SURREALISM SURROUNDS US

Reality is here, staring you in the face, announcing its crazy dream. Yes, there is no way to interpret the 2012 GOP candidates as anything but contemporary dadaists. “Clown Car” is fabulous, but it only goes so far, only touches the air just above the skin of the truth. Theirs is not a political campaign or a movement but a performance piece. Agitprop. Think of them as traveling circus freaks.

How else to explain a parade of fatsos and blowhards whose primary efforts to distinguish themselves from their rival clowns is to be even more repulsively extreme? Herman Cain brags that he doesn’t have time to bother with learning third grade geography, not to mention the leader of Ubekistan (or “Ubeki-beki-beki-beki-stan”), and as President, he would be far too busy to ready any legislation over three pages long. “We need a leader, not a reader,” he says. No snappy retorts are necessary from your correspondent. Rick Perry wants to dismantle the federal government but lacks the mental horsepower to count to three, and he has bullish advice on foreign policy, suggesting a no-fly zone over Syria, based primarily on his expertise with the Confederate Air Force. Newt Gingrich… oh, Lord, do we have to discuss that bloated island of malevolence and hypocrisy and new age fascist demagoguery? We have noticed that during the course of each GOP debate, the flabby blimp that is Newt Gingrich inflates another ten or fifteen pounds. He juts out his chin during speech because he thinks it looks statesmanlike, emulating other great statesmen like Mussolini, but primarily because it reduces the number of chins from four to only two and one half. Newt’s background in foreign policy is only slightly enhanced by the fact that he is currently married to an extraterrestrial. It is not widely known that a special variance was required under DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) to allow a marriage between an extraterrestrial and a zombie. But of course, we all knew that the parade of slapstick misogynists riding around clobbering mailboxes in that GOP clown car are all, without a doubt, undead in the deadest possible way, not the cute, sexy way of the vampire or loup garou (Fr. for werewolf). How else to explain their brainless persistence? They keep coming, plying their sociopathic little minstrel show, screaming that we MUST BOMB IRAN RIGHT NOW… or anybody else who is not currently under attack by US forces, because that is after all the basis of US foreign policy as envisioned by our Founding Fathers, such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who, as Michele Bachmann reminds us, worked TIRELESSLY TO ABOLISH SLAVERY, somehow, in the 1700s, or was it the 1600s, as Rick Perry recently said, that we fought the Civil War… But I digress. Herman Cain also, in an intellectual assertion that must have truly tested his zombie IQ, reminded us that one of the great difficulties in going to war against Iran is that country’s mountainous terrain. (see image above)

And actually, this entire post has turned out to be, somehow, a weird digression. I meant to tell you that, following up to last week’s post of my musical version of Lorca’s “Unfaithful Wife / La Casada Infiel,” I am working on yet another Lorca project, and this has led me into a weird and wonderful new wilderness, which I will describe later. All things are connected. The dadaism of the GOP candidates, our recent trip to Houston’s Fine Arts museum to see King Tut which was, sorry to say, rather anti-climactic, but their Moderne collection is always worth another view, and their Joan Miro is practically worth the drive all by itself, and I have been collecting more Arthur Cravan material, which I will present to you later (Cravan being the nephew of Oscar Wilde, a poet provocateur, pro to-Dadaist, mystery man, “Poet & Pugilist,” publisher, and, no doubt about it, the first punk rocker in history. And so all this surrealism has been much on my mind lately, and I feel kinda like a new man. More than you wanted to know about me, probably, and in the future I’ll try to be more objective. The other thing I wanted to mention is that I’ll be revamping this site just slightly in the near future, with my great friend and digital guru, Nettie Hartsock, soon to begin her service as a chaplain, which I am thrilled to hear. And anyway, we’ll be adding a music player to this site, which will free us of the insidious tyranny of Reverbnation. Anyhow, happy Thanksgiving weekend.

Oh, but wait, there’s more. Notwithstanding these comments re GOP-zombieism, my previous assertions (GOP DEBATES SHOULD BE REPLACED WITH PUMPKIN CHUNK CONTEST and WHO SAID RICK PERRY IS A WHITE TRASH SLACKER) still stand. And more proof that Newt is a zombie, when he said that Occupy protestors should “Go get a job right after you take a bath,” he was dropping an obvious clue that he had just awoken from the late sixties, when “Love it or Leave it” was supposed to shut up critics of the Vietnam war and Merle Haggard was enjoying a huge hit with “Okie from Muskogee.” Sadly, Newt and the other GOP zombies missed the memo about that song being regarded by its author as a tongue-in-cheek bit of sarcasm, NOT meant to be taken seriously. MUCH LIKE THE GOP CANDIDATES, I MIGHT ADD!!! Sorry for shouting. Too much caffeine this morning.

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