Collected Poetry  VOLUME ONE Original materials - Copyright © 1986-2009 by Gary Bachlund All international rights reserved "A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic." Joseph Stalin (1878-1953) Sheer Ignorance 
"Opinions on corporate management are all too frequently imbued with a spirit of sheer ignorance, an anti-expert spirit." Vladimir Lenin, to the 1920 Communist Party Congress.
Business is the culprit,
the enemy of man,
So say those little tyrants
who've had some other plan
To starve a productive system of its productive work,
Or lure on those who'd merely sit, complain and shirk,
But in the empty market stalls
Ignorance stumbles, then it falls.
Lenin blamed "sheer ignorance,"
after he'd shown the same -- his own.
Lenin -- a murderous smarty-pants
as his murderous history's shown.
Business makes a product.
as boon to other men,
But tyrants rage and wrongly think
it's simple, simply when
They threaten a working system in its productive work,
Or urge on those who'd merely sit, complain and shirk,
But in the busied market stalls
It's freedom which fills the market halls. Envoi: “The elimination of profit, whatever methods may be resorted to for its execution, must transform society into a senseless jumble.” Ludwig von Mises (1881-1973) Addendum: "Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe." Frederick Douglass (1818-1895) See: Fled from empty market shelves - a history lesson
Put the past to rest - ignore the dead oppressed 
"It is now believed that as many as 60 million to 80 million people may have died because of Mao's policies--making him responsible for more deaths than Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin combined. Gong said killer is not a strong enough word to describe Mao. "He was a monster," she said. Hitler's policies led to tens of millions of deaths during World War II and in concentration camps, and Stalin is blamed for tens of millions more. Chinese government figures say between 15 million and 25 million people died unnatural deaths during Mao's reign from 1949 until his death in 1976. But both Chinese and Western scholars know those figures are no longer valid. One document, published in the Shanghai University journal Society last year--and immediately yanked from shelves--said 40 million people died during the great famine of 1959-1961. Some China experts say it is time to move on and put the past to rest. In "Scholars Continue to Reveal Mao's Monstrosities : Asia: Exiled Chinese historians emerge with evidence of cannibalism and up to 80 million deaths under the Communist leader's regime." By Beth Duff-Brown, Los Angeles Times, 20 November 1994 Put the past to rest
As an inconvenient truth.
Learn nothing from its lesson;
Act the deaf and dumbest sleuth.
Monsters who become icons
Should be given a little slack,
For it's cool to be a radical
And never to look back.
Andy Warhol's Mao hangs,
Brightly big and biggly bright,
Telling nothing of the murdered
Andy never kept in sight.
Revolutionary fervor
Without reason, sense or rhyme,
Is carved from just forgetting
About millions dead in time.
Put the past to rest
As avoidable is such truth.
Learn nothing from its lessons;
Think such lessons are uncouth.
Put the past to rest,
And then live it once again,
For having not quite learned,
Men will murder yet more men. Envoi: "An army of the people is invincible!" Mao Tse-tung, Quotations from Chairman Mao Tsetung [ 1 ] Addendum: "This exceeds the 61,911,000 murdered by the Soviet Union 1917-1987, with Hitler far behind at 20,946,000 wiped out 1933-1945. For perspective on Mao's most bloody rule, all wars 1900-1987 cost in combat dead 34,021,000 -- including WWI and II, Vietnam, Korea, and the Mexican and Russian Revolutions. Mao alone murdered over twice as many as were killed in combat in all these wars." In "Reevaluated democide totals for 20th C. and China," Rudy J. Rummel, Professor Emeritus of Political Science, University of Hawaii, 2005 Moral Clarity Check: "The more power a government has, the more it can act arbitrarily according to the whims and desires of the elite, the more it will make war on others and murder its foreign and domestic subjects. The more constrained the power of governments, the more it is diffused, checked and balanced, the less it will aggress on others and commit democide. At the extremes of Power, totalitarian communist governments slaughter their people by the tens of millions, while many democracies can barely bring themselves to execute even serial murderers." In "Death by Government," by R. J. Rummel, Professor Emeritus of Political Science, University of Hawaii. See: Revising History [ 1 ] As the story begins to be told anew, one sees the hand of revisionism in history, hoping to wipe away the horrors of Sino-socialism, as with Soviet Socialism. Yet such enormous horrors cannot be swept from history. One reads: "The Cultural Revolution was a lost decade of tragedy and waste. What historians Roderick Macfarquhar and Michael Schoenhals call the 'chaos, killing and [ultimately] stagnation' claimed lives throughout the country and at all levels. Under pressure due to the Great Famine, and unnerved by the Soviet repudiation of Stalin, Mao wielded mass support to see off rivals. Frustrated that Communist ideology had not truly taken root, he also sought to destroy old ideas and institutions. Top leaders and revered intellectuals were humiliated, beaten and driven to suicide. Youthful Red Guards abused or murdered teachers and bad class elements. In Chongqing rival factions battled with guns and tanks; in Guangxi, there are reports of cannibalism. Friends, neighbours, colleagues and families turned upon each other. Cultural treasures were destroyed; universities shuttered. Millions of "educated youth" were sent to labour in the countryside. The economy was devastated." In "China's Cultural Revolution: son's guilt over the mother he sent to her death," by Tania Branigan, The Guardian UK, 27 March 2013. Soviet Socialism behaved similarly. "By the end of 1933, millions of people had starved to death or had otherwise died unnaturally in Ukraine and the other Soviet republics. The total number of population losses (famine death and birth deficit) across the entire Soviet Union is estimated as 6–7 million. The Soviet Union long denied that the famine had taken place." In Wikipedia article "Holodomor" Another form of communism also followed this same brutal pathway: "The Communist Party of Kampuchea (CPK), otherwise known as the Khmer Rouge, took control of Cambodia on April 17, 1975. The CPK created the state of Democratic Kampuchea in 1976 and ruled the country until January 1979. The party's existence was kept secret until 1977, and no one outside the CPK knew who its leaders were (the leaders called themselves 'Angkar Padevat'). While the Khmer Rouge was in power, they set up policies that disregarded human life and produced repression and massacres on a massive scale. They turned the country into a huge detention center, which later became a graveyard for nearly two million people, including their own members and even some senior leaders." In "Overview," Cambodia Tribunal Monitor, Northwestern University School of Law Center for International Human Rights and Documentation Center of Cambodia.
Powerless Powers "Alarm grows as governments and navies are rendered legally powerless to conduct security operations on the high seas," in "Iranian grain ship seized as Somali pirates hold world to ransom," The Times, November 19, 2008
Powerless to act against attack,
The world's powers say.
It's nice to learn that leaders earn
So much for such little sway.
Powerless to act against attack
But pricey, nonetheless,
The world's powers pricey towers
Couldn't win a game of chess.
A game of bluff with bandits tough
Shows world powers' brawn
Is weak-kneed as it's gone to seed,
And such powers are but pawns.
Call the police? Call for this to cease?
Ah, call for something strong,
Because powers can't act against attack
While being both nice and wrong.
In the shooting game, talk is to blame
For never firing back,
And talk is cheap as victims weep
When powers can't attack.
Powerless to act against attack,
The world's powers say.
Their price is steep when leaders reap
So much for such little sway.
Career Politicians' Questions How can I increase myself
at the expense of others?
Equality is all quite fine,
but it really is my druthers
To be the big kid on the block,
the bully with clenched fists,
But never be quite known for this
as folks would be right pissed.
How can I increase myself
and pass the costs to others?
Equal wages are all quite fine,
but it really is my druthers
To be the fat kid on the block,
the belly porked with candy,
But never be quite known for this
because that would not be dandy.
How can I increase myself
by making others small?
Equality for all just stinks,
I'd rake in the largest haul
And be the rich kid on the block,
a wallet stuffed with money,
But never be quite known for this
as that would seem quite funny.
How can I increase myself
and never be found out?
Equality is all just a game,
what counts for all is clout,
To be the tough kid on the block,
the brawler with the stick,
But never be quite known for this
as voters are so thick. Envoi: “He knows nothing; and he thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.” George Bernard Shaw, Major Barbara (first performed 1905, published 1907) Addendum: "Legislators like pork because it helps them get reelected. They are interested in administrative details because long tenure promotes narrow specialization. The constituent service racket allows lawmakers to ignore big problems by fixing small ones. In fact, one of the biggest benefits of non-professional legislators is that they would be unlikely to join with the bureaucrats and special interests in blowing smoke at the voters." Eric Felton See: Corruption, and also Three Little Democrats as a small sample of career politicians' stories, and also a song setting of William Shakespeare's text, Edmund's Speech - (2011) 
Let's have some quail, by George "According to the White House, tonight's dinner to kick off the G-20 summit includes such dishes as 'Fruitwood-smoked Quail,' 'Thyme-roasted Rack of Lamb,' and 'Tomato, Fennel and Eggplant Fondue Chanterelle Jus.' To wash it all down, world leaders will be served Shafer Cabernet 'Hillside Select' 2003, a wine that sells at $499...." CNN, November 15, 2008 Let's have some quail, by George,
As businesses slow and fail,
And with it a fine rack of lamb,
As treasuries bail and bail.
Have some eggplant fondue, by George,
While little folks struggle and wail,
And wash it down with the finest,
While businesses go up for sale.
While each worldwide fraud and scam
Costs bundles of tax payers' cash,
We will toast such problems, by George,
As markets seem ready to crash.
World leaders gobble, by George,
The best that the world can serve,
Because leaders have really no reason
To scratch or to save or conserve.
Left, right or center, it's all the same game,
As Gordon and Angela show,
Emirs and gluttonous ministers, by George,
The best on themselves bestow. See: Let's All Sacrifice, and also Fat, fat government
Old Age Blues One old woman lived far too many years.
She smoked and drank and had too many fears.
She was dry as a leaf but she was sharp as a knife,
But then death paid a call and snuffed out her life.
That old woman lived far too many years.
She smoked and drank and had too many fears.
When I'm no younger than that old woman was,
I will drink to my fears as I smoke my cigars.
I'll look gaunt and peaked, maybe look even worse,
Because dying is nasty, while old age ain't such a curse.
O God, let me live far too many years,
To smoke and drink and even have too many fears. See: Old Age Blues
The Sharp Shooter He shoots at fog with a shotgun;
He gets as close as he can.
He takes him aim and then squeezes
And claims that he's a sharp-shooting man.
He doesn't hit much but he whoops for joy;
He hollers of his fame.
And though he never really hits anything
He crows about it all the same.
He's a sharp-shootin', rootin', tootin' fellow
Who thinks he's just the best.
And if you ever believe his words
Then you would be hard pressed
To tell the truth or see things straight
Or hold to a sensible thought,
Or do things right or think for yourself,
'Cause your thinking's so distraught.
He claims his many shiny medals
For shooting at foggy gray mist,
And expects little you to clap and cheer
'Cause when you don't, he's pissed.
He shoots again with his shotgun,
And even so must cheat.
He takes his aim and then squeezes
And declares this sport is sweet.
If you don't give him honors
That glitter in the sun,
I tell you true, he'll shoot at you.
That's how this sport is done. See: Smoke and Mirrors
Revising History You did not see that which you saw,
Nor hear what you just heard.
The notion that you might have done
Is patently absurd.
We will tell you what you saw
And what you heard and then
If you own version contradicts,
We'll tell you once again.
We'll use fair force of argument
To help you see your faults
And, if you can't, we'll use more force
To lock you in our vaults.
You have no right to yesterday
When yesterday's revised,
And if you still would disagree,
Why then, you'll be despised.
You will not see that which you saw,
Nor hear what you just heard.
The notion that you would dare do that
Is patently absurd. Envoi: "...the distortion of history, which—if it constitutes the denial of historical crimes—is also sometimes called negationism." Wikipedia Addendum: "There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) Addendum: "A people without history / Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern / Of timeless moments." From "Little Gidding," of the Four Quartets (1942) by T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) See: Put the past to rest
Hot House Ballads
Hot and Blue
I am earth that's not yet plowed,
All alone within a crowd.
Coldly waitin' for the sun,
Summer's night is not yet run.
Come caress me; you want to.
You'll find me cold and hot and blue.
I am fires not yet stoked,
I'm a drug that's not been smoked.
I am ice that's boiling hot;
Come and taste just what I got.
Will you touch me? Would you dare to?
I promise you I'm hot and blue.
Heavenly Days I come down to earth from heavens above,
To fatherly arms and mother's love.
I come down by birth from heavens on high,
To walk here below a heavenly sky.
Now I walk through hours and I walk through days,
With the pains and pleasures of earthly ways.
But I dream of when there were heavenly days.
Heavenly days before birth, with stars all ablaze.
Those heavenly days.
Hot House The hot house once blossomed with color and hue,
Bright with the sun as it went streaming through.
The yellow of warmth is now run away
And the winter has come with its icy bouquet.
Now the panes are all broken where beauty once grew,
And now cold are the dead where the winter winds blew.
Now the long white rain freezes, gathering gray,
And the building is fallen to death and decay.
No Body Blues I sit on my porch through the whole damn day,
But callers don't ever come my way.
No body ever stops by to stay.
The stove isn't warm and my dinner's not served,
And loneliness seems what I surely deserved.
No body ever stops by to stay.
The bed is unmade and the clock ticks off time,
The hours just fade and the shadows just climb.
No body's mine.
One stranger showed love, and, more strange still,
There once was a time when I had my fill.
That once is now gone but the lonely blues stay. See: Hot House Ballads (1991-2008)
The Fruit of the Money Tree Wait for the fruit of the money tree to ripen as it may,
Or kill the geese with the golden eggs such that they cannot lay.
We little folk live prudently while governments refuse
By passing bills to the little folk and tightening the screws.
The short of sight scream loud with fright to find their visions blind,
Then rage and rant at prudent folk because they had declined
To blind their eyes and shut their ears to simple prudent ways
Like spending less than what they'd earned just for those rainy days.
Not waiting for the money tree to ripen and to grow,
Governments kill the golden geese with blustering, empty show.
We little folk live prudently while governments refuse
And so we find it's governments that are quaking in their shoes.
The holes in the boats which they have drilled are leaking fast, we see.
It is for this that they all cry aloud to bail out poverty
Out of all the mess that they have made and all the debts they've massed.
" 'twas all for the best intentions," they argue to the last.
The rains, they come; the storms, they blow, the levees shall be topped
And governments on shifting sands will find they have been stopped.
The money tree will grow again, for such are Nature's ways,
And prudent folks shall quite survive the governmental blaze. See: Prudence and Thrift - a hoary story
I'm very fond of Cummings' words I'm very fond of Cummings' words
(o I'm very fond of Cummings' words
yes I'm very fond of Cummings' words)
but I'll write my own for his sake.
Gimme Edward Estlin's words to open my ears
(o gimme Edward Estlin's words to my ears
yes gimme Edward Estlin's words to my ears)
though I won't use some as lyrics.
Nothing like a copyright ruining the blues
(o nothing like a copyright ruining the blues
yes nothing like a copyright ruining the blues)
but a dictionary's got more.
Norton wanted cash up front for Cummings' nifty words
(o Norton wanted cash up front for Cummings' nifty words
yes Norton wanted cash up front for Cummings' nifty words)
and I reckoned that's not worth paying.
Publishing is not about words or art
(o publishing is not about words or art
yes publishing is not about words or art)
it was Cummings that taught this lesson. Envoi: "listen: there’s a hell / of a good universe next door; let’s go," E. E. Cummings (1894-1962) See: I'm very fond of Cummings' words - (1989/2008) and also Poetry
Topsy Turvy Topsy turvy,
Straight yet curvy,
How does your story grow?
By upward downs,
And smiling frowns,
While going quickly slow.
The tale is told
To young and old
For by it shall they know
That right is wrong
While short is long
And so the plot points flow
From here to there
And everywhere
Except that you might know.
Bad is good
And can't is could
When putting on a show.
Turvy topsy,
Words' autopsy,
Meanings' meanings overthrow
For in is out,
And proof is doubt,
And there is nothing more to know. Trust by lying, Blindly eyeing Who reaps pork and who eats crow. See: Good Old Obfuscation
The Dishwashers' Song The waiter came to bring the check,
For gone was the repast.
The bill was more than 'twas foretold;
The diners stared, aghast.
They'd eaten of their hearty meal,
And drunk like drunkards do,
And had their sweets and savories;
Of course -- it was their due.
And none had thought to ponder
The cost or who would pay,
For that was then and this is now;
Tomorrow is another day.
But then the waiter brought bill.
The diners sat perplexed;
With empty wallets they had dined,
And now were deeply vexed.
"I thought 'twas you invited me,"
Shrieked one unto the other;
Another growled, "I thought you'd pay,
For are you not my brother?"
And so the bill sat on its tray,
As none would reach for it;
"Perhaps we all could pay a bit?"
Began an awful snit.
The uproar then broke out quite loud,
As most would shun their ante,
And hope that someone else would act
As grantor to their grantee.
Alas, the bill sat all forlorn
And waited for their payment;
The numbers cared not for their words
And would not have defrayment.
"The bill is due and payable,"
The management was sure.
"Since we've so little in the bank,
Shall credit be our cure?"
But as the cards were duly checked,
It found accounts rejected;
Insolvent diners ate their last,
As they had been detected.
"The bill is due" was plainly clear.
The party sat dejected;
The bill beamed bright, a sheet of white,
Demanding to be respected.
The end of this most tragic scene
Should have been expected;
There is no bill which happily
Remains ever uncollected. Envoi: "[Credit is a system whereby] a person who can't pay, gets another person who can't pay, to guarantee that he can pay." Charles Dickens, in Little Dorrit Addendum: "Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored." Aldous Huxley, in Complete Essays 2, 1926-29 See: The bill for good intentions
Fund Raising "The president of the United Way, in Charlotte, N.C., received an increase of more than $700,000 in retirement benefits for the 2007 fiscal year, reports The Charlotte Observer. The annual compensation for the president, Gloria Pace King, is now more than $1.2-million, with her benefits package rising from $108,590 to $822,507."
The question is: do I care?
The answer is I don't.
I will not care for everything.
I simply can't. I won't.
There's always someone on the street
Who wants me so to care;
There's always someone's hand put forth
To hope I give my share.
There are starving children, polar bears,
The poverty of nations,
There are causes of most every sort,
And daily conflagrations
All meant to pry some cash away
From pockets just like mine
To pay the livelihood of those
Who truly live quite fine.
The managements of charities
Reap incomes which are greater
Than the average common little man
To whom they beg and cater.
Atop the planet's saving plan
Meant to glean some cash,
There are far too many a wealthy man
Who peddle balderdash.
You should care for everything,
For all the causes, all the cares,
For this is how the charities
Rake in their fattened shares. Addendum: Snopes reviewed the above quote in the Charlotte Observer and found it inaccurate; it was. While the individual's compensation was lower, it was still far above most Americans' wages. Examining United Way of Central Carolinas, Inc. (a separate 501(c)3 organization like many of the regional United Ways not fully under the management of the national charity), their publicly available Form 990 (2011) -- Part VII "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $1,519,847.00 plus "Other compensation" $138,238.00 -- for a total of $ 1,658,085.00. Of that amount, there are two entries in Section VII: Ex-president Gloria Pace King's "Insurance Settlement" comes to two installments, $ 466,666.00 and $ 233,334.00, for a total of $ 700,000.00 in one fiscal year. Addendum: Examining the United Way's national organization independently of Snopes, one learns directly from the agency's publicly available information: United Way Form 990 (2012) Part VII: "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $ 3,047,147.00 plus "Other Compensation" $ 566,883.00 -- Total $ 3,614,030.00, and World Wildlife Fund's Form 990 (2011) Part VII "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $ 4,113,355.00 plus "Other Compensation" $606,680.00 for a total of $ 4,720,035.00, and Tides Foundation - 2010 Form 990 -- Part VIII Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustess, key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees, and Independent Contractors -- Reportable Compensation: $ 788,936.00 plus Related $ 544,831.00 plus Other $ 158,858.00 -- Total $ 1,492,625.00 See also: Modern Times and Charity, and also a song setting of Sandburg's Cahoots - (2010)
Chump Change "You are talking about a 3.6 percent difference, and for the average person who is making half a million, a million dollars, now people like you Sway, that’s chump change, that’s nothing." Barak Obama in an interview with MTV, Nov 2, 2008 Member of parliaments pocket
Far more than some lesser peer;
Senators and Congressmen pocket
Their cash with political cheer.
Mayors and councilmen pocket
Whatever they can rake,
And governors and yes men pocket
For pocketing's pocketing sake.
Governments say they are needed
"According to each need,"
And pocketing cash is their action --
Their political greedy creed.
Those who provide a product
Are "big" and "bad" they say,
But governments make lit'rally nothing,
Yet confiscate as they may,
For greed might be said to be
The adjective for the few,
But governments are the most greedy
As they greedily pocket on cue.
Pompous and arrogant profits
Of greed are evident most
When governments pocket your money,
Then lift their own glasses in toast
To greed and their greedy lined pockets
Which fill up in good times or bad,
With chump change and with treasure
For which such politicians are glad. Envoi: "If money is the bond binding me to human life, binding society to me, binding me and nature and man, is not money the bond of all bonds? Can it not dissolve and bind all ties? Is it not, therefore, the universal agent of separation?" Karl Marx (1818-1883) Reflection: "He was one of the numerous and varied legion of dullards, of half-animated abortions, conceited, half-educated coxcombs, who attach themselves to the idea most in fashion only to vulgarize it and who caricature every cause they serve, however sincerely." Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment ( published in 1866) See: Growth in debt - a non-sequitur, and also Chump Change - variations on Mulberry Bush - (2009)
Hymn for Today "State debt has grown from $14.4 billion in 1990 to $48.5 billion in 2006 and a projected $52 billion in 2007." New York State Office of the Comptroller, Thomas P. DiNapoli, State Comptroller, October 2008
Put it all on credit,
Pay the minimum.
Politicians do it
Quite ad nauseum.
A city begs the county.
A county begs the state.
A state then begs the nation
And hopes it's not too late.
Look what we have brought us,
Welfare for our state.
Social welfare taught us
By not talking straight.
A city begs the county.
A county begs the state.
A state then begs the nation
And hopes it's not too late.
Who will pay tomorrow
For our debt today?
Someone's future sorrow,
They will pay and pay.
A city begs the county.
A county begs the state.
A state then begs the nation
And hopes it's not too late.
Do it for the children;
Borrow more today.
Let's avoid a famine
Till some other day.
A city begs the county.
A county begs the state.
A state then begs the nation
And hopes it's not too late.
Run a tab and then some,
Piling up the debt.
When the debt's a chasm
There'll be time to fret.
A city begs the county.
A county begs the state.
A state then begs the nation
And the nation eats off your plate.
And the nation borrows from you! Envoi: "As humanity perfects itself, man becomes degraded. When everything is reduced to the mere counter-balancing of economic interests, what room will there be for virtue? When Nature has been so subjugated that she has lost all her original forms, where will that leave the plastic arts? And so on. In the mean time, things are going to get very murky." Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) See: Spend what you don't have - no tonics for wreckonomics, and Dazzling and also a setting of Ambrose Bierce's A Prayer for Today - (1991)
Tale of the Makers and the Takers Once there were many makers;
The takers? They were few.
Makers bought and sold their goods,
And earned what was their due.
Those takers who were fakers
Cried loud but were ignored,
Because the sound of making things
Rumbled as it roared.
Makers made the things they made
And made such unafraid,
But as the takers numbered more
They bellowed too, and brayed.
The takers said 'twas only fair
That charity be urged,
That takers slowly over time
The leading makers purged.
It took quite long to notice
That something was amiss,
As what was once the makers'
Became the takers' bliss.
And slyly slowly by hook and crook
The takers won the day,
And slowly slyly moved to drive
Makers one by one away.
The chief among the takers
Had caused such great success
That all too slowly folks all found
The takers' ways depressed
The markets where the makers
Once had sold their things,
Which now was laden heavily
With snares and traps and stings.
With far few makers roused
To make and make and make,
And far too many takers
To take and take and take,
The marketplace had dwindled
To selling stale bread
And yet stalls are were filled
With promises instead.
"When we find yet something else
To take, as is our due,
We'll bring it to the market place
And sell it then to you."
But makers grew too weary
With burdens and with rules
And fewer worked with fervor,
But laid aside their tools.
The chief among the takers
Declared this was obscene,
For "makers should be making
For of making they are keen."
But having made the takers
Take so much of their work,
The makers learned to take
And learned their work to shirk.
"Why, this is wrong!" each taker cried,
His hand outstretched and wide,
"We must enforce the makers' work
With force of law as guide.
We'll force them to produce for us
That we may take yet more,
And if they do not, obviously,
We'll empty out their store."
As takers grew in numbers,
And makers dwindled fast,
The takers found their taking
All too soon was past.
"What shall we do?" they wailed aloud,
In misery and pain.
"The only thing that's left to do
Is learn to make again."
But who shall teach and who shall lead
When takers rule the roost?
Who can give the market place
A necessary boost?
When takers have forgotten
What it takes to make,
Then takers must allow this fact,
That makers keep a stake
In what they make and what they earn
And why they want to make,
For when this is forgotten,
Then makers learn to take.
With new recruits in takers' ranks
And far too few to make,
The market place might limp along
With produce which few make.
The takers will be angry
For taking more that this,
For they will have then taken
The makers' making bliss.
When makers make, then all have much
And even charity has more,
But when the makers dwindle fast,
The future has in store
What it has each time when this
Old story lives again.
For lessons quite forgotten
Affect the lives of men.
Makers make and takers take,
And when the balance tips
Towards taking more than making,
This little leak sinks ships.
Once more there might be makers;
Yes, takers? There'll be too.
Makers will trade back and forth,
And earn what is their due.
Those takers who are fakers
Might cry as they did before,
But the sound of making things
Will rumble and must roar.
The cycle of the sorry takers
Circles and repeats,
Because the story sounds quite nice
And promises such treats.
But the lesson oft was learned
That takers are but fools
And should be rightly spurned For makers makes our tools. See: Whose gonna pull the welfare wagon - a Western poem
I Shall Believe the Socialist "Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery." Winston Churchill (1874-1965) I shall believe the socialist when politicians earn the average wage of the common man, which egalitarians so quickly spurn.
When socialists are quietly content to take no more than this,
Then I'll believe their social spiel and seal it with a kiss.
But when they say they need much more than the average common man,
I suspect there is something else in their socialistic plan.
That "something else" is evident and can be plainly seen
When socialists gather capital of which they are so keen.
These socialists are strangely odd as they chat of social health
while behind the scenes they are most greedy and gather in their wealth.
Equality sounds quite nicely nice as rhetorical words and cheers,
but socialists like so much to be more equal than their peers.
I shall believe the socialist when politicians earn
the wage of the common man, from which socialists so quickly turn. Envoi: "A Socialist, carrying a red flag, marched through the gates of Heaven. 'To Hell with rank!' he shouted. 'All men are equal here.' Just then the late Karl Marx turned a corner and came into view, meditatively stroking his whiskers. At once the Socialist fell upon his knees and touched his forehead to the dust. 'O Master!' he cried. 'O Master, Master!'" In "A Book of Burlesques," by H. L. Mencken, 1916. See: Income Inequality, and also Career Politicians' Questions
From Ivied Walls and Towers "Guilty as hell, free as a bird - America is a great country." Distinguished Professor William Ayers (b. 1944) From ivied walls and towers
they blather as they preach,
And cry they are such radicals
as radical they teach.
Professors say they're radical
with tenure on their side.
They earn far more than most folks do;
in their capital they take pride.
They play at socialism's rhetoric,
but bide in a moneyed clique,
Their social inequality
is quite the clever parlor trick.
Professors play as radicals
but live in upscale homes.
They write and write and write some more,
while all too thick their tomes.
They say they care about the poor,
injustice and such things,
But finely dine at parties;
to some upper-crust each clings.
The university radical
has retirement assured,
With pensions, healthcare, perquisites
and more, each radically absurd.
Such professorial radicals know little of their fellow men.
The professorial radical suffers in
some posh-appointed den.
Professors say they're radical,
advantages heaped with care.
They earn much of the people's pie, so fattened large their share. From ivied walls and towers
they blather and they rant,
But lessen their special privilege?
They simply won't; they can't. Envoi: "In 1969 he co-founded the Weather Underground, a self-described communist revolutionary group that conducted a campaign of bombing public buildings (including police stations, the U.S. Capitol Building, and the Pentagon) during the 1960s and 1970s in response to U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. He is a retired professor in the College of Education at the University of Illinois at Chicago, formerly holding the titles of Distinguished Professor of Education and Senior University Scholar." From Wikipedia. See above: I Shall Believe the Socialist
When a radical comes to power When a radical comes to power,
Isn't it a shame,
That radical thinks it quite unfair
That others play his game
As they go hunting for his skin
As he had done before,
And plan to hang him on their wall
And radically settle the score.
When the revolution finally comes
It ceases to revolve,
Because revolutionaries staunchly
Will not further evolve.
It's all about power, nothing more
That makes these fellows tick,
And when they've climbed the ladder
They somehow want to stick
To being on high and being on top
As was their only game,
And these same fellows want to stop
Someone else from playing their game.
When a radical comes to power,
Isn't it a shame,
That radical thinks it quite unfair
That others play his game. See: Murderous murderer murdered - "M " as in myth, and also Socialism's Last Hurrah
Steal Away We've had this chat,
And that is that;
There's little more to say.
We've had our chance
To strut and prance
And fritter days away.
We've made our choice
With blustering voice
In distant yesterday.
We've watched the clock
Just like a hawk
And let time slip away.
We'll see the close
That each end shows,
And in the balance weigh
As time turns cold
and life turns old,
And then steals us away.
Trolley Car There yuster be yer trolley car
down de middle uf Pico Boulyvar'
Fer not much yer could go quite far
on the Pico Boulyvar' trolley car.
They ripped er up long time ago,
and now they wished they had some mo'
Trolleys like the ones down Pio Pico's Pico.
Tearin er up was progress, they said,
puffing pride and politick,
And now they wan er back agin,
Which makes the whole deal sick.
Someone got paid to build er up,
someone got paid to run her cars,
An someone got paid to rip er up,
cause of some progress-bullcrap transit tsars.
The Kindly Radical The world is bad
but I am good;
It's good that in
my neighborhood
I protest this day.
Bad is carbon,
but I'm not;
And greenly green
is my big yacht,
as I excuse my way.
People do
this planet harm,
And so I raise
my loud alarm,
an anti-people bray.
My code is pink,
my banner's red,
My views are green,
as I shall tread
upon someone today.
When one is left
to fight the right
And take by theft
strategic height,
what more is there to say? This world is evil,
understood?
There's evil that's in
my neighborhood,
says my communiqué. Bad are values
I hold not,
And redly red's
this juggernaut,
the kindly radical's way. See: In a kindly manner, and also The Scourge of the Planet
Rob a Peter to Pay a Paul "A government with the policy to rob Peter to pay Paul can be assured of the support of Paul" - George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) Rob a Peter to pay a Paul,
And if the robbery's small
Perhaps no one will notice at all.
Rob a few to pay the many,
And soon there won't be any
Left to shake loose a penny.
Ponzi taught this fine game
With robbery as its fine aim;
By this his name earned its fame.
Who robs Peter to pay a Paul?
After the high then comes the fall,
If only this lesson we would recall.
Government borrows to pay,
Spending tomorrows today,
Today's crises merely to defray.
Government robs a Peter's cash,
And it is gone quite in a flash,
After which there comes the crash.
Rob a Peter to pay a Paul,
But if the game is not small
Then easily notice shall we all. Envoi: The great enemy of freedom is the alignment of political power with wealth. This alignment destroys the commonwealth - that is, the natural wealth of localities and the local economies of household, neighborhood, and community - and so destroys democracy, of which the commonwealth is the foundation and practical means.” Wendell Berry, in The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays See: Bernie got it right
God Ain't White "Black theology refuses to accept a God who is not identified totally with the goals of the black community. If God is not for us and against white people, then he is a murderer, and we had better kill him." James H. Cone, in Black Theology & Black Power (1969)
God ain't white, and God ain't black,
Nor any other color, nor the zodiac.
It ain't skin and it ain't race
That shows us God in any case.
God just ain't of one lone clan,
Cause God did paint a greater plan.
See him black, or see him white,
And you're not seeing God all right.
God made all, and chose to do
A foolish thing when God made hue
Run your race, and color weigh,
To color God in your own way.
God made color, it's safe to say,
From white to black and shades of gray,
Pale pastels and vivid tint,
And that alone should be the hint.
God ain't black, and God ain't white,
Nor any other color seen by day or night.
It ain't skin and it ain't race
That shows us God in any case. Envoi: "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) Addendum: "'I'm making a stance that the number of African Americans killed have surpassed the number of victims in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars,' he said. [ 1 ] 'And African Americans have killed more of their own people than the KKK.' He waved a sign emblazoned with a graphic of a semi-automatic rifle and the text, 'The KKK killed 3,446 blacks in 86 years. [ 2 ] Black on black murders surpass that number every 6 months.'" In "PSA: The guy at Broad and Vine dressed in a KKK robe is not in the KKK," by Aliex Wigglesworth, Metro Philadelphia City Desk, 5 February 2013 [ 1 ] From the same article: "'I'm protesting black-on-black murder,' said Sixx King, who is himself black." According to the website promoting his film, "Mothers of No Tomorrow," "the film shed light on the journey black mothers are forced to take when their children are lost to intraracial violence." [ 2 ] This is a restatement of the number as reported in some news media, garnering little attention by society in general. "A study by the Tuskegee Institute shows the Ku Klux Klan killed 3,446 black people in America over 86 years; black men in America kill about the same number of blacks — mostly men — every six months, said Phillip Jackson, founder of The Black Star Project in Chicago. 'Young black men are exterminating other young black men at a very alarming rate,' Jackson said. 'The African-American community has failed miserably in creating positive, stable, successful young black men. And as a result, entire generations are being lost.'" In "Black communities face 'epidemic' of violent murders," by Jill King Greenwood, Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, 12 December 2010 See: The colors of man
Everything's about my colored skin (or sadly, Why racism works) "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character." Martin Luther King (1929-1968)
Everything's about my colored skin,
Which explains the moods I'm in;
Because you're different, not like me,
I'll paint bright your bigotry.
But since your skin is not like mine,
It's only fair that I opine
You are the one who's deep in sin
While I'm absolved by my own skin.
White as a sheet or black as night,
Neither paints my color right.
But if it works to batter you,
It serves its purpose, through and through.
Everything's about my colored skin,
Which explains the state I'm in;
Because you're different hued than me,
You'll be slave and I'll be free.
And since your skin is not like mine,
It's only right that I opine
You are the one who bears the guilt
While I am innocent to the hilt.
White as a sheet or black as night,
Neither paints your color right.
Because it works to batter you,
It serves my purpose, through and through. Envoi: "Yet the ivory gods, / And the ebony gods, / And the gods of diamond-jade, / Are only silly puppet gods / That people themselves / Have made.' Langston Hughes (1902-1967) Addendum: "In my view, any orchestra that engages a conductor, soloist or player because that individual is black not only offends the process but also demeans the musician and compromises the artistic integrity of the institution. Any prize artificially pushed toward our grasp is a prize not worth having." In "Conductor, Juilliard emeritus James DePreist dies," by Steven Dubois, Associated Press, 8 February 2013 Addendum: "When I learned my colors from Crayola, I was not the white crayon, I was the flesh colored crayon." A comment by Mapache, after an article titled "Wisconsin’s VISTA Program Encourages Volunteers to Overcome White 'Privilege’," by Patrick Burke, Cybercast News Service, 13 March 2013. Addendum: "In recent decades, intellectuals have looked with suspicion on encyclopedic summae and comprehensive narratives. At the same time, the idea of Western civilization has been attacked as an ideological fiction enlisted in the service of evils like white supremacy. It was not that long ago that a contender for the Democratic Presidential nomination, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, joined students at Stanford in chanting, ''Hey, hey, ho, ho, Western Civ has got to go!'" ' In "Western Civ Fights Back," by Michael Lind, New York Times, 6 September 1998. Addendum: "'Race,' writes the great historian Nell Irvin Painter, 'is an idea, not a fact.' Indeed. Race does not need biology. Race only requires some good guys with big guns looking for a reason." In "What We Mean When We Say 'Race Is a Social Construct'," by Ta-Nehisi Coates, The Atlantic, 15 May 2013.
See: Based upon their race and above, God ain't white
Merry-go-round Happy go merry go Sunday go round
in the park on a bright shiny morning is found
To be maybe the day isn't quite what it was
but so better than could be and all this because
Of a happy go fun day go merry go round
in the park in the light as the morning is bound
To tomorrow and sorrow
and double the trouble
that others have found after
Happy go merry go one day go round
in that park on a that bright shiny morning is found
again and again ever after again and amen and amen and amen. Amen. Envoi: "Where words fail, music speaks." Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875) See: Merry-go-round - (2009)
Missus Pee "For the children....," Nancy Pelosi (b. 1940) In politics I cry aloud
For I am Missus Pee;
For every crisis I have vowed
That I'll imagine three.
'For the children' I am proud
To gather yet more debt,
That our dear children's offspring's cloud
Rain's future bills unmet.
With rhetoric I am endowed
As riches rush to me,
And in the public service crowd
I'm speaking "Missus Pee."
With crises yet not fully plowed
My harvest's not yet full;
My avarice shall not be cowed.
I hope you'll buy my bull.
As supplicant both shrill and loud
Though fully wrong, off key,
If the church's wafer's disallowed,
I'll plead, "I'm Missus Pee!"
With vitamin "I" I'm well endowed,
As I speak "me, me, me;"
One cannot say I'm over proud,
For I am Missus Pee. See: Politics, and also The Bureaucrat's Memo
Ballad of the Love Child  
Peter and Dick got a Love Child
From running free and wild;
Jessie and Eddie made bastards,
But saying that gets them riled.
Let's talk of Willy and Peter and Dick;
Let's gab of Eddie and Jessie.
Let's gossip of each boy's fine, fine trick
As their lives turn out quite messy.
Love Child once meant bastard
And so some folks were censured;
Now Love Child sounds quite decent,
But in the long and short that's absurd.
Love means sex and not much more,
Though that's a truth some folks abhor,
And Child means less than once it did;
Far less than it meant before.
Let's talk of Willy and Peter and Dick;
Let's gab of Eddie and Jessie.
Let's gossip of each boy's fine, fine trick
As their lives turn out quite messy.
Love Child is a phrase which lies
And paints over truth as the boys' disguise;
Love Child's here 'cause some bastard boy
Screwed 'round in some bimbo's thighs.
Husband and wife can't birth one;
Somehow that's not much fun.
The Love Child comes from other play;
Dallying and hustling a "hon."
Let's talk of Willy and Peter and Dick;
Let's gab of Eddie and Jessie.
Let's gossip of each boy's fine, fine trick
As their lives turn out quite messy.
Peter and Dick spewed some Love Child
As they whenced and as they whiled;
Jessie and Eddie made some bastards,
And their marriage beds defiled.
Love Child still means bastard
And by it its folks are censured;
Love Child sounds no more decent,
For in the long and short it's absurd.
Let's talk of Willy and Peter and Dick;
Let's gab of Eddie and Jessie.
Let's gossip of each boy's fine, fine trick
As their lives turn out quite messy. Envoi: "The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything." Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)
Addendum: "The Rev Jesse Jackson has admitted fathering an illegitimate child while he was President Clinton's 'spiritual adviser' during the Monica Lewinsky affair." In "Lover's baby is mine, says Jesse Jackson," by Toby Harnden, The Telegraph UK, 19 Jan 2001
America the Bountiful Our populists live in their mansions,
And Green is as Red as can be;
Our prophets deep pocket their profits
And our whiners whine on in their glee.
Our preachers preach fire and damnation,
Yet dalliance delights them at night;
Our activists actively activate
Their fists and their guns for the fight.
Demands for justice cry loudest
Where our Justices turn faucets of greed
Which flows up the hills to mansions
Where our advocates live, love and feed.
Such prosper above their station,
But they know not full well
The pathway of good intentions
Is the pathway which leads all to hell.
Our radicals stir up each crisis
With lures, bait and nets to ensnare.
Our politics funnels its treasures
Such that leaders slice more than their share.
Our populists live in their mansions,
And Red turns them rich as can be;
Their profits' deep pockets seduce them
And quite unabashedly. See: An irrational anthem - sung to the tune, "America the Beautiful," music by Samuel A. Ward (1847-1903), with a nod to Ambrose Bierce's "A Rational Anthem" See also: Income Inequality, and Fund Raising
Right and Wrong I am right and you are wrong;
therefore you must sing my song.
Your song isn't fit to hear;
I'm the only one who can be sincere.
Live and let live? That's just dumb.
You'll be better off under my thumb.
Think you thoughts? Better not do it.
I'll roast you down to bone and suet.
Come now! See! The debate is done.
You have lost and I have won.
Unity comes when you give in;
Else you can take it on the chin.
I'll beat you one way or the other;
Enlighten, teach or maybe smother.
There'll come a time you'll see the light;
and come to learn that might makes right.
I am right, and you are wrong;
You'll grow weak that I'll grow strong.
All your sins will be corrected;
And all your days you'll be directed. Envoi: "Fascism goes back to our infancy and childhood, where we were always told how to live. We were told, Yes, you may do this; no, you may not do that. So the secret of fascism is that it has this appeal to people whose later lives are not satisfactory." Norman Mailer (1923-2007) Addendum: "Whenever justice is uncertain and police spying and terror are at work, human beings fall into isolation, which, of course, is the aim and purpose of the dictator state, since it is based on the greatest possible accumulation of depotentiated social units." Carl Gustav Jung (1875-1961) See: Government Speaks
A Working Class Classified "The working class is revolutionary or it is nothing." Karl Marx (1818-1883) You are here to further our needs.
You are here to applaud our deeds.
You are here to follow our creeds.
Else you are less than nothing.
You are here to serve us well.
You are chattel to buy and sell.
You are mobs which we propel.
Else you are less than nothing.
You are here to follow our laws.
When we speak, it's you must pause,
And when we stop, you'll give applause.
Else you are less than nothing.
You are less than nothing much.
You are weak and need our crutch.
You are but a herd, and so as such
You each are far less than nothing. Envoi: "The world would not be in such a snarl, had Marx been Groucho instead of Karl." Irving Berlin (1888-1989) Corollary -- See Anti-capitalism struggles
Love Is Cool Or Love Is Hot Love is cool or love is hot;
Love is faithful, never not.
Love is quiet or it laughs;
Love survives the little gaffes.
Love is gentle, love is kind;
Love is hearts intertwined.
Love is patient, love is peace;
Love moves on and will increase.
Love is lost when love is lost;
Love isn't love when calculating cost.
Love isn't mine and it's not yours;
Love's only love when love endures.
George the Bush George the Bush grew his government quite large,
As one might herein note;
It's what his opposition does as well
And over which they too gloat.
Washington the capitol was named
For one most courageous man,
And each of our politicians
Says each is his greatest fan.
"Cunning, ambitious, unprincipled"
Are words which Washington spoke
In warning us of government growth
Over us plain and simple folk.
"A frightful despotism"
Is what Washington foresaw,
As government grows a little more
And spurs such growth through law.
When government is large enough
Shall it then cease to grow?
Most likely not, saw Washington,
By reason of quid pro quo.
George the Bush grew government larger,
Than did Bill the Clinton before;
As progressive administrations follow
And try to yet do more.
Then end of this story is quite well known,
When big government becomes all;
It ceases not its hunger
But cages its folk in thrall. Envoi: "He pledged that his spending plans will not neglect the national debt, now totaling about $5.7 trillion. 'After paying the bills, my plan reduces the national debt, and fast,' Mr. Bush said. 'So fast, in fact, that economists worry that we're going to run out of debt to retire. That would be a good worry to have.'" In "Bush: Surplus Justifies Tax Cut," CBS News, 11 February 2009 Addendum: "According to the treasury department’s count, the debt has grown $5.3 trillion since Obama took office in 2009, compared to $4.9 trillion in Bush’s eight years." In "Did Barack Obama accrue more debt in half the time as George Bush?" PolitiFact.com, August 2012 See: Fat, fat government, and Leadership Failure - spoke a failed leader, and also Seven Presidential Pardons - (2007) texts after quotes of recent American Presidents
Art - you take a part Pencilers pencil,
And inkers ink,
Brushers brush
And thinkers think.
Sculptors sculpt,
And typers type,
Tunesmiths smith
And pipers pipe.
Dancers dance
And craftsmen craft;
The artist's art
Is not so daft.
Dreamers dream,
And writers write;
And that which is not seen
Comes into sight. Envoi: "A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write if he is ultimately to be at peace with himself. What one can be, one must be." Abraham Harold Maslow (1908-1970) Addendum: "Beauty should be edible, or not at all." Salvador (1904-1989)
We All Believe There are fountains filled with blood,
Lifetimes after Noah's flood;
That's what some of us will believe.
It's in the stories that we weave.
Heavenly virgins, pearly boys,
Eternal lust's eternal toys,
That's what some martyrs do believe;
As heaven we all try to conceive.
Some of us argue "God is dead,"
Searching for something in its stead;
That's what some angry folks believe,
And that to which some so do cleave.
Some believe in nothingness,
Nothingness, and nothing less;
That's what some folks aim to achieve,
It's in nothing some humans will believe. God is black or God is gay, Some of us perversely say; We sometimes find it rather strange That God might not really want to change.
O'er murderous credos we truly grieve,
While some beliefs seem at best naive;
We who follow those prophets new
Find falsehood is their normal due.
We believe that we believe,
What we were taught and we receive,
And for these away we often tear
Someone else's belief and someone's prayer. See: I prefer a vital God
Past Tense Verbs When the charlatan came to screw,
You could have been most certain,
That charlatan would have draped over you
His dense and opaque curtain.
But you were trusting and unwise
And did not want to judge,
Or show discrimination wise,
Or of your wealth begrudge.
And so the charlatan took you
For a short but merry ride,
And left you with but an IOU,
And your battered, bruiséd pride.
The IOU proved worthless,
Backed only by empty words,
And left you broke and mirthless
Like slaughtered flocks and herds.
This story was written in past tense verbs,
A story too often told,
In hopes that it silly you disturbs
And against some same future scold. See: Ponzi states
He plunks his money down He plunks his money down
When boxers come to town.
He likes to see such battery
Abuse some other clown.
She likes to watch the fights,
Such bruised and bloody sights.
She likes to squeal when pain is real;
It takes her to the heights.
He cheers when blows connect,
And when some guy is decked.
He likes to leer and cheer and jeer,
When someone's face is wrecked.
She loves the battle's roar,
And all the blood and gore.
She loves to clap as some poor sap
Tumbles to the floor.
How many fans would brawl
When mayhem comes to call?
Hey, not at us, they'd fume and fuss
And towards some exit crawl.
Fans of sparring violence
Are seated on their fence.
The other guy's the one who dies;
The fans say they've more sense.
Human Nature There is that shit that floats to the top;
The horny priest and the brutal cop,
The counterfeit and the schemes that flop
Are harvests from this human crop.
The liars and fakes and the phony folk,
The shams and pretense through mirrors and smoke,
The angry ones that rage provoke
Are the punch line of this human joke.
The palms that are greased with politics,
The smarmy ones in on the fix,
The tricksters with their tricky tricks,
Bubble out from a human Styx.
The viciousness that has its cause,
The breakers of most moral laws,
Corruption and its sharpened claws
Are signals of such human flaws.
So, which are you and which am I?
How would you care to classify,
Or maybe even justify,
Us pigs in this human sty?
Too often we are not so kind;
This cannot more be underlined
That human nature seems resigned
To accede while blithely blind.
Because such shit floats to the top,
The blindfolds often have to drop
As we look into that evil workshop
Where such faults are forged nonstop.
Say, which are you and which am I?
What evils might we each personify,
For all have sinned, each gal and guy,
Each of us flees from the question, "why?"
Who do we at times fall short?
Why do we with ease cavort
With evil of most any sort,
When goodness calls us to report?
Because human shit floats to the top,
A pretense at humanity should sometimes stop.
We humans who evil assist and prop
Are the harvest of our human crop. Envoi: "In May 1961, while he was living in Milan, Piero Manzoni produced ninety cans of Artist's Shit. Each was numbered on the lid 001 to 090. Tate's work is number 004. A label on each can, printed in Italian, English, French and German, identified the contents as '"Artist's Shit", contents 30gr net freshly preserved, produced and tinned in May 1961.' In December 1961 Manzoni wrote in a letter to the artist Ben Vautier: 'I should like all artists to sell their fingerprints, or else stage competitions to see who can draw the longest line or sell their shit in tins." in "Artist's Shit 1961," The Tate Gallery. See: Modern Art
I will tinker as I please "Music . . . can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable." Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990) I will tinker as I please,
While tinkling on the ivories;
I will dream in shapes and forms,
Even conjure thunderstorms.
I'll pleasure up some melody,
That's plaintive or in reverie;
I'll hear things that are not there
And see them dance upon the air.
Sweet delusion, fantasy!
Beauty is such ecstasy;
An illusion? In a trance?
Ideation is the dance.
I'll scratch a dot upon a line,
Or different colors intertwine;
I'll listen for some unheard sounds,
For little seems quite out of bounds.
I will tinker as I please,
And dawdle on the organ's keys;
I will dream in forms and shapes,
And crush new wine out from such grapes. Envoi: "From his neck down a man is worth a couple of dollars a day, from his neck up he is worth anything that his brain can produce." Thomas A. Edison (1847-1931) See: A song setting of Robert Herrick's To Music - (2012)
We really love our notion We really love our notion
That we control the ocean;
It can't be God,
That false facade,
Who'd set things into motion.
We blather, fuss and cry
That we control the sky;
For this is right,
Our worldly fight
Demands that you comply.
We'd lord it over hot and cold
And trade it -- bought and sold;
It's worth the clash,
This balderdash,
That man might be controlled.
We loud proclaim the earth
Is what we think it's worth;
And to this end
We'd lash a friend
Or abort our child at birth.
With notions such as these
It's other men we'll squeeze;
They'll learn our laws
With fine prints' clause
Will bring them to their knees.
It's such a lovely snare
To say we rule the air;
For men must breathe,
Even as they seethe,
Within our lion's lair.
We are expropriators,
Political gladiators;
Dispense with God,
That false facade.
We're our brave new world's creators. Envoi: "Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance." Will Durant (1885-1981) See: The Scourge of the Planet
Tolerance "In the world it is called Tolerance, but in hell it is called Despair, the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die." Dorothy L. Sayers (1893-1957) Will you be quite angry
If with you I disagree?
That I see things differently
Is not cause for alarm.
Will you spew some fury
If I argue ardently?
Will you cry, "It's blasphemy"
To justify some harm?
Can we not keep company
Though we disagree?
Tolerance is basic courtesy
Mixed with civil charm.
Tolerance most generally Means, putting it quite clearly, Extending kind civility, To keep us both from harm. Envoi: "Tolerance becomes a crime when applied to evil." Thomas Mann (1875-1955) Addendum: "Unlimited tolerance must lead to the disappearance of tolerance. If we extend unlimited tolerance even to those who are intolerant, if we are not prepared to defend a tolerant society... then the tolerant will be destroyed, and tolerance with them... We should therefore claim, in the name of tolerance, the right not to tolerate the intolerant." Karl R. Popper (1902-1994) Addendum: "74 % des personnes interrogées par Ipsos estiment que l'islam est une religion 'intolérante;' incompatible avec les valeurs de la société française. Chiffre plus radical encore, 8 Français sur 10 jugent que la religion musulmane cherche 'à imposer son mode de fonctionnement aux autres'." In "La religion musulmane fait l'objet d'un profond rejet de la part des Français," by Stéphanie Le Bars, Le Monde, 24 January 2013 See: The Truth , and also Islamophobia
The straw that breaks the camel's back The straw that breaks the camel's back,
The tiny hole in the granary sack,
The fingerprint on the drying shellac,
Annoy the best of us.
The necessity of all that we lack,
The mirror with a lengthening crack,
The lamp which dies when night's most black,
Can make one fume and fuss.
The ace that trumps the one-eyed jack,
The salmon killed by the Kodiak,
The tightrope which goes far too slack,
Ah, life is ever thus. See: Meetings
An ant hill knows An ant hill knows
What the single ant
Cannot comprehend.
The flight of crows --
It simply can't
Know its flight path's trend.
And when I doze
I lightly grant
My heartbeat will not end.
Through poetry and prose,
Through bias tinged with slant,
Sweet lies are often penned.
Yet what life shows,
In beast and plant,
Is life comes to its end.
Envoi: "life's not a paragraph / And death i think is no parenthesis" E. E. Cummings (1894-1962)
Critics "I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) Van Gogh daubed on canvas,
Though few thought it was fine;
Papa Bach played much too loud,
Some churchmen did opine.
Marc Chagall was "kitsch,"
So said some little man,
Because he was not a Marc Chagall
And not that painter's fan.
Criticism lasts a day,
Or maybe lasts but two;
Critics aim their meager words
At others -- me and you.
Who cares tomorrow for the noise
That critics make today?
Instead, let's ponder on the boys
Living through their art today.
Van Gogh daubed on canvas,
And, alas, he sold but a few;
I'd be rich if I owed but one,
But then again, so would you. Envoi: "To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, be nothing." Aristotle (384-322 BCE) Addendum: "Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it." C. S. Lewis (1898-1963)
The big bad wolf of nations The big bad wolf of nations
Whined and pissed and moaned.
When someone dared speak ill of it,
It lashed out as it moaned.
"It is not right and is not fair,"
The big bad wolf did wail,
"To notice death within my lair
Or in each brutal jail."
"I am therefore a victim
Of deep, dark defamations;
I am not so much a big bad wolf
As sheep among the nations."
Libel and revilement
Are horrid things, you see;
Slander, stigma, smear and slight
Are worse than tyranny. See: Capital for Communists - a story growing old
Seek Peace and Pay Its Cost If you say we're not so nice,
You're in for bitter strife.
If you speak of our evil side,
Then out will come the knife.
If you say we're fascists,
We'll seek to take you life.
Seek peace and pay its cost;
It's price? A holocaust.
If you as much as criticize,
This you will come to rue.
If you say we're violent,
We'll come to murder you.
Nothing is what we want to hear,
The best that you can say or do.
Seek peace and pay its cost;
It's price? A holocaust.
If you stay quite silent,
Then we shan't complain.
If you look the other way,
There'll seem no bitter pain.
If you submit and acquiesce
You'll forge your bondsman chain.
Seek peace and pay its cost;
It's price? A holocaust.
This is quite fine advice
Which wins the worldly prize.
If you'll but live with tyranny
We call it compromise.
Peace comes to blunt plain truth,
Replacing it with lies.
Seek peace and pay its cost;
It's price? A holocaust.
See: Passive? Quiz him!
Things I Like I laugh quite easily at jokes;
I don't get angry when one smokes,
But rise up when one prods and pokes. I like lazing under oaks;
I like the thoughts that this evokes.
I like what thought provokes,
Yes, I like to cajole and coax,
But I can tell the hefty hoax.
I like the gals and like the blokes;
I really like a lot of folks.
See: A song setting of Paul Laurence Dunbar's An Easy Goin' Feller - (2008)
Questions In Answer to a Silly Question You ask, "Why do they hate us?"
I'll answer plain and true.
It's not for what you say or do,
But because you're you.
Would you trade your "you-ness"
If then you were assured
That peace could be procured?
Or would that seem absurd?
When next you question gravely,
Think on this simple fact.
What would you do when attacked?
My question's not abstract?
Would you stand for freedom?
Or would you just make do
By hiding then from view?
Or by feeding them a Jew?
The question came in WWII,
And now it comes again.
What shall you do then when
Such evil's done by men?
Won't you stand for freedom,
And not by making do?
Consider standing plain in view
And not turning your back on you. Envoi: "Tolerance of intolerance is cowardice." Ayaan Hirsi Ali (b. 1969) See: Islamophobia
I'll use my freedom "Because democracy is noble, it is always endangered. Nobility, indeed, is always in danger. Democracy is perishable. I think the natural government for most people, given the uglier depths of human nature, is fascism. Fascism is more of a natural state than democracy." Norman Mailer, 2003 I do not like what you say
And so must silence you today;
I do not like your freedom
And in my twisted way
I'll use my freedom and its sway
To batter yours away.
What you believe is not okay,
So it must change this day;
I'll not allow your freedom
To come now into play,
But use my freedom as I may
To crush you straight away.
I do not like what you do
And so I must end it too;
I'll not admit your freedom,
And so we'll bid adieu
To all the freedom you once knew
Which now I happily subdue.
I do not like it, but shan't admit
That whatever I shall now commit
Will kill your own small freedom;
It's true you will submit
To my own freedom's holy writ
Which deems yours to be quite unfit.
I do not like you anyway;
It is no secret to betray.
I'll not abide your freedom
Which is but a cliché;
And so I shout hurray,
Enslaving you today. Envoi: "All constraint is sufferance; all liberty is enjoyment. The total value of the liberty of an animated being is equal to that of all his faculties united." Antoine Louis Claude, Comte Destutt de Tracy, in "A Treatise On Political Economy" (1817) Addendum: "The object in life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane." Marcus Aurelius (AD 121-180) See: Almost democracy
If life is worth the living If life is worth the living, then put away despair;
Such negativity's giving in without a prayer.
If you should find your thoughts wander downward still,
You may be well assured those thoughts will make you ill.
Laughter is an antidote, for so it has been said;
It is far more than anecdote, as this fond truth has spread
Both far and wide; it tells a truth of greater worth
That darkness by it dispels with joy and peace and mirth.
As life is worth its living, then cast off your despair
And with a fresh thanksgiving live life as full and fair. Envoi: There are two kinds of light -- the glow that illumines, and the glare that obscures. James Thurber (1894 - 1961) See: Advice to the Pessimist
Farmers and Alarmers In these efficient, modern times
As farmers become rare,
Those who once eschewed high crimes Sow their alarmers' scare. For when's less the need of labor
And far less the need for picking,
One looks upon one's neighbor
As ripe for harvest's tricking.
Peaches and pears have their prices,
When not too hard or ripe.
But middlemen with their devices
Inflate with their fear monger's tripe.
There will be some future death!
Yes, there will come a time,
When there'll be no more air to breath
And nowhere higher to climb!
There'll be no peaches, no more pears,
And there'll no more low prices!
There'll be just panic, horrid cares,
And normalcy will be vices!
Once there were many farmers,
Yet food was costly rare,
Now efficient new alarmers
Raise prices with each scare.
And yet it seems there's plenty
Enough to go around.
When one hears by listening
Above the alarm bells' sound.
If things are truly, truly rotten,
Why then do these alarmers
Not move back to pick cotton
And work among the farmers?
Can it be, oh yes it can,
That these new fields of riches
Are part the modern flim-flam plan
To work not in farmers' ditches?
So many labor in these new fields
Which grow concerns and cares,
And increase their cash-crop yields
With efficient, modern snares.
In olden, less efficient times
When farmers were not rare,
T'was snake oil sold in common crimes
To farmers unaware. The modern, stealth alarmers Reap harvests in their fields; They profit well, as do the farmers, As stories then revealed. Now "peaches and pears" are worries These fertilizers feed; Each alarmer scuttles and scurries To plant yet more of their seed. Alarmers and farmers are quite alike, And sow and reap their bounty; And when perceptions dim, they strike Each city, town and county. See: Prose and Cons , and also Oops
Why Why make it easy when it can be hard?
Why cook with butter when you can use lard?
Why seek the simple when complex confuses?
Why try to win when it costs you bruises?
Why speak quite clearly when muddle works well?
Why be so honest when cheating will sell?
Why hold with values when corruption is rife?
Why seek to heal when others seek strife?
Why laugh and smile, when pessimists rule?
Why be so honest and earn ridicule?
Why write in rhyme, when prose blathers on?
Why be engaged, when some are withdrawn?
Why fight for freedom, when others submit?
Why plan survival for those who're unfit?
Why not cut corners, and follow the crowd?
Why take a stand, for crying out loud? See: Be the Best of Whatever You Are - (2009)
Musicology "The whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking, 'Is there a meaning to music?' My answer would be, 'Yes.' And 'Can you state in so many words what the meaning is?' My answer to that would be, 'No'." Aaron Copland, What to Listen for in Music (1939; Revised 1957) Musicology
Speaks right well to me;
But it speaks words
Of chords and thirds,
And sings no melody.
Musicology
Cuts apart the scores;
It tells of forms
And of some norms,
But neither hums nor roars.
Musicology
Is silence, as we hear;
It chatters prose
And theory grows,
But it is mute, I fear.
Music, ah, for me
Is noisy, boisterous, proud;
It lifts its song
And sings along,
In roars and thunders loud. Musicology Is for some girls and boys; But as for me, With childish glee, I much prefer the noise. Musicologists, Those I know quite well, Sing quite like me With worthy honesty; The others wish I'd go to hell. Envoi: "I haven't understood a bar of music in my life, but I have felt it." Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) Addendum: "The new kind of music seems to create not from the heart but from the head. Its composers think rather than feel. They have not the capacity to make their works exalt - they meditate, protest, analyze, reason, calculate and brood, but they do not exalt." Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943) Addendum: "They deal with Schoenberg’s early works and all their wealth by classifying them, with the music-historical cliché, as late romantic post-Wagnerian. One might just as well dispose of Beethoven as a late-classicist post-Haydnerian." Theodor W. Adorno, in "Essays on Music," 1928-1962, trans. Wieland Hoban (New York: Seagull Books, 2009 [ 1 ] [ 2 ] Addendum: "It would be possible to describe everything scientifically, but it would make no sense; it would be without meaning, as if you described a Beethoven symphony as a variation of wave pressure." Albert Einstein (1879-1955) [ 3 ] [ 4 ] See: Musicological Marx - patter song variations on "Mademoiselle from Armentières" and also Wordalacious permutations [ 1 ] "Art is not only the plenipotentiary of a better praxis than that which has to date predominated, but is equally the critique of praxis as the rule of brutal self- preservation at the heart of the status quo and in its service. It gives the lie to production for production's sake and opts for a form of praxis beyond the spell of labour. Art's promesse du bonheur means not only that hitherto praxis has blocked happiness, but that happiness is beyond praxis. The force of negativity in the artwork gives the measure of the chasm separating praxis from happiness." In Adorno's "Aesthetic Theory." In the manner of the quote above, one might ask whether one might dispose of Adorno as a pre-postmodern music-historical cliché maker of wordalacious proportions. I asked Art recently, "are you promising happiness?" It answered, "huh?" [ 2 ] "The point of recapitulation in the first movement of the Ninth is one of the most horrifying moments in music…which finally explodes in the throttling, murderous rage of a rapist…” Attributed to McClary (Minnesota Composers’ Forum Newsletter, January 1987), in "Cosmic Trigger 3: My Life After Death." Robert Anton Wilson (1995). I asked Art recently, "are you guilty of rape?" It answered, "wuh?" [ 3 ] "But the new approach has its price. Despite the differences between individual scholars, the wide range of subject matter and the need for new forms of interpretation, the same ideas keep reappearing: music is but an extension of contemporary notions of gender and politics. The new musicology insists that each work is inscribed with the interests and prejudices of its origins. This often holds true for the new musicology as well, which cherishes its own versions of dripping blood and heartsick lovers." In "Musicologists Roll Over Beethoven," by Edward Rothstein, New York Times, 26 November 1995. I asked Art recently, "do the same ideas keep reappearing?" It answered, "duh." [ 4 ] "As to...old composers like Schubert or Beethoven, I imagine that, while modern music expresses both feeling, thought and imagination, they expressed pure feeling. And you know all day sitting at work, eating, walking, etc., you have hundreds of feelings that can't be put into words. And that is why I think that in a sense music is the highest of the arts, because it really begins where the others leave off." C. S. Lewis, in "Surprised by Joy" (1955)
A Hearty Menu If your thoughts diverge from me,
Then is that not a panoply
of flavors for our kitchen?
If you see the world as something
Other than what I see,
that should our lives then richen.
Difference makes up all the spice,
And recipes are finely nice
when there's something new.
But when there's but one single way
And only one thing we can say,
then life is but a boring stew.
Let's all enjoy the fat and lean,
And the every other in-between
from cookbooks everywhere.
Tarts and sweets and fish and meats,
Vegetables and sugar treats,
from cuisines, as we dare.
But let's not impede the cooking cooks
Nor tear out pages from their books
nor recipes impede.
Who could manage but one dish
And who would not then further wish
for something else indeed?
Serving but a single spice
Is not long interesting or nice,
but boredom on which one shall chew.
With sameness served upon the plate,
One might well rush headlong and straight
to the finer, wider menu.
I love the differences and flavors
That which one lifelong savors,
that come from such varieties.
I'll leave their table, leave their gruel
And rush away from those who'd rule
such flavorless societies. See: I will tinker as I please
I shall not join the party I shall not join the party,
Nor march in lock step rank.
I'll live quite free and hearty,
And speak quite clear and frank.
Each group defines its member,
And does not always heed,
But seems to long remember
Those who reject its creed.
I'll not be a rubber stamp
When parties say I must;
A party line? It might well cramp
A life that would be just.
Justice is illusive,
And sometimes may be found
To stand quite proudly on that
Which is not party ground.
I'll not serve some status quo,
Nor kneel before its shrine,
When party planners follow
The lock-step party line.
I shall not vote a party,
Nor trudge in lock step rank.
I'll think my own thoughts, hearty,
And shun the platform plank. From this there comes their cry, When I am then found out, The party types will pressure, "Why?" While seeking their devout. I'll not be theirs, nor loyal To party lines, per se, But serve to seek and spoil And party lines betray. To think of independence Is to live quite free; To bide within some party's fence Seems not quite liberty. Envoi: "The more you read and observe about this Politics thing, you got to admit that each party is worse than the other. The one that's out always looks the best." Will Rogers, in "The Illiterate Digest" (1924) See: Left and Right and also a song setting of Mark Twain's text, The Tyranny of Party - (2009)
How much is that politician's favor? - (To the melody, "That Doggie in the Window?," composed in 1952 by Bob Merrill) How much is that politician's favor?
The one eyeing glittering coin?
How much costs a legislator's waiver?
How much might one through it purloin?
How easily is access so purchased?
How much must one then pay for that?
Each senator fills some fattened war-chest,
Distributing prime pork-fed fat.
How much for the quid pro quo that is not?
The ones where quid slides past being seen?
Come gather the contributions we've brought;
It is laundered and truly quite clean.
Ah, money buys politicians' largesse;
That's just how the system works.
This continuing gamble's our best guess,
For gathering profits and perks.
The reforming of such campaign finance
Is chattered about through the years.
Such chatter serves to simply advance
Us back to the same old veneers.
How much is that politician's favor?
The one eyeing succulent cash?
"How much?" is the singular question,
If asking it seems not too brash. Envoi: "The is a need to introduce a new strain of humanity in politics. Recent years have seen a marked loss of confidence in political parties and personalities, contempt for bureaucracy, voter abstention, and a general alienation from the establishment and society. This may be partly due to overcentralization. It is a symptom of deep malaise. Leaders and bureaucrats seem to have forgotten that politics (as economics) is concerned with people and is meant to serve people." In "The First Global Revolution, A Report by the Council of the Club of Rome," by Alexander King and Bertrand Schneider, 1991 See: Politics and also Corruption
Grace Before Meals The state is great,
The state is good:
We should thank it
For our food.
By its fist we All are led.
Grant us then Our meager bread. Envoi: "To recognize the true boundaries between the individual and the community is the highest problem that thoughtful consideration of human society has to solve." In "The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of Citizens," by Georg Jellinek, translated by Max Farrand, Henry Holt and Company, 1901 See: Ratio, and also For Your Common Good
Income inequality Income inequality?
The politics seems odd.
Those trumpeting the term
Seek to cajole and prod.
Yet all the politicians
And those who study this
Get paid quite handsomely,
So something seems amiss.
Income inequality?
Then let the fat cat paid
Take less, far less than they
Earn in their fine charade.
Income inequality?
That's for the politician,
The activist and more
To work towards, not to shun.
Income inequality?
As cudgel it works well
When one does not observe
What their actions spell --
Income inequality;
Find politics' wage
And learn that all's amiss
And all the world's its stage. Addendum: "Among the workers to receive a pay increase is Vice President Job Biden. As the Weekly Standard reports, citing disclosure forms, Biden made $225,521 last year and after the pay increase, he'll now make $231,900 per year. More: 'Members of Congress, from the House and Senate, also will receive a little bump, as their annual salary will go from $174,000 to 174,900. Leadership in Congress, including the speaker of the House, will likewise get an increase.' Somehow we have the feeling that Congress will be quite united behind this 'order', just as the Senate was very united yesterday in its decision to continue spying on America's citizens." In "Obama Grants Pay Increase For Members Of Congress, Federal Workers In Executive Order," by Tyler Durden, ZeroHedge, 29 December 2012 Addendum by the numbers: "The official measure of income inequality — called the Gini index — has climbed every year Obama's been in office, while remaining flat during George Bush's eight years in the White House. The latest Census data show that the average income of the already wealthiest 20% of families went up in 2011, while every other income group suffered losses. In the years Obama has been in office, average incomes among the poorest households fell nearly 8%, back to levels not seen since the mid-1980s." In "Obama Promises To Fix Inequality After Making It Worse," by John Merline, Investors Business Daily, 22 January 2013 Proof of the Pudding: "A government auditor harshly criticized the Treasury Department for approving 'excessive' pay packages for top executives at three companies that received large government bailouts. Christy Romero, the special inspector general overseeing the $700 billion Troubled Asset Relief Program, criticized the Treasury for approving pay raises at General Motors Co., Ally Financial Inc. and American International Group Inc. The report released Monday was critical of the Treasury's special master overseeing executive pay at companies that got very large bailouts: Cash salaries of $450,000 or more were approved for 94 percent of the top 25 employees each at AIG, GM and Ally." In "Government audit criticizes exec pay at GM, Ally, AIG after bailouts," by David Shepardson, Detroit News, 26 January 2013. Addendum for Entertainers: "'It’s outrageous in this fragile economy to spend millions of tax dollars on a late-night talk show when thousands of people with developmental disabilities may lose the services they need,' said Assemblyman Jim Tedisco — a former GOP leader — in blasting 'taxpayer-funded handouts to support the lifestyles of the rich and famous in Beverly Hills.'" In "NY lawmaker blasts ‘Tonight Show’ tax credit," by Erik Kriss, 23 March 2013.
See: Albert Gore - (just below) a study in the massive acquisition of capital, and also, Equality
Albert Gore -- a study in the massive acquisition of capital. (From a Gore web site: "Minimize Your Own Impact") [ 1 ] Albert Gore,
He's millions more
And worked to be quite rich.
Nobel Prize
And lies comprise
His global warming pitch.
Time is short;
You must abort
Your carbon footprint's fault.
Live quite green --
Not in between,
Your poverty exalt.
No debate;
It's getting late. [ 2 ]
Man must not want for more.
Want for less
Not to excess,
Unless you're Albert Gore. Addendum: "Gore wasn’t the only partner in Current TV, so he is expected to reap only about $70 million, but that’s a pretty hefty haul for a guy who was worth under $2 million when he ran for president in the year 2000. Nor can you attribute the big cash infusion to his brilliance as an entrepreneur. Current TV was a dismal failure in all regards, and has practically no market value as an economic engine. However, as a propaganda outlet for the Muslim Brotherhood, al-Qaida and extreme Islam, it is priceless" In "The two Als and a national shame," by Frank Miele, The Daily Interlake, 12 January 2013 Addendum-dee-dum-dum: "But crushingly, Gores followers are starting to realize Mr. Gores feet are made of clay. He sold his failing 'Current' cable-television station for about $500 million, which he personally gets 100 million, to the anti-American Al-Jazeera media company…which is owned by the fossil-fuel-rich royal family of Qatar." In "As depth of betrayal sinks in, followers of Al Gore feel confused and misled" by Ed Farnan, Irish Times, 11 January 2013 Moral Clarity Check: "Qatar has been ruled by the Emirs of the Al Thani family since 1850. It’s known to provide funds and vocal, visual support to Islamic radicals. Qatari women are treated in the standard regional, religionist-approved manner: They do as ordered by men. And, according to workers’ and human rights organizations — groups Gore and liberal Current TV voices relied on for facts and outrage — the most backbreaking jobs in Qatar’s oil fields are held by laborers shipped from Africa and Asia who are paid bare-subsistence wages." In "Gore’s Al Jazeera sale suspect," by Phil Mushnick, New York Post, 12 January 2013 [ 3 ] Addendumb: "Look at your first story about the flooding in Australia. Today is the three month anniversary of superstorm Sandy here. Two years ago in my home city Nashville, massive flooding. These storms – it’s like a nature hike through the Book of Revelation on the news every day now and people are connecting the dots." Quote of Albert Gore, in "Al Gore: Weather news ‘like a nature hike through the Book of Revelation’" by Georgetown/On Faith, Washington Post, 29 January 2013. Addendum à partir de la gauche: " 'Larry, NAFTA is a *good deal* for Americans!!' Al Gore, 1993 / 'There is only one nation that truly threatens US, ... Iraq!' Al Gore, 2003 / 'I think it's about time we had US a Global Carbon Tithe!' Al Gore, 2013 / He's like a 10-year locust, bringing death and destruction with every buzz of his dark wings." A post by Chipher (HUFFPOST SUPER USER) to "400 PPM," by Al Gore, Huffington Post, 10 May 2013. Addendum from Canada: "For a man with a carbon footprint the size of a dwarf planet, Al Gore takes the hypocrite's cake for his ignorant statement that there is 'no such thing as ethical oil.'" In "On ethical oil, blood and Gore," an editorial, Toronto Sun, 10 May 2013. See: Continents do not float , and also Income Inequality, as above. [ 1 ] "Former U.S. vice president Al Gore recently netted a huge payday by selling his cable station. Now, it appears he's making another big profit buying Apple's (AAPL) stock on the cheap. According to a filing with the Securities and Exchanges Commission, Gore -- a director on Apple's board -- exercised an option to purchase nearly 60,000 shares of the tech giant at the bargain basement price of $7.48, costing him a total of about $445,000. But with Apple's current market price at about $500 a share, Gore's holdings are worth $29.75 million, giving him a huge windfall-on paper at least." In "Al Gore Nets Another Fortune on Apple Stock," by Javier E. David, CNBC, 17 January 2013. But one learns something else of Gore besides his wealth acquired by "green" lectures and investments from his own words: "Nobody is interested in solutions if they don't think there's a problem. Given that starting point, I believe it is appropriate to have an over-representation of factual presentations on how dangerous [ global warming ] is, as a predicate for opening up the audience to listen to what the solutions are...." Quote of Albert Gore, Grist Magazine interview, 9 May 2006. And as to "global warming" which has become "climate change" as a change of rhetorical strategy.... "Global warming which has been the subject of so many discussions in recent years, may give way to global cooling. According to scientists from the Pulkovo Observatory in St.Petersburg, solar activity is waning, so the average yearly temperature will begin to decline as well. Scientists from Britain and the US chime in saying that forecasts for global cooling are far from groundless. Some experts warn that a change in the climate may affect the ambitious projects for the exploration of the Arctic that have been launched by many countries." In "Russian Scientists" 'We could face cooling period for 200-250 years'," The Voice of Russia, Global Warming Policy Foundation, 28 April 2013. [ 2 ] "In addition to the glaring class conflicts between the party’s upscale cultural liberals and the larger body of Democratic voters with pressing material needs, there are a host of potential fissures." In "Now What, Liberalism?" Online Commentary from the New York Times, by Thomas B. Edsall, 16 January 2013 [ 3 ] "Capture of politics by elites is also very prevalent in developing countries, leading to policies that benefit the richest few and not the poor majority, even in democracies." In "The cost of inequality: how wealth and income extremes hurt us all," Oxfam Media Briefing, 18 January 2013. Mulling over simple numbers from various reports one gathers a picture of wealth. "Five years ago Al Gore seemed a bit washed up. The Florida fiasco left him looking more like a sore loser than a martyr. He wasn't doing well financially, either. He had a reported minimum net worth of only $800,000 the year before the election." In "Gore, Inc.," by Matthew Miller, Forbes, June 5,2006. Six years after this Forbes opinion and little more than a decade after said election loss, one reads: "Al Gore’s commitment to promoting green energy has brought him widespread acclaim, a Nobel Prize and even an Oscar. It’s also brought him more than a pretty penny." In "Al Gore Worth 50 Times More Than He Was As Vice President," by Henry Bradford, Huffington Post, 12 October 2012. One may then look at Oxfam's statement in the light of these numbers about one "green" celebrity -- "Capture of politics by elites is also very prevalent in developing countries, leading to policies that benefit the richest few and not the poor majority, even in democracies." And so it is being learned from sources across the political spectrum.
The Hockey-Stick Man "The world is coming to an end:
I swear to you this today;
If you'd but money send,
I'd make it go away.
Just pay the right indulgence,
And hell will be forestalled;
But send no money? You will burn!"
The prophet cried and bawled.
"There are two pathways forward,
The one which leads through me,
And then that other byway,
Alas, called liberty."
"I will see it dulled and dimmed,
And soon be brought to heel;
If you'd leave off your thinking And simply learn to feel."
"I will preach you terror
That you might follow me;
Give up that silly thing,
That burning liberty."
"The world is coming to end:
I tell this truth aloud;
I'll teach it from the rooftops
And to the waiting crowd."
"And as you follow I will lead,
And then I'll truly be
Celebrated and so very rich,
Like royalty indeed."
"The world is coming to an end:
I swear to you this day.
If you'd but send more money,
And pay and pay and pay."
Envoi: "Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get." Mark Twain (1835-1910) Addendum: "Since 2000, global warming has tapered off and virtually no one in the climate science community predicted that could happen. Yet lots of people outside the climate science community - especially in the numerical modeling community - predicted it just might. Because numerical models are tricky and trying to account for all of the knobs that go into feedbacks in a climate model is extra difficult. Because nature is, and always has been, a bitch. She is not linear and she is not predictable. People who know how to build numerical models know that the more variables you have, the more difficult it is to converge on a good answer. People who insist their p-values are accurate while running the wrong model are not going to give us a right answer just because they do a Bayesian analysis over and over.' In "Global Warming Slowed Down While CO2 Emissions Rose - What's The Rumpus?" By Hank Campbell, Science 2.0, 18 April 2013. Addendum: "...a theory or discipline is pseudoscientific if it satisfies two criteria. One of these is that the theory fails to progress, and the other that “the community of practitioners makes little attempt to develop the theory towards solutions of the problems, shows no concern for attempts to evaluate the theory in relation to others, and is selective in considering confirmations and disconfirmations” (Thagard 1978, 228)." In "4.3 The criterion of puzzle-solving," of "Science and Pseudo-Science," Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, 3 September 2008. See: Bankrupt green , and also On a Winter's Day
Conjugating Hitler 
"Als nationale Sozialisten sehen wir in unserer Flagge unser Programm." Adolf Hitler, in Mein Kampf, chapter 7, section 557, "Deutung des nationalsozialistischen Symbols." Adolf was a socialist -- That was his Party's name; "To hit" is then to conjugate This socialist's great fame. He hit his stride, then hit parade,
Then hit a queer charade;
He hit with lightning speed so fast,
And hit those damnéd Jews at last.
Hit him and her, hit them,
Hit you, and then hit me;
That is how most lost their lives
Through Adolf's Hitler-ly. Envoi: "Nevertheless, in July 1933, nearly six months after Hitler’s rise to power, the New York Times ran a front-page feature about the Fuhrer that presented him in a flattering light. For Hitler, it was a golden opportunity to soften his image by praising President Roosevelt as well as a platform to deliver lengthy justifications of his totalitarian policies and attacks on Jews. The article, titled 'Hitler Seeks Jobs for All Germans,' began with Hitler’s remark that FDR was looking out 'for the best interests and welfare of the people of the United States.' He added, 'I have sympathy with President Roosevelt because he marches straight toward his objective over Congress, over lobbies, over stubborn bureaucracies.' The story was based on an interview with the Nazi leader by Times correspondent Anne O’Hare McCormick. She gave Hitler paragraph after paragraph to explain his policies as necessary to address Germany’s unemployment, improve its roads, and promote national unity. The Times correspondent lobbed the Nazi chief softball questions such as 'What character in history do you admire most, Caesar, Napoleon, or Frederick the Great?'" In "How the press soft-pedaled Hitler," by Rafael Medoff, jns.org, posted 17 January 2013 See: Enemies of Capitalism , and also Not as bad as he is depicted
Foolish men were ruling ...and so the story goes. Foolish men were ruling
When Debt had come to call,
And once more a foolish Peter
Had tried to rob a Paul.
But Paul, it seemed, had withered
Or wandered far away;
The fools were therefore angry.
What is there more to say?
But Debt was not fully paid,
While fools were in the mood
To blame someone else, and
Thereby their own elude.
"So where has Paul then gone,"
They said, "He is so very shrewd."
The fools were still more angry.
What is there more to say?
"It is that most elusive Paul
Who us is truly fooling;
He hides away his wherewithal
After which we'd all been drooling.
We need therefore to make him pay,
To drain his turnip's blood;
We need to take it all away
To stem this debtors' flood.
But Debt was not so patient,
Though willing then to wait;
For Debt knew fools were foolish,
And hid its hook with bait.
"Perhaps you'll pay tomorrow,
And then again pay more?
Your children might be able,
For that's what Debt is for."
Foolish men were ruling
When Debt had come to call,
And once more, a foolish Peter
Had tried to rob a Paul.
But Paul, it seemed, had withered
Or wandered far away;
The fools were angry.
What is there more to say?
Children of fools will rule
When Debt again will call; What then will fools' own children say?
"How foolish and what gall!"
Children of fools will owe
What fools spent yesterday;
For Debt knows of the foolish
Who spend next year today. Foolish men were ruling
When Debt had come to call. Envoi: "As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all - the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." J. K. Rowling, in "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" See: Debt and also a song setting of Mark Twain's classic text, Sometimes I Wonder - (2009)
Darwin's God (Darwin's response to Dawkins' "The God Delusion") Of "the Creator" Darwin wrote,
Most clearly in his book;
Of "grandeur in this view of life,"
If only we would look.
That origins might come from God
Is raged at much today;
And yet I find it rather odd
How Darwinists betray
What Darwin wrote by his own hand,
And in his theory book
Of "the Creator" and of "life,"
If only we would look.
The Darwinists seem dearly fond
Of saying life is blind;
Not only blind, but deaf and dumb,
And in this view they find
Some other truth than Darwin wrote;
That's what they sell; absurd
Their words in Darwin's mouth
while crushing Darwin's word.
"The Creator" shows himself
In Darwin's wordy book;
We would know this only if
We all would take a look. Envoi: "Authors of the highest eminence seem to be fully satisfied with the view that each species has been independently created. To my mind it accords better with what we know of the laws impressed on matter by the Creator, that the production and extinction of the past and present inhabitants of the world should have been due to secondary causes, like those determining the birth and death of the individual." In "On The Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or The Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life," by Charles Darwin (1809-1882) Addendum: "Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven." William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Addendum: "Our ignorance can be divided into problems and mysteries. When we face a problem, we may not know its solution, but we have insight, increasing knowledge, and an inkling of what we are looking for. When we face a mystery, however, we can only stare in wonder and bewilderment, not knowing what an explanation would even look like." Noam Chomsky (b. 1928) See: Odd, is it not? and also I prefer a vital God
No matter No matter what you say,
It soon will seem passé;
No matter what you do,
It will not long stay new.
No matter what you feel,
In time it won't seem real;
No matter what you think,
Someone will say you stink.
No matter who you are,
You're never long the star;
No matter the applause,
You know of all your flaws.
No matter where you stand,
It's not quite what you planned;
No matter all your wants,
'Upon a time' was once.
No matter where you run,
Your race is not yet done;
No matter how you lie,
The truth comes by-and-by.
When life seems such a curse,
Think it could be worse;
No matter what it seems,
Life's but the stuff of dreams. See: Our life is but a dream - by Bertram Kottmann (b. 1948) - after a text by Johann Gottfried Herder
O shitty, little cities in the dell O shitty, little cities in the dell,
Corruption and crime make you unwell.
But, shining are the cities on a hill
Where freedom happy lovers drink their fill.
And who's the victim of one city's crime,
And who lives quite peaceably sublime?
The one path proves descent, the other, rise;
Yet to both paths the same rule applies.
Following the trails tells each tale;
Some are quite unhealthy, others hale.
Shining freedom's cities gleam with light;
Shitty, little cities stink of fright.
I'd prefer to live where love and health
Contribute to a shining city's wealth.
I shall then right well avoid the smell
Of shitty, little cities in the dell. See: Some people will , and also Dry
Government Speaks I want you to want me;
Then you'll be less free,
Caught up in my apathy,
Diminishing your liberty.
I want you to pay more;
Then we can explore
What from me you must implore
And what your future has in store.
I need you to need me,
Bent upon your knee;
Grovel, beg, beseech and plea
And quite without your dignity.
I'll see you compliant,
Meek, and not defiant;
You'll come to heel as client,
Thus in my borders be reliant.
What a fine achievement,
What I do's well spent;
I will be your government.
And you've no choice but to consent. I'll be lord over you, For that is my due; Many under precious few Is government, quite through and through. Envoi: "What sort of people were these? What were they talking about? What office did they belong to? K. was living in a free country, after all, everywhere was at peace, all laws were decent and were upheld, who was it who dared accost him in his own home?" Franz Kafka, in "The Trial" Addendum: "It covers the surface of society with a network of small complicated rules, minute and uniform, through which the most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot penetrate, to rise above the crowd. The will of man is not shattered, but softened, bent, and guided; men are seldom forced by it to act, but they are constantly restrained from acting. Such a power does not destroy, but it prevents existence; it does not tyrannize, but it compresses, enervates, extinguishes, and stupefies a people, till each nation is reduced to nothing better than a flock of timid and industrious animals, of which the government is the shepherd." In "Democracy in America," by Alexis de Tocqueville, Volume II, Book 4, Chapter 6 , 1835-1840 Addendum: "Colonization attempts of Virginia Company in Jamestown in early 17th century, attempting to re-create an authoritarian, 'extractive' regime' [ 1 ] : No man or woman shall run away from the colony to the Indians, upon pain of death. Anyone who robs a garden, public or private, or a vineyard, or who steals ears of corn shall be punished with death. No member of the colony will sell or give any commodity of this country to a captain, mariner, master or sailor to transport out of the colony, for his own private uses, upon pain of death.” [from the laws passed by Sir Thomas Gates and Sir Thomas Dale]. But the Company was unsuccessful—it could not force the English settlers into gang labor and low wages." [ 2 ] In "Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity and Poverty," by James A Robinson (with Daron Acemoglu), CDE Conference 2012, Williams College, September 27, 2012 Addendum: "The oppressor no longer acts directly and with his own powers upon his victim. No, our conscience has become too sensitive for that. The tyrant and his victim are still present, but there is an intermediate person between them, which is the Government - that is, the Law itself. What can be better calculated to silence our scruples, and, which is perhaps better appreciated, to overcome all resistance? We all therefore, put in our claim, under some pretext or other, and apply to Government." In "Government," Frederic Bastiat, 1848. See: How it happens and also a setting of Sandburg's Government - (2008) [ 1 ] As to the notion of an "extractive" government, one reads this observation from an earlier time that that of Robinson and Acemoglu: "This gang ('the exploiters constituting the government') is well nigh immune to punishment. Its worst extortions, even when they are baldly for private profit, carry no certain penalties under our laws. Since the first days of the Republic, less than a few dozen of its members have been impeached, and only a few obscure understrappers have ever been put into prison. The number of men sitting at Atlanta and Leavenworth for revolting against the extortions of the government is always ten times as great as the number of government officials condemned for oppressing the taxpayers to their own gain." H. L. Mencken, "A Mencken Chrestomathy," pp. 147–48. [ 2 ] "Since predation must be supported out of the surplus of production, it is necessarily true that the class constituting the State—the full-time bureaucracy (and nobility)—must be a rather small minority in the land, although it may, of course, purchase allies among important groups in the population. Therefore, the chief task of the rulers is always to secure the active or resigned acceptance of the majority of the citizens." Murray N. Rothbard, "Anatomy of the State," Ludwig von Mises Institute, 2009. A savagely accurate portrait was drawn in the mid-19th century by a self-styled anarchist, who wrote: "To be governed is to be watched over, inspected, spied on, directed, legislated at, regulated, docketed, indoctrinated, preached at, controlled, assessed, weighed, censored, ordered about, by men who have neither the right, nor the knowledge, nor the virtue. ... To be governed is to be at every operation, at every transaction, noted, registered, enrolled, taxed, stamped, measured, numbered, assessed, licensed, authorized, admonished, forbidden, reformed, corrected, punished. It is, under the pretext of public utility, and in the name of the general interest, to be placed under contribution, trained, ransomed, exploited, monopolized, extorted, squeezed, mystified, robbed; then, at the slightest resistance, the first word of complaint, to be repressed, fined, despised, harassed, tracked, abused, clubbed, disarmed, choked, imprisoned, judged, condemned, shot, deported, sacrificed, sold, betrayed; and, to crown all, mocked, ridiculed, outraged, dishonoured. That is government; that is its justice; that is its morality." Pierre Joseph Proudhon (1809-1865), in "Idée Générale de la Révolution au XIXe Siècle" [The General Idea of the Revolution], (1851). He went so far as to declare, "Whoever lays his hand on me to govern me is a usurper and tyrant, and I declare him my enemy." In Proudhon's "Confessions of a Revolutionary" (1849). As one peruses the history of later socialism throughout the 20th century, one sees how predictive and accurate Proudhon's imagery turned out to be. For this, today in the United States' federal government, there are those who have overtly stated that opposition to their governance is "terrorism," suggesting in Proudhon's terms that the quote from 1851 is closer to the truth than much of government's assertions. For more on this, see: Lying continues.
It Is Not Fair Judge not lest ye be judged. It is not fair to judge me
according to my deeds;
I wish that you would follow
some other's twisted leads.
It is not right to judge me
according to my word;
I wish that you spy on
something that's more absurd.
It is not just to judge me
for what I have not done,
Nor for those honors due me
which I've not fairly won.
It is not good to judge me
according to my stance,
Or see beyond my sly pretense
with such a simple glance.
No one may judge me rightly,
No one at all, save me;
For I'm my judge and jury;
It's high time I forgave me. See: Moral Relativism - verses and refrain
Bright Boys If 'fair is fair' for one,
Then 'fair is fair for all;'
It is this truth which bright boys shun,
A truth which earns their gall.
'Do as I say, not as I do,'
Is rather how they think;
'What's right for me is not for you;'
It's from this lie we shrink.
Were 'fair is fair for all'
In all our hearts and minds,
Then modern life would not appall
In all its strains and kinds.
But as, it's true, life is unfair,
The unfairest of it all
Is that the bright boys so despair
When fairness comes to call.
Full Circle In order to succeed,
It's best to plead
That you've been victimized.
There's a special class
For those who pass
Being wholly victimized.
And when well done,
Then comes the fun,
Your agonies itemized.
You'll be in charge
And feel quite large
And wholly maximized.
There'll come applause,
And others to your cause,
Your enemies quite minimized.
It's others by you
Will feel the thumbscrew
As they'll be victimized
By you. Envoi: "Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first." Mark Twain (1835-1910) See: Grievance
Friend Or Foe “I’ll gladly pay tomorrow for a hamburger today!” Elzie Crisler Segar, in Popeye the Sailor, in the daily King Features comic strip, 1929. "A friend in need
is a friend indeed;"
so the adage tells.
To be a friend
then one must tend
to friendship that excels.
When that word, "friend,"
is freshly penned,
and seeks some cash to spend,
And when "friends" come by
and plead and cry,
one needs to query "why?"
Not every "friend"
is in in the end
proven by the word,
But by so many yesterdays
which one appraises
what one has seen and heard.
Ah, one should spend
and one should lend
when true friends ask that right,
But one should guard
and not be jarred
when "friends" then turn to fight.
That "friend" in need
then shows his greed,
which is no real plight.
It is to live
and debt forgive
as true "friends" truly might.
One's list of friends
to which one lends
is not that long or wide.
One has more "friends;"
the definition bends,
as "friends" seek another ride.
"A friend in need
is a friend indeed;"
so the adage speaks.
To be a friend
then one might lend
when real friendship seeks.
But have a care
and be beware
of "friends" who are not friends;
They'll seek your aid
and you'll be preyed
upon by "friendly" ends.
A true friend rarely
looks for squarely
help that goes one way;
The true friend sparely
asks and barely
then knows what to say.
But "friends" know well
to weave their spell,
and win from you their goal.
Such "friends" are not
friends who plot
their friends to buttonhole.
Such a "friend" is in the end not friend, but truly foe. See: Prudence and Thrift - a hoary story
For Your Common Good "We're going to take things away from you on behalf of the common good." Hillary Rodham Clinton, in a campaign speech, 2004. [ 1 ] We'll give you what you gave;
We'll give you what you got,
And you'll be plenty lucky,
'Cause that will be a lot.
Your crumbs fall from our table,
And drop to you below,
And you'll be plenty lucky
That governments bestow.
All bounty from us, highest,
Comes from the tax you pay;
But do not think
You've anything to say.
And if you are unhappy,
Or if it's not enough,
You'll still be plenty lucky
That we will not play rough.
For rough house play is childish
And irritating too;
And you'll be plenty lucky
We make no end of you.
You need us take, to give you
A part of what you earn;
And you'll be plenty lucky
If only this you learn.
For what we do for little you
We must be paid quite well,
And what you'll pay is plenty,
That we can well foretell. The common good demands this, We need our lion's share; It costs us much to keep you Within our lion's lair.
Now give us what you gave us;
Now give us what you got.
And you'll be plenty lucky
That you will not be shot. Envoi: "It is vain to talk of the interest of the community, without understanding what is the interest of the individual." Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832) Addendum: “There is no worse tyranny than to force a man to pay for what he does not want merely because you think it would be good for him.” Robert A. Heinlein, in "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress" (1966). Addendum: "The president’s net worth in 2010 was $7.3 million. But in the same year Secretary of State Hillary Clinton had a net worth of $31 million. That according to the Center for Responsive Politics. Their report says even Obama’s chiefs of staff are wealthier than he is. Bill Daley, the current one, had a 2010 net worth of $28.7 million – almost four times Obama’s own earnings – while the one who held the position before Daley, Rahm Emanuel, had a 2010 net worth of $11.4 million." In "Obama, Clinton and Biden: The Wealthy, Wealthier and…Not So Wealthy," by Tom Shine, ABCNews, 6 December 2011 Addendum: "Spontaneous social action will be broken up over and over again by State intervention; no new seed will be able to fructify. Society will have to live for the State, man for the governmental machine. And as, after all, it is only a machine whose existence and maintenance depend on the vital supports around it, the State, after sucking out the very marrow of society, will be left bloodless, a skeleton, dead with that rusty death of machinery, more gruesome than the death of a living organism. Such was the lamentable fate of ancient civilisation. … Already in the times of the Antonines (IInd Century), the State overbears society with its anti-vital supremacy. Society begins to be enslaved, to be unable to live except in the service of the State. The whole of life is bureaucratised. What results? The bureaucratisation of life brings about its absolute decay in all orders." in The Revolt of the Masses (1929) by José Ortega y Gasset (1883-1955), Chapter XIII: "The Greatest Danger, The State." [ 2 ] Addendum: "America's abundance was created not by public sacrifices to the common good, but by the productive genius of free men who pursued their own personal interests and the making of their own private fortunes. They did not starve the people to pay for America's industrialization. They gave the people better jobs, higher wages, and cheaper goods with every new machine they invented, with every scientific discovery or technological advance- and thus the whole country was moving forward and profiting, not suffering, every step of the way." Ayn Rand (1905-1982) Addendum: "As Fernando Henrique Cardoso argued in 1973, democracy could only be re-created in Brazil by 'a reactivation of civil society ... the professional associations, the trade unions, the churches, the student organizations, the study groups and the debating circles, the social movements' ... in other words a broad coalition. In "Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity and Poverty," by James A Robinson (with Daron Acemoglu), CDE Conference 2012, Williams College, September 27, 2012 See: Prayer for the Common Good and also Income Inequality [ 1 ] "But to manipulate men, to propel them toward goals which you – the social reformers – see, but they may not, is to deny their human essence, to treat them as objects without wills of their own, and therefore to degrade them." Isaiah Berlin (1909-1997) [ 2 ] "The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion, but allow very lively debate within that spectrum...." Noam Chomsky, in "The Common Good" (1998)
Orwell's Pigs Orwell's pigs sew discontent,
yet feed themselves quite well.
Orwell's pigs broach no dissent;
dissent can go to hell.
Orwell's pigs show simple greed,
to rake in what they please.
Orwell wrote that we should know
of pigs' absurdities.
Pigs do wallow in their sties
with Chicken Little's cries;
Being pigs, they theorize
high Marx in pig disguise.
Orwell's pigs? Were they fiction?
Or is there nagging fact?
Orwell's pigs' predilection
in activists react.
And from each tiny molehill
pigs build their temple mount,
Against each piggy windmill
they piggily surmount.
Those who have to pigs who need
is how pigs gain their feed.
Others bleed, such pigs concede,
for so this must precede
Some future years of plenty
when pigs have had their fill.
But more than ten or twenty
long years are past, and still
Orwell's pigs sew discontent
while feeding very well,
Those who dare pronounce dissent
are answered with a yell.
Orwell's pigs do not allow
an argument, or facts;
Pigs' ad hominem to cow
is how the pig distracts.
Orwell's work might well be burned,
if piggies had their way.
Orwell's truth, to be discerned,
might well be learned today.
Orwell's pigs sew discontent,
yet feed themselves quite well.
Orwell's pigs broach no dissent;
dissent can go to hell. Envoi: "Fascism is the stage reached after communism has proved an illusion." Friedrich A. von Hayek (1899-1992) Addendum: "Kenyan demonstrators released two dozen piglets at the gates of parliament and poured blood on the pavement Tuesday to protest demands by newly elected lawmakers for a wage hike. Police, who fired tear gas to disperse the protestors and beat others with truncheons, scurried after the pigs as they scampered through the grassy area surrounding the parliament. 'We will not allow members of parliament to increase their salaries at will,' shouted one of the protest organisers Okiya Omtatah. 'They are greedy just like the pigs we have brought here,' Omtata added." In "Kenyans stage 'greedy pig' protest against lawmakers," by Daniel Wesangula, Agence France Presse, 14 May 2013. Addendum: "More than 100 union members and progressive activists marched to a Capitol Hill hotel Wednesday to protest a meeting of corporate chiefs, lobbyists and former elected officials involved in the Campaign to Fix the Debt. The protest was organized by National People's Action, a network of grassroots organizations that advocate for economic and civil justice. Its highlight was the release of a 20-foot-tall inflatable pig, clad in a top hat and suit -- a tongue-in-cheek symbol of the Campaign to Fix the Debt's CEO Council, which is composed of CEOs at top U.S. companies." In "Fix The Debt Protest Draws Activists, Inflatable Pig," by Preston Maddock, Huffington Post, 7 February 2013. See: Income Inequality, and Fat cats richly rich of late - a comparative and sourced criticism of the nouveau "fair share" folks, and also I'm gonna guide you to the promised land - a story quite like others
Up on the little guy We can afford it; we're rich!
So the taxes go up on the little guy.
Let them complain; let them bitch!
But the taxes go up for the little guy.
There must be some drastic action!
Let the taxes go high for the little guy.
We are the righteous faction!
So burdens must rise for the little guy.
The world will end in a minute!
Raise the taxes upon the little guy.
It all depends how they spin it,
Such that taxes go up on the little guy.
Aristocrats work for their glory,
As more taxes are raised on the little guy.
Bureaucrats make mandatory
All the taxes that rise for the little guy.
Those living atop the heap
While underneath is taxed the little guy
Are easy to spot as they reap
Out of that which is taxed from the little guy.
What comes of this evolution
When more taxes are heaped on the little guy?
One sort of revolution;
Not the one that was planned for the little guy.
Heads will roll, as they have,
When such taxes wash over the little guy.
That is the old, well-worn salve,
When taxes are piled on the little guy. Envoi: "Who are you going to believe, me or your own eyes?" Groucho Marx (1890-1977) See: Raise those taxes!
My way or the highway 
"My way or the highway?"
The highway's the choice, and now
I'll travel off, away today
'Cause it just seems right, somehow.
"Take or leave it?" Well, I'll leave it,
And leave you too, what's more,
I'll travel on without your shit,
'Cause that's what choice is for.
You put both options in the game,
But didn't think it through.
A bluff was hidden, as was your aim;
Surprise! The joke's on you.
"My way or the highway?"
Well, I'm the traveling sort.
Put as simply as you did today,
Now the ball's in neither court...
'Cause the game is over, come what may;
And it's time to fold my hand.
"My way or the highway?"
The highway calls. How grand! See: Mister, I've seen
The End Game of Conformity If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. "Conclusion," in Walden by Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) This is how I see it,
And this way you should too --
Not seeing it some other way,
That's not the thing to do.
Don't you see what I see?
Don't you think it true?
If you don't agree with me,
That's when I'll censure you.
You should never disagree;
It's neither right nor fair.
You should only absently
Vote for my welfare.
For yours, I truly care not,
Where e'er you disagree;
Disputation is a plot
Against my harmony.
I send some force against you,
And ask you to comply;
And if you dare not harmonize
Why then I hope you die. Envoi: "Political correctness does not legislate tolerance; it only organizes hatred." Jacques Barzun (1907-2012) Addendum: "I believe that political correctness can be a form of linguistic fascism, and it sends shivers down the spine of my generation who went to war against fascism." P. D. James (b. 1920) See: Diversity
Hillarious - with two l's, because misspelling can be fun "'I think as this matter unfolds, the entire country will have more information, but we're right in the middle of a feeding frenzy right now, and people are putting out rumor and innuendo,' she said. She urged the press and public 'just to be patient, take a deep breath, and the truth will come out.'" Hillary Clinton, in "First Lady Launches Counterattack," Washington Post, January 28, 1998
A feeding frenzy bit the boss,
And got boss lady feeling cross.
"The truth will come out," she said.
A conspiracy was then declared,
For that was truth, she loudly blared.
"The truth will come out," she said.
Cut to the chase, the tale's old;
The boss coughed up, and broke the mold.
"The truth will come out," she said.
She was right, and left in a lurch,
But such is life in politics' church.
"The truth will come out," she said.
The truth came, so she spoke true,
But truth revealed a tawdry view.
"The truth will come out," she said.
The truth was that she was stiffed,
And had true reasons to be miffed.
"The truth will come out," she said.
So out it popped, and plopped and pooped,
It seems the lady was possibly duped.
"The truth will come out," she said.
She was duped, or maybe not,
For maybe that's the life she got.
"The truth will come out," she said.
If cuckold meant a wife untrue,
For her it was adulterous husband, too.
"The truth will come out," she said.
Adultery wasn't the only game played;
Which explains why with him she has stayed.
"The truth will come out," she said.
The truth was fidelity wasn't required,
For both to power and money aspired.
"The truth will come out," she said.
The feeding frenzy is in the past,
And facts now live where BS sassed.
"The truth will come out," she said.
Adulterous Bill is Hilarious,
With all those gals, the more, the various.
"The truth will come out," she said.
It might be unfair to tell this tale,
But it's the one of her manly, horny male.
"The truth will come out," she said.
She lives her years with adultery's boy,
So now we see it was politics' ploy.
"The truth will come out," she said.
"I love him," she has gushed to say,
And so have others with whom he lay.
"The truth will come out," she said.
The truth seems that she enabled him
To chase the skirts for Willy's whim.
"The truth will come out," she said.
But that's all fine and dandy now,
For she's become a most high-ranking sow.
"The truth will come out," she said.
The truth seems furthermore to tell
That the outrage was another pitch to sell.
"The truth will come out," she said.
Semen on a little blue dress
Is presidential history now, I guess.
"The truth will come out," she said.
I find this tale Hilarious,
A Schadenfreude vicarious.
"The truth will come out," she said.
She spoke true by painting truth a lie,
Which was ironic. And why?
"The truth will come out," she said. Envoi: "The Lewinsky scandal was a political sex scandal emerging in 1998, from a sexual relationship between United States President Bill Clinton and a 22-year-old White House intern, Monica Lewinsky. The news of this extra-marital affair and the resulting investigation eventually led to the impeachment of President Clinton in 1998 by the U.S. House of Representatives and his subsequent acquittal on all impeachment charges of perjury and obstruction of justice in a 21-day Senate trial." In Wikipedia. Addendum: "There is beauty in truth, even if it's painful. Those who lie, twist life so that it looks tasty to the lazy, brilliant to the ignorant, and powerful to the weak. But lies only strengthen our defects. They don't teach anything, help anything, fix anything or cure anything. Nor do they develop one's character, one's mind, one's heart or one's soul." José N. Harris (b. 1962) Addendumb: "I think I did something for the worst possible reason -- just because I could. I think that's the most , just about the most morally indefensible reason that anybody could have for doing anything. When you do something just because you could ... I've thought about it a lot. And there are lots of more sophisticated explanations, more complicated psychological explanations. But none of them are an excuse ... Only a fool does not look to explain his mistakes." Verbatim quote by Clinton, in "Clinton Cheated 'Because I Could'" by David Hancock, CBS News, 11 February 2009 Addendum: "He did not care for the lying at first. He hated it. Then later he had come to like it. It was part of being an insider but it was a very corrupting business." Ernest Hemingway, in "For Whom the Bell Tolls" (1940) The comedic touch: "Clinton lied. A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex, no matter how bad it is." Barbara Bush (b.1925) See: Empowering feminism - a parody on "I Am Woman" (first released 1971) by Helen Reddy and singer-songwriter Ray Burton, and also It depends upon what the meaning of the word 'is' is, in Seven Presidential Pardons (2007)
A Sing-Song Song to Sing Boom, boom, boom from the bomb, bomb, bomb;
Whom did it kill in its maelstrom?
Boom, bomb, boom, in a ghastly blast;
Whom did it kill for the telecast?
Blast, boom, blast makes a deathly calm.
Shoppers, kids, or daddy or a mom.
All the gore, and all the bloody parts
Make heart sore other caring hearts.
Cheer, cheer, cheer as the hatreds burn;
Opinions soar and the children learn.
Primetime news does it best to enthuse
A propaganda war with its interviews.
Should we fight or should we run away?
If we hide, then who is it wins the day?
Wring those hands and cry aloud;
Run the direction of any crowd.
Boom, boom, boom will come to you;
Whom will it kill on your avenue?
Boom, bomb, boom, in a ghastly blast;
When it comes to you, you'll be aghast.
Blast, boom, blast makes a deathly calm.
Where'll you go, or run there from?
All the gore, and all the bloody parts
Will be you at home or in your shopping marts.
Cheer, cheer, cheer as the hatreds burn;
It was only you who was taciturn.
Primetime news will not readily excuse
When boom, blast, boom pays them its dues.
Should you fight or should you run away?
After you're gone, who is it wins the day?
Wring those hands and cry aloud;
If bombers win as clearly they've vowed.
Boom, boom, boom from the bomb, bomb, bomb;
Whom will it kill in the next maelstrom? See: Songs of War - (2004) Thomas Hardy, Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Isaac Rosenberg, Rudyard Kipling and Rupert Brooke
Poetry "Speak against unconscious oppression, / Speak against the tyranny of the unimaginative, / Speak against bonds." Ezra Pound (1885-1972) Sandburg says poetry
is like the synthesis
of hyacinths and biscuits;
Frost says poetry
is what gets lost
in translation;
Cocteau says poetry
is indispensable; and
Jiménez says poetry
is a state of grace;
I say poetry
is like words,
only better. Envoi: "A poet's work is to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." Salman Rushdie, speaking four days after a fatwa was proclaimed in Iran due to the controversial nature of his "Satanic Verses," in "Top 10 Quotes of 1989," Time, 18 February 1990.
Politics (To Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians, Independents, Socialists and other Jackasses) Politics, the servant says,
is how I serve the nation.
Just how it ticks, this politics,
in my interpretation,
Is best unsaid and best unseen,
for all is in relation
To how the nation best serves me,
its servant-politician. Envoi: "Some politicians will say most anything to get elected or to pass legislation. Truth is optional." In "Like Your Plan, Lose Your Plan Under ObamaCare," Investors Business Daily editorial, 6 February 2013 Addendum: "Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. " George Orwell, Politics and the English Language (1946) See: How much is that politician's favor? and I shall not join the party and also Politics - (2008)
The Truth - no doubt about it We've found the truth,
the pious spit;
we've got it in our writings.
We've built a booth
to cover it,
and organize its sightings.
To our devout,
we offer it,
to firm and true believers,
To praise and shout,
to be alit
with wild heady fevers.
Away we'll go,
sequestering,
away to contemplations.
Away! Allow no
pestering
from other truths' temptations.
Our truth's defense,
these pious vow,
our truth is worth the fighting.
Our quest is hence:
all knees shall bow,
bow low before our writing.
The peace of God
is won by force,
the might of rightful thinking.
The cudgel, rod
and fist, of course,
uphold the truth from sinking.
So, come along,
the pious chant,
abide in truth's true fate;
Come, sing our song,
dear supplicant,
through love, learn love, then hate.
The pious hum
some simple truth,
all knowing at the start.
And they come,
with sharpened tooth,
to gnaw your truth apart. Envoi: "Reason obeys itself; and ignorance submits to whatever is dictated to it." Thomas Paine (1737-1809) Addendum: "Whereas the rightist sectarian, closing himself in 'his' truth, does no more than fulfill a natural role, the leftist who becomes sectarian and rigid negates his or her very nature. Each, however, as he revolves about 'his' truth, feels threatened if that truth is questioned. Thus, each considers anything that is not 'his' truth a lie. As the journalist Marcio Moreira Alves once told me, 'They both suffer from an absence of doubt.'" In "Pedagogy of the Oppressed," by Paulo Freire, Translated by Myra Bergman Ramos, 1970-2005. See: Left is Right, as Right is Left and also Left and Right
Pig (for Lisa Cutler Gomberg) If, to know the pig, we undertook,
In a wordy book, then, we would look.
Thence, we find it necessary
To study Webster's pig-tionary.
Pig, pronounced, 'pig,' is a noun, of course;
Pig, we learn, is not a horse.
Middle English brought us 'pigge.'
Now, Saxon speech is not so 'bigge.'
One: a swine, not sexually mature,
Or so it says in the pig brochure.
But let us not inform the pig
About its immature thing-a-ma-jig.
Broadly, a wild or domestic swine,
Yet, spineless, like a naked porcupine.
Two, a: some say a pig is pork,
Like fat on the government's greasy fork.
Two, b: (or not to be) the carcass of a youthful swine,
Central to the luau's extravagant design.
Two, c: pigskin, or a football, tightly stitched,
Or a gentleman's saddle, oft unhitched.
Three, a: one who resembles a pig;
This, a most effective dig.
Three, b: an animal related to,
Or quite alike one, through and through.
Four: a casting, crude, of smelted metal,
Like iron that makes the ferrous kettle.
Five: that's slang for an immoral woman,
Not quite tref, and all too human.
The pig has quite a well known snout;
Its trunk is both corpulent and stout;
The pig ends in a corkscrew tail;
In fact, it's piggy in every detail.
A pigboat is a submarine,
A swimming, splashing, diving machine.
The pigfish are salt water grunts,
And some of the ocean's smaller runts.
The piggery is where our swine are kept;
It is unclean, unwashed, unswept.
Then, there's piggyback, as we ride
Upon some other's broad backside.
Pig's feet are generally pickled in brine,
And not a favorite food of mine.
Whene'er we deal with a pig-headed fool,
Beware of the pig-headed ridicule.
Pig Latin is not what people say,
But, rather, ig-Pay atin-Lay.
A pig pen is the same as
Whatever the piggery or pig sty has.
Pigtails descend from the Tartars' braid,
And are of lengthy woven hair made.
Pigs in a blanket are recreational;
At a picnic, children find them masticational.
Never buy a pig in a poke;
It is the flim-flam's masterstroke.
Pigs once were sacred to each ancient Cretan,
And not available for general eatin'.
Mythological Jupiter was suckled by a sow;
He wouldn't sip from the lowly cow.
Pigs were immolated in Eleusian mystery;
Barbecues seem their regular history.
Alas, poor pigs were sacrificed
And sent to pigdom's paradise.
Yet, in a card game, a pig is placed;
The "pig's eye" is the Diamond's ace.
Shakespeare's Shylock acts the prig;
"Some men there are love not the gaping pig."
In childhood, nonsense is often told:
"Here a pig, there a pig, everywhere a pig! Old...."
And when the Big Bad Wolf had blown, Still stood a pig's house made of stone.
Now, to market, went one little pig;
Compared to the others, he is quite big.
The second, we're told, stayed at home;
Perhaps, for him, t'was nowhere to roam.
The next one had his roast beef,
For bacon would have caused him too great a grief.
And another had nothing to eat;
A vegetarian, he would not eat meat.
The last little piggy was no gastronome,
And was sent wee-wee-wee, all the way home.
When children hear the coin-made clank,
It’s savings in their piggy bank.
Enough to know, enough to learn,
Unless to be a pig we yearn.
I, for one, did not renege
Herein to contemplate the pig.
History Lesson The Pharaohs were entombed;
As gods they had presumed
To rule, but they were doomed
To be discovered, death consumed,
And to be then exhumed.
Such Pharaohs on display
Are in museums today.
Their deity is cast away,
As human they then did decay,
For godship too can rot away.
Great Rome is now no more;
For what it had in store
Was to rule as conqueror
And then to wane as those before
In such lost days of yore.
Once divine right was the thing
For sultan, emperor and king;
The passing years all seem to bring,
As autumn follows after spring,
An end to such a regal fling.
The caliphate did once expand,
And take its neighbors' land;
Religiously did it demand
That others not withstand
Its reign, which time did then disband.
The tsars are of the past,
Swept clean by foes amassed;
In revolution's icy blast
Their royal houses could not last,
And gone are glories now surpassed.
The Nazis came and went,
The Soviets, too, are spent.
A government can soon be bent,
Then broken, and away is sent
As lackeys all do oft lament.
Some dictators, we see,
Hold power long and skillfully;
While hellish others awfully
Will starve and murder as do we
Our silence keep, far too patiently.
The writing on the wall
Should now be read to gall;
We need no prophet's obtuse scrawl
To teach us that there is a call
To freedom for not one, but all. Envoi: "There is only one way to shorten and ease the convulsions of the old society and the bloody birth pangs of the new — revolutionary terror." Attributed to Karl Marx, by Edvard Radzinsky, in "Stalin: The First In-depth Biography Based on Explosive New Documents from Russia's Secret Archives, Anchor, (1997) ISBN 0-385-47954-9, pages 152-155. Addendum: "Nicolae Ceausescu, who was executed with his wife on Christmas day of 1989, was a maverick and despotic Rumanian Communist leader who pursued an independent course abroad and demanded slavish subservience at home." In "Upheaval in the East: Obituary; The Ceausescus: 24 Years of Fierce Repression, Isolation and Independence," by Ralph Blumenthal, New York Times, 26 December 1989 See: Lessons Are and also Meetings
Too Far too hard or far too easy? Far too anything makes me queasy.
One's too rich and one's too poor;
Who hasn't heard that one before?
One's too tall and one's too fat;
Mere statistics to the bureaucrat.
Too uptight, or far too free?
Far too much absurdity? Far too smart? Too little sense? Too unfeeling? Too intense? Far too loving; far too numb. Truly far too bothersome.
One's a warlock, one's a witch;
One's a bastard; one's a bitch.
One's too far left; one's too far right.
Both far too ready for a fight.
Too far right or too far left;
Politics soon turns to theft.
Too uncaring; too upset;
Too much cash, too much in debt.
Too little time, too many fears;
Too much isn't as it appears.
Far too young or far too old;
Far too swiftly buttonholed.
Far too sexy, far too bland,
Far too nosy, cozy and...
...one's too much fun; one's far too stern.
Or maybe it's just not our concern.
Why not bid a fond adieu
To the nasty, horrid little "too?"
Prayer for the Common Good Some one else should pay
for what I want today;
What others earn I do so yearn
to take away today.
It's others then should work
in order that I shirk;
From all that is too hard this day,
I run with greedy smirk.
I'll take what is not mine,
yet real work decline,
For "easy come and easy go"
To profit me combine. Ah, those in real need And those I've parodied, I'll hide behind such humankind In order to mislead.
Let others see my need,
But not my greedy screed;
May they all feel some deep, dark guilt
Upon which I may feed.
And so the Common Good Dictates that you all should Give me this day my daily bread, Unearned, for brotherhood.
For all of you I pray,
To feed me through this day;
What you shall earn I do so yearn
to take away today.
Envoi: "There is a demand in these days for men who can make wrong appear right." Terence (185 BC - 159 BC) See: For Your Common Good
Little Questions "Who will raise my children?"
That's what she asked.
"Will I be remembered after I'm gone?"
"Can you stop the sickness?"
That's what she prayed.
See: Little Questions - (1992)
Light the Lamps Light the lamps, and wonders tell.
Light the lamps that hearts may swell,
and dark days dispel.
Light the lamps of well-won peace.
Light the lamps, as battles cease.
May this light increase.
Let the wicked ones beware;
let their wicked hearts despair.
God did heed our prayer.
Light these lamps, for victory
turns away the harsh decree,
done that all might see.
Freedom won is worth such price,
With God's help which did suffice --
worth each sacrifice.
Light these lamps that, as they burn,
we may once again yet learn
for liberty to yearn.
Light the lamps to mark these days.
Light these lamps to give God praise.
Tell his wondrous ways.
Light these lamps in every place.
Light these lamps to tell the grace
and the light embrace.
Light the lamps for we were freed.
Light the lamps to mark the deed.
God did intercede.
[ A free interpretation of the scansion and theme of the Yiddish poem, " O ihr kleyne Lichtelech" Arranged for chorus by Larry Moore, YR3131 at Yelton Rhodes Music.]
Modern Times and Charity Charity, a noun from as early as the 13th century. 1 : benevolent goodwill toward or love of humanity / 2 a : generosity and helpfulness especially toward the needy or suffering; also : aid given to those in need b : an institution engaged in relief of the poor c : public provision for the relief of the needy / 3 a : a gift for public benevolent purposes b : an institution (as a hospital) founded by such a gift / 4 : lenient judgment of others (Merriam-Webster) "I need your cash for charity," The upper crust said to me. "The more you'll give," they really mean, "'s the less they'll want from me." "We urge you to dig deeply down, To pay the freight for love. It's how you'll stay just where you are, And how we'll stay high above." Movie stars and moguls And politicians crowd Around the public forums To wail and cry aloud. "It's not too much for you to do, (Though far too much for us). Dig deep from your percentage (While making little fuss)." The rich pay fancy wages To charities they employ To tell the middle class They've more than one should enjoy. The upper crust is charitable With other people's cash; They'll do quite well with yours, While peddling balderdash. When upper crust is middle class, Their riches will have gone To feed the poor and needy Which most they prey upon. When rich folks give a little, And counsel you to give, Consider for a moment Just how it is they live. Millions, billions seems a lot, For those in the middle class; Such numbers in one's bank accounts Defines the upper class. With so much ardor, so much class, Why aren't they less than rich? And why the press relations and why the bait-and-switch? The rich are rich because they give Far less than we should know. That's how the wealth is spread above And not spread down below. Envoi: Save the Children Federation Form 990 (2010) Part VII "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $ 5,538,810.00 plus "Other Compensation" $ 817,581.00 -- total $ 6,356,391.00; and American Red Cross 990 (2010) Part VII "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $ 6,266,411.00 plus "Other Compensation" $ 908,510.00 -- total $ 7,174,921.00. UNICEF Form 990 (2011) Part VII: "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $ 1,209,077.00 plus "Other Compensation" $184,194.00 -- total $ 1,393,271.00 William J. Clinton Foundation 990 (2010) Part VII "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $ 1,415,852.00 plus "Other Compensation" $177,663.00 -- total $ 1,593,515. Feed the Children Inc. 990 (2010) Part VII "Compensation of Officers, Directors, Trustees, Key Employees, Highest Compensated Employees and Independent Contractors" Total: "Reportable Compensation, $1,519,847 plus "Other Compensation" $138,238 -- total $ 1,458,086.00 Americares 990 (2009) Part VII - with the following notice" Part VII Section A is omitted. a copy may be obtained at no cost by writing to...." There are hundreds of 501(c)3 non-profit organizations, each soliciting tax-deductible donations from the working, middle classes who earn far less than the officers of these "charities." See: Fund Raising
Nonsense Most nonsense is right-on sense, Far more than people know. A con's sense is quite sans sense, As politicians show. The joy of being silly, Should spawn a lovely glow, Of drifting willy-nilly, Of musing to and fro. The earnest wage a silly war To take another's dough, By taxing them to make their score, Which governments bestow By making sense stand on its head With 'sans sense' which they crow. I'd druthers have nonsense in its stead, Truths tucked 'neath each bon mot. Envoi: "Have you ever heard a blindfolded octopus unwrap a cellophane-covered bathtub?" Norton Juster, in "The Phantom Tollbooth" (1961) Addendum: "Have you ever heard of an honest politician?" In "Edge of Tomorrow," Lyle D. Westbrook, 2012, p. 195. Addendum: "An honest politician is one who, when he is bought, will stay bought." Simon Cameron (1799-1889) See: No More Nonsense
To Reap Without Sewing On talking in the Düsseldorf train station to a young German punk-rocker with a button reading, "Fuck Work" I do not wish to work; I'd rather shirk.
I'd rather protest, rather smirk
And in the hearts of congress lurk
And seek what it bestows.
I want what you have earned, and have well learned:
There are those quite well concerned
To give me that for which I've yearned
Though some might dare oppose.
Who'll do goodly work in my neighborhood?
To give me all, as they could,
And take from others, as they should,
And charity impose.
For this I shall not labor, shall not toil
But of my neighbor's wealth despoil,
And harvest from the social soil
Wherein my harvest grows. From all I reap but did not have to sew
This one bright lesson I full know:
From some seeds planted to grow
One only need foreclose.
A lazy reaper reaps what others' sew,
And teaches me the way to go
Idly through and idly slow
Towards that debt each one owes
To me. See: Gimme
Throw Away the Mold The present king of some future France owns mountains made of gold and all his luscious lady popes are beautiful when old. They sleep quite sound on steel sheets with neither crease nor fold, and though they are so very shy, they are so very bold. The empire is so widely vast it seems quite hard to hold, and all its subjects, one by one, are bought and then resold. The knights are loyal by decree or so often are we told, Blinding in their bright éclat, a brilliant past foretold. We imagine all which cannot be, which is so hot while cold, and when we judge we made enough we throw away the mold. See: Nonsense
Glory Glory be for senses,
rare and ordinary,
for colors, tastes and touch,
for music’s speech and such
as all that I can know.
Glory be for moments,
broad or momentary,
fleet and swift the day
and all that I survey,
across this life’s plateau.
Glory be for questions,
from friend and adversary,
of brute or subtle thought,
with answers or for naught,
in all this to-and-fro.
Glory be for flesh,
though it be temporary,
flamed spirit in its frame,
and known by every name,
to come and then to go.
Glory be to all in all,
great acts and deeds or simplest things,
in green leaved days that springtime brings,
in harvests’ day and winters’ snow.
Glory for senses,
moments, questions,
years and seasons,
everything hurling and whirling the way
towards glory in each gloried day.
Glory in the beginning.
Glory, now and ever shall be.
Glory in the end. See: I prefer a vital God
Take Me Back to the Ball Game
April the eighth in seventy-four,
decades after the Babe had done it before,
there came to the plate just one batter ablaze.
It had been but a matter of days,
and, with no time to wait,
a prize fixed in his gaze,
his ash bat did its best to amaze.
Seven hundred and fifteen from this lone competitor,
the tie-breaker coming April eighth in seventy-four.
Thank Aaron,
Hank Aaron,
that’s Henry “Hank” Aaron; and...
Take me back to the old ball game,
when sport was merely a passion aflame,
when millions meant fans who would cheer and acclaim,
not the millions in salaries and the strikes it became.
Take me back to that old ball game,
like on April eighth back in seventy-four,
decades after Babe Ruth had done it before.
Sticks and Stones Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words should never hurt me,
Unless they're read out by the court,
Subpoena, suit and and bad report.
Then I'd take sticks and I'd take stones,
Rather than attorneys' clever groans.
One's wallet empties rather fast,
When words are used by the legal caste. See: Never forget
Soldiers Soldiers are but targets,
and war is not their friend;
so children into soldiers go
to meet some tragic end.
They're taught: uphold the honor
and sovereignty defend;
the battles come, then off they go
as soldiers must, to end.
Commanders know their targets
in war, and freely spend
in costs of life; but on they go,
replacements never end.
For country, flag and honor
with war and bloodshed blend;
as soldiers come and soldiers go,
just targets in the end. Envoi: "...there is nothing makes a man feel so superior to others as being able to move them about like toy soldiers." In "Mere Christianity," C. S. Lewis (1943) See: A Modern Observation on The Anti-War Movement - "Where have all the critics gone, long time passing?" -- and also Songs of War - (2004)
On a Candidate's Platform Politics is taxing,
and many find it hard
to understand that inner game
of devilish canard.
When politicians, holding forth,
regale us with their wit,
we find that all to often
their wisdom is just shit. See: Shoveling
Little Man
Little man
in his short life
professes the immortal,
and little man
with man's short sight
envisions heaven's portal.
Little man's
most little mind
pretends towards all the knowing,
and little man,
apart, alone,
dreams life continues growing.
Little man's
enormous words
point him towards the one,
but little man,
alas, is me,
and I will soon be gone.
Past and gone,
a little man,
and nowhere near perfection;
yet, while I live,
this little one
drinks deep from One reflection. See: The One God, Praise
Waltz of the Promiscuous Dying from free love, He love, and she love, That's not unheard of, we say. Dying from fee love, Never care free love, That is it, whereof I pray. Dying from me love, Or Esteedee love, That's not well-thought-of today. Sometimes off-key love, Hardly scot-free love, Killing us, thereof we pay. No guarantee, love, What were we thinking of? That is the dance of love, and the cliché. By kid glove and turtledove, Dying from all the above. Dying's the game for this day. See: Re: volution
Advice to the Pessimist If you feel that life's a bore,
Why then do you wait for more?
If you feel that life's a dream,
Why then argue how things seem?
If you harbor deepest fear,
Why then celebrate and cheer?
If you feel that you are right,
Why be surprised when others fight?
If you can't confess a wrong,
You can't expect to get along.
If you find fault too quickly,
Then others will get prickly.
If you're known to bleat and carp,
Be not amazed, response comes sharp.
If grouch and groan is what you do,
Others will fast flee from you.
Pessimism's harvest fails,
And its bounty often pales.
Life is far much more than this;
Seek then joy and love and bliss. See: A Better Life Awaits
The One God, Praise One God speaks.
One God speaks in the leaving falls
and in the budding springs.
One God speaks in immensities,
and in the little things.
One God speaks in the still, small voice,
and in our every daily choice.
We celebrate this One;
the one God, praise.
Stand before the one God without pretence;
there is no place to hide.
Know of the One before whom we stand,
and in God's mystery abide.
This one God, praise.
The hand of God stirs heavens round
and sets the stars to flame.
The mind of God, where we are found,
knows every child by name.
The heart of God, where Love is crowned,
will shoulder every shame.
This one God, praise.
The word of God, in sweeping sound,
God's glory does proclaim.
The song of God in parts in wound
and spun in music's frame.
The praise of God will long resound;
to know God's joy, its aim.
The mystery of God is one;
We celebrate this mystery
with words and songs and praise.
With all our simple, human ways,
we celebrate this One.
The one God, praise.
Know before whom we stand,
for God is great, and God is good.
The one God, praise.
( This text is set for SATB divisi choir, trebles and baritone solo, organ and bells. See The One God, Praise in Complete Choral Music)
Psalm 16 (in rhymed paraphrase) God, the Almighty, preserve me from harm;
Shelter and refuge, the shield of Your arm.
You are life's Master without whom I fall;
I shall answer when You call.
Holy and mighty and Lord of this earth,
You fill this day with its wonder and worth.
Guide my steps, as You guide creatures great and small.
Guide me.
Pleasant my portion which comes by Your grace;
Shining the presence and light of Your face.
Counsel and wisdom and love at my side,
Ever in You I abide.
Therefore my heart and my soul shall rejoice;
Praises I fashion with art and with voice.
Guide my path, guide me from morn to eventide.
Guide me evermore.
( This text is set for SATB and organ. See Psalm 16 in Complete Choral Music.)
Songs for the Victims of AIDS Clever Death, Stupid Death Clever Death's enormous voice
Reads the lists and takes his choice.
Lover Death, he makes his date,
Coming quickly; don't be late!
Lady Death? She's quite desirous;
Johns rent love and but the virus.
Doctor Death is not so spry,
Sprinkling deadly blood awry.
Needle Death just shares his track,
Going one way, never back.
Baby Death with baby cries
Comes too soon to say goodbyes.
Question Death? Whens, whys and hows?
Questions such as Death allows.
Farmer Death's own harvest home
Fills the reaper's catacomb.
Stupid Death goes blindly one!
Stupid Death goes blindly one!
It was a cross It was a cross,
A red, red double cross
That spread the virus brigades.
It was the price,
Too great a sacrifice
To test the blood with AIDS.
Prevention versus cost?
Patiently, cost won.
Death by memorandum,
Incredibly dumb.
The real cost?
A dark red holocaust
Transfused in bloody trades,
Because a cross
Became a double cross,
And used the blood with AIDS.
Prevention versus cost?
Death by memorandum!
Room A-460 Rest? How? Question "Requiem?"
How many neighbors? How many friends?
How many children must come to their ends?
Inside that room, A-460,
Beyond pain and feeling he lies,
Tired, body and soul,
Sleeping in a deep, deep sleep.
Inside that room, Palm Sunday morning,
He yields to his infections and dies,
Tired bodies and souls
Weeping for his last deep sleep.
Yesterday Now I lay me down to sleep.
Pray the Lord my soul to keep.
While I dream, recall the joys of yesterday.
Every day, think on me and yesterday.
Now I lay me down to die,
With a gentle last goodbye.
Dream with me that once I lived in yesterday.
Every hour, every day, think on me and yesterday.
A Litany of Finger Pointing Who's responsible for the plague?
Who's responsible to act up? Act up!
Who's responsible is rather vague.
All that fear is backed up.
What about those shameless gays?
Folks condemn their blameless ways.
As for all those righteous straights,
AIDS infects their one-night dates.
Who's responsible? Who's to blame?
How about those illegal Latins?
Even babies swathed in satins?
How about those late-night cruisers?
How about those damned drug abusers?
Who's responsible? Who's to blame?
How about the government?
The medical establishment?
Who's responsible? Who's to blame?
Where's the lamb who will serve as
scapegoat?
Every sacred cow's a lifeboat!
AIDS takes all as equal fellows,
Whether blacks, browns, or whites
or yellows!
Who's responsible? Who's to blame?
What of promiscuity?
The sex-meets-death congruity?
Pass the guilt and shun the shame.
God forbid, we're all to blame?
Oh, is God responsible for the plague?
Is God responsible to act up? Act up!
Else who's responsible is rather vague.
Who's responsible?
You're responsible?
They're responsible?
We're responsible?
God's responsible?
Who's responsible?
The Quilt Name the names,
Remember them and pray.
And pray for the day when we
Patch the quilt with no more names.
Death has had its fun and games.
Ryan, Roger, Jesús and Ariel.
Zachary, Greg, Christina, Ann.
Name the names.
Built to catch those dying flames.
Naming saints in fabric frames.
Michael, Larry, Coreen and Jennifer.
Angelo, Dane and Ali. John.
( These texts are set for voice and piano in editions for differing voices. See Songs for the Victims of AIDS.)
 
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