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Beating a Dead Horse Until it Rises From the Dead.

Somewhere a dead horse is crying from a whipping that just won’t stop. It’s not just me whipping this horse. There are more and more of us every day. What once took courage because few people would say it, has now drawn such a crowd that you can sing along to your heart’s content and quite possibly no one will even hear you but you know you’re singing along and it makes you feel better to be singing... along.

Thanks to YouTube and Loose Change; flawed as the latter may be and thanks to people like David Ray Griffin and web sites like and college professors and scientists the world around and even a special thanks to the big league morons at Popular Mechanics... thanks to so many people, a long dead horse may ride again. The swells of a thousand Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s singing, “9/11 was an Inside Job” fills the theater as the horse rises to its feet and jumps right off the screen and almost into the seats. The horse thunders up the aisle and sprays the people in the near seats with lather and nasal spume. It seemed only a moment before that it was getting to its feet and already its been galloping for days. It’s that real. On it goes, out into the streets, to thunder down Broadway, dragging 9/11 memorial bunting behind it; dragging the next bloc of unwilling believers out of their stupor and on after the beating hooves on down to Ground Zero, that big hole in the ground that’s a sort of Mission Accomplished for New York that Iraq is for the country as a whole.

These days in an undisclosed location, Dick Cheney is gnawing on his liver. Dick’s half nervous and all hungry as he makes the expected line that it’s his liver and it tastes good. All through the American military, high ranking men in all branches are thinking the impossible and talking to each other too. Humpty Dumpty has to go down. Humpty Dumpty needs one in the brainpan; that big empty skillet that looks so much like the thing your dad used to change the oil. Humpty Dumpty has become a bad fart in the elevator. Humpty Dumpty stinks like a rotten egg. All the king’s men and all the king’s horses know it. Humpty Dumpty isn’t just one guy though. He’s a kind of Frankenstein cobbled together in parts and jumpstarted with probes. Humpty is like one of those living sculptures in a Hellraiser sequel just before Pinhead turns the chains and fishhooks loose.

It’s kind of like watching a Monster Truck Pull taking place on a tennis court in the middle of a big match. It’s got naked girls and free beer and no one is sure who is winning yet. Is it the monster trucks, the tennis players or the guys with their shirts off and loose among the naked women and the free beer? We won’t know till it’s over. What we do know is that it is very confusing and really exciting and sooner or later something is going to happen.

Outside the stadium are a few dozen guys in jumpsuits with nametags. They could be with the fire department, or the electricians union or they might be with some other group. The way they’re dressed it’s hard to tell right off. It looks like UPS and then it looks like DHL maybe, maybe not. These guys have all got big tool-kits and they’re heading into the stadium to fix something in the basement or under the bleachers. They’ve done this kind of work before. These guys have all been in a Philip K. Dick movie before and so they can go down into the stadium basement and come up in the Millennium Exhibit in London and then catch the Night Train to Teheran. They know the difference between an Arab and a Persian and they can play either one. They play dress up all the time in Iraq when they are ferrying car bombs around.

Now, back when Humpty Dumpty disconnected the FBI and the CIA and created their own secret police with the Homeland Security patches- just in case there were any honest agents left in the first two, the one thing they didn’t have any problems with was financing. You see, that 2.6 trillion dollars that Dov Zakheim stole from the Pentagon when he was the comptroller- back before the 1st 9/11... is more than enough to go around. That’s just one more thing that 9/11 made disappear off the radar. I remember Donald Rumsfield laughing about it. But you knew that right? You say you’ve never even heard of Dov Zakheim and that 2.6 trillion dollars is so damn much money that no way could anyone have stolen it and you didn’t hear about it. Well, my goodness, even Wikipedia talks about it. Just pull that horse blanket back over your head and go back to sleep.

And what was Mohammed Atta and his backup band doing on Jack Abramoff’s gambling boat?

What was Mohammed Atta doing, according to the FBI, on Jack Abramoff’s gambling boat? Yes, Mr. Delay, have a seat and I’ll be right with you.

2.6 trillion dollars. Yes sir, now that’s a pot of money. Gone you say? Uh huh. Gone and still gone.

Well, that Monster-Truck Pull tennis match is going along real good still and the guys in the uniforms with the name tags are moving through wormholes and that dead horse is still motoring down Broadway. Somebody put a few dozen WTC Memorial Wristwatches all up and down his legs and he stops every now and then to ask somebody do they want to buy a watch. ABC is getting into the watch business too and so maybe they and that horse are going to have to have a sitdown some time soon, Sopranos style.

Once things get as absurd as they have gotten then there is no limit to what some folk will dummy up and put out as gospel. It’s just the same as there is no limit to how stupid some people can be. Sometimes I start laughing about it until I remember how many people keep dying and it stops being very funny.

Today is September the 8th. Tomorrow is September the 9th. One of these days you’ll look around and it will be November the 3rd. Uh huh. And all along the way funny shit is going to start happening. You can rely on it. It’s going to get funnier and stranger by the day. It won’t even make you shake your head at a Monster Truck-Pull Tennis Match. Uh uh. That will be what passes for normal.

And all along the way, as we count down the days, people are going to wag their fingers at me; whenever they can manage to take them out of their ears and they are going to say that I’m crazy and that all the other people who woke up this dead horse and are singing along with all those choirs... well, they’re crazy too. And the funniest thing is that now the crazy people are in numbers equal to the people who aren’t crazy and who are walking around with their fingers in their ears and wearing those mylar party hats.

Maybe it will be enough just to Nuke Iran and Syria just before the election... or maybe not. Maybe the next attack on two continents at once will be enough and THEN they can Nuke Iran and Syria and maybe that will be enough. Maybe not. Maybe when that horse gets to Ground Zero and rears up on two legs and tosses that candy ass Humpty Dumpty off his back and Humpty goes to omelet land with a really bad smell, maybe they’ll even suspend the Monster Truck-Pull tennis match or at least do one of those ‘breaking news’ things while the match goes on. I don’t know.

I can’t know how its going to play out. I just know it’s going to be ten kinds of weird and strange and so I’m going to have to count down the days and you can ride along with me and we’ll see what we’ll see. Okay? Okay.


Les Visible
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Les Visible

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