Ironically...

This speak-easy of space talk was opened for rambling discourse on the evolution of the transient telekinetic social node and the molding of environments rich in dream fluidity. How quickly we've become sidetracked by the more immediate concerns of assymetrical redundancies and the illusion of an international social contract. Now we must face the reality that our homeland may not be ready for a species of Jacks, and furthermore, may not even have the Tin from which to forge the Gold of a Philosopher King. The irony, of course, is that Mr. Bush's one true failure, his inability to communicate the purpose and mission of the country in a clear and unifying way, is even more apparent today. We speak of the new travel restrictions to Cuba. The revolution on that island has succeeded in creating a tourist trap for every country but the US, no more a threat than say, perhaps, New Guinea. So why? Why, Mr. Bush, must you fuck with the comrades and comradettes?