How can you make common cause in a society whose leaders single out innocent people and then justify it?   How can you establish peer relations with a generation who think torture is funny because you are deaf and not from Seattle?   To say the very least it isn’t wise.   

      America should be common cause and you would think people would notice it when our leaders are out for themselves.   You would think people notice the absence of good neighbor policy and the obsessive drive for the politics of division; where sports can no longer be distinguished from a war game, and journalism is rendered the most petty of professions in service to childish, sniveling decree from above.  America can’t do everything there is to do for the world, but we owe ourselves the right to set a better example.

        Police brutality doesn’t get more vicious than the Unit 731 operating at Warhol.  Most intellectuals realize that you can’t mistake truth for what people think it is, but the problem is that stationmasters know that just as well, and their goals are quite the opposite.  The intellectuals fall over each other to enlist. Seattle produces a cast of worthless worthies you wouldn’t give two bucks on the corner at begging hour who line up for millyions at the mouth poison soup kitchen of Kaz-Eno Royale-ity. And they want Public Relations, queerball (or else).

       All through the 80’s the wise owls of adulthood crowed of the material call for deception.   They staged riots of nearly unbelievable gall, a talk show host interviewing a bad boy Jewish writer while calling his disguised voice by Abdul the Palestinian terrorist, and sharp as a sword the ravenous Fripp, announcing sacred insight for true penetration, announced hostilities for Reagan the innocent as he laid his wreath at Bitberg Belsen, clanging his half way chords for Bowie’s heil salute as Seattle Queers creamed at Texas Queer over the trophy J-Girl and LSK.

     Speaking for the ark of death one pitiful voice from the gutters of stupidity chimed a song called, “Be My Yoko Ono,” as Andelman of Wells Fargo laughed with Simple Simon at East West Circuit by Cyril Wecht Road.   

     How can you be patriotic to Old Glory when it was hijacked to stand for the pornographers who killed you President as an advertisement for facials.  I may not love Sira Siran much but this is getting a little raw and a little too close to Michael Reagan’s favorite scene.

    Andrew!  Speak to us of Jay!

    Nyaguna Kabugi is looking for (I donohue).