I Paint What I See

Thanks to the wonders of bittorrent I downloaded and watched PBS special “George Carlin, The Mark Twain Prize” (http://www.pbs.org/marktwainprize)

What an amazing man he was, he was beyond funny, he was a genius who used humor as a tool to get his ideas and beliefs across. And, as Ani says, every tool is a weapon if you use it right… and he was a master.

The show ended with a recording of him doing the following performance. I’ve listened to it several times and it still blows me away.

“I’m a modern man, a man for the millennium, digital and smoke-free. A diversified multicultural postmodern deconstructionist. Politically, anatomically, and ecologically incorrect. I’ve been uplinked and downloaded, I’ve been inputted and outsourced, I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading. I’m a high-tech lowlife. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bicoastal multitasker and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond. I’m new wave, but I’m old school, and my inner child is outward bound. I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer, voice-activated and biodegradable. I interface with my database, and my database is in cyberspace, so I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive, and from time to time I’m radioactive. Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, riding the wave, dodging a bullet, pushing the envelope. I’m on point, on task, on message, and off drugs. I got no need for coke and speed, I got no urge to binge and purge. I’m in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar. A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary. A street-wise smart bomb, a top-gun bottom feeder. I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps. I’m a totally ongoing bigfoot slam dunk rainmaker with a proactive outreach. A raging workaholic; a working rageaholic. Out of rehab, and in denial. I’ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda. You can’t shut me up, you can’t dumb me down. ‘Cause I’m tireless, and I’m wireless, I’m an alpha male on beta blockers. I’m a non-believer and an over-achiever, laid-back but fashion forward. Up front, down home, low-rent, high-maintenance. Super-size, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready, and built to last. I’m a hands-on, foot-loose, knee-jerk, headcase. Prematurely post-traumatic, and I have a love child who sends me hate mail. But I’m feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing, a supportive bonding nurturing primary caregiver. My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow. I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports. I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly, and lactose-intolerant. I like rough sex, I like rough sex, I like tough love, I use the F-word in my E-Mail, and the software on my hard drive is hardcore, no soft porn. I bought a microwave at a mini mall;I bought a mini van in a mega store. I eat fast food in the slow lane. I’m toll-free, bite-sized, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes. A fully-equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle. I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped, vacuum-packed, and I have an unlimited broadband capacity. I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal, lean and mean. Cocked, locked and ready to rock. Rough tough and hard to bluff. I take it slow, I go with the flow, I ride with the tide, I got glide in my stride. Drivin’ and movin’, sailin’ and spinnin’, jivin’ and groovin’, wailin’ and whinin.’ I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hearty, and lunch time is crunch time. I’m hanging in, there ain’t no doubt. And I’m hanging tough, over and out.”

After having a short discussion tonight about the ‘real’ history of Thanksgiving and pilgrims (search for ‘Thanksgiving Myth’ if you really want to know), Emily said ‘Thanks for ruining another holiday’ and the following song came to mind.

Uncle Dave’s Grace

lyrics by Peter Berryman, music by Lou Berryman

on their House Concert CD (www.louandpeter.com…)

“We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing” Thanksgiving day, Uncle Dave was our guest

He reads the Progressive which makes him depressed

We asked Uncle Dave if he’d like to say grace,

A dark desolation crept over his face

“Thanks,” he began as he gazed at his knife,

“To poor Mr. Turkey for living his life

All crowded and cramped in a great metal shed

Where life was a drag then they cut off his head”

“Thanks,” he went on, “for the grapes in my wine

Picked by sick women of seventy-nine

Scrambling all morning for bunch after bunch

Then brushing the pesticides off of their lunch

Thanks for the stuffing all heaped on my fork

Shiny with sausage descended from pork

I think of the trucks full of full of pigs that I see

And can’t help imagine what they think of me”

Continuing, “I’d like to thank if you please

Our salad bowl hacked out of tropical trees

And for this mahogany table and chair

We thank all the jungles that used to be there

For cream in our coffee and milk in our mugs,

We thank all the cows full of hormones and drugs

Whose calves are removed at a very young age

And force-fed as veal in a minuscule cage”

“Oh thanks for the furnace that heats up these rooms

And thanks for the rich fossil fuel it consumes

Corrupting the atmosphere ounce after ounce

But we’re warm and toasty and that is what counts

I’m grateful,” he said, “for these clothes on my back

Lovely and comfy and cheap off the rack

Fashioned in warehouses noisy and cold

In China by seamstresses seven years old”

“And thanks for my silverware setting that shines

In memory of miners who died in the mines

Worn down by the shovelling of tailings in piles

Whose runoff destroys all the rivers for miles

We thank the reactors for our chandelier

Although the plutonium won’t disappear

For hundreds of decades it still will be there

But a few more Chernobyls and who’s gonna care?”

Sighed Uncle Dave, “though there’s more to be told

The wine’s getting warm and the bird’s getting cold”

And with that he sat down as he mumbled again

“Thank you for everything, amen”

We felt so guilty when he was all thru

It seemed there was one of two things we could do

Live without food, in the nude, in a cave,

Or next year have someone say grace besides Dave.

A friend forwarded me this link to an actual toy on sale at Amazon today, the “Playmobil Security Check Point“. I’m including the top rated review here so you can see the type of comments that are being posted here. Very funny (and kinda depressing .. good though).

Customer Review