Metaphysic Storm

I don’t like the fat ass elephant’s or the jackass’s POV. The U.S. Godless and Independents, also known as Humans, reject group identities, focus on the issues and realize the uselessness of stereotypes outside of comedy. But Palin has pushed my distaste of the GOP to a new level, scaring the bejesus out of me with her Bushyish stance on war.

GIBSON: You said recently, in your old church, “Our national leaders are sending U.S. soldiers on a task (aka plan) that is from God.” Are we fighting a holy war?

PALIN: You know, I don’t know if that was my exact quote.

GIBSON: Exact words.

PALIN: But the reference there is a repeat of Abraham Lincoln’s words when he said -(ahhh mmmm)- first, he suggested never presume to know what God’s will is, and I would never presume to know God’s will or to speak God’s words. (although I have read the Bible out loud) But what Abraham Lincoln had said, and that’s a repeat in my comments, was let us not pray that God is on our side in a war or any other time, but let us pray that we are on God’s side. That’s what that comment was all about, Charlie.

GIBSON: I take your point about Lincoln’s words, but you went on and said, “There is a plan and it is God’s plan.”

Obamba - You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing’s replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton administration, and the Bush administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. So it’s not surprising then that they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.

Palin - I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a “community organizer,” except that you have actual responsibilities. I might add that in small towns, we don’t quite know what to make of a candidate who lavishes praise on working people when they are listening, and then talks about how bitterly they cling to their religion and guns when those people aren’t listening. We tend to prefer candidates who don’t talk about us one way in Scranton and another way in San Francisco.

My first thought when Palin capitalized on Obama’s slip-up was what the Liberal counter version of Bible toting, gun carrying, redneck Conservatives would be. I came up with, Disco ball worshiping, Dildo toting, city slicking Liberals. My beliefs fall much more in line with Liberalism via the “truth by consensus” of Wikipedia, rather than the description of Rightwingers from Conservapedia. Although, I don’t like disco, dildos or murdering babies.

I believe that the ideology of Conservationism is inherently oppressive. “Conservatism is a term used to describe political philosophies that favour tradition, where tradition refers to various religious, cultural, or nationally defined beliefs and customs.” Culture is dynamic, constantly changing in a sea of memes. Liberalism on the other hand is defined by “a broad array of related ideas and theories of government that consider individual liberty to be the most important political goal.” That with the Human rights of health care, basic education, minimal shelter and sustenance to support the principle of equality, sounds to me like the only humane option for a civilized society.

And I’m well aware that not all “right wingers” fit the redneck stereotype.

Stereotypes are silly. Where on earth do they come from? Instead of stereotypes, I prefer raw data and the means they produce. For example, the median income for a family in Newport Beach is $147,697. Many Christian churches there worship with rock-n-roll. And Jesus undoubtedly is the unofficial king of Orange County. That’s my fair and balanced POV. For an unbalanced OmnipresentPOV from the absolute truth generator, please visit his blog.

[simulposted on the Tome]

I’ve been traveling within the bourgeois capitol of the United Highways of America, KKKalifornia for two weeks. It is very beautiful here, when one can find that rare spot where private property doesn’t completely choke off the vista and that moment coincides with a low smog point.

I’ve been enjoying the minivan life. As you most likely recall, this is my second tour of duty in the Sunshine State. My first was very bleak, for I was very ill prepared for an extended production from my Quest. And the misanthropy of those days are but a slight hum in the back of my non-army/police mind now. I’ve resolved the paradox of loving my mobile home and hating a society built around the automobile. Nature sure is a funny thing, seeing as though humans gravitate to pleasant climates and the most beautiful areas of earth and in doing so ruin the climate and beauty with cookie cutters homes, megastore parking lots and ten lane highways. I wonder if they’ll be ok if this is as good as it gets.

My production is warming up although I don’t think I’ll be able to do as many house portraits as I hoped. The first two I did received no response from the owners and although that’s not much, it’s caused me to give pause to investing enormous amounts of my time into paintings I’m not going to want in the future. That’s why I’ve already gravitated to landscapes/cityscapes. But the good news comrades, is that I’ve “sold” my first work. I picked up a commission while I was painting my second painting here. The house for the portrait is located in Yorba Linda.

I stood out in the blazing sun coated in White preserver and produced the painting. They’re trying to sell it even though they just bought the property, tore down the house that was there and rebuilt 5 years ago. They think 4,800 square feet is a little much. Although they will miss the view of Disneyland’s fireworks every night from the private view of paradise found from their back patio. Don’t get the wrong idea. These Romanian immigrants are down to earth. They drive modest cars, although they did make me remove their Jetta from my painting, and are only asking 1.5 million for their house. They’re frustrated that they’re Christian adult kids aren’t Christ like. The youngest daughter wore tight pants with “love pink” spread across her ass as she smooched her soon to be live in boyfriend.

When I presented the painting to them I got the usual barter routine. As a rule of thumb I don’t barter unless my need for capitol dictates my actions, such as the situation I’m in now. He asked if I would take less than $300 for a painting that’s already reasonable priced. I told him that I would not, that I would rather keep the painting of his beautiful expensive house than sell out completely. I had my landscape paintings outside of my van curing in the sunlight. I offered him two paintings for $400, a steel of a deal. He said yes and I prepared his house portrait for sale.

I only stretch my paintings from my mobile studio when they’re sold because I can no longer keep them in my minivan afterwards do to damage. When I went into their house to finish the transaction he asked me to look at the back of his house. I could smell the sourness already. When I stepped into his backyard I was taken back by the view. His home is 30 miles from the ocean but it can be seen as a thin white line along with most of LA. I was excited just thinking about painting it when he said, “It’s a nice view but it would be too easy to paint.” He didn’t want one of my “art” paintings. He wants another painting of his house, from the back.

I was not happy. I don’t mind selling out a little and painting portraits of the Capitalists trophies but for a person to unconsciously express such a lack of interest in the art/artist instead of the subject discourages me. I kept my happy face on as the wife tried to get me to be a distributor of her pyramid miracle juice when I realized I promised them 2 for $400. As I sat their sipping her $40 dollar a bottle juice they then tried to convince me to paint their family portrait. At that point I was willing to lose the sale, tell them I wanted $300 cash for the painting or forget it. I was growing tired of them telling me how I am an industrious rule model for their children as they complained their kids were hanging out with pot smoking, lazy heathens.

It turns out they didn’t have enough cash on them. Because I couldn’t take the painting with me I’ll have to trust them and return next Tuesday to finish the deal. I think I’m going to paint the view from their backyard though. If they don’t want it, fuck em’ I’ll be happy to use their private view as a visual spring board. Here’s to metaphorically bighting the hand that feeds.

The message that most Christians cling to is the aggressive ethic of reciprocity and the Judge-not. Beside the ridiculous logical ad infinitum of giving till someone has to break down and take, and the lack of justice Judge-not promotes, the two core tenets of Christianity leads to a life of bird nests without a hen guarding the eggs. I presume that most Christians regard the doing to others and lack of justice to be metaphorical: The domain of god. No one but the masochist would present the other check and desire anarchy.

Where is the line then that justifies retaliation on an oppressor? At first I thought this was a case for fuzzy logic, but logic defies fuzz. What at first seemed to me to be a complex issue really isn’t. Treat others as they treat you: point blank. This works well for those that are in the now but it eeks upon personal identity. That is the reason I have always promoted individuality. We can not be held accountable for the wrongs of our ancestors any more that we can take the credit for the work of dead individual artists.

Only the future inhabitants of earth are tied to our wrongs. It’s extortion and depressingly those geezers that are alive today wouldn’t change what they did 60 years ago.
However, those that cling onto their identity the actions of ancestors can logically be accountable for the wrongs of their predecessors. Call yourself an “American” and be held accountable for the terroristic acts of this Nations founders. By treating others as they treat your self only an act of aggression is legitimately countered with aggression. Hit me brother and I’ll hit you back. The Mercy high ground is interesting territory. Typically mercy can be given when enough attention is paid to empathy; unfortunately for most only the closer someone is to oneself the easier it is to empathize. That’s even more reason to embrace the principle of equality, individuality and justice.

I’m one and you’re one to. We’re one and one. But we can equal two as one if we both try.

In a recent trip to California on a Greyhound bus in southwest Texas we pulled over for a illegal alien / drug search. The men in rip resistant green boarded the bus packin’ 9 millimeters and walked down the aisle. A young bow legged Homeland boarder agent with a ten gallon hat poked down the rows asking everyone if they were American. I found this to be a strange question because everyone from the north pole to the tip of chili is an American. I was going to say, “I’m American if you consider New Orleans a member of the union”, but decided not to be smart and answered yes.

While the dogs were sniffing my luggage an Asian couple were having a problem with an agent. The girl was obviously a US resident or a master of accents. Her boyfriend however didn’t speak English that well. Through the discourse I discovered that he is a Viet Nam citizen visiting her girlfriends parents. The agent asked him for a green card. which he didn’t have. I over heard the agents outside the bus, “should we detain him?” was asked to the cowboy. He replied, “How much time do we have left?” Then the cowboy asked the driver how much behind schedule we were: an hour and a half.

I sat in my seat wondering why their weren’t any Geiger counters accompanying the German Shepard’s and why the Viet Nam guy needed a green card and not a passport. It may just be me but I felt as though the Men in Green are a prelude to a more severe and intrusive biased Nationalism. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I can easily look past a cowboy Homeland agent using improper geographical language but I can’t help but think our bus would have been held up had the Vietnamese fellow been Arabic.

Maybe it wasn’t the slanted eyes that got our bus back on schedule. Maybe it was the fuzzy teddy bear that he used as a pillow that fostered his travel without proper identification. At any speed, we arrived at the next gas station were dozens of “south of the boarder” neighbors were waiting outside in the cold for what was most likely a law breaking contractor.

pretty on top of being awesome….

No body would like me.< br/>