An interview with Dr. Dean, Poet Laureate. He was interviewed by the ghost of Mother Teresa.

Reprinted here is an interview with Dr. Dean, Poet Laureate. He was interviewed by the ghost of Mother Teresa.
…. from —>

Mother Teresa; Namaste, Mr. Dean
Dr. Dean: First, it’s Dr. Dean, and I’m curious about that word. Na –mahs, te. Is that like lazily saying Nah, must have tea?
Mother Teresa: It means blessings upon you, to me.
Dr. Dean: How about just forking over $1000.00? That would be a blessing.
Mother Teresa: Oh no (giggling), that is the material world. I do not deal in that.
Dr. Dean: That would explain why you’re a fucking ghost.
Mother Teresa: We do not make that distinction between the spiritual and material worlds, though we can recognize the distinction.
Dr. Dean: You don’t think it’s necessary after all this time? I mean, look what happened to Gandhi, ML King, John Lennon. And then of course you, although you did not gain any significant spiritual awards say like Lenin, by not decomposing. You must have been a real blight on the sense of smell for those few days.
Mother Teresa: Oh yes, by golly. My followers had a difficult time. It was a test to strengthen their spirit, and detach them from the world of needs requiring pleasant things.
Dr. Dean: Well no doubt you were a banquet of reassurance in that department.
Mother Teresa: Well, yes, humble as I am. I was. But we are not here to praise me, we are here to acknowledge that your poetry is gaining great significance in the spiritual world.
Dr. Dean: Shit, I knew that – ever since I started writing. Problem is you fucking ghosts don’t carry any cash.
Mother Teresa: It is true.. We are raised above our origins in dust, and have joined totally with the Spirit.
Dr. Dean: That doesn’t help me. You, in your Pledge rags, championing a higher world, won’t buy me books, or peace of mind.
Mother Teresa: Perhaps you need to express a greater sense of gratitude so Grace may be visited upon you.
Dr. Dean: If she shows up at the door, the wife is going to pitch a fit.
Mother Teresa: Oh no, no. The blessings of Grace, from the Spirit.
Dr. Dean: I experienced that! Hallelujah.
Mother Teresa: No! I mean the spirit.
Dr. Dean: I mean the spirit, too, you bundle of Goodwill discards.
Mother Teresa: Now, no need to become rude, I am here to help. To acknowledge your greatness.
Dr. Dean: I have people acknowledge my greatness every day. They say I inspire them, they love my work, all that good bullshit. But it’s rare they buy the books, the cheap bastards.
Mother Teresa: But you are reaching them where it counts. Spiritually. You are blessing them where it counts.
Dr. Dean:(raises his leg) I’ll bless’m alright if they don’t buy some books.
Mother Teresa: What do books matter if you cannot reconcile your great poetry with spirit in this world?
Dr. Dean: Hey Tessy, are you retarded? Books bought equal notice equal more attention which equals myself earning some focking moolah to keep body and spirit together.
Mother Teresa: I did fine while alive. I kept spirits high. I served the people.
Dr. Dean: Good for you, granny. You mentored holy cows, and when a complaint was lodged about the sink and the filth and the flies in keeping said cows in apartment blocks, you responded with great humor, “Well, the cow will just have to get used to it.”
Cow flops became Frisbees, fire starters, and birthday cakes. No one asked, what is this shit.
Now that’s evolvement. Get comfortable with crap to prove your higher being.
Mother Teresa: You are so nasty.
Dr. Dean: Stop with the compliments, you handbag.
Mother Teresa: Is nothing sacred to you? You are getting on my nerves, as they say.
Dr. Dean: Why don’t you chow down on some cow burger – 100% Pure Beef Poo – and join me in the world of poverty.
Mother Teresa: By golly gosh. You are disturbing my holy self.
Dr. Dean: Well, wait a minute. Now I get complaints from ghosts? Hey, listen, I had some burger before you arrived. I can share.
Mother Teresa: Oh alright, it would not be a sin since I am holy.
Dr. Dean: Hey me too, ya old tart. Come closer and I will share.
Mother Teresa’s billowy ghost leans over towards Dr. Dean. At which point, he raises his leg, lets go a ripper, and exclaims: I bless you! Eat that, it’s spiritual!
Mother Teresa: By gosh, by golly! The Devil has come to get me, I am dying!
Dr. Dean: You say you’re done with the main course? Want an appetizer?
The same earlier scene is repeated, resulting in the swift disappearance of the ghost of Mother Teresa.
Dr. Dean is heard exclaiming: Buy my books, or when I’m all spirit, I’m going to be all spirit all over you and your legion of Robed Rejects.
A cloud of dust erupts and the voice of Mother Teresa in a weak tremor can be heard fading into the distance: I am spiritual. I am so spiritual. I will be spiritual. By golly gosh, that bastard farted on my Holiness. Oh world , is nothing sacred.

©Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from Tormenting The Monkey https://www.createspace.com/5604224

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Presidential Candidates – T-Rump, and I’ll Get You, My Pretty

Both candidates are symptoms, not solutions

Usually you would think the words ‘presidential’ and ‘candidate’ were significant, meaningful, as they’re meant to not only designate those running for election, but represent those with the qualities necessary to enter the process of attempting to gain the Presidential office.

Not this time.

The woman is gathering all sorts of celebrity endorsements to once again confirm that outside their performances such celebrities are mostly stupid. You know, morons – life-forms without a clue as to reality and its designations.
Never mind that she’s a proven and un-clever liar. Or that she’s profits from her political connections (quick, how do we make millions out of you working for the Government? I know, create a Charity! The public are morons, they’ll have to investigate, and by the time they do we’ll have muddled it all, and win the sympathy vote).
She’s a swamp of accusations, the accurate and true number yet to be determined. This alone ought to disqualify her.    

The guy talks like a collegiate, average, low normal knob. Someone with a gift for making money – apparently – yet who sounds like discipline to him is what he expects from his dominatrix, not what he applies to himself. Speech therapy is obviously a challenge when it comes to public presentations.

A reporter with special needs is mocked by T-Rump who waves his hands in the air and makes mush mouth sounds. What a genius. What dignity. The idea that he might be on his best behavior given that he’s running for election makes it scary. The fact that he probably was being himself shows a sophomoric sense of humor without a delineating and expansive sense of satire that is not so mean and dull. Maybe he could apply it to himself.

curly1z

And his Butt Buddy, Ann Coulter, states that he was merely “doing a standard retard.” She’ll be back at it soon, after she gets her face fixed. T-Rump bent down to pick something up, and she broke her nose.
Hopefully this is a phase. She’s proven clever, intelligent and proactive in her books – but for now she’s another millionaire indulging wanton disregard for anything other than her own beliefs.
Gone the way of Michael Moore.

Imagine other countries looking at the two candidates. Minus any caricaturing. The clownish, cartoon aspect of the bland evil of their special psychopathology is a fearful thing if they are truly representative.

Political discourse these days amounts to a Three Stooges’ pie fight.

The dignity of the potential President is compromised by the fact that anyone could expect at any time another eye gouging, chuckleheaded thrombotic spastic dance from either one with each deluded enough to believe they are succeeding in showing themselves as people of a solid core character, rather than the slinky aspects of a superficial snakes-and-ladders game with the country’s destiny on offer.

In the pre-election run-up, neither one qualifies as better than anything. In fact, they both look to be best suited for the category of the Victorian regard for children who were neither to be seen nor heard.
And in real terms: Those Who Do Not Belong In Office.. Unless They Are Handing Out Mints.

Somewhere in another version of reality we have candidates who we respect, who leave no doubt as to the depth of their character, rather than the spread of their personal machinations. Candidates whom we’d like to know.

Somewhere isn’t here.

Both candidates are symptoms, not solutions.

 

© Dean J. Baker

You – yeh, you – be very ashamed if you do not 0wn Tormenting The Monkey, 218 pages of fun, diatribe, informed opinion, and discussion.

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T-Rump Is A Symptom Not A Solution – The Trump Dump

I try to think, but nothing happens

It’s laughably certain that with another election coming up, the trained seals and Pavlov’s dogs of popular commentary are encouraging their string-alongs – da people – to howl and bark at whatever they say, for the good or ill, but to sound off in a manner suggestive of an enormous ground-swelling of support for whatever they might say.

I say laughably because it isn’t – disaster after disaster and people are still looking for some hero, or heroine to make sense of things for them. They may even ask questions, but they’re likely not the right ones.

What you’d ask of whomever you choose to vote for you ought to first be asking of yourself. What do you know about politics, democracy, the history of such things; the discrepancy between what government states and what it will do, how that is witnessed through recent history, and how electorate parties apply this to solicit the ringing bell to wake the Pavlovian instinct in the voters.

Politicians still pander in a way that suggests the Hollywood manufactured miasma of Jimmy Stewart going to Washington as Mr. Deeds still – if ever – exists. When reality suggests, repeatedly, that they’re playing a game of cut-throat: knock the other guys’ balls off the table, and keep yours on.
You might notice that has nothing to do with what they hint at doing for the public, or will do… because it doesn’t.

Who’s safe in some disaster? You? Because the government will help? Seems to be there was some enormous storm up New York way a few years ago from which the ramifications are still in process. The ones who got helped were rich. They felt the calming warmth of government aid almost immediately.
The ordinary, the so-called middle-class not so much.
And if there’s some absolute disaster, nature originated, nuclear, has government stated what they have planned for you? Nope. But you do know they have all their underground bunkers and communities therein stocked and stacked against the fallout.
They will say this is to help government keep running. If it comes to that state I think we ought to put them on a mountain top with a target painted on it, not save them.

More shit to bitch about, and distract from the source of the problem regarding governments and people.

To actually do something for themselves is what they do. Why aren’t people learning that and taking it to heart in the execution of their own necessary plans? And if they cannot do so, making it an issue when they decide who they will hand a high-earning paycheck to, notoriety, and a big pension, rather than the same old pathetic bullshit about ‘I’ll be working for you, against those ingrained interests… so I can become that ingrained interest.’

The pols come from the people. Everything in education suggest that to know history is to know its details and repercussions, divergences from belief and actuality. Which would seem to say – let’s not be certain here though – that if you learn from history you are more likely able to escape those repercussions.
And if you don’t, you’re likely to put on your Hope Hat, button down the clip-on brain pan of flies, shit, and controversy and tell yourself you do know, while getting sacrificed one more time.

What do we know about the Trumpet? That he blares, is uncouth, suggests depth is a characteristic of the spineless, financially troubled, and morally destitute? Joy. Bluto’s running for orifice. Yet….

Sure, I’d like to see articulated what I perceive of what is occurring; not as a measure of approval, but as a degree of what fresh and renewable insights can be generated to ensure as much as possible that the same errors do not occur again.
If anything, de Tocqueville in Democracy In America, and the Englishman William Godwin in An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice illustrate that the analysis of the process, and thus the process itself, is as or more pertinent to the political process than the elections themselves.

But for that to be known and possibly understood in all its ramifications you have to be as interested as you claim, rather than celebrating an indulgence in outrage and self-righteousness, itself part of the problem of dissatisfaction with current events.

de Tocqueville quotes:

The American Republic will endure until the day Congress discovers that it can bribe the public with the public’s money.
Liberty cannot be established without morality, nor morality without faith.
Americans are so enamored of equality that they would rather be equal in slavery than unequal in freedom.

And it is said that you get the ‘leaders’ you deserve, meaning I suppose, that they who represent the people are truly representative of the character of the people most prominent in their own times.

William Godwin quotes:

God himself has no right to be a tyrant.
There must be room for the imagination to exercise its powers; we must conceive and apprehend a thousand things which we do not actually witness.
He that loves reading has everything within his reach.
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Easier to indulge than to study. Sweeter to become part of something than to solitarily educate yourself and be able to pass that on to others. More complacent to be the undone victim than the steady voice of earned confidence due to learning and application.
More difficult to find reason in a crowd and be unheard but forthright. Harder to know it and still proceed.

Are the candidates teaching us any of this? Or simply satisfying the mob psychology[check: The Mass Psychology Of Fascism by Wilhelm Reich] with the same solipsisms that pretty much generate their own necessary addiction and guarantee an endlessly revolving pirouette of pas de duhs without any awareness that the marionette clack-and-dance are the bones of our ancestors warning us we’ve joined their dance.

©Dean J. Baker

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{this is a re-post from Dec.18. 2015 – see, you missed it}

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