“Ron Paul 2012″ by Mitchell Jonas


Analysis: I am always fascinated with the political art coming out of the Middle East and North Africa. I love the banners that they draped over our recently captured drone in Iran. As you can see I borrowed the skulls on the American flag from that. I wonder who these graphic artists that pump out these commenly held and displayed banners are? Who are they employed by, or is much of it is homegrown? I wonder if they use Adobe PhotoShop, and if so what version do they use? With this piece I used an American candidate as the focal point, “Ron Paul.” I am not actually a huge Ron Paul fan but some of his ideas are attractive to me. Why not use a subject which interests you? Enjoy.

Bet on Like Horses

When does design become art?

When does art fade to design?

When is poetry really prose?

When is a short story really poetry?

Where does philosophy intersect with physics?

When does physics give way to philosophy?

When can pop music be considered classic?

Was classical music once pop music?

When will the speculators and sideline watchers

Stop sitting by the sideline commentating?

From their privileged balcony deck

Scene royalty loyalty passed down through last name

Allows them to be educated, connected

Left liberal elite

Right conservative elite

When does the liberal system give way to

Being on the authorities’ side?

Where do right wing libertarian concepts allow for

Copious military spending?

Problems are conceived by analysts

Far removed from the playing field

Puppeteer with a fashionable smile

They have us all on in our respective fields

Artists to engineers to doctors

All engaged in our little “scenes”

Every profession has a divide

There are at least two warring factions

Engineered, and bet upon

Played upon

Bet on like horses

Monica’s Black Futon

I bought my black futon for 30 bucks

From my friend Monica

She had it for god-knows-how-many years

It got fucked on by every drunken couple

That stayed there

At her place

Cum, blood, lube, etc.

Particulate matter embedded deep

Within the funky waxy material

Now, over the years that futon sits in my flat

Falling apart

Bolts falling out

Main support bars bent

One time it fell whilst I was in bed with

Melissa or Bonnie

Now I make sure my cat isn’t under it

I don’t want her to get crushed

From more future-fucking

Girl “friends” they came

They went

Replaced by my escape from writers block

I’d rather be on the block

Listening to Eazy, drinking a 40

Maybe a hoodrat will get “lucky”

And be a part of my next



Sacramento is where souls from

Locales such as;

Grass Valley, Auburn,

Yuba City, Marysville, Weed,

Placerville, Williams, Oroville,

Lodi, Manteca, Nevada City, Tahoe,

Chico and Willows

Come, so they can experience a

City, of sorts

They are so easy to spot

Trying way too hard

Overcompensation, lacking destination

I say, just keep going to San Francisco

Leave this cow-town be, please

If you stay here you will end up

Dating a girl you didn’t realize

Sucks dick for beer foam

Then you will do meth to cope

Stay home and enjoy the starlight

Or move on to SF, a real city

The Future: So Pure! 2000 & Beyond

The year was 1994; bulletin board systems (BBS’s) were quickly giving way to the internet. In the basement a bright young fellow, Lee Jackson, was running his own BBS dial-up service when he thought of a novel idea. He pondered the ever so popular Moore’s Law in which computing is estimated to double every 16 months or so, give or take. He realized that if this law holds true the outcome trajectory would be that of exponential growth. His mind was racing; he realized the implications while playing Duke Nuke’m with his Sears-bought joy-stick which he had just downloaded to his computer via 3 floppy diskettes carefully installed in succession.

He realized that the computer game, in many ways, was like the real world, and in other ways it wasn’t, Moore’s law could eventually make up for these. When computing power reached the power of the natural brain, for what would the difference in reality within and out of the network be, he pondered? Naturally, he figured it would advance beyond the human complexities of these simple times.

Before Lee knew it the year was far in the future, it was 2000! Robots and flying cars occupied the earth. Jet packers were more common than snowboarders and rollerbladers combined. Computing had gained its momentum and stayed on its exponential trajectory and Lee was ready to jump on the rollercoaster, he had no idea of the implications he was embarking upon.

Figuring out how to compute a world which matched the make-up and physics of the real world were no problem, for physics modeling is straight-forward, but interfacing with it was much more a difficult task to behold. Were they to build a “holodeck” type resource location or some other interfacing device in which their reality could interface with the computers artificial reality? They decided in order interject their reality into the alternate parallel reality that they must indeed. They built, with their far superior year-2000-knowledge, a 3D printing room which could “print” realities and project colors and textures on to them in real time. They added sound and chemical reaction to this environment, for they had succeeded alas.

What no one would have ever guessed was once these two parallel realities were aligned, one artificial, the other real, they could interact; they would become coherent only if the realities existed within 99.999% of actuality of the other! If one presented themselves at point XYZ in the artificial environ, they symbiotically appeared in the other reality, for they merged, artificial with nature. What no one realized was that computers could become extra-dimensional when the right components were present. Is this what phenomenon such as ghosts, UFOs and the like were manifested from? They easily found that they could simulate them in their computer. In order to figure out whether this is what had previously illustrated was another question.

They decided to model these incidences of phenomenon. So they did, and they did ever so meticulously. They made; ghosts, goblins, UFOs and even Santa Claus, and as predicted they did magical things in parallel reality as the computer program predicted. The line between reality and make believe started to fade, and it did so fast the two worlds merged and now far in the future, the year 2000, no one knows the difference betwixt reality and artificial reality.

People decided; for if reality was coherent with computational reality, what was the point of living a painful/ shitty life? The masses decided we should program our lives to “happy,” and thus humans did, and they lived happily ever after.

Tonight is the night

Books warp and bend down my shelf

Banana shaped, with books smiling at me

It’s going to break

Vonnegut, Hemingway, and Camus

Will crash down upon on my computer

Which has a fucked up H key, super glued on

It’s lies on a shelf below the twisting shelf

As they fall

My USB cable that leeches free internet

From the business across the way will

Whip out of the socket and land in the

Cat food, my cat will look at me weird

I’ll hook it back up but the internet will

Not work, fuck a Christmas Eve network

I’ll take it as a sign from one or more

Of my dear author friends, long gone

Pick up the book and begin to read

Hemingway will give me ideas of booze

And Camus will bring out the romantic in me

Vonnegut will inspire me to get up and go

I will creep down to the only lonely

Sad bar open in midtown on a

Christmas Eve and order:

Double shot whiskey on the rocks, splash of soda

I will scan the bar for another similar soul

I will not see her

I will go home empty handed and pet my cat

And wake up not remembering it

I will have a dry mouth

That will be replenished with water

That came from leftover bottles my

Ex-type-whatever-you-call her (problem)

Left behind, tucked away in the back of the


T-shirts Get Ripped Off My Body

Last year I had 4 shirts torn off my body

The first two happened in the same night

Lanai, my girl at the time, got real drunk

And out of control, She was screaming

Throwing the dishes, the lot

I sat there and took it, what else can a man do in these situations

Well for whatever reason she grabbed my

Upper Playground t-shirt and

Right by the collar tore, then came my

Wife beater undershirt, RIIIIP

Screaming yelling, breaking

The cops bang on my door

“Open the door or else we are going to break it down”

I had never had a cop called to my house


Similar outbursts by this temper tantrum prone

Girl, resulted in two more shirts being ripped off


The last one came off one night

After the bars with my drinking buddy Jeremey

He had some douche bag start shit with him

He sat there meek taking it

I waited outside the bar until after hours

And found this guy, punched him in face

As many times as he deserved

Knuckles to flesh face feel great sometimes

Two girls jumped in

I was outnumbered now

Jeremey towered around, afraid, not knowing what to do

I swerved around the girls like a ballerina

And kept the punches coming to that sucker

Then two of his guy friends jumped in

Finally I hit the ground

Shirt got torn off once again

Another Upper Playground tee

We scurried away as we heard

Sirens in the background

Got home and took a pull of whiskey

Indian Grey

The still Sacramento winters
Grey beyond all hope
Have me popping Sudafed
That has me popping Valium
Just to slow my heart beat
To match the city beat
Slow slow slow, boring
Grey city has my heart
Yearning for colors in
Women, New cities, adventures
Excitement chewed up swallowed and
Excreted into light grey waste
The artificial joy, sense of adventure
Is all the same where you go
That new pussy or cock
Becomes stale
That bustling new street corner
Becomes the last awful sight before
I wish I was an Indian
Feather in head peyote in hand
Looking into the pure night sky
Knowing nothing about the
Western grey that is to come

Nagging Reminders

My shitty slide-belt-buckle
Or whatever they are called
Keeps gouging up in my stomach
Making a red line above my pubic hair
My 10 year old Dickie’s pants
Have an annoying waxy-torn texture
They are far more comfortable than
30 pound jeans
I see people wearing jeans and I wonder
How they find them comfortable
They are so heavy
Maybe it’s like when you get new
Glasses or braces, or a necklace
It starts to feel normal after a while of wear
The same applies when you get a new job
Getting paid 80K+ a year, bumped up fast
Get pulled into the creature comforts
of an overdeveloped world
I hope I never find myself in this hell
I like the annoying, nagging nuances of being
It reminds me, that I still have it better than
99.9% of the world
It reminds me my head is screwed on straight
That i have not fallen into the hole
It reminds me that I have still not fallen
Into the false class consciousness limbo
The Bourgeoisie dangles in front of my face