Though under no impression that they shall be completely ‘toothless’ once out of office, my manhood compels me to state that the Bush admin were straight up retarded. I were regarded as a political enemy and on one of their many, many ‘lists’ (so was ‘Franz’, but that’s another story..), and prevailed even upon the Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi to keep a very close eye on my runnings, lest I succeed, and Western Civilization be cursed and damned (though I doubt I’d have had the power to destroy and threaten it as they themselves still are). Because of this, I kept a distance from the Berlusconi clan (though an admirer) so as not to provide the discomfort of his knowing that I knew and perhaps forcing him to choose between his business relationships and his karma. Besides, none but me and the Lord knew our plan anyway so who could have been against it? For simply not being, nor desiring to be yesterday’s caricature of a black man, we were politically ostracised and denied work based strictly on prejudice and politics and as much as we admire the maestra Condoleeza, she were convenient window dressing to these inconvenient racists. We are under no illusion that the Master Barrack will be able to do anything, nor care to, why should he?
Yet we were enough of a priority to be seen as a threat to democracy (re-read: as a threat to thieves who believe that we are all blind and cannot see). All we know is that we are certain that this economic clusterfuck is the result of more than just mismanagement, but intentional Piracy that only a band of brothers on the elite are able to pull off, and yet still take absolutely no credit for.
We have never been more grateful to see bad and evil governance exit stage right, to a chorus of boos, and perhaps a few more shoes being thrown. It were symbolically important that a ‘loafer’ shoe was thrown at the Mr. Bush, as he were a ‘loafer’ President. The stench of his commitment to backwards thinking and a greed so hostile, it eats its own hand, reaches all the way from WASHINGTON TO THE DEEP SEAS OF CHINA. He has gone out of his way to make this living, this life, a throbbing hell. I am grateful to know that for at least some time, his mind will be heavily weighted down with the crimes that his soul must pay for, the internal bleeding he too must face for having turned the seat of Washington, Lincoln, both Roosevelt’s into a casket for contributions, and his administration as visionary as looking backwards through a mirror, and a fun house mirror at that. None, not even the Prez of these United States can go out of his way to deny life and liberty to an Angel of announcement and think WHOEVER THE HELL THEY PRAY TO, that they will get away without payment, soul, psychology, finances or otherwise. There are grave penalties for the deprivation we endured during this nightmare watchman’s ‘watch’. Ichabod Crane could not have been scarier, nor more inept. He took the fountain of our youth, dreams, our nations spiritual inheritance, and took a big dump in it, while also making sure to pee in the punchbowl.
Even should ‘they’ continue to cause mischief to my way, my rights to dream a dream as an American, as a libertarian, as a man, as a child of an immutable father, we still rejoice that the court jester President is being retired to furnish his malapropisms into someone’s empty notebook, into a microphone with no tape running. Rarely has such outright meanness held sway over so many, for so long and to such ill, lugubrious effect. Even the weather will reflect that the Angels themselves will be partying their wings off in celebration of this arch criminal and his arch enablers leaving the White House. And if you hurry before they leave, you may find them still stuffing their pockets with all of your and your grandmother’s pension money. There is a wellspring of evidence to more than suggest that when Bush’s govern, but especially elderly people’s money goes missing, and a few other ‘cancelled’ programs besides, which one day had money for ‘services’, and the next day, simply didn’t. We are deeply grateful to our Lord for having helped keep these psychopaths away from more of my efforts and claims. We are also grateful to the VATICAN for what we perceived as the counterbalance of their mercy in putting word through the system that were I further touched, or harassed, HELL WOULD BREAK LOOSE. Let us hope that the world can now begin to regain some semblance of the shape it had before the George W. Bush congregation, grabbed it by its throat, like Doberman’s and held it hostage to its desperate greed and ineptitude. And the militant Oil companies they serve, CAN DULY AND WITHOUT FANFARE KISS MY SOUTH FACING ASPECTS! I fear none of them, we have Angels who can make Oil simply dry up at our command (as well as those of my team who are here with us all now).

…besides, only a blind man thought that his administration was anything more than his erstwhile father’s continuation karma, the master CHENEY was there to babysit W, and hold him from fidgeting too much while his father called the shots, and this is the reason for the antipathy that W had for ‘41’, that it were really 41’s seat, while ‘43’ got to take all of the shit for his dad’s rotten nuclear decisions. If my dad set me up like that, I’d hate him too.

Come on now, would it kill you to learn who AWADAGIN PRATT is? If he were from China or Russia, we’d be all over him and he would be playing sold out concerts from here to there, but as it were, he isn’t, he is simply one of us, an American (and a very inspirational musician)!

It were the angel PHALOREM who assisted with the recent NYC airline miraculous landing in the Hudson River. We are more than certain of it. God bless him, he shows up on time and for your benefit ( those who accept him), always will.

You will not need to hear from this reporter for awhile, and bless your hearts!

And we are happy to see the Madame ‘HILLS’ will be working the State department. Let us hope that she will amount to more than a token to be ignored by her colleagues. The Madame Condoleeza was well overqualified to be serving bosses who were in effect her intellectual underlings, and the Master Powell, Colin had too much manhood and integrity. We would like to see a useful and dynamic State Department again, America and her fans deserve nothing less. And this is a bet, The first American President of non male gender will be CHELSEA. She will also have arrived as the youngest Prez in our history. We are getting a ‘taste’ for history and do not wish to stop now….

…and we have a couple of ‘fans’ in US Intel who verify my claim that we were surveilled and electronically ‘violated’ whenever they got the chance, even away from the jurisdiction of US law (as if a little inconvenient thing like the LAW, WOULD DETER THESE MEN. The Law abiding are deterred by the law, criminals are not). In truth, the only Bush I would trust to govern, would be Miss Laura, who has far more class and integrity than any of her other illustriously named dynasty coinhabitants, and we would like to wish her spirit well in her new life, we are an admirer. As for the ‘brainiac’ she married, NINTENDO makes games that might help him grow his mind up a few school years….

This concludes the season of our diatribes, now that our enemies no longer control the nuclear button, we have other, better things with which to consume what time our Lord gives us left on this, his beloved Earth.

Additional thoughts on the meeting with the Maestro, his Holiness St. JP Deuce –
Like many raised on the films of the likes of the masters’ Scorsese and FF Coppola, I had expected to see the Pope with (if honest), a little more ‘bling’, something commensurate in one’s mind with what the Holy Papa should have, something big enough to put your lips on and kiss, and were moved to see the simple stamped golden ring, without jewel that he wore, not to mention noticing that for a man of his advanced years, his HANDS WERE ARE SILKY SMOOTH AS A NEWBORN’S, and you could see the translucent light which his skin could barely contain.
He had a combination of stoic pride, yet an humility which were in and of themselves a subtle though obvious conduit of an electricity you feel only in the presence of Superstars, the truly magnetic. One could clearly see that he were tired and ready to be called home, one could also sense that he were likewise determined to ride his term all the way through until his Angel arrived to escort him to the chosen fields of paradise which he wished to operate from behind the veils of time, where many of God’s Angels rest. There are times when I can feel his guidance keeping me away from something too dumb or potentially harmful, and in one of my guitar cases, I keep a small picture portrait which my brother-in-law gave me as a keepsake. I almost presented to him the ring which I wore in the photo, but were advised against it, so now whenever I can use some ‘extra’, I wear it since it is the one thing we possess which both I and St. Deuce together, touched.

…and though I cannot completely verify it as true on the ‘intellectual’ levels, we were given to know ‘hush-hush’ style, that it were St. J.P. Deuce who placed word upon the world game’s table that controversial or not, we were on our Lord’s side and that we were not to be touched or brought harm to. True, I may be an asshole at times, but I am clear that I am God’s asshole and no one else’s. We are ever yet still immensely grateful for his patronage and his movements and graces which ever yet emanate from the spiritual worlds!

There be a quote that my friends find me using a lot. A quote from one of my biggest heroes, the great poet ROBERT FROST, and we always use it to sum up his philosophy of continuance and faith in the order of intention, ‘WAY LEADS ON TO WAY’. It comes from one of his ‘hit’ poems, THE ROAD NOT TAKEN, which upon first hearing as a schoolboy, we knew that we had found our ‘theme’ poem. We must trust in these harsh, denuded days that indeed, WAY, LEADS ON (and always as it were), TO WAY. I conclude that we have no choice but to find that ‘way’, and no doubts at all that, remembering who we are, we will!

Come on now America, it wouldn’t kill us to take the plunge and discover who AWADAGIN PRATT is. Google his situation, he’s an amazing one of us!

As we ‘singers’ mature we sing less from our voices and more from the body itself. A voice is a part of the whole and not the whole thing itself. Even without ‘training’, this is a natural occurrence.

Winning a patent stands a much better chance of approval if it is of current use to industry. If it threatens a position monopolised by industry, it will more than likely be stifled. Innovations are routinely blocked even if it helps to move our humanity forward. As we are beings composed of light, we were designed to lead our selves forward through the ideas which light our way on as we go. Often, whole movements of humanity’s march into its bold new beginnings are held up for the mere purpose of convenience. In progressive times, ENLIGHTENED IDEAS LEAD, as intended by our creator. The de-politization of the patent process will be an improvement for the spirit, we should in a free society, which men and women right now are dying for, not be inhibited from seeking our understanding, and our remedies, where we may find them.


The key to making an ego bigger is to first make it smaller, and then it can be used for great things.
The new air which will fill the balloon with dreams of flight, must replace the old air diminishing it with old, fetid ideology.

The immense BRIAN WILSON , the mastermind of the BEACH BOYS, created works that would be the envy of the ‘classical’ masters (which essentially means musicians practicing their craft before the advent of ‘merchandising’). I hear the master SCHUBERT sleeping in his melodies, who, even when snoring, creates fractured harmonies of unearthly delight. His sound and ideas changed forever Pop music’s vision of itself. He more than paid for the inspired hours he poured into music and ‘SHE’, the spirit of the music let him milk her like a Guernsey cow.

The second half of the Beatles great creative career drive owed as much to Master Brian as their first half did to Dylan and Smokey Robinson. The grand emotional element he brought to his era remains the template upon which we are still being judged (and should be). Not to mention, he created some of the most sensuous grooves yet committed to vinyl or its digital offspring.

The Beatles get the credit they rightfully deserve. We simply haven’t showered the master Wilson with what he rightfully deserves, what he synthesized through his heart and imagination caught the attention of Angels, one of the great ones of which he himself is. He once attended a party in my honour and I pulled him aside and told him that I loved him very much. He seemed a little embarrassed.
We would have been more embarrassed and ashamed NOT to have told him. SGT. PEPPER were a grand intellectual achievement, though nothing can surpass PET SOUNDS as the most inspired, least contrived spirit of love and invention come together to surprise and uplift. No matter how many times I’ve heard it, each time reminds me that there are still those authors who believe in Love, who have known God, and who are convinced that their life on this planet was meant to share it. Even with the government having put MIND DOCTORS on him for fear of his immense creative power, we still have not seen his like since. Perhaps because his love is real. He is one of those for me, those precious rare few whose music can inspire a willingness to believe in God and a higher, more merciful order. Our own life would be shit without him.

Oh Well. And sometimes it is like this, me and my passions congregate at my mouth, and before you know it….. The Head of the record label that I initially made the ‘WILDCARD’ project for, got into a stingy argument in the presence of Aerosmith’s STEVEN TYLER concerning the artistic merits of maestro Paul McCartney’s BAND ON THE RUN. I hold that it is an emotional masterpiece the worthy of ABBEY ROAD, if not it’s better, he held that I was full of crap, and treated it like a partisan political issue. We squared off in front of a rock legend and I would not back down as we continued to argue over why he was an idiot. For me, his attitude approached blasphemy and as he grew agitated with my defense of it, I grew more animated and convinced that if this man could not hear the impressive genius of ‘BOTR’, it didn’t seem to bode too well for my ambition either, and that I might want to get the hell out of this company before my mind and ideals were stolen by infidels. It turned out to be for the best, as we were able to take ‘Wildcard’ ourselves and use it to float our independent dreams, and I am proud to own it, I more than paid for it emotionally and with the games run at my head while we were putting it together. Nevertheless, heads of labels should be vetted for these things.


Often freedom is opposed because of the price of personal responsibility.

And when you have some spare ‘guy time’, go back and look at (again), maestro Clint Eastwood’s ‘PALE RIDER’. It amounts to a poem, a pastoral on film, in the days when film looked like film and not just long ads for new TV technology. It is a film that MAHLER might have made, were he a film maker.

The Champion’s League is destroying slowly but surely the domestic leagues, who are fast becoming ‘farm’ leagues for the owners with the deepest pockets. It distracts ownership, eventually the fans also.

“OK, but I want to walk this way.” (the Mrs M. said). “No, let’s go this way”, said Mr. Husband.
“Why?” “I don’t know, just trust me!” So in the direction he wanted to go, they walked. Upon arriving at the destination (without knowing ‘why’ exactly he had walked them towards the world famous conservatory they live near, though ‘absentmindedly’), within a fine old courtyard rang out the angelic voices of a MALE YOUTH CHOIR COMPETITION! As if in a magical dream, as they got nearer, their hearts were filled with what their ears heard, choirs of young men in groups of 30 or more singing arrangements, some of which dated back to the ‘cloister’ choir era, some medieval, some more jazz like and ‘modern’. Some sang hymns and it was like being washed in a bath of sound. Lurking in the back so as to not grab any attention away from the real stars, the choirs whose voices were ringing out, the Mrs. leans over and places a soft kiss on the right cheek (while what was left of the setting sun kissed the left) and whispers, “Thanks”.

An idea to help fill domestic stadiums who are cut out of the ‘big’ loop of the super owners league-
STADIUM GOLF! Just take the stadium and make it a great golf/obstacle course, with different competitions and invite the world’s best golfers to compete for the ‘gate’ money. The second day would allow paying customers a chance to work out with some of the game’s teachers and players. Obviously a different discipline than the normal traditional game, whose heritage are sacred (for as long as Tiger Woods has not innovated once again beyond it, then it seems to lose it’s concern for ‘tradition’ real fast). Kind of lime a ‘skins’ format. There are a lot of people who would come out with their families on the weekend to watch and participate in expositional golf. Team and individual formats could be adopted.


My only beef with the great ROD STEWART, who influenced me a lot (and who is still under ranked as one of rock’s greatest narrative storytellers) is that on his early masterpieces, his voice is not mixed high enough to appreciate how truly fresh and sizzling his scene was. Not only a disciple of master SAM COOKE’S (who isn’t?), he brought something intuitive to the game that amounted to far more than mimicry, which most of his contemporaries never advanced beyond. Somebody , have mercy and remix these early records to reflect what these ears need, to be straining less to hear the medicine. There is medicine in master STEWART’S larynx.

True story. I call downstairs to the NYC hotel lobby where I am staying for promotion duties. It is about 11-ish in the evening and as I am trying to get to sleep, as I was still on west coast time, in the room above me, I hear some fool blowing into a trumpet, but like he were not trying to play it, but clear it. “Yes, this is room 3209, could you please ask the whoever in the room above me to go easy on the trumpet? I’m trying to get a sleep head together”. I then hear a few nice pleasant runs bursting from the noisemaker upstairs, enabling as well the receptionist to hear what my complaint was about. “Sure thing, I will call them right now, Sir”. “Thank you, goodnight”. After a few moments of silence and as well realizing that I had missed ‘the sleep wave’ and might be up for a little longer, I called down again to the desk and asked “Sorry, but can you tell me who the player upstairs is?” “Yes, Sir, it is Wynton Marsalis, he is a regular guest when he is here in town.” “Uh well, then ask him if he’ll play some more, I can’t sleep now!”

Almost the exact same thing one year later, I am at my favourite hotel in Paris, a bohemian place that has hosted artists for many, many years, and was as well a famous ‘hangout’ for literary types and the what have you. My old friend Mickey Rourke and his manager turned me on to the place some years preceding. I am resting in my room, in preparation for some afternoon interviews, and someone, again in the room above is playing some soft and haunting trumpet. (What is it with me and trumpet players?). I go down to the desk and inquire as to the identity and were told that decorum naturally wouldn’t allow them to tell me, so I took the next approach and stopping into the hotel bar on the way back upstairs, asked the bartender if a famous artist was in attendance in the hotel. “Why Sure, monsieur, You”. “OK, that was sweet, let’s try again, who might be making noise in the room above me?”. “Oh yes, Monsieur, that might be ze great DIZZY GILLESPIE” (and said in that unique way that a Frenchman can turn all definitive statements into a question. I thanked him, gave him a little ‘float’ and walked upstairs (I almost never take the elevator in hotels unless they are skyscrapers). I then walk one more flight to the room above and knock on the door. (Through the door, a muffled) “Yes?” “Uh, yeah, Mr. Gillespie we have a young man complaining about your playing”. (Through the door) “Is he a critic?” The door then opens and I see the great, still youthful looking master of BOP peer out whereby he saw that it was me pretending to be a hotel worker and we both broke into smiles. Later, in my room, when a startled journalist would hear a little blast of trumpet fire, I would just brush it off by nonchalantly stating, “AH DON’T WORRY, THAT’S JUST MY FRIEND DIZZY BLOWING SOME SCALES”. God bless them, that sort of thing still impresses the Frenchies.

Just as there are old wives tales, there is the old wives law, which those tales serve.


There is no ‘waiting your turn’. There is only life and life is now and the sooner we realize this, the sooner we realize ourselves. Who dares, wins.

Competition only matters if it is not a distraction. If it is, detach.

The higher grade produces the higher law.

Our organs also act as recorders of memory, libraries of pictures and sensations and when the memory becomes too full, they ‘black out’ and prepare to receive new information. Our organs tell us one way or another when we are holding too much unnecessary memory, which begins to act as trauma upon them until this extra memory is downloaded.

Often, before we die, we are already buried in coffins of grief.


I should like to be cremated, let the ashes grow worm beds and my spirit ascend to my chariot in a cloud of reason. The Earth already carries far too much buried grief.

We are grateful to be living in the shadow of his sacrifice (St Martin Luther King’s, one of Christ’s most loyal and beloved disciples), that we can now kick back, let go and join the young men in dreaming new dreams, claiming new visions!

The voice of the spirit never changes, only the instrument it picks up to play does.

Our karma is not our punishment, but our witness. It shall speak well of us come judgement.

The trees which become our Oaks of foundation must first be wet and drowned by our tears.


(it enhances your divinity).

We carry information (active memory) in our BODY HEAT. When the body overheats, it reflects the excess information we are attempting to process and pass through. Likewise, when shivering, we are releasing old stored information. When two people heat up around the other, they are exchanging a lot of memory….

The passion with which we live our lives is its own endorsement!

Spread the wealth a little, or they shoot you.

Our bodies can go on forever, it is the mind that death comes to relieve.

And now a HAIKU for your IQ-

She is a poem
Figuring herself out
Her syntax striking
The balls of her
Heels to punctuate
The ground with
Blades of gravity.

Tempo (time) gives form to emotion.

In every direction we look, is another story.

I dropped the dimes, took the glory

As my affection takes me back to the ocean!

We aim to have some more PMR (the ‘Barack and Roll edition), coming soon, so hold on to your knickers (or sell them on line to the Japanese, they pay a lot of money for that sort of thing)!

Many wars are but the first battle for market share.

When freedom represents less revenue for the rich, they will oppose it. The reason can be cooked up later, and the press sent to support the ‘official’ version.

STASIS- ‘the mind stays still while it’s going places’.

Thank you master Barack (Mr. ‘44’), they are now thawing a little and starting to give our tribe credit for intellect! Wow! Wait a minute, THEY ARE CAPABLE OF WALKING AND CHEWING GUM AT THE SAME TIME!

Be it ever so humble, there is no place like someone else’s house to have the party in.

We must know ‘hard’, hard steels us. But we mustn’t only know hard or it will spoil us.

To lose total faith in one’s chances is tantamount to spiritual treason.

Winner’s can never afford to place more faith in the odds than in their own belief. ‘Odds’ are for the non believer. Losers place faith in numbers which others create.

Who builds belief builds faith and who builds faith builds reason.

…and most of our strength lies within our reason.

The model for this new solar Presidency is not JFK, but the master MUHAMMED ALI. Let us hope that it floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee, or failing that, makes better use of it’s WASPS.

We require less money when we have more faith. Faith in life to deliver what goodness money cannot buy.

…and in enjoying this, we share that money is good, but it is not God.

We are worthy of a great life. Losers beg, children of God do not. THEY ASK!

….and prepare to receive, whatever length of time required to make one’s storehouse ready for the outpouring of blessings we richly deserve.

Within one’s own reason, meditating too much on why others are poor is itself a poverty of thinking. Some are poor simply because they refuse to accept that they needn’t be.

Congratulate your level!

Poverty is deserved for as long as we believe that it is a spiritual meditation. It is not. It is the lack of spiritual meditation. The Lord would have his children be rich, and covered in the feathers of their own evolution, one that suggests that consciousness itself is wealth, and can therefore only enrich and enliven what it touches.

Of course, our own meditations must come to know by experience, by grace, when rich is rich enough to work with, lest it work against.

Greedy is not always a curse (though excessive greed may well be), sometimes it is a refined sense of direction which we must trust.

Does Sex really matter, does it really count, if one is not greedy for it? Or for that matter, does our meal?

Sometimes the violence in games, reduces our desire to go OJ, on someone else’s skull.

One of my hero’s is the stupendous PETER SELLERS. He were a true master, and paid it’s dear taxes to bring his simple ‘Chaplinesque’ vision to the world. He never ceases to amaze me, the nuances in his performances and I am always stopped at how much ‘presence’ he contains while in character. I recently had occasion to watch an old BOULTING BROTHERS classic called ‘HEAVEN’S ABOVE’, where the maestro plays a village priest, a vicar who reminds the town and its denizens of the simple graces of Christianity, it is worth the seeking out. It is full of social wit and understanding. Another favourite is ‘THE PARTY’, where he plays an Indian actor in Hollywood, and to ( at least for me), hilarious effect. Genius is too easy a word. For the Master Sellers, Godlike is more appropriate.

Magic and doubt have little time for one another. One seeks to deny the existence of the one, the other flees in its face.

Magic is arrogant, if you do not believe in it, do not waste its time with your call.

Seen from its root (or even from outer space), MODERATION MEANS MORE.

DISCIPLINE, PASSION, MODERATION. Juggle these 3, and you stay ahead and awake in the game.

The meaning of life is a contract, and you are still writing it.

What we say is important. Though what we think of ourselves is even more important. Dare to create a ‘myth’ about yourself and believe it. For whatever Godly purpose serves imagination, if not to grant a soul permission to match itself to its dream?

We do not fail, we live, we experience, and we move on.

Losers believe that they are failures, so the two go hand in hand.

The best way to ensure victory, is to make up the game as you go along.

There is the possibility that the future may portend (and of practical necessity), the military domestic intervention of America. Should this be the case, a ‘plebiscite’ whereby the population may guarantee themselves the hard and ‘soft’ rights necessary to protect the peace while order and reorganization is being implemented and restored. In the event of too great an economic or constitutional crisis, this may be the only way to preserve and with integrity what stability will allow our culture to move forward and regain righteous footing. This model is preferable to a more corporate one.

Our large corporate society has failed us, and by simple act of its true nature, always will. The Industrial model served us and our communities better and with more vision. Industry exchanges, corporations largely look for new ways to profit, extending themselves less and less. Industry is a horse, an ox, corporations are largely dragons disguised by veils of rote propaganda and exist to profit most by sucking the life out of the spaces we breathe and flourish in.

Ineptly managed, Yes (and stubborn to embrace the necessary changes). Indispensible? Also Yes.
We need Detroit, we need it healthy, competitive and finally brought under more oversight that they are willing to work more closely with existing conditions. With all great and due respect to my Japanese friends, fuck Toyota. Chrysler, bitches, Chrysler!

..and what the great American icon and master, Henry Ford did for our culture and its psyche, deserves better respect than it is being offered. Replace these executives with fresh, vital, viral consciousness. The master Ford was a genius, a giant and his legacy can yet drive us on!
We have a spiritual debt to what his efforts have so far for us achieved. And it is spiritually important that it remain in American shareholders hands (OK, and maybe a few Canadians).

…and the plebiscite is to ensure the people’s trust and comfort during a time of upheaval and transition (IF, it comes to that, let us hope not).

Guys, don’t be a pussy, eat it, it is where we came from.

Training for Emergency Civil Services should extend beyond the National Guard, yet remain within its auspices. As with places still in Europe, we agree that a citizen leaving High school should be able to provide 2-3 years of domestic service, or service to the state abroad while earning financial assistance to attend university and offered an earned higher ranking should they decide to take on military service. There are many ways to reinvigorate our economy by first re-establishing the excitement of being an American player in the game. Wake us up and we are still by far, the world’s greatest nation, whoever say yea or nay.

We may need to extend retirement age so that some of the available, eligible elderly can get back into schools and teach the young children. Better that they do not exceed grade 4, thought that leaves a lot of younger teachers to handle the bigger kids. We discard our elderly by the time they know what they have to offer of themselves and we suffer righteously for this error.

…and we can get them for a better cost as well as additions to their pension plans.

..and as radical as it may sound, retraining ex convicts to teach in classrooms is an idea whose time shall get nearer. Naturally the non sex offender ones, and the non really violent ones (though having had just enough violence in their past may e of benefit to maintaining order and respect not to mention, a little awe).

“Teacher, what were you in jail for?” “For choking a little mofo just like you, now sit down and open your book to page 24!”

It also, (time proves), would be less distracting were boys and girls separated for most of the day (if not in separate schools). After headcount and assembly the sexes should be divided until closing head count and prayer assembly. It is more focusing and will be of benefit psychologically for both.

We speak of the grade school levels….

And now, a word from this considered American, MILES MARSHALL LEWIS! (Google was made for this).
Also look for the works of the young J. Othello!

If you can remember where you came from, without looking back, that is the ideal.

Before there were the LAWS OF GRAVITY, people were confused. There were only ‘suggestions’ of gravity, helpful hints before the laws were finally codified and written down. Before the law, one had to be real careful before stepping outside! And insurance rates used to be SKY HIGH.

I grew up a large fan of the ‘metaphysical’ comedian STEVEN WRIGHT. Dude, where are you, we miss your sensibility!

Some wild horses can be broken and tamed, though perhaps never to fit the shape of YOUR field, but to fit the fields they are called to.

Someone commented that it took balls to do what I did. But I didn’t have those balls when I started, I had hubris. I had to find my balls along the way. With faith, we walk towards our balls and discover that we had them all along and that they may in fact be even bigger than you imagine.

..besides, after my establishment ‘fatwa’, the roads which opened up before me were far fewer, yet still convincingly mine. It has already been said that travelling off the beaten track leaves one more room to travel, since most are already bunched towards the middle ground.

In this time of crisis, it may be more suitable to nationalise and merge Ford and Chrysler (I have personal animus towards GM that we can not get into now, so fuck ‘em). It seems silly at this point to have these companies competing with one another. Why should they have to when they are already competing with multiple exports kicking their asses. Many countries are proud of their nationalised industries, the Indians are quite rightfully proud of their steel industry, and others proud of what significance they contribute to the world of goods and trade. At this point, having a responsive, supported AMERICAN CAR COMPANY may be what the doctor ordered. They could still compete with one another ‘divisionally’. Competition is usually for the best, had SKY, more, they wouldn’t be so God awful arrogant and lazy. We are capable of making the grooviest, most happening automobiles of anyone anywhere, and we should bring them all under one roof, under new organization and support their efforts to regain primacy and restore our automotive pride. Again, why must we compete with ourselves?

We regard HENRY FORD as an American saint. He were a true American, of which we could all be proud and not just a ‘republic of American’, those who claim patriotism to an ideal that includes but a few. This a man who in the time of great prejudice, made sure that ALL MEN knew that they were welcome at his plant, and who because of it, allowed many of the black side of my tribal affiliation, their first chance for a solid and dependable middle class, or working class life. He shifted the population base of America and strangely enough, can even be given credit for the birth of MOTOWN, since all of its personnel, executive talent and performing talent, were taken from the pool of those whose families had come that far north to be a part or subsidiary of the master FORD’S vision. Many of them still even worked for him or his competitors, while working with Motown. How bad ass is that? That he could rightfully and without too much stretching be credited with the post war black music scene out of which Motown grew? All Americans can and should be proud of him and there should be at some fair point, a national holiday to commemorate him. He were in his own way, as important to the birth of civil rights as the master ST. Martin Luther King!

And speaking of gems, and Motown, JR. WALKER played his saxophone as if his whole life and employment depended upon it, as if he had to return to the factory in an hour or so, and like he was trying to play himself out of it at the same time. There was real urgency to his playing and he were as funky as another righteous Detroit denizen, the funk master JOHN LEE HOOKER. I have immense respect for the master COLTRANE, but you could dance to Jr. Walker and be lifted just as high.

Stay with the ‘myths’ for as long as they work for you, and when they do not, discard them and create new ones that fit the diameters of your new vision.

I conclude that a little blasphemy is good for the soul (as well as the health of the body politic). I believe in God, I have not yet outgrown the need for the myth, it works for me. I do not believe in being bullied by religion, no matter who they claim their God to be. If the Muslims CHOOSE TO LIVE AMONGST US, then their God is fair fucking game, or they should grow up, or go and live in more hostile totalitarian locales. I love my God with all of my existence and I still feel obliged from time to time to shake my fist at him and curse him, but that is love, and as a child of a living father, his unconditional love allows for my sullen outbursts. You don’t get to be a God of a whole fucking Universe without being able to handle your creations sometimes being angry at you. Our Heavenly father is quite a big boy and doesn’t need always to be spoken to sweetly. ALLAH IS TRULY GREAT, he is also big enough to stand up to whatever scrutiny his supplicants seem to fear. If you are going to bring Allah and the discussion thereof into a free world, he must also be able to stick a voodoo pin in his ass, just as we do our own Lord from time to time, or, we say this, PACK UP YOUR MOSQUES AND ATKE THEM BACK TO MORE INTOLERANT LANDS. We will not tolerate bullying in our Christian lands, and after 9/11, we became just a little bit too pussy about their sensitivities and they in response, too bombastic and threatening.

The price of freedom and living in an evolved social network is to be willing to let your God get slapped around a little. A God can take it, RELIGIOUS CRYBABIES CANNOT.

And we let the extremists and the deranged hold forth on too much of a conversation that never evolves.

Vin Diesel is a link to the President, discuss amongst yourselves.

Often our greatest strengths are experienced as weaknesses.

The true meaning of ‘wealth’ is to live without fear of poverty or wealth.

Be careful who your hero’s are, you may have to bear them.

The way to ‘cure’ the drink is to ‘address’ the sugar. Sugar deficiency is a key. It is less about the alcohol than it is the sugar.

Be mindful what you listen to, what we listen to ‘appeals’ to us, even if it doesn’t.

As one of our great mutual hero’s freed our tribe (the master Abraham Lincoln), perhaps the master BARACK, will find it in his heart to free the American Indians, and pass the blessing of freedom on. With all due respect to the IRAQI’S, our American Indian brothers and sisters have more than paid their dues. And a casino does not freedom make.

Even were it at the same time legitimate, GUANTANAMO, were also a smokescreen, being dangled before us like a whore’s shoe, to distract us from even more important matters.

…like your Grandma’s pension and life savings being robbed, while we were looking for terrorists beneath the bed and waiting for the day’s COLOUR CODING.

…were we a bunch of ‘gullibles’ or what (‘Gulliver’s to you literary motherfo’s)?

Whatever you remember him as (we remember him as he is now, since the future IS now), we salute the master Songwriter and singer YUSEF ISLAM, a true pioneer. In my high school years, our chorus sang one of his masterpieces, ‘MORNING HAS BROKEN’, which I or any number of neophyte songsters would give a right arm to have written. Hell, I’d almost even convert to Islam and I am safely secure now as a Catholic. Legend has it that the great maestro Marvin Gaye adored this song as well and would sing it a lot to warm up his voice. Only Angels can write songs such as the aforementioned work of art.

According to the latest surveys, ‘BACKWASH’ has fewer calories.

Respects to your scene!

And finally, what would you call a doctor who deals with really rough, dry skin?

These scribblings dedicated in no small part to two of my all time boyhood hero’s, the great Master Willie Mays and St. Joseph DiMaggio! 



(intellectual sanity, a little less protected!)