This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “the 23 enigma” cc&d (v263) (the June 2016 issue, v263, the 23 year anniversary issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Clouds over the Moon the cc&d Jan. - June 2016 collection book		get the 318 page Jan. - June 2015 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Warhol Earth (Death by Monotone)

CEE

    Narcissism breathes life, nondevotees. It’s the only line remaining between Andy Warhol’s prophecy of everyone’s “15 minutes of fame”, and The Gray Blob People of minimalistic humanity—you know, that Allness which results in Nothingness. If I wasn’t thoroughly healed by bathing in the waters of Selflove (Hallelujah!), I’d feel I mattered very little and my accomplishments, likewise. For, when Humbert’s Fleabag Bar and Grease Trap is on par with Mount Vernon in the eyes of preservationists, there’s no justifiable reason to save either one. Equivocation, turns all Humanity into Sara Lee goodies—no one’s allowed to Not Like a thing. Yet, effort is expected, and spleen and gloved fists raised.
    For some of you, the shallow turn of “all we are is dust in the wind” into handing bags of concrete potato chips to toothless homeless, or having a bully thrown in juvie to be assraped... because he was a bully and, you know, um...cruel ...this “it’s all for nothing, we die and rot, see you next week to discuss the boycott!”-Jedi MOUSETRAP so many pull off, is just like riding a bike. For me, it’s Bicycle playing cards dealt Three Card Monte. Anyone who believes in a universal “fairness”, is fooling themselves. You don’t have to believe in anything, if you don’t wanta, but if you run the FBI’s heavy marker through every word and characterizing def, shooting for a monotone spectrum of uniformity, you get dead people walking, a deadened society, eventually a zombopocalypse where somehow breathing corpses (all grey, of course) stand in pose from Madonna’s “Vogue”. If you’re maniacal enough, you want to realize as True the hated “sheeple” the Guy Fawkes movement makes boogeyman, remove any lines Wittgenstein could cook up or spitball, give empty life to “the assembly line people” as I coined in the Carter Years. And then, no try, Yoda. Do or do not. Make everything so fair, everything has in fact been razed, a blue mote where there resides not good nor bad, as there is no concept as such, as no concepts exist at all, barely a word and seldom a thought. It Has To Be Done This Way, as if we accept the axiom of No Ultimate System, then hit Clear on everything and Scientology, too—as my treasured behavior or Beauty, might be your trash, and your freedom might mean my enslavement.
    So, Everything Must Go. And once it’s gone, Man, a creature now of nothing but programming, stands there, blanking, until everyone can sit down in unison. See, no heartwarming movie pap is involved. We’ve burned the script with mulberry bush Whoville dancing and sharing of jellybread sammies, for same is same is a rose is a rose is one printout for the planet. You do not get your Elysian Fields, I do not get mine. SAME!! And we have no needs, no wants, and nothing in fact, at all. There exists no point to accomplishment, so accomplishment all but ceases. There is no separation by reward; there is no reason to strive. If improvement separates, why improve? If individuality is 50 shades of a single shade of Gray Blob People, there is no differentiation whatever. And moral structure and legal structure and all structure and every wall fall down. And nothing remains to hold it, as there is no cornerstone, no center and no base. There can be no sense of even having achieved, as minus safeguards, failsafes, checks, balances, boundaries of a more general kind, all you retain, is Human... you might recall this creature, I’ve been telling publicly of his deviltry for 8 years, now. Human has myriad eyes. And those narrowed, will always gouge out those looking the other way. In effect, Ayn Rand’s tweak on selfishness as Ubermensch juice, begets Woody and Juliette blasting you to popcorn as they Beavis and Butthead their glee...or Tom Cruise burbling how “beautiful!”, as he lays on the machine gun with a sexual passion...or Wesley Snipes ascending to the mount of the congregation of the north, as Stallone is on ice, and no one can blunt armor-piercing hardware with “pretty please”.
    There is a myth, that love begets love, Blue Meanies fall before it, and this swell spreads throughout the planet as though Drew Barrymore’s daisies were potpourri kudzu, but the thinking is flawed, because Man possesses a tunnel vision, whereby he peeps through his monocular and shoots POV through a prism of thinking pretty damned well of himself. This leads to such goodies as “Iran should be our ally”, or that spouses long checked out, if prodded, will surely hit the grindstone nose first, “because he Loves her”. Or that, enough happy mud pie play of paper-weak Eloi, and the Morlocks will rewrite themselves as cuddly Klingon biker dudes, and get with the plan. That there now exists no plan. Or need for one. Or need to point that out.
    Anarchism fails, because structure must exist, and said structure needs be hard and ungiving and rigid and cut in overly broad ways, or Woody and Juliette and Wesley Snipes and the mean assholes in every better movie when writers wrote actual scripts, will gun down, dirty bomb and 9/11 their way to mob rule in nothing flat. Woodstock seniors and those with snoot-snouts in the goblet of social sciences, scorn this, but Officer Friendly has already been given no reason for some time to Not step aside. In addition to no services, no order kept. No wrongs righted—and Malevolent Guy isn’t offering choices. The SS didn’t, either, and save your sweet “harrumph!” at the example. Dialog and its “Gotcha!”-based trickery, are, as Timbuk3 had it, “planned distractions to divert attention”...like me, arguing conceptually with the English Literature teacher, who was vague and had tendency to ramble. At the end of the hour, the class had been spared a whole day of our Gitmo of Macbeth, and though, standard of community, some few workaholics ground teeth that drudgery had been briefly fouled, it was no more than the crime of a gadfly. In the 21st Century, national or global, winning talking points through rude shit one learned from Professor Emeritus Ass Hole, is the active version of covering faces like Jonathan Harris as Dr. Smith, e.g. “I won’t look!...it’ll go away!” Nope. To reload, maybe, or burn down a Starbucks as their coffee break.
    With no penalty enforceable, no power greater than Self even in face of mortal crimes, Human will not and does not and increasingly refuses, Cody Jarrett in Cagney-voice, to heave to. He does not surrender. He has no reason to. There’s no reason left on this Earth-model, either, btw. Talk, really is bullshit, when the hard decisions are at hand...and abstract reality of Human Equality, cannot be interpreted by grunts. Every tired humanist twaddle in the world, comes down to “Because...”. As we used to say on my East Bluff block, “Because Why?!” There’s no answer to that. I’ve told you about tribalism threaded, cross stitch, through America’s tapestry. Mothers from the bad side of town, heads filled exam cram with graduate school concepts of familial politics and power relationships and “inappropriate”, come away primed only for a witch hunt of all unseen “abuse”...which, like the Pentecostal who sees demons on the doorknob, is everywhere beyond their eyes. We can argue, ad infinitum, re: was that a genuine boson of lore, in that European supercollider, or a micro second’s glitch in the nomenclature of the machinery...or a snicker-covered lie from a bunch of asses hungry for their very own 15 minutes? We can go ’round the Bush clan on that one and doubles ’round W, but to assert Others will “do the right thing”, just because it’s right (and, hey, there’s no right or wrong or even indifferent, anymore, either...indifferent implies apathy, and the opposite of Love is not giving a damn)...? The reason you can cite a list of heroic, loving, selfless examples, is said list being short enough to cite! Even opinionpedia would allow it to stand, which means if sniffed, it’s found useless.
    I’d ask Human with its Select All/Return of lines which divide, what CSM asked Fox Mulder—when demanded, yawning gun barrel in his face, “who are you to decide what’s ‘right’?”, our smoking friend retorted, “Who are You?” Someone has to be, even the bad guy with lung cancer, or game goes to the ones with the most ordnance. These may prove quite young, and soon. You’ll notice school shootings are now commonplace. Maher and his babbleshit buddies say, “Yes, BUT...!”, and my old anarchist chums say, “Yes, BUT...!”, and every barefoot person over 25 says, “Yes, BUT...!”, and the caps go poppin’ merrily along. Conceptual arguments can be fun (I prefer cutting, given a choice; that’s just me) but they don’t go very far versus Smith & Wesson. It’s my experience, a criminal faced off, Wyatt Earp, with The Purpose-Driven Life, blows away the woman who thinks she’s St. Paul. He then burns the book and salts the ashes, only for that it was boring. We don’t get news stories with this caste. That’d be double plus ungood, wouldn’t it?
    I’m all for making a case against scarlet letters or epithets screamed against those who take dumps on society’s rules. The late, no-nonsense Judge Mills Lane, referred to punishment of crime as very simply, “a process of disposal”. I believe in doing this with faces of slate and wooden movements, the way all prison guards appeared in that era when Sing Sing was the only facility most could name off the top of their head. I certainly think we can do without degrading kids right out of the chute because they as Human don’t, Sesame Street, “belong” where they’re planted... but as to a gold star and an A+ given the same random “YAY!!” as a pair of deuces, try offering balm to the shamefaced without removing glory from those who have earned it. Pay by way of production...if A-Rod, though I kiss his cleats, goes 0 for 23, dock his pay! Bring back the laurel crown! Fuck failure! If the junior geniuses on one team come up short shrift, this doesn’t make them “almost winners”. You don’t have to scream the word “losers” so feedback rages through the studio, but they Lost The Damned Game! Loss and shortfall and arrears and also-ran lack of achievement, are intrinsic to the ride. People lose out on raises, promotions, in love or in competition, some live long lives of lukewarm nothingness. Some are hurtful as incubi and some baby-oink about their hurties, want held and a juice box with maybe just two Oreos the size of your head. Some rot quickly and live forever alone. Some are rot, and use Others like Kleenex. Some are always hungry and some are proud of this fact, and some are so into anorexia, they get rather orgasmic about it. And, some die in the subway and some die in the gutter, and some die in white splendor under a canopy reading, in bold Low German, “You’re all shitheads. Who ‘retires’? I’m still the Pope.”
    There’s a ‘better’ and a ‘worse’ and a ‘right’ and a ‘wrong’, nonfriends. There exists success and as well, failure. You’re welcome to blur definitions and make the face of any governing structure as arbitrary as you like in the petulant, stamping foot of your little mind... but We Are Not All Alike. We Are Not The Same. The Sierra Club might stamp your passport to Existence Legitimizes, but try it on CEE and steel for The Three Billy Goats Gruff as a weird tale! Life itself already contains Allness, and the spectrum of Life is necessarily divisive, a coordinate plane, not a gray blob ice ball of homogenization. If “different” and its differences and any right or freedom or liberty or permission to recognize them, is verboten due to dumb brute respect for Others’ self-image, I think you’ve missed the point of self-image. Self, means YOU as Self understood by YOU, and this does not extend past your fingertips. You may indeed be a work of art, you’re certainly welcome to think so, and I’m welcome to snort at the spectacle and imitate you as baggy pants disaster. Life on the ball, is All and Everything. We, ourselves, are not so, either as group or individual, team or isolated soul, not those preening, not a horizon of gray blobs produced by restraining laws. Truly, the mind reels at the reality of people so lost in a chaotic universe, they venerate clonishness as ultimate fair play, lest they receive or be or realize nothing at all.
    I’ve said, I clapped hands long ago. I will not be part of a monotone soup can. Or any product Warhol played with to make his point...which seemed to be, anything and everything is art, or as you like. Andy, an absent man ironically defined by his cohorts, produced art as Truth and Beauty as “whatever”. You can do that with static things. Humans, are not static things until they’re dead. This appears to be what y’all are trying for. I find the zombie-quality, unsettling. Might I request you all go out ala Jonestown, and expedite the process? Because, if you expect to assimilate me, playing it George Romero shamblers moaning, “SAME...!!”, kindly recall my action-heavy era. I learned riot shotgun handling, from Linda Hamilton in T2. All hail, female role models. I like moms like that.

    CEE

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...