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With the permission of William Joyce                                                                         MONEY Money is the last ...

Sunday, 8 January 2017

Over the month of December I was down with a virus infection which left me struggling to concentrate or even breathe. I went through Christmas and The New Year in a reduced state and to be honest for the first time in a long, long time I didn't even read.

In the opening days of 2017 I looked in amazement at the vast amount of wasted energy spent on trying to carve up your enemy ( Whoever that is ), attach mud to whatever story took your fancy, justify by logic or brute force or just plain old lie whatever narrative suited the little human corner of the Universe you call your own while laughing at everyone else's hopes and fears. I then remembered that I don't have to play that game.

If the consequences of the sad tawdry little mess wasn't so terrible on an individual and a Human level, If I didn't see broken children and broken adults every where I look on the streets I walk and the television I see, Well I might just give up all hope.

But I don't, because I think if we all listen to our bodies, learn to laugh a little more, walk the streets with a smile and an eye for play and appreciate the men and women we see each day, well then things in some small way may get better.  

In those moments as always I turn to William Joyce to make me smile and think. The first thing I found was this and it did both ................

                                                   GIRLS AND THEIR TERRIBLE TITS

All the girls have big tits now,
and they use them to mow men down.
Howitzer tits, tits with an aim
in life, they got this weaponry
from steroids in the beef
but not all the girls are beefy.
Some are as slender as celery stalks
but they have these burgeoning,
over-sized, obtrusive tits.
Along with the chin, the tits
are pushed out in front
somewhere between a prim pout
and purposeful arrogance.
Make no mistake about it,
these tits are embossed with power
not pleasure. First promoted
by admen in a titless society
to sell soap, the tits have grown
with the economy. No longer
tender paps for nurturing
but bountiful busts for bullying,
tits lead the way through crowds,
take charge of committee meetings,
assault the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals
with writs of complaint that their tits
were groped in a crowded park.
The symbol of sex and a healthy economy,
the tit has come loose from it's moorings.
Tits don't want to be used by anybody---
not men, nor babies, nor pitch men
for Hollywood; tits want their own leverage,
their own comfort zone
free from pawing hands and grasping mouths.
And they get it as they soar
across the sky- a nipple and a cape--
the first SuperTit-- and all
the stratojets make way for it.    

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