All posts by Joe

Lethal legacy.

Clinging to their precious terror war, the Bush administration now cannot stop talking about al Qaeda, as if Bin Laden were running a kind of Wal*Mart of terror as opposed to serving as inspiration to hundreds and perhaps thousands of self-directed extremist organizations. It’s the last rhetorical refuge for a president who has lost the support of the vast majority of his countrymen and is now hunkering down to ride out the last 18 months of a particularly septic tenure. If we leave Iraq, Bush cautions us, we will be hit again. What he doesn’t tell us is, if we stay, we are just as likely to be hit again, if not more so, thanks to his war in Iraq, which has spawned a new generation of terrorists and significantly destabilized a region already boiling with hatred and injustice. Alas, there is no “undo” button on this war, which is why so many of us opposed it most strenuously before its start. We have set into motion a catastrophe the repercussions of which will be with us for decades to come. If Bush is in search of a legacy, there it is.

Consider the realities of the situation. Prior to the invasion of Iraq, the U.S. had been directly responsible for the deaths of many, many thousands of Iraqis, indirectly responsible for many more deaths, and a primary bankroller and military guarantor of the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem (now celebrating 40 years). America also funded (as it does now) some of the region’s most repressive and unpopular regimes, including that of Saddam Hussein for a good few years. After the Gulf War, its bloody aftermath, a dozen years of deadly sanctions, and nearly constant bombardment by U.S. and British aircraft from 1998 forward, Dubya smashed the country open and set up this seemingly endless war – the first long-term U.S. military occupation of an Arab country. Aside from the death and displacement this has caused, it has made us the subject of ever deepening resentment as foreign occupiers – never the best way to make friends, particularly in countries that have a colonial history.

Now, the Iraq war has generated at least 2 million external refugees, with probably 700,000 in Jordan and more than 1 million in Syria, plus another 2 million internally displaced within Iraq. These are enormous populations of desperate people who will probably not be returning home anytime soon, and I have to think that the vast majority of them blame us for their plight (assuming some level of rationality). Meanwhile, the U.S. is all but ignoring this growing catastrophe, even though it threatens to metastasize the horror of an imploding Iraq throughout the entire region, putting added pressure on societies already under stress. (The U.S. quota for accepting Iraqi refugees this year is about 7,000 – so far, we’ve taken less than 100.) If I were to guess, I’d say the next major attack on the U.S. will include some of these folks in Jordan and Syria – people who have lost everything – family, home, future, hope. What’s your guess?

Seems to me, the best way to prevent terrorism is to 1) pull our troops out of this stupid war, and 2) help Iraqis rebuild their society (from a discreet distance). No matter what the punk tells us.

luv u,

jp

Shouldn’t-a dunit.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t-a dunit. But I dunit. They left me no alternative. Do I suck? Maybe. But at least you know where I stand. (Am I standing? Feels like sitting…)

Howdy, friends. Expect you recall last week’s tiresome debacle and the intolerable acts of our extraterrestrial overlords, as they came to occupy our humble city hall. Who could forget the arrogance of a certain Gizmandiar? A gentleman he is not. (Neither gentle, nor man… nor any other species I’ve ever come across.) I am not being ungenerous. Consider, if you will, the bill of particulars with regard to said Gizmandiar. He and his minions hath:

  1. deliberately and wantonly, with malice aforethought, driven us from our ancestral (relax – that’s just the paint color) home and consigned us to a life of enhanced beggary (that’s like the beggary we enjoyed previously, only with 65% more cat’s pee);
  2. issued the intolerable and wholly despicable decree known as “Special Order 14-2007” which directs us, on pain of prosecution, to “refrain from employing any foul, obscene, or abusive language commonly known as ‘swearing,'” thereby foreclosing our most immediate (and highly satisfying) remedy to item #1 (dag nab it!);
  3. taken the foul and underhanded step of using his considerable resources to purchase our corporate record label (Loathsome Prick Records), subsequently employing that organization as yet another tool in our ongoing persecution (which is to say, well beyond the level of persecution we had experienced previously simply by being associated with Loathsome Prick Records);
  4. heinously and relentlessly transformed the distressed brick courtyard of our beloved abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill into a carpet-like monoculture of lawn grass, later applying the same pernicious ground cover to other public and private spaces throughout our community.

Need I go on? I think not. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) is pointing frantically to his watch, so… How do you battle a well-heeled cadre of space aliens who have taken over your town and evicted you from your squat house? Fight fire with fire, my friends. Oh, yes… Gizmandiar and company are not the only space aliens in the universe. And we of Big Green can name one space alien of long acquaintance who could easily mop the floor with these interlocutors, these usurpers, these…. gall-dangit, I wish I could fricking swear!!!

Ahem…. that space alien is, of course, sFshzenKlyrn, our occasional sit-in guitarist from the planet Zenon, located in the small Magellanic Cloud, quite a long ways from here. Didn’t want to do it, but with all that’s at stake, I put a call in to sFshzenKlyrn and asked for assistance. Are there risks? Oh, yes. Great risks. Remember what happened a few years back when our Zenite friend had a few too many flapjacks. (Suffice to say, they had to add a whole new chapter to Lost New York in the last edition.)

So, yeah… I know I may have acted rashly. But I think we can control the unpredictable force of nature that is sFshzenKlyrn this time. Or not….

Supine.

Question: how long does it take for the Democratic Party leadership to cave in on issues of life and death? Answer: less time than it takes to ask the question. Yep, old “Give ’em hell” Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, and kin have signed away the farm to mister 28% himself, Dubya Bush, who is now bound by no restrictions – fiscal or legal – in his prosecution of the disastrous war he started more than four years ago. This in the wake of yet another 9 U.S. service members killed and god knows how many Iraqis – scores over the past few days. I know I’m not the only one saying W.T.F., though it’s not so much out of surprise as it is just pure exasperation. I mean, a watery timeline for withdrawal with a plethora of caveats – that hardly constituted a radical departure from Rumsfeldian warmaking (precisely what we need). And yet that has morphed into a no-strings-attached allocation of billions for the continued occupation of Iraq. Is that what people voted for last November? Was that the theme called out from the podium as party leaders implored us to turn the G.O.P. out? Not hardly.

There are many who will argue that this is the only avenue open to opponents of the war; that this supplemental spending plan is a strategic move and a prelude to a more meaningful confrontation down the road. Perhaps we can be forgiven for a certain amount of skepticism in this regard. Many of those supporting this bill also voted with the Republicans to start this war in the first place. Their strategy now as well as then is to make their re-election battles a bit easier – that is to say, they want to pre-empt those 30-second RNC-sponsored attack ads slamming them for cutting funding for “our troops” in the middle of a war. They counsel patience, like the G.O.P. leadership, which is becoming a bit nervous about the war themselves… but which now can point to their opponents as partly responsible for the mess. Of course, patience only means more deaths, more amputees, more head cases, and more Fallujah-like mass killings. Waiting until September to re-evaluate the “surge” strategy could cost hundreds more American deaths, followed by some equally bone-headed tactic.

This is criminal behavior, pure and simple. Bush wants to keep this sucker going so that it won’t be “lost” on his watch (or “watch”, as many might put it). The Democratic leadership, for its part, refuses to draw a firm line in front of the president even when his popularity is at a historic low, largely due to the war in Iraq (even in my moderate-to-conservative district, Bush polled about 28% in a recent Web survey by the local daily paper – that’s almost unprecedented for a Republican). It’s obvious that neither of the major political power centers in this country is going to put a stop to this slaughter. And judging by the news coming out of Iraq – Parliament supporting a timetable for withdrawal, Muqtada al-Sadr re-emerging, Iraqi youth in Basra (!) cheering over a burning security contractor vehicle – it may in fact take the Iraqis to send our military home. Until we can get ourselves politically beyond the idea that “supporting the troops” means extending their service in a hell hole, I see no other way out.

Unless, of course, we all just stand in the street until they end it. There’s that, too.

luv u,

jp

Effin’ a-holes.

Why, I’ll moiduhlize ’em! Dose lousy no-good s.o.b.’s! What duh “f” do those “a” holes think they’re doin’, handed us this pile of “s”? Dey got no “effin” principles, dat’s what.

What’s up with all this? Don’t ask! You insist? Rrrrrr…. okay, then. But you asked for it, friend. First of all, welcome once again to the general vicinity of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, where we have availed ourselves of those alleys not already occupied by creatures significantly more fierce than ourselves. (Mice? They tolerate us. Rats? We surrender. Simple rules of the unforgiving streets.) Dislocated and made homeless by that extraterrestrial usurper, Mayor Gizmandiar (formerly of the planet we know as “New Earth”), we have applied every legal remedy we can think of to reclaim our squat house. And all it has earned us is a gag order… and a bitter betrayal. Oh, yes…. betrayal!

First, the gag order. Actually, it’s not your usual variety. It’s more like a judicial parental filter, the “v” chip, if you will, of legal proscriptions. The local magistrate (also an extraterrestrial now, by the way… I think that was a case of transubstantiation, but I would need Mitch Macaphee here to confirm that) has ordered us to refrain from any “foul, profane, or abusive language that might ordinarily be considered ‘swearing’ or ‘speaking obscenely'”, an addendum to his writ helpfully listing words and phrases covered by the gag order. They include:

f**k

c**k

c**ksucker

*sshole

m*th*rf**k*r

sh*t

f**k*ng sh*t

f**k*ng c**k

g*dd*mn s*nuvab*tch

…and a few others I’d frankly never heard before. Well, as you can imagine, this has left us with very, very few options in normal conversation. I mean, how am I to properly communicate to Marvin (my personal robot assistant) exactly how fast I want him to perform some menial task, eh? How the heck am I supposed to compel that freaking man-sized tuber to get his butt out of my easy chair if I can’t use foul or abusive language. This is freaking killing me!

Okay, now as if that wasn’t bad enough, we have just learned that sometime over the course of the last few days, whilst we were seeking warmth in cellar window-wells and sifting through garbage for sustenance, Gizmandiar and his fellow lawn-obsessed space aliens got together enough scratch to buy out our corporate label, Loathsome Pr*ck Records. Under their new management, they have (of course) refused to intervene on our behalf and are now threatening to cancel our distribution deal if we don’t swear our allegiance to Gizmandiar. J*sus effin’ Christmas!

So, yeah… the ne’er-do-wells at our label have, in essence, sold us up the river (or down the alley) in exchange for gold bullion and stock options. Who woulda’ thunk it? Loathsome Pr*ck always seemed such a pleasant sort of company. Such is life. It may be necessary to take drastic measures. Next week: the sh*t hits the fan.

Mitt happens.

I expect some of you saw the Republican debate this past week – ten-strong G.O.P. hopefuls in a fiddling contest as Rome burns around them, sparked by an ember first coddled by the sainted Ronald Reagan, whose administration launched the resurgent America now being destroyed by his veep’s mutant spawn. Yes, it was a proud moment indeed when applause could be heard at the mere mention of torture (or “enhanced interrogation techniques”, as some put it). McCain, of course, gave his standard speech about torture – inspiring, until you recall that the “anti-torture” legislation he ultimately signed onto last year has holes big enough to pass a dozen waterboards through. To be certain, he was the only one there who’d ever experienced torture, and I imagine he and his fellow P.O.W.’s may have believed during their captivity, as McCain suggested, that America would never abuse prisoners in such a way. Just a ways south of the “Hanoi Hilton”, however, the C.I.A. and local allies were applying grisly and often lethal techniques on their captives with sickening regularity, particularly in connection with the Phoenix program, which left probably 20,000 dead (many of whom, like so many current detainees, may as well have been picked at random). Of course, how that is any worse than just dropping cluster bombs or jellied gasoline on people kind of escapes me.

So, yes… the FoxNews-sponsored event (hosted by correspondent Shit Fume… I mean, Brit Hume) turned into a pissing match over who was the bigger troglodyte on prisoner abuse. In all, I think Mitt Romney deserves a special prize for saying that Guantanamo should be “doubled.” Reasoning? We don’t want those terrorists to have access to our laws and equitable (ahem) justice system – to do so would only contribute to the collapse of western civilization and the universal values it represents. So… we can’t allow our western standard of human rights to apply to them because that would undermine our western standard of human rights. Well done, Mitt. Beautiful circularity. And that sort of sotto voce delivery (a la Reagan) is getting better every time I hear it. (Of course, Tom Tancredo gets a special prize for exclaiming, “We need Jack Bauer!” to deal with Shit Fume’s 24-esque straw man torture scenario.)

We were also treated this week to some of the actual real-world reasoning behind keeping terror suspects out of the courtroom. As with the Phoenix program, I’m certain many of these detainees were captured on the basis of an informant accusation – perhaps a disgruntled neighbor or the like – or some other questionable evidence that might not stand up in open court. At Jose Padilla’s trial, for instance, the prosecution presented a kind of Al Qaeda recruitment document that purportedly had Padilla’s fingerprints on it. Of course, the guy was held in an extra judicial hole for years and had his wits tortured out of him to the point where he cannot even aid in his own defense, so it’s just possible that during that long process he may have been presented with this document during “enhanced” interrogation. Fact is, it seems the real reason they don’t want to try terror suspects in open court is that they often don’t have much of a case against them.

Note to Mitt and colleagues (both Republican and Democrat): if you don’t have a case, you shouldn’t be holding people. That’s supposed to be one of our founding principles. Why are you all so afraid of that?

luv u,

jp

Huzzah!

Whirl, whirl, twist and twirl… jump around like a flying squirrel. You pull my beard, I’ll pull your’n. Pick him up and hit ‘im in the head. Hit ‘im again, that critter ain’t dead!

Dang! (I mean, damn!) You learn the weirdest little songs living in the alley. With this heat, everybody’s got their windows open, and the fragrant tendrils of sweet country music waft out into the night and accost your unprotected eardrums. Right now I’m hearing some kind of a twangy ho-down emanating from about three stories up. Probably high time I show my appreciation – Oy! Oy! Toin it down, duh radio! That’s better. (At least I feel better about it – the freaking music is still there…)

Yes, well… if you guessed that the alien-mayor Gizmandiar has succeeded thus far in keeping us out of our adopted home (squat house) the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, then you are indeed correct. Matt, John, Marvin (my personal robot assistant), Mitch Macaphee (Marvin’s personal inventor), Trevor James Constable (keeper of the patented orgone generating device, as seen on T.V.), the man-sized tuber (no parenthetical comment can do him justice), Big Zamboola (former planet), Lincoln (our famous president), and anti-Lincoln (his evil twin) have all been released into the wild, there to do what nature commands. In my case, that’s sleeping in this alley. ‘Cause that’s the kind of fella that I am. (I’m biding my time….)

Others in our party – let’s face it – are more ambitious than me and the man-sized tuber (who’s in the next alley over). Mitch Macaphee is, after all, a man of relative means; a veritable Tarzan of mad science, swinging by vine from international conference to research fellowship to faculty posting. Right now he’s off to Madagascar on some kind of government research initiative (reinventing Lysol, I believe is what he said). In any case, Mitch has options. So has Trevor James, who spent a week in solidarity with us before lighting off to his ranch in California where comfort and plenty await. (Who can blame him, right? I said, am I right?? Is this bloody thing on?)

My apologies. You get cranky out in the alley – I’m sure I don’t have to explain. Anyway – that leaves us with Marvin, the two Lincolns, Big Zamboola, and of course, the tuber… none of whom has anywhere better to go (trust me on this). And as you know, Marvin has little choice, since he is an automated servo mechanism programmed to respond to my voice commands, however imperfectly. I have instructed him to negotiate our return to the Mill and, if necessary, to raise the money for any fines levied against our account. So far no progress – in fact, he’s been sputtering and clanging in the same spot since I issued that command about a week ago. (Personally, I doubt he’s even started the assignment….) Bloody servo mechanisms! When do I get a proper robot? And where’s my jet pack!

Yes, Marvin may be malfunctioning. And his repair man is – wait for it – Mitch Macaphee, now a temporary resident of distant Madagascar. Crikey – don’t tell me I’ll have to send the Lincolns to do our negotiating! Last time they agreed on something, the Confederacy fired on Fort Sumter. (Not the diplomatic type…)

Old uncle Osama.

Looks as though the FBI has snagged some would-be terrorists – a group of Muslims originally from Bosnia, Jordan, and elsewhere allegedly crazy enough to want to attack a military installation in the U.S. Strange choice – kind of like planning to rob a police station, but never mind. A triumphal week in the never-ending, absolute total war against terrorism, right? Well… not entirely. This was also the week that Luis Posada Carriles was allowed to walk, his immigration-related charges having been thrown out by a federal judge. But this septuagenarian is not just somebody’s elderly uncle who entered the country illegally to visit a sick relative. A former C.I.A. operative, Posada is one of the alleged masterminds of the 1976 bombing of a civilian airliner that resulted in the deaths of all 73 people on board. He was jailed in connection with this charge by the Venezuelan government – not the current one, mind you, but a very pro-U.S. administration – based on an international investigation carried out by several Caribbean nations, including Trinidad and Tobago, Barbados, and Cuba. (Check out this story on DemocracyNow! as well as related documents on the National Security Archive web site.)

Trivia question: Who was head of the C.I.A. back in the mid-seventies? George Bush the elder. Funny story – while president, the elder Bush pardoned Posada’s co-conspirator in the airliner bombing, anti-Castro fanatic Orlando Bosch, who now lives like a war hero in Miami. But this is not just another Bush story; this policy runs deep. Despite all the high-octane rhetoric, the United States has long been a fairly congenial retirement destination for aging terrorists. Posada is hardly the first, or even the most heinous, bad though he is. Aside from him and Bosch, there’ve been people like Emmanuel “Toto” Constant, leader of the Haitian paramilitary group FRAPH and another C.I.A. asset, who was living a fairly comfortable existence until being picked up in connection with a mortgage fraud scheme, to which he has pled guilty. (Kill and rape hundreds, perhaps thousands, in cold blood and you walk. But don’t defraud the consumer!) Plenty of Latin American and Southeast Asian killers have been welcomed into our neighborhoods and universities, stopping just briefly to rinse the blood off their hands as they enter. And what the hell do you call Oliver North if not a terror leader, organizing and supplying the Contra army of murderous thugs during the 1980s (an enterprise to which Posada also contributed his grisly talents) as they attacked co-op farms, clinics, and anything else they were certain was undefended.

So… some terrorists get thrown into dark cells in client states; others go to a hero’s welcome in Miami or get their own T.V. show on Fox. It’s all about targeting. If they kill people who don’t count, there are no consequences… and there are often rewards, in fact. If they threaten our friends or ourselves, it’s a whole different story. Buy letting Posada walk, we’re saying it’s okay to blow up planes if the civilians on board happen to live in a country we have some dispute with. What the hell kind of “War on Terror” is that? I mean, doesn’t our government’s very definition of terrorism incorporate violence against innocents to achieve some political end? If Posada, Bosch, and their like are deemed not worthy of prosecution, doesn’t that serve to legitimize Bin Laden’s attack on the World Trade Center? I don’t know about you, but that disgusts the living hell out of me. Those of you who’ve been reading this column for a long time know that I am no fan of U.S. policy towards Cuba, but even if I supported the embargo, I’m sure I could distinguish between those committed to peaceful democratization of the island and those willing to blow ordinary people to bits to express their opposition to Castro.

Let Posada walk? To borrow a Steven Colbert phrase, that’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.

luv u,

jp

Write soon (right soon).

That’s one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, now go, cat, go! Don’t you step on my… ah, what’s the use? Can’t do covers… even when I’m panhandling.

Welcome back. I almost said “to the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill,” but I caught myself in time. Actually, our august squat house is now, indeed, abandoned… in the sense that there is now no one in it. Yes, friends… our new extra-terrestrial mayor, Gizmandiar, has made good on his threat to evict us – call it a down payment on the opportunistic election campaign he’s planning for this fall. This fucker’s racking up empty promises so fast, you could swear he was born on the planet earth. (In fact, never having seen this creature, I can’t say for certain that he wasn’t.) Everywhere you turn in this town now, it’s Gizmandiar’s doing this, and Gizmandiar’s in favor of that…. and one of those things he’s doing is enforcing building codes and vagrancy laws, no matter how obscure. Hence, our homelessness. (He sent in the goons. And let me tell you, baby… they’re good at what they do.)

Matt, John, Mitch Macaphee, and the others (with the exception of the two Lincolns) think that the lawn-loving space people are just sticklers for the law, and when they took over the town government (by bribing our local officials all the way to Tahiti), they went on a good-government rampage. I personally think that this Gizmandiar character is taking revenge on us for complaining about the carpet-like lawn they established in our courtyard when they first arrived on this sorry planet. What the hell, I even cajoled Trevor James Constable into training his orgone generating device on their space craft. I’m sure even on their anemic planet, turnabout is fair play. (Though if they have negative gravitation, that may not be the case.) Whatever the truth may be, they have found an effective way to squelch criticism of their landscaping fetish…. and we’ve earned our one-way ticket to palookaville. (I coulda been a contender! I coulda been somebody… instead of a bum….)

Now, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s one hell of a coincidence that astronomers have discovered a strangely Earth-like planet a mere 20 light years away at precisely the same time that these odd space aliens showed up in our little town. We asked Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to calculate the odds of these two events happening at the same time, and the results were astounding – seventy-three trillion to one against. (Of course, those are the same odds Marvin gave me when I asked him if it was going to rain last weekend…. and it rained last weekend. So yes, he could certainly be a meteorologist in this town.) So… is it true? Are the local aliens really from the strange rocky world known as “New Earth?” Can discarded lawn darts really be repurposed as inexpensive bottle openers? Is guar gum a vegetable? Is our children learning?

Yes, friends…. the answers to these and other questions can be found right here next week. And for all those who wrote letters of sympathy and support for your friends in Big Green last week, all I can say is… something went wrong down at the post office, because we didn’t receive any letters of sympathy and support. (I haven’t checked the trash can today, to be fair.) Write us, damnit – we need scrap paper!

Next stop.

Glad to see that Naomi Klein is back on the job – last week’s column in the Nation about the World Bank and Wolfowitz was a welcome antidote to the conventional wisdom that gets peddled in the mainstream media and on NPR. The World Bank in particular and the “international community” in general have a pretty heinous record with regard to anti-poverty initiatives (if forcing corrupt or corruptible to cut social services can be thought of as “anti-poverty”). So, as Klein points out, that particular pirate ship should go down with Captain Neocon, rather than set him adrift, Bly-style, while they move on to further plunder. What has the international development finance system accomplished other than consigning uncounted millions of people to ever-deepening misery? Think Guatemala, Honduras, Haiti, and pretty much anywhere in sub-Saharan Africa – those are the poster children. Argentina was the textbook neoliberal test case up until its total collapse a few years ago, and subsequent change of course. (There’s a success story!) Advocates of the system point with pride at Russia, where millions have lost their pensions and billions of dollars in public assets were ladled out to friends of the late Boris Yeltsin.

Look upon this and lament, fellow Americans. You – yes, you – and I are, at best, one misstep away from penury… and the same “market forces” that have been unleashed upon most of the rest of humanity are now growling at our door as well. Just glance at our national priorities and you can see the game that’s being played. We’re spending borrowed money on military technology and a criminal war to export not democracy but neoliberal economics to Iraq. That massive increase in our national debt will, if allowed to go unchecked, force the downsizing of public services and the eventual piratization (er, I mean, privatization) of such public institutions as Social Security. That’s the intention, it would appear – kind of a win-win for the masters of neoliberal economics. Not only do we help them scuttle the Iraqi state, but in so doing dig a hole under our own public sector, as well.

What’s their latest target? That country in the horn of Africa that we’ve helped out so much through the years (note: irony) – Somalia, now the subject of a massive U.S. supported occupation by neighboring Ethiopia, reported on by Salim Lone of the Kenyan Daily Nation, on Democracy Now! This is the war you never hear about – the war that the major news media can’t find space to report; that the United Nations has virtually ignored, except to attempt to round up a “coalition of the willing” to help prop up the puppet government Ethiopia has installed there by force of arms. Yes, the stated reasoning behind this mess is terrorism, terrorism, terrorism, but there’s little evidence to back up that reasoning, and there appear to be more concrete motivations – the U.S./Ethiopian-backed regime is congenial to the return of western oil companies, which have been out of the country since 1991. Somalia also has a strategic location U.S. planners have coveted since the Carter administration, when Iran stopped being a client state and we started pumping money into the corrupt regime of former Somali president Mohamed Siad Barre.

Look out, Mogadishu. More help is on the way.

luv u,

jp

Evicted… again.

First there was day of the triffiids. Then there was night of the living dead. Now there’s week of the homeless virtual rock band. And what do they all have in common? Space people. Mother-fucking space people.

Hello again from sleepy upstate New York (formerly known as Sri Lanka). Last week as you recall, your friends in Big Green had made the fearful discovery that our local city hall was under foreign occupation. No, it hadn’t been overrun by stormtroopers from a distant power – this was a far more congenial takeover. Space people, armed with sacks of cash and buckets of Miracle Grow bribed their way into the building and have taken the place of our entire city council. This could be a problem, folks. Got a tax dispute? Tell it to the space man. Need the street sweepers to do a once-over on your block? Better learn to speak Betelgeusean real quick. (And take it from me – it is not an easy language to learn. No vowels. Nada.) Someone set your house on fire? Contact the mother ship… pronto. (Little bit of extra response time, you understand.)

I suppose you’re wondering how in the world our elected officials could possibly have been coaxed away from their posts by large amounts of cash… how proffered piles of filthy lucre could convince them to abandon their constituents to other worlders… how the promise of permanent paid vacation could somehow outweigh their dedication to public service. Well, stop it. Of course they took the money and ran – that’s their job. Damnit, if our public officials weren’t corruptible, we would never have been able to remain in our adopted squat house for lo these many years. Our corporate label – Loathsome Prick Records – understood this very well. It’s thanks to them, in part, that we were able to keep Marvin (my personal robot assistant) under our leaky roof. Apparently there’s a local ordinance against harboring mechanical men. (You’d be surprised what kinds of Byzantine laws lurk in the dusty volumes stacked down at your local codes department.) Nothing a little palm grease couldn’t finesse.

No more. See, this is where our problem lies. Not only are these space people total-ass lawn freaks, they’re also straight as the proverbial arrow. Incorruptible, at least by any terrestrial standard of graft. And now that they have taken over our local government, they appear determined to follow the letter of every law on the books, dating back to… well… the civil war, perhaps. Not a good thing at all. Just the other morning, there was a loud knock on the door. It was some of Marvin’s old colleagues from the local constabulary, only they weren’t collecting quarters for the annual charity cotillion. They were putting us out on the street, in effect – a 10-day eviction notice, signed by someone named Gizmadiyar (apparently the acting mayor… and between you and me, I don’t think he’s acting). Even Marvin’s timely intervention seemed to have no effect – the constables seemed quite happy in their work…. almost… TOO… happy….

Now, those of you who’ve been reading this blog for the last seven years know. We of Big Green have seen the elephant and heard the owl… or is it heard the elephant and seen the owl…? (Can you herd elephants?) Either way, we’ve been through far too much in our time to allow ourselves to be made homeless by some interstellar freak named Gizmandiar. Not to worry… though if you do happen to send a package our way, be sure to address it:

Big Green

Open garbage can

Corner of Sherman Street and Bolton Place

Colombo, NY

… and be sure it’s waterproof. (And trash-proof.)