The Sinking of the S.S. Capitalism

The glorious ship was sinking. Blindly sneering at all obstacles, it hit an iceberg and - they said - was mortally wounded. The riders had had the good life on board (at least those not toiling in the furnaces below) but now it was time to head to the life boats for waters uncharted. But still there were Believers who stayed onboard, unwilling to give up their faith in the easy life. Silly Sally - later to be called Savior Sally - knelt in prayer.

"Dear God, Heavenly Father, I know I've done wrong and not lived as I should. I stood silent on the suffering of others but protested mightily the slightest inconvenience of my own. My direction has been guided by sheer selfishness and I ignored my self-interest of serving the greater good. I've kept my eyes closed and pretended that which I could not see is the same as that which cannot be. And that brought ruin to us all - but I know by admitting my weaknesses that makes them OK.

"There are those who learn only by pain, no matter how much truth is spoken or love is shown they cannot see the error of their ways until disaster strikes. Our pride blinded us, making us unable to see the doom coming our way. But this is a good ship, my Lord, a mighty ship that has done good in the world and deserves to live. The realities of Nature are sinking us now, but I know my Heavenly Father is a mighty power and can do anything He wants. So I'm asking now for this ship to be saved, to prove to all the world of our righteousness and most of all, to show Your glory and unquestionable magnificence so that every soul may worship and serve only You. God bless Capitalism."

In what was surely an answer from God, the huge beast of a ship began to right itself and return to an even keel. Sally, wide-eyed in wonder, rose slowly in amazement, not daring to believe her senses. "It's happening," she whispered. "I'm the new Moses. Only the truly saved are allowed to be evil!" The next move for this instrument of God was to scourge all the non-believers. Sally's narrow-slitted eyes burned with vengeance as she surveyed the luxury deck for The Undeserved.



"You there, Prophet Man! You're the one who caused all this! Off with your head!" A small army of fellow Boat Believers followed Sally, eager do her bidding. (After all, who could deny the miracle she enabled?) As for the Prophet Man, long had he been a thorn in the side of the Boat Worshippers who cared only to hear good tidings of their maritime methods. Quelling the heretic's voice would be sweet justice.

The Prophet Man protested his innocence. "Life is love. You brought this on yourself. You wish to save nothing but your lies, Silly Sally."

"Your voice of poison shall speak no more. God only knows how many lives you've ruined by tricking them into the life boats and shattering their good life. I condemn you in the name of God!"

As they arrested the prophet, Savior Sally smiled to the Lard couple, a.k.a. "good people". She stopped to assure them as they enjoyed the inertia of never moving from their lounge chairs.

"It's all a lie! Everything is fine and we've done no wrong! It's those who are leaving that are wrong!"

"Thank you, honey" said Mrs. Lard, patting Sally's hand. "You're a dear soul to tell us what we want to hear."

Savior Sally basked in the glow of enlightenment when she spotted another malcontent. "There's that homeless stowaway that's been badmouthing us on his blog! Grab him!"

The Malcontent was resistant. "Just hold on a minute, OK lady? I need to get this final posting uploaded before the friggin' ship sinks. Man, this self-editing is a bitch!"

"I'm not waiting for that! Throw him overboard! Let him blog while he's dying," she dryly commanded.

"What is it you think I've been doing?" spat the ungrateful Malcontent on his way over the railing.

But not all were convinced Sally could save them. An angry mob of Sheeple burst through, demanding to know the truth. "Is this boat sinking or not? Our hearts tell us it is but we need an authority figure to know what to believe!"


No man captained the Great Ship without also being bound to praise it - least ways no one after the passengers murdered captains who failed to flatter them. So Sally called down the current captain, Strutting Monkey, who stepped onto the scene singing and dancing with the confidence of delusions untouched.

"Liars and icebergs and traitors, oh my!
"Do as I say or all will die!
"Savior Sally stands true blue!
"God loves me - but not so much you!"
The Sheeple were shocked and awed by the authority with which the monkey spoke. The Prophet Man was outraged. "You're an incompetent fool! We must take responsibility to save ourselves!!" But the disparaging of their monkey leader made the Sheeple feel bad and frown.

The Strutting Monkey saw only his safe perch on high. "Competence is for wussies and responsibility's for losers. Since you're a loser, I make you responsible." With that proclamation, the Sheeple threw the Prophet Man overboard (who swam to a life boat) and rejoiced in their victory over liars. Each one vowed a righteous pledge: "We won't get fooled again!"

And indeed they were not - for a second chance never came. The righting of the ship was merely an air bubble working its way forward and after it passed the ship sank so quickly no soul could escape.

Her Moral Affair

"If he touches me again, I'll kill him." Her chest was heaving with anger as she drove the familiar route back to the house. Wrapped in an up-model SUV, a cold mid-winter light shone through the tempered glass giving the surrounding world a surreal patina. It disoriented her, feeling as though she drove through a stranger's neighborhoods. But the closer she got to that garage door that would open and swallow her inside, the more she fumed and bristled. "I don't want you touching me anymore. I abhor you! This whole fake marriage thing is over. Do NOT fucking touch me again!"

This from a woman who never cussed.

It's been said that the punishment for criminals is derived from mimicking the hearts of the judgers. One particularly cruel Asian sentence was to be pulled apart by oxen, your very being ripped in two. The oxen now were full bore on her outstretched limbs as the leather crinkled under her seat. Part of her wished she'd finally be torn apart once and for all, never to feel anything ever again - and that very well could happen. Yes, she was driving the usual way back to her abode, but she certainly had lost her way home. No wonder she felt so lost.

Her secret was the dirtiest of the dirty. The faith broken; the ultimate crime perpetrated. She'd passed through the door to do The One Thing That Must Never Be Done: to open her eyes. Seeing life's true offer made the tragedy of her choices all too clear. With the long forgotten taste of living on her lips, buried desires sprang to life anew, inflaming her with passions not to be denied. "What a fool I've been." Going back to the non-life, the pretending, the suffocation of safety - THAT was the new insanity. She mustn't go back to that. Never...never.


To live, they always scolded, was dangerous. Honor, duty and obedience were the words ingrained in her. Follow that holy troika and praise will be yours her betrayers assured. But now she had to decide on a final break. "If it's right to live, why do I feel so guilty?" Here was a man who believed in her, who carried the true faith of love. It wasn't some "deal", or a "good idea" to be a "great team". But it scared her to think of a marriage based on what she created instead of what she got out of it. This was a union, two becoming one. This was the dream she always said her marriage was. Maybe that's why she felt the guilt - she too had acted a liar.

The sleek SUV pulled into the garage as it had done countless times before. Bible quotes from childhood ran mocking through her head, speaking of clean spirits and dirty ones. And now, sitting in this stranger's garage, it was her turn to come clean, to claim the holiness to which she aspired. But whispering in her ear were devil's doubts. Who are you to break the oath of marriage? What future do you have really? Will the passion last? You've lied this many years, why not just go on backsliding and keep your money and safety and security? Who are you?

Gnawing questions for a woman who has never lived alone - and now feared it more than death itself.

What she didn't know here on the eve of her twentieth wedding anniversary was that her husband too had strayed with heart-pounding sex to relieve his yearning needs. He could share thoughts there his wife would never understand. And he ached to dump that wife who so slowly over the years turned into an albatross of denial. Yes, he'd leave her high and dry for not taking care of him. Thusly, what his wife did not realize was that if she didn't commit to the new life she found, she'd end up with neither.

New Year's Naked Run

Hey, gang! Gather up the kiddies and Fido and Fluffy cuz I got a heartwarming tale of family fun for you! It's all about my most memorable New Years! One year, bored with the usual routine of jetting to Switzerland to ski the Alps, I decided to absorb the local nightlife as I deigned to mingle with the little people. I was very pleasantly surprised to see we have some really hot honeys right here in the good ol' USA and (wink, wink! nudge, nudge!) decided to deal with that in the usual way: public masturbation.


It's a bit of a hike, but within my sphere of roaming is a conglomeration of restaurants, a movie theater and shops that always proves to be a lively spot. I've blogged before how once I was frozen by the delicious smells of life when coming out of a movie and I just stood at the railing ensconced in an olfactory cocoon of vicarious vivaciousness. As I inhaled the lives of others I painfully remembered how beautiful life can be. That bittersweet moment pulls me back there on a regular basis and when deciding on a place where to spend what turned out to be a fairly warm New Years, this was the spot.

But apparently, I can't stand to have anything good in my life and anytime I return now I relive the shame of that night.

Like I said, there were all sorts of babes out that night - unbelievable babes dressed to the nines. I'm usually of two minds on this: one to be near them and another to avoid the frustration. But that night I wanted to see them and ogle them and secretly fawn over their long, tan legs. A thousand years of frustration could be released with one of those fine lassies - and my heart would hate no more. Eventually my volcanic passions overwhelmed me, screaming out for life. Helpless, I gave in to the single greatest crime any homeless person can commit: I wanted to live.


An unleased retail space in one corner of the complex has stairs and a walkway leading to the upper floors. Underneath that is a dark area perfect to hide in at night. It's also between the shopping area and parking garage so there's lots of traffic passing by. I picked out three very hot girls with short skirts and exposed midriffs that brought you to your knees. How much is a poor guy to take? I unleashed my desires and clothing in naked homage but it's when I saw them heading to the parking garage that I lost all control.

"Should I do it? Should I do it?" my fevered brain pressed over and over. Bedazzled by their beauty, I broke. "I'll do it!" But what would be my story? I know, the direct approach. I'll run in front of them naked chanting, "Spank me! Spank me!" Yeah, they'll love that. Can you just imagine being bent over those bare, hot legs and getting my ass slapped?? Sweet Jesus in heaven! Half excited and half terrified, I timed my run perfectly for my hoped-for menage-a-quatre, only half-looking at my targets, pretending not to see them.

And then: nothing.

Not a word, not a shriek, not even a groan of contempt. Motherfucker, I knew I was invisible to you folks but I didn't know it was literal! Did they somehow not see me at all? Impossible! I still needed to run back to my clothes but I'd lost the nerve to pass them again. Son-of-a-bitch! What a mind fuck. What a burn. Now I'm twice as frustrated as before. There's just no pleasing them - ever. A thousand tons of guilt weighed on me as I stealthed my way back to my clothes and slinked away.


Sex in the homeless community is an upside down mirror of sex in real life. We just don't have your advantages of disguise. My lust is exposed - and fearlessly derided - for all to see. Your lust comes out in unwanted babies. Rape of homeless women is a common occurence. It's unreported because they figure either no one will listen or they don't count anyway. But also playing into it is that like the suburban housewife they still believe being used for sex is the same thing as being useful. My, my - what a fucked up world we live in, Mrs. Robinson.

See? We homeless know all your secret desires and true colors - no wonder you fear and loathe us so much.

P.S. This is the kind of stuff you write when the guy in the cot next to you keeps fucking farting all goddam night.

There Are No Economic Problems, Only Moral Solutions

I saw a posting by Arianna Huffington (whom I love) on Huffington Post calling for the death of laissez faire capitalism. She joins a chorus of other voices with similar calls for a nice tight regulation of our greed. But don't not nobody see what wrong wit dat picture: "See, it's not the sin that's wrong, it's the lack of sin regulation!" With enlightenment such as this, we have no future.

Let me put this another way, if you have a law that prevents children from working in coal mines, that's fine. But if the only reason children are not working in coal mines is because of said law, then that society is dead man walking - big time. Laws don't save souls but only a soul can save the law. America has always been about rape - it's our favorite pastime. But there's no doubt we have taken it to new and shameless heights in this century. We turned our back on the suffering we inflicted on the Iraqis with our rape of them, but the same forces that unleashed that evil are the same ones reaching into your pocketbook now. I call that funny!


Millions of Iraqi families were forced to flee for their lives and live in the squalor of refugee camps:

"Well, they're not pretty, I've got to tell you that, Tony. It's not a nice thing to see. These were people who used to live comfortable, normal lives, if you'd like...

"Now, that has about 800 people living in an area, try to imagine this, the size of two soccer fields. Most of the housing there is just tents, a dusty landscape, sewage in the street, but in many ways it showcases the pessimism of those there, because they're starting to build there more permanent homes out of bricks they're making themselves. It's -- the kids that are there, they don't go to school. They try to amuse themselves playing marbles. Some of them just literally staring blankly into an increasingly bleak future."

Who cared when it happened to them? Haha! Now we get to see what it feels like when you're thrown from your comfy home into the street - and people half a world away are cheering it or are indifferent. Man, don't come whining to me about the horror of watching your child starve - you just haven't been paying attention. That was your decision - not God's or the President's or anyone else's.

From a numbers perspective, our economic problems are insolvable. There are some studies and a couple of documentaries that hint at this, but only I have the balls to come right out and say it. (And such is the genius of God, you find a homeless voice unworthy!) What's going to happen if we stay possessed by our numbers is a long, wavelike slide into hell. Every time the wave goes up we say, "See? Everything is fine!" even though the highpoint of this wave is always lower than the last. And when we are on an obvious slide like now, there's all sorts of screeching for change but nothing really happens. Through thick and thin we remain steadfast in our belief these numbers must determine if we live or die.

But it's all hogwash, you silly, simple sots. The "need" for money is only in our heads.


The argument for moneyism is simply that there is "no other way". You gotta force lazy-ass, rotten, no-good people into labor or nothing will get done! (Tell me again whose nature is made in the image of God? Cognitive dissonance - it beats the fuck out of thinking!) We've lived so long off the poisoned fruit of communal blackmail we accept the rule of money as an axiom of life itself: there is no choice to do but what we do. And thusly we've adopted the false credo that winners deserve winning and losers deserve losing. That's why no one listens when your ox is gored.

I saw a TV show about renovating a house where a girl was sent off as a prank to the hardware store to find a part that does not exist. The contractor made up some name of a fictional object to get her out of his hair. It was funny as hell as they cut to the store with the girl and three employees looking for something they would never find. I'll be having that same laugh watching you hopeless morons struggling to make greed work. Put on your Sunday suits with your respectable haircuts and pontificate all you want how we need to be more responsible to our greed - all fury and bluster signifying nothing.

So if you want to save the economy, then save your soul and dispel the lies of numbers into the wind. True, there's no guarantee it will save the immediate lives of you and your children but on the other hand, what else you gonna do? It's not like you have a choice. (I know what you're thinking (I say in my best Thomas Magnum voice-over). "Oh, Harry, you're so naive, so unpragmatic, so unrealistic! Thing's just have to be the way they are. You need to grow up and face facts. Why, if we changed things now the world would go to hell!")

Mortification and Sarcasm

Before I made my appearance on the Letterman show I was asked if I could tell a funny story about myself to which I thought, "Oh goody! I get to be homeless and funny." But my verbal reply was to merely squirm and say, "Oh, sure." I guess my act wasn't very good because the assistant kept staring at me as if waiting for my real answer. But I had no more words for her and finally she left. Why does everything have to be so hard?

Racking my brain as I scanned my desperate life of despair, I remembered one story that might work. Of course, it involved a moment of my humiliation - most stories about me derailed existence do. It happened back in technical school. (The thought of an actual college terrified me and, frankly, disinterested me.) I wasn't serious about it. But who could I tell? I was there because I had nothing better to do.

Staying in my three bedroom dorm was Harley and Russell. Harley and I were hanging out in a mutual friend's dorm room when he started telling this grand adventure tale he'd had. I thought it was all bullshit so I started mocking him and calling him Indiana Bert (Bert was his middle name). And the more he told, the more I mocked, coming up with a line of Indiana Bert dolls to sell, along with the famous suppository version ("Gives new meaning to the word 'shithead'!"). I was on a roll that night and Harley was caught somewhat flatfooted by my stampede - but that's not because Harley was witless.

I had highly enjoyed my needling of Harley when the next day Harley made his counter attack. Whenever I walked into the living room of our dorm, he'd boo me. At first as I was furious and was going to jump his shit but when I actually saw him doing it I wanted to laugh. He had his hands cupped around his mouth and he had a big ol' grin on his face while booing. It was completely disarming and I had a hard time coming up with my own counter attack because I couldn't get mad at him. So naturally he kept doing it - which led to complications.


I was very good at computer programming at school - as long as I didn't mind killing myself to do it. But the pressure was enormous since the tuition was on my parent's ticket and my life had no meaning. One weekend the despair got so bad I attempted suicide by taking a bottle of sleeping pills. To my eternal regret it failed, obviously. So when I could I traveled back home and came back on Sunday to avoid the alone time.

It was on one of those Sundays returning to my dorm when disaster struck. I was carrying in my little TV I lugged back and forth and about 20 paces behind me was my emotionally estranged stepfather bringing my suitcase. My stepfather was a human being I truly loathed - as he did himself. My dorm was on the second floor and sitting on the bottom rung of the steps was my roommate Russell who suddenly got a bright idea when he saw me. He thought he'd start booing me as Harley had been.

The courtyard between the dormitories was large and public so Russell's booing me was inconvenient at best. What was worse would be trying to explain to my quickly approaching stepfather why I was being booed by my roommate. ("See, it's not real. It's just a game. Uh...") So I was ready to freaking murder Russell - especially after he decided he'd call Harley down to join in the fun. "Boo! Boo! Harley! Harley!" he'd cry out to the second floor. I was mortified but furious and decided to retaliate without compunction.


It was after about the third or fourth time Russell called up with his sequence of booing and calls to Harley that I let fly with all the sarcasm and contempt I could muster: "What's that? Your mating call to Harley?" My voice was so sharp you could a razor with it. Better yet, a huge burst of laughter came from across the courtyard. Unbeknownst to me, the "gang" had been watching the entire drama unfold and delighted in my putdown of Russell, who visibly shrank and spoke no more.

Computer school was a hell for me, drowning in a sea of numbers as I prostituted my mind for desires not my own. My only survival skill was to summon all my wits to disguise my glaring social failings. I surprised even myself sometimes with my repartee but in the end, lying in bed at night, I knew the futureless life that lay ahead of me.

The Final Argument

"Look, you sorry fuck, I know what the truth is. Everyone around me knows it too and they all agree with me. It's been voted on for Christ's sake. You want to tell me everyone is wrong and you're right? You want to tell me my whole life has been a fraud when I've had a very successful career and am loved by millions? No, my friend, calling me a liar is the same as calling all who are righteous liars - and that simply cannot be.

"This is simply a political witch hunt. The problem with people like you is you serve your own personal agenda over the truth! You make stuff up to make you feel better. It's such an obvious self-deception - your'e not fooling anyone. What are you, twelve? Do you plan on living the rest of your life like this, like some overgrown brat constantly whining about not getting your own way? Yes, the truth hurts and you're just going to have to live with it: I'm right and you're wrong!

"No one needs your bullshit. I don't know how you got that idea in your head but it sure is stuck in there like a possessed monkey or something. Clearly, you have much to learn and when you grow up, hey, come back and maybe I'll let you speak. In the meantime, your actions simply aren't tolerable to me and civilized folk and I'm going to have to completely cut you out of my life. That is my decision and I have the power of many."

And then God Laughed, "While it's true that only you can know the truth of yourself, it's not true that only you can know truth itself - a seemingly subtle but fatal distinction. But I do have to admit I find your cheekiness highly entertaining! However, I don't recommend that kind of behavior where you are going. It just makes things worse."

And with that, God pulled the lever opening the trap door to darkness forever.

I'm Optimistic! Are You?

[Ac·count·a·bil·i·ty] n. Accountability is a concept in ethics with several meanings. It is often used synonymously with such concepts as responsibility,answerability, enforcement, blameworthiness, liability and other terms associated with the expectation of account-giving. As an aspect of governance, it has been central to discussions related to problems in both the public and private (corporation) worlds.

FUCK accountability. I'm sick of hearing that word! All of the sudden I hear nobody's accountable: Presidents, residents, loaners, groaners, hippies, yuppies, bloggers, loggers - no one is being accountable! And you know what I say to that? Big fucking deal, Pilgrim!

All you preachers and reachers sticking your nose in my bidness, griping about my dishonesty because looking at my life is easier than looking at your own, I's gots news for you: I dont need no stinkin' truth, OK? I don't needs no negativity-mongers comin' 'round because I already gots all the facts I need. I'm a fucking optimist because truth is on my side. There's a very simple way to measure the truth: if you want to hear it, then it's the truth.

So with that in mind, here's my top 10 list of reasons why I'm optimistic - and therefore an all around great guy.

I'm optimistic that

...we need not serve the truth of what we're doing
...greed cures all ills
...we can survive ANY wrong we do
...destabilizing other countries won't destabilize us
...dreams are optional
...we can always push our problems onto tomorrow
...if we kill enough people we'll only have friends left
...God will come from the sky to save us
...we don't need our environment to survive
...love will never work

This guy is optimistic too:

"I'm optimistic I'm going to
fuck you and get away with it!"
Since when did optimist and realist become opposites??