Orbiting The Planet Bizarro
Dr. Frankenstein, Tyrone The Terrible, Jay Leno & Britney Spears
To be perfectly honest — if honesty can be said to be relevant to this tall tale of radical revisionist history — a history which — for all intents & purposes is far more authentic than the beatified bunk that is passed off as American History by our venerable learning institutions. The sucker storyboard of delusional grandeur. The ruling empires magnificent propagandized mythology of Democracy, capitalism, & Perpendicular Power. A fantastic fairytale calculated to inspire the masses to a fevered pitch of patriotism in case a war becomes necessary to stabilize the economy, make some rogue political entities rich or keep an oligarchy of despotic tyrants in power. A cynical attitude with which I and the late Henry Ford are in total agreement. “History Is Bunk.” A favorite saying of the iconic car manufacturer who was of the belief that government existed for the primary purpose of manipulating the masses for exploitation of one kind or the other … exploitation greased by the glorious myth woven around its bureaucratic mechanisms designed to create guilt for the individual who dares to question its precepts & think for themselves.
Therefore, SUCKER— whether you buy into such blasphemous concepts or not — to be perfectly honest — The Space Odyssey Of Tyrone The Terrible initially achieved “lift off” with an alternate Space Odyssey that had its origins in another time & place. A space-time continuum that had its inception in “The Old West” where the real America was invented & the concept of limitless space was born. Light years before Tyrone The Terrible ever thought of a circus per se as being the answer to an unfulfilled passion. In his case, “lust” might better describe his passion than mere erotic desire. Lewd & Lascivious Lust! After all, King Kong didn’t have any reservations about having an affair of the heart with a Hollywood Star — so why should a psyched out space chimp have any qualms about having an incestuous relationship with his closest living relative, Homo Erectus — which in his case translated into making it with a Pop Culture Icon by the name of Britney Spears! Obviously, Erectus has more potential for creativity than the mere possibilities of standing upright on two legs. As any Viagra user can tell you. Moreover, Tyrone was known to be a user of almost any prescription drug he could get his hairy hands on. It was an addiction he acquired at the bio-medical research lab to which he was relegated at taxpayer expense after NASA no longer has any use for him.
It was Tyrone himself who had provided Festus with the medical marijuana needed to keep him from limping during those Budweiser Beer Commercials. Festus — a faithful fan of the Electronic Church, was big on watching those “healing services” televangelists use to raise money when bills have to be paid & pastors are in need of the mega bucks necessary to support their mega churches. As the proverb says, “A fool and his money are soon parted!” A proverb not lost on circuses & carnivals that often carried with them, Fire & Brimstone Tent Preachers” who sometimes put on as exciting a performance as is ever seen under The Big Top. Or — as in the not too distant past — during the era of Carrie Nations “Bull Dogs For Jesus” — when The Women’s Temperance League put on quite a 3 ring circus of their own. A circus act borne out of the belief that holy vandalism would prove effective in curbing alcohol consumption through the wanton destruction of property.
As a protective measure against her ax-wielding mob of maniacal iron maidens, who sang & prayed ecstatically as they violently trashed everything in sight — Circuses & Carnivals “got religion.” They also profited immensely from much publicized public hangings & political rally’s in which it was difficult to distinguish between the genuine reprobates about to be hanged & the equally despicable reprobates seeking public office. As a buffer against moral turpitude, the outdoor amusement business took to hiring temperance lecturers & featuring such morality plays as “The Drunkard” while democratically providing the rotgut likker & female companionship to those for whom heaven was not nearly as attractive as “A Hot BROAD & A BIG JUG.” To this day “The Drunkard” is an all time favorite. One in which a close cousin thrills a nostalgic audience with her beauty & her talent. It is not exactly “Actors Studio” fare — but this buxom blonde bombshell wows her audiences nonetheless. As does another cousin with her sharp shooting skills & turkey shoots, while yet another cousin is a renowned restorer of antique Merry Go Round Horses & a breeder of magnificent Andalusians who perform their “airs above the ground” worldwide. My own daughter as early as the age of four was a trick riding sensation on The Loretta Lynn Rodeo in Nashville, Tenn. I mention these accomplishments only to illustrate that none of our clan have ever voyaged too far afield of our tangled Sergio Leone Circo Western Roots. No matter how far flung we have been catapulted by Future Shock & a Brave New World.
But back to the past & a 19th century world … the tradition of temperance Lecturers on Circuses & Carnivals goes back to the era of Ned Buntline — a behind the scenes roaring drunk & political agitator capable of rousing a mob to violence & on a number of occasions did — leaving injury & death in his wake. He lived one-step ahead of the law & a long parade of angry ex-wives & irate creditors. A miserable malcontent who struggled to survive his own misbegotten life by working as a temperance lecturer, biographer & incompetent grifter of sorts — but still could not keep up with the mounting bills he accumulated through various sordid extra-curricular activities. Then one day he met up with another alcoholic by the name of William F. Cody. Together they drank to extra ordinary lengths of excess while creatively concocting what would become the world’s first media Super Star — “Buffalo Bill” and successfully rode that inebriated midway cowboy all the way to the bank.
Thanks to the collective hallucination of expansionism, manifest destiny, and the governments racist Native American Policy of Ethnic Cleansing — this drunken duo experienced the kind of fame & fortune Festus could only dream of!
But for Festus, when it came right down to the nitty gritty — without Universal healthcare or a bona fide miracle — medical marijuana seemed the next best thing for a born again Sicilian Donkey who wanted to “feel no pain.” However, he still was not giving up on The Supernatural. The collective no win quagmire & hog wallow so rudely represented by this Mad Mad World begs for the possibility that somewhere, somehow beyond the influences of mankind — there exists a creator who will someday make things right. In the meantime, Festus was between a rock and a hard place. A die-hard applause junky in need of a hip replacement and having no health insurance. The world might be ready for a “dumpy diva” like Susan Boyle but he had serious doubts that discriminating audiences would role out “the red carpet” for a gimpy “Jack Ass.” Especially one that needed “a joint” to walk a straight line! Nevertheless after meeting Bono & seeing his first U2 concert, Festus realized there was more to life than religion and stardom, there was PEACE, LOVE, and ROCK & ROLL.
Always a deep thinker, Festus concluded that apparently, GOD — like Nobel Peace Prize winner President Obama — had HIS hands full what with having taken on more than HE could deliver. However, what kind of miracle working multi tasker would HE be if he didn’t? Besides, consider the demoralizing aspects of the ASStral tea party’s HE might be facing if it turns out that like Obama — GOD IS BLACK! Certainly, a factor the devil, a cracker nation, nor Jimmy Carter would soon let him forget. In which case one can only imagine the crap that would be circulating on the internet about HIM. Or from what revolutionary tree Glenn Beck would attempt an even more stupid & asinine Divine Digital Lynching. Or how many congressional republicans attending joint sessions of congress would interrupt a Black Divinity’s inspired oracles and accuse Him of being a liar! I personally would not want to be Congressman Joe Wilson trying to explain that “slip of the lip” to ST. Peter at The Pearly Gates where no doubt a huge heavenly can of Whoop Ass awaits the arrival of this racist knucklehead from South Carolina!
However, being spaced out as he was, Tyrone The Terrible, was a borderline Atheist more concerned with sex than he was with politics, religion, electronic churches & their 501 C3 charitable organizations who proselytize a Republican Jesus and promote a values agenda that has determined women have no say in their own reproduction. Christians whose Christian charity does not extend to the 40 million Americans without healthcare or the millions of illegal aliens doing all the dirty back breaking low paying jobs those dedicated church going Christian fascists think they are too good to do. Apparently, “love ye one another” falls on deaf ears for this bunch of partisan bozos who daily rail against “Universal Healthcare” in the belief that “Good Health” is Un-American.
Tyrone The Terrible was all too familiar with the lack of compassion and genuine cruelty that technologically advanced civilized man was capable of. Whatever their party affiliations or church denomination. Like Vegas, what goes on in a bio-medical lab stays in a bio-medical lab.
As for Tyrone’s preoccupation with deviant sex — apparently NASA’s “One Small Step For Man, One Giant Step For Mankind” has certain highly erogenous after affects, which besides causing the loss of brain cells also has a tendency to make former astronauts horny as hell.
Like “Oliver” another famous chimp suspected of being the result of an interspecies relationship between a man and a monkey because of his uncanny intelligence and natural preference for walking upright as homo sapiens do. There was a mystery to the man chimp Oliver’s past, as there was a mystery to Tyrone’s’ past as well. One that was equally unethical and controversial. However, despite being one very messed up chimpanzee and survivor of cruel scientific experimentations, Tyrone managed to make his mark in this world regardless of the hard knock life that preceded his introduction into show business.
Unfortunately, Tyrone The Terrible had no way of knowing the sex object of his unnatural affections was not to be found on any real circus. Like female impersonators, Britney Spears was merely a circus impersonator, whose moves were cynically calculated to arouse the prurient interests of the mammalian mind. A circus persona and exotic avatar, she appropriated at the expense of a culture about which she had absolutely no knowledge or personal investment beyond using it to grab the spotlight and rake in the millions. A cash windfall and bonanza of unjust enrichment that was gained at the expense of someone else’s cultural identity. But Tyrone himself, was as much confused as to his own identity, as he was mistaken as to Britney‘s.
To be fair, if Tyrone The Terrible had seen Pink’s aerial act at the MTV Music Video Awards ( recently described as having as many rings as possible jammed under one tent) he probably would have wanted to fuck her too. .. & not in the missionary position! An interspecies sexual assault that would have been A-OK with Mama Corliani. She had a distinct “BA FANGUL” attitude concerning the current show biz big top trend, which has proved immensely profitable for everybody but the REAL circus people. An unprotected minority regularly harassed by the establishment and stalked by its bureaucratic henchmen. Those paper-pushing xenophobes determined to ride you out of town on a red tape rail at the behest of the intolerant bourgeoisie. Narrow minded “subdivision sickos” who demonize a counter culture for no other reason than its desire to differentiate and perpetuate the free ranging lifestyle and animal oriented art form, which has sustained them for generations. In so doing, they have effectively managed to criminalize the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for an oppressed sub-culture, that has become a public relations target for every fund raising organization that exploits them as the big bad wolf of whatever trumped up animal cruelty charge best serves their money making self aggrandizing media blitz. Portraying themselves as the sainted saviors of the animal kingdom — these do-gooders are part and parcel of that self same artificial economy that is at war with the environment and responsible for the shrinking habitat that has driven so many animals to extinction. Just because these ‘Animal Traffickers” know how to work the system does not automatically put a “halo” on their heads. I’ve heard of one “Saintly Sanctuary Widow” who regularly demonizes “Circuses” on her sanctuary tours, her website, & in the press, whose two mysteriously missing husbands have reputedly been desiccated in the meat grinder she uses to prepare nutritionally balanced meals for her “exotics big cats.” YUM!
Like Michael Vick — if any Circus performer is found to be cruel to any animals and the charges are proven — they should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. However, you don’t throw out the baby with the bath water and simply dismiss an entire generational culture as expendable because of yellow journalism, irresponsible sound bites, filmed expose’s cut and edited specifically to enhance cultural profiling and gratuitously spotlight the few bad apples among us who may be culpable. To do so is nothing more than stoking the fires of stereotypical prejudice and planting the seeds of a hate crime mentality. Isn’t “people cruelty” at least as immoral and unacceptable as “animal cruelty?”
Case in point — Jay Leno’s accusations on his Tonight Show and a Bob Costas interview that “people like them (referring to circus people) spread anthrax spores.” And make no mistake about it — based on this and other culturally denigrating statements he made from time to time about circuses — this jokester wasn’t joking. In an age of terrorism and paranoia isn’t the accusation of “spreading anthrax spores” kind of like shouting “fire” in a crowded theatre. Free speech is one thing, free fear mongering in a society paralyzed by angst of another terrorist attack is another thing. Doing so on worldwide television is just plain reckless.
Oh well — there’s no accounting for the genuine stupidity and lack of consciousness of George Dubya’s favorite comedian. Birds of a feather flock together, so it’s understandable why these two delinquent juveniles played grab-ass with each other at State Dinners while the Bush Administration with imperial hubris unilaterally invaded another country, dismissed massive grass-roots protest world-wide, poo pooed the will of the UN — totally unmindful of the hundreds of thousands of trapped and innocent Iraqi Civilians as well as our own fighting men whose lives would be snuffed out or irremediably altered by the collateral damage of a testosterone driven, ego oriented, rush to judgment. The Shock & Awe invasion of a country that had nothing to do with 9/11. A “mission accomplished” that’s in its eighth year of going nowhere fast at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives and trillions of dollars monthly. The God-awful politically skewed invention of “The Doctrine Of Preemption.” The bloody brainchild of a bullshit bully administration and genuine American Axis Of Evil that scrapped our constitution like it was just so much used toilet paper, defied the Geneva Convention as though it didn’t exist and instituted an illegal policy of torture and extraordinary rendition while secretly creating off shore penal colonies of torture and imprisonment by foreign nationals that would have been shameful even during the Spanish Inquisition.
Meanwhile their favorite kiss ass court jester Jay Leno, who presumes to be a judge of others, was entertaining this Beelzebub Bunch with as much suck up humor as he could muster, having reached the pinnacle of success through his intimate association with the most powerful man in the free world “The King Of Crawford.” While George Dubya dragged America through the mud — not to be outdone in pursuing their combined false sense of entitlement — his favorite comedian and grab ass buddy did his damnedest to drag the Big Top and its Alfresco Associates through the mud as well, using the powerful media of television to implement his own scorched earth policy of personal prejudice. Two dummies exercising their right to be the worst kind of Ugly American possible — dumb ones!
Which explains why during the writers strike Jay Leno and his tonight Show went to black. Without a staff of writers to create his monologue and write his jokes and a teleprompter with which to read them — this man is just a no talent gasbag with a collection of gas guzzling muscle cars and sycophants who has contributed nothing to this world but his wife. A very smart and compassionate woman who has courageously done all she could to help the oppressed women of Islamo Fascists Cultures to get out of their Mandated Bee Keeper Outfits. But apart from her, Jay Leno has nothing to show for the space he occupies on this planet but a singularly distinguishing ability to brown nose his way to the top and suck up to the powers that be, no matter how much mendacity, torture, or water boarding is involved. An ugly American if ever there was one! So — up yours Lemon Leno!
Alternatively, in the memorable dirty words of Mama Corliani (whose command of the English Splanguage as well as my own assault on its grammar would likely make William Safire turn over in his famed literati grave.) “ Ba Fungul Youself Booze Del Cool might not be Pulitzer Prize winning linguistics to you — but it was as much “Gringo Speak” as Mama Corliani was ever going to express in her gobble de gook version of Italian, American, Hispanic, and Gypsy Ebonics. This “humongous illiterate Big Top Buddha” and “gothic cholesterol corpus delecti” was in spirit and in fact, very much like that Hollywood Ball of Jell-O from outer space called “The Blob”. As big and blubbery as she was, she managed to penetrate every aspect of our alien world. Precariously perched atop her Giant Friesian Stallion “El Diablo” she represented the only head of state our generation of iconoclasts was ever likely to have. A given — in light of the fact that in our Midway Election Process, like a lot of other dictators, she only allowed for one candidate — herself. If by some miracle she even knew who William Saffire was, or by some equally remote possibility had any inkling as to what constituted a Pulitzer Prize — I assure you, even being in possession of such cultural literacy, she wouldn’t give a damn. Given her insular tribe like view of the world, which placed her and my beloved “La Familia Dearest” as its focal point — the Freakazoid Mafiosi like fruitcake fruit of her loins — a star-crossed dysfunctional clan of entertainment dynamos, who live in the very eye of the storm they themselves create. The extent of Mama Corliani’s worldly knowledge only spanned that which to her seemed relevant and important. Beyond the affairs of her nuclear family as well as her extended Circus Family of “in-laws & outlaws” her grasp of worldly knowledge only consisted of knowing every Italian Opera ever written — every Tex-Mex song that was ever sung — every Flamenco Dancer that ever tapped their heels within the borders of her consciousness & above all — where every S&H Green Stamp Redemption Center was located in the Whole Of The USA!
How exactly S&H Green Stamp Redemption Centers became an integral part of our Off The Wall Wild West World Of Weird And Wondrous Big Top Phenoms is one of those many oxymoron’s with which our traveling nomad nation became identified. Like Festus, religion and his show biz obsession with stardom, Tyrone The Terrible, and his crush on Britney Spears and his lascivious deviant sex drive, Alice The Serial Killer, her Doctor Phil interventions, subsequent elephant rehab stints and of course the ultimate oxymoronic endeavor — Mama Mezeppa’s Mystic Mayonnaise. That magically sumptuous sandwich concoction from elsewhere. Our combined capitalist corporate venture for making millions from hypochondria. Kinda like Paula Dean makes millions for clogging arteries. A delicious snake-oil cure for almost every ailment you never had, some you will never get and everything in between. We figured if corporate America could put a McDonalds in the ‘Louvre” our “Our Medicine Show & It’s “Bush Ape” contingent, could put Mama Mezeppa’s Mystic Mayonnaise on every supermarket shelf in America.
At the risk of offending “country music’ aficionados — “Bush Apes” consisted of those country western singers like Hank Williams Sr. who traveled with medicine shows as a way of making a buck keeping the wolf away from the door and a supply of booze close at hand. The unsavory title of “bush apes” came about as a result of the tendency of these talented individuals to waste themselves by unhealthy living habits, excessive womanizing and drinking themselves into an early grave. Which of course is exactly what Hank Williams Sr. eventually did. Legend has it, that after Audrey Williams stole Hank Williams from our “medicine show” which made her name “MUD” among “bush ape” connoisseurs, the power triage of Foxie Hoxie Tucker, Thirty Three Degree Mason Ben Davenport, & Dog & Pony Showman Col. Tom Parker were ever on the hunt for another Talented “bush ape”. In time they came upon the likes of Elvis, who Col. Tom Parker immediately appropriated for himself — and posterity. The rest as they say is history! For her part, Audrey Williams would one day re-introduce herself as a “circus nemesis” with a bone to pick, when “The Best Looking Man At The Governors Ball” ran away with a Beautiful Circus Bareback Rider instead of her. But that’s another story for another day. Suffice it to say — as a “Stalker” she ranks among the most infamous.
Now rewind & back to the show; Last but not least in the many ongoing oxymoron’s’ playing themselves out in the rarified atmosphere of Mama Corliani’s Frontier Circus, Wild West Show and Mystic Midway was our Nightmare Nonna’s own insurgent granddaughter, who was as much of a nightmarish personality in her own right. The oppositional systems buster, who via the Stanislavski Method and a multiple personality complex, magically morphed into “Una Bimbo,” The Big Top Revolutionary dedicated to regime change on the Midway and the overthrow of the United States Government in Gringo Land. An oxymoron that made for many a sleepless night for our already overstressed homeland security! Compared to her, Al Qaeda was a piece of cake — she on the other hand, was a piece of work! However — as proof of her instability, Una Bimbo can’t even be counted on to follow through on a government coup. Like so many smitten admirers around the world — she’s fallen in love with “The Magic Negro.” She’s even fallen in love with “The Magic Negros Wife Michelle.” And neither she nor Michelle are even AC-DC — go figure!
Nevertheless — life went on in our beleaguered Big Top Biosphere despite government surveillance, a collapsed global economy, urban sprawl, global warming, a crumbling infrastructure, the swine flu, world wide war mongering, periodic “Death To America” threats from Bin Laden and the consistent, disruptive, partisan bickering of “The Republican Party Of NO” whose ever in favor of adapting to the awful mess — as opposed to doing anything about it.
As a way of providing solace for Tyrone The Terrible over his tragic disappointment of not finding his pop idol Britney on a real Circus, after going through so much trouble tracking one down — Mama Corliani did her best to provide a culturally diverse enrichment program for her sex addicted simian foster child. After escaping the solitary confinement of his prison cell where Tyrone and hundreds of other Chimps are confined to life imprisonment by the “Feds” at taxpayer expense, Tyrone was a veritable basket case and almost totally institutionalized. Like David Carradine, he actually thought of hanging himself from his own body parts. However, the fact is, after a sadistic vivisectionist with a government grant and the code name Dr. Frankenstein had surgically switched Tyrone’s head to the body of another chimp — the exact location of his former body was now considered classified information. Like the location of all those unlucky Americans who’ve been snatched off the streets of their home town as suspected terrorists because they don’t have blue eyes, blonde hair, & a red neck.
Apparently Dr. Frankenstein was sharpening his skills in anticipation of his future brilliant career as Psycho Surgeon To The Stars in a cryonics lab, where rich dead celebrity’s like Ted Williams pay big bucks for the privilege of having their heads severed & frozen separately from their bodies. The hope is that in some future post apocalyptic world they will be resurrected and reunited with their own former body or someone else’s (depending on how kinky the attending surgeon is) and there after exhibited as sideshow attractions of the future. IE:
“Frankenstein’s Celebrated Monster Superstars Of The Apocalypse”
“It’s Alive, It’s Alive — It’s Moving. Oh Doctor Doctor — Please Don’t Let That Thing Out, Call 911, Call The National Guard, Call Anyone, But Pleezzze Don’t Let That Thing Out!”
Tyrone The Terrible suffered extreme clinical depression at the loss of his own “johnson” which apparently was impressive compared to the embarrassing “little wienie” he was forced to accept as his postoperative toolbox. Mama Corliani sensing he was down in the dumps compassionately allowed Tyron to accompany her on those rare outings when she braved the toxic environment of the outside world. That unnatural habitat of the indentured Gajo’s who existed as groveling whining serfs under the iron thumb of The Federal Reserve & their Jeckle Island Collaborators who were determined to starve this middle class beast to death. Those outings were the only time Tyrone’s behavior was exemplary. Apparently, “good behavior” was a characteristic of that other chimp, whose body for want of any other, was now his. A personality trait that only surfaced during Mama Corliani buying sprees when the affluenza virus got the best of both of them.
The process of buying groceries for the cookhouse or gourmet chuck wagon that fed Cowboys & Indians, Kinkers & Carnies‘, Freaks & Geeks, Bareback Riders & Aerialist, Jugglers & Funambulists, Magicians & Madmen, Wrestlers & Wranglers, Bullmen & Badmen, Gazoonies & Roustabouts, Candymen & Concessionaries, Grifters & Drifters, Ride Jocks & Opossum Belly Queens, Transvestites & Tramps, Mimes & Clowns, The Gay & The Straight, Hermaphrodites & She- Devils, Derelicts’ & Dingbats, Stilt Walkers & Stake Drivers, Giants & Midgets, Fat Men & Bearded Ladies, Wolf Boys & Lobster Girls, 3 Legged Men & 2 Headed Gals as well as the enumerable lost souls & discounted homeless people who fell through the cracks of a so called civilized society of compassionate conservatives. You know — the ones with rotten teeth Jay Leno makes fun of on his tasteless TV show, believing he is castigating Kinkers & Carnies, when in fact what he’s doing is poking fun & demeaning the unfortunate people of his own undemocratic society where Watermelon Heads with Hoof & Mouth disease like him make millions, while others with no health care or a place to live can’t even make the rent much less afford a dentist. “Give Me Your Poor, Your Tired, Your Huddled Masses Yearning To Breath Free” doesn’t amount to a hill of beans when as Sitting Bull once so eloquently expressed it upon seeing the extreme poverty of many in our big city’s “Americans Know How To Make Money, But They Don’t Know What To Do With It After They Make It”. There were no poor people on the American Continent until the “Judeo Christians” stole it away from the Indians and made the decision that only white men from the Eastern Seaboard had the right to benefit from its resources.
Obviously, buying groceries for such a mixed bag of jumbled humanity as well as the flotsam & jetsam of “The American Dream,” was one of those major social events that required a drastic change of both venue and policy. Stocking up supplies for such an eclectic group of gormandizers required not only planning and foresight — it demanded a very different mode of transportation. The only time Mama Corliani actually made use of the two feet God gave her as opposed to the four mighty hooves “El Diablo” provided her with, was when she & Tyrone went on one of her Capitalist shopping sprees. Consumerism gone off the deep end whereby she took special pains to patronize only those local super markets that made it a practice to augment ones purchases with S&H Green Stamps and the handy little green stamp book with which to stick em in. Accompanied by Tyrone whom she passed off as her very own “seeing eye monkey” and the able assistance of her licking staff of Old Gypsy Cronies (who like Indian Squaws chewing leather) provided an invaluable service to the company store or commissary as it is sometimes called. A place where, in long time past on a real slow day one might find the yet undiscovered Louie L’amour at the register reading his books & making notes for some “Frontier Tale Of Adventure that in a future incarnation would make him America’s foremost Western Storyteller.
However, Mama Corliani’s “scamulous” version of a commissary was more of a mobile makeshift general store and glorified GYP JOINT where for exorbitant prices and at an inflated rate of interest, Mama Corliani sold all those useless and unnecessary items she and her singular staff of sticky fingered helpers had acquired at their last hold up of an S&H Green Stamp Redemption Center. There, the dedicated and overwhelmed S&H employees were totally flustered and flabbergasted at the sight of so many greens stamps and so many green stamp books in the hands of a group of stranger than strange customers. Customers whose demands were as collectively unintelligible as if they were aliens that had just landed from another planet. Aliens accompanied by a chimpanzee dressed in a “KING KONG” Halloween costume. Aw shucks, what the hell, it was all for a “good cause.”
Mama Corliani’s “Five Star” dining tent was free to one and all — albeit your share of breakfast, lunch, & dinner was likely to be meager fare unless her account books reflected that you had invested your entire seasons wages in her personal stock market of S&H Green Stamp Gift Items. However, that was only one of Mama Corliani’s quasi – criminal cottage industries. In order to keep the “show on the road” and operating in the “black” — this Mother Of All Godfather’s was not limited to only one scam.
The most recent and ingenious of her fraudulent schemes was to feature “Tyrone The Terrible” as ‘The Missing Link” in a midway attraction that also featured the love of his life “Britney Spears” as impersonated by some look a like wannabe. A celebrated sideshow “Kooch Dancer” who knew how to make the most of her “Prized Pussy.” When it came to the professional peddling of a piece of ass — she had it all over Britney. It’s a damn crying shame that on Mama Corliani’s Midway, Britney got all the credit for such awesome talent!!!
In the “Circus” as in life, “what goes around comes around.”
Besides which there are consequences to the fool who dares to invade that forbidden zone where God plays dice with the universe. That perverse and peripatetic rainbow colored terra incognita called The Planet Bizarro. An Exo Biological Parallel Universe That Exists As Much In The Imagination As It Does Beyond The Khyber Belt. An actual Space Time Continuum that is manifested as much in the minds eye as it is beyond the rift. That consummate “OTHERNESS” within which “THE OUTSIDER” thrives. Could It Be That You DEAR SUCKER, are one of them and you are trapped in the chicken coop of the states status quo, that doesn’t want you to know, that if you’re willing to think outside of the box & color outside of the lines, and make that quantum leap into the absurd — U 2 can FLY?
Britney Spears Circus Video
For the edification of some of you nit picking critics who want to know “Whatever happened to Big Bad Ben and his Infamous Outlaw Express?” or The First legally Sanctioned Same Sex Marriage?” or Dr. Phil & Alice, The Serial Killer?” Or a lot of other questionable beginnings that have yet to come to closure — all I can say is —
Give me a break folks! Just because you are addicted to immediate gratification does not necessarily require me to make ends meet within your limited time frame — or keep all my ducks in a row. A considerable challenge for a genetic misfit from the wrong side of the digital divide who thinks with the wrong side of her brain & speaks out of both sides of her mouth.
Besides which — what are the benefits to me personally — in keeping things in chronological order? It sure as hell never did anything for Jackson Pollack or Pablo Picasso! So why should I have to toe the mark? I mean — what would you say about an avante garde artist who persists in spilling paint all over the floor to the extent that he has to stand on his own canvas as opposed to keeping it on an easel like any normal artist would? Or some other supposed genius who creates human torso’s as though they were roadside bomb victims’ whose scattered jigsaw puzzle parts are re-arranged to resemble the frightening “Freakenstein Monsters” that existed only in his fucked up mind?
Besides which — think of the possible psychological damage to my “muse” if he, she or it starts feeling manipulated or micro managed. Like some Wild Mustang corralled & forced to accept that bothersome bit in its mouth. As good an excuse as any for an intangible source of inspiration to go on strike & leave me like Jay Leno — “dumb struck” without his writers or any other crutch by which to razzle dazzle a captive audience. A potential outcome that could spell disaster for any True Blue Barnum or New Age Shakespeare Of Advertising.
So — get outta my face you literary saboteurs’ who have nothing of redeeming value to say yourself — but have an endless supply of rules & regulations by which others should bare their souls. Enough already with the brain farts from The Peanut Gallery! This is my 3 Ring Circus SUCKER — not yours! My own Freaky Phantasmagoric Wild West Show & Sawdust & Spangled Space Odyssey. Not Yours! So I will proceed at my own Planck Time Pace with the Prehensile Pretzel Logic & gratuitous ill iteration that is so necessary to any inscrutable 3 Ring Circus.
With courage and monumental arrogance, I will carry on with this Exo Biological Adventure Series. A Walk On The Weird Side in which I will be hoping against hope that those of you trapped within the artificial constructs of linear reality, which presupposes the shortest distance between 2 points is a straight line, will ultimately be shocked out of your delusional disabilities. At least to the extent that eventually you will be able to connect the dots.
In the meantime, in her own space-time continuum & without the aid of any anti-gravity device — Mama Corliani carries on with her own 3 Ring Circus where — like yours truly — she does it her way! This despite all opposition to the contrary & the determined disruptive efforts of a mentally unbalanced insurgent who just happens to be her own stubborn & seditious granddaughter. The Revolutionary UNABIMBO — Oppositional Systems Buster dedicated to Regime Change & other whacked out terrorist activities & Perverse Political Crackpotisms.
It is this ignominious evolution of a Matriarchal Mafiosi succession of Maverick Outlaw Circus Queens who rule by Perpendicular Pasta Power & The Spaghetti Umbilical Modus Operandi, which has preserved this Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western Circus Dynasty for untold generations.
From that long ago original Wild West Octomom “Mama Mazeppa” and her “Wild Bunch Of A Different Persuasion” also known as “The Under The Rainbow Gang” who through a succession of mind boggling super natural events were eventually relocated to The Planet Bizzarro to the present day Mama Corliani — Mother Of All Godfathers & Her Cowboy Cosa Nostra. This is a mystical, off the wall cult possessed of strange & controversial ideology. An ideology that clings to a reverse sexist tradition in the belief that they owe their uninterrupted continuity to the impenetrable glass ceiling whereby they have successfully managed to keep the male of the species in positions of powerlessness & subservience.
Their contention is that the unique floral arrangement that grows between a mans legs, somehow tends to subvert the plasticity of the brain that is lodged between their ears, making it impossible for him to see any further down the road than the end of his own dick. A condition which makes him prone to making decisions based on short sighted objectives. Like for instance “The Industrial Revolution” which brought about ‘The End Of Nature” & precipitated the greatest mass extinction since the KT boundary, and a lot of other Pyrrhic Victories for which mostly men are to blame.
How exactly this clannish mommy cult arrived at such an outrageous hypothesis is somehow eclipsed by the fact that for a number of generations of uninterrupted continuity — this belief system has worked wonders for them. Both on The Goldilocks Planet & The Planet Bizarro where women rule, not because they’re any smarter than men, but because they can see further down the road.
Well — like they say, “Nothing succeeds like success” or “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!”
Ultimately, one cannot in good conscience truly appreciate the true meaning of Motherhood or the extent to which Mother Love can extend its influence unless one has personally experienced the fall-out and friendly fire of a dedicated Hell Bent for Leather Helicopter Mom in action, whose intentions are good, but whose behavior goes beyond the pale.
From the infamous Ma Barker & Her Gangsta Sons Of Bitches to the ever loven Mother Smotherin Maverick Circus Queens of that Rough Riding, Rootin Tootin Clan of Spaghetti Western Outlaws. The Red, White & Blue Riders Of The Purple Sage Who Gallop Helter Skelter O’er The Cotton Candy Tumble Weeds Of Their Own Kaleidoscope Frontier. A Wild West Contingent Of Mustachioed Macho Men whose curious “Code Of The West” would’ve made John Wayne turn over in his grave. The Equestrian Marvels Of That Cockamamie Circus Clan Of High Riding Super Duper Wimpy Anti Heroes Of A Much Wilder West & Alternant Outlaw Dimension. “Bodacious Big Top Phenomenon’s” who gave new meaning to the term “cowboy up.” — as opposed to sitting down on their Sam Stag Saddles as any normal cowboy burning leather is prone to. This Gala Gang of “Marauding Mama’s Boys” stood straight upright like toy soldiers on their fast galloping steeds as though suspended by the invisible bungee cords of some rare electro magnetic force. A force that was obviously as powerful as Mother Love.
The following “Tale Told By An Idiot Full Of Sound & Fury” signifies a sincere attempt by one dissociative personality to find her TRUE NORTH from the center ring of a traveling circus in a world gone mad both UNDER THE BIG TOP & beyond the gated perimeters of her Gypsy Grandmothers infamous & subversive PSYCHO CIRCUS!
Unlike Big Bad Bens OUTLAW EXPRESS, Mama Corliani’s Show Biz Enterprise was not created for the purpose of “Lawlessness For The Sake Of Lawlessness” as exhibited by his rowdy renegade convict community. Rather her designer circus was created for the purpose of being a Protest Circus & Underground Political Movement intended to act as a living antidote to modern materialistic philosophies & its corrupt power brokers. The CEO’s who perpetuate the notion that Families Are Dispensable — whether they are members of the human family or the animal kingdom and its equally dispensable habitat & environment. THE MODERN WORLD continues to sacrifice all to its skewed & sacrilegious concept of success at any price. Like the Native American, Mama Corliani saw everything as interdependent & interconnected like THE HORSE SHOE CRAB & a seemingly insignificant little red bird living thousands of miles from each other in different elements whose ultimate survival as well as yours and mine are dependant on one another. She saw The Modern World as anathema to every living thing — including herself & her family struggling to survive the MONOLITHIC CONCEPTS of CORPORATE SUPREMACISTS. A one eyed Cyclops that discounts anyone or anything that does not contribute to the bottom line. A Global Economy in the hands of a mindless & heartless robotic monstrosity. Since she herself had learned the hard way that: “ALLS FAIR IN LOVE & WAR,” she figured all was fair in her love of warring against those she demonized. Like another Mama Grizzly determined to “Take Her Country Back” she favored grid-lock over compromise.
However, Mama Corliani’s methods were crude, her weapons simplistic & barbaric — even to the point of being ludicrous. HERS was an OFF THE WALL — OUT OF THIS WORLD entertainment phenomenon to which was attributed the following glowing accolades…
THE MARAUDERS ARE COMING
You Will Know Them By Their GREASY Appearance!
They are Thieves, Liars, and Scoundrels.
They Have No Show Worthy Of The Name. We Give You This Warning Because We too Are Thieves, Liars, & Scoundrels But Have Fallen Out With The Greasy Pack And NOW TELL THE TRUTH! WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT HONEST MEN GET THEIR DUE.
As a miscast member of this merry band of marauders I was forever obsessed with one overriding ambition. To make a fast getaway. FROM THEM, Easier said than done. Like Michael Corleone in The Godfather and I quote– “Just when I think I can get out— they keep pulling me back in!” I too was constantly surrounded by deranged family despots. In searching my genome for some clue as to who I was & how I got trapped in this Carnivorous Carnival Madhouse from which I was unable to extricate myself— I was to discover, much to my surprise — it was not The Gypsy aspect of my DNA– nor the Aryan affects of The Master Race as inherited from my Munchausen By Proxy Mother — LUISA THE LOLLAPALOOZA ( Aerialist Extraordinaire of The Al Fresco World Of Entertainment) that was directly responsible for the Dementia Praecox to which I was exposed.
It was my unfortunate link to Aristocracy that was the root cause of all my problems! Who Knew? As with Mad King George, Henry The Eighth, Jack The Ripper & so many other Blood Thirsty Blue Bloods & Historic Aristocratic Nut Cases — having Dumbo Ears like Prince Charles, & having a marked preference for bedding married rottweilers as opposed to Fairy Tale Princesses is the least of all the problems that can surface as a result of selective inbreeding.
So —- For those of you with unrealistic expectations that this “Circus Expose” or as Gypsy Barnum refers to it as “The Greatest Show In Cyberspace” should make sense — I ask you to consider the source & offer one cogent word of advice. Forgetaboutit!!
The Born Again Back Story of Barnum’s Bad Girl Of The Big Top
The Mad Motorcycle Diaries Of “Kid Kraut”
The Radical “Road Kill” Revolutionary
Cum Grano Salis
No apologies for incorrect spelling, bad grammar, long seemingly endless sentences, lack of internet know how & a crippling inability to keep things in correct chronological order in this tall tale of two ideologically opposed cultures. A fractured frontier space odyssey about a wild bunch of a different persuasion and the oddball oppositional systems buster who came between them! Mendacity not withstanding. But what the hell … it’s the thought that counts … right?
Fortunately, my literary failings are covered due to the fact that America lacks a language dictator like The Academia Francoise, whose 40 high & mighty members known as “The Immortals” determine what may or may not be accepted into the French Language. No wonder the French are anal-retentive & prone to expelling Gypsies from their midst! To have behavior modification stamped right on your brain & a governor plugged to your forehead SACRE BLEU! You might as well be one of “Pavlov’s Dogs” at “The Annual Bell Ringers Convention.” But being liberated, in that I’m “Born Again” and come from “The Home Of The Brave & The Land Of The Free — I’m safe, even from the late language guru William Safire. Not because I’m right — but because the old poop is dead.
As for the rest of my failings — I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sweat the small stuff! With all the things that went haywire, off kilter, got derailed, and eventually went totally KAPUT in the confusing conundrum of my disastrous life of no win circumstances — I’ll leave such debilitating non-issues to the nitpickers of posterity. I have better things to do now that I’ve miraculously morphed into the THE STUPEFYING SUPER SHERO OF AN UNDERDOG WORLD! Sometimes things that don’t make a bit of sense — is all in the world that ultimately does make sense.
As THE INTERNET POSTER CHILD for all whose destiny it is to make THE QUANTUM LEAP INTO THE ABSURD, I find that losing ones marbles is the only sane alternative to the possibility of going completely bananas in today’s MAD MAD WORLD OF HORRENDOUS POSSIBILITIES! A world too ridiculously morbid twisted and horrid to take seriously. A nightmare reality no longer fit for woman & children to live in because they are the ones who for the most part bare the brunt of the collateral damage created by the male of the species. (Oh boy, here we go again on one of her inane ideological tirades against the left-brain losers of today’s Techtronic E waste world.) A reverse sexist tradition she inherited from the “La Leche League Of Extraordinary Matriarchs‘” from whom she is unfortunately descended. The subversive shape shifters that make up the ranks of those rebellious outlaw gypsy circus queens… who since the days of the Wild & Woolley West to Gypsy Barnum’s Mad Max Millennium have been on a collision course with The Establishment. From their point of view, the modern world is the Axis Of Evil destined to bring mankind’s Inglorious Basterds down to their forgone doomsday conclusion. A materialistic death culture they equate with being the fouled & forbidden provinces of the uncircumcised philistines of the synagogue of Satan. Certain of my Gypsy relatives spent so much time with Jews in German concentration camps that the survivors have taken to identifying with them even to the point of practicing circumcision themselves. Not so with the Jews … who won’t allow them space in the Holocaust museum despite the urgings of the famed Nazi hunter Elli Wiesel to “do the right thing.” Evidently getting brutalized, tortured, & exterminated together is one thing… but being memorialized with them after the final solution is unacceptable to their God Yahweh… who in fact is my God as well. Of course, where I come from they call Him “The Big Top Boss In The Sky!” Fortunately for me — HE sympathizes with my cultural dilemma, which is an ongoing congenital cluster fuck, in that being half-German, I have to deal with the fact that some of my goose stepping Adolf collaborators, killed both my Gypsy relatives & The Jews with equal military precision. That is, they did so with the aide of a certain IBM computerized punch card sorting system that helped to make genocide a model of Darwinian efficiency. This is what is called American ingenuity.
Then there’s the double edge dilemma, that on Christmas holidays when visiting my beloved Tanta Mina in the quaint and picturesque village of Tritttau, close to Hamburg — a certain embittered Uncle and former high-ranking member The Third Reich, who like IBM somehow escaped the notice of The Nuremberg Trails, appeals to me “Das Americanish Svinehunt” for reparations. He can no longer personally put lighted candles on the Christmas tree, as was his former designated Holiday assignment, due to the machine gun fire of an American GI. A brave soldier from Pittsburg Pennsylvania who won the Purple Heart for dispossessing my Uncle Fritz of his lower extremities. Tanta Mina always seats Uncle Fritz at the far end of the table at family gatherings for fear he might poison me for being an enemy combatant. Apparently, he lost some of his marbles along with his extremities and doesn’t know the war is over.
Uncle Fritz… somewhat reminds me of my Grandfather Nonno Nesto, the illegal immigrant who rode with Pancho Villa during his infamous invasion of US Territory. Nonno Nesto is still hell bent on the overthrow of The Gringo’s and it’s only the fact that he’s a Chubby Chaser and totally obsessed with Mama Corliani’s Fabulous Flab — that keeps him from returning to his old haunts “South Of The Border” where he spent his Glory days sharing Tutti Fruity ice cream with the The Mexican Revolutionary. Despite his celebrated anarchistic past, Nonno Nesto gets no respect.
The dressing room gossip of The Big Top rumor mill have seen to that by their insistent insinuations that he is not the culprit who fathered Mama Corliani’s Cowboy Cosa Nostra. In the yackety, yack rhetoric of self-righteous ratchet jaws… in a process known as “cutting up jackpots, ” (a disinformation grapevine that circulates non-stop from circus to circus) the malicious midway gossipmongers have perpetuated a vile rumor that there was another sperm donor in the woodpile somewhere. According to various versions of backyard mythology while in the full flush of youth when Mama Corliani was still a svelte vision of Gypsy Beauty to behold, she apparently “stumbled over a rock” and before she could get up — a handsome member of the famous Cristiani family ravished her. Like Nicholas Cage ravished Cher by mutual consent in Moonstruck! And that supposedly explains their equestrian prowess and matinee idol good looks.
The other version of the not so immaculate conception of that renegade brood of miserable malcontents called The Corliani Clan… was that she had an ongoing affair of the heart & dangerous liaison with Buffalo Bill, the first President of The Showmen’s League Of America to whom everyone in the outdoor amusement business gives credit for originating the first carnival midway. That figures, given that he rode point for the United States Government in a scam called Manifest Destiny. The ultimate sting for which Col. William F. Cody won The Congressional Medal Of Honor. Apparently ethnic cleansing and hacking your way through walls of Indian flesh was a highly esteemed virtue in that era, along with a lot of other wanton slaughter that passed for patriotism. This ostensibly explains the Corliani’s preoccupation with playing Cowboys & Indians & their uncanny ability to scam the suckers in the name of Truth, Justice & The American Way.
Then there is the inevitable Barnum connection from whom Gypsy Barnum gets her name. During Buffalo Bills days of Wine & Roses, albeit with him it was Whiskey & Roses, Cody was taking in so much money at the box office that he put out a truck load of cash for the purchase of PT Barnum’s personal railroad car… an ornate ostentatious bachelors quarters which was decked out with all the amenities of the Orient Express. Cody wanted to impress his Gypsy paramour. He did and when The Prince of Humbug himself personally delivered the plush railroad car that would have been the envy of a Horny Hugh Heffner at any age… Barnum took the money & took Cody’s lover as well. He wouldn’t have gotten away with it if Cody had not been passed out cold on the love seat from his usual nightcap of a fifth of whiskey! Phineas T took full advantage of the situation, declaring his undying love throughout eternity, promising to make his potential new conquest, a bigger star than Tom Thumb and The Swedish Nightingale combined. Thus, The Prince of Humbug deftly managed to get into Emmalina’s egg basket and forever imprint his brand of BS on his lying descendants… The Corliani Clan, for whom TRUTH is whatever your interpretation of the word “is”, is. That’s when a once beautiful, vulnerable and impressionable Italian Gypsy Belle found out that those awful irresistible creatures called men, will promise you the moon, only to give you green cheese when the thrill of the chase is over.
When true love fails, replacement theology suggests “food” as a fulfilling alternative to a broken heart. Albeit “love” did not bloom… M. Corliani instead blossomed into a 300 plus pound Bitch Dominatrix who ruled her Cowboy Cosa Nostra with an iron hand by the strength of The Spaghetti Umbilical she kept wrapped around the necks of each and every member of her large extended clan of in-laws & outlaws. The Magnificent Seventy Five who eventually emerged as a result of the sexual misadventures of a wayward Gypsy Octumom & The Fabled Fruit Of Her Loins.
In retrospect, whatever Cody paid for that overpriced ornate & ostentatious railroad car… It was PT Barnum who got his monies worth and his revenge as well on the Hero of the West for doing what newspaper headlines described as follows:
Buffalo Bill Out Barnums Barnum!
So goes the the scandal of Weenie Gate And All The Matriarchs Men as divulged by the deep throats of dressing room gossip. But it’s best to let sleeping dogs “lie”…. because whether on a circus or carnival, trying to separate fact from fiction is like trying to strain the peas out of split pea soup after it has already been cooked to apocryphal perfection.
To this very day, the case of M. Corliani’s hot pants & who got in them is one of those unsolved mysteries for which there seems to be no satisfactory conclusion. However, the cause of all the furor & controversy is a lot easier to explain… I think it had something to do with the MOON.
As time passed & Big Mama Corliani’s Clan continued to expand along with her waistline, it seems her opinion of men continued to deteriorate at the same alarming rate she put on the pounds.
Eventually, Big Mama Corliani came to the same conclusion as Big Mama Thornton where men were concerned. When all is said and done, they be nothing but a bunch of hound dogs snoopin round her door!
Big Mama Thornton
John Lee Hooker
Close Encounters of the Circus Kind
In continuing with the honest humbug account of my life, as evidenced by the ongoing cluster fuck adventures of “The Stupefying Super Shero Of An Underdog World” — I now cede the performance podium to Gypsy Barnum herself whose grammar and spelling isn’t any better than mine despite her Shakespearean Bent. She however claims to have a more objective approach to The Premier Clown and main sideshow attraction of “The Greatest Show in Cyber Space.” An Exobiological Extravaganza, which in essence covers “Everything You Ever Wanted To Know But Were Afraid To Ask About Close Encounters Of The Circus Kind”.
It has been said, the story of a person’s life begins long before they are born and in the case of “Kid Kraut” the radical road kill revolutionary — truer words have never been spoken. As the much-despised “public enemy number one” of the NAACP (The National Association for the Advancement of Circus/Carnival People) Kid Kraut was at the mercy of Mama Corliani, “The Controller” who like Donald Rumsfeld killed the messenger because he didn’t like the message. Likewise, her beloved Gypsy Granny was in a similar killing mood because of Kid Krauts repeated calls for regime change on Mama Corliani’s Frontier Circus Wild West Show & Mystic Carnival Midway. However, like Hosni Muy Barbaric — the plus sized sawdust and spangled wildebeest in control of the whole crooked operation also had a PHD in stubbornness and refused to step down. Like the Egyptian dictator, she started throwing her weight around and practicing emergency rule since the day she finally tipped the scales at four hundred. Unfortunately in our Tent City — Liberation Midway Square — we lacked the focus of the international media and experienced a blackout of both Facebook & Twitter — not just because Mama Corliani cut off the circus generators to keep us in the dark but also because we were technologically challenged to begin with. Meanwhile as CNN Pundits speculated as to where, when and how the Domino Effect would take hold — the CIA was as clueless to the Revolutionary Rumblings threatening to up end the Corliani Clans Mystic Midway as they had been to the fact that Egypt “America’s Friend In The Middle East” was about to erupt in an unprecedented overthrow of their vile and despicable dictator. For this, the CIA is paid a half a trillion dollars annually, given unlimited expense accounts, state of the art spy technology, and a vast network of paid stool pigeons of The Patriot Act. With all that they cannot find Bin Laden either. He’s six foot five — has eleven sons and Allah only knows how many females in full body gunny sacks and a large family compound to accommodate the entire Muslim Majority. All they can do is accuse Angelina Jolie & Brad Pitt of assisting Bin Laden in avoiding capture. Their idiotic rational being that by doing the kind of good works for which they have become known as America’s most charitable celebrities, such works have discouraged would be terrorists from joining the ranks of America’s most famous arch enemy, rendering him less visible to The Men Who Stare At Goats! Having misplaced their thinking caps they, like Mama Corliani, have to resort to the paranormal for inside information.
However, there was one obvious difference between the Egyptian Revolution that took place in the land of the Pharaoh’s and the rebellion taking place in the LaLa Land of Mama Corliani’s Sawdust and Spangled underworld. Specifically its ludicrous cast of characters and its location on Liberation Midway Square, which was strategically located between the Grease Joints, The G-Top, The Sideshow and the Menagerie. A set up which left room for the Grab Joints to make money on the blow off. Translated meaning the space-time continuum in which the crowd spills out of the Big Top after the performance to make their way to Kiddy Land and the Major Carnival Ride section where along with the Tilt A Whirl, The Himalaya, The Spider, The Zipper, The Zyclon, and yes, The Pirates of The Caribbean (The ride that gave rise to Johnny Depp’s performance as Captain Jack Sparrow.) Hollywood and Disney have acquired some of their most profitable ventures by blatantly ripping off Kinkers and Carnies.
Then came the bonus attractions, like a Walk on the Wild Side of The Yellow Brick Road courtesy Mama Corliani — the Wizard of Ooze who also doubled as the Wicked Witch of the Wild West, in whose Flim Flam City one was not likely to meet the Tin Man, The Straw Man or The Cowardly Lion. Instead — you will meet some equally unique individuals whose motives are not nearly so benign or family friendly. Like “Shell Game Sheila.” The drop dead gorgeous drag queen, all spangled, sequined, glittered and glamorous in her skin tight spandex, rhinestone push up bra, double set of false eye lashes, platform sky high heels and a feathered boa, that could tickle any man’s fancy, and did … while she took them for all she could get. And of course “Odie Dodie” who sold decorative little art deco boxes with a prize in every box that was conspicuously empty. His excuse — “what the hell, they get cute little boxes, what’s the problem?” He constantly complained about the Casey Candy Company of Chicago Illinois who during intermission sold delicious boxes of Salt Water Taffy under the Big Top that really did have a prize in every box. “The Bastards are ruining me” he lamented, “They ought to be run off the lot.” And of course no trip down Mama Corliani’s Yellow Brick Road would be complete without a Tete A Tete with Tamara, The Tasmanian Half & Half who sold French Post-cards of Disney like characters in compromising positions in various scandalous scenarios of orgiastic ecstasy which — talented as she was — she actually hand painted herself after receiving her diploma via a mail order cartoon college. She was determined to show the world’s biggest patent thief what can happen when you mess with the professionals.
Needless to say — Mama Corliani’s midway was as far removed from a Sunday School Circus, as any red light district is likely to get. Unlike that of her despised cousins and arch enemies the Christianity Family who, given their ridiculously obvious Christian name and Holier than Thou origins represented the other side of the Jeckle & Hyde family of Circus Aristocrats. The Christianity Family of World Famous Equestrian Icons and premiere practioners of The Big Top genre known as The Sunday School Circus. With their nose High In the Air and their “Airs Above The Ground, “their diamond encrusted tiara’s and designer duds their Lamborghini’s, their Mercedes, their Porches, were a constant irritant to Mama Corliani and a reminder of the need to sharpen her claws and replenish her Machiavellian bag of tricks whereby to bring about their downfall and put their face in the dirt where hers was usually located. All things considered, the rivalry between these two extended branches of the same family amounted to the Sawdust and Spangled version of the Hatfield’s and McCoys. Big Top bystanders often placed bets on who was going to come out on top in their latest family imbroglio. In the meantime, the last incident to spark the flames of hatred and jealousy on the part of the Corliani’s was the fact that the Christianity Family who, because of their Olympic connections and squeaky clean show biz shtick had passed the smell test with flying colors and so were the recipients of personal engraved invitations to the wedding of the century. Honored guests at the forth coming nuptials of Kate Middleton and Prince William.
Meanwhile back at the Ranch — Rancho Notorious as Mama Corliani’s Winter Quarters in Circus City was known, a bonafide American Patriot, who believed in the right to life liberty and the pursuit of happiness in whatever inappropriate manner that belief took her, a criminal Capitalista who believed in a classless society as envisioned by our Founding Fathers whose constitution supported equal justice under the law. Even for those of us who have no class. A person who robbed from the rich to give to the poor as long as she got the first cut off the top — like she did on her Midway. A person who defended her right to bare arms, brass knuckles, knives, bats or whatever else it took to prevail. A person who believed in the power of one Mother of All Godfathers who stood ready willing and able to defend her country against any Mutha Fucka who might want to encroach on her territory. A woman who had conducted many a citizens’ arrest. Citizens who were never seen or heard from again thereby saving the State considerable time money and effort. A woman who had officiated at untold numbers of same sex marriages and unlike “The State” had not rescinded a single one of them. A woman for whom ‘Collective Bargaining” was as prohibitive as it was to the Billionaires Lapdog ” Scott Walker,” as well as to “Killer Coke” and “The Koch Brothers”.
Sadly, such an upright sterling individual had never even so much as received that first invitation to The Kennedy Center For The Performing Arts — much less been a Kennedy Center Honoree. Ironically — often in attendance at this elitist congregation of the high mucky mucks of Americas movers and shakers ( like the ones who perform for a million dollars a pop each at Moamar Gone Daffy’s parties) are untold numbers of Banksters, Stick Up Men, Ponzi Schemers and Wall Street Guru’s for whom Greed Is Good as it is to Mama Corliani. “The Dracula Brotherhood of Super Blood Suckers” all of whom together engineered one the greatest transfer of wealth (otherwise known as heists) ever perpetrated not only in America but in the history of the world. None of whom but for the exception of Bernie Madoff who’s just playing fall guy for the rest of them who have yet to be indicted much less serve time in the can. Which is why Mama Corliani adheres to her jaundiced philosophy of Juris Prudence that “The Law Is An Ass”.
The moral of America’s story of moral turpitude is that, if you can steal big enough and bold enough and bad enough — it’s a sure bet you’ll get away with it! The law only concerns itself with penny anti-theft like Mama Corliani’s whose illegal activity’s amount to the kind of dollars that can counted by hand — like votes, and that largely depends on who’s doing the counting and on which side the obscene court favors. So, let’s face it Suckers — there is not now, nor ever has been, nor ever will be a Level Playing Field. In their rush to judgment, Revolutionaries the world over fail to consider what history has already proven. Revolutions won or Revolutions lost are a mere Marry Go Round of Musical Chairs with the same kind of Boss Hog sporting a different handle squatting on the Goose that laid the Golden Egg. Take the American Revolution for instance. Then Look at who’s got all the goodies now.
Unfortunately, there is always some Smart Ass Fanatic, religious or otherwise who thinks they’ve got “The Secret” to fixing things. Like Kid Kraut, “The Road Kill Revolutionary”. These are the kind of hypo manic idiot savants who end up being worse than the Dick Head Dictators they are determined to replace. So ultimately, it’s not about whose right or whose wrong, Republican or Democrat — nor whether we’re an Empire or a Republic, nor is it even about whether we operate on the basis of Democratic Principles or Capitalist Greed. It’s all about whose got their hand on the Joy Stick. Which begs the following question –?
Is that what Dan Rice had in mind when he threw His Hat in The Ring of His Greatest One Horse Show of the 19th Century by way of making his bid for the Senate, The Congress and The Presidency of the United States. Dan Rice being the most famous Clown, Circus Entrepreneur, Vaudevillian, Renaissance Man and Professional Patriotic American Candidate nobody ever heard of. The Sawdust and Spangled Star Attraction after whose signature costume and iconic demeanor “Uncle Sam” was patterned. Remember this guy? A close friend of President Abraham Lincoln, Dan Rice also campaigned for Zachery Taylor.
Dan Rice/Uncle Sam portrait
Yes, The Same Old Tired Uncle Sam Who Wants You! Again and Again and Again in the never-ending wars for God and Country for which his image stands.
Good Wars, Bad Wars, Undeclared Wars, Secret Wars, Oil Wars, Wars to End All Wars, Pre-emptive Wars, Terrorist Wars and Wars that are awash in dead and mangled Soldiers and Civilians. Likewise on the Home front, those who pay for wars they never had any choice in creating are left emotionally, psychologically, socially and financially drained. A bankrupt body politic of “Citizen Screwed” while the lunatics in control of the asylum are left with deep pockets chock full of American Treasure.
Call me picky, call me irresponsible, but I honestly don’t think Dan Rice or the Big Top Boss in the Sky would approve. But then what the hell do I know. I’m just an Old Carney who goes by the name Gypsy Barnum, The Shakespeare of Madvertising and New Age Princess of Humbug.
The excerpt you’ve just read is the first act of The Citizen Screwed website and is centered on the continuing SCI FI adventures of the SURREAL SUPERHEROES of a LOST KALEIDOSCOPE FRONTIER.
The second act of the Citizen Screwed website is devoted to the political psycho babble, confused ramblings & revolutionary rhetoric of the disenfranchised descendant the Time Traveling Super Heroes left behind. It also includes some historical facts and some “back story” of a maverick counter culture, the Al Fresco World of Entertainment which includes the likes of P.T. Barnum, Buffalo Bill and others.
The third act of the Citizen Screwed website yet to come, will be the providential contribution of a mystery celebrity & glitter dome icon who provides Box Office potential for this stupefying 3 Ring Circus, Sideshow & Wild West after Show described by the Father of Quantum Physics as …. “The Greatest Show In CyberSpace!”
FYI: “THE PROJECT” to be completely funded by : CAPTAIN OUTRAGEOUS aka TED TURNER
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