Up Our Asses; or, How to Swing an Election

I expect eager listeners. As we say, as I do, with reference to what I write, what I have written here, words on the page to be read, what does reading tell us, writing say, and it does say and tell as we know that chairs sit and tables rest and faucets run.

A teller tells his tale , how else is a tale told? Listen is what we say when anyone tells a story, to story or not to story–listen carefully and you shall hear. We have to listen to then only hear?

A way to tell or not–this telling of a story . . . how can we tell if the telling is good? Every teller tells a story, his, this one herein for you, to you, already having been told . . . and now it is being retold. I cannot tell how many times this tale has been told and told again, without gain I used to like to say, making a pun by turning on a phrase–how else is a pun made? Therefore–therefore what?  What  am I now? The re-teller of this tale retold? Twice told, thrice, what is there for four times removed.  Which is to say what? In a way we know? To know what or not to know what to say? Here us what I say on what he has said, the true teller of the tale, and not the idiot assumed.

To say, to tell, around and around we go–gira, gira, Franco used to say, Angelo said. We do know without being able to explain . . .and all these restrictions we put on telling, all these psychological verifiers we imagine we need, want . . . what veracity is there in this kind of development?

Adornments, depth, breadth, contiguity between scenes, cross referencing, webbing the structure in a way more than or other than how a spider webs his web or tree branches in November seem to web the air, November in mood, let me show you how to tell a tale flat, without depth, singular in its dimensionality–one-dimensional? I could ask.

Of course, I would then say. There is no need for the kind of details you think are important, the kind of multiplication and variegation of elements, the types of cross-referencing or interlacing of scenes in some development you assume you imagine clearly is necessary in the telling, and that any telling without such is at a loss, is seriously lacking.

I tell you; I say to you; he tells her that she is beautiful. He says to her that she is beautiful. I tell her, “You are beautiful.” I say, “You are beautiful. I say and I say again things I would like to  tell. I tell and tell again and again things to say.

Do you mind? Who minds this?  What do you mind when something bothers you, when someone does, or when . . . what? To mind, to mine, what is mine, how is my mind mine and not yours or their or even just ours?

Do I mind?

I have no mind.

To mind the store; to mind what someone says. I mind my mind; to mind what others do, what others say, how they say it, imagining–what? What do I, could I, would I, will I, should I imagine? I do mind so much around me. I can’t help but say things to others when what they do seems so beyond . . . I should learn to keep my mouth shut.

Listen then–hearing is not listening, no, not at all . . .  yes, listen to a story of a man who tells a tale or a story . . . is it a history of a kind ? I am not thinking so. What is it then that Simple Jay says, does, thinks, asks, makes happen or does not make happen . . . what has happened to him by happenstance, all the while happening the only way it could have happened . . . to happen or not to happen. Is all really well that ends well? How will this end, I wonder. To wonder or not to wonder–there is that form again, everything is again and again without gain I used to say about how we use again, about how again happens for us, to us, with us . . . He says,

Is FBI Director Comey as one man put it in a bar in Brooklyn, “A Conservative scum bag,” or is he as FOX NEWS would have us believe with as much innuendo as Comey seems fit to follow, a patriot. As any soldier knows–thus the analogy for any battle a People must fight, physically or intellectually or spiritually–fools and idiots among you are dangerous?

More questions would be forthcoming if not for . . . he does not recall what it would not be for if, this not forthcoming of other questions as you and I both know questions beget questions.

Comey is a conservative con who has chosen to inappropriately electioneer with the power of subpoena. Without sound or credible intelligence, his decisions are the policy of uber-policing, managing order through propaganda and terror, which is what propaganda in the service of the State Keeping Order has always been. And that has been so not only in China or the former Soviet Union; not only in Russia today, or France, or Germany, or Turkey; but right here in the United States. Take your pick of countries; it does not have to be Nazis Germany or Peronist Argentina. It is now; it is here.

This terror engineer is named Comey. Maybe the drunk in the bar in Brooklyn was right. How embarrassing it must be for his wife and children every day knowing what he is if the drunk was/is right. Of course this is conditionally stated and thus is something other than a statement of fact, or stated with a rhetorical edge that implies or infers what I am saying is fact. The FBI is commanded or should I say directed by a Trump Freebooter, and that I do say knowing what I am inferring. Yes, it is inference, not implication.

More? You want more, he could have asked, butI do. You want more? Again I say. Why do you want more?  I wonder, imagining for a time how you would form a question that might pose some curious introspection into the operation of saying speaking talking telling . . . How come you think you do not have to explain why you want more, would want more, could? I am not going to ask these of you in ernest. I will not wait for your response, that is, if I indeed had expected one from you.

[A Short Story]


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