Friday, January 21, 2011

Mad, mad world

Is it the book? (Dune, after Frank Herbert's death, still with no-ships falling through fold-space and landing on strange worlds, much like "Inception" with a more interesting cast of characters.)

Or is it just the pull of the fool moon, the jester chortling from his safe orb? Such an array of off-kilter news about off-kilter lives and minds skedaddling down the rabbit hole.

The odds for "bowel cancer" appearing in tandem with "red musical tie" -- and, natch, taking a bow in London's august Parliament -- would probably be up there with one person winning a P300-million Grand Lotto prize.

Husbands are for the taking at $17/hour in Georgia. They're probably hirsute and gruff, and secret grandchildren of Stalin with cellars full of arms, but they can pound hard and harder;that's all that counts when you got a couple of loose screws. Plus, in an area where jobs are hard to come by, you probably can get them to agree on some more punting and panting after hours.

Cubao's urchins are exercising their nascent capitalism skills as Donald the Chump proclaims the death of the same, unless the US of A decimates the enemy called China. I'm praying the enemy doesn't sic Rosie on him because the Donald could just hire Joan to dump on Rosie, who'd then scream for Gervais, and then we'd have a year's worth of baaaad stand-up routines.

In some courtroom, a man who calls himself a lawyer posits: It's not murder if you unleash bullets a second or two after someone succumbs from a heart attack or asthma, which presumably is what happens when dozens of armed men herd folk to the edge of a hillside crater in Maguindanao.

It's not murder; it's called a helping hand. Maguindanao is a special place, where people commit suicide by hacking their heads off. And you don't even have to believe that because in that swathe of land ruled by people called Ampatuan the only capital allowed are bullets and bolos. I don't know what the Ampatuans snort in the comforts of their mansions, but some Florida burglars, high before the deed, mistook the ashes of a man and his best friend for cocaine. Depending of what mighty medicine Andal and siblings are taking, they can probably plead for mercy by claiming lousy timing.

As car thieves and murderers thumbed their noses at our cops, pimps and killers and hit men were being roused from their homes across America and Italy. Eight hundred law enforcers took in 127 men who probably have very serious sexuality issues -- you would, too, if given the name Junior Lollipops. By the looks of them, very serious weight problems, too, from wolfing down all that pasta and beef shanks smothered in sauce while debating when Junior gets to off Senior.

The East Coast may have its rough spots but that apparently didn't stop two precious-looking guys from their Big Apple winter rendezvous. I'm hoping they're not like the Brokeback boys or, if they are, live in some decadent, scandalous devil's hole where Chris Colfer can sashay down Main Street in peace. Because you never know which passionate patriot reads Sarah Palin's many tweets and decides to act on behalf of We the People.

There are all kinds of champions, of course, and an ailing "investment guru", which is more than a bearded man with a piggy bank the size of Alaska, has decided to mark the end of his life with a 66-page book on, well, investment advice... although you and I do not need to spend precious dollars to realize that, "Wall Street brokers and active money managers use your relative lack of investment expertise to their benefit, not yours..."

It's a digital world so the day's not complete without a giant or two brawling on the world wide Web. Mozilla blocks Skype toolbar, claiming crashes and slowdowns. Twitter Gets Sued For Creating "Virtual Community of Famous People". If they provide enough incentive, I'll take the stand and earnestly prove my fame and wave around a canceled visa as proof :)

Maybe if I get those 15 minutes Anna, mistress of José Saramago, the dog not the writer, will probably add me to the list of endangered species once she gets tired of the Ibex and decides to use her bootcamp Pinyin to start an Asian empire.

By that time, Jose would have mastered programming,each little paw with its own PC, the better to rule the world. Anna and Lillipop III would be playing Bocce in a Shanghai bar as Georgian hunks challenge Andal, the tittering Sarah wannabe, to take aim, fire and blow the brains of folk too stubborn to believe in the gospel of Ampatuan.

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