Rookverbod

[John Wijsmuller]

REPLY TO: D66 at nic.surfnet.nl

----- Original Message -----
From: "Lenny Bruce" <lennybruce235 at hotmail.com>
To: <j.wijsmuller at CONCEPTS.NL>; <D66 at NIC.SURFNET.NL>; <vreekamp at knoware.nl>
Sent: zondag 1 juni 2003 0:16
Subject: Re: Rookverbod


> REPLY TO: D66 at nic.surfnet.nl
>
> Beste John,
>
> Je cijfertjes kunnen best correct zijn, er is echter beslist iets verkeerd
> met de verbanden die je legt tussen de cijfers en de kankerpatienten.
> Dat echter terzijde..
> We, jij ook, gaan allemaal dood.
> Een voorbeeld.
> Gedurende de Golfoorlog (van enkele jaren terug) zat er groot "Rookverbod"
> schild op (bijna) alle Amerikaanse Rode Kruis tenten waar kapot geschoten
> jongens lagen, dat er met verrijkte uranuim munitie geschoten werd was
zeker
> niet ter zake doende.
> Als je de straat oversteekt.., enne geld zijn nieuwe stukjes papier die
door
> een overheid vuil gemaakt zijn. Reality is a bitch and than you die
> Je meent ongetwijfeld goed
> Yowsa

Beste Lenny,

Nu maakt iedereen zich druk over te veel regels.
Niemand kijkt naar de betekenis van regels.

Zonders mestregels zou heel Nederland stinken en kon je nergens in het open
water zwemmen.
Zonder regels voor de bereiding van voedingsmiddelen zou je permanent voor
je leven moeten vrezen.
Vereenvoudiging van regels is prima, maar zonder regels kunnen wij niet
leven.

Veel gevaarlijker is het dat Bush en zijn regering andere regels toepast
voor wie voor dan wie tegen hem is.
Hij kiest voor de oud-testamentische oplossing, de vernietiging van zijn
"vijanden" voor de oplossing van al zijn problemen.

Groeten,

John Wijsmuller

They began calling him the antichrist of the underground and a cultural
rip-off artist. Graham reacted in turn by raising his middle finger and
inviting them all to "sit on this and rotate!" He was one of few public
figures on the scene not to give credence to the bullshitters.

Rhea was working full time at her career, traveling to Los Angeles for
modeling gigs, and Emmett saw her less and less. Instead, he hung out in the
Haight, where he maintained a diet of hallucinogens and developed a heavy
crush for teenyboppettes, falling in love with every young, runaway girl he
met. All these relationships were always beautiful. He would get high with a
soft teen miss turned flower-lovely, and they would ball with their knuckles
and knees, the ends of their hair, the tips of their fingers, and insides of
their eyes. There was very little talk involved in these wonderful
dialogues. The young always feel more poignantly without words.

Billy Landout traveled into town from New York during that first week in
August when the former Eagle Scout, Charles Whitman demonstrated his easy
familiarity with guns by climbing to the top of the University of Texas'
observation tower in Austin and opening fire on campus strollers for ninety
minutes, killing sixteen, wounding thirty-one, and being shot to death
himself by a cop to become the U.S. title holder for a single-handed,
mass-murder rampage. Two days later, a flash-talking Brooklyn-Broadway
hipster was killed by an overdose in his Hollywood Hills house overlooking
the Sunset Strip. Lenny Bruce was suicided by society. His deathblow had
actually been dealt years before he was found stretched out naked on his
bathroom floor with that curious, serene expression on his face. New York
City District Attorney Frank Hogan, fulfilling his role as one of society's
most insipid henchmen, ordered his office staff to turn the spiv-dressed
comedian into a fat, mad, abject figure. Vincent Cuccia, one of his
assistant district attorneys who tried the case, repented to Bruce's lawyer,
Martin Garbus, in Garbus's book Ready For The Defense: "I feel terrible
about Bruce. . . . I watched him gradually fall apart. It's the only thing I
did in Hogan's office that I'm really ashamed of. We all knew what we were
doing. We used the law to kill him." To no one's great surprise.

Billy arrived shortly after the comic was put into the ground by stand-up,
old-timer Milton Berle. He moved in with a girl friend who was a student at
the Experimental College of San Francisco State. He also joined the Mime
Troupe, working as a technician on [end page 235]

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