Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose...

independence day, what to do?  lets see, theres beer bottles, bottle rockets, and bombs over baghdad.  aw shit, here he goes again...

i know what we, as free, white men can do.  we'll catch a movie.  yeah! but which one? 

hmm, theres spider man.  nah, best left to print.  how about the chronicles of riddick?  well, im not so sure.  seems kinda dumb.  okay then what about the stepford wives?  no way, my fag card was maxed out during last night's annual trip to the bar complex...not really sure if i could set myself any freer, but with sabrina's full and compliant support fused with the chaotic energy exploding all around us like, well-umm-fireworks, what could i have done?

decisions often must be made quickly.  and unfortunately for me, im usually left to assume a credit for direction.  must be my fluidity that people become dependent on.  dont really know for sure...my crotch is way too sore from fence straddlin'.

so back to my entertainment dammit!  its got to be about meeting my needs.  im very selfish (having most always supported my personal "statement" as *suggestion to others in hopes of lifting the fog of frigidity), and want more, more, more.  so now that youre no longer interested, i do tend to have what was once referred to as "diarrhea of the mouth," i will tell you which "flicks with dick" flick i picked (you know what to do and how many times to do it). 

farenheit 9/11.  of course i saw this one.  michael moore is great.  toes a fine line, he does.  sometimes with ease (seems to be most comfortable around workadays, radicals and corporate creeps), sometimes bumblimg and blubbery (more on this later).  all in all though, i enjoy his humble brand of critical investigation.

great flick.  everyone in this country should see it.  children should be forced into large yellow busses and shipped to their local octo-plex to see it, billing it the board of education friendly "field trip to freedom."  or as the french would say, "réceptionner le voyage à la liberté."  *funny how lost in translation we all are.

it is a little off though.  as i said before, he comes across a smidge bumbly.  out of his element when approaching capital hill cronies for some reason.  not as racy as when he was all but banging on gm ceo roger smith's proverbially-and quite literally-locked doors.  not that it lacks conviction, but he sorta accidentally exposes his own political roots.  lets those really watching see what a god-n-guns, fried apple pie, give me liberty or give me an oscar kinda guy he was raised by his momma to be.  it shows man...

but the power of the message.  wow!  itll getcha when you least expect it to.  just when you think youve heard this liberal crap a thousand times before [yet nothing ever happens of these useless, misguided, pc jargon spewin' bitch-o-crats], right in for the money!  gw declaring himself dictator; gw declaring his decision making process supremely guided by war; gw sitting avec arrogance among a classroom of children who would each serve this counrty as fearless leader a gazillion times better than he; gw sitting in same classroom [though a bit more confused in appearance as news reaches his ear] as 3,000 innocent black, white, red, yellow and blue, gay, straight, multisexual, asexual, microsexual and macrosexual, concerned, informed, tired, angry, confused, sad, joyless, thrilled, bored, hungry, spiritual, catholic, protestant, muslim, jew, agnost, pagan, cock lover, pussy basher, foot fetish, nambla supporter, stupid jerk, republican, democrat, libertarian and green, friend of coal and fucker of war, white collar, red neck, blue jean baby, la lady, and seamstress for the band women, men and children saw the end of time that we as spectators only know as reality tv; gw corn pone confirming the super rich and elite his "base"; gw lying in the names of those very diverse thousands who mostly wanted nothing more than to get home and have a tall glass of calm, coca-cola freedom; gw being.  may all the gods dwelling in the farthest spreads of the vast and infinite heaven above bless the usa.  ♠♠♠♠♠

see what i mean?  it gets you as it should.  as it should indeed.

yeah, thats enough for now. 

dickcarter, downward drifter

AREA VAMP'S MIRACLE REUNION WITH DISTANT, UNCARING FATHER DUBBED "END OF THE LINE" FOR LIES, DECEIT AND DELUSION.  FRIENDS FEAR FABRICATION.

SHELLY AND SHANSKY----ITS OVER!!!

GAY CLUB SCENE METROSEXUAL OPENLY HOMOPHOBIC.

NEW STUDY FINDS MARRIAGE WITH CHILDREN BROADENS WAR TORN HORIZONS; DENIAL NOW LINKED TO SUCCESSFUL CAREERS, HAPPIER FAMILIES.

RUN-AWAY BRIDE TIES KNOT...LOOSELY.

PRETENDER®

“REPRESSION ROCK” PARTY PLANNED BY UNEMPLOYED, MISUNDERSTOOD DESPOT.  THEME TO HIGHLIGHT EVENING’S HOLLOW INTENTIONS, VICTIMIZED GUESTS; SLATTED AS “I CAN'T CONTROL WHAT I DON'T KNOW.”

LOCAL, AGING QUEEN DECRIES “VOLUNTEER COMMITMENT” AS USELESS, NECESSARY.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Shanal has left the building.

dickcarter, sorely satisfied or remotely relieved

psst...he's back

today is as overrated as serious relationships.  tomorrow is no more convincing than chemotherapy.  yesterday makes me cry.

i need a xanax.  wait, i just took one.  hmmm, that explains this sudden urge to spill some of the garbage juice from my weather exposed trash can brain.  so im sitting in the public library.  an odd place, the library.  next to me is an old woman dressed in soft pastels, coordinated with her shoes of thin cotton.  im thinking Roman's or at least Cato's.  to my juxtaposed right, an extremely handsome college boy with rocker long hair and a serious expression idles away, cleaning his nails between  dull, twice spell-checked text entries.  what could he be thinking?  id like to convince myself hes there, thoughts racing, waiting for the ideal moment to come over and ask me a political or social question, to which of course, i would reply in my typical grab bag retort.  i do fear the white haired, net nanny at nine o'clock would somehow ruin it, but when youre at the hands of the socialist [re]public library, complaints are filed autocrat.  NEXT!

whispering seems to be of such grand importance to me of late.  im hearing so much of it here, but no matter where i seem to find myself, the whispers follow.  in my office, at lunch over cold sandwiches and hot heads, in the car, out with friends looking for my missing piece, and most recently in my bed, alone and dark, surprisingly sober.  now i realize that less is more, so i should keep in mind the impact my words have on those they fall silently upon, but im beginning to believe my destiny is nothing more than rotting tuna salad, heat activated; chocking all those exposed to the point of climactic regurgitation. 

speaking of destiny, just yesterday i was in a staffing session where myself, the medical director and our program sponsor sat in with a former methadone patient who had recently requested readmission into the clinic.  these sessions are decidedly insignificant, but "clinically" believed to be of some importance.  clients come in, pull out a few tears, and let the three of us know just how very badly they need to be in treatment again.  at any rate, i found myself wondering if i even knew what was going on.  if when the precious doctor asked me if i had any questions for the proposed readmitted, i even knew who the hell he was referring to.  i found myself questioning my place, but perhaps most importantly i found myself wondering where i would be between treatment and illicit idealism.  maybe just the 9 month traveling blues, but who i was sitting there is nowhere near who i think i am for most of the rest.

damn, i have 5 minutes left.  time to save my work.  goodbye.

dickcarter, library patron saint

Fraudulent Motivation

a grammatical examination of the ten most deceptively effective means to ill gotten ends

1.  Retribution (ret`ri*bu"tion), n. [L. retributio: cf. F. r['e]tribution.] 1.That which is given in repayment or compensation; return suitable to the merits or deserts of, as an action; commonly, condign punishment for evil or wrong

2.  Rebuttal (re*but"tal), n. (Law) The giving of evidence on the part of a plaintiff to destroy the effect of evidence introduced by the defendant in the same suit.3.  Pretense (prtns, pr-tns) n. The act of pretending; a false appearance or action intended to deceive.

4.  Secrecy (skr-s) n. The quality or condition of being secret or hidden; concealment.

5.  Sublimation n 1: (psychology) modifying the natural expression of an impulse or instinct (especially a sexual one) to one that is socially acceptable

6.  Exaggeration (g-zj-rt) v.To represent as greater than is actually the case; overstate

7.  Denial (d-nl) n. An unconscious defense mechanism characterized by refusal to acknowledge painful realities, thoughts, or feelings.

8.  Deflection (de*flec"tion), n. [L. deflexio, fr. deflectere: cf. F. d['e]flexion.] 1. The act of turning aside, or state of being turned aside; a turning from a right line or proper course; a bending, esp. downward; deviation.

9.  Pity (pt) n. Sympathy and sorrow aroused by the misfortune or suffering of one's self or another.

10.  Revenge (r-vnj) tr.v.To inflict punishment in return for (injury or insult).

dickcarter, stonedxors

O holy night!
The drinks are portly pouring
It is the night of Dick's holiday mirth!
Long lay the world so sad and sober whining
Till he did pour and the cup felt its worth.
A thrill of dope his weary friends rejoicing
For yonder breaks a new fifth of gin!

Fall on your knees
Oh hear the drinker's choices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Dick was torn
Oh night divine
Oh night divine

Led by the light the Bentleys arrived a beaming
With blood-shot eyes came D, Brad and Toots
So led by plight the Greeks abundantly scheming
Here come the unwitting folks from methadone land
The Music Man lay thus in drunken stuper
With J and B, Shay did spark dear Joy's rant

Fall on your knees
Oh hear the drunkard's voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Dick was torn
Oh night divine
Oh night divine

The circumference of A Perfect Circle is greater than the length of the beer line.

dickcarter has been imprisoned by the mad mosh. to escape he must find the quickest way to move from one pot propelled parasite to another so that the disciples have the same adulatory arrangement as on the original beer run. he may move only one apostle at a time. what is the minimum number of moves he must make in order to secure six beers at two fists per purchase without disrupting the drug-induced, dogmatic doctrinaires?  see diagram.

All of us under its spell, we know that its probably magic...

Have you been half asleep? And have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
The voice might be one and the same
I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm s'posed to be...
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

dickcarter, polysubstance abuse specialist & arthur murray drop out

since ive never been to washington dc, our nations capitol, i feel the overwhelming need to experience as much political chicanery as possible while imagining a world where protesting was "normal" and folks lined up just to hear 'em sing about it...

nonetheless, i cant freakin wait!  i figure ive waited too long to witness the imperio-capitalistic machine hard at work(?)

dickcarter, road trippin