You Tell 'Em, Ramsay: "I Got Nothing" Re: These *Goddam* United States
Big Red Jeff Rubard
-----------
There are some sorts of industry, even of the lowest kind, which can
be carried on nowhere but in a great town. A porter, for example, can
find employment and subsistence in no other place. A village is by
much too narrow a sphere for him; even an ordinary market-town is
scarce large enough to afford him constant occupation. In the lone
houses and very small villages which are scattered about in so desert
a country as the highlands of Scotland, every farmer must be butcher,
baker, and brewer, for his own family. In such situations we can
scarce expect to find even a smith, a carpenter, or a mason, within
less than twenty miles of another of the same trade.
Adam Smith, *An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of
Nations*, 17-76, Edinboro
-----------
You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.
William Jennings Bryan, "Cross of Gold" speech, Kansas City, 1896
(from memory)
------
Do that and be that.
Jeffrey Daniel Rubard, *escritor*
*Literaten*: Get it through your heads *neurale*: "As mentioned to" an
au'di'ence of 'shoppers' at WinCo Foods, /unfortunately named/ for
people for whom The Very Thought of a somehow-possible CIA/Mafia one-
two brings smiles - "The United States can make no improvement on its
*mores*. 'Ducats' must change hands only [and they are doing a poor
job at that]". Troo, *too* 'true', and when the 'o' is doing a bad job
completing a thought "as regards" social-justice, the tenor *must
needs be* -- over and above 'inglorious bastardry' -- that of the
"silver standard" -- *treasonous* not *seditious* /thought/ -- and you
need to give UNTHINKABLE DIRECT RAIL SERVICE BETWEEN THE PacNW AND
VANCOUVER, BC A CHANZ. "Problem people" *are* free to move about the
country, as per a U.S. Constitution I once considered /mine/ -- and
when they are *wizards and true stars* according to some /refined/
calculation, they otta be *allowed* (!, I guess) to go /elsewheres/
and Take Their Chances re: non-arcane /non-parental/ aspects of living
in the *for-profit economy* of works and days /all sizes/.
I was born in Calhoun County [*some* Calhoun, /from whence/ fewer
consequences than thought prob. flow], Michigan state, in 1979: I
moved to Oregon in 1986, *I did, I did*, and I've left a /time or two
or three/ -- or four, if mysticism as regards the non-LaRouche
Internationals *must be kept* and Brit'an counts as "Future Shock" /
enow/ for most people, even if "you (or your literary and musical
"productions") ain't..." On this day in 2009, December 21 at that, a
man named *Jeffrey* Daniel Rubard lives-and-breathes (?) in Portland,
Oregon and *I* ain't afraid of /overweening self-regard based on /no
productive activity// with *criminal conspiracy* plus /SHARP imperial
law/ on top: I'm not, took a long time for even this 'rime' to strong
enough to "step", but it is and *cut me, even my *originary* family
the "Super Furry Goetheans" of Brit till ash* not Jew to You, a
break: /supposedly valid power-politics/ doesn't involve Over Manning,
tho' Old Dominion paedophiles *may* suddenly ap:pear, and if you can
let Dynamic Living Legends of Conformance Butt-Fuck (a tast. for Bar.)
or even *utile* /pornographic/ palatability and I Knows Lint go, go,
go
*You can too.*
US: Hugs, *no drugs* nec. to read this "squib", eh? But --