Saturday, January 30, 2010

John Yoo With His Reflex-Action Theory Does Not Solve the Whole Problem

He disappeared some ten days ago. Let the surgeon come and make a little opening. The chloroform towel is applied again. The great guesswork celebrity is called. But John Yoo is not satisfied with this. He places the doctor's prescription in his pocket and goes to Cairo to see a specialist. The Wastebasket Enemy Combatant dances his dervish dance and falls into his sand-grave and folds his arms and smiles: "We are in love -- or we are out of it."

One day it will be realized. We are now in the same orbit, approaching the same nadir. And thus did John Yoo spend his halcyon months in the desert. Here, too, John Yoo botches the arguments of the learned gentleman in his effort to give us a summary of them, and tells us in the end that never after (so long as that strange and weird antic was there) did he ever visit the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant. What makes that reticent, meditative, hard-favored ancient, who is I believe a psychologist, what makes him so interested in observing the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant when he stands near the piano pointing anxiously to the keyboard?

Friday, January 29, 2010

Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission v. Your USA and My Face

Samuel Alito rubbed his face to a shiny brilliancy, settled on his morning wig and his dressing-gown, and then turned to the bed.

"What will you have for breakfast?"

Thank you. I do not think I can eat anything. I shall be glad of my tea.

Samuel Alito rubbed his spectacles, figured up the evidence, and announced that he gave judgment in favor of Citizens United, makers of the documentary Hillary.

The harmony envisaged by Samuel Alito is introduced with the experimental innocence of Newtonianism, and with a happy destiny that plays a role analogous to the role of inertia in rational mechanics. Samuel Alito rubbed his hands together, savoring the challenge of the moment.

"All nonsense," Samuel Alito said. "Not true. Have a poached egg."

Samuel Alito rubbed his smooth chin.

He collected three portable phones from around the room. He rubbed his neck continuously. Just as Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission defines the terrain of domination, it also is the power which ravages this terrain. The Supreme Court sometimes causes skin irritation around the eye, and can produce oil stains on the furniture if, for example, Samuel Alito rubs his face on the sofa. If Samuel Alito rubs some of the stink on you, use regular laundry detergent mixed with a half-cup of baking soda.

"I do not give myself the dreams. I cannot prevent their making me sick, prostrate, feverish," Samuel Alito said, rubbing his neck against Clarence Thomas's hands. "I will bring your breakfast myself. Then I can tell you about my dream."

I think when people say, This dream is a sign of such and such a thing, they really mean that the Supreme Court has become a violent resurrection of myth which demands participation in a community defined by archaic pseudo-values: race, blood, the leader.

"I tell you, my dear, the remembrance has passed from me. Oh, Shimmy, it was a distressing dream," Samuel Alito said.

I wish you could avoid having them. None of the activity lost in labor can be regained in the submission to its result.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Hooray For Our Chains (27)

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

"I won't get into specifics, since if this matters you already know them."

Scott Brown asked to stay so they could watch some sports. Curt Schilling agreed and they had a good time drinking beer and watching TV, passing an hour in profound empathy for Roger Ailes.

"I won’t get into specifics, since if this matters you already know them," Curt Schilling said.

Curt Schilling and Scott Brown hung out at Roger Ailes's place. Curt Schilling relaxed on Ailes's couch.

As they joked around, Scott Brown fell right into Curt Schilling's lap.

"If this state does the right thing and elects Scott Brown," Curt Schilling said, "the entire country will feel my adolescent admiration for outlaws -- not so much out of a regressive romanticism but because outlaws expose the alibis by which social power avoids being put right on the spot."

Curt Schilling and Scott Brown discussed their feelings for Roger Ailes.

Curt Schilling grabbed Scott Brown's hand. He admitted what this country needs right now is simplified and rationalized homeostatic mechanisms that reduce human relationships to exchanges of deference and humiliation.

"I won’t get into specifics," Curt Schilling said, "since if this matters you already know them. The numbers are now beyond comprehension, and there is no one in office right now that is giving a hint of those numbers getting smaller or being reduced."

Curt Schilling didn't want Roger Ailes to think that he comes second to Scott Brown. He was determined to honor his commitment. Scott Brown warned that you can't control passion.

Curt Schilling lamented that every time he and Scott Brown get close to what they want, Martha Coakley does something to sabotage it.

"Despair is the infantile disorder of the revolutionaries of everyday life," Scott Brown suggested.

Martha Coakley left, fearing that she would just make things worse. As if anxious to conceal the infamy which they have consented to, the Curt Schilling and Scott Brown assumed an expression of utter indifference.

Curt Schilling planned to go to Paris. "I'm putting a screeching halt to the Democratic party’s fast-tracking this country into an abyss. When malaise is challenged, it shatters under the onslaught of a greater and denser malaise," he said.

Marth Coakley wished she handled things differently. While we spiel and spout, Curt Schilling watches with a knowing smile from behind the mediocrity of his thought. Curt Schilling knows that the world is still a huge ideological foozle.

Curt Schilling urged us at least to say good-bye.

"Soon, in the ideal democracy of marriage, family, work, and smaller government," he said, "everyone will, without apparent effort, earn a share of unworthiness which he will have the leisure to distribute according to the finest rules of justice!"

Monday, January 11, 2010

Seeing Roger Ailes Everywhere

Brit Hume also said, "Do not see Roger Ailes in one teaching, one phenomenon, one baleful corpulent body, one land, or one sentient being. Some folks hear such talk and immediately say, 'Your Buddhist hoarding arouses secularists.' Is there no forgiveness in this? 'Roger Ailes' means 'enlightened awareness,' meaning to be totally aware always in all places. 'Seeing Roger Ailes everywhere' means that there is not a single fake Chrysanthemum or Rhododendron or Moonflower or Wisteria or Foxglove or Cornflower or sentient being that Roger Ailes does not extend through. Sentient beings miss this and attach themselves to the singularity of Roger Ailes, the Bone Queen, experiencing all kinds of suffering."

Brit Hume knows that the kind of forgiveness and redemption offered by Christianity transcends the ocean of all existence. When Brit Hume does not vainly grasp things, does not long for things in the future, and does not dwell on anything in the present, then he realizes fully that all is empty and still. Brit Hume experiences oceans of supreme wonderful bliss for countless great eons. Nevertheless, neither suffering nor bliss has any real substance: Murray's long-suffering play finally hits the Broadway of Twin Cities, and Ted is the star. The reviewer, of course, finds Roger Ailes's performance irresistible: "Mary, turn to the Christian faith," he writes, "and you can make a total sin of yourself and a great example to Roger Ailes."

Almost immediately, Mr. Grant says, "Having entered the world, leave the world completely." Brit Hume and Roger Ailes use the extraordinary words and marvelous sayings of the ancients to question and answer, considering them situations for discrimination and for beguiling students. Mary goes in for a tonsillectomy, and she doesn't hit it off well with her roomie. Can the girl do no wrong?

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Hooray For Our Chains (26)

Sunday, January 03, 2010

The Honeycomb Sneers at the Cornflower

The Wastebasket Enemy Combatant is set for the long haul. When the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant changes planes at JFK Airport on the way to a family vacation, he can be seized by CIA operatives whose giant shoes shuffle and scratch along the floor like a 1913 Edison cylinder recording. In the elegant moonglow, the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant can be tortured and imprisoned in a grave-sized underground cell until the Syrians decide to release him.

A fog generator can instantly produce huge quantities of fog to block the eyesight of the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant. I can rub my face against the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant and tickle its mouth with my fat tail. The Wastebasket Enemy Combatant is mounted on a 6 3/8-inch diameter, 9-inch tall base. He is known to exist, the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant, in a grave-sized cell in Syria that draws out the dirt and oil from his skin. The Wastebasket Enemy Combatant is the most satisfying thing in the world to me. The Wastebasket Enemy Combatant cannot sue the United States for torture suffered overseas. Give him a year in a grave-sized underground cell in Syria and he will turn into a water-soluble fiber that contains mucilage which is beneficial for my digestive tract.