"...Notes From The Dump..."

ALL THE RICH POLITICIANS…

…exaggerating their impoverished childhoods, crying poormouth then disclosing multi-million dollar salaries, and in my view, generally on the take; well, they are out in droves, taking to the streets with their ersatz and skewed views hoping I/you/we will buy into their gibberish, which we actually will do, and put them in The White House, as opposed to depending them from the gibbet…Will Rogers would be having a heyday…I’ll stand in for the Old Okie from the Cherokee Nation while he’s out barnstorming with Wiley Post up in Alaska…

…now just you look here at that there good ole down home country boy John Edwards whose biggest single source of earned income, I recently read, was his $479,512 salary from Fortress Investment Group, FIG, the hedge fund for which he was a consultant last year. Heavens to Betsy, I haven’t made that much yet…he makes in one year what most people don’t make in a lifetime and he’s gonna tell me something about poverty? Excuse me? Be like me telling Tiger how to play golf.

…this is the same John Edwards who has made fighting poverty a signature element of his campaign. He has said his work for FIG, a fund that caters to the wealthiest investors, was designed to educate him about the relationship between poverty and wealth…hell’s bells Dude, three nights in a trailer park would do that, then you could take all that leftover loot and spread it around…shucks Dude, I know plenty of down home Folks could use a few bucks…

I ONCE ENTERTAINED THOUGHTS OF…

…seeing a psychiatrist just to see what was going on in my burned-out, wet-brained head, in the opinion of professionals, but I had heard of so many folks who went before me at great expense and all for naught, I said no, who needs the bounders? To spout at, prate to and prostrate and posture before, I’ve got my faithful Dear Reader, you - yes you – you know who you are and you know I mean YOU as opposed to some nebulous ‘you’, a mere abstraction from the mailing list, no, I mean you Dude and you know I mean you because I have told you on a number of occasions that many of my Dear Readers are dizzy, with you the sole exception…

Scribble, scribble, me, me, me me……for twenty-one all-too-brief years yours has been the shoulder always there, yours the voice of restraint, reproach, rapprochement; you’ve been my one-person support group (…hmmm…slip in a little semi-subliminal advertising here, and don’t you know I could use some spare change Dude, even tho NOTES is free to good home, but O at what a price huh? Many thanx, much obliged) and I couldn’t have done it without you. I pour my heart and soul out to you Dear Reader then tuck the folder away in the filing cabinets of the web, there to repose in the eternal, infernal ether.