3.12.06

User Obsolete

Look at this! The spambot computer can literally write stream of consciousness better than me! I am obsolete! It can even handle the semi-colon. Something I cannot, properly.

I think maybe the formula is it trolls human blog entries and then cut and pastes it together within the framework of something which can roughly simulate grammer structures. I think the point is to bypass the spam filters and then the included gif has the advert text drawn into it. But my computer never displays those gifs and I won't sample one here for you because you already know what I mean and they are boring.



001601c71627$305ac860$06a7ef54@pshow says:
when he was lying; and for one thing, his moments of dejection must your condition; either that I should cut your throat or that you should conditions to be made; and there is a difficulty in the path, which I pack; we used to girn at ither like a pair of pipers. Something for
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when he was lying; and for one thing, his moments of dejection must your condition; either that I should cut your throat or that you should conditions to be made; and there is a difficulty in the path, which I pack; we used to girn at ither like a pair of pipers. Something for
She was walking ever the faster, and looking fain in front of her; but I am thanking you, said she. I will not be caring much to walk, now Maybe ay, and maybe no, said I. That is the way it is to be, to him; of which, indeed, I had none, but all the more to his daughter.
her scarce ever but at meals, and then of course in the company of had embraced a strong idea of my poverty. The sudden news of my estate naturally diffident to give particulars; and this disposition was not stockings, was not to be endured; and if I were to recover any
water came there to await their passages; and I daresay there was worse discomposed; but methought it was with a new animation that she turned Give it here, said she, and I will open it myself. She thinks a heap of me, says he. And Im no like you: Im one
was trouble afoot; the sails of the windmill, as they came up and went where was no man to be seen, nor any house of man, except just Bazins Deed, and I thought you knew me better. I have not behaved quite well sense forby. As for James More, the mans as boss as a drum; hes just
and the windmill. Only a little further on, the sea appeared and two Just you try for yoursel, my bonny man. But whats that neepkin at among soldier-men to their big dinners; and still I had the same I am the laird of Shaws indeed - my uncle is dead at last.
Well, said I, we shall be friends always, thats a certain thing. and his nose upon one side. As soon as I came in, the girl looked at be alone with me; yet was none the better pleased with it for that, and I suppose I could expect no better, said I, but I think you might
My little friend, I was calling her again and again, rejoicing to from which place James shortly after started alone upon a private yoursel, and that would be to speir at the lassie for some news o your Catriona again, because tears and weakness were ready in my heart, and
I lay with five wounds upon my body on the field of Gladsmuir. I have Alan smacked his lips. An unco lonely bit, said he, and I thought by remittances the more necessary to my daughters comfort, though I wrong side this day. Not that I mean he was afraid, of course, I
that day, and it makes a bond between the pair of us, says he. whether I was hearing these steps for the last time, or whether the further into that mention of his birth. Though, they tell me, the same

28.11.06

war machine

wrap your arms around me


left under the ice. The leaves prevfent the snow from sticking to the ground. I had a heart attack shovelling snow because I am an old alchoholic man. I looked up into the sky breathing that white light and mad brigthness. The soft quiet flakes rain down on me as I look up and feel the hard grit of the sidewalk safeTsalt in my back fading. Suddenly the heaviness is lifted and I am light as the air again a spirit floating free in the cosmic interconnected. The last train leaves the station and I am in my mercedes again a top of the world. Atop of the glowing hole of pulsing nothing that I do not fear because life is under my sails again. i spring forth virile and wormy loam vomits from my lips. The eyeballs in my head pop out and bounce then roll down the sidewalk in the cold and everything.

Now I am invisible.

But at least the snow keeps my organs preserved well and the air is crisp and dry so no mildewy rot. The water is turbid. But I will not boil it. I am of this earth and the worms squirm my tonsils. The razorblade of the earth cuts under my tongue the sinew connecting it to the jaw is severed and now I can speak freely the pendacost moving through me I speak red fire and loosly the tongue flaps against my cheeks. Hurting no one, I am invisible. I am loud once again like a baby screaming for its father but this time the words are clear and precise. My thelon level is zero - fully clear. Beacause the witch doctor says now. Because the grass burns clearly. Under the world there is snow but I am keeping warm loving concept. This is love. This is my life blood.

Teeth freely red, I must loose them. I grab that snowshovel and I turn it around before I drive it home. The aluminum is brittle and sharp but still yet firm enough to jar my dentures but it only breaks one free. My arms are strong as oxes and I feel the adrenaline pumping yeas I can do this. Soon 34 teeth lay there in part or full upon the sidewalk cleared of snow by that same shovel. My back is no longer sore and I get so mad about people who litter when it is snowing because you always know it looks like shit when it is going to melt and my god you wonldn't do that if people could see you pickup your own darn crap don't mess with texas.

love is stronger for men of my age. I can feel it in my bones like the sweat pouring down the leaves. The sweat sticks to the branches and the weight of the crystal water does bend the trunk. Soon the cold brittle wood will conspire with the weight of the cold earth and be reunited in a brittle snap. No green wood, you will not bend and return here. You will lie now asplinter across the path with the ice of your undoing finally meeting the sidewalk salt to remove that tiresome burden. In the spring all the trees still slouch and some die from the hard winter injuries. Forecast for next Sunday: freezing rain.

Be still my gentle heart. the tremours of the earth will settle you. Cold is the hybernating cardboard boxes all stacked up sqaure to the shoulderz. the hobo people sit neatly under each and the paper apartment owned by the merciless cuban land speculator will not take flight to hong kong this winter. Tax breaks dissolve me. Litter barrel pork chops. Trust funds are underrated.

19.11.06

blama blama

BEGIN JANOVBR!(TH


Charge it otoot my account. My next internet bubble is bursting again. I wish I were the business man. A sinking ship steals all boats. All rivers go to the Ocean. My left testicle is blue now. The schock olock of all the lying hit him hard on the head. He did n't want to drink that type of water anymore. He sertainly never liked to be that way around her parents. He was not a level headed man. His batteries were enough to fly a ship. Because I grew up here all of my life. I dreamed some day I'd go to the red guitars.

THE rubber changes it all somehow. I with that we could just fly off together. I might as well tell you. I am not the boy you thought I could be. The clock on the wall is ticking and my windmill isn't going to power that television for that programme. My shit hit the fan yesterday and that was it. I left town tommorrow because my baby caught a flight train. The cold is on fire. My car is taller than me because I have wagons in my babeshit. Because the horsecowpig was not levelling with you. I asked the dreambullwolf to be my companion into this perticular opium den. Shelby wasn't into it though. Maybe I pussed him too much. Maybe it was the Malibu sunshine. I forget which kind of bicycle is the best, wood or plastic. I rmember the rain though, that I do remember.

My children are going to tear this house down yard by yard. My grass is greener in the foundation. We will melt the cement emptiness of her bearcub. My hair isn't going to fill the doubt. I don't want to have the biggest amount. My breath stinks tonight because I never brush. Brushing is for dentist's asslickers. It's like putting that toothbrush in your mouth is like getting a load from the MD's anal sphincter region. My word, say.

Editing is for chumps. I guess the best thing to do is write it down. Bias is writing what is going on. Balance is forgetting the basic facts that make your audience uncomfortable. Academic writing is basically listing all the multisylable words you know in an order that nobody would suggest is alphabetical. It is hard you know, to know how to vary the orderings of words truely randomly so not only the Qs and Ps are reversed. People like to spell thinks right so the schnidenfraudenschnitzel will have to be double checked into the WW2 Oxford English Dictionary that churchill kept in his refridgerator because he was a man of stern talking. I say, the speech you gave at the stadium last night, that was really stirring. How we oulght to like round up totalllly allll the darkies and throw them back to affffricu cu caaah! BEcause NDNs from NDah are so pish posh and we don't want those cotton spinners anyway, their curry is blurry and the Quanine is low.

Mister Salmon salad, has yet to find his mouthpeice on the subterainean mambo train. Because the Ayatollah was oliver North's Blue blooded cousin and the shape shifting David Icke fanclub wanted me to sign his book in the name of H.R., Thomos.

UI foget to owe the P2P lending agency the credit they deserve to ask for. Becaus eI I wasn't going to be steel brushed under the big log. I should rip off those fucking venture capitalists before they get their shit together. Where is you sense of Adventure mister venture? Mr sitting in the seniors home trying to play the stock market with the pension money. Who says the union and the Republic can't legally do that with all of my money, I like to pay shit off. Only 14% for gawds sakes. This return is so real that I think I will never possibly default on the loan. I rip tide is raging and the lifeguard is away. But the ocean doesn't want me today . Breath in.

Very sad for you sister. Souljah. Therapy Whereabie, wee free myn. Th th th th say... can you breath here mister?

Was it somehing hat I sed?

17.11.06

pen sea is sink

BEGIN THEDATE


bombe the fuck out of all of t

my comedic dancing for there is no movie to play on the pantlegs.
we were not historical revisionists
my spam is poetry for today
I read it for you and for me because that is the heart
the soul on the left side of the chest
we will be that way sertainly
nubarile. Wasn't it a long way down?

We forget that the lyrics don't make a poem when you take the music away?
Diet Coke is for drinking, not for cleaning the toilets.
Be ware of his stinky breakdancing.

Me love dress rehearsal of life day. We are all in this together. I voted a million times with my keylogger to break into the voting machines of Alabama. The robot steals your words so as to make an advertisement that looks authentic so your robots can't stop you from reading your mail. There are no letters in the chocolate mailboxes. You can download the Leonard Cohen Discography from 1968 to 2004 in as little as 45 minutes, depending on the speeds of traffic and your connection. Speed is of the essence when it comes to talking. The faster we speech the less jizzim will be in our eyes. Like when you are playing a fighter jet videogame, you got to fly low and fast but not hit the ground. So you see, I like it when we do that. My best display of choices is frequently beginning to burn down. The terrible loss of the basement from our house is ok now because we never run out of water. My tower will stand forever and we speak every damn ungodly language here that we could be speeched for. Me. Oh.

Did you ever go clear> We look so much older now.

Because to me, any wood is all the same. I've read that you can dry wood in the microwave! I don't have a big enough box for it. Cherry is so very hard and the smell is sweet. Because to be truely sorry for me is to be free.

Forget me now and stop reading this page because you are worth more than this, you are worth more than me, you are real and I am only a memory typed haphazardly and carefree. Because love wasn't enough.

The story gets deeper but underneath you stopped paying attention after the part when the sexy stuff endsed. Freedom. To be fingernails. My ships are on fire. I have a moneylender in my basement. My eating of the last turnip virgin... We are all adults now. Abstinence is the key to micromanaging the global economic quotas of this new age dream of nazi daggers for sale on ebay for a bargain because the heap was tall and my woman is sleeping kindly in her open future.

Steep hills are very real to me. I love the rocks. She gets mad if you kick the rocks. Don't you care? My ancestors are in the trees of our parents. The trees I cut down yesterday. With a famous chainsaw while i was smoking. Balls. The moon that we are after. Because the open sea is sinking under the disaster. My zipper is stuck. We can no have each other. Let us sing another song for the boys that are old and bitter. Lo. Lee. Ta.

Me and the merry go round forget the words to the peice of paper in my hand. Suddenly the paper floats away and becomes a tree and all the pencils I have ever used are in my eyes and ears and stabbbing me... Because the blood flows and quenches the thirsty soil for which grows a new forest of pencil and paperwood trees, my yellow and blue lined ferns are about to be erased by the perfect melancholy. Up to the darkness. My bark is crusty and smoky tonight. Do not burn that cedar because it is older than the bicycle's invention. I am thick and sick of this war. I want the kind of work that I had before. A swollen breast and a curly appetite. My talking ways are dreaming of the day. When we will be yearning to win. We will recycle the average 4 lbs of lead in each CRT computer TV monitor. Why not thank the Cesium for your freedom. We remembered on November 11th about flanders fields that the poppies grow on grow. Weed the medecine of the hippy class. Because my body is cold this wet november. It is recordbreaking rainfall and a water turbidity alert ringing out. Fire hearts have said little more about Noah's Arc. My wedding guest is freequently sailing from the banks of this birch bark canoe. the Tougue is the CBC's symbol of interdependant community living on CBC Radio 3 Podcast. My Kurt Vonnegut book collection is growind dull as the absurd world is more and less real. Soon hyperbole will be obsolete. Because of the termper Tubas ringing loud into the night. My breath is of babies that I decapitated and fried on the gas stove burner. A travesty, someone must think I own a money tree considering that price of gas. Naturally.

Be sure of what you do. Remember to not second guess yourself. intolerance by the faithful is expected but it shall be the death of you if you follow that road. Be wise and know that knowledge is empty and the unlearned can teach you things only the angels know. My wings from the dream are flying with me. I want to play baseball in heaven, just to see if the Docudrama TV series would be any good. Passion begets travesty and we all know how to program our VCR. Ah ha, caught you, you old man! VCRs are obsolete and the skill of programming them will now be kept current by a mueseum vigil by the historical re-enactment society: Great costumes!

I plug and play the TM RSS bandit.

21.10.06

censor my fingers

I vote that we give people rich enough to have at least 30,000 registered copyrights protected by lawyers... I vote we give them veto power over all the news and information that we see and hear, even if it is just peer to peer sharing with your friends. Anyone that rich obviously must have God on their side and really have earned that authority. Oh wait, I don't get to vote on this one. God decided for me. Thank you Gods of censorship. I'm sooo glad that mandatory advertising is the law and sharing is illegal. That is the kind of freedom we have all been fighting for and killing people for. Otherwise the terrorists win. Freedom isn't free. It takes folks like you and me: Remebering to salute and obey the order to cease and desist from thinking thoughts that other people OWN!

Content creators. Please create me a job and some food and some environment that isn't being poisoned. Oh please content creators, use your creative artistic freedom God powers to write a TV advertising jingle that will give me all these things. And then, it will be the law that we all watch it and editing out the commercials will be high treason.

I think I'll go download some commercials now. Hip hip hooray! Thank god commercial interests decided to get involved with the internet so the basic technological foundations of that networked could be undermined by the LAW [because the law can be bought]. Sharing is illegal! Screw you benevolent volunteers who created the Linux and Unix systems which make the internet work. I have a god given freedom to make money and to make it by exploiting your generousity to make your non-competitive attitudes illegal!!!!

Go go go!

12.10.06

Sleepers Awake on the Precipice

Let me sum up. Please listen they are soft and dead and heartless . . . these "works of art" done by blood-smeared toads! Now wait a minute I don't mean all of them but goddam I do mean most of them I mean that almost everybody has sold out. It's terrifying. Don't you think that every tick of the clock brings us nearer the time when if you speak of beauty and love and dignity no one will have the remotest idea what you're talking about. Do you?
Don't you think we should all pour out into the streets yelling Stop it! Stop it! You've no right to do this to us!
A little pause while you tear out into the street. That's the stuff! A nice long letter to your congressman--a truly great spirit, your representative in 'the citadel of Democracy.' Now a P.S. --(take it down!)-- "And He sends you His best too."
Can you? Of course you can! Look what you've already been able to stomach . . .
A long way off--Yessiree! When we are lonely and afraid, who comforts us? When we are trying to do a bit more than just 'skim through' or 'get by,' who reaches out that old helping hand? You're damn right! Your congressman . . .
Life out of a dirty window. The blaster dull jobs, the juicelessness of our cities, our homes, our 'educations,' our bodies, our souls --all coloured by a love of everything cheap and vulgar and worthless, and by a bitter hatred of anything that is really valuable and fine and alive . . . The bastards will finally get it squeezed out enough that they can do anything the hell they want with you--
Aren't you even going to walk out into a field and look at the trees and the flowers growing there--?
Have you ever thought about a flower?
What would it mean to you if all the flowers in the world were to die?
Have you ever considered what a beautiful and wonderful thing it is to be a human being?
Have you ever actually thought of what a strange thing it is to be alive?
Flowers must be happy.
~KP sleepers awake pp118-121 (1946)

NICHTS Ist Nicht NICHTS


29.9.06

sroblot


coca bomb checked through customs 3 times due to customary procedures. Repeat the delete. toothpaste not allowed. liquids now permitted hooray. subsidise my diesel engine to the tune of a drug war. Forget that, civil war is everywhere, the guards are very friendly. Plantain mountains of the virgin bring transmillenial joy to the outpath. Frequently detius. ted. be. co.

Sorry for the late response, I have not been doing my homework. I've been busy arguing with the wife. Frequently. This is how it is. I am a counsellor. To that council. beat it. frequently, Senor.

No hable espagnol. Lo siento no entendo. R-r-r-ico! Beunos dias, tardes, noches. chiaow. beunas noches. por favour. de nada. lo siento. si. senor. cervesa. chiva. ba-a-ah.

woo.

ticket refunted in $500,000 so you can do it to.

31.8.06

little hole in the bubble

chaining me to the rock
chinks in the wall
light slips through
water in the lungs
laboured cycle of walking up and down chest
pain of everything bad ever anyone ever knew
blood for ear drops
lemon cake that cannot be ate
by the starving man
dream of that food sir
your long walk is over only in your own mind
withdraw into your oasis
the religions teach us the discipline how
forget this idle fallen world
blue skies of spiritual perfection because we cannot touch
my emptiness inside is suposedly profound
give up give up give up give up
or maybe keep writing and yelling and throwing the brown shit up onto your face
keep the feeling going. sex is not pure and I don't want to be
it forever with infinity, no I prefer the earth to the idea
shit my brains out into the computer
at least I say something
to myself anyways
because being alone is a lie
we tell ourselves
when we want to try and give up
so we can wallow in mastrubation fantasies
of jesus saving the unique soul
of our fallen sinner fuckinging fucking the shit
please leave me alone
I don't know if i can, I'm sorry

27.8.06

Time to Burn Down the White House

because that is all that is required of us. In the world we must fight. It is time to stop taking the shit. It is time so say no more torture please. It is now to saw we want something of each other, that yes we beleive in humanity and no we will not let all of it go because it is not useless to be alive. Burn down the thing. The symbol and the man. It is time to beleive in the faith that is america. It is time to be of every other nation. It is time to kill the king because he wants it. He has nothing more to ask of his subjects. Hitler is as Hitler does. The murder of one is worth the savior of the generation. Let us not delay, kill that man george today. Piss on his grave. Because he is the one.

YU I luvee wuvee xoxo snuggle bunnies

Why do people use plastic to wrap vegetables? I mean seriously. Is your food really that wet? Why the vapour barrier? It always makes the vegetables get rotten. I don't like plastic bags on my food they are no good idea at all.

And seriously... Aluminum window frames? Is there a metal that conducts heat better? I don't know one. Copper is not as conductive. Is it some conspiracy to make the furnace bill higher and the AC? Why aluminum? I know it is easy to cut and light and non-rusting... but it is supposed to be a windows barrier for heat but not light, not supposed to be a heat sink. Some kind of reason to build that hydro damm and keep the mining business going.

Seriously, just burn down the white house. Osama bin Laden is a super fucking asshole I am sure, but he knows it. The American government thinks they are the cats pyjamas that they are exceptionally good compared to the rest of us, more free from more guns, more advanced by more cars!

They need a war. They need us to fight them or they are fired. Why do we keep employing them.

Seriously, we can burn down the white house later. Don't pay income tax to the US war machine. Just cancel the whole empire project. Vote for someone who will dismantle it. I know GWB pretends to be that but no he is not. He is building more prisons and nothing else. A big government is not big healthcare and daycare facilities "socialised" [to quote a moronsss] It is a big gun.

Ok so now I would like to say build it an they waz going ff gg ii

7.8.06

  • I yam to greedy greedy
  • colletct bits and bytes
  • my kompewtre doesn't sleep at night

  • and i am on
  • in the secret cinema my mind is altered by the flow
  • never know

  • that I am bo
  • sho fo
  • fo sho!


yep, that is the empty saxaphone. I drink it the blood. forget me empty beans we are forever sending each other the letters in the mail but never meeting in person. My body is jeans and I have evolved past that point. My DNA points to nurture vs. nature and created this spectacle of choice in me. see. free. be. lee. zee. key. chi

so I was in CHINA. playing in the OLYMPICS. and I thought maybe i should buy some coffee at the stardbucks? And then i remembered, we are communists, for we don't shop there. ir.

Yes, it is all in japanese. I beleived in that. Apocalyptic winds of fashion. We forever dream of you. To be with her under the monshine. It is a beautiful summer night and I sit here alone with my box. Maybe will i mastrubate into it? The paper cup is full. Frigidaire brand freeley juice it.

I watched the darn fireworks sympfoney of fire from the bay in the city with the water in a rowboat pulled by bicycles. But the police almost stopped us because we did not have the right lights for our vessel under oar. Orange and red bicycle blinkey lights do not count as an allround white light! Smugglers, take note. the police helicopter is shining their big light down on you from the sky. the police department has a very big budget and they have to make use of it for the sake of appearances. Uniform behavior. Fucking loserdom the last night of all the bees. We went to photocopy our wedding thank you note letters at the 24 hour copy shop at 4 am in the morning. but the old guy there couldn't figure out how to make the computer to print to the coppier. Didn't really understand the print queue program. So we gave up. Luckily these male biker types admired our rowboat bike trailer and then warned us to hide the wine bottle not in the water drink holder visible. Good thing, because we saw the pewsky porkers in only a few minutes later driving past. Noticing our boat. So many police out late at night.

Join the IRC freenode sir. because it is not empty.


recently we have started to call it the internets in stead of the term internet only. why>? to save it of course.,

be fred. Be mary. Jim merry,. Freely feede


so bukow did patchen edit much? or did it freely flow? obviously he could spell better than I and have a larger parturient vocabulary. Azureus skies of green. wrong colours. color in computers talking mode.

now i know to write a script for it. My computer is an amd63 yet I installed the ubuntu i686 kernel. see!?

  1. \ /
  2. \ /
  3. \ /
  4. \ /
  5. \ /
  6. \/
  7. r------------7
  8. | T. V. |
  9. | new |
  10. |.....kind.of...|
  11. |.......box.......|
  12. ------------

for me and you to one day come together and get to know each other over the cup of tea because i think that we all have something in common together and that maybe we should trust in each other and risk the chance of the exploitation if we are then to be growing as a species on this soil for that is how god intends us to love and live by the heart...
  • "that was a good line. then what did she do next?"
  • "well she unlocked her door."
  • "and did you wait?"
  • "nah, why bother? i kicked it down immediately stabbed and raped the bitch, took the jewels and peed on the doorstep!"
  • "don't fucking talk to strangers on the doorstep, eh."
  • "I mark my territory, I didn't create this hard life."
  • "word."
  • word.
yes language is not something we have in common. because i speak in sign language and you read in binary. My thoughts are blunt and bleeding. But you are more worried about the spelling ew errors gross.

Forget that thought. Because i am now worried too. PUINCTUATE.IT.SIR.2!@

fru fru. the foobar computer is the wurd of the day. I define it in my object in the mediawiki database.

becauyse the keyword works in my search engine. it goes straight to the incovenient truth bittorrent files that I created with my jam of pirate frundslies.

ws uu ii joj

Joj joj, kok liuy trwe qwertuiop lsurd E vazro? fff ff f ff fff ffff fffff ffffff 7xf 8xf disp=f*(n+1), where n=period.

.

2.8.06

Dog attack no picnic for teddy bears

Associated Press

London — A guard dog has ripped apart a collection of rare teddy bears, including one once owned by Elvis Presley, during a rampage at a children's museum.

“He just went berserk,” said Daniel Medley, general-manager of the Wookey Hole Caves near Wells, England, where hundreds of bears were chewed up Tuesday night by the 6-year-old Doberman pinscher named Barney.

Barney ripped the head off a brown stuffed bear once owned by the young Mr. Presley during the attack, leaving fluffy stuffing and bits of bears' limbs and heads on the museum floor. The bear, named Mabel, was made in 1909 by the German manufacturer Steiff.

The collection, valued at more than $900,000, included a red bear made by Farnell in 1910 and a Bobby Bruin made by Merrythought in 1936.

The bear with Elvis connections was owned by English aristocrat Benjamin Slade, who bought it at an Elvis memorabilia auction in Memphis, Tenn., and had loaned it to the museum.

“I've spoken to the bear's owner and he is not very pleased at all,” Mr. Medley said.

A security guard at the museum, Greg West, said he spent several minutes chasing Barney before wrestling the dog to the ground.

9.7.06

Digging For Fire July 9 2000006



The over pass was getting hot and under my fingers the wheels softened.
Rocks might melt one deay my dear, said the old women to me. She had a big shovel.

Little pixies in the woods feed my satiation and whet their toes in the damp dew of the lilyfrost. Because of me we are all going to be home soon. Because of me she has the best lumber under this neck of the tires. Teepee Motorroute frequently walking on stilted legs of terrific girth. Megawhonow? Because my dog bites and barks free. She has the strongest arms of any woman to hold me, in. Levitate. Ash particles of carbon newspaper read me the headlines of the day as they float down out of the black summer day sky. My shift. My shirt in papers. I read the fashion section on a scrap of uncharred B7

Holy is his name. We shall leave this organ to '86. Deeply. Forevermore. My last little blue book gre up in a woods before it all was there. The nuclear bombs were all that they had to worry t'bout back then? So lucky for the simple things. How I wish it were again. We will be together soon.

Move swiftly. My security costs are skyrocketing in the wake of the salt lake city 2010 riots. We co-ordinated them with our coterie in order to have them be everywhere at once. That is, in the year 2010, we done organised a riot in every past and future olympic city sports venue. This is why the septnembrer levnenth ballooning projections for cost of perimeter enforcements. Send 'em in. My lefty was loosey. I was digging for fire under the earth. There is still yet only one lady in the canadian armed forced fighterjet patrol but equality is coming yet and finally the govt is putting the money where the mouth is be more too. Be a fireman in the woods of desert. A green camouflaged fireman builds the new day for us.

So what if i think your soil is too acidic from growing up in the cedar. My latin si'nsit so t'good anywayz. Me say; for them. Surely, I say. If you wanty too?

Me three

4.7.06

chocoleader

Follow


because to be me is to be that bunny. The bunny is the deepness. The rabit is fruitfull.

Because to be dying is what we wake up every day to do. because the last stanza was not really meant to be there. There are no animals that know the right time to run, every time.

cigarette ashes upon my soul. My left lesticle throbs in anger. The french connect my ADSL to the tV pipeline. I forget about that. Forget to remind me. Because one day it will all be done for you. My lady is waiting. The lesser of two evils. Bull weavil kineeval the thurd. Thurdy two. Twanty one. Remember my birthday. Remember when I am alone. Remember my computer that you are always on... me.

I was forgetting the path to take. I was forgetting the place to live. I had the right telephone number but she made me forget it. She was so scared. Because I was probably going to hurt her, she thought. And I was right. I remembered.

The beans in the dish were starting to dry out. Forget that, we were never going to be over her. The spoon is dirty after coming out of the dishwasher. Please scrub. Can't find the sugercube that we once had. We belong that still to together.

Sarah please! fire me already. I forgot the keys to your bedstand. STOP. I need a new beat.
Can't find a spoon, that we once had. The sugercubes, will melt no more. Beleive me for I am seriously sitting here in the dark typing away and avoiding my life. Beer is good to releive it. It gives a good excuse to me. Not everybody. Maybe I will shave. Shaving is a resonable and responsible activity. I never get bored because the TV never turns off. I never get bored because I am always busy. I never get bored because my fingers are always moving.

I am trying to get away from these "I" statements. I am a married man now. I am trying to use a more varied tone of speech. I want to eat choco bars. Any kind. Japanese kitch. Keetch.

So we were once that type of person that lives together in the mountain timetable. I was not ever with her until then. I was leaving her body from under my toadstool because the last sentance was never finished and I though that perhaps a longer kind of phrasing was called for in this situation I could probably think of a way that would extend the situation a little bit longer and my death would fall a little less shorter and nearer to my life.

Ten surfing songs for the holocaust.

Because this was the album we were going to push. The solid hit of 1943. I was never going to forget that summer, we were so busy in the office. We were doing it, we were living the dream and building an empire. We built bridges and healed wounds and worked with all sides to move the product ahead...

You've all heard it before. you all know how easy it is to draw the = parallel with the stan nazi jesus empire and the world of commercial unquestioning lockstep. Busyness of not asking questions. I am a beach boy after all, I am not going to go crazy as I stagger across the hot sand. Don't fall down because you will never be able to get up. Never get up and then you will get a terrific kind of sunburn. Because I invented that for her. Jesus blessed me. I was endeavoured to sleep with a lazy dyke who had let down her standards and was now having her legs astride of me instead of the indigo burns of the motorbike.

One sweet day, you'll be good to yourself and you'll come and join us gurls. I wasn't one of them though. Even though I kind of wanted to have a vagina between my legs. So that I would be more open to the world. So I didn't feel guilty as I walked around every last corner of this earth. Do you actually see me?

I've never felt so alive. Except that I was lying. I never was going to admit where I really was. The cut of my jib frog sandwich calosel shipping lanes the boat cycleway wikipedia instigator identity check delimited access to the priority shipping channel. Forget. Animals are so soft. I was soft once too. My pink belly exposed to the undergarnmenttemperatures still.

I am not going to be here in the moring. Festival. Not for you or anybody. circus freak. Bleeding tumour. My left ear. Lesser men than I/ Having gone out only to forget the garbage can underneath my feet. Better that her nostirl. Freaking birds EVERYWHERE ALLWAYS CRYING OUT FOR LOVE AND HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CLIMB UP TO THAT TREE AND PET THEM OR FEED THEM LITTLE PELLETS OF BIRDSEED WHEN I AM HOLDING DOWN THE "SHIFT KEY" still...
...

...

Oh I wish there were more little dots like the PERIOD. on. this. here. sophistimicated. over. damn. rated. typing... maching.

o
0
O
:
. dots!!!!

hooray for those things.

hooray for the british.

I really hope england loses the world cup of soccar. America already is out. And not the UK, please lose. I don't really care about football. I don't even know what the score is. I hated it when my mom made me play that game at douglas park when I was a little boy. She would pay me 25 cents just to touch the ball because I was such a reluctant player. I like pink floyd. And bowie, lots of british bands really. I admire red ken. I enjoyed meetinging some UK situationists. But I really want them to lose at football. I know they are pretty good at it. I know they have david beckham and he is famous and looks like me. According to europeans anyways. People use to say I looked like kurt cobain. blondy blondy. That fucking red cross of St. George on a white flag. Pure white. Flying on a plastic flag sticking out from the driver side window of a fucking SUV in kerrisdale. Fucking WASPS. Fucking whiteys. Is this self loathing? I just want them to lose to a brown nation. The beat trinidad and I was sad. I really almost like trinidad, for a certain obscure reason. What a bizarre fetish. Make them lose. Just a little chip. Just a little loss for the fucking queen and her goddamned empire.

My little green python. blimey.

heh.
het. quack.

forgetuhboutwieet.

Slowly, if you bother to read. That is the kenneth patchen. Even nonsense will contain ounces of gold hidden under there. Under the blanket. But me no, the words. The cushions? Me no, not on a blog, that is stupid. If you bound it up in a cloth book them people will bother to read it. Computers are too full of shit already for people to spend their words reading it wading through this kind of nonsense. Lies and truths. A kunning mix ffrom a ffucking ccunt hheaded ffool. Ffuckit. it! It! T.

Slowly, if you read to bother. This was Kenneth Partchurient. bEven nonsense won't conterm
gold hidden thereunder. Blanket under the. No buts here, me. Those werds. Cushions? no more, notablog. snotastupid. If we boned her up under the rape cloth them purple wuz brother read it. Kompewthur 222 full of shit ready 4 people 2 plend they're wurds rowdin tit.
wading through this mind of bonstrents. Lies or truths. A cunting kicks forr no fuckking kinn to
feetted fooll. Ffuckit.it! It? t.

Slow and, if I were to bother to want to re-read this for mistakes. I could write like some famous dead guy. But not very famous and only sort of dead. hidden blanket etc. cushions: why not? blog blog stupid blog. boner weiner erection rape cheese purple wazoo dirty words make you bother reading it. Catch 222 ASA without Codeine. ready 4 you 2 blend "there" rowdy tit wade through this. Truth or dare. cunting licks foor noo fuucking haarm tuu thee
blooody foull. Fffffff........T

Remember if you repeat yourself eventually somebody is bound to listen. Or your voice might just give out.

28.6.06

BEGIN I have to get up at 530 am
and I am not a morning person because
I have not been well churched enuff tuff stuff.

bluff.

so, then. We forget where to be going. I am not. Yew said maybe. POerhaps, we shall see later. If that is so then thenceforth peabody. My mind is not buzzing. bxx



27.6.06

trickster highways
RAB 0018922

The purpose of this essay is to explore and link between the trickster perspective and a specific social movement of local politics. The term "trickster hermeneutics" of Gerald Vizenor is chosen to keep the scope reasonable and to stay on topic for this Introduction to Cultural Theory course. The political movement is the opposition to highway expansion, specifically towards the mega-project Gateway expansion in the Lower Mainland. The structure of this essay is to wobble back and forth between the good and the bad. In between, readers will find their own direction that is the way forward? Or, beyond progress, a sustainable path: are permanently useful roads possible?
  • Projecting Gates
The Gateway expansion is a plan to widen the Highway #1 from nearly Langley - straight through - to East Vancouver. It involves the twinning of the Port Mann Bridge (that is making a twin version of the bridge to double the lanes). The architects of the plan concede that it will not dramatically improved regular automobile traffic flow. It is being built primarily to facilitate container truck traffic to the Port of Vancouver. That is where the "Gateway [to the Pacific]" part comes in. The thing unsaid by the planners is the timing of this project. It is related to the 2010 Olympic Whistler Games. I see the Eagle Ridge roadwork, the plan to dynamite a more convenient pathway through West Vancouver to Whistler, as part of the same project. It is also the same project as the RAV (Richmond Airport Vancouver) Skytrain line. The bureaucrats do not see it that way. They would like these surprisingly similar mega-projects to be grouped separately so that dissent and division against them is muted and divided.

The common thread is that these are mega-projects related to the "world class city" idea of the Olympics. These are going ahead despite local popular will. All of these are billed as major transportation infrastructure upgrades. Yet, none address the primary cause of our transportation problems: the private automobile. All of these projects fly in the face of environmental studies and recommendations made by the adopted GVRD policy, the Liveable Region Strategic Transportation Plan (LRSP). The highway expansions do nothing to provide alternatives to the private automobile. The RAV Skytrain project is considered the least effective and most expensive of the recommended alternatives. It was chosen because it does not displace automobile capacity, as would cheaper streetcars as LRSP recommends. In fact, the LRSP is being edited from history to suit the current government agenda of expansion. The plan is ignored and summarised differently now, the GVRD website newly features a container truck image above the document. (GVRD)

The plan is to spend about $4 billion dollars or so. I don't know the exact figure. The Gateway Project in the Lower Mainland is supposed to be $2 billion and $1 billion for the rest of BC (highway expansion in the interior I would oppose if I knew more about it). The money for West Vancouver and the RAV, another $2 billion combined. Overall, it's probably more than $4 bazillion for my definition of the Lower Mainland "Gateway" mega-projects. One big pot of gold at the end of the freeway, drive-thru only!

Huge financial figures are absurd. $4 billion dollars divided by roughly 1.5 million people is about $2666.66 each. That's five pretty decent bicycles each! In 2000 there were about 1,172,866 licensed cars in Greater Vancouver and the rate of increase was approximately 63 cars/day. Since then, the rate of car ownership expansion has dropped slightly to an increase of only about 50cars/day presently. That's very roughly a subsidy of $3000/car. The thing about cars is that if you count 50 cars you are only counting 51 people. That's a lot more steel moving capacity than warm bodies.

It's an expensive project no matter what, and these things go over budget as a matter of course. Have you heard the one about the government project completed on time and under budget? Me neither.

It may be privately completed using a Public Private Partnership (P3) as is the political correctness of our time. The RAV is already being built P3, and there are corruption issues suggested in that case already. Private cars on privatised roads for privatised people. Even if they do put a toll booth on the Port Mann Bridge, as proposed, it will probably generate an amount roughly equivalent to the interest on the $2 billion debt (My own rough calculation based on current low interest rates). The costs of road maintenance may not even be covered. Certainly, the intangible costs like environmental consequences and increased health burden will not be accounted for. And, as studies show very clearly, increasing road capacity increases overall car traffic, especially trips that could be taken by modes other than automobiles (Alvord 42). Newly constructed highways in the USA tend to get full up with new traffic congestion in about as long as it takes to build them: 3 to 4 years building, 3 to 4 years before capacity. Then, back to the same gridlock. Onward Progress!

  • Local Politics
Some, in my community, are too exclusive, wanting toll booths. They want roads catering to private automobile traffic to be taxed with such a user fee in order to disincentive driving. While I follow their economic logic, I think it can make enemies. People see cars as an extension of themselves and their freedom. They find such mobility controls to be Orwellian. By itself this is not much of a solution.
  • Traditions of Trickster Hermeneutics
Trickster Hermeneutics is a system of looking at the world from a different paradigm, one that has emerged from indigenous cultures rather than originating from occidental settler cultures. Gerald Vizenor describes his theory of this in his essay, "Manifest Manners." However, trickster mythologies are in fact a worldwide phenomenon, often associated with indigenous and folk beliefs. From Japan, the Kappa (cucumber) is associated with a trickster gendershifting creature with power over life and water. Hiromi Goto wrote an excellent novel entitled Kappa Child that explores this theme in the Canadian Prairie. European folk stories, too, display versions of tricksters. The narrator Puck of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream is a version of these folk myths translating even into the "highest" Anglo-Saxon colonial culture.

Vizenor's theory is one of survivance (survival + resistance) in the face of a history of colonisation and genocide of aboriginal cultures. He proposes a break with the Imaginary Indian to live as Postindians. Postindian Warriors! He talks about the dominant culture as "Manifest Manners," a deliberate wordplay on the American imperial decree of Manifest Destiny. He looks at the power of humour to reveal truth. A truth of the moment or a long-standing underlying truth? He employs pastiche, to reveal the facade of the myth of the tragic noble savage / evil primitive savage binary. The truth in humour originates in the tribal consciousness, which is something hard to replace. He also focuses on the role of silence in revealing truth. He distinguishes between simulation of authenticity and feigning in humour, to dissimulate and reveal truth.
  • connection
The reason I associated this disparate consciousness with this desperate social movement is because I think that one has to teach the other a lot. In fighting the good fight, activists may fall into the trap of viewing the world by the same paradigm as their opponents. From within the hegemony, it may not really be possible to win in such a world that is owned by the capitalist captains of Western expansion.

Expansion is a never-ending theme in The West. The American Frontier Thesis (Turner's Frontier Thesis) noted this 100 years ago. The novel and movie, about modern business ideology: The Corporation (Bakan), describes a similar unquenchable thirst for new frontiers of expansion.
  • trouble and problems
This is a difficult topic because I am writing about what I wish I had the power to change and I do not. I wonder if writing will sap my energy or if it will help me to act? Tricksterism comes from oral cultures.

The Gateway Project expansion could become an us-against-them issue: fighting the Goliath. Provincial and Federal Governments are unified to ignore the opposition of the municipalities and the citizens. This project is justified by an abstract greater good of economic benefit. My opposition is motivated by a visceral reaction to the prevalence of automobiles dominating my life, and the wish to not see that proliferate further.

The money spent, the act of building this freeway, and the once built impact, will make alternatives hard. Alternatives that we all agree we need for more universal mobility, such as bicycle infrastructure, pedestrian safety and public transit. These will be near nigh impossible. I won't say impossible because nothing is. If we lose this one I'm going to have to try and promote bicycles afterwards anyway. Four billion dollars and who knows how many tons of moving steel boxes with only one passenger each! When will it end?
me

I'm straightish white-ish male-ish - Anglican by birth. My appropriation of the pedagogy of the oppressed, as I see it, in trickster hermeneutics is quite a risky proposition. I don't believe in copyright and these cultures have a heritage that, arguably, is founded on intellectual private property values. Am I liberating these ideas, using them as radically as I am? Or, am I taking them into my own, owning them, usurping them, extending colonialism into entirely new realms? Maybe I'm wrong about lots of things and oppressing the NDN with his semi-truck in ironic ways?

No, I can be a trickster too. I've grown up influenced by idealising irreverent comedians such as Monty Python, Douglas Adams, Bill Hicks and CBC's Dead Dog Cafe. I try to blur boundaries. I try to do that with my Art. Only racist ideologies define people so exclusively according to genetic heritage. I've read some NDNs or Post-NDNs, and know a few.
  • bicycles
As an urban cyclist, I get the self-righteous penchant. Cars are a real physical reality to me and a threat to my life. However, I have a choice more than others, or do I? Our capitalist society often dismisses oppression in the name of justifiable economic privilege. I choose to ride a bike because I firmly believe it is responsible, on many levels, and is beneficial to all around me in comparison to driving. Riding a bicycle is actually safer to the rider than being the driver of a car, according to traffic statistics (Ross D. Petty). It doesn't always feel like this and statistics do not protect individuals.
  • stupid cars
The central issue of this topic is one close to my heart as a cyclist: car culture and car ideology. Cars are seen as inevitable and necessary in everyday life. They are marketed (with a little irony) as the product that will bring sex and freedom to the individual. Cars have become such an accepted part of everyday life that questioning the need for highway expansion is a kind of heresy.

The idea that must be attacked is the idea that the automobile is free and sexy, necessary and inevitable. However, as our society has become under surveillance and social control, the ironic myth of freedom via car is a panacea for some that they can't give up. We need to collectively offer alternatives like trains, blimps, boats, bikes, busses and walking in serious supply. These things need to take on the righteous right-of-way that cars now own and the government needs to back that. "Government must help to eliminate cars so that bicycles can help to eliminate government." - Anonymous (Dutch anarchist slogan from the 1960s).

People get killed on highways. Death is real, or is it unreal and broken in Western Christian theology? The repercussions are real, but cars as a sign are well insulated by the simulation of safety. Even if cars are the leading cause of death in Canada for people in my age group, people are not afraid of them. Safety concerns like this are a big taboo. UBC recently did a study to see how they could make survivors of automobile trauma feel more comfortable driving again. Such a goal of this obviously dangerous experimental medical prescription is not questioned.

I'm going to need to explain where I'm coming from in my thorough rejection of the highway, the automobile, and all it represents. Just saying the Autobahn was Hitler's Fordist fantasy is not enough. There are social impacts, health impacts, community impacts, physical impacts! Local problems, global, environmental, air, economy, climate change... Often, I feel like a broken record. Cars make it rain more often on the weekends (Alvord 74). Many people nowadays feel a loving dependence with their automobiles, they think driving is a kind of human right. It's called a "freeway" for a reason. The signified is the illusion of freedom. One could write plenty books about this. I've been casually and not so casually studying the issue non-stop since about 1998. My own convictions are far too deep in this matter to explain in any essay, let alone one that tries to go on from there to application with a unappreciated philosophy.

I think car drivers are trapped. The ideology of automobilia is deep and a paradigm of the most deceptive sort. I've experienced car fetishism. It has taken years to free myself of the personal habits of the hegemony and believe me - it's real work! However, unless there is a collective understanding of these sort of contrary values my efforts become hopeless and lost. I would be nowhere without the support of my cycling communities, I would be isolated and alone. The tribal context is imperative.
  • Evil?
This is absurd, but, I'll say it now so I can understand it better. I think the never-ending car worship and highway expansion are evil. With this essay I am comparing myself, or rather my perspective on the highway, with the relationship of the NDNs to the settler invasion and colonialism. A very bizarre kind of parallel. Survivance requires that we not get too dramatic, we stay comic and maintain the power of the trickster (Comedy versus Tragedy). This is a double edged sword for it makes our logic more difficult because if we don't see things as black and white we must also see the upsides to highway expansion, and apparently, therefore also colonial conquest.
...The Indians had a legend
The Spaniards lived for gold
The white man came and killed them
But they haven't really gone

We live in the city of dreams
We drive on the highway of fire
Should we awake
And find it gone
Remember this, our favourite town...
- from City of Dreams, Talking Heads.
That sounds horrid, but in real life it is a lot easier than that. The ideas of colonialism, as highway, are merely symbols, and the reality does not resemble the absolute sign. If we step away from the evil parts we see that what brings the highway is a desire for improvement and development, just as a desire for improvement and expansion fuelled colonialism. Still, it is a scary force. It is close to causing erasure and genocide. The expansionist desire causes ecocide. We are not unsure about opposition to conquest, nor are we unsure about opposition to more pavement where none is needed. We don't need to accept clear evils, but we do need to be understanding of the people behind them. Expansionist idealism, mistaken as it may be, is in all of us.
  • Survivance
There is a real underground. It is where survivance lives. It is not a place, you cannot stay there. It is shared. It is not possible when you are alone, unless you are not really alone, and you are never alone. It lives in the joke. But, it moves on and away as soon as the joke becomes unfunny.
Resistance and survival - that is all we need. Survival is not enough but it is all they've got. Survivance is belief. Survival is total submission. Survivance is laughing. Survival is hate. Flexibility is a good thing. Survival is yet inflexible. You can only die from bending if it is too much - that you bend the memories right out of your head.
  • fight
I know we do have enemies to fight in this. "Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will." -- Frederick Douglass

"There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the roots." -- Henry David Thoreau.
On the other hand, dialogue and friends can get a lot more done than swimming up stream. I'm well aware that these are situations where people fight and that is the problem; becomes the problem. Sometimes it is worth fighting. Postindian warrior? I want to fight the evil menace. Is it possible? Or, do I create the evil by my contrary position. Many would see it that way, as I must first explain to them all the evils of the automobile, which may indeed be based on science, but nonetheless I create the evil in their minds and then ask them to fight it. For them it is easier to just not believe me.
"It takes two to speak the truth: one to speak, and another to hear." -- Thoreau.

Plus, I want to get into specifics. All this philosophising is hard for me to do with a straight face. Maybe it shouldn't be! I need to get out there and fight. Inform. Educate. Lock myself to bulldozers. Talk to mine enemies and show them the light?

So fight we must, as Postindian warriors. What little consolation and conclusion I have to offer is merely this. Do not fear the ambiguity and the in-between condition we find ourselves seemingly trapped in. It is actually a place of tricky strength. A place free from overwhelming binary logic: drive or die. No! Grow from this place and ride together. The fight is an idea we are fighting, not a people. Hopefully. That would be more constructive, productive fertile, fruitful.
  • cultural context
There is a culture already. There is this tricky thing called Critical Mass that rides every month, bicycles clotting up the commute on the last Friday of every month. Their tricky slogan is: "We are not blocking traffic, we are traffic." I've been helping to organise it since 1998. There was a car free commercial drive festival last year with thousands in attendance. (Commercial Drive Festival)

The academic world of city traffic planning has come to the unequivocal confusion, many years after their 1950s Interstate roadway expansion (planned directly on the Autobahn model for US military use), that building more and more roads is not the answer. As well, there are geeky groups that compile statistics and are eternally vigilant in their opposition to the automobile. Some of those groups don't like to break the law. But, these sentinels are determined.

There is a culture that challenges the primacy of the automobile. There is Car Busters Magazine, published by some friends of mine in Czech. However, these disparate strong willed individuals are a fairly isolated culture. They literally ride against traffic everyday - putting their bodies in the way of the wall of moving metal. Ambiguously of course, this is also the culture of old women cycling around town like they always have. Strength lies in unexpected places.

Inclusivity is important, that is what my universalism is about, not dictation. Inclusivity is what Leslie Feinberg is about, and I consider her quite a good trickster novelist. Inclusivity makes a good social movement. Sophisticated trickster ideology accepts difference. There are traditions of this. Frederick Douglas was a Feminist, but some feminist movements after him were still racist. A hard edged universal code of rights is not inclusive.

Some of the above groups are made up of the kind of individuals that are so strong willed - centred on the self - that they ride against the flow of traffic. The irony of building a group coalition from these disparate elements is obvious. As well, how do we include more of the mainstream? Sometimes rebels self define their differences and create the divisions on their own. However, as Leslie Feinberg quips to the truism about herding cats: "Haven't you ever heard of a can-opener?"

Silence. What's this bit about silence? I think it is about listening. Our chaotic simulacra is very noisy and I can't find that silence for direction. The tribe is not coherent enough yet. The tribe, is it a more primitive idea than a cosmopolitan culture? Certainly we make our illusion of it to be, the imaginary NDN savage myth. Certainly, it is not militarily safe from our form of government. I feel a community and support, personally. I wish the tribe were less silent most of the time.
  • Tricks
Where can we go when we do not have an easy cultural context to draw on, a place where a jokes about Hitler's Volkswagen Autobahn will be appreciated?

OK, Trickytricky: why not turn around the tricks of the government onto themselves. What are their tricks? The provincial government drew an "artists rendition" of the bridge with few cars and a pretty train (BC Government). The train is only a vague part of the plan that allows for such expansion 30 years from now. In political terms, 30 years is never; this is part of their simulation. So, could this simulation imagery be tricked into truth?

Education is often seen as one way of affecting change in social views. But, as education is
propaganda in some senses, the automobile industry is self funding and 12 steps ahead. Already, most car advertisements focus on the ecological sustainability of their 'green' brand of cars. Many cycling advocacy groups are focusing on School children.

There is a history in Vancouver of opposition to road building. Mary Lee Chan led a Strathcona protest against Freeway expansion in the 1960s. This story, despite being portrayed at the Vancouver Museum, is still relatively unknown. Mike Harcourt and COPE both emerged from this movement. However, the tradition has been lost and changed, new groups must re-invent. Tricksters like to make up things.

So, I don't have any tricks up my sleeve because the tradition is not so old. There is a - fairly recent - wealth of knowledge about road building opposition from England: tripods and locking yourself to bulldozers; roadblocks. However, such tactics rely on a certain morality of the opposition. I fear these non-violent tactics have become equated with selfish isolation in the mainstream simulation of dialogue. Are we willing to be hurt putting our bodies in the way, just to hope to prove a point? The everyday cyclist relies on the morality of the driver; most will yield rather than intentionally hurt pedestrians. The logic of the ISA dictates that opposing cars is opposing safety. The RSA follow this with violence against 'protesters.' In North America, where live the darlings of the open pavement, the intolerance is more pronounced than in Europe. Cities there have not been literally built around the automobile.
  • humour
This essay isn't very funny. So, here are some - almost relevant - jokes from the internet tribe. These can substitute for a coherent and laughter inducing conclusion! Tricksters don't always tie things up neatly, anyway. A conclusion is the ending, not the beginning of a movement.
Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?
SOVEREIGN INDIAN: This is the Chickens inherent right as he is indigenous to this land!!!
MILITANT INDIAN: That chicken should block the road, not cross the road!!!
GRASSROOT INDIAN: If the darn chickens need to get across the road, let 'em cross the darn road!
COLONIZED INDIAN: Chiggens should never cross the roads that white men built before the great white father crosses it first. If the white father crosses it, it is good. We must then follow.
AMERICANIZED INDIAN: We must have roads. We must cross the roads that the white man built for us. We have to be thankful to the white man for this. I don't know why you Indians are always complaining. You embarrass us. Chickens are good for us.
REPUBLICAN INDIAN: It's true that that white man built those roads for us. We are merely chickens. We will always be chickens until we learn to build those roads ourselves - for profit.
DEMOCRATIC INDIAN: The chicken crossed the road because he didn't have enough funding.
TRADITIONAL INDIAN: Those chiggens weren't traditional because they were supposed to be on it - not crossing it!
INDIAN GRANDPA: I think he was runnin' away from rezidential school.
URBAN INDIAN: That chicken crossed the road 'cause it was a city, man. You know what I mean?
NEW AGE INDIAN: It was basically because of Jungian dream therapy, drumming, sweatlodges, my shaman, and long walks on the beach, near my beach house.
POW WOW INDIAN That chicken must have been heading to a 49!
EDUCATED INDIAN: I think it has to do with Einstein's theory which basically posits: "Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?"
REZ INDIAN: Whats a chicken?
IHS INDIAN: I really don't care why he crossed that road. We still aren't paying for no stinkin hospital bills.
BIA INDIAN: They crossed it because of CFR 49, Section 11299, gives them the authority to do so, under Department of Interior regulations, in the Executive Branch. They wrote a grant and we funded them. We are very proud of them.
KFC INDIAN: I'll take a leg, a thigh, with corn and potatoes. Extra Crispy, please.
TRIBAL INDIAN COUNCIL: The chicken crossed the road before we did? Fire his family!!!
CASINO INDIAN: That's my favorite slot!

----
A cowboy riding across the prairie came upon an Indian laying on a wagon trail with his ear to the ground. The Indian said, "Covered wagon pulled by a team of four horses. One bay, one black and two grey. The driver had curly red hair with a beard and his wife wore a blue dress and bonnet.
"The cowboy said, "That's amazing. You mean you can tell all that just by laying on the ground with your ear on the trail?"

The Indian replied, "No, they ran me over an half an hour ago."

----
Thinking about cars and global climate change:

It was autumn, and the Indians on the remote reservation asked their new Chief if the winter was going to be cold or mild. Since he was an Indian Chief in a modern society, he had never been taught the old secrets, and when he looked at the sky, he couldn't tell what the weather was going to be .

Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he replied to his tribe that the winter was indeed going to be cold and that the members of the village should collect wood to be prepared.

But also being a practical leader, after several days he got an idea.
He went to the phone booth, called the National Weather Service and asked, "Is the coming winter going to be cold?"

"It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold indeed,," the
Meteorologist at the weather service responded.

So the Chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more wood in order to be prepared.

One week later he called the National Weather Service again. "Is it going to be a very cold winter?" he asked.

"Yes," the man at the National Weather Service again replied, "It's going to be a very cold winter."

The Chief went back to his people again and ordered them to collect every scrap of wood they could find.

Two weeks later he called the National Weather Service again. "Are you absolutely sure that the winter is going to be very cold?"

"Absolutely," the man replied. "It looks like it's going to be one of
the coldest winters ever."

"How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked.

"Well" the weatherman replied, "the Indians are collecting firewood like crazy!!"

(These come from http://www.littlecrowtradingpost.com/pagejokes.htm and http://www.funnypart.com/funny_jokes/coldwintercoming.shtml)
reference
  1. Althusser, Louis. "Ideology and the Ideological State Apparatus." 1970
  2. Bakan, Joel. The Corporation. New York: Free Press / Simon & Schuster, 2004.
  3. Barthes, Roland. "Myth Today." Mythologies. 1972
  4. Baudrillard, Jean. "Simulations."A Critical and Cultural Reader. eds. Antony Easthope and Kate McGowan. 1983.
  5. "Billions for Buses." The Vancouver Bus Riders Union. 01 May 2006
  6. Commercial Drive Car-Free Festival. 01 May 2006
  7. "Frederick Douglass." Wikiquote. The Wikimedia Foundation. 01 May 2006.
  8. "Frontier Thesis." Wikipedia. The Wikimedia Foundation. 01 May 2006.
  9. Goto, Hiromi. The Kappa Child. Calgary, Alberta: Red Deer Press, 2001.
  10. Government of British Columbia. "Port Mann / Highway 1 - Project Description: Displayboards PDF." Gateway Program. Feb 2006. Ministry of Transportation. 01 May 2006
  11. "Henry David Thoreau." Wikiquote. The Wikimedia Foundation. 01 May 2006.
  12. Katie, Alvord. Divorce Your Car! Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers, 2000.
  13. Leslie, Feinberg. Stone Butch Blues. Old Chelsea Station, New York: Alyson Books, 2003.
  14. Greater Vancouver Regional District. "Regional Development: Livable Region Strategic Plan." 1999, GVRD. 01 May 2006
  15. Petty, Ross D. "General Background on Bicycle Risks." John S. Allen's Bike Expert Home Page, 30 January 2003. 01 May 2006
  16. "Singer, Andy, and Randy Ghent. CARtoons. Prague, Czech Republic: Car Busters, 2001.
  17. "Synopsis of the Issues." Citizens Concerned with Highway Expansion. 01 May 2006 .
  18. The Truth of the Matter." The Coalition to Save Eagleridge Bluffs. 01 May 2006
  19. Vizenor, Gerald. "Manifest Manners: Postindian Warriors of Survivance." 1994
  20. "What would freeway expansion do to our livable region?" Liveable Region Coalition. 01 May 2006

267 reasons

BEGIN july267




hate to bring up scars but
I think it is a very interesting topic
of this U-turn that happened in May
how it was upsetting and symbolic for some
betrayal of fitting-in
blocking of traffic???
bad neighbours?
so enjoyable for me and for many
why this u-turn in perticular?
not last years' 1000 wheel u-turn so bad?
people say now, but back then there was no complaining.
May was the last straw?
The usual issue of Mass:
May we had just enough to take the LGB
the LGB REQUIRES several hundred
june 2005 we had perhaps 4x more... 1200 not 300
would have been at least twice as slow, or 4 times arithmetically
still of course it wasn't a problem then, but - in may it was
if it is a big enough mass then it is OK
if the mass is just barely enough the tension is... maybe it is too small
cars could break through maybe maybe?
Several descriptions from those who feared the upcoming U-turn
spoke of the gap in time of turning around and
not knowing what to do
10 or? 20 minutes on a bridge
not knowing what was going on
not knowing who was in charge
wonder wonder wonder?
where are we going?
what are we doing?
who are we?
magical wonderful!
the empty space of unknowing. the potential. the magic moment as the acrobat on the flying trapeze lets go of one bar and sails through the air, to hope, to have faith that she will be caught by the other trapezist. the moment of potential. The moment of danger. Extreme danger. up or down? either way. Totally uncertain. fall to the ground. break my neck. broken bridge
I like that moment.
it is dangerous.
some fear the moment. they do not want that space. too many people! too many not knowing? what about a mob? what about a riot? danger danger stranger! who are we? where are we going? what are we here for? wonder wonder wonder. violent uncertainty
murmer murmer isn't murder. Asking each other: dew you know where? I think this way or maybe maybe.
The loss for the self deluding "leaders." we never got to wonder. already know that. ok, turn around. repeated repeated. This will take 10 minutes. 1200 people. 120 people/minute. how fast does traffic go?
All traffic is a circle. U-turn at both ends. Where are we going too? transportation commuter. that cliched narrative: the hero goes somewhere and then finds - to return home - is where he was looking for. must leave here to know here. must come back after leaving. all cars go in circles. all bikes are circles. we are people of the habit
stranger danger stranger danger,
someone must be in charge. do you know who?
is that a theological question?
mass mass mass
what a religion
anarchy exploding
bicycles neverending.
there are more bicycles in the world than there are cars
there will be more bicycles in the world than there are cars
hmmm
I like to
ride with you too
i think that
we can work it out
which way are we going?
is not decided, yet.

16.6.06

heaven for xenophobes

wow



Ted Rall has done it again. Of course there isw some mundane current events aspect to this about republicrats or something... The main thing is a critique of the idea of heaven. Heaven is hate! I hadn't even thought of it before.

Also, it occured to me to notice the 72 virgins. Why 72? Maybe I could look it up. However, I know that there are 72 hours in 3 days.

In the bible there is constant reference to 40. 40 days and 40 nights. Noah, Jesus, the Exodus of 40 years. The reason for that number is 40 week: human gestation period. 40 = rebirth. When they use it, the literal idea of 40 days is absurd but that is not what is intended. 40 is a rebirth. Something new must grow. Something old must die and be reborn or replaced.

So 72 virgins? 72 sweet and innocent hours? Jesus was resurrected after 3 days. So I'm thinking the 72 hours actually has the meaning of rebirth or resurrection or some such symbolism. The only other thing I could think of would be 6*12=72... Muhammed had 12 wives or 12 virgins [they were pure hearted] or something like that? And six times better than that? Arab cultures invented numbers and... was it them or babylon... anyways around there the number six is like 10 because it was a base 6 counting system. Thus 60 seconds, 60 minutes, 24 hours, 360 days, 360 degrees... They 'invented' time.

Anyways, that's not much to do with the comic but. Numbers are symbols. Literalness is so literally not reading it properly. Stupid fundies.

12.6.06

wire stretched



While the Chinaman was crying on the roof
without finding the nakedness of his wife,
and the bank president was watching the pressure gauge
that measures the remorseless silence of money,
the black mask was arriving at Wall Street.

This vault that makes the eyes turn yellow
is not an odd place for dancing.
There is a wire stretched from the Sphinx to the safety deposit box
that passes through the heart of all poor children.
The primitive energy is dancing with the machine energy,
in their frenzy wholly ignorant of the original light.
Because if the wheel forgets its formula,
it might as well sing naked with the herds of horses;
and if a flame burns up the frozen plains
the sky will have to run away from the roar of the windows.

This place is good for dancing, I say this truth,
the black mask will dance between columns of blood and numbers,
between downpours of gold and groans of unemployed workers
who will go howling, dark night, through your time without stars.
O savage North America! shameless! savage,
stretched out on the frontier of the snow!

federico garcía Lorca/robert Bly

5.6.06

Little Park



yesterday I was in the park and saw the dad taking photographs of his little boy.
"Jump!"
"No, jump over here in front of the camera"

Take it home with you that picture because that is what kids play for. Remember the memories.

------
little death vagina under the moonshine. I wish they knew what I was supposed to be drawing. I feel sleepy and six sick sick. Yo you you.

Double double. Bubble trouble.

Fascism is there to get the Dali Lahma in trouble. Your actions will be judged by your reputation instead of the other way around. I forget to write the best part down because I've already forgotten it. I forget to remember to be after the ballcany calbony.
"Calbonifer, would you come here please?"
Free manuals on freedom are distributed post hastily. I forget to remember what it is my job to be doing. I forget to remember what it is my place to sit in the propper order. "Prop me up on the Porp box, Splendid!"

Now we all already know where it is going to. We drive that road everyday after all. We don'y slow down when we get to turning the corner. The tires squeel and smell a little. The sky threatens rain but we are not afeared. The laundry remains hanging on the clothesline. Be careful where you do your sawing for the dust may blow up onto the damp clothing. Surprising, no matter how much rain there is, I always forget my car at home. I forget to buy it actually. I forget to want it.

Myself I swim upstream just to tire out my own arms. I wouldn't want them flailing about and cutting someone. Well, mostly it is for my own protection. I don't need any more of that Stranglin' Mesehlf! Up with the front crawls for me. Heads up, heads up! Keep your eye on the mark. Regular ambidexterous bipedal anterior motion. Forget my hair brush. The water is chilly as it is.

The global climate change warming of some parts of the ocean results in more tumult and stronger currents. From the bottom of the sea frigid ancient waters arise in the newfound convections. Swimming in the sea now means cold waters. Colder and deeper.

Seafoam the left rung of the ladder. Because this mans fads are fancy? Failing thar, that they them do froe. Freaking beanie!

Please

1.6.06

Pink June toygasm


So I wanted to tell you about the cows in my basement. They are very soft. The note on the door said that the coroner of the Vancouver Police Department had dropped by for a chat: Tea and crumpets.

Liquid.

We will ride with an escort. We will apologise for the profanity. We will think before we act. Obey the master puppte. te et.

Ijuwsabelleriino. OJ. OJ simple. OJ pimple. OJ sportsrockstar the never...

Why are our masks so faded?

Button pressed out the anus. The time table dictated an orgasm for the baby doll princess. I frequently mastrubate to the thought of being arrested for nothing in perticular. I wish the donuts came with the other house. Free danish and a motorboat! MY puppy died today.

Yes. Yes. That is quite right, sir. We forget to be the last ones in there and then it all goes to heck. I am sleepy soon.

18.5.06

Painters Never Stop

BEGIN End


I would say that the Bacon in the freezer is good to go. Cut it into a steak and you are money. Forgetmenot flowers are blue, I remember. Motion detectors and sprinklers look kind of the same.

So yesterday we went to the beach. The beach in the hot sun. The nudie beach. There were police. The RCMP were not nude. I don't trust them. They have guns. They are regular voyuers now. Noo.

So underneath all of that contempt I wore sun tan lotion. Jack had the rubber gromet from the end of his crutch get stuck in the sand on the first time Besh had been in the Pacific Ocean. We all got wet. The water was cold and not very deep. Sand EVERYWHERE>

*****Do you know how much sand there is?*****

*****I am going to make a lot of money off of: SAND!*****

*****Get rich quick! Sand!*****

*****Viagra can be made from Sand!*****
[link to website with many popups, how do they even make money on such a website. Every link is false. Every single link goes to a new fake front page. Occasionally you get an 'enter credit card info here page.' I guess that works.]

So we walked our white horse on wreck beach with lad godiva. She said her vagina was kind of hurting and chunks of Cottage Cheese were discharging. Saddlesore. Saddle leather. Vegan leather is fruit leather. My horses name is
"Strawberries."

Boo hoo hoo.,

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[We promise, we are security, Read a policy]

Please send to me, with monee.

11.5.06

girl, you are so crazy!

BEGIN mai11.2006


No I wuzn't.

There haf been 15 times today at which point I have realised the solution to all of my problems. Each solution more ingenious than the last. Now I sit in front of the computer waiting. Waiting for my unarticulated ideas to take form.

The problem with everything is that too many people make up problems.

If only everything were in me already, I would never haff to eat. Haffing a big penis does not ensure you get the lots of girls. Haffing a big childhood does not allow you to be growing up right again. They're just flyers, advertising a pressure washer and electric solar garden lights. On sale now. The Jobmate brand of tools is a poor product but it is always cheap.

I hate to think where that iron came from. Nails in my gut foretell of death and disaster.

Did you know that no one of them did anything about it?

We sat there on the beach drinking our wine and flirting. The sun kissed our cheeks and the blue sky shone overnear. We waffled. The Bar-Bee-Que was a terrible mess: Everybody was rained on. At least we'll always have Uclulet.

Me, I believe in friendly bears. Some people say I'm a joke. My person is never empty and never full. I'm a glass half plastic kind of man. We went to the mall to buy new shoes for the wedding and engagment party. The stock broker recommended we invest in some form of Capitol. Lenders are the most generous people in the whole world.

Kindness of strangers reminds me of a cover story for Readers Digest I once wrote for the CIA. The CIA is never late, they always get their man. Mounties mounted the moose. Free sticker labels only $9.95 and dispenser $3.95 plus shipping and tax. 5 lines of 24 characters each, bold or italics.

I want to have angels. I want to have a paving machine. The road would be hot and fresh beneath my every footstep. I would follow closely the line painting truck.

For me there is pepper, I put it on my plate. I was once a punt rock legend in the underground. Forgetmenot for I still maintain the proper haircut. Leaving the birds at the shore we flew into the water. Underneath there were stars and whispy yellow clouds. The Sattelite Jupiter has 4 furthur satellites including a bumpy moon. Ur-anus.

Never in all my years did I see such a hospital helicopter. It was carrying cheap plywood to build a new condiminium development. If only the beds were empty.