so sorry jadajadajada...(piece o´work in progress)

 

this person was the butt of the joke...the target the darling the laughingstock the goat...Oscar gave her center stage at the most important gala of the film world thanks to her husband´s celebrity status so will smith inmediately starred in a shameful incident attacking the host comedian who was doing the traditional roast and let loose out loud with keep my wife´s name out your fuckin mouth as the signal reached virtually the bundocks of the world putting her name on everyone´s mouth who had just heard what, how say you what, jahdee jadah jaduh what the fu&khhh...    

so far so good...this is within fractions of a second the turning point...it is done the jest, it´s time for laughs and smiles are all around...except the culprit is still processing the humor and is about to do a neck turn stiff towards her husband her eyelids coming down to a slit and up to a roll saying in a masked whisper  do something killgh or so it seemed...

this is what ensued...smith suckered-smack the comedian...and   

this is the apology on instagram sans the crying at the Oscar´s... 

listen to this jada jada shite 

-jada violence in all of its jada forms 

is poisonous and jada jada destructive...

now if you catch my drift this is how it went -mind 

an apology is always an awkward undertaking

kind ´o blah blah blahs and so on and so forth 

bunk and meaningless 

works best accompanied with props and tears...

my jada behavior at last night’s 

jadajadajada academy awards 

was unacceptable and jada inexcusable 

jadajada at my expense is a part of my jada job 

but a jada about jada’s jada jada medical condition 

is too much jadajadajada for me to bear...

so it goes the embarrassing pose apology and all on instagram with the oh so unpleasant i was out of line 

i´m a jadajada work in jadajadajada progress  

 

prop in hand and tears...a formula...did it work...

acting vs non acting...and was it an Oscar performance...(?)

i love america # 45

(jackie cogan in a lowlife dive)

there is no abridging the freedom of the press    

it´s in the first amendment                     

among the other liberties it protects -speech 

religion ans its practice petition and assembly- 

it´s all there plainly stated                      

to prevent interference censorship            

meddling from trendy fascists                   

extant communists & assorted arseholes              

all enemies of american democracy i´m telling you 

well yeah this is the we told you so presidency
the dawn of the dead brains madly chasing
after a neurological disaster...

it´s finally happening...moreover
you could always see their toxic nonideals 

there under that pale thin skin 

so there´s a crazy uncle under every roof
we shall know in due time the whole story
the pre and after with all the slimy details
and how the gop just watched the bases turn
to the demagogue as if some banana republic
yes we became ecuador with nukes following
around an orange chimp the don     

due excuses given to the color orange 
all dons and chimps mind you

yeah right but this country is fucked             

i´m telling you...now we have 
a bigoted bully in the white house 
with no convictions outside of narcissim 
and nativism racism and sexism 
his life public and otherwise 
is full of racist slurs and acts...
he is a functional illiterate 
doing the fuhrer by the numbers
a real piece of work

On July 20, A. G. Sulzberger, the Times’ publisher and James Bennet, the editor of the Times’ editorial page, met with Trump at the White House, according to Eileen Murphy, spokeswoman for the Times. Though Trump’s aides requested the meeting be off the record, Trump’s tweet Sunday put the meeting “on the record,” allowing for Sulzberger to respond, said Murphy.

The tweet

Had a very good and interesting meeting at the White House with A.G. Sulzberger, Publisher of the New York Times. Spent much time talking about the vast amounts of Fake News being put out by the media & how that Fake News has morphed into phrase, “Enemy of the People.” Sad!

The response

My main purpose for accepting the meeting was to raise concerns about the president´s deeply troubling anti-press rhetoric.

I told the president directly that I thought that his language was not just divisive but increasingly dangerous.

I told him that although the phrase ´´fake news´´ is untrue and harmful, I am far more concerned about his labeling journalists ´´the enemy of the people.´´  I warned that this inflammatory language is contributing to a rise in threats against journalists and will lead to violence.

I repeatedly stressed that is particularly true abroad, where the president´s rhetoric is being used by some regimes to justify sweeping crackdowns on journalists.  I warned that it was putting lives at risk, that it was undermining the democratic ideals of our nation, and that it was eroding one of our country´s greatest exports: a commitment to free speech and a free press.

Throughout the conversation I emphasized that if President Trump, like previous presidents, was upset with coverage of his administration he was of course free to tell the world.  I made clear repeatedly that I was not asking for him to soften his attacks on The Times if he felt our coverage was unfair.  Instead, I implored him to reconsider his broader attacks on journalism, which I believe are dangerous and harmful to our country.

can´t believe all the shite that´s going down

listen counselor it´s like i said before
i´m living in America
and in America you are on your own
America is not a country it´s just a business
drink up

six six six...i got nothing

six six six  

i got nothing _and thinking

there was commotion from the street

murmurings muttered chanting in the air

i raced the window sill triumphant 

at the persiennes i lurched the void 

from the waist intent on truth or dare

it was hell´s bells 

a fantastic venture it was

a procession of tropical proportions

the cathedral bells began ring a ding dong

i saw mother ambling there

under black veils her red hair

and larger than life a statue on a cart

stage blood for the christ in distress

el señor de la patada _the given name

suffers the earthly divine has no concern

yes those were the days my friend

i´d crown myself with thorns regularly

and i always prevailed

it was a long long long time ago

when fear was affixed at the wheel

reason was left out of the deal
was it not father who told us so

he said this is the score fear not 
but fear was at the core

we receded into ideas false
and false ideals were conceived

they were utter nonsense

we did not know the score

we knew fear

it was our source

we had to make some kind of sense

of the unknown _so we made it up

we are all one

feel

keep on gonging

find scores in old records stores

we all have been kangaroo kourted

anything severed from the body

may be saved cryogenically

talking about cocks hands heads?

we shall need an agent that we
may wield otherwordly powers 
still thinking trash 
we beg off release 

this is how i play 

anger over sarcasm rudeness brutality

sound the shofar eat a round challah

in-a-minute is never now

try and juggle all the balls

play on our finiteness

oh such radical a condition…

some songs have no words

some songs have no words

some have no name

jojo crafts walls of them pieces tumult

and clamor scores backdrops for blasts

some girls have no songs

no récipes no instructions

we have to sob tons find charmwords

to spread it on fawn cajole woo them 

in the midnight hour for sure

it´s every teenager burden and call

precisely were you 18

when dawn found you on the stairs

of the fire-escape in back of the house

-waiting on the sunrise you said- then

she held you least you´d fall or worst

and the day turned blindingly sunny 

next she gave herself away helpless

and you were in the snare caught

and hardup to fuck the girl in question

who absently said any ol´song was just

fine and the verse was as good as it gets

the blanks were blown and revealed

meaninglessness...their worth  _zero

and you entered that instant ethos

colored fulfilling the promise of flesh

neon signs at rest now buses parade

and you longed for her at midday

covered with detritus of sex

emotions alone

and awake with a notion of something

amiss amidst thunder outbursts

your brain crashes the walls

rocks hurl into the sun

invaders of the heart fly the breeze

the dub bass reverb resets your head

a factory yard the lane leading to it

the gate you shake your head 2015

times and times with no end await

the solder kit to frame dissonant

refrains clangor roarwaves

for the trashers the sailors the clerks

masons atomizer in hand get an earful

of noise sounds from circuit bending

jojo knows this how to score best

OHIO GHASTLY SOIL - Ryan Jewell -C. Spencer Yeh -Wasteland Jazz Unit (2008)

thank you  

Ryan Jewell, C. Spencer Yeh & Wasteland Jazz Unit 

for...

from the today pieces

early this morning i stood at a crossroads
one went north one went south one went east
and one went into the alley of death
the itch and tarzan were on the corner
in cheerful talk about boys on the lam
though they were ill the itch was wet
his broken eyebrow had been patched up
while tarzan fell off the tree his pants
are baggier still and his eyes are darkening

then a pirate cab went by like a flash
the eyes of a woman set memories tripping
as she turned to look back in recognition
and smiled fading rapidly in the rear glass
i crossed the street and went into the alley

allentown...shouting from a summer blow

dark cut loose wild over allentown
shouting from a summer blow
in the evening come with bugs and buggers
a brawl rushed onto the crowded sidewalk
quick to make room and ready
for the kill of one crimson clown
it all started at the billiard table in mulligan’s
when pr lester figured out brilliantly
how to go through someone’s purse unnoticed
then he had to roll for his life kicked
in the gutter banged _cue ball on a break_
something like a petard sounding from a side
street set everyone on a freeze and running
runaway shadows scattering as balls breaking
one body lay still

a dirge rose to the occasion warm and rogue
while some kid was led away by the police
everyone stood intent on the dream darkening
(
they racked up in the chevy
hit the expressway on cue with the sunset
as the radio blasted trash
and with shades of disgust splat on their faces
but it was fear confusion and despair also
nothing to make way in the shadows
but the headlights from a caprice speeding
loaded with a cast to kill