I Invoked the White Robes, Gleaming Blades Ready for Blood, and, Feeling the Scourge of Increase and Multiply, Made Affirmation: *Yes,* Deliver Us from Complicity

I understand the thinking of friends who think pissing off a potentially sympathetic demographic by making their commute a horrific two hours of inconvenient hell is a fatal strategic mistake, and maybe possibly probably true, which to me is the reason to fucking inconvenience them. I understand the thinking of friends who think aligning in any manner with coopting motherfuckers for the sake of better air-time in exchange for a diluted at best, serving the Master at worse message is a fatal strategic mistake, and maybe possibly probably true (and I watched some of those Union fucks in their yellow vests look at Occupiers with policeman stares), but, for the sake of the argument, one million people in DC the week after New Year during POTUS12 agitating about whinyass Jamie Dimon's salary is a bad thing?

Not that there will be one-hundredth of a million people. Fuck, that's all the gah I've got for yodeling the cud today. Here's an anti-Occupy K St, here's a pro-Occupy K St, needless to say I understand and completely agree while disagreeing with each. Here's an oldie, Fleabus as Metaphor:

• Useless inventions.
• Occupy the Police State.
• Police state.
• Austerity and blood baths.
• Occupy Philadelphia.
• Gitmo forever.
• The face of the killer who is your president.
• Krugman will never have an obamapostasy.
• A frothy mix of fecal matter and lube sums up crackerism.
• He is still The World's Shittiest Human.
• Varieties of political correctness.
• Art as propaganda.
• Albums liked, with sound, for both those worthy and unworthy.
• Way of the sun.
• Honey and the moon.
• Morning star.
• Woke up with these in my head:

VASECTOMY

Philip Appleman

After the steaming bodies swept

through the hungry streets of swollen cities;   

after the vast pink spawning of family   

poisoned the rivers and ravaged the prairies;   

after the gamble of latex and

diaphragms and pills;

I invoked the white robes, gleaming blades   

ready for blood, and, feeling the scourge   

of Increase and Multiply, made

affirmation: Yes, deliver us from

complicity.

And after the precision of scalpels,

I woke to a landscape of sunshine where   

the catbird mates for life and

maps trace out no alibis—stepped   

into a morning of naked truth,

where acts mean what they really are:   

the purity of loving

for the sake of love.