Well you had better hurry up and make it if you want to try it, particularly if you happen to live in Oklahoma.  Why?  This is why:  http://news.yahoo.com/okla-senator-wants-ban-human-fetuses-food-235857183.html

Senator Ralph Shortey is purposing a ban that would eliminate the use of human fetuses in food.  This would be a very noble thing, I guess, if there was actually a case of someone using a fetus in their products (since you make my dish at home and supply your own youngin, Rotisserie Baby would probably not be affected by this bill…whew).

This is extra fucking diculous.  It is not ridiculous because it is not even coherent enough of a thought to get diculated twice.  Why not propose new legislation to keep tri-testicled unicorns from eating out of public park garbage receptacles.  We could even raise taxes to make and implement unicorn-proof lids to keep the bastards out of our trash.  We don’t need them in there, we have homeless people for that.  Never mind that unicorns can’t be proven to even exist.  They can’t be proven to not exist either and thus we need these new laws and provisions.

This jack ass KNOWS…I mean he FUCKING KNOWS IN HIS SOUL that people are not using ground fetus in burritos at Taco Land.  Why is he doing this?  Does he need attention?  Maybe he is on the verge of getting caught in some kind of scandal or something and trying to distract his district?  Is he really this fucking stupid?  Just watch…in a few years he will be on the presidential ticket….fuck.

Why are we spending time and resources planing and creating laws for shit that will probably never happen when we have so much fucking bullshit that HAS HAPPENED and is AFFECTING US RIGHT NOW.  Why spend resources making a plan for a meteor slamming into Wal-Mart, when we have a financial crisis that has already slammed into millions of us already.

Get Shortey…out of office.

Kentucky Gov. Steve Beshear proposes to help work over the state’s budget by cutting funding to the public school system by more than 50 million bucks.  In the same budget he provides tax breaks to the fucking Noah’s Ark theme park to the tune of 43 million. Can you see a problem here?

No joke folks, read about it here:  http://thinkprogress.org/economy/2012/01/20/407580/kentucky-gov-cuts-education-funding-while-preserving-tax-breaks-for-biblically-themed-amusement-park/?mobile=nc

In essence he wants to take away the states ability to teach children proven facts and real world skills in favor of tax breaks to a religious group’s theme park, which in many ways is anti-science (no evolution obviously).  This kind of shit gives us adults that go out into the real world to work and do shit like this:

No..this is not photoshop

The painter of this picture probably could tell you a whole fuck load about Baby Jesus, but that is not going to help the city present a look that it is populated by people that are not inbred morons.

What the fuck happened to separation of church and state?

What if I wanted to have a theme park dedicated to the wonders of Satan?  If “DemonWorld” could be enough of a tourist attraction to make the state a few bucks, could I jack some cash from the fine arts divisions of the all the high schools?  Who gives a shit about some little girl learning to play the clarinet when folks can see wax exhibits of satanic high priests drinking consecrated lemonade out of the vulva of some large chested, nude stripper-alter slut.

I have heard girls play the clarinet and I can tell you for a mother-fucking-fact that DemonWorld would kick way more ass.

It is insulting really.  Some of you that still have strong religious values might think I’m being a dick here…but think about it.  What if they were taking cash from schools to give breaks to TerroristLand: The Islamo-Facist Themepark.  Sure, that does not totally represent all of Islam, but neither does the Anti-Evolution stance represent all of Christianity, just the supremely undereducated.  Regardless, you would be pissed that Little Jack and Jill don’t have enough pencils in their classrooms because the money was spent to promote a religion that you do not believe in.

In fact, this move is so retarded it makes me think that Mr. Beshear probably suffered some really poor education as a result of someone else’s misuse of public funds.  That is the only reason I can think of why the man would be this retarded.

Of course, somebody elected this asshole too.  The awful education system is just feeding on itself, taking a crap and then eating it to replenish itself.  This budget proposal is like the fourth generation of a shit sandwich which is being force-fed to the little children with no regard with what will happen.

I think I will open “DemonWorld.”  The planet could always use fewer clarinet players.

http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/politics/2011/12/with-reservations-obama-signs-act-to-allow-detention-of-citizens/#.TwGiuDql2Aw.facebook

I really did not think he would do this.

Of course nothing surprises me anymore.

Obama has signed the NDAA act into law INCLUDING the portions that allow American-FUCKING-Citizens to be detained FOR-THE-LOVE-OF-FUCKINGEVER with NO CHARGES. Holy fuck. Right here at home…wow.

You may be asking yourself, boys and girls, how you can experience this amazing new provision. Just do ANYTHING that could deem yourself an enemy of the United States.

“But, I’m not a terrorist” you say “so no sweat off my balls.” You are not now…but that is just a matter of point of view. What if you say that the President sucks a fat sack of dicks for doing this? Or write that in a blog? If they want too, they could say that you were trying to stir up an insurgency against the US and detain you forever. With no lawyer. Fuck.

This is another step toward the end of democracy. If this is not repealed, I suspect that all non-supportive government speech and print will be squelched out of fear. This is not a far cry from tyranny.

The scary part is…this bullshit is not theory. It is now law.

Better watch your step boys and girls…there’s a storm coming.

This has been a really big year for me, with many life changes involved.  I am glad to report that it was one of the best years I have had in a long time, I don’t think I encountered even one of those “Damn, I’d rather be scratching my dick with a running, rusty chainsaw right now than dealing with _____ (insert current bullshit situation here).”

In the last 12 months I got married, sold a farm, started a new career, replaced every single one of my teeth with implants, got much more comfortable playing the NS/STICK, finished my main tracks for the SMC album, enjoyed the release of the Eumeria record that I played two tracks on, upgraded to a smart phone from the old crappy one, got to enjoy phone calls from my daughter now that she has a cell phone of her own (gonna be a teenager in 2012…sigh), adopted a bat named Squambly for Don LaFon, went on the first family vacation since I was a child, got Austin hooked up with a good gig, learned how to make the perfect rum and coke, made a few new friends and had some great times with the old ones…..whew….what a run that was.

All in all a good year…and though I did not make it past the first three months on my resolution to drink a glass of water every day and I failed to update my blog every week….I still did not break a bone or go to jail.  Hooray.

Hope this next year goes just as well for me and for all of you readers out there as well.  Remember, today might be the last one you get…why not go out and make it kick ass just in case.

The entire pumpkin mythology has slowly grown into a strange legacy with its own characters and inner workings over the last 15 years or so.  Granted, most people have yet to really get a good taste of this, but those that know me personally have.

So what happens when the myth gets bigger than the creator?  Other people take the concepts and run with them…not always with great results, but sometimes with truly spectacular additions to the cannon.

It is the latter that I present to you now.  Our good friend over at Dambreaker (good blog, check it out if you have yet to do so) has taken the pumpkin god Willis and the greater demon overlord Froktar, mixed them up with the band Six Minute Century and created a very interesting version of the Night Before Christmas.

Here is his poem, enjoy:

Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the stage

Every creature was stirring, in a psychopathic rage.

The pumpkins were hung by the fillers with care,

In hopes that St. Willis soon would be there.

The children were shaking in fear as they looked under their beds,

While visions of Froktar tortured their heads.

 And ma in her fatigue laying flat on her back,

Cuz I just screwed her brains out backstage for a quckie night cap.

When out on the back room there was such a crash,

Just before I slammed my joystick in to the old woman’s ass.

Away to the stage I flew like The Flash,

Pulled up on my zipper before her blunt turned to ash.

The moon on the breast of the groupie dressed like whore

Gave the lustre of my body objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a pumpkin ablaze and the beginning of fear.

With a fetus as the driver, who wiggled amongst us,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Willis

More splendid than demons that punish to shame,

And he cursed, and shouted, and called them by name!

 ”Now Frenchman! now, Darren! now, Chucky and Dr. Froth!

On, Squamby! On, Froktar! on Centurions and the rest of you rot!

 To the top of the people! to everyone licking my balls!

Now lick away, Lick away, Lick away all!”

 He was dressed all in the flesh of his victims, from head to his foot,

 And his clothes covered with leather and studs to boot.

A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pimp, when he whipped out his sack.

His eyes- how they twinkled! how he begin to feel Mary!

 His growl was a fright as he busted her cherry!

 The bloody drool from his mouth nobody could’ve known,

When he blasted his wad on her chin as white as the snow.

 The stumpy devoured body that he held tight in his teeth,

 And the lost soul it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a content face from the offering he did eat,

The pumpkin god snarled as he showed off his teeth

 He spoke not a word, but went back to work,

And continued on as I felt that I had given myself quite a jerk.

And watched him finish like poetry and prose ,

And suddenly his forefinger and pinky into the air arose!

 He sprang up in the night air with his trophies of souls,

 And away they all flew in a fury, screaming out of control.

 But I heard him exclaim, as he vanished from sight,

 ”Frothy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

–Joel Haskell, 2011

Haha…that is awesome.  I hope you all enjoyed that as much as I did.  Now go read his blog…

Just in time for the holidays…here is an tale from my upcoming book “Tales From the Pumpkin Patch”  where I give all of you the amazing details on how all of that went down.  Enjoy.

Jingle This–Tales From The Pumpkin Patch

—–

Many life changing things happened to me in 1997.  It was the year that I not only discovered the wonder of the word “froth,” but also chose “Dr. Frothy” as a performance moniker for my artistic weirdness.  That name would over time become shortened to the “Dr. Froth” that you all know and love today.

The Pumpkin God, cornerstone to all frothy mythology and madness was also given life in that time.

It was the last year of my youth.  I turned a frightful twenty years of age in the middle of it, and by that time the next year I would be married and settled down.  It was the final year that I lived with my folks while I attended South Plains College in Levelland, Texas.

Austin and I experienced the “Last Great Summer” that year, though it would be a decade before we would sadly realize it.

More notorious though, it was also the year that I would mastermind the record “Jingle This.”  The recording would become better known by those who were there or heard it as “The Blasphemous Christmas Album of 97’.”

The band was my first post-high school group and I had named it Lactescent.  We had found the word in a book of my Mom’s called “The Dictionary of the Most Difficult Words in the World.”  Lactescent meant secreting milk, and considering my pre-froth nickname was Milk, we all found this to be an appropriate band name.

There were only three of us.  Besides myself, I had the good fortune to have one of the best drummers I have ever worked with in my entire life jamming with me.  His name was Skeezix.  Skeezix and I never could find anyone that played guitar in the manner that we wanted, so I trained another bass player named Farmer Weed to play guitar from scratch.

This approach did not lend itself to really amazing guitar playing, but we did get the sound we wanted.  Since the music was mostly rhythm section orinated, the guitar lines were not too difficult.  I also wrote all the guitar parts as well, so it was not an impossible task to teach them to Farmer Weed.

Farmer Weed was appropriately named.  He liked to dress in overalls with no shoes, and on many occasions, no shirt as well.  He looked like he had just hopped off a tractor, sparked up a blunt, and grabbed a guitar.  Skeezix and I liked him immediately.

A few years prior to this I had discovered while playing in a band named Grindstone that recording studios existed.  I should probably clarify that statement.  I already knew that recording studios existed, hell I did my first session in the 8^th grade for the Vista Middle School Jazz Band.  My high school band Reconciled had recorded a demo at South Plains College for a student project. The misunderstanding that I had been operating by was that, for the most part, real recording studios were only available for bands that had recording contracts.  I thought they were locked down tightly for all but the record companies that held the magical keys to the kingdom, opening the gates only for those deemed worthy of entrance.

This was wrong.

You can only imagine the earth shattering possibilities that descended upon my brain when I learned that anybody can book time at a studio and all you have to do to get in there is pay for it.  Holy Shit.

Skeezix and I immediately booked some time at the same studio as Grindstone. The owner gave me a great deal.

“Yeah, we can get you in here,” he had said, “How about $300 bucks a song?”

I handed over six hundred dollars and booked some time.

Most people assume a song will be about three and a half minutes long.  This is not the case in progressive music.  We like our songs long as fuck.  I neglected to inform the studio owner of this small detail. One of the songs were going to record, “Products of Lunacy,” was over eight minutes long.  The other one, “Cannon Inversions,” would clock in at sixteen.  Of course, the engineer had burnt me a CD at the end of the session since as far as he was told we were paid in full.  When the owner later approached me with a bill for a thousand plus I just laughed at him.  It was the last time we used that studio.

But I continued to record, in fact most of my money over the next several years would be spent in that endeavor.

Farmer Weed joined up with us shortly after that first session and we recorded some great tracks at another place in Lubbock.  Every time I hear “Lung Cookies” or “Madagascar Funk Beaver Visits New Orleans” I still crack up.

After suffering great financial hardship, Farmer Weed decided that it would be in his best interest to join the National Guard.  He left for training at the end of August that year and would not be back until Christmas time.  Skeezix and I had to put Lactescent on hold for the semester, but the two of us would still get together and jam, just for grins.

I was also playing in another band at the collage named “High Stroud” at the same time.  One of the guitar players decided he would like to jam with us while we were waiting for the return of the Farmer.

We called him Geezer because despite being 18 years old he had managed to bang his forty plus speech teacher.  Though we all gave him tons of shit for it, we each secretly envied him because not only was that really cool…she was also smoking hot.

The magical idea came to me as Skeezix and I were eating at Burger King.  There I was, munching down on a Whopper with cheese when all of a sudden I blurted out “We need to do a Christmas record.”  This was at the beginning of November.

Skeezix could not come up with a compelling reason not to do this, and since I had enough money for the studio time, we decided it should be done.  We were only missing a few key components for this project:  Music, lyrics, a choir, and rehearsal time.

On the way home I picked up a beginning piano book for Christmas songs at the local music store.  By the next day I had arranged the songs that would become “O Flaming Weed,” “Frothy The Demon,” and the first two movements of “The Nutcrackedher Suite.”  Skeezix and I began to hash these out and Geezer said he would be more than happy to be involved.

Time was short and we needed a place to rehearse this crap where we would not be interrupted.  My Uncle Keith had a rent house up in the sphincter of the universe, a little town called Higgins, up in the panhandle of Texas.  By little I’m talking about a gigantic population of a couple hundred people at best.  He told me that if we wanted to drive up there he would let us jam in the house for the weekend since no one lived in it.  The road trip was planned.

The lyrics were, of course, left up to Austin and I.  We came up with some real gems.  For example:

From “Yuletide Froth: A Milky Medley”

(to the tune of “Do You Hear What I Hear”)

Said the prostitute to the naked man

Do you pay what I charge

Said the naked man to the frothy whore

Do you accept mastercard

The jizz, the jizz, running down her chin

Was a tale of that that she did

From “Frothy The Demon”

(to the tune of “Frosty The Snowman”

Frothy The Demon, sold his soul to hell

He was a jolly ol’ fella, till he met the devil

In a dank ol’ prison cell

Frothy The Demon, escaped just recently

They found the prison guard on the ground

He was beaten very badly

Down through the village, with eyes as black as coal

Out came the child so tender and mild

In his head Frothy put a hole.

From “Jimmy…He Comes”

(to the tune of “Here Comes Santa Claus”)

Here comes Frothy Claus, Here Comes Frothy Claus

Right down Frothy Claus lane.

He’s got a full auto, sound suppressed Uzi

And he’s blowing the kids away.

His real names Jimmy and he used to be

A nice, nice postal man.

But now he’s out there laying waste

With a Soviet made Ingram.

You get the idea.  Several other great songs made an appearance.  The trick with the lyrics was that we wanted to make it a parental advisory record by using content only.  In other words no major bad words.  Balls and Jizz was as ugly as it got, but the content was horrendous.

Austin was still in High School at the time, but spent quite a bit of it in ISS (in school suspension).  He had refused to do a theater assignment on a rewrite of “Twas The Night Before Christmas.”  Finally, out of annoyed frustration he had completed the assignment while in ISS and turned in “Twas The Night Before Samhain.”  The result involved calls to parents, other teachers, the pastor and of course forced visits to the psychologist.  We could not think of a more appropriate track than that for this project so we set it to music and made it a duet.  We ended up adlibbing and fucking off portions of it during the recording in mock arguments in the studio.  The original was never returned to him by the school or the psychologist.  Sadly, this means that some if it is lost forever.  Between our memories and the recording, this is all of it that Austin and I can recall:

Twas the night of Samhain and all through the house

Not a creature was living, not even my spouse

The daggers all hung from the knife rack with care

With hopes to impale you as you’re strapped to the chair.

The children were fleshless on hot beds of coals

While legions of darkness tormented their souls

Then in the fireplace, Santa appeared

Across his fat cheek the red liquid was smeared.

“Satan sent me” he yelled with a roar

“Yeah fine, whatever” I said “but use the damn door”

“I’m taking your soul” he said through clenched teeth

“We’ll see about that” I said as my knife I unsheathed

“Screw this” he said as he leapt from the hearth

I let the blade answer for me as it pierced through his heart

He died with a whimper, not with a bang

Merry Samhain to all, to all Merry Samhain.

It was amazing writing.  And it made an interesting song as well.  The only snag we ran into on the lyrics was an argument that we had.  Austin really wanted to burn the nativity, and I was against it.  Much bickering and wrath ensued, but I won out and we did not write lyrics about setting a nativity scene on fire.  Looking back, I should have let him do it.  There was no way we were going piss off Baby Jesus any more than we had already at that point.  The idea that we had better not go too far after all the other shit we had written was ridiculous.  It was like trying to be nice and not slap some guy in the face after we had just kicked him in the balls thirty-seven times… wearing steel toed boots.

That weekend, everything had been arranged and we were headed up to Uncle Keith’s rent house to hash everything out.  I had booked time the next week to record the whole thing in one night.  This meant that we had a deadline and the pressure was now on.  We had to deliver some Christmas bullshit.

The entire weekend we took the material and perfected it.  Amazingly Higgins survived the invasion of our contemptable weirdness and we were able to complete our mission in peace.  I guess that is what the spirit of Christmas is all about.  In the end there turned out to be a ska, prog, and folk mix to the compositions.  There was just enough heavy shit in it to still sound like Latescent.

Upon our return we had once week to recruit a choir worthy of such an amazing project and we had no problem in outfitting one in fine style.  In fact, when the magic day to record finally came we had quite the entourage with us.  There was in addition to the band and Austin, the singing twins from High Stroud, Tweed, Moose, Jevin The Ballet Dancer A.K.A. Thrustynuts, Cough Dog, Eric Metze, and Ryan “The Wolfman” Singleton.

We arrived at the studio at seven in the evening and would leave at seven the next morning.  In that twelve hour period we recorded seventy plus minutes of retarded bullshit.  Our engineer, who would have normally never agreed to stay all night, had such a great time that he was sad to see it end.  At least once he was laughing so hard that he fell from the console onto the floor.  I don’t know what he found funnier, the content of the music or the fact that some dumbass (in this case, me) would pay money to record it.

We crammed the Frothy Choir around four mics set up in the main room when it came time for vocals and let it roll.  My favorite part was at the end of “O Holy Jizz” when the engineer just let the tape keep rolling and everybody adlibbed some completely far out shit for several minutes.  That we did this is even more impressive when you factor in the massive quantities of drugs and alcohol that was consumed by most everyone involved with the exceptions of Skeezix and I.  That’s O.K. though, because everyone else took enough drugs to cover seventeen choirs.  Even Keith Richards would have been impressed at our boys.

We came back a couple of days later and mixed it down (again in one night) and that was it.  The project had been completed.

The time elapsed from the day at Burger King until we had a copy of the finished product in hand was exactly 17 days.  That has got to be a record of some kind.  It was as if the thing had a life of its own, kind of like the One Ring from Lord Of The Rings.  It wanted to be recorded.

Afterwards we made several copies on cassette tape and began to freely distribute it around the school to whomever was dumb enough to …err… I mean, whomever wanted one.

You would think that claiming mine and ten other guys eternal souls would be enough for the blasphemous album, but it came back to get me one more time.  Everything has its price they say.

They were doing a concert for a thing called “Toys For Tots” that year.  This is where some bands play, they broadcast it on the radio, and people show up and get wasted.  It only costs you a toy to get in and see the shit live.  The toys are then given to needy children, so everybody wins.  “No honey…I have to go out and get drunk tonight.  Think about the children.”

Whoever it was that was in charge of putting together the lineup had heard that we had released a Christmas album that was gaining popularity and contacted US to play at this event.  “Have you heard it?” I asked the voice on the phone.  “Of course, it’s great.  Can you do it?” Surly the voice on the phone would never lie to me.  Concert promoters NEVER do that. Maybe other people really got enjoyment out of the totally tasteless bastardization of Christmas songs.  “You got it” I said “We will be there.”

The gig would go down as the worst one I ever played in my entire life.  Not only did a blizzard outside make the turnout only the desperate, but after we launched into “The 10 Days of Sodom” the radio station decided to no longer broadcast our portion of the show.  This was our first song.  Most the choir did not make it do to the weather and we sounded like idiots.  At least it was enough to put a big black mark next to my name in the magical folder that all concert promoters have access too.  I know this because I have never been asked to do anything like that again.  Ever.

The curse of being a musician is that you are eternally critical of your own work.  You always think that it could have been better and for that reason it is hard for you to really enjoy the things you make that are so loved (or hated) by others.  I have a feeling that this burden is carried by artists of all kinds.

It is not that way with the Christmas album.  Those two nights in the studio were the most fun I have ever had recording anything.  Probably a lot of this has to do with the fact that none of us really cared what it came out like.  It is this reason that it kicked ass.

Each year at Christmas I pull out “Jingle This” and give it a listen.  As an off color comedic endeavor it is perfect and given the chance I would not change a thing about it.  The memories it brings of its creation, the people that helped make it happen, the people it pissed off, and of that time period in general are priceless.  Those alone are worth the price I paid for the studio time.

For the record, Mom has never listened to “Jingle This.”  This is probably for the best.

If St. Peter sends us all to hell for taking part in this, there is no way that he will be able to do it without a chuckle.

Thanksgiving…a time and holiday where we all take some time to reflect on all the reasons we should be thankful.  This transcends religion, politics, and temperament.  Weather you pledge yourself to Baby Jesus, Allah, or Lord Froktar and his Pumpkin Prophet Willis, we all can find something to be glad about today.

Think your life sucks or something?  Just be thankful that it is not worse.  It CAN ALWAYS BE WORSE.  Many times the absence of C-4 inside of our testicles is something we can get really pleased about when everything else is lame.

As for me?  Things are really great and I have many things to be thankful about.  My family, the seven or eight of you that read this blog, the fact that the new album for SMC will probably really, for reals, no bullshit, i’m serious this time…be ready to go to mixing by the end of the year,  I am employed…damn…wow…plenty to be thankful for.

I hope all of you have a great day today.  A day absent of rape, bullshit, horrid death and dismemberment, and scurvy.  Oh…and demonic possession.  Nobody wants that on Thanksgiving so I hope you don’t get any of that crap either.

Our Wedding 11-11-11

Yes, the wedding has come and gone.  It was a very moist experience and we are both very thankful to all of our friends and family that were able to come and share this time with us.  Some of them travelled a very long way to do so.  Our reception at BFE where I played two of the three shows (in the damn tux) was a great time as well.  A big thanks also to my friends and band mates in Six Minute Century and Iron Mayhem for doing that performance.  I would also like to thank Angel and his boys in Owl Witch for lending their talents to our special evening also.

Our Cabin at Bottlehouse Cabins, NM

Now we are over 750 miles away up in the mountains of New Mexico in a nice private cabin that we rented for the week.  It is very pretty up here, and there is only a bit of snow on the top of the ski mt and none anywhere else…yet.  We have to drive up this super steep-ass slope to get to the cabin, and I’m very thankful that we have an SUV instead of Volkswagen or something.

Inside the cabin

I have brought the NS/STICK and the recording set-up so that I can, Froktar willing, finish the rest of the bass lines for the SMC album while I am here.  First up, a change of strings and then down to business.  Amazingly, Lori was all for me bringing the instrument up here and recording in the cabin, but try to bring Skyrim up here with the PS3…well, lets just say it will be waiting on me when I get home.

As big of an Elder Scrolls fan that I am, people will be surprised to learn that I have decided that I will not open the shrink-wrap on my game and play it (picked up my pre-order on the way to my wedding…lol) until my parts on the record are turned in.  This would make Don LaFon pleased, but since he never reads my blogs he will never know of my great sacrifice.

We are having a relaxing week and will see all of you when the Froth Family returns.

One bullet.

It was the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in 1914.  You would think that the murder of one man seems almost like a small thing to start such a huge scale war (the 6th deadliest of all time, killing over 9 million combatants).  But it was so much more than the assassination of a single man.  It was the spark that set off a gigantic pile of flammable bullshit that the world had been creating over multiple years.

A container as small as human capacity for tolerance can only hold so much hopelessness, desperation, and fear before it begins to burst at the seams.  Unfortunately, when this bursting takes place it violently consumes everything in its path…including those from whence it came.

This is what makes the Occupy Wall Street movement so interesting to me.  Most people miss the entire point of what is happening in the U.S. right now.  We are so busy wondering about what the movement is about, and whether or not these people are right or wrong, that we are missing the entire REAL implication here.  The real danger  has nothing to do with Wall Street or economic inbalance…but in the fact that there IS a movement.

Think about it.  We have thousands of people that are willing to take part in this protest.  Why?  It does not matter.  The fact is that a universal feeling of desperation and fear over our current situation is being manifested in people adopting a “Fuck it, what do I have to lose” attitude.  I do not think it is going away either.  It has spread all across our country.

The actions of many of the occupied cities’ police forces have not been helping the situation.  It has only further created an Us vs Them vibe that is causing those that are already feeling oppressed to dig in their heels deeper.  What the authorities have failed to realise is that the people that are engaging in this behavior already feel that their back is against the wall, pushing them only reinforces their reason to be there.

All it does is pour some more gasoline onto a gigantic pile that is growing by the second all across our nation.

Perhaps people have realized that we gave our democracy away a long time ago in the name of political correctness and laziness.  Only now, in an age where states are passing laws making it a felony to record police abusing their power on cell phone cameras, allowing police to issue citations with NO EVIDENCE, regulating what you can put into your own body, deciding where you can and can not smoke (even in your own apartment now in some places), allowing courts and litigation to weaken the ability of everyone from teachers to contractors to do their jobs without fear of massive life-altering suits, allowing police to sieze your property for no reason without any evidence and at any time (civil forfeiture), do everything possible to limit freedom of speech, and on and on and on.   We wont even get into the mass internet and news censorship of this movement that occurred within the first three weeks of its inception.  And you thought that shit only went down in China.

Re-read that above paragraph.

Now read the definition of Police State:

The term police state describes a state in which the government exercises rigid and repressive controls over the social, economic and political life of the population. A police state typically exhibits elements of totalitarianism and social control, and there is usually little or no distinction between the law and the exercise of political power by the executive.

The inhabitants of a police state experience restrictions on their mobility, and on their freedom to express or communicate political or other views, which are subject to police monitoring or enforcement. Political control may be exerted by means of a secret police force which operates outside the boundaries normally imposed by a constitutional state.

Hmmm….those two paragraphs seem to be very similar don’t they boys and girls.  Looks like we DID lose our democracy a while back.

So what happens now?  Who the fuck knows…it depends on several factors.

The one thing that this movement is missing is its Dr. King, or its George Washington.  As of yet, there is not a strong charismatic leader for everyone to rally behind.  I don’t know which is scarier.  The absence of this leader shows that many of us are so fed up by what is being done to us that we don’t give a fuck what we are doing, we are just going to do SOMETHING about it.  Even if that means standing in a park for no real defined reason.  If there was a leader…we would probably already have an insurgency on our hands.

What happens when somebody lights this pile of shit on fire?

What happens when the police go too far and kill someone, or one of the protesters kills an officer.  Remember what happened in LA over the Rodney King fiasco?  Imagine that in several cities.  Think it won’t happen…maybe not…but it might.

If it happens tomorrow, the police or national guard will put it down and things will continue to fester for a few more years or decades.  Make no mistake though, at some point enough people will realize that they are oppressed and do something about it.  If it continues to build and the resistance gets much larger…then that single bullet might set off a much bigger conflict.  Not a World War, but maybe another Civil or Revolutionary War.

Remember…it does not matter what the people are protesting about (which is what most people are debating right now)…it is the fact that they are taking it to this level that is the indicator of really big fucking problems possibly looming on the horizon.  Hopefully this will be worked out peacefully, but our entire history of humanity has proven that changes cost blood and lives.

Maybe we are advanced enough to do it another way…

I am no longer a religious man…but God, Buddha, Allah, etc,  help this country.

We have thousands of protestors pushing against and being pushed by multiple municipal police forces.

It will only take one bullet.

I’m not sure if this means 99% of the people on the block, the city, the state, the country, the world, or the universe.  I guess with numbers that large, it does not really matter anyway.

Heck, more of us would be protesting on Wall Street if we could squeeze in the time between work, sleep, and giving your Mom rides on the bologna pony.

So, if you have fucked your Mom, or someone’s Mom, or a woman that later became a Mom…feel free to join this movement.  We don’t have any clear goals…but neither does the other movement.  And hell, with this one you get laid.

I am Dr. Froth…I am part of the 99%.

Occupy YourMom 2011