Wake Up or Die: Living Behind Enemy Lines; Poisonous Sheeple Slobber

Poisonous Sheeple Slobber

sheeple: silly people who have all the bad attributes of sheep behavior and none of the good

The cover of the direct mail brochure was promising. A soft focus sepia photograph of a White Girl in a long white dress. Open to a sepia photo of a beautiful blonde Boychild holding antlers above his head in a pagan posture. More sepia--a young dancer's legs jumping up from a field of daisies. The brochure is from a magazine called "The Sun" in Charlotte, North Carolina. I was intrigued enough to begin reading. It only took reading 3 blurbs before I groaned and wanted to throw down this seductively packaged poisonous slobber. The origin of irritation questions began. Every day I have to swim through Sheeple Slobber in the San Francisco Bay Area. Why waste resources sending Sheeple Slobber to me from across the nation? Am I on the list of Most Likely to Subscribe to Mind-Numbing Sentimental Sheeple Slobber Publications?

Irritation done. New state. Calling on Creativity. In the spirit of "How Can I Have Some Fun With This?" here's a new parlor game to play:

1) Identify the degradation subtext in the slobber
2) Respond to the Slobberer

Ready to play? Okay. I'll go first.

"Strawberries are too delicate to be picked by machine. The perfectly ripe ones bruise at even too heavy a human touch. It hit her then that every strawberry she had ever eaten--every piece of fruit--had been picked by callused human hands. Every piece of toast with jelly represented someone's knees, someone's aching back and hips, someone with a bandanna on her wrist to wipe away the sweat. Why had no one told her about this before?"
Allison Luterman, "What We Came For"

1) Subtext: Americans exploit others to get their food and are stupid in addition to being greedy.

2) Response: Here's an idea, A.L.--Grow your own strawberries if you are wracked with guilty realizations when you put jelly on your toast. I've grown strawberries and highly recommend doing so. The main problem is not eating all the freshly picked strawberries right there in your garden. Also, if you need someone to tell you where strawberries come from and how they are harvested, growing your own will help you to figure it out. As far as aching back and hips, you might try 16 hours at the computer. As a college student, I did brief stints picking tomatoes and apricots. Both occupations cause aches and pains.You will also be interested to know that most people work for their livings, and agriculture work paid more before the Cheap Labor Junkies and their Socialist allies opened the floodgates for massive Third World immigration. Perhaps you'll appreciate the irony that as millions of immigrant farmworkers compete with U.S. Citizens for wages, the wages go down. The immigrant families are subsidized with money extracted from U.S. taxpayers under threat of financial ruin and jail. That's what the farmworkers came for.

"Recently, with great fanfare, the media heralded a possible treatment for obesity that had helped mice lose weight. For most of the world's population, famine is a reality, but for us a mouse losing weight is big news."
Gretchen Newmark, "Hunger"

1) Subtext: Stupid Americans are obsessed with the picayune while the rest of the world goes hungry.

2) Response: Who is Us, Gretchen? Are you a Media Meatpuppet speaking to other Media Meatpuppets? Just who do you think was obsessed with the mouse's weight? Personally, I wrote to ABC asking them to cover substantive issues like what's going on with the Federal Reserve which controls our money but is neither a Federal agency nor a reserve. Gretchen, I asked if their microminds could encompass such an investigation. Apparently not. No program and they didn't even reply to my letter. Fancy that. The Hunger the We that includes me have is Hunger for Nourishing Truth--not the anti-substance reported in the dominant media .

"I served in the Peace Corps in a remote village in central Ghana. One day, I came upon an old man wandering aimlessly, totally naked, muttering to himself and gesturing to unseen companions. I asked my cook, Atia, about the old man, and he replied, "That's old Kwaku. He's an elder of the village." I told Atia that in my society Kwaku would be put behind bars and denied his freedom, and probably be given drugs. Atia shook his head and remarked, "You Americans have many shameful customs."
Bonnie Jean O'Neal, "Nudity"

1) Subtext: blah blah blah Shame on the Americans

2) Response: Aaaaaargh. Where to begin. Bonnie, who paid for the Peace Corps? Shameful customs of Americans include piping billions of dollars earned by the sweat of Americans to Third World people who couldn't keep their corrupt leaders from making billionaires of themselves. Shameful? Keeripes. Did you get a frisson of excitement trashing the people who were paying for your behind to be in Ghana? How was it having a cook? I thought you Peace Corps types had to cook for yourselves. Oh, guess the economy was so downtrodden you could get servants for pennies. Gee, wonder why you just didn't stay in Ghana. Of course, you might like it in Berkeley. Going down the back stairs and coming upon one of the aimless wanderers urinating on the building just wasn't fun for me. Perhaps you'd get a kick out of repeated confrontations and having to call the police because one of the aimless wanderers was perfectly comfortable sleeping in the back yard for months. How about having your gardening equipment stolen and having the irrigation controller for your environmentally correct drip irrigation being ripped off and the water left on full so the backyard floods? But I digress. There's nothing like distance from "the downtrodden" to increase their appeal. The more I think on it, the more I know you should be here to experience Creeping Blight and the Invasion of the Third Worlders and the suicidal rants of the EthnoGroupies. Why go to Ghana when you can have all the misery right here in shameful America?

Oops, I did run on there. Hope you like the new parlor game. Help yourself to as much Sheeple Slobber as you want. I think I've had enough.

Friends and Allies Only Email to: NotAZombie@aol.com

Copyright © 1997 Elena Haskins.
Reproduction strictly prohibited without advance written permission.
All Rights Reserved.

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	Poisonous Sheeple Slobber

	sheeple: silly people who have all the bad attributes of sheep behavior and none of the good

	The cover of the direct mail brochure was promising. A soft focus sepia photograph of a White Girl in a long white dress. Open to a sepia photo of a beautiful blonde Boychild holding antlers above his head in a pagan posture. More sepia--a young dancer's legs jumping up from a field of daisies. The brochure is from a magazine called "The Sun" in Charlotte, North Carolina. I was intrigued enough to begin reading. It only took reading 3 blurbs before I groaned and wanted to throw down this seductively packaged poisonous slobber. The origin of irritation questions began. Every day I have to swim through Sheeple Slobber in the San Francisco Bay Area. Why waste resources sending Sheeple Slobber to me from across the nation? Am I on the list of Most Likely to Subscribe to Mind-Numbing Sentimental Sheeple Slobber Publications? Irritation done. New state. Calling on Creativity. In the spirit of "How Can I Have Some Fun With This?" here's a new parlor game to play: 1) Identify the degradation subtext in the slobber 2) Respond to the Slobberer Ready to play? Okay. I'll go first.

	"Strawberries are too delicate to be picked by machine. The perfectly ripe ones bruise at even too heavy a human touch. It hit her then that every strawberry she had ever eaten--every piece of fruit--had been picked by callused human hands. Every piece of toast with jelly represented someone's knees, someone's aching back and hips, someone with a bandanna on her wrist to wipe away the sweat. Why had no one told her about this before?" Allison Luterman, "What We Came For"

	1) Subtext: Americans exploit others to get their food and are stupid in addition to being greedy. 2) Response: Here's an idea, A.L.--Grow your own strawberries if you are wracked with guilty realizations when you put jelly on your toast. I've grown strawberries and highly recommend doing so. The main problem is not eating all the freshly picked strawberries right there in your garden. Also, if you need someone to tell you where strawberries come from and how they are harvested, growing your own will help you to figure it out. As far as aching back and hips, you might try 16 hours at the computer. As a college student, I did brief stints picking tomatoes and apricots. Both occupations cause aches and pains.You will also be interested to know that most people work for their livings, and agriculture work paid more before the Cheap Labor Junkies and their Socialist allies opened the floodgates for massive Third World immigration. Perhaps you'll appreciate the irony that as millions of immigrant farmworkers compete with U.S. Citizens for wages, the wages go down. The immigrant families are subsidized with money extracted from U.S. taxpayers under threat of financial ruin and jail. That's what the farmworkers came for.

	"Recently, with great fanfare, the media heralded a possible treatment for obesity that had helped mice lose weight. For most of the world's population, famine is a reality, but for us a mouse losing weight is big news." Gretchen Newmark, "Hunger"

	1) Subtext: Stupid Americans are obsessed with the picayune while the rest of the world goes hungry. 2) Response: Who is Us, Gretchen? Are you a Media Meatpuppet speaking to other Media Meatpuppets? Just who do you think was obsessed with the mouse's weight? Personally, I wrote to ABC asking them to cover substantive issues like what's going on with the Federal Reserve which controls our money but is neither a Federal agency nor a reserve. Gretchen, I asked if their microminds could encompass such an investigation. Apparently not. No program and they didn't even reply to my letter. Fancy that. The Hunger the We that includes me have is Hunger for Nourishing Truth--not the anti-substance reported in the dominant media .

	"I served in the Peace Corps in a remote village in central Ghana. One day, I came upon an old man wandering aimlessly, totally naked, muttering to himself and gesturing to unseen companions. I asked my cook, Atia, about the old man, and he replied, "That's old Kwaku. He's an elder of the village." I told Atia that in my society Kwaku would be put behind bars and denied his freedom, and probably be given drugs. Atia shook his head and remarked, "You Americans have many shameful customs." Bonnie Jean O'Neal, "Nudity"

	1) Subtext: blah blah blah Shame on the Americans 2) Response: Aaaaaargh. Where to begin. Bonnie, who paid for the Peace Corps? Shameful customs of Americans include piping billions of dollars earned by the sweat of Americans to Third World people who couldn't keep their corrupt leaders from making billionaires of themselves. Shameful? Keeripes. Did you get a frisson of excitement trashing the people who were paying for your behind to be in Ghana? How was it having a cook? I thought you Peace Corps types had to cook for yourselves. Oh, guess the economy was so downtrodden you could get servants for pennies. Gee, wonder why you just didn't stay in Ghana. Of course, you might like it in Berkeley. Going down the back stairs and coming upon one of the aimless wanderers urinating on the building just wasn't fun for me. Perhaps you'd get a kick out of repeated confrontations and having to call the police because one of the aimless wanderers was perfectly comfortable sleeping in the back yard for months. How about having your gardening equipment stolen and having the irrigation controller for your environmentally correct drip irrigation being ripped off and the water left on full so the backyard floods? But I digress. There's nothing like distance from "the downtrodden" to increase their appeal. The more I think on it, the more I know you should be here to experience Creeping Blight and the Invasion of the Third Worlders and the suicidal rants of the EthnoGroupies. Why go to Ghana when you can have all the misery right here in shameful America?

	Oops, I did run on there. Hope you like the new parlor game. Help yourself to as much Sheeple Slobber as you want. I think I've had enough.