Chicken Shit

"I am your shit. You should be ashamed of what you've eaten."

"rock'n'roll nigger" marilyn manson/patti smith

According to my friend Doug, the sport of professional wrestling was born of one phrase: "Let me tell ya somethin'..."

In some primordial cave, a scruffy, bearded man (well, it could have been a woman, but let's be realistic here) shoved a disgruntled finger in the face of another man, uttered those magical words, and this sport coalesced out of a people who were amused at their own silly machismo and who understood that people who take themselves too seriously are just really fucking funny.

I am laughing similarly at "us" right now. The us that is America, who didn't (or maybe couldn't) realize that feral nationalism doesn't just separate us from the rest of the world, but from one another. What is happening now in New Orleans is where we have been heading for a long time and the people who have been the most vocal in trying to prevent it have been silenced by the dread words, "Un-American".

Let me tell ya somethin': To all you people who are bitching about your gas prices and the rising fear of an economic disaster, guess what? Fucking DUH. Lots of us have seen this shit coming for years.

The plagued rat of realization scurries through my head of late, chanting songs of Malcolm's chickens and the more I jump around trying to avoid the fleas, the more exhausted I become. In other words, people are fleas and lately, they make me fucking sick.

Through the years, I've been called witch, psycho, bitch, succubus, frigid, and slut. In 1999, I grew tired of being tagged by others so I chose the name Schizophelia. Right now, the one I'm most proud of is un-American.