Who will own me next year?
Today I got to thinking about who will own us in a little more than a year from now. Will we be beholden to the elite, the corporate gluttony, or the new whorled odor crowd? The only thing that’ll change if the elite win is more people will die. If corporate gluttony wins the only thing that will happen is more people will die. And finally, if the new whorled odor wins, two things will happen: More people will die and our betters *sniff* will still stink.
The only other thing left for me to do is quietly lie down on the floor and let my betters brand “mat” over my bare chest.
Or I can vote Ron Paul.
me
A compendium of things that matter (or not!). Painting a picture of Life from a palette of wit, spit & fire. Sometimes using the angst bellow or poetry. Writing is cathartic. I mean to avail myself of its magical mushroom cloud. This neat process for purging life’s emotional and overwhelming experiences enables me to swoop in low to grab repressed feelings and fears and drag ‘em to the surface. This means one less person liable to go postal. Writing with a mix of faux fury & laissez-faire gives that kickass potential to restore & refresh a dowdy spirit. Sharing opinions and musings on anything that catches my fancy, including people, places & things, music, art & humor. Ideas & stories that’ll drive you crazy with frustration and a sense of hopelessness. Reports from things one finds under rocks and things purporting to be from out of this world. Yeah, things better left hidden, unsaid & unthunk. Maybe even some political shenanigans that can get you killed. So, sit back and watch me slash-and-burn some mental chains & dodge mind shadows. After all, it’s the dowdy legacy.. heh heh
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