29 January 2006


Representative government fades fast; political corruption runs amok; totalitarian ideologues unmercifully pursue an agenda of aggression, conquest, and mass death; economic inequities multiply geometrically and the public infrastructure crumbles; despair & hopelessness become the common condition of more and more people around the world, even as corporate war profiteers yuck it up all the way to the bank ... Faced with so many examples (among quite a few others) of the overabundance of reality that's crashing over our heads these days, what do you suppose has been the predominant topic of discussion this past week, here in California's glorious capital city? Answer: the Peja Stojakovic/ Ron Artest trade. No, really -- I'm not making this up.

Honestly, the miserably degenerate intellectual climate around here would be enough to drive me to drink -- If I didn't drink already.

Generally speaking, Sacramento has a rabid fixation on the adjunct of show business known as "professional sports," with the NBA Kings being the marquee franchise of such nonsense. This condition is attributable to a mixture of two primary factors: (1) There's really nothing else going on around here that's worth paying attention to; and (2) Stupidity is, apparently, lots of fun. Now, the exact proportions of these rather dull phenomena are somewhat indistinct; whether the average inhabitant of this quasi-suburban purgatory is just bored beyond belief and starved for entertainment, or is merely a congenital idiot or brain-damaged fool (or some combination of the two) is wide open to conjecture. Whatever the case, the coffee house/brew-pub/SUV in gridlock crowd -- which is just about everybody -- sure seems to be enjoying the hell out of expending huge volumes of wind discussing such vaporous topics as professional basketball, among others. All that's left untouched is inconsequential esoterica like Samuel Alito, the dubious concept of the "unitary executive," endless war, and the very obliteration of democracy itself.

Little wonder that alcoholic over-medication seems to be such a viable activity these days. Just speaking for myself here, but I'd much prefer to be a blind stinking drunk with an exploding liver than to pretend that professional sports teams mean anything at all. With all due respect to Stojakovic, Artest, and all the other uselessly overpriced corporate whores out there masquerading as "athletes," I'd suggest a change of profession: perhaps picking up trash or washing dishes -- you know, something that has some real societal value. Anything would be better than continuing to perpetrate the dangerously debilitating fiction, so prevalent among the more weaker-willed of the common folk, that being ignorant and stupid is fun.

Well, it's just a thought ... where the hell's my bartender?

25 January 2006


The last thing the world needs is another blog that nobody ever reads. I just thought I'd get that out there, first off -- my fermented imagination won't let me believe for one moment that the semi-literate claptrap I cobble together within this "forum" will, in any way shape or form, provide anything positive to anybody, anywhere. And that applies, frankly, to 99% of all blogs as well. Let's be brutally honest here: personal blogs are little more than ridiculous, self-indulgent exercises in masturbatory excess. There's no reason to believe this one will be any different.

Well now, that's a fairly harsh and rather self-defeating way of launching this ... whatever the hell it is. You might ask yourself round about now, what's the point then? I would answer such a question this way: if there's no logical reason to waste time with such an endeavor as a blog, then there's also no logical reason not to. That makes sense to me, anyway, and it points directly at whatever philosophical foundation I'd fancy this thing might be built upon -- that is, that thinking people have an obligation to stand up, open their mouths, and say something about the impending demise of representative government and civil liberties in the United States of America. Even if it seems to make no sense and nobody is listening.

So you might say, with a reasonable amount of accuracy, that this is basically a "political" blog. True, its primary focus will be on the disaster being so relentlessly foisted on us by our fledgling Republican-corporate dictatorship, merrily assisted by their coterie of spineless Democratic enablers -- since it all pretty much trumps everything in sight and renders nearly every other concern pointless and irrelevant. But I can't promise not to veer off unexpectedly toward topical obscurity and into absurd digressions. That's just how my spongy, sodden brain happens to function. However, it matters very little because, as I said, nobody really ever reads these things.

At any rate, this monument to futility is designed to be nothing more than an incoherent collection of low-rent rants, disjointed babblings, sweeping over-generalizations, and uncompromising opining of the worst possible sort; fueled and aggravated by completely negative attitudes and excessive elbow-bending at a long series of bars and brew-pubs in and around the tiresome confines of Sacramento, California. Hence the title of this electronic travesty. In this sorry burg, many gallons of liquid courage are guzzled in the search for "truth" -- many a revolution gets hatched out of the fictional significance of an alcoholic stupor and a very long row of empty beer glasses. Given the grave uncertainties of our times, I'd probably be engaged in the questionable activity of trying to drink the town dry anyway ("erudition lubrication", I like to call it), so it's just as well I invite all of you in the 'sphere to join in the hopeless fun. But then, nobody pays any attention to these things, so ...

Oh shit -- I need a beer.