Nutsville.

It’s one thing to try and scope out why someone would want to gun down dozens of people in cold blood; it’s quite another to consider how so clearly disturbed an individual could get his twitchy hands on such deadly weapons in the first place. The first problem is one experts, talking heads, journalists, psychologists, etc., will be grappling with on television and in print for years to come. The second is a bit simpler: mail order, gun shops, and Wal*Mart. Obviously if you haven’t yet killed anyone or committed a serious crime but are, in fact, dead set on annihilating a whole building full of people, it’s not so hard to procure military-grade weapons designed to mow down as many folks as possible in the least amount of time. And you can even buy your ammo within easy walking distance of campus in Virginia and elsewhere in our bullet-headed nation.

Sure, we have a culture of violence. It’s not something primarily driven by media consumption – it’s more a matter of policy. But our solutions many times deal with the more superficial aspect of violence. Pretty much all of the major broadcast news outlets have pulled the self-made video of the shooter Cho’s lunatic paranoid rantings; I can’t say that I disagree with that decision. But one piece of video I think they should broadcast again and again is the one documenting his firearm purchase – I suggest a super that reads, “See how easy this is.” And while I’m offering suggestions, how about a cable channel that shows how over-the-top these legally obtainable weapons are. Remember – these are offensive weapons. They’re easy to fire, easy to reload, and carry high-capacity ammunition clips that hold 33 rounds. Not exactly what I’d call a reasonable means of self-defense. The gun dealer in Roanoke said he was a good mannered, “clean-cut” college kid. I suppose we should be grateful the guy doesn’t sell rocket-propelled grenades or TOW missile launchers.

This is indeed a time to grieve. A lot of shooting going on – here in my hometown, another cop was shot (young guy doing a traffic stop). My feeling, though, is that the thing that is killing all these folks will once again go unaddressed, particularly since our political culture is so cowardly on this topic. I’ve heard some tepid discussion thus far of re-regulating assault weapons, but it seems like you can only hear that kind of talk when it’s balanced out by some right-wing nut job who wants to arm ALL students so that they can shoot back. (I’m not making this up. Hey dumbshit – Cho was an armed student.) And while boneheads on CNN and Fox debate the merits of facilitating schoolhouse shootouts, over in Iraq incidents like Virginia Tech happen on a daily basis. It’s hard to imagine how soul-crushing that must be.

So while Dubya offers his words of consolation, just remember – what he’s set in motion overseas is Cho times 20,000. Welcome to nutsville.

luv u,

jp

Facedown.

Whoa – that didn’t take long. Is it Saturday already? Guess those orgone energy waves have an affect on your sense of time. As Dylan once sang, now things just keep getting uglier, and I have no sense of tiiiiiime…..

Well, now, those gall-dang other-worlders who came here to steal our land, take our jobs (they took our jobs!) and plant genuine Kentucky bluegrass turf all over our courtyard just couldn’t take the heat from Trevor James Constable’s orgone generating machine. What happened? Well, I’m gon’ tell yuh. That unearthly contraption started shakin’ and shakin’. Then it began to hop around like a Mexican jumping bean. I could hear little yips emanating from inside, and I could swear I saw someone waving a small, sucker-ended middle finger at me from one of the portholes (it may have been an optical illusion – no one else saw it but me, I guess….). Well, now, the hops got higher and higher, and at one point it just hopped clear out of sight. Damnedest thing. The way that fucker was pummeling that courtyard you’d think even god’d be a-feared of it.

Next thing I knew, something hit me square on the back of the head. Youch! Everything went black (actually, it was kind of a midnight blue, really, with orange and yellow sparkles – very nice). Not sure how long I was out, but when I came to, I had a headache and something Mitch Macaphee calls “frontier accent syndrome” – a dreaded disorder that people in the mad scientist community have been grappling with for nigh onto a hundred ‘yar. Dag nabbed syndrome makes yuh talk like a gall dorn character actor at least every other sentence that festers outa’ yer gob. (I have a particularly strange variant that appears to incorporate some elements of archaic British slang… most curious… dash it all….) Mitch and others tell me that I was struck by the hull of the bouncing ship driven by our turf-obsessed space invaders – apparently the fucker busted through the roof and into my private study… and dang near knocked my fool head off. (Haw…)

Let me tell you, friends – it was pandemonium around here for a stretch of minutes, right up until that highly agitated space vehicle bounced off the property entirely. Someone called upon Trevor James to pull the plug on his orgone generator before it burned a hole in the courtyard and cracked through the arches below into the drainage system of this quiet little upstate village. (Quiet though it may be, there is a lot of sewage that runs through this place – just ask the DEC… if you can catch them not hunting…) Though my head was, well, a bit more dented than before (dag nab it!), our little experiment appeared to be a success. But as you know… appearances can be deceiving. Within the next couple of days, similar mysterious space ships had appeared in the courtyards of many of our neighbors. Lawns were soon sprouting up all around us…. green, carpet-like landscaping. It was terrifying!

And me, well….. my frontier accent syndrome has calmed down a bit. But that extra dent in my skull seems to have affected my balance, so I’m typing this column face down on my bedroom floor. Yes, I type that well in the prone position… especially with Marvin (my personal robot assistant) at the keys. (Handy little critter.)

Whose side?

Explosion in the “Green Zone” this week, and a good number of the news accounts I’ve read have referred to the relative calm of the last few weeks in Baghdad. This is another one of those “flare ups” they’ve been referring to over the last four years; or worse, an attempt to keep the Iraqi Parliament from negotiating through key issues, such as the petroleum law. It bears pointing out that these are issues key to us, not them, and that if these people represented the vast majority of Iraqis, they wouldn’t be substantially made up of recently arrived exiles and wouldn’t have to meet in a fortified pillbox. Be that as it may, the finger of blame on this attack points inevitably to the “friendly” Iraqis. I heard one pundit opine (when she managed to tear herself away from talking about Don Imus) that this was an “inside job”. What that means I’m not certain (they only discussed Iraq for about 30 seconds), but as I’ve said before in these pages, when this Iraq policy is finally over, its failure will be the Iraqis fault… so much so that you will think they had invaded us.

From the beginning the onus has been placed on them. They were a rogue state menacing their neighbors. They were an existential threat to the United States. And yet, what the hell kind of way is this to defeat an existential threat? The last time one could claim our nation was engaged in a war with an enemy who could possibly destroy us was World War II. That brought about a national mobilization – young men were drafted by the million, many others volunteered for or were pressed into stateside service, legions were employed in war related industries, and people were taxed and had their consumption of essential goods regulated accordingly. If we are, indeed, fighting for our lives right now, why are so few of us actually involved in the fighting? Why aren’t we all being asked to sacrifice something for the salvation of America, just as the “greatest generation” was asked to do by their elders (the, I don’t know, “not-so-greatest generation”)?

Give up? Well, I’m gon’ tell yuh. It’s because we aren’t fighting for our lives. Not really. Sure there’s danger – there was danger during the cold war, too – but that danger is being aggravated by the war in Iraq, not reduced by it. There is no clear existential threat to the U.S. posed by the Iraqi insurgency, and that’s why our government feels it has the luxury to play only the safest political cards and avoid all the dicey ones. Draft? No need – we’ve got an all-volunteer force we can deploy again and again (and again…). Taxes? We’ll cut those and just borrow the billions we burn in Iraq – free money, folks! Vote for me!! Rationing? That’s just plain unAmerican and unnecessary… unless you’re (wait for it) under attack, which we plainly are not. We’re not fighting the Nazis across a 1,000 mile front. We’re not withering under the Luftwaffe’s nightly terror bombings. We’re fighting a war of choice, with the objective of securing a pro-western government in Baghdad and opening the Iraqi economy to the kind of extreme neoliberal exploitation that must surely inhabit Paul Wolfowitz’s piratical dreams.

Why can’t we trust Iraqis? Because they can’t trust us. This they know from experience.

God bless you, Mr. Rosewater. Just a word for Kurt Vonnegut, who passed away this week. Great thinker, great writer, great humanist. This old interview on Fresh Air gives you some idea why.

luv u,

jp

Weird ass music since 1986