Some kind of union trouble
has shut down the lights
on Broadway.
A strike
has closed
all the big bright shows.
The New York unions
own a
giant inflatable rat
and they bring it
to the scenes
of class struggle
casting a hideous light
on their enemies.
Like back in the Sixties
when the Black Panthers
called every policeman
a pig
and the Yippies
ran one for President.
In front of whose house
would you park
the
the enormous rat?
Is there a better place
for the telltale rodent
than in front of the
Bush White House,
mirroring the soul
of its occupant
and
our infinite nausea?
Summer, spring, wnter and fall
as long as Dubya remains,
so does the rat.
Ever wonder why the whole world
seems
to hate George Bush?
I suppose last night's press conference
might provide an explanation.
Here's the guy
who will launch a massive war
of instant hell
against a country
that threatens us Not
and has No plans to do so,
and
he just psycho babbles
about how
we have lots of
food and medicine for the Iraqi people
just ready go,
like his big weapons
in this war
are gonna be
humus
and
aspirins.
But there is an even darker Bush
known only to foreigners.
Dubya worst remarks
and
facial expressions
almost never
make it to American prime time.
Like when he recently threatened
Mexicans
working here in Babylon
with spontaneous "discipline"
from angry Americans
who were pissed off
because
the Mexican government
isn't supporting us at the UN.
George Dubya's
call to vigilantism
never made it to the American press
but Mexicans
sure read all about it.
They don't hate Bush
because they're jealous
over his wife
ranch
or
religion.
They see Dubya
through uncensored eyes,
under big Texas skys
and
amiable cowboy masks
of endless
bar-b-ques
and
silly syntax,
they see the hideous face
of actual evil,
not having lived privileged American lives
they
know this monsters price.
It's just an ordinary mall
in Albany
where you once wore
obscene T Shirts
and nobody
cared.
American mall rats
were free
before 9/11.
A 61 year old lawyer
was just busted
because he visited
that mall
wearing
a T shirt
he purchased there.
It's message wasn't obscene.
The shirt just plaintively proclaimed
"Give Peace A chance."
They asked the guy
to take off
the shirt
or leave.
He did neither
and was led off
in handcuffs.
Ordinary places change
when dictators rule.
One day in Germany
your favorite cafe
had a sign in the window,
"No Jews Allowed."
Family
Cheney is threatening
a web site
that satirized his wife.
It's like making fun
of Tony Soprano's old lady.
Not something you do
in New Jersey.
Ash Wednesday,
penance before the feast
growing up in Brooklyn
(in the 50's)
with a zillion Catholics
wearing ashes on the forehead
coming to school
showing off
frightening me.
Pope was like the King of America.
He excommunicated Communists.
Blessed the CIA.
Undermined Reds everywhere.
The Holy Father
was good copy,
if he sneezed
you read all about it
in the Journal American,
If he condemned a movie,
Jewish theater managers
showed Disney instead.
The Pope of Rome
in a different world
recently
asked millions of Catholics
to fast
for peace
on Ash Wednesday
and he's sending
a make love not war
diplomatic emissary
to Washington
but
you aren't reading all about it.
The Pope opposing war?
Not a big story,
not worth a column inch
when there are fires to cover
when liquor stores are being held up
and
senior officials declare
that
Dubya has perfected
an even meaner way
to sneer.
Fug you Ari Fleischer!
Trying to sound hip
in a square's administration,
talking about
how evil Saddam
worked his way
into a "Catch 22,"
because
he's now disarming
and he once claimed
he was already disarmed.
Ari thinks that "Catch 22"
means
it's cool
to bomb Baghdad.
How dare that SOB,
stealing
Joe Heller's
magnificent phrase and title.
Fleischer you asshole,
it was Heller
who taught a generation
that
it was
the imposers of "Catch 22"
who were
the real thieves
the actual murderers
not those
who were
suffocating
in its endless web.
We were the victims!
Joseph Heller
wrote an antiwar novel
that was
hilarious in its pain
and
dark wisdom.
He wasn't inventing a phrase
to justify
pulverizing Baghdad
because
you just feel like it.
From his grave,
Joe Heller's Coney Island soul
screams out
"Fleischerdik, you gonif
a cholera on your Junta."
Why should I always write about Bush?
My life isn't reduced to that idiot.
Hey, I just saw the Spruce Goose
in an aviation museum.
Built by that crazy genius
Howard Hughes
during WW2
to replace transport ships
being U boated
by Nazis
It's still
the largest airplane ever concocted
and it's made of wood,
like a model airplane on growth hormones
and
like a fantastic cartoon
of ever expanding possibility.
But only once,
did this Goose fly.
At the time
Hughes was dating movie stars
and living in night clubs
and
producing films.
Having a great time.
What evil genie
forced the big dreamer
to spend
his final decades
hiding out
in a Vegas hotel room
forgetting to cut his toe nails?
Hughes goes
and
Bush comes.
Standards are reduced
dreams get tiny.
These days
even ruling the world
is only about stealing oil
and
building McDonald's.
Big Mac
replaces
Big Airplane.
But the burgers
do taste
like wood.
Daddy Bush
has gone public
with his policy.
Sonny shouldn't go runing into war
without
inernational broad backing.
Sometimes
even loaded dice
should not be rolled.
News leaks from the White House
have Dubya running scared,
a bully worrying
that
maybe his mark
isn't a
pushover punk.
Maybe Arab Land
is an undrained swamp
of poisoned piss and puss.
A voracious vortex
of strange creatures
attaching to his
painful parts
of body and soul
causing endless incurable diseases
of
dispair and disillusion.
The Iraqi swamp becoming
a ten step
saloon
of complete defeat.
Maybe Dubya would like to stop
But the shadow government has decided on war
it made him president
it is making him dictator
it wants to rule the world.
Sonny better keep reading his script.
Staying away from adlibs,
making no room for daddy.
