Here a wealthy white couple is being interviewed by a wealthy white reporter. While they would all likely insist they are middle-class working folks~ the stylishly folded expensive red scarf betrays my point.
"Umm, You know I...the kids who don't have anything else to do...umm, who probably have alot of time on their hands...uhhh... and probably have not been taught the most... umm... you know..."
~ My point: This is evidence of the passive fascism of the Bush Cartel.
These folks are being asked to comment on a phenomenon that they are afraid of... the large presence of American Youth without proper corporate sanctions or police security.
The younger pedestrian who ruined the shot is a freedom fighter.
The kids are storming South Street because they don't want to storm Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and Pakistan.
The kids are storming South Street because that's where all the hippies meet,
and the Bush Cartel closed down their libraries and recreation centers.
If that man did not fear the social backlash of daring to attack the Bush Cartel ( which is licking it's wounds )
he could have said something similar to
"The flash mobs we witnessed are a symptom of the madness of war and the limits of capitalism"
But instead he froze like a deer in headlights and mumbled words as he attempted to stop fixating on the fact that most of the mob was African-American...
with the primary source of his hemming and hawing likely stemming from the fact that his world is so far removed from theirs that he had no fucking clue why people were taking to the streets.
And the poor guy probably didn't even vote for Bush ( who did? )
I just hope they don't drag the Sonic Cannon down from Pittsburgh that they unleashed on us at their G20 Summit and park it in front of the Wooden Shoe Bookstore, or Zipperhead.
Because i am a fucking patriot, and so are those kids.
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Poetic HyperLinks Defeating the Impossibilities of Peace
Also sprach Zarathustra to the brothasistahs lost out in the woods…
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It