I crack up every time I see a picture of Kim Jong-un.  What a fat dumb-looking douche bag.  He looks like one of those OBESE Americans Michelle talks about.

Well, he fired his Uncle–Uncle ‘Fester’ Jong-un, and now Uncle Fester’s aide has apparently fled to South Korea.  Maybe they’ll all wind up in Vermont eventually.  Join the Second Vermont Republic and the Tea Party.  We love ‘diversity’ here, right?

These assholes really ought to put together a sitcom for FOX TV.  Make some money for their starving people.

A North Korean ALL IN THE FAMILY, with fat Kim as a Communist Archie Jong-un, displaced to New Jersey, and raving about his imperialist capitalist pig neighbors, and threatening to Nuke them if they mess with the 1959 ‘classic’ Russian car he has up on cinderblocks in his driveway.

Need an Edith Jong-un, and then we’re all set.

“Oh Archie, I was at WalMart today with Louise Jefferson and we heard Barack Obama’s going to be in Fort Lee next week.”

“Huh.  This is not good news, Edith.  Maybe for those Jeffersons.  The neighborhood already has enough black and hispanic imperialist pigs.  And then there’s the Wops, the Hebes, and the goddamn Polacks.  If Uncle Fester had not gotten me that awful job on the loading dock, I’d take us back to North Korea, where I would never have to look at another white, black, or brown face again.”

“Oh, but Archie, we’re sort of brown ourselves.”

“Edith, you are becoming like that mythical beast our foolish people still hunt for in the hills for food.  The Dingbat.  Please to stifle yourself.  I am watching on FOX TV here that Dennis Rodman in an exhibition basketball game from our former People’s State.  That black son of an imperialist bitch is trying to get our people to make him President.  Just what we need.  More black Presidents.  I remember the good old days when men like me were revered as LEADERS. Now, every black Polack capitalist dog is a goddamn President of something. The world is going to Hell in a donkey cart, Edith.”

“Yes, Archie.  But Mr. Irving was over this morning and fixed the furnace.  He says we’re all set for Winter.”

“Ah, Mr. Irving.  The dirty Jew.  And what did Mister Hebe-Me-Up-My-Ass charge us this time, Edith?”

“Oh, nothing, Archie.  He said to consider it a Christmas gift.  He’s such a nice man.”

“Nice.  Let the Jew be nice to our suffering Comrades in Gaza.  And beware, Edith, of Jews bearing Christmas gifts.  It’s all one of those…what do you call it?…CONSPIRACIES…yes, conspiracies between Israel and the white and black Polack imperialists to mongrelize all of us remaining good RED-blooded Asian Comrades of the True Communist Faith.”

“Yes, Archie.”

“Now, Edith, I must turn my attention back to Dennis Rodman here.  The dirty Black Wop Spic Jew Polack bastard!  Not once since we moved here has he come to pay his respects to me.  I may NUKE him.  After I NUKE that white honky paper boy named Beaver who throws our LITTLE NORTH KOREA FREE PRESS through the broken windshield of my classic car continually, and with malice.  I will NUKE them all, Edith!  Please to bring me another brewski, as the black Jew faggot fairy Polack Wops say.”

“Yes, Archie.  They had a big sale at WalMart, so I got you this Light Beer.  It’s cheap, and it’s good for you too.”

“Ah jeez.”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

There is a ‘Black Friday’ action today at 2pm at the Berlin WalMart in solidarity with WalMart workers.

“Where am I?”

“In The Village.”

“What do you want?”

“Information.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“That would be telling.  We want information…  Information…IN-FOR-MA-TION.”

“You won’t get any.”

“By hook or by crook, we will.”

“Who are you?”

“The new Number 2.”

“Who is Number 1?”

“You are Number 6.”

“I am not a number!  I am a free man!”

“Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah...hah-hah.  You voted for me in November.  Remember, Number 6?”

“I didn’t vote for all this.”

“So…I lied a little.  Like all the Number 2s before me.  Like the last Number 2.”

“I will not be pushed, stamped, filed, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered.  I am a free man!  My life is my own.”

Oh, how Sixties of you, Number 6.  You know, NUM-BER 6, you’re being UNMUTUAL.  Like Number 5, that awful Michael Colby PER-SON.”

“Colby?!  Where is he?”

“He’s in a very safe and restful Special Place.  He seems to like us a bit more now, unless he’s pretending.  We had to put him through DEGREE ABSOLUTE.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll find out, Number 6.”

“I am not a num!…”

“Yes, yes.  There, there, Number 6.  No need to be so UNMUTUAL.  It’s so…shall we say…INCORRECT?  Bad for one’s heart.  Not to mention just getting along.”

“This is insane.”

“It is not for you to judge, Number 6.  We want INFORMATION.  Why did you resign?”

“From what?”

“From all that The Village stands for.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“There is sense here, Number 6.  You’re just not getting it.  But you will.”

“I want to see Number 1.”

“None of you gets to meet Number 1, Number 6.  He…She…is a very busy PER-SON.”

Doing what?”

“Why, everything you see here.  And so much more.”

“I won’t stay here.  I’ll escape.”

“Good luck on that.  And where would you escape to, Number 6?”

“To where people are still free.  To Vermont, perhaps.”

“VER-MONT?  A-hah-hah-hah-hah!  Look around you, Number 6.  You’re in The Village.  THE VILLAGE.”

“Then I’ll get people here to fight you.”

“Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!  Oh, Number 6, you are a Hoot.  Go ahead.  You’re free to walk about and talk to these people.  They all have numbers, like you.  Some of them just don’t know it yet.  My predecessor was very thorough about that. The NSA stuff, you know.  Security.  IN-FOR-MA-TION.”

“I’ll find Michael Colby.  And a twenty-something Young Man.  And we’ll defeat you.”



“A-hah-hah-hah-hah!  Like ‘Them bones, them bones, them dry bones‘ eh?  Try it, Number 6.  You’ll find it is futile to fight us.”

“I’m going out now.”

“By all means.  Feel free, as you put it.  My little friend here will just follow you along.  In case you get lost, or inadvertently stray.”

“What the Hell is that?”

“We like to call him ROVER.  Consider him your own personal drone friend.”

“Outrageous!”

“Oh...hah-hah-hah-hah!…Lordy, Number 6, I do believe you’ve given me the munchies from all this laughing.  I should go bake some cookies now.”

“I will fight you.  I’ll never stop.”

“I…I!…I!!…I!!!  Yes.  Hah-hah-hah!  BE SEEING YOU, Number 6.  Hah-hah……”

(So, what do you think?  Who will get elected the new Number 2 in 2016?)

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.  

“So, who really killed Kennedy?”

“I think it was Joe DiMaggio.”

“Yeah?  No shit?”

“Yeah.  The clue was in that song from the ’67 movie, The Graduate.  You know, ‘Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?…’  That’s how I figured it out.  Cause everybody associated with the Kennedy assassination either died or disappeared.”

“Wow.  I never caught that.  Far out!  When do you think the government will tell us the truth?”

“Not for another fifty years.  After everybody  involved is long dead.  And their kids too.  By the time the truth comes out, the generation who hears it will think it’s old history, like Lincoln.  Hell, they’ll probably say: ‘Who was this Jack Kennedy? Some sixties rock star?’  Nobody cares.  People don’t want to know.”

“I always thought it was the Big Business pigs who had Kennedy offed.  They didn’t like the shit he was doing.  Too much unions and peace stuff.”

“That’s why they paid DiMaggio to kill him.”

“Who paid him?”

“U.S. Steel.  Remember the ‘steel crisis’ in ’62?”

“Yeah, yeah.  The steel workers’ union wanted a wage increase.  U.S. Steel and four other steel companies were fighting it.  Kennedy got it settled by having the steel workers agree to drop the wage increase demand, and U.S. Steel and the other steel companies to agree not to raise the price of steel–the price increase would have caused an inflation tidal wave on our entire economy.  But within days of Kennedy thinking he had things settled, the CEO of U.S. Steel announced something like a 4% increase in its steel prices, with other steel companies following suit.  Kennedy was something PISSED.  He felt double-crossed.  He went on TV and slammed the steel companies about holding profit above the national interest.  And he imposed a boycott on them–giving all the steel contracts on our Polaris subs and other Pentagon projects to Lukens Steel, the only steel company honoring the wage/price freeze.  Bobby Kennedy also sent the FBI after U.S. Steel execs who had pressured Bethlehem Steel to go along with the price increase.  Accused them of ‘price fixing’.  U.S. Steel and the other steel companies backed down.  No price increase.  But now those CEOs were pissed.  They never forgave Kennedy for humiliating and beating them, while at the same time making the union steel workers look like all-American saints.  Heavy-handed White House pressure, they called it.  Imagine Obama handling Wall Street like that now?  Yeah.  U.S. Steel.  Big Business.  Wall Street.”

“You got it. Nice to talk to someone who remembers the record.  Fucking Americans just don’t like to think about it.”

“Yeah.  Joe DiMaggio working for Big Business.”

“I was just shittin’ around about Joltin’ Joe.”

“I know.  And then there’s all that Castro, Diem, de Gaulle bullshit.  But the way Americans bought into the crazed lone assassin with the eagle eye and quick reflexes, and the ‘magic bullet’ crap, you’d think Lee Harvey Oswald could have played for the Yankees.”

“I know.  But he’s sort of playing for them now.”

“What?!”

“A-Rod.”

“Heh-heh.  Yeah.  Well, good discussion.  Glad we got that settled.  Especially on this particular day.”

“You know, when you tell people this, they give you that funny look, and then call you a ‘Conspiracy Nut’.  Assholes.”

“Well, the American people have become dim dim bulbs.  I’d rather talk the truth than play stupid.  Worse yet is being stupid.”

“Yeah.  Well, see ya.  Don’t let it get to you.”

“No.  I’m gonna talk a lot about it today to people.  That’s how I let it GET TO THEM.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Yeah, you too.  We’re gonna need it.”

(And that, kiddies, is the story of Nov. 22, 1963.)

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

Nov. 22, 2013

There is a reason for this

but we still will not look for it.

Children with guns off to war,

and adults wringing hands.

The useless explanations,

beyond control nattering over the Net.

And ‘government please help us’

because it is all just too much.

We lost our way over the years,

and our children have lost their hope.

Too much work now, our children.

We have so many ‘things’ to do.

What goes on in their minds

that makes them this way now?

They are becoming dangerous.

They are taking us up on it.

Please help us, we moan and wail.

Please make this go away.

A twelve year-old studies Dickens,

while another twelve year-old loads a gun.

And on the news, no future for either,

no growing up to be like in the books.

How many will survive long enough

to matter to us chained as we are to ‘things’?

Yes, please please help us.

Come with your guns and save us.

My little boy, my little girl, put the guns

to our heads until we look, and finally act.

Before our last bit left of humanity

is shot to pieces before our eyes.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

“So, what do the people in this shithole ville do for a fun night out, raghead?” the thin one demands.

The raghead doesn’t answer.

“The special,” says the fat one. “They all come out at night for a big pot of that goddamn eggplant special.  Right, raghead?”

The raghead can’t answer.

“How ’bout this shit?” the fat one says. “Raghead here thinks he’s a smartass.  Is that what you think, raghead?  That you’re a bright boy?”

The raghead looks down and then at the other villagers gathered near him.

“Know what I think, raghead?”  the thin one says.  “I think you know where this Fahran is.  I think he’s not going to show with the heroin.  Is that right?  Bright boy?”

The raghead still doesn’t understand.

“Maybe this Fahran is a bright boy too.  Maybe he went to Sweden with the heroin.  Became a Swede.” The fat one spits.  The fat one is getting mean.  He wants to kill.  Someone, anyone.  All of them.

“Well, bright boy, raghead, whatever your name is,” goes the thin one, “guess this is your lucky day.  You and your whole raghead burg.  Come on, let’s go,” he says to the fat one.

“What?” says the fat one.  “We’re just gonna leave this shit?  That H is big money.  I’m pissed.  We need to finish up here.  I’ll bet the bright boy is a talker.  Knows why we want Fahran.  What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m just sick of killing ragheads, that’s all,” says the thin one.  “It isn’t fun anymore.  I’m all emptied out inside from it.”

“Well, hell” says the fat one, and turns his weapon on the group of villagers and empties his clip.  Four dead, including the bright boy raghead, and three wounded.  The rest run off.

“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” says the thin one.  “Couldn’t leave it alone.”

“That’s me all right,” answers the fat one.  “I leave things alone, some bright boy raghead will think he’s got the cojones to do me.  I ain’t getting paid enough for that.”

“Shit.  Let’s just go,” says the thin one.  And they do.

“You know,” the fat one says to the thin one as they head back to base camp, “I think you’re becoming a pussy.  I think you want to get a pussy medal.”

“You think too much.  You talk too much too,” says the thin one.

“Yeah,” says the fat one.  “I’m gonna write a book when I get back home.  Call it Afghanistan Ain’t For Pussies.  Make a million bucks.  What do ya think?”

“You do that,” the thin one replies.  And just then, the thin one steps on a small anti-personel mine.  He’s blown back on his back, stone dead.

“Sonofa!…” the fat one swears from a crouch.  “Fuckin’ ragheads!”  He does a three-sixty with his weapon.  “Nuthin’,” he spits.  He looks at the thin one’s body.  “And if you weren’t such a pussy there’d be none of them left to pull this shit.  Bastards!  Well, I’ll be back tomorrow, and I won’t bring any pussies with me.  Get all the bright boys.  And the bright bitches.  And that fuckin’ Swede, Fahran.”

The fat one roots through the thin one’s fatigues.  He takes the thin one’s cigarettes and watch and money and papers.  In the papers there is a photo of a beautiful young blonde woman.  He turns the photo over and reads: “Montpelier, Vermont.  Hmmm…Well, maybe you weren’t such a puss after all,” he says to the thin one’s body.  “Maybe I’ll look this little number up for you when I get home.  Vermont?  Hope she don’t turn dyke before I get there.  Well, there’s ways of fixin’ that.  Hope she likes war stories.  I’ve got plenty.”

And the fat one walks away toward the base camp, leaving the thin one’s body for the med team.  He’ll get the LT to send the Blackhawks to that village and go back the next day along with a full platoon to finish it up.  Make sure.

In Vermont, right this moment, the beautiful young blonde is finishing a letter to the thin one.  All about love and the fall colors and the plans she’s made for them.  She’ll mail it today.  And in a week or so, maybe less, the fat one will have it in his hands.

A couple of months from now, the fat one will get off a plane at the airport in Burlington, Vermont.  After that, it will just be another war story.  Hardly anyone will notice a thing.  What do ya think?

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

“

In Saudi Arabia,

Sheiks feast on

children. Something

you can do if you have

enough money.

Capitalism makes slavery

a profit-maker.

War kills. But it is not

the dead, but the living

who can be products.

Children, women,

the disappeared

and forgotten.

Just basic economics.

Soon we may say

the disappeared

create jobs.

Hand over more children

to Saudi Sheiks.

Keep them happy, they

are our allies.

Where is my cell phone?

My credit card?

My gadget?

Where did my child go?

Here a minute ago?

But gone in a flash,

like the thought

I put out of my mind

because it made me

feel so bad.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, VT.

Afterword:

It’s not War,

it’s Guns.

It’s not Injustice,

it’s Guns.

Guns make War

and Injustice.

Guns make the world

get warmer.

It’s not Capitalism,

it’s Guns

It’s not Sexism,

it’s Guns.

It’s not the Pig

who takes away

your money, your job,

your kid, and your life.

It’s fucking Guns.

Let’s get rid of them.

No more War.

No more Global Warming.

No more people starving

and dying and outraged

about their lives,

their fingers on a trigger.

Let us all come together

and abolish the right

that makes so much trouble,

that takes so much of our time.

That says no matter what,

people will still be able

to fight back, even if they lose.

Fuck the People,

It’s Guns.

slaughter

then

kick the bodies

go through clips

two seconds to reload

fuck em

they’re gooks

spics

ragheaded motherfuckin’

shit

like nothing

I’m too short

to give a pity’s damn

about what it means

I’ll think about it

when I get home

when I see you

who sent me there

slaughter

no gun control

over there

you want me not

to make a fuss

I’ll bet

you want no war

in your backyard

just over there

unseen unheard of

the millions

of dead

like nothing

like a big pile

of your shit

after you pig yourself

then you go vigil

go make more profit

go run for office

laugh smiling

your skull would fit

so right in that pile

two seconds to reload

slaughter

then maybe

you’ll care

but not enough

I’ll bet

to do it all over again

make me do it for you

I’d like for once

to make you do it

take you out

show you how

it’s done

kick the bodies

go through clips

til I’ve shot your load

of shit

and you’ll think twice

about smiling

saying yes

we need

to do something

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Yeah, your little Dem in the White House has a Nobel Peace Prize, right?  George Bush didn’t get one.  You Dems should figure out how Obama can blame Bush for Syria.  And Drone Murder (and other atrocities) in Afghanistan.  And Sequestration.  And the NSA spying.  And…ah shit.  Obama’s a Dem.  He vigiled for Trayvon Martin.  Not for Shelly Frey, cause she was obviously not worth his attention.  Crock of…Dem Hypocrisy.  Start another war, but that’s okay, because it’s A DEM WAR.

So, here is what Obama is really saying to us.  Underneath all that Jello Pudding.)

OBAMA’S ADDRESS TO THE NATION ON SYRIA–THE TRANSLATION

“A dangerous new precedent has been set.  My fellow Americans, we cannot ignore what has happened, or it will happen again.  Many times, in the past decades since WWII, America has ignored the precedents of leaders and peoples of other nations killing their own people, either in civil war or through political purges.  But now, in Syria, we see how our past policies of neglecting the real issue here have come back to haunt us.  In Syria, we are seeing now the use of nasty high tech chemical weapons of mass destruction by Syrians to kill other Syrians.  My fellow Americans, we can no longer stand for any more of these precedents.  To these leaders and countries we must say ENOUGH!

“We must say to the world what we should have said in 1964 after the Gulf of Tonkin incident.  That it is the sole province of the United States of America to kill other peoples in other nations.  Those Syrians Assad gassed?  It is not Assad’s right to kill those people.  The United States of America could have killed them.  America’s righteous might would have been happy to have killed them.  And without all this fuss.  I say this to you now speaking honestly as an American, A Democrat AND a Republican, your first Black President, and a recipient of the Nobel Prize for Peace, as was Martin Luther King, may I remind you.  We, as Americans, can be proud of the fact that we now have an opportunity here to set the rest of the world straight as to America’s relations with it.

“That is why, my fellow Americans, I must bomb the living shit out of Syria, regardless of implied threats from Russia and China.  To teach the lesson that when a nation wants to massacre its own people, that nation should come to us first and say: ‘Hey, the fuck you gonna kill these people for us?  That’s what you do, right?  Has the U.S.A gone pussy?’

“No, I say.  The U.S.A. has not gone pussy.  I, Barack Obama, will uphold, and expand, the legacies of our great past leaders, such as Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, George Herbert Walker Bush, and George W. Bush.  I am ready now to send drones, Air Force and Navy carrier planes, cruise missiles, and, if necessary, Nukes to any nation that asks for our assistance in killing its own people.  The United States of America must be, and always shall be, the world’s leader in the killing of peoples everywhere.  No matter their race, religious creed, or whether they like it or not.

(Applause)

“I say now to Russia and China: ‘Let America do its job.  Let the United States be the nation to assume the burden, and the honor, of being Planet Earth’s Designated Killer.’

(Louder Applause)

“And, to show our good faith and sincerity to Russia and China, I will ask Congress to extend my Executive Powers into a new official federal program enabling me, here at home, to see to it that the Trayvon Martins and the Darius Simmonses will be killed not by individual Americans, but by the federal government.  This new program will also cover the kinds of killings of Americans we have seen in Newtown, Connecticut, at the Boston Marathon, and as many future killings of as many Americans, for whatever causes and circumstances, that can come under, what I will call, my New Executive Powers Federal Government Emergency Killing of Americans Program.  That’s NEPFGEKAP.  Sounds sort of Russian, doesn’t it?  Well, this will show Putin I didn’t really mean ill when I called him a jackass.  I meant it as a compliment.  I am a great admirer of the Russian people.  I have learned much from reading about Stalin.  Therefore, under NEPFGEKAP, Americans found guilty of killing other Americans in violation of this new program will, of course, have to be killed.

(muted applause)

“We must show the world that killing people should be the job of a nation which is a high tech professional in that field.  That killing people is what makes America great.  What makes Americans exceptional.  What makes all Americans united to meet the challenge of any other nation or peoples who would attempt, through war, terrorism, or jackassery, to undermine the manifest destiny of the United States of America.

(Loud Applause)

“So I ask you, my fellow American killers, to lobby your Congresspeople and write letters to the editors and blog with this message: ‘Hey.  The fuck you won’t let Bama bomb?  Let Bama do his job, man.  You pussies.’

“Together, all of us Americans, can participate in killing and being killed the way killing was meant to be.  For those other people’s sake.  For our own sakes.  For our children’s sakes.  For a future where killing is no longer a mindless tragedy, but the vehicle that will lead us to equality and justice.  To order and enlightenment.  And to WORLD PEACE.

(Standing Applause)

“Yes, I have a dream, and I see a world where even the most impoverished and oppressed of the world can finally hold high their heads and say to the United States: ‘Kill me.  Please.  Kill me now.  And kill our children.  And all our pets.’

“And we, the greatest nation on the face of the Earth, will answer: ‘The fuck you didn’t ask us sooner?  Here. And here’s one for the Gipper.’

(Standing Applause and Hoots and Whistles)

“My fellow Americans, I will go forward now, with you behind me, holding high my head and my Nobel Prize, and fulfill the mission you have entrusted me with by electing me, not once, but twice, your President.  Free to do the work you have given me.  Free to be the leader of all of you, Democrats, Republicans, and those of you who may not live to see the day come when all Americans, Black, White and Hispanic, well-to-do or mentally infirm, will be free from worry and fear about who is killing whom.  Free to to go to the mountaintop and watch the morning glory of mushroom clouds–American Mushroom Clouds–rise over the horizons of the world, and know that the United States of America made that happen.  Yes, free.  Free at last.  Free at last.  Great God Almighty bless the United States of America!  And God Bless You All Too.  And God Bless Me.  And bless the dead, for which we all stand.  Thank you.”

(Standing Ovation Applause, Hoots, Cheers, Whistles, Screams, Fireworks, Gunshots…and then…commercials.)

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Now, come on with the ‘Obama is better than Bush or whatever bullshit’  Thank you)  

(Do sign the petition; but, in any case, here is a direct link to the story on CNN.

I do remember when the story of these women’s kidnapping and exploitation came to light, but this guy adds another dimension of modern day horror.  You’ve really got to wonder what the people of Osaka are thinking electing this creep Mayor. – promoted by Sue Prent)

I hope this works.  Not good at doing links.  The Mayor of Osaka has committed an outrage on the level of a German denying Hitler and The Holocaust.  Please sign this petition, if the link works.

Here’s the link:  http://act.watchdog.net/petiti…

When liberals whine about Hiroshima/Nagasaki (including me), all I have to do now is say out loud:  “COMFORT WOMEN/NANKING!”

Read The Rape Of Nanking by Iris Chang, 1997.

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.