MODERN WISDOM NUMBER 184 FEBRUARY 2014

MODERN WISDOM: AMERICA’S ONLY HUMOR MAGAZINE
NUMBER 184
FEBRUARY 2014
Copyright 2014 Francis DiMenno
http://dimenno.gather.com
dimenno@gmail.com
 
AND NOW…MODERN WISDOM PRESENTS:
 
1. TALES OF ENTROPY
2. HUG YOUR CHAINS 
3. FLAT FOOT FLOOGIE WITH THE FLOY-FLOY
4. PUT ASIDE CHILDISH THINGS
5. WEIRD WOODSTOCK
6. BAD INNOCENCE
7. PLASTIC TOWN
8. ATOMIC MUSHROOM RECORDS
9. PIRATE SPY
10. GOD IS MEAN
11. MANDARIN BRAND
12. AMERICA’S FILM AND TV IDIOTS
13. SITCOM ALLEY
14. ALL THE NOTHING THERE IS
15. SUPER-SOCIALIST & FASCIST BATMAN
16. THE ALIEN IS US
17. MACULATE GRACE
18. MOLOCH, INC.
19. THE PRISON FACTORY OF COMMON SENSE
20. THE OCCULT KINGDOM
 
TWENTY FIVE SHORT SHORT STORIES TO READ ALOUD 

21.WE WERE POOR, BUT HONEST. 
We were poor but honest. Most of the time. But I will say this: We weren’t particularly clean. 

22. THE NEIGHBORHOOD CANDY STORE 
Growing up, my family didn’t have a lot of money, so I didn’t always get to eat a lot of candy. And when I did I had to buy it from the neighborhood candy store. Which was run by an old man who always wore an apron and who had an enormous thumb. And he sold nothing but the cheapest kind of candy. All the other kids got to eat M & Ms. Only they didn’t sell that kind at my neighborhood candy store. At my neighborhood candy store they sold Ms. Funny thing about Ms: They melted in your mouth. They melted in your hands. They probably would have melted on the surface of Pluto. Because they were Ms! 

Fucking Ms!

23. DAD, PHD 
My dad was a college professor, which is probably one reason why he was always lecturing me. 

24. A MOST SPECIAL LI’L BIRTHDAY PARTY 
We love our dog. Pa says we treat him just like a human. Pa, he says the dog eats better than we do. Well Sir, now here’s a funny little story. About 5 weeks ago, the dog turned 3, which is 21 in human years. So, in honor of his reaching adulthood, we gave him a very special little party. We made him a warm winter coat out of a leftover turkey carcass. We made him a little birthday cake out of canned dog food. And we crowned it with 21 candles! Also, in honor of this very special occasion, we gave him a special little treat. We gave him his very first can of beer. Well, let me tell you this. He liked the beer so much he finished the whole six pack. That was a night to remember! He knocked over the cake, sent all the candles flying, and the house burned down! So we live in the forest now. 

Well, Sir, and let me tell you something else: That dog STILL eats better than we do! 

25. LIBERAL DAD 
My Dad was a liberal, so just to piss him off I brought a white girl home. 

26. THE HEARTWARMIN’ STORY OF THE MAN THE TOWN CALLED “COACH” 
“Coach” was a very popular figure in our community, much admired by people of all ages and conditions, but particularly by we boys, who played on his basketball team, or maybe it was his football team, I disremember which. Anyway, maybe one reason everyone loved him was that he was a really great listener, and also he really understood human nature. For instance, one time, during a game, I made a bad mistake and at half time, “Coach” took me aside and quietly said to me, in that special way of his, “Remember, Son—they’re not laughing AT you—they’re REALLY laughing at you” 

27. THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A BAD BOY 
There’s no such thing as a bad boy. Absolutely not. But from personal experience I know that there is such a thing as a criminally insane boy. 

28. MISS GRIZABELA THE TOWN LIBRARIAN 
The town librarian always went out of her way to be helpful and kind, especially if she felt that a child was the victim of unfair treatment. In fact, she would often launch herself head first into a controversy without even thinking about the consequences. She was very logical but also intuitive, and the townspeople would often go to her with their problems. Often times, proceeding only on a hunch, she would come up with a solution that satisfied everyone and hurt no one. Folks often wondered what event in her life had compelled her to take up residence in our small town. For, clearly, she was intended for better things. Even though she seemed to have had wide experience of the world, still, she seemed content to be always busying herself with a dozen different little projects at once, nearly all of them involving ways to improve the lives of others in our little town. 

Well, this particular story has a tragic ending. Miss Grizabela wore glasses and was very shy. But she when she took her glasses off and let her hair down she was still very shy. And practically blind. Which made it very easy for me and my buddies to knock her down and steal her purse. How were we to know she also had a weak heart?

29. AN APPLE A DAY 
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Now, that’s just fine. But I need to know what keeps the policeman away. 

30. HIPPIE DAD 
Back when my Dad was a hippie he would say, “Son—I’m going to teach you a lesson I’ll never remember.” 

31. SMALLSVILLE 
When I was about sixteen I was sent to live with my relatives in Smallsville for the summer.

We were related to the Kents on my mother’s side, which is how I got to know Superboy.

When he was bad he would get coal in his stocking for Christmas, but when Pa Kent left
the room, just to spite him, Superboy would use his super-strength to squeeze the lumps of coal into diamonds.

Which he would then trade in for all kinds of wonderful toys.

Anyway, that summer, I had got hold of a forged I.D. and I took Superboy to a bar and bought him a mixed drink.

He told me he had never had a drink before and that it was tasty.

He asked me what it was called.

When I told him it was a “Kryptonite Cocktail,” he spat it out so violently he beheaded the bartender!

Needless to say, he was banned from THAT establishment.

For several months!

Anyway, after that experience he was kind of woozy so he gave me the keys to his car and I started to drive him home. Unfortunately, I drove the car off a cliff and wrecked it. And he was plenty mad. I asked him why it was so easy to wreck his car, seeing as how he was Superboy. And he told me that the reason was, it was in its Clark Kent identity. 

32. JUST BE YOURSELF 
My Mom would always say, “People will like you better if you just be yourself.” Then I had to tell her yet again that I was a transvestite. 

33. MY DENTIST 
My dentist was also my psychiatrist. One day he told me that my cavities were all in my head. 

34. I WAS SAD 
I was sad because I had no shoes. Then I met a man who had no feet. So I kicked him. Good and hard. Only I couldn’t hurt him very much by kicking him with my bare foot, so I knocked him down and stole his wallet and bought me a nice pair o’ hob nailed boots. But I’m not all bad. After coming back and giving him a couple of good hard kicks I felt so good about my new shoes that I left off torturing him for a while and started picking on cripples my own size. 

35. THE WILD HOLLYWOOD PARTY 
One time I went to one of those wild Hollywood parties you’re always hearing about. Nothing much happened. Oh! But I did see a dish full of what I thought was cocaine. Only it turned out to be heroin. Don’t you just hate it when that happens? 

36. HOW I MET MY WIFE 
Unlike most men, I still remember—vividly—how I met the woman I was someday to take as my wife. I even remember the first thing I ever said to her: “Hey–LADY—are you going to finish that drink?” 

37. MY WEDDING DAY 
The day I got married I’m afraid I caused quite a scene, though it was totally unintentional. I guess I was kind of nervous because when they preacher said, “Do you take this woman?” I didn’t say, “I do.” I said “Yahooie!” 

38. THEY CAN’T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME! 
I know just about everything there is to know about belligerently hanging on to my principles when people try to convince me otherwise after I provoke them into an argument and they can’t take that away from me. I dare them to try. 

39. A BULLET WITH MY NAME ON IT 
If I seem at times to be unnaturally subdued, it is because I know that somewhere out there is a bullet with my name on it. How do I know? Because it has been bouncing checks all over town. So now my credit rating is “shot” ha ha to hell. 

40. THE POLICE AUCTION 
I spent a few hours recently at the police auction and it was a pretty interesting experience because, contrary to popular belief, policemen, when they get together in groups like this, don’t really behave any differently than anybody else. There was only one small incident at the end of the auction. Two cops got into a bidding war and as the bids began entering the stratosphere, one officer kept getting angrier and angrier, and finally he pulled out his gun and shot a big hole in the ceiling. The auctioneer paused, and then, finally, he said “Sold! To the man with the .38 magnum!” 

41. THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME 
There’s no place like home. Truer words were never spoken. Especially if you currently reside in a plastic dog igloo in the back yard of a superannuated wino who lives right outside of Buffalo, and “home” is a Kuwaiti seraglio in a royal palace staffed by petulant eunuchs and protected by scimitar wielding bodyguards. 

42. THE $180 SPEEDING TICKET 
A policeman pulled me over for speeding. He asked me if I knew why he pulled me over. I said, “Meow.” 

43. A BARREL OF MONKEYS 
Nothing’s more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Except maybe a barrel with one monkey…giving you that special little smile….

44. BIG CHIEF HUG UM AND KISS ‘UM 
In my heyday, an awful lot of girls called me “Big Chief Hug ‘Um and Kiss ‘Um.” Unfortunately, they were all in the 10th grade. My lawyer says I will be eligible for parole in 60 years. 

45. WHO IS RIDDLE? WHERE IS RANSOM? 
Looking back on my long career, two questions continue to plague me. Who is Riddle? And where is Ransom? Judging from their names, I may never know.

 
46. UNINSPIRATIONAL THOUGHTS FOR TODAY 

APOLOGIA: I hate to be a major league drag, but did you ever have one of those days when you just didn’t feel like making excuses for the dull wittedness of other people? Days in which you just don’t want to be actively nice, or even absentmindedly pleasant? Days, in fact, when you feel downright mean? Well, here are some uninspirational thoughts for when you’re feeling like that. 

It was only when I started stealing weapons to commit further crimes that my phenomenal run of good luck really began. 

You cannot change your life by changing your life. Zero plus zero will never equal one. 

Nurture your mind with thoughts think by great men, for your own are so mundane as to induce nervous laughter in sick babies. 

A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle and remember, the same goes for a crack pipe or a Molotov cocktail. 

Have no fear for what tomorrow may bring even though a tough gang of street punks have promised to give you a major league thrashing, maybe there will be a sale on bandages. 

Honesty is the best policy–when the camera’s running. 

In wine there is truth, and in whiskey there’s some extra strength truth mixed in with a whole lot of hidden resentments which have been boiling under the surface for about ten years and which only start to come out between drink number six and number seven, and there’s also a lot of shouting and usually stuff gets broken, which is why I tend to stick to seltzer water. 

The truth shall set you free but if I were you I wouldn’t go about sharing that particular bit of wisdom with the boys in Cell Block A. 

Not every man is born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Especially if he already has a forked tongue. 

The meek shall inherit the earth and after that we’ll get to see just how far a fellow can get with the meek routine. 

Beggars can’t be choosers, but certain people and I name no names can stand in line at the supermarket checkout counter haggling with the clerk over raggedy assed 20 cent off coupons which expired weeks ago, counting out every lint encrusted penny from the bottom of their mildewed change purse and answer me this if they’re so penny conscious, then why haven’t they already added up the total in their heads and gotten the exact change ready in advance… unless they’re really desperate even for negative attention? 

Everything’s coming up roses, which is too bad, because actually I was fixing to grow me some poppies, hemp and mushrooms. 

Business before pleasure, especially if you’re a prostitute. 

Life is just a bowl of cherries but remember that President Zachary Taylor died of indigestion after eating too many cherries. 

There is strength in numbness. 

The family that prays together stays together. I guess that’s true even if what they’re praying for is a quick and easy death so they can escape their family. 

Blood is thicker than water, but I’d prefer tomato juice, if you don’t mind. 

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, only who can afford to keep a horse these days? 

Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face: it didn’t work for Michael Jackson. 

No labor, however humble, dishonors a man. Except maybe telemarketing. 

Remember: always look on the bright side, unless you’re driving late at night and it’s the oncoming headlights of an out of control 18 wheeler. 

If an alien came to earth and said take me to your leader I think that on the way I would suggest we stop at the International House of Pancakes, just to give him a taste of the sheer diversity of this kooky planet. 

Hysteria repeats itself. 

I wanted to be known as an optimist. But then I realized that it was hopeless.

 
47. IN THE FUTURE
In the future, the internet will have a Valid Information Portal available only to the elites.
In the future, roving Hate Patrols will preemptively arrest people about to commit thought crimes.
In the future, The Formulaic Show will win big ratings but be cancelled anyway–not formulaic enough.
In the future, meat eating will be considered pathological and will require support groups for Adult Children of Carnivores.
In the future, the sun itself will be weaponized.
In the future, males will be flash frozen at the peak of potency.
In the future, sodas will feature flavors such as sand and dirt.
In the future, there will be punishment camps in which people will be forcibly disconnected from the virtual world.
In the future, Status will be determined by a democratic process.
In the future, holograms will have personalities which make real people seem superficial.
In the future, the evidence of the senses will not stand up in a court of virtual law.
In the future, psychopharmacological drugs will imbue instant normalcy.
In the future, the lives of great men will serve as ad copy.
In the future, there will be Good Science and Evil Science.
In the future, self-immolation, as always, will be the best way to get noticed.
In the future, as in the present, we will all lead lives of noisy desperation.
In the future, look for HETERO MAGAZINE and WHITE BUSINESS MONTHLY.
In the future, Westerners will be menaced by radioactive tumbleweeds.
In the future, beware the Psychic Enemies Network.
In the future, the Pope will have official sponsors.
In the future there will be a true democracy, and it will be intolerable.
In the future, “Have a nice day” will mean “You’re an asshole.”
In the future, things will be called cute which are not only not cute at all, but even vaguely horrifying.
In the future, “Sir” will mean “Fatso.”
In the future, hieroglyphic news blasts will be delivered through word of eye.
In the future, people who laugh will be regarded as stupid.
In the future, there will be a magazine called HIGHLIGHTS FOR ADULTS.
In the future, we will enlist fungal allies in our war against the insect world.
In the future, our mythology will consist of tales of how all the myths came to be commodified.
In the future, a breakaway sect will worship Judas.
In the future, a breakaway sect will worship Ringo.
In the future, the losers will also write history–but no one will listen.
In the future, there will be a universal standard of error.
In the future, man will assuredly find death on other planets.
In the future, protest will take place under oxymoronic banners.
In the future, there will be no boundaries of acceptable opinion–at least, among the elites.
In the future, the Military Industrial Complex will be sold as a fun experience for all ages.
In the future, financial sanctions will discourage excessive individualism.
In the future, television will be a vicarious peep show of celebrities and demons.
In the future, ghettos will have names like The Happy Valley.
In the future, truth will be spoken only to powerlessness.
In the future, Darwin, Freud, and Einstein will be thought of as ridiculous.
In the future, there will be a blended whiskey named after a woman.
In the future: Bible Porn.
In the future there will be no more untold stories.
In the future, the religion of Hoboism will briefly sweep the Western World.
In the future, roving Advice Squads will offer Street Counseling.
In the future, chimps and robots will vote.
In the future, machines will complain.
In the future, arrestees will be given submission guidelines.
In the future, corporations will have their own folklore.
In the future, everything will be a special advertising section.
In the future, cultural rubbish will be disposed of down the memory hole.
In the future, there will be centers for the study of Proletarian Culture.
In the future, books will be so bad that the movie will be better than the book.
In the future, mass panic will erupt whenever the web goes dark.
In the future we will know so much about our mental health that it will drive us crazy.
In the future computers, like people, will be deliberately dumbed down.
In the future, anything which isn’t funny will be labeled “Satire”.
In the future, everybody will have a persecution complex and everybody will be justified.
In the future, political television programming will feature interminable controversy over minor incidents.
In the future, there will be a political organization called THE BROTHERHOOD OF STRONG MEN.
In the future: Two-sided playing cards.
In the future, food will have indigestible microchips added to track our eating habits.
In the future, gambling will be made compulsory.
In the future, the past will be whatever you choose to call it.
In the future, there will be an Official National Media Talking Head.
In the future, pressure groups will be able to plant a Smart Ranter on strategic street corners.
In the future, superstitious “natives” will worship plutonium and styrofoam.
In the future, whole nations will become a Mecca for Vulgarians.
In the future, a Satanic Pope will command enormous respect for her enlightened policies.
In the future, Art will be What Doesn’t Sell.
In the future, there will be a gang known as the Posh Yobs.
In the future, politicians will be protected by an all-purpose insanity plea.
In the future, the President will also be known as Brother Number One.
In the future, BC will refer to the era Before Computers.
In the future, inappropriate cultural dogmas will become clandestine cults.
In the future. our pets will be neural clones of us.
In the future, there will be a booming business in Geek Profiling.
In the future: Robot Biographies.
In the future there will be a science of paleo-psychiatry.
In the future the Boomerabilia craze will threaten to overwhelm the collectibles industry.
In the future, most novels will be 50 pages long.
In the future, dot commissars will control vast stretches of cyber-territory.
In the future, cyber infrastructure will be menaced by throwback code.
In the future, Europeans will be regarded as naive.
In the future, an opera will be written about the menace of space junk.
In the future, all cartoons will be political cartoons.
In the future, dysfunctional sprawltown will be replaced by ghetto archipelagos.
In the future, cyber-currency trading will fluctuate with sunspot activity.
In the future, sunspot activity will be manipulated in order to rig cyber-currency trading.
In the future, a phone company will be its own independent nation.
In the future: canals on Mars; Railroads on the Moon.
In the future, wordless books will enjoy an extended vogue.
In the future, look for the film Muppet Missile Crisis.
In the future, out-sized fedoras will be inexplicably fashionable.
In the future, people will become victims of lifestyle rage.
In the future, people will continue to admire their oppressors.
In the future: Gourmet Baby Food.
In the future, immortality will be used as a punishment rather than an incentive.
In the future: Coming Gender Armageddon.
In the future, prisoners will be segregated by I.Q.
In the future, female police officers will be known as “Pink Fuzz”.
In the future, working class habits and mores will be widely emulated.
In the future, Bugs Bunny cartoons will be banned as obscene.
In the future, the internet will largely be devoted to the random ephemera of an infinite flea market.
In the future, justice will be a luxury.
In the future, every political talk show will have a designated dissident.
In the future, tradition will be subject to constant change.
In the future: Soy Babies.
In the future poverty will trickle up.
In the future, optical illusions will lead people calmly to their destiny.
In the future: Poetry Machines.
In the future, carpenters will be celebrities.
In the future: One Car, One Vote.
 
48. IN THE PAST AND IN THE FUTURE
SSSYON ONE
Two fryends sit side by side in easy chairs grateful in each others company and reveling in the high-priced atmosphere of the Clean Room. These were rooms–and there were only one or two in every building of the great conurbation–where people could be assured of absolute quiet. No outside stimuli would be permitted to invade the sanctity of the room so set apart from the others, and soundproofed and rendered inert within the limits of technology.

Two fryends sit side by side and are inclined to make easy conversation until they have a truer opportunity to unburden their minds. One is a stout blonde man in his late 70s, an age at which, due to miracles of modern technology, it was possible to be fit; though, to be sure, as ever, no one would mistake him for a 20 year old. That man was named RYCRYD. The other man was his opposite; a ferret-thin dark man in his mid 50s; a veritable child in the new world of nutriceuticals and transplants, but, nonethelesss, old enough to have become discontented with his lot and to long for a change in his state of affairs. His name was ANTONI.

 “Well, well, well, My little man–and what did you wish to talk about this fine forenoon?”

It should be explained that RYCRYD had a charming habit of making condescending remarks which were intended to be seen by their receipients as backhanded compliments. A slightly more clever person–though there were few people more clever than RYCRYD–might have found such irony distasteful, but, in the future, as we shall see, irony was an antique rhetorical flourish little understood by the mass of men and the use of it here was intended to represent a compliment–that one had arrived; that one was sufficiently learned or at least sophisticated to be in on the joke; that one had a type of special inside knowledge denied to all but adepts of the Realm.

ANTONI was excitable and perhaps a little too over-eager to give back a compliment in the spirit it was received. he responded, “Nothing special, my little man, my Great Spiritual Master. Some things that have been bothering me.”

“And what could THOSE things possibly be? Look at you. You’re young…young-ish, anyway. Single; unattached. You have your whole life spread out before you. You could spend the next fifteen years consolidating your position and then take the rest of your life and do with it what you will, which, as we all know, is/was the whole of the law.”

“Was, indeed, was. What is this thing called “was”. I have no conception of it. It sems that everything nowadays happens so fast–“

“A common complaint in mid-life. History, you’ll find, is not a straight arrow, pointed to infinity. History is an eternal circle. The same things happen over and over, only they happen in different ways. Don’t you think our meat-eating ancestors were bewildered by the same feelings? Back then, when they turned 50, their teeth started to fall out and they had to go on soft foods and that’s about when they had to decide for themselves, what’s it all about, anyway? It was a lot for a limited mind to sort out. No wonder they all had worry lines and needed to resort to cosmetic surgery.”

“Don’t get me wrong, RYCRYD, I/we have no complaints. I didn’t book the Clean Room just to whine. Quite frankly, I look back on it all and I see how I lived better than 99 people out of 100 and I want to ask myself, why me? What sets me apart?”

“Then you are too modest by far. You don’t need to me tell you that you are an accomplished man. There is bnothing false in the things you say or do. Why be unhappy about the perceptions that others have of you? They are beyond your control and should not be part of your apprehension.”

“I will tell you, RYCRYD, that I/we become apprehensive when thinking over the nature of the past. I know what you’re about to say before you even say it–that it IS the past, let it go, it has done and can do nothing for you, though that would be a needlessly utilitarian way to think of it. since I’m not asking what the past can do or has done for me. My concerns are more metaphysical. I am concerned about a central quuestion: What IS the Past? I’m supposed to be a historian, but I don’t even know what the Past IS anymore. I feel like an old-time preacher who doubts there is a god. I feel like a man with a cold who has lost his sense of smell and who can no longer taste his favorite foods–he is hungry, but he has no appetite because the food has no taste.  I don’t know who I am anymore because I have always defined myself in terms of my knowledge of the past, and now I no longer even know what the past really is.”

“Perhaps it is just as well you are no longer burdened with the pressures of Past Knowledge. Perhaps, as the ancients would say, it is a Blessing. The ancients had a great many words which are no longer in wide usage, but which could come in handy among the elite, if only the elite weren’t so purblind–and there is another excellent word; it basically means stubborn, but it also connotes a lack of insight. Of course, insight has never had a high value in the marketplace of ideas. It is too personal. Too individual. Insight is not an experience which is easy to translate, so it must, of course, fall by the wayside. Did you know that there was once a time when people actually kept their insights to themselves? they did not want to have them known. In those savage days. I suppose it was because they might be regarded as weak.”

“I can’t say that what you have just said has made me feel better. But at least it has not made me feel any worse. I am haunted by the past. That is what I wanted to confess to you today. How is that for an archaic concept? I am haunted by the image of a sexy elf in a red and white Santa Uniform wearing black lipstick. I feel as though I might as well be living in a cave and lighting the inner darkness by lamplight….”

 
A gleam arose in RYCRYD’s one organic eye. “A sexy elf, eh?”
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THE INFORMATION #770 FEBRUARY 7, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#770 FEBRUARY 7, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
http://dimenno.gather.com
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

Perhaps, after all, America never has been discovered. I myself would say that it had merely been detected. –Oscar Wilde


WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE

BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER EIGHT: PART TWENTY-NINE: THE FALL
 
After the Reverend John Otis Cross gave his sermon regarding the worship of false idols, you could practically hear Whitey’s brain sizzling like a sputtering sausage on a griddle, as he then turned to the Reverend and lit into him with all the vocabulary at his command. 
 
“You see here yon Reverend, a man of God, and one who is even among we degraded citizens a man surely due our respect. But if I hear one more word about this pig not having a soul, then surely here tonight a murder can–must–will–be committed, even right here, where I stand, for I can do no other, even in the sight of a Holy Creature of God created by the Supreme Being, ever benign–and this, this benighted efflorescence of a so-called man as punily betrays to represent Him, the Almighty His Own Self. This preacher-man is, I say unto you, a known fraud, who has been run out of the rackets by every sensible denizen of Blowtown, Noxtown, Rattown, Cattown, Stinkburg, Jugtown, Jivetown, Madport and points North and points South–everywhere from Freedom Street and Nirvana to Hell, West Hell, Diddy Wah Diddy, and Squeaky Hee Haw Junction.”
 
“That’s a lie!” sings the Reverend. “I never been to Squeaky Hee Haw Junction–nor any other of those infamous places! What we have here is the dreaded guilt by association–our friend here thinks that just because he can paint me as a traveling man, then I needs must be on the run from some unknown somebody or something. Yes, my friends, I am guilty. You see before you a guilty man. Guilty–of loving the Lord!”
 
“Lord, Lord, by Lordy, he sho’ is a fancy man, ain’t he? Don’t he talk smooth? Friends, some “fancy-men” among us would say that such an educated swine must need come from the asymmetrically depraved Duchies of ancient Saxony, or the thoroughly rotten boroughs of Dear Old Blighty. Some would say that such an arithmetical wonder needs must have been trained up by some learned A-Rab or Oriental Mastermind. Some would therefore liken the role of the greatest country that ever existed on the face of the earth to that of the Mongolian peasant whose filthy yurt smells of billy goats! They would compare the same great country that gave us Poker and the Sloe Gin Fizz to a bunch of bearded Afghanistani rabble playing kickball with the severed head of the Village Ee-jit! They would liken the good old U.S. of A. to a blindfolded rascal standing against a mud wall in Ouagadougou about to be executed for the silver fillings in his worn-out choppers! This pig was not trained in the ways of Big Chief Begs for Chewing Tobacco while he sifted through the scrapings and leavings of a garbage dump in Guatemala; neither was she tormented into doing a waltz by a scrofulous tangerine merchant in fabled Aleppo! Nor was she reared up as the pure product of a toothless bawling Yogi practicing his obscene rope trick in a crowded bazaar in Karachi!  I say NO! This noble beast is the purely American product of American ingenuity, like the locomotive and the velocipede–like algebra and baseball! It doesn’t take a bunch of ching-chong spielers with their long sleeves for hiding hatchets and blowing snot and their gongs and whistles and firecrackers and Chinese Algebra and their long pigtails and inscrutable expressions to figure out what Common Sense would of told you long ago–that America is first–number one throughout the known universe–from Cramptown to Dingburg; from Bourbon Street to Gin Lane;  from Pennsylbohemia to Transylopolis; from Foeburg to Belle Avon! And I say here and now that any man who denies the wisdom of my words stands convicted in the court of public opinion as a WITCHY-MAN! 
 
“Well, we’ve all paid due attention and reverence to the very good speech with which our pastor here has condescended to disgrace us. Here is the rejoinder, dear friends, which I make unto him. Can your codswallop. You’re making no sense. Shut your pie-hole, Jim–ye give me the willies. Open not thy Maw, Stupe–lest I cram it with my bloody fist. Christers like you have no cause of gassing about in these here precincts. If I had Commodore Dutch here I would hand him two good pistoleros and tell him to fire at will at your flinty heart, and dodge the ricochet. If I had my way I would ask old sawtooth–old sawtooth here,” and he pulled out a long and dirty knife, “and cut you a new face from the old one which you just can’t seem to see fit to keep shuttered. Take off, Minister–ye’ll find but cold comfort here!”
 
The Reverend John Otis Cross took that as his cue to vamoose, and pronto.
 
Thereupon Jim Whitey smoothed his hands over his balding pate and muttered, “Now THAT was fun!”
 
And the grateful spectators applauded and even showered him with coins. Amid the inevitable expired tokens and poker chips and slugs and wooden nickels, some of them, it was said, were actually genuine legal tender.
 
1*SALUTATION
SHARON TANDY
HOLD ON
 
2*REFERENCE
ENO’S OBLIQUE STRATEGIES
 
ALSO SEE:
 
 
3*HUMOR
HOBO SLANG
 
4*NOVELTY
 
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
MOST GODLESS CITIES IN AMERICA
 
SEE ALSO:
NATIVE AMERICA MAP
http://www.ya-native.com/
 
 
6* DAILY UTILITY
Alejandro Jodorowsky On Creating Your Soul Through The Tarot
 
 
7*CARTOON
THE DANCING PIG (1907)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcCKPAnArsw

 
 
8*PRESCRIPTION
POW-WOWS, OR THE LONG LOST FRIEND (1820)
DIARRHŒA MIXTURE. 
Take one ounce tinct. rhubarb, one ounce laudanum, one ounce tinct. Cayenne pepper, one ounce spirits of camphor. Dose, from ten to thirty drops for an adult. 
TO PREVENT WICKED OR MALICIOUS PERSONS FROM DOING YOU AN INJURY–AGAINST WHOM IT IS OF GREAT POWER. 
Dullix, ix, ux. Yea, you can’t come over Pontio; Pontio is above Pilato. + + +
 

9*RUMOR PATROL
CIA JFK SHOOTERS NAMED
 
ALSO SEE:
LENNON MURDERED BY CIA?
 
 
10* LAGNIAPPE
JERRY LEWIS ON “THE DAY THE CLOWN CRIED”
 
ALSO SEE:
JERRY LEWIS HOSTS BOB HOPE ON THE TONIGHT SHOW, 1970
“No one would wear that suit on TV now.”–Melanie DuPuis
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Ifa0jXLLMug
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
 
PAUL SIMON, PLAGIARIST

Do I dare to suggest that Paul Simon’s principle flaws as a composer seem to be stem from self-indulgence and laziness? And a certain amount of –flay me until I drop–bad taste? “Mother and Child Reunion” as a touching encomium to–a Chinese chicken and egg dish? “Lincoln Duncan”–”Just thanking the Lord for my fingers.” (Cute.)  And Exhibit A: “American Tune”–a straight cop from the Christian hymn “O Sacred Head Surrounded. (By Crown of Piercing Thorns)” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0wIbgDVp5c

ALSO SEE:
PAUL SIMON NOT WELCOME IN EAST L.A.
 
11A BOOKS READ AND REVIEWED
101 THINGS I LEARNED IN ENGINEERING SCHOOL. KUPRENAS. ****1/2
1914. ECHENOZ. ****1/2
ALL-NEW X-MEN 3. OUT OF THEIR DEPTH. ***
THE BEST OF COMIX BOOK. ***1/2
CLEOPATRA’S NOSE. BOORSTIN. ***1/2
CON MAN. WEIL & BRANNON. ***
CRASH & BURN. LANGE. **1/2
CRUEL CITY, RUUTH. **
FABLES 18. BABES IN TOYLAND. ****
FABLES 19. SNOW WHITE. ***1/2
GO F#CK YOURSELF. CARACCIOLO. **
HAND-DRYING IN AMERICA. KATCHOR. ****1/2
INFLUENCING MINDS. FRANK. ****
INNOCENCE AND SEDUCTION: THE ART OF DAN DECARLO. ***1/2
LOST AMERICA VOL. 1. GREIFF. ****
THE MYSTIC MASTERS SPEAK! HOWARD. ****
NEXT BIG THING. KITCHEN. **
THE PINBALL EFFECT. BURKE. ****
THE POISONWOOD BIBLE. KINGSOLVER. ****
ROCK DREAMS. PEELLAERT & COHN. ****
THE TRIP TO ECHO SPRING. LAING. ****

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE. 728.

PEOPLE WHO BLOCK THE AISLES
I have a little song I like to sing–sometimes in the voice of the Disney character Goofy–for the benefit of people who block aisles and doorways. “I’m ObLIVious, I’m ObLIVious, I’m blocking the aisle, blocking the aisle, I’m in the way, In the way, I’m ObLIVious, I’m ObLIVious.”

THE INFORMATION #769 JANUARY 31, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#769 JANUARY 31, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
http://dimenno.gather.com
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known. –Walt Disney

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE

BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER EIGHT: PART TWENTY-EIGHT: THE FALL
 
You could practically hear a hurdy-gurdy playing hob with Whitey’s fat swollen guts and the glint in his hard eyes vanish and then return with renewed light, as though illuminated by a large torch, as the good reverend continued his peroration condemning the assembled loafers in the bar-room at the Seven Stars.
 
“Be WARNED here and now that the WRATH of God shall descend upon such who fail to abandon such sinful habits as cabaret dancing and stud poker! Eternal blackness awaits–black as melted midnight–black as the hinges of hell–black as a blue gummed, slew footed, sachel-mouthed Senagambian tribal chieftain–for those who do not forswear false idols such as Buster Brown, Wyatt Earp, and Kaiser Bill!
 
“You MUST repent of your evil ways, you must be BORN AGAIN!
 
“If Christ came to Noxtown, He would surely weep to see you worship at the feet of a pig! Drinking growlers of strong beer, and playing pool, and, and, keeping late hours!  I tell you that our Lord and Savior, who redeemed the original sin of all mankind by his sacrifice on the cross–that very same Saviour, meek and mild, would weep to see such folly enacted before his unbelieving eyes! He would conclude that surely you must all be in the thrall of Satan and under his spell–just like the fabled Gadarene swine!”

“Let me tell you a tale from the Bible about another false idol named Bel!”

“And King Astyages was gathered to his fathers, and Cyrus of Persia received his kingdom. And Daniel conversed with the king, and was honored above all his friends.”

The bar-room loafers, in their turn, comprised a sort of Greek chorus and responded according to their temper.

“Cut to the chase!”

“Bring on the dancing goils!”

“Tell it to your fucking mutt!”

“Bring back the dancing pig!”

 

“Now the Babylonians had an idol, called Bel, and there were spent upon him every day twelve great measures of fine flour, and forty sheep, and six vessels of wine. And the king worshipped it and went daily to adore it: but Daniel worshipped his own God. And the king said unto him, Why dost not thou worship Bel?”

“Because he’s a stuffed shirt!”

“Thinks he’s better than the King!”

“Danny Boy ain’t exactly winning any new friends.”

A weedy-looking fellow with straw-blonde hair cut in a bowl fashion piped in and said, “You’d think at least he’d bring a gift basket.”

“WHAT?”

“Huh? What’d I say? What’d I say?”

 “Daniel answered and said, Because I may not worship idols made with hands, but the living God, who hath created the heaven and the earth, and hath sovereignty over all flesh.”

“That Daniel–quick on the trigger when it comes to sassing kings.”

“Nebby-nose.”

“Know it all.”

“Why don’t the King just have him killed?”

“Yeah, old Danny Boy has got a real knack for taking the Mickey.”

“Then said the king unto him, Thinkest thou not that Bel is a living God? seest thou not how much he eateth and drinketh every day? Then Daniel smiled, and said, O king, be not deceived: for this is but clay within, and brass without, and did never eat or drink any thing.”

“Oh for the love of God, get to the point.”

“This story is turning out to come a cropper.”

“Like the one-hoss shay.”

“It’s growing like Topsy.”

“So the king was wroth, and called for his priests, and said unto them, If ye tell me not who this is that devoureth these expences, ye shall die. But if ye can certify me that Bel devoureth them, then Daniel shall die: for he hath spoken blasphemy against Bel. And Daniel said unto the king, Let it be according to thy word.”

“Atta boy, Kingy!”

“Knock the props out from under the duffer.”

“Danny Boy is in for it now.”

“No one ever got fat by messing with Bel.”

“Bell Telephone?”

“Bella…the educated Pig?”

 “Now the priests of Bel….”

“Cut to the chase already, Preacher Man!”

“This is getting old, and fast.”

“Why don’t we throw him out?”

“Yeah, I’d say he’s outworn his welcome, wouldn’t you?” (This from the Duffer.)

“WHAT?”

“Huh? What’d I say? What’d I say?”

The Reverend decided then that discretion was the better part of valor, and truncated his remarks accordingly.

“The Priests had a little secret door where they would enter and eat all the food and drink all the wine so the King would be fooled; but Daniel wasn’t fooled. He spread some ashes in that space so the king could see their footsteps. And what do you suppose the king did when he found out he had been foiled by the Priests of Bel?”

“How the fuck do I know?”

“Get to the point already.”

“I’m sure the King was very, VERY upset,” said the Duffer.

“WHAT?”

“Huh? What’d I say? What’d I say?”

“Therefore the king was angry, and slew them, and delivered Bel into Daniel’s power, who destroyed him and his temple.”

“About fucking time we had some action around here.”

“That King was all right.”

“Go, King!”

“OK, so then what happened?”

“And in that same place there was a great dragon, which they of Babylon worshipped….”

“OK, that’s enough of that.”

“We all know how this one goes. Danny kills the dragon. The end.”

“Whyn’t you g’wan out of here?”

“Rev, we’re tired of your gas.”

“So they came to the king, and said, Deliver us Daniel, or else we will destroy thee and thine house. And he delivered Daniel unto them. Who cast him into the lions’ den: where he was six days.”

“Oh, I heard this one,” said the Duffer.

“Where’d you hear about it?”

“Sunday School.”

“WHAT?”

“Huh? What’d I say? What’d I say?”

“I wonder about you, Mister. Whyn’t you can that gas?”

“And Daniel was spared and so the King drew him out, and cast those that were the cause of his destruction into the den: and they were devoured in a moment before his face.”

“That ‘ar King don’t mess around.”

“Three cheers for Kingy!”

“But what’s this got to do with us?”
 
“There’s the question.”

“Oh! Goody! I’ll bet I know!”

“Shut up!”

“Shut up!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Get lost, eight ball!”

 

The impertinent Duffer at the bar, a weedy-looking fellow who wore a derby, carried an umbrella and a note pad, and dressed in a foppish manner, beat a hasty retreat while the bar-room loafers looked on in impatience to see how Jim Whitey would respond to the accusations and revelations of the Reverend John Otis Cross.

 

1*SALUTATION

PSYCHEDELIC WYLER’S LEMONADE AD
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=aQgYR_gXink

 
2*REFERENCE
 
3*HUMOR
 
4*NOVELTY
Historical Metropolitan Populations of the United States
http://www.peakbagger.com/pbgeog/histmetropop.aspx
 
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
AMERICA’S MOOD MAP
 
6* DAILY UTILITY
ALSO SEE:
 
7*CARTOON

 
ALSO SEE:
RED ROSE TEA COMMERCIAL
 
8*PRESCRIPTION

9*RUMOR PATROL
Comedians have psychotic personality traits, study finds
http://ca.news.yahoo.com/comedians-psychotic-personality-traits-study-finds-001158247–finance.html
 
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
THE DISNEY CONTROVERSY

Walter Elias Disney has pandered to depraved tastes and has been an enemy of everything that is noblest and best in the American tradition. No person with intellectual honesty or moral integrity will touch him with a ten-foot pole.

Actually, I’m paraphrasing what historian Charles Beard said about William Randolph Hearst.

Why do people loathe Disney?

Even Disney at its best betrays a foolish provincialism. False idols. Depraved magic. Mutant fables. Sloth folklore. Shoehorned myth.

We expect shoehorned history. History belongs to the elites. We expect distortions. Folklore and myth are somehow more purely products of the people. They should be left alone to develop organically, rather than be mechanized and subjected to advertising hoopla and fooforaw. Besides, two wrongs don’t make a right. Furthermore, Disney can be relied upon to distort nature via its documentaries, as well as history via its live-action and animated films such as “Pocahontas”. What Disney does, in essence, is regurgitate strong stories into mythic pap for tots and dotards.

The mind is programmed to respond to neoteny; e.g., round forms.

Most folks still cogitate in a somewhat tribal fashion. They mistake personal experiences for statistically significant events, and they shun and blackball the outsider.

Mickey Mouse, in his 30s incarnation, was a trickster figure, a shamanic figure which appealed to tribal instincts.

Disney cartoons were once a type of animated blood sport. As were a good many cartoons. Even the insipid modern day cartoons about community values preach conformity. They are blood sport in another guise.

The Mouse was–and is–a mask to call down the gods of chaos.

SEE:
WONDERFUL WORLD
 
ALSO SEE:
HOW TO READ DONALD DUCK.
http://www.melloweb.com/QUACK2012/HTRDD_English.pdf

SEE ALSO:

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE. 727.

FBI LETTER TO MLK URGING HIM TO COMMIT SUICIDE
http://disinfo.com/2014/01/the-fbis-letter-to-martin-luther-king-jr-urging-him-to-commit-suicide/

ALSO SEE:

THE MLK YOU DON’T SEE ON TV
http://disinfo.com/2013/01/the-martin-luther-king-you-dont-see-on-tv/

THE INFORMATION #768 JANUARY 24, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#768 JANUARY 24, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
http://dimenno.gather.com
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.comWe make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry. –William Butler Yeats

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER EIGHT: PART TWENTY-SEVEN: THE FALL

“My friends,” said the Reverend John Otis Cross, “I say that that poor BEAST…as clever as he mought be…like the Gadarene swine…is condemned to perdition…because has no immortal SOUL.” 
 
You ought to have seen Jim Whitey’s face swell up as though his head were made of a toy balloon and some joker had stuck a tire pump into his neck and begun vigorously plunging down at the handle as the good Reverend made his, admittedly, mild and temperate remarks. 
 
“And,” said the Reverend, delicately plunging his foot more deeply into the fathomless mire, “My DEAR friends–and I call you this because you are all my friends–and your souls are DEAR to God–what would you say if I told you that you were all of you destined to go to heaven–provided you get right with the Lord and stop your heathen foolishness such as treasuring up and idolizing an arithmetical pig?” 
 
“Doubtless you will laugh and snort and snicker and you will say Haw Haw Haw all my friends are going to hell and I want to be with them but what you do NOT know about hell may shock and astound you. Friends, hell is a place of infinite coldness and darkness and dampness, like the bottom of a well only ten million fathoms deeper, and filled with the sounds of the weeping of strong men and the wails of pagan babies and the grinding and gnashing of infinite teeth, and I can see all of you saying O! If only! If only I had listened to the good Reverend Cross and forsaken the comforts of oafish companionship and had gone to church and performed good deeds and believed and acted in the knowledge that my redeemer liveth! Be sure that your sins will find you out; yea, even to the mere second iteration, and that every reiteration leaves a black mark on your soul that can only be cleansed by true repentance, the repentance of the genuinely sorrowful man who repents of his folly and recants his vulgar speeches in defiance of our Savior! Only then can you be rescued from the bottomless pit of sorrows that the Devil Himself has set aside for sinner cast out from the eternally pearly gates!  For God, my friends, will NOT be mocked! God will judge from the burning pit which the evil one has set aside to punish sinners found wanting in the eyes of an angry God!”
 
“Heed me! I myself am but a poor sinner but one who has seen the light and feels compelled to offer you a terrible warning! You cannot live in a land swarming with filthy things–and fail to be defiled yourself with the pitch and filth and burning shame! O, ye stones, ye worse than senseless things! YOUR SOUL WILL NOT BE SAVED, AND YOU WILL TASTE THE FULL WEIGHT OF GOD’S INFINITE JUSTICE! 
 
“A prophet is without honor in his native land, but I say unto you that unless you heed these words and cease bowing down before false idols such as this sapient, sagacious but idolatrous wallowing pig, and wallowing yourselves–in the defiance of your mean sins–then GOD will come up to you–like a thief in the night–perhaps this very DAY!–and cause you much turbulence and sorrow and even inconvenience. Use your own two legs and flee this vile den of iniquity–and, in so doing, save your soul!”
 
“What soul? The soles of our feet?”
 
Big Haw Haw.  
 
“The fear of God has LEACHED out of you and unless you sincerely repent, God will one day visit all of you–LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT–and deliver the consequences of His almighty WRATH unto YOU ALL.”
 
“You all? What, is God a Southern fellow?”
 
Big Haw Haw.
 
Rev. Otis Cross turned purple with rage.
 
“God will not be mocked! God will not be MOCKED!”
 
“Then why did he send YOU?”
 
Big Haw Haw. 
 
“It is, perhaps, appropriate that I find myself in a den such as this–go to where the sinners are–I can do no other–where people worship a filthy loathsome swine.”
 
“HEY! Watch it!”
“We like that pig!”
“Better’n you!”
“That Pig is as clean as a hound’s tooth!”
“Leave ‘at pig alone!”
 
But the Reverend was on his soap-box, now, and he faced the assorted rabble unafraid and in full command of his faculties.“This pig, sullied from having tasted of the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, ought to himself be cast in that eternal fire. Which eternal fire, you ask? The fire that burns but does not consume! False idols! Depraved magic! Ludicrous fabrications! False fabulations! Sloth folklore! The innocent but all-too-knowing pig should be decently put to death, and the man alongside him, for it is clear that the both of them are in regular communication with The Evil One, and that no good will come from them, their products, their presence, their stunts and tricks, or, for that matter, to any that communicates or has intercourse with or ejaculates with phrases of joy in the presence of them or any who are like them!”

A bit of white froth began to appear upon the left corner of the Good Reverend’s mouth.

“Do not the maunderings of this loathsome heretical swine reflect merely the effects of Lucifer his own self and his perfidious black arts–learned, all right–learned at the feet of the father of lies!?”

Jim Whitey stared in awed silence at the Reverend’s peroration, but those as knew him well also knowed and full well that Whitey was no doubt preparing a corker of a speech to lambaste him, and was only awaiting the proper moment to unspool it. Because in the show business, as everywhere else, timing isn’t everything–it’s the only thing.

1*SALUTATION

THE ROSS SISTERS
ALSO SEE:

LORD BUCKLEY

THE NAZZ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0x5x8lyON8
http://www.informer.org/nazz.html

2*REFERENCE
The Unstoppable Rise Of Antibiotic-Resistant Organisms
http://disinfo.com/2014/01/unstoppable-rise-antibiotic-resistant-organisms/
3*HUMOR
SERVE YOURSELF!
Questions that continue to puzzle you POOR UNENLIGHTENED PEOPLE are ALL answered in my new book, Serve Yourself! What I Learned About the Universal Cosmic Insights That Really Matter That Your Feeble Minds Cannot Grasp While Squatting in a Stinking Mud Hut in the Solomon Islands While Safe In Their Snug Beds at Home Communist Slackers Made a Killing in the Black Market As Told to My Pet Cat Mr. Meow. It is published by the Universal Fire Press–It’s actually a very modest press. I run it out of my Wizard’s Hut–and I have about 498 copies in my basement, slightly soggy, so please–order now!
4*NOVELTY
 
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
 
6* DAILY UTILITY
ALSO SEE:
 
7*CARTOON
 
8*PRESCRIPTION
40 MAPS THAT WILL HELP YOU MAKE SENSE OF THE WORLD
http://asheepnomore.net/2013/12/29/40-maps-will-help-make-sense-world/
9*RUMOR PATROL
GEORGE ORWELL EXPLAINS “1984”
I must say I believe, or fear, that taking the world as a whole these things are on the increase. Hitler, no doubt, will soon disappear, but only at the expense of strengthening (a) Stalin, (b) the Anglo-American millionaires and (c) all sorts of petty fuhrers of the type of de Gaulle. All the national movements everywhere, even those that originate in resistance to German domination, seem to take non-democratic forms, to group themselves round some superhuman fuhrer (Hitler, Stalin, Salazar, Franco, Gandhi, De Valera are all varying examples) and to adopt the theory that the end justifies the means. Everywhere the world movement seems to be in the direction of centralised economies which can be made to ‘work’ in an economic sense but which are not democratically organised and which tend to establish a caste system. With this go the horrors of emotional nationalism and a tendency to disbelieve in the existence of objective truth because all the facts have to fit in with the words and prophecies of some infallible fuhrer. Already history has in a sense ceased to exist, ie. there is no such thing as a history of our own times which could be universally accepted, and the exact sciences are endangered as soon as military necessity ceases to keep people up to the mark. Hitler can say that the Jews started the war, and if he survives that will become official history. He can’t say that two and two are five, because for the purposes of, say, ballistics they have to make four. But if the sort of world that I am afraid of arrives, a world of two or three great superstates which are unable to conquer one another, two and two could become five if the fuhrer wished it. That, so far as I can see, is the direction in which we are actually moving, though, of course, the process is reversible.
http://disinfo.com/2014/01/george-orwell-explains-wrote-1984-letter-reader/
 
10* LAGNIAPPE
I RODE A MURDER TRAIN
I rode a murder train; along the aisles
Its passengers stood back to back
And troubles were their tribal lot;
And I saw death upon the way
He wore a face which time forgot
Afflicted with a million Smiles
I felt the train begin to sway
And knew that I was never coming back.
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
SUPERBOWL AS MIDWINTER SEX FESTIVAL
The ovum-shaped football emerges from the huddle and is attacked by multiple male sperm until one successful candidate carries it across the threshold. This process is reiterated until one genetically superior tribe “wins”.
Baseball is a hearkening back to the days of the Republic before the Civil War. Football rubs it in our faces.

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE. 726.
ON LITERATURE AS PRESENTLY PRACTICED
Could we pretty pretty please have a moratorium on precious poetry and writing-school prose? I mean, goody goody gumdrops, and gosh-all fishhooks, it sure is nice to know that people are in touch with their innermost feelings and stuff. But…since when does being literate mean the long-suffering reader must put up with solipsistic bilge written by humorless, emotionally frozen writers who couldn’t ad lib a belch at a Hungarian banquet?

THE INFORMATION #767 JANUARY 17, 2014

THE INFORMATION
#767 JANUARY 17, 2014
Copyright 2014 FRANCIS DIMENNO
http://dimenno.gather.com
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com

He who would do good to another must do it in Minute Particulars: general Good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite, and flatterer, for Art and Science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars.–William Blake

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER EIGHT: PART TWENTY-SIX: THE FALL

If you have an eye for a colorful off-beat story (and even if you do not) you would practically know that one day the Reverend John Otis Cross was peculiarly fated to run across Jim Whitey the turfed out circus clown, who lived on the outskirts of Blowtown over an Oriental grocery with a cigar-smoking pig named Bella. Bella, what they called in those days an arithmetical pig, was very likely more intelligent than her master and was up to performing all kings of cunning stunts. Whitey would bring her to the Seven Stars Tavern only on rare occasions. Whitey had a odd-shaped doughy head as looked more like a giant white beet or rutabaga than a human skull, probably the result of having taken so many knocks about the sawdust ring where he used to ply his trade as vampo clown and general man-of-all-business. On his visits to the bar accompanied by Bella he would wear a garish white stovepipe hat, too small by far for his lumpy head, and a white flannel suit with a black checked pattern which made him resemble a flaccid tablecloth suddenly given the power of speech and locomotion. He wore his red hair sticking out from the side of his head like cotton candy spun from dried snot and he had a penchant for playing cruel practical jokes, and the two of them–he and the furry white pig–who wore a pink tutu–were a sight to behold, particularly once Whitey, as he invariably did, stood the pig upon the bar, balanced Bella on her trotters and bade her do her “Cooch Dance.” The bar-room loafers all grunted their invariable comments:

“Looking good, Whitey.”
“Dances better than my wife.”
“Sure you two ain’t bound in Holy Macaroni?”
“There ought to be a law agin’ it.”
“Sure and I’ll wager that they’re lawfully wed.”
“Pig this good you don’t eat all at once, eh, Whitey?”

And other such chaff.

Whitey would shout, “Dance, my Beauty, Dance! And let the ugliness of the world be effaced by your corybantic antics! Your mythic movements will remain forever embedded upon the eye of the beholder like the memory of first love! They will forget the swinishness of their own ugly faces–the memory of which will be washed away by the mystic smoke of the lake of clarity!”

And the bar-room loafers would respond in kind:

“Pipe down with that garbage!”
“Shove it up your ass, Whitey!”
“You own shit don’t stink–much!”
“Can that breeze!”
“You can teach a pig to dance the hornpipe, but you can’t even pay for your own supper!”
 
In the olden days of Noxtown, such varmints and other rascals as contented themselves with a glass of skull varnish and a warm corner for their evening’s entertainment were, in spite of all their jeering, a sight grateful to Jim Whitey for bringing along his wondrous pig and in general cutting capers and playing the fool. The second part of the pig’s act was a sure-fire crowd-pleaser.  The pig would begin by lifting a foaming schooner to his lips and pretending to drink; Bella would pretend take one taste of the watered down brew and would begin to squeal indignantly out of all proportion to the offense. The bar-room loafers would  roar with laughter at the expense of Tipsy Smith, the suds puller, with the usual smart-aleck comments to be heard, viz:

“The swill in this joint ain’t fit for a pig.”
“Even the swine turn up their nose at it.”
“That hog is a lot smarter than it looks.”
“Bella’s no fool. She knows what a whole lot of nines are–and she’s heard the hooty-owl.”

At which point Jim Whitey would seize an opportunity to make a small profit for providing his modest share of the evening’s amusements. 

“You see before you, Ladies and Gentlemen” (though, naturally, neither were in evidence in such a dive), “none other than the honorific wonderment of the crowned heads of the seven continents and of Kings and Queens the Seven Seas over. From the Hindoo in his ragged garb to the Eskimo in his igloo; from the naked African Pygmy savage with his wooden shield to the Hawaiian Hulu Girls who do the dance without, all marvel at this marvelous animal–wait–do I say animal–no! human! as human as you or I, and a durned sight better-looking–Bella, the prestidigitating, calculating, ruminating, enumerating, and educated pig! You are highly privileged, if I do say so myself, to see an act which has both wowed the crowned rascals of Europe and made sweet the uses of adversity for the hoi polloi! O! Is there anything this wondrous pig cannot do?”

“Take a bath!”
“Eat his own hind leg.”
“Wipe your ass.”
“Get a husband!”
“Kill you and live out the rest of his life a free bird!”

This last comment was greeted with uproar and laughter and gasping howls by the assembled loochers and loafers and yekkmen and yellofs.

Lest the proceedings get out of hand, Jim Whitey wound up his pitch by doing a few elementary card tricks. He covered up the simplicity of these tricks and the blatancy of his signals to the pig by keeping up a steady stream of interminable patter. 

“How many ways are there to shuffle this deck of cards? A question for the ages, and well you might ask, for even as the great mystics and wise and holy men cannot count the grains of sand transported from an eagle’s claws from the top of the mountain to the depths of the shoreline, so this question is a classic example of the question which will consider here: one of infinite possibilities. What are the chances that the learned pig could pull out the black ace in a deck of 52? My gambling friends all know the odds are quite long indeed, for it must be THAT EXACT CARD and no other. Even the sacred Priests of the tribe of Melchizidek would find themselves ‘mazed with wonder at the mere evocation of this feat! This question is a classic example of a branch of prestidigitation known as magical science. There is no use in trying to figure out the dark arts behind such a dark feat–for the Pig simply KNOWS! O, is there anything that this magical, tragical, canonical and cosmological hog cannot do?” 

Only one dour stranger, dressed in a cloak of ministerial black, was silent, but, as though seized by the better impulses of his nature to do the one thing he should not do, he at last spoke.

“My friend,” said the Reverend John Otis Cross, “that poor BEAST…as clever as he mought be…has no immortal SOUL.” 

 
And then a silence…fell. Like snowflake from the bough of a trembling evergreen.

1*SALUTATION
SPIKE JONES
UGGA UGGA BOO UGGA BOO BOO UGGA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXwyPCKyTQ0

 
2*REFERENCE
An amazing list of actual reasons for admission into the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum from the late 1800s.
http://imgur.com/r1hCju4
 
5*AVATAR OF THE ZEITGEIST
6* DAILY UTILITY
 
7*CARTOON
 
8*PRESCRIPTION

TOUGH BOOKS FOR EXTREME READERS
http://flavorwire.com/423424/50-incredibly-tough-books-for-extreme-readers/

9*RUMOR PATROL
HARVARD’S GRADING RUBRIC
http://nyti.ms/1ebjADs
10* LAGNIAPPE
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
THE NEED TO TELL STORIES
When I hear the words “I have a story to tell you,” that’s when my eyes glaze over.

CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE. 725.
THE ART OF CHARLES RODRIGUES
http://www.societyillustrators.org/Mocca_Exhibit.aspx?id=11046