Life out of balance.
A way back in the early 80′s, this made a big splash. There was a movie and music and position papers and student movements on campuses all over the place. Fashion statements and hip stuff and oh yeah, heady days.
The phase passed. All phases pass. Trendy stuff comes, goes, and before you can say Justin Beeper, he’ll be passé as Adam Ant.
We are of course living in unbalanced days. Unhinged would be more like it. War is peace. Oh wait, war is humanitarian intervention. Peace is, ummm, elusive.
Peace would be that brief moment of silence while everyone reloads. Unless of course you’re staring down the barrel of a Predator Drone and it’s accoutrements. Hellfire missiles oh yes. Splatter you smooth off’n the Planet for sure.
So I’m standing out in my frontyard, watering my dogs see, and the jet jockeys are roaring overhead playing ass-tag. We get the jet jockeys roaring overhead just about any day. Well, these two bozos are hot after whatever it is the fools get hot after and lead bozo is launching flares out of his jet. WTF?!? I could suppose the lead ass-hat is doing some manner of sophisticated jet jockey military training. However, both bozos are flying directly over my house and I’m thinking I don’t have to put up with the military dropping lit flares over my house. So I called our local constabulary asking about what in hell are the military boys up to AND, our local constabulary has not got a clue. Cop on a phone says, “what…”
True oh yes that little recounting of previous day’s events is straight up true.
Koyaanisqatsi no doubt.
Wasn’t it cute watching President Chumpy Obama playing tippy-toe around Israel? That was cute. I’m going with ‘chumpy’ for Dear Obama. Not overtly vulgar. Not covertly racist. The man is a chump and we can’t do much about his being a chump. 4 more years…
Obama is out of balance. Murderously out of balance. However, it is a given that just about every last player hanging hard in Babylon-On-The-Potomac is out of balance. Corrupt and loathsome and venal and psychopathic and socially icky. The kind of icky you’d not want hanging around your children. I mean, would you let Lindsey Graham babysit your kid? Or maybe John McCain. McCain would eat your child and not bother to cook the little yicker. Orrin Hatch? Oh shuddering pedophile horrors…
Harry Reid would be happy to babysit your kids. Of course Reid would put them to work in a Clark County Cathouse.
Shoot, only in Amerika. Ain’t it not about great? Double negative whammy. Oh yeah, we are on a roll.
Koyaanisqatsi du jour if not deluxe.
Okay and that’s probably about enough Saturday silly. Which and by the by, today is the 23rd day of March 2013 and it’s Saturday. Surreal Saturday and here’s visigothery that is koyaanisqatsi and surreal -
