SUBMARINE PARKING

When you stare into the eyes of a giant land cat, what are you seeing? Strength? Worry? Pure Natural Instinct? It is a creature of undeniable power and – due to man’s overreach – incredible vulnerability. Simultaneously at the top of the food chain and next on the extinction list.
If we could peer into their minds, through the power of advanced 3D holographic technology, however briefly, we’d be exposed to a familiar yet altogether foreign world. Fractals, designs, tessellations, those posters of expensive sports cars on fire – all pale to the inner secrets of a Lion.
THIS IS ONLY SPECULATION:
But I imagine the Brain of a Lion is filled with a thousand unsorted recipe cards and an ever-growing, ever-spinning, ever-lasting buzz saw.

HEARTLAND

SOURCE:
The rapport was so casual that Stewart even said it felt like they should be sipping lemonade on a porch.
Rumsfeld responded that Stewart was just unused to folksy conversation because Americans in the heartland — but not on the coasts — are that affable all the time.
“Yes, Stewart responded. “On the coasts we just curse and have gay sex. That’s all we do”

Morning Constitutional 02/24/11

The local Fife and Drum corps have been disbanded. There’s nothing to be done about it. We’ll be lucky if any of them stay in town. Their absence in the parade will be filled by the Old Lady Knitters Auxiliary #452.
The hardest part will be repossessing all the instruments themselves and sanding off the initials of their current owners while they watch. Very old city ordinance. No way around it.

Nightcap 02/23/11

I listen for the train whistle each night. It’s comforting. Each night tucked in bed, hearing that whistle, knowing thousands of state-identified lunatics are being shipped off to loving, caring homes two time zones away – reminds me the system is working.

ISLAND OF THE SUPERVILLAINS

 What I’m proposing is simple. The toppled dictators, con men, shitheads and monsters from Mubarak of Egypt, Ben-Ali of Tunisia, to Scott Walker of Wisconsin and so forth, be relocated en masse to a remote desert island disconnected from the rest of better society. Preferably the same island where the Army dumps all the giant spiders. Each will be equipped with a spear and a musical instrument of their choosing. No sheet music. There will be no running water on this island, nor vitamin supplements. It will take weeks for their mail to be rerouted and even then, most of it will be crushed and/or bent. A crude social order will work itself out with the more ruthless rising above the others. This Pig among pigs as it were will then rename the lesser jerks and, well, probably take up a...