Stock Market Crash and the Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla

Hello, again.

I was jarred awake this afternoon when Milky barged into my room with news of a plummeting stock market. Seems she was on the phone with Marvin from Syracuse, and he had been filling her head with all kinds of nonsense, and making her crazy with panic.

It was the last thing I needed at this hour. Two in the afternoon. My stomach hurt from eating a bowl of cinnamon crisps at about 4 am, then all the beers we had together, and someone was cranking eggs out of the kitchen, over easy. This all went on 'till about 1030 am, at which point sleep on a hardwood floor no longer seemed possible, and I went home and found my bed. And then this shit about the stock markets crashing, and oil pushing 100 dollars a barrel. For Christ's sake, leave me alone for a little while, I told her. I couldn't get back to sleep after that, especially after the conversations we'd been having for days. The astrologers out in California laid out a two-year moratorium on economic crisis and revolution in this country. Fine with me, I told Old Uncle Frank, I'm broke anyway, and I could use some hearty revolution, after all, I've been calling for some action for a few years now. He thought we should continue this conversation when I get out to Albuquerque next week to interview him for the new book. Maybe I'll call it 'Last Stand.' Or maybe not.


In the past two days I've come across two references to that great turn of events of the spring of 1980-The Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla. Hot damn! I first came across it in 'Songs of the Doomed Vol. III,' a collection of letters and notes by the great Dr. HST in a chapter entitled...ah shit, I forget. Something about how he left a swine's severed head in the personal toilet belonging to the motel owner to whom the good doctor was heavily indebted for weeks, if not months, of room charges, room service, and bar tab. One of his lesser moments, but a fine tale nonetheless. Then we popped in Scarface for the background noise as we partied on this evening. The wrenching and tedious organ bits toward the end of the film really elevate heartbeats. No no, it's the beginning of the film we're interested in-The Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla. Goddamn Castro sent us Tony Montana who proceeds to follow the American Dream and fucks his boss's wife, kills the boss, kills his best friends, watches his sister get sprayed up and down by submachine gun fire, buries his head in mounds of cocaine, kills numerous others, and gets rear-blasted by a ten gauge. Serious fucking residual disturbance from that film. Castro played it nicely. Well done ya scumbag. Now let's move onto some other scumbags.

I've got a whole list of people and questions I need investigating.

Chomsky...left gatekeeper? Federal stooge?
Alex Jones is half-nimrod, half-breed jackass.
So, what really happened on 9/11? And what the hell do anarchists have to do with it?
Absolutely nothing at all right, Roger? Uhh, a 9/11 alternate theorist is no anarchist, right? Not by association. What a crock of shit.
Trilateral Commission? Council on Foreign Relations? Will they soon be reading this email and putting me on no-fly lists, or is there nothing to them?
North America Union...when?
6 billion dead by the end of the century, and Gore is a goddamn climate crises profiteer. Imbeciles are the people that listen to this guy and then want him for president.
Imbeciles are anyone still wishing to participate in this system of human organization.
So many more, too tired.

N.B. Those are all rhetorical questions. Please never write me with your answers, suggestions, corrections. Thank you.


I've received a few reaction from some people on the section of the 'Letter to Mark...' post. Some incredibly offended, particularly by the "comments" made by Senator Barack Obama. If that "story" lands me in shit somewhere, I'll be all smiles.

I'm goddamn tired, and this writing is pure shit. It's time to stop, know your limits imbecile.