PRESIDENT LOOKS FOR UNDEAD TO REVIVE ECONOMY (SATIRE)

BY LANCE NASTY

A White House secret study leaked on Tuesday night reveals that presidential staff are basing re-opening American businesses after Easter on the calculation that, within a year, the Undead will completely rebuild the nationwide economy.

The highly classified study, titled “ The Frank N. Stein Factor: America’s Revived Economy Via The Undead”, predicts that quickly moving the U.S. away from the “social distancing” policy will allow rapid rising deaths among the elderly and poor from the coronavirus, perhaps as many as 10 million within six months.

Anonymous White House artist's depiction of future American work force.

But the plan calls for teaming mad scientists with Hollywood B-film directors to activate a "nationwide electrocution process" to ignite corpses into zombies, then methodically assigning them to work in corporate offices and industries throughout the country.

“This is the greatest economic plan ever developed,” the president told his staff, according to a source who asked to remain anonymous.

The plan was prepared by Delbert Digby, chief of the White House Economic Black Ops Policy Office. Neither the office nor Digby are listed in White House budgets or directories. All attempts to contact Digby for comment proved fruitless.

However, the president in an interview Tuesday night acknowledged Digby’s existence, sort of.

When first asked if he knew Digby, the president responded, “He’s been one of my lifelong friends, and a chief supporter for my presidency. He’s been actively involved in Making America Great Again. He’s a really good man. A good human being.”

Then, a moment later, when asked about the report from Digby’s office, the prez stated, “I don’t know. I don’t really know the man. I’ve never met him.”

The 112-page report emphasizes three major benefits to activating the Undead in both corporate offices and factories:

1.     Businesses won’t have to pay or feed them. They will replace former live workers who would require both salaries and retirement benefits, as well as vacation and parental leave time. Digby’s report calculated that would provide a $200 billion annual savings which would benefit shareholders and executives.

2.     The zombies also, logically, won’t require health care, a financial boost for both execs and shareholders nearly equal to the $200 billion unneeded for salaries/benefits.

3.     Zombies won’t threaten business operations by joining unions. “The more Undead involved in the work force, the more we assure the death of the Labor Movement,” the study emphasized.

Any doubt of the president's awareness of the study ended near its end, on Page 111. There Digby noted that the president had expressed "some concern" about the fact that the Undead attack and kill humans. But he "was mollified" when told all the zombies would receive "attitude adjustment training" before taking their jobs. Still, Digby noted, a small percentage of zombies might not be able to adjust, and eventually will continue killing. "There is an upbeat side to this," the study noted. "Each human who is still murdered will in turn become an Undead that we can add to the workforce."

Despite the president's presence on Page 111, he still insisted time and again he was not aware of the study or its predictions favoring the corporate elite.

But at the interview’s end, he did state, “I do like the study title. You know, using Undead instead of Zombies. Zombies have always been one of my favorite bands from the ‘80s.”

The president was told the band was actually popular in the ‘60s, not the ‘80s.

“Oh,” he responded. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never met them. But we’ll see what happens.”

GODLOVER: In the End, for Thanksgiving

Image - Nicole Hefner

GODLOVER

Godlover, walking cracked narrow sidewalk
dissecting asphalt road and vast parking

lot, searches for a tree. Finds one and talks

softly to green leaves, touching its bark and

thinking of some unknown axman who broke

the rules. He studies those thick, flexing roots --

how they’ve crumbled layered pavement that choked

them, keep searching for water. His worn boots

lift to find a seedling barely visible

in sparse earth. He sits, honoring rare shade.

Considers his species, how its able,

though dwindling, to war with nature. He’s made

mistakes himself, he admits. He may stay

here a while, view constant scorched sky, and pray.

GODLOVER: THE MEETING

Godlover -- rising in silence as light

wakes -- slips on sweats, cotton socks, special shoes,

steps out the door into chilled, fading night,

whispers to disappearing stars -- homes whose

inhabitants whisper back, he’s sure. He

studies bare terrain, knows he must reach far

dot of forest by noon, first rest then walk

in its cool shade. She will be walking there

too, singing of dancing spirits. They’ll talk

of their dwindling tribes, sit by rare water

reflecting cloudless sky, speak of what frees

the psyche through prayer, through dance and laughter.

They’ll decide again to dance, laugh and pray.

She’ll leave. He’ll turn, run back through fading day.

GODLOVER: THE PLACE

Godlover -- deciding again to go

there -- trods through long, barren valley’s once-flush

landscape where vanished honey bees had flowed,

blessing now-lost fruit orchards turned sagebrush.

He climbs brief hills, his direction guided

by sun descending to far peak he seeks.

He thinks of how gulls once squawked and glided

here, greeting him as a boy, their pronged beaks

like dull-gold fish hooks. All gone now. He walks

to the ledge, gazes down at the vast gorge

they once called the Pacific. Softly talks

of its dark floor, like ash in a dead forge.

He sits, recalls young love here one summer.

Whispers Keats’ last lines in “Chapman’s Homer”.

GODLOVER: THE FALLING

Godlover -- following the falling star,

its hurtling through celestial night to earth,

fading in valley’s ebony void far

below his mountain perch -- thought of life’s worth,

of birth and death. He swore he heard her voice

calling to him as it fell, as if she

stood just in sight, called of their constant choice

to seek each other among ancient trees.

But she was far away tonight, asleep

in her dwindling village. Why did she flow

through his mind so? Why did her image keep

appearing like a dream? He’d like to know

if he was falling in love. But no one

to ask. His parents, his tribe, all were gone.

He studied the stars. Thought of life alone.

GODLOVER: DELIVERANCE

Godlover, not knowing why, had chanced past

familiar vast wasteland and forest speck --

where they two had danced and prayed as one, last

month or so -- to this unknown granite peak

whose summit faded to what must be clouds

the Wise One had sung in legend. In faith

he climbed, and climbed, and climbed, then cried out loud

at what he found: a garden, lush, with paths

through treasures of apples, oranges, lettuce,

herbs, and clear stream where he drank blessed potion

of his every cell. Discovered vanished,

sacred honey bee in flight through ocean

of bright sunflowers -- cut one with his knife.

Set off to bring her here: start a new life.

Roger Armbrust

TONER LOWE IN NY

 (Photo by Christopher Ginnaven)

TONER LOWE: Washington Square Park -- brief moments of some early mornings and late afternoons -- somehow transforms to a Renoir. Sunlight transposes trees, lampposts, landscape and people with a rainbow brilliance stunning the psyche. This was one of those afternoons, and I was ambling the winding walk, mesmerized by it.

Then I heard a loud yelp of pain from behind me, and Renoir suddenly morphed to frames from “Sin City”. Some casually dressed guy was hitting a woman half his size. With his fist. I’m no gentleman, but I seem to have the human’s innate sense of justice. I moved quickly the some 10 yards to them.

I heard a voice, my voice, commanding, “Stop.” Not a yell. A firm order like I used to hear from Yip Man, my Wing Chun teacher in LA. The guy turned toward me. He was a hulk, a la NFL defensive end, actually a handsome Nordic type. And he was angry. I was two feet away from him now, and he telegraphed a punch. He shouldn’t have.

My right hand, open thumb and fingers, cuffed his throat. Not enough to kill him. Limited to my old Special Forces days, it would have. But my later learning Wing Chun had instilled me with a clarity and peace in motion that’s hard to explain to a non-practitioner. I had been able to combine that with my raw, lethal techniques, adjust my strength and impact to the occasion.

This only took a second. The blow’s strength lifted him to his toes, almost off the ground. The impact didn’t crush his windpipe, but shut off his air, making his eyes bulge like a crawdad that just bit into a hook. He made a sound like the first breath of a commode flushing. Then he collapsed at my feet.

I bent down, studying him, making sure I’d done nothing lethal. He was gasping, limp as jelly.

“You fucking brute! You killed him!” It was the woman he had been beating. She pushed at me. I stepped away and she bent down, taking the hulk in her arms.

“No, m’am,” I replied. “He’ll recover. Are you alright?”

Her head raised. Her left eye was cut and closing, and her jaw was swelling. Her right eye glared at me.

“You fucking brute!” she repeated.

“Have a peaceful day, m’am,” I said softly. Then I turned and walked away, looking for Renoir.

TONER LOWE IN LA

TONER LOWE: He didn't say why he wanted to meet. But he needed to see me soon, and in secret at an out-of-way place. He chose a rooftop downtown. As I waited, I studied the two giant construction cranes hovering like praying mantises over the rising new hotel, and at the horizon's spine, and sunset flaming through clouds like a furnace of molten fury conjured by the gods...

TONER LOWE: I tailed Snidley on the Red Line, keeping my distance. He exited in North Hollywood, walking quickly and entering a drab-brick two-story office building gouged between a couple of lanky palm trees. While I waited I studied the far-off San Gabriels. It had snowed overnight, coating them with a glaze seeming almost mystic in the hazy sunlight -- a muscular sculpture of pearl and shadow...

TONER LOWE: Ever since I read how they screwed homeowners with subprime loans leading to the 2008 crash, I’ve shunned Bank of America. But a friend had keyed me to an art display in their downtown LA building. I bit, and on a muggy Friday stood on their slick floor with bare white walls studying a lower-ceiling-sized fiber net sculpture like a glowing aqua vortex. At its base a wrinkly dressed singer – flashback to Cat Stevens – strummed his guitar, the sculpture altering shades with each chord.

The corner of my eye caught a blonde figure in lavender, floating like a graceful scarf in gentle breeze toward the fiber art. I glanced to verify loveliness, then focused back on the sculpture. But I noticed the scarf began winding my way. Still, my gaze stayed on the artwork and singer. Then suddenly the fragrant fist of Chanel stunned  me, and close to my ear I felt the warm whisper:

“Mr. Lowe…I need your help.”

"...a sense of God-consciousness..."

I received an Islamaphobic email yesterday. This was my immediate response:

"Islam has a strict moral code that also encourages generosity and concern for the disadvantaged (the mustad'afun, or oppressed) and the development of a sense of God-consciousness (taqwa) that pervades the whole of life. The world is regarded as a sacred trust (amana) from God for which humanity will be required to render an account. The world should, therefore, be properly cared for, not exploited."

from New World Encyclopedia (Sounds kind of like Christianity, doesn't it?)

http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Islam

Among Islam's one billion worldwide, there are small groups of radicals who want to control and kill. Just like there are some insane Christian radicals who want to control and kill--like the head of the Air Force Academy who was punishing Jewish cadets for not becoming Christians, and Christian military chaplains who were preaching to young soldiers that our invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq were Holy Wars, a modern crusade against Islam.

I worked in New York with all kinds, including faithful Muslims who worked hard, didn't complain, and were appalled at 9/11, which they lived through like all others in Manhattan.

This radical propaganda of making all Muslims out to be terrorists is ignorant and fear-based--which the Military-Industrial complex loves and hopes to keep making billions from in its endless "war on terror" that Congress and presidents support.

You'd best be more concerned about a Congress and president that supports this, that approved legislation that can have the military arrest anyone in the world, including Americans, if the president considers them "suspected terrorists"--the term the government uses also for countless secret drone attacks that kill civilians, including innocent women and children.

You'd best be reading these three well-researched columns:

http://www.clydefitchreport.com/2013/06/nones-well-thats-orwell/

http://www.clydefitchreport.com/2012/07/july-4-our-independence-versus-todays-emergency-powers/

http://www.clydefitchreport.com/2012/05/memorial-day-recalling-and-caring-for-our-constant-brave/

Artist Catherine Armbrust Activates The Lake Chapala Projects

Mixed media artist Catherine Armbrust—recent winner of The Kinsey Institute Juried Art Show 2014 “Gallery Visitors’ Choice” award at Indiana University—is preparing to return to Mexico this autumn to implement The Lake Chapala Projects. 

The Lake Chapala Projects seek to create sculptural installations and costumed performances that interact with the water and landscape of Chapala, Mexico.   

“The lake is an important resource for the state of Jalisco—providing income for fishermen, fresh water for drinking and irrigating crops, and a revenue base for tourism,“ Armbrust explains.  “Though a major source of life, the lake is in jeopardy for various political and environmental reasons and is a constant source of debate in the region. Thus the lake is the essence of the area, acting simultaneously as a symbol of both vitality and loss.”

Armbrust became concerned about this issue during a month-long artist residency in Chapala after receiving her MFA in Fibers from the University of Missouri in late 2012.  She is in the process of raising funds for this creative venture through her Lake Chapala Projects Indiegogo campaign. 

For more information, please see The Lake Chapala Projects pages online at:

www.catherinearmbrust.com

www.facebook.com/lakechapalaprojects

www.igg.me/at/lakechapalaprojects

Punxsutawney Phil Admits Secret Pact with Fur Industry

BREAKING NEWS -- Punxsutawney Phil, the roly-poly groundhog and master weather forecaster, confessed early Monday that his recent years’ predictions for longer winters have been a scam. 

Phil, in a called press conference, admitted his stretching each year's icy season was due to a confidential agreement with the international fur industry.

"After the economic meltdown of 2008, the woodchuck community got word that furriers were searching for more economical product to offer customers," Phil confided. "Their association approached me in secret, threatening to pluck us whistle-pigs in bunches and cart us to the tanning salons. I feared for all my furry fellows, so agreed to fatten the freezing season. 

“They stressed they wanted extremely frigid temperatures before and right after Valentine's Day. They believed that husbands and lovers would flock and purchase fur coats and stoles in droves during those few days, giving a solid economic boost to their companies. What could I do? I thought, on the one paw, it would save so many of my compatriots worldwide. And, on the other paw, we'd be answering Bill Clinton's '90s call to grow the economy." 

The international fur association's office refused to comment. 

However, Joe Namath called our offices to exclaim, "I love fur coats, but I'd never wear an outfit made of the hide of those scroungy rodents!"

The Love the Land Beaver Society issued a release at our deadline saying they were appalled by Phil’s secret agreement, but with reservations.

“We understand how hard it must have been for Phil, the pressure he must have been under,” said the society’s chair Mistle Toe. “We believe the key, now that the pact’s been revealed, is to jet Phil to Alaska, where odds are great he WON'T see his shadow when he comes out of the hotel his first day there. Then we can all lower the heat both on Phil and in our homes.”

END