On the downs

By Johnny D. Symon

I spoke to an old English friend some days back on subjects all and sundry, and yes indeed we spoke on the old chestnut, world politics. After so many years writing on the subject you'd think I'd have grown weary of it by now, well the truth is that politics moves and grows, pops and squirts, in so many ways there ain't enough hours in the day to study it all.

That being said, let's hearken back to my friend and yours truly's discussion, for during our verbal workout he asked me if I'd written on the subject of the BP oil spill, "Yes indeed," I replied, "And generally I took their side on it. The pollution angle is something that will be sorted out, but to demonize a company for an accident that occurred beyond their control is highly unfair, especially if the one most critical has never held down an authentic job in his entire working life."

Someone should remind him that true justice equates as trial, not trammel.

Four times to date Barry White House has flown south, just to walk around a tropical beach and play I spy with my little eye something beginning with "C," ... "Cap 'n Trade"? Nope. The "C" refers to something sticky and horrible. Ehhh, "Congress"? Nope. Try again.

Barry's most recent trip reminded me of a song written by Donald Fagen, on his brilliant, weird, and excellent album, "Kamakiriad". Strangely enough I once played this very album to my above mentioned English friend, and you know something? It scared and unnerved him. He found the whole thing creepy. I recall his words and I sat back to try and relate to them as the album played itself out, yet failed to understand where he was coming from. Since my old English friend is one of the sanest dudes I've ever met, and I remain my original self, maybe I'm missing something. Not so unusual in my life, it must be said.

The song called "On the dunes" however, in light of Barry's beach-side stroll, stuck in my mind and refused to leave;

"Drive along the sea far from the city's twitch and smoke

to a misty beach that's where my life became a joke

On the dunes
On the dunes
(Became a joke on the dunes)
Where rents are high
And seabirds cry
On the dunes .."

The truth is that Barry's life became a joke long before the BP oil spill, and now he waits in the departure lounge, "on the downs," for the next election plane out.

I've noted a rapid change in European views over Barry. When he won the last election as the first African African Indonesian President of the United States, via a novel Honolulu Birth Certification thang, Europe saw him as a new political messiah, yet barely a year later he's generally regarded as an idiot and a dork. That's the message I'm getting from the average European, that's if "average European" can be classified as such. Sometimes, especially of late and to my great delight, I ain't so sure.

The Spanish PSOE government, a band of idiots and failures, are caught on the spot due to a cross-party initiative to ban the burka. This initiative appears to have emanated from Catalonia, and threaded its way through the Spanish political fabric. The Partido Popular are actively in favor of the initiative, which for me comes as no surprise, for the PP are firmly pro-equal rights.

But what did surprise me a little, was to find Zapatonto and his Socialist Loons standing against any form of debate on this subject. A recent vote in the Spanish North found the six Socialist Consejals leaving the building while the PP and the United Left, and others, voted for the ban. So much for the PSOE's professed support on women's rights. Foreign Minister, Morotantos, is trying to block a nationwide debate also, which only goes to prove, by trial of fire, that when push comes to shove the PSOE, led by Zapatonto, will always fall on the side of radical Islam and terrorism if they feel that special relationship to be under threat. Equality and equal rights has become the latest casualty of the PSOE's love affair with radical Islam.

Maybe Zappo and the PSOE are missing a golden opportunity to serve both their love of terrorists and terrorism and their failing support for sexual equality between men and women. Possibly their saving grace lies in the burka. They could join the debate on banning the burka and win hands down if they promoted a "Burka For All" campaign. The ultimate equal rights. Everyone in Spain must wear a burka, including politicians, and irrespective of their religious or irreligious beliefs.

That's the answer Spanish-style ... Burkas for ALL. And everyone has to eat the same cuisine, through a straw of course. How about hundred year old Chinese eggs and Bombay duck, washed down with liquidized prune and turnip juice. And for puddin' caramelized peas with sour cream. A dark night in Asturias would begin to resemble the 4th of July, as we watch what appears to be little black glowing rockets bouncing into the sky and back, on blue flashes.

Fashion accessories would be most vital in lulling over the general populace, Spanish and European, to the Equal Burka initiative. Velcro pads sown on in various places, where you could stick your own personal statements of who or what you are. A velcro patch where the upper lip would be, for sticking a bri-nylon mustache on it. Where the forehead would be, to stick a ribbon. And on the left breast, to stick proof of your personal political bent, or other such bent.

Politicians would have a light on top of the head that would flash when they spoke in Congress, to avert a form of confused "Who said that?" outbreak.

By Jove, I think I got it. An ultimate answer to Spain and the world's problems. Equality for all, as even during acts of war no one would know which side they were on, and no one would be passed up for promotion because they were ugly like me. Office parties would actually become fun. And those that enjoy wife-swapping parties would find themselves taking a magical mystery tour. Serves 'em right in my opinion. Adultery would become a thing of the past, and peace would envelope this lovely world of ours. A person-made peace that will endure till the end.

What a scary thought that is. Scarier than my friend's experience through listening to Donald Fagen's genius album, "Kamakiriad." Burka Utopia. Equality through anonymity. All mankind's evil ways concealed within a dark fabric. I wonder why the world's ultimate Socialist, Barry White House, failed to cook up the idea first, after all Socialism's about equality, right? Though to be fair, old Barry has been fixed on other problems of late.

The crude reality of Barry White House; How to turn an unforeseen accident in the Gulf of Mexico to his advantage. Ah yes, the loathsome art of political chicanery, generally practiced by those clinging by the nails and fearing for their political futures end, an end so justifiably close as the skin on their gnashing and grinding teeth.

© Johnny D. Symon