(MRR 346) What America Needs is JOBS!

You're Wrong

An Irregular Column

by Mykel Board

"The crucial reality is the need to sell your labor to capital in order to live, the need to carve up your personality for sale-- to look at yourself in the mirror and think, "What have I got that I can sell?" --Marshall Berman

It was something I ate. Bang. Stomach ache, I can just make it... I hope... It musta been the Korean food... Seemed so healthy... mushrooms... kim chi with sesame seeds... even tofu ice cream for fuck's sake. Pow! A belt to the stomach. I'm gonna explode.


On the way to the bathroom, I grab today's mail. I'll need something to read while the food makes its painful progress through my intestines. 

Ah, made it. Not quite ready to let loose though.

I pick up the mail.

First, THE NATION... my usual bathroom reading. Lefty enough to be interesting. Alexander Cockburn who's almost always right. And book reviews better than the books they review.

This issue reviews a book about the mind. The author of the book is a neurosurgeon who splits peoples brains in epilepsy operations. Then he does experiments on the split brainers. His experiments convince him that people don't really have free will. We act, he says, spontaneously. Then we use free will in rationalizing the act.

The reviewer asks “if people lack free will, why did the surgeon make them sign “consent” forms before the experiments? How can you consent to anything if you don't have free will?” Smart guy, smart ass. Right up my alley.

Ow! Ow! Ow! The brown muck makes it's way up the right side, across the middle, down the left, almost... almost... Fuck, stuck right at the key point... begging release... yet unreleased.

I check out the NATION'S front cover. Getting Priorities Straight. It's about how Obama sold out to the Republicans (what a surprise!) by making the debt the number one issue. Says THE NATION, “it should be JOBS!” Let's have another WPA like during Roosevelt. Let the government hire people so they can earn their own living... not have to take handouts... give people the dignity of earning their own way... put Americans to work.

Yeah, pouring tar on highways. That'll give 'em dignity... or black lungs.

Enough! I put the magazine down and open a letter from something called ACE. I'd think it was a hardware advertisement but for the blurb on the front of the envelope. EMPOWERING THE HOMELESS. Hmmmm. What does that mean? Register them to vote? Give them a place to live, regroup and get something decent to eat? Um, no...

ACE program participants-- who have all spent time on the streets or in prison-- now sweep our sidewalks, bag our trash, and shovel our snow.

That's empowerment? Empowerment means giving people power over their own lives. What does ACE give people power over, a plastic garbage bag?

The Republicans, they want jobs too. Take the oil pipeline through Canada... please.

This from another NATION report:

Republicans used the payroll tax measure to push for quick approval of TransCanada Corp's Keystone XL pipeline project, backed by labor unions but opposed by environmental groups.

The legislation requires Obama to approve construction of the pipeline from Canada to U.S. Gulf of Mexico facilities within 60 days or declare it is not in the national interest. Obama wanted to take a year, beyond November's elections, to review the project.

Republicans argued the pipeline would create jobs at a time the nation is suffering from an 8.6 percent unemployment rate.

"The president says he wakes up every morning thinking about jobs. This morning, the Senate took action where the president has punted," said Republican Senator John Cornyn.

Meanwhile, Libertarians call on the government to stop all welfare programs, and let people find their own jobs. Stand on their own two feet. Instead of handouts, they should work and find dignity in any job.

The problem, they say, is the minimum wage. It's too high, a strain on business. If you pay people 25 cents an hour, think of how many more you could hire! Newt Gingrich wants to end child labor laws. Hire kids at four dollars an hour. Fuck school. What do they learn there? Maybe poetry or art. Is that gonna get them a job?

What about cripples? They can wheel on their own two wheels.

Get people out of school. Get 'em off welfare. Cut unemployment insurance. Work! That's what freedom's all about, isn't it?

Just at this moment, I release. Relief-filled brown splats into the toilet. Pow! Like a beershit. I can feel it in my ankles. It's wonderful.

Wiping myself, I use nearly a whole roll of tissues. Still, I seem to have missed something. I feel a little prick... like a small stone in a sock... I reach a finger into a particularly deep anal fold. There it is... I scrape through with a fingernail... another scrape... Something catches between the nail and the finger flesh... got it! I pull it toward my face to examine it. A sesame seed, from the Korean food last night. What a relief!... Then it hits me.

Jobs! People need jobs. There must be hundreds... no thousands... millions... of people who need dingleberries fished from their anal folds. I'd certainly pay $2 for an anal fisher. Think of the employment possibilities

The new company, At Your Anal Call. All those homeless people, welfare moms, kids who only like poetry or music. All those old folks who no one else will hire. Here's a chance for them to earn money... learn pride in work... make other people happy.

Their $2-a-berry dingleberry-picking will do more than give them enough money for a cup of coffee at Starbucks. It will give them pride in doing it themselves. It will teach them the dignity of earning their own way.

Set up charges will be low. There will be little equipment to buy. The only expense will be advertising the service... and the 39 cents of the $2 fee that will actually go to the dingleberry- picker.

I got it! I'll let the government-- and foundations-- advertise for me. It's a company liberals and conservatives will both love. They'll shower me with cash. It should be easy... a piece of cake... er... Korean sesame.

I call the libertarians at the Cato Institute.

“Hello,” I tell 'em, “All Power to the Koch brothers and private enterprise.”

“All power to capital,” comes their reply. “What can we do for you?”

After a bit of explaining, I'm switched to a Mister DeLoit. I explain my plan to him.

“That's a great idea!” he says. “We'll contribute five million bucks to help you set up the project. Then we'll create a front grou... er... charitable organization, do a mass mailing, encourage people to support people standing on their own two feet...”

“Actually,” I say, “the work requires some kneeling...”

“Wise guy!” he says. “Now where was I... oh yeah, keep the government out of people's business. Let people earn their way in a free society. Start at the bottom. Learn the value of hard work and a dollar. Go from dingleberry picking to... to who knows where? Might even open a chain of pizza parlors... right? The sky's the limit.”

I nod into the phone.

“Now who should I make the check out to,” he continues. “And where should I send it? ...”

Well, that was a fruitful phonecall. Next I call THE NATION, that bastion of left-wing thinking.

“Hello,” I tell 'em, “all power to the people... especially the workers.”

“All power to labor,” comes the reply. “What can we do for you?”

After a bit of explaining, I'm switched to a Ms Jackson. I tell her my plan.

“That's a great idea,” she says. “The government can subsidize your organization... maybe make a contract. It'll be like Roosevelt and the WPA. Jobs, jobs jobs. Of course the workers will have to make a living wage. Your $2 an hour for the extreme effort of dingleberry-picking is much too low.”

“I understand,” I say. “How 'bout if we double it?”

“Excellent,” comes the answer. “We'll be creating real jobs. Useful work for workers who really get their hands dirty. And there are no plastics, chemicals or other environmental hazards.”

“There may be occasional gas,” I say.

 “Wise guy!” she says. “Now where was I... oh yeah. We could set up a lobby to encourage the government to hire dingleberry-pickers. We'll explain it's a public need. We'll contact the unions. Let them organize a Brotherhood of dingleberry-pickers Local 584. Get some government protection. It'll be like the WPA during Roosevelt's time. Jobs! Jobs! Jobs!”

It sounds like she's having an orgasm.

I clear my throat.

“Sorry,” she says, “I got carried away.... Anyway, you've got a great idea. We'll form a front group... er... Political Action Committee... to push the idea. Americans for Jobs Now, we'll call it. How much do you need? Will three million hold you over until we get things started?”

“I think I can get by on that,” I tell her. “It'll be a struggle, but I can do it.”

“Ok,” she says, “we'll make it four. I'd like to give more, but times are tough, you know.”

I thank her and hang up.

Okay, maybe there's something to this JOBS thing after all.

ENDNOTES: [email subscribers (god@mykelboard.coym) or blog viewers (mykelsblog.blogspot.com/) will get live links and a chance to post comments on the column]

-->Inspiration dept: For those who are just learning about anti-workism, the best source is the great essay by Bob Black. Called, The Abolition of Work, it's available for free on the internet. Just google it.

-->Ultimately THEY control it dept: San Francisco's BART subways system is the first American government agency to block internet use to discourage dissent. On August 11, 2011 BART cut off cell phone and internet access in some stations. They believed those stations would be targeted by protesters demonstrating against a transit shooting by transit police. It worked.

-->As if you need another reason to vote 3rd party dept: Obama has signed a law invalidating the constitution. The law allows indefinite imprisonment... without trial... a violation of the most basic law of any free society. In the U.S. the law violates the “due process” clause of the Constitution. Obama cast it aside...like his promises to close Guantanamo.

-->God or jail, which is worse? dept: In September 2011, Police Chief Michael Rowland of Bay Minette Alabama, announced a new program. Called "Operation Restore Our Community,” non-violent offenders would have an option of paying a fine, going to jail or attending church weekly for one year. At the end of 12 months, their records would be wiped clean. 
 There are not many religious choices in Bay Minette: several Protestant churches, one catholic, no synagogues, no mosques, and no B'hai temples. So it's off to the evangelicals... the good thing about it is that prisoners will learn what every goyish kid learns: church is a punishment. Jews learn that synagogue is a punishment. 

-->Government training dept: Wired Magazine revealed that, at the FBI training center in Quantico Virginia, new employees are told, "the more devout a Muslim is, the more likely he is to be violent." Sounds like a Christian to me. The same training material characterizes the prophet Muhammad as a "cult leader," 
 In a surprise move (When Good Things are Done by Bad People), Senators Joseph Lieberman (Israel's 100% patsy) and Republican, Susan Collins, sent a letter to the US Attorney General complaining about the training. They called it "inaccurate and even inflammatory." They're right. What got into them? 

-->Where there's a will there's a hustle dept: Hallmark Cards announced a new line of "cards for people who have lost their jobs," The cards come in six designs. It's not clear if any are congratulations cards. 

-->And if there's an attack did God allow it? dept: The Kentucky Court of Appeals said it's okay for Kentucky to give official credit for its homeland security to "Almighty God,” and put that credit on all official correspondence. Now, if there's a terrorist attack in Kentucky... who's responsible for the FAILURE of that security? Not that I'd advocate such a thing. Who me? God forbid! 

Mykel's MRR Column for #319, (December, 2009)

If you want to read more about Mykel's adventures in Albania, The US South-- or life in General-- check out Mykel's Diary For a look at the weird, the scary and the funny in real life, check out Mykel's Article's and Propositions.         

You're Wrong
An Irregular Column
for MRR 319, December 2009
by Mykel Board

“"They knew that in politics, like religion, power lay in certainty-- and that one man's certainty always threatened another.”-- Barak Obama

L'shona Tovah. Today is the first day of 5770. Pretty amazing we made it so far. At least I made it so far. Jim Carroll and Lux Interior did not.

SETTING THE SCENE: I sit in Café Café, a small place on Greene Street, tucked far enough into Soho to charge $9.50 for a sandwich. Too far south to be crowded with horrible NYU students, it's café enough to have teeth-grinding jazz blasting at the inmates. It's better than home, though. Fewer distractions. No dishes that suddenly need washing. No garbage that suddenly needs to be taken to the basement.

In front of me, behind my laptop, is a covered cup of coffee, the cover torn just enough to let me sip from it. The lid slowly melts in the coffee beneath.

In my lap (there's not enough room on the table), is a children's book called ALBANIA IN PICTURES. It's open to the page about Shkodër, one of the few “big” cities in the north of that country:

The residents of Shkodër rebuilt many of its buildings after a strong earthquake in 1979. One of the city's main attractions is The Museum of Atheism, which Albania's Communist government built to celebrate its ban on all forms of religious practice...

The Museum of Atheism??? Holy Pentateuch Batman! Sounds like my kind of place.

By the time you read this I'll probably be back from Albania. I leave in two weeks. No punk connections. No nothing. I just take the plane to Rome, a train across the boot, and a boat from Bari to Durres. I can't tell you what I expect to find (except, maybe, a museum of atheism.) That's why I'm going.

Give the Context: A couple months ago, I wrote about factives. This group of verbs creates truth... or at least the image of truth.

To review: verbs like know, realize, understand are factives. Phrases like everybody knows that, or nobody knows that... are factives.

If you say, “Everybody knows that Arnold is a piss drinker,” Arnold is a piss drinker. If you say, “Nobody knows that Arnold is a piss drinker,” Arnold is still a piss drinker.

Extend the context: There's another kind of factive-- a truism-factive. This one involves a cliché that unconsciously controls your point of view. It's a phrase that molds what we think. A one-sentence assumption.

My father used to say, “Never assume. It makes an ASS of U and ME.”

That phrase itself is one of these truism-factives. People say it all the time. Utter the words I assumed... and someone's sure to spit it out. Sometimes they'll just say “never assume.” You're supposed to fill in the rest. Everybody knows it. But... it's WRONG!

You assume all the time. You can't live without assuming. If you drop a marble, you assume it will fall to the ground, not shoot upwards through the ceiling. If you buy a cup of coffee at a Soho café, you assume it will not be laced with acid, tearing your stomach out, bubbling blood from your mouth at the first sip. As I type these words, I assume when I push the F key, the letter F will appear on the screen.

These assumptions come from 70 years of marble dripping, coffee sipping, and F-pushing. But even babies assume. If they press their lips against a warm nipple, for example, they assume it will dispense some tasty milk. Sometimes it doesn't happen, but to live, they have to assume.

Life is assumptions. Sometimes we're wrong. But we HAVE to assume in order to live. It's obvious. But people think in truism-clichés so they miss the obvious. The cliché trumps the reality.

More Context: It's 1989, somewhere on Second Avenue. This guy in Doc Martins wears a plastic jacket with a bunch of patches on it. He runs his hand over his smooth head.

Having recently been punched and booted by a colored skinhead, the image does not attract me. That this guy is white is scarier. As I turn to walk back to the Mars Bar, I read one of the patches on his jacket: IF IT DOESN'T KILL YOU, IT MAKES YOU STRONGER.

What the fuck? How many people have this truism-factive doing maneuvers in their mental battlefield? It's easy to see where it came from. If you give chickens antibiotics, the antibiotics kill off the weak bacteria. The strong ones survive. They do the bacteria screw, and the surviving bacteria get stronger. But that's it. Bacteria. Otherwise, the truism is WRONG.

I visit my father in an old folks home. I see people in wheelchairs. I see blind people. I see folks unable to speak, howling like wolves howl at a full moon. These people have diabetes, alzheimers, emphysema. Thousands of medical problems that don't kill them.. but make them WEAKER-- not stronger.

Of course, you die in the end, so you can say EVERYTHING kills you. But at any moment, if it doesn't kill you (unless you're a bacterium), it will probably make you WEAKER... not stronger. It's as obvious as the cancer on your nose, but you think in truism-clichés and miss the obvious.

The Crux: It's not only verbs, and truism-clichés that act this way. It's an entire mindset, a brainbug.

You hear something and it triggers a string of thoughts. Newspapers headline that a highschool girl is gang raped in the bathroom. Cops arrest four guys. They're looking for a fifth. The public is outraged.

Our girls, our daughters. How could we let this happen? We need more security in schools. We have to protect our women.

Here is the NY Post front page of September 19^th, several days after the “rape.”

Danmell Ndonye, 18, told cops she had been raped during a restroom romp at a Hofstra dorm early Sunday.

Stalin Felipe (left) and his cousin Arvin Rivera talked about their ordeal yesterday. Felipe credits Rivera, who had filmed the bathroom orgy, with clearing his and his friends' names.

He and his stepbrother, Kevin Taveras, 20, and pals Jesus Ortiz, 19, and Rondell Bedward, 21, were all charged with first-degree rape, which could have landed them in jail for 25 years.

"We went to Hofstra just to have some fun, and it turned out to be a nightmare," Felipe said. "Cops were telling us, 'You are going to rot in jail.' "

They were exonerated only after the fifth man -- Felipe's cousin Arvin Rivera, an 18-year-old senior at Harry S. Truman HS in The Bronx -- contacted prosecutors through his lawyer and said he had videotaped the sex romp with his cellphone. The video showed the sex was consensual.

Get it? The girl was lying! But we're so conditioned to believe the woman, the cops who were investigating reached their conclusions before they started. So did you.

How many innocents are in jail because people believe the victim. How many times have you heard cries against blaming the victim, when it may be that the victim is to blame!

This happens again and again. Remember the Duke University LaCross scandal in 2006? Even if you do, it probably won't matter. Let a woman cry rape and the guy is guilty. It's in your brain. Everybody knows men rape and women are victims, right?

The innocent woman/guilty man image is an idea thousands of years old. It's responsible for most of the gender inequality in the world. Woman's circumcision is mutilation. Men's is “protection against disease.” Husbands defend women's honor. Women can't defend themselves. Men are perpetrators. Women are victims.

Take Sweden... please.

“Enlightened people” say that Sweden has found the right way to handle prostitution. Instead of punishing the whores, as in most countries, Sweden gives them the right to ply their trade. BUT, if you frequent a prostitute, if you pay for the offered service... then you can go to prison.

Huh? That's the opposite of enlightened drug policy... or any criminal policy. It would be like saying, it's okay to sell heroin, but if you buy it, you go to jail. Talk about blaming the victims!! This is jailing the victims.

Where does such perverse thinking come from? It's a brainbug. An unconscious everybody knows it's true. The same brainbug that creates the knee-jerk reaction to cries of RAPE!

Women are victims. Most prostitutes are women. Most purchasers of prostitutes are men. That means the victims are the women. If that's the case, the criminals are the men. Jail them. Bullshit!

Careful thought shows the only victims are those created by the law. Prostitution, even more than drugs, is simply a paid relationship of mutual agreement. How could it be legal to have free sex between consenting adults, but illegal to have paid sex? Is there anything else in the world that's legal to give away, but illegal to pay for? I can't think of it. It doesn't make sense.

But sense has nothing to do with this. It's the mindset. Women are right. Women need protection. If there's a crime, women must be the victims. It never occurs to people that there may be NO victims.

Throwing up my hands: Ah fuck it. I'm going to Albania. There are no clichés about Albania. No performatives. There's NOTHING everybody knows about Albania. My brain will be free to make its own discoveries. Let's see what happens.

*******

ENDNOTES: [email subscribers (god@mykelboard.com) or website viewers (www.mykelboard.com) will get live links and a chance to post comments on the column]

-->Gimme Nuuk department: Greenland had its first election since it won near-independence from Denmark, my favorite country. The leftist Inuit Ataqatigiit Party of Greenland took control.
   Why? Global warming has melted the Greenland ice. Suddenly, the natives have access to natural resources worth exploring. The Greenlanders wanted control of their own resources. Danes, being Danes, let them have it.
    Speaking in the Greenlandian capital, Nuuk, the new leader said, “Greenland deserves this.” I hope he's right.

-->What's up Doc? dept: It used to be that doctors were the biggest block to healthcare in the U.S. In the old days, doctors opposed Medicare and any other government interference in the health biz.
    After a taste of rule by insurance company, a bunch of doctors are now head-banging to a different speedmetal song.
   Physicians for a National Health Care Program includes more than 16,000 healthcare professionals. It was started by Dr. Linda Farley who has since died of cancer.
   “The doctors who have been on the front lines can tell you,” Dr. Farley said, “there only one real 'public option.' It's single-payer.”
    That means socialized medicine. Yeah!

-->Plugging myself department: During my trip to Albania, I'll be blogging my adventures. And, depending on if I can find an internet site... and if my computer gets stolen, you can read that blog regularly at: http://mykelsdiary.blogspot.com/

-->A weird church-state issue: A Washington D.C. Christian Science church has sued that city's historical landmark department.
    They asked for the right to tear down their own church. It looks like a windowless war bunker, they said.
   At a press conference, church leaders said, “Little is more representative of a church’s theology than its architecture, and this building is not us.”
   The landmark department has reversed its ruling because of the suit. But since there is no plan for a replacement, the building still stands.
    A windowless war bunker, huh? Sounds like a pretty good representation of any religion to me.

-->A tougher church-state issue: During the last days of the Bush administration, the president issued new regulations about healthcare. The rules say the government will cut funding to any group, state or local government that does now allow workers to follow their religious conscience.
    That means pharmacists don't have to fill birth-control prescriptions if it goes against their beliefs. Lab workers don't have to give lesbians in-vitro fertilization if it goes against their beliefs. Catholic hospitals can refuse to provide morning-after pills to rape victims, if they believe it's a sin.
    Who is right? Should the government force workers to violate their beliefs? Or should there be equal treatment for all in need of it?
   I say, if you're gonna go for the belief side, you gotta go whole hog. My belief system says that wage-slavery... expending effort for the profit of someone else... capitalism... is immoral. For me, to participate in such a system is a sin. I want the right to my paycheck without the duty to actually work. If my employer has to respect MY BELIEFS, then I agree with the religious guys. Let 'em follow their conscience.
   Otherwise, face it, in capitalism, we DON'T respect the beliefs of working people. That's the whole point.

-->Good news department: Ward Churchill, the guy who was fired from the University of Colorado for saying the World Trade Center victims were little Eichmans, won a lawsuit against the university. It's not clear whether he'll be rehired, but it is still one small victory in the fight for free speech and academic freedom.

-end-

You're Wrong
An Irregular Column
by Mykel Board (for MRR 288)

Ninety percent of the politicians give the other ten percent a bad reputation --Henry Kissinger


If you're going to do something right, why bother doing it at all? --Mykel Board


By the time your read this, I'll be back from my trip to Australia and New Zealand. As I write it, I haven't yet left. Before I leave, there are two things I want to write about. That's why there are two parts to this column.

Of course, there's a chance I'll fly into some building or die from spongebrain caused by mad kangaroo disease. You never know. So if this is my last column, let it at least be a mediocre one.


PART ONE: In a novel called Skinny Dip, Carl Hiaasen writes about a fake ecological charity. Created by agricultural and industrial polluters, the organization poses as an earth-friendly bunch. They go door-to-door asking residents if they “support the rain forests.”

“Certainly” people say. “I'm concerned about damage to the rain forests.”

Then the hustlers explain how that means that Congress needs to allow agribusiness to cut down US trees and drill for oil in the American wilderness. If they do it here, they won't have to do it in Indonesia. That saves rain forests.

The plot is pure satire. A vision of a 1984-like world. A newspeak world where the fox protects the chickens by making more foxes.

Life imitates art. Two of the most evil Republicans: Joe Lieberman and John McCain have joined in a clear... But let's go back to the beginning.

I'm wiping the Vicks VapoRub from my balls. Aah, that was nice. A new PornoTube vid. A long one. Seven minutes of one guy and his webcam, but yowsah! What a show!
As I finish wiping up, I notice an envelope sticking out from the pile of papers on my desk. It's from The Environmental Defense Fund. Usually, I just toss this stuff. These groups are all the same. Some stupid save-the-something organization that will give me a canvas bag with a picture of the earth on it... in exchange for a minimum donation of $25.

Yeah right.

But for some reason, I open this one. Sure as semen, it asks for money. BUT, it's signed Joe Lieberman and John McCain!! Yikes! What's the scam? Reading further, I see that it wants laws to create pollution credits. These allow corporations to trade their filth-creation rights. The LeberCain crew says:

Such a system encourages innovation and creates incentives for companies to find the least-costly technologies that allow people to do what they need to do in their daily lives -- from heating homes to driving cars -- while meeting our environmental responsibilities.

The idea of pollution credits is mind boggling. It's saying that A can break the law if B sells A credits for the times B doesn't break the law. Instead of making pollution illegal, it says that it's okay to pollute, as long as you give money to someone who doesn't pollute.

It's the ultimate extension of the market economy. A right to violate the law that you can buy from or sell to someone else. Amazing! And, they offer a canvas tote bag with a picture of the earth on it.

“Wow!” I think. “What an idea! I've got to get myself to Bar Nomiso and check this out.”

I walk down Bleecker Street to the little bar around the corner from where CBGBs used to be. I look for the small blue neon sign. Most people just pass the place by.

“What's a Nomiso?” they think, hurrying down the bock to The Model Bar.

Entering the bar, I wave to George Metesky, the bar-tender. About my size, he has a full head of dark black hair and a belt-busting waistline. He's been here 30 years and looks exactly like he did when he started. I wonder how he does it.

I glance around at the mostly empty bar and walk to the back. I enter the door under the sign that says MEN. The room is empty. I go into the third stall, and scrunch up under the toilet tank. Pressing out the hollowed wall, I push through to the other side.

The mensroom I leave looks much like the one I entered, but I've done this before. I know the truth. I've entered a trial world. A world of ideas, where I can test my theories.

Coming out of the mensroom, I stop at the bar.

“Hi George,” I say.

“Got a new theory?” he asks me.

I smile.

“Give me a Wild Turkey with a Brooklyn chaser,” I tell him.

He shakes his head and whistles. After pouring the drinks, I pound back the W.T. and suck down the Brooklyn lager.

“That'll run ya' eight fifty,” says George.

“I'm running a tab,” I tell him. “Fill it up again.”

The goddess bartendress Sharon introduced me to Wild Turkey about 10 years ago. For those who get a buzz from Bud Lite, I'll tell you W.T. is hardcore. It burns the stomach and numbs the brain. One shot will make you woozy. Two shots will get you drunk. You won't make it to four.

I beat this one back, slamming my glass down hard. George knows that means another. I down that one. Then another. Then:

“One more!” I yell, “I shink zhatsh almosht enough.”

“Mykel,” says George, “you're 65 years old and five foot three. Don't you think you've had enough?”

“ONE MORE!” I yell, even louder.

George shakes his head.

“Sorry, Mykel,” he says. “I'm cutting you off.”

“Ah hah!” I tell him. “Zhachs what I wash hopin' you'd shay! Shee, you CAN'T cut me off! I got drunk credits!”

I open my wallet and pull out an officially signed and sealed document. I pass it over to George.

“I got 'em off zhis Morman,” I say. “He never drinksh, sho he wazhn't gonna uzhe 'em. Costsh me eighty dollars, but I can drink till I puke”

George examines the documents, shrugs, and pours me another drink. I slam it back... and puke.

Puking on a bar floor is usually a signal that it's time to leave that bar. Debating briefly whether I can manage the superhero feat of jumping from the stool to the floor, I take the plunge. And plunge I do, slipping in my own barf, smashing cheek-first into the wooden floor. The smell of vomit fills my nose and makes me sicker. The guffaws of the other patrons barely penetrate my pickled brain.

Somehow I manage to crawl out of the bar and prop myself up against the side of the building. Fishing a copy of the New York Post out of a garbage can, I use the sports section to clean the blood and puke off the side of my face.

I'm not feeling too good. I puke again, using the paper to wipe my mouth off. Suddenly it hits. The beer and W.T. have worked themselves through my system and now press against my bladder, begging for release.

Usually, I can't piss in public. But if I'm drunk enough, I can let loose that steaming yellow stream almost anywhere. That includes against this cop car parked at the curb. I expect this will cause some fun. I'm right.

“Okay Buster,” comes the Brooklyn-bred voice to my left. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I look and see two guys in uniform. Both with mustaches. Both with faces as blurry as an MRR band photo. Before I have time to reinsert my little friend inside his cubby-hole, I feel my arms being pulled behind my back.

“You're under arrest,” says one of the mustaches. “Public urination, defacing public property, indecent exposure and... and resisting arrest.”

“I'm afraid not officers,” I say. “If you'll reach into my back pocket you'll see my public urination credits. I bought them off this woman in Montana. She lives by herself in the woods and rarely goes into town. She can pee anywhere and no one will know. Montana is a big state with nothing but trees. She sold me her credits real cheap. She was never gonna use 'em.”

Before they ask, I continue, “I also have indecent exposure credits I bought from an injured Iraqi vet. Friendly fire blew off his personal equipment, so he has nothing he can expose. Sold me his credits.”

The cop reaches into my back pocket to pull out and examine the papers. I use the temporary relaxation of restraint to put myself back into my pants. Despite the long wagging in the wind, a few last drops drip down the inside of my leg.

The cops know they're helpless against my credits. They get back in the car and take off. As for me, ah, zee night eez young!

Slightly more sober, I start my trek toward Hell's Kitchen. Staggering up the street, I skirt the muggers spending their mugging credits (purchased from spinsters in Des Moines) ripping off Japanese tourists. On Eleventh Ave. I pause, stopped in my tracks by the screams of burning people caught in a building with inadequate fire escapes.

The landlord had purchased his building code violation credits from a Wyoming log cabin builder. The arsonist, I later learn, got his arson credits from a scuba diver in Miami.

Me? I'm heading for the 16 year old hooker on 41st street, right behind the Port Authority bus terminal. A hot Latina, who is, in another world, jailbait. But I've got a pocketful of teen sex credits, and my little no-longer-dripping friend is aching to use 'em.

“Maritza! Maritza!” I shout, waving my credits in the air. “I've got credits! I've got credits.”

“Mykel! Mykel!” comes a Spanish tinged voice. “Tu tienes dinero tambien?”

“Si!” I shout, “Lo tengo!”

Soon we're joined in conjugal bliss, my aging equipment solidly strong thanks to erection credits I bought from a priest in Milwaukee. All too soon, the night is over and I have to return to that old mensroom in Bar Nomiso.

Maritza and I do a quick fifth one, I head back to the bar, a smile pasted on my face. I wave to George as I head for the mensroom into the stall and out the other side. It would be nice if there were credits that would give me more than a day on the other side, but those kinds of credits do not exist... yet.

Trading credits to break the law, huh? Maybe it's not such a bad idea.

PART TWO: According to the latest poll, G.W. has a favorability rating of 27%. Even Republicans are running to distance themselves from the guy.

But what if things aren't that clear cut? My favorite authors: Celine, Hamsun were Nazis. Even Jimmy Carter, my favorite human, was not a great president. So you separate the person from the idea. The artist from the art. The politician from the politics. And you judge independently. You see value in one, while not liking the other.

So what happens when a person you really hate shows the kind of moral integrity you really love? What happens when someone who is wrong about everything is wrong in a way that you have to admire? What happens is George W. Bush.

As time passes, I'm liking the guy more and more. I don't like the war. I don't like the religious shit. But I like him. He lost the last election for the Republicans. He wants to strengthen troops in a massively unpopular war. A war that most people (including me) think should be ended immediately. He doesn't give a shit about public opinion, or elections or even the constitution for that matter.

Bill Clinton was his opposite. Clinton had to read the opinion polls to know which shoelace to tie first. He never made a decision without 50 advisers telling him what everybody else thought.

Bush isn't like that. He has his ideas and he sticks with them. Like an anarchist throwing a bomb on Haymarket Square, he has a clear vision of the omelet he has to break eggs to make.

Someone told me that 12% of the American people believe Bush is right in increasing the troop strength. TWELVE PERCENT??? But he doesn't care. I have to admire him for that.

ENDNOTES: [email subscribers (god@mykelboard.com) or website viewers (www.mykelboard.com) will get live links and a chance to email comment on the column]

--> Now don't you feel superior dept: Yeah, the last column was my annual April Fool's column. The truth is that I have NOT converted to Islam. The method of conversion, of course, was also bogus. All the bible and Koran quotes, however, were real, as were the endnotes.

-->Now don't you feel safe dept: The Washington Post notes that two members of the Montgomery County Homeland Security Department walked into the library in Bethesda Maryland. They announced that "the viewing of Internet pornography is forbidden."
          After the announcement, one of the men challenged an Internet user's choice of websites and "asked him to step outside." A librarian intervened. Someone else called the local cops. The Homelanders left.
          Later that afternoon, Bruce Romer, the County's chief administrative officer, called the incident "unfortunate" and "regrettable."
         “The security division is not responsible for enforcing obscenity laws,” he said.
         The homeland officers have since been reassigned to other duties.

-->By the time you read this, I'll be back from Australia. Unfortunately, I won't have a chance to see Ayers Rock. Actually, I'll NEVER have a chance to see Ayer's Rock. It is no longer Ayer's Rock.
             In a case of political correctness rivaling the worst of the academics, Ayer's Rock has been renamed ULURU-- its aboriginal name. Now I wonder when they're going to rename Delaware, LENAPE. That's what the original Delaware Indians called themselves. At least that's what I've heard in New Iroquois.

--> As if you need another reason to hate her dept: Hillary Clinton has joined with our old pal Joe Lieberman in introducing The Family Entertainment Protection Act. The bill requires heavy fines for retailers who sell “violent or explicit” games to minors. Sure Hill, support the Iraqi war, but you wouldn't want to give the kids violent video games, now would you?

-->Twin Brains? dept: People who guessed at whatsmyimage.com don't seem to fall for stereotypes. The website had people guess GPAs for female students with bra cup sizes from A to DD. Web surfers guessed A-cup students to have only a .3 point average above their D-cup classmates.
             Even that was probably skewed. How many of the A-cup students were Orientals? Everybody knows that Orientals score A's on both the academic and bra-size front.
            Oh yeah,  although the report of the differing opinions was made public, it was not revealed if the answers were right.

 -end-