#30 “4.4 Million Years and nothing has changed”

Dear Don1001,

    Today they announced the finding a fossil skeleton of the species Ardipithecus Ramidus, its age is about 4.4 million years, making it our oldest and best-preserved human ancestor. And yet after all those years of evolution and civilization, tonight I want to chase down an animal, a dangerous animal and kill it, then I want to build a fire, a large fire, cook that meat on that fire and then eat copious amounts of that charred animal flesh. After which, I want to take a woman physically and I would please her, every time I took her, she would be pleased again and again until we would sleep. Yes, tell me about your civilization, just once kill an animal (the larger the better) and then cook and tell me it wasn’t one of the best things you had ever eaten in your life. And every woman I’ve ever met secretly had a weird rape fantasy, I call it weird because these woman want to be raped by someone they want to have sex with, which technically isn’t rape, but they want the illusion of being taken. After 8,000 years of continuous civilization these things are still a part of our DNA and we can’t shake it. Anybody who has ever had a “grudge” fuck knows what I’m talking about, and for those who don’t know what a “grudge” fuck is, I’ll tell you. It’s when you want to fuck someone that you detest and they feel the exact same way you do. Now that’s what you call primal, folks. Yes, even though you’re pissed off at someone, you still want to have sex with them, it can be intense, pouring every bit of animosity into sexual energy, every thrust and counter thrust meant for passion, meant for pain. Tell me about your civilization, women go through untold pain, sticking silicon in their chests and other barbaric things like wearing high-heeled shoes to attract a powerful male that will take care of them. So should I apologize for being smarter, stronger and faster than average, Hell no. So as much as modern society may say they detest Alpha Males, they worship them. The majority of folks may say they prefer thoughtful, sensitive types, but when the shit hits the fan, the first thing people do is to look for a strong authority figure. So until we admit who we are and that there are certain things in our DNA that aren’t very pretty, we will remain a mystery to ourselves and continue to go through the same passion plays that result in a lot of misery. Me, personally, I’m proud that my ancestors for 4.4 million years did whatever it took, no matter what. Folks if you, murdered, lied, stole, cheated or cut and run, thank you, thank you. I’m here, so job well done. Style points do not matter when it come to life and death, the only thing that matters is life, and that it goes on, you're descendants can lie about the “style points” later and trust me, they will.

                               Howling at the Moon, Brother Gregory

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#29 "Memories Of Ted..."

Dear Don1001,

For some unknown reason, while watching Fox News last night I had a bad Acid/mescaline flashback that took me back to the late Spring of 68 when I was a fresh faced kid of 12 and I got to spend the afternoon with Ted Kennedy as he and his entourage went through the hills of Southern Indiana. My uncle was key member of group of Democrats that could help Indiana go for his brother Bobby in the upcoming Presidential race. So little brother Ted was sent to shore up support and reinforce the “brand”. This was very large, since Ted was JFK’s brother and in Southern Indiana, John Kennedy was a saint, literally. The Southern Indiana area that I lived in was predominately Catholic, so Ted was royalty. And I got a couple of minutes to talk with Ted during a break. At that time, actually talking with Ted was a big deal. If my memory serves me, I asked him if he liked his job. Ted said it was all he’d known and it was pretty cool, and then I got a personalized autograph picture. That beautiful Spring afternoon was almost all movement, and except for a small lunch break and a couple of hiccups in the itinerary; it was rush, rush, rush. I would have rather played basketball or hung out with the guys, but it seemed important to my parents that I be in the presence of a Kennedy, for a couple of hours. Plus when I got home, I did get a little envy from the other kids, but this lasted for maybe a day or two. Then the autographed picture went up on my bedroom wall and life resumed. Then a year or so later on July 18^th, Ted drowned Mary Jo, and cynicism became a constant friend, the picture went into the flames. At 13, all my heroes had died figuratively and literally. But this was just as well, because later on, when I occasionally worked around the so-called world leaders, there was no disappointment, no illusions, there had been none to lose. When I think back about that moment in time when Ted really was a boy prince and I looked into the prism of reality as a child, I realize that reality can be a Bitch. And maybe that's why the people of America still cling to their heroes or wait for a new one, embracing fantasy, while rejecting the reality. And that reality is that there aren’t any heroes now and there were very few in the past. The majority the “great” figures of history, were simple people caught up in great events and then didn’t “flake-out”. Let’s face it; if you were in the room when the Declaration of Independence was signed, historically you got “props” if even you were just delivering the beer. Now that your gone Ted, I miss you. That sounds weird and probably is, but our feelings about the past are seldom rational and usually nostalgic. The Kennedy legacy is like a low budget Cable Reality Show that America feels guilty about watching and enjoying because we know that the whole love affair just reinforces how superficial we are as a people. We would have rather leaders look good than be good. Karma-wise I think this whole episode was balanced out by working with Pope John Paul II, but that Don, is another story.

                                  Wrestling with Kant, Brother Gregory

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#28 Nordic Death Metal…

Dear Don1001,

God I love Internet Radio. There’s the alt station eskemoradio.com in the UK, the French Radio station “Indies Sabotage 75” then there is the crème de la extreme: Djuk’ Radio where they play Black Metal, Pagan Metal and Viking Death Metal, that’s all Nordic Death Metal, all the time. One night when I had reached the perfect chemical equilibrium of Khat, Hashish and unrefined opium, I started surfing Internet Radio when I landed on the station Djuk Radio, the sounds seized my brain like the DEA seizes a bank account. Trying to describe Scandinavian Death Metal is absurd, Teutonic power chords over jackhammer percussion with vocals loosely based on a style used by Viking Warriors as they went into battle. You got to love a musical genre where actual murders and suicides give a band street “cred”. These Quasi & Neo Fascists don’t flirt with racism and homophobia; they have it tattooed on their body. It’s the sort of extremism that makes Marilyn Manson, a poser. Granted, if your not incredible intoxicated or suffering from a psychotic rage that has resulted from a prolonged bout of depression, the music can get on your nerves, quick. But if you’re incredible intoxicated and in a psychotic rage, Nordic Death Metal is your kind of music. Remember Charles Whitman from the 60’s? You don’t? Well, no matter, Charles climbed a tower at the University of Texas and starting shooting people, efficiently. I guarantee you that Mr. Whitman would have had Nordic Death Metal on his I-pod, if he could have. Death Metal is the music of choice for “dead enders”, it’s where Goth goes when they decide to end the joke that is life and get serious about death. And no one does it better than the Norwegians, not the Finns, not the Swedes and don’t even mention the fucking Danes, Death Metal has reached it’s apex in Norway. May be it’s the extreme cold or lack of light combined with a Viking warrior tradition but no one's music is darker or harder. Remember the Spinal Tap line “It’s blacker than black”, well, it doesn’t get any darker than Norwegian Death Metal, my friend. And if it does get darker than Norwegian Death Metal I want no part of it, because music that depressing should come with a body bag. Why Norway?  Maybe it’s the isolation of Winter or being Vitamin D deficient but the Norwegians get Death Metal in nihilistic abundance. I know one thing if I ever decided to “lock and load” there will be full metal jackets in the chamber and “Mayhem” and “Dark Throne” on my MP3 player.

        Appreciating Death as an Art form, Brother Gregory

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#27 The Confessions of an Opium Eater...

Dear Don1001,

I don’t know what else Samuel Coleridge was right about, but he was right about eating opium, it does give you a different outlook on life. I’ve had to start eating my opium because I can’t spare the oxygen to smoke it anymore. My plants aren’t giving off as much oxygen as I thought they would, anyway I’ve started eating my opium instead of smoking it and my lungs feel a Hell of a lot better. Once you’re on a pipe binge you go until you nod out and that can rip the shit out of the respiratory system. So between not smoking and more oxygen, I’m breathing much better. I sometimes think that the lack of O2 was causing some of my anxiety attacks, but probably not. It’s watching numb nuts from the far right and far left trying to run the government that can make you want to stab knitting needles into own eyes. It doesn’t matter whether you’re right of Attila the Hun or left of Nancy Pelosi, you know that the country will go belly up because of debt unless we adopt single payer healthcare and start rationing our medical resources. You can call me a drug addicted, Commie, brain addled Fascist (which may or may not be true) but at least I’m not in denial. As a shit-load of boomers start to make demands on the healthcare system, someone is going to have become a hard ass about the situation. And it starts with Doctors, “Mr. Johnson your 45 pounds overweight, smoke, eat badly and don’t exercise, if you don’t change 3 out of 4 of these bad habits or I’m cutting off your health care.” That’s it, either shape up or you’re chucked out of the system. We could have a little ceremony (sort of like in the movie “Beau Geste”) where your health card is ripped up and you’re promptly escorted out of the building (and then we could see how Christian the country really is). Then we would move onto Nursing Homes, where we start hiring retired Military drill instructors. Old people do not need to be coddled, they needed to be pushed and prodded. The more able old people should be harnessed and made to work at least a half-day doing what is most productive. Now before start condemning me as a barbaric pinhead, this accomplishes two things right off the bat; first it slows down illegal immigration (who would to come here, if you knew you had to work until the day you died) and second, it’s a great incentive to take care of yourself and stay out of a Nursing Home as long as possible. If you knew retirement was going to be like Boot Camp and you wouldn’t be so likely to retire, would you? That concept will single handedly save Social Security and our true way of American life. And finally Single Payer means U.S. business would have the albatross of healthcare off of their backs so they could go back to ripping the rest of the World a new one.

                                           Hoping we have the guts, Brother Gregory

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Brother Gregory "The Bunker Letters" #26 Coming up for Air...

Dear Don1001,

The Dogs of War are still baying and so am I. Yes, I’ve been hoping that sanity would rear its ugly head and people would realize that nothing has really changed, fat chance. Obama’s two-year reign in office has been like one long Tantric sex session and we’re still not close to an orgasm. Since the election, with Obama, it’s been like a 2 year-long date with only kiss here and grope there, with a lot of promises of everlasting love. Obama’s followers were totally convinced that once he got elected, they were going to get “some”. But so far the only people having sex in the Champagne Room are the Bankers and the very rich. Obama, it turned out, was just like a lot of other politicians, after he got what he wanted from the people, he went to Washington and started hanging out with celebrities. That’s when a lot people began realizing that Barry had been seeing other interest groups. Sure their were occasional calls and E-mails, a rally here and there to regain the passion, but they knew things had changed. It could have been once Obama had started getting things like Nobel Peace Prizes and going to global summits, it’s hard to remember the “little people”. Or just maybe, once Obama spent a lot a “quality” time with the “little people” of the U.S., it scared the Hell out of him. Which I can understand, before packing into the Bunker, the “business” sent me all over this fine country of ours, to obscure places like La Rose, Louisiana or London, Kentucky, and we have some of the strangest people on the face of the planet. Yes, Sir, we have World-class weird, remember the old lady who asked John McCain about Obama being an Arab, and the look of terror in John’s eyes as he realized that some of his most fervent supporters were full tilt loony and misinformed. As McCain tried to explain that Obama wasn’t an Arab, he was booed, I think, it was at that moment that the election was finished. If you turn around and see that the people following you are fucking crazy, it’s hard to stay focused. Or just maybe Mr. McCain realized that whoever became President was doomed to failure and it just wasn’t worth it. That after a decade of binge materialism and in your face excess that America was going to get a King-Hell sized hangover and a large bar tab. John knew that America wasn’t going to be pissed at themselves for feeling and looking like shit. America was going to be pissed at the joint that sold them bottles of Patron and Makers Mark on credit until four in the morning. So you have to wonder, did the American people overestimate Obama or did Obama overestimate the American people? We blamed Bush for all of our sins by omission and now Obama. Sorry folks, but the government is no more fucked up than the people who support it. If you buy a sports car with bad brakes, because it makes you feel good, don’t complain when you crash.

                     Waiting for the Porsche to hit the wall, Brother Gregory

                     

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