Ian Murphy

It's absolutely horrific. Although the single, "I wanna bang you," is debatably the most convincing argument for nuclear holocaust to date, I'm not referring to the release of Paris Hilton's second album. Vastly more terrifying than the Auto-tuned caterwauling of a vapid hotel heiress is the degree to which political affiliation and base tribalism warps our very perception of reality.


"Is this Donald Adair, owner of Adair Grain, parent company of West Chemical and Fertilizer?"

"This is his house, but I'm his son-in-law, Rusty, and he don't want to talk to you."

"Oh, um, OK, Rusty. Well, could you tell me if Donald was radicalized by Islam?"

"Haha! You're fishin', buddy."

"What about his reported connections to Saudi nationals?"

"You gotta stop callin' here."

"Al Qaeda?"

"Are you kid--"

"Alex Jones?!"

[dial tone]

A cartoon spoofing those, like Obama, who are keen on cutting Social Security.

CPI Unchained

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This week the Supreme Court hears two monumental cases. Their decisions could potentially destroy the sanctity of marriage, and invariably result in a shotgun wedding between your child and a Norwegian Elkhound -- except you won't even have a shotgun because Obama's going to confiscate them all, so he can melt them down into prison bars for the super-secret FEMA camps (I've said too much!).

Stay clear of danger zones.... Basically, avoid Earth when possible.

The Progressive Guide to Avoiding Extralegal Drone Assassination
The Progressive Guide to Avoiding Extralegal Drone Assassination. Photo by Ian Murphy.

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Maybe I'm needlessly contrarian. Maybe I thrive on conflict. Maybe I'm just slow in teh brains from ingesting too much lead. Or maybe my spirit is troubled by the many thetans released on Earth 75 million years ago when Lord Xenu, evil ruler of the Galactic Confederacy, flew billions of space-folk into volcanoes with ships resembling DC-8s and executed them all with hydrogen bombs. Whatever my free E-meter personality test will reveal about my confusion, this week's outrage surrounding the Atlantic is, to me, less than clear.

Our long national nightmare is nearly over. With over $2 billion wasted bringing the electoral inevitable to fruition, it's been a long, and painfully predictable, time coming. It was always Romney's nomination to lose, and it was always Barack Obama's general election to lose. The only surprises along the way were Paul Ryan, the first debate, and hurricane Sandy -- all disastrous tragedies.

I accepted the invite to interview the Heavenly Father to discuss the election.


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This time we’ve got some advantages.


We need to improve the condition of workers this Thanksgiving weekend. Here's what you can do.

By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).

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