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More dead and displaced than the Rwanda genocide.

It seems the numbers game has lost its sting in the cabal of this 24 hour information blitz news coverage of corporate mass media. Soon one forgets the true meaning of these numbers, that each individual number stood for a single human life. A mother, father, brother or sister that will never breathe another breath in this life; gone forever into the vast void of regurgitated information we call news.

Instead of screaming bloody murder and running into the night onward to revolution we are bombarded day after day with wild tales of dope addict shooting sprees, followed by up to the minute reports of dead drug addict porn stars and the men who loved them, or rabid Iranian terrorists ready to gnaw at the bones of every Christian blond haired blue eyed child. Or how Mexican voodoo gangs in the heartland stand ready to burn every city in America... Or by sick chance was that some drug induced paranoid trip. Or maybe one of Karl Rove's top-secret S&M sex fantasies?

The pure ugliness of it all will boil over and over, covering all in its path. Maybe it's all some sick hell cast down by the decaying hands of the Neo-Con death culture or maybe by some mad vision of God himself. Who can know these things except maybe Dick Cheney or Beelzebub himself? Maybe by some sick joke they are one and the same. The great Bill Hicks once said "I feel like I can't even leave my house without the fear of being attacked by a rabid pitbull with AIDS". Maybe in some circles his fear is warranted.

The old days of the Press are long forgotten, the trade not even held to any worth now in the great communications age. Information is neatly packaged and stamped for approval by some unseen hands; the railroading of the old school of thought has long been accomplished. Now the dumb have their own personal voice, found in bootlicker yellow journalism that speaks a "real" gospel 24 hours every day and night into the hordes of mindless sheep with generic lives and homes infested by fatheaded children overweight and bloated by diabetes, slapping "made in Communist China" desecrated American flags on their gas-guzzling SUVs and calling themselves patriots. This is the time of the New Age American filth pigs.

The beast has found his niche and curled up to warm himself next to the American conscience, stealing all thoughts of the free thinkers. And rewarding it with self centered revolutions

George Bush says he sleeps just fine at night, the great decider never wakes from sweat-soaked dreams of war and death, and in some circles has elevated to some kind of white trash hero who struts around on a 3 ring circus movie set in Crawford, Texas like some tough cowboy locked in a holy war showdown with Bin Laden. A grand story that only a parasite like Karl Rove could dream up.

Once in Austin I met a dirty wino who claimed to be the session drummer for Steely Dan. Now in the normal mind this screams pure insanity, but what if by some dumb truth he wasn't lying? What if this man did snort mountains of cocaine with Donald Fagen and jammed endlessly into the night, culminating in some kind of 70's style orgy? The same can't be said of the great decider; his story has been ripped to shreds and thrown into the trash of past deceivers of history. Down there with the likes of Hitler and Pol Pot: the real monsters that should be feared in the dead of night.

Learn more about this author, Sean Winkelmann.
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