Happy Now?

Just what is this thing we call happiness? Is it Up With People singing at your birthday party, or a new pony, or just the next hit of crack? Like any state of mind, it's governed by the release of endorphins, and subject to one's ability to produce them. Being nothing more than a bag of chemicals is not so hard to understand, but the illogical conditioning that makes the release subject to whatever whim, say, shopping, or watching basketball, or torturing people in Guantanamo Bay, is not so easy to get into focus. Worse still is when that conditioning breaks down, or is interrupted, and the flow goes out the door with it. And then, Elvis reached for his pills...

Happiness is overrated. Chances are, whatever is making you so happy is either going to get spent, lost, broken, stolen, or will eventually cheat on you. THEN, where are you? Like the song says, it's just a paper sun. Happiness really needs to be a zen thing, where you're happy about absolutely nothing. You might be really boring to others, but, who cares. You're happy. Problem is, most people don't have the patience to work at things like meditation that have no immediate payoff, and require intense concentration. Not while there's a game on, at least. So, what have you got for me, Doc?

Why does Bush have a list of everyone who is on anti-depression meds? Is he planning on sending them all get-well cards? Maybe he's getting ready to enact a law that forbids the sale of firearms to anyone on meds. Boy, there's half your gun control right there. If it works, whoever thought it up will be promoted to a very high position, and maybe get a big bonus in Halliburton stock. Think he'll be happy then? I can't speak to that, but I know what would make ME happy. They better never give me the chance.

Cabbie No More

The time has finally come for me to walk away from that big yellow swordfish one last time and turn in my key, head held high, thankful for life and sanity. My cool new job at the Scientology Center is such that I no longer need to spend my weekends in the fishbowl, driving for my supper. Hallelujah! It was often fun and interesting, but it was also a petri dish full of stressful events. I will live longer now. Bye, bye, SUV queens who can't see above the steering wheel. Bye, bye, stop-sign-running bike nazis. Bye, bye, demolition-derby bus drivers. Bye, bye, miffed one-night-stand people who'd convinced themselves they were THE ONE, slinking home to sleep it off, too self-absorbed to tip. Bye, bye, smug Marina pod-people, flush with "success".
Bye, bye, cold-blooded cabbies who steal your fares. And, buh-bye, Exxon, Shell, etc. If anyone could squeeze blood out of a turnip, it's decidedly you. Let me know when we can get 100 MPG, and maybe I'll drive again.

Meanwhile, let's see what's going on out there:

Here's a science minister saying that elderly people should be tagged with implants. I take it that minister is not himself in the autumn of his life, as I don't see him volunteering to be the first one tagged. And, here are some people who say that no one should be chipped. I say, chip the control freaks, and keep them down on the farm. They've caused enough trouble already.

It seems that a language arts-teaching parrot has been discovered. Is THIS how our president learned to speak? It would figure, and, boy, making sense in this world is a mighty arduous task. If there is anyone truly up to it, I'd like to know about it.

Multiple Motive Massacre Syndrome

"There was no emotion in his eyes."

Its impressive how the number 33 often seems to present itself when the elites play a trump card, and make no mistake about it, they certainly did drop a bomb this time. As for the motives, they include another turn of the screw for the police state, knocking Rosie O'Donnell's assertion's on 9/11 complicity out of the spotlight, and ushering in a new round of talk on gun control. The Democrats can now bicker on the subject all summer long instead of focusing on, say, Iraq, or the North American Union, or subpoenas for Cheney, and so on.

Of all the Manchurian Candidates who have taken the stage over the years, the most fascinating and disturbing were the two Charlie Manson acolytes, Squeaky Fromm and Sarah Jane Moore. Both took shots at President Gerald Ford at close range. The incidences were just weeks apart, and both occurred in or relatively close to San Francisco. If one or the other had succeeded, Nelson Rockefeller would have become president. How fortunate for us that THAT didn't happen, Rockefeller proxies Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton notwithstanding. Brother David learned from that failure, and is content to run things from behind the curtain.

It's ironic that the shooter's sister works for a company that provides intelligence and high-tech security. Does that company benefit from an event like this? You bet they do. Thank God for all the Coincidence Theorists who would dispel any notion of a connection here. We want to wake up in the same world we went to sleep in, and that's not so easy these days. Pity the princess on a pony that has to find her way in this world. The big smack-down is just around the corner now.

Penguins On A Treadmill

Do scientists really have to put penguins on treadmills and monitor their heart rate to prove that global warming is real? Apparently so. Why not just administer polygraph tests to bought-and-paid-for global warming debunking pseudo-scientists. That might save a lot of time and trouble, and penguins won't have to be made to run like they're trying to catch the 5:00 train. Besides, the problem will be solved by 2023, when President Jenna Bush orders giant mirrors to be positioned around the globe. Haha, when the aliens turn their telescopes our way, they'll only get a reflection of their ugly selves.

It figures that someone would write a book about the Nazis' proclivity for environmentalism, and thus draw a connection between the two. Well, damn those Greenpeace Nazis for torturing us with patchouli, and making us all adhere to dolphin fascism. But, it's ironic that the book was put out by Swallow Press. What ELSE will the drones be required to swallow?

Due to the high price of gas, I've decided to put my house-mate to work driving some extra shifts for me. This eat, sleep and play stuff is over. I'm saying, return with your shield, or upon it. And, don't call me on my cell phone to complain about yuppies who don't tip. It's your problem now.