Archive for political education

Dominance Games / Politics: Checks….balances….hindrance to fun

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , , , on March 7, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

Fat, sassy, corrupt….. all around hordes of the fat sassy and corrupt.

The songs are corrupt.  The system is corrupt.  The plays are corrupt.  The players are blue.  The true believers are corrupt.  The govern folk are corrupt.  Enterprise is corrupt.  Private enterprise is privately corrupt.  The singers of songs and the bringers of the word are corrupt.  Shining agendas are corrupt.  Good corruption is corrupt for fun.

Power corrupts.  Absolutely.   power corrupts.  Over and over and over again.  Little pain in gain.  Little gain in pain.

The grand wide parameters of that which is is possible embrace the grand wide ranges of plays and players playing the game.  The grand wide parameters of that which is possible allows for the grand wide finding of tools and simple ways and meek forces to tear off wings and things and means to an end.

The good, the ugly, the bad wish to audition for the big cheese and the program setters….   the more perfect world… the one of skills, choices, proclivities, abilities that mirror their own sweet ways.  Some want it all wrapped up with a bow and a kiss.

Gain a foothold in the mud of ascension.  Gain a corner on actionable movement.  Struggle hard and gain worth and rule of a kingdom in moderation and grace.  Fight the right fight.

Seekers of corruption, power seek it.  Uncorrupted corruption gets fused with soul.  Corrupted corruption gets played and flayed.  The political ecosystem defines where the seekers go.  They all wish to go to assassin heaven.  No checks….no balances….no hindrance to fun.

Why call the show other?

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thepoliticalforums.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E?

Dominance Games / Politics: To always have the power of the mob

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , , , on February 27, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

The snob appeal of being a snob diminishes adroitly as long as those snobbed against choose to rise to the top.

Imagine sneering down at those who chose to seek  skills, achievement, thought processes.  Imagine sneering down at those pushing false intellectuals and non rigorous thinkers to actually do the work of their postulates or have the canny salt of the earth call you for the pompous fool you may be.

Imagine sneering down at those who wish the self respect of hard work and personal achievement …. the self respect of winning the fight against the stiff competition thrown at them by the unforgiving world.  Imagine sneering down at those able to wish for productive paths for the channeling of their energies and their work ethic.   Imagine.

Imaging being the truly American, wholly predictable, always with us anti intellectual snob who revels in the the sacred task of making no inquiry too useless and no reason to empty.  That is a banner.

Bless the beasts and the children for the know nothings always prosper and they wish to always have the power of the mob.

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thepoliticalforums.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E?

Dominance Games / Politics: Afflict and Comfort

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , , on February 6, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

The weak minded and sullied hearted run around and around and up in the trees so that they may be tall enough, hearty enough, vibrant and mendacious enough to sacrifice their souls and risk the ruination of civilization and the progressing engines therein by seeking the rapturous evils of the choices to be made by the comforting of the afflicted….the afflicting of the comfortable.

It is the refuge of small minds and weak wills, the fall back positions of stroke and pet, stoke and cry, affirm and embrace the predatory nature of success and the rewards taken thereby.

Success is a maker of men, a rough cauldron for the human spirit, a blueprint for growth and reward, plenty and refuge, peace and calm.  Success is a championed thing, an honored thing, a ribald thing, a cherished thing.

Affliction, the afflictions of want and need, of no strength, no will, no means of survival, these are the stuff of the cruel natures of a cruel natural world.  Those afflicted with acres of nothing and fields full of empty are those left to the devices of the human tragedies and the human march towards a destiny ordained by the battering, ramming circumstance of strength and position, gale and windstorm.  Attacks upon those of poise and sustenance can only mean a flattening of the sustaining things and a lessening of the aggressive charges towards work and growth.

It is for the wise to nurture the wills of the workers and not give fields to plow to those who cannot move.

All playing fields are even.  All those who are without start that way and wish and know no better.

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thepoliticalforums.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E?

Dominance Games / Politics: Arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , , , on February 1, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

As a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men,  as a good little speaker of wisdom and truth on the rational, national stage are you a fine and dandy sweet as candy little advocate for the mind numbing densities of thrill seeking undulating, rapacious, leer loving, visceral thought?

As a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men,  as a good little speaker of wisdom and truth on the rational, national stage are you a heathen caressing, bravado simulating, insouciant stature making hubris lover without bare naked warning, bare naked bearing, bared down insight seeking, degenerate pablum posting toothless wonder unable to have the skills to identify food … As a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men are you the lover?

As a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men, as a good little transparent mocking bird of  scavenging and bottom feeding … as a good little speaker of wisdom and truth on the rational, national stage do you  lay claim to the ideas that you are not a rats thrilling dream sucked into a slimy worm hole of grime by an appetite for cheap aphrodisiacs and tawdry virginal thrills provided you by any cheep tawdry fondlers who can play your tune or work your dear predilections?

As a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men are you the demon demon sublimely enraptured with the prospect of the eviscerate splendor that comes from begging, pleading,wheedling, sighing, yelping, barking,  moaning, panting at the thought of being the open empty void of an open empty cypher that can be filled with open empty screams, insatiable want, tears?

Are you as a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men adept at begging to be used by failed beggars who could not perform well enough to garner the rewards of the heightened and sexual satisfaction that comes with the sell out of the soul.

Are you as a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men a scrap heap of ill will and weak frustration?  Is opening your mouth to speak an act by which you can redeem all of the lost lusts of begging, longing, hot and humid silent, lonely midnights past?

Are you as a good little arbitrator of the useful abuse of the minds of men a lame little caricature of rancid whose true stabilizing thrills are those of smug hyperventilation and morbid mutilation

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thewashingtonfancy.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E?

Dominance Games / Politics: Dealing with the whole leaves us to our wits

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , , on January 26, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

All is said and done, appreciated and derided, made holy and with avarice, foreclosed upon with eternal joy and protected by gleaming offerings of shattering strengths …. man and men, princes and flags, trumpets and tradition carries the day. … Of what poor pittance would we be were it not for tribal cultures ours honed in struggle, hardened in strife, made luminous in battle, made wonderful in belonging.

Vast groupings of heavens helpers all, having ones back, clearing paths away to ones front, chopping the charging weeds at ones sides… the banding of tribe and goodness is offered by the compassionate angels who wish to see our short comings healed, our laziness kept for rest.

Sustenance.  Survival.  Food and shelter.  Help in the storm.  Countenance for virtue….. Tribe, the beloved country.  It backs us as no other…. Loyalty>  Fidelity.  Conformity….The virtues of belonging…the givebacks of support…the greater the great of the greater.

Position.  Stance…t.reasons and reason; points of view…… Assassins in the night…..it is of and for the tribe that we toil and sweat.  It is of and for the tribe we stand ready.   Fight off the threatening  of the whole.  We are played and paid for.  Dealing with the whole leaves us to our wits.

Of interest:

http://www.cjr.org/behind_the_news/local_tv_stations_rally_to_opp_1.php

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thewashingtonfancy.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E

Dominance Games / Politics: The chance comes marching home.

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , , on January 25, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

One good thing about having antecedents brave, smart, true and worthy ….  descendents get to admirably enjoyable dumb, stupid, cowardly and dithering.

Secure in positions as ramrods of the world, keepers of the flame for all beasts of burden, grand shining light of rationality, reason, acquisition, growth, gain all honored descendents we need not worry about thought, manner courtesy, want.  Hubris high, honor viable, conversations as tools of power …… security is grand.

In positions of comfort and joy, secure; in arrogance and delicacy, hard charging delineation of idea, purpose, life high on the hill, secure;  in conflicts for virtue, cynicism, fidelity to self worth, secure; never will there be a surrender of the noble birthrights given, made for the angels….

Be what ever the hell one chooses in whatever the damned way one wishes.  Blow in the face of whom ever the hell one wants.  Free birthrights are of that…. free birthrights celebrate gladly all base aspects of all base people answering all base ideals.  Measure for  measure, accomplishment and class, worldliness, thoughtfulness, hardness,  toughness, sustaining, security, vision, clear, clean levels of conducting the business of business…. all dreams.

Freedom is gods gift to swine and mine and thine who may enjoy it fully while the chance comes marching home.

Of interest:

http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/01/americas-new-strategy-endless-war-s/251942/

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thewashingtonfancy.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E

Dominance Games / Politics: Screw the mocking bird

Posted in Commentary,, current events, News, opinion, political science, Politics, satire with tags , , , , , on January 23, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

The false battles of holy labels

Ah, the usual screed about the paucity of intellectual honesty and judicious thought when it comes to trampling down the honor and virtue of hard core believers and political holy warriors.

The grand celebrated spectrum running the gamut from right to left and up and down and back again……  grand screams of deliberation and virtue on the part of the emotionally informed.

Be stark.  Be humble.  Be wise.  Be sure that the marauding hordes of welshers and free basers want your money, your toil, your all and everything.

Be of the right.  Be of the left.

Be sure that the simple flag wavers and noxious spirits of toxic hate want to bury the unprotected under glams of derision and disenfranchisement.

Be of those wise enough to not miss the enemies at the gate.

The pristine rights of the individual.  The pristine rights of the mass, the  society as whole.  Protection for one.  Protection for the other.  Protection from one.  Protection from the other.  Be of the winners.  Be of the losers.  Be of the dupes.  Be of the he users.  Be of the takers.  The healers.  The fakers. The killers.  Be of the makers.  The breakers.  The sour mooded payers.

Figure it out, oh vile creed.  Screw the mocking bird.

Of note:

http://campaignstops.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/01/22/what-the-left-gets-right/

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thewashingtonfancy.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E

Dominance Games: An Essay on Power A Novel…Installment Four

Posted in Commentary,, Drama, literature, political fiction, political novels, political philosophy, Politics, writing with tags , , , , , , on January 19, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games: An Essay on Power

A Novel

Installment Four

Babe Kenny was facetious.  Her mother had left her.

She loved not too wisely but too well, Babe Kenny.

She eluded the grasps of wild eyed men, Babe Kenny.

Queen of sustenance and honor reaped by fucking worship, Babe fucking Kenny.

She baited and cooed, Babe fucking Kenny.  She, laughed, darted, promised lusts with her hips, said goodbye with her lips, Babe fucking Kenny.  She, inspired trust, Babe Kenny, her voice aching want.  Specters, false bravados, itinerant needs, Babe fucking Kenny.  A past that wished only to collect on its debt to itself, Babe fucking Kenny.

She liked doing business with men who would conquer the fucking world, Babe fucking Kenny, liked helping flies lose their wings, Babe fucking Kenny; liked helping megalomaniacs get stronger, liked getting with those cynical, perverse to a point, Babe fucking Kenny.

She dealt with policy makers, Babe fucking  Kenny.  It behooved her to skepticism.  She reserved special insight for those special individuals with wholesome abilities, Babe fucking  Kenny.  She saw and did intelligent things.  In matured and intelligent splendor she found time to exhibit depths of understanding, sharpness of vision.  Demure and outstanding, Babe fucking  Kenny was fascinated.  She was tempted to throw herself at the feet of all overriding capacities, all overriding capabilities.  Her honor easily marshaled, her awe easily overcome, she was a rotten hostess to money and power.

Babe fucking Kenny, a young woman of twenty five.  When not pursuing the ferocious games she was involving herself in, she was involving herself in what she thought to be conditions in her world which could justifiably be called wanting.  She did not usually throw off the gains and relics of a misspent past.  She did not put on herself the mantel of St Joan, cloaks of sack cloth and ashes, purposes enmeshed with deep burning desires to right all of the inequities, the inequalities, of mankind.  She did not commit herself to the creation of a new and better world, did not place altruism upon the list of virtues towards which she aspired.

Much curious as to the nature of the United States, her country, her people, the well from which Daddy sprung, his problems sprung, Babe fucking Kenny, involved herself with some groups involved in aspects of the coming social upheaval.  She involved herself with some groups which had primary interests in preventing evil, in maintaining right.

She traveled much, also, in those years, Babe fucking Kenny.  She established for herself a satisfactory ability to survive, neatly, efficiently.  As a means of continuity, she involved herself with the fields of publishing, running errands, doing some light research for friends connected with national organizations.

She was able to produce what was asked of her without making undue demands, Babe fucking Kenny.  She established satisfactory loose relationships that served adequately the aims and desires of all parties involved, Babe fucking Kenny.  She went often to Washington.  Often she stayed for protracted periods.  She did not find herself over weaned, overwhelmed.  The many bright young things, the many bright young smiles ran up and down the highways and byways of goodness and charm.  This was not a heaven to capture Babe fucking Kenny’s fancy.

An occasional congressman, an occasional sterling thing from State, Justice, tried to convince Babe fucking Kenny of the goodness of his heart, the warmth of his purpose.  Babe fucking Kenny was not overly eager to be in the clutches of the idealistic, the cynical wonders who smiled so brightly, worked so feverishly, championed so greatly the dignity of justice, of man, of mankind.

There were media people, there were those with the key to god’s own plan for good and clean living, the revelation of his wonders.  In their hearts they knew that they were blessed with vision.  Truth and beauty followed in their wake.  All would lead the way ever after to the foundations of the noble and true.  All bright young things were of firm beliefs.  They all saw through sham and injustice.

Babe fucking Kenny, also in Washington, met many of the many who lobbied for the cause of all things great, all things which would make all things greater, all things which would be guaranteed to be great.  She met those representing things that had made America what it was.

They were bright and they too were young, the heroes of Babe fucking Kenny.  Anxiety jumped upon practicality, strength triumphed reason, disorder was a mother.  Disunity fomented.  Spring was cherished.  The earnest and so pure.  Babe fucking Kenny liked them best.  Babe fucking Kenny dealt with policy makers.  It behooved Babe to skepticism.  She reserved insight for those special individuals with wholesome abilities.  They saw and did intelligent things.  Charmingly lucid.  In matured and intelligent splendor they found time to exhibit the depths of their understanding.

The earnest and pure.  Babe fucking Kenny liked them best.

* * * * * * * * * *

Johnny boy, Rachel.  I trusted them as much as I could, as much as circumstance allowed.

Johnny boy found himself to be the attenuated hero of his dreams.

He had landed in New York at the age of six as had many before.

He hustled.  He was a smart boy, in his element.

Johnny boy was three years old, stuck in the hell hole of North Africa.  One who once knew the captain of the ship that brought him there spotted Johnny boy, claimed him, made arrangements for his custody.  Johnny boy, a much traveled little boy, made his way from the steppes of central Asia to a house on a hill outside of Washington, D. C.  He had a set of neighbors at great pains to insure his happiness.  He had a home, a maid.  He had an abundance of friends who knew not why they liked him so.  Life was good.  New York City.  The city was magic, then, the place to be.  Wonder, madness, darkness, light, dreams.  Johnny boy came shortly.

Johnny had been graduated from college with a degree in Mathematics.  There was a comparative ease of economic pressures in those years.  The school offered him necessity, not fellowship which he did not crave.  The students with whom he came in contact were nice enough, a bit banal, some naïve.  Mirrors of sophistication, they offered little more than the continuation of the sophomorics he found so prevalent.

Johnny boy found no particular use for them, no particular need to sift through the chaff to get to the wheat.  Johnny boy was quite content to let college boys and girls be college boys and girls and he was quite content to allow them all to exist as happy little children, knowledgeable and all knowing, the cream of god’s creatures on his green little earth.  There was chatter and interests.  Tonics.  Flatulence.

Johnny boy, Rachel.

There were times when they had felt themselves very much apart of each other’s lives.  There were times when the thought of the other brought no more than a nod of recognition, a remembrance of pain.  Together Johnny boy and Rachel had finally conquered the devil, so it seemed.  Too wise they were to be running around like two little horses asses.  Johnny boy would not be bothered with demonic nonsense.  There were more and more liabilities to deal with, situational liabilities.

Rachel had done, seen.  She too loved the help.  Marriage was something.  It could exist without having to immerse itself into the world of eternal indulgence.  They would run the game for a while.  They would be romantic.

Johnny boy fought a war.  It was a mean little war.  It was everyone’s favorite little war.  He had enlisted in the Army.  The life he found after college was not overpoweringly fertile

Emiliana Garcia, his maid, had died.  He was left with no one that he cared for.  Emiliana Garcia was his family.

He was empty, Johnny boy was.  There were no great distractions.  There was a lot of noise.  Johnny wanted to do something with himself, to fight.  He wanted to be a proficient killer.  The knowledge and the discipline would not hurt him.  He might spend his life drifting.  For this he was not ready.

He learned.  He served.  Johnny fought a mean little war.  It was a dirty little war.  It was everyone’s favorite little war.  He was enlisted in the Army.  Life was an indulgence.

He went.  He returned.  A commissioned man.  He learned a great deal, Johnny boy.

Soon after he went to France, then to Africa.  He served.  Mercenary life was an indulgence.  He acquired some money.  He went to enjoy the offerings of the Mediterranean coast.  It was warm.  There was sun.  In Spain he watched searchers of truth and beauty cover the southern coast.  Exotic pleasures offered much.  Pleasures, dreams.

Johnny boy did not begrudge the new order of the lost, their fun, their enjoyment, their style.  Pleasant in some ways, interesting, the grasp at life.  He had knowledge of many things, Johnny boy.  Not yet the full degree of greatness promised.  Banal predecessors had managed to cross his path. Emiliana Garcia was his maid, was his family.

He bade his time, Johnny boy.  Johnny boy found in the companionship of some of his friends some understanding of the trials of man that he did not find elsewhere.

There was the understanding of the way of life that went with trial, trouble when it was a constant.  The world had many sides to offer the lovers of all things porous and knowing.  Johnny boy had reservoirs of mean confrontations in his wake, reservoirs of mean kills.

Johnny boy left from Spain and returned to the United States, to New York, to the Village which had been his home.  He stayed only a short while.  He moved to Washington. D.C.  He knew people in government work.  He found an apartment.  He looked for things to do.  The cynical and the snide.  The adventurous and cruel.  The smart and the just.  Nonchalance and complacency.  Simpatico.  Virtue shined upon the great unwashed in the lands of dreams.

There was poetry in the spirit that loved to implement for all the best of all possible worlds, the spirit which so nobly implemented the hopes and dreams of mankind with devotion to duty, with little implementations of fond little wants.

It was very good, John had grown to think, that there were so many who were so assiduously spending so much of their time looking out for gross deployment of noble honor.  The domesticated pets were facile and they were happy.  They were domesticated.  They were frivolous creatures who opposed the good.  They were all around.

Johnny boy had often seen the dregs of unbridled, beloved ignorance valiantly go into battle, time after time, with the greater dregs of same.  Johnny boy, in America, was becoming more and more fascinated by unvarnished confrontation, unvarnished abilities to make magical the beat, beat, beat of bloodshed, the beat, beat, beat of beloved ignorance.

Johnny boy, Rachel.  Surprise, not necessarily delight.  Rachel was a wonderful girl in her way.  Rachel was smart, he had met few smarter.  She was good, very, very good.  Rachel demanded much in return for her goodness.  She wanted much in the way of hard and cold reserve.  She was warm when she had to be warm, Rachel.  She was not always to touch.  She could be ice, ice which well protected vestiges of movement.

Rachel was good, very, very good, but Rachel was wary and Rachel was one who liked being wary, one who could manage to be wary.  Rachel was good, very, very good, but Rachel would not let the thoughts of her heart come out and play.  Rachel did not care to be among those who demanded that she be wise, very, very wise.

Rachel was good, very, very good but Rachel was not going to let anyone prevent Rachel from following the paths she set out to follow.  Rachel was good, very, very good but Rachel was not going to open up her little heart for the sake of anything or anyone because Rachel shared her little heart with none and nothing and Rachel maneuvered from the outside looking in.  Rachel was sublime.

Johnny boy, Rachel.

Rachel, Johnny boy.

Rachel was not happy.

Johnny boy was true, very, very true.  Johnny would stick.  Johnny would stay and do what had to be done.  Johnny would be there if needed.  He could leave if not.  Johnny boy was true.

Johnny was a cynical bastard who was rotten and self centered to the core but Johnny boy was true.  He was a wanderer, a panderer, a bum.  He was lazy and he cared not to move.  He was unimpressed by the joys of interaction.  Johnny boy was intent on being left alone.  He wanted his peace.  Johnny boy wanted not to be put upon by anything or anybody.  Johnny was what his god had made him.  The world was full of poor lost bastards.  Johnny boy owed his god a fine steady trek through his world, sneered at the conversations of man, was not about to be anybody’s helper, chose his company carefully.

Johnny boy did not care to be to be anyone’s holy redeemer.  He didn’t trust the beautiful.  He worshipped the damned.  He thought that he was a fucking idiot for even opening his eyes in the morning.

Johnny boy, Rachel.  Rachel, Johnny boy.  Johnny boy was true.  Johnny boy was good.  Johnny boy would stick.  He would stay and do what had to be done.

Sometimes the mirror got too ugly, sometimes too nice.

Johnny boy, Rachel.  Rachel, Johnny boy.  God’s gift to each other.  Johnny boy, Rachel.  Rachel, Johnny boy.  There were more and more liabilities to deal with, situational liabilities.  They would run the gamut for a while.  They would be romantic.

They were exhuming the dead, Johnny boy, Rachel .

Rachel provided experience, experience pressed with flowers in the photograph album of my life.  Johnny boy, in America, more and more fascinated by unvarnished abilities to make magical the beat, beat, beat of his heartstrings.

My Rachel was a moment in time.  She was a quick fix of a moment and she was open to challenge and she was the sweet young song playing, a riff in mood, a haunting melody, a delicate tune..

Johnny boy, Rachel.

Johnny boy, Rachel.

Rachel, Johnny boy.

Sucked the life out of each other.

Sucked the death out of each other.

“I will be lusts depository for you, Johnny boy,” Rachel said to Johnny boy to make him smile.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thewashingtonfancy.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E

Dominance Games: An Essay on Power A Novel…Installment Three

Posted in books, Commentary,, Drama, literature, political philosophy, political science, Politics, writing with tags , , , , , on January 15, 2012 by B Schiff

Dominance Games: An Essay on Power

A Novel

Installment Three

Memory is a sometimes wisp of smoke, a fog that traps those who wish to run with the fires and furies of the whirlwinds that spin dangerously amidst the cunning who understand the fragility of the soul and the meanness of the spirit.  There are those deep and dear and those of substance and depth are often taken for granted and given rides to test the waters of eerie endeavor and feel the heat of vile creatures.

Characters that spring upon the hidden planes of existence, hidden planes of attack may be of an interesting kind, may be of a rancid, sinister kind and play in dominance, survival, and find themselves oriented to the mysteries of life with stories following around roots and edifices, movements through time and fate.  Dreams and drama induce momentous rides and searing portraits of self and season.

My world is a wanton place with playthings in long spacious corridors angling in to slice and vanquish as they present their great homage to prosperity and glitter.

She was the last best hope of daunting sin, Amy.

She drew hearts out as a magnet, Amy.

She drew spirits with ferocious fire.

Purges were purges.

Amy screwed Death for eternity and Death took Amy as his own.

Amy screwed Death for eternity and Amy took as Death her own.

Somewhere in her passions she fused with fulfillment.

* * * * * * * * * *

Disembarked from Europe, the damned war, discharged, Richard fucking Kenny went home.  He would pick up his life.  He would pick up his wife.  He would settle his life.

Richard fucking Kenny’s wife made money.  She made money for herself.  She knew people, Richard fucking Kenny’s wife.  She could take her pick of all different kinds of suave, Richard Kenny’s wife.  She could dance naked in the streets of the Bowery when snow was in season, Richard Kenny’s wife.

Recuperating Soldiers had been assigned to areas in the South of fucking France.  There was aid and comfort given.  Richard fucking Kenny took pleasure, rest, recreation.

There were not many people there not of French citizenry, sans armies; there was one woman there, an expatriated American.  She gloried in the life there.  Her money was safe.  She was a political sparrow, a rare bird of hidden prey.  She respected her politics.  She grappled with the circumstance of war.  She had been widowed in New York, had found it in her best interests not to remarry.  Her husband was precocious in corruption, precocious in death.  She had refined sensibilities, Richard fucking Kenny’s wife; defined realities.

Richard fucking Kenny’s wife had known Richard fucking Kenny in New York.  She had known Sweet Amy.  She had been seen and left by all of the usual snakes.  There was usual carnage she had seen on the battle fields of the slick and willful.

The once and past husband of Richard fucking Kenny’s wife married smartly.  He was older, she, younger.  Her own background had been moneyed, once.  Much of what held it went the way of all flesh.  She was alluring, attractive.  She was lean and lithe, had sincere, perceptive eyes.  She was smart enough not to be slain by inches.

Rational thinkers.  She was descended from rational thinkers.  She was educated, fascinated, Richard fucking Kenny’s wife.  She knew pity.  Never young and callow, tribute was hers.  Those who were not saved was not saved.  She garnered respect for the infinities of presumed strength.  Richard fucking Kenny’s wife knew the games of her fathers, her mothers.

* * * * * * * * * *

There were newspaper people, those with the key to plans for good and clean living, blessed vision, truth, beauty.  Faith, hope, charity.  An abundance of knowledge Richard fucking Kenny’s wife had.  She would enter Richard’s party, sleek deviate, naked, fallow, susceptible to the weak, marginal and strong, a scholar herself in the study and practice of her arts.

She was pleasant, perfunctory, Richard fucking Kenny’s wife.  She showed Richard fucking Kenny respect.  He showed her the same.  She was a woman of much substance, Richard fucking Kenny’s wife.  Richard fucking Kenny showed her respect.  It was more than respect for a wife.  That she was the mother of Babe only seems right.  Babe was of her.  Babe was special.

Like her mommy and daddy before her Babe Kenny loved the dance.  It allowed her enjoyment, companionship.  It gave her pleasure.  Daddy, Richard fucking Kenny, was not heaven’s gift to the goodness needed somewhere, somehow on god’s green earth but Babe fucking Kenny knew that Daddy had the requisite degrees of meanness and joy.  Richard fucking Kenny had his points.  Daddy was a good man.  He had shame in his past.  About such things as Babe was concerned, daddy was one who understood.

Richard fucking Kenny did not want that his Babe should have the type of life that he had had.  He vowed to remove her from the types of pressures that had made life for him, at times, a very trying experience.  If little Babe grew up to be just another run of the mill flighty little bitch then so be it.  He would try his best to help make her canny and wise to the ways of the world as he saw it, smart enough to know when and how to speak, to whom and for what reason to speak.

Richard fucking Kenny had great hopes that he would have his little girl grow up to not be a damned little whiner, to not be one enmeshed of trivial nonsensical banal emptiness.  He did not want his Babe to be married to the damned pretentious, the usual clowns and hangers on, the high place and good breeding numbing flag waving absurd.

Between the jumping fools he knew that paraded as men and the laughing idiots he knew that paraded as women, Richard fucking Kenny knew that it was a bad fucking proposition to expect that his little girl grow up to be anything like a fine and decent person.  For sure, Richard fucking Kenny knew that there was no damned such thing.  He also knew that his dream was cock-eyed and dumb and that if he had ever met such a woman as he had to himself described he would probably kick her in the fucking ass and try to turn her into the damned no good fucking whore that he would have been sure that she fucking had been.

Richard fucking Kenny wanted his Babe to have some guts.  He wanted her to be able to have a little bit of fucking class, have some reserve, some manners.  Given what he knew of the damned fucking world he knew he was hoping for too damned fucking much.  There were many things which were simply not in the repertoires of the worlds in which he lived, probably not in the repertoires of any world in which anyone fucking lived except for the little dream fucking world he had in his fucking mind that would make and allow his fucking little girl to be at least bearable.

She, Babe Kenny knew herself to be an American citizen and she felt that New York, offering what she thought to be at least a different world from the one in which she lived, offered the largest chance for her to attain the understandings and plays she so clamored after.  She, Babe fucking Kenny felt that someday she might very well turn out to be some poor little rich fucking bitch with some fucking asinine Italian fucking lover dangling from her rich fucking little arm and some other asinine little fucking peccadillo with the fucking cook’s fucking little fucking daughter to scream about to her worthless fucking friends.  For the mean, though, she would look towards, for, something else.  If she failed there would be all of those rancid little pleasures waiting.  If she failed to find that which she was looking for she knew that the fucking cook would have an sick fuck assed daughter with death in her fucking heart, that the asinine fucking Italian lover would be a stiff and that he would fucking try to steel her money and make her crazy.

Babe fucking Kenny felt that there was not much more to be had for her, her father, in the South of fucking France.  It had become a poisoned well.

She had then a fondness for the English speaking peoples, and she would not have been adverse to either London or Paris if Richard fucking Kenny could find some fucking cause to see either of those places as desirable.  Babe fucking Kenny knew that daddy was not one who held New York as his favorite place, having long since given up its ghost, and from what she could make out, having long since given up its ghost with fucking pleasure.

Babe fucking Kenny, then, would try to find a way to force movement to London, or at least Paris, but she would hope for a way to return the family to New York from whence it came.  She would, she knew, be able to move where and when she wanted.  She was free, she had means.  She could do as she damn well pleased.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dominance Games / Politics…..politics, news, commentary, analysis…. The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true…. the thrill…https://dominancegamespolitics.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

http://twitter.com/BSchiff2

refer

http://www.etalkinghead.com/

http://thewashingtonfancy.com/

http://www.thejeffersontree.com/

To donate for post or site as you may wish….. sin is sin
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=LH7MUZR79N29E

Dominance Games: A good little staunch questioner

Posted in Commentary,, current events, Education, journalism, media, News, opinion, partsanship, political analysis, political satire, political science, Politics, satire, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2011 by B Schiff

As a good little staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent do you seek to understand the nexus of the issue at hand and steer your subject towards elucidation or the use of rancid speech as waste of time?

As a good little staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent are you there  for the thrill of speaking to one gracious enough to recognize your presence or are you there to allow them use you like a three dollar transaction so as to spout as many vile mind numbing set pieces, non answers and talking points as inhumanly possible to any and all of what may pass for imitation of thought or caricature of  question?

As a staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent do you get thrills up and down your spine when you are used and abused as no more than a hot little megaphone for  stridently honed plays to the bottom  and wild dances of glittering rhetorical twists, turns and hedonistic auto stimulation?

As a good little staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent are you thrilled to find out that you can go through a complete interview without ever getting the slightest inkling that your subject has any nascent or sentient human qualities what so ever?

As a good little staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent do you appreciate the inability of your subjects to structure logical arguments dependent upon false conclusions being built magnificently upon false premises so that false smiles can decry feted stimulation?

As a good little staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent do you revel in being the bent over constant stooge for the searing scathing thrusting agendas of the munificent constant bores who see themselves as interesting and full of god’s bodily fluids?

As a good little staunch questioner of those who are of a political bent do you feel the warming seas of total immersion taking you over, cascading around you and massaging you with bulbous, smothering, withering, eviscerating dementia?

politics, news, commentary, analysis   Dominance Games / Politics https://dominancegames1.wordpress.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

Dominance Games: The logical structure of idea is an academic’s fantasy.

Posted in Commentary,, current events, journalism, News, opinion, political analysis, political satire, political science, Politics, satire, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 15, 2011 by B Schiff

So what?  Important metrics of behavior are all gone.  Reason is a shadow … it is now reported.  It is unused and misused anyway.  Interviewers are at the mercy of the interviewee most of the time as the power metric favors the latter when anything of worth is mentioned.  All set ups all the time.  All position jockeying all the time.  Politics is power and the business of politics is power and the business of the business of politics is power.  The back bites are always huge.

Civilized history.  Trials of insouciant thought and defining principle.  The backbone of  daunting things.  The regal.  The royal.  The sublime.   Fairness.  Temperate temperance.   Demeanor.   Cool.  Tolerance.  Tradition.  The  sullen hammer.  The respect.  The fear.  The taut and tight.   Tis fear all about.

The tacky hammers.  The gods of Olympus .  The want of a hammer.  The hammers of good avocation.    Political hammers.  The whip hand, unnerving posture and the act of being better than their lessers grinding hands  creating fairy tales.

Balance power, rough justice, principle in the winds.  In the court of courts tough bastards know rough justice, damned fools know watching, who really thinks any plays are about problems when the jokers can’t even define , label, peruse or sniff out problems or agree on a common workable definition.  The logical structure of idea is an academics fantasy.  Better just shoot and kill.

Patricia Cohen  New York Times  Reason seen more as weapon than path to truth

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/15/arts/people-argue-just-to-win-scholars-assert.html?_r=1

Clint Hendler Columbia Journalism Review  How to dodge debate dodges

http://www.cjr.org/campaign_desk/how_to_dodge_debate_dodges.php

politics, news, commentary, analysis   Dominance Games / Politics https://dominancegames1.wordpress.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

Dominance Games: From this epoch tough minded learning ensues. Tomorrow is another politician.

Posted in Commentary,, current events, Education, News, opinion, political analysis, political science, Politics, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2011 by B Schiff

Education Nation.  Education follies.  Its for the kids…..not foe the adults.  Its for the agenda… not for the learning.  Its for control of the curriculum…. control the future.   It for the manufacturing of the curriculum… the manufacturing of the past.  Break the unions.  Break the bank.  Hire better teachers.  give them grief.  Hire worse teachers, attract them with positive attitude. Want the best.  Offer the least.  Want the best.  Offer spit.  Skate with the heroes who demand no rules of conduct of the students that teachers must accommodate.

Want good works and fair results….buy the political, sway the political, buy this weeks fashion, buy last weeks fashion, buy next weeks fashion.  Rally the troops.  Make them love their work.  Make them fear the whip.  Fear is good…creativity flows.

Power to the consumer.  Power to the entertained.  Feed the impulses of the immature.  Demand not maturity from the student…only that he be pleased by the performer.  Let the unknowledgeable pass on the knowledgeable.  Let the needy demand bread and circuses in order to learn…the poor babies all.

Education, the bottom up experience with the needs of the student dictating the actions of the teacher.  Teacher is a servant, chief cook and bottle washer….. there to service the untrained mind of the untrained mind…. there to be dictated  to beg to be given the chance to get a poor nod of sweet approval from the ten year old mind.  Knowledge earned in professional training confers the right to be a whupped nanny to a spoiled child.

Mock the rancid of the product deliverers as you may………Mock the rotten teacher as you should…but product needs consumer… this product needs consumers who are there to consume, not vote.   the authority figure dispensing knowledge and wisdom to those who need to acquire it…tail wagging dog and dumb demanding its due…..America today.

Be spoon fed and catered to.  From this epoch tough minded learning ensues.  What are the costs of little attention when the show isn’t good enough?  Tomorrow is another politician.

Michael Winerip   New York Times

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/18/education/18winerip.html?ref=michaelwinerip

politics, news, commentary, analysis   Dominance Games / Politics https://dominancegames1.wordpress.com/

books…  http://bschiff.com/

%d bloggers like this: