NOTES FROM SRI LANKA.
(February '01)
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2/4/2001
Ciao, man...
What up? Or as our old friend Tim Morse used to say, "What's goin' wrong?" No simple answer to that one. The burdens of high office are beginning to weigh upon us in ways we never anticipated when we accepted Dubya's invite to staff his Select Commission on Extra-Terrestrial Phenomena. Oh, sure...there's the inconvenience of leaving home for the evil city of Washington, the abandonment of comfortable routines, the broken ties. (The thing about the ties might have been avoided, had I done the packing myself...but thanks to Matt, all of our best silks are now origami and we're going with the open collar look at press conferences.)
No, it's not the privations of public
service that we find so troubling. It's the awesome responsibility! Last week I
gave you the broad outlines of the fiendish Plutonian conspiracy that pilfered
all the "w" keys and kept us locked in our office for three days. Now,
after only two weeks on the "X-beat," we've 
uncovered
damning proof that this was not some random act of vandalism...that it is, in
fact, just one small strand in a web of intrigue that leads back to -- you
guessed it -- Wyoming!
We of Big Green have long been aware of the fact that Wyoming is in the hands of extraterrestrials. It is, in fact, run by the same consortium of deep space beings that took over Agway in the early 1970s. (sFshzenKlyrn has known these guys for years. He used to do Zenite snuff with them back in college.) These fiendish creatures -- known as ZORCHONS -- merely hired the Plutonians to do their dirty work for them. By taking the "w's" off hundreds of presidential keyboards, they were signaling their ownership not only of Wyoming, but of the entire Executive Branch, as well...including the commander-in-thief himself!
How
will they do it? you ask. Think
about it. No....really...think about it. "W" stands for Dubya;
that's a given. (John figured that one out.) It also stands for Wyoming. And who
comes from Wyoming? That's right, folks...Dick Cheney has been in the pocket of
those ZORCHONS
since his days in the Ford
Administration. I think you all know what this means. After years of covert
influence, this is a bold stroke by the deep-space overlords to assume overt
control of our federal government. In
fact, sFshzenKlyrn
tells us that Cheney is "one of them" (and he
claims to have some frat party snapshots that prove it). Needless
to say, I think we can expect old "Buffalo Dick" to be calling all the
shots from now on. Expect to see Agway's stock on the rise.
Even now, the ZORCHONS are trying to intimidate us. (For instance, every time I turn on my printer, it prints a small "w" in the top left corner of a blank page.) They thought by inviting us into their administration they could buy our silence, but they'll see. Let this word go forth to all those who doubt Big Green's integrity: it's going to take a lot more cash than they're giving us now to shut us up!
Days
of Rage. Aside from wrestling with worm-like beings from another galaxy,
we've been glued to our television screens watching the party of the opposition
play "twister" with the Republicans, rolling over for John Ashcroft,
Gail Norton, Don Rumsfeld, and other luminaries of the establishment (lunatic)
right. Didn't take long for them to cave, eh?
Once you've gotten over your shock and amazement at having been double-crossed by the Democratic party (first time ever), perhaps you'll do as your friends in Big Green have done -- remind yourself of what a bunch of slugs they've been up to now, bankrolling the drug war at home and abroad, ramming "free trade" down our throats, cutting constitutional protections to the bone. Why, just two weeks ago the right-wing paramilitary Self-Defense Forces of Colombia (stoked by their cut of nearly a billion in US aid) marched into the village of Chengue on the country's northwest coast and hacked 25 men to death with machetes, then set fire to 30 houses. This was done on Bill Clinton's dime, folks.
As
for Dubya's dime...We all know who his principal constituency is (see photo).
It's up to the rest of us to make our voices heard. Monday and Tuesday of this
week (Feb. 5-6) have been declared National Call-In Days by the disarmament
group, Back From The Brink. They're asking everyone to call Dubya (202-456-1414)
and urge the boy to "reduce the danger of accidental nuclear war by
working with the Russians to get all nuclear weapons off hair-trigger
alert." If Dubya's at church, you might want to ask for Cheney,
seeing as...well, you know.
Nuff said. Talk to you next week.
luv,
jp
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2/11/2001
Ahoy....
Greetings from our temporary lodgings at Blair House, the official Washington residence of the U.S. Vice President. Buffalo "Dick" Cheney graciously allowed us the use of the butler's pantry as a place to throw our sleeping bags, at least until we can find more suitable accommodations. And though it may be only a glorified broom closet, it is indeed a far cry from the humble atmosphere of our recently reconstituted lean-to back in dear old Colombo.
I
don't know about the other members of the group, but I'm elated by this
arrangement. Staying with the Cheneys offers us a unique opportunity to fulfill
our commission in jig time, since Dick remains a prime suspect in the vast ZORCHON
conspiracy to control our
democratic institutions (see last week's column). With the Cheney household
under constant surveillance, and with agents staked out at every Agway location
in the Northeast, this fiendish alien plot should begin to unravel rather
quickly.
Of course, my colleagues -- Matt, John, and sFshzenKlyrn -- do not share in my elation, having succumbed to the Washington Syndrome. Like most political appointees, they see this job as a major cash cow...one to be milked as long as possible. They're already affecting the extravagant tastes of the Washington elite. Just the other night, Matt had a serious limo party with some acquaintances over at the bureau of Fish & Wildlife; he came stumbling in at 4 a.m. with one shoe missing and a plastic beak strapped to his head. Then John "borrowed" the keys to Air Force 2 (It took NORAD 17 hours to find him). sFshzenKlyrn has confined himself to startling the help, but even that gets a little old after a while.
Have
money
and success spoiled Big Green?
I began to think so when I found myself keying in a recommendation for the
appointment of my great uncle Skully as Secretary of the Navy. Not that the man hasn't spent most of his life at sea, so to speak.
Even so, he's probably not the
most qualified person for the post, and yet there I was, writing this glowing
recommendation, knowing that Dubya would give it his full attention, since
he knows me and has so much confidence in me (and calls me "Jocko",
for some strange reason). I was even playing up uncle Skully's devotion to
faith-based charitable works, such as waving rosary beads at the homeless --
something I was sure would warm the cockles of Dubya's heart. Who
knows...with an argument like that, old Skully could end up at Tommy-gun
Thompson's HHS.
Oh,
well. You know what they say about power and absolute power -- how the one
corrupts, and the other...well, you know. How easily we've been co-opted! I fear
for Dubya's outsider credibility, what with all that this town can do to a man.
A few too many perks, and even die-hard anarcho-syndicalists like us fall by the
wayside. It's enough to make you want to eat custard.
(Mmmmm....Custard.)
I Dream of Dubya. Now I can tell you...I've been to a dozen firemen's field days, three county fairs, and a coronation or two, and I 've never seen anyone change out of their charlie-horse costume faster than the inestimable George Bush II. One minute he's giving a champion "what me worry?" tap dance in front of millions of gullible voters, the next he's cutting off the embarrassingly paltry funds we provide to women's health clinics worldwide, declaring Jerusalem Israel's eternal capital, and appointing a cabinet that would have made Ronnie Reagan blush. Clever boy.
Of course, it shouldn't surprise anyone that Dubya would throw some red meat out to the fanatical minority that helped put him over the minimal constitutional brim of victory (second place -- close enough for someone wearing the club tie). As Noam Chomsky pointed out in February's Z Magazine ( www.zmag.org ), this election proved that our political system works just as the founders intended it to -- to "protect the minority of the opulent against the majority," in Madison's words. This would have been duly accomplished with the victory of either major party candidate. The "red meat" issues -- important to many, but not crucial to the interests of those who own the country -- may be tossed around to provide hours and hours of useful diversion for the masses.
As
for Dubya, I'm certain he's starting to get the feel of the place again. It's
been a while since the days when Daddy was President, and Dubya was relegated to
the honorific task of insulting visiting heads of state at White House
receptions. Just the other night, as I slept the sleep of the just in my corner
of the Blair House butler's pantry, I dreamt that Dubya was reacquainting
himself with the working quarters of the Executive mansion, trying out the men's
room and learning how to use the vending machines in the commissary. Quite an
exciting process for a young man from humble beginnings in West Texas. Let's
hope those ZORCHONS
don't put him in some
extraterrestrial vending machine.
Transmission completed. See you next week. Watch out for those nuclear subs.
luv u,
jp
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2/18/2001
Hello and welcome,
Another week on Dubya's X-Farm and those big wheels just keep on rollin'. That's the way it works down here in Washington DC. Not at all like our sleepy little neighborhood back on the sub-continent.
Friends, colleagues, and listeners alike have asked us why we ever agreed to taking part in Dubya's Administration, particularly when we'd finally begun work on our new CD at our private studio in the basement of our Sri Lankan lean-to. I almost never give the same answer twice. Not because I'm unreliable, you understand. It's just that there are lots of reasons, and I like spreading them around as liberally as possible. A new reason every day!
If
you were to ask me today, for instance, I would tell you that we joined the Select Commission on
Extra-Terrestrial Phenomena so we could get to know the Cheneys a bit better. As
I mentioned last week, we've been staying in the Butler's pantry at Blair House,
and I have to say that Dick and Lynn have been model hosts. I mean, we can sit
in there toasting marshmallows and watching Phyllis Schlafly videos 'til all
hours of the morning, and they'll never say a cross word at breakfast...never
complain of being awoken by our revelry. Further damning proof that they are, in
fact, space aliens. After all, in the distant nebula that the fiendish ZORCHONS
call home, the skies are
perpetually aglow with radiant material left over from the ravaged stars they
consume for nourishment. Sleep is impossible under these circumstances.
You can see how the pieces of our investigatory puzzle fall into place. ZORCHONS need no sleep; Cheney needs no sleep. ZORCHONS eat whole stars to digest energy; Cheney worked for Halliburton, which eats whole countries to digest energy. What more do you need to know?
Just when I thought our
jobs were complicated enough, Matt somehow agreed to taking on a few additional
responsibilities in the administration. Dubya asked Don "Cold War"
Rumsfeld to offer us the keys to the country's entire stockpile of aging 
chemical
weapons. Matt told Rumsfeld we'd look after them if he'd let us take one of the
Nimitz class carriers out for a scrape once in a while. Rumsfeld told Matt he
couldn't promise him anything, but that he thought there might be a couple of
open seats on a nuclear sub somewhere, and that he'd ask Navy Undersecretary
(Uncle) Skully to see if he could fix us up. Which is all well and good, only now
we're charged with the care and feeding of nearly 14 million rounds of sarin-filled ordinance, on top of keeping the ZORCHONS
off everyone's back. Sound like
enough?
All right. I'm through complaining. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I just hope next time Dubya is fishing around for people to do double duty, Matt keeps his head down.
The Will To Kill. Speaking of keeping your head down, we've seen the first deliberate application of military force by Bush II (setting aside "accidental" sub surfacing maneuvers, etc.), the target being the ever-useful Iraqi punching bag. That didn't take very long, did it? I remember Pappy Bush being pretty fast on the draw, too, having mounted the daring invasion of Panama in the opening months of his failed Presidency. Always a good way to goose up those polls.
Billed
as an act of "self-defense," the attack comes in the midst of
predictable clamoring for more public handouts to the "defense"
industry, and at the end of a week-long victory tour during which Dubya thanked
US military for its decisive support (via absentee ballot) during the last
campaign, promising them raises, etc. (Though why a rank-and-file pay raise
would require more than our usual quarter-trillion dollar annual military
expenditure, I cannot say.) And, of course, there are the usual ludicrous
assertions from the defense lobby stooges in Congress, like Senator James Inhofe
(R-Okla), who recently lamented to the Conservative PAC that funds him, "we
could not replicate what we did in the Persian Gulf" today. That's the
stuff, Jimmy boy! Keep those contracts rollin'!
Keep your heads low. Talk to you next week.
luv,
jp
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2/26/2001
Hail! (Or is it snow?)
Man, the weather really blows here in Washington at this time of year! I had no idea. Those of us from the more remote provinces of the American Empire are used to a bit more sun. (Like...seeing the sun once in a while, for instance.)
But I digress. How goes our X-Commission
investigation into the serpentine ZORCHON
conspiracy that threatens our very
survival as a species? Well...we've been kinda busy this week, what with
all the shopping we've had to do. Matt needed new wing-tip shoes, and all of my
power ties 
have
been snipped off at the knot by circus clowns. Then there's John's minor scrape
with the Air Force Reserve. But probably the largest drain on our time has been
searching for a new official residence (see photo), as the Blair House Butler's
Pantry is getting a little old...and the Cheneys are getting a little hard to
live with!
This will be hard for most of you to believe, but Lynn and "Buffalo" Dick Cheney are not as nice as they seem. I know, I know...last week I said they were model hosts and all that. But, hey, that was last week, okay? The minute we started suspecting that the Cheneys were (gulp) ZORCHONS, we put them under closer surveillance. Turns out, they do sleep. In fact, they snore! (Dick's snore sounds like this: "TRW..TRW...TRW...", Lynn's like this: "Lockheed-Martin...Lockheed-Martin...Lockheed-Martin...") Which can only mean that they have taken on human form to further thwart our inquiry. (There seems no other possible explanation).
Well,
this deception has made us feel extremely unwelcome here at Blair House. The
fact is, the ZORCHONS
are masters of deception. Their
favorite one is the "Masters from Space" number they pull on groups
like the Raelians. This involves placing a silver flying saucer 20-ft in
diameter in a volcano and waiting for someone (in the Raelian's case, a French
race driver) to stumble upon it. At that moment, a "luminous being"
(see photo) appears and gives the passer-by a story about some fictitious galactic
master race. The mark inevitably swallows the tale hook, line, and sinker. Then,
of course, the "luminous being" (a.k.a. ZORCHONS
in disguise) gives him/her
ludicrous instructions, like "build an embassy" or "start a
foundation for human cloning experiments."
As you might expect, this "burning 'cano" gag causes a lot of extra work for people like us. Why, just the other day our hometown newspaper ran a story about a visiting professor (from France) at Hamilton College who is participating in the Raelian's "Clonaid" initiative, a baby-cloning pilot project based in the Bahamas which "will offer its services to wealthy parents worldwide" for as little as $200,000 a baby. (I am not making this up...) Of course, leads like this have to be followed, and, of course, that cuts into our shopping time.
You can read more about the Raelians and their Clonaid and embassy-building projects at www.rael.org. In fact, why don't you just do the investigating? I feel a bit peckish just now....
Another First. Well, for the very first time, Dubya has met the press...and they are his. Forget the fact that he failed to display even a bluffer's guide knowledge of administrative policy. Forget the fact that he reversed himself on the Iraq question after a few days of blowing smoke. Doesn't matter! Cokie, Sam, and the rest of the crew, as always, have confined themselves to what's most important to the American people -- his boyish "gee-whiz" affectations.
The
formula is a pretty predictable one, of course. Just work up a wry smile, a
twinkle of the eye, and a few rustic nicknames, and you'll get the same kind of
free ride enjoyed by the Republican's last successful PR man, Ronnie Reagan.
(Not that Pappy Bush and Bill Clintstone endured any undue scrutiny on truly
substantive issues, mind you.) I don't think Dubya will have to work too hard.
The same free pass that got him into the Air National Guard, Yale, Harvard,
several failed businesses, and the Presidency will undoubtedly be
considered legal tender amongst the White House Press Corp(orations). And I'm
certain the multinational media has plenty of drool left over from Colin
Powell's last briefing to drizzle a little on our boy, even if he does think
Madagascar is a kind of stock car racing.
Enjoy yourselves while you can. We'll talk to you next week from our new digs!
luv,
jp