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A Hong Kong Minute

Now that The Capitalist's are fleeing capitalism and entering The Age of the Gifting Society ("Feeling Heat, C.E.Os Pledge New Priorities", The New York Times, August 20, 2019), with the big Corporate Honchos who run America convening the other day at a Round Table pledging to compensate their employees fairly and provide "important benefits," while also vowing to "protect the environment by embracing sustainable practices," we can all breathe a huge sigh of relief--after duly noting their courage and determination in the face of almost insurmountable obstacles--and turn our attention to Hong Kong.  

At the moment Hong Kong is the most interesting place in the world, more interesting than Russia by far, much more interesting than the USA and Europe combined, a lot more intriguinging than the Lost Continent of Mu where Ho Chi Minh defeated Stonewall Jackson at the now legendary Battle of Wits sometime before time began. 

The bravery of people with umbrellas in Hong Kong, gathering and then marching, more than a million strong, cannot be either underestimated or overestimated. The very name of the proposed legislation being protested--the Fugitive Offenders and Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters Legislation--is worth protesting all on its own. Meantime, mainland China, led by a dictator in a long line of dictators, but at the back of the pack alphabetically, has lined up troops, tanks, and other military equipment on the outskirts of Hong Kong to squash the movement should it grow to the size of either D Trump's Presidential Inauguration or a Make America Great Again pep rally in Cincinnati, OH.

It is exciting to see that our global geo-political future is currently being created by young people in Hong Kong willing not only to march but to possibly get cracked over the head by a police baton, or worse. Perhaps their actions will lead to the Great Melding of Capitalist & Communist Power Systems, prophesied both in The Bible and Mao's Little Red Book.  


Watching a Trump Rally on C-SPAN

The Present is always the best time in American history, the Past not so good, The Future unlimited and full of equal opportunity for Men and Women and Women and Men and the Children of Men and their Women and Womenly Men and Manly Women to fully express themselves by marching for the Rights of Transgender Golfers (the RTG) which, by the way is a PAC funded by wealthy Libertarian hedge fund manager, sold to the Current Administration as a cleverly designed geo-political stroke of genius to shut down shipping lanes in the Strait of Hormuz so that there will be a lack of a glut of right-handed oil producing Dictators.

The President of Petroleum Jelly, yes this President, divides his hair into separate but equal parts of a comb-over on the Right and a carefully crafted four-prong approach on the Left, an enduring, obdurate symbol of the freedom of the Individual to make individual choices that are the hallmark of our Great Nation without dividing us from Him who is so blessed to receive rays of light from the eternally shining sunlamp that is our glorious City on the Hill. For his next Inaugaration, the President promises that the Rev. Billy Graham will be resurrected to deliver the invocation from atop The Washington Monument.

Never, not even now for instance, has the time been more propitious for Real Change, or Real Meaningful Change as the opposition candidates like to say today, those who are not satisfied with the status quo the way it is, those dissatisfied with seeing Today as Tomorrow, those socialists, communists, armchair entrepreneurs, kindergarten anarchists, the ones wearing Marxist/Leninist coonskin caps and listening to Oldies Talk Radio. You can see Them from a mile away! They swagger like the humble Christian's Sigmund Freud, a Jew, warned us about, and attend political rallies, fervently waving red, white, and blue Pro Life Anti-Immigration signs. 

The Past? Don't worry about it. It's only a construction of the Mainstream Media, edited for public consumption to fit neatly into Present Presidential sound-bite(s) of other like-minded people who not only think just like He thinks but also act in ways contrary to their own best interests. My friends, our base is long and wide. There are purple mountains of majestic metaphors made of all of us who love this great country! Corn-tassles wave on the nipples of strippers from sea to shining sea. At last we've achieved a government of the Morons, by the Morons, for the Morons. The Future is as bright as it's ever been and ever will be. 


The Environmental Protection Agency

We seem to have become afraid of living in a world that makes sense.

Next, we'll ban bears, but only certain bears, bears that stand up for their rights. And then leopards, but only certain leopards, the ones with the unfortunate habit of protecting their territory. We've always loved elephants and have made them beloved figures in the stories we tell our children, but elephants are worth hunting for the profit potential to be derived from the ivory they produce. Eagles? Why worry about them? Think of them instead as bald old men walking slowly thru the neighborhood on their way to the delicatessen for a slice or two of pastrami. Fish don't matter, they really don't, they live in water everlasting, the last great unexplored space on earth that God bequethed us--not them--to plunder and exploit. The good news too, a real bonus, is that the fish may be swimming up to our windows soon, our houses half underwater. The snail darters, monarch butterflies, the cypress trees of Santa Cruz? All as common as the air we breathe! It's time all of them be as concerned about us as we are of them.

Reparations are clearly in order.



On a fine day almost every kind of song can be heard wrote the German poet, or something like that, it might have been any kind of song can be heard. Either way, the sense of it is the same: that there are some days so glorious that all we have to do is get out of the way and listen to them. This day looks like one of them.

Today I feel no need to ask myself the questions, am I a capitalist? Or, am I am one of those people who is now wealthy enough to be socialist? When a fellow asks me, why do you write? I can say, I don't have an answer and feel good about it, that what I've said is honest, the best I could do at the time, though later I'll feel compelled to come up with something more elaborate.

I once asked a painter I know, why do you paint?  He said, what else am I going to do? This is as good an answer as I've ever heard as to why anyone makes art. I should just leave it at that.

Artists could rule they world--no one's more interested in the world than an artist--if only they'd take responsibility. 


The rich kid's little joyride

Information is now insatiable: many of us feel that what we're supposed to pay attention to isn't worth it, and what we aren't is. What we're supposed to pay attention to is so often distraction posing as information. We're mesmerized by spokespeople posing as leaders who wish to re-institute issues we thought we'd passed by and political causes that don't even pretend to aspire to democratic ideals. We've created a strange new kind of dictatorship--ourselves--that in no way resembles the dictatorship we thought we were creating. The trivia of disinformation floods the Midwest, following the course of our great rivers south. In the Northeast, Helen Vendler, A. Kingsley Porter University Professor at Harvard, one of our foremost commentators on poetry, can write in 2015, "American culture is as yet too young to prize poetry--or, for that matter, any complex form of intellectuality except perhaps science (because science 'works,' and our New World history has made us pragmatists)."  The democratic dictatorship we thought we were creating, the one that relied on a free press, the fair and open election processes of actual democracy, and an independent judiciary, has gone the way of the Second French Republic during the time of Flaubert in which only the very few make the connection between political actions and their consequences while the rich gather all power. Smaller and smaller men lead us: we, their followers, can't wait for their time to pass. For Everything we see and hear seems like a science-fiction novella in which the entire world is made of offensive and defensive military equipment and machinery, controlled by businessmen and women who've never heard of Plato. We elect leaders who themselves have been deprived of essential information, or are overwhelmed by the glut of it, who listen to what is small and mean and replace the truth with lies. Leadership is now in the hands of those who unknowingly subscribe to Flaubert's bleak statement about the "whole dream of democracy." It seems we're reaching a time when nothing can be believed, not even poetry, especially when poetry is all that is good and possible in man and the distinction between an idiot and a moral idiot can no longer be made. One imagines Donald Trump driving his daddy's car in the early 1960s, listening to the radio and trying to pick up girls in Queens. Listen up People: "Time is Tight" acc. Booker T & the MG's.