Smell the Coffee.

Every once in a while I try to explain critical elements of global debt-slavery.  It’s not a popular topic, I suppose, because we all — excluding the ruling elite — live the same lie.  Democracy.  Freedom.  Justice.  Equality.  You get the picture.  All giant lies.  The following comment over at Moon of Alabama this morning may help bring reality into greater focus for some who either deny, or cannot, for one reason or another, bring themselves to accept what simply is.  Thank you “donkeytale.”  Enjoy! Continue reading “Smell the Coffee.”

A Good Clean Kill, And Other Beauty Secrets

I’m sure many of our “baby boomer” friends will remember the soap ads from the 1950s and 60s.  Clean was big business then, clean was beautiful, and nobody wanted to stink.  B.O. (body odor) was a hot topic thanks to decades of marketing.

Dial wasn’t the first “deodorant” soap, but it was the first one that didn’t smell like turpentine or paint thinner – oh, I’m talkin’ “Lifebuoy.” Lifebuoy, originally made by Lever Bros. (now Unilever) in England, has been around since 1895.  The smell was phenol, a compound made with carbolic acid extracted from coal tar.  To fight B.O. you could instead smell like an auto body repair shop.

Dial, named for its “round-the-clock” anti-B.O. protection (from perspiration), was introduced in 1948 by Armour Co. (yes, the meat-packers) in Chicago. Armour had made tallow-based laundry soap since 1888.  With the help of some clever chemists, Armour added hexachlorophene, or G-11 or AT-7.  How about those numbers?  Continue reading “A Good Clean Kill, And Other Beauty Secrets”

Wolfgang Amadeus McCartney

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be
There’s a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

I’ve been running these lyrics through my head lately, as something about them does not fit. The song Yesterday was supposedly written by Paul McCartney in 1964 when he would have been age 20 or 22, depending on which Paul McCartney we are talking about – the original Beatle who performed the song, born 6/18/1942, or the twin brother given a spooky birth date of 1/7/44.

Continue reading “Wolfgang Amadeus McCartney”

“To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough”

by Robert Burns (1785)

Burns’ Original Standard English translation
Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!I’m truly sorry man’s dominion

Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
An’ fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
‘S a sma’ request;
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss’t.

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s win’s ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turned out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

 

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
Oh, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With your hurrying scamper
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.I’m truly sorry man’s dominion

Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes you startle
At me, your poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor little beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December’s winds coming,
Both bitter and piercing!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter’s sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blessed, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

 

 

$$$$ for Hypno-Apes

Fiat money has been in existence in the U.S. of America since 1973, the year Pres. Nixon removed the nation from “the gold standard.”

So, why are we stuck in pre-1973 thinking about how the federal government spends money to achieve its political (foreign and domestic) agenda.

I have attempted to write about this topic, with little or no reaction from POM readers.  Let me try another tact.  How about another author with a similar message, and some examples that might awaken the hypno-ape masses?  See:  Mulga, Japanese artist; http://mulgatheartist.net/en/shop/?post=267.

Repetition is how apes learn.  I repeat my(ape)self:  “ ….there is no tax-payer money” in federal finance/appropriations.  https://www.counterpunch.org/2018/09/21/taxpayer-money-threatens-medicare-for-all-and-every-other-social-program/

It’s never a matter of being able to “afford” health care or a “pay for” a retirement program that keeps us from eating out of dumpsters.  It’s a matter of whether or not Congress can find it in its greedy, self-serving, soulless existence to give a shit or not.  Obviously, we have a lot of work to do.  Patience, grasshopper.

Outing Brian Staveley

I have one household chore that generally takes well over an hour, and so like to have background noise. This morning I listened to Brian Staveley in a 9/11 video hosted by AB and Fakeologist.

I am not a good liar, and in fact decided years ago that it is better in almost all cases (except when feelings are needlessly hurt) to be honest. Consequently, I have never studied the art of lying. My first wife was a highly skilled liar, part of the reason she was able to charm me into being her mate. I still marvel at how she can tell detailed lies with seeming innocence and absolute conviction. That is what it takes to be a good liar.

Continue reading “Outing Brian Staveley”

Don’t touch me, you brute!

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I was in vegetative state last night when I saw this penalty called on a Cincinnati Bengal defender. He reached out and grabbed the jersey of the offensive player, but not in a way that impeded his motion in attempting to catch an otherwise overthrown ball. It was probably just a hyperactive referee, but reminded me that officials control the game of football with their ability to call or not call anything on any play. This was ridiculous.

Continue reading “Don’t touch me, you brute!”