Glorious Worker's Day

Hello, my name is Xi. Today is Worker's Day and I am a worker.

I was working the other day in our small sport shoe piece factory like any other day meaning it's all the same day when you work in a small rural Chinese village and suddenly a strange man came in. Some of the girls hid behind their sewing machines, others ran into the back room but I stayed where I was, just sitting and smiling.

I must be honest and tell you the work is boring, we don't make much money and the male boss is mean to us, but it's a job, the only job I could find after finishing middle school so I took it. My parents are farmers. They are happy because they have a small home, a bike, rice cooker, radio, and TV.

I like the people I work with. The girls and women sew together foam and leather pieces which is the top part of a shoe. I know it's only part because they send them to another factory in another village where they do more pieces.

I guess they eventually become a complete shoe but we all wear plastic sandals anyway so it doesn't matter to me.

The man said some words which I didn't understand and he took pictures. I was a little nervous but he seemed ok so I just sat still, smiling. After he left I went back to my finishing work. It was the most interesting thing that happened in the factory that day.

Happy Worker's Day!

A case of democrazy

-Look, said Little Nino. -I found a radio! Batteries not included.
Children scrambled through debris pawing soil looking for energy cells. Emergency air raid sirens went off and everyone scrambled into bombed out buildings, seeking shelter.

-Hey, check this out, said a hungry refugee. -I found a case of Democrazy. The Republican label says it spreads easily.
-Is it crunchy or plain?
-How do I know? It’s just plain old Democrazy.
-Maybe it’s like that old rancid freedom sauce. Let’s give it a try.

They opened the box, took out a jar, unscrewed the top, grabbed sharp knives, broke bread and slathered on Democrazy.

-Wow! This is yummy.
-Yeah, well I got some stuck in my throat. It tastes like sand.
-It’s protein.
Tribal members collected their Democrazy.
-We need more energy, someone cried. -We need music, news, entertainment, a weather forecast, a story with a happy ending. We need to know what’s happened.

-Need a clue? Take a look around you, said a person with an elementary education. Towers, Iraqi villages and Afghan mountains smoldered on the immediate horizon.
-It looks desperate, said one.
-Eye, it does, said another. -It’s always darker before the dawn.

Sirens stopped and they emerged from darkness into another darkness.
-We need shelter, said a family gathering rushes from the world bank. Third world immigrants and internally displaced people pounded rocks and carried them on their backs toward unknown futures.
They sang, “Give me shelter. Shelter from the storm.”

Waves of bombers and attack helicopters circled overhead like vultures.

Heart chains

you created everything
imagining insatiable incurable incessant insanity

carrying chains across water
through cultures
hiding them in your heart

no one to talk with
hear, listen or help
you

chains constricted your heart
growing heavy, sad, lost, lonely

you released them,
tired of everything
finally
everyone
all the strangers

chaining doors
from inside

dark lonely inside
clanging, clinking, rumbling
angry chains

voices, all the voices
strangers

War(s) Czar Vacancy

A great job is available in Washington. You get to run the war in Afghanistan and, as a special bonus with extra incentives including free meals, free transportation, free insurance, and a free Iraq mess.

Yes, it's true, the stone cold neo-cons are desperately looking for someone with a plan - any plan will do, cobbled together with inept corruption, graft and absolutely zero sense of historical perspective - to run the wars. Run them into debt, run them into a brick wall at high speed. Run and gun endless wars into Iraqi cemeteries and VA hospitals.

Run the wars with integrity, dedication and carte blanc financial support from big oil and special interest groups.

Wheel and deal the war your way today. Say yes to this amazing long term disaster opportunity. They need a War Czar to assume total control and responsibility. Certified paranoid schizophrenic delusional maniacs, fools, thieves, morticians and gravediggers will receive hiring priority.

"Want to buy a good used car, mister?"

After hearing their sales pitch and declining to be za Czar, a retired general said, "They don't know what the hell they are doing."

Whining Convention Convenes

The 1st Provincial Whiner Convention got under way today, hey say children, "Can you whine with the best of them?"

"Yeah man, I started whining when I found out, being an only child in a one-child takes all crap game, that whining is a fantastic way to get things you want," said Faceless. "I wanted a lot then and I want more now."

"That's nothing," said Insecure, another whining contestant. "Whining is a fine art in my book. I've never read it because I'm lazy but I know how to whine with feeling. I've had practice. I practiced on my parents, practiced on my grandparents and now I practice on my friends. A little whine here and there works wonders. You ain't never get any good at whining in life without practice."

A whine went up from the crowd.

"We want a REAL whiner. These are fakes. They have no skill, ability, creativity or enthusiasm for whining. Send them back to Whiner Elementary. They are whining failures. Poor."

"Ok, ok," said Maladjusted, a whiner with a degree in Manipulation.

"How's this?" and they started yelling and screaming, contorting their face into tears, stamping their feet demanding instant gratification.

"Give it to me now!
"Give it to me now!
"Give it to me now!
"I will whine until you give it to me!"
"I am a spoilled brat and I demand you to give it to me NOW!

The crowd gratefully swallowed the passive-aggressive whining performance.

"Not bad," one whiner said to another whiner.
They voted with their feet to Whiner Street to practice whining in public.