Fondly Remembering An Old Friend

Back in late August, 2001, I had a dream; a dream so colorful, a dream so magnificent, bright and brilliant, a dream so visionary, which at the same time was sad, deep, dark, intense and so troubling like a unintentional premonition forecast that was prematurely cast in stone of what was to come.

The night was hot; hot and sweaty as I lay shirtless in my boxer shorts asleep on my futon, inside the already balmy third floor apartment, 1243 Rosemont Avenue in Chicago. We were all getting ready to part company, my roommates and I, parting on three separate journeys into the outer stratosphere, ready to explore the cosmos that guided our lives.

In this dream, I was in India, guided by an old familiar friend. Even though we hadn't met, not formally, anyway, we connected through the music he created. I had known his music for many years.

He'd been in a popular band for many, many years and like many things, times changed, as he and his bandmates were tired of each other and moved onto bigger and better passions. In later years, when one of his bandmates passed away suddenly, he withdrew from the public eye for nearly a decade and became a gardener, among more important tasks.

When he emerged with a new record, he was met with tremendous accolades, as reviews go, but he took it all in stride and rekindled interest in his music occurred almost immediately. He disregarded what people said usually, as if it were no big deal; it wasn't. Not for him.

A few years later, he toured overseas with an old guitarist friend of his for the first time in 16 years and again was met with high praise, accolades a-plenty, again taking it all in stride. Along the way he produced a few more albums, a handful of films, kept up with the gardening, hung out with old friends, popped up on television & radio talk shows, made a cameo here and there, slowly pressing the flesh once more.

Late in the twentieth century, there was renewed interest in his old band, not that anyone ever lost interest in them really, but three box sets of their music were produced, which included 150 unreleased songs, plus a television film of based on the band's history. It would be the last public appearance of the three remaining band members in the public eye.

In this dream, we visited all of the locations where he had traveled to, where he created and was moved to inspiration to play music and write music, hang-outs with his bandmates, friends and his girlfriend who would become his first wife one year later.

He told me how beautifully gorgeous the time was that he spent there, how he did treasure and would treasure those moments forever. He wore a beautiful orange-colored silken robe. His long brown hair flowed wildly like an untouched mighty river in the early days of a warm spring.

An acoustic guitar with him, he sat down and began strumming a few warm-up notes, before he launched into a new song I had never heard before and told him so. He said that nobody had ever heard them either except for a few close friends, but it would soon be heard by many. He affectionately referred to it as "a warm blues song," he'd been tinkering around with for some years and felt that the time was right to let it be heard.

That tune was beautiful and melodically crafted and so full of powerful energy from a man who had seen the world many times over as a relatively young man.

He then turned to me quietly and candidly said that he'd had such a good life and was ready to pass into the next universe. I felt a cold chill across my face, as I stared ahead blankly. I knew he had been sick earlier in the year, but he had beaten the sickness back, so he all told us.

In a moment's notice we remain happy and content. He remained that way the night I was with him and when we parted. As I awoke, I was covered in sweat, as well as tears that had been streaming down my face for many moments, knowing that my dream was a pre-cursor of a major event to come.

Exactly three months later I received a telephone call from my friend Iris in London, England.

"Did you hear the news," she asked cautiously and slowly. "Yeah," I said glumly, "I heard it three months ago." I didn't tell her about the dream I had, as she filled me in as to what the people of England, his home country was doing to honor his passing.

Rest in good spirits, my friend, rest in good spirits.

Black Friday-Cyber Monday-Cheaply Made Crap=A Happier You

Ah yes. With the last bones of Thanksgiving turkeys stuffed into trash cans and the big empty boxes folded and stuffed neatly into recycling bins, you know what’s already underway; that ever-loving holiday shopping season that makes big business executives pee in their rubber three-piece pants suits, hoping you’ll buy from their stores, so you can make them fat and happy, bankrolling their IRA accounts, just like those oil companies did to those of us who needed gasoline in their tanks this past summer.

It’s Cyber Monday in a nation that just endured the onslaught of Black Friday coupled with all of those advertisements brightly blaring about savings galore on newly manufactured crap that most of us really don’t need, but many go out and buy anyway.

Where does the need come from? For what reason is there such a need? It comes from a “want” list given by kids to parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles and from cousins, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends, partners to each other and so on and so forth.

Want list? Whatever happened to being surprised with whatever gift was received? It went back long ago and was exchanged at stores for something more desirable or attainable.

Attainment of desired gifts? Sounds serious to me! Gifts for the most part are materialistic, unless of course you receive a book, a music CD, food or something that has a better chance of surviving with a backload of happy memories, verses that HD 100-inch television that will undoubtedly take heavy abuse during sporting matches or porn film festivals.

But what’s the point of desiring something bigger, when it’s not necessarily the best? Flashy features and up-to-date improvements are all well and good, but is it so much better than what you have now? If you take care of a product, it’s more than likely going to have a longer shelf-life.

Most of my belongings have lasted a good long time. Out of the many things I own, here are three old items that still work with relative ease.

I have a 1950 Zenith radio I bought at an auction 25 years ago. The radio itself is over 50 years old and I can still get in my favorite radio stations, both on the AM and FM dials with no problems at all. Imagine that!

Then there’s the General Electric clock radio my dad, Rex Pater Homo bought for himself and The Arizona Babe when both of them were still working stiffs in the 1980s. After they moved and retired permanently to The Valley Of Golden Happiness, the clock radio was given to me and great thunder! After 20 years, it still works!

Finally my Saturn, a car I’ve probably taken better care of than my first vehicle, a Geo Prism that lasted me all of five years with over 92,000 miles on it. I put new tires on my Saturn, replace aging parts or equipment and change the oil every 3,000 miles. Sure it has bumps, scratches and a scar on the right front hood from a driving accident during a snowstorm a few years ago, but I still have it, nearly seven and a half years later with 51,000 miles plus and it works!

Overall, you don’t really need to go out and buy new things when there are things you already have that work so well already. Try gift-giving alternatives like www.craigslist.com or www.freecyle.org. Re-gifting is okay in this day and age too. Everybody else does it, so why can’t you?

Save a landfill! Save an American worker’s job! Be creative this holiday season! And most of all be good to yourself, for after all you deserve a little happiness once in a while!

All Communications Were Cut Off 10 Minutes Ago-An Occupational Hazard>Act 33

Disclaimer: Problems are the price of progress. Don't bring me anything but trouble. Good news weakens me. It takes your enemy and your friend, working together to hurt you to the heart; the one to slander you and the other to get the news to you. Nothing travels faster than light, with the possible exception of bad news, which follows its own rules. Never awake me when you have good news to announce, because with good news nothing presses; but when you have bad news, arouse me immediately, for then there is not an instant to be lost. Fiction can be that way sometimes. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental & should not be taken or misconstrued as such. Anyone who thinks otherwise probably believes that friends are like television. Some are like PBS and always asking for money. Others are like the news, with sad tales to tell everyday, some are like that one station with the foreign language; you don't understand a word of it but you listen and watch.

Ways to communicate in and around Devil’s Island have been exceedingly difficult in the past and present, that is of course, you chose to subscribe to the monopolizing network of Broadcast Betty, which up until recently had exclusive rights to broadcast Devil’s Island official news and information; but not through the standard method, rather through the old-fashioned whisper-whisper ubidee-ubidee the tree method.

Up until one week ago, Broadcast Betty had broadcasting exclusivity rights to every living, half-living, late and former soul that once made their home on Devil’s Island, but no longer.

Enter Dirt-Dishing Daisy, one of the meanest and most lowdown broadcasters ever to hit Devil’s Island. Not since the days of Tamara The Toothless Telepathic Terrorist have the inmates of Devil’s Island seen such a true dogfight for the rights to broadcast information relatively unknown to others.

Dirt-Dishing Daisy, a former member of the now disbanded OCTOBER Sisters, acquired broadcast power in her own right after the suicide of fellow OCTOBER Sister Chimney-Smoking Martha. The other OCTOBER Sister, Loudmouth Lucy turned a deaf ear and went mum, when Broadcast Betty, as well as Dirt-Dishing Daisy came sniffing around her cell for information leading to Chimney-Smoking Martha's suicide.

Unbeknownst to Broadcast Betty however, was the mere fact that Dirt-Dishing Daisy had already set up her own prisoner broadcast network. With a trailer-trash demeanor and leathery skin to boot, Dirt-Dishing Daisy is the kind of broad you wouldn’t want to meet in a darkened prisoner yard upon Devil’s Island.

If you look toward Dirt-Dishing Daisy’s way even for a second without her permission, you be forever encoded on her “broadcast with intent to do harm list.” Whether you asked for it or not, she will inflict as much broadcast pain as possible upon you, so as to make you not forget your crime anytime soon.

Sometimes broadcasters are like that. They want and desire so much power, that sometimes it gets to a level where they have to prove to the population around them that they are the greatest egomaniacs they can be and being broadcasters, well this just fits the bill perfectly!

Lately the broadcasting competition on Devil’s Island has become fierce! Broadcast Betty has had to update her entire broadcasting network and protect herself from sabotage, thanks in large part to Dirt-Dishing Daisy who has made every effort to shut down Broadcast Betty both on the broadcast level and under the table.

Under the table execution is part of Dirt-Dishing Daisy’s plan and she thinks nothing of undercutting her competition by making offers to the likes of Upper Prison Brass, The X-5 Unit, The Barnaby Boys, Mugsy & Lugsy, The Great Divine Spirit, The Sorcerer Sisters and Sister Tootsie Footsy, primarily misinformation that leads a collective bad taste in prisoner circles and cut-throat style political broadcasting that make the aforementioned seem like saints.

Yes, friends, Devil’s Island truly lives up to its name. At last, truth in discretion has risen to the top where merde once predominately fermented. And the stench couldn’t be any finer than it is today!

Dr. Lord Poetmonk Throatsinging Industrial Spyboy Bingo's Assessment Of Virtual Jerusalem>Act One

I am a former Internet chat-room addict…I gave it up last month after much self-concern that I wasn’t accomplishing anything within my own life and frittering away my time and energy arguing with idiots. I had been frequenting this chat-room for nearly a decade.

Not any old chat-room mind you, but particularly, a Jewish chat-room by the name of Virtual Jerusalem, www.virtualjerusalem.com In previous years it was called Jewish Chat and then Jewish Street before its current name. A chat-room chockfull of Jewish men and women chatting based on their faith alone, not how they practice it.

And the subject matters they discussed! Well, that’s another blog for another time. In previous blog entries, I have blogged extensively about some of the chatters who frequent this chat-room and their mannerisms.

But, let me back up. There are a lot of stereotypes that I’ll never understand, especially Jewish stereotypes. Sometimes. Sometimes I don’t understand these stereotypes at all and going into that chat-room, I got it from both sides, Jews snapping at my heels and biting my ears off, just for the simple reason that I had a difference of opinion. Imagine that; someone who has a brain of their own and can think.

In the past there were times I would be kicked out or banned by the moderators, due to my opinions and to the mere fact that I didn’t behave “Jewish enough.” Not Jewish enough? What the fuck does that mean!

Inside the chat-room, this is usually what I came up against:

Me: As young Jews, we get drilled into our heads about how Israel is our homeland, it’s not.

Chatter: You should visit it and support it financially.

Me: Give me one good reason why I should support a country that I’ve never been to?

Chatter: Um, ‘coz it’s your homeland.

Me: Um, sorry; America is.

Chatter: ‘Coz you’re Jewish?

Me: Dumb reason.

Chatter: Oh well, you have to support Israel as a country and support them financially.

Me: Oh no I don’t; why anybody does is beyond me. We need to support America first, before it’s too late.

Chatter: Well, then you must be a self-hating Jew.

Me: I don’t think so!

Chatter: Oh, but you are!

Me: And what pray-tell makes me a self-hating Jew?

Chatter: Because you don’t support Israel’s right to exist.

Me: What!?! Where did this come from?

Chatter: Well, since you don’t support Israel financially and you believe it’s not your homeland, therefore you feel it shouldn’t be a country that shouldn’t even exist! Why I bet you’re not even Jewish!

Me: What!?!

Chatter: Yeah, you must be an Arab or Muslim, you Anti-Semite Jew-hater! Why are you even in here? Get out of here! I’ll report and make sure you’re banned!

I’m lost, completely lost. And that, in a nutshell, is the mentality of the majority of people who frequent that Jewish chat-room. Most of the chatters there ganged up on me and called me all sorts of names, filled with hatred from a cause or purpose that perhaps they themselves don’t understand.

For one man to stand alone and to say what’s really on his mind is a scary thought for the packs of gazelles that graze on the stereotypical bullshit that grows all around them.

For one gazelle to leap from out of the packs and suddenly nod its head and agree that the man who stands alone may be partially correct, is an omission that someone else has a conscious within the gazelles.

To date, I’ve converted over half-a-dozen of those omissions to loyal friendships. Friendship is built on trust, not religion. And on that principle alone, I am winning the war on stupidity, assumption and good old-fashioned human values.

Thank goodness I’m out of that virtual madhouse!

The Botox Frankenstein Poetry Series>Give Me Your Hands I Want To Hold Them In Mine

Good afternoon everyone! A quick tip of the kippah and yesiree, it's Friday! Hip-hip hoorah! We've made it to the end of this fourth week of November, a decent shortened week indeed, but the madness persists all around us, as only big business and its cast of characters would have it. Our good friend, that post-Thanksgiving capper has been waiting patiently all morning to take us into a busy, but gentle weekend! And now, yes you guessed it! It's spanking brand-new poem-time! And remember dear readers, please tell someone you love them and always, always, enjoy!!!

Give Me Your Hands I Want To Hold Them In Mine

You cry softly so that no one will hear, but I do
I always do
One million miles won’t keep us apart
I cannot nurse your broken heart, for you won’t let me

(So girl please)

Give me your hands
I want to hold them
In mine

(And tell you that I love you)

Oh sadness in your soul
Dig deep into the hole, that broken shell
That you never want to come out of

You walk in the desert, as the sun burns your eyes
But you don’t feel it
You fall to the ground
I cannot heal it

I lift you with my hands
You lift me with my heart
Your breathe a sigh
I ask you to let me inside
You refuse
You suffer in peace
I go to pieces

(Oh please girl)

Give me your hands
I want to hold them
In mine

(And tell you that I love you)

What I’m Thankful For, Thanksgiving Day, 2006

Today is Thanksgiving Day, November 23rd (even though I wrote this Friday, November 17, 2006) and often we get asked the question “What are you thankful for?” Funny, I don’t ever remember reading that this is what the Native American Indians asked the Pilgrims when they invited them to celebrate a joyful harvest in 1620 with them. Still I’m thankful for a lot of things, really.

Thinking about it over a period of 52 weeks or 12 months, here’s what I’m truly thankful for.

I’m thankful that I have a job in this uncertain economy. I’m thankful I have a roof over my head and a place to sleep comfortably and a place to store all my belongings, making my studio seem more like a storage locker than living quarters!

I’m thankful that my Saturn still runs after 51,000 miles on it. I’m thankful that I have my health intact. I’m thankful for my friends Mykel Board, Lew Brickhate, Blog-19, Iris, Nechama, Joe & DiDi, Stewart Brodian, Scoats, Tim D., Noam Gaster, Scott & Marla, Cathy, David V., DMX Dave, Adam G., Brian & Leah Grover, Michael Brownstein, The Rev. & Mrs. Rev., George Weister, Favour, Peggy, Venus, Menachem, Jade Spotted Owl & Big Chief Bluefoot, Wayne, Wes and everyone else who I’ve befriended over the past year.

I’m thankful for my previous mentor Vida Wolk and my current mentor Miss Firefly, who have helped me to see the light and point me in the right direction over the past several months.

I’m thankful for my hunger for starting to perform again and I’m thankful to everyone I met and treated me well (and not so well) on my recent tour to New York City & Philadelphia. I’m thankful that Sid Yiddish is fast becoming a household name, thanks in part to this trip, www.youtube.com, my plethora of readily available CDs and of course, word-of-mouth.

I’m thankful I can still write, create and make others believe that the magic still flickers inside and I’m thankful I haven’t as of yet lost my mind and I’m thankful I’m left-handed.

I’m thankful that I have a family who loves me, even though a few of us are far apart on some personal issues, but I’m thankful that my father Rex Pater Homo is doing well & that The Arizona Babe is as equally healthy & that Louie & his Missus, Naomi & her Mister, Benjy & Joey all have their health, their joys and their happiness.

Most of all, I’m thankful for you, my dear and loyal readers out there in blogland who have shown me what you like and what you don’t like and that makes me happy that there’s at least one other person out there reading this, besides myself when I edit this down and post it each day.

It means a lot to me that some of you actually care what I see, hear and feel, day in, day out and know that whatever I post comes from my heart and soul and not some cheap fall-apart toy from a dollar store.


Happy Thanksgiving To You, One & All, My Dear Readers!!!

What I'm UnThankful For, Thanksgiving Eve, 2006

This being Thanksgiving Eve, Wednesday November 22nd (though I wrote this last Friday, November 17th), I thought it might be suitable to list what I’m unthankful for this year, as a sort of opposite to the whole “I’m so thankful for” biz we voice aloud on Thanksgiving Day at the dinner table.

Thinking about it over a course of a year or 365 days, take your pick, here’s what I’m truly unthankful for.

I’m unthankful that my relationship with Alice didn’t work out. I’m unthankful that my rent in my old apartment rocketed sky-high and caused me to move yet again, due to a paranoid world market. I’m unthankful for my new unfriendly neighbors who hide in their million-dollar mansions, who don’t come out of their dwellings to say hi, but let their dogs run loose at other citizens’ expense.

I’m unthankful for all 23 mice I had to endure over a course of a two-year period at my old apartment and all the unjust criticism I took as a result of it. I’m unthankful for being on the receiving end of much hatred & criticism of my faith from both strangers online and my immediate surroundings.

I’m unthankful that I held onto false friends for so long. I’m both unthankful that US armed forces still are situated in Iraq & that George Bush is still our President. I’m unthankful that CBGBs in New York City closed down this past October. I’m unthankful that the Evanston mayor doesn’t bother to show up at city council meetings, yet will show up at official city functions like ground-breakings or police academy graduations.

I’m unthankful that there’s still poverty and hunger in the world and still very little is being done about it. I’m unthankful that for expressing my opinions and standing my ground in what I say, feel or act upon and not getting the support, instead of hearing those who tell me I should refrain for their own personal fears of safety, myself being arrested, beaten up or dragged away from my home.

I’m unthankful that illegal immigrants get more sympathy and respect for wanting to stay in the United States without ever wanting to become American citizens.

I’m unthankful that I’m still undecided about my future. I’m unthankful that I carry with me some very deep and personal tragedies that will stay with me for a little while longer. I’m unthankful that my car radio busted on me this past summer. I’m unthankful that Terry Dickerson is no longer with us.

I’m unthankful for that gig in Seattle that fell through. I’m unthankful that some people still don’t *get* me. I’m unthankful for so many other things, people, places and objects that are too numerous to name.

As I stated earlier, I’m not airing out any dirty laundry or sour grapes. On the contrary, my declaring of being unthankful is a healthy way of getting the negatives out of my system once and for all.

All things must pass; pass away. And ultimately, they do.

Spam Jam Word Cram-Herschel Mustachio Vs. Bob The Blacksmith Vs. The Dinosaur Rockers Vs. The Circulatory Drama Queen>Act 3

Oh those glass warts! The last time I conferred with them, they drummed and slapped archival doctrinal theories that were so insatiable, that even the promiscuous unidemensional Leopard Almighty Tambourine Man drank chloroplast-free batteries! The Great Heschel Mustachio poodle-pulsared the cortex hamburger, declaring it the brainchild of actions racing like circumspection lollipops that even the most congenial hospice potato farmer from the former Soviet Union could support!

It was purple last time I looked, continually flowing like a Christian dustbin vomiting its destablizer anyplace it could get a clutch to stick. Bob The Blacksmith attentively and god-like tends to vilify and demand that Sam & Ella honey up their sachets of beatitude or else mourn the empathetic cargo of featherless birds so ravenous and cross-strawed, that even being ashamed of sawdust droppings will be banned by the FCC in an amorous attempt to refection themselves behind gaudy exo-skeleton-like cornucopial billion dollar iodine eyeglasses, that even the Republican Party can ask the average Hypocycloid Ashman if he's copyrighted the last phosphate citrate eulogy beer alliance to please the ductwork gong-workers union so proud!

Couldn't believe it with my own eyes or ears if I saw it, but there they were on the bandstand, The Dinosaur Rockers with total abandonment. Amazingly, anal as it seemed, the band pass they provided me with was so gregarious, that even the puniest ant could punt the most irksome and cuddly lukewarm erector set straight into a bottle of Brand X and send it smashing right into a diffeomorphic integrated bravadoed declarative kindling wood that those white Earth streaks can dance rabidly in the plight of its pursuer, an alter ego stuffed in its craw!

Oh! What is it with that circulatory drama queen, anyway! One minute she acquits the sultry murderous drywall assailant and then switches into overdrive the latest inception of a combined effortless freak consisting of outrageous juggling and the essence of a single-backstiched pterodactyl crossway sensor and then demands counter-examples!

Spam Jam Word Cram-Mettlesome Monica Vs. Great Daddio Pooh Gibson Vs. Campbell Manama>Act 2

The ridgepole tacky like The Manhattan Project, like ice tossed over the railing of a flimsy hotel banister. Well, I'll be dipped in fishcakes! If it ain't that old Mettlesome Monica, biblical cultivation, sewn like interpolant hydrolysis bags that are so morphhemic after stargazing amongst the robotic diachronic flagerant diatribes that have just consumed a dozen high velocity brownies!

Legend has it that the late Great Daddio Pooh Gibson once impractically clotted an entire apathetic keyhole as Kim & Jacqueline Horn called out for revenge! Miss Daphne was so struck by Daddio Pooh Gibson's parental awakening, that she pried open every crevice she could get her nimble fingers into and astutely inserrectioned a Christ doll to each vendor waiting on the Memphis balcony wrapped in signboards, advertising wooden dreadlocked circumspectionized bulls! Well you know what? a little tint dispersive doesn't hurt every once in a while.

Campbell Manama stuffed a banana where the sun don't shine, tucked Colby-patterned afgans designed by Puritan gang gentila crotchsniffers, loaded inside chiasmic telephone dissipated birthplacemats, flown directly to Beijing & Indianapolis to the attention of one Olivetti Kingfisher who insists that Avon products are the mere ace in the hole; that is of course if you drink Nairobi earmarked opinionated Unitarians under the table, coupled with counterargumentive canister celluloids of bondholders all rejoicing in the mysterious artistic contraband ratio of 9 to 1, that any aversion that embattles the fruited majestic emphysematous flagwavers, will undoubtedly head East!

Spam Jam Word Cram-Poodle Protector Vs. Monogamist Panhandlers Vs. The Alumnus Economist Vs. Yee Sick Trammel>Act 1

Poodle protector poaches in dreamscape of ebony Nebraska naked nuptials, following prostate fatal Confucian smashmouth inside the fail-soft yearbooks. The plush sketchy smelly villa burdensome hostage mockingbird Orion moccasin like chord progession that Lenny Bruce felt inside the hinderance kit of Tim McVeigh's gape keys, betrayed by the mackintoshed-locked mammoth salmonella groves flowing beneath the influent meltwater in magnesia Zoloft bowls.

Monogamist panhandlers erupt merrily along the prolifigate acumental bikini-clad whimsical gradient chicks named Rachel, Venus, Imogene, Sally, Betty & Jennifer, whilst indigene quadripartite ratify and adore, as in defectation digitated delivery, downsizing.

The alumnus economist usurpathioned himself handily, as Levitt the Formica whitetail benched whale addressed Elena's dowry before all of mankind. "You alliterate critter," said he, "Why are we all resistive casualties standing behind the baseline beheld by the mere fact of batchless desultory top-notch bandaid kits for Geo Metroed emboldened and emblazoned Bahamas go-go dancers with saucers pointing skyward? Is this not the ultimate litmus test for the brain-fried children to seethe frothy and demand punk jazz cigarettes!"

Ahh, yee sick trammel! It's all a sick fabric plot behind Watergate, told elusive by none other than that combantant devolutionary profiteer himself, the John Forbes Kerry of sullen devious inexpedient electrician wing-walkers before the luxuriate has gone mental! Only hours before the late great Muselix O'Shea discerned herself from wanton derogatory hygiene palette dips between inductor partooken colloquial octagon polarimeter ledge systems infused with Edison blush applicators, auger bits and Elmer's Glue, doth she made the historic Trans-Atlantic panty raid to Minneapolis!

The X-5 Unit Returns! An Occupational Hazard>Act 32

Disclaimer: A man should never neglect his family for anything. A meeting moves at the speed of the slowest mind in the room. In other words, all but one participant will be bored, all but one mind underused. A salesman minus enthusiasm is just a clerk. All lasting bargains are built on friendship. Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness. Fiction can be that way sometimes. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental & should not be taken or misconstrued as such. Anyone who thinks otherwise probably believes that cannibals prefer those who have no spines.

Strange events have been seen here in recent days on Devil’s Island. Closed door meetings held by Upper Prison Brass. Curtains & shades drawn in many prisoner’s cells as an ominous feeling seems to permeate the air, almost as if the prisoner population was expecting someone to drop in…looks as if the X-5 Unit is back in business!

The X-5 Unit controls for one of a better term, the goods & exchange traffic within the Devil's Island prisoner system. Need a pack of cigarettes? No biggie, you’ll have it in a jiffy; no strings attached, honest!

You say however, you need a cigarette carton? Well, that’s going to cost you plenty. But don’t you fret the X-5 Unit will set up a payment plan, guaranteed to shake you down for the rest of your time spent here on Devil’s Island.

The same goes if you need booze, company a debt paid off or someone kept quiet, well, don’t you worry, the X-5 Unit can do that all for you too, for a price that is!

Seems as though the X-5 Unit has been living underground, working out their previously difficult task of being caught red-handed for illegally shredding documents & evidence that was to be turned over to Upper Prison Brass & The Barnaby Boys for possible indictment charges against them.

Who got them those documents, well no one seems to know and the trouble with that is, that so many prisoners & members of Upper Prison Brass are involved with the X-5 Unit, that no one knows who to trust or who is aligned with whom in which faction.

Broadcast Betty takes all sides because she has to; how else will she get her information?

It was said shortly before The Pontificating Princess was paroled, that she was summoned to appear before the Upper Prison Brass and speak about all she knew concerning the X-5 Unit, but before she could even speak, the X-5 Unit speeded up the process of her parole papers and gave her the royal bagged carpet send-off, before she was able to speak to the Upper Prison Brass.

The X-5 Unit walks around the whole of Devil’s Island, as if they owned the joint; as if they owned and pocketed Upper Prison Brass, The Barnaby Boys, Mugsy & Lugsy, The Great Divine Spirit, The Sorcerer Sisters, Sister Tootsie Footsy, Broadcast Betty and practically everyone they know that would or could speak ill-will against them.

Therefore, when any of the X-5 Unit is seen together giggling, gaggling or gambling someone else’s own will, they will tell you on no uncertain terms that they run the show. It’s their game to be played with their rules and their rules only.

Unbeknownst to many prisoners on Devil’s Island, there is already a movement to change all of that, and that’s something the X-5 Unit fears the most is change, for change means less control. To counter that movement, the X-5 Unit has seen to it that all prisoners are happy on Devil’s Island by not charging them anything for their services.

Too little, too late is what the FBI has been saying for weeks and has gathered enough evidence to stop the X-5 Unit dead in their slippery & slimy tracks.

Be afraid X-5 Unit, be very afraid, for once the FBI infiltrates your gang, there’s no telling what direction they’ll go in and there’s no telling how long your reign of corruption, terror, scandal and shakedowns will last. You have two choices; go back underground or get off Devil’s Island completely.

A little friendly advice from those who have gone before you!

The Botox Frankenstein Poetry Series>Death Train

Well! Good extremely late evening to everyone! A quick tip of the kippah and yep, it's Friday! Hip-hip hooray! We've made it to the end of this third week of November. Our good friend, that sweet capper has been waiting patiently all day to take us into a restful weekend! And now, yes you guessed it! It's spanking brand-new poem-time! And remember dear readers, please tell someone you love them and always, always, always enjoy!!!


Death Train

Knock twice for hope upon the coffin lid
There's no dry eyes in this room
For a little boy
Who went dancing, dancing
Late one night with the train
Thought he could beat it out like they do so much on TV
And the child did he see
His own finality
For that is part of reality

I cannot overcome this madness

Now Appearing On YouTube: Sid Yiddish & A Cast Of Thousands

"YouTube is a popular free video sharing Web site which lets users upload, view, and share video clips. Founded in February 2005 by three employees of PayPal, the San Bruno-based service utilizes Adobe Flash technology to display video. The wide variety of site content includes movie and TV clips and music videos, as well as amateur content such as videoblogging. Currently staffed by 67 employees[1], the company was named TIME's "Invention of the Year" for 2006.[2] In October 2006, Google, Inc., announced that it had reached a deal to acquire the company for $1.65 billion USD in Google's stock, the deal closed on 13 November 2006..."--From A Wikipedia entry on YouTube

There’s this great little phenomenon called www.youtube.com which allows one to be an instant superstar via your digital camera or camcorder and I suspect it was only a matter of time before this next step in how to entertain the masses for free was coming.

I accidentally stumbled upon it one day, but discovered that it would be to my advantage to use it to gain ground and a new audience for my performance side and my newly created stage name, Sid Yiddish, as well as to push my blogspace, the one you are currently reading, http://themishegasmaster.blogspot.com just a touch more.

I can’t say whether or not more people are reading it or not, but I’ve gone back to a regular writing schedule since I returned from New York City a little over a month ago.

The first film I uploaded was a little home film I made specifically for my throat singing teacher for him to view and critique my throat singing skills this past July (2006). In the meantime I sent the film out to most of my friends and what comments came back were the usual ones I expected; words like “cool,” “freaky” and “priceless,” amongst others.

From there, I decided to test the waters of America and reach out to a wider audience and decided to upload the film to YouTube. I waited until mid-September (2006) to upload it and the results have been fantastic!

One week later, I followed it up with my super-mega throat singing hit “Mykel Board Weasel Squeezer” and let the chips fall wherever they decided to fall, as I left for New York City the following week.

My third and most current film I posted was a tiny five-second film of myself in a gorilla costume serenading a woman who is dressed in a leather Cat-Woman outfit at my workplace during a Halloween costume contest.

Due to the hype surrounding my costume and the hype I received shortly thereafter for my stage name Sid Yiddish (and that’s no lie), I’d say it’s my fastest viewed film to date on that I uploaded on YouTube.

The viewing stats for each film are astonishing to say the least for the little time period all three have been on YouTube.

Film three has been looked at 165 times, since November 1, for an average of 10.3125 views per day, while film two has been looked at 222 times since September 28, for an average of 4.72340426 views per day and film number one has been looked at 164 times since September 21, for an average of 3.03703704 views per day.

But besides my own films, one can find virtually any film on anyone on YouTube, anyone from the famous to infamous, to the virtual no-names (like so many thousands of us) to up-and-coming talents (again, like so many thousands of us).

YouTube is far more addicting than any chat-room or television program could be for me, granted I have four television sets collecting dust within my apartment.

In the last week or so, I’ve watched film clips of Groucho Marx, Muhammad Ali & Liberace, Jack Benny, Jack Kerouac, Howard Stern & Tom Snyder. Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Eddie Murphy, Little Richard, Tiny Tim, GG Allin & Jerry Springer, The Beatles, The Simpsons and countless others.

Anybody that you think of who might be on there is on there, even the most obscure person in the world is on there! It is totally amazing, really it is.

Do I have a follow-up film in the works? You betcha! Will I expand my horizons even further? You betcha!

In the meantime, if you haven’t seen any of my films, here are the links to all three, plus the film of my friend, the Howard Stern impersonator…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niEP2Y6t06E

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-BnnztltTU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Yx631XwlzE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmQKD0HjgGY

Enjoy!

There’s No Such Thing As Bad Luck, Right God? Right, Devil?

There are complications in life, some we can foresee, some we can not, until a negative demon stares straight into our face and the demon seems almost too happy to see us. Perhaps it’s a demon of bad luck, a demon by choice or a demon of consequence.

Some people believe that the chips fall where they fall due to lifelong bad luck or consequence. My good pal Cathy feels that way. She feels that anything that has ever happened to her, is because of lifelong bad luck.

Yesterday, Cathy slipped and fell in her shower at home, shattering a recently replaced kneecap in three pieces and a bone in her leg, sending her into emergency surgery; she’ll be laid up for a while. Cathy has been shortchanged in life for sure, but it has nothing to do with bad luck, rather bad choices.

A lot of people make bad choices and then choose to suffer the consequences.

Is there a role God plays in all of this or is it perhaps the Devil? Well, let me let you in on several secrets. God and the Devil don’t deem a given set list and christen people with bad luck; nor do they pick out names at random; nor does God and the Devil play craps and the loser has to do what the other tells him to do; nor does either play Truth Or Dare; nor does God and the Devil agree on a secret pact for a secret amount of money for God’s favorite charity and instructs the Devil to do whatever he pleases to a person.

Case in point; the lovely Venus while still in her youth fell to the street one day because she had lame feet and Mars helped to pick her up. Did Venus fall because she was earmarked to? Nope. Venus was wearing new shoes and she wasn’t yet comfortable in them. Did she fall down because God and the Devil were quarreling and the Devil pushed God, who in turn bumped into Venus while the Devil cast an evil spell to make Venus to face up to pain and humiliation? Of course not!

Then there are writers, poets, artists & musicians that I know of who struggle financially, even if they hold down a day job or two or three and partake in group and medical studies for extra dough, but still cannot afford all that life has to offer, like trips abroad or fancy cars or decent places to live or not enough food to eat. Is that bad luck too? Doubtful! It’s more like choice to live the lifestyle they choose to live and enjoy what they can while they can still enjoy it. Memories are sweeter than the money memories cannot buy.

As many of you readers know for the past two years I had a mouse problem at my last apartment, 23 mouse deaths in all. Was it my bad luck that the mice came to my apartment especially, since I lived on the second floor? Partially, only because I still had overlooked a few boxes that had food packed in them that I hadn’t yet unpacked and stored away properly.

Was it my fault entirely? Nope. As I set the many traps in and around my apartment, I found many previous unplugged (there’s that word again) holes all around the floorboards of the space and later, during the final days there before I moved, I actually did see a mouse squeeze into the wall with virtually little or no room to do so.

Did God and the Devil create a mutual pact to send me so much vermin within a period of 24 months? Heck no!

According to the some of the tenants who lived there, mice had always been inside the building and up until the time I left, management chose to do nothing about it. But even harder to fathom was the mere fact that neighbors across the way were ground-feeding stray animals and that of course attracted rodents, including mice and rats that conveniently lived nearby at the local sewage plant, not too far from the apartment building, so naturally…

But you get the idea; there’s no such thing as bad luck. It’s bad choices and bad situations that create chaos and havoc when they’re not tended to fast enough.

Right God?

Right, Devil?

Of course, right!

Unplugging From Stressful Holidays-What A Great Revolutionary Idea!

"If you think the holidays are a bit much, do what I always do; relax and unplug. It’s the best solution without going mad," The MishegasMaster, Monday, November 13, 2006

Unplugging from the stressful holidays seems like a great idea, but nobody seems to want to do it, that is, nobody, but me…just imagine if I did it; I think I’d be onto something. If I myself and another person unplugged, we’d be a double dynamo!

With three, we’d be a set of triplicate tempests in tin teapots and with four, whoa! We’d be a quadruple bypass steamroller and with five, wow! Five! We’d roll along in a quintuple caravan and six, just imagine six people my friends, unplugging, raising a ruckus, but not yelling, screaming about how the holidays are so fucked up; can you imagine it?

We’d be six rebels who’ve decided to unplug from the holidays and everyone else would have to listen to our silence as we went about our busy lives with smiles and joyfulness within our hearts and souls and pretty soon thereafter we were noticed, they’d start to cover us in the local press; people would blog about us; people would criticize us and then we’d get filmed for the local evening news and it would only be a matter of time before our movement caught on nationally and every television and radio talk show would want us to appear on their program and ask us “how we did it” and what are secret to success is.”

In acappella & unison, we’d tell everybody the same thing; that there is no secret recipe or no miracle cure and their viewers & listeners would demand more and pretty soon we’d be offered exclusive book deals to write about our rags-to-riches success story of how our movement begin way back when we first unplugged.

The book of course would be a New York Times bestseller and movie producers would seek us out, wine us and dine us until we agreed to a multi-billion dollar movie deal based on silence and the movie would be shot quickly and released just as fast and would be number one at the box office for weeks on end and then at the Academy Awards the following spring, we’d sweep the awards ceremony with our “golden silence,” thanking our mothers and fathers in the process.

But oh, no! It wouldn’t stop there; it would cause an atmosphere disturbance, one for the better. All wars would stop; all fighting would cease to be; all violence, all anger, all hatred, all crimes against humanity would quit immediately; people would be work together all at once and be happy in their little affairs. There would be no need for lawyers and their frivolous lawsuits.

All negative influences would vanish into thin air. Cheaters, adulterers, liars and sinners would be subject to hearing babies cooing, birds twittering, field mice squeaking and horses neighing until they confessed their evil ways and promise they would never be so evil again.

Yes my friends, all it takes is one little idea, one little grassroots movement to get the concept rolling and soon, as you well know, the whole world would know about it! And this little idea grows in other directions, all positives, no negatives.

Unplugging---It’s the best damn idea since the beginning of time itself. You ought to try it sometime. Unplugging from stressful holidays! What a great revolutionary idea!

The Hell With The Holidays!!!

Being Jewish is fun this time of year as, the holidays fast approach. Of course, when most non-Jews speak of the holidays they mean Thanksgiving Day, Xmas & New Year’s Day.

Jews already had their New Year’s celebration in early October, so that takes care of that and Xmas? Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffttt! So, that leaves just Hanukkah and Thanksgiving Day, but since Hanukkah’s such a minor holiday, all that’s left is Thanksgiving Day, but before I gripe about Thanksgiving Day, let me bitch about Xmas for a spell.

This weekend was a rather busy one for me in terms of running errands and stuff, but no sooner did I enter a lot of the places I went to such as the supermarket, did I start hearing Xmas music and it’s not even close to Thanksgiving Day yet!

It makes me cringe that some retailers have no respect for other religions, other than those Xmas-loving lunatics, especially when it comes to retailers like Wal-Mart who bowed to pressure from some Christians who weren’t happy last year and boycotted them just because their employees didn’t wish their customers “Merry Christmas,” but wished everybody “Happy Holidays” instead.

This year it will be different though. In order to make everyone happy, Wal-Mart will wish “Merry Christmas” to everyone, including Jews & Muslims. Got to keep the Christians happy, I guess!

How insulting is that! But before you side with me totally, as most of you readers know I do collect and listen to Xmas music and I listen to it year-round, as I listen to Halloween-themed and Hanukkah-themed music too, plus a huge plethora of other holiday music too, still Xmas music tends to get overplayed a little too much by retailers everywhere I frequent like gas stations, supermarkets, dollar, thrift & department stores & bookstores.

Sometimes retailers get all token on us and play Hanukkah music for those who celebrate, but they need to; how else will we be fool enough to buy plastic or paper gifts that fall apart within weeks of buying it? Besides, they need our business, so they do what they have to in order to get us into their stores otherwise, they come crawling or slithering to get us in and in a way, that’s kind of cool!

Still, we have Thanksgiving Day to contend with and it’s certainly not one of my favorite holidays, as it can be a most frightening and scary experience for me, as witness to years’ past.
As I get older, I wonder what the holiday really means besides stuffing my face with turkey, eating pumpkin pie and telling everybody what I’m really thankful for.

The last two Thanksgiving Day holidays for me, were anything but normal for me, but this year promises to be much better as a couple of friends have already invited me to their apartment for a Thanksgiving Day meal that promises to be fun and relatively normal.

Thanksgiving Day can be quite stressful because people put so much pressure on themselves to please others and put on a miniature stage show, with all the shticks timed just so. Of course, the shticks can go wrong too; in fact they always do.

Holidays are holidays and just that. Take them as such and don’t try to kill yourself in the process; your friends, family and other relatives do understand. It’s just a meal, not a reality show!

And if you think the holidays are a bit much, do what I always do; relax and unplug.

It’s the best solution without going mad.

Petty Thievery: It's Everywhere You Go>Act Two

As you well know, there’s plenty of petty thievery on the Internet too, which is what inspired me to write to write this particular essay to begin with.

A lot and I mean a lot of criminals are safely harbored within the electronic superhighway, but to use an example to illustrate, I’ll use this one, provided to me by the strange logic of a moderator within a Freecycle group I belong to.

It stems from a misunderstanding of mine from a post that was made, but of course it got me to thinking and I asked the moderator how anyone could give away free items like priority boxes that are already available at FedEx Kinko’s copy shops and local post offices?

And here’s what the moderator said, verbatim: “As for the priority mail boxes, yes, they are free, but free things are definitely allowed on Freecycle. The point in this case was that she got more than she needed and was offering them to someone else who might need them rather than throwing them away. I believe this is a perfect example of the purpose of Freecycle. If she just put them in a recycle bin, energy would be needed to process them to create new boxes. By offering them, she was preventing a waste of resources.”

Well, as I could see by that answer, the moderator was telling me how okay it was to do such a thing; I mean the poster could have returned the boxes to wherever she got them; they were created for free to use for a specific purpose and the poster took advantage of the purpose and gave them away without giving back what she didn’t use. It was not the poster’s choice to do whatever she wanted to do; she took more than she should have and should have returned them as such, but since she didn’t and decided to dump them online under the cloak of Freecycle, this makes her a true petty thief!

Just imagine if everyone followed that philosophy; it would be total anarchy. People would be stealing free stuff in droves and dumping it online under the cloak of Freecycle (or Craigslist) without total respect for the law. Whatever happened to the old adage, “Take what you need and leave the rest for others?”

For all that “energy” that the poster supposedly saved, did the poster realize that she’s a petty thief in disguise? Probably not.

The very idea that Freecycle is saving the world from creating more landfills is applaudable, yet advocates the dumping of other companies knowingly free property onto unsuspecting souls, is just plain wrong! Don’t want to be caught or be responsible for the crime? Well, then just don’t do it!

Freecycle’s main purpose is to peddle off one man’s crap to another for free, not to peddle potentially stolen property! Call it what you will, but with rules like these, it won’t be long before Freecycle becomes what law enforcement agencies used to call pawn shops and that is "fencing operations."

All it takes is just one chance to steal and boom! You got yourself a thief! So keep on Freecycle, keep on advocating and condoning petty thieves. I sure hope that someone notices what Freecycle is condoning and that Freecycle will have all that “energy” to take the consequences responsibly like everyone else does when they steal something that isn’t theirs.

And where does it stop? People steal ideas form each other all of the time! Corporations rip-off their shareholders and their employees constantly; Enron is a classic example of that.

So you think petty thievery is okay? You think no one will notice? Think again and think again and then after a little more time, think again.

And if after all this time you've thought about it and you believe that rules, regulations, ordinances and laws can be bent, broken or loop-holed, well then, you’re probably a thief!

Petty Thievery: It’s Everywhere You Go>Act One

Petty thievery; it’s everywhere you go…in the workplace, in the supermarket, on the Internet, at the post office, in the coffeehouse...well everywhere and I mean everywhere!

Stealing is nothing new, but acknowledging that it is happening and what one intends to do about it, instead of harboring these actions, are two different matters altogether.

Believe you-me, I’m no saint, I’m as guilty as the rest of the bunch, but no one it seems wants to own up to their responsibilities or consequences; at least I can admit to it, but I still ask, how many others can?

But it's not pickpocketing, muggings bank heists or jewel theives that I'm speaking of or referring to, rather it's pure and simply put; petty theivery in modern times, mid-to-late 20th Century, early 21st Century style, that is.

In the workplace, people steal all sorts of stuff like pens, pencils and other office supplies, but not necessarily in big globs, but in tiny caches, so no one really notices it gone, just as long as long as it’s being used, is all that really matters.

At the supermarket, it’s a little more complex because it involves unsupervised children that not all parents realize they have and I don’t mean all children, I mean the child who pockets a candy bar or rips open a box of cereal to get that plastic super-duper prize out of the box and just leaves it behind in a mess.

Parents don’t often find out about it until much later and as far as blame goes, whose fault is it, anyway? Certainly not the child, for the child learns from his/her parents who are supposed to teach the child right from wrong, left from right. Yep, but those kind of parents tend to schluff it off and blame it on the media, while in the meantime, the child will have learned a bad habit that will be attached to them for a lifetime.

At the coffeehouse, is a personal favorite; favorite of mine that is, because it’s so easy to walk out of a coffeehouse with extra packets of sugar and honey, as logically the owner will replace it, but keep on doing that and the sugar dispenser will end up on the other side of the counter with the coffee ingredients.

And they do watch you, let me tell you, for in my quest for a little extra sugar one time, I took six extra packets of sugar and was told to put them back or the clerk would have the owner call the police and have me arrested for stealing! So sure enough, I put them back, laughed in the clerk’s face and walked out of there, but it wasn’t a true coffeehouse anyway, it was a 7-11.

Restaurants are far worse, as people steal everything there that isn’t nailed down including; napkins, eating utensils, bread baskets that contain rolls, muffins and bagels, extra pats of butter, jams, jellies, packets of ketchup, mustard, relish, mayonnaise and of course sugar, coffee creamers, salt and pepper.

And believe it or not, that stuff all adds up, though I suspect that stealing condiment packets is far cheaper than buying a bottle of ketchup or mustard in the long run…

The Botox Frankenstein Poetry Series>Helping Myself With The Harvest

Well, well, well! Good late sloppy evening to everyone! Ugh! that white stuff has found its way to our fair city, way too early if you ask me, A quick tip of the kippah and yep, it's Friday! Hip-hip hooray! We've made it! And believe you me, I am quite happy it's here! But still I remain just as busy as ever for the end of this second week of November and after a long absence, it's nice to be back here on Friday nights. But you know what? Our good friend, that sweet capper is here to ease us into a gentle weekend! Stay warm (those of you in the Midwest & the East)! And now, yes you guessed it! It's spanking brand-new poem-time! And remember dear readers, please tell someone you love them and always, always enjoy!!!


Helping Myself With The Harvest

The sun makes up poems for me
When I cannot
And lately that’s been a lot
Leaves make poems for me
When I fall silent
And all I can hear is the wind whistle through the trees
The gentle breeze frees my spirit,
but every time I try to record my movements, with a pen and a pad
All I can think about is wanting to be had
Do you think that’s mad?
That’s why I rely on the sun, the trees and the falling leaves to make up poems for me.
because if they couldn’t,
I wouldn’t exist and simply would not get close to the soul who once resembled the man
I set out to be

The Day After The B-I-G Dem-OOO

So, the day after the B-I-G Dem-OOO, the dust has settled in most local and national races and thankfully, the 2006 midterm general election is over. The Democrats control both the United States Congress, and the United States Senate.

Out go the scandals and the idiots who relied heavily on the commander-in-chief and all his nice wonderful friends to get their seats back.

But, Oh-my! Oh-my! George Bush couldn’t and failed miserably.

Sure, the undefined mission to Iraq and the war on terrorism probably did Bush and his pals in, but Bush didn’t think so and well, now…you, see, when the leader of the greatest nation in the world takes his own armed forces and places them in harm’s way without a back-up plan, well that just seems kind of ridiculous and dangerous, not only to me, but thousands of Americans throughout the USA.

Oh yeah, and by the way Mr. President; where are those WMDs anyway?

So, the Democrats are back in control, eh? Big deal!

Change is imminent of course, but tell me what will they do, since they have regained control? Raise taxes? Make promises they can’t keep? Get embroiled in scandals? Pay people off to keep quiet? Tell bad jokes and not apologize right away? Resign?

Hmm. Well, they might be like the idiots the American people just voted out! Both parties are the same; have the same amount of slick-talkers, bull-shitters, rising, contemporary and fading party stars that of course the press will continue to focus on.

But on the other hand, is there such a thing as a politician who isn’t a former/present banker, lawyer, real estate agent or son of a politician/millionaire that hasn’t had some kind of atrocity in their background?

Makes good profit and ratings for news organizations anyway.

And what about Joe Lieberman? He came back from the political morgue alive and kicking as a winning independent after losing the spring primary in the state of Connecticut as a Democrat! He’s a sorry sad sack of a person if there ever is one. He’s boring and orthodox; a token politician who should have retired long, long ago. So Joe reinvented himself as an independent? Gee Joe, think you’ll run as a socialist if you get your ass voted out of Congress in 2008?

Locally, we seemed to do well, as all the local Democrats won, although two of the candidates I voted for, both Republican by the way; yes I said Republican, didn’t seem to fare all that well. I am for change and not for personal views of a candidate where the personal views don’t apply.

One of those Republicans who I voted for was Cook County Board Commissioner Tony Peraica, who ran against Chicago alderman Todd Stroger, son & heir-apparent to his stroke-retired father, John (Stroger) for Cook County Board President. Hand-picking your own son to take over your corrupt kingdom? Shades of Daley-country USA, shudder to think!

But what Stroger threw at Peraica that angered me so were things like abortion and gay/lesbian issues. What does a Cook County’s Board presidental candidate's personal stance on abortion & gay/lesbian issues have to do with balancing a budget? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! And yet, the heir-apparent-elect pulled these zingers throughout his campaign. Diversion to the real issue at hand; whereas Peraica has true experience and Stroger none, Stroger gets elected.

Reminds me of the corporate working world; when someone is hand-picked by executives, not for their combined skill & talent, rather for their abilities to rubberstamp company policies, swallow company bullshit and above all, suck-up.

So, in reviewing the situation, those damned Democrats and those repugnant Republicans, are just going to have to get along, somehow. I don’t care how they do it, just as long as they smile for the camera on cue, shake hands before they come out swinging and get all pink, naked and dirty.

That is after all, how American politics works.

If there’s any constellation prize or fallout from this election, United States Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld resigned; meaning my personally autographed photo and letter from him when he was CEO of Searle Labs in Skokie, Illinois is going to be worth a pretty penny.

Talk about luck!

A Letter To Miss Firefly

Dear Miss Firefly,

I’m sorry you have a broken heart. Broken hearts as you well know are not easy to fix, but I will do my best to offer you some suggestions. Sure we can rely on our families and friends, for they are easy to lean on in times like these, but getting over a love you feel deeply for, isn’t always the same on the opposite side of the fence and it truly hurts like a kick to the groin and stings like cologne or perfume on cut skin.

I know that pain well. I’ve felt it many, many times before, as the last three summers have been three true heartbreakers and yep, the devils are out there in force enjoying the pleasure of sticking it to me good and hard, because they want to see me suffer, just as I supposedly made them suffer. I call them sick and disturbed and they need hospitalization ASAP!

Everywhere you step there will always be reminders of them of that there is no doubt, so please do yourself a favor and keep busy. Immerse yourself in a myriad of projects; it helps put your mind at ease and takes away the focus of the negative and turns it around to a positive!

Work-out at the gym, listen to music, although be advised to stay away from sentimental love songs and ballads; for they will drive you to tears for certain. If you feel the need to channel your anger, let me show you how to throat-sing; believe me, it works when push comes to shove!

Some years ago when I had a bad luck streak in dating, I adopted a philosophy in which I repeated often both aloud and to myself, “my wife is the universe,” meaning the world she is my sole partner in keeping me in check, teaching me right to left on this treacherous life adventure. As with myself, I am sure that you will find someone better and more in tune with what your soul desires. There is someone out there for you, I know it!

And remember, Miss Firefly; it takes 76 muscles to smile and two to frown.

Sincerely,

The MishegasMaster

Truth, Justice And The American Way

Linus Van Pelt to Charlie Brown: “You'd either be the hero, or a goat.” Snoopy to Charlie Brown: “Baaaaaaa!”

Tomorrow dear friends, you can make a difference; the difference of choosing to be a super hero or a super goat, that is, when it comes to voting in tomorrow’s general election.

Goats are a dime-a-dozen, as are average heroes, yet the word hero is an overused, misguided word. Heroes not only fight for freedom and save us from peril, but heroes can be looked up to as role models.

The days of truth, justice and the American way have been horribly distorted by the likes of all major, minor and in-between political parties, special interest groups, minority factions, the press and illegal immigrants.

You name it; there’s been every sort of ram-rod effort to break apart the very strength of that great foundation. that we know and love as truth, justice and the American way. We’ve heard the same noises, barking, lies and shifting movements almost every time there’s an election on the horizon. Too many allegations fly and too many revelations spring suddenly forward within days of the actual general election.

These revelations are always saved for a crucial mind-blowing brain-bomb guaranteed to cause a diversion in the overall political race and guaranteed to swing the outcome of the race toward another outcome.

Politicians hire outside firms and use their friends (besides the press) to do the dastardly deed of digging up dirt on their opponent. So when I see this in every election known to man in America, I have to ask myself one question; where is the truth, justice and the American way in slinging mud and all the negatives all around the neighborhood, when it’s the issues at hand that matter the most?

Yet, politicians rely on these negatives to get themselves elected and re-elected to office, both in local and national elections. Truth, justice and the American way; we as citizens of this sovereign nation should demand that, not this petty bullshit scare tactics and yeah, there ought to a law passed against such negative campaign tactics, as it only creates diversions, confusion, chaos and wasted energy.

So, still want to be a super hero? Want your kids, wife, husband, significant other to worship the ground you tread upon and love you for life? Well, pal, get your tuchas out there and vote! That’s a real hero for you.

And in the eyes of truth, justice and the American way, you’d be a true super hero by stepping up to the plate and doing your part for the team by going out and voting!

Basic Fascism 101: Welcome To The Egress>Act Two

The President of the United States is helping his country straight down the path of righteousness. Yeah right! Straight to hell, rather. I’m not the only person that once sat on the sidelines in the scattered bunches of minorities who have raised their voices loudly, screaming “See? Told you so!” Now, the minorities have grown to thousands, all screaming the same thing, basically for the fascism to stop and let the healing to begin.

And how do you heal? By forgiving, but that doesn’t always work for everybody, myself included. Lately, I’ve been the punching bag for a plethora of idiots who seem to want to blame me for their own sorry lives and their own mess of problems. And it affects me everywhere I go; home, school, work and playtime too.

Sometimes it takes a great incident to get a tiny spark to fly, setting ablaze a bonfire of protest or action to be taken before any results come forth with a solution to a bad situation.

But it’s the very kind of depressive state of being that others try to keep you down with by disassociating with the very idealisms you stand for, by ignoring, banging the telephone down on your ear, slamming the door in your face, name-calling, telling you that you smell bad, that you’re no good and that you’re not like the other good little girls and boys who are trying to step on you in the economical rat race as well and get ahead.

I go through this cycle after a seemingly endless streak of happiness and when the bleak blank blackness of reality washes over me like a bad drink I had in New York City nearly three weeks ago, but I piss it out of my system virtually overnight and then it’s gone, for the moment. I don’t let the negatives get to me; not that much anyway and I salvage what I can of the negatives and recycle them into positives!

A few weeks ago, I received a free local magazine from a female friend with its theme revolving around forgiveness. I put it aside and chuckled to myself and then phoned her up and asked, “Is this a hint or something?”

She mumbled something to the effect that I should forgive someone else for crap that the significant other shat on me some months ago. I shot back, “My life is scot-free of additional bitterness and anger and I should be forgiving? I don’t think so!”

She hung up on me.

Success is an enemy to the losers of the day. When the enemy admits they were wrong to begin with, then maybe I’ll think about being forgiving, but I won’t be waiting for a “sorry” anytime soon. Drama is always distorted to what one wants to hear. It’s always different in the enemy’s eyes. They’re the ones filled with eyes of hate, hearts of jealousies, while committing acts well beyond the sanity boundaries just because they’ve had a bad week and they expect me to be forgiving them?

Let them say sorry first and mean it with compassion.

In the meantime, I look forward to the future. Good stuff is headed my way and no massive flood or blinding blizzard of negativity will hold me back from achieving what journey I’m about to embark upon.

Critics cry on their own blogs with self-inflicted wounds of disdainment and unforgiving words. It is after all part of their fatal cycle that they cannot break.

And for this I smile with a putrid sadness in my eyes.

The MishegasMaster Presents Guest Writer Ifeoma Okoro: The Light In The Tunnel Has Turned Into Darkness

It's not often as I, yours truly, The MishegasMaster gives up this very space to just anyone I created one and a half years ago, but today I do, as I'd like to introduce to you, my audience another great writer within my circle of friends.

I first met Ifeoma Okoro (Favour as I call her and as she likes to be called) nearly a year ago through a penpal service. Little did I know what was in store for me as we began corresponding with each other. As I have discovered over the many months, Favour is a brilliant writer in many aspects, especially in poetry, prose and essay-writing, as well as a loving, warm-hearted soulful woman.

She has authored a couple of books, including a touching book on grief and loss.

We think alike on many levels and I feel very fortunate that we have met. Not only can she write, but she runs her own foundation for widows, (www.widowadvancecare.org) all this at age 23! What a marvel she is! Of course, Favour doesn't live in America, she lives in Nigeria, a country that has been taken as an unwilling hostage by turmoil and unrest. It is number two on the United States' State Department list of places not to travel due to the deterioration of the country itself. Ironically, the government of Nigeria modeled their country's democracy after America's. Nigeria's president (Matthew) Olusegun (Aremu) Obasanjo behaves like a Neanderthal, similar to our fuck-up of a president, George W. Bush, Jr.

Among the many projects Favour works on, including ghostwriting books, she also freelances for newspapers. Last night we had a long talk as we usually do and she told me about an opinion that she submitted to one of the newspapers she writes for, but they said they couldn't print it, due to heavy criticism of the of the Nigerian governmental body and Obasanjo, for fear the newspaper might be shutdown, censored or other governmental interference. It always works that way, doesn't it?

Having been a causality in the battle of censorship over the years, I told Favour that I would be happy to publish her opinion here in my blogger space without worry or fear of those evil censors. As you my readers know, I am a heavy critic of America, the government and Bozo Bushman himself, so I am not worried if someone attempts to "get me" or not, as kooks are everywhere we step, even those in official-looking uniforms.

Feel free to comment. And now, I pleased, honored and thrilled to present to you, dear readers, Ifeoma Okoro...

The light in the tunnel has turned into darkness where the train cannot pass even within our own country. Nigeria the light of our country, is gradually turning into darkness. We all are getting blind. Even the train cannot pass through her tunnel anymore. The air we breath is getting too hot for us and our nose and eyes have been swallowed up to the fact that we cannot see the truth of our predicament.

Oh God! What is future of our young ones if the cloud would not be bright? The cries of the innocent ones have changed the sky into a dull moment. The cloud is very moody, even the birds of heaven feel their pains and hear their cries. The green grasses are scared of what will happen next. Even the iroke trees are scared of what will happen next.

Dear people of Nigeria; a lot has happened in just few months. Our country has lived and is still living through tragic events. The bitterness has been aggravated by the political and economic mistakes of the past, the remedying of which was imperatively demanded by the condition of the country and the general desire of our people.

The grave situation in which we find ourselves is characterized by the fact that various elements are mixed up in it, both the one we know and also the one we do not know about. In just one year, a lot has happened. The sky was cloudy, even the wind was storming. The plane crashed with souls of the innocent citizens of Nigeria. What a great loss we have had. The people that matter in our country are gradually dying out one by one.

Who is behind this tragedy?


In the east, west, north and south, souls were crushed like a peanut. What is happening to our aviation? The most painful one was the events that took place on the September 20 2006, where the souls of our dignified men (General) crashed without a trace of it.

This particular event has never happened in history of the world, where 13 major generals died in a plane crash. Here lies 13 bodies of major Generals side by side, in the chapel of the cemetery. I counted them one by one, and stopped in front of each of them. All of them were prominent people, people who would have impacted knowledge to the young ones growing in the military, as far as I could judge.

The smell of blood mingled with the scent of the flowers, which the population and their relatives had brought and pervaded throughout the cemetery chapel. Here lies 13 martyrs who made one of the most glorious pages of history of military chapter as well as demonstrated the insurrection in one of Nigeria's provincial towns.

To all Nigerians, government, United Nations, delegates of the people! In the coming hours you will decide about the life or the death of this country while some of you, your children are at peace and cultivate happiness. We the citizens of Nigeria, our country is falling under the cruel fire of terrorist bombers. Our country has been attacked from within. We turn to you, who are our last citadel of hope.

Kindly exercise the opportunity, which our country have given you and save our country from destruction and slavery! We are asking for immediate and effective help to save us from further bloodshed and give us back our neutrality.

Let us not be our own enemies. Children are hungry. Clothing and shoes are wearing out, fuel is getting scarce, and kerosene, gas and electricity are nowhere to be found. People are dying everyday, tragic things happen here and there.

What will happen to us, if the country is paralyzed, its economy run down; what will be our fate? We certainly do not want this to happen and we cannot allow this to happen!

Hello people of Nigeria. The future of Nigeria does not only depend on the shoulder of the government, but on every honest worker, every patriotic youth, every communist has a new task before him. Let us join hands together to put an end to this disaster that has befallen our country.

Do all you can to prevent further bloodshed, publicize the amnesty decree and convert those who still hesitate. Every minute is precious; the fatherland needs the life of every worker and all the citizens of Nigeria.

Professor Babaloa Borishade (Nigeria's Minister of Aviation, formerly Nigeria's formerly Minister of Education), we are tired of plane crashes! Our brains and souls are yelling for help. We need more of your effort to help us to produce a good operating environment and incentives should be given to your staff to complement competitive remuneration and training.

And please, we need more of our youth to be trained in order to fill the gap created by aging personnel.

I plead with our government to help the civil aviation authorities to push for an accelerated manpower development program across Nigeria and set a goal on a given number of professionals to train likewise.

Men of honor cannot be found where there is no peace, no love, no transparency in a country that is not united. We need transparency in our country. We need light in the tunnel again.

Post-Partum New York Stories>Act Two: Spot Them! Jew Vs Jew!

1. Find The Jew Who Wears A Wig.
2. Find The Jew Who Spreads Loshon Hora.
3. Find The Jew Who Is Happy With Their Life.
4. Find The Jew Who Is Outed Just For What Their True Beliefs Are.
5. Find The Jew That Doesn't Support Israel's Right To Exist.
6. Find The Jews With Beards.
7. Find The Pretty Jews.
8. Find The Ugly Jews.
9. Find The Jews Who Don't Practice What They Preach.
10. Find The Jew Who Smokes.
11. Find The Jew That Speaks A Foreign Language.
12. Find The Jew That Isn't Afraid To Speak Their Mind, For Fear Their Reputation Will Be Smashed By Some Stranger With Either A Typewriter Or A Keyboard.
13. Find The Jew Who Supports The War In Iraq.
14. Find The Jew Who Hates Those Who Aren't The Same Skin Color As They Are.
15. Find The Jew Who Keeps Kosher.
16. Find The Phony Jew.
17. Find The Sick Jew.
18. Find The Whacko Jew.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, well can you find those Jews? Can you? Can you?