The White House has a surreal way of telling the truth. While blaming everything on someone else, they subtly admit that they are not responsible for anything, which is right in line with their amoral sociopathy. Of course, not taking responsibility is not the same thing as not being culpable. This poster was inspired by the outrageous claim that the Palestinians are responsible for Israeli snipers yesterday methodically killing 61 Palestinian protesters and injuring thousands more — all while the Israeli military has not suffered a single injury in the wake of weeks of Palestinian protest by tens of thousands of people. This happened while the United States was opening its new embassy in contested Jerusalem, an offense to tens of millions in the Middle East. The United States continues to be complicit with the Israeli apartheid regime. We have blood on our hands.
Thus, I offer this FREE POLITICAL POSTER: White House gives its boilerplate response – We are NOT responsible. MOST. NOT RESPONSIBLE. EVER.
Trump, in his Biblical knowing, is familiar with barnyard animals, and feels free to interpose himself in virtually any manger scene, particularly if it calls for the most big-league baby of all. Jesus Christ, what the hay!!
President Donald Trump declares Jerusalem as the capitol of Israel, and being a bang-up capitol-ist, The Don blows through Bethlehem and any measly accommodations The Prince of Peace has too tender, immaculately misconceiving the fortuitousness of a Palestinian Jew. He’s off, to Jerusalem to get his big hands on what he stupefyingly sees as a virgin, piece of property, to be grabbed by his celebrityness, with no regard to the other party.
In honor of the nativist Donald Trump blowing through any peace-loving nativity scene like a loony Tasmanian devil, I have created this parody Christmas card to the whirled courtesy of our narcissist-in-chief, in the form of a free poster: TRUMP Promises to Bring Peace From Bethlehem to Jerusalem And Good Will Toward All Men (Women Not So Much) NATIVITY Scene with TASMANIAN Devil Trump.
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
Is it time for one of those Come to Jesus moments Wear there is skin in the game Beyond black and white Word And what surrounds Words Becoming flesh Another flood In a see of Red between the lyin’s More than throwing the book At smacking Of the full lips of won’s savor A forgiving fodder All the wile preying too Knowing not what due Holy discriminating No the color of blood Know more Technicolored Jesus A mine blowing Palestinian Jew Borne and razed As soul Property of another religion Slaves to shedding That which is Indistinguishable from their own Pooring into the world Seedlings multifariously soiled Converted to a cross Saved fore Christ Only knot Apprehending With due convictions Buy red letter Christians Drinking from rose colored glasses As white as know Giving him hail King of the Jews As a sign of the tines In tongues speaking Reportedly above cross As fallower remains Intent disciples Paving the highway to hell Trod by poor soles Back in black And who Suspects In America As when roamin’ umpire If a man is hung from a tree He’s black N conceivably Some thing other
This poem is about a Jesus for all, black and white, boringly straight and fabulously technicolor. This poem is about the violence and racism present in American Christianity. If Christians must be black and white, the evidence points more to a Black Jesus than a White Jesus. A nation built on slavery still undergirds contemporary lynching, parently paling in comparison in present-day whitewashed White supremacy. Of course, America has ambitious rule beyond its boarders. The imperial American rule of the world and its concomitant violence has been condoned, even blessed, by American Christianity. A Palestinian Jew is inconceivable to most. Perhaps this explains the prevalence of virgin birth doctrine. We are all pink inside, and for some strange reason, the fruit of this seems to only be conceive Abel by shedding won an other’s blood. May we reach a stage of enlightenment where we can live together as one humanity, or at least not use the crucifixion of one as rationale for the crucifixion of an other.
Check out these Cool RELATED POSTS:
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
After a long hiatus, CEO Jesus is back. This comic was inspired by a poem I wrote recently:
At Jesus, Inc. I came for the love and mutuality I stayed for the retirement plan
This poem and political cartoon is a parody of the often namby-pamby, first-world Christianity that passes for following Jesus these days. I sometimes joke that I wish there was a religion where the founder was a nonviolent rabble-rouser crucified by the state, perhaps even as their fellow clansmen stood complicit. That’s a leader to which I could relate. I occasionally wonder what Christianity would look like if we amped it up so that, say, 1% of Christians were killed as a direct result of their radical love challenging the powers that be of this world. What if Christians seriously risked destitution or death for the cause of love more commonly than building “secure” retirement plans? These are the kinds of questions that haunt me and in which I find little traction or resonance within the walls of American Christianity. Ahhh, for a Church that boldly embraces such questions; this is the Church I long for…
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
This first in a potential series of Palestinian Jew Jesus comics was inspired by the latest insanity of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. In his continuing gross caricature of Israeli domination over Palestinians, he one day claims that Palestine doesn’t even exist, then another day claims that Palestinians caused the Jewish holocaust in Nazi Germany. In short, The United States needs to stop supporting and subsidizing such brutal insanity. Palestinian Jew Jesus puts it even more succinctly:
In oblivious camp
The guard threw shoes at us
My pair was too big to fill
More suited to Tariq
Though mine were newer
Tariq’s were old
And bound to be
A little too snug
Seeing more than a pair
In his eyes
More than a trader
As a Spanish Moor
Don quixotically
His feat covered
In such a broad cast
O Don my don
Won
Never entreating
Me mirrorly
For what
I had
My number coming up
Finding myself only
Equal to death
In life
And awe full
That’s going on
WARNING: This commentary contains spoilers — and/or clues.
This 92-word poem is packed with overlapping and intertwined cultural references. First, the initial inspiration came from an unexpected source, a source to which I stumbled upon, from a momentary image in the graphic novel, Maus, by Art Spiegelman, where he chronicles his parents’ experiences as Holocaust survivors; specifically in a short “Making of Maus” presentation by PBS. A character commented on the shoes he was thrown by a concentration camp guard paying no attention whatsoever to matching the shoe with the man. This struck me as a surreal brandishing of a perversed proverb, “If the show doesn’t fit, wear it.”
Fast forward to today. Instead of in a concentration camp, the setting is an “oblivious camp,” a self-parody of the horror of genocide. Given a recipient named Tariq, the implied guard is an Israeli, a Zionist, maybe even a Jew (this is the author speaking). The apparent irony of Israeli fascism is further multiplied by shoe throwing as an especially insulting gesture to Arabs. The guard neither knows nor cares.
The story is told in unnamed first-person. Those who know me, the author, know that I am not Palestinian. Those who really know me, know that I am Palestinian — at least if weave ever metaphor. The narrator has a newer, “better” pair compared to his companion shoe receiver, Tariq. The “too big to fill” as well as “pair” also refer to a man’s balls, i.e., courage. The hubris of violent retribution may pass for courage, yet, remain “too big to fill.” Something of a higher spiritual nature is lacking, preventing fulfillment. Being puffed up with worldly power also leaves us cramped spiritually. The “too big to fill” is also a reference to “big shoes to fill,” meaning of a challengingly high moral fulfillment — “More suited to Tariq.” While Tariq’s shoes (and balls) were old, he was “Bound to be,” to exist freely in his being and be bound in his existence. To the unschooled, “A little too snug” can appear as cramped, naive, even smug. But, alas, “Seeing more than a pair,” there is more to life than mere possessions, or even worldly courage. “Seeing more than a pair/In his eyes,” is the meeting of souls, through truly looking into the eyes, the windows of the soul, and seeing one another’s humanity. “More than a pair” alludes to more than a pair of shoes, more than even a pair of companion souls, including and transcending even the oblivious guard, alluding the an ever-mysterious, even awe full third.
Ironically, Tariq means conqueror. And conquering covers a lot a ground (often with blood). The Spanish Moor reference deepens the “More than a trader” reference, alluding to more than simply trading tit for tat, more than trading by means of outright conquering, and more than a traitor by alternating roles as oppressor and oppressed in life. The Moors were African (black), Arab, and Muslim. They occupied “Spain” for 800 years beginning in 711 AD. Tariq ibn Ziyad was the conquering Moor general. They brought literacy and “civilization” to Spain. The ironies emanating from such history into contemporary life exceed perhaps even that of the most famous Jew, Jesus, a Palestinian Jew, now portrayed as a Christian. Now, the black Arab, Muslim, Spanish Moor reference turns on Spanish culture with Tariq’s Don status, meaning a lord or gentleman, or even mafia boss; plus, there is the allusion to donning another’s shoes as need be even amidst one’s idealism (Don quixotically). “His feat covered” alludes to accomplishments lost to history, met with the acceptance and certainty of death. The inevitable turning of fates does not confound the wise man who sees these as the inexorable breathing in and out of history.
Back to the narrator, “In such a broad cast,” the oblivious dropping of the shoe of history upon us engenders the seeking of redemption in the equanimity of Tariq the conqueror now vanquished of earthly victory. “O Don my don/Won” is a cry to a Don with a capital D from a don with a lowercase d to move beyond simply donning one set of circumstances after another in a perpetually unfulfilling chase for the ultimate tale — or whatever tale won can muster. Here lies the reference to “don Won” (Don Juan), history’s most notorious tale chaser, ever confident in youth’s distance from death, ever accessible superficialities, and repentance as procrastination’s crowning achievement in the face of a God sow loving. What good is clinging to victories when death, the great equalizer, stands over us?
The narrator suspects that Tariq might have an answer. The narrator’s cry “O Don my don” is a venerable ripoff of Walt Whitman’s, “O Captain, My Captain,” about Abraham Lincoln and his death, reminding us that after even achieving epic victory (e.g., freedom from slavery), our greatest will eventually fall cold and dead, and we will each be left with “mournful tread” as we seek to fulfill our own soul’s purposes without the benefit of particular great souls by our side. The narrator’s cry to Tariq, all ready as good as dead, confesses his unreciprocated vanity: “Never entreating/Me mirrorly/For what/I had.” No matter how high we might be able to crank up our number, our number always comes up. Tariq lives and dies in this essential equality. Tariq sees beyond the pinings that box us in. Mysteriously, the challenge becomes clearer when we have little to cling to, and perhaps clearer still, when what we cling to is an unbefitting shoe, freeing us though its tragic comedy. Know longer cluttered by the stuff of life, the narrator confronts a new reality: “Finding myself only/Equal to death/In life/And awe full/That’s going on.” As the awful is going on, may you find yourself full of awe, for that’s going on!
Somewhat sheepishly She whispered Beware of wolves in elephants’ clothing Lurking about Only looking Like they want To kick some ass Though you can skulk in style If you have A grand Old party Securing your plush seat At the table Loaded With elephant guise Rather incestual sycophants At their I’m potentate parties And if you are well, off They will take you To a tee Spouting about King George I and King George II And unjust taxes More dear than all the tea in England And buy George, they’re not satisfied with a billion Let alone a third Perhaps some fresh prince all over A newly-minted crime scene Unseemly blind to any lackey of evolution Yet there is no ruler To measure their monkey business Their trinity Cheering with pomposity Throwing monologues on the fire And stalling Having perfected the nationwide holdup A three wring circus And we are left With what’s in the stall The elephant dropping All that is fertile For phony fossils Making evolution impossible A lessen they never forget With a mellifluousness Abel To capture the common man A cleanliness next to godlessness Their hoods white For shadowing their golden daze In an urbane jungle Leaving behind poor gramma Spelling her downfall GOP opposed to GOD Having fallen Down And can’t get up Leaving students With nothing but a prayer Leaving workers With a free market they can’t afford Leaving US With life after death And perhaps before birth Still All the wile between Sent to our gloom To be Or not to be Borne again That is the quest in Whether it is know buller For in the mine to suffer The blings And ere rows Of outrageous fortunes Oar to take alms Against a see of troubles And by opposing thumb end Overcoming any Hitch Hiking what’s left As necessary Sew much more than Evolution One of the scarce things They can’t seem to buy Their con science Of what They know longer nose Inescapably figuring Somehow elect by birth Perpetual SNOBS Where the N is usually silent In their civil war Inevitably impaled by their mortal compass Spinning north and south Feigning uprightness Disavowing any revolution present Captivated by fanciful futures And realities passed And still What goes around Comes around A choice truth Either buy Ballads or bullets We all have the write to choose To ward off electioneer death
This poem is a thinly veiled anti-Republican party exposition. Profoundly ironic, Republicans are as sure proof as you are going to find that evolution doesn’t exist, and, as Gandhi never said, “Be the lack of change you want to see in the world.” The Republican party appears quite comfortable with greed as the primary human motivation. Perhaps worse yet, and even more disingenuous, is the ease at which Republicans embrace anti-science views, of which anti-evolution and climate change skepticism are its hallmarks. For the so-called religious expertise that Republicans claim, they certainly manage to brand religion as anti-science, which it need not be. Even within the hallowed halls of religious territory, Republicans manage to bring hypocrisy to ever-new heights. With their specialty Christianity, Republicans paint a picture of Jesus as if he were a white, suburban-living, English-speaking American, preaching some prosperity gospel. For God’s sake, Jesus wasn’t even a Christian, he was a Jew, and a Palestinian Jew at that! If such a poor, dark-skinned, Middle-eastern, non-English-speaking, peace-loving, giver of free health care showed up in America, the Republicans would have reserved seating at his crucifixion. Of course, they would contract out the actual killing, though a carpenter driving in those nails would not likely be a member of the carpenters’ union. Plus, the Republicans definitely wouldn’t bother paying a “living” wage for such low skilled tasks, however unpleasant.
The larger theme in this poem is about the tension between electoral and non-electoral politics. The two-party duopoly of Republocrats offers only a narrow range of possibilities deemed politically feasible. This leaves the electorate, barely even a majority of eligible voters in many elections, to ratify the predetermined candidates from a relatively narrow ideological pool. In my view, this electoral desert leaves little room for the kind of robust responses that the current world begs. Our slow and limited responses to climate change and energy use demonstrate this best. Even a well-managed end of civilization as we know it is a poor substitute for saving humanity. Of course, the “ballads or bullets” dichotomy is somewhat hyperbolic for effect. Nonetheless, without nonviolent revolution, or much-speeded evolution, our current body politic will experience a much more violent demise. I am rooting and working for a nonviolent revolution. The driving force of this revolution will almost certainly originate outside formal electoral politics. As history teaches us, such robust change does not come without personal sacrifice, and it demands courage. The Republicans would be well-advised to learn from Jesus, who showed us a different way. And who better than Jesus would know that just because you are a carpenter doesn’t mean that you have to see everything as a nail!
The other day I got kicked out Of an atheist’s club Told in no uncertain terms There is science And no other! And I am left To wonder Wow, where did that come from?! I was raised A Christian A long story (some may say tall) Which makes some short Red chapters Heavenly verse To love One, an other To bless Not curse A Palestinian Jew Named Jesus We could do much worse! I once heard a Muslim Of five pillars he spoke Coming down to One And as a Muslim I woke Then along came Buddha Who said: “Don’t follow me, Experience it first!” Which made me want to follow This unslakable thirst To find compassion and justice A home Here on this suffering Earth A little man Named Gandhi To kingdoms united He spoke I am A Hindu A Christian A Muslim A Jew And undoubtedly a Sikh he So many will accuse Well Me too!
I have considered myself a theological mutt as long as I can remember. While I have never found a home in atheism, I have a deep appreciation for those who have rejected theism when they experience theistic followers as extremely unwelcoming and exclusive. Probably one of my most basic theological beliefs is that God is love, and that God’s love is unconditional. I find it difficult to imagine such a “condition” that is any more inclusive! This wreaks havoc on virtually every conventional way of thinking. This is one of the major reasons why I consider spirituality as countercultural. A healthy spirituality is constantly turning up statist views of reality and human conditions. I see spirituality as basically a struggle of life over death. How does one enliven, incarnate, the inanimate matter that is the object of science (there is no subject in science!)? I don’t see differences of opinion around spirituality primarily as theists versus atheist, but rather as fundamentalists versus welcoming dynamicists. In the myriad world of either/or propositions, the dynamicists welcome the answer of “YES!”, as opposed to “this, “that,” or “yes, but.” Or, more simply put, does it enhance living? Unfortunately, living in this both/and world can be quite disconcerting for those demanding hard endpoints or absolute certainty — which are dangerous to coming to healthy terms with the irreducible uncertainties of life. In theological terms, this would probably be called process theology, where: “it is an essential attribute of God to be fully involved in and affected by temporal processes, an idea that conflicts with traditional forms of theism that hold God to be in all respects non-temporal (eternal), unchanging (immutable), and unaffected by the world (impassible). Process theology does not deny that God is in some respects eternal, immutable, and impassible, but it contradicts the classical view by insisting that God is in some respects temporal, mutable, and passible.” But enough theology, suffice it to say that I believe that fundamentalism is a death knell for healthy spirituality and a living religion. Perhaps ironically, I don’t see that atheism has done any better of a job than theism of minimizing fundamentalism. I don’t see much difference between militant atheists and fundamentalist religionists.
But, alas, such debate has being going on for millennia, and with much dissatisfaction; so I would propose that the dividing line can be summed up by the attitudes represented in one’s response to this statement by Albert Einstein: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” Or, to frame it somewhat differently, when Einstein was asked what the most important question that a human being could ask is, he answered: “Is the universe friendly?” I don’t know if this question is answerable in some ultimate, final sense, but I do know that I can vote for the universe being friendly, and make the universe a little more friendly, by practicing kindness. And the gratitude manifest by seeing everything as a miracle helps empower me to behave kindly. But, you be the judge…or not.
Top Pun's mission is to maximize prophets. Top Pun creates serious, funny, and seriously funny peace and justice designs which are available on your choice of
products such as buttons, T-shirts, and bumper stickers. Top Pun blogs to highlight additional facets of his word artistry such as pun-filled poetry and funny political satire, free posters, as well as political actions of local and global importance -- and don't forget the noncommercial, public health radio show available online, Just for the Health of It . Top Pun's serious playfulness ever reminds us that justice is no yoke, and the pun is mightier than the sword!