"Society of the Spectacle" by Guy Debord
a founding text of the Situationists
it's like social media was invented
to intensify what he's talking about
our reality is a manufactured representation
of course Guy Debord's life
was yet another glorious failure
his canny analysis changed nothing
but it can be argued that glorious failure
is the way to go
otherwise you're not thinking big

the secret of life is simple and two-prong
one, you gotta be lucky
two, appreciate things when they’re good
because they won’t be good forever
don’t sweat the small stuff
the big stuff’s coming

sitting around the thanksgiving table
the turkey was yummy, the weather turned frigid
conversation mellowly roamed to tales
of childhood abuse
"when our son was a baby," i recalled
"we watched him trying to crawl
and our then-brother-in-law Nick
a self-styled hardass and an *** in general
asked what do you do to discipline him?
discipline him from doing what? i asked
pooping his diaper?
you know Nick, as a kid my mother slapped my face
when she thought it appropriate
we negated that strategy for our kids"
my wife, who often recounted beatings
she took from her dad, then told a story new to me
her mother's family were russian immigrants
and when her mother was a kid
and did something to set off her dad
he would make her kneel on a wooden plank
until her knees bled, then he'd rub salt in them
we all thought about that
until my wife said, "we have cookies"

all you need is $$$$$
it’s the illusion that dissolves
all the other illusions
but it’s reality, you say?
strangely it’s both simultaneously
like the fantasy that donald trump
will solve people’s problems
which has led us to the world
we now live in

my mansion is home to rats
i’m stashed in a studio in the bronx
i’m an olympic athlete with a beer gut
my last hit tune was analog
once upon a screen a movie star
now no one wants to see my face
my covergirls have moved on to husbands
my investments reduced to empty wine bottles
and while none of this is true
i’m living that way
a ruined aristocrat

swedish death metal bands and i
see the world through the same eyes
but i don’t burn down churches
i do things sunnyside up
it’s how i’m built
i help people breathe when they can’t
that’s how i make my millions
i scribble pictures
post poems on lightpoles
make music videos by the hundreds
throw abstract shows
and whip instruments incessantly
to hear them squeal
i brought a family into the world
took care of them
and now admire the amazing trails
blazed by our kids
while swimming in the wake
of my intrepid beautiful
intellectual juggernaut wife
i do sit-ups, lift weights with my
permanently damaged bicycle arm
feed a couple of cats every frigging day
and am probably the library’s
number one customer

astounding that art critics
make enough money to eat
i know, most don’t
but kudos to them for conjuring
**** to say about art
when there really isn’t
that much to say
“[critics] praised [the artist]
for his use of color”
well duh
there’s zilch happening on this canvas
BUT color
and what’s there to say
ABOUT color?
“colors vibrate when juxtaposed
and they’re pretty”
then there’s the explication
of toothless symbolism
meaningless to anyone but the artist
and that’s about it
so hats off
my bedazzling scribes

now let's see
if i were afraid of everything
didn't care about other people
thought science was *******
but believed anything anyone said
just because he said it
who would i vote for?

i’m wedded to today
but i’m married to yesterday too
a bigamist
and tomorrow?
tomorrow is a *******
with a smoking ***

this morning at work
i read the new york times
listened to huey lewis
ate a pepperoni pizza
with banana peppers
took a nap
and had a cup of coffee
why would i retire?

the second coming of kamela harris
is a crackup
a few months ago
she couldn’t get arrested
by the democratic establishment
i’m all for her
but those four nights of hosannas
was quite the megaload of hooey
all generated by vast relief
but a bit much

for most of us
working a job is a lifelong mindfuck
we've been snowed into believing
we must dedicate our lives
to making some invisible ******* rich
pay unceasing attention to tasks
unimportant and irrelevant
commit unflagging effort our entire adult lives
to nothing special
until we're parked out to pasture
so we develop investment strategies
for enduring the workweek
spend too much for designer coffee
pay extra for easier parking
buy lunch when we could bring a sandwich
flirt with the skirts or broad shoulders
all effective crutches to keep us going
it would be epic
to get more of a return on our investments
than a dishwasher or two

the truth is
you mostly don’t care about things
until you have to care about them
a necessary filtering process
for the vast polluted ocean
of existence

as i was visiting a greek friend
yesterday in astoria queens
greek america ground zero
i couldn’t reconcile the deep thinking
of our old friends plato, aristotle, etc.
with the greeks i know
an open-hearted, pragmatic
materialistic UNCOMPLICATED people
maybe plato’s inebriated symposium relates
but there is a basic disconnect

i ran it by a couple of my smarter friends
"look at the italians," said one
"some made art that advanced the human race
while their cousins hung out
on the corner eating pizza"
another pal framed it like this:
"it’s the language
all the declensions and conjugations
steer you to abstract genius"

hmmm…

if you have 4/4 going on
it’s cardiac rhythm
you like 1&3, i like 2&4
but either one gets you on the train
you can layer anything on top
saxophone, guitar, synth
barking dogs, crashing cranes
airplanes, aggravation, nuclear ordinance
moans, groans, koans
your heart’s dancing

relaxation is an art
which would make me
Leonardo da Vinci

don't care much about the Olympics
but it beats Russia's merciless imperialism
Israel's inept butchery
and the United Fascists of America
so party on

the doctor said the worst thing you can say
to a family member
"this hospital is full of incompetent people"
he just made life impossible for the rest of us
now everything we do is wrong
you have to paint a picture for the clan  
and that is not the picture you want to paint
the love families feel for their sick ones
metastasizes into worry so severe
that we get splashed with its acid
their love is a blast furnace and we get burnt
it’s sublime to be around such love
but it’s a colossal bump in the road of therapy

sunny 80s in may
chores around the city
sandals, shorts, ebike
old kid rock tunes
students halfway naked
sidewalk beers delivered by stunning servers
wacky salad pork wraps
martinis at the fancy restaurant
another lovely afternoon
there’s a day off for you
happy to write this poem again
i wish i could rewrite this poem
every day

some ******* have way more
than their share of luck

**** that glittery mausoleum in Cleveland
the real rock’n’roll hall of fame
is the Court Tavern in New Brunswick, NJ
and that went out of business years ago

once again the sudan is dipped in hell
a ferociously satanic civil war
tens of thousands butchered
villages torched, millions set wandering
and now a famine
babies starving to death every two hours
i was gonna skip breakfast
but instead i loaded up at the cafeteria
four turkey sausage links, two hash browns
and a hard boiled egg
i know it's ****** up logic
but it felt right that someone have breakfast

that lawn mower
is heavier than it used to be
and tonight i’m paying the price
i see that old age
won’t be the easy transition i expected
i should have known
but i’m a blithe optimist
my trouble will be a diminished capacity
that day by day, takes me by surprise
some days more violently than others
well you gotta live your life
i’ll have to discover my limitations
the hard way

alan turing conjuring his everything machine
he built the future
and we’re stuck with it

just treated a covid patient, a bit of a throwback
a break from the warm weather trauma patients
scooter vs. car (awful), a kid shot in the crotch (ouch)
a paraplegic whose friends strapped him on an ATV
(it didn’t end well), a 17 year old girl shot
for looking like a "snitching *****"
a fella going 100 miles an hour until he wasn’t

ah, summertime

the end is never pretty
but it’s not about the end
not about the beginning either
it’s the days in between
that tell the story
and by the way
you don’t want to be famous
for having an interesting finale

as american society continues to disintegrate
to absurd levels
i predict the new of threshold of battle
will be traffic signals
"how i drive is MY business
red lights are for democrats"

most of us can get through most days
without melodrama
but can every day contain a moment
memorable and meaningful?
when it was worth the effort
of getting out of bed?
maybe this moment is that moment

the republican craving for fascist darkness
is a backlash to the beatles
they were that luminous a light
if you’re old enough
you can see the trajectory

instagram took down a photo of me
with fake dreads
saying "i shot the sheriff"
they don’t countenance violent content
evidently bob marly/eric clapton
aren’t famous enough to reference
lucky the robots don’t come to my door
and arrest me for ******
although my wife says they should book me
for the fake dreads

they may resent that i appropriate
other people’s lives for this scribble
well this ain’t journalism
there’s no who when where
only OH ****
they may not have noticed
art takes no prisoners

all the young fellas shot
languishing in the hospital
with families bedside
grieving and dealing with it

a young woman bedside
gets off the phone
"they just called me
they’re waiting for him to get out
so they can finish him off"

a  mother bedside
"that boy that just left?
that’s the one who shot him"

a family bedside
as i perform therapy
mom says
"you think we’re trash
don’t you"

Frank’s RedHot sauce
the duct tape of food

pulling the plug on a covid patient
his brother MUST be in the room
"i gotta be there – i GOTTA be there"
he insists on the phone
and even though it’s perilous to be in the room—
when the breathing tube comes out
the patient will be coughing covid in all corners—
the hospital protocol says it’s a-ok
the man can by all means inhale his brother’s deadly breath
BUT  
at 4 pm, the anointed time, he’s not there
we call – "are you coming?"
he’s dead drunk and not going anywhere
MEANWHILE
the patient’s fiancé wants to ZOOM in for the end
we set up a laptop at the foot of the bed
aim it at the poor fellow
and as i pull the tube to send him on his way
there’s SCREECHING from the computer
what the hell are we listening to?
is that martin lawrence and a piercing laugh track?
she’s got her tv BLASTING some old situation comedy
to usher her man into eternity

i’m king of the astral plane
and if there’s any justice
i mean, there is no justice
but if there WERE any justice
when i kick off
i’d ascend my throne
and spit lightning bolts
at all the other kings

all days are a necessary struggle
caterpillars slithering to wherever
empires striving for dominance
bands thirsting for acclaim
africans thirsting for water
rich people ******* up your money
(it’s zero sum, they NEED you to be broke)
clouds vomiting rain
the sun aching to implode
folks who lost bed and home
hunting warmth for the night

when i was a kid, i never imagined
homosexuality would be mainstream
gay marriage would be legal
or a trans person could walk down the street
without being eradicated

on the other hand
the reaction to all that freedom
has conjured an openly-stated longing
for violent fascism

never imagined that either
when i was a kid

"i forgot my ID," i said to the guard
as i tried getting into work
"you should have remembered it"
he snapped
"yes, i agree, but being human
i made a mistake"
he glared
admittedly i do look like a terrorist
"you can call my manager upstairs"
"YOU call the manager"
"uh, ok..."
the manager came down, gave a wave
and escorted me into the building
the poor guard was just doing his job
and ******* about having to do it
"why can't people do what they should
and let me sit here and do nothing?"
hey i can relate
i feel the same way about my job

i’m a tree falling in the forest
with no one around
and i’m loud as ****

netanyahu’s gotta go
putin’s gotta go
trump’s gotta go
but here’s the news
you can scream yourself hoarse
into the online ether
you can march to city hall every day
until your tracks cut to the center of the earth
netanyahu’s got it covered
putin’s staying put
and trump’s riding back on an old brown horse
so let’s sing it together
wah wah wah

haven’t thought about it in a while
but in a lifetime of wacky decisions
the wildest thing i’ve ever done
was at age 16, my girlfriend 15
we’d ******* a bunch
but i wanted to spend the night together
it was important to me
god knows why
so we made a plan
one night i sat on the couch
watching TV with her mom, dad
her brother and sister
and at 10 pm i said goodnight
but instead of going out the front door
i snuck upstairs to her room
hiding in her closet with a flashlight
and dostoevsky’s house of the dead
no thought of repercussions
which might have ranged from shrieking
to assault to jail to fatality
my mind was focused on one thing only
even more astonishing
from my current advanced perspective
my bladder was entirely tame
no need for any bathroom break
a couple of hours and several chapters later
when the house was silent
i slipped into her bed
mmm, mmm, mmm
at 5 am i skulked down the stairs
and hiked to the diner for a victory breakfast

as i told the boys at my favorite music store
“show me a tube amp for a thousand bucks
something i can plug my les paul into and let it rip
gotta be intense enough to play with drums in a bar unmiked
and i came here early so i can play loud”
walked out with a Blackstar

it’s a planet of limitless horror
governments massacring their own populace
neighboring tribes bombing each other to oblivion
school shootings inspiring other school shootings
and on top of all that
italian restaurants and wine
are overpriced and unashamed
someone had to say it

there's only one way to be right
but so many ways to be wrong
you have a lot of freedom
it's entertaining
as long as you keep it to yourself
no repercussions
keeping your mouth shut rules
and if you overcome adversity
you can drink to your great victory
your strength, skill and awesomeness
as long as you don't broadcast it
everyone has a heavy load
everyone's job is a pain in the ***
everyone has to get through the day
nobody wants to hear from you
"that whiner, he thinks he's god's gift"
well maybe you are
you're not a whiner, you're a winner
you can step to your own parade
in silent celebration

another day of israel
digging its own grave
their strategy of dead kids
is a real winner
of course
hamas keeps insisting
it wants to wipe out israel
a handy excuse
for more dead kids

we make plenty of mistakes in our belief
intellectually we know these things are not true
but a deeper part of our brain is certain they are
we’re going to live forever
we won’t
we’re the same person we were when we were young
we’re not
our employer gives a **** about us
he don’t
our social media activity counts for something
not in the least
the president is more important than the first grade teacher
nope
he’s just some ******* who won the lottery
all these certainties swirling in our brain
gently nudging us over cliffs of absurdity

"you are what you pretend to be"
works
because you are not you
"you" are a suit of clothes
that may fit just fine
but you can slip out of it
and as you get older
you might grow out of it
the good news is
you can put on another suit
which might fit just as well
or better

an optimist calls this a sunny sunday morning
coffee, cats, colson whitehead’s latest
a pessimist ruminates on gaza
the ukraine, sudan, republicans

we older american jews relate to israel
we were indoctrinated as kids
israel good, nazis bad
israel good, arabs bad
why would those bad arabs attack israel?
the palestinan problem is that they existed
before israel, unless you go back ten million years
and they’re still here to get pounded
israel doesn’t make it easy on the jews either
it’s so insistent on being a jewish state
that saying anti-zionism is not anti-semitism
does not compute
we’re gonna get smashed in righteous fury for eons
for this particular genocidal moment
like we need a new target on our backs
it’s like learning your uncle is a serial killer
you make excuses
you remember his good side
and there was plenty of good
but that dang serial killing…

life is a series of triumphs
every breath is a victory
but we dwell on defeat
we remember the moments
of weakness and incompetence
failure and rejection
the ones who slipped out of the net
not the ones we caught
maybe if we stood upside down
we’d get a clearer view