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It's 2002 again. That's when World Corp had already decided to invade Iraq the following March. And when most of us found the Smirking Chimp and thus began our blogging careers -- in order to express our discust. Now we are facing the exact same scenario with Iran. So, what do these fucking judo-christian neo-feudalist fascist bankers want? It better not be about oil. Because what were all likely to get is WW3.
Happy birthday, Mouse. We hear ya.
Not only can't I spell disgust, but I can't remember jack shit no mo.
It could go either way... but I don't think Iran-o-rama is gonna happen cos shit is coming unglued too fast. Granted, the stone-hedz is a one-trick-pony... and ginning up a nice honkin war has always worked to distract the proles from how badly they is gettin focked... but eye donna think it gonna woik dis time- because dey done fooked the "money" system.
Fancy that shit- the Money Party- crapped in their own skillet. inflation-deflation-stagflation-obfuscation... whateverthefuck... people gonna be cold and hungry... add in a few natural and/or artificial catastrophes... grid flickers- it's ZOMBIE TIME. the porks are well-aware of ZT- and that's why they's passin laws like crazy to paper over smashing "civil disorder" wid a quickness. i gotta few modest proposals (contained in the links above posted) wot eye is gonna try and present in about 15 minutes to a panel discussion this weekend. we'll see how that goes.
clean- water, food, energy, information... and all that. let's go down- down to the river to pray. oh yer bay-bee has gone down the plug. the porks knew it wuz coming... but were so bizzy rooting they schnoozles- they cunnt help theyselves from helpin theyselves to mo and mo an mo- they done popped like Mr. Creosote. and o course y'all saw on the Chump how krakkkerland is turnin into tweekerland. wooden ya like to be a pepper too? I know that neighborhood QUITE well.
Eye Knife Raven Doll Coffin...
more bullshit on the Chump about lolly-loo celebrity political sock-puppets,,, the remaining Chumpster apparatchiks seem freaked-out that the "political system" is fucking IRRELEVANT... and it does not matter one bit if the portly pepper-shaker lady "votes" for J Fred fucking Muggs.
Just took a break to dash over to the strip-mall gas station to get some cigs (yeah- they gonna kill me- can't get outta here fast enuff). The Duckburgers here just topped a buncha recent surveys for being fattest, dummest and happiest in the land-o-da-flea. Typical Duckburger jumped outta his Chevy pickup (leaving engine running, heater blasting)... on the same mission... wearing T-shirt. It's 30 F (0C) outside. Between the tweekers out here and the gangstas downtown, these people will be toast. Yeh- there be gun-head militia types too, but not too many wot I call REAL rednecks. Most is just squishy office-butts. Teeparty Publicans, o course.
They yammerin constantly about "their" munny. Unaware of financial collapse. Only the ones who no longer have "j-o-b-z" are aware of the current commercial collapse, and the political collapse may as well be on the moon. Eye guess they will rolly-polly right through social collapse by staying inside... and then when cultural collapse happens, either the tweekers or gangstas will eat them.
oh we are soooo fucked.
edit: if you are into any of that shit, Lakoff nails it here. sorta.
Words, words, words.....Lakoff labels words in the mythologies of progressive and conservative (words that are meaningless to me - wot the fok is a progressive?). It is all wrestling anyway - and the crowd don't care that the match is fixed....and will get mighty pissed if you spoil their fun by trying to point it out to them. And, like Barthes says, they got their mythologies and it don't matter what words you use - the know what they believe and that is that.
In junior high I used to sing along with Cream (may have misremembered some words):
A mother was washing her baybe one night
The youngest of ten
and a delicate mite
The mother turned round
for the soap off the rack
She was only a moment
but when she turned back
her baby was gone
and in anguish she cried
O where has my baby gone
The angels replied
Your baby has gone down the gutter
Your baby has gone down the plug
The poor little thing
was so skinny and thin
he should have been washed in a jug (in a jug)
Your baby is perfectly happy
He won't need a bath anymore
He's romping about
With the angels above
Not lost
but no longer will be found.
Just saw an exhibit created by Class Warfare inspired by Guy Debord's Game of War.
It was free museum night and there were a lot of people there so I didn't listen to the whole presentation but it had a lot of very exciting things......including ways to avoid becoming mini-Lenins in the Situationists struggle. There was also an interesting exhibit electronically analyzing Eisenhower's farewell speech. J was very excited - planning on her (our?) next work based upon the speech, informed by the Corner House and, of course, current events.
Last night's dream is definitely one of the worst I ever had. Worse than a "nightmare," it was in a class by itself.
The ingredients: A couple of books on "ghosts" at Gettysburg. Movies: The Flaw and Edges of The Lord. Two local items about union busting and zombies. Weather: a big honking thunderstorm. Put them together and what have you got? Bibbitty bobitty boo.
I have had terror dreams before. Those are the kind that can kill you. Woke them all up with a terrible scream... skip a rope. This dream was vivid and real... the kind you can not believe on awaking... that was really a dream. If I ever have this dream again I will seriously consider jumping off a bridge.
It was some kind of Hell Halloween. Remember saying (to no one in particular), "...the creatures from Hell are attacking the neighbors." Nobody seemed to mind. They joined right in. It was a party. It was an Opera. With a capital bowling pin. Gettysburg is not Nuremberg. Oder Birkenau Stinken selbe. Wo bist du?
Leider Lizzie," laugh the Angels..Elizabeth Masser Thorn, it sucks to be you. All the Angels hiked their robes up. It was naught but an skeleton, covered with skin. Harvest moons rimming heaven with farty laughter at the joke. Four score and seven cum eleven jokey Germans burn a million skid-marks on the veil between worlds.
Maybe I have seen a ghost and maybe I have not. Sense it like a real dream. You would have to be thick as a brick to go to a place like Flanders or Verdun without hear souls' blood crying aloud from the stained atmosphere. But do not blame me for four score and seven. Lincoln wrote the libretto from heaven.
Zombies start their murmuration "Home Sexual. Abort Ton Baby Murder. Bible cons too shun. Benghazi! Benghazi!" The soul of Greenspan's flaw is assuming Zombies want brains because they have none. Supply and demand. Markets are efficient. Limitless growth is normal. We want to believe.
Limited government and lower taxes cause freedom strikes your grout at the old bawl game. Disunion under clods shawl inhabit a knew burp off fiefdom. Hail sees her. We who are about to die salute too. Santa strains dear and hollow wean punk inns sell chap cigar blue and grey kepis to kids over and over again.
Free mark it cap pistol schism.
Depressing times, eh, Herr Waldo?
I suggest ant-depressants. Everyone I know with more than two brain cells has to take 'em to deal with the obvious shit be goin' down. Or pick up a perscription for Christianity and wait for rapture to set in.
Got a call from the ACLU the other day asking why I don't donate no more. Told 'em we've lost. It's over. Why waste money just to tickle the funny bone of the oligarchy? They said, well, we understand....but please keep voting democratic, OK? Hopeless.
Frankly, I don't give a damn anymore. But when I do, I try to eradicate it with hedonism and addiction. Anything that allows escape from clear thinking. Because, bliss is better than the alternative.
Doing the medieval.
Speaking of escapism and medeival history. One of my favorite pastimes is to watch "Time team" on Acorn TV. It's about a bunch of archeologists who roam the UK and dig up past civilizations. Good therapy. Makes one realize how temporary human constructs are. Both social and physical.
Here today. Gone tomorrow.
Speaking of medieval times, the transitory nature of human endeavors, and whether to be, or not to be
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