papers

the students are writing papers. they don't want to, but then, who does? 14 year olds sit in world history, "learning" of cracker conquerors from days past. they peer edit, make note cards, now done on the computer and referred to as noodle bibs, or some such nonsense. the teacher speaks of pizarro, de soto, columbus. they were free spirits, adventurers, explorers. there is no indignation, no passion, no sense that injustices were done. clean, smooth...progress.

ah yes, the papers. you see, the students have no choice. they've just got to go along. the student as tom. deadlines, guidelines, 12 font, doubled spaced, title page, footnotes, bibliography, at least 6 pages, at least 5 sources. wikipedia not acceptable.

just what the world needs...more 14 year olds writing about julius ceasar and the protestant reformation. this will surely save all of us. of course, their options were limited. they couldn't write about massacres, genocide, holocausts. such words are not used in freshman world history. no, that would be political. that would mean someone risking their teaching job. that would mean...something. but then, what they are taught means something too. sadly.

and me? i just sit there, pretending to help a student who cares even less about this bullshit than i do. hey, i've found a job, and short of being sexually hairy-assed, i plan on keeping it.

so, the papers will be written. what other choice do the students have? they will obey, or else. for, if they don't, they will "fail for the quarter." i would rather fail for the dime myself. and, if they fail for the quarter, they may fail for the year, or at the very least, hurt their gpa, which in turn may hurt their chances of getting into a "good" college. never mind that they are 14. it's never too soon to break them in, to teach them what really matters, which is the ability to do things that make no sense.

and one day in the future, these flustered, frustrated children can become the lording adults of tomorrow. they too will be able to realize the dream of forcing bullshit on others.

you know, the students don't have to write these papers. the sun will rise and set either way. they could say fuck it. what if they did? what would the teacher do? would he fail all of them? could he?

we'll never know, because the papers will be written.

and the bombs will be dropped.

the same children may do both.

they are certainly being trained well for the murders of tomorrow.

it's been a minute

in fact, it's been several months. i've grown since then. either that, or it's these platform shoes i'm wearing. there have been a plethora of terrorist scares since i last wrote. luckily, no one has arrested me yet for being an armchair radical. i court arrest. once, i took it all the way to the supreme court arrest, where they arrested my development, but let me go free. sadly, all my neighbors in the development had to serve long sentences. i got off with a few paragraphs, though they did insist on a 12 font. at least they allowed recycled paper.

so, i've returned. millions have waited, wondering. sadly, they haven't been waiting for me. truthfully, one person did confess to missing my blog, but was shortly after seen muttering anarchist slogans in the nude. what has compelled me to write again, you ask? simply, a gun to my head. no matter that it is a water pistol. frankly, i became bored with the status quo. i needed moore in my life. unfortunately, archie moore has been dead for many years.

so, where do i go from here? well, i go back to what i do best. once i figure out what that is, i'll let you know. of course, it's not like i haven't been working on anything. over the last few months, i've been laying down the vocal parts for my debut album, "pissing on the ceiling." i expect it will take six years to complete, what with the guitar overdubs and the interweaving of 46 different bass lines. i'd like people to think that this is a great album. so, each album will come with 100 dollars worth of food stamps. hopefully, it will meet with their food stamp of approval. mark hasn't eaton a while, so i'll maybe send him the first copy.

as for me, it's been much of the same...work, ball, jazz, somber thoughts of the destruction of the universe, not necessarily in that order. perhaps all is lost. if so, couldn't the pop music be a little better? at least when they were telling us to duck and cover, sinatra was swinging his ass off.

speaking of music, it seems bill evans refused to play in the soviet union as an act of protest against the soviet invasion of afghanistan. funny, but i seem to recall that he was plenty busy while the u.s. destroyed vietnam. selective compassion doesn't impress me. though, i must say, evans was a great piano player. well, those of us on the left want our artists to be political. sadly, this often backfires!

think i might take the summer off again. or, i might work. one or the other. you know, there really aren't a lot of choices.

but, it would be nice to sleep in, move slow, catch some free jazz, play with my penis, not necessarily in that order.

crouching tiger, hidden penis

when the tiger crouched from us, we couldn't see what he, and his hammond b-3 "organ" was up to. sadly, he chose to stand erect, and the situation came to a head. tiger woods has become tiger's wood, and we have been forced to hear enough "hole in one" gags to make us gag. if you are thinking something dirty because i used the word gag, perhaps your name is steve swallow, which would be off bass, but on point. so, be on guard, on point, and play point guard, or pass on the entire game. and remember to hate the game and not the player. or the playa, for that matter. and yet, shoot is still just shit with two o's. peter gunn could shoot. he once shot someone in his shelly manne hole. what if shelly's last name was ass? then, his club would have been called shelly's asshole, which would be ok, but you can't put it on the sign. tits and ass, yeah, but you can't say it.

i'd be lion if i said that the tiger story is over. sadly, we are not out of the woods yet. so, keep your head up for the next break in the story. until it reaches it's climax, this story may fuck with our lives for sometime.

if only dick johnson had been caught having an affair.