Friday, October 29, 2004

AmeriKa's War Against the People of the World

This of course isn't just happening in the USA, it's happening everywhere. The best examples do come from the USA most of the time.

In future when I use Amerika think of it as referring to the governments, corporations and non-government bodies that advocate for globalization through the IMF, the WTO, the World Bank and so on. AmeriKa is not a place, but it could be. I've been thinking recently about starting another blog that could be dedicated to info about the AmeriKan wars. I would keep this blog for poetry, songs and humour. Any feedback is welcome: arnhoff@hotmail.com

Boom Time for Billionaires

The Raise the Floor Project

Haiti Progres for those of you who can read French.

The Perpetual War Portfolio

have a nice day!




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Thursday, October 28, 2004

Hooray for Joni and more about the ameriKan wars in our own hemisphere

Every blog should have a link to Joni Mitchell

Hooray for Joni Mitchell

Cuban Measures

US War of Terror in Colombia

Memories of Chile in the Midst of an American Presidential Campaign


CONGRESSWOMAN WATERS AND 30 OTHER MEMBERS OF CONGRESS URGE SECRETARY OF STATE POWELL TO CALL FOR THE RELEASE OF POLITICAL PRISONERS IN HAITI
I'll bet this won't be reported by CNN or Fox or by any North American mainstream media outlet.



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Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Giving the NDP the benefit of the doubt

Did a little more digging and found this unreported, in national press, press release from Alexa McDonough:

http://www.alexahfx.ca/index.cfm?p=press/article.cfm&id=78

Hmm, yet I still don't hear anyone calling the USA to account for their actions.

tick, tick, tick, tick and so on....





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Haiti and the NDP

I 've sent another letter to my MP, Libby Davies; the leader of the NDP, Jack Layton; and Alexa McDonough, former leader of the NDP and current Foreign Affairs Critic. I've included these links in my letter:

Repression in Haiti

Media Disinformation on Haiti

I hope to hear or possibly read something soon.


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Monday, October 25, 2004

stuff and more stuff.

Uruguay's Elections

Six arrests made at CSIS

hmm, not sure if I should, oh what the hell, Karl Rove's influence in the White House (and isn't that a telling name).

Gee, you think they would have replied to my letter by now, 3 weeks. I get quicker replies from the Campbell Liberals. We shall see. Mayhap, tomorrow, one should send another missive.


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Sunday, October 24, 2004

just in case

Eternal Fascism:Fourteen Ways of Looking at a Blackshirt
By Umberto Eco



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the pain the lies and Haiti

Workaholics on a treadmill to nowhere

'Achieve BC' Ads Don’t Add Up

The Man Eaters of Haiti

as of Friday I had still not heard from the NDP concerning Haiti, maybe I should send a letter to the other parties, hmm, eh? shutup!

Haiti Action Committee


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Thursday, October 21, 2004

Vehwy intawesting, hawhawhaw, hawhawhaw

http://www.pentagonstrike.co.uk/pentagon.htm

So, if not a Wahabi Saudi group attack commandeering a plane then who?

could it be:

A) a CIA funded attack to inflame outrage?
B) a well organized militia attack coordinated with the Saudi nationals attack on the WTC?
C) B) coordinated with the ameriKan scientists/agents who perpetrated the Anthrax scare?
D) J.F.K. and Hitler's brain seeking revenge?
E) space aliens goofing around?
F) David Icke's Lizard rulers reminding Bush who's really in charge?
G) a space/time continuum prank committed by adolescents from the future, say 2525?
H) all of the above
I) none of the above
J) we're never really going to know so who gives a rat's ass anyway?
K) the liberal media trying to create news


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Wednesday, October 20, 2004

blogoriffic haunch rubbing aftertaste: grim whale parts 3 and 4

Blang blang blang till it hurts, Number One.

blang blang blang
charisma dishrag afterbirth
blang blang blang
pasha proclaims her selfworth

arrogant wormboy
mischievous boytoy
suck on your gagball
telescope fantasy hall

blang blang blang
david bores us with master class
blang blang blang
sophie proclaims her master ass

arrogant wormboy
mischievous boytoy
suck on your gagball
rotoscope fantasy mall

blang blang blang
blang blang blang
blang blang blang
blang blang blang

oh oh, oh oh
oh oh, oh oh

blang blang blang
sarah three syllable last name
blang blang blang
murray's inclined to spit fame

sophisticated wormboy
interregnum boytoy
suck off your candyball
microscope three card monty hall

oh oh, oh oh
oh no, oh no
ono ono ono ono
macroscopic moaning yoko;
oh no!

blang blang blang.


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It's nice to have a day off in the middle of the so-called week.

Sportscar: Sonata Number 3 in A Minor.

fuck monkey monkey
typing on a wall
fuck monkey monkey
eat my virgin's novel

monkey monkey monkey!
monkey monkey monkey!

ah! ah! ah! ah!

eat monkey monkey
crapping on a phone
eat monkey monkey
eat my firm elation

monkey monkey monkey!
monkey monkey monkey!

descending into labour
relenting under pressure
pursing lips displeased her
pissed to comprehend her.

monkey monkey monkey!
monkey monkey monkey!

shred monkey monkey
pacts indict oppression
shred monkey monkey
hacks inflict repression.

monkey monkey monkey!
monkey monkey monkey!

monkey! monkey!
monkey! monkey!

has anybody seen my sportscar?
where's that goddamn sportscar?


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From pynchonoid

I remember reading last year that procreative unions between high tech workers in Silicon Valley were producing autistic off-spring in significant numbers. The following is from pynchonoid:

"autism, Pynchon, and the philosophical underpinnings of capitalism"

I was in high school or junior high when my sister, two years younger than me, brought home a book on autistic children for a school project. I didn't read it, but the pictures fascinated me at the time and stayed with me for years. They were drawings made by a boy named Joey, an autistic patient of Bruno Bettelheim's at the Sonia Shankman Orthogenic School in Chicago where Bettelheim treated autistic children during the 1950s and 60s. The drawings showed how Joey perceived himself and his bodily functions to be attached to machinery -- to be machinery in fact. This struck a primaeval chord in me somehow, as if Joey's experience had been mine in the distant and forgotten depths of childhood. Though I have never been autistic nor suffered from a serious mental disorder, it all seemed uncannily familiar, as if I had been through a morbid stage such as Joey's and forgotten it.Years later I was writing my Ph.D. thesis on the works of American novelist, Thomas Pynchon, and in the course of reading Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, again I encountered a description of Bettelheim's patient, Joey. After reading The Empty Fortress: Infantile Autism and the Birth of the Self (1967) by Bettelheim, I came to see connections, not only between autism and the work of Pynchon, but between autism, Pynchon, and the philosophical underpinnings of capitalism. All three evoke disturbing evidence of a modern humanity subverted by machinery, with an underlying imperative of Cosmic Law driven by despair and paranoia.Pynchon's first three novels describe a world in which technology and its corresponding capitalist structures are manifestations of what might be called a general autism, wherein society and its individuals act in ways similar to those of clinically autistic children. General autism is ruled by an imperializing Cosmic Law, a law which proclaims, as Bettelheim put it, "you must never hope that anything can change." This law spreads like an infection by means of its imperializing paranoia, inspired in the observers of the autist. Pynchon's novels constitute a critique of capitalism and its technological manifestations and suggest that a collective autism underlies the drive for materialistic and technological consumption in capitalist society....continues: Autism, Thomas Pynchon, and Capitalism as Cosmic Law by James W. Horton


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Tuesday, October 19, 2004

simon

Pierced by voices and precision razors, Simon smashed his hand into a stone lion. Roaring, I have lost my bed. I must sleep on unpainted boards and bent nails. The lion shook, moaned and spoke, "Seek out the chickenwire-man, he will have your mattress hidden in his slaughterhouse."

Simon ran farther into the night, jumping away from cars parked on lawns and tombstones parked on dimes. Tenements surrounded his headlong run, dipping to swipe at his legs and the sweat soaking his tuque. His fever stumbled, blood dripping from his broken mind, tears pouring from his broken hand and screams pouring from his broken heart.

Avoiding vermin, cobwebs and dumb-waiters he pounded on the chickenwire-man's door, screaming, "GIVE ME MY BED!!" The wraithlike door disappeared; Simon fell through wrestling memory and a dusty fridge into darkness and rolled-up rugs and sobbed falling through floorboards and slept on rusted nails.


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Venezuela and Haiti

Prevention and Solidarity concerning Cuban medical aid to Venezuela

A coup made long in advance


One of my hopes is that people reading these articles pass them on to other people and so on. If anyone has more information about any of this please go to my profile page where you will find a link to my email address.



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Oh no! Apostrophe drifts off into another Utopian dream.

How Swede it is

Kerala

Parecon

Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives

have a nice day!


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Monday, October 18, 2004

Haiti and Venezuela

Father Jean Juste

Haiti Violence

Death Squads Rampage in Haiti

Resistance in the Slums of Haiti

The Haiti Action Committee

The Possible Faces of Democracy In Venezuela


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Sunday, October 17, 2004

Indeed, I have been remiss.

for all you Marc Ribot fans




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Saturday, October 16, 2004

earlier this week I sent a letter to Libby Davies, Alexa McDonough and Jack Layton

yeah, I sent a letter asking them why the NDP caucus has not opposed the American-backed coup in Haiti last February and I have not received a reply. I notice today that the NDP has posted recent letters of, nothing but praise for their policies, on their website saying that these are all letters sent to their caucus members recently. Nothing but praise, I doubt that's really true, I should know, shouldn't I? I will post their reply if I should get one.

have a nice day!


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Tom Waits at the Orpheum

Last night at the Orpheum was my first time seeing Tom Waits in concert. I've heard his live performances on CD before so I was prepared to be impressed and entertained. With Marc Ribot in his band again I was doubly pleased. I'm told that this show was a stripped down affair with none of the usual stage props accompanying Waits. No matter, with a crack rhythm section of Larry Taylor on upright bass, Brain Mantia on drums and percussion and Casey Waits on percussion and turntables, many grooves ranging from latin to waltzes to downright rock and roll were in evidence by the way my hips and head were swaying.

Tom prowled centre stage with his multiple personalities, stories of freaks and circus-like folk and inquiries into the world of nature. Perhaps Tom enjoys the Discovery channel. One question he asked the audience was, "they discovered a 12 foot earthworm in northern Australia with the body diameter of a coke can...what would you catch with that?"

some songs had him using a megaphone and the beginnings of some songs had him stopping and restarting the band at a slower tempo or having, supposed trouble, getting into the groove. And Tom Waits and his various bands are groovemasters, no doubt about it. Material covered was from Swordfish Trombones to the current Real Gone an impressive catalogue of material.

Marc Ribot, I worship at the altar of Marc Ribot's various sessions with Waits, his own solo material and, of course, his recent sessions with John Zorn in Electric Masada. Ribot had a simple setup which consisted of four or 5 pedals through a Fender Champ or Vibrolux. He used his volume pedal to great effect on the harder rocking pieces. He played various electric guitars, a red Fender Strat and a golden hollowbody Gibson. He also played banjo and some classic 40's jazz on an acoustic tenor guitar. Beauty pure unadulterated beauty. ca me rendre incapable de parler. I clapped and hooted alot. Enjoyment for the whole family, provided your family enjoys having the underbelly of american pop-culture exposed, deconstructed and thrown back at them with vigour and dark-humour.

oy baby oy! I'm still tapping my foot. go now buy his whole back-catalogue and enjoy!


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Thursday, October 14, 2004

my payphone story

Remember 1975? Remember hearing about 1975 from your parents or grand-parents? Yes? No? Well in 1976 I moved back to Montreal, where I had grown up and rented a 3 and a half room apartment with my friend Johnny McKay. Now, in those days, it took a couple weeks for Bell to come around and install your phone... things haven't really changed that much.

So, we would go around the corner to a phonebooth, which was in front of a depanneur, cornerstore for those of you not from Montreal, which is also where we bought our beer. Now I had just come back from Toronto and in those days you had to go to a beerstore, fill out a request form, present your request form along with your Ontario approved photo-id and then wait for your beer to roll out in a brown-paper bag. Which of course was completely foreign to me and caused me to argue with the cashier and let him know that I came from a civilized place where you didn't have to fill out a form, which caused me to get thrown out of a couple beerstores. I soon adapted. I moved back to Montreal.

So, we would get our beer and Johnny would call his girlfriend. Now she was never in when he called, I don't know why. Finally, he left a message for her to call him back in the next 10 minutes and we would wait and drink our beer. We didn't tell her mother about the beer-drinking part. We waited almost 20 minutes, long enough to finish a beer and then we went back to our phoneless apartment.

I don't know if it was the next day or maybe a couple days later we were walking by that depanneur, on our way to the liquor store, which we needed to take a bus to, and the phone in the phonebooth, in front of the depanneur started ringing. Johnny answered it... ... ... it's your mother! She gave me hell. She said, Is Gail Kapusta more important to you than your own mother that you would give her your phone number and not give it to me? So, I told her the truth, except for the buying and the drinking of the beer parts of the truth. She calmed down, and made me promise her that she would be the first person to get our phone number once our phone was hooked up. True story.


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and I should include this:

Unnatural Redhead don't ask me why.


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is this the world of the future or only yesterday repeated?

Is this tomorrow? Start with the Pynchon cartoon, then, wander.

Got this link, Strong Bad, from Dr. Nic who also pointed out that there were references to it in the final episode of 'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.'

And last and surely not least, Irradiated Poets. I really like the name.

And Boys and Girls
remember always: the AmeriKan government is the enemy of freedom everywhere. Let this guide your every action.

have a nice day!


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Wednesday, October 13, 2004

fucking funny she said

she said
funny haha or funny peculiar
she said
funny haha
she said
if puppets are involved
then maybe it's funny
she said
what would make necrophilia
and puppets funny
she said
if the puppets are fucking dead puppets
that could be funny
she said
but what makes fucking dead puppets funny
she said
if the puppets are innocent
she said
if the dead puppets are innocent?
she said
no, if the fucking puppets are innocent
she said
so, if the fucking puppets are fucking the
dead fucked puppets and the fucking puppets are innocent
then Necrophilia is funny, is that right?
she said
you know, um, I think necrophilia requires the fucker
to be alive.
she said
and you don't think that puppets are alive?
she said
no, I'm fairly certain that puppets are not alive.
she said
but maybe if you have the puppets dancing around the corpse
being fucked by the fucker that would be funny
she said
only if they were singing a nursery rhyme
she said
which nursery rhyme?
she said
Howabout, Alouette
she said.


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Monday, October 11, 2004

a bit of this and that.

Paradise Cleansed

Haiti Violence

Sunflowers

Daffodils




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Thursday, October 07, 2004

Heard enough about iraq, election2004, sponsorship scandals and the fall of governments?

The Haiti Witch-Hunt: Part One

The Haiti Witch-Hunt: Part Two

Democracy in action

The Killing Train: Justin Podur's blog reports from the underside of life on our planet.




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Tuesday, October 05, 2004

my heart is pale

free publicity for tom waits:

his new album is released today in Canada; why am I not lining up?


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just go have some fun already, it's a nice day, why aren't you outside?

Shel Silverstein

fortwo

Welcome to Seussville

archy and mehitabel

Jon Scieszka


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Monday, October 04, 2004

digesting flat scrambled eggs and marble toast

You can't bomb beliefs more from Naomi Klein.

The Only Thing We Have to Fear... from Mickey Z.

A Failed Transition Costs of the American War in Iraq.




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Sunday, October 03, 2004

pussycats lick her toes

She has cleopatra's nose
dancing in her low slung jeans
smiling for all the world to see
waiting for someone to read her poems.

She revels in the coffee-shop
writing code in her spiral slung note-book
smiling at the quips therein contained
waiting for someone to bring her coffee.

She glows walking in the sunshine
swinging arms contained by old denim
smiling at an old woman who's crossing too
waiting for everyone to slow down.

At home where noone may describe her
she drops her denims in her woven clothes hamper
smiling in the bath that surrounds her
waiting for pussycats to lick her toes.


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Friday, October 01, 2004

whatever happened to monkey, monkey?

a city, by definition, is filled with strangers.
- Jane Jacobs

in the city you can wear a dress
gold lame miniskirts
platform shoes that teeter and moan.

in the city you are anonymous
until you put on your shades
and ride around on your bike.

in the city no one cares
how many poems you wrote last night
or how often you suck cock.

out of the city all bets are off,
everyone's watching you
waiting for your non-conformity.

on the edge of the city
put on your pants
one leg at a time.

Conformity Machine hallelujah!
dance the party-line
form a circle of shit-eaters
joined by shit, from rim to nose
spiraling, spiraling till you run out of shit.




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