I'm in a pretty foul mood so better keep it short.

I don't call anything like we have seen the last four years or during last night's election a "Democracy": the goons did a coup on our Democracy four years ago to almost the day with the stunt they pulled in Florida and which The Supreme Court buttoned up nicely. 9-11 nailed it to the wall and they had the media in their back pocket and the entire Congress with a false patriotism. The Democratic Party didn't know it then but they are just about coming to terms with it now that they are cooked. Vanished. And the mandate given to the Punk and the goon squad is everything our founding fathers feared. We ain't seen nothing yet. Daschle is out of the Senate and everything the Dems. once owned in bits & pieces is shit on the floor. A total wreck, Coburn, is now representing old west Oklahoma. DeLay is re-elected and Texas remains a hell-hole, never mind voting the Punk in by over 60%. Of course Katherine Harris was re-elected by the crime bosses in Florida, while Kentucky went also for the Punk with almost the reversed sequence of Vermont 60-40%. We remain one of the most bipartisan of all states: told the Punk to shove-it but kept a Republican Gov. (but I didn't vote for him) and likewise returned socialist Sanders and good old Pat Leahy who will twiddle out his career, along with Ted Kennedy, absolutely with no balls. Meanwhile, Arlen Specter is back and will be part of the judicial committee to put the Punk's judges on the Supreme Court. Can the nightmare get any better?

Sure it can - our lovely generation of 60s halfwits too busy smoking dope until 50 & 60 and fucking up one marriage after another sure were terrific teachers for our children and their children: very few of their kids went to the voting booths this time for Kerry "and change" than went to the voting booths for Al Gore. 17% circled in a name. Pathetic. "Teach your children", and oh yes, "Right-On!" The 60s generation has been boiled down to those that made-it somehow in the system and now drive super SUVs, or are carted around in limos or tucked comfortably away in some academic institution befuddled with the hard work of why their desk drawer sticks...or else to those dreamers and hoofers and angels who will die off younger than they should. Not to worry: their poetry will be immortalized. But there will be no readers.

Irony keeps its face intact: the District of Columbia, where the Punk lives part of the year when he has to, gave Kerry 90% of the vote and barely hiccuped in the Punk's direction.

The Right-wing keeps score - every Blue State be prepared to dig in because you will receive nada.

Meanwhile, the hearty god fearing Red States of the so-called Workingclass - you know who you are: you were raised a bigot, work with your back, think John Wayne is a Man even though he struts like a heavyset woman wearing bad heels...you just voted in a lifesize Punk who didn't know what end was up until he was age 50. He would have been just what you wanted on the other end of a log, yes siree! Coke head, alcoholic, silver spoon in his mouth (still there) and every advantage a rich kid can have, he had it. Just start with the armed services - an old story, but you listened to duffers (Swift Boaters) too stupid to realize the Vietnam War was a war of genocide, and we lost, and are still losing now in Iraq, and went along with a rich kid who couldn't face the war down like a John Kerry. Mindless bastards: Kerry fought in the war! Then he had some Profile in Courage in him to return home and fight the war here and help save countless more lives. Maybe your own. Jesus, can't you think, add, make a summation?

So for all Americans on the work belt line, of which I am one, good move poindexter: your biggest fear is a Terrorist and you just voted one in. Same oil money that fuels Osama, fuels this one.

Sounds simple, that's because it is.

                 Bob Arnold

                    3 Nov 04

               In this world

         we work on the roof of hell

             gazing at flowers

                I   S   S