Fat Albert’s Outpatient Folk Clinic ………………… All Of Fudd’s Children

There was Iron Butt, Dodger Crotchrot, Roderick Sexmaniac, Angry McHardon, Perri Coma, Styp, the Evil Dwarf, and a host of others – as in, a plague of hosts.
Patients in the Waiting Room of Life, as lived by another who was psychopathic.
Each felt themselves the best, more than any others. None would not stop to make fun of another whom they decided threatened their minor empire, like Styp and the girlfriend several other guys would fuck and discard, confident that even confronted with the oh-so-clever sarcasm they would not get punched out.

Which they confused with the one made aware of this as unknowing, or stupid.
Or with Booby Wasu (aka the Evil Dwarf), steal lines from someone, insert it in a song, look guiltily at them while they performed and then go stand by them so they could be told ‘hey that’s my shit’ as they said ‘oh yeh, sorry, will take it out.’ Shameless wankers.
And those who in earlier days had classified the entire lot as losers would come to play the elder statesman and talk about their Great talent when the place shut down temporarily.

Reputation fed on even the most minor conveyance of respect, absent of course of any greater talent in the world, so that there was a whole class of non-entities praising each other then and in later days.

The exceptions had a much keener eye for the fuel of hypocrisy,
and were usually busy getting into print, or being otherwise known elsewhere.
As long as the person pretended not to know who had value and who was merely acting as the city’s buttclench, they were left undisturbed by rumor or innuendo.
Those who had actual connections to greater artists, from friendship or simply introduction, were silently chastised and cursed. No surprise that they would be vilified as they had achieved something without the imprimatur of the crowd of angry villagers.

Well, some of us long for memory’s little death, especially after the continental stupidity of some SOB howling as though his cat was being dipped in hot water.
Howling at the bare moon. Of discovering there was an ass, and they are it.
Cracking up, or being sick with violins; until you’re as ill as they speak of these ghosts and those dead.

Of course this is more exorcism than festival, more pathology than curse, more forgetful patience than celebrated remembrance.
These knobs could steal the stink off shit.

Babies meeting, then turning vicious in their rosy-cheeked and full-pants appreciation of the world. Ignoring the obvious, the cold
superiority that only arises in familiar confrontation of gabble and gobble.

Back and forth, eye on the opening door; never mind the performer, forget the stage and reason.

This is the real, the old soft soap opera without a season.

©Dean Baker







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.

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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