Tiered Haiku

The sun is long gone
Eyelids heavy in dark dusk
Beat Mass Effect 2

A Second Stretch: The stretching

Vance Diamond looked down upon Babe Island from space. The twin peaks of its two volcanoes hard in the chill of the upper atmosphere. He had never attempted a Super-Halo Jump, but he was pretty sure it would be no problem.

"Sir," said some guy on the government plane, "We are over the Babes. Your landing zone is between the two mountains."

"Yes, I know," said Vance, "That's my favorite place to go." He gave an off-hand salute, the index and pointer finger vaguely close to one another over his eyebrow and then away- as if to say: See you, I have to do something awesome now. And he jumped into the ionosphere. One man and the world. Vance Diamond.

As he rocketed towards the Babe Mountains, falling at just a bit faster than terminal velocity, Vance began to anticipate the friction of this maneuver and how it would heat him up. Down, Down, his eyes focused on that magical spot between the mounds. He could feel the heat now, and his anticipation was raising. The peaks were hidden by a thin veneer of misty clouds, only a vague shadow gave any inclination they were there. For some reason, not being able to see them excited Vance even more. Very soon, he would.

Down. Down. Rocketing to the Babes. He could admire their lush slopes. Down. Down. There! There were the peaks! Beautiful and glistening after their recent shower of moist air. Then Vance was past them, and he saw his target, the smooth crevasse between the twin mountains. He landed firmly and eagerly, taking a moment to savor the musky warmth of the terrain.

The mission was on.

Creative Stretches: 2012

So then one day the ketchup ran out. That was it. No more ketchup. The tangy, sweetness of good ole' 51 vanished from the world forever.

It was as the Mayans predicted- an end to to the world as we knew it in 2012.

Everybody had always overlooked ketchup; taken it for granted that it would always be there. On that dreadful day, Dry Day, as it is now called, humanity saw just how wrong it had been. There was a general sort of surprise at first. A young man in a McDonalds asking for some packets of red deliciousness. Sorry, sir, they're all gone. Gone? he asks. Yes, sir. Just gone.

The young man straightens up from his habitual get-the-ketchup lean and stares off into the middle space. Then, without another word, he walks out of the restaurant. Fries and hamburger forgotten, wiped from his consciousness like Windex.

Elsewhere, three hours to the west, a middle-aged mother finishes the onion hash-browns her children craved for their late Saturday brunch. She calls to them, and a stampede of feet race the steaming  pan to the table. A young girl and a pubescent boy sit down and sniff eagerly while their mother dote-fully stocks their bare plates  with golden brown sustenance.

Hey, mom. Can we have some ketchup, please?

Sorry, Andy. We don't have any.

No, ketchup, mom? Really? Really, mom, really?

Yes. I'm sorry, Andrea.

The two children stare off into the middle space for a moment, stand, push in their chairs as they had been taught, and leave the kitchen- the steam slowly fading from their favorite weekend meal.

In a month, fast food is finished. Dollar menus vanishing from the collective consciousness of mankind, following the ketchup into an unknown oblivion. Vegetable oil corporations go into a slump. This is worse than the 90s, says one veggie-oil tycoon to the rehearsed concern of a reporter. It's an election year.

Save Crisco! Bailout big cooking oil! The pundits blather at each other about whatever they are paid to blather about, advocating opinions generated through pockets greased sickeningly with golden ooze. The nation's sheep cry out in rage and fear. Their oil is being taken from them. They want it back. Others suggest ovens. They are accused of being indoctrinated by baking advocates in college, ignored, and so the wanton phobia rolls on.

Then steps forth a hippy, who while blazed and wandering in search of chocolate milk, ran into a one of the Crisco-bought candidates leaving a primary rally. In full campaign mode, the candidate mistakes Dwayne's blood-shot eyes for emotional fervor and shakes the young man's hand vigorously.

Hello, young man! It's good to see one of this nation's future leaders here today! Tell me, what do you think we should do about vegetable oil?

Dwayne develops an amused smirk in the right corner of his mouth. Why not give it to me, man? My van runs on that stuff. The Candidate stares at him in open-mouthed epiphany. Dwayne wanders off and eventually finds chocolate milk and a new flavor of gum that is totally awesome when you are high.

Dwayne "The Guy With the Organic Van" becomes a major anecdote of the candidate's campaign, eventually paving the way to the White House.  Big Petroleum is completely caught off guard. Vegetable Oil gets Big Auto and Agri-business in its hands overnight. The first organic cars were rolling off the assembly line in 6 months. In a year and a half, you could swap the fossil engine of any car and replace it with a Canola V-6.

In two years, Afghan farmers ripped up their opium and planted soybeans. Dubai began construction of vast soy islands. Somali pirates returned to the fields. Chinese Environmentalists discover that their country is actually paying attention to them now. Iran begins researching unstable corn isotopes.

The French keep dipping their fries in mayo.

The Six-Sided Dice

so much depends
upon

six-sided
dice

but by eyes
unseen

rolled with binary
code

The Satirical: GOP Canidates Sacrifice Llama to Ghost of Ronald Reagan

The 8 leading candidates for the Presidency gathered this last 5th of June to pay homage to the great Ronald Reagan. It is widely believed that whomever most pleases the late Reagan will succeed in the coming election. And so, the candidates gather in a small parking lot in Tampico, Illinois, the great father's town of birth, to give him honors. The rise of the sun greeted the tributes to their last day- a Nicaraguan llama and a hastily constructed brick wall.

The Ceremony requires brown and black Llamas, and expressly forbids using white ones.

 Dawn. Congresswoman Bachmann rises to preside over the gathering like a Roman priestess in the temples of Tiberius. "On this June 5th, we beseech the great Reagan for his charisma, his coalition building skills, and the right to say we actually know something about his presidency."

The GOP rallying cry builds from the others, "Nay! Nay! Nay! Nay! Nay!"

Then, with her best Newsweek smile, the Representative from Minnesota slices the jugular of the llama tied, bleating, to the Alter of Small Government. The blood pools in the basin, and then begins trickling slowly down, drops hitting the dry pavement.  There is a hushed silence, but soon heads are raised, and a joint call for club sandwiches on white splits the calm.

"The llama is a complicated metaphor," explained candidate Mitt Romny, "it represents two things. First, the death itself represents the Great Reagan's contras, and the spilling blood is the blood of those killed as a result." The former governor took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "The other symbol is the blood on the alter. See how it's trickling down over there? That's the trickle-down economy."

When asked why so little of the blood was actually getting to the ground, Romny laughed, saying "Well why waste the blood on the ground? Perry's country club has this chef who makes incredible blood sausage. We're headed there after this to drink and watch our favorite movie."

 After a healthy, all-American meal, the candidates sit cheerfully to watch some German workers knock down the brick wall. "Well, that's easy- it's the Berlin Wall," explained Texas Governor Rick Perry, "No, we prefer to sit here and watch these Germans do the work."

The candidates fondly remember when The Great Regan raised the first hammer in 1989.

 The parking lot rings with the sounds of sledge on brickwork, Mrs. Bachmaan wanders over to explain the use of the space. "See, this used to be a little wooded grove. But we couldn't get our buses in here and the soft ground made it hard to stand the brick wall- so we just paved the whole thing over. Some local hippies tried to stop us of course, but, you know, they don't have any money so it's not like they could really do anything."

The wall falls around 10 a.m. to the cheers of the watching politicians. They then stand, shake hands, and depart, leaving behind an empty paved lot heaped with broken brick and Styrofoam sandwich containers- baking in the noon sun.

The Satirical: White House Casting Call for New Emmanuel Goldstein

Hundreds of terrorists, religious fundamentalists, political extremists, and bearded men will arrive in Washington for a casting call this Saturday. They will audition for America's next Emmanuel Goldstein, the government-selected focus of our collected hate and fear; a position now vacant following the assassination of Osama bin Laden.

Will Cat Stevens emit the soothing melodies of international terror?

"It's important we are ready to go with a replacement," said a senior White House adviser, "The American people need individual people to hate. The reality of the world's complexity is, frankly, beyond their grasp."

This use of a carefully tailored scapegoat is an important political tool for advancing legislation and building campaign momentum.

Did Joaquin Phoenix go off the deep-end... of Islamic fundamentalism?

"A catchy name and a few menacing photographs, audio and video clips, are all you really need,"  said Rob Vious, professor of Political Science at Georgetown. "Throw them on the news every one in a while and you can start wars without congressional approval, violate the sovereignty of other nations, trespass on civil liberties- all in the excuse to seek one man. And anyone who speaks against you is called a hippy, leftist, America-hating traitor."

For these reasons, the selection of a new hate-focus is a tricky proposition. There are many requirements for a successful Emmanuel Goldstein.

"They need to be a member of a minority group," said Prof. Vious, "otherwise American xenophobia won't be triggered. They need to look sinister; beards are good. And finally they need to have vague national loyalties, so you can act against more than one country. That flexibility is important."

Just how bad to the bone are they?

White House officials will be hard-pressed finding an equal to the late Osama bin Laden. "He was perfect," laments former Vice-President Dick Cheney, "He got us two wars, the Patriot Act, and ten years of phobia inducing terror alerts- And his trade-in-value!"

The capture of a scapegoat is a political goldmine, and President Obama was quick to capitalize.

"I told people to get him," said President Obama in his historical announcement last night, "and they got him."

And thus he became the President who got Osama bin Laden, a towering success over any Republican contender in 2012.

The Satirical: President Obama to Create No-Peace Corps

The President after signing the historical bill.

Signed into law yesterday by the President, the Despot Destabilization Act marks a new turn in American foreign policy. Young, passionate, ethnocentric Americans will volunteer abroad to destabilize non-Democratic governments as members of the No-Peace Corps.

"Now, look-" said President Obama in yesterday's press conference, "the American people love freedom- and Democracy is that freedom. The people of the world also desire their freedom. In places like Syria- Egypt-.... Libya. Patriots are fighting against oppression and despotism- and they need help. I have just signed into law- a bill that will ensure that people- around the world- will receive the American Democracy we want them to have."

No-Peace Corps volunteers will be trained to use a variety of techniques during their assignments: rabble-rousing, seditious publications, propaganda, bribery, supplying arms to local rebel groups, and employing guerrilla tactics against local law-enforcement and military agencies.

Head military adviser to the President and the Despot Destabilization Act, GEN. Dick Bulge said, "In these troubled nations, there is a lack of Justice, and with no Justice, there is no Peace. So, a primary tactic will be to thrust ourselves into the corrupt orifices of their police."

After successfully fostering a rebellion, the U.S. military will step in to oversee the final transition of the host nation to an American Democracy. Once local democracy has been established to American standards, the United States Peace Corps will begin their humanitarian effort to allay the American conscience and make everyone feel like they did a good thing in the long run.

"It's a bold policy, a true American policy." claimed creator of the act, SEN. Richard Small of Texas (R). "A world of American Democracy is a world safe for America. The patriots of the No-Peace Corps will create this world, and win the War against Terrorism."

Critics of the Act have been vocal in their opposition to what they see as a hypocritical policy. "This law will turn Americans into full-blown terrorists, using identical tactics to Al-Quedia." said SEN. Nancy Clemintine of Rhode Island (D) in a phone interview yesterday evening.

SEN. Small responded on his website: "The accusation of Mrs. Celmintine is both disturbing and insulting. Comparing the actions of the No-Peace Corps to known terrorist organizations is a gross misrepresentation of the goals of the act. Our volunteers will oppose undesired governments, advocate our superior values to the populace, and do so by any means necessary. They will be Freedom Fighters and Patriots- not terrorists. I would never say it, but the comments of my colleague from Rhode Island are so un-american; it is obvious she hates our great country."

The Senator went on to say, "Plus, Mrs. Clemintine's state is entirely insignificant in American politics."

Other critics oppose the Act upon general principle. "They are taking our job!" said Mr. Frank Tellman, deputy director of the C.I.A.