Occupying occupies more than city parks….

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Sitting here at 3:30 in the morning, half asleep, half drunk on whiskey, and half-baked; I … what?… wait… … this is perhaps a poor angle to approach a serious Chautauqua on the “occupy…” movement.
But what the hell eh?
It is what it is
I am what I am
…And what I am is part of the 99%…
… the majority…

And, so, in this context, getting a little wild before sitting down to conduct some serious thinking on the subject seems like the proper thing to do.
It is, I believe, what the majority of folks would need to do in order to come to terms with the fat that is feeding this fire…

The occupy movement first accosted me just shortly after it began. Through a link an long time friend of my wife’s had posted on THAT social networking website… I found this to be both a blessing, and a curse.
This concentrate of flammable, inflamed information appeared during my self-imposed exile from all things NEWS.

It had to be done…

I found myself sitting up at all hours, scanning CNN, HNN, CNBC, CP24, etc… at all hours of the day and night. Staying informed… all hours… knowledge is power… late breaking news… and we’re back, for an update of the caution taped frontier that separates the players, protagonists, heroes, and villains from the leeches and vermin, the sheep, and the addicts…

…It covered my entire reality like the stack of mattresses at one of those house parties where the whole fam dam from far and wide gets together to get insanely polluted on anything and everything within arms reach and then pile onto the mattresses to pass out with great old aunt Edna who suffers from the most horrific pains associated with a terminal case of brain cancer that is rapidly approaching it’s final act sandwiched in between the layers of foam and coarse, paisley printed, fire retardant fabric…

I was trapped.
I had to know.
I had to be in the know…
… they say “No news is good news”… And so, I take that to mean that all news is bad news…

…I have witnessed some of the most horrific, ultra-violent, grotesque acts committed in the twenty AND twenty-first centuries as they splashed across the face of my idiot box as LATE BREAKING NEWS…
…bombings and meltdowns, riots and beatings, chases and murder trials, school shootings and impeachment hearings… tidal waves and oil spills, revolutions and peace-keepings, famines and royal weddings, the fall of dictators and patriotic acts that sodomize our freedoms…

… And so, I find it to be somewhat of a thorn in my paw, this Occupy Wall Street movement. For I know that it is exactly the type of subject matter that will hook into my brainstem like some far flung, hopelessly dependant meth addiction…

Fuck.

Day and night. This display of hopeful, passive-aggression jumps out as the lone sliver of media coverage that could be traded for a relatively substantial number of shares in a high earning, low risk investment pyramid based out of a vacant office complex on the east side of some dust covered, sun-bleached, fast-talking, goat lovin‘, cockroach infested community in the heart of the pride of the fat of the land…

All I seem to hear is how this movement has no specific purpose…. No grand plan… no manifesto…
May I spell it out….

Shit’s fucked up

If you can keep up with this giant treadmill you can keep from being sucked into the drive train.
But you don’t really go anywhere
You can’t stop and enjoy
The best you can hope for,
Is to become one with the tread
Instead
Of the monkey or the gerbil,

The 99 want off this crazy thing…

They need as much of a purpose as any catalyst. Which is to say none.
“Occupy” is not an ends.
It is not the forest fire.
It is the cigarette butt thrown out of a car window at ninety miles an hour in the heart of a lush coniferous countryside fixed in the depths of a drought.

Something to start the fire

What gets burnt and what gets spared,
Is not for this Marlboro to know,
or outline in a power-point presentation.

 

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