Dear Dirty America


Rivers Flows Back Into the Ocean

Rivers Flows Back Into the Ocean
September 04
14:47 2014

The man whom everybody suspected was mentally retarded said rather fluently about Joan Rivers’ death, “I hope they really tighten the lid good.” Most of the old men sitting around laughed.

This happened outside at the local coffee shop. The retarded man is not a great conversationalist, but the other regular patrons of the shop politely put up with him because most days he is sweet.

Joan_Rivers“That’s mean, Grady,” said a woman. “Shame on you. We don’t talk bad about people after they die.”

“That’s true,” I said, “but he’s right about Rivers. If anybody could shock the hell out of us when we’re least expecting it, it’s the old comedienne. Who knows when she’ll get a second wind and thrust herself back upon us.”

“You two should just stop saying that stuff,” the woman said. “LA is in mourning right now.”

And so the nation mourns. Or part of the nation. Some people are unaffected by celebrity deaths. After all, people die every day. Not long ago, dozens of women and children in Palestine died after Israel shelled a UN hospital and a local beach where kids were playing. But, as Joan Rivers said not long before she was flung into the Hereafter, “fuck ’em.” Most everybody else said, “Who cares?”

Actually, Rivers didn’t use the f-word in that instance, but she said the Palestinians deserved to be dead. Even after Israel stole their homes, their farms, and their livelihoods, the Palestinian people still deserve to be blasted. If they defend themselves, they are terrorists. And for those who didn’t leave when they were told to leave, Rivers said they deserved to be killed.

Maybe she was joking. It’s not always easy to tell.

Some crude people are mentioning that it was only days after Rivers said those horrific, pro-Zionist comments that she underwent throat surgery, which resulted in complications and now death. They are calling it poetic justice from the Creator.

But that’s too simple. Such instant, positive karma doesn’t exist. Or does it? Wounding others with words, which then results in a deadly surgery on the vocal cords, done by a doctor’s hand, and all out of vanity.

If such instant payback was available on this planet, we’d be noticing a lot more of it. For example, a vacationing Barack Obama family would be wiped out in an uneventful flash from a predator drone. “It came from out of nowhere,” local bystanders would say. “The damn thing just took off by itself!” Pentagon spokespeople would reiterate to CNN. Like with Rivers, half of the nation would weep its eyeballs out. Yet, when it happens in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Yemen, or Somalia, they are called casualties of a global war on terror.

Meanwhile, Dick Cheney, with his pig heart transplant, would begin to exhibit characteristics normally attributed to a farm animal. Goldman Sachs would run out of money, get evicted from their taxpayer-funded tower, and their CEO would have to face the sneering public as he shook a cup of pocket change and asked if people could spare a little.

And Israel. Well, if the Joan Rivers karmic effects were true of reality, we’d see a much more powerful force, such as a US-led NATO invade Israel, pummel their military bases and government buildings with heavy bunker-buster bombs, and watch a scowling Bibi Netanyahu face an international court’s charge of war crimes against humanity.

He could share a cell with George W Bush. And next door would be Charles Manson, singing at the top of his lungs about saving the birds and the bees. “Why are you two so glum over there. You have access to the entire universe up here.” He would tap, with two fingers, his forehead. “I always said, ‘Believe me, if I started murdering people, there’d be none of you left,'” Charlie would say to the international war criminals, “‘but good God, you guys really meant it.'”

But these things don’t happen. This world is not a place for fair behavior or doling out justice.

Rather, Syrians stand in line for hours waiting for chunks of pita bread. Palestinians booted from their homes in the 60s, 70s, and today cannot reenter Israel to visit their relatives. The children of Palestine, who deserve to die because a few of their people’s rebels fire rockets at Israel in retaliation for having everything taken from them, are killed and not avenged, nor do their families gain any sort of compensation or apology from the Western-backed war monster with $3 billion in US aid and a policy to wipe Palestine off the map for the rest of human history.

This is a planet about individual decisions, such as taking care of your neighbor who’s down on his luck. Or consoling a destitute family member. Or a lonely friend. Or feeding a hungry person. Or giving a drink of water to a thirsty dog. Or speaking out against genocide, or what your tax dollars support. You make a tiny difference where you can, despite the worst among us bringing grief and pain to millions.

So put a lid on Joan Rivers and float her off into the Great Ocean of Consciousness where she can stand in line with the rest of the recently departed, naked and afraid before their Creator, and tongue-tied about how to explain this bad deed or that uncouth action. The angels taking attendance will notice their facial recognition devices do not register the strange creature with the grating voice.

“It’s a mangled plastic and flesh hybrid,” they’ll say. “It’s still only 2014 down there, right? The whole cyborg phase hasn’t hit full swing yet, has it?”

“Not until 2045,” another angel will say.

All the while the comedienne, who never quit talking, will be saying, “It’s J-O-A-N you bastards! I have to spell it for you? I thought Heaven was more sophisticated than this.”

“Who told you this was Heaven?” an angel would say. “Anyway, while we’re trying to confirm your identity, tell me, who did this to you down there?”

[Rivers’ photo from Team at Studios; autograph photo from JGKlein]


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