You slice our finger,
We cut off your hand;
You pluck out our eyes,
We chop off your head;
You shell our homes,
We level your cities;
You throw rocks,
We fire missiles from F-16’s;
You kill our soldiers,
We kill your children;
Whatever you do,
We will do X 10;
Because,
Your terror,
Is no match for our terror
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The Ghost of Gray Davis
“He knows nothing and thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.” George Bernard Shaw
He tripled the car tax and was presiding over a budget hole of around $38 billion when the voters of California ran him out of office and into early retirement. Gray Davis was a wimpy political operator, a bland character in the pocket of his political benefactors, but he never broke the law or misappropriated public funds or had carnal relations with a minor, male or female – some of the usual reasons a sitting governor is recalled.
No, Gray Davis was simply unpopular and he never stood a chance to survive the Recall, not with action hero Arnold Schwarzenegger waiting in the wings with a highly calibrated PR machine pumping out photo ops of the would-be governor throwing “Join Arnold” t-shirts to enthusiastic crowds. The story line quickly developed and solidified: Arnold was an outsider with a personal fortune, beholden to no special interest, and therefore perfectly positioned to tame the political monster that is California.
Arnold won at the polls, of course, and brought his slick style to Sacramento, promising to end gridlock, partisan wrangling, budget deficits, freeway congestion, lousy air quality, and every other ill facing the Golden State. Arnold exuded confidence and soundstage charisma. He was the mighty Governator now, riding in to restore order in the capitol. The time was right, the role was meaty, and the script held intriguing possibilities for a sequel or two.
The media lapped it up, and voters were taken in – particularly when the Governator rescinded the hated car tax. Never mind that local governments depend on car tax revenue to fund essential public services; the state’s general fund would make up the difference, somehow. Budget technicalities could not be allowed to interfere with Schwarzenegger’s feel-good show. Arnold’s people erected a big tent on the capitol lawn, and the new Governor invited legislators in to smoke cigars and bask in his limelight. Excluding pols from Los Angeles and San Francisco, most legislators had never been this close to a real live action hero before and orbiting in Arnold’s atmosphere made them giddy and reverential. Imagine an assembly member from Amador County suddenly rubbing shoulders with the Terminator! What a thrill!
And Arnold’s “Can-Do, Anything is Possible in California!” rhetoric was invigorating after Gray Davis’s pinched and uninspired pronouncements. It was like 1980 all over again, Ronald Reagan’s sunny optimism versus Jimmy Carter’s dour pessimism.
At least until reality took hold. After the initial euphoria faded, Arnold discovered the hard, unpleasant truth of Sacramento: the state’s budget problems were real, structural in nature and impervious to easy resolution. Moreover, the state’s budget process was dysfunctional. Faced with a flood tide of red ink, Arnold studied his hand and did what any self-respecting politician would do – he deferred the reckoning to another day. But give Arnold due credit. He at least had enough savvy to realize that proposing a $15 billion bond initiative to fund everyday government operations flew in the face of his campaign promise to end Sacramento’s business-as-usual ways. The bond had to be packaged carefully and presented properly and stumped for enthusiastically, which played to Arnold’s strength. With a tight script, a friendly audience and appropriate props, Arnold could sell the illusion that he was a different kind of politician.
And he did. The Governator criss-crossed the state, telling voters that this was the last time he would plunk Sacramento’s Mastercard down. To prove he meant business, and to the delight of gullible audiences, Schwarzenegger cut up giant credit cards with oversized shears.
Fast-forward three and a half years. The political monster that is California has won. Arnold’s big tent on the capitol lawn is gone, quietly taken down and returned to the prop warehouse. California’s budget is deep in the red, with the potential deficit estimated in the range of $42 billion. The state’s bond rating is junk. Vital construction projects are on hold to conserve cash. Debt service costs $6 billion a year. Partisan bickering and legislative gridlock still rule the day; Democrats refuse to cut popular programs and Republicans nix any tax increases. Absent ideological concessions from both sides and decisive action soon, the state may go bust by spring.
Arnold’s scriptwriters suffer from writer’s block Getting out of a jam in Hollywood was so much easier.
He tripled the car tax and was presiding over a budget hole of around $38 billion when the voters of California ran him out of office and into early retirement. Gray Davis was a wimpy political operator, a bland character in the pocket of his political benefactors, but he never broke the law or misappropriated public funds or had carnal relations with a minor, male or female – some of the usual reasons a sitting governor is recalled.
No, Gray Davis was simply unpopular and he never stood a chance to survive the Recall, not with action hero Arnold Schwarzenegger waiting in the wings with a highly calibrated PR machine pumping out photo ops of the would-be governor throwing “Join Arnold” t-shirts to enthusiastic crowds. The story line quickly developed and solidified: Arnold was an outsider with a personal fortune, beholden to no special interest, and therefore perfectly positioned to tame the political monster that is California.
Arnold won at the polls, of course, and brought his slick style to Sacramento, promising to end gridlock, partisan wrangling, budget deficits, freeway congestion, lousy air quality, and every other ill facing the Golden State. Arnold exuded confidence and soundstage charisma. He was the mighty Governator now, riding in to restore order in the capitol. The time was right, the role was meaty, and the script held intriguing possibilities for a sequel or two.
The media lapped it up, and voters were taken in – particularly when the Governator rescinded the hated car tax. Never mind that local governments depend on car tax revenue to fund essential public services; the state’s general fund would make up the difference, somehow. Budget technicalities could not be allowed to interfere with Schwarzenegger’s feel-good show. Arnold’s people erected a big tent on the capitol lawn, and the new Governor invited legislators in to smoke cigars and bask in his limelight. Excluding pols from Los Angeles and San Francisco, most legislators had never been this close to a real live action hero before and orbiting in Arnold’s atmosphere made them giddy and reverential. Imagine an assembly member from Amador County suddenly rubbing shoulders with the Terminator! What a thrill!
And Arnold’s “Can-Do, Anything is Possible in California!” rhetoric was invigorating after Gray Davis’s pinched and uninspired pronouncements. It was like 1980 all over again, Ronald Reagan’s sunny optimism versus Jimmy Carter’s dour pessimism.
At least until reality took hold. After the initial euphoria faded, Arnold discovered the hard, unpleasant truth of Sacramento: the state’s budget problems were real, structural in nature and impervious to easy resolution. Moreover, the state’s budget process was dysfunctional. Faced with a flood tide of red ink, Arnold studied his hand and did what any self-respecting politician would do – he deferred the reckoning to another day. But give Arnold due credit. He at least had enough savvy to realize that proposing a $15 billion bond initiative to fund everyday government operations flew in the face of his campaign promise to end Sacramento’s business-as-usual ways. The bond had to be packaged carefully and presented properly and stumped for enthusiastically, which played to Arnold’s strength. With a tight script, a friendly audience and appropriate props, Arnold could sell the illusion that he was a different kind of politician.
And he did. The Governator criss-crossed the state, telling voters that this was the last time he would plunk Sacramento’s Mastercard down. To prove he meant business, and to the delight of gullible audiences, Schwarzenegger cut up giant credit cards with oversized shears.
Fast-forward three and a half years. The political monster that is California has won. Arnold’s big tent on the capitol lawn is gone, quietly taken down and returned to the prop warehouse. California’s budget is deep in the red, with the potential deficit estimated in the range of $42 billion. The state’s bond rating is junk. Vital construction projects are on hold to conserve cash. Debt service costs $6 billion a year. Partisan bickering and legislative gridlock still rule the day; Democrats refuse to cut popular programs and Republicans nix any tax increases. Absent ideological concessions from both sides and decisive action soon, the state may go bust by spring.
Arnold’s scriptwriters suffer from writer’s block Getting out of a jam in Hollywood was so much easier.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry F'ing Christmas
Christmas cards arrive in the mailbox, some accompanied by an “annual” letter detailing a year of travel, adventures in child-rearing, business success, or, in one case, a bizarre recounting of the restaurants the author had dined in, as if this accomplishment is of signal importance.
Weird shit to be sure, but these are Weird times. It takes a strong person – or a delusional one -- to stand in the maelstrom of bad news and visible misery and still feel the spirit of this Christian season moving down his or her spine. Goodwill toward Men and all that stuff becomes hard to muster when the daily news is filled with evidence that in places like Africa, Gaza and Afghanistan, Goodwill is in short supply. Even here in our beloved US of A, where criminal politicians are lining up to pardon themselves for a host of heinous crimes, Goodwill is scarce. None of this horror is happening to me personally, so I suppose I should shove these dark thoughts out of mind and pour another glass of cabernet and let the world roll on as it will – and as it always has.
Maybe. Except I find suppressing these musings a difficult feat, even with a glass or two of cabernet sloshing in my belly, because the inescapable fact is that the outrages visited upon innocent human beings anywhere diminish human beings everywhere. We can close our eyes, turn up the sound on our iPods or change the channel on the Tube, but the fact remains and remains and remains.
Meanwhile, it’s Christmas Eve and a heavy rain is supposed to fall; the sky is leaden and the mountains wear a shawl of puffy clouds. The eucalyptus trees in the yard yield to a gust of wind, bend and writhe, then snap back and dare the wind to come again. My little family has light and warmth and food, none of us are ill or infirm or mutilated by war, and this seems miraculous, if not just flat lucky.
And on the nightstand next to my bed, the statue of Buddha is still smiling, so yeah, Merry F’ing Christmas.
Amen.
Weird shit to be sure, but these are Weird times. It takes a strong person – or a delusional one -- to stand in the maelstrom of bad news and visible misery and still feel the spirit of this Christian season moving down his or her spine. Goodwill toward Men and all that stuff becomes hard to muster when the daily news is filled with evidence that in places like Africa, Gaza and Afghanistan, Goodwill is in short supply. Even here in our beloved US of A, where criminal politicians are lining up to pardon themselves for a host of heinous crimes, Goodwill is scarce. None of this horror is happening to me personally, so I suppose I should shove these dark thoughts out of mind and pour another glass of cabernet and let the world roll on as it will – and as it always has.
Maybe. Except I find suppressing these musings a difficult feat, even with a glass or two of cabernet sloshing in my belly, because the inescapable fact is that the outrages visited upon innocent human beings anywhere diminish human beings everywhere. We can close our eyes, turn up the sound on our iPods or change the channel on the Tube, but the fact remains and remains and remains.
Meanwhile, it’s Christmas Eve and a heavy rain is supposed to fall; the sky is leaden and the mountains wear a shawl of puffy clouds. The eucalyptus trees in the yard yield to a gust of wind, bend and writhe, then snap back and dare the wind to come again. My little family has light and warmth and food, none of us are ill or infirm or mutilated by war, and this seems miraculous, if not just flat lucky.
And on the nightstand next to my bed, the statue of Buddha is still smiling, so yeah, Merry F’ing Christmas.
Amen.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Shoes of our Wrath
The Wall Street bailout is a boondoggle based on exaggeration and lies, and taxpayer money is flowing to all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons; Congress can and should stop the farce but too many in that compromised body are in the pocket of the financial industry; Bush and Cheney are busy re-writing history, claiming at every opportunity that we won the war in Iraq and liberated Afghanistan and made the world safe for Democracy, Freedom and the American Way; meanwhile, the lapdog American media jots down what the liars in Washington say without question or challenge, journalists having morphed into stenographers and mindless repeaters of falsehoods. It’s a shame that no American journalist has the cajones to heave his or her shoes at George W. Bush.
Two days ago I saw this headline in the New York Times and damn near fell over: “Bush Prepares Crisis Briefings to Aid Obama.”
Come again? Bush…Prepares…Crisis…Briefings…to…Aid…Obama.
Sweet Jesus! The same Bush who turned his two-term presidency into a running crisis, fucking up everything he touched, from the misbegotten worldwide War on Muslims to Hurricane Katrina relief to Iraq reconstruction, to the economy and health care, education, the environment, executive authority (which W abused and perverted), privacy, and the rule of law.
That Bush is going to brief Obama? Hey Mr. President-Elect, just tell W “Thanks but no thanks,” and if a crisis turns up in the early days of your presidency, do the exact opposite of what Bush and Uncle Dick would do and everything should turn out fine.
In a normal, rational country, in a normal, rational age, Americans would be screaming for Bush and Cheney’s heads, for an accounting of their high crimes and misdemeanors, and for simple justice. Instead, we, and in particular our elected “representatives,” stand complicit in a collective denial which in a few years will turn into institutionalized amnesia. Bush and Cheney will never account for their crimes, foreign or domestic.
I dream that on the morning of January 20, 2009, a half million fed up Americans will surround the White House and rain a torrent of shoes on Bush and Cheney as they leave the White House for the final time. By everything that is right and holy, and for every drop of blood ever shed in America’s name, they should leave in orange jumpsuits and shackles, but if we can’t have that, a hail of broken, dirt-caked, foul-smelling shoes will do.
Two days ago I saw this headline in the New York Times and damn near fell over: “Bush Prepares Crisis Briefings to Aid Obama.”
Come again? Bush…Prepares…Crisis…Briefings…to…Aid…Obama.
Sweet Jesus! The same Bush who turned his two-term presidency into a running crisis, fucking up everything he touched, from the misbegotten worldwide War on Muslims to Hurricane Katrina relief to Iraq reconstruction, to the economy and health care, education, the environment, executive authority (which W abused and perverted), privacy, and the rule of law.
That Bush is going to brief Obama? Hey Mr. President-Elect, just tell W “Thanks but no thanks,” and if a crisis turns up in the early days of your presidency, do the exact opposite of what Bush and Uncle Dick would do and everything should turn out fine.
In a normal, rational country, in a normal, rational age, Americans would be screaming for Bush and Cheney’s heads, for an accounting of their high crimes and misdemeanors, and for simple justice. Instead, we, and in particular our elected “representatives,” stand complicit in a collective denial which in a few years will turn into institutionalized amnesia. Bush and Cheney will never account for their crimes, foreign or domestic.
I dream that on the morning of January 20, 2009, a half million fed up Americans will surround the White House and rain a torrent of shoes on Bush and Cheney as they leave the White House for the final time. By everything that is right and holy, and for every drop of blood ever shed in America’s name, they should leave in orange jumpsuits and shackles, but if we can’t have that, a hail of broken, dirt-caked, foul-smelling shoes will do.
Spinning History
The spin of history has begun
Karl Rove claims George W. Bush
“Liberated”
25 million Iraqis
from the grip of a brutal dictator
freed
millions of Afghans
from Taliban fanatics
Has Rove ever spoken with an Iraqi or an Afghan?
asked them how it feels to be “liberated” by a foreign power
whose soldiers now patrol their streets and occupy their cities,
lay down laws and mete out justice
Spin it any way you want
but for the Iraqis and the Afghans
it’s the same tired story
whether told in the King’s English
Russian
or on the editorial pages of the
New York Times
46 Iraqis died in a suicide bombing in Kirkuk today;
Baghdad is a city of ruins and blast walls;
the Taliban is back in business
moving on Kabul
attacking at will and fading away
Is this Rove’s idea of liberation?
Peddle your snake oil somewhere else, Mr. Rove
sell it to the fatherless sons and widows
of Baghdad & Kirkuk
the orphans of Kandahar
But don’t be surprised when they don’t buy it
unlike Americans
they know the difference between
truth and lies
fiction and fantasy
They know because they carry the full weight
of your master’s
boundless hubris
and bottomless arrogance
on their backs
Karl Rove claims George W. Bush
“Liberated”
25 million Iraqis
from the grip of a brutal dictator
freed
millions of Afghans
from Taliban fanatics
Has Rove ever spoken with an Iraqi or an Afghan?
asked them how it feels to be “liberated” by a foreign power
whose soldiers now patrol their streets and occupy their cities,
lay down laws and mete out justice
Spin it any way you want
but for the Iraqis and the Afghans
it’s the same tired story
whether told in the King’s English
Russian
or on the editorial pages of the
New York Times
46 Iraqis died in a suicide bombing in Kirkuk today;
Baghdad is a city of ruins and blast walls;
the Taliban is back in business
moving on Kabul
attacking at will and fading away
Is this Rove’s idea of liberation?
Peddle your snake oil somewhere else, Mr. Rove
sell it to the fatherless sons and widows
of Baghdad & Kirkuk
the orphans of Kandahar
But don’t be surprised when they don’t buy it
unlike Americans
they know the difference between
truth and lies
fiction and fantasy
They know because they carry the full weight
of your master’s
boundless hubris
and bottomless arrogance
on their backs
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Busted Bailout
So, Republicans in the US Senate shot down a bid by the Little 3 Automakers and the UAW for a hefty infusion of taxpayer cash, leaving the fate of the domestic auto industry in doubt. Republicans demanded even steeper wage and benefit concessions from the UAW on top of what the union had already conceded to.
Lost in the hurried debate about the auto industry is an accounting from the men (and the auto industry is a man’s playground) at the top, the highly compensated and pampered CEO’s of GM, Ford, and -- before it became the plaything of hedge fund managers -- Chrysler. We hear plenty of thunder from Republicans about overpaid UAW members, but what of the obscene amounts of dough the CEO’s pocket every year, regardless of how well or poorly the corporation performs? About that we hear next to nothing because CEO pay in Corporate America is still sacrosanct, a function of the “free-market.”
No, the discussion always centers on blue-collar labor costs, UAW versus Toyota, Honda, Nissan, Kia, between the rusted unionized North and the right-to-work South. But instead of comparing blue-collar costs, why not compare compensation in the Executive Suite? Do the big dogs at Toyota and Honda pull in 400 or 500 times more than the average line worker? Are the CEO’s at Toyota and Honda surrounded by dozens of Vice Presidents, as are the CEO’s of GM and Ford?
Republicans represent the interests of owners and investors, not wage earners, so of course the Republicans want to turn the current situation to their tactical advantage and crush the UAW once and for all. That’s why the narrative runs like this: Ford, GM and Chrysler are collapsing because of greedy union workers who earn exorbitant wages and overly generous pensions and health benefits. Redundant product lines, poor engineering, woeful quality control and middling fuel economy have nothing to do with Detroit’s woes – it’s all the fault of those overpaid blue-collar workers, active and retired.
Somewhere during the past thirty-odd years, starting when Ronald Reagan declared open season on working people, it became a crime for working Americans to earn decent wages in decent working conditions with decent pension and health benefits. With a great shove from Reagan, Labor hit the skids, Capital became ascendant, and Profit replaced equity, fairness and morality. Welcome to the New World Order.
A Republican commandment these past thirty years or so has been that workers are expendable, replaceable, and far easier to exploit when they are prevented from organizing and bargaining collectively. There are laws on the books against union busting, but these laws have tiny teeth and are easily evaded by slick corporate lawyers. Americans experienced years of downsizing and rightsizing, domestic outsourcing, and then, as digital technology shrank the globe, international outsourcing, so that an American in Boise, Idaho in need of technical assistance with an HP printer finds herself talking to a technician in India; the Indians are invariably polite and eager to help, but rarely are these calls concluded without frustration.
The Republican fascination with union busting and cheap labor never came to grips with this conundrum: how can an economy driven by consumption thrive when consumers’ wages are flat or declining? Even at Wal-Mart, Burger King wages don’t go very far, and sooner or later, as we’ve seen lately, easy credit disappears.
But back to the bailout that didn’t happen. One other point deserves mention and that is health care and health insurance; if the United States had a sensible, sane, rational and cost-effective system of single-payer health insurance (that’s insurance, not socialized medicine) would Detroit and the UAW be in the straits they find themselves in today?
Lost in the hurried debate about the auto industry is an accounting from the men (and the auto industry is a man’s playground) at the top, the highly compensated and pampered CEO’s of GM, Ford, and -- before it became the plaything of hedge fund managers -- Chrysler. We hear plenty of thunder from Republicans about overpaid UAW members, but what of the obscene amounts of dough the CEO’s pocket every year, regardless of how well or poorly the corporation performs? About that we hear next to nothing because CEO pay in Corporate America is still sacrosanct, a function of the “free-market.”
No, the discussion always centers on blue-collar labor costs, UAW versus Toyota, Honda, Nissan, Kia, between the rusted unionized North and the right-to-work South. But instead of comparing blue-collar costs, why not compare compensation in the Executive Suite? Do the big dogs at Toyota and Honda pull in 400 or 500 times more than the average line worker? Are the CEO’s at Toyota and Honda surrounded by dozens of Vice Presidents, as are the CEO’s of GM and Ford?
Republicans represent the interests of owners and investors, not wage earners, so of course the Republicans want to turn the current situation to their tactical advantage and crush the UAW once and for all. That’s why the narrative runs like this: Ford, GM and Chrysler are collapsing because of greedy union workers who earn exorbitant wages and overly generous pensions and health benefits. Redundant product lines, poor engineering, woeful quality control and middling fuel economy have nothing to do with Detroit’s woes – it’s all the fault of those overpaid blue-collar workers, active and retired.
Somewhere during the past thirty-odd years, starting when Ronald Reagan declared open season on working people, it became a crime for working Americans to earn decent wages in decent working conditions with decent pension and health benefits. With a great shove from Reagan, Labor hit the skids, Capital became ascendant, and Profit replaced equity, fairness and morality. Welcome to the New World Order.
A Republican commandment these past thirty years or so has been that workers are expendable, replaceable, and far easier to exploit when they are prevented from organizing and bargaining collectively. There are laws on the books against union busting, but these laws have tiny teeth and are easily evaded by slick corporate lawyers. Americans experienced years of downsizing and rightsizing, domestic outsourcing, and then, as digital technology shrank the globe, international outsourcing, so that an American in Boise, Idaho in need of technical assistance with an HP printer finds herself talking to a technician in India; the Indians are invariably polite and eager to help, but rarely are these calls concluded without frustration.
The Republican fascination with union busting and cheap labor never came to grips with this conundrum: how can an economy driven by consumption thrive when consumers’ wages are flat or declining? Even at Wal-Mart, Burger King wages don’t go very far, and sooner or later, as we’ve seen lately, easy credit disappears.
But back to the bailout that didn’t happen. One other point deserves mention and that is health care and health insurance; if the United States had a sensible, sane, rational and cost-effective system of single-payer health insurance (that’s insurance, not socialized medicine) would Detroit and the UAW be in the straits they find themselves in today?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
POEM - 3:00 A.M.
A dog howls, once, twice
Low & plaintive
A cry of loneliness that carries over
The silent street
Dark rooftops
Footsteps echo on the sidewalk
One soul moving through the night
Merge with the dog’s howl
Which is louder now, more insistent
To break the silence
and be heard
Lonely at 3:00 A.M.
Lonely in a crowd
Lonely in the marriage bed
Lonely in a church pew
Lonely on the front lines of war
Lonely in a hospital room
Lonely in an unmarked grave
Lonely
Lonely
Lonely
I roll over, awake now
Wishing I could open the window
And howl back at the dog
Low & plaintive
A cry of loneliness that carries over
The silent street
Dark rooftops
Footsteps echo on the sidewalk
One soul moving through the night
Merge with the dog’s howl
Which is louder now, more insistent
To break the silence
and be heard
Lonely at 3:00 A.M.
Lonely in a crowd
Lonely in the marriage bed
Lonely in a church pew
Lonely on the front lines of war
Lonely in a hospital room
Lonely in an unmarked grave
Lonely
Lonely
Lonely
I roll over, awake now
Wishing I could open the window
And howl back at the dog
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Poem - Poor November
In America,
November stands no chance against December
Christmas trumps Thanksgiving every year
Long before the leftover turkey is gone
Christmas swaggers in,
Like a playground badass with a score to settle
Pilgrims can’t stand in the ring with Santa
Any more than Sonny Liston could stand with Cassius Clay
Before the Thanksgiving dishes are dry
Christmas tree sellers erect their tents
Though who of sound mind buys a Christmas tree
In November?
The radio cries, “Happy Holidays” and every storefront window
Boasts a killer red-tag sale, 50% off, bargains galore!
On the corner by the museum a quartet plays Christmas ditties
For the shoppers and the tourists and the homeless
And on Black Friday people race like lemmings to the Mall
To Wal-Mart and Target
Primed for the Great American battle
The last frontier
Of our dubious supremacy
Losing their heads in the moment,
Otherwise decent people push and shove
Elbow their way through long lines
Run up escalators, hurl themselves into elevators
Glare impatiently at minimum wage clerks
Christmas is never content to merely win
It must dominate
Force November to kneel, then crawl in submission
Broken once more by our perversion
November stands no chance against December
Christmas trumps Thanksgiving every year
Long before the leftover turkey is gone
Christmas swaggers in,
Like a playground badass with a score to settle
Pilgrims can’t stand in the ring with Santa
Any more than Sonny Liston could stand with Cassius Clay
Before the Thanksgiving dishes are dry
Christmas tree sellers erect their tents
Though who of sound mind buys a Christmas tree
In November?
The radio cries, “Happy Holidays” and every storefront window
Boasts a killer red-tag sale, 50% off, bargains galore!
On the corner by the museum a quartet plays Christmas ditties
For the shoppers and the tourists and the homeless
And on Black Friday people race like lemmings to the Mall
To Wal-Mart and Target
Primed for the Great American battle
The last frontier
Of our dubious supremacy
Losing their heads in the moment,
Otherwise decent people push and shove
Elbow their way through long lines
Run up escalators, hurl themselves into elevators
Glare impatiently at minimum wage clerks
Christmas is never content to merely win
It must dominate
Force November to kneel, then crawl in submission
Broken once more by our perversion
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