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Friday, November 4, 2011

Onward Occupy Wall Street!



(I know this isn't what I promised you, but I can't find the outline for that. And without the outline, there is no magic. And no, the outline cannot be recreated. Once created, the outline must be followed. If it can be found. Which, at this moment, it can't. But I did find this, which seems would have been a bit more timely a few days ago. And this is written, at least to the degree that anything around here is. So, until the outline for Looking For A New Place to Live can be found, we will just have to content ourselves with the following...)

My moment is now. Political power lies festering in the streets. All it needs is the unique and dynamic vision to craft the movement to meet the demands of his/my will. My future calls!

Take a message for me.

Yeah, I'll be right on the moving/molding the masses to the bends of my will in a minute. In the mean time, they get voice jail.

Press One to overturn the capitalist system (and replace it with a player from the Cubs to be named later.)

Press Two to burn down the financial system.

Press Three to just eat the rich.

Press Four if simply tossing a few demonstrably guilty bankers in jail will do.

Press Five to place credit default swaps on a transparent exchange.

Press Six to end Too Big To Fail.

Press Seven to dismember all entities who would qualify for Too Big To Fail now.

Press Eight to dump the garbage left by a bank in front of a foreclosed house into one of the bank's local branches. *1

Press Nine to cut the pay of CEOs down to no more than ten times the full time wage of their firm's lowest paid worker.

Press Zero to go home before it gets cold. (In those places where it does get cold. For rioters in sunny climbs, press zero again to leave yourself a wake up call for next November along with a stern reminder to VOTE STRAIGHT DEMOCRATIC. If you cannot remember those three words, vote for the person who looks the least like Mitt Romney.)

Your call is important to me and I would join you--really--but I have some very good reasons for not wanting to chance arrest, undue exposure to the elements and uncontrolled contact with my fellow man, only one of which I can tell you about. (And it's not acrophobia. I got over that.*2)
Rest assured (at least by me: who won't be freezing his ass off for some 'cause'), I would be out there with you, at the front, bending you to my will--or at the very least distributing Aldi soda, if I could. But I can't. So I am with you at least in spirit. And I am making my contribution by penning this (with free cloudware and server space provided to me by a business which has single-handily destroyed both the newspaper and advertising industries.) We all have our parts to do.
The sole reason that I can disclose for not prying myself from my fundament is that I am a fat ass.
I am an amorphous blob of human pulp, suitable only for weighing down a Lazy Boy and making a once a day boomerang orbit between work and here. Once here, I have just enough energy to eat, sleep, blog, shower, eat and eat and sleep. Mostly sleep.

May I state emphatically that I have never been a blaze of action. I have always slept well, long and often. I have not always, however, been fat. In fact, I spent most of my life being a tad underweight. Having now, at the ripe age of near 50, become a lard ass, I am not actually coping with it all that well.
That is to say that I am coping with it just fine if my intention is to remain rotund. I am not yet Santa Claus fat, so it's not actionable. (Oh it's diet actionable, it's just not to the point where I can grow me a beard and make a little geld playing elf to goy girls and boys at malls.) But I am certifiably saggy in a not as yet Baby Huey sort of way.

In short, I would join you but I am fat and I am not very good at being fat as yet. Really. My going forward plan is to either cultivate that Jolly (for a type A) fat guy pep to my step or stop being fat. There are many dismal states of being that I have actively attempted to avoid, from the improbable (invisibility) to the inevitable (death). Most morose changes to the old bod you can see creeping up on you. I saw the whole going bald thing a mile away. This fat thing has me totally stumped. I stopped smoking and BOOM I was fat.

(Wow. This was actually written out with footnotes and everything. Yep. My handwriting even. One second I'm rooting on the ya ya rioters, the next I am waxing on my waistline. Must have been lunch time.)

But there you have it, at least one of my reasons for not leading you at the barricades. I am with you! (Just not where you actually are.) Trust me folks, you are better off without my blind, fat, balding self showing up, being beaten by night sticks I cannot see and throwing up from tear gas I am too slow to avoid while lamely passing out Aldi soda. Makes me sick just thinking about it.
Onward!
1. The protesters in Chicago actually did this.
2. It should be noted that not all bloggers are agoraphobic, but rather that all agoraphobics blog.

Oh look, notes on the Republican Debate, the one that could only be seen on Bloomberg Television. Jeebus, this goes on for three or so pages. Might have been a nice post, if I had typed it out on time. Kind of oddly appended to the cheering on the Occupy Wall Street thing. If you missed that debate, it was only because you needed to be in the Secret Society of Super Villains to receive it. (Which I am, holding the Gorilla Grod emeritus chair for non productive and unhyphenated obtuse disagree-ability.) My take away: Mitt Romney isn't enthusiastic enough to be a product demonstrator and is a tad too stiff to be a game show host, so he must be a presidential candidate. Has it really come to that?

Next: I will look for the outline or will scan and mock something. Sounds like a plan.In my own defense, I am doing a bit of post moving in cleaning up this weekend. Which is to say that I am not totally disorganized.


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