Love vs Sex 177

But if you happen to be a man, sometime in the future, and you’ve made it this far, please remember: you will never be subject to the temptation or feeling you must forgive, a man, as a woman. It’s difficult to resist, believe me. But remember that forgiveness too is a power. To beg for it is a power, and to withhold or bestow it is a power, perhaps the greatest.

Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it isn’t really about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and get away with it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn’t about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or lie down, legs spread open. Maybe it’s about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.

The Handmaid’s Tale

Margaret Atwood          1986

Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 93 – Easy Money

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The American dream

That gleaming glint and sparkle reflecting off icebergs…canines, which float stoically in a frigid enamel sea that is just a little too snowy white

The fraternity comraderic jizzle

The shit oozing from dapper pinstriped suits of one shaded grey or another, pinnacled perpetually in presentation by the hangman’s colorful noose of refined recognition and  expertly cinched cravat

The comedy, the joke, the ridicule of those whose heart and soul and blood and bone bears witness and contribution completely in the labors, their labors, of education, of art, of tradesman, of medicine, of higher pursuit and learning, of contribution beyond the endeavor of a slaphappy sycophantic charlatan who either of whip or charm hackamores all susceptible workhorses into bearing his bridle.

Don’t worry about paying for it all up front. We offer a convenient financing plan to assist you in your purchase.

The fat-ass supervisor

with his

polished brown loafers, pressed khaki slacks, collared polo…

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Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 93 – Easy Money

The American dream

That gleaming glint and sparkle reflecting off icebergs…canines, which float stoically in a frigid enamel sea that is just a little too snowy white

The fraternity comraderic jizzle

The shit oozing from dapper pinstriped suits of one shaded grey or another, pinnacled perpetually in presentation by the hangman’s colorful noose of refined recognition and  expertly cinched cravat

The comedy, the joke, the ridicule of those whose heart and soul and blood and bone bears witness and contribution completely in the labors, their labors, of education, of art, of tradesman, of medicine, of higher pursuit and learning, of contribution beyond the endeavor of a slaphappy sycophantic charlatan who either of whip or charm hackamores all susceptible workhorses into bearing bridle.

Don’t worry about paying for it all up front. We offer a convenient financing plan to assist you in your purchase.

The fat-ass supervisor

with his

polished brown loafers, pressed khaki slacks, collared polo shirt,

hair-sprayed head, and jowls a’ jabbering,

standing there or tooling around on a golf cart,

ordering a group of men covered in work clothes and a much darker complexion,

to dig a hole, mortar some brick, plant a tree or move some heavy object

from one place to another,

the shotgun lacking from his shoulder

but

the high falutin pseudo-genteel aristocratic condescension ablaze

Ya always gotta look under the hood in conducting a business. You just got to.

Those bubbles and breasts

proffered so presentably, so professionally, so alluringly,

in the elevated cleancut caressing cleavage of the heavenly clouds

which float above

the sleekest form fitting fabric

of

appreciative displays and purchasing rewards

commensurate with

excellent customer service and satisfaction.

Always offer the best medicine to the client, always, and never mention euthanasia. The money isn’t your concern. It’s theirs. Let them say no to your first recommendation. Don’t even offer another option until they so no.

The bottom line of profit,

preempting and prioritized above all else,

the shareholder’s wet dream of uncontemplated and unbalanced return,

the nod to the CEO

to

put down any proletarian, perform any policy, produce any product, proffer any propaganda,

in the name of a principled prime directive,

in the name of invested wealth and proper dividend,

in the name of a capitalistic land of opportunity for all,

in the name of the free market,

in the name of freedom itself.

I itemized all of the charges for you so you can easily see the difference. Now that’s the normal price in the first column, but if you look at the comparison in the second column, you will see how much you can save by purchasing our insurance plan.

The bombastic trump card of the unaccomplished,

brandished boldly in conquered banner

over those of the contending clan,

pilfering portended into the victorious heralding ascendancy

of

triumphant prosperity

consummated in the exaltation of exploitation,

the honor of duping the dupable,

the supreme satiation of selling worthless shit after shellacking it in a sales pitch

of

the most plausibly intended deception,

 usurping another’s trust, naievity, or reason

through only

the glorious act

of

circumventing one’s own fair contribution

in

honest accomplishment and exchange.

The only heresy of marketing and money,

to tell the truth.

Cribb          2015

Love vs Sex 175

Cribb Comment Pretext (2015): This passage melds so much together so succinctly and so subtly, that I fear most of its meaning and beauty are sure to be lost on the average reader.

A woman who did not have the strength or will to seek out the rarity of love and devout awareness in the male species, creates the constructs of her self-fulfilling prophecy, and thus squanders her life, at least in part. She must not allow her daughter to prove her wrong…to obliterate the constructs she forged in her own mind as a consciously repressed though perceived necessity of admonishing hope and faith in love and union in order to muster the strength and fortitude to continue to live…that is to physically survive.

Luke is a game changer, an outlier of the male species. His existence delights mom in one way and absolutely terrifies her in another. She must prove her daughter wrong and only a transient contradiction to how she herself chose to live her life or accept the existence of true love and thus admit that only she herself was too weak and/or too damaged not to cut such a belief in that force out of her own soul and previous existence.

She liked to come over to my house and have a drink while Luke and I were fixing dinner and tell us what was wrong with her life, which always turned into what was wrong with ours. Her hair was gray by that time, of course. She wouldn’t dye it. Why pretend, she’d say. Anyway what do I need it for, I don’t want a man around, what use are they except for ten seconds’ worth of half babies. A man is just a woman’s strategy for making other women. Not that your father wasn’t a nice guy and all, but he wasn’t up to fatherhood. Not that I expected it of him. Just do the job, then you can bugger off, I said, I make a decent salary, I can afford daycare. So he went to the coast and sent Christmas cards. He had beautiful blue eyes though. But there’s something missing in them, even the nice ones. It’s like they’re permanently absent-minded, like they can’t remember who they are. They look at the sky too much. They lose touch with their feet. They aren’t a patch on a woman except they’re better at fixing cars and playing football, just what we need for improvement of the human race, right?

That was the way she talked, even in front of Luke. He didn’t mind, he teased her by pretending to be macho, he’d tell her women were incapable of abstract thought and she’d have another drink and grin at him.

Chauvinist pig, she’d say.

Isn’t she quaint, Luke would say to me, and my mother would look sly, furtive almost.

I’m entitled, she’d say. I’m old enough, I’ve paid my dues, it’s time for me to be quaint. You’re still wet behind the ears, Piglet, I should have said.

As for you, she’d say to me, you’re just a backlash. Flash in the pan. History will absolve me.

But she wouldn’t say things like that until after the third drink.

The Handmaid’s Tale

Margaret Atwood          1986

Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 92

President Reagan’s Best Lesson

The most astounding thing that Ronald Reagan, the best lesson ever, was his reconciliation with his mistake he made in Lebanon with two-hundred and forty-two marines being killed. By admitting he made a mistake, admitting that he said he would never turn tail and run…but he finally came around to understanding the irrationality of the politics of the middle east, and he should have never gone in there, and therefore he said if I had done that, been more neutral in the situation, those marines would be alive today. That should be Reagan’s quote…the recognition when he made a mistake and Americans died needlessly… nobody wants to talk about that. They want to talk about Ronald Reagan being forceful. The extreme of this is when Reagan bombed Libya, needlessly, which just further antagonized…and we’re still in a mess with Libya…as if that had solved the problem. So, that is the type of intervention that is just so difficult for me to understand.

Transcript excerpt from the Liberty Report, Sept. 2015

Ron Paul

Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 91

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Hiroshima-truman_2292872b

Video excerpts from the Presidential address by President Truman immediately following the atomic bombing of Hiroshima

Primary source Presidential commentary about “the greatest scientific achievement of organized science in history.” It cost more than two billion dollars in 1945. And, let us not forget to consider that in an alternate universe or one of the future, a speech of this exultation might be delivered by the leader of a foreign country who has warned America endlessly for decades to end their occupation and/or meddling within their own affairs and their own sovereign territory.

http://www.c-span.org/video/?294914-1/president-truman-speech-bombing-hiroshima

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