THE INFORMATION #943 JUNE 2, 2017

THE INFORMATION #943
JUNE 2, 2017
Copyright 2017 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com 
 
We should often blush at our noblest deeds if the world were to see all their underlying motives.–La Rochefoucauld
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE 
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN 
CHAPTER ELEVEN: PART TWENTY-SIX: DAYS OF WRATH
“You want to know about so-called ‘criminals,’ Yob?”
 
Count Victor Justin had been drinking more than was his wont, and as he and young Cadger Tandy walked the rain-slick cobble-stoned streets of Blowtown, he was more than a little bit exercised.
 
“There is a certain cold justice in the world, and, strangely enough, it is usually at the expense of the blowhards and the do-gooders. Out-and-out crooks who don’t rattle the status quo too much can get away with murder, but life is hell on people who are tied up in all the bullshit. The best thing you can do is stay still and do nothing, like Injuns on the prowl, and the holy men of the Far East. Failing that, if you button up your gob shut and stop fatmouthing around town to anyone who will listen about how great thou art, you will spare yourself a whole lot of enemies. Well I know that it’s the squeaky wheel who gets greased. It’s an elemental law of physics, you know–for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction, and like that. Every time you open your yapper, there is the threat that some bird will come along and make a nest in it.  Every time a fatso rumbles down the street, jealous willow branches will grumble that he’s taking up too much space. Sure and you can dominate the room, but if so, you’d better also be buying the drinks. That’s the way to work the world because that’s the way the world works. ‘Give me a lever,’ said the Greek Philosopher, ‘and I will move the world.’ D’ye know what that lever is, Yob? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s money. Green goods, the ooftish, shekels, pazoozies. It’s like the very air that you breathe; if you don’t get enough, then your health will suffer. Sure, you hear all the time about stupid philosophers who would rather eat lentils than flatter the king, but let me tell you something–after a very short while, lentils start to taste like shit. 
 
“But remember–there’s always more than one way to skin a cat. If you can’t work, then beg. If you can’t beg, then steal. If you can’t steal, then rob. If you can’t rob, then go to jail. Or starve. Because this is the way of the world. This is how it is. Here’s the cold hard truth: Nobody needs you, nobody is obligated to you, and nobody really wants you around, even if they maintain against all logic and reason that they do. You are a standardized part, and infinitely replaceable. It’s how nature works. Imagine the fuss if one dog wasn’t just as good as another? People would do all kinds of foolish things, like having funerals for their pets–imagine–shedding a tear for a stupid mutt!
 
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will anyway. I care more for dogs than I do for most humans. When I see a painting of a dog, or a photograph, it saddens me to contemplate that the brute is probably long dead. I don’t feel that way about humans. It’s just a quirk, I suppose. Maybe it’s because humans theoretically have some control over their destinies, whereas dogs do not. What kind of savage would beat a harmless dog, or a horse? And at the same time profess to worship God. You would think that at the very least they would refrain from such behavior, for fear of what their savage God will do to them once they are in His hands come judgment day. But it’s a sad truth that most people just don’t seem to have any control over their impulses. Especially when they’re young. With age comes the wisdom to know when to cause mischief, and the circumstances where you can easily get away with it. That’s why most of the world’s unsuccessful crimes are perpetrated by young men, and most of the world’s undiscovered crimes are committed by the old and wise. Show me a man who has never spent a day in jail and I’ll show you a man who just hasn’t been found out yet. Because there’s one thing you can always be sure of: People talk. And they will talk. O, how they will talk! Seems as though most folks would rather sit back and watch, and then flap their blubber lips over your doings and sayings, than ever do or say anything themselves. T’was ever thus. That’s how the wretches get their own back agin the movers and shakers. But of course, all their talk don’t amount to a hill of beans in the mind of a man of action. Funny thing is, the more you do and the higher you climb, the easier it is to become undone, and the further you’ll fall. It ain’t the fall itself that kills you, neither–it’s the landing. But fortune favors to the brave. If I had a nickel for every time a man went sliding into shit and ended up smelling like a rose, I’d have enough to make a phone call. What I mean to say is that if you don’t take a chance, then you’ll never know if you will win or not. But you’ve got to be slow and patient and watch for the main chance–and then land on it with both feet. No sense in running off half-cocked. 
 
“So–do you want to know about criminals? Eh? Well, then, let me tell you this: The world is a crime. What do you think about that, my friend? When you try to do good; when you try to be nice; when you try to be kind; that’s when they all come along to drag you back down to their level. How do I know this? Have I ever had even so much as a drop of the milk of human kindness in my makeup? Yes, yes I have. At one time. But soon enough, the world bites back, and…you learn. 
 
“Oh yes–you learn. Man is a beast when it comes to toeing the line. I’ll give you an example, Yob: Donate a million dollars to charity, and you’re Andrew the toast of the town, humanity’s number one benefactor, and Prince of the Philanthropists.
 
“But commit just one indiscretion, and all of a sudden you’re Andy the Morphodite, newly crowned disgrace, and forevermore King of All the Cocksuckers.” 
1*SALUTATION
GUN CLUB
DEVIL IN THE WOOD
3*HUMOR

Middle Aged Government Tested Atom Splitting Radio Active Democratic Left Handed Freelance Green Beret Koala Bears

Worst comic book ever?
 
4*NOVELTY
THE TEN WORST RUNNING MATES IN AMERICAN HISTORY
7*CARTOON
SURREAL CEREAL COMMERCIALS
8*PRESCRIPTION
CAR PUSH RACE: DOGS VS. HUMANS
9*RUMOR PATROL
WHAT ARE THE TYPICAL SIGNS OF A CORRUPT GOVERNMENT?
10* LAGNIAPPE
ALICE COLTRANE
A MONASTIC TRIO
11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA

The Wolf and the Lamb

ONCE upon a time a Wolf was lapping at a spring on a hillside when, looking up, what should he see but a Lamb just beginning to drink a little lower down. “There’s my supper,” thought he, “if only I can find some excuse to seize it.” Then he called out to the Lamb, “How dare you muddle the water from which I am drinking?”

“Nay, master, nay,” said Lambikin; “if the water be muddy up there, I cannot be the cause of it, for it runs down from you to me.”

“Well, then,” said the Wolf, “why did you call me bad names this time last year?”

“That cannot be,” said the Lamb; “I am only six months old.”

“I don’t care,” snarled the Wolf; “if it was not you it was your father;” and with that he rushed upon the poor little Lamb and—

WARRA WARRA WARRA WARRA WARRA—

ate her all up. But before she died she gasped out—

“ANY EXCUSE WILL SERVE A TYRANT.”


*11A BOOKS READ AND REVIEWED
THE 1910S. BLANKE. ***1/2
ALL-NEW ALL DIFFERENT AVENGERS 2. FAMILY BUSINESS. ***1/2
ALWAYS RUNNING. RODRIGUEZ. ***1/2
THE ART OF ASKING. PALMER. ***1/2
BAREFOOT GEN 1-10. NAKAZAWA. ****1/2
BATGIRL 1. BEYOND BURNSIDE. ***1/2
BATMAN 2. I AM SUICIDE. ***1/2
BLACK HAMMER 1. LEMIRE. ****
BLACK PANTHER 2: A NATION UNDER OUR FEET. ***
CHE. JACOBSON & COLON. ****
CIVIL WAR II. ***1/2
DREAMLAND. QUINONES. ****1/2
THE FIX 1. SPENCER ETAL. ****
THE FIX 2. SPENCER ETAL. ****
INFLUENCING MINDS. FRANK. ****1/2
IT CALLS YOU BACK. RODRIGUEZ. ***1/2
JUGHEAD 2. ***
LAST EXIT TO BROOKLYN. SELBY. ****1/2
LOVE FOR SALE. HAJDU. ****
MWD: HELL IS COMING HOME. JOHNSON ETAL. ****
NO HIDING PLACE. SEABROOK. ****
PANZRAM: A JOURNAL OF MURDER. GADDIS & LONG. ****
REPLY ALL. FRIEMAN. ***
REQUIEM FOR A DREAM. SELBY. ****1/2.
ROAD TO RIVERDALE. ***
ROUGHNECK. LEMIRE. ****
SHATTERED. ALLEN & PARNES.
SMASH! LATTA & WEIGEL. ***1/2
STAR WARS: THE PREQUEL TRILOGY. ***1/2
STARK. BUNKER. ***
STARSHIP TROOPERS. ELLIS, ETAL. ***1/2
TALKING LINES. BLECHMAN. ****1/2
UNBEATABLE SQUIRREL GIRL 5. ***1/2
VILLAINS, SCOUNDRELS, AND ROGUES. MARTIN. ***1/2
THE WAITING PLACE. MCKEEVER. ****
THE WAY LIFE WAS. SIMPSON. ****1/2
WORLD’S FINEST: THE SILVER AGE 1. ***
YOU HAVE KILLED ME. RICH & JONES. ***1/2

12* CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE

HUNTER S. THOMPSON
FEAR AND LOATHING ON THE CAMPAIGN TRAIL 1976

Hubert Humphrey would have traded anything, with anybody, to get the Democratic nomination for himself in 1972 …… and he’ll be ready to trade again, this year, if he sees the slightest chance.

And he does. He saw it on the morning after the New Hampshire primary, when five percent of the vote came in as “uncommitted.” That rotten, truthless old freak was on national TV at the crack of dawn, cackling like a hen full of amyls at the “wonderful news” from New Hampshire. After almost four years of relatively statesmanlike restraint and infrequent TV appearances that showed his gray hair and haggard jowls – four long and frantic years that saw the fall of Richard Nixon, the end of the war in Vietnam and a neo-collapse of the U.S. economy – after all that time and all those sober denials that he would never run for president, all it took to jerk Hubert out of his closet was the news from New Hampshire that five percent of the Democratic voters, less than 4,000 people, in that strange little state had cast their ballots for “uncommitted” delegates.

To Humphrey, who was not even entered in the New Hampshire primary, this meant five percent for him. Never mind that a completely unknown ex-governor of Georgia had won in New Hampshire with more than 30% of the vote; or that liberal Congressman Morris Udall had finished a solid but disappointing second with 24%; or that liberal Senator Birch Bayh ran third with 16%……. None of that mattered to Hubert, because he was privy to various rumors and force-fed press reports that many of the “uncommitted” delegates in New Hampshire were secret Humphrey supporters. There was no way to be sure, of course – but no reason to doubt it, either; at least not in the mushy mind of the Happy Warrior.

His first TV appearance of the ’76 campaign was a nasty shock to me…. I was smacked right straight in the eyes with the wild-eyed babbling spectacle of Hubert Horatio Humphrey. His hair was bright orange, his cheeks were rouged, his forehead was caked with Mantan, and his mouth was moving so fast that the words poured out in a high-pitched chattering whine …… “O my goodness, my gracious …… isn’t it wonderful? Yes, yes indeed……. O yes, it just goes to show…. I just can’t say enough…….”

No! I thought. This can’t be true! Not now! Not so soon! Here was this monster, this shameful electrified corpse – and raving and flapping his hands at the camera like he’d just been elected president. He looked like three iguanas in a feeding frenzy. I stood up and backed off from the TV set, but the view was no different from the other side of the room. I was seeing The Real Thing, and it stunned me……. Because I knew, in my heart, that he was real: that even with a five percent shadow vote in the year’s first primary, where his name was not on the ballot, and despite Jimmy Carter’s surprising victory and four other nationally known candidates finishing higher than “uncommitted,” that Hubert Humphrey had somehow emerged from the chaos of New Hampshire with yet another new life, and another serious shot at the presidency of the United States.

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