Velociworld

MAY POLES

All this foam-flecked fanaticism today, both from the unrepentant foolfuck Chicanos and the understandably outraged citizens of this republic has amused me of late. Goddam mestizos so fucking stupid they think they can bend us to their will, and us so stupid we'll probably let them.

Let us riot on May 1. There's a fucking smart move. Let's march our criminal asses in the streets by the tens of thousands and demand the impossible, namely, that the entire cohort of 280 millions American citizens will say Hey! I like that Mexican flag. I like the national anthem in Espanfuckingol. I like the fact that these insane shitweasels think they can STICK IT IN MY FACE! And on the very day the Soviets used to parade their troops, and missiles, and tanks, by the reviewing stand in Red Square, by the Kremlin, in blatant attempts to make the world cower.

Hey, greaseballs: sing the Internationale in Spanish, please. Not my anthem.

There was real sympathy for wetbacks before these demonstrations, I tell ya. Nobody gave a shit, we all looked the other way. Trim my hedges, put my roof on. But it's like the gays. I think most people for the last 15 or 20 years were pretty much ambivalent about gays, tolerant as it were. You do your thing, I'll do mine. But then they started the whole Gay Pride Parades, and taking over Disney World, and insisting their agenda be mainstreamed into elementary schools, and a lot of people say you know what? I was wrong about you. Thought you could be a good neighbor. Mind your own business. Now you're sticking it in my face, and, pardon the expression, shoving it down my throat. And words like faggot rose again within the national dialogue. Not to mention rump ranger, queer, cocksucker, and polesmoker. Why? Because the gay community could not take their victory of tolerance and go home and play nice. They pushed the envelope, way too fucking hard, and the backlash is palpable. A real shame.

So it is now with the wetbacks. What was totally off the radar two months ago now has normally docile Americans ready to lynch a damned person who can't produce a temporary visa. And all this talk of Aztlan. Lookit, my little brown brethren: California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, that shit is not reverting to you. Ever. You have, in your attempts to sway the discussion, managed to infuriate 75% of the populace here. I, for one, won't buy a Subway sandwich a fucking mestizo makes without they shows a green card. We let you in here, we tolerated you, now you have pissed us the fuck off. Real bad. Again, a real shame. But you must understand the average American is a working stiff themself, and struggling to make ends meet. Why should you get a pass on paying income taxes, whilst leeching our welfare state? And all the while sending your filthy lucre back to Little Mexico? Fuck you!

Oh, shit!!!! This was supposed to be about May Poles. Man, I got real diverted there. Thank God I have more bloodlines running through me than a Josef Mengele experiment run amok.

May Poles. As a wee lad we used to have the May Pole at elementary school, with a May Queen and all the fixings. I can only assume it was on May Day. So while the brutal Russians, who had their own evil Mongoloid bloodlines coursing through their veins, were brandishing thermonuclear intercontinental ballistic missles, and goose stepping in Red Square in shows of force designed to make us quail in our Converses, the Mighty Integral vanquishing us Inevitable, we were enjoying little Druid rituals, dancing around a pole with ribbons (ribbons! But only the girls could traipse with the ribbons!) basically braiding a rump telephone pole. Very strange. Very colorful, too. I always liked it. There was no CNN. I didn't know what was traipsing through Red Square at that moment.

And yet, the May Pole is a strange thing. Actually not Druid, or Norman, even, but it arose from the Teutonic ritual, and we all know in that case it was a phallic symbol. The Germanics were huge on that sort of thing. Why you see so many 60 year old Frenchmen with blond hair, blue eyes, and names like Blofeld.

I originally had a wisp of a thought. That I could do justice to the May Pole, and my innocent cavorting about them as a child. It just goes to show you. Life? It ain't linear. Well, mine isn't.