The Kids.

I am back in New York. In a hotel. The room is No Smoking, so I smoke in it, lonesomeley, as one does when one arrives alone at a hotel in a big city. I was listening to music, and that was pretty cool, then I switched the big plastic TV in the corner, that looms, horrorfully, above the twice-as-wide-as-it-is-long bed, cloaked in rotten, nauseating turquoise and mustard stripes, and was made yet more sick. Tony Blair was on it, saluting, Hitlerishly, as his turtle-faced lawyerliar wife gurned at his side, at a room full of Labour Party members in Brighton. They clapped, gaily, along to Sham 69's If The Kids Are United, and cheered the grinning genocidal maniac like it was '97 all over again. Is Jimmy Pursey dead? Am I dead? Dad we slip into a parralel univese sometime in the early nineties and no-one noticed? Was it the eighties? Jack Straw, through gritted dentures, said the only reason "we" are in Iraq is to "free" the Iraqi people. That the whole room didn't errupt in laughter is initself bizzarre. But a lone eighty-odd year old man shouted, "nonsense! You know that’s a lie,” and was picked up by the scruff of the neck and thrown out. Am I real? Now Rumsfeld is on, telling us how swimmingly the War On Terror is going, how democracy is truly in flight, how were it not for "terrorists", there would be no casualties in Iraq.

Oh, and Beck? I'm sorry about the other day. I thought, when you told us a decade ago, that you were Jewish, you were telling the truth. You were not. You were lying to us. Lyingface, Beck! I know now. You were raised a Scientologist. Noone spoke to you for the first week of your life. They told you you were born of Aliens. They filled your head with fear and shit. You left, for a while, but now you are back, paid in full, bold type in their newsletter, trying to convert Adam Green. Giving your money to their lawyers, who defend greedheads and charlatans and tricksters. Lawyers who attack their victims, who attack mindrape and actualrape and the fucking MURDER-ED. Maybe there is no hope for you. Maybe you are The Enemy, not the lost manchild I thought.