Sal Salasin

Sal lives and works in a large, Eastern metropolis, is founder and sometimes editor of RealPoetik. His books include Optima Suavidad, Greenbean Press, NYC, available at amazon.com and any bookstore. Buy it, you poseur! Sal can be reached at salasin@scn.org.

(from The Record of My Cure)

September 26, 2001

So he spends the first 15 minutes attempting to prove an Iraqi connection to the anthrax, which connection "is becoming increasingly clear." Despite the fact it looks a lot like a 73-year-old cracker living alone in his trailer someplace, uh, South and listening to Rush on a regular basis.

Then he slagged some "infobabe" on ABC for mistakenly telling her peers Cokie Roberts had received a suspect letter from Trenton. She's been suspended by ABC, Rush approving reports. He also carried on about ABC's News Prez (What is it with ABC these days? They're upstanding capitalist organs) who had "no opinion" to a student's question whether the Pentagon was a "legitimate target" or not. He should have clicked his heels, snapped his right arm up, palm down, and said, "I will give my life and the life of my corporation for the Little Colonel, whether he lead us against evildoers in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Berkley." Well, that last is really me, but nothing less would have satisfied Rush.

This from the a guy who broadcast for three hours nationally that Hillary Clinton had murdered Vince Foster in her Georgetown apartment and had the body moved by the Secret Service to a park someplace.

Every experience is to some extent regrettable, although
I am enjoying myself. Yes,
the mind is a terrible thing.
Yesterday our beloved president announced that
"All missions are being conducted according to
plan on the military front." Period.
And I have lived long enough to
recognize that pattern of voice which somehow always innocently
precedes great disaster.
The glorious victories of the Russian army in 1914.
"Why did two separate cultures, thousands of
miles apart, both invent pyramids? And
Did it have anything to do with Atlantis?"
No.

She went to Vassar,
I went to driving school.
So there we were, our
naughty parts all engorged and
tingly. Questions
I never want to answer,

#14:
"Is that plutonium on your gums?"
It's Saturday afternoon.
Sal and Harriet are listening to
"Workers and the Challenge of Globalization"
on the radio.
You know you have a drinking problem when
the bartender knows your name and
you've never been there before.

Sal Salasin