jollyroger's picture

    Bearing the price of dead children (Other people's kids of course...)

    The companion piece to Subcommandante Shaleen-both written simultaneously over one week in 2005.  David Seaton's  unlikely encomium to Pat Buchanan reminded me of Madeleine Albright's riposte when confronted with the figure half a million children dead from our sanctions...


    G-dub's Anthem: 21st Century Star Spangled Banner


    Oh, say, Francis Scott Key
    Do you like what you see?
    See the bodies piled so high?
    See the kids without eyes?

    By the dawn's early light
    Once we knew what was right
    Now the world hides in fright
    Now the noose grows so tight

    What so proudly we hailed
    What was clean now has failed
    We have gone off the rails
    Strike the wind from our sails

    By the twilight's last gleaming
    From our eyes tears are streaming
    Once our faces were beaming
    Now remorse fills our dreaming

    And the rockets' red glare
    Lays all our crimes bare
    Yet we have not a care
    "It's a price we can bear"

    The bombs bursting in air
    Childrens' heads without hair
    Those shell casings--Beware!
    There's uranium there

    Gave proof through the night
    Oh, hideous sight
    Bush thinks might makes him right
    Darkness blots out the light.

    Can our flag still be there?
    Oh Lord, hear our prayer
    Send this beast to his lair
    Return us to what's fair

    Oh please let that star spangled banner yet wave
    Make us once again free
    Make us once again brave
    For his high crimes and grave
    Send to hell the foul knave


    I was shooting for creative corner...oh well.

    If you add it there, I'll delete it here.

    I changed it in the database already


    Well done.  If I may say so, it reminds me of something I wrote a few years ago:

    From Republican to a Pub

    I'd hail to the chief
    but I don't know who the chief is
    We were taken in the night
    and I don't know who the thief is
    My innocence stolen, my ignorance bliss
    On JFK's grave I will leave a small kiss
    My eyes become glazed when Old Glory is raised
    I see red white and blue, but there's pain in there too

    I want another beer! Yo, Chief! Bring another beer!
    And one for my friend here, whose name isn't clear...
    It'll come to me.

    (The copyright says 2009 but I seem to recall writing this in 2006 or so...)



    Since you mention JFK, I have a memory of shaking his hand.  (I say I have a memory, because I could not possibly have actually  shaken his hand, cause I'm nineteen, and he's been dead since before I would have been born.  I was pretty confused about that, til I saw that documentary, what was it, Men in Black Suits, Black men in Suits, whatever.  Cause they have that neuralizer thingee, and after they zap you, well, memories are fungible, sort of.)

     So, anyway, I have this memory (doubtless implanted by one of those machines) that when JFK was still running for the nomination, I was recruited to be part of a little "pep rally" singing group (like four guys, maybe) and we went down to some rally in New Jersey and sang a song which they didn't bother to implant a memory of , and I shook his hand and wished him luck, which I guess he had, or maybe not, the way it turned out...



    It'll come to me

    They might'a got you with that machine too...

    I want another beer! Yo, Chief! Bring another beer!

    This seems to be a recurrent theme in your work (like the poem, btw)  Myself, (as you might guess), I'm a stoner, not a juicer...

    Well when I can't be a stoner, I'm a beer drinker, ha.  And, wow, for a 19-year-old, you sure have a lot of chest hair.


    I suffer from a severe case of testosterone poisoning...

    a beer drinker, ha

    Anent which, and in the patriotic spirit which thus far has infused our dialog, Sam Adams is a damn good beer for something you can find in the supermarket.  Jus sayin'..

    I love, so far, just two Sam flavors.  Raspberry Witbeir and Cherry Wheat.  In fact, one of the locals in my neighborhood who is at the deli every night greets me by saying, "Cherry Wheat, how are you, you lovely?"

    He's Irish.


    Also, this might not be my regular body..cause there's one or two things that strike me as odd for 19, too.

    I figure what happened was when the aliens got me, they mixed my body up with some other guy-he's like forty or so...and I am gonna get my real one back and take another one of that bastard's eye stalks too...but, so , anyway, that's the only way I can explain being 19, stuck in a 40 year old body, but with memories stretching way the fuck back.  And, really, when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense...And if there was any anal probing done, I don't want to know about it.

    Of course, I don't actually remember r the abduction, which if people tell you they do, they're crazy, cause everyone who they abduct gets zapped with the neuralizer thing...

    I've been trying for the past 15 minutes to come up with a good reposte to this post, but....I'm at a loss.


    Time for a song, then....


    Perfect, Flower!  As always...


    My theme, as it were...

    Doesn't the teenager in you just *hate* it when youtube gives us this stupid "embedding disabled" message? 

    For the record, though, when I hear "Crazy", I hear Seal.


    "and I see you, my friend, and touch your face again..."

    Did we meet on some starship once before, a few years ago?




    I wouldn't rule it out...We need Verified A's input here, but with the multiple universe thingee, and, who knows, leakage from one to the other, there's really no telling what inklings are fact based, but just not in this particular iteration.

    I swear I've met chicks in bars where I never see them again, but in an alternate universe we have three kids...

    As long as you're not paying child support in some alternate universe, I think you might be safe. But then, WTF do I know?

     Well, unless  alternate Rogie is way different from this universe Rogie, what with his five wives (serially, not simultaneously), I fear there is a good chance that I am...

    Oh, well, thank goodness.  A serial hubby versus a Mormon is far much safer.  But...a Scorpio!  Oh my.


    I bet I know what has you paralyzed...It's "really, when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense"...

    Well, yes, to be honest, that's what it is.  Because....dare I say this in public?  I'm 13. 

    Somehow, my body and mind were switched around sometime in the night, once.  I can't really recall exactly when it happened.  I'd like to say it was last year, just before my 12th birthday.  But...the memory is now so hazy, and I suppose I'd sound I keep this feeling to myself most of the time. 

    I'm so glad you understand.


    Of course...I was pretty sure that I wasn't the only one...


     I suppose I'd sound crazy

    . you can't let that intimidate you--didn't Jimi Hendrix enjoin us to let our freak flag fly?

    I thought that was David Crosby. 

    Him too...

    Not that you and I even know who Jimi and Crosby ARE.....for the record.  Right?


    Well, if you remember, in that documentary, they were pretty thorough when they planted memories, there were back stories, details, the whole thing.

    There was that Jones guy, the white fella, and he spent years as a postman or somthin' right?

    In fact, I believe he used to deliver my mail in Berkeley, but it could have been a lookalike...

    You should see me do it  in person, I'm really good.  I scared the living piss out of this guy one time (for which I had to apologize profusely, in the event) when I grabbed his shoulders, perhaps a .little too tightly, and asked with a touch of hysteria "You're not working with them are you??  Are you? ARE YOU WORKING WITH THE ALIENS???

    I take Resistance and his ilk as my inspiration--if they can wrestle everything around to add up to a 6000 year old earth and a veridical Old Testament, there's no damn reason I can't be "confused abductee #3, 19 year old male, "Roger"

    The last thing he remembers is going to bed and he was 19--then the nightmare began...

    I'm beginning to think you've just blown your cover, Mr. King.  Surprised

    Mr. King.


    Reference?   Or are you talking about my claim to the Visigoth throne, which I had not spoken of explicitely...

    Whilst I adore the Dead's St. Stephen, I have never dated a Scorpio.  I've been advised to avoid them, in fact.


    Shit, girl, I ain't no stinkin' Scorpio--I don't post my true signage, birthday, or any of that stuff...

    Except for I really am the (key term) pretender to the Visigoth Throne....albeit there may be some other males of my family who want to step up to the plate and we can fight it out, but as far as I know, at the moment, I'm the only one claiming.

    Without, hopefully, giving up too much, I can say that in Astrology School, they teach my case in Planetary Imbalances 101-B :Pathologies arising from the excessive influence of Venus

    You lost me at Crosby.  Wink

    Lucky for you, there's a contact thing a ma jiggy. 


     to avoid them

     Parenthetically, that is good advice...Not only do they teach my case in Astrology School, I used to teach in Astrology School, and I am prepared to say with some assurance that negative sun sign men are problematic.

    I'm sorry, was there a point to all these comments?  Tongue out

    Yeah--didn't you say something about wanting to get laid?

    Oh, right!  Yes I did!  And, I'm sorry, but didn't you set yourself up as being able to be contacted directly through Dag?  Hahahahaha.  Not that someone in NY, 13 years of age, should connect with someone out in CA, of undetermined age but obviously owning a chest full of hair, but the two of them should just contact each other, as I'm sure the folks at Dag would love it if we'd both shut up and just find a freaking room, already.  :)



    shut up and just find a freaking room

      Don't be silly...nobody's watching...just let me unbutton this and...


    Oh, wait...that was supposed to be on the contact thingee-my bad...

    Lucky for you, Roger, everyone already knows you're bad. 

    Don't blame me, I was drawn that way....(anyway, an *unaccustomed urge towards privacy overcame me and I went to the contact thingee)


    *When you are a stripper, some generally accepted inhibitions sort of fade away--what can I say? Some people can fuck in public, some can't.  It's kind of a function of concentration, I think...

    I'd think traffic might have a part in that too, no?  Once you see one car go by, and then another...

    Well, then, I meant...who cares anymore that it's in public?  But I did answer privately, for the record.


    And now I suppose wedding predictions about us are in the cards.

    I'm sure you two will be very happy even with the zapped memory thingee, and the fact jolly's not anywhere close to 19.  I think the elevated testosterone level will ultimately be a plus so long as he gets his steak tartar every day by noon or thereabouts.

    If he's up by noon, which is doubtful.

    Personally, I've always thought Jolly was a girl.

    Hmm, I can vouch for the fact that he's not.  That's all I will say on the matter.


    Always hated that song. I mean the music besides the stupid words.

    Looks like you are making amends. hahah

    I bet Cristina A. wishes we had made that shift to This Land is Your Land before last Sunday...

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