Archive for December, 2011


December 11, 2011

Here’s what they want…for you to black out between the dots. They want your reference point shattered and your memory to wither and crack, aerated into a glittery sieve. Forgetting forgetting forgetting. They want to take away any chance you have at perspective…at stepping back and breathing in for two goddamn seconds to yourself. Every move you make is watched and analyzed by the crowd…who wouldn’t become a numbed down, window watching derelict after all the social expectation… car after car after car passing between the glass? Who gives a shit what stop you’ve passed on the tracks? The train keeps moving baby, and that’s the fix that they get our kids addicted to, an endless next leaving in its wake a nothingful now.

 We crave that next message, that next digital assertion of our Mickey Mouse egos, that next pat on the back, the next new best friend (even though we still IM our old one, then talk shit behind his/her back). This generation isn’t ready for a goddamn thing. We need our 3-Day Park Passes and instant front of the line access and endless spools of cotton candy so we can ruin our over-priced  Gift Store sweatshirts…the whole family silent and staring, sometimes kids screaming, no one smiling…just staring at their phones and i-whatever’s waiting for some one a million miles away to tell them they are one of god’s children.

 But don’t let the evil fool you like it has fooled them. They do not worship the Sun God who saved the Earth, who willed humanity and consciousness to life, who we killed and keep killing and will forever try to kill until he says fuck these lunatics and squashes the whole deal…not the Sun God that guards the karmic highways and souls of the righteous and truth seekers and lovers of the dream…tightening the gyre towards the Zero Point. No, the men and women of good ol’ USA (and beyond) have been hi-jacked…their energy has been misguided. They worship the god of the airport jackals and the cash for flesher’s and the invisible lamprey mother-lord’s huddled in Caribbean mansions guzzling Crab Louis’ and fucking black market virgins. They dress their evil gods with authority and ritual and $$$ so they can quietly destroy the original messages of the Sun God. They rework virtues and tell us to work overtime and pay our taxes and not ask questions and never let the blacks into town…they want a new 10 commandments…Honor thy screen and thy server.

 I would like to also clarify between the two they’s…the they’s at the theme parks and the they’s behind the control boards. The theme parkers are lovable bastards, even though in crowds, as Huxley saw, they can  be moved to utter stupidity and cruelty… they are malicious finkster fucks if they are not approached and handled correctly, but more often than not there is some spark left in the flint box of their hearts. You really need to give them time, they have been getting spoon fed by the other them’s for so so so long…and in every aspect of their lives. That’s some serious psychological conditioning in need of rewiring…and I always suggest a nice mild dose of LSD and 7 hours on a beach with some of their loved ones. They are alright…they take time but so does everything worthwhile…we all have the center of our universe in us…well, except for them.

 Now this is the they, they who are nameless forever and lurk in the shadows and deal invisibly like Soviet counter-insurgents…they are tricky tricky tricky. Since they control the gallows’ hang switch it will be hard to get at them now…but once the other they’s are all rewired, then we can get them, together. Because their gallows, them’s gallows, those gallows are invisible… their laws and rules and control mechanisms are unhinged and unnatural… more authority rests, in theory, with the librarian catching you eating a PB&J between the shelves… but (this is a big BUT) they have turned us into tattle tale henchmen and have filled us with doubt and distrust and a SEXUAL FUCK LOVE DESIRE for the $. We carry out their bidding and are naive enough to think our intuitions to buy and sell and spend spend spend are from our own brains…or for some higher good.

 Once we realize that we are a means to they’s end, and all of our desires and wants and needs to party in their Caribbean compounds where liver flukes lay wagers over the weight of their third wives silicon tits…once we simplify things, and get back to you and me and not a network of 7 Billion, then we’ll have a shot. Maybe the they’s of today are getting too fat and twisted in their prostates and bilious… maybe the old rapists will escape our torches, choking on their jowels in a silent midnight…but even if we can’t, the Sun God will get them. They can’t escape the Sun God.

And neither can you.



Saturnalian Moons Spin Round&Round…Kepler 22B is Jesus’ new hangout…why mainstream news will forever be mainstream garbage

December 9, 2011

Kepler 22b is 600 light years away and ready for action. This ball is twice as fat as our Earth, which means New York and LA and Vegas and Chicago are twice as big…pray the jails are the same size and the salesman talk half as much. The science sharps(-ologists) say there’s probably water on the surface, which means ice, which means booze, but they refuse to offer further information about possible life forms consuming it. Hopefully the place is just waiting for our occupancy, glasses perched on coasters, right before the Sun burns up our current biosphere in a couple million years…the travel brochures could be written in crayon and they’d still outkill the Bellagio on fight night… 290 days a year (I heard they just aced out winter), all new stars in the sky, a plethora of exotic dope to discover…where do I sign up?

 So I’m hopeful and reading on and maybe things aren’t so bad now that we have Kepler22B to fall back on…hell it even sounds like an audible on the line of scrimmage, 4th and Earth…but then I find Jesus in the headlines …whether you are reading a physical paper or your webpage newsfeed, beware the journalistic invocation of Jesus. Whether you want to believe or not, journalism classes in college do not come with licensure to extrapolate the beliefs and priorities of a 1st century Jesus into a 21st century America…just like in all matters, print or otherwise, when well dressed people start speaking for the Spirit in the Sky, it is time to run and run like hell. Mao claimed Jesus would’ve burned books… Castro raped women in His name…its fashionable for villains to fall back on some Manifest Destiny pseudo apocalyptic jargon.

 In this full-monty hypocrisy of a society, your greatest enemies will claim the side of your greatest allies…there is a good God out there, but he is not casting votes for Michelle Bachmann…no no no. And now, because some Bank of Americ- funded pastor with a blog roll, I have to read about how Jesus wouldn’t have occupied Wall St. His reasoning: the free market is inherently moral and pure and rewards hard work and is referenced in the bible, with scripture verses as end notes. The Bible as an authoritative source re: our current capitalistic meltdown??? Really??? Fucking really CNN???

I wonder if Jesus would refuse to occupy if Wall St. were on Kepler 22B? If their Wall St. was a gaggle of illegal immigrants and dope peddling single mothers and tax evading collegiate drop-outs, I wonder if Jesus would still support the free marketers then…something tells me their temple flag would rip lengthwise like the knife of a serial rapist tearing open a sorority house screen door.

 But I couldn’t tell you in absolute certainty because I didn’t take their crystal ball classes on journalism, so make sure you listen to them, the real authority, before you run out of air to breath to the pot smoking liberals.

 Remember the Alamo,



December 3, 2011

Can’t even buy a bottle of booze without getting pegged as a terrorist…she stares at my ID and stares and stares and checks my credit card and seems upset when she gives it back to me and informs me of the total…upset she couldn’t bust me, be the one to set me straight…fuck the busters and the cops and the do gooders and the work harders and the want morers…you would think a shitty little liquor store in a nice white neighborhood would appreciate the business of a patron such as myself…I mean hell be grateful to be clearing a fifth of tequila at one in the afternoon…but no, nobody’s going to be happy for months thanks to fucking Christmas time. People loathe paying bills… they loathe other people having fun, people love to complain…pull their cards, race religion sex drugs rape detention, whatever… especially when they buy a ton of shit all at once…they blame the fucking bills for coming…like it’s a surprise that the sofa they’re sitting on would end up costing tangible money eight months after they brought it out of the store and into their home… rational buyers, please…economic modeling…you’ll have better luck with market pricing dope…none of us makes any sense and we’re not supposed to…the pitiful miasma of marketing and advertising and managing and customers and sales and profits and guaranteed hedges…they make the commercials last twelve seconds long and shoot our kids up with speed to make them slow down…it’ll all make sense if  you just give it a chance…I have to go, I’m in a rush.