Thursday, July 05, 2007

Liberals Hate America

////////////// If WFYI were REALLY Hoosier

Oh, those awful liberals and their pinko PBS! Why, if Indiana public broadcasting was run FOR Hoosiers BY Hoosiers, the content would be much more like the following:

.................................. The Antiques Road (kill) show

Hoosier drivers bring in the last critter they managed to nail in the old pickup truck, hoping to earn big bucks if it's especially rare. Endangered species? We don't need no damned endangered species, thank you.

.............................. Mr. Roger's Neighborhood Association

It's clean and all right because its all white. Explains why the land of make believe is populated by puppets wearing klan robes.

............................................ NEVA

Weekly fundamentalist Christian science show. Refutes the theory of evolution and explains "creative design". Only one episode was produced for the series, but it's rerun every week.

............................... The McCoy / Hatfield News hour

McCoy and Hatfield discuss the news but their differences often provoke a family feud. Let the buckshot fly, bubbah. (and Jerry Springer - eat your heart out!!)

.................................. Masterpeice Soap Opera

Face it folks. Classic romantic fiction can be just as melodramatic as "Days of our Lives". It's ,ah, just harder to follow. In other words, who wants to waste their money on champaigne when they can get just as drunk with a case of Bud light?

............................. The Libertarian Victory Garden

Learn how to grow marajuana and avoid federal prosecution. Lots of helpful tips on horticulture and the criminal justice system. All it takes is good dirt and a good defence.

.................................. The Non-French Chef

Let 400 pound Billy Joe Hawgballs smother your pallate with the joy of comfort foods. Turn tasty trans-fats into a beer gut large enough to rest your plate on. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes and gravy. BEEELCH! Life just dosen't get any better than this. Pass the "freedom fries", Billy.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Football, Jesus, Rock & Roll

Did you know - the Colts won the Superbowl?

Two hundred years from now I can imagine someone reading this thinking,

"Say -WHAT??"

Either this, or whatever bemused venacular is appropriate.

The Colts are an Indianapolis football team whose victory in a very large American sports arena means they are now “the football champions of the world”.

So - WHAT??

It is curious that "football" is a game played almostly exclusively in America, by Americans. Taking the Colt’s accomplishment into account, it seems that America is the whole world, or at least to Americans. I am reminded of Churchill’s reference to the Soviet “Iron Curtain” drawn across eastern Europe after world war 2. This forboding spectre prevented western eyes from spying in on the nefarious activities of world Communism. Curiously it was no deterrant to anyone looking out at America, resplendant as a merchant’s showcase. To me, America is just the other side of the coin. The American “Iron Curtain” works in reverse. Nobody inside America cares to look outside of it, convinced perhaps that there is nothing to see. What a shock it will be should our trough goes empty and we raise our snouts up only to see some foreign butcher. What’s for dinner? American Capitalist PIG!!

(insert squealing sounds from the Beatle’s “White Album”)

It occurs to me that Jesus would not approve of America. Jesus was a pacifistic non-materialist. This is borne out in the Gospels. He admonished the Jews for beliveing in “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”. Jesus suggesed his followers “turn the other cheek” should their brother slap them in the face. Reguarding materialism, perhaps actions speak louder than words. The only rage Christ ever demonstrated was in his throwing the merchants out of the temple.

How can Americans avow Christianity and be so utterly blind to its central message? I think its in how protestants interpret the bible. Theirs is an utterly “personal relationship with God”, as opossed to the Catholic system in which one obtained this soly through one of the church’s representatives.

I am reminded of when I was a teenager listening to songs on the radio. I would carefully edit the lyrics to suit my particular situation, giving me the comforting impression the song was written personally for me. However, if I ever had the chance to talk to the preformer (which I never would), this individual would most certainly inform me the song was about something in his life – not mine.

Thus, I feel American protestants are just listing to Gospel music and hearing only what they want to hear. In general terms, these people remind me of the priests of ancient Rome. Pagans by modern standards, but astute enough to realize their government keenly appreciated anything able to sedate an unruly mob. Hence, both pagans and protestants tend to be unapologetically nationalistic. Catholics are suspect, as were the Jews in ancient Rome. Both suffered the consequences of an ultimate alegiance to something other than the government, but both were pragmatic enough to embrase secular ideas just enough to keep them out of trouble. Rome’s real problems were with its Christians. Like many modern Muslims, early Christians felt disinfranchised by a corrupt and brutal regieme. Confined to ghettos, many became radicalized and although poorly armed and outnumbered, still managed to launch terrorist attacks. The bible’s “Book of Revelations” was written during this era.

(more squealing, piggies ………….)

America is awash in such an abundance of agricultural resources it will be centuries before it suffers Rome’s sorry demise. However, one thing poised to bring this empire to its knees is it’s addictive depencance on cheap labor and cheap energy. Basically, Americans want something for nothing, and we have been getting it at wholesale prices for far too long. Slavery is so basic to the human condition it is no problem for American businesses to hire cheap foreign labor, despite the unpleasant after effect of eroding the middle class. What will obviously test our ingenuity is our dependance on cheap (foreign) energy.

Very much like the worst of the Roman emperors, this country’s government is supremely incompetant when dealing with matters of national importance. It seems to me the political solution of “bread & circuses” evoled into “let them eat cake” and is now “let them watch TV”. Again, our heads in the trough and our ample asses on display to a starving world. The showcase is empty though and the butcher is now for sale.


Sunday, January 21, 2007

I don't own God

Every now and then something strikes me as hilarious and I am apt to bellow in laughter. Wolves howl and sometimes others howl back. I am willing to accept the fact no human would ever reply since my reverie is demed private by the comforting closeness of the walls which surround us all. I ocassionally overhear domestic discord and the foriegn intrusion of my neighbor's musical tastes. I'm sure they hear my laughter. Why don't I ever hear anyone else laughing? If I'm in hell and I don't know it, I supose I've just arrived. In another 500 years maybe I'll overhear someone else laughing and try and catch my guts as they erupt from the hole of my constipated acid indigestion.

Until then I'll go on laughting as loud as I can.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Paradise Lost

Paradise Lost - the inside story

Rabbi, The Priest, The Imam, Da MAN:

Women are evil and lead to the downfall of man. Besides this, they menstruate. YEEEACH!!

The Devil:

I was my master's favorite until man was
created. How can my master ask me to serve such an imperfect creature? I shall destroy man and become my master's favorite once again.


I was hopelessly in love but also innocent and naive. Evil crept into my life and threatened to separate me from my lover. I could not live without him, so I was forced to hurt him.


God created a paradise for me, but I was bored and lonely. God then created a companion for me, but I was still bored. I suppose in the end, I found a way out of my cage.

I get by with a little help from my

Friday, December 15, 2006

The Rooster and the Dragon

One evening the rooster had a dream. He was walking through the forest when suddenly he found himself facing a dragon.

“Hopefully you are not hungry”, said the rooster, “but if you are, then I suppose today is a good day to die”.

Roosters are not afraid of anything and tend to be foolish philosophers.

The dragon crooked its head like a great, green, scaly dog and purred,

“I will not eat you. If you want to know the truth, I envy you.”

“How could YOU envy ME?”, the rooster clucked incrediously, although in his heart the Rooster was flattered by the Dragon’s statement.

“You see my friend”, the Dragon said, “you are a real creature and live in the real world. I am only fantasy. You suffer pleasure and pain in your world. I suffer neither in my realm and the worst pain is having no pain at all…”

Saying this, the dragon began to wither and fade like the autum leaves. The resplendent scales became yellow and thin. As the Dragon appeared to sink into the earth the Rooster realized he was looking down at his own feet. It was morning and the sun was just creeping over the horizon.

The rooster sings because he is a dreamer.

Monday, November 13, 2006

letter to a kindergarden teacher

Has it ever ocurred to you the class is acting pretty
much the same way congress did when the execuitive
branch declared "who knows Sadamn has WEAPONS OF MASS

Dozens of little hands pecked the "yassir" button
like so many panio playing chickens. Panio playing
chickens. Isn't that CLEVER?

You are the victim of 1001 soccer moms - American
parents competing through their own children.
Competition is a game for loosers. I don't care whose
team you are on. Playing on a team means 50% of
everybody looses.

Let me hip you to reality.

Cooperpation is where it's at. We should all pull
together despite those market forces working day and
night to brainwash us that there is only one winner.
The loosers get recycled into propaganda that

I hope you someday experience a gifted child. It will
catch your attention eventually, and you might become
concerned. Is it abused? Well, yes. It probably still
thinks it has something to give humanity, but dosen't
know how. The cruelest lesson it will learn is that
America has absolutly no interest in it's dreams,
except perhaps in what they mean to somebody's
investment portfolio.

Is there any hope? The gifted learn that hapiness
comes from small things. Those pennys one finds
discarded if one is observant enough to spot them.
The gifted always do, leaving their critics forever
searching for a fortune they will never be able to

I suggest you fly off the handle and declare "French
Marigold Day". There are dozens of cultivars of
french marigolds. Grab some potting soil and teach
everybody that styrofoam cups are also pots for
plants. Show everybody that ballpoint pens are not
only good for writing, but make good drainage hole
punches as well.

While everything grows in the windowsill, get
creatice and maybe establish a government. Establish
a congress, senate, legislative branch and supreme
court. If this is too taxing, just go tribal and
elect a headman and council. Perserve democracy. Hold
elections once a week.

The marigold crop will eventually flower and your new
democracy will bask in its agricultural glow. Then
teach the class that true greatness is recognizing
the greatness in other people, other nations, other

live long and propser,

Roger L. Sieloff

Monday, August 07, 2006


This dream began as mother and I examined some sort of legal document, a will perhaps. I was encouraged to read some of the details aloud, but this seemed rather pointless since the text was little more than incomprehensible gibberish.

The scene then shifted and a frog prince was riding in a parade, when suddenly some sort of video game abomination materialized in the middle of the street. Hovering just off the ground, a hudge spear was fired right into the prince's open mouth. This seemed to be the end of the poor prince until it was revealed he stopped the spear by biting down on the tip. This saved his life, but he fainted and then a fierce windstorm erupted.

He awoke lying on a small street beside a picket fence. Just beyond the fence, the sea churned under the rentless force of the howling wind. The prince concidered himself very lucky because the fence had apparently saved him from being blown out to sea. .

The street angled around the corner of a building and the prince set off to try and find his way back home. Although it was presumably day, the sky was so overcast it seemed to be twilight. The wind had also whipped up a sandstorm, and the prince made his way past an empty lot to another building.

Seeking shelter within, the prince changed into a young woman. This was some sort of university and halfway through the orientation seminar it was revealed orgies were frequent events amoung the faculty. The blackboard metamorphasized into a pattern of large, dark, oval shaped holes. This seemed to suggest an erotic theme wherein any of a number of erogenous zones could be thrust through the holes, both partners could then enjoy the thrills of having a sexual encounter with an unknown stranger.

This being a dream, the next scene was particularly surreal. The orgy had started and the holes were replaced with the view of a number of Orchid specimens in what appeared to be a wooden shipping container. Everyone was milling around amoungst the packing material, trying to find another partner with the appropriately dimensioned pseudobulbs.

The scene following this was perhaps the only openly sexual part of this dream. The young woman had taken a bath after the orgy, and lying nude in the tub, examined a small scab just over her left breast. Apparently this was made by a weevel during the heat of the orgy. She seemed happy however, and it seemed to be implied she had just lost her virginity.

The scene shifted again to another orgy, perhaps a decade later. It was organized as amateur theatre. A stage show was going on and eventually the cast and audiance were both participating in the preformance. The scene shifted and the woman was now enjoying a clandestine, though brief sexual encounter in an office. She had her back against some sort of cabnet as her partner vigirously pressed against her. As he consumated the union, he told her how he was an assistant to the president of the university. The woman paid more attention to the view just outside a window to her left. It was a bright, sunny afternoon and this was probably the only sunshine to be seen in this dream.

The dream ended perhaps a decade later. I walked down a street under the same twilight sky the dream began with. I came to an intersection where a bright yellow schoolbus had stopped. The door opened and I climbed aboard, only to find the bus driver was the woman in my dream. It seems her tryst with the assistant had not enhanced her career, and in fact she now seemed to be preforming a rather menial task.

As I took a seat at the front of the bus, it was apparent she was delighted to see me. She then came over to sit next to me, although she still was driving. She hung onto the steering wheel as I gently put my arm around her. I suppose she then abandoned her bus duties in favor of being together with me, for the next thing I remember is the two of us creeping past cactus pads behind some brush, headed to the door of my dormitory. As we approached the door, we began to sing "dan-cing, dan-cing, dan-cing ..."

I woke up around 4 AM and as I thought about this dream, it left me with a lonley, bittersweet feeling. The woman had spent twenty years enjoying casual sex but all she had in the end was one of her old lovers and I doubt there was any fidelity in this relationship. I was sad to think this was probably going to be the closest thing to true intimacy this woman would ever know in her life inside my head.