G8 Woes

Dissension stirs across the ocean, and the rest of us bustle along our little daily lives, mundane and meaningless. Terrorist attacks in London, a summit to determine world changing agendas, yet every newspaper from here to Australia has an article on the fact that “our” president fell off his bike and scraped his hands. Boo fucking hoo. It makes me sick that such a man rides a bicycle. “Our” president. Ha! This afternoon at Sidewinder Café in Northside, a documentary exploiting the full extent of the corruption surrounding the 2000 election had me crying and ripping the hair out of my head. Fucking bastard! How can such obvious deceit and betrayal of democracy and all that is decent happen in this fucking country!? No one is safe and we’re just all fucked.
I’m sooo pissed.
Protestors in Scotland are all carrying anti-Bush signs. The G8 Alternatives motto is “Stop Bush’s Reign of Terror”. Sometimes – regardless of the on-going battle for middle east oil control – I forget how very much the US controls the entire fucking planet and all of it’s inhabitants. Daily I bemoan how unlucky the US is to be screwed out of an honest election and have this asshole controlling our country. But it’s so much worse. The documentary today revealed so much more blatant corruption in that election than I’d ever feared, and the protests remind us of how very much this illegitimate faux President controls the fucking world and is the planet's number one most feared and hated asshole.
And I know US news shows shit, but not even my trusted BBC News is throwing any sort of negative spin on G8. BBC is buttering Bush. And no one seems to be showing the reality of the mostly peaceful protestors and what their agenda is. And whew! Won’t conspiracy theorists have a field day with the perfect timing of these terrorists attack and their confirmed result in having all the world leaders strengthened in their resolve to continue the “war on terror”.
And I’m here. At Kinko’s in Cincinnati. When all I want do is scream and debate and converse with like-minded individuals and climbe trees with a fucking bullhorn to rally allies and inform the ignorant and get complacent folks as pissed off as they should be.
And in a few hours, I have to wait tables at a sports bar to corporate whores with a smile on my face.
I feel hopeless, and my being futile. Just an ant in the machine, ignorant and detached from what is real. Just paying the bills. “Let someone else do the dirty work” is not my motto. It’s not just another fucking day and the majority of this city has no fucking clue.
Ew.
Not my fucking president.

bitch

Yeah, well... I'm a bitch.
It took a long time to get here.
Trampled upon, and bent over backwards to lick assholes for many a year, I finally learned to stand up straight and brush off the dust, and yesterday, I became a bitch. (You may think I already was one, especially after reading the previous entry, but oh no, my friends - the bitch hath only just now arrived.) I was just ATTiTudE to everyone at work - customers, managers, fellow employees. It felt kind of like I was playing the role of like total captain of the cheerleaders who just had a horrifically bad hair day on the most important night of sorority rush ever.
Or the overly angst-ridden goth girl who was forced to dress preppy and thus substituted evil energy for excessive black eye-liner and combat boots.
Eventually, I snappeed, slapped myself on the cheek, looked around shocked, suddenly seeing my surroundings and becoming aware of my own skin.
The dream/nightmare ended.
"Woh. Holy fucking wow!" I walked up to the upper level of the restaurant, poised behind the banister and announced "Excuse me! I recently discovered that I'm a bitch. I am sooo sorry to anyone I offended, pissed off and generally threw negative energy and glances towards. On that note, fuck off and have a nice day."
There were not very many patrons present at the time.
Happy Fourth of July