The polls this morning are a ‘disaster’ in themselves.  Perhaps Obama should declare a Nationwide Stupidity Emergency.  Romney actually a point ahead in some polls?  Shame on America if this is true.  Here’s a guy who says SANDY is a call to Ohio to vote him in.  Hey, I lived in Ohio.  That’s tornado country.  No more disaster relief there, if Romney gets it.

What in the bloody fuck is the matter with this goddamn country?  The dumbing-down of America by the Corporate Reich now has us on the edge of a real national disaster–the endorsement by the American electorate of The Company Store, which is selling the notion that every American will get some kind of shit-wage job, to replace Medicare/Medicaid, Social Security, unemployment benefits, aid to the needy, education, and common human decency.  Americans are buying this?  The same tired Republican promise that they will be better off if the Rich are better off?  SHIT!

Let’s look at the Republican Party since 1960:

1960–Nixon, a moron, almost wins.  Then in the ’61-’63 period, we see the rise of the Conservative movement (John Birch Society, et al, telling Americans Jack Kennedy was a socialist and a traitor–no Muslims back then, only Commies), and the Conservative take-over of the Republican Party.  I know.  I was a Goldwater Boy–fifteen, still stupid.

1968–We get Nixon, the moron.  Here, perhaps the Lefties for McCarthy and Kennedy helped.  “I voted for Nixon in Protest.” was what a lot of my friends told me.  “You voted for whom in what?!” I replied.  Nixon.  Who gave us John Mitchell.  And Charlie Manson.

1976–Give us a break!  So we got Carter.  But only after the spectacle of Ronnie Reagan challenging Ford for control of the Republican Party.  Ford was not so bad.  Even Chevy Chase made us feel for him.  But he had to deal with the Conservatives by having Bob Dole as a running mate.

1980–Yes, the Great De-Regulator.  Kicking the door open for Corporate plunder, busting unions, cutting environmental programs, and otherwise acting like an addled old twit who still thought he was in a Bonzo movie–probably The Boys In The Boardroom told him he’d get that Academy Award.

1988–Old George Bush.  Hmmmm???  Well, at least he was dignified.  No hate shit.  But They brought in that asshole Ross Perot.  So we got another break with Clinton.  Golly–for eight years!

2000–Well, Part 2 of the Reagan Bullshit.  Only meaner.  And, of course, the Bail-Out.  Reminded me of those Lords during The Crusades.  

2008–And here we are with a Rich Fascist blubbering and lying with that tired “It’s the economy, stupid!” Republican line that seems to be the success story of the Rich and the Corporate Reich.  Are Americans that crass?  Sell out what’s left of American decency for a minimum wage job?  Have our kiddies mining coal for The Company Store?

Ugly, ghoulish.  War.  War on Blacks.  War.  War on Drugs (that was a good one).  War.  War on Gays.  War.  War on Women.  War.  War on the poor, the working class, education.  War on Democracy.

Come on, Americans.  Remember Hitler?  What he did after he finagled his way into power?  Look at Romney and look at what his Party comes out with–the HATE, the REGRESSIVENESS, the utter unabashed destruction through plunder of the soul of the nation.

1932-33.  Folks, it’s happening here.  The Republican Party has taken up the Swastika.  Don’t be good little Germans.

And don’t waste your vote–it’s too important.  Sorry, Roseanne, I changed my mind.  Maybe next time.  If there is a next time.

And to any and all Good Republicans left out there–YOU have a responsibility too.  History does not forgive collaboration.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(But now I have seen the light, folks.  The latest FOX News poll has Romney ahead in Vermont by 2 points.  Yeah…Bullshit, right?  Even as a joke.  Which leads me to believe that all these establishment polls are BULLSHIT.  After all, who owns the establishment media?  Yes, the Corporate Reich, the Romney people.  So, I’ve decided that all these close polls are, in fact, an attempt by the Corporate Media to manipulate the vote, and, perhaps, also cover for any ‘questionable’ returns where Romney’s computer/touch screen voting friends have their systems in place (like Ohio).  These bastards will do anything.

Close polls serve the purpose of encouraging bigger voter turnout (I would think–correct me if I’m wrong).  The bigger the vote, the more the computer Nazis have to fuck with.  And undecided voters like to vote for a winner, and believe their votes swing elections.  What I mean is, these national poll figures may be an attempt to encourage voters to jump on the ‘Romney Upset’ bandwagon.  I would hope they also encourage folks to come out for Obama.  Then there’s the Purist Lefties (Green Party, etc.) who have been aiming their message at the Democratic Party since 1968–“Unless you do it our way, you’re no different than the Republicans, so Take That!”

I think Simplify has it right about National verses State polls.  We shall see Tuesday night.  I hope Vermont gets the first call for Obama at 7:01 pm.  I meant in my above piece to Blow My Horn about the importance of this election.  There is a difference.  Even if, as the Purist Lefties suspect, Obama is a shill and a ringer, that’s no reason to endorse the agenda of the RICH and The Corporate Reich.  The message should be:  “Okay, Bamster, you got your second turn.  You’re a lame duck.  Go For It!  Pull this country back from the edge of the Fascist Abyss. ANYTHING!  Just Do It!”  

I have been hearing for decades that a totally Fascist America will bring about the much touted Great Revolution Against Capitalism.  Ain’t gonna happen.  They’ll use the Nuke Card if they have to.  Think of the dead, Lefties.  The Planet itself.  And all those who will suffer in the next 8 years of a Romney administration.  The only way to deal with the Capitalist Monster is to feed it the notion that there is more money to be made in the long term investment in good works, science, education, renewable energy, and a healthy and empowered population that will buy into a new and imaginative future that works on solving the problems of war, disease, and pollution so that our Planet will be rich with resources and some day be able to Come Out Of The Closet Of Its Galaxy. (Whew!-Long fucking sentence there.)  Plunder, war, stupidity, and waste will NOT leave us a profitable future; short term greed will leave nothing left on the plate, except ashes and the unburied dead.

But, hell, as George C. Scott said in Patton:  “Nobody listens to me.”  Are you Aliens up there listening?  HELP!  But don’t try to land in Arizona.  I know a nice spot in Walden and a guy who lives there who’d be happy to have you.

So…We Shall See.)  

(As an ex-New York City area kid way back when there were 3 teams in New York and the Yankees‘ top salary to The Great DiMaggio was something like $100,000, I cannot resist seeing some curious analogies to the Tigers‘ sweep.  Now, GO San Francisco!!!)

The New York Yankees managed to get two (count ’em) two hits in Thursday’s Game Four of the American League Championship series against Detroit. (Tigers–8, Yankees–1)  The New York Times said today on its front page, more or less, here’s a $200 million dollar (payroll) team that can’t hit.  Or, as we should look at it–2 hits for 200 mil on Thursday; that’s a 100 mil a hit.

After 36 years in Vermont, my ‘team loyalty’ to the Yankees has been eroded by my friends who are Red Sox fans, but mostly by the big money the Yankee owners waste in trying to buy a winning team.  And also by how the Yankees have pretty consistently fucked-up in a goodly number of post season series.  So, money doesn’t bat.

Now, we’ve seen Wall Street, the Banks, and the Feds waste trillions.  Our National Guard troops are dying and killing in Afghanistan.  And, oops, sorry, those unemployment checks will be late, and us folks on Social Security are going to get the lowest increase in decades.  But, you know folks, the price of a base hit, well, somebody’s got to pay for that.

If Mitt Romney gets elected, the Yankee owners will probably ask him for a bail-out.  You know, keep sending all that money to the top where the assholes kick it around off the edge or drop it down the toilet.  Create some more A-Rod paying jobs for A-Rod types, and make up for the waste out of the pockets of the 47%, while 47 more % lose their livable wage jobs?

If it’s bad for Baseball, it’s bad for the Country.  Simple.  The Yankees deserved to lose.  The line has to be drawn somewhere, and I’m glad those Tigers of that 47% city of Detroit showed Americans last night that BIG MONEY CAN BE BEATEN!  And also showed us what is wrong and maddening with an economics that says the Rich Guys can just…well, fuck up and give C- performance, cause, hell, they’ve got the money already.  Giving them more money will not fix things.  Things are broke because they do not appreciate the value of the money they have because they didn’t (or REFUSE TO) earn it.

Before the Wall Street Yankees spend more money during off-season, perhaps they should consider moving the goddamn franchise to Atlanta.  After all, those goddamn Braves are there almost every post season but do not quite make it all the way.  Why not the Atlanta Yankees?  Sort of a Gone With The Wind team.

And Romney?  He’s pitching shit and popping out.  He needs to be traded–to China, let us hope.  In Baseball, the team that plays the best should win, not the team that spends the most and thinks it can fake it through.  It looked like the Yankees didn’t have a plan, or a clue.  Or that plan was a secret plan.  Romney will not tell us his plan.  Don’t bet money on him.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.  

In a hidden room somewhere

deep within the bowels

of an inhumanity,

young Christian men

study the ancient text,

the world’s most published

book, find the words to affirm

their masters’ wishes.

It is all written there,

in the hellfires and damnations

no Hollywood special effects

could ever beget;

women turned to stone,

the legitimate rape of Eve

for creation’s sake,

the wicked children hurled

into the bottomless pit.

And of course, the end itself,

with only two each of all

heterosexual beings surviving

to resurrect it all

all over again.

The spite and malice

of God’s single mindedness

and unlimited power

has these young men

possessed by a rapture;

they go in heat to the Internet porn

warned about in the chapter and verse

of their employment.

Then they roam the night’s sacrilege,

seeking out whores to punish,

children to discipline,

animals in the acts

of copulation.

And while their masters wield

the sacred golden axe,

while flagellation is made

the frenzy of the day,

they are on their knees

in a hidden room somewhere,

deep within the bowels

where all that was written

finally comes to pass.

The body and blood

of the holy act splattered

across the pages

of the world’s most published

book; tomorrow’s headline

for the unbelieving.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Gosh oh Golly, I sometimes surely want to be Elmer Gantry.)

In a hidden room somewhere

deep within the bowels

of an inhumanity,

young Christian men

study the ancient text,

the world’s most published

book, find the words to affirm

their masters’ wishes.

It is all written there,

in the hellfires and damnations

no Hollywood special effects

could ever beget;

women turned to stone,

the legitimate rape of Eve

for creation’s sake,

the wicked children hurled

into the bottomless pit.

And of course, the end itself,

with only two each of all

heterosexual beings surviving

to resurrect it all

all over again.

The spite and malice

of God’s single mindedness

and unlimited power

has these young men

possessed by a rapture;

they go in heat to the Internet porn

warned about in the chapter and verse

of their employment.

Then they roam the night’s sacrilege,

seeking out whores to punish,

children to discipline,

animals in the acts

of copulation.

And while their masters wield

the sacred golden axe,

while flagellation is made

the frenzy of the day,

they are on their knees

in a hidden room somewhere,

deep within the bowels

where all that was written

finally comes to pass.

The body and blood

of the holy act splattered

across the pages

of the world’s most published

book; tomorrow’s headline

for the unbelieving.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Gosh oh Golly, I sometimes surely want to be Elmer Gantry.)

When this reporter asked the President today why he was such a ‘wimp’ and ‘kiss-ass’ in the debate last night, he explained it to me thus:

“It was decided by The Boys In The Boardroom in 2008 that I would be a one-term President, like Jimmy Carter and old George Bush.

“After eight years of Bush/Cheney, Americans needed a break and something to feel good about.  You know, electing the first Black President, blah, blah.

“I have had the lead over Romney because most Americans realize he is the Rich Nazi Bastard appointed by said Boys to reign over the New And Final Feudal Age Of Capitalist Fascism.

“Why I didn’t say this last night is because I was ordered not to.  I have been ordered to throw the election.  You know, take a dive.

“So I guess, my fellow Americans, it is up to you now to face up to and think through the implications of my performance in this first debate.

“If The Boys In The Boardroom can, with the help of agents of our own government, murder President Kennedy, and get away with it because Americans don’t want to face the truth, what is to prevent them from rigging a goddamn election?

“Now, you can still vote for me, even elect me, but don’t expect from me any big things that might, let us say, endanger my life and the lives of my loved ones.  You know, the Lone Crazed BIRTHER, the Lone Crazed Racist, the Lone Crazed Muhammad Worshipper, blah, blah, blah.  Makes for good TV, right?  Especially when the Lone Crazed Gay Illegal Immigrant is killed on TV.  In Primetime.

“No, I will not put myself in that position.  Unless YOU, the American People, are willing to DO SOMETHING!

“If you think I acted like a pussy last night, take a good look in the mirror!  YOU have been acting like PUSSIES ever since the Warren Commission Report came out in ’64.  If you don’t like my blunt language, well, that’s part of the problem, not part of the solution.

“If YOU Americans are too lazy, stupid, in denial, or whatever, to get off your asses and put aside your gadgets and fight for what you think the United States of America should be and should stand for, DON’T expect elected leaders to Do It For You, because WE WON’T DISOBEY OUR “ORDERS” UNLESS YOU ARE WILLING TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE CONSEQUENCES WE MUST ALL FACE IN CONFRONTING AND OVERTHROWING THE CORPORATE REICH.  Trust me, this won’t be accomplished through Vigiling or Petitioning or Networking through the Social Media.  These BOYS are TOUGH.  And they CAN DO ANYTHING!  Because YOU LET THEM!

“I regret if what I have just said has caused most of you Americans to SHIT IN YOUR PANTS.  Maybe it is time for you now to figure out HOW TO WIPE YOUR OWN ASSES!

“Well…to steal a phrase from you, Mister Sweety, WE SHALL SEE.  

“Now, you’ll excuse me while I DUCK.”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(This is the most sympathy I’ve felt for Obama, EVER!)

FIRST DEBATE

(Live from Charlie Os in Montpelier, VT.)

Moderator:  “Okay.  President Obama has won the coin toss, so you rack, Governor Romney.”

Romney:  “Shit.  All right.  Hey, I need another Bud here.  (mumbles–‘Gotta rack for this miserable black…’)

Obama:  “Say what, White BOY?”

Romney:  “Nothing.  ‘scuse me, my fellow Americans.”  (racks)

Obama:  “Whew.  That’s a pretty shitty-ass rack.  Put the goddamn eight ball where it’s supposed to go.  Motha!”

Romney:  “Hey, I’m not as use to this game as you are.  And you’ve had four more years of practice.  About all you’ve fucking done.”

Obama (takes a swig of single malt scotch):  “Hell, I don’t need practice, you honky dipshit.  I was cleaning up in pool at Harvard Law while you were probably trying to figure out how to give a cue ball a close trim.”

Romney:  “Fuck you.  If you don’t like the rack, concede!  I need another shot of JD with that Bud.”

Moderator:  “Gentlemen, we do have a time constraint here.  This station wants to air its new comedy series, Leave It To Muhammad, after we’re finished.”

Romney:  “Well, tell That One to quit fucking with me.  He’s trying to distract my attention from the issues here.”

Obama:  “Distract your WHAT?  Heh-heh, that’s rich.  Speaking of which, how about a little side bet here, Whiteface.  Say an even Mil.  You make more than that in interest on those fucking Chinese slave shop investments, or whatever.”

Romney:  “Listen, you arrogant uppity black bastard, I earned every cent of my money.  The hard way.”

Obama:  “Yeah.  Was that your ole lady?  Or yo mama?” (takes big swig of scotch, and hiccups)

Romney (slobbers):  “Break, Goddamn You!”

Obama (breaks):  “HEY!  HA!  Well, piss and shit on you, White BOY!  Two solids!  I guess Mister Man here, the Pres-E-dent, got lows.  And you’re just a dirty white dog waiting for me to run the table so’s you can jump down from the roof of your car and run home to Blondie, whatshername?  Heh.  Two ball in the corner.”  (sinks it)

Romney:  “Leave my wife out of this (‘hic’), Brillo-Boy.  I don’t say dissy shit about your fucking wife.”

Obama (downs his fourth scotch):  “Five ball, side.  No?  That’s cause you’re jealous that I’m gettin’ it every night and you’re not.  (sinks five ball)  Everybody in Charlie Os here and in the rest of the fuckin’ country knows you’re a little rich white pussy-whipped asshole.  Six ball, bank, corner.  And I’ll have another (‘hic’) scotch, Moderator.”

Romney:  “You can’t make that.  And Ann fucks like a mink.  What’s this single malt scotch shit?  Are the American people payin’ for that?”

Obama (sinks six ball):  “I get more fuckin’ donations from real people than all the millions you’ll ever raise, pinhead.  And my dick’s bigger than yours too.”

Moderator:  “Mr. President, please.  There are young people watching.”  (Obama sinks seven ball)

Romney:  “Yeah, probably all those poor sufferin’ gang bangers.  Not out robbin’ people tonight.  Another JD.” (‘burp’)

Obama:  “Say, mo-fuck, how’d you like to step outside after I finish you off here?  One ball, corner.  Then, eight ball, side.”

Romney:  “What? (‘hic’)  Your friggin’ gang out there?  Bunch of lowlife blacks and spics and lessies waitin’ for me?  I’m carryin’ mace, ya fuckin’ N-Word!”

Moderator:  “Governor Romney!”

Obama:  “That’s okay. (‘hic’)  That’s cool, that’s cool.  (sinks one ball)  Mace?  No shit, titnose?  What’s that?  Some shit you put on your pecker to get (‘hic’) yo big fat Blondie ho to suck it?  Rich White Pre-vert Stuff?  (Obama sinks eight ball)  That’s GAME, Frat BOY!”

Romney:  “Why, you sleaz…(‘hic’)…in’ pimp bastard (‘hic’) dirty…”

“Moderator:  “Gentlemen…”

Romney (advances toward Obama waving cue stick)  “I’m not takin’ any more (“hic-burp’) shid from you, ya cheatin’ black sonofabitchin’…”

Obama:  “WHOA!  Cheatin’?  Say WHAT, IRS Meat?!  You ‘cousin’ me (‘hic’) a cheatin’ at pool, asswipe yo white ugly face!  Them’s fightin’ words, White BOY!”

Romney:  “I saw dat seven ball shid shot.  And so did the ‘Merican peoples.  Ya kissed my fifteeen, ya faggot!  Thought I wasn’t lookin’? (‘hic-hic’)  Whad?  Ya think I’m shidfaced?  Did ya see dat seven ball shot, Mistah Moderator?  Did ya see dat shot, my fellow ‘Muricuns? (‘hic-hac-gulp’)  I call for for…for…forfa…fa…”

Obama:  “Da word is for-fei-ture, moo-ron.  Whad (‘hic’) happens ta dose Mur-E-Cans who votes for dinks like youse.”

Romney:  “Yeah (‘hic’), for-fa-tor fer cheatin’.  I WIN!”

Moderator:  “Now, Governor Romney…”

Obama (turns to Moderator):  “Hey, shut da fuck up, YOU!  (downs his scotch)  He’s not Governor of shid anymore.  ‘Ceptin’ in his shorts.  And you’re not the Political Cor-rect Pol-Lices here.  If I want da Pigs, I’ll have Secret (‘hic’) Service get ’em.  Do somethin’ useful.  Another scotch!”

Romney:  “That’s another fuckin’ thing!  (‘hic-drool’)  How’s come you That One there gets more erect…more pro-tect-tions than ME?  Whad’s dat shid?” (‘urpp’)

Obama:  “Be-Cause.  I’m da Pres-O-Dent of the U-Night-ed Fuckin’A States, shid-lips!  A course I gets mo ‘tection than you. (‘hic-hic’)  They’s ‘tectin’ my ass against yo white disease.  The one what makes you a moo-ron.  Shid…I mean, shit.  Where’s dat scotch?  Loser here’s buyin’!”

Romney:  “You fuck!  I’ll (‘hic-hac-burp’) show ya loser.  (shoves Obama)  Ya punk!  I’ll whup da ferkin’ shid outtaya!”

Obama (pulls out switchblade):  “All right.  (turns to crowd)  Y’all whities get a round on the loser (‘hic’) here.  Whiles I carve a Z on his fo’head.  Fo Zippy da Pinhead.”

Romney (staggers back, gulping, and pissing his pants):  “All right.  Come on, Blackie!  I’ll shove dis stick up yer black ass!  Come an (‘burp’) git it!” (Romney twirls pool stick, Ninja style)

Obama:  “Why ya dumb Mormon Moo-ron…bringin’ a pool cue ta a knife fight!  Meat!”  

(Romney and Obama go down together on the floor and roll around, cursing and screaming.  And puking.)  

Moderator:  “Ah…and so, that concludes tonight’s debate.  Join us for the second Presidential Debate next week, live from Ned’s Two Card Hold ‘Em in Kalispell, Montana.  And stay tuned for Leave It To Muhammad.  Goodnight.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(When the going gets weird, Petey turns pro.   – promoted by kestrel9000)

(Wes Hamilton is RESPONSIBLE for this.  Yes, it’s his fault.  Find him and make him pay.  He posed the question on Facebook on how Hunter Thompson would cover Romney in a Fear & Loathing On The Campaign Trail style.

So, this is for him all you little Dems too [that means you, Sue].  This is how Romney and the Republicans should be covered, because, they truly have gotten hold of some very bad drugs.  And I think, as seriously as we have to take all this shit from them now, we must consider that perhaps the Corporate Reich has already put these drugs in our water.)

Romney Campaigns In Vermont

   by Raoul Duke

My Polish attorney and I found ourselves in a crowd of cheering Nazis.  I couldn’t believe these people were Vermonters.  Maybe they were bused in on the leaf tours.  A fucking conspiracy.  They looked like they would like to eat us if we had been dressed better.

“Find out the story quick!”  my attorney whispered, pointing with his cane in a not so subtle way.  “These fuckers are about to turn violent.  I’ll cover you with the .357.  Look at that big fat one next to you.  I’ll shoot him first.”



I pulled my attorney’s arm out from his coat pocket.  All he had in his hand was the blotter with four really good tabs of acid I had given him earlier to hold onto.  Now it was all crumpled and sucked dry.  “You dirty swine yuppie lawyer pig!”  I hissed at him.  “I wanted two of those.  You ate the whole fucking blotter?!”

“It’s because the metal in my bad foot made me eat it.  My foot is giving me very bad vibes now.  As your attorney, I advise you to get the info so I can get the hell out of here,”  he said.  “I think I just saw Hank Williams Jr. and John McClaughry frenching over there underneath the hanging tree.”

I turned to the big fat Nazi next to me.  “Can you tell us where the MITT 400 is supposed to start?  We’re here for SEVEN DAYS, to cover it.”



The big fat Nazi gave me a death look.  “What the fuck is the MITT 400 supposed to be?”  he asked, backing up a couple of steps.



“You know,” I said, “it’s that road race with all the SUVs carrying these big dogs in cages up on their roofs.  Some kind of heavy duty fundraiser, I heard.  Sponsored by some perfume lab out in California.  Or maybe it was the Hormel Company.”

The big fat Nazi took a step toward me.  “I don’t think that’s funny, chief,” he growled.  “And I don’t think you and your weird crippled friend belong here.”



My attorney raised his cane.  “You some kind of anti-Polish, anti-handicapped pig-fucking yahoo just out of prison!”  he screamed at the big fat Nazi.  “I didn’t come here to take shit from the SS!  I studied law at Nuremberg!  I’ll take your ass to court!  I’ll own your concentration camp in a week!  And your wife and your daughter and all your lottery tickets!”

The big fat Nazi backed out of there fast.  Going to find a State cop with a taser, no doubt.  I grabbed my attorney and spun him toward the exit signs.  “I can’t take you anywhere,” I muttered at him.  By now, a whole lot of Romney people were watching us.  I wondered how much tea they‘d already had.

“POWER TO THE BLACK PANTHER DOGS AND ALL THEIR LESBIAN TRAINERS!!!” my Polish attorney yelled as I pushed us out of the crowd and toward the Great White Volkswagon Van I had rented in Swanton for this gig.  From behind us I heard:  “Just a minute, sir.  Just a minute!”  I didn’t look back, but my attorney did and said:  “What the fuck now?  Do we have to pay a fee to get out of here?!”



This geeky 20-something kid came up to us holding out something in his hand.  I swear to God, he was wearing a pocket protector and a big button that said: ‘THE FORGOTTEN PERCENT’.  I reached for the pepper spray in my jacket.  “Sir, I think you dropped this,” he said, holding out the little vial of SMILES I had bought off the son of the Liberty Union candidate for Vermont High Bailiff last week at the Kale Vigil in Montpelier.  



“Thanks,” I said to the geeky kid.  “That’s my allergy medicine, kid.  I really need that.  Otherwise I break out in these big scabs that do blood splatter.  Thanks.”  And I grabbed the vial, and the kid took off like he had tickets for The Rapture.  

I got my attorney moving again and I nodded to the RAGING GRANNIES FOR OBAMA AND THE ABOLITION OF NUCLEAR WEAPONS protesting group as we crossed to the Great White Van.  I still had to find out where the MITT 400 was starting.  I had to write a thousand words and get pics of the dogs flying off the SUVs.  I had no fucking idea where we should go.  And I needed a drink.  Really bad.  All I had besides the SMILES was this crappy pot some fucker from Walden who said he was an activist overcharged me for.  In Vermont, EVERYBODY is a goddamn activist.  But Walden I know about.  Walden is where all the activist lepers live.  The crappy pot they grow helps them with their incontinence.



“Let’s go to Charlie Os,” I told my attorney, starting up the van.  “I need to think things through over three or four scotches.  Or martinis, or whatever.”

“As your attorney, I advise you to make that five or SIX scotches,” he answered.  “And you can buy me the same.  I’ll deduct it from your bill.  But, as always, I won’t put it on your invoice.  IRS will never know.  Nor the Catholic Church.  Drive like the wind.”

And that’s what I did.  It was turning out to be another one of those days in Vermont.  Mitt Romney being here didn’t mean shit.  In Vermont, on any given day, you can run into all kinds of weird ass stuff that would wind up in the NATIONAL ENQUIRER if they had a correspondent here.  Maybe they do.  Maybe that’s who it was at the Dowsers Convention in Danville asking around about whether it was true or not that the dowsers secretly fund the CIA because the dowsers make out in Vegas and for all the big sports events.  Could be.  Hell, in Vermont we’ve got everything but Voodoo.  I think.  Never mind.  Maybe what I should do is join one of those Support Groups and then run for office myself.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?!”  my Polish attorney bleated.  “You’re all over the fucking road!”

“I was just thinking…”

“As your attorney, I advise you not to think.  That will become a felony offense next year, if that asshole whose fucking event you dragged me to gets elected.  I can do freedom of speech, but freedom of thought is going to be a bastard.  I may have to go back to school.  I’ll have to raise your rates.  Hand me the SMILES.”



“Oh no,” I told him.  “You’ve got enough acid in you now.  You do this SMILES shit and you’ll be a complete raving lunatic in Charlie Os.  Remember that time when that 70 year-old woman beat you at pool, and what you said to her?”

“She liked it,” my attorney replied.  “She used to be in the Tea Party, but now she works for Bernie Sanders.  I hear she writes all his speeches now.  But she cheats at pool.  He’ll have to watch out for her.  She’ll wind up getting him into a fight.  Maybe with knives.  Are we there yet?  Whoa, what the hell is this shit?!”



It was three leaf-peeper buses blocking State Street in Montpelier, and a whole lot of old people in the street and on the sidewalks.  They had these big tags on their backs that read: ‘BLIND BOWLERS FROM BAYONNE’.  I told you about Vermont.  And it wasn’t even three o’clock yet.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(I’m really getting sick of this 12th Century shit.  What year is this?  HELLO???)

A Muslim fundamentalist walks into a bar, sits down next to a Christian fundamentalist, and orders a goatsmilk.

Ryan the bartender says:  “What?”

The Christian fundamentalist says:  “Hey, you must be new around here.  They don’t have any of that goatsmilk.”

“Figures,” says the Muslim fundamentalist.  “What are you drinking?”  he asks the Christian fundamentalist.

“A Bud and a shot of JC,” answers the Christian fundamentalist.

“What’s JC?”  asks the Muslim dude.

“Well, it’s really Jack Daniels,”  replies the Christian dude.  “But I call it JC for Jesus Christ.  My body and blood.  Heh-heh.  It’s a little joke Ryan and I and some of us other Christian fundamentalists have.”

“Oh,”  says the Muslim dude,  “so you’re one of those.  I’m a Muslim fundamentalist.  Pleased to meet you.”

“Same here,”  says the Christian dude.  “Say, I’ve always wanted to meet one of you guys.  Ryan and me and the boys are planning on bombing a Planned Parenthood office.  We could use some expert advise.”

“Well,”  says the Muslim,  “I can help you there.  First, according to the secret teachings of our prophet, Mohammad, you will need a broomhandle.”

“Hey, I’ve heard of that Mohammad dude,”  says the Christian.  Didn’t know about his broomhandle stuff.  Thought we invented that.  Been using them for decades now.  They’re a lot easier to shove up your ass than a cross, I’ll tell you that.”

“Yes,”  says the Muslim.  “Our beloved Mohammad discovered this, and put it in his secret teachings.  The ones that infidel Salmon Rushdie exposed.  The broomhandle is sacred to us.  It is used for many things.  And for worship too.  And, of course, you can hollow it out and fill it with explosives and carry it right into an office or even an embassy and, as long as you attach a mop head or a broom head to it, people will think you’re just the janitor.”

“Cool,”  says the Christian.  “Hey, my name’s Mitt.  Like that Mormon guy.”

“My name’s Al,”  says the Muslim.  “For alQueda A Nal.  I would be most pleased to help you with your bombing, Mitt.  And perhaps you can help me with mine?”

“Who are you going to bomb, Al?”

“Does it matter whom we bomb, Mitt?  Does your prophet or mine really specify targets?  Are we not just driven by the divine force of the sacred broomhandle?”

“Yeah, you’re right, Al.  Okay.  Just let me finish my JC.  Then we’ll get to work.  Hey, Al, you Muslim fundamentalists are okay.  You’re just like Ryan and me.”

“Well, not quite, Mitt.  Say, I must go to the men’s room.  There’s something I need to do.”

“Right over there.  You want to take that long coat off and leave it here?  I’ll watch it for you, Al.”

“Not necessary.  The long coat, you see, is also part of Mohammad’s secret teachings.  I shall return.”

Mitt turns to Ryan the bartender:  “What a swell dude.  And Ryan, he’s one of those Muslim fundamentalists.”

“WHAT?!?”  yells Ryan.  “I don’t want any of those crazy motherfuckers in here!  Jesus!  You go tell him to get the fuck outta here, Mitt!”

“Jeez, Ryan.  Take it easy.  Them Muslim fundamentalists is just like me and you, fer Chrissake!  Get the broomhandle out of your asshole.”

“Fuck you, Mitt.  Get the broomhandle outta your own asshole!”

But, of course, children, in the secret teachings of our beloved prophets, once the sacred broomhandle is removed, as Al is doing right now…well…KA-BOOM!!!  Somebody ought to tell WalMart that their broomhandles need timers.

Praise The Lord!  Ours and Theirs.  It’s all the same.  Fucking Assholes All Of Us.  Or, as another patriarchal Holy Shit once said:  “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds!”  Nice one, Vishnu.  You’re all alike too.

Yes, ASSHOLES and BROOMHANDLES.  This is what religion makes of us.  Shit, I need some Kool-Aid.

(Oh…I might add that it’s popped into my head that Innocence Of Muslims may very well be a Right Wing/Corporate ‘planned’ event.  Mitt Romney was really fast on the draw there to come out and blame Obama before the dust had even settled in Libya.  Did you notice that?  Almost as if he had been ‘prepared in advance’ for the October Surprise EARLY.  It’s been done.  Kissinger’s evil machinations held up peace with North Vietnam in 1968, and got Nixon elected.  And we all remember what happened to Jimmy Carter in 1980.  Yeah, I think certain ‘fundamentalist’ factions in this country would say:  “Hey, we can put Obama on the spot just like Carter in ’80 if we put out a movie insulting Mohammad.  Those people are sensitive about their prophet.  They’ll go ballistic, count on it.  A lot of violence and anti-Americanism.  It’ll be just like the Hostage Crisis in ’80.  Easy.  Let’s do it.  We can raise 5 million bucks.” (where did that money come from?)  Yeah.  Coincidentally a movie comes out in September to fire-up Muslim fundamentalists and cause bloodshed.  Coincidentally, Mitt Romney is raving before we even know all the particulars about the incident in Libya.  Hmmm…I smell a very large RAT.  His name is CONSPIRACY–the Rat that eats out the heart and mind of America.  I’m afraid there’ll be more to come from OUR fundamentalists.  Another film?  A book?  It’s a clever way to monkey-wrench this coming election.  And hey, while we’re at it, let’s label those striking teachers in Chicago and all other forms of political, social and ‘economic’ protest here as aiding and abetting our enemies abroad.  Why, I think you have a PLAN there, Republicans.)

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, VT.

I’ve been reading these books from Kellogg-Hubbard’s Entertainment table about the Golden Age Of Hollywood in the thirties and forties.  Most every book addresses the Fear and PANIC of film studio heads when the HUAC started to ‘investigate’ Communist-theme movies in the late forties.  Movies such as Crossfire & Gentlemen’s Agreement (1947), and Home Of The Brave (1949), and even some half-hearted attempt to go after The Best Years Of Our Lives (1946).  Well, you all know about the Hollywood Ten and others who were blacklisted.  The Lefties back then sort of stampeded into the closet, and that gave Joe McCarthy the bright idea that hunting for Communists would be as All-American as…well, Gary Cooper.

Cooper testified before the HUAC that he thought Communism was “not on the level,” but by the time he did High Noon in ’52, it was hard for a movie audience to tell whether the MILLER GANG was supposed to be the Commies or the McCarthyites.  I go with the MILLER GANG being the McCarthyites, because, in the church scene in High Noon, Marshall Kane (Cooper) has to answer a question from a certain Mr. Trunbull? (or Trumbo?).  Dalton Trumbo was a screenwriter blacklisted until 1960.  Carl Foreman was a screenwriter for High Noon.  Foreman wound up on the HUAC shitlist and had to leave the country before High Noon hit the theatres.  I’d like to think the church scene in High Noon was a parody of the HUAC committee hearings, and that reference to Mr. Trumbull? (Trumbo?) was something even ole Gary Cooper was in on.

The Frightened and PANICKY townspeople in the church scene in High Noon remind me of how the so-called White Radical Left has acted over the decades.  TALK.  But don’t ACT.  And, if you stay above it all, why, the PEOPLE will make REVOLUTION, and then YOU can RULE.  Screw the Marshall.  He should just go away, and “there won’t be one bit of trouble at all.”

Well, Obama certainly ain’t no Gary Cooper.  We wish.  But we do have the MILLER GANG coming back.  Let’s see…McCarthy, Nixon, Reagan, Bush, and now Romney/Ryan.  Looks like Obama’s going to need “all the deputies” he can get.

The Leftie purists say:  “Obama Sucks.  Let Romney get elected.  Then the PEOPLE will make REVOLUTION.”  Hmmm…Duh.  Ain’t no fucking Revolution EVER going to happen in this country!  EVER!  It is the ‘privilege’ of the ‘patrician’ Left to think so.  To write and talk about the PEOPLE as though they are stupid clods just needing to be LEAD along by good old-fashioned (and now irrelevant) Marxist/Leninist/Mao thought.  (Sorry, Martha)  And thus the American Left does absolutely NOTHING.  Like the townsfolk in High Noon.  And the PEOPLE?  Well, fuck them too.  Maybe after 8 more years of the MILLER GANG, they’ll get some balls.  We can watch them take to the streets from the church, our ‘vigil’ accomplished.

But what our current MILLER GANG is about is no less than dismantling any and all remaining power the people might have to be able to do something about where our nation is headed (down the shithole).  So, the question is, what is the right thing to do?  Vote?  Sit out the election?  Vote for Jill Stein?  Roseanne?  The Socialist Anarchists Workers Anti-GMO/Free Mumia candidate?  Hmmm. (again)  I’ll probably write-in Roseanne if Vermont’s a sure thing for Obama.  Exercise my patrician privilege.  But if it gets really close, then that’s too close to home for me.  I’ll have to put on a deputy’s badge.

Anyway, here’s a funny little ‘theme song’ about it:

DO NOT FORSAKE ME, ALL YOU LEFTIES

Do not forsake me

All you Lefties,

On this Election Daa-ay

I know you’re pure

But you must be brave



You know his gang’s

A band of killers

Oh I know you want

A Revolution Nation

But now’s not the time

For convoluted obfuscation

Look at them raping

Our Constitution



What will you do?

Do not forsake me

All you Lefties,

Remember all

The hateful things

They’ve said

Go and vote

Don’t be a dolt…’thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thump…………

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Thursday, Sept. 13)

My fellow Americans,

I just spent some time

In Vermont

You know, where all

the Gay people live

I walked the roads

And talked to folks

And that’s why I’m

Addressing you tonight

All that stuff

In our Platform

Is a crock of shit

I went to a Gay Marriage

We’ve got to tax the rich

Starting with me

The farmers gave me

Some herbs

And abortion?

Well, that’s up to

The lady

And war is stupid

And so is Limbaugh

We don’t need

Any F-35s

Now I want you to know

That I apologize

To gays and dogs

And women

I’m going to give

All my money

To free Mumia and Peltier

And fight to make Wall Street

Pay back the Bail-Out

Ann and I are going

To move to Vermont

And grow solar organic herbs

And that Buknatski guy

Who taught me to write like this

I’m going to do everything

That he tells me to do

So I’m sorry  I’m sorry

I’m soooo sorry

I was a rich asshole

Fraternity boy

But after my trip to Vermont

I have figured it out

And this is what all America

Should be about

(Hey, Peter, that rhymed–I’m getting good at this.)

And you can vote for me

If you want to

But I really don’t care

About that

I just want love

And justice and peace

And a trailer

In the Northeast Kingdom

With five cats and two dogs

And maybe a goat

And a pick-up

Up on cinder blocks

So Occupy Occupy Occupy

And gather fiddleheads

When they’re in season

And when poor people

And workers

Say they need benefits

And help

Don’t forget

There’s a very good reason

(Hey, I did it again.  Cool.)

Good night

Peter Buknatski

(We Wish)

Montpelier, Vt.