Hawk Informers

A male street hawker spoke with flair and conviction, If you don't buy my cheap cotton hat with a national flag red star, or a cheap wooden bracelet made by an orphan, then the next time I see you while I am walking hot Hanoi streets in the middle of the broiling day with sweat streaming into my eyes trying to make a living, then I won't know you.

My eyes will be dark and lost in their pitiful future. I won't remember you. Ever.

I will continue to walk. All day. In the heat. No water. No rest. To walk, work, meet tourists. No pity. This is my social and economic reality. People ignore you when they don’t have a sale.

Darwinian logic. Evolution of the species. Survival.

I’m not surprised, said Charlie. This is common throughout the country. The Central Party creates a climate of fear. Fathers report wives. Wives report sons and daughters. Daughters report their fathers. It is an evil cycle.

Charlie is a member of the Shining Path Young. This is our new generation, with a new generation of informers and spies. They make good money. They keep their mouth shut and know their place. Infamy. 

What I do today is important because I'm spending a day of my life on it.

Daffy Gladhafi

Omar the clown was getting a close shave with a bloody sword by his naked Ukrainian nurse in his underwater bunker.

Son #1 came in, O big Daddy of the 41 year glorious dictatorship, we have a small problem.

Tempered steel caressed his neck, What pray tell have the savages wrought? 

They are marching toward the capital. We've lost the East.

1.5 million destitute workers from China, Turkey, Italy, Mali, Bali and inner Mongolia ran away. 

So what. We have 2% of the world's oil under burning sand castles. Oil for guns. Thanks to our Italian and British friends we possess trillions of dollars in high tech weapons and killing machines. We have seeing eye dogs of war.

He turned a blind eye to his son. Ok, here's what I command you to do. Give everyone $400 and a free apartment. Give them a car. Give them empty promises filled with hypocrisy. Give them anti-aircraft guns, nuclear and biological weapons, isotopes, radiation microscopes, saline solution, sunglasses, my Green Book and swords. I will destroy Earth.

Son, historical unpleasant genocide facts and cemeteries will remember me. My idiotic legacy is complete. 

Blood will flow faster than an Austrian named Adolf wheeling his luggage filled with orphans down an endless dirt road in Cambodia. Hunt down the greasy dogs. Kill all the cockroaches. I am the greatest.

Affected

"Keep your hand moving," whispered the writing teacher to 80 robots. 

The foreign teacher wearing Tang Dynasty clothing filled with dragons, yin-yang balance, a Phoenix rising, a crying crane flying through mist covered mountains while emperors danced with concubines inside Forbidden Cities' red lacquered emotional curiosities where visions of detached ebullient phosphorus streams dove into silence beside abstractions of zither tonal quality in extreme bliss was a manifestation of phenomenal superior detective analysis and forty questions of the soul marking marketing examinations at 7:00 p.m. followed by utter exhaustion.

We escaped the sterile Chinese university on mountain bikes, singing, “We know so much and understand so little.”  

“People are more affected by how they feel than by what they understand,” bright star Leo said. “On day one my teacher said, ‘I only want you to bring two things to class. Your ears.’”

We sharpened sticks on stones carving paleo-Leo-lithic cave paintings on soft clay walls. Leo edged circles, rectangles, triangles, curves, lines and dots. He carved his name backwards for future historians and archeologists to get the gist or, as an unemployed academic financial analyst on Wall Street would, could, should declare, “English On Line.”

Being hunters-gathers we salvaged assorted garbage mired in mud. We created a semi-permanent temporary recycled art project on the canyon bottom. 

We assembled statues using sticks, soggy faded purple underwear, a filtered worker’s mask with a broken elastic strap, beer bottles, soda cans, green string, cigarette packages, lost feathers, sharp needled pine cones, coral blue seashells, orange peels, melted candles, dried condoms, fractured leaves, bird calls and worn and torn useful Lung-Tao prayer flags from Lhasa, Tibet.

In nature they drilled for cauliflower.

free egypt

Greetings,

I ruled for 30 years. The military said, It's time to go, Everyone from Cairo to Greenland has had enough of your senile stalling.

I said, Wait, I need another 30 years. No they said, You have 30 seconds, The Egyptian people have spoken with one voice, You have 30 seconds.

I cried, stamping my feet like a spoiled child. I don't want to go. I don't want to go.

Someone handed me a microphone and a scrap of parchment from the Dead See. They said, Take the paper. Look into the camera and read the script. I trembled with fear and anxiety. I took the parchment. I looked into a blinking red eye. I read the script.

My finally free fantastic fellow citizens. I would like to thank the Academy for this opportunity and all the rich memories. It's been a long strange trip. I wish you all the best realizing your freedom from tyranny, repression and idiots like me. My family and I will now take our immense wealth and retire to our resort villa. We will remember you when we eat caviar off gold plates. Farewell my love.

The red light went off. The paper fluttered from my arthritic fingers. Fireworks and ectoblastic jubilated pandemonium erupted throughout Egypt. Slaves loaded our camels. I led my family across the burning desert toward sand castles in the harsh light of reality.

What a glorious day papa, said my child, one of 80 million, I feel free. 

Metta.

Vice Puppet

Greetings,

Sullyman, the Magnificence, my acting heroic Vice Puppet in the never ending charade of manipulative lies told the people to GO HOME, leave the square, forget your dreams and aspirations, we have heard your voice, we listen with benign neglect, we respect your human rights. However, to prevent a messy democracy totalitarian draconian emergency laws will stay in effect for 3,000 years.

Bait and switch stalling blather. The people don't buy it. We are home, they said. 

What did you expect from a trembling CIA funded friend? Oh, my. He is closer to me than white on rice. Closer than spots on a dice. I am the dice man. I am the dealer and the house always wins, my friend. My house is crumbling down around my deaf ears. When 80 millions citizens begin yelling and marching and singing and dancing demanding freedom and democracy I change the channel. Denial is bliss.

I sit behind my ornate golden desk trembling with fear. I am worrying out my worry beads. I am a fractured remnant of my old stubborn self. I am an old man. I am 82. I have sacrificed my life for Egypt.

I have amassed $70 Billion dollars in a small tidy personal fortune over 30 years of graft, corruption, business manipulation, Pentagon contracts and plain theft.

I am really an honest man. Believe me. I have wives and rich children to support. I have outstanding mortgages in Geneva, Paris, London, New York, Shanghai, Jerusalem, and a million destitute Egyptian villages.

It ain't nothing but the blues.

Being a corrupt dictator is a pain in the oligarchy. 

Metta.