Last Update: 11 April 2006

A Warning of Our New Purpose

I lost my way in the confusion of 9/11, and hence Steal This was out of commision for four long years. Many developments have occurred in this time. Henri Hisaacson moved from his hometown of Detroit to the lost land of New Orleans only to be uprooted to the dystopia of my basement with Hurricane Katrina. I moved to the promised land of Florida and entered private practice and neglected this site.

But I've re-found my way (like all of us). This was due in part to the example of those around me. Henri Isaacson gave up his many consuming addictions and resumed working on his novel. He tells me that this work had contained themes which were manifest on 9/11 and after the attack he thought, why bother? But with time he felt that some (including our leaders) could not see the obvious of that day. So he dusted it off and resumed writing. Another good poet friend had survived a life-threatening hospitalization and recently refound his Voice to write poetry. This is Professor Walter Spara and some of his poems will be featured on this revision. George Bush and his cabinet decided to respond to the attack of 9/11 by declaring War on Terror and Evil Doers, thereby ensuring not one but two new enduring conflicts like the War on Drugs. Because this will be a long tough slog, I decided to throw the weight of into the War on Evil Doers. Fortunately, I define Evil Doers as those who engage in muddled thinking.


In the words of Robyn Hitchcock of the Soft Boys:

Evil is the new enemy, evil is the new bad

Evil is the new enemy, evil is the new bad

Swing your partners round and round,

Hanging just above the ground

Kiss me quickly, wish me luck

Detonating in a ten ton trunk

Love me tender on the roof

Afterwards there'll be no proof

Take your partner by the middle

Like a burger in the griddle

If you would retaliate

Just remember love is hate

(Cut, cut)

Mother is coming, she wants to be friends

So the poison can get into you

She's got a map of you, she knows the pressure points

I wish that I was just paranoid


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For the Pursuit of Clear Thinking

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