My alliteration chip just had a meltdown. Why isn’t the word “alliteration” more alliterative? Shouldn’t it be spelled “alliterallationally,” or a reasonable facsimile, thereof?
I’m sitting here in my sweats, pondering the possible news topics, today, and I’m humbled by the enormity of it all. As a result, I sit and stare at the monitor while the indigo ink dries upon the nib of my goose quill, which sounds uncomfortably risqué. That I am mixing mediums – if not metaphors – is not lost upon me, though you may be lost if you try to kayak the stream of unconsciousness that is my mind, this or any other morning.
Ah, les plumes d’oie. Everything in French sounds sexy. This is because I don’t know French. The unknown is mysterious, intriguing and sexy. It is when it becomes known that we go “harumph” and pass on the foie gras. Though it may taste yummy to some, when the squeamish learn how it’s made, then their palate for pâté reverses and makes them push their plate away.
It is better not to know where some things come from, but to simply enjoy them, in the moment. For when you peek behind the curtain and discover the great wizard is merely an old down-on-his-luck fortune teller with a penchant for sequined shoes, some of the magic dissipates. Did you know that the red ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland in the movie “The Wizard of Oz” were originally silver in L. Frank Baum’s book?
Naturally, a very few (if you’re keeping tabs on the “civilized” western world of mainstream media, which is an excellent idea) would argue that we should know who, what, when, where, why and how about the minutiae of all things lethal – great and small – like wacky extremist religious fundamentalists, government policies and nuclear suppositories. A good reporter or a good citizen should never be afraid of asking the tough questions – to be able to make an informed decision concerning threat levels based in reality.
For instance, we should be especially wary of what we ingest – is it toxic or noxious? Is it better to be embedded in Fallujah or just take it up the ass (ssshh, don’t ask – don’t tell) like the other mindless sheep? Should we invade a Middle Eastern country before or after tea-time? There are never any easy answers. How many small creatures were harmed in the process of body armor testing, exit-polling, slant-oil-drilling, deposing a demonic despot, jackass filming or excessive YouTubing?
But the meek and mind-numbingly disrespectful idiots who dare to question the current U.S. foreign policy are egregiously ignorant and need to be force-fed a slurried mixture of one-part pablum, three-parts propaganda (an eloquent male goose who is nattily attired), one load of bullshit, a trace of polonium-210 and then half-baked in a walk-in pizza kiln until crispy. Yeah, rounding up enemies of the state is a real gas. Sieg Heil!
Perhaps only later, when history is re-written by those who win the war, assuming it’s winnable, will we the people – the unpatriotic half of our obese and bellicose empire of Imperial Nitwits – finally realize just how wrong we were to try and peek behind the sacred curtain of our own government. The government that, in our constitution, says it is “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Yes, that constitution. The yellowed, brittle parchment that is only as strong as the people who have read it, understand it and will fight for it. Not oil, WMD’s or a thousand other reasons and lies perpetrated by the legion of Flying Monkeys high in their Emerald Tower.
Your Great Wizard is continually pulling levers on your fears, worries and lack of discipline that chains you to their ever-expanding capitalistic policies that are repeatedly raping the planet. Regardless of who the true puppet-masters are, for they, too, manipulate the Great W from on high, the time to wake up, Dorothy, is long past; thousands of lives ago, yet you slumber, still. Wake up, Dorothy. Just click your heels together and repeat after me, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”
Now, bring our boys and girls home from the senseless charade in Iraq. Demand that your government serve you, as it was intended, and not lord over you in some petulant, pedantic and patriarchal manner the uncontrollable desires of its gluttony and greed. The real war is at home and the enemy is winning. It’s time to throw a bucket of cold water on the Wizard, ’cause I’m tired of seeing nothing but flying monkey asses all over Washington.
The Kat
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