Archive for December, 2012

Westboro Baptist Church & the Usefullness of Free Speech (for us hapless members of the citezenry interested in destroying the Nazi party)

December 28, 2012

Tax exemptions for non-profits baffle and bemuse me… money and church and state and more money building more temples with more state overhead… the process reeks suspect, especially since church groups and social centers and religious affiliates are some of the most vocal organizations in regards to policy & government procedure within their spheres of influence. There is no doubt religious-run bodies & charitable foundations & hospitals comprise a bulk of the good work being done in this country, but in all things TaxBreak there are blood-suckers and poseurs… enter stage left the Westboro Baptist Church… Fred Phelps clips his canvas suspender-straps around a bright orange set of cardboard posters… black lettering strident against the sunlight, a light Fall breeze and the grass and the mothers & fathers & tears and tears and “Thank God for Dead Soldiers”… Westboro’s battle is a war of words, not a pursuit of logos. It is a distortion of good for the sake of shock.

Their honor roll reads like any feud between noble slave-owners… Fred Phelps assembled a band of inbreds and mongrels & Good News-bastardizing red-blood’d biscuits (all of whom happened to have the same last name as Freddy Boy) in Kansas to fight the evils of  homosexuality & the Jewish state in support of flag burning & unprotected sex.  Standard American fairy-tale… Phelps first exploited the pain and tragedy of the 1998 Matthew Shepherd murder to shove his ‘church’ out onto the ‘national stage’ and has conned & connived, insidious in all his dealings (see: January 2011 Westboro’s decision to call off picketing a 9-year-old shooting victim’s funeral for radio air-time), ever since.

Some people want to fight back, to squash the fearmongers and fight them head on… counter-protest the protest. I say let the bastards continue to spread blood above their doorways… let this insignificant band of Tao-looting gypsies shout through the streets of Topeka and explode and berate and string together cuss-riddle’d non-sequitors across the rest of the rust belt. I personally have witnessed their antics (pilfered from use’d-refridgerator salesmen), craven & button up’d & hiding behind invisible fences with loud loud loud speakerphones… they came to Chicago in the summer of ’09 to march along the north side and bully productive members of society who happened to live near Wrigley Field, the site of an Elton John performance the following night. Like 20 farmers could stop an army of Mona Lisa’s & Mad Hatter’s…

Despite the fact that they come off as a complete joke their antics are deplorable. Their message is as subjective as any message can be packaged… not to high-horse the notion of objectivity, but when the ‘opinions’ become the ‘doctrines’ and all of a sudden a ‘book’ is written and its cover sticks with more dust & more dust… things tend to unravel. People (i.e. Freddy Boy) tend to take over. Group consciousness is sacrificed to the lampreys of individual drive & ego overhaul.  Their broadcast deepens in volume but not in substantiation… yelling yelling yelling, starved for attention like Soviet orphans. Unfortunately (and fortunately) the Christian Gospels can be interpreted in a variety of ways, so it is no one faction’s right to stake a claim on the truth. Anti-love, anti-brotherhood, anti-equality (even though Phelps practiced once as a civil rights attorney… but that’s how these neuroses manifest… the self-hatred’s within a person who is completely in love with themselves… it’s a complicated mess) certainly couldn’t be further from the Sun God’s intention in His ministry, but at the end of the day it is all up for grabs. Tis’ the beauty of faith… and what makes it so tenuous. It is why Westboro Baptist is a church and qualifies for all the bonuses… as much as it pains me to accept… but at the same time they are a church that soon will be completely erased from history.

Our country is built on unalienable rights… it is important for the government to stay out of the morality. We are granted the freedom to be ourselves, to speak freely… to let other assholes speak their minds, and then respond with our own version of the truth. It is important for Westboro Baptist to continue distributing pamphlets of bigotry and hate and disconnectedness… look at the picture below. How many people are lined up with this sad bastard? How strong does it look like Westboro has become? Years and years of Phelps family dollars squandered to spread the new truth of the Gospels… but what is there to show for it? We need to let them continue to talk themselves into oblivion, to point out these last one-man parades of hate to our children and our friends and to consciously choose not to join in the noise. There are less and less of these groups and they will continue to decline so long as good men possess courage and humanity stays human. Let the law be the law and let hate run its course.



From One Soul Child of the Apocalypse to Another

December 20, 2012

Every good slab of 21st century journalism is charred by an insight from Brian Williams, and I loosely quote the newsman from his contribution to ‘Mankind: The Story of Us,’ currently hovering somewhere out on the television waves… every world power, every empire and republic and dictatorship that exerted influence, is akin to a supernovae. Their energy builds and builds until finally the lattices crumble and the foundation cracks from the enormous pressure outside… everything falling into itself. Free-fall. The power structures are replaced and life, for better or worse, changes drastically.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) such a collapse will no longer be imminent in the backdrops of our psyches. December 21, 2012 will come and go, sun up sun down, as every other day in recorded time has done before and will continue to do after… until the ink fades or the book burns. Mayan ayahuasca  brewers, Kabbalistic cipher-underwriters, Elysian mystics & solar-flare speeeedfreaks dreaming of the internet… the fantasy of our disaster and downfall has been played out since the Discovery Channel started contending for PrimeTime advertising.  Ted Turner and FOX News and doomsday bunker engineers have made a killing off the phenomenon…Donald Trump is having his shirts pressed this very moment, drooling over his returns on gas masks and electric generators… the general public has been swept up in the Apocalypse Phenomenon, in the tide of their own mortality.

It is only human.

But now with our wallets empty and the fog lifted, there is a question to be asked: Do we continue to be blindly anesthetized and bred into a culture of fear and degradation, or can we willfully choose to live in the here and now with all the other spirit forces of the Gaian mind dancing around us? There’s a reason why the fight-or-flight system has such control over our biological systems, and there’s a reason why tyrants and despots have targeted it for 10,000 years… agapic love, the chakra-stirring kind developed in the deepest intricacy of our frontal lobes, is relatively new…

The odds are against us.

But… we must push forward towards some state of grace, of hope; in spite of the spectacle’d eyes and monocle’d glares from the crowd. At the end of the day, or the start of the eschaton, when hell comes to Earth and Heaven wanders down the beach, the value of life and of the human experience will be the most important issue of all. We, as an American people of 310 MILLION, as a world people of nearly 7 BILLION, can either continue on status quo and wipe the sweat from our brows having avoided disaster… or… recognize the disaster will be there, and the question is when it comes what sort of attitudes will we have in place to combat it.

The free-market will fail, laissez-faire will break a knuckle and when she does the underlying tone of the culture will carry the United (or Divided) States down one riptide or the other: peril & destruction & insatiable madness OR a more cooperative & holistic & spiritual way of daily existence.

There are certain truths and truth-tellers that have come upon this planet (truth in the way C.S. Lewis means in The Abolition of Man) and their recognition by a society of individuals is critical to success for the whole. Think –>> Constantine and the cross, Charlemagne embracing teachings from the monks at St. Denis, the Indian ruler Ashoka’s construction of the Buddhist law pillars, Muhammad meditating deep into the desert and Moses leading his people from perdition with only his hands. There are many economic, social, political parallels that can be drawn from our time period and those others when major changes occurred, the exciting times (an Irish prayer: may you be alive at the end of the world). We will not be immediately faced with the itinerant blast of fireworks that an apocalypse would carry (i.e. tomorrow), but eventually they will fall upon us, God-forbid our children or children’s children… you see the cornea expanding?

The onus is upon us… the time to pass the buck has ended and sentenced to death by hanging for betraying his family and friends… maybe this taste of death can be good for us? Maybe the scent of fetid and cold and dark spaces, this closeness to mortality that mankind has fascinated itself with, will be a necessary scare? Maybe we needed the apocalypse to come, and then go?

Brotherhood, opportunity, a sense of hope… all is ripe for the harvest in this epoch of conscious existence. It is our choice whether to embrace it or not, after we cast down the Web Bots and ride out the planetary alignment and reset the ticking time-bomb of Yosemite, it is our obligation to move forward, past the violence & hate & quiet desperation that strangles our hearts… past Newton, Conneticut, past the civilian rubble stack’d in the Middle East, past the bloodlust for gold and resources and credit card numbers… we, as individuals, need to look at our own faults to better accept the smile of our brothers.

We need to embrace this trip that is life.

Feel the heaviness, feel it in the center of your being when you wake up tomorrow on December 21st, and push the covers away in an effort to go on. Wake up to live, tomorrow and today and forever, not to die.

How are you today?

December 11, 2012

Happiness, is a warm gun.

-John Lennon

Happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war.

-William S. Burroughs

Psychology, wave neouvou, has destroyed American culture. We have tried to quantify and qualify consciousness with Newtonian physics in a farcical adventure down Misconstruction Lane. The worst news is that people have actually profited from this shit peddling and ass-backwarding of human nature… from Dr. Drew to Maury to Judge Judy… labeled as self help and positive thinking and interactive therapy, the erasing of truth is being conglomerated (as the scope of technology becomes more susceptible to the pipe dreams of insidious ideas) in the most horrible sort of tidal waves.

All the questions, all the important matters, all of the heirarchies are directed by a culture of consumption and buzz and reptilian basement-mindedness…What can you do to be more marketable, better serving to the capitalist power base? Little kids sun tan in aluminum can beds and staple off parts of their vital organs. The super ego has become the super evil… even a rigorous papal-provided set of decrees would better serve the human species than the banks and buyers and big shots…hell a Bedouin sick den damned under the gravity of a Saharan sunset would be a more suitable basis for liberation theology.

Enter the viral ‘scientific’ variable, the weapon of the enemy… the idea of happiness… and now, lets take a survey! All over pop-media the unprotected viewer is bombarded by snapshots of perfection. Little windows with new trim and pearly smiles reflecting suburban backdrops of SUVs and unused public libraries and over-used ATM stations. No digital reload occurs without some pre-positioned Advertising VP’s wet dream splashing around the edges of the page.

The General Populus is told what and where and how to strive for this ingenius fabrication of the soul-looters & pollution experts who sit a top the corporate ladders, driving the super-PACs… you know, the boys in the bomb business. Work work work! Marry! Child rear! Invest invest invest! Pay your taxes and your mortgages and your student loans! Run around and never, EVER, look up! Buy! Sell! Who gives a shit!>? Fast paced and even faced…the boys in charge, who pay less on their annual income than you or me or the ghosts of Kennedy brothers ever tossed into the kiddy,  force their agenda into the global mind frame. They seek to dismantle the archetypes of reality and the conceptions of the soul, because once the idea of impermanence sets into their subjects’ philosophical fabric… oh boy…

Real questions are asked. All of a sudden, the fairytale dissipates… their answers… the rusted alloy and discharged semenations and coarse arguments and unnecessary hatred remain while the old dogs puff fat cigars in sub-continental bunkers overpaying for sex publishing articles about the Top 10 Places to Live in America… because a crack slinger from Baltimore wants to pursue his entrepreneurial interests in Salt Lake City, UT… because we all need his and hers televisions in the master bedroom, reeking of mahogany and cell phone service. Ceramic cutlery lined up around rust-proof’d outdoor grills on the patios between potentiality and pussy and the king’s seat…

Do you want to find their bunkers and burn their bullshit? I do.

Back to You, Alan!


At least the old generations woke up with minds to lose…

We were born outside of the pens, the shepherd

asleep at the wheel.

Soundbytes & torrent waves &, manifest destiny whipping us

to website ourselves into eternity, (open-access)

happy happy icons…

Thumbs lapping wits, consciousness barely a

tweak in the frosted light of November.

Children stare past God, &

even if you read on, now, you’ve won! Goddamnit, right now!

You’ve won! Fight and thrive and kill until

the old men die!

These words, a song to dead tribes…sick hands beat the drums

while this pounded verse, blistered at the hearth,

refuses to plough along the line.

Listen to me you invisible ghosts, you ugly soul’d alterations

of nature…maybe the ether will catch the

aftermath, a couple of smiles…

Cano! Sing! Dance! Eat magic and love yourself in

the faces of your friends, coerce mycelium

between unlikely ends!

Continue on, especially when the path sticks like a grade-school

desk drawer, and the crowd laughs. They laugh and Hyde

& will never be remembered,

which is the secret truth We Can NOT forget my

friend… the dripping elixir that fuels the way, a

shell for a hermit crab.

Zeppelin Dismemberment Day, A moment of silence

December 4, 2012

A sad anniversary indeed… it’s no Nagaski or Hiroshima but it was the end of an era, the start to a pacemaking decline towards the middle… December 4th, 1980… Led Zeppelin calls it quits. Just month’s after the announcement of a North American tour, the band released the statement:  “We wish it to be known that the loss of our dear friend and the deep respect we have for his family, together with the sense of undivided harmony felt by ourselves and our manager, have led us to decide that we could not continue as we were.” John Henry had passed into that quiet night late September 1980 and it became rapidly apparent to Plant and Page and Paul Jones that no one could replace the man who Hendrix told, “Boy you’ve got a right foot like a jack-rabbit!”

In memoriam of the man who penned the real ‘Moby Dick,’ FearAndLoathingAtThe.WORDPRESS is offering up a list of what Generations X, Y, Z and A1A will be missing out on as they trudge blindly into the twilight of mankind without aid from the Great Bonzo & His Band of Merry Tricksters…

10) Borromean Rings, Triquetrae, ZOSO obscurities and Mu Civilization symbols

9) Playing a drum-set with four sticks (good luck Pavlovian conditioning Justin Bieber to do that shit)… bass triplets and snare rolls abounding

8) Seminal rock albums recorded in Victorian countryside manors (see: Zeppelin IV and ‘When the Levee Breaks’ acoustics) 

7) Motorcycles in LA’s Continental Hyatt House… quick getaways via their Starship (aka personal commercial airliner)

6) Mudsharks in Seattle (or red herring, depending on your chemical state while the incident occurred)

5) Half hour long acid-fueled drum solos, abandoning the trees half-way through to slam out the rhythms with blistered palms while a violin bow creeps across the trucks of a double-neck’d guitar

4) Iconic double-albums produced because of an abundance of quality material… not the shit-pandering and consultant-advised audience targeting and talentless ass-clownery that goes on today

3) Marrying a Southern blues scale to Eastern rhythm patterns via a high priestess of ancient mythology


1) Real rock n’ roll… sold straight from the devil (see: David Bowie and the exorcism of his LA home) and brewed with a Trans-Atlantic blend of sex residue and speed… the kind of music that can rework space-time boundaries and allow the listener to exist in the eternal… remember where you were the first time you heard the riff from ‘Good Times, Bad Times?’