Inevitable

Facebook post from April 10, 2020:

2,000 people died today in the USA from Covid-19.

We’re on track for a war in Afghanistan casualty count every 24 hours, a September 11th mortality rate every 36 hours, and an Iraq War casualty count every 48 hours.

New York alone would be the highest mortality rate of any other country. So many unclaimed bodies they’re burying them in a mass grave. Stacks of pine boxes in a giant pit.

The USA case count is reported as 1/2 million. If that was accurate it would be 30% of global infections even though we only represent 5% of the population. That reflects the degree of incompetence, denial and inaction of our government.

However the reality is likely far worse. The case count is not an estimate, it’s a report. The inexcusable truth is that it’s still very hard to get tested here, and those 1/2 million positive cases only represent the tested population.

As of this week, in a country of 350 million only 1.5 million people have been tested, 0.5% of the population. So the status of 99.5% of the country is a complete mystery and not included in the 1/2 million reported cases.

I have personally tried to get tested four times, as recently as today, and was denied each time. I’ve been presenting multiple symptoms for over two weeks including the most likely single indicator of infection, loss smell and taste. Unless you’re facing acute respiratory symptoms you’re facing a poor outcome trying to get a test.

And if you do you’re facing a poor outcome with your life. Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome is the last stage of the Covid-19 disease progression and is what kills most patients.

If you’re lucky you’ll die of organ failure first. Liver, kidney, cardiac arrest. Otherwise you suffocate to death alone on a respirator as your lungs fill with fluid and even the machine can’t breath for you.

Testing is the key to stopping the spread and improving the outcomes of the infected population. But it’s also the key to Trump administration marketing and propaganda. If you test zero people you get to report zero infections.

It seems like yesterday Trump said we had 15 cases and it would be zero soon, and that he didn’t want a cruise liner full of cases to dock in the USA because he didn’t want their contribution to the case count.

He just flat out said it on camera, because he is shamelessly stupid and woefully ignorant and grossly indifferent to our suffering. His intent was to improve his election outcome, not your life outcome.

The marketing and propaganda benefit from inadequate testing also means derived statistics like relative mortality rate are completely worthless. You can’t know the percentage of cases that died when the case value is fiction but the mortality value is fact.

And it actually makes the administration’s response look worse but they’re too stupid and incompetent to know that. If 2,000 people are tested and 2,000 people die your mortality rate is 100%. If 20,000 are tested it’s 10%. At 200,000 it’s 1% and if you test 2 million people and 2,000 of them die you get to 0.1%, the same as seasonal influenza.

So it’s entirely possible the US relative mortality rate is among the lowest in the world but we’ll never know. Watch for the expression “confirmed cases”. Factor that into your thinking trying to understand the scope and magnitude of the crisis, because the only cases that are confirmed are the ones that are tested.

We should be seeing the expression “estimated cases”. Because if we test one or two percent of the population you can make a reliable statistical estimate of the case rate in the entire population. We have performed enough tests to make a statistical estimate with a reasonable confidence value. The reason you’re not seeing that expression is because of marketing and propaganda.

You are the tool.

You can be assured the scientists at the CDC that weren’t cut out of the budget by Trump in 2018 are presenting estimates to their teams every day. Predictions are made with estimates, not reports. That’s how the graphs you see and the statements you hear estimate how June is going to look for us.

Manipulating estimates or making them up with no statistical basis is why Trump estimated the case count was 15 and predicted it would be zero. And his team and his supporters nodded their heads and never bothered to consider that it was pure fiction or the consequences if the estimates were wrong. There’s an election coming soon and that is the single source of truth. Marketing and propaganda.

And he was wrong. How wrong, we don’t know. There are no doubt highly reliable estimates being produced by people that are competent and attempting to mitigate the crisis and deliver ventilators and protective gear to where it is needed and where will most likely be needed in the future to help the people that are going to die during the crisis and the people that are risking their lives every day to try and save them. The crisis caused by the Trump kakistocracy clown car and his army of ignorant sycophants that are so gullible they believe Rush Limbaugh, he said smoking doesn’t give you cancer. The guy dying from cancer. What a tool.

Rush estimated that he wouldn’t get cancer and he was wrong, too. Give the guy a cigar and a medal. Give him a kiss and a hug and remind him Trump said there were only going to be a few cases and everybody should go back to work as soon as possible, maybe send grandma first, since on the outside chance Trump was wrong she was willing to die for the preservation of the economy.

You know the economy. Outlooks. Forecasts. Estimates.

But the people with the estimates are not allowed to present them. The first thing they teach you in authoritarian dictator school is to control the information. Lies, denies, and suppression are the tools of the trade. Because you know, the election.

Information wants to be free, and eventually the estimates will be published, circulated and analyzed. And they will prove unequivocally that Trump and his administration’s criminally negligent handling of the crisis and attempts to control the flow of the information resulted in a crisis that is now killing as many US citizens every week that September 11th, the war in Afghanistan and the Iraq War combined. Complete with mass graves and global economic devastation that is changing the world as we know it forever.

Unfortunately the estimates we do have suggest that the crisis has yet to peak. The worst is yet to come. And there’s no vaccine, only 1/2% of the nation’s population has been tested, and we are likely to experience further unemployment and a worsening forecast of outcomes. Life outcomes.

It gets worse.

Humans are emotional creatures. That’s not an estimate, it’s an indisputable fact that our ancestors and artists have been trying to point out throughout the entire recorded history of our species. We experience joy when we dance. We experience pride when we put food on the table. We all do. We always have and we always will. It is our most defining asset, our legacy and our future. It’s what makes us human, informs us to care for each other and develop the social bonds that have allowed us to survive in the face of global crisis for eons despite nature and our own attempts to wipe each other out, because hatred is an emotion, too.

Hatred defines much of our history and our ability to resist it is paramount to our survival and well being. And despite our inclination and demonstrated ability to commit insufferable horrors on one another, emotional wisdom teaches us the value of forgiveness every time the world burns. Afghanistan. September 11th. Iraq. This week, maybe next week. Hard to estimate.

Because we are emotional and socially dependent creatures we react emotionally when the people that we love, our family and friends, experience tragedy or trauma or when the inevitable moment comes that they leave us unless we leave them first. The universal experience is grief, and the fact it is temporary is the greatest gift we have inherited. Our minds come to terms with a new reality where we are left to rely on our memories to experience the joy of the people we love.

But emotion is not a report. It’s not a statistic. And it doesn’t have a universally consistent range, with well defined parameters. It’s a continuum of experience in response to environmental events, physiology, interventions and experience. It exists in a feedback loop as your body reacts and your mind adapts, and for some people it escapes the bounds of our instincts and inclinations using the parameters we have been taught that preserve us.

It becomes hate. The most maladaptive reaction you can inject into a gene pool. And it spreads like a virus as the feedback loop oscillates through society and draws borders around us based on blame and fear. It becomes predictable, encouraged and profitable. It becomes part of our economy. Afghanistan. September 11th. Iraq.

The yield of that reaction as it spirals out of control is revenge, opportunism and indifference. The brand is terrorism. Nation state actors. Exploitation and indifference. We becomes us and them and we’re proud of it. It makes us fearless and cruel and self-righteous. It brings us suicide vests and roadside bombs and patriotic conflation to replace the bonds we have lost and the inevitable suffering we invite without shame.

Right now every nation on the planet is under attack by an enemy they can’t see or smell, can’t taste or touch. We are all occupied with our imperative to survive in the face of an adversary that was unexpected and arbitrary in its attack. We are all losing loved ones who suffer insufferable agony and loneliness as they die in a matter of days. We are caught in a matrix of confusion, inaction and singularity as the bonds we needed to survive and retain our emotional well being dissolve. Mass graves. No funerals.

Pandemics are temporary. Grief is temporary. Blame and greed are forever. They stand on the shoulders of hate. And as our emotional spectrum exceeds the bounds of reason, as resources dwindle and our ability to estimate our survival that day, or that of our loved ones, it foments into revenge and selfishness and a search for the means to extract justice and vengeance on an invisible enemy that wasn’t there last week.

In lieu of a target we select someone familiar. Us or them. The tool presents itself, it was right in our face. We just couldn’t see it. Humans are smart and exploitation is a survival instinct. Viruses mutate. They can be engineered, derived, and combined with other viruses into cocktails that unite lethality, dispersion, invisibility and confusion. They can be loaded onto bombs or shipped to the mail office and the manager at the office that had no choice but to fire you. You don’t even need a weapon, it’s already in your mouth. All you need to know is his parking stall number so you can spit on his car door handle.

Revenge is best served cold but you can’t taste it because the virus takes your sense of taste. It sucks the joy right out of your mouth but you won’t care because you’re fearless and your hate has been rationalized. It’s still sweet. It is the resource that you needed to survive that was robbed from you by the invisible enemy. You don’t even need to kill him. You can just threaten him. Find his daughter’s car at school and spit on her door handle. Let her die in the hospital alone and a week later leave a note on dad’s car with a picture of his wife instructing him where to leave the money.

It gets worse.

As the emotional impact of grief turns to hopelessness and despair at the observable fragmenting social bonds, the absence of resources and increasing isolation the spectrum of behaviors your mind allows expands. It becomes easier to rationalize theft and violence and extortion and exploitation. You need to eat, too.

But for some people it overflows their minds ability to adapt. Maladaptive. Fear and suffering yields to paranoia. The mind estimates a future that is incompatible with your genetic programming to survive and everything you have been taught becomes insignificant and the things you have come to depend on for joy is erased.

But you are an emotional creature that has an elastic mind that has evolved to ensure your brain survives. A new neural mesh develops over a matter of weeks and months. Depression, bipolar, and schizophrenia becomes your new normal. Your mind develops a completely subjective construct of reality to mitigate the observable truth and inevitable, predictable outcome.

There is no medicine, there is no intervention or remediation or therapy presented to you and you don’t want it. Your new worldview becomes the canonical truth in your mind despite the capacitance mismatch with your memories and perceptions.

Your brain is trying to survive in an insufferable world so your mind develops a new narrative to convince you that you are doing so. Your friends become your enemies, joy is extinguished with hatred, and a continuum of delusions and hallucinations becomes your nightly news.

You become the tool. You’re still emotional and smart and creative but you’re easy to exploit because there is no intervention. Hospitals won’t admit you, the homeless shelter won’t let you in but you don’t want to go there because it’s infected and people are dying. And you’re hungry and cold.

But that nice guy from the convenience store brings you a hot lunch and enough money for a hotel. He informs you of how virus is spreading due to the global conspiracy and that you are being drafted into the resistance. He’s been telling you about it for weeks just like you saw on the nightly news. You’re part of the second wave and the key to the solution.

And one day he brings you a bottle of whiskey and another hot meal. You share it together and he thanks you for your role in the resistance and then asks for a favor. He hands you a plastic cup with some spit in the bottom and a note and asks you to go to the parking garage and put it on a car.

The world needs a hero, and that hero is you. That’s all you have to do. No suicide bomb, no gun, just a cup of spit and a note. He gives you money for a hotel again, embraces you, and reminds you how much God loves you.

The second wave. Next year there will be a third but for now the world needs you, just look around. Tonight you will be warm, and forever a hero. It is your destiny. Afghanistan. September 11th. Iraq. You will be on the nightly news, and people will never forget your name. Maybe this week, maybe next week. Hard to estimate, but you are inevitable.

Bigger Fish to Fry

Facebook is totally broken but there’s nobody home. It’s not because of the coronavirus, these problems have existed for years, but who do you contact? Have you ever heard back from Facebook support? They have never responded to me once in 12 years.
I’ve been uploading videos recently. If I view my profile page, then navigate to More => Videos I am served a page with two tabs on it.
The first tab is “Videos of You”, all the videos I’m tagged in which includes all the videos I’ve published there since I always tag myself, as well as a random assortment of videos I’m tagged in for some peripheral reason.
The second tab is “Your Videos”. And that tab is completely empty. So I go to edit the videos and I’m no longer tagged. I dutifully tag myself again, make sure it has a Title & Description, save and it seems to work. But it doesn’t. The second tab is still empty and when I edit the video again it’s lost my changes.
I don’t know how long that’s been broken, is it broken for the rest of you? We’re all on different versions of Facebook at any given time called flights, which they use to evaluate new features and bug fixes to limited samples of users.
Another thing that’s extremely broken is Copy/Paste between personal pages and groups. Let’s say you prepare a thoughtful post with an introduction to your music and then paste the song lyrics along with the link. Looks fine on your page, all your formatting is retained.
Only ten people will see your post so you head over to your band & paste it there. Looks fine, maybe ten more people will see you unless you pay them money. Better to try your luck in the Facebook Groups where everybody ignores everybody else unless it’s a Writer’s Group then all they do is insult each other and never post any writing.
So you go to a Facebook Group and paste it into a post there and it’s a complete mess. Your formatting has been eviscerated into something with Paragraph markers, your line by line lyrics have been collapsed in groups of two, and the spacing between lines is completely different. So for groups you have to re-paste your lyrics in underneath your intro, then it works.
Aha you think, I’ll just copy it from the Group post editor window. Edit => Select All => Copy. Navigate to another group, Paste. Totally screwed up again. It’s been broken for over a year, possibly two. It used to work. I fail to understand how a company with virtually infinite test resources can have some common use cases in a constant state of failure. What else are they working on? Those bugs must be truly awful for these simple user scenarios to remain untended for so long.
It’s all a moot point. Right now I can’t even paste into Facebook Groups at all. “Something went wrong”. Oh really because things were working so great before.
And it’s not just Facebook. I just tried to paste this text into the new WordPress Block Editor. It made a complete hash of it. No spaces between any of the paragraphs. All my double spaces have been converted to single spaces. I tried to insert a blank line and it was huge, like two font-widths high. Because it’s a different block.
How ridiculous, WordPress is a site for writers and they can’t handle a plain text Copy/Paste operation. I switched to the Classic Editor, then one that works and pasted my text into there. All my double spaces were collapsed into single spaces but the line spacing between paragraphs was smaller than the Amazon so I’m cutting my losses and getting on with my evening.
I was about to tab back over to Facebook when I got a pop-up from WordPress. They will be replacing the new editor with another new editor on June 1st. My question is how do I get back to the old school editor. The one where Copy/Paste worked like it did for the last 40 years.
That’s not a rhetorical question. It’s another moot point. Because if you can’t support such a simple keystroke convention and don’t have the means to detect the mess you’ve made during your test automation and user acceptance testing you’ve got bigger fish to fry.

Stupid Thinks it’s Smart

Just went a few rounds with a Trump supporter defending all those creepy pictures of Trump & Ivanka as a young girl. I presented that uncomfortable photo of him kissing her with an open mouth as an adult.

In the course of the thread she made fun of handicapped children and autism, called me an idiot and retarded. How does a person even develop such corrosion of character, so much rot in their moral fiber. I can only wonder.

Evil doesn’t know it’s evil and stupid thinks it’s smart. That’s basically the Trump kakistochracy clown car in a nutshell. It’s pretty much the same every time. They can’t defend their argument so they resort to childish insults just like President Super Duper Missile. Libtard. Sheeple.

I’ve been insulted by them thousands of times but have never seen a coherent argument. Not once in the last four years. My patience is the poster boy for ADHD so I lay it on them, give them a zesty sendoff and block them. 2,000+ blocks since 2016. PSA from Sir BlocksAlot:

<<kapow >>

(Sidebar: after you block someone you still get notifications of people’s reactions so you can bask in the warm afterglow of your burn)

The rest of the world sees Trump for the vile, ignorant man-child he is but his supporters don’t. Because they’re just like him. In fact they envy him. He told America in 2016 he “loves the uneducated” and they lined up and had a parade.

It’s repulsive and sad. It’s a post-American world with 94,000 citizens dead in 4 months, a crippled economy and a navy on its knees. Yet they still worship him, they defend him. Rationalizing with that level of cognitive dissonance apparently soaks up all the oxygen in their shriveled, self-righteous brains.

Eric Trump is still calling it a hoax. They’re blaming Democrats and Obama, so no change there even though Obama left them a pandemic response playbook and Trump dismantled the CDC pandemic response team in 2018.

But it’s definitely Obama’s fault, he left them error prone test kits for a virus that wouldn’t exist for another four years. And he’s black, so it’s definitely his fault. They trash Obama and make dehumanizing homophobic slurs and childish transexual jokes about Michelle. Trump would be proud.

Obama and Michelle are two of the most respected people in the country and they deserve it. They’ve earned it, sharp tan suit and all. They are exemplary models of competency and family values. Obama is one of the greatest orators on the planet and he gave Trump serious carpet burn last week so no doubt the Trump cult hates him even more now. If that is even possible.

Trump has so much blood on his hands they can never be washed. Everyone that supports him has bloody hands too, but they think they’re clean. Stupid thinks it’s smart.

Sentinel Call

Steady beat the drums of fate
While we work and while we wait
For providence and ties that bind
With friends we love and family mind

From eastern shores there comes a myst
That wonders if we should exist
To seize upon our every breath
And sign the warrant for our death

Everyday takes away the moments we are here
A life to live and try to hide the poison of our fear
Differences break ties that bind, it’s time to build a wall
But heroes rise to exercise the gift of sentinel call

We run from storms that’s how we’re born to see another day
But sentinels are washed of fear and run the other way
Into the snow and emerald glow of monsters from the sky
As we shelter in our place, they do not wonder why

Courage facing green and submarine is not
The measure of your fortitude is taken by a shot
The myst of fear is in your veins but never in your heart
We’re all the same but different now and that’s the hardest part

They risk themselves for us and them because there is no line
Between us we are all the same, all we have is time
The river bell will never yield, it rings to call us home
But sentinels embrace the call so you won’t die alone

We run from storms that’s how we’re born to see another day
But sentinels are washed of fear and run the other way
Into the snow and emerald glow of monsters from the sky
As we shelter in our place, they do not wonder why

And with the myst still in her veins but cast out from her heart
She looks upon the city streets and she has done her part
To bring us all together now as family we don’t know
No us and them or you and me, we’re all in the same show

The sun will set from shore to shore, we always will want more
But sentinels will cross the sky so we have hope to store
We’re family now as we have been from the very start
But we are blind until we learn to see us from our heart

We run from storms that’s how we’re born to see another day
But sentinels are washed of fear and run the other way
Into the snow and emerald glow of monsters from the sky
As we shelter in our place, they do not wonder why

Dedicated to Christina Bailey

Never Tuesday

A day like any other
Not if you’re her mother
Robbed of love by fate
That did not hesitate
To fill a well of tears
An ocean over years

If I could take your place
Just once to see your face
A moment to embrace
Draw from the deck an ace
Of hearts, time and space

Never Tuesday
No matter what you say
No more happy birthday
With these tears I pray
Until they fade away
Never Tuesday

Every step a mile
Every breath your smile
The one I gave to you
Nothing else will do
In your eyes I see
You looking back at me

The anchor of my faith
If I could touch your face
There’s nothing to replace
Roses, white and lace
A day that never comes
As I face another one

Never Tuesday
No matter what you say
No more happy birthday
With these tears I pray
Until they fade away
Never Tuesday

Starting with tomorrow
Nothing left to borrow
Nothing left but sorrow
Tomorrow

Blood runs from my nose
It’s yours but no one knows
And mine, they are the same
There’s no one left to blame
I wash myself from shame
Forever we remain

Never Tuesday
No matter what you say
With these tears I pray
Until they fade away
Never Tuesday

/

The Business Model of Addiction

RangoAddiction is not just a disease. It’s often a comorbidity with other mood disorders (bipolar, schizophrenia, etc). If you don’t treat the root cause the comorbidity will run its own course and become an independent pathology. It’s a significant factor in the compiled morbidity statistics for affected cohorts that can shave off more than 20 years of lifespan in the form of organ failure and suicide.
There is no group therapy, no 12-step program that can address a compulsive tendency to self-medicate if the underlying pathology is not addressed. It’s a maladaptive response to a physiological or psychological crisis that is prone to a continuous escalation of tolerance until physical dependence is established.
At that point there is no sense of euphoria or intoxication to the user, only temporary mitigation against the absolute, immediate suffering of withdraw.
Clinicians and “addiction specialists” who are not sufficiently educated or equipped to identify and treat the root cause of addictive pathologies are a major contributor to our national mental health crises. They conflate morbidity associated with alcoholism and opioid addiction by failing to treat the underlying mechanisms of causal mood disorders in deference to naive idioms of patient care that only serve their interests.
Forced or sedated detoxification & prescribed group therapy are often the only tools employed by practitioners who are woefully uneducated or whose only qualification is being a recovering addict.
They work for for-profit institutions like Lakeside Milam or Fairfax Behavioral Health, administering bowls of jello & Just Say No videos from the 80’s under the pretext of care for $35,000 a month billed to your insurance.
If you inquire about recidivism, efficacy or individual therapies they will scold you as being an enabler contributing to the addict’s behavior & failed recovery.
The reason they are so defensive, reactionary & secretive about their treatment outcomes is that it is in their financial interest for addicts to fail. Returning customers are the pedal stone of any business model & these sham recovery centers are no exception. They are not interested or qualified to address the root causes of addictive pathologies and have everything to gain if a patient relapses. They’ll blame the patient or their loved ones & charge their insurance.
Often patients come out worse than they were at admission. They learn skills and behaviors from hardcore addicts caught in the cycle of addiction & recovery while their underlying pathologies go untreated.
I recently met a patient that had been admitted to Cascadia Behavioral Healthcare in Tukwila more than thirty times. Cleary suffering from an undiagnosed mood disorder that was the root cause of his addictive pathology, neglected, untreated and suffering.
Do the math, that’s nearly a million dollars worth of jello & coloring books. They know prior to admission that their treatment won’t work. But it’s a successful business model that is antithetical to both addiction treatment and mental health care, callously indifferent to suffering & directly contributing to morbidity statistics.
In the aggregate, we as a society have the knowledge, tools and capability to successfully treat both mood disorders and their corresponding comorbidities. But we do not have the will.
As long as recovery is a function of unbridled capitalism people you know and love will continue to suffer & die needlessly. It’s too late for millions of people but we have the capacity to change going forward. It’s long past time for healthcare reform, and mental health should be at the forefront of our thinking at every step. Anything less is just a business model.

July 4th, 2019

We are a nation born & bred of violence but we shouldn’t be celebrating that. We should be celebrating freedom from tyranny. Freedom of speech. The brilliance of the constitution. Each other. Two hundred years of immigration & integration that have created the most powerful nation in history. The debt we owe to our indigenous people and the slaves that suffered our darkest hour. The sacrifices of our soldiers & the will of our people to break the chains of prejudice and ignorance. We should be breaking bread, taking part in the bounty of our lands and sharing your mom’s apple pie.

Instead we have tanks on the streets of Washington DC. A military pageant to impress the Russian dictator who coerced the election of an illegitimate president that admires despots and categorizes the press as the enemy of the American peoplRangoe. Loves uneducated people, thinks windmills cause cancer and that the Moon is part of Mars. Has lied daily in public, engages in open nepotism, can’t speak a coherent sentence, shows disturbing signs of senility and is publicly racist with no remorse. A failed businessman born into money that wasted it all, just like every dollar he spends on his parade, even as his party of historically negligent and incompetent sycophants check into his hotel, his administration crumbles, and his campaign manager and lawyer sit in jail. A president who humiliates us every day on the world stage as he proclaims his own greatness & denigrates those who would oppose him as less than human.

The parade is a disgrace and a stain on our history. Every penny they spend today should have been spent on veterans or ending concentration camps for asylum seekers or shutting down commercial prisons or furthering education, student debt relief, medicare or anything else you can think of that would benefit your fellow Americans. Instead we’ll have a repulsive display of admiration and desire for war in the long tradition of autocrats that are weak, destined to failure and looking to perpetuate their own self image. At a profit.

Pray for lightning. Turn off the cameras & send everybody home safe & sound for apple pie instead.

Country Song (Kernel Sanders Remix)

[ Intro ]

Snapshot000009[ed: the gear is always on. if she tries to break up with me, if she tries to walk out, i’ll just pick up T-Bone, turn down the studio lights & play this song right there in front of her, live, as her resistance crumbles & the suitcase becomes impossibly full of tears and regret. every pair of panties leaves a tip on the scale of doubt. sure baby pack up your bags. you do that.  good luck with that while i finish the intro ]

[ Verse 1 ]
 
If I wrote you a love song
It would be long over due
The verse would take a starry night
The chorus might take two
 
I’d sing your name & take the blame
For all the words I said in vain
I’d take you in my arms to see
Your eyes looking back at me
 

16402651_10211536118377206_6752655101095512998_o

<< Drop >>

Romeo 2.0
old school
don’t you know
one man show
super-fancy
under pantsies
new romancies

19th level barding
i ain’t tanya harding
Pyroclastic chromatastic
fantastic mind elastic

so i can see how they would say that
and you know that’s how i pay back
i don’t play that honey
i don’t play for money

i’m not good on roller skates
but i can juggle lots of plates
and you can see that’s how I rate
first conflate and then deflate
29064197_10215394236347744_965498655223118704_oand it was ice on the skates
she wasn’t nice out of the gate
i blame her hate she couldn’t wait
it’s half-past eight
now don’t be late

[ed: i will not help her because I’m in the middle of casting a spell, she knows it. and i’m almost to the chorus. she knows how the song goes, that’s how she ended up here. she’s already given up & we both know it. but it’s nice to give her the illusion of a fighting chance because we’re going to keep her after the spell wears off & she realizes what’s already happened. she caves, takes out her lighter & holds it up. everybody should]

[ Chorus ]

Days are long, the nights are cold
Story’s written, the end foretold
If I had one more word to say
I never should have let you leave that day
<< Drop >>
[ed: game / set / match, have a seat on the couch of bitter irony because we just got to the second verse. and you’re sitting on the most expensive couch of your life, and mine, held hostage to the fact that we danced <right><there> led zeppelin songs jack white & me you’re singing it in your head before we even get there you know how it goes but here it comes anyway, this is where you crumble. maybe just lay your down where i laid mine in your lap ]

26220304_10215409484128929_9092011736959940430_o

[  Verse 2 ]
 

Scuff marks on the studio floor
Where we danced, the shoes you wore
Mountains crumble to the sea
Zeppelin songs, Jack White & me

I told you that I loved you
But I never said enough
Rainy days, teardrop stains
A diamond and your stuff

[ed: those boot marks in the dust are a bardic pentagram we etched while we danced as i anticipated the day you were leaving, and they also happen to spell out an ancient message which is that you’re not. no ma’am. incoming spam this is where i slam you go down over the falls in the can not a great plan. now take my hand ]

<< Drop >>

takes two to tango, lady
i ain’t slim shady
culpible for your position
in your mission
one musician
and magician
that ain’t fishin
that ain’t wishingkind of greedy
kind of needy
took so long
i aint that seedy

 

but i take the 5th i plead
heed my rhymes
and you will read
it was just me

but if maybe i’m not alone
i talked to you on the phone
there was noone else at home
this was the tone29791715_10215448564825922_3768186726762151936_o (1)
just one rabbit
one bad habit
one or two or two or three or four
i couldn’t count i closed the door
tossed the bottles on the floor
couldn’t take it anymore
full throttle on the bottle
on the floorright there by the shoes you wore
and then i swore
i wrote a song about that
back before they called me matt
hatter.
it doesn’t matter

 

once or twice before
but you might remember more
as i deplore
i just can’t take it anymore
 
do you remember
when i leave you in september
pentagrams & histograms
time is but the dripping sands

 

harmonies
that come in 3’s
in my old school
those are old tools
but i am not a fool
i only have one rule
you cannot leave
that’s just not coolnevermind you
i must play through
you stay there
and touch my hair

on the couch
please don’t slouch
and hold the cheese
i did say please
do not recycle my raps jeez
i caught your flow & will appease

31429347_10215623561960741_7473133126697353216_nnow please clap
and i won’t rap
i’ll shut my yap
and fingertap

like kernel sanders
and you’re ed flanderss
o you give me your head
cuz you are already dead
cogently preemptively
and definitely was not me
as you can see

your stuff has heavies
but i break levies
you’re not ready
fly meet Spyder
don’t get beside her
i’m the Strider
get in my pants
and get the lighter

[ Chorus ]

Days are long, the nights are cold
Story’s written, the end foretold
If I had one more word to say
I never should have let you leave that day
<< Drop >>
 

hold it up the tears roll down
i told you that i was a clown
you’re not  rolling out of town
and i would not mess around
what’s the upside with your frown
i’ll turn it down like charlie brown

how did you get from over there
with your goldie hawn kate hair
to over here and on the pier
and if you might just hold my beer

i would like the time to meet her
kiss her her face & proper greet her
from her eyes I can read her
time to go she’s my Demeter

hold that thought and if you will
take a bitter happy pill
on a boat that was afloat

 

11999586_10207476824777403_4373072256911994217_o

with all the optimistic things
please don’t try to clip your wings
you just met a dog that singsit’s a movie you & me
starring rango von linksi
don’t be afraid just look & seeif we fail i will not blame us
we will still be somewhat famous
so listen dear
you lose your fear
and i’ll say hey
where’s my beer
 
stay there on the couch not leaving
you can see what i’ve been weaving
this rap is not the song
it’s not about what’s wronghonestly not what i need
this is not the way i feed
but now i think i’m gonna freeze

 

i feel a nasty breeze
so if you please i’ll close the door
and as i do so i implore
you can see there
on the floor
in font of me
as i explore the shoes you worethey made me so hot
i’m something that i’m not
getting to the chorus
don’t be boring don’t you bore us
don’t you adore us
i shut the door yes.

 
10501597_10204117467915581_5571874253461299804_n (1)glad that’s settled
here’s some metal
as heavy as her stuff
mostly fluff

its’ not enough
a diamond in the rough
that i throw out on the street
i’m the one do not compete

while you are just sitting there
me my rhymes are everywhere
and now my work’s complete
a fait accompli

it’s you & me
this is your fate
a double take
a wake & bake cupcake
muffin man
is in the pan

as i perform
out of the norm
in front of you
that’s what i am gonna do
you’re in my lair
you touched my hair
that wasn’t fair
and i don’t share
remember i was lying there
lights projector mirror PA
seems like that was yesterday
but that’s not how it works this way
i don’t know what else to say<< Drop >>

that green screen is not mean
it’s just green
only one part of the scene

Matthew Meadowsjust like the purse
but it gets worse
this is where it’s gonna hurt
you will say ouch
you’re on the couch

you cannot leave
i won’t deceive
i trapped you in a spell i weave

the lights went out
on your will
now you choke a bitter pill
even as you sit there still

[ Verse 3 ]
The day you left the lights went out
I drank until the morning sun
It tore me down, each shred of doubt
I knew you were the only one
You never got your ring
I never got to sing
The love songs that I wrote for you
Now this one will have to do

 

<< Drop >>

 

hold up my lighter
now hold it higher
fly meet Spyder
and if you want the door to open
since I’m here and I was hopingMM-493I
‘m Poping in Detroit you see
like Kernel Sanders that ain’t me
but it could be
i’d be shredding
and cut heading
in the streets
your head is meat
1,2,3 my job’s completeschwing schwang
awe dang
you can’t even play that thang
you can’t shred and even ed
flanders he has standards
common manners
i’ll take all your beats apart
i know right where to start

 

they’re ill-mannered
i’ll put your head on a platter
i hope it doesn’t spatter
it’s not you, it’s that dude
but i don’t like your attitude
so don’t be rude

and i know you will agree
to this decree
with you & me
as you wonder
and i wander

and i know
you will ponder
as you grow
somewhat fonder

i’m the first 911 responder
that you need
unless you really bleed

 
you’re staying here not going there
the car’s too far you touched my hair
that ain’t fair you sit right there
quit believing that you’re needing
something else & start receiving
messages that you’re not leaving
now you see the spell i’m weaving
540791_4199713349738_722714608_n
sit right there cuz
you’re not leaving
now it’s time to
change your season this is where
you touch my hair
love is the reason
you won’t go there
heartbreak treason

 

[ Chorus ]

 
Days are long, the nights are cold
Story’s written, the end foretold
If I had one more word to say
I never should have let you leave that day
 
 

The Starling

Emerald eyes & golden veils
Shining for the ship we sail
A litany of certainty
Reflecting on forever seas

Navigate to ancient pleas
To stay the course of destiny
With steady hand in sight of fate
A rosary, the bread we break

To crash into the rocks beyond
With fearless and eternal bond
The sea will flow beneath our feet
Frozen by the love we seek

We’ll walk the rest
By grace and sign
An island of our own design
By virtue of our maps resign

To shed our fears and redefine
The polar north of space and time

Lesser-Blue-eared-Starling-660x366

The shimmer in your eyes i see
A starling that’s the sign we need

Through port & harbor, storm & calm
I’ll pray with you & read you psalms
To find a will, to find a way
To keep us lost another day

To crash into the rocks beyond
With fearless and eternal bond
The sea will flow beneath our feet
Frozen by the love we seek

Let it be Done

Let’s all have reasoned, polite debate about the imperative of the 2nd Amendment on social media while we pile up bodybags full of children like nowhere else in the world. Send thoughts & prayers & money to the NRA – National Rifle Association of America. Solid plan if you’re a politician, evil, or socially maladaptive & indifferent to the statistically outlying fatality rates & constant media pulse of US school children getting shot to death while they’re attending class & their parents are at work.  Live video from smartphones as kids are getting murdered is now a repeating artificact of our news.  It’s almost a cliche.  It’s newsy.
“I’ll be glad when it’s summer so I don’t have to worry about being shot” – student overheard on Twitter

Easiest guy to assasinate in the world.

The easiest guy to assasinate in the world.

Alternate plan: cut these people out of your life. Drag ’em & bag ’em. Change the culture. Get rid of them from your world. Say goodbye. Drag them on social media for their participation in a collective horror show indifferent to hate, never speak to them again unless they acknowledge they’re part of the problem & come into the fold. It’s a cultural phenomenon unique to America. We’re the only ones killing our children & making excuses. Everywhere in the world people play video games, struggle with mental illness & have emotional disorders.  They take the same medicines, they are subject to the same conditions.  People have been subject to horrible treatment from shitty families & bad governments throughout time. Nowhere else has this problem. It’s uniquely American. We have magazines devoted to it with hot girls in fuck-me pumps. At Walmart, which  enriched the most extravagantly, disgustingly wealthy family in history, you can buy the magazine and the gun and the ammo. 1/2 the government is paid for by it, mostly GOP & a subculture that literally pleasures themselves to it. Guns are sexy to them.

Millions of people in this nation born of violence & genocide.  Thus the bodybags full of children and the people that would die for them.  Their would-be teachers but they are dead.

It’s not a foregone conclusion that this is our future but you have to be brave enough to change it.  You have to make it so.  Say goodbye to gun culture in your life. Block them, divorce them, get rid of them. Shun them. It’s hard at first but it gets easier. Eventually you’ll find it satisfying because you know you’ll be on the right side of history when the final tally of bodybags from the small fraction of Americans that own & love their guns is measured against the cost of our dead children.

Let it be done.
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