Song Lyrics: Bought Myself a Flower

Yes I'm feeling so much better 'cuz I bought myself a flower
I bought myself a flower 'cuz I had a shitty corporate day
I was feeling kinda dirty gettin paid by the hour
by a startup that might as well be the NSA

So I went out on a walk
bought some farmers-market kale
a bag of orange cuties
saw some tulips blowing kisses
so I bought myself a flower
and I took myself to dinner
and I drank a bottle of wine
and now I'm feeling fine

Yes I'm feeling really great
'cuz I make a great date
even bought myself a flower.

[copyright (c) 2014 Laramie Crocker]

Song Lyrics: Attitude

Attitude
           copyright (c) 2013 Laramie Crocker
===============================================


I'm gettin Attitude
from a fat dude
in a wheelchair
a motorized kill-chair
feeding,
speeding,
not heeding where my feet go

And a yuppie in a bronco
runs me over in the cross-walk, Yo!

And a yuppie with a cheese-roll
cutting me in line
swinging his baguette
like a machete

I'm getting run over
by a double-wide baby stroller
double-wide baby stroller moms is two-fistin
latte and a capuccino

I'm stepping over bodies of the mentally insane
the lady with the latte is getting deranged


CHORUS:
    And every time I say I hate this town
    And every time I say I'm gonna burn it down
    down to the ground
    to the ground ground ground

    she says: Go and build a garden
    dig it in the ground, ground
 
    Go and build a garden
    dig it in the ground, ground
 
    put your hands in the Earth
    put your hands in the ground, ground
 
    and praise a strawberry
    put it in your mouth
    mother earth, hail mary

    put your hands in the earth
    put your hands in the ground, ground
    dig it in the ground

Neck to neck on the train
skully's lookin in my brain
everybody's on their phone
no one lookin where they're going
and the people getting fatter
and my blood's getting hotter
like the planet
I can't stand it

I try to go to the health club
old lady in a hot tub
givin me the underwater elbow
the rage is just below the surface
the rage is just below the surface


CHORUS:
    And every time I say I hate this town
    And every time I say I'm gonna burn it down
    down to the ground
    to the ground ground ground

    she says: Go and build a garden
    dig it in the ground, ground
 
    Go and build a garden
    dig it in the ground, ground
 
    put your hands in the Earth
    put your hands in the ground, ground
 
    and praise a strawberry
    put it in your mouth
    mother earth, hail mary
 
    put your hands in the earth
    put your hands in the ground, ground
    dig it in the ground

Redneck Monk Sez

Every advice you hear for other people inside your head,
or rules for other people that you imagine telling or enforcing,
are
for
YOU.

They are also
for you
to
poop
on.

--Finbar, the redneck monk
   (from the upcoming Anarchia.us cartoon)

Big Brother Obama

Winston Smith sat as his lappy, typing words he knew Big Brother would read, archive, data-mine and pore over for as long as the NSA's Intelligence Community Comprehensive National Cybersecurity Initiative Data Center, sometimes called the Utah Data Center, or Minitruth, in Newspeak, was in existence.  Comrade Obama had declared that Minitruth would be dedicated to protecting Americans, and would be open to scrutiny and review by the party faithful.  How he loved Brother Obama!  He had voted for Brother Obama, of course, as did every freedom-loving blue-stater.  When Brother Obama spoke of freedom and security, Winston's heart swelled.  He did not give thought to stop-and-frisk needed to thwart terrorists, or the other implements of freedom: national ID cards, Stand-your-ground laws, persecution of whistleblowers, full-body searches at airports--for to question these things would surely lead to a visit in the middle of the night by the FBI, commonly known as the Thought Police.

[In case you think I'm some kind of Obama-hater, here's my posts from 2009, after I voted for the Obama-bot: 

http://laramiecrocker.blogspot.com/2009/01/yesterday-i-was-working-with-my-friend.html

http://laramiecrocker.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-model-politican-obama2008.html ]

Don't trust the white man!

Don't trust the white man!
That man with all the power
he can drop a war
just like that
just by bein white.
Shit.  Don't LET a black man be President.
They won't let that happen.
You said.
You said it was cuz of white men that we had this shit.
But now, a black man is President,
and it is same shit,
different day.
Because, cuz, it is power that begets power.
And when power wants to look white, it looks white
when it wants to look black, it looks black.
These men, these actors.

Maybe we can forget about divisions
like white and black
like religion
like conservative and liberal
like republican and democrat.

That war, that Vietnam war.
Blame Nixon!
Blame Johnson!
Blame Kennedy
Blame Ike
Blame Truman.
Yes.  You have to go that far back.
All those beloved Presidents.
All those warmongering motherfuckers
And that's just one of the wars they brought.
It wasn't them, it was us, what bought it.
Maybe we were following the marketing
of the rich and powerful.  Maybe we wanted it.

We don't have to *ask* the government nicely to stop the NSA.
As long as "We" is a majority, We can make them
do what we want, or we have the right to revolt.
It's in the Constitution.

A Spy in the House of Mobile

It's a rainy day in Berkeley, as I set out from my garden, into the flower-laden streets of NorthB.  I have to leave the ferns and dripping beaks of the Birds of Paradise to enter the maw of the Beast.  Into his chthonic BART tunnel, through the billboarded piss-hallways, through the throngs and trophy parks and the screaming streets, into the screaming office, to sit in a row at my desk for the next nine hours.

So far, I'm passing fairly well.  Had my Giants hat already for the team outing to PacBell Park.  As part of my job requirement, I must participate in Skype chat (text only) all day.  Response times over a few minutes are called out.  Sometimes required conversations must take place in real time, talking by typing, to a group of engineers all sitting around the same table.  Everyone is typing, and suddenly, out of nowhere, everyone is cracking up, synchronized, and you have to jump on chat and catch up.  I haven't quite gotten to the point of fitting in well in chat.  I might need to post some cat videos.

I'm in the House of Mobile to learn the secrets from the inside.  To understand how marketers, and business men think.  To understand how someone can have a passion for Advertising.  To me, Advertising is the mark of the Beast, maybe even the Devil himself.  Born and raised in Berkeley, right here in NorfB.  I want to have a world where we all contribute content for free or micropayments, or *something* without ads.  Which makes me either a hypocrite or a rebel.  Pass the stogie, brother, it's been a long day.

27 June 2013
Overheard: "Well, they're a non-profit, so if they aren't in it for profit, I don't know what their motives are, so I can't trust them."

I like the 99% thing.  I want to be 99% faithful.  Hey, that's like three days a year...

Seen in downtown S.F April 1, 2013

April 1 seen in downtown S.F. : A man with his "unit" in a knitted sock dangling between his legs to the ground, in half of a cut-up suit and tie, with exactly half his body exposed (the left half) and a sign that said "Sale, half-off"; A vintage 70's mint green Country Squire station wagon... with giant ghetto wheels (rimsos) cruisin'; And at Yerba Buena, two giant roll-off dumpster containers re-purposed as art installation with built in park benches and yucca plants; And the Twelve Gallaxies guy's sign is now in Cyrillic script. Sorry I didn't bring a camera, y'all. Just another normal day in S.F.