Mythville

Hello, Colonel Gadhafi, Khaddafy, 

Quadaffi, Whatever, Duffy Duck ...

We've Seen the Real You at Last

... And so, there I was, trying to figure out how I was going to be able to de-Facebook 1,001 points-of-light Facebook "friends" because, clearly, having learned quite well from corporate America that the only real way to make money was to eliminate real people from the equation, when, out of the sands of the desert, looming with the body of a beast, but the face of an angry little man, loomed yet another demon of the week ... this time: Colonel Gadhafi.


... And so I thought, gee, isn't this interesting ... I'm staring at this guy on TV just like I did with watching the BP oil spill footage of, you know, that Wormwoodian image of the voyage to the bottom-of-the-sea horror show ... and it pretty much spoiled a perfectly good day, otherwise, in Mythville ... even if there was, going on at the time, a geomagnetic storm, an undeclared World War III, global revolution and all kinds of social dysfunctions in our own country that we can't be proud of.

... And so what was really pissing me off was this: Thirty years ago, as a reporter intern at the now defunct Scottsdale Progress, in Scottsdale, Arizona, the last thing I did was file a synopsis of everything I could find out about Colonel Gadhafi ... right before I went back to college at the University of Arizona. Two things haunted me. The first was this: The look on the faces of my editor who thought I was a pretty silly little lad. I mean, I was like 12-years-old, at the time, seems to me ... and that look was a look of pity. It made me mad, yesterday, thinking about that. Nobody ever gets me until, like, ten years after I tell them something. But then, maybe just a few months later after filing that, the Reagan Administration tried to take Gadhafi out ... and that same editor, who I called on the phone to remind them that I had filed that report, said, "Really?"

She was very excited and appreciative and I think they ran it in the paper.

... My second haunting thought, yesterday, was this: This looks just like a Nastradamus movie from about that same period. In fact, it seemed to me, whenever these little devils appear on the stage, it always looks like a Nostradamus movie to me. But let's not get into, right now, why it is that the film industry is so hell bent and providing us with imaginative, pixilated fiilmmage, of the end of the world. Not even if you, too, my be wondering if everybody, especially the CEOs of the corporations who fund these motion pictures, might have something better to do ... if they really believed in all of this crap!

... My mind then, haunting itself forward, really began to see that every generation has its anti-Christ or two, since, say, The Crusades. And that was a bunch of ... from generation to generation ... a bunch of hoaxed up crap funked up by this or that pope ... in order to keep people busy from raping and pillaging all of Europe ... sending them to the Middle East ... so they could just rape and pillage and play Crusades in and around Jerusalem instead, for fun and far more profit to ... you guessed it, the Catholic Church.

... By this time my mind was churning. I kept thinking about all of the times, from the Ayatollah Khomeini to Saddam Hussein to this completely unspellable black bat (not that there's anything wrong with being black or bats in general) in Iran ... and now, again, this incredibly ffffeddd up mad man, Colonel Gadhafi ... that even they have been conned by this or that type of mythic self-delusion, maybe even seeing the same Nostradamus movies, as well.

... As well as the fact that every generation, especially since the dawn of major media (for instance, Hitler's time), such myths have been used on the masses for political points. But, if you follow the money, also for far less prophetable purposes during the last half of the 20th (and now 21st century), to destabilize the Middle East ... and to therefore, crank up the price of oil ... all for fun and profit.

... Anyway, don't take my "unfriending" you personally. You can simply re-invite yourselves personally. Maybe after doing a little soul-searching, I hope, about your failures in doing much to participate or re-invest in this fine little dictatorship I have been running here. Believe me, if I have room, within my limitation of 5,000 Facebook friends, I won't bust you for requesting to be friends, again. That's just a word, anyway. Friends. Family. Whatever. It's really just a link to the network, and I'm trying my best to get to know everyone. Takes a long time, you see. Especially with all of these hauntings of faked up demons going on to mythaproppriate into images, columns, e-book stories about such terrors, poems, and so on. I just try to run it like a giant night club right now, and so I rotate everyone. See you again, soon, and so on ... dot calm.