Waiter, there's a dead man in my tent...

IS DEAD.

Sir Anthony Eden was a junkie. He was one of Britain's greatest diplomats, became Prime Minister, got on the eckies and took the world to the brink by fucking up the Seuz crisis. And they talk about you kids of today!

Again I could not resist paying the five bucks. Probably because, as I explained to Yoel today, it has nice writing. Henry Root introduced me to it in his wet fish book a thousand years ago. He read it, but only because, as he said, "my chauffer takes it". It was so cute when it included Le Monde and a San Francisco thing, and flown out on rice paper.

Anyway it gave me the courage to again try to understand some politics. It worked. I now realise that George W. is set to become the next L. Ron Hubbard. The man is an unborn religious leader. He is just on his way there. Then he will gladly hand over to Jeb. He now knows a dodgy politician cannot rule the world for long. His papal envy showed him that religious freaks can. And what better image for the mums and dads is there than a sweet little presbyterian church with mister and misses and their two anal kids chatting on autopilot? The bible belt will bomb the world. He will rule even after his death. L. Ron does, and will, until Glorified George invades his little kingdom.

What a fundraiser it will be! It will replace the Bush piplines when china permanently replaces petrol with water and a pinch of salt. The 'have' and the 'have mores' will not be reduced to farming as the middle easterners return to their nomadic tribes. Glory George and his devotees will be even better equipped to ensure mortality for most and immorality for his own.

....the are so placed and self-contain'd, I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousand of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth. 'Song of Myself' Walt Whitman (32)

in the middle of the night and said "Tell any ten year old the problem, ask the answer and do what the kid says". He was talking about Iraq. "A real kid would say 'Their two biggest gangs got together to kill the americans. They just got to get the rest to join, look after the Kurds and do what they want. And it wont be no democratic government.'" "The kids right you know." the deadman said "Only the yanks could get the Shites and Sunnis to agree to something, even if it is to kill them. All the yanks have to to do is hold the fort, urge them, with the help of the UN, to agree with the other tribes, make peace with the kurds and form a stable government. It'll be fundamentalist. They've never had a democratic government and dont want one. The yanks can pull it off if they accept that. They will have solved the problem they made and can say they left Iraq with a better government. They will be heroes. Bush, Blair and Howard will be re-elected..............shit, the fookin kid must be from texas." He opened a midnight can of VB and stayed upright thinking.

Because thats what he does. He always sat under the awning but hasnt done that for a while. He trimmed it in his mind. He would put his theories to tests if a person with any wit capable of taking orders was around. The appearance of ants delighted him. He watched them for hours climbing the centre pole as he slowly chain drank and smoked. Then would come once only, precise observations of their social and cultural habits to anyone around. Anyone making further inquiry would be told "stuff the ants". Unless it was a kids. He would share with them because he knew adults would not understand. He never had trouble with the meaning of life. It just changed according to his mood. He influenced my thinking. I realised there was more to life than smut. I think.

This weblog constructed by bloody Joel by pulling the electrons off gold atoms and shoving them into a phone socket. For and on behalf of the plaintiff. With respect. I withdraw that. You know this message really ought to be deleted.