Dr. Faustroll Writes the Wrongs

For those who haven’t heard Hunger Strike as sung by Eddie Vedder on Temple of the Dog, you can find the lyrics online in several places, like this one. Although I’m a person who writes rather than sings, some songs need to be listened to, and this is one of them, especially when we are all imaginarily gathered together for Hunger and Hope, which seems like an odd menu selection.

This morning I will refrain from my SEO mission to capture the market on searches for insignificant penises and the second amendment daily body count because we’re all going hungry, many physically and in the real world.

A couple of years ago, I was writing posts on hearing about hunger and doing the math and living the enduring lunacy of the never-ending reelection campaign war against humanity on another blog. Today even more people are hungry in the NOMF™ and throughout the NOMF-infected world, and why?

You don’t have to answer that. It was a rhetorical question.

When I listen to NPR and hear how some philanthropic organization that supports the programming is dedicated to finding the cause of something like homelessness or hunger, I wonder exactly how I landed on this planet to be raised in this country. People are hungry because they don’t have food or the means to obtain food. They are homeless because they are living on the streets. Anyone who ever read David Hume suspects that looking for cause and effect is like praying to God.

Let me state my personal opinion. Hunger and homelessness exist because those who think they own the planet like to lord it over those who remain unconvinced by the concept. Read any Vonnegut novel and the reasons for our inability to solve simple problems becomes as clear as water used to be.

I guess I just have incredible luck like so many other people who landed here and are stuck to the surface of the planet by gravity while looking for levity and love. Some of them thank God for their luck, and when their luck is not so good they blame Satan or the poor and the beaten, because believers are the true backbone of the NOMF.

I am astounded that we are still pouring money into munitions that are being dumped onto poor, hungry people by our own boys and girls to preserve our way of life from a boogeyman invented by a cabal of war criminals who made off with even the silverware as they skittered away into retirement, or selling munitions to other countries who are also spreading the pain of our woodenheadedness around the globe, while the loyal opposition complains that Biraq’s administration is too tax and spendy.

I was going to write about how maybe we could empty our prisons of neocondi rice and beaner convicted non-violent offenders and reduce the number of cops and law enforcement officials and take all that money and put it into education and health programs to reverse forty years of the Raw Deal, but I don’t do serious stuff.

I’m a satirist, so I started writing about how we could use our scientific genius to transform hungry foreign people into flesh-eating zombies that would rid us of the problems of hunger and foreigners without having to really think about it.

And then I started to write again about what happens when famine hits and all the good intentions of all the deluded people in the world converge to put an end to suffering and death, such as this recent paragraph describing the official response to a multiple car pile-up on the interstate highway system that I slightly altered to demonstrate how ludicrous our lives are as we speed along the terrible tarmac from cradle to grave by comparing our lives to those who might as well live on another planet, considering how much we pay to kill them and how little to help them live.

Officials are calling the I-30 accident the worst vehicular disaster since the 1987 collision in Addis Ababa caused when the driver of an oxen-powered famine-relief cart swerved to avoid a life-sized dummy tossed from an overpass by vandals onto one of Ethiopia’s busiest thoroughfares. The official death toll in that catastrophe stands at 1,342,682, although many believe hundreds of thousands of missing are still buried beneath a pile of twisted wood and straw in that Central African nation.

I do what I can to contribute to the food banks and send money to feed and house the people who once lived freely on this land who are now rounded up in reservations, and I write what I write. I like a spoon in June. How about you?

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