The Highway of All Shortcuts Wants YOU To Help Yourself - So You Can Help Others

Ultimately, it all comes down to the jaw.
Physically, with regard to your health, and circumstantially, with regard to your station in life.
In more than ninety-nine percent of all cases, which means you're included in the ninety-nine,
the cause of failure or impending disaster is inevitably caused by excessive use of the jaw.
Think about it. Whichever one applies to you, you have an instant fix right in front of you.
After all, the Highway of All Shortcuts is designed to promote instant results



If you're overweight, it's certainly not because you have a glandular or hormonal balance.
It's possible that you have those symptoms; at least seventeen patients in a thousand do.
Eose seventeen, however, cannot blame their weight status on such imbalances,
because they themselves consciously and quite intentionally cause the imbalances.
Without exception, friend, what you eat determines how your body ends up.
Stop changing the subject and stick with just one simple fact:
Replacing just one tenth of my bad diet for good is healthy.
That's it. Please, please, don't go further to a new subject,
everyone claims to know better, so why are they not doing better?

Six hundred thousand dying every year directly from heart attacks?
One hundred and ten thousand dying directly from the drugs they're given?
One hundred thousand deaths just from doctor and hospital error and negligence?
What mass drug is being applied to the American populace to nod their heads and shrug?
That elected officials are not being strung and hung in public squares for selling it all?
Have we really reached such a pitiful state, sending money to diseased, violent oil shieks,
in countries where your daughter's clitoris is cut off with a nonsurgical blade for religion,
so sorry that you don't like to talk or think about TWO MILLION girls per year bleeding and suffering,
because after all, "It's my car and I wanna drive to the store to pick up some milk and smokes and bread,
and the truth is, that convenience is well worth a few thousand stumpy arms and legs on kids I'll never meet."


Every time I see someone driving an unnecessary gas guzzler I pray that my sins be forgiven,
cleansed from my tablet as soon as that driver's child is blown to smithereens on a battlefield,
where the highest-tech surgeons and facilities get to keep him alive, albeit with fewer parts attached.
Every gallon of gas contains one dollar to directly fund the activities of terrorists around the world.

You deny it, you decry it as you look me straight in the eye and defile it with another wasteful trip.
Of course this is excellent for business, because we are, after all, in the business of war.
All those people actually believed that the war cost over three hundred billion dollars.
Up to forty-four cents of every dollar all ended up in just six pairs of pants pockets,
including one owned by the second most powerful fella on this here mortal coil of earth.
Can you imagine owning your own little company, where you get to keep one hundred billions?


How do we preach, who can we teach, why should we reach, when so few are actually listening?
All the noise and the vomitable book-sales self-promotion and "Yeah, we ain't going for it,"
all to promote the careers of just a handful of highly-paid people who do "Best Of...." shows,
in their first one hundred days of being in business, at the height of a hot election campaign.
and no one's listening because they actually pretend

All of your pretensions and your self-promoting mentions,
like Queen Marie shall come to roost, the day you finally serve some use,
among the first to feel the boot, the release of all this tension.
Day by day the morn approaches, a day like any other,
All is fair and love and war, look at my wounded brother.
The sun will rise as it has before, and shall long after you,
we're heading towards a dawn ablaze, red, white, and blue.

The nation state has taken toll, taxing black man's right to poll,
They took it once, they took it twice, don't yourself you can pull it thrice.
This is of the day and the time they heeded,
sensible minds just up and seceded.
With no more thousand dollar fines for having the nerve to install a dish,
an absence of armed extortionists pulling cash for traffic tickets.
The end of the tyranny, as with King George of yore,
the people have chosen to stand it no more.
Crafty and swift with nary a shot, they pulled it all down by buying not.
The corps that advertise with billions of yours,
fell down when no cared for the bitterest of Coors.
MacD and his cousins, killing in millions, suddenly losing those precious billions.

More and more people, riding and cycling, walking down to the store,
reducing drug dependance on snake-oil cures, Viag-this and cere-that,
as useless as crap piled up in your hat; the people have chosen to take it no more.

No one in Congress can hear your cries, no in the Senate can feel your pain.
Their benefits and perqs are worth more than your life, as you see by the numbers in war,
Not a one has lost a son or buried a daughter, to cherish and hug them no more.

Not a one votes for you or your interests tomorrow, not a one could care less, for sure.
Numbers don't like, only people who share them, numbers tell us the score,
one hundred and fifty thousand civilians, who will hurt you nevermore.
They don't know why they died, and neither do you,
but bet your bottom dollar it's YOUR wallet that's screwed.

A thousand dead here, a thousand there, soliders are cheap in the hinterland.
Not sons of privilege, not daughters of class,
the rich class of politicians feel your kiss on their ass.
Until the day comes when you keep your dollar,
only deaf ears will hear your pitiful holler.
Don't cry to me, this is not Argentina, you're all being played like a cheap concertina.
Until you hold back psending those bucks, you will never exceed status as sitting ducks.
It's dollars and pesos and pennies and cents, that determine your present and future tense.
Not bombs and bullets, but ballots and bucks, and with ballots devalued, you're pushing your luck.
Each time you stay, each day you delay, every chance you slip by with a buy,
you guarantee a poorer future and worse, we shall hear, the cries of your hungry child.
The rich are getting richer, the poor can't get poorer, the middle class on its way.
They graying of America has taken hold, so it's the young who can save the day.

Stand up and be counted, stand up as a man, defend your heart and your home,
Stand up and be counted, for we'll have no more, or sit there at home and pen poems.

It is the young, at heart, in mind, body, and soul,
it is they who will lead the way.
your nation is stalling, your children are calling,
for freedom to choose, without stonewalling.
Freedom's beat will march again, the mourning of a passing age,