Millions Lied, Bush Died by Zache and Johnneye


               Zache and Johnneye stand up for what’s right in America. George W. Bush better known as ‘that asshole’ made a great impact on America. Before George W. Bush came to office America was suffering from a budget surplus and a lack of wars. Looking for a way to simultaneously destroy the economy and countries overseas Bush set out to change the course of history. For those unable to remember the Bush years due to age or deliberate intoxication, it was a tumultuous time. Millions of people opposed Bush’s policies. Hundreds of people supported Bush. Thanks to income inequality those hundreds were worth way more to Bush. 

                ‘Millions Lied, Bush Died’ discusses the political fallout following the hypothetical death of George W. Bush. The phrase plays off of the ‘Bush Lied, Millions Died’ slogan used against Bush during his Presidential term. Of course being the shrewd political genius Bush would often reply to statements that he was incompetent, a war monger, and generally mismanaged the economy with “Whatever, I’m rich. My life is awesome.” Here though Zache and Johnneye show how the nation mourns a President who wasn’t always the most popular person in office. 

                420 times: that’s the amount of times that Bush died in their chapbook. Apparently new facts are revealed after Bush’s death. Ham was refused by Bush. Unfortunately a sex scandal did exist with George W. Bush. Had America known this they might have thought more highly of him. For evidence of this effect one can look to the halcyon days of the Clinton administration. Bill Clinton engaged in inappropriate relations. During that time the economy was going through a boom, income inequality was decreasing, and America wasn’t involved in conflicts overseas. In short, it was a terrible time to be in America. Even Clinton’s opponent Bob Dole was pretty cool about the whole thing. People to this day still adore Bob Dole. Indeed as Bob Dole once eloquently stated “Bob Dole is a swell guy.” 

                At Subway, where one can eat fresh, Bush allegedly ordered an all cheese sandwich. Refusing the rudimentary ham lunchmeat, Bush worked hard at being a shrewd negotiator with a Subway sandwich artist. Artistic temperaments of course might have contributed to such an impasse. Revelations about Bush’s approval of ‘Tosh.0’ is worrisome. Bush might have seen ‘The Daily Show’ and ‘Colbert Report’ which lampooned his miserable excuse for a presidency. 

                ‘Family Guy’ facial expressions are a bit different. Here Zache and Johnneye cleverly leave out what the facial expression was. Did Bush love ‘Family Guy’? Now that Bush has gone to that big dude ranch in the sky it is hard to say. Bush is probably clearing brush in rich man’s Heaven, where for a nominal fee the eye of a needle is expanded to allow a camel to easily pass through. Movies have a greater effect on Bush though. ‘Jurassic Park’ that classic tale about growing up in a dinosaur park, engrossed a young Bush. 

                By the end of the chapbook it is obvious that towards the end of Bush’s life he managed to understand YouTube. Had he possessed this knowledge as a mere young President America might have been different. Oh well though he’s still alive. This chapbook reveals the conflicting emotions that America would go through upon learning that truly tragic news.

Millions Lied, Bush Died by Zache and Johnneye

               Zache and Johnneye stand up for what’s right in America. George W. Bush better known as ‘that asshole’ made a great impact on America. Before George W. Bush came to office America was suffering from a budget surplus and a lack of wars. Looking for a way to simultaneously destroy the economy and countries overseas Bush set out to change the course of history. For those unable to remember the Bush years due to age or deliberate intoxication, it was a tumultuous time. Millions of people opposed Bush’s policies. Hundreds of people supported Bush. Thanks to income inequality those hundreds were worth way more to Bush. 

                ‘Millions Lied, Bush Died’ discusses the political fallout following the hypothetical death of George W. Bush. The phrase plays off of the ‘Bush Lied, Millions Died’ slogan used against Bush during his Presidential term. Of course being the shrewd political genius Bush would often reply to statements that he was incompetent, a war monger, and generally mismanaged the economy with “Whatever, I’m rich. My life is awesome.” Here though Zache and Johnneye show how the nation mourns a President who wasn’t always the most popular person in office. 

                420 times: that’s the amount of times that Bush died in their chapbook. Apparently new facts are revealed after Bush’s death. Ham was refused by Bush. Unfortunately a sex scandal did exist with George W. Bush. Had America known this they might have thought more highly of him. For evidence of this effect one can look to the halcyon days of the Clinton administration. Bill Clinton engaged in inappropriate relations. During that time the economy was going through a boom, income inequality was decreasing, and America wasn’t involved in conflicts overseas. In short, it was a terrible time to be in America. Even Clinton’s opponent Bob Dole was pretty cool about the whole thing. People to this day still adore Bob Dole. Indeed as Bob Dole once eloquently stated “Bob Dole is a swell guy.” 

                At Subway, where one can eat fresh, Bush allegedly ordered an all cheese sandwich. Refusing the rudimentary ham lunchmeat, Bush worked hard at being a shrewd negotiator with a Subway sandwich artist. Artistic temperaments of course might have contributed to such an impasse. Revelations about Bush’s approval of ‘Tosh.0’ is worrisome. Bush might have seen ‘The Daily Show’ and ‘Colbert Report’ which lampooned his miserable excuse for a presidency. 

                ‘Family Guy’ facial expressions are a bit different. Here Zache and Johnneye cleverly leave out what the facial expression was. Did Bush love ‘Family Guy’? Now that Bush has gone to that big dude ranch in the sky it is hard to say. Bush is probably clearing brush in rich man’s Heaven, where for a nominal fee the eye of a needle is expanded to allow a camel to easily pass through. Movies have a greater effect on Bush though. ‘Jurassic Park’ that classic tale about growing up in a dinosaur park, engrossed a young Bush. 

                By the end of the chapbook it is obvious that towards the end of Bush’s life he managed to understand YouTube. Had he possessed this knowledge as a mere young President America might have been different. Oh well though he’s still alive. This chapbook reveals the conflicting emotions that America would go through upon learning that truly tragic news.

Internet People IRL



                Peterbd may be the best-traveled out of all anonymous online presences. Here’s a person, presumably a seriously chill bro, IRLing it up. Is Peterbd still mysterious as hell? Or is his traveling making his anonymous online presence decrease gradually? As a fellow anonymous bro myself I figure it is tough to balance the two. I figure there is a way to be mysterious while keeping much of my background a super-secret. One thing Peterbd does not keep a secret: the guy loves New Jersey. Honestly I am a fan of New Jersey. The rest of the nation gives it a bad reputation but it is a seriously weird place. 

                The Mount Olive Gang is huge in New Jersey. You want to know who runs the alt lit game in that New Jersey suburb, say hi to them. Nobody else can write in Mount Olive according to the gang. You want to tweet; you want to write a blog and live in the Mount Olive area? Too damn bad, you better go to another zip code. For the Mount Olive Gang has that literature on ‘lock down’ mode. 

                Look at their intense faces. Is that something you want to mess with? I didn’t think so. Peterbd can mess with them because he’s an anonymous online emailing presence. All of them contemplate the many snack choices there are in life. Yes America is a great country for its snacks. There are writers who have dedicated their lives to exploration of the snacking lifestyle. See Daniel Alexander for the Zen of snacking. Figure if Daniel was with them they could have picked out something lickety-split. Combos are a good pick. Every time I bring Combos to a party people hate me for it. By the end of any party everyone applauds my good sense in snack choices. 

                Spencer is young in spirit. Getting involved in alt lit is a good idea particularly now that it is growing at a ridiculous, some say Ludacris speed. The wisdom of Spencer greatly exceeds his years, by about one to two years. He’s working on it. Just like Axel is working on getting someone to share his life with, via the OK Cupid style of writing, alt lit. I have said it before; alt lit brings people together into wonderful relationships. Look at Jackson and Carolyn, Johnny and Ellen, these are beautiful relationships. 

                Cops try to mess with the young gang but they don’t give a hoot or a holler. Nigel throws up gang signs showing his dedication to the alt lit gang life. What does that entail? It means re-tweets, flarfings, readings, sleepings, all the things that make alt lit what it is today. They celebrate victory over the police at a local diner. One of them eats disco fries because they’re getting all retro. According to Todd Terje’s work, disco is back. Norway may be a bit behind the times on modern music but that’s perfectly fine. Any country that simultaneously does metal and jazz in the same band is okay with me. 

                Of course it ends with love for the surroundings. They adore the antique furniture which surrounds them. Peterbd finishes his series of haunting photos with perhaps the most moving one of all, of a man with combos and a 40 of Olde English. Indeed these pioneers discover the true meaning of what alt lit means in the tri-state area.

Internet People IRL

                Peterbd may be the best-traveled out of all anonymous online presences. Here’s a person, presumably a seriously chill bro, IRLing it up. Is Peterbd still mysterious as hell? Or is his traveling making his anonymous online presence decrease gradually? As a fellow anonymous bro myself I figure it is tough to balance the two. I figure there is a way to be mysterious while keeping much of my background a super-secret. One thing Peterbd does not keep a secret: the guy loves New Jersey. Honestly I am a fan of New Jersey. The rest of the nation gives it a bad reputation but it is a seriously weird place. 

                The Mount Olive Gang is huge in New Jersey. You want to know who runs the alt lit game in that New Jersey suburb, say hi to them. Nobody else can write in Mount Olive according to the gang. You want to tweet; you want to write a blog and live in the Mount Olive area? Too damn bad, you better go to another zip code. For the Mount Olive Gang has that literature on ‘lock down’ mode. 

                Look at their intense faces. Is that something you want to mess with? I didn’t think so. Peterbd can mess with them because he’s an anonymous online emailing presence. All of them contemplate the many snack choices there are in life. Yes America is a great country for its snacks. There are writers who have dedicated their lives to exploration of the snacking lifestyle. See Daniel Alexander for the Zen of snacking. Figure if Daniel was with them they could have picked out something lickety-split. Combos are a good pick. Every time I bring Combos to a party people hate me for it. By the end of any party everyone applauds my good sense in snack choices. 

                Spencer is young in spirit. Getting involved in alt lit is a good idea particularly now that it is growing at a ridiculous, some say Ludacris speed. The wisdom of Spencer greatly exceeds his years, by about one to two years. He’s working on it. Just like Axel is working on getting someone to share his life with, via the OK Cupid style of writing, alt lit. I have said it before; alt lit brings people together into wonderful relationships. Look at Jackson and Carolyn, Johnny and Ellen, these are beautiful relationships. 

                Cops try to mess with the young gang but they don’t give a hoot or a holler. Nigel throws up gang signs showing his dedication to the alt lit gang life. What does that entail? It means re-tweets, flarfings, readings, sleepings, all the things that make alt lit what it is today. They celebrate victory over the police at a local diner. One of them eats disco fries because they’re getting all retro. According to Todd Terje’s work, disco is back. Norway may be a bit behind the times on modern music but that’s perfectly fine. Any country that simultaneously does metal and jazz in the same band is okay with me. 

                Of course it ends with love for the surroundings. They adore the antique furniture which surrounds them. Peterbd finishes his series of haunting photos with perhaps the most moving one of all, of a man with combos and a 40 of Olde English. Indeed these pioneers discover the true meaning of what alt lit means in the tri-state area.

Getting down with the Clowns – Insane Clown Posse concert

                Insane Clown Posse has been building up their indie street cred. Either that or Jack White has been busy tearing his down. Both instances we’re filled with a warm tingling feeling inside though that could have been from them licking my asshole. Lately ICP got into my radar screen. On this blessed day I got down with the clowns.

                With my notepad I wanted to observe their habits. How do ICP fans exist? Their parents, are they proud of their children like good parents? Do their parents help them put on clown makeup and purchase Faygo soda for the concert? How can ICP exist in reality? I see they exist for the sole purpose of being trolled. They are clowns, they make me laugh. Part of me wanted to ask the fans exactly how they came to enjoy this band. Do fans choose the band or does the band choose the fans?

                None of this mattered as I came into the concert. Playing in the background before the concert were some deep cuts from King Tubby. I could be going about this all wrong. ICP fans were human beings. Who was I to needlessly criticize them for a poor life choice? My life revolves around music. Theirs does too. Both of us have a lot in common. Our biggest difference was I didn’t spend three hours in front of a mirror painstakingly putting on makeup only to have it washed off by large amounts of cheap soda.

                A few other poets came ready to write extensively about the concert. Johnny Vulpine and the Pikachu he choose arrived promptly. We didn’t want to miss a thing. For ICP concerts are magical, mystical things. Looking around us, we couldn’t believe this was happening. No one had detected us as non-ICP fans yet. Each one of us checked the other’s makeup. We spent only an hour on the makeup.

                Coming towards us were some ICP fans. Or so we thought. Actually they turned out to be there to look and mock ICP fans from up close. We laughed and hugged. Next to us was another group dressed in ridiculous outfits, ready to make fun of ICP fans. By now we were thoroughly confused. 

                Johnny, Pikachu and I went through the crowd searching for genuine ICP fans. Each person we met admitted to being there for ironic purposes exclusively. Did real ICP fans even exist? Finally it dawned on me: ICP fans didn’t exist. They were made up like Santa Claus or Belgium. Our parents made them up to tell us about when we were feeling down. Our parents wanted us to feel better about ourselves, and middle-aged people getting down with a couple of middle aged rappers who closely resembled a poor man’s KISS with no flow whatsoever seemed like the best way of doing that. 

                The concert began. ICP came out and laughed at how silly we were in our ridiculous garb. All of us felt confused, nearly violated, but we were hoping the music would be a joke as well. It was. We waited, standing, wondering what would happen now that we knew the entire ICP fan base consisted of people ironically liking the product. 

                Shaggy 2 Dope began joking with the audience, saying “I hope you are in the right place, this isn’t the improvised jazz ensemble “Instant Composers Pool”. A few people chuckled. That chuckling stopped as Slavoj Zizek appeared on stage to explain exactly what was going on, the reason for Insane Clown Posse’s existence and how it made us question our life. Zizek stated we place too much value on the ironic and asked us why we derive pleasure out of ironically enjoying anything. Crowd-surfing, he continued to confront our expectations of culture. 

                At the end of the concert fire hoses sprayed us with Faygo soda and we listened to one and a half ICP ‘songs’ to give the appearance to the casual outsider that we were indeed Juggalos, the word Juggalo deriving from the careful balance of the image and reality. ICP fans confound reality itself.

Getting down with the Clowns – Insane Clown Posse concert

                Insane Clown Posse has been building up their indie street cred. Either that or Jack White has been busy tearing his down. Both instances we’re filled with a warm tingling feeling inside though that could have been from them licking my asshole. Lately ICP got into my radar screen. On this blessed day I got down with the clowns.

                With my notepad I wanted to observe their habits. How do ICP fans exist? Their parents, are they proud of their children like good parents? Do their parents help them put on clown makeup and purchase Faygo soda for the concert? How can ICP exist in reality? I see they exist for the sole purpose of being trolled. They are clowns, they make me laugh. Part of me wanted to ask the fans exactly how they came to enjoy this band. Do fans choose the band or does the band choose the fans?

                None of this mattered as I came into the concert. Playing in the background before the concert were some deep cuts from King Tubby. I could be going about this all wrong. ICP fans were human beings. Who was I to needlessly criticize them for a poor life choice? My life revolves around music. Theirs does too. Both of us have a lot in common. Our biggest difference was I didn’t spend three hours in front of a mirror painstakingly putting on makeup only to have it washed off by large amounts of cheap soda.

                A few other poets came ready to write extensively about the concert. Johnny Vulpine and the Pikachu he choose arrived promptly. We didn’t want to miss a thing. For ICP concerts are magical, mystical things. Looking around us, we couldn’t believe this was happening. No one had detected us as non-ICP fans yet. Each one of us checked the other’s makeup. We spent only an hour on the makeup.

                Coming towards us were some ICP fans. Or so we thought. Actually they turned out to be there to look and mock ICP fans from up close. We laughed and hugged. Next to us was another group dressed in ridiculous outfits, ready to make fun of ICP fans. By now we were thoroughly confused. 

                Johnny, Pikachu and I went through the crowd searching for genuine ICP fans. Each person we met admitted to being there for ironic purposes exclusively. Did real ICP fans even exist? Finally it dawned on me: ICP fans didn’t exist. They were made up like Santa Claus or Belgium. Our parents made them up to tell us about when we were feeling down. Our parents wanted us to feel better about ourselves, and middle-aged people getting down with a couple of middle aged rappers who closely resembled a poor man’s KISS with no flow whatsoever seemed like the best way of doing that. 

                The concert began. ICP came out and laughed at how silly we were in our ridiculous garb. All of us felt confused, nearly violated, but we were hoping the music would be a joke as well. It was. We waited, standing, wondering what would happen now that we knew the entire ICP fan base consisted of people ironically liking the product. 

                Shaggy 2 Dope began joking with the audience, saying “I hope you are in the right place, this isn’t the improvised jazz ensemble “Instant Composers Pool”. A few people chuckled. That chuckling stopped as Slavoj Zizek appeared on stage to explain exactly what was going on, the reason for Insane Clown Posse’s existence and how it made us question our life. Zizek stated we place too much value on the ironic and asked us why we derive pleasure out of ironically enjoying anything. Crowd-surfing, he continued to confront our expectations of culture. 

                At the end of the concert fire hoses sprayed us with Faygo soda and we listened to one and a half ICP ‘songs’ to give the appearance to the casual outsider that we were indeed Juggalos, the word Juggalo deriving from the careful balance of the image and reality. ICP fans confound reality itself.

Goth Chat
               Goths hosted  Ustream. Johnny Vulpine invited us into his humble home. I hadn’t spoken  to Johnny Vulpine much excluding wanting ice cream I saw him eat once.  That ice cream looked amazing. Days later I still wish I had that  delicious ice cream cone.
                Johnny  Vulpine partied in front of us. Years have passed since I’ve been  involved in the Goth culture. I wondered if it had changed since I had  been involved with it nearly a decade ago. My most recent interaction  with Goths was during another Presidential administration. How much  really had changed in Goth culture since George W. Bush left office?  Watching the reading I found out. 
                The  delivery of Johnny’s poetry was halting. I liked it. He didn’t make  anything fancy. You had only the pure language to understand. Haikus  happened to be his mode of expressing himself. At the end of each one he  had to state “That’s it” with his disarming charm. Since I watched it  already tired from a weekend of hugging people I matched up well with  Johnny’s energy level. 
                Two  people (Amber French and Shayla Riggs) wrote material in a humorous  vein. Every poem was absurd and silly. “If I were a cat I would lovingly  leave poop in your shoes every morning”.  That ended up being my favorite and most representative of this small series. 
                Joe  Randall read his poetry. I’ve never read him before. “Spears fly into  our simple heads.” That line sort of jumped, or flew, at me. Most of his  lines were rather dark. Among the other items involved hellfire and  doom. Most of my day had seen little to no sunlight due to rainstorms.  Thus, Joe’s work felt appropriate. 
                Ellen  was my favorite. Her delivery worked well. Plus, she had knowledge  about ustream and interacted with us, mere ustreamers. Despite the  background of drunken revelry she stayed focused, on point. She invited  us to add her as a friend on Facebook expanding the massive online  poetry community. At some point I hope we have enough people for a  village, for a town, and eventually principality. 
                Out  of the light came Shayla once again. She delivered a great poem and  expressed joy. After she left we had this amazing reader. He wore silver  chains since he appeared to be a ‘Poetry Gangster’ revered up in New  Hampshire. Though he had the longest poem he managed to keep a certain  flow. It sounded like a rap in terms of the quickness of the lines. Each  one flowed into the other. 
                People  performed a piece with a guitar. I felt happy. Suddenly all my time in  college didn’t feel wasted. One held a guitar. The other held a Ukulele.  No other ustream ever had married poetry to music. I do both on here.  I’m glad others have found this wonderful marriage of the two forms.  Hopefully this will become a common feature of all ustream poetry  readings.
                “This  is what every day is like at Barnard.” is what Spencer Madsen said. Due  to Spencer’s location in New York, only he and I actually laughed. All  the girls in the building came together and began singing. Only a  ukulele and guitar accompanied them. I’m not familiar with what they  sang. I do know that they have perhaps more familiarity with singing  than I have (I got kicked out of chorus for not singing enough). 
                 Poetry  is unstructured. I liked this reading for that reason. By having a  loose configuration they made it unexpected and exciting. Truly this was  fantastic.

Goth Chat

               Goths hosted Ustream. Johnny Vulpine invited us into his humble home. I hadn’t spoken to Johnny Vulpine much excluding wanting ice cream I saw him eat once. That ice cream looked amazing. Days later I still wish I had that delicious ice cream cone.

                Johnny Vulpine partied in front of us. Years have passed since I’ve been involved in the Goth culture. I wondered if it had changed since I had been involved with it nearly a decade ago. My most recent interaction with Goths was during another Presidential administration. How much really had changed in Goth culture since George W. Bush left office? Watching the reading I found out. 

                The delivery of Johnny’s poetry was halting. I liked it. He didn’t make anything fancy. You had only the pure language to understand. Haikus happened to be his mode of expressing himself. At the end of each one he had to state “That’s it” with his disarming charm. Since I watched it already tired from a weekend of hugging people I matched up well with Johnny’s energy level. 

                Two people (Amber French and Shayla Riggs) wrote material in a humorous vein. Every poem was absurd and silly. “If I were a cat I would lovingly leave poop in your shoes every morning”.  That ended up being my favorite and most representative of this small series. 

                Joe Randall read his poetry. I’ve never read him before. “Spears fly into our simple heads.” That line sort of jumped, or flew, at me. Most of his lines were rather dark. Among the other items involved hellfire and doom. Most of my day had seen little to no sunlight due to rainstorms. Thus, Joe’s work felt appropriate. 

                Ellen was my favorite. Her delivery worked well. Plus, she had knowledge about ustream and interacted with us, mere ustreamers. Despite the background of drunken revelry she stayed focused, on point. She invited us to add her as a friend on Facebook expanding the massive online poetry community. At some point I hope we have enough people for a village, for a town, and eventually principality. 

                Out of the light came Shayla once again. She delivered a great poem and expressed joy. After she left we had this amazing reader. He wore silver chains since he appeared to be a ‘Poetry Gangster’ revered up in New Hampshire. Though he had the longest poem he managed to keep a certain flow. It sounded like a rap in terms of the quickness of the lines. Each one flowed into the other. 

                People performed a piece with a guitar. I felt happy. Suddenly all my time in college didn’t feel wasted. One held a guitar. The other held a Ukulele. No other ustream ever had married poetry to music. I do both on here. I’m glad others have found this wonderful marriage of the two forms. Hopefully this will become a common feature of all ustream poetry readings.

                “This is what every day is like at Barnard.” is what Spencer Madsen said. Due to Spencer’s location in New York, only he and I actually laughed. All the girls in the building came together and began singing. Only a ukulele and guitar accompanied them. I’m not familiar with what they sang. I do know that they have perhaps more familiarity with singing than I have (I got kicked out of chorus for not singing enough). 

                 Poetry is unstructured. I liked this reading for that reason. By having a loose configuration they made it unexpected and exciting. Truly this was fantastic.