Just Not Enough Water

It’s true.  Sometimes there’s just not enough water. Forrest Gump brought attention to the rock scarcity issue, but I need to make you aware of the water dilemma. That’s the concern that I come across every time I make the mistake of familiarizing myself with the latest comments from the parade of jackals running for executive office this year. Every comment from them, every hypocritical utterance makes me wish the hot water in my shower could run for hours because that’s the only way I can think of to wash the rank nasty off me after being exposed to such filth.

I’ll admit that I’m one of those people that enjoys reading historical accounts of depraved Roman emperors, of brain-addled czars. I really don’t know why. I’m sure it’s a sickness and maybe it will appear soon in the latest DSM9. Maybe there’s an expensive big pharma-med in production that can help.  Perhaps that’s why I allow myself to listen to the piffle that these fellows are peddling. I’ve been desensitized from reading about the sexy historic train wreck characters. The thing is, this isn’t historical, but sadly very much in the now. Hence the need for the long showers. I’m so ashamed.

We’ve progressed little when a Mitt can look at the widespread misery, that only expands by the minute, and he can simply comment that the complaints stem from jealousy. We all want to be Wall Street zombies, of course. He projects his illness on the rest of us. The Mitt has actually said this in regard to the rumblings of the many — it is all just envy. I’m not sure if he said that at the gathering the other day which necessitated the removal of a young Harvard student who looked like someone that the Mitt didn’t want there. The poor kid spent the day in jail for looking like someone. But that’s the world the Mitt lives in. You get what you want. Period. And that kid looked like somebody. That kid is just lucky he wasn’t detained indefinitely for looking like somebody. You really need to be aware of your doppelgangers and what they are up to in this high security age.

In other psychotic plutocrat news, a guy in South Florida — one John Castle, a leveraged buy-out “king” — was angry that the bill after a meal was brought to his table… so he promptly broke the waiter’s finger. Of course, you never bring a king, even a leveraged buy-out one, a bill. The waiter got off easy too.

In other, trod upon worker news, one of the infamous Foxconn plants in China  had workers threatening mass suicide due to salary lies and general dehumanizing jobs recently — all necessary privations to produce X Boxes cheaply.

I could go on and on.

And right now, here in the US, almost everyone who has one thing go wrong will be pushed to the side of progress, to the stench of the alley. Preferably to die there.  Screw you, waiters of the world. We will break your fingers. We might make you homeless.  It’s all at our whimsy. We have all the cards. We will make your conditions eventually so bad that you will think death might be preferable. The world is flat in it’s misery, or we will make it so, says Thomas Friedman. Because we get what we want. Period.

And the world will stand, awash in confusion. But what happened? How did we come to such a devolved time? Perhaps we should have noticed when they treated international humans with such disregard. Of course, it would come home eventually. They convinced us that poverty was our fault and that those not wealthy had no worth. But, in truth, they are the filth, the ravenous undead feeding on the fresh life of others. Because they can never know satiety. And they never look to slow their own malignancy.  They just look for ways to continue feeding at the expense of the healthy and the clean.

And the Obamas of the age will make a point of pretending to care, their only contribution is less directly worded insults. Obama won’t say you are jealous that you don’t have the power to keep people from breaking your fingers. He will talk about the loveliness of intact fingers, and how the many before us have worked for intact fingers and someday the world will only have intact fingers. Then the roses will fall from the sky and the soaring melody will swell in the hearts of the listeners. And the broken fingered waiter will clap awkwardly in the crowd.

Flee from these creatures, find meaning in your local. Unravel what you can, including their lies that reside in your mind. Some influences are so toxic there is nothing to do but denounce and shun them. Don’t for one moment take them to be anything that promotes “a common welfare” or general decency. They are the carnivores who have convinced the sheep that they deserve to be eaten.

Could I possibly use any more metaphors?

Probably not. But above all, try to limit your exposure to them — because after all, there just isn’t enough water. Trust me.

Kathleen Peine
Dissident Voice