We live in a mob rule state these days, where the thoughts we think and words we speak are not our own but have been fed to us.

We aim to be “liked”, “re-tweeted” and “followed”…we sell our souls everyday. We have no shame. It’s the new way…like me, like me, like me…and it’s all bullshit. We know it is. It doesn’t matter. The truth doesn’t matter. The truth doesn’t sell. The truth doesn’t drive traffic. The truth isn’t easily controlled. What sells is what the mob wants. What drives traffic is what the mob wants. What can be controlled is what the mob wants.

“Give me culture.”

“Give me style.”

“Give me nice feelings.”

“Dance like me, sing like me, look like me, talk like me, think like me.”

We’re being played by the greasy politicians who crave and get off on the power of their positions. They play on tragedies and never let a crisis go to waste. They use the media like the tools they are to sing their tune, to dance their dance. The media thinks they’re so smart and cutting edge…they’re monkeys on a string. “Dance monkey, dance.”

They come after the guns in the name of “safety” as they promote pumping our kids full of drugs. They say it’s about looking after the kids as they support aborting thousands of unborn babies each year. They say we live in a dangerous society as they sit surrounded by their armed guards and watch dogs. We live in America, the land of the free…as they strip away our freedoms in the name of safety.

Words, words, words. It’s all bullshit. All of it.

The mob sucks it right up…they believe it…they support it. If you don’t support it, you hate kids…you want to see more death…you are the enemy.

The truth will save us. If we have enough people to speak it. If not…


Garbage Sells

I didn’t realize how many writers proudly profess to live in New York City. Everywhere I look, so many of them proudly proclaim they live in NYC. I understand it’s THE place to be but I guess I never looked at it that way for writers.

On second thought, it’s not that surprising…

I just have a hard time believing that the city is the creative hub they are making it seem to be. I just don’t see how they can’t get caught up in everything else that is going on…the noise, the madness, the fog…unless of course their main objective isn’t to really write anything that matters. Then of course NYC is perfect.

They are free to make love to their iPhones while they¬†schmooze at the Martini Bar, laugh at each other’s stupid jokes and flirt with each other until the wee hours of the morning. Then the next day they can call mom and dad back home in Sheboygan and ask for some rent money.

Some writers bare their souls in the words they put down. Others produce self-indulgent garbage.

Garbage sells.

A few smiles & a couple laughs…

My sister wants to be skinny so she goes to the gym. I advised her to think about the effectiveness of bulimia instead.

My brother wants to be cool so he goes to the bar. I advised him to think about wearing a monocle instead.

Good advice is hard to come by these days. Usually it’s because the person giving it to you is selling something.

The only thing I’m interested in selling is a few smiles and a couple laughs.