somewhere over the rainbow way up high sits the king of pop in conversation not with the king of rock ‘n roll, but she whose life’s trajectory was similar to his own, judy garland.
“the king is gone but he’s not forgotten…”
and so the plot thickens with the saga of mark sanford’s mysterious disappearance with one question being “what was he doing in argentina?” if mystery is involved as well as argentina, it’s obvious that mystery booty must be involved…what else could drive a republican beyond his country’s borders without explanation than virally phenomenal ass?
conceivably rape in war is the precedent, yet the notion that a political ideology could be asserted through prison sex seems uniquely american. big government opponents and states’ rights advocates obviously can unite under the banner of encouraging the systematic sexual assault of prisoners thereby limiting the federal governments influence and the socialistic tendency to compassion for the human condition. perhaps mark sanford’s plans for rejecting stimulus funds ought to have included a plank for emboldening jailhouse predators…rather than a long walk to nowhere.
a bimbo acts like a bimbo at a gathering of bimbos and there is surprise? mercifully the flip wilson argument has not been trotted out but apparently the devil was nonetheless present at the event. while no new ground will be broken with this thought it must be repeated, isn’t it a bit oxymoronic to expect political correctness at a beauty pageant?
while it seems that the dick’s assertions regarding the results produced pretty much speak for themselves, wondering about the efficacy of torture is merely an exercise of day dream fancy since the answer is easily at hand if there was a genuine desire for it…simply ask the spanish inquistion.
“i cannot sign zee papers…”
“and why can you not sign zee papers!”
“because you have broken both of my hands.”
“i’ve done a lot god knows i’ve tried
to find the truth, i’ve even lied,
but all i know is down inside
i’m bleeding…”
with an invocation of imagery from the inception of the united states, quickly through time a journey is taken to the days of brother will kill brother. what an entertaining notion, that americans will take arms up against fellow americans for the purpose of militantly asserting what a democracy with its constitution and bill of rights does not afford them in the year two thousand and nine, namely unelected political power, an exception taken for granted the previous eight years by some. were it more astounding that the position advocated is tantamount to the poor fighting on behalf of the rich against the poor…
politicians hide themselves away
they only started the war
why should they go out to fight?
they leave that role to the poor…
what’s more shocking, a conservative reworking the work of another conservative or ostensibly both have written fashion articles? what a putrid and staid state one’s ideals must be in to take umbrage with the dress of the masses! with a message rooted in reinforcing the inferiority of the mob through appearance while attempting to reinforce the social longing in the economically ne’er do well for that which they cannot have, how very interesting it is that the decline of western civilization are jeans? seems that soon enough the discourse will return to vilification of the peoples’ genes…
how sleazy does a it have to be that a junkie will no longer tolerate your presence and impugn your integrity? clearly the change to nosferatu resulted in the shell of a human being expulsing music but how strange can a hero become? apparently strange enough to take a shot at love. while the new millennium has not been kind to him, what shreds of dignity remain for billy corgan to rent asunder while punching the rock ‘n roll clock?
“william, william it was really nothing, it was your life…”
could it be anymore disappointing that the harbinger of the apocalypse is glenn beck? apparently the beast or the little horn or marilyn manson are committed to previous engagements and cannot fulfill the role…or perhaps the global economic depression has forced corners to be cut in the end times so the best that is left is an effete howard beale. add to the heap of lies holy books and heavy metal that clearly didn’t properly envision a world that ends with a media whore of babylon.
isn’t it time to leave a man to his medium? has integrity become so debased that selling out is the sincere goal of creation? does the act of creation have a price? apparently not for alan moore.
then repay to caesar what belongs to caesar…
