


![]() I'm in a city, a real city, no longer stuck miles
from civilization without transportation, despite the
circumstances that brought us here, there's a bus stop right across the
street that can get me anywhere, so I thought that's it, no more
Disinfotainment Today until I get a job, a real job, a job that'll give
me my own hard-earned income, an address, a car, off the dole, self esteem, the
road to success where you don't have to keep to the right and all the billboards
are for products you can afford.
Then I thought fuck that, I've combed the
classifieds and submitted to every gig I could possibly get, I'm finally
reunited with my computer, what's there left to do but sit back, or in this case
forward, and type.
This issue of Disinfotainment Today is
coming to you from the middle of an entirely different nowhere, the skylit
basement of the Spirit House in Seattle, headquarters of "the world's foremost
drug policy reform rally." Thanks to Paul Krassner, I was taken in
by this guy, Vivian
McPeak, who runs this. Yep
I'm in the notorious Hippie Hilton, temporary
shelter in clouds of smoke, attached to the underground at the hip, oh yes, no
surprise, the movement lives on, ladies and gentlemen, and brothers like me
deserve a place to stay till they can get back on their feet while stoning them
out so much they can barely stand up. Who else would take us in but a bunch of
politically aware drug war activists whose cause I not only whole-heartedly
endorse but whole-lungedly wallow in.
Can't believe I've gone this long without my
computer. It's like I arrived with only half my brain, my cerebral cortex still
in Ilwaco, which was a disaster, the world's shittiest fishing boat in
the world's coolest location, good idea, bad
execution, magnificent when sitting on deck, but enter the cabin hapless
traveler and discover the miraculous relationship between diesel and slime, but
that's quite another story, details to be filled in later, as is the week in San
Francisco, thanks to Ben Thomas, reader, fan, magnificent human being, where we
but dreamt of the Ilwaco nightmare from a hotel overlooking the Golden Gate
Bridge eating organic food bought in the Haight. But I digress and degrass,
suffering from lack of THC, if I boggle down in the details, I'll never pry
myself loose from this paragraph and get on with it.
Still broke, I seek the freebies, the Whole Foods
Market two blocks away, an area where you can eat their food, with a microwave,
toaster, free butter, and a bagel cutter, it's become my farmers market, if I
had a laptop, that's where I'd be right now. I bring my own coffee, buy a snack,
sit for hours, read the papers without paying, do the crossword puzzles in pen,
then neatly fold them back and return them to the middle of the stack.
![]() I decide to write. I'm thinking The Hempranos, where Tony Hemprano runs the Badda-Bong, a medical marijuana dispensary in downtown whatever, shoot it in Canada and call it Cincinnati, where nothing's normal and everything's NORML because we're talking consumption, massive, massive consumption, like take what you might consume in a week in the old days, put it in bongzilla, fire it up and fire it up again and again till bye bye planet, much less the next two hours, an endless circus parade of supercharged thought, three rings, no elephants, thousands of midgets, confetti flung from the trapeze by bears on unicycles. On the street? Like this? No way, man, I'm not moving till the universe gets out of my head and the ringmaster whips those lions back in the cage. I lost my cap. We were sitting at the bus stop. Across the street was a shop called "Found it!" I pointed and said to Max "Maybe they've got it." He looked and laughed but this somehow struck me as the funniest thing I'd ever said and I couldn't stop laughing, tears pouring down my face, Max thought it was funny but not THAT funny, and in retrospect what a stoned wackjob I was, in public, a disgrace, embarrassing the hell out of my son until the bus arrived and took us to where? Oh yeah, the library, where you can find anything but employment without a doctorate in library sciences, which leaves the Eliot Bay Bookstore, one of the all time best, right off Pioneer Square, south of the Pike Place Market, an enterprise so massive it even kept Max, the voracious non-reader, entertained for hours. If I'm sure of anything, it's that the movement lives on in a subterranean outpost of mainline subculture. I've joined the underground again, a very merry prankster in the midst of the common fellowship of humanity, a sleeping car on the mystical orient express to Tibet, a spiritual awakening, sitting at the feet of several masters, watching it all happen, wondering how to tell it without blowing it, like The Stranger, a local weekly paper that got heat for writing about a cool underground club which got the club shut down. Tell it I must. You know the drill. Fact must masquerade as fiction. Why do I get the feeling I've written this before, only not on a computer, on chewed-up home-made hemp paper, with disappearing squid ink, on a remote desert island without a remote, putting it in a bottle and throwing it into the ocean to be eaten by some fishes who were eaten by some fishes and swallowed by a whale who grew so old he decomposed and his basic elements were given back to the ocean where they came out of a faucet and taste just like a teardrop. Like Harry Nilsson said, "Now think about your troubles." MD ![]()
Paul Krassner is the author of One
Hand Jerking: Reports From an Investigative Satirist, and publisher of the
Disneyland Memorial Orgy poster, both available at paulkrassner.com.
![]() Musical News
Selling Arms
It would have to be a rainy day
I mean seriously cloudy
Before I'd ever sell arms to a
Saudi
I'd have to be nauseous
I mean seriously retchin'
Before I'd ever sell arms to a Chechen.
I'd have to have a gaping wound
I mean seriously gushin'
Before I'd ever sell arms to a Russian
I'd have to be undercover
I mean seriously incognito
Before I'd sell arms to Hirohito
I'd have to be obnoxious
I mean seriously smarmy
Before I'd ever sell arms to an army
You get the picture. There's every country in the
world, not to mention a specific dictator or two. Won't you
please join me in composing more lyrics for this song?
Disadvertainment of the
Week
![]() The Invitation
by Oriah
It doesn't interest me what
you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing. It doesn't interest me how
old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dream for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what
planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can
sit with pain
mine or your own without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be
with joy
mine or your own if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful to be realistic to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if
the story you are telling me
is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can
see Beauty
even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can
live with failure
yours and mine and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, Yes. It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who
you know
or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where
or what or with whom
you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be
alone
with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. Terrorist of the
Week
This supermassive
black hole is gobbling up millions of
suns
like a giant killer donut from hell and the
filling is you.
9 out of 10 Tree Huggers
Prefer to Get Shot with Ecco-AMMO(TM)
Eco-AMMO(TM)
"meets the demand for close-quarters, reduced hazard munitions. Frangible
projectiles break apart into harmless fragments upon hitting a surface harder
than the projectile itself. Dangerous ricochets and collateral damage are
virtually eliminated, while the lead free composition leaves no toxic residue.
This so called Green ammo is ideally suited for training, indoor ranges, and any
application where collateral damage must be minimized."
Positive Proof Reporters in
the US are Finally
Developing the Balls to Ask Those Tough Questions
Sophistimicated Doowacky of
the Week
Here's a rabbit who really
likes your cursor.
![]() Calling All Fans of the
Firesign Theater
Okay, they might not be in the same league or even
the same ballpark, but they do tell stories in a style that harkens to the old
days, which puts them at least in the same ballgame. The Mustache Rangers are decisively
low tech and hilarious outer space radio dramas. Think Second City
meets Buck Rogers brought to you by Doc Johnson's Olde Tyme Elixir.
Positive Proof You Don't
Need LSD to Hallucinate
FROM A LAW PROFESSOR
IN
Date: Wed, 9 May 2007 18:33:42 -0700 (PDT) Subject: [TheDolphinDemocrats] Thanks Waymon and I are sorry that we could not come to today’s meeting, but we are leaving for On Tuesday morning while Waymon and I were waiting for our luggage, we heard a weird announcement come over the airport's PA system. It said that "a man who lies with another man as he would a woman shall be subject to death." Upon hearing this twice, we looked for security or a phone, but could not find either one. We went home, and I called the airport when I woke up that morning. After talking with several different people, I finally was able to talk to the manager of the airport. He seemed disinterested, and just closed by saying that he was "sorry for the inconvenience." I waited one day to see if he would follow up on the complaint. On Wednesday, after not hearing anything from the airport manager, I emailed Ken [a county commissioner] and contacted NBC6. NBC6 did a story and Ken started working his political magic. The next day, I received phone calls from airport officials and the sheriff's department telling me that they were both doing investigations. On Friday morning, I received a call from the mayor who said that he was holding a press conference to apologize to us. On Sunday, I received a call from the police that they were able to locate the person who made the announcement and that he confessed. Ken contacted me as well. Throughout the interviews, we could not say enough about how much Ken did to move things along. He was constantly checking in with us and making sure that the investigation was continuing. Having Ken immediately push this forward resulted in exactly what we wanted all along – to make sure the person who made this announcement was fired. Waymon and I can't thank him enough. We have learned many lessons over the past week. First, we realized how important it was to have an openly gay official who could help us. He immediately understood the issue and pushed it when others were not so understanding. Second, we learned how people still blame the victim for these types of events. I have been asked what we were doing to get attention (getting our luggage, by the way). Others quickly questioned our credibility (like I would make this up and possibly lose my license as a lawyer). Some of the media focus was on the Bible, claiming that the main source of our complaint was hearing a Bible verse (see the Sun-Sentinel's headline this past week). Third, we realized how we need to become more active in our community, so you will be seeing more of us here at Dolphin Dems meetings. The biggest lesson, however, was that we still have so much work to do as a community. The level of hatred that has now been directed towards us this week has been amazing and eye-opening. Just yesterday, a older woman approached Waymon at the grocery story and asked if he had been on TV this week. He said that he had, and she responded by saying: "You faggots deserve what that guy said." Earlier today, Waymon left the gym and found a piece of paper on his windshield that said "FAG!" Through email and comments to articles online, we have been called every imaginable derogatory name for gay men. Some even said that we must have been having sex in the bathroom and we just heard God talking to us out of guilt. We have kept almost one hundred pages of comments that have circulated about us and the incident. The majority of them have been hate-filled and even scary. We are actually a bit scared and are taking security precautions, simply because we spoke out about hearing the words "subject to death" on the PA system of an international airport. As I have said several times this week, if the words preceding "subject to death" were "Americans", "Christians", or "Muslims" instead of referring to gays, homeland security would have been involved! All of these threats and hateful words we have heard this week just prove that we, along with Ken, took the right steps in pushing this important issue. I would like to close again by thanking Ken and all of the officials that stepped up and helped solve this matter. Waymon Hudson & Anthony S. Niedwiecki Ass't Prof. of Law Director of LSV Program Nova Southeastern Univ. Answers to Previous Stupid Questions
What's an eleven-letter word for
"inevitable DC fruit?"
Stupid Question of the
Week
After it was discovered that the diabetes
drug Avandia
significantly raises the risk of heart attack, the FDA
decided NOT to pull the drug from the market but just to change the warning.
Meanwhile, medical marijuana is still pulled from the market, presumably due to
inadequate warning labels. The mind boggles with what such a warning would
say. Gimme
some.
Don't Take My Word For
It
"The artist belongs to his work, not
the work to the artist."
- Novalis -
"Osama's plan was to get Bush to overreact and overreach. With
the invasion of Iraq, Bush fell slap-bang into that trap. Our latest
National Intelligence Estimate suggests that Al Qaeda in Iraq is now among
our most significant threats. As far as the eye can see, the likely consequences
of Iraq range from the bad to the catastrophic. I cannot recall a more
avoidable man-made disaster."
- Timothy Garton Ash: Iraq
hasn't even begun - Consequences from the disaster we could have avoided will
plague the world long into the future. -
"[D]isease is a general condition of
one's internal environment. It is not the symptoms we see, nor is it an entity
that attacks us from somewhere else. If germs are involved, they arise as a
primary symptom of that general condition. Though germs don't cause disease,
secondary symptoms (commonly called the disease) are produced in response to
their activity... Disease is a general underlying condition, not the symptoms we
diagnose or the bugs involved."
- Robert O. Young, PhD., D.Sc. with
Shelly Redford Young, L.M.T.: Sick and Tired? Reclaim Your Inner
Terrain -
"That's a bold statement."
- John Travolta: Pulp Fiction
-
"All compounded
things are impermanent.
"All emotions are
pain.
"All things have no
inherent existence.
"Nirvana is beyond
concepts."
- Buddha: The Four Seals -
"The message of the
four seals is meant to be understood literally, not metaphorically or mystically
- and meant to be taken seriously. But the seals are not edicts or commandments.
With a little contemplation one sees that there is nothing moralistic or
ritualistic about them. There is no mention of good or bad behavior. They
are secular truths based on wisdom, and wisdom is the primary concern of a
Buddhist. Morals and ethics are secondary...
"For the sake of
communication we can say that these four views are the spine of Buddhism. We
call them 'truths' because they're simply facts. They are not manufactured; they
are not a mystical revelation of the Buddha. They did not become valid only
after the Buddha began to teach. Living by these principles is not a ritual or
technique. They don't qualify as morals or ethics, and they can't be trademarked
or owned. There is no such thing as an 'infidel' or a 'blasphemer' in Buddhism
because there is no one to be faithful to, to insult, or to doubt. However,
those who are not aware of or do not believe in these four facts are considered
by Buddhists to be ignorant. Such ignorance is not cause for moral judgment. If
someone doesn't believe that humans have landed on the moon, or thinks that the
world is flat, a scientist wouldn't call him a blasphemer, just ignorant.
Likewise, if he doesn't believe in these four seals, he is not a infidel. In
fact if someone were to produce proof that the logic of the four seals is false,
that clinging to the self is actually not pain, or that some element defies
impermanence, then Buddhists should willingly follow that path instead. Because
what we seek is enlightenment and enlightenment means realization of the truth.
So far, though, in all these centuries no proof has arisen to invalidate the
four seals.
If you think the
entire West is somehow Satanic or immoral, it will be impossible to conquer and
rehabilitate it, but if you have tolerance within yourself, this is equal to
conquering. You can't smooth out the entire earth to make it easier to walk on
with your bare feet, but by wearing shoes you protect yourself from rough
unpleasant surfaces."
- Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse: What
Makes You a Buddhist (Shambala Sun, Jan 2007) -
"Well, it's nothing special. Try and be nice to
people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking
in and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and
nations. And finally, here are some completely gratuitous pictures of penises to
annoy the censors and to hopefully spark some sort of controversy which it seems
is the only way these days to get the jaded video-sated public off their fucking
arses and back in the sodding cinema. Family entertainment bollocks! What they
want is filth, people doing things to each other with chainsaws during
Tupperware parties, babysitters being stabbed with knitting needles by gay
presidential candidates, vigilante groups strangling chickens, armed bands of
theatre critics exterminating mutant goats - where's the fun in pictures? Oh
well, there we are - here's the theme music. Goodnight."
Satan Doesn't Want You To
Know
All compounded things are impermanent, all
emotions are pain, all things have no
inherent existence, and nirvana is beyond
concepts.
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The Best of Disinfotainment Today - 2006 A Year of Journalism with the Crap Removed ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Or The Best of Disinfotainment Today - 2005, you slowpoke. |


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Contact George W. Bush - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact the Freemasons - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact Skull and Bones - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact the Carlyle Group - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact the Illuminati - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact
Satan - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact both houses of Congress -
president@whitehouse.gov
Contact the Supreme Court - president@whitehouse.gov
Contact Dick Cheney - vice.president@whitehouse.gov
Contact Halliburton - vice.president@whitehouse.gov
Contact Bechtel - vice.president@whitehouse.gov
Contact Saddam Hussein - tightywhities@whitehouse.gov
Contact Osama bin Laden
- thetwins@whitehouse.gov
Contact Jeb Bush - jeb.bush@myflorida.com
Contact Fidel Castro - jeb.bush@myflorida.com
Contact Kim Jong Il - eng-info@kcna.co.jp
Contact Jacques Chirac - france-presse@un.int
Contact the new Pope - accreditamenti@pressva.va
Contact the old Pope - thirdlevel@hellfireanddamnation.com
Contact God - president@whitehouse.gov