book for sale

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first,

thanks to everyone who has been reading throughout the years

second,

i’ve published a book of stuff from this site here.

(don’t worry. i left out all the really shitty stuff.)

please support the Benevolent Economy that we all hold so dear, and buy this book.

i am 30 years old, and although i have always dreamed of writing a book, i don’t know that i ever thought it would actually happen.

to be fair, i took the easy way out and self-published.

but whatever.

my words are in print, and i am happy about it.

so thank you very much for reading.

cheers to a better world someday… or right now.

whichever is fine.

sincerely,

image

your shameless author

what i’m doing today

we’re going to the thrift store while my government drops bombs in syria.

i might look at the used books as we enter another middle eastern conflict.

it’s half off day as the press ramps up their estimation of ‘brave’ president fuckface.

i’ll say excuse me as the old lady with a full cart pushes past me in a narrow aisle of clothes, but neither of us will mention the fact that our country has recently started waging another war.

what was i supposed to get? i think, as i forget entirely about neil gorsuch.

i hope to find some record player speakers before a warhead lands on our soil.

we also need to find a shirt for me to wear on my wedding day, which will be 2 months in to another occupation without end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

war chest

just park that jet on grandma.

put the tank in the library.

let’s store these grenades in that school.

drive that humvee over to the junk heap.

there’s a pond for that naval vessel.

this prison will go great with our dog pen.

course you can fly your drones where you’d like.

barbed wire? there’s more back in the baby’s crib,

she don’t mind. she’s little.

 

 

imitation game

this is a new theory of mine:

the lyme disease theory.

 

to start,

you may already know that

lyme disease is caused by ticks;

little parasitic arachnids

adept at

drinking the blood

of their hosts.

this is fairly well-known.

 

did you also know that

lyme disease is sometimes called

‘the great imitator’?

 

it is an extremely difficult disease

to properly diagnose.

it often mimics the

nightmare maladies:

fibromyalgia,

multiple-sclerosis,

ALS,

parkinson’s and

alzheimer’s.

 

a person close to a person close

has lived with an

alzheimer’s diagnosis

for the past three years.

turns out she actually has

lyme disease.

now that they know,

doctors think

they can cure her.

 

isn’t that crazy?

 

from the prolonged, sorrowful descent

into the incurable fog of alzheimer’s,

she may yet return.

thank heavens!

 

(so be watchful for ticks.)

 

now getting back to the theory:

it often seems that our

sick world is hurtling

towards

annihilation.

 

at the least,

we’re looking

pretty bad.

 

but,

perhaps neither our nation

nor world has

actually gone mad.

 

suppose we are

living with an unchecked

and untreated form

of lyme disease

which is

imitating everything we fear

in order to survive

within us.

 

perhaps it is the same culprit:

parasitic ticks.

 

the ticks descended upon us

only god knows when.

i postulate they’ve been

feeding from us for a while,

as our tragic symptoms

are well-advanced.

 

also, as ticks feed their

bodies swell.

the ticks we carry

should probably carry us

they’re so damn big.

 

they’ve taken purchase

on our aorta to ensure

they get all the blood

they need.

 

at first we were frustrated

that they needed such

necessary blood.

yet the ticks

are very

convincing.

 

and so we acquiesced.

“there is enough for all,”

we said.

 

“we’ll always have enough,”

we thought.

 

but as they drank and

fattened themselves,

they poisoned

our blood and

they’ve poisoned

our lives.

 

now our limbs flail madly

and rip at our own flesh

trying to end the pain in

our poisoned nerves.

 

now our brain

is deluded and not working

quite right because

we can’t recall

who we are.

 

now we live with a

craving for death, as

we see the future holds but

more and more pain

to endure.

 

and there will be more pain

unless we fight

this disease.

 

right now the ticks

are attempting

to swallow us

whole.

 

“your blood is no longer

good enough,”

they say,

“plus you owe us for

our service, so

we’ll just take

the rest.”

 

now the ticks tell us

“we are america.”

wasn’t that

our name?

 

the ticks tell us,

“we are in charge.”

the host is now

the guest.

 

the ticks tell us,

“you need us.”

don’t you

need us?

 

for so long

we’ve listened.

 

(we even dutifully listened to

their medical advice.)

 

but we are the body.

 

and a body near death

has astounding resilience.

 

before death

a moment of clarity will

come through the cloud,

a tunnel of light will

extend before us

and a voice will

erupt in our minds:

 

you are the body

that pumps the  blood.

you are the body

that moves the hand.

you are the body

that controls the voice.

you are the body

who listens to conscience.

you are the body

who bears all the fruits

of their pain.

you are a body

worth saving.

the tick says it was him who

spoke those words.

 

but the voice wasn’t like him

at all.

motherfucking bullshit anthropocene

oh fuck. dude! fuck!

what’s your fucking deal, dude?

dude, fucking everything’s going fucking extinct!

no fucking way, dude.

i’m not fucking joking, dude. i’m reading about it right fucking now. fucking three-quarters of all species on earth are gonna fucking die off forever.

fuck you.

i’m fucking serious. fucking cheetahs, fucking apes, fucking bees and frogs and tons of other fucking shit.

that’s fucked. what the fuck are we doing about it?

not a fucking thing. 

well that fucking sucks.

fucking right.

fuck…

i don’t know though, humans are pretty fucking smart.

what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

maybe they can fucking figure it out before everything is fucking dead.

fat fucking chance.

maybe build a fucking generator that cleans all the fucking pollution out of the air and fucking cleans the oceans and shit. fucking elon musk this shit.

no fucking way.

why you gotta be so fucking negative, dude?

cause it’s fucking humans that fucking caused this fucking thing in the first fucking place.

maybe now that we know we’re fucking killing every fucking thing on earth, maybe we can fucking do something about it.

yeah, i fucking hope so.

fuck… why you gotta talk about that shit? now i’m all fucking depressed.

you think it makes me fucking happy? i feel like shit now.

dude, let’s go get some fucking food.

good fuckin’ idea, dude.

oh, did i tell you i fucking lost my fantasy football league? got fucking second to fucking hosk’s fucking girlfriend.

dude, that fucking sucks.

i fucking know, dude. fucking sucked major.

fuck this seriously

welcome to

post-truth,

god-money,

buy buy buy world.

where

the vortex of our collective ignorance

is swirling in the pit of our guts.

together

we’ve broken ourselves apart.

 

striving towards a store bought life.

a gate to keep out guilty thoughts of privilige

and poor people.

existing because economy.

 

fake-news land.

real vs. fake as in:

the russians are coming!

pizza-pedos hide in plain sight!

this election was a battle between two sides!

it all becomes real because

no one knows what is

fake.

 

schools flushed down the toilet.

left vs. right forever.

this hollow land

viewed through a screen

is suffocating in its complete lack

of ambition and kindness and

purpose.

 

there is no other purpose

for everything or

anything other

than money.

bills on a pallet,

numbers in a numbered account

that no one wants you

to know about.

 

blood of the kids?

our greatest treasure.

humongous footprints of evil

that look like craters on a dead planet.

we are ants in the shadows of

cthulu.

bring me the head of terror and

i know it will be a

white man.

 

shuffle the papers,

say ‘i don’t recall,’

win the game with lawyers.

don’t forget to take

their curtains. i know

the baby is screaming in

his dead mother’s bleeding arms

but there’s a market

for tragic collectibles.

 

there’s no fighting this monster

which is us.

the invisible hand guides us in relation

to one another, but

maybe we were supposed to be alone.

there is purity in the humble self.

peace in meditation, introspection,

silence

 

or we could just share,

give, awaken ourselves

to our own evil.

we could give relentlessly

to fight away our greed.

 

my dad has a poster,

“teamwork: none of us is as dumb

as all of us.”

we will destroy this planet.

hubris is what tells us

we’ll survive. that we’re

resillient enough.

we are the unsinkable

species. nevermind

the rest.

 

if you need me, i’ll be

reading books to kids in an

elementary school bunker

that is everyday closer to

being taken away.

 

and the kids,

all born since this war was 8,

well,

fuck them, right?

 

we will use them later

to die for our

what-have-you…

peace of mind?

 

 

the sinner

forgive me father, for i have sinned.

yes, and what is it that brings you here, my son?

father, i’m sorry. what i’m about to tell you–i don’t know what came over me. i…

easy, now.

i wasn’t thinking. maybe it was the jet-lag. i don’t know what–

whatever it is, there is no way it won’t go unforgiven if you confess it and ask for forgiveness. i am here to listen. go on and confess, young man. it’s alright.

yes, well, you see i was out of town last week. i went to london for work. it was a long flight and i had to go straight to a meeting from the airport. the meeting was a couple hours, and i guess after being crammed into a plane and then a meeting right after i felt like walking and getting some air. so i started towards the hotel and then i saw this woman on the street corner.

ah.

it’s not what you think, father. although now i wish it was. she was poor and homeless. she was old, too, and dirty. i noticed her. i accidentally let my eyes look at her, i don’t know why. i guess that’s the first thing i needed to confess.

so you looked?

yes but i never look at them otherwise, i swear it. or i didn’t. i don’t know what it was that got me that day, but i looked even though i know it was wrong. still, i saw her and i looked at her face. and she looked just like…

yes? just like what?

my mother. her face was much darker, either from the sun or the dirt or both i don’t know, but she did. she looked just like mom. when we saw each other i really thought she was her. i even felt that she recognized me.

of course it wasn’t your mother, was it?

no, she wasn’t her at all. my mother was here, clean and at home. and she would have been so disgusted by this woman had she seen her.

yes, as we all are.

yes, i know that’s how i should have felt. like i said, i never normally even look. the few times i have looked i’ve felt the disgust and have confessed for even breaking the commandment.

that’s a good boy.

but, honestly father i haven’t even told you the worst of it.

dear. well go on and tell me.

well, when i saw her there i sort of stopped. like i said we looked at each other with a feeling of recognition. i looked at her and i must have smiled because she smiled at me too. i don’t know what it was that happened, father, but all of a sudden we were both just there. by that i mean it was like we were bonded. without saying anything at all. we just saw each other and it was like we had the same love–maybe even a deeper love–that i have with my mother. of course i know this sounds crazy. but it felt that way.

but how could that be? even if it did feel that way?

i know it couldn’t. i know i’m better than her. i know she doesn’t even deserve a glance from me, let alone what i gave her which was my acceptance. i can’t deny it. even if i tried. i know in my heart i accepted her. i wish i knew what i was thinking.

yes, well, did anything else happen after you two shared this…this ‘moment’?

i gave her my watch.

you did what?

i gave her my watch, father.

oh my. this is very bad.

i know, i know. please, just tell me what i can do.

this is very bad, my boy. you know that giving out anything to the poor is a cardinal sin.

i know, father.

you know that anything given to the poor is akin to murdering their own will to work.

yes.

and murdering a person’s will, that’s…

father, please! i’ve never done anything as awful as this.

that’s leading a disciple away from the benevolence of the Economy. and that’s furthering the sin which led them to squalor: entitlement.

yes.

do you think this woman, your second mother, will ever find her salvation in the free market now?

no.

how much longer will she suffer the torments of poverty because you thought she needed a hand-out?

i don’t know. i gave her the watch because i thought she could use the money to–

to do what? buy a meal? if you tell me you bought her a meal too, Economy help me, i’ll–

i didn’t. just the watch.

my boy, do you at least now see the momentum of our sins? one minute you’re glancing at a vagrant, and the next you’re committing economic heresy of the highest order!

i know father, but please! i am a faithful worker. i love the Economy. i hate the poor! i’ve confessed the awful deeds i am guilty of, now please let me be forgiven!

i cannot forgive you of this; only the Invisible Hand of the Market can rectify this assault on our beloved Economy.

but surely as an Economist you can do something!

you have confessed, and i have heard your confession. let us pray now and ask for your forgiveness:

oh holy Economy who are on Wall Street,

hallowed be thy name.

thy kingdom come,

thy will is done with Money

as it is in Free Markets.

give us this day our

way low taxes,

and starve all the lazy,

as we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.

and lead us into temptation,

as we sell guns to the evil. 

for thine is the Money,

and Triple A credit rating,

with merciless debt forever,

Amen.