“Frank Moore is a bad motherfucker and a great Amrican. He’s got my vote!”
– John Sinclair
Month: July 2006
From: “Frank Moore”
To: “Frank Moore/E-SALON”
Subject: Fw: PLANT A CARROT IN EVERY LAWN
jesse, i’m stealing this for a plank for my platform!
From: “D. Jesse Beagle”
To: Frank Moore
Sent: Sunday, July 23, 2006 5:28 PM
Subject: PLANT A CARROT IN EVERY LAWN
ONE CARROT AT LEAST
I want to see
in every manicured
acres and acres
in the USA
put in a garden
and your neighbor
will visit you
“WHAT ‘S WITH THE
ONIONS , THE CARROTS,
the price of every house
in the block goes down!
I think LAWNS are disgusting
and said so
sculpted blades of grass were
made people in early
make a nice plot of ground
useless stretch of short greens
a burial plot
where not so much as croquet
if not a vegetable garden,
plant a small park
rocks, small pines,
pathways, wild flowers,
LAWNS are for your neighbor’s
but who mows the grass?
A FRONT YARD
(anyone can do it out back)
now that’s class!!
(C) 2006 djbeagle
From: Frank Moore
Subject: Re: Probably oughta take their car keys too.
I value your vote, Susan! Now this may be [r]evolutionary … but I don’t need no podium!
Tell me about yourself.
To: Frank Moore
Subject: Probably oughta take their car keys too.
Hey Frank –
I’m so glad you had a fantastic birthday! I look forward to such a hooplah on my 60th birthday and plan to start rehearsing for it right away!
I thought I’d send you my vote along with this Garrison Keillor bit so you could enjoy the press of other local politicos.
What color(s) will you paint your podium???
Begin forwarded message:
Probably oughta take their car keys too.
People who live in mud huts should not throw mud, especially if it comesfrom their own roofs. As Scripture says, don’t point to the speck in your neighbor’s eye when you have a piece of kindling in your own.
I see by the papers that the Republicans want to make an issue of House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) in the congressional races this fall: Would you want a San Francisco woman to be speaker of the House? Will the lectern be repainted in lavender stripes with a disco ball overhead? Will she be borne into the chamber by male dancers with glistening torsos and wearing pink tutus? After all, in the unique worldview of old elephants, San Francisco is a code word for g-a-y, and after assembling a record ofg overnment lies, incompetence and disaster, the party in power hopes that the fear of g-a-y-s will pull it through in November.
Running against Pelosi, a woman who comes from a district where there are known gay persons, is a nice trick, but it does draw attention to the large, shambling galoot who is House speaker now, Tom DeLay’s enabler for years, a man who, judging by his public mutterances, is about as smart as most high school wrestling coaches. For the past year, Dennis Hastert has been two heartbeats from the presidency. He is a man who seems content just to have a car and driver and three square meals a day. He has succeeded in turning Congress into a branch of the executive branch. If Mr. Hastert becomes the poster boy for the Republican Party, this does not speak well for them as the Party of Ideas.
People who want to take a swing at San Francisco should think twice. Yes, the Irish coffee at Fisherman’s Wharf is overpriced, and the bus tour of Haight-Ashbury is disappointing (Where are the hippies?), but the Bay Area is the cradle of the computer and software industry, which continues to create jobs for our children. The iPod was not developed by Baptists in Waco, Texas. There may be a reason for this. Creative people thrive in a climate of openness and tolerance, since some great ideas start out sounding ridiculous. Creativity is a key to economic progress. Authoritarianism is stifling.
I don’t believe that Mr. Hewlett and Mr. Packard were gay, but what’s important is: In San Francisco, it doesn’t matter so much. When the cultural Sturmbannfuhrers try to marshal everyone into straight lines, it has consequences for the economic future of this country.
Meanwhile, the Current Occupant goes on impersonating a president. Somewherein the quiet, leafy recesses of the Bush family, somebody is thinking, “Wrong son. Should’ve tried the smart one.” Five years in office and he doesn’t have a grip on it yet. You stand him up next to British PrimeMinister Tony Blair at a news conference and the comparison is not kind to Our Guy. Historians are starting to place him at or near the bottom of the list. And one of the basic assumptions of American culture is falling apart: the competence of Republicans.
You might not have always liked Republicans, but you could count on them to manage the bank. They might be lousy tippers, act snooty, talk through their noses, wear spats and splash mud on you as they race their Pierce-Arrows through the village, but you knew they could do the math. To see them produce a ninny and then follow him loyally into the swamp for five years is disconcerting, like seeing the Rolling Stones take up lite jazz. So here we are at an uneasy point in our history, mired in a costly war, a supine Congress granting absolute power to a president who seems to get smaller and dimmer, and the best the Republicans can offer is San Franciscophobia? This is beyond pitiful. This is violently stupid.
It is painful to look at your father and realize the old man should not be allowed to manage his own money anymore. This is the discovery the country has made about the party in power. They are inept. The checkbook needs to be taken away. They will rant, they will screech, they will wave their canes at you and call you all sorts of names, but you have to do what you have to do.