By David Glenn Cox
It is a strange world after all, odd and peculiar in many ways. Like someone’s puttin us on. Like it’s all a big joke and you’ll laugh about this one day. During your long stay in eternity, either floating in the ether or enticing the flames.
I find myself on this road on purpose accidently. I called some of my (so called) friends and explained, “Hey look guys, I’m starting a website and thought maybe you’d like to help me out. With say, two million dollars?” Some friends huh?
So it is, I find myself with that little Tucker fucker in the media biz. He started his website with $2,000,000 a dream and a prayer. I started my website with a little less than that. (Thanks everyone!) But it’s not that I do it on a much leaner budget, it’s that I probably couldn’t stop doing it anyway. It would just build up inside of me until I was so full of it, I’d explode.
I was raised inside of politics. My earliest memory is of a JFK poster in our picture window. That would make me somewhere, around three or four years of age. I was in Dallas November 22nd, Montgomery in the Spring &Summer of 65 for the march from Selma to Montgomery. I was in Chicago for the Democratic National Convention in 1968, and the affiliated police riot.
There are lots of writing jobs out there, but it’s hard for me to lock out the politics. “You’re teeth will look whiter! You’re friends will hardly notice you can’t afford to go to the dentist.” A few thousand bucks spent on child dentistry would save millions in adult misery and dentistry.
But no, no we can’t do that. Oh no, helping little children would be much too much, like the creeping hand of Socialism. Fix your own damn teeth kid. Whadda, you think this is you freeloader, Russia?
So little Tuck, Tuck, and I both have an agenda, and I make no bones about mine. I lampoon and eviscerate Republicans at every turn of a card. In much the same way as the eternally dammed sizzling soul of Rush Limbaugh, once did to Democrats . Only unlike Rush, I tell the god’s honest truth. Or the truth as I see it, through the lens of Liberal politics. (The whole Jesus thing about truth)
Now, little Tuck, Tuck earns his bread and limos by kicking the back of the chicken coup and stirring up the hens. He loves to attack women in the military. He likes to imply that our military is being feminized and is somehow degraded by their service.
Lil Tuck, Tuck never served in the military. But don’t let it hurt your feelings, he’s only saying it because there is a Democrat in office. All part of the plan, everything is wrong with the world! Doom awaits us, around every corner. No thanks to YOU! Joe Biden.
Me, I try to point out some of the lunacy all around us, with maybe a chuckle or two. But would earn a better living through pan handling. Not too many paying jobs on the left. Billionaires with a Leftist agenda with a couple million dollars in lunch money are far and few between in these parts. It’s perfectly understandable, the two being natural enemies and all, but is still financially frustrating.
There are lots of jobs for writers, if you want to be told what to say, (Make sure you use the key words. It’s very important for the algorithm) Then say it over and over again. Messages with stories around them. Selling products and making Internet commercialism great again.
The things you can say and the things you can’t say. Don’t say that; the sponsor wouldn’t like it. We live in a world where they moved homeless people out of sight. So, the visitors to the Super bowl, wouldn’t see them on the drive in from the airport.
But the story was (yuck, yuck you’re gonna die, when I tell you this) They ran out of executive jet parking! Can you believe it? All the local airport tarmacs were slammed full of private jets, isn’t that something? Forced to take as long as a ninety-minute drive in the back of a limo all the way to a skybox. But at least it’s safe to look out the window. See, I just can’t help it!
There is a formula and an approved method to writing and reporting the news. Just as long ago, the radio announcers wore a tuxedo and cupped their hand behind his ear and spoke melodiously into the microphone. The sacred store is gone, replaced by M-TV, replaced by, replaced by. Always remember what they told the Beatles, “Try to sound like everyone else.”
In this day of content creation, everyone sells merchandise. I’ve thought about it “Plain White” This Carbon-Based Life Tee shirts! And plain white This Carbon-Based Life coffee mugs. (Also available in Black) Show your friends and co-workers where you stand on merchandising and sponsorships and order yours today! I don’t write to sell coffee mugs, tee shirts or subscriptions.
I do it, because I want to do it. Like that mime in the park, “maybe there’s something wrong with him? Surely, he has something better with his time than that?”
But there has to be reason, to see so many political things at such a young age, it had to make some sort of an impression on me. The segregation and the ceiling fans of the old south dying. The murder of a President and the murder of his accused killer live on TV. These things reach from inside the TV and take a hold of a child. Klansmen and Dr. King, Montgomery busses and George Wallace.
I grew up affluent and was then poor. I became affluent again and was then even poorer still. Why show me these things spirits? Tell me there is some purpose here and not just some cosmic gag.
My writing career began around the age of six, though no early works survive. I wrote stories, I wrote excuses, I wrote 500 times, I will not talk in class. (Maybe you read it?) I wrote news for the local High School radio station.
This Carbon-Based Life was recently accused of being a fake newspaper. I assure you there is nothing fake about it. My name is on it and an email address too. It would do me better financially if I was more fake. Pretended that I had lots of employees, but I can’t do that. I’m not trying to fool anyone here.
I don’t do this for the money; money would be nice, but that’s why I do this. I’m too old to march in the street, and I’ve got this penchant for writing. Everything that comes in through my eyes and ears comes out as my political opinion through my fingertips.
No one tells me what to write or when to write it, no publishers , editors, message minders or sponsors. My website is just a legitimate as little Tuck, Tuck’s website and probably more so. Except, he spent two million dollars on his website and has sponsors and editors, who tell em what to say. Yet, I’m the one accused of being fake.
It is a strange world after all, odd and peculiar in many ways. Like someone’s puttin us on. Like it’s all a big joke and you’ll laugh about this one day during your long stay in eternity, either floating in the ether or enticing the flames.
“You believe in a book that has talking animals, wizards, witches, demons, sticks turning into snakes, burning bushes, food falling from the sky, people walking on water, and all sorts of magical, absurd and primitive stories, and you say that we are the ones that need help?”
― Mark Twain