Αφήστε την Ελλάδα ήσυχη — Leave Greece Alone

The destruction of Greece has been underway for many years now. And every elected Greek government has been part of the destruction. First it started off as greed and, as we saw in the last bailout, it was just sheer impotence as the of SYRIZA “Coalition of the Radical Left” (very worthy of quotations) was held hostage and threatened to acquiesce to further heart-palpitating slavery. The government of Alexis Tsipras was turned from saviour of the masses to a little neo-modern even weaker marionette than the previous governments. But truth be told, he had no choice because he says it was either accept the bailout or turn into a third-world country.

The only person to comes out of there with his honour intact was Yanis Varoufakis, who had the Grexit possibility planned by going towards the old overworn drachma currency. Sure, it would be a banana republic currency but, unlike legitimately poor nations, Greece would rebound after a few years of severe poverty.

Now, according to Tsipras’ thinking, we are suffering less by choosing to stay with the Euro and further bailouts. What more needs to be done? In the referendum preceding the bailout, the people voted over 60% to get out of the Euro. These were not stupid people. On the contrary, all I remember in the Greek media was unfounded fake news about how bad Grexit would be for Greece. Even the public broadcaster seemed to be handcuffed. But still, the people voted overwhelmingly for Grexit, with the finance minister (Yanis Varoufakis) being 100% thorough and open about it. A big part of it must have been the Greek elite cringing and the working class finally having a chance to get out of the clutches of said elite.

Nothing happened. Bailout forced on Tsipras. Varoufakis forced to resign. And Greece will be poor for even longer.

.

Greece has turned into a colony. The culture has turned into a diaspora of the worst kind. Diaspora work when the country that is converting into it is economically strong and stable. You can’t give your hungry masses to a country in financial turmoil. And no one can complain about this without being called anything from a racist to, God forbid, a Nazi. What these idiots making the accusations don’t do is credit the good heart of the Greek people. It is Greece that was forced to take on Syrian refugees when the surrounding countries were closing their borders. It is the Greek people who understand the diversity of the illegal immigrants and still show love and understanding towards them. That’s what being Greek is about. It is not naivete that makes them living people but rather a genetic penchant to help.

So how can you leave Greece alone? Let them be autonomous. Don’t put forced rules on the populous. Let their current well-meaning government get their manhood back. Let them run the country for the betterment of every Greek citizen. Let them keep their promise of restoring dignity to the masses. Let them build their economy as they see fit. Let them settle their internal corruption because, quote frankly, your ways are causing even more corruption.

Let Greece exist. As Greece. Let the people stop suffering, dying, being depressed, waiting in line for cold soup. Let them use their strength of dignity and pride as they have for centuries. Shame on you for being ready to commit genocide to some of the most peaceful and harmless people in the world. Open your frozen hearts and have some compassion. By destroying Greece, you’re destroying yourself. And don’t think you’ll succeed. The Greeks will vote in any party that can help them. Think long and hard of the consequences.

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Clinton Mafia Acolytes (CMA)

I’ve been asked many times what I mean when I put #ClintonMafiaAcolytes on some of my social media posts. I personally thought it was self-evident. After all, it is meant to be a literal little catch phrase.

Clinton Mafia is perhaps too broad-ranging a term and therefore is in need of further explanation. “Clinton” starts with Bill Clinton and continues to Hillary and beyond. “Beyond” in this case refers to post-Hillary — a perhaps postmodern brainwashing storm. But let’s digress for now. The last elite member of the clan was Barack Obama. He governed with the blessing of Clinton and was allowed to be president for 8 years as long as he opened the road for the morally inept and shortsighted Hillary to serve her 8 years. Obama wasn’t perfect, but he was undeniably a genius next to Hillary. But even the biggest of geniuses couldn’t hold up the facade that hid the sheer hypocrisy of Hillary. She was a walking catch phrase. More on that later.

Meanwhile, Obama was not just a mere member of the mob. He was given a special position within it as long as he followed certain rules and criteria. I would think that he would have been skewered like Bernie Sanders had he held on to his morals and spoken out about them.

FACT: Obama is no fucking Bernie Sanders, ladies. Bernie is a man of character while Obama — I’ll take the hate mail later — was akin to an Uncle Tom. At a time when political correctness served the well-established, he continued building more walls against people who needed his help. He went against the wishes of his voter base. At the end of his 8-year reign, people were confused as to where they stood and to whether they were better off. He was made into a hero for trying to pass Obamacare, but it was a failure — mainly because there was really no chance of it working. It could have been better structured. But it wasn’t, because they need to use it as a hook to vote Hillary in. He let all the people who voted for him down.

I write this article today, in a hot cafe in Montreal, because I was attacked by a bunch of people who believe all of the above is bullshit. They even answered my posts with #feelthebern. I forward people articles and they don’t believe them because they come from a biased source. Well, sadly, CNN will never criticize the CMA because they are part of it. Long gone are the days of fair reporting because big conglomerates are replacing the ruling class. The ruling class being in charge was bad enough, but now it is the politically correct big corporations that control advertising dollars. The ones who are not backed by big Corp are public entities with almost no power. These entities, poor and desperate for funding, have to be careful how they tread the political landscape.

The result of the above general synopsis is a national, even a global, political correctness forced upon citizens that makes some Stalinist regimes look tame. This is politically taboo to mention, but it is a fact. And the more we deny or, worse, are afraid to mention it, the deeper we go into the quicksand. Then comes the making of a system without free thought. Because free speech is being suppressed, we finally forget how to think freely.

pop·u·lism
ˈpäpyəˌlizəm/
noun

1.

support for the concerns of ordinary people

2.

the quality of appealing to or being aimed at ordinary people.

Logically, the populist governments come to power, as they have in the USA. Populism has been defined very negatively. In essence, it is a “movement” that the people have veered towards in fear of the system they’ve been coerced and manipulated under. See definition above.

So, what is a Clinton Mafia Acolyte? It is akin to a headless chicken that runs around spewing false epithets because it is all it knows. It is void of life, moribund. It serves the purpose of a parrot. It pulls people apart. This person, this acolyte, has a copy of the “Clinton bible” pasted in their brain. They have lost the ability to think objectively and are, like their esteemed Hillary, walking catch phrases.

I am a democratist— one who believes in truth and fairness and equality — that has taken it upon myself to report the truth a I objectively see it. I don’t choose sides. I report facts. Sometimes, I give opinions because they don’t need to be supported by articles. I cannot support with an article the fact that Donald Trump detaining the queen is not a big deal. I cannot support with an article that Trump is speaking for most of the people — can you support otherwise? So, acolytes, spare me your holier-than-thou attitudes and stop seeing the non-acolytes (I’d say most Democrats and all Republicans) as lower than you. Accept defeat. Accept that the future of your neoliberal wantonness is done. You have failed. Open yourself to new ideas.

To the majority, let’s popularize this: #ClintonMafiaAcolytes.

Morrissey Misunderstood Again— Now by One of his Disciples

I bury the living

When I was a young lad and heard The Smiths for the first time, I felt a sudden solace in my soul. The words, written almost exclusively by Stephen Patrick Morrissey, were genius to me as they spoke to my situation at the time. When The Smiths broke up, I was glad that Morrissey decided to stick to why his fans wanted. Through the decades, he has always been, and still remains, a voice for the voiceless.

Can we see what is really being said here?

Compare the top with the original interview. Obviously, their interpretation is fake news.

This is the original interview.

I don’t write these things lightly. In fact, Morrissey is very much like the disturbed yet upfront psychotherapist who reassures you he is there even in the biggest times of turmoil. And there are songs for every occasion. Listen to how Mancunians are feeling from a concert clip at the Hollywood Bowl and anti-war songs about ignorance from Dusseldorf.

Coincidentally, or perhaps just as a matter of logical progression, my politics and mores have been akin to Morrissey’s. I would get a political or societal thought, and Morrissey would echo it in his latest song, album, or medium scrum.

Like so many others these days, people interpret Morrissey’s words, in song or on media, at face value. The politically correct world we live in knitpicks every word he utters because, as we have always known, he is anti-establishment. A man shall not be muted if he truly believes something and echoes it. This is not hate speech. These are thoughts from a person’s mind misconstrued my media hounds ready to ruin his record sales and his whole reputation. Fake news is winning because people’s attention spans are too short and they don’t bother finding alternative voices and thinking for themselves.

I wish you lonely

Morrissey stands for truth. He is not racist, misogynistic, nor nationalistic. He supports certain causes that are benign as to the harm they can do. And you need not agree with everything he says. What bewildered me is that most of his views are shared by the public. Brexit was voted on. These were not nazis who voted for change.

Morrissey has made it clear that he is not right wing nor any other kind of wing simply because left wing and right wing no longer exist. And this is undeniable. Neoliberalism and its politically correct hypocrisy have convoluted our minds and are successful in brainwashing the masses.

The Smiths were voted as the most influential British band of all time. They were ahead of the Beatles, who were at number two. And Morrissey was, at least lyricwise, the backbone of the band. So here we are, demonizing someone who has said not done anything wrong.

Shame on us.

Post-Depression Demons — There’s No Coming Back from the Darkness; There’s Just Living with It

http://montrealgazette.com/pmn/entertainment-pmn/bourdain-suicide-a-reminder-of-celebrities-distance-from-us/wcm/f73aa812-4866-4c5a-8e8d-1d7777e61b14

The above article begins to once again begins to show what we knew of Anthony Bourdain was just what we saw on the screen. “I just hope no one finds out anything further about this. I want to remember Tony the way I knew him,” said Andrew Zimmern on Don Lemon’s CNN show last night. That was also when it suddenly seemed inevitable that we’d find out about a tortured soul at best, or an action so distressing and terrifying that the only way out seemed to be to hang yourself in a hotel room in France at worst.

Pain for the Dead and the Living

There’s just so much pain in people who kill themselves, where death seems the only viable option — the only form of escape. Even in today’s apparent “progressive” society, people are usually shunned when they come out as being depressed or mentally ill. There is no “respect” for depression as an illness as there is for cancer, MS, heart disease, diabetes, etc…..

Thankfully, suicides now are reported as suicides, even if they are still seen as shameful. They are no longer hidden or masked as something else. But although the media has made that leap forward with celebrities, most cultures and ethnicities shun people feeling depressed and just call them lazy, spoiled, people who want to live off others or , worse, the state. So many times I’ve had to zip my mouth when otherwise good, intelligent, and educated people say ignorant and hurtful things. The most common thing you’ll hear is how “spoiled” and “lazy” mentally ill people are and how they need to just be “pushed in the right direction” because mental illness is what happens when you’re lazy. I usually stop being agreeable and they shut up.

When I saw Anderson Cooper’s chin trembling and heard him again speak of his brother who killed himself 30 years ago, and how not a day goes by without thinking of him, I realised how lucky I was not to have had anyone I knew personally having taken their life.

Post-Depression Demons

Like an alcoholic, once depressed always depressed. You’ll also find that the depressed have a lust for life. So many times we have heard of the unending need to create and be important. From Van Gogh to Bourdain and many others, when you let the creativity die, when you “laze”, there is no more life. In their case, this is often literal. Robin Williams was considered a genius by many and he would go to bed crying every night, needing a shoulder to lean on, non-metaphorically.

For most sufferers of mental illness, even after “overcoming”, there exists a plateau. Instead of hills, there is just an ice-covered desert that keeps on going forever. Unlike the mountainous landscape, this one needs to be filled. Luckily, most depressed people are very creative. They are the emblem of the suffering painter, the lonely writer, the misunderstood miser who writes and creates in places and at hours that others find inconvenient because the others need to sleep and eat and shit at a certain time. They need to hold their bladder till coffee break. In short, they hve succumbed to the unreal. They have succumbed to how society has been structured for them. Thsi is why they are not goid storytellers — they have no time to tell stories. Ironically, the people who see through this plastic existence either suffer each day smiling at the ignorant, or become mentally ill. This sounds simple, but it’s the gist of it. Whether we’re born with a depression gene or not, it is still the gist of it. Reality is how it is perceived.

For a short time in my teens, I experienced depression. Luckily, I have been in post-depression mode ever since and it wasn’t as severe as what I’ve been hearing people going through lately. I haven’t had a symptom in thirty years. I’m lucky. Somehow, I’ve learned to balance the real and the fictional. I have established a line that I do not cross. But I understand how one can snap. Who knows what happened in Anthony Bourdain’s hotel room before he hung himself? As well, it should be noted that a depressed person will magnify a bad situation many times over. The pain may run so deep that the simple actions needed to get rid of the bad situation can’t be performed because it just takes too much energy.

Frightening. Yet very real.

Cries for Help

Please be aware of the signs of people who may be suffering from depression. This might help.

This is the suicide prevention hotline and also info for going into rehab.

Iconoclast Effigy

Iconoclast Effigy

(C) Ted Kouretas 2018

The sand burns

Hot to the touch

Like all the sculptures of me and you

All the neophyte eulogies preaching selflessness

Political correctness, neoliberalism, and the like

You know…

A politically correct image

Of myself

Not of something sexier to look at

Or something a bit cuter

Of someone a bit happier in their naivete

Blessed be the young at heart

For mine is an old soul, deserving of an effigy

The picture will still be there

But my soul will be gone

More than it already is

It will go beyond nocturnal affiliations

Political realms

Naked bodies sinning

It will go beyond the hedonistic

It will be destroyed and lose its iconoclastic status

But it will mummify into the perverse

Black dripping orchids will surround it

With dungeon shouts

And finally, a semblance of normality

Defy

Recreate

Replenish

Multiply

A Hot Young Old-School Greek Communist

I was deciding where to sit in the Gazi neighbourhood in Athens. As you can see on the paper, it was Sunday, September 3rd, 2017. It would be my last day in Athens for yet another summer.

The image above was taken at a posh cafe just a few minutes after I’d bought it. I had come out of the amazing Athens metro system (boasting the title of best metro in Europe) and was walking my way up the stairs whena stunning young university student came up to me and asked me if I had been to the Greek Communist Youth conference.

“Sorry, I never heard about it. I’ve been out of the loop for so long,” I confessed.

She smiled and looked at me. She knew I was saying the truth yet was accepting the fact that I’d griwn out of it.

“You can help by buying a paper,” she asked, smiling, knowing she’d guilted me into it.

“I’ve got two hours to kill,” I told her. Do you need to stay here, or can I buy you coffee, a drink, or dinner?”

She smiled.

“Do I look like day game?”

“It’s actually after six. But it’s still day. But I haven’t heard that term in Greece. ”

She laughed, exposing her neck s she lensd backwards.

“Well, the word doesn’t have a Greek equivalent. We just call it kamaki,” she said.

“Παναγιώτη, πάω για καφέ,” she told a fellow university student. He nodded.

“Good. Bet you never thought I’d say yes to your offer. And i’m damn hungry,” she said.

We walked to my regular place. I was greeted personally by my waiter, and given my favourite seat. He barely looked at the girl. She didn’t quite fit the type of customer they be serving.

“Yes, Costa,” I said, “for two people. ”

The girl above is the hostess of the restaurant. She is supposed to be the eye candy that entices the people to take a seat.

We ordered and started chatting.

“I’ve learned to believe that the old-school Marxism you believe in can no longer win elections. The current government is the closest thing we’ll get. And they’re stuck,” I said.

“The Communists wouldn’t be stuck. Drachma overnight. Just like the finance minister admitted to having planned,” she answered.

“I totally agree with the ideal outcome. I totally want that to happen,” I said.

“So do you feel like a king here? Am I what you would want to be with? A starving university student who’s too shy to sell herself?”

“You seem to know more about it than that do. I was simply turned on by you. You know, you brought back the beauty of my youth,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can no longer play you.”

“Play me?”

“We choose a victim every day or so. It’s so silly. Part of our communist rebellion against the oligarchs. Or against the people we think are trying to use our poverty to their advantage,” she said. “I fitbthe profile. Poor university student. And you fit the profile. An average tourist who comes to a country to take advantage of young ladies.”

“I’ve never thought of that. It would be easy to do though.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right.”

We started talking about the state of things and throwing out solutions. Before long, it was time to meet some relatives for dessert at Plaka.

Without a thought, we went tehre together. I introduced her as a friend. She was very sociable nd we all had a great night of earing, drinking, dancing, and talking.

She kissed me ever-so-softly as I went into the taxi waiting for me in front of my hotel to take me to the airport. I smiled. It had been so long since my university years. She waved at me and turned and started walking the other way. It had been a very interesting 18 hours.

Reader Meet Author

There’s nothing like Morrissey telling the writers of his day, including himself, that they write of things they know nothing of.

When he says,

You don’t know a thing about their lives

They live where you wouldn’t dare to drive

most of the writers in their penthouse Manhattan winter condo can ascertain that this is true. And they’re happy about it as they prepare to ride off to an art gallery opening. They are relieved about it as they prepare to ski in the Italian Alps. They feel fake for a moment, but think of Detroit as a ghetto with a lot of stories in it, and smile.

Charles Bukowski has influenced my writing more than anyone to ever exist on this planet. He was so real that there were subcategories of seamy realism he has been ordained the godfather of. Dirty Realism is the one he sticks out being the pioneer of. He speaks from the heart. He gies a step further and goes autobiographical on us to make the realism stronger.

Then there is Ernest Hemingway, the greatest ever short story writer. Like Bukowski, Hemingway is genius at explaining big central ideas in very simple terms. I pattern my short stories on Hemingway as I do my poetry after Bukowski.

Then I come across a societal conundrum. I decide to be real. But my reality doesn’t match the hapoenings of the day. I can’t write mystery novels. I tend to stick to the untold parts of everyday life. Like Bukowski, I trend towards dirty realism. It’s there. It exists. But even the ones who want to embrace it will have to keep that a secret. They’ll need to read it with a flashlight under their covers, so to speak.

I guess not all of us realize the difference between a cult following and lovers of an alternative point of view. The latter are not blindly fascinated by personality and -isms. They in fact expect truth from a difference voice. They want to know why some things happen.

In my new book of poetry, A Fine Line, I decided to attack the problem of anomie and sociopathy from within; from the point of view of a malinformed and disturbed nihilist who wants healing and truth. And this is a reality that I have observed and even lived. It is important to build empathy and understanding and to see how the apparent evildoers are often waiting for some reason to change to trickle in.

Ted Kouretas’ New Book of Postmodern Poetry—-Interview

Book available here

A Fine Line is a book written from the perspective of a nihilist looking to find order in the chaos. Looking in all of the predetermined places gets him nowhere.

John Sutter: Is this a work of fiction? I mean, there’s a lot of things going on here people would pay good money for.

Ted Kouretas: Nothing is totally fictitious. Fiction always exists within reality.

JS: But is the narrator you?

TK: It’s a troubled me. Yes. Or rather, perhaps.

JS: When did you write most of the poems on here?

TK: Almost all of them were written in Greece. I was in the big city. Athens is a multi-faceted place. You go from luxury to misery in a small block’s walk. I experienced both. Most of the poems are attempts at acceptance. They ard actually me trying to make sense of things.

JS: Do you make sense of things?

TK: I have now. But lest we forget these were my carefree hedonistic years. I had no borders. At the time, I was addicted to sensual desire. I needed to experience all my needs. This takes you to dangerous places.

JS: But there’s a lot of nostalgia in many poems.

TK: We always opine for the good old days. We think we’ve leadnsd from them when in fact we’ve become corrupted from them. It’s more like the demoralizing mediocre old days. A ship of fools with all decks on board.

JS: So do the old memories free you somewhat?

TK: Hopefully. They have in real life. Eventually. Duting the writings of the poems, there was so much addiction. There was so much pain. It was a way out.

JS: How do you feel about the disclaimer from the publisher?

TK: I’d be scared shitless and covering all my bases too. As you know, there is no truth these days other than the one preached by a select few. The walls are crumbling and our defense mechanisms are rendered useless. It’s a very sad state of affairs.

JS: I’m not sure I understand. Do you believe in fake news then?

TK: People think Donald Trump created the fake news mentality. Fact is, he was the only one unfiltered enough to actually state a big truth. Like him or not.

JS: What was your purpose in writing this book of poetry?

TK: Let’s be honest. I’m taking a chance here. My favourite musical artist, Morrissey, has gotten in trouble so many times for showing points of view. He gets called a racist by putting in the brain of a young man who admires the National Front. Of course being a neo-Nazi is inexcusable. But it helps to know why. Everything is a pattern.

JS: A pattern?

TK: Yes. Recruiters always go after the most susceptible. There are recruiters for the army, for menial labour, for prostitution, for drug dealing, for killing. The weak and disenfranchised are easy prey. Through learning about them, perhaps we can help curb the problem. To answer your initial question, my main purpose for this book is for the common folks to experience the joys and tribulations in the fine line between insanity and creativity. They should get into the brain of the nihilistic protagonist and see how his thoughts play a major role in his seclusion. This is what leads and maintains addiction.

JS: Any takeaway from this book?

TK: Never think you know anything.

Ted Kouretas describes himself as a postmodern iconoclast bent on showing taboo truths. With this book, he gives us a glimpse.

John Sutter is a PostDoc litarature fellow from the University of Alabama.

Legacy-Building Resolution 

#legacy #reality

I’ve made my biggest New Year’s resolution to date. I want to build a legacy. Looking at definitiins for “legacy” from a simple Google search has brought about a general definition of “inheritance” almost exclusively based on money.

Legacy,  according to democratist ideals, is something we leave behind of value and purpose. It is usually there to be studied and understood after we have left this life. It is something of substance, tangible or not, that will help uncover or better understand something. It, therefore,  is an inheritance made up of something other than money.

Honesty and success come hand in hand. In contemporary society, this means stepping on people as little as possible in order to sell a relative down the river. In democratism, it means achieving success through honesty, truth, and respect. This is actually easier to do than the old capitalist model called “the American Dream”. The “Universal Dream” needs to be based on respect for all. This cannot be overstated. Respect builds trust. And vice versa. Honesty eventually brings about truth. And truth is the hallmark to, yes, respect. And on it goes.

If we change one person for the better, is it not more beneficial than leaving them a monetary inheritance? As well, is it not better to empower masses of people than to give money to a few? 

I  seek a social awakening. I seek a communal understanding that spans and evolves into universal understanding.  

The woman in the top of the 2 photos has made it financially. She will leave a lehacy of money to her family. Then, all will die like she did. They will eternally die. No particles of any semblance of knowledge shall remain. Nothing worthy. Nothing distiguishable.

The other woman, seemingly an occult figure, seemimgly from another time,  will forevsr bathe in the splendor of others’ pursuits in the past and the future. She will be a symbol of evolution. There will be everlasting life, everlasting strife, everlasting achievements. There is importance in her existence and lineage. Thus,  a worthy legacy.

So how will I ever compare to the eternal trendsetters? 

I have made lots of headway in 2017, a year that had doom written all over it. I have made inroads. The small amoebas that were moribund in me have awakened, grown, and found life again—life that had been dormant for over a decade. Life that had tried to get out of its comfortable existence. Comfort…overrated. The opposite is not discomfort,  but rather a search for higher ground. 

So friends,  Canadians, and people from all over the Universe, please lend me your eyes and read this. I will forever try my best to move forward on the road to liberation, knowledge, empowerment, and freedom. I shall build my legacy through my everyday actions. I haave no business plan. I have a spiritual and ethical plan.  

I will be a good person. I will follow my life path to greatness. I will build a legacy.

The State of Christmas Address 

After about a decade on hiatus, it’s time for my annual Christmas speech to the masses. Please,  no partisan applause. No applause whatsoever. Just join the peanut gallery please. 

My friends, there has been a change to Christmas since a year ago. There has been a victory over the rampant and crippling political correctness that had endangered our holiday in previous years. For the first time in a long time, we are able to refer to Christmas as Christmas. The young lady at the Macy’s counter says Merry Christmas now, not Happy Holidays. The Korean woman at the corner store where I buy my lottery, my Muslim hairdresser, my Jewish tax accountant, …….  They all wished me a Merry Christmas.  And that’s fucking great. To be noted is that I have wished them a Happy Hanukkah, Eid Mubarek, etc. as well. It’s a question of common courtesy. A question of democratist ideology. 

The peanut gallery may now applaud.

Lock her up. Lock her up. Lock her up.

Now now. No need for that. She’s already in a prison of her own mind. Are you guys at the wrong rally?

Friends,  along with the good news comes the bad. We have not learned the spirit of giving. Ironically,  this is due to a lack of understanding of empathy and human rights. The modern interpretation of Christmas has deluded and disillusioned.  First, we decide to feed the poor because it’s Christmas. Does this mean we need to ignore them the other 364 days? 

In the grandstands up there is a hero of mine. He was at a TD bank ATM and saw a homeless person sleeping in there to stay away from the cold when an American tourist in a Brooklyn- Tuscaloosa accent started kicking the man. His drunk friends applauded his actions. Our hero took matters into his own hands and rammed the violent perpetrator’s head through the glass of the ATM. He called our police officers and justice was served.

Applause for the hero

In the end, friends, we need to feel the spiritual bond with our impoverished and homeless brethren. We need to see them as equals. They have endured so much. We need to make them examples of heroism instead of trying to shame them.

The problem of ultra consumerism is as prevalent as ever. Not even neo-liberal-created impoverishment has curtailed sales. People are spending. Getting into debt. Robbing their neighbours to get their kids useless presents. They are continuing the chain of ignorance and soullesness. Please please please, don’t let the Clinton acolytes get their way. Don’t become blinded like they are. 

I’ll get to the most important point now. We need to once again not only understand,  but also feel, the spirit of Christmas. It is one of the many spiritual steps to wholeness. Let’s take a deep breath, preferably outside, not while on a smoking break,  and let the spirit fill us. Let’s keep it in and breathe out the old, the anger, the fear. Let’s hug ourselves. Love ourselves. Let’s spread this to our neighbours. This is Christmas.  No one ever spoke of gifts. No one ever spoke of Santa Claus.

Folks, it’s time to spread the word. Time to embolden. It’s time to empower.  It’s time to spread the word of the truth. Time to educate. It’s fucking time to wake people up.

Wake them up! Wake them up! Wake them up!

Amen!

The above was meant as a piece of entertainment.  There were no political, religious, or any other sort of influences and intentions that were brought up for any reason other than to create satiric and entertaining prose.

No offense to the peanut gallery.