS pandemic
with their helpful A-B-C’s approach,
the Bush Administration followed
up with the remainder of the alphabet:
Don’t
Ever
Fornicate!
God
Hates
Iintercourse;
Just
Keep
Lonely and
Miserable!
No
Orgasms
Please!
Quietly
Release
Sperm into
Towel!
Underage
Virgins
Won’t
Xcite me!
You be a
Zombie now…
ELEGY FOR A TREE
I knew something wasn’t right—too much
light in the wrong places. Then I saw you
lying there and my day was spoiled.
Another big old tree, this one a fir,
callously cut down to make room for
yet another ugly block building just
like the 70 to your right, and the 7000
to your left heading north up the coast.
You were an oasis of shade and cool,
a place to sit and catch a breeze, have
a smoke. Now, you’re gone, your pine
needles splattered like blood across the
ground. In your stead will be a massive
piece of concrete destroying the view to
the west. There’ll be locked gates and no
beach access and minimum-wage security
guards and endless construction and traffic
jams, and then dozens of cars roaring in
and out all day long.
The stray cats who lived here are gone
—more victims of the Terminator-like
developers who hunt down every last bit
of Old Miami Beach, every last tiny
vestige of charm, and replace it with
something ugly and loud and shiny and
electric, and sell that shit to the Super-rich
from other places.
“Weren’t there people here before?”
They’ll ask.
“Oh fuck them—they didn’t have
enough MONEY!”
You’ll reply.
And it’s ALL about the money, as we head
into the most depressing century this blue
planet will ever know….
BOOK REVIEWS
THE HOLY BIBLE
In keeping with our policy of helping
Readers of These Bitter Times stay abreast
of all matters spiritual, here is another
installment of Our Abridged Classics:
THE BIBLE starts out with an eye-catching
Flood. It’s a real roller coaster there
for a bit, then it gets kind of dull for a
while, but next they introduce this great
character, but he gets killed off too early.
Overall, it’s pretty good (except for some
Liberal claptrap about ‘loving thy neighbor.’)
And it gets sort of bossy too—lots of rules
and commandments. WARNING—The Bible
is very bloody and violent, and may not be
appropriate for small children.
ANOTHER SIGN OF THESE BITTER TIMES
THE FLAG IS AT HALF MAST SO OFTEN…
….WE LOSE TRACK OF WHAT WE’RE MOURNING!
Is it Katrina victims? Iraq War dead? The Pope? Reagan?
Is it for Sept 11? Is it AIDS sufferers? Another plane crash?
The New Millennium is off to a SHITTY start, if we do say!
L i H I V i n g W i l l
AS TERRI SCHIAVO SHOWED US,
THE DECISION TO TERMINATE A
LIFE IS AMONG THE GRAVEST WE
FACE. ACCORDINGLY, HERE’S OUR
GUIDELINE FOR ‘PULLING THE PLUG’:
PLEASE WITHHOLD MEDICAL CARE
AND/OR NOURISHMENT WHEN…
….When I’m in a persistent, un-have-sex-with-able state…
….when I start going to church…
….when I’m that old guy in the bar talking about
how much better music was in my day…
….when I buy things on the Home Shopping Network….
PLEASE DO NOT RESUSCITATE:
…..when I buy a “hair replacement” system…
…..when I can’t eat spicy food….
….when I ‘visit’ another country in luxury hotels
and air-conditioned tour buses and congratulate
myself on ‘experiencing’ other cultures….
…..when I turn one sandwich into twelve meals…
….when my dealers won’t front me….
..when I’m a 40-something waiter on South Beach!
THE MEANING OF NEW ORLEANS
Americans like everything big; the larger the better, and that includes
disasters. As the magnitude of the situation along the Gulf Coast
increases, we as a people are responding with compassion and generosity.
Even the tight-fisted federal government is breaking down and actually
helping folks, instead of bleating out their mantra about being
“self-sufficient.” As a result, some of the residents of the Big Easy may
actually find themselves better off, with a new job or house or money
coming in.
Why?
Well, they went through a disaster.
What about when something horrible happens to just one individual? Where’s
FEMA then? Does the Red Cross or Salvation Army mobilize for a single
person? The answer = No!
When I was struggling through two years of being unable to work due to my
HIV infection, I got NO assistance. No more disability, I was told. No
room for me on Medicaid. Section 8 housing? Get in line! Lost my apartment
just like the flood victims did. The one thing I did receive for the 30
years of working and taxes I’ve contributed to the economy is the Meds.
And I appreciate them, but to keep them coming is a full-time job, and
there’s always the fear “They” (fanatic Christians posing as sensible
budget-cutters) will cut them off.
Gotta pay for that Iraq War, you know, and the Super-Rich and the
Halliburtons of this world are off-limits, so that leaves reducing
services. They can’t touch the bureaucracy of course, but they can close
things early, “consolidate” offices so you have to travel farther and
farther, and so on. The people in power have figured out that they don’t
have to confront the citizenry head on, you simply wear them down. You
maintain the appearance of helping while actually you shift more of the
burden on to the patient or benefit recipient. Get up earlier to take more
buses to wait longer. Pretty soon you just give up, and then they say,
“See how irresponsible these people are?”
I went to the County Hospital the other day, trying to get simple medical
supplies (support stockings for my bad leg). I was willing to pay cash for
these items. My appointment was for 10:30—I left empty-handed at 2 to get
to my low-wage job. Everything about our health-care crisis was on
display. There were doctors there, wanting to help, standing in the back.
There were dozens of people with medical problems desperately seeking
care, but between those two groups was one overworked, overstressed clerk.
The resulting bottleneck meant guys like me and the others went home
unhappy and out-of-luck.
I wish the best for our brethren from Lewzyanna, but when I’m asked for a
donation I think, I’ll give them a dollar for every one they gave me when
I went through my personal Katrina, and walk away, wallet untouched.
IRAQ UPDATE
--They’re poorer
--Everyone’s Divided
--Minorities Have It Rougher
--People At The Top Are Doing Great
--Women Are Worse Off
--Gays are Scared for Their Lives
ALL RIGHT! They’re just like US now!!!
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