Thursday, November 24, 2011

An Occupy Thanksgiving

I started the day, as always, at the Occupy Site at Fifth and James at City Hall
Normally, I"d head upstairs to the City Hall lobby and get something from Rick Farley at the City Grind, where they put up with me even when all I want is hot water, but it's Thanksgiving and City Hall is closed, as is the library.
So I head down the street to the entrance to the transit tunnel when I notice something happening in the park at Jefferson and Fourth...
A park with no name where the trees have mufflers...
And there are tents and people lined up...
And I wonder if I'm hallucinating. What is wrong with this picture?
Maybe this guy knows.

Nobody seems to notice that they are surrounded by the gayest trees I've ever seen, each with a Jewish mother, and ever since they came out of the closet, she won't stop knitting. You'll never guess, bubala, for Thanksgiving, I'm making you a muffler.
What is everyone lined up for? Amazing food prepared fresh in the park for absolutely anyone who gets in line. There's fresh bacon...
And ham and muffins and mashed potatoes...
And Shasta soda and smiles...
And all these people...
Who are now my heroes...
Have gathered in the park on a cold morning where the trees are normally warmer than the people...
And spread the warmth by feeding everyone, those with one leg...
And even those clothed in trash bags. 
Yeah, this kid's my hero too, for passing out cookies, pears, and water.
Why is this guy my hero? Because he's passing out silverware out of the goodness of his heart.
These  are my heroes too.
And I'm going to show you every one of these wonderful people who appeared out of nowhere to make fresh pancakes.
They didn't do it for fame or fortune.
They don't expect to be paid back.
They're doing it because they're decent...
And nowadays, simple decency is a valuable commodity.
And they're enjoying themselves while they do it...
Actually taking orders and giving out numbers so people can pick up their individualized breakfasts. 
They went to all this trouble...
For these people...

And these who are usually ignored.
Not checking for ID or doing breathalyzer tests or making anyone listen to a sermon, even though they were from a church...
Feeding everyone with a mouth,
Creating a whole park full of happy people.
I was once walking around Santa Monica, CA, when I saw a bunch of people in an alley. I walked down to see what was going on and saw somebody had a truck full of food they were passing out, and it wasn't just street grub but fancy to-go dishes from expensive Beverly Hills restaurants. I moved in closer and saw it was Martin Sheen. There were no lights or cameras around. He wasn't doing it for publicity. He personally drove around to all his favorite restaurants at closing, picked up their leftovers, and distributed them to hungry people. He became my hero that day. Like these people. I wish there were more like them. 

George W. Bush joke of the day

First...


Sex with Animals Causes Penis Cancer

Men who put their penises in animals have a higher likelihood of penis cancer, a new study in the Journal of Sexual Medicinereports:
We think that the intense and long-term SWA [sex with animals] practice could produce micro-traumas in the human penile tissue. The genital mucus membranes of animals could have different characteristics from human genitalia, and the animals' secretions are probably different from human fluids. Perhaps animal tissues are less soft than ours, and non-human secretions would be toxic for us.
Then today...

Hopefully it's by fucking an elephant.
Thank you very much.
MD

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Typical morning in Seattle City Hall

I wake up here...


stumble up the steps to City Hall...
and go to the seventh floor and read the mayor's newspaper.
I go out to the mayor's balcony and look down at my humble abode...


then I go downstairs to the main lobby...
where I plunk myself down to get some work done. Since my laptop was stolen, Nathan Shields (a prince) has loaned me a Chrome, made by Google, that only has one program installed, Chrome, an internet browser, so that's all I can do, browse the internet. Every once in a while I'm inspired to write something, but it can only happen when I'm online. With no WORD or NOTEPAD program to open, you literally can't do anything with this when you're not connected. Luckily, City Hall has great WIFI, even though they're probably secretly listening in to everything I say. So if I ever slip into gibberish, you'll know it's just me fucking with their heads and not the mescaline kicking in.
The mescaline kicks in and I have a daymare about being pepper-sprayed by Seattle Police while innocently crossing the street.

I open up my eyes and THIS guy is looking at me.
Something's going on in the lobby.

Who let all these people in my room?

Wow, a buffet, croissants and coffee, just what I need. I don't know who these people are but thanks for the grub.
And swag, what's with the swag?
I grab one of everything and hope no one notices. 
Something bright and shiny manifests itself.
Never offer free candy to a tripping caffeinated prowler who has mysteriously gained access to the gates of power. Even though he can't really tell what this stuff is, he will dump it all in the pouch in front of his raincoat and bring it to the crew downstairs...

then he will stumble past the fireplace that can never be lit...
and get back to writing. I'm in City Hall, goddamit. There's news to report.