Narcissus, Incorporated.

Any government is the self-involved rationalisation of one set of assholes outmanoeuvering the other set by which machination the central precept is then who can fool most of the people at the least cost to themselves.

If you believe in government, or the people who run, you’re willingly suspending your ability to think, in favor of the addiction of delusive relief that there will ever be a good government whose principle isn’t to help you fool yourself but make things better for people, rather than more efficient for government.

Government cannot look at itself as such because it would suffer the fate of Narcissus drowning in the pool of his own reflection.

© Dean J. Baker

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People I’d Like To Set On Fire

Where to begin? Let’s start with the home.
People who call, or don’t; meaning those who say they will, and don’t. Or those who call and you wish your fingers could reach through the handset and poke them in the eye, or rip their nose hairs out.

There, that cheers me up. Or you’re in the store and Granny Goodbitch, with moths coming off her, is counting pennies for a coupon while liberally cutting the cheese. Or some real shitbird has 16 items in an 8 item lane? What’re you supposed to do? Take lunch? How about next time you say, ‘Hey retard, it’s an 8 item lane. Oh I’m sorry, maybe you’re not retarded, you’re just an ignoranus.’
Might just have to ask the cashier to smell my socks. Eau de just so Last Week.

Or there’s a very good looking woman standing around, whom you can’t help admire. She notices you noticing her, and looks at you like you’ve dropped The Big Brown One on her shoe.
Perhaps next time I ought to – say, ‘Disdain?’ Here’s dis ‘dain for you.’ Or she’s looking like you’ve pillaged, burned, and thrown her entire closet of clothes into disarray and ought to be charged admission for simply looking in her general direction.
I’m sorry. Yes, you’re good looking, but those aren’t personalities. Obviously.

A time or two I’ve run into strange looks from older couples who, depending on whether or not they’re carrying something, or parading around a small dog, appear to assume that I’m going to grab the goods, or cook the dog because I just happen to have that hunch-backed Quasimodo fascination with egocentric and arbitrary geezers who might be packing an extra used Kleenex I could borrow.

I’ve run into a few of those in malls, especially. However, there it’s packs of kids, thieves, pedophiles, welfare cheats, and cops of one kind or another.
Primarily interesting are the younger girls/women who either look at you like they wish you had candy, or ones who stare at you and make faces as if you were going to offer them some.
I’ve yet to find a shop that would sell me a Taser when I need one.
Zzzzt! Attitude change.

How about never minding those unread, opinionated assgoblins [picture a Rolling Stones' type tongue sprouting from an asshole with an Itchy and Scratchy replay] who delude themselves and other assgoblins that because they are alive their opinions on anything from literature to life carries weight. They ought to be made to descend through Dante’s circles on a tiny tramcar yelling, “I am but an amoeba, a blood corpuscle, pay no attention to intellectual munchkins!’ I can see more than a few grinning know-it-alls on that trolley to hell.
Where’s my trapdoor when I need it.

So what about when you get in the car? How about we begin with the asshole driving next to you, though the entire highway is clear. Or the knobgoblin who likes to speed up, only to park in your blind spot for miles, again though the road is like sky.

Or you’re driving in the passing lane, cars stacked in the lane next to you, and one bonehead believes it’s okay to come right behind you, remaining a ruler’s length away, even though the highway is clear behind him, or her.

Let’s get it straight, age or sex has no province when it comes to stupidity, especially when driving. You can be a genius, and still drive like a Jethro.

I never understood why, when highways are endless, there can be traffic lines. If you’re in the fast lane, go fast. In fact, car insurance ought to cover the gomers you roll over when they’re driving the speed limit in the passing lane.
The passing lane is not your private driveway, and if that is what you are doing, there are thousands of people who want to politely ask you to stop, and examine their front fenders while they get back in their car and find out whether it’s true you make noise when you’re fucked.
You are hated – get out of the way.

Who are those idiots who roll in front of you when there’s hundreds of yards clear, and you’re busting forward to get out of the way of the axe-murderer right behind you? Don’t you just want to sweep that cow-catcher right up to their back bumper, and pitch them off to the side? (no, for the prurient, I am talking about traffic)

How about those old bags who give you the finger because they’re going say 60, in the passing lane, when the limit is 80, and you beep the horn to wake them from the tea-induced stupor? Shouldn’t a sort of road rage be legal then? You follow them home, and get your dog out on their front lawn, and feed it ex-lax? And if you don’t, then you get a fine.

What if you’re in the city and stopped next to some hearing-impaired asswipe with the stereo blazing with some shit about ‘bongo, bongo, bongo, I don’t wanna leave the Congo?’ Shouldn’t your license be taken away if you don’t immediately haul out your bazooka, and help them escape to another country, so to speak?
And your car insurance premiums decrease.

I guess what we’re speaking of is basic thoughtless and willful ignorance, and here you thought those California wildfires were accidental, or even arson. Silly.
Nope.
Shooting got to be too obvious, that’s all. And when you run off those highways, the ground really is very dry.

Next time, I promise to wait til we’re in the city and close to some robbers’ corner store, or at a poolitician’s speech about civic improvements: or right outside the line where a bunch of self-congratulatory corncobs with more money than brains are paying $1,000.00 for some movie or concert ticket.

I mean, can’t start a fire if you don’t have a match, right?

©Dean J. Baker


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Who Wants To Be A POOlitician, umm POLtroon

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive… be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.” CS Lewis

I can’t hear you. I didn’t see a sea of hands rise at that question. Who wouldn’t want to be a myth maker?

Elections are coming everywhere. WE have to wonder though, what makes for someone deciding they ought to become a politician?

Is it the high regard in which politicians are generally held? Let me count the ways…
If not that, were they influenced by the fact that their friends and neighbors stand amazed at their greatly articulate appreciation and summation of what concerns the constituency? This is assuming that they do not live alone with livestock.

Do they have a messiah complex that says I am the One, I Know what is right and what is wrong and I can tell You? They must by necessity be willing to be crucified as well, then.

Or are they, as some suspect, going for the cushion of an enormous pension, constant ego-massage through attention, and literally saying, ‘hey, right or wrong, I’m getting attention, I’m making money, and you’re not.’

Is it that they don’t care that in order to serve federally they may assume the Good Person position, but still have to tow the party (as far as parties go, I’d rather have Lennon, than Lenin) line which can compromise any sense of good they may inherently have?
So there’s a built-in parental, authoritarianism they willingly accept, much like protesters needing the bad state, or adult children ‘rebelling’ but still dependent upon their parents. One in which we, as constituent children, are meant to be seen, not heard; and when heard, wrong first, until proven right by excruciating and expensive mistakes the ‘parents’ make.
They strut forward, assuming an infallible attitude while looking backwards yapping about the future.

This is exactly how politicians stay in business. Passing the buck, shifting the responsibility in the name of self-interest – either theirs or their party – until the next election when new faces will say the same things in a different manner, and once more there will be a temporary belief.
Amazing that every generation, and some of the older generation, still fall for the same parlor tricks, or whatever suits their particular prejudices at the time resulting in an endless repetition of hope, belief, and disillusionment. And the endless storm of useless debate.

The only time politics and its practices might change is when people demand an open accountability from those elected to serve; and when those elected to serve do so under a forced acceptance that has consequences from not doing so, other than to not be in office.
Politics that compromise the principles of the voters’ wishes serves only those who rule, and when they’re witnessed fouling the principles for which they were elected, there is always an insistence on a certain inability, and a reliance on public fairness.
These would be the very same things they deny their voters in general, and in particular. If you’ve ever had trouble – frustration, delay – dealing with the city, or the larger government, you know what I mean.
Then you wonder, just who are these assholes my tax dollars are paying so that they can be rude and offensive in their dealings, unsympathetic and high-handed with me?
Are their bosses, the politicians, aware of this? That their bureaucratic voodoo dolls are misbehaving? Or are they too busy having the light shine on them when they want, sneaking in policies that change our lives, stuffing their pockets with benefits, and basically being those people whom in high school and later everyone wanted to kick the shit out of? And still does.
How about we make some new rules.

#1 Politicos: reveal. Be openly accountable. It isn’t a Halloween trick to know that you must obey your Ottawa masters. If you change a position for that reason, say so.
You know, something along the lines of: “I believe this. My boss, Stephane, said no. In order to keep my job, and to keep doing good for you, I had to agree.”
Don’t lie, and say what you think now is in accord with what you have come to learn.
There are some of us who are aware of those sides of the issue that you suddenly become ‘knowledgeable’ about who then wonder why the hell didn’t you know before you made your statement.. if you’re really not just an ignoranus…making up crap to be talked about..which then becomes .. politics.
(And has everything been forgotten, too? We’ve got murderers, and criminals, liars, and the morally retarded in office. They might as well announce then that They are the face of the new Family… if they’re not white, middle-class, and intelligent.
Get out the K-Y jelly voters, we’ve come a-courting.

Then we can have a true discussion about why you lie, why you waste our time and money on self-serving discussions whose outcome is already known, and why therefore there is so much talk, so little progress, so much frustration in voters and would-be voters, and so much more taxation with the appearance of government – politics – rather than a true governing.

One time, there was a seventeen year old boy who said, “That government is best which governs least.” He read, and re-read throughout his short life a book titled, An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice.

#2 Tell us why you think you ought to lead us.
Therefore, why you know more about what we feel, think, and desire for our future as a town, city, province, state, and community.

#3 Be accountable.
Where is the money going, and who is responsible ultimately for spending it? If you don’t know, say so. Then tell us who is preventing you from knowing. You know, like “That dickhead from Crunchville, Ontario, or Bumfuck, Idaho says if I want to know who spent what on things, I have to give my okay for money for his people to have say.. a hockey arena.. or he won’t tell me.”
(See what I mean about those snobbish bullies you always wanted to kick in the nuts – what a system).

Guess what? We’ll demand the lame stream media co-operate, instead of burying the story or sensationalizing it. We know it happens all the time. We’ll also hold your hand while the Richard Widmark evil guy pushes the granny state down the stairs, giggling because he’s still at the top.

We can make up the rest of the rules from what is rare, but termed common sense.

Parties, or people? Politicians, or government? True believers, or reality?

What a choice.

While it may seem like choosing between interrupting the baby-seal (taxpayers) hunt, disrupting the engine of business (politicians) while knowingly becoming aware you’ve entered into the infantile monotonic droning of Atwoodian denial of a moon-landing, or running into the street declaiming like Bob Dylan did that the ‘sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken,’ this simply puts the power back where it belongs.
Or are you too greedy to know?

Yours is the hand in the politicians’ glove. Quit punching yourself in the face, and paying for it.

Politics is an engine that needs attention to run properly. Forget the fools’ gold of a good show.
Get the work done.
The results, in their glory and shine, will speak for themselves.

©Editors, Mad Poet Press
©Dean J. Baker, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material that appears here or has appeared here without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Dean J. Baker and deanjbaker.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape
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*the boy was Shelley, the great English poet, in early 1800′s
* the book was written by William Godwin in 1792

Political correctness is a euphemism for dictatorship through the lowest common denominator, a conceit engendered by a government of fear and a people easily manipulated.