A Little Bush To Go With Your Breasts?

Edition #53 — February 6, 2004

Happy Waitangi Day, New Zealanders! (hey, that's what my calendar says!) Now here comes another empassioned moment in free press journalism brought to you by the long dead folks who fought for my right to say whatever the hell I want to as long as I pay taxes and don't show my private parts in public places.

Hey — No Hiding Behind The Bushes!

Denial is the swiss army knife of political endurance; a coat for all seasons. Chances are if George Bush Jr. has avoided impeachment thus far he'll probably get away with his abuse of the world for yet another term while putting his corporate expenses on the taxpayers' tab.

Interesting that George Bush should suddenly be overcome by a timely wave of hope and filled with visions of constructive thinking after a rather cynical and destructive first term in office. You guessed it: election time's coming!

George knows from experience that once re-elected he won't have to make good on any of his promises as long as he keeps everybody scared of the boogie man. He's proven that lying is his best overall strategy for getting away with murder, literally, on behalf of American corporate profiteering — or "freedom, democracy and basic human rights" as he often refers to it. And I'm sure that the "moon base" he's so loftily promoting will no doubt house more than just a few weapons of mass destruction — American weapons because you can't trust anybody but God, or so US currency tells us.

But what if God turns out not to be an American — or worse, heaven forbid, not even a Republican?

Pick Your Poison

We've also learned that election "recalls" (or casting calls, perhaps?) don't necessarily stop other actors from stepping into important leadership roles. Based upon the California elections, it appears that the majority of voters still see freedom and democracy more like a choice between Pepsi and Coke rather than determining the destiny of humankind. I suspect that old Georgie B. will take a lesson from the corporate incentive playbook and offer "air miles" this coming November - or free gas! That's a pretty reasonable projection, given the prevailing insanity.

If indeed, as it states on the US Dollar: "In God we trust" then why let all these untrustworthy politicians run our global village into the ground in their myopic pursuit of the mighty dollar and the power that it represents?

God Bless Denial. But now it's time for we the people to take back our countries. Free democratic elections? I mean, c'mon — they're practically giving us our countries back! Let us see what's on the menu:

  • Battery acid,
  • Vodka,
  • Coke,
  • Pepsi,
  • fruit juice,
  • bottled water, or
  • mother's milk.

For those looking for more than just sugar water and dark food colouring, may I suggest a vintage "Wesley Clark"...

Now drink your destiny.

"Hey Mommy, Look — A Real Fake Breast!"

While we're on the subject of boobs. When Janet Jackson's right breast made it's sudden unexpected half-time appearance at last week's Superbowl game, she was already wearing a star underneath her "faulty" stage costume to cover her nipple. Number one rule of the boy scouts: be prepared. Number two: don't piss off the censors.

Back in the good old days, strippers wore "paisties" (those swinging tassel thingies) on their nipples to keep the censors from hauling them off and burning them at the stake for being evil sexual beings. That Janet Jackson was prepared in advance to assuage the censorship board shows her stunt was premeditated. It's obvious the CBS and the people who bring you good-old fashioned organized male violence (football) don't like to follow the same laws which govern the rest of the country. Their reaction is typical puritanical bullshit: that children — the real and primary beneficiaries of a woman's bare breast — should somehow be offended by seeing one again before they've reached puberty. Typical Mayflower/Jimmy Swaggart hypocrisy. But I guess it must be okay for their children to witness men making a game out of aimless violence; hitting is good, breasts are bad. Yeah, right.

Just one more fake and insincere outburst to ignore.

That breast busting out, whether it was a real one or just a surgically enhanced replica, was definitely no accident. It was commercial exploitation — like a presidential photo op. It's a long-time strategy of Janet's, in fact, I still have a 1993 Rolling Stone magazine with Janet Jackson appearing topless on the cover except that her bare breasts were covered by her then-husband's hands. I still remember Janet Jackson from the TV show, Good Times, which made Jimmy Walker a "dy-no-mite" star. Those were the days when Janet didn't have her brother's nose yet, and Michael was still black. I never thought it would come to this...

But let's face it, Janet, like most pop divas of the last twenty years, relies mostly on her sex appeal to sell records because she's just not as talented as her brother, and neither are nearly as interesting, creative and talented as musicians like U2, Rush, or Peter Gabriel. Janet jackson is certainly no Peter Gabriel — and Peter wouldn't flash his balls at half time. Flashing tits is for adventurous little college girls at Mardi Gras, intoxicated by cheap wine and newfound social freedoms. As an artistic expression, it's a dumb musician's substitute for creative genius.

Oh, and furthermore, leather doesn't tear in half — ask any cow! And especially not when tugged at by the delicate hand of Justin Timberlame whose weak performance I was forced to endure for two whole songs at last year's big Stones, er I mean — AC/DC! — Toronto outdoor concert.

Ah, denial: The swiss army knife of entertainers and broadcasters too.

But I can't deny that this newsletter must come to an end. So until next time — keep your eyes open when you're not sleeping. That way you won't walk into walls, open pit mines, or dog poop. And maybe you'll be lucky enough to see Janet Jackson's breast pop out again in time for her next album release. Nice tit — now how about a hit!

Milk's on! Ta ta's for now,


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