I don’t jog, but if I knew that 2020 was scheduled to suck on my ass, then I would jog. I would skip rope, and do leg lifts and burpees and maybe swing those heavy ethnic clubs around. I’d moisten my grundle like it was my job if I knew 2020 was scheduled to suck my ass. 2014? I’d shower, and fastidiously groom. I would want 2014 to enjoy the experience of deep-mouthing my tushee as much as I did the experience of getting deep-mouthed. But 20202? Indian food and Sweatin’ to the Oldies.
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America’s been at least half-yokel since her inception.
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Point to your rights. I’ve asked you to do so before, but indulge me. Point ’em out. Put your finger on your freedoms. God, we are told, imbued us with them, at least those of us birthed correctly within a certain arbitrarily-bordered landmass and a specific timeframe. God didn’t give the communist Chinese rights, and he didn’t give anyone in the Americas rights before 1781. Just us Americans. The Lord loves us, you see, and wanted to give us something to holler about.
Time exists; it goes that-a-way. Gravity exists; it sucks. Everything else is a story. You don’t have a right to assemble. You don’t have a right to free speech. You don’t have a right to bear arms. There is only what the bastards will allow, and the bastards have always ruled the world. Sometimes, they are lenient and progressive, and sometimes they are rabbit-eared and prickly, but all of them have a line that, once crossed, will cause them to send goons to your home to hit you in the head with sticks. Bastards can’t help being bastards.
Revolutions are possible, but you just end up with new bastards.
Your rights are legal fictions, and legal fictions are just children’s stories that cost $600 an hour.
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If the right people were protesting–
- The working class, such as the supermarket stocker, the long-haul driver, and the waiter.
- The blacks who are contracting and dying of the disease at a way higher rate than rich white folks because of innumerable bullshit pulled by whitey all these years,
- The piece-workers, the delivery drivers, the gig employees.
- The renters given no relief from their monthly laydown.
- The blackjack dealers and bass players and barista and bartenders and buskers and bodyguards and bouncers, and the strippers and hacks and mattress salesmen,
–then the bastards would have opened fire.
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Two million people die every year from cancer. This is one of their arguments. Two million die from cancer, and three hundred thousand from car crashes. Corona’s a fraction of that, but we’ve shut down the whole world. Seems fascistic, they say.
And you respond, Cancer and car crashes aren’t contagious, you superfluous nipple.
They don’t know what “superfluous” means. They assume it’s an insult. They draw their sword.
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Don’t go out tonight;
There’s a bad moon on the rise.
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The fuckheads in charge are dumber than broken bicycles smothered in cheese. These are people who failed high school science just as you and I did, but do not have the sense to be ashamed of the fact. Trust nothing they say, ever.
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March 1st:
- Rent/mortgage freeze.
- Utilities freeze.
- Property tax forgiveance.
- $1000 a week per person.
- $2000 a week on top pf their salaries, tax-free, to all essential workers.
Could’ve paused everything. It’s all bullshit, anyway, so just pause it. Blow the whistle. Stoppage on the field.
And while you’re doing that, supercharge testing to where several healthy random samples can be taken of each major metropolitan area. Get a handle on the situation, let the doctors and scientists come up with a plan for reopening, and then communicate that plan clearly to a frightened and punch-drunk population.
Could’ve done a lotta shit.
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I’d prefer my mother not die.
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Syphilis comes from sheep, as does anthrax and chlamydia and giardiasis. E. coli and tuberculosis and smallpox come from cows. Chickens’ pox is eponymous. Plagues arise when humans do not social distance from animals.
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Stay inside: it’s poison out there.
somewhat dark themes lately for these strange times. i think its fair to say everyone is a bit anxious and on edge, probably like Garcia felt that time Johnny Law harshed his mellow at G.G. park with the ominous statement, “Jerry, you’re going to have to open the briefcase for me.” In my heart of hearts it has always played out that at least he got his fix before being hauled in, but i digress.
Speaking of ass sucking, free speech, bastards, and bad moons rising: https://twitter.com/mooncult/status/1256074030697689088
Alert: this is one minute of your life you’ll never get back.
Your rights are legal fictions, and legal fictions are just children’s stories that cost $600 an hour.
As I think the kids say, ^ THIS! ^
Maybe some more Jesus Music would help: https://jericsmith.com/2020/05/04/no-meeting-tonight/