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Asunto:[GAP] Purging George Bush
Fecha:Martes, 20 de Marzo, 2007  15:38:17 (-0600)
Autor:Proyecto Interredes <lacasadelared>

From: Rudolf Schneider <res@...> 
Date: 20-mar-2007 3:12 
Subject: Purging George Bush 
 Dear Friends, 
You will find this remarkable for the truth it contains. 
*Can George W. Bush Be Purged?* 
 *Mayan priests purified their sacred land after Shrub scurried off. Can we 
do the same?* 
 *By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist* <mmorford@...>* 
*Friday, March 16, 2007 
Sage is always good. Or maybe lavender. Pine is nice, too. Dried, bundled, 
tied with string, burned with hot, divine intent. Would it work? Do we have 
enough to go around? This is the question. 
I speak, of course, of ritual. Purging and cleansing and purifying and, 
truly, burning a nicely dried, blessed smudge 
stick<>;can be a 
terrific slice of personal magic, to rid a space (or perhaps even 
your own body) of negative juju or vicious spirits or just to make way for 
the new and the moist and the good. You can smudge a room. You can create a 
divine smoldering cloud and then move through the smoke, invoke change, 
purge the negative, invite hot licks of yes. It is a thing to do. 
But here's the thing: Can you smudge an entire nation? Do we have enough 
lavender for 300 million? It is, all things considered, a big goddamn 
country. Windy. Rocky, in places. Could be tricky. Not to mention, you know, 
hazy. From all the smoke. Think of the potential traffic accidents. 
Important considerations, really, because it is becoming increasingly 
evident that a great national purifying ritual is just about exactly what we 
need. We are, after all, almost at that point. The Great Bleakness is 
nearing its end and you can veritably feel the swarm of uptight BushCo 
demons and malicious energies swirling around the country like happy karmic 
leeches, like a giant intellectual rash, like black raindrops of dank sweat 
from Karl Rove's evil mealy thighs. 
To make matters worse, these dark energies, these base spirits were actually 
* invited* here by the Powers That Be, by those quivering, shivering, 
terrified armies of evangelical right-wing neocon bonk jobs and attorneys 
general and sour Supreme Court justices and scowling defense secretaries lo 
these past half-dozen years, and this means they shall not leave easily, 
despite how it is quickly coming time for them to be shoved back down into 
the bowels of fear and shrill egomania whence they came. 
We must, therefore, do like the Mayans do. We must follow their divine and 
entirely appropriate example, set just recently. 
Apparently, George W. Bush -- famed warmonger, despoiler of lands, despiser 
of gays and women and science and earthly resource, hapless fascist-wannabe 
-- it seems George just visited Guatemala, where he happily trod upon a holy 
Mayan site or two and shook hands with wary diplomats and blinked a lot and 
mispronounced a hundred different names. You know, same old, same old. 
But then something interesting happened. Seems Bush left behind huge 
steaming piles of banality wherever he went, and therefore the first thing 
Guatemala's holy guardians of the sacred did as soon as Air Force One's 
wheels lifted off the ground was, of course, to purify the hallowed 
groundour president's shockingly low, nefarious energy had infected. 
It's true. Those Mayan priests rushed in right after George left and 
cleansed the sacred archeological site upon which Dubya had trod, shooed 
away the snickering hordes of bleak spirits that trail behind America's 
Great Embarrassment like a sickly fog of ignorance and misprision and 
shockingly humiliating grammar. 
Yes, we need a grand American ritual. We are, after all, far more deeply 
infected than that Mayan site. Does it not seem entirely appropriate? Does 
it not make perfect sense? Of course it does. 
Ah, but maybe you scoff. Maybe you say what those highly regarded Mayan 
priests did was just quaint tribal nonsense, a little savage, silly, pagan. 
Truly, most Christians tend to sneer at such things, mock and deride and 
denounce even as they kneel before giant gruesome crosses and flock to 
pieces of<>; 
burnt toast and make Mel Gibson insanely wealthy. 
Christian rituals, if they exist at all, are largely tepid and bland and 
might involve, say, a little rosary bead here, a little sip of wine there, 
maybe a quick bologna sandwich followed by 4,000 Hail Marys and a bunch of 
blind fervent prayers to some grand unhappy deity because, well, most 
Christians don't really understand the notion of spirit guides or negative 
energies unless it looks really sexy in red leathery skin and black boots 
and sharp pointy horns. 
I bring this up only because an estimated 75 percent of Americans at least 
vaguely identify with the Christian faith, and we can safely presume that 
only a wizened handful know how to burn, smudge, cleanse with anything 
resembling deep laughter and honest pagan intent and the understanding that 
Bush has been more toxic to this nation than Adam Sandler and MySpace and 
cheap piss-water domestic beer combined. Would this fact be an obstacle? Can 
we please try, anyway?<>; 
We could try water. Sacred baths. Not-so-sacred baths. Any sort of bath, 
shower, divine scrub-down involving divine intent and maybe some candles and 
a little dish of salt and some blessed soap and the prayer-full idea that 
you are sloughing off skanky Bush demons and old skin and past loves and 
idiotic politicians. 
Can we bathe each other? Hose each other down? We do, after all, have a lot 
of water laying around. Bottles and bottles of it stacked to the rooftops of 
the nation's Costcos and Wal-Warts like wet plastic kindling. Would this be 
sanitary? Do we have proper drainage? Enough soap? Ah, logistics. 
Ah, but wait. There is another fabulous possibility. There is, of course, 
fire. I love fire. Fire is God's own enema. Fire is the devil's dental 
floss. It is beautiful and powerful and dangerous and obvious and fun. As 
purgatives go, it can't be beat. Ritualistically, you can burn it all: 
incense, candles, locks of hair, photographs, bedsheets, foreign policy 
documents, Dick Cheney's black charcoal heart, Jenna Bush's beer bong. Fire 
is good. Fire kicks serious spiritual butt. This is what they 
Sure, it won't be easy. We will have to get around the law. Skirt the 
federal fire marshal's implied edict that we cannot really have, say, a 
National Day of Fire, a grand torching of the toxic memory that is eight 
miserable years of the Bush administration. 
No matter. It's still worth a try. It is, in fact, mandatory. And this being 
America, we can just keep it simple. Obvious. Keep the metaphor so clear 
that even celebrities and teenagers and recovering born-again Christians 
will understand. 
Here is what we can do: We shall burn a bush. Ten thousand bushes. Maybe a 
million. Bushes laced with sage, lavender, pine, incense, with eight years 
of warmongering and intolerance and those beady squinty vacant eyes. We 
shall gather in parks or street corners or fire pits at the beach sometime 
next year, and ignite. 
We will burn bush. We will burn away Bush. We shall purify and rinse and 
cleanse the nation of this horrific and banal poison, once and for all, and 
it shall be Good. And those Mayan priests? Why, they'll simply look over and 
nod, smile knowingly. They understand completely. 
Portal fisico y virtual a la: 
Karina Malpica en España: 
Jessica Kreimerman en Mexico: 
Dana Tir en Argentina: 
Abjini Arraiz en Venezuela: 
Ale Guerra en Chile: 
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