According to Google University:
A Venn diagram is a widely
used diagram style that shows the logical relation between sets, popularized by
John Venn in the 1880s. The diagrams are used to teach elementary set theory,
and to illustrate simple set relationships in probability, logic, statistics,
linguistics and computer science.
Or put it this way. Ever meet someone at a bar and they asked, "Do you have VD?" Well, they are referring to a Venn diagram. This thing here:
Here's a slightly more colorful one.
See? In layman's terms, it means some stuff shares some stuff with some other stuff. Such as this:
Alas, if only crocodiles could fly, they could travel by land, sea and air. Who wouldn't want to see a croc fly through an office window on the 33rd floor of a downtown insurance company, just to bust the boredom. Anyway, Venn Buddhism is about the overlap of two things. One is politics.
In recent years, many politicians have been described as performative. It's all about performance, exaggeration, spittle-flecked fake moral outrage, cameras, applause, and overall acting up. Me, me, me. Which used to be the chief domain of kids in kindergarten. Well, them days done up and boogied. Childish behavior? That's spelled a-d-u-l-t-h-o-o-d. In fact, don't sell yourself short and be childish. Be a thumb-sucker, be infantile.
These days, it's all about performance art. Really, really, really low-brow, nonstop dumbassery. Why? Because shame died a long time ago. This is the unmarked Grave of Shame.
RIP - Respect, Integrity, Pride
(who needs 'em?)
Wait. This just in. Breaking news. Catgender alert. Some pols claim kids are identifying as cats.
"I need psychiatric help. Take me to the veterinarian."
This kid? Hey. Cat today, flying crocodile tomorrow. I can easily see this brat morphing into a flying gator and swooping down on traffic, smashing through front windshields, and eating people as they drive their cars during rush hour. This kid has Armageddon written all over her face. Little Penelope Sue Ann Kibbles? Hell no...Satan! This little twit keeps her kitty litter box by her school desk, daring anyone to grab it. The littler box is her portal into gender-Hades. Ten years from now? Convicted mass murderer. She'll go down in criminal history as the Krocodile Killer, eating drivers tooling down the expressway. She'll be squatting on the overpass, peering down with her reptilian eyes, waiting to attack the next asshole who drives under the bridge. She'll bite his head off. Her gator tail will swing and crush anyone in the back seat. Then she'll steal the car and zoom away and there'll be an all-points-bulletin for Kibbles the Krocodile Killer on a nationwide terror spree biting off people's heads and eating hitchhikers and also driving without a license while shitty music strangles the car radio.
Penelope Sue Ann Kibbles, fugitive, eating a zebra in the Detroit River
No one can stop the Infantile Krocodile Killer. No one. Planet Earth is phucked (note: one should never swear in front of children, only childish adults).
Unless, you know, what's-his-dumb-ass gets elected in the nick of time and puts the kibosh on Little Miss Kibbles imminent crime spree.
Seriously. Identity is a slippery slope, with or without the demonic presence of a kitty litter box. And so are political ambitions. Which brings this blog to the Mount Olympus for performance artists. The wrestling ring.
2 candidates debating during a televised debate
The candidate on the left is running on an anti-crime, domestic violence awareness, anti-vegetarian platform. His top donor? Tyson Foods. The preoccupied candidate on the right is reconsidering his stance on Medicare for all.
Being an extremist has its upside. Namely, the Triple A. Attention and Applause for being an Asshole. Small price to pay. Donors vs. Dignity? C'mon, you know the answer to that. Now, this next dude? He's running for, I don't know, whogivesaphuck, president. His platform? Cat Kiddies will be exiled to re-education camps in Idaho where they will get reacquainted with toilet seats, urinals, or, if drunk, do the manly man thing and piss in the kitchen sink. The dude below? The gladiator who, with a gut punch, will reorient your cat bladder and make it a normal bladder? He's known as...
This dude? Photographed at Bellevue Hospital? Guess again. Candidate. He said if he doesn't win, it means the election is a scam run by frauds and he will personally trigger a civil war where millions of people will have the opportunity to defecate and die in the streets as a show of support. His name?
Hoax Hogan for U.S. Senate
No worries. There's more. Take a peep at this one. She's running for congress from Georgia. Her bio states that she's been a straight A student since kindergarten, when she updated the Theory of Relativity with a crayon on the living room wall, and has composed a symphony, an opera, a novel, and a kazoo sonata every day since second grade while simultaneously painting masterpieces, right up until yesterday when she put her pen down and sold her toy piano. She recently retired as president of Mensa International, due to a scheduling conflict regarding her training for more gold medals in the Olympics in 25 different events. Anyone who calls her a liar will experience the face-claw hold until their eyes pop like pimples.
How do we know she's telling the truth? Because she said so. The phuck, y'all deaf and dumb?
Behold, meet her highness.
This dreamboat? Gotta love his political slogan.
Dropkick the Washington Machine,
Stop & Lick the American Dream
What office is the bumble-bee man running for? Does it matter? Shut up and send the checks.
Which brings us to Venn Buddhism. According to, yup, Google University, Zen is "...big on intuitive
understanding, on just 'getting it,' and not so hot on philosophizing." In other words, what you are about to see...you will understand immediately. No brain push-ups or pull-ups required.
This is a Zen Diagram. Or Venn Buddhism. With two circles, it shows the logical relation between extremist politicians and pro wrestlers. It illustrates the difference versus the shared space. It asks the fundamental question that's never asked on, say, TV's Meet the Press, or...Fox News. It asks, "Given their antics, can you imagine many of today's candidates, untethered to decency and principle, wearing masks and wrestling trunks? In short, what's the theatrical difference between an extremist and a pro wrestler?"
What rhymes with Zen diagram? Ready?
where the extremists and wrestlers
are penned in like pigs
Actually, it looks like this. These days, things are looking a tad darker than usual.
Zen diagram or solar eclipse or...
Total Eclipse of Human Decency
Let's end this little exercise on a chipper note. Imagine. Someday soon, this may be the next president of the United States. And why will voters vote for him? Because they, like he, knows that pandemic masks are for candy-ass sissies. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't mask up!
Hailing from Parts Unknown...
The Stable Genius
You may wonder, what fires up Pigpen Zen? What makes him don the mask each day and head for the crowds and cameras? Simple. He's driven by lust for raw power, but also absolute terror. Terror of losing the race. Terror of being swept off the public stage. Terror of becoming--gasp!--just another phucking constituent. What's a constituent? That's the dude or dudette that has no power, no donors, no cheers, no applause, no facetime in front of the cameras. They're the invisible people living invisible lives. Pigpen see the constituent as the anonymous, scripted loser who always loses in one of the warm-up, preliminary bouts. The big-bellied stiff who gets pummeled and then thrown over the ropes like a trash bag and into the bloodthirsty crowd.
The constituent has no power.
Pigpen Zen understands that losing is not an option. If he teeters toward losing, he'll pull a cigarette lighter out of his trunks and burn his opponent's face. When the ref disqualifies him, he'll extend his arms like Jesus on the cross, face the crowd and screech, "Lighter? What lighter? You see a lighter?"
That roaring, rumbling sound you hear? An angry avalanche of avenging supporters rushing down from the cheap seats, heading for the ring.
As Pigpen Zen foretold, this will be Rapture. Pigpen, shepherding 10,000 constituents, will announce, "Come hither, I alone can fix your souls." They will elevate in the air as the arena's roof ruptures open. They will float en masse into the clouds.
Welcome to America's Passion Play.
Fortunately, the font in this quote is eye-squinty small and hard to read, because Winston Churchill's message is a real downer. Skip it. Pretend it's not there. Do not peek at his totally unrealistic opinion.