Sunday, December 20, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
i'm feeling weak. misorganised. impotent. distracted to no avail.
nailed to the floor. no obvious desire.
fuck. i'm not old enough to be this worn and tired.
and i haven't done enough to justify my existence.
humidity clouds the street lamps. branches of 80 year old maple hang flaccid,
wet and weary in front of the greying re-morn sky.
broken branches, snapped off and lying on the lawns and sidewalks.
dragged down, dismembered deciduous surrendering limbs to the gravity of the town.
can't peel myself off of the floor.
it's wet, the carpet overly warm, smelling of me. unwashed and sour.
tried to sleep through the day and failed.
another day starts and i've no hope of denying it. facing misery as it glares at me
burning. like i'm an insect through a magnifyer. the sun is god, is a hatefully curious experimenter, tormentor. and i'm cursed to wade through my personal horror over and over.
in unrelenting repetition.
stuck to my feet like melted asphalt. mixed up with raccoon fur and bones. torn and crushed junebugs deathly luminescent carapaces crunching with each gluey step.
can't run. i'd never get both feet off the ground at once and trying just gets you further adhered.
condemned. glued in like fly larvae buried in the bindings of an old molded book.
pages cracked, yellowed and no longer filled with words of wisdom.
intelligence deteriorated and insight evaporated. lost. rotten and piss smelling. stained clear.
then thrown into the tarpit with the rest of us.
would make good fire starter.
poisoned clouds of a thousand worn rubber tires and abandoned malformed children.
dumped and forgotten. human hair and fingernails, teeth and disremembered hopes.
returned to ash.
disembodied and hanging over the city.. blotting out the vengefull sunngod.
black clouds to poison us all for our sins and liberate us from capture.
this trap we've laid for ourselves.
punished and absolved.
21.08.09 0356
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Good evening, London.
"I thought it time we had a little talk. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here this evening. Well, you see, I'm not entirely satisfied with your performance lately... I'm afraid your work's been slipping and... and well, I'm afraid we've been thinking about letting you go.
Oh, I know, I know. You've been with the company a long time now. Almost... let me see. Almost ten thousand years! My word, doesn't time fly? It seems like only yesterday... I remember the day you commenced your employment, swinging down from the trees, fresh-faced and nervous, a bone clasped in your bristling fist... "Where do I start, sir?", you asked, plaintively. I recalled my exact words: "There's a pile of dinosaur eggs over there, youngster", I said, smiling paternally all the while. "Get sucking".
Well, we've certainly come a long way since then, haven't we? And yes, yes, you're right, in all that time you haven't missed a day. Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Also, please don't think I've forgotten about your outstanding service record, or about all of the invaluable contributions that you've made to the company... Fire, the wheel, agriculture... It's an impressive list, old-timer. A jolly impressive list. Don't get me wrong. But... well, to be frank, we've had our problems too. There's no getting away from it.
Do you know what I think alot of it stems from? I'll tell you... It's your basic unwillingness to get on in the company. You don't seem to want to face up to any real responsibility. To be your own boss. Lord knows you've been given plenty of opportunities... We've offered you promotion time and time again, and each time you've turned us down. "I couldn't handle the work, Guv'Nor", you wheedled. "I know my place". To be frank, you're not trying, are you? You see, you've been standing still for far too long, and its starting to show in your work... And, I might add, in your general standard of behavior.
The constant bickering on the factory floor has not escaped my attention... nor the recent bouts of rowdiness in the staff canteen. Then of course there's... Hmm. Well, I didn't really want to have to bring this up, but... Well, you see, I've been hearing some disturbing rumors about your personal life. No, never you mind who told me. No names, no pack drill... I understand you are unable to get on with your spouse. I hear that you argue. I am told that you shout. Violence has been mentioned. I am reliably informed that you always hurt the one your love... the one you shouldn't hurt at all.
And what about the children, its always the children who suffer, as you're well aware. Poor little mites. What are they to make of it? What are they to make of all your bullying, your despair, your cowardice and all your fondly nurtured bigotries?
Really, its not good enough, is it? And its no good blaming the drop in work standards on and management either... though to be sure, the management is very bad. In fact, let us not mince words...
The Management is terrible! We've had a string of embezzelers, frauds, liars and lunatics making a string of catastrophic decisions. This is plain fact. But who elected them? It was you! You who elected these people! You who gave them the power to make your decisions for you!
While I'll admit that anyone can make a mistake once, to go on making the same lethal errors century after century seems to me nothing short of deliberate.
You have encouraged these malicious incompetents, who have made your working life a shambles.
You have accepted without question their senseless orders. You have allowed them to fill your workspace with dangerous and unproven machines.
You could have stopped them.
All you had to say was "No". You have no spine. You have no pride.
You are no longer an asset to the company.
I will, however, be generous. You will be granted two years to show me some improvement in your work. If at the end of that time you are still unwilling to make a go of it... you're fired.
That will be all. You may return to your labors."
quotation by Alan Moore,
from V for Vendetta.
Monday, May 18, 2009
gravity
a friend of mine once made a statement to me that was really a request. asking me to make a promise, a covenant. he said,” if i’m still here [in this city] when i’m twenty-five, kill me.”
he was a man wise beyond his years. the gravity here is different. stay too long and it becomes inescapable. here i see people try and fail. i've watched those that don’t attempt anything and still fail. eventually all get sucked down into the fault line that courses thru the cracked broken heart of the city. a broken love. split. ever shifting. it grinds people up between aggravated spiteful tectonic plates. the city’s first and primary fault is the line that runs thru its heart.
they try filling it in with limestone and ignoring the groaning tremors.
the blank eyed minstrel sings songs of loss in front of the liquor store. the lost and confused wander the street and i think they get it better than the rest of us. the delusional, those stricken with schizophrenia, with autism and downs. they live a better life. each year another shop springs up and disappears by the following summer. houses perpetually for sale. factories abandoned. lots vacant like eyes that have seen too much of this place.
it’s finally getting to me. the pull is getting stronger. gets harder to pull myself up off the floor each morning and move. doesn’t seem to have any meaning or purpose. autonomic function. i play my role. the dissident the passive curmudgeon, prophet of doom, nay sayer.
but there is something else......
there is a disdain for progress. the city sneers at enthusiasm
carrying the ethos, “don’t work too hard. makes everyone else look bad.”
punished for effort. for optimism.
unwelcoming. foreboding. weighted gloom.
hope springs and a dead fish with poisoned eyes floats up in it .
the wise and the wary come and go in the night. the bright and hopeful either get their shit together and get up and get gone. some try to leave after a life time but always find themselves back here. to get digested, consumed like so much limestone.
what is it about this miserable bastard of a city that keeps me here? what brings in outsiders? with their new and unweathered perspectives, keeping life long residents on their broken porches with their cars up on blocks?
far be it for me to take the optimists view.....
but i think that it takes a view from the outside coming in to see it. the bird’s eye view. seen by the migrant fowl that has followed the lake’s shore. followed the waves to find herself here. that judges it objectively, seeing through the dust and without the concrete cataracts that the locals peer at the city with.
i can’t help but see the ugly, maligned, malignant. the diseased shit birds and mangy squirrels the old drunks by the creek and the bull neck coppers that know them all by name. terrified post-urbanites biding their time until they can move away, the junkies with meth rotted teeth.
but there is something sublime, something beyond the natural pull of the town that draws me to them.
staring thru chain link fence at broken buildings and homes at flocks of birds that ignore the nature of this place. hearty weeds and wildflowers defiantly blooming. the flora grows low and stocky. hardy and sparse. fighting against the gravity up out of the cracks in the sidewalk over crumbling brick and disused buildings. nature pushes its way up thru crumbling masonry and inches across worn brick work. it sprouts from places the city didn’t plan, the potted plants all smile in their plant souls at the free and liberated flora. uncontrolled growth.
foreign weeds and vines come from out of town. the willfull creepers like veins across the arms and steel branches of the city work their way up and over stubborn architecture and to the light, immune to the pressure that afflicts the terrestrial inhabitants. poisoned ivies become the antidote to municipal malaise.
music echoes nightly from down home bars, honky-tonks and phony English pubs. mixing with rumbling sounds of trains passing through the town, never stopping. whimsical folk played to fresh faced long skirted girls in unfriendly bars. tribal beats emerge from unsuspecting parks with their broken play equipment and rusted bleachers. slow jazz trails out apartment windows above women’s second hand clothing stores. police sirens and night time helicopter pitter patter. women yelling from bedroom windows at grubby, happy kids who are still playing, in the abandoned lots and fields, out well after the lights are on.
brilliant graphitti lines tunnels along wooded trails. that course beneath freeways and worn and warped, faded asphalt roads. nature wages a guerilla war against the occupying forces of industry and commerce. the politicians, industrialists and the dope pushers. many inhabitants who are not uncommonly more than one of these.
at least the addict knows nirvana when he finds it.
you can always see the sky. no gargantuan imperial edifices obscure the view, no smouldering towers. birds pass over unaware that they are meant to fall out of the sky. gristle for the mortar of the cities warty craggy hyde. many faces and facets. benign and malignant. pure and desolate. a scarred beauty in constant internal war.
this is as good a place as any. perhaps more so because of what you have to do to get there. your half-assed shit that would fly in some college town or snooty big city burrough won’t get you enough to pay rent. in fact you’ll have probably spent your rent money to do it.
this is about endurance. struggle is the reward.you better mean what you are saying. put it all in what you are doing. or you’ll never be forgiven.
on a May day i sit down by the creek legs crossed, eyes closed. listening to the water wash over the rocks and shale. the sun rises and greets the school children and the hung-over alike with a yellow haze that warms the skin as the birds begin to chirp.
i never want to leave.
he was a man wise beyond his years. the gravity here is different. stay too long and it becomes inescapable. here i see people try and fail. i've watched those that don’t attempt anything and still fail. eventually all get sucked down into the fault line that courses thru the cracked broken heart of the city. a broken love. split. ever shifting. it grinds people up between aggravated spiteful tectonic plates. the city’s first and primary fault is the line that runs thru its heart.
they try filling it in with limestone and ignoring the groaning tremors.
the blank eyed minstrel sings songs of loss in front of the liquor store. the lost and confused wander the street and i think they get it better than the rest of us. the delusional, those stricken with schizophrenia, with autism and downs. they live a better life. each year another shop springs up and disappears by the following summer. houses perpetually for sale. factories abandoned. lots vacant like eyes that have seen too much of this place.
it’s finally getting to me. the pull is getting stronger. gets harder to pull myself up off the floor each morning and move. doesn’t seem to have any meaning or purpose. autonomic function. i play my role. the dissident the passive curmudgeon, prophet of doom, nay sayer.
but there is something else......
there is a disdain for progress. the city sneers at enthusiasm
carrying the ethos, “don’t work too hard. makes everyone else look bad.”
punished for effort. for optimism.
unwelcoming. foreboding. weighted gloom.
hope springs and a dead fish with poisoned eyes floats up in it .
the wise and the wary come and go in the night. the bright and hopeful either get their shit together and get up and get gone. some try to leave after a life time but always find themselves back here. to get digested, consumed like so much limestone.
what is it about this miserable bastard of a city that keeps me here? what brings in outsiders? with their new and unweathered perspectives, keeping life long residents on their broken porches with their cars up on blocks?
far be it for me to take the optimists view.....
but i think that it takes a view from the outside coming in to see it. the bird’s eye view. seen by the migrant fowl that has followed the lake’s shore. followed the waves to find herself here. that judges it objectively, seeing through the dust and without the concrete cataracts that the locals peer at the city with.
i can’t help but see the ugly, maligned, malignant. the diseased shit birds and mangy squirrels the old drunks by the creek and the bull neck coppers that know them all by name. terrified post-urbanites biding their time until they can move away, the junkies with meth rotted teeth.
but there is something sublime, something beyond the natural pull of the town that draws me to them.
staring thru chain link fence at broken buildings and homes at flocks of birds that ignore the nature of this place. hearty weeds and wildflowers defiantly blooming. the flora grows low and stocky. hardy and sparse. fighting against the gravity up out of the cracks in the sidewalk over crumbling brick and disused buildings. nature pushes its way up thru crumbling masonry and inches across worn brick work. it sprouts from places the city didn’t plan, the potted plants all smile in their plant souls at the free and liberated flora. uncontrolled growth.
foreign weeds and vines come from out of town. the willfull creepers like veins across the arms and steel branches of the city work their way up and over stubborn architecture and to the light, immune to the pressure that afflicts the terrestrial inhabitants. poisoned ivies become the antidote to municipal malaise.
music echoes nightly from down home bars, honky-tonks and phony English pubs. mixing with rumbling sounds of trains passing through the town, never stopping. whimsical folk played to fresh faced long skirted girls in unfriendly bars. tribal beats emerge from unsuspecting parks with their broken play equipment and rusted bleachers. slow jazz trails out apartment windows above women’s second hand clothing stores. police sirens and night time helicopter pitter patter. women yelling from bedroom windows at grubby, happy kids who are still playing, in the abandoned lots and fields, out well after the lights are on.
brilliant graphitti lines tunnels along wooded trails. that course beneath freeways and worn and warped, faded asphalt roads. nature wages a guerilla war against the occupying forces of industry and commerce. the politicians, industrialists and the dope pushers. many inhabitants who are not uncommonly more than one of these.
at least the addict knows nirvana when he finds it.
you can always see the sky. no gargantuan imperial edifices obscure the view, no smouldering towers. birds pass over unaware that they are meant to fall out of the sky. gristle for the mortar of the cities warty craggy hyde. many faces and facets. benign and malignant. pure and desolate. a scarred beauty in constant internal war.
this is as good a place as any. perhaps more so because of what you have to do to get there. your half-assed shit that would fly in some college town or snooty big city burrough won’t get you enough to pay rent. in fact you’ll have probably spent your rent money to do it.
this is about endurance. struggle is the reward.you better mean what you are saying. put it all in what you are doing. or you’ll never be forgiven.
on a May day i sit down by the creek legs crossed, eyes closed. listening to the water wash over the rocks and shale. the sun rises and greets the school children and the hung-over alike with a yellow haze that warms the skin as the birds begin to chirp.
i never want to leave.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
keep it up
disabled by the powers that be 3 times tonite.
but up and running long enough to spread the plague.
i'm gonna get all of you nazi swine.
freedom of speech, just watch what you say.
here's where i question things.
is it any surprise that less than 3 hours after i post an inflammatory remark about fox news onto my
facebook page i get shut down and my info can not be accessed?
quote" the cure for swine flu is simple: stop watching CNN and FOX . and tune out the rest of the fear mongers."
for those of you that don't follow, i'll explain.
facebook is largely paid for and operated on by the U.S. government. they threw millions of dollars at Mark Zuckerberg to make this website to help you find old friends and make new contacts which seems an awfully benevolent gesture even for these titans of charity, free speech and all around good will.
while the other friendly social network tool that you all love and use MYSPACE is owned and run by NEWS CORP a.k.a the FOX media mega-corporation.
and there is no small ammount of cross marketing and contamination between these entities.
while the other friendly social network tool that you all love and use MYSPACE is owned and run by NEWS CORP a.k.a the FOX media mega-corporation.
and there is no small ammount of cross marketing and contamination between these entities.
http://arstechnica.com/old/content/2007/01/8701.ars
to stay on the conservative side of conspiracy theory i say that Rupert Murdoch put his dirty cash in on this thing just because it's a great way to subject people to an endless barrage of advertisement and to use their personal details to cross market and cull demographic information and to unwittingly sell out their dear close relatives and long lost friends to the corporate marketing swine.
simply by adding a photograph of your friend to their site and tagging it with a name you have voided all rights to privacy, theirs and yours. making the images and likenesses thereof property of the corporate industrial complex that they can utilise, disseminate and manipulate for their ad campaigns, spambots and ultimately for whatever they wish. you are now their property. whether you signed up or not.
we have deprivatised ourselves.
willingly.
unthinkingly.
try not to let it distract you from your game of scrabble.
return to your relaxed and docile positions.
fill in another quiz about celebrity sex videos.
go back to sleep.
now there can be no assumption of benign or altruistic reasons for the U.S. government's involvement in this one. they are rather disinclined to using public funds in something the voting public would actually use. what interest could the powers that be, the ruling class, the war mongers and lobbyists have in a quirky social website that is designed to collect pictures of citizens, organise and catagorise all of their family, friends, acquaintances linking social and business networks? why would they want to invest multiple millions into a free site that does nothing more than track all of the cultural, political, commercial habits of people and allows them to share freely their opinions all all things in their life from gardening to church and state?
i mean what could they be hoping to gain by funding and ultimately having complete totalitarian access to a massive database that tracks every physical location of its users by IP address and that stores, collects and monitors all the habits of citizens to a degree that no census could ever accomplish, that even the best cold war agent would not have been able to access. to know all the things that people do not speak of in public. and to get them to completely and totally surrender their legal rights as free and private citizens and those of their friends and colleagues.
the patriot act was the first step.
and don't think because you live outside U.S. borders that it doesn't affect you. the last 50 years of world history prove that if it is in the interest of the American government then its corrupt and monstrous tentacles will reach it and the world will not raise a hand.
the war machine has carte blanche to do as it will to protect "freedom" whatever it is they think that is this week. their basic principle centers around the world serving the whims and pockets of the munition makers and oil merchants. they will protect freedom by enforcing their military might upon whomsoever declines to cooperate with them. branding all as enemies of liberty and as terrorists even as they wage illegal wars and campaigns of horrendous slaughter on soil that is not their own. fighting the good fight on behalf of people that don't want their help and killing them in the process.
look up friendly fire casualties as compared to veterans and soldiers actually wounded or killed by the evil enemy's hordes and tell me who the terrorists are.
you are being watched. closely. the ghosts of the Nacht der langen Messer hangs over us.
Orwell would have slit his wrists and taken a nice cold bath with a toaster
if he was around to see it get this far.
you've believed their media, their hype and scare tactics. you've absorbed it all and perpetuate it around the same water coolers and kitchen tables at which you gossip about celebrity misconduct and talk about what you think your neighbour is doing in his yard and who he lets into his house.
it's all your fault and you've done it to yourselves.
passively.
without question.
they are coming for us.
sleep easy.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
earth hour ( reposted from 29. mar.08)
unfortunately gestappo murderers and nuclear death did not come for us,
so my prophecy failed.
but my sentiment is unchanged.
17.03.09
EARTH HOUR- SELF INDULGENCE AND SLAUGHTER
60 mins of reprieve from the hideousness of electric light isn't going to convince mama nature not to wipe us of her surface like the turd race we are.
but if behaving in an intelligent and ecological respectful manner for an hour out of the thousands of years we’ve been using this planet as our toilet clears your conscience and saves you from all that knee bending hail mary bullshit then go for it.
stay limber tho, we'll al be kissing our asses goodbye soon enough.
so as you all huddle in darkness and wonder at the miracle of fire i'll turn out my lights for your primitive party, not out of respect or neighbourliness, but so my house doesn't pop up on those spy satellite images marked as a dissident and possible threat to national security. they already have my address and i’m not inclined to give them a free shot.
don't think for a second those evil fucks in government and industry aren't salivating at the notion that we will be shut down and out from communications and our personal defenses and security will be at all time low.
they tested this on us a few years back in that 3 day blackout of the eastern seaboard, that was explained away with diarrhea weak bullshit and the kind of made up technical jargon of a sci-fi writer born into some slavic backwoods and then it was forgotten, dropped by the media that couldn't let the death of a fat bloated has-been pin-up model go without 15 min updates.
we bought the official report that, Marilyn killed herself, Rodney King was resisting, Kennedy was killed by Oswald and that Bush didn’t know about the Twin Towers.
but we still doubt the death of Elvis and Bruce Lee.
we've deluded ourselves into thinking that because seemingly endless streams of info are at our fingertips, that any of it is actually true or meaningful. we do not trust our own eyes and instincts.
we no longer know how to listen. it is simply accepted because we can access information itself and don’t have to have books translated from latin for our comprehension and consumption that we actually know what’s going on. i sure as hell don’t, but i know how those beasts think. its all rape and murder for them.
keep an eye out for your neighbours, listen for screams in the night.
do you know what jackboots sound like?
this whole idea is another NIGHT OF THE LONG KNIVES waiting to happen. good solid upstanding party members erased. death toll kept unreleased until 75 years have passed. released heavily edited reeking of black marker and guilt.
i’ll be listening. waiting, in the dark, well armed. peering out from windows. waiting for the flash of gunfire.
we are told to cut down on heating , on air conditioning, while their office stay lit and cooled all thru the night. we are told we’re running low on power , when the truth of the matter is that they’ve over sold it to industry and other territories. don’t forget every year and season we the paying are instructed to cut down our electrical consumption by the people whose use we pay the bills for. while the cities we live in light larger and larger conifers - in effigy to some poor bastard from the stone age - that run at a few thousand watts an hour. damn right they love jesus, he’s the one who got them their jobs. he probably would’ve offed himself quietly in some iraqi cave if he’d known where they were going with this, the first corporation, still the number one branded logo, 2000 years running. i’d like to think he’d become buddhist.
i’m sure this whole idea was cooked up by some well meaning posthippie corporate sellout and then pounced on by his superiors. he’s so bought in he doesn’t realise that everything he does contradicts everything he says. which is exactly how one needs to behave to get ahead in this world. and if i find him i will give him an incredible beating.
so when the lights go out look out your windows, look towards the factories, to the shopping malls, the pubs taverns and overpriced restaurants. you think 7-11 will shut down in respect for the planet?
so flick off your TVs and light your torches, and think about what we’ve done. realise that this isn’t going to get you of the hook with nature. maybe you’ll learn something, maybe this time of reflection will teach you to coduct yourself in a better way. perhaps you’ll even try to find a job near home, in the city you live in, somewhere within walking distance and you won’t even miss your demolished SUV you found smoldering in a pile of melted plastic after the ensuing earth hour riots.
the likely situation is that you will be filled with self righteousness. smug and proud, ready to assault, batter and admonish any one not down with the plan. you’ll go about your daily life the same ways and any philosophically inconsistent actions will be mentally ironed out with inspired cop-outs like ,” i don’t have a choice.” and “ i have to.” that are generally as arguable as some twisted shit banging on your door with a stack of literature telling you he “believes”.
we can not repair the damage we have done and do not deserve a second chance.
lock your doors, take note of any strange vehicles parked outside of your homes.
think of what you’ve done.
and if you go out, dress warm. its cold out there.
so my prophecy failed.
but my sentiment is unchanged.
17.03.09
EARTH HOUR- SELF INDULGENCE AND SLAUGHTER
60 mins of reprieve from the hideousness of electric light isn't going to convince mama nature not to wipe us of her surface like the turd race we are.
but if behaving in an intelligent and ecological respectful manner for an hour out of the thousands of years we’ve been using this planet as our toilet clears your conscience and saves you from all that knee bending hail mary bullshit then go for it.
stay limber tho, we'll al be kissing our asses goodbye soon enough.
so as you all huddle in darkness and wonder at the miracle of fire i'll turn out my lights for your primitive party, not out of respect or neighbourliness, but so my house doesn't pop up on those spy satellite images marked as a dissident and possible threat to national security. they already have my address and i’m not inclined to give them a free shot.
don't think for a second those evil fucks in government and industry aren't salivating at the notion that we will be shut down and out from communications and our personal defenses and security will be at all time low.
they tested this on us a few years back in that 3 day blackout of the eastern seaboard, that was explained away with diarrhea weak bullshit and the kind of made up technical jargon of a sci-fi writer born into some slavic backwoods and then it was forgotten, dropped by the media that couldn't let the death of a fat bloated has-been pin-up model go without 15 min updates.
we bought the official report that, Marilyn killed herself, Rodney King was resisting, Kennedy was killed by Oswald and that Bush didn’t know about the Twin Towers.
but we still doubt the death of Elvis and Bruce Lee.
we've deluded ourselves into thinking that because seemingly endless streams of info are at our fingertips, that any of it is actually true or meaningful. we do not trust our own eyes and instincts.
we no longer know how to listen. it is simply accepted because we can access information itself and don’t have to have books translated from latin for our comprehension and consumption that we actually know what’s going on. i sure as hell don’t, but i know how those beasts think. its all rape and murder for them.
keep an eye out for your neighbours, listen for screams in the night.
do you know what jackboots sound like?
this whole idea is another NIGHT OF THE LONG KNIVES waiting to happen. good solid upstanding party members erased. death toll kept unreleased until 75 years have passed. released heavily edited reeking of black marker and guilt.
i’ll be listening. waiting, in the dark, well armed. peering out from windows. waiting for the flash of gunfire.
we are told to cut down on heating , on air conditioning, while their office stay lit and cooled all thru the night. we are told we’re running low on power , when the truth of the matter is that they’ve over sold it to industry and other territories. don’t forget every year and season we the paying are instructed to cut down our electrical consumption by the people whose use we pay the bills for. while the cities we live in light larger and larger conifers - in effigy to some poor bastard from the stone age - that run at a few thousand watts an hour. damn right they love jesus, he’s the one who got them their jobs. he probably would’ve offed himself quietly in some iraqi cave if he’d known where they were going with this, the first corporation, still the number one branded logo, 2000 years running. i’d like to think he’d become buddhist.
i’m sure this whole idea was cooked up by some well meaning posthippie corporate sellout and then pounced on by his superiors. he’s so bought in he doesn’t realise that everything he does contradicts everything he says. which is exactly how one needs to behave to get ahead in this world. and if i find him i will give him an incredible beating.
so when the lights go out look out your windows, look towards the factories, to the shopping malls, the pubs taverns and overpriced restaurants. you think 7-11 will shut down in respect for the planet?
so flick off your TVs and light your torches, and think about what we’ve done. realise that this isn’t going to get you of the hook with nature. maybe you’ll learn something, maybe this time of reflection will teach you to coduct yourself in a better way. perhaps you’ll even try to find a job near home, in the city you live in, somewhere within walking distance and you won’t even miss your demolished SUV you found smoldering in a pile of melted plastic after the ensuing earth hour riots.
the likely situation is that you will be filled with self righteousness. smug and proud, ready to assault, batter and admonish any one not down with the plan. you’ll go about your daily life the same ways and any philosophically inconsistent actions will be mentally ironed out with inspired cop-outs like ,” i don’t have a choice.” and “ i have to.” that are generally as arguable as some twisted shit banging on your door with a stack of literature telling you he “believes”.
we can not repair the damage we have done and do not deserve a second chance.
lock your doors, take note of any strange vehicles parked outside of your homes.
think of what you’ve done.
and if you go out, dress warm. its cold out there.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
midday thots and happy recollections
tho i long gave up on ever getting our telephone line fixed and secured again i still like to call the phone company. i can call them because they are not real people. its best during peak times, when there are calls piling in a queue. i call to complain. with whatever un-resolvable issue i conceive of that day and work my way thru the call centre pyramid. this is less effective at night. no supervisors. the chain of command is thin. and those bastards know they aren’t being monitored. they’ll actually hang up on you. without fear. i let them get to what they think is the end of a successful call and when they ask if they have resolved my questions and concerns, i tell them no. they then reattempt to care for my issue. when done they ask again i still reply no. i change my tone and alter my problems as quick as they get close to a solution. they move me thru managers and supervisors thru technical support. over to billing. onto complaints. back to billing. then to sales. when they conclude that i will not tell them that they fixed my problem, they ask if they have given me options to resolve it. i maintain a solid, no. some eventually break under the pressure. they are being timed and monitored for customer satisfaction and they are failing miserably with me. they curse me. tell me i am an asshole. ask me what my fucking damage is. then when i know they have said enough. when they are sufficiently agitated. pissed off enough that i know they’ll take this anger home with them along with their termination notice. when they are near breakdown and i can feel the nervous rage in them. palpable thru my staticky line. i hang up on them while they are mid-sentence.
on a related note, tele-marketers are by nature morons and incapable of intelligent thought which does make them easier targets for scorn, their retarded simplicity almost makes their existence forgivable. but smarter people? people with thoughts and feelings of their own? not from a script. why do they call? i have nothing to offer. i give nothing. i do not share. i am not compassionate. i just wait for you to stop talking so i can make what premeditated statement i have prepared as response to their line of questioning. to acknowledge their opinions. to validate their feelings. to change topic to suit what i have need to communicate. don’t call to invite me to something. to your house. to your party. i’m not coming. i’ve stopped playing that game. i’m beyond that. i’m not buying what you’re selling. if you don’t say something within 2 seconds i am hanging up. i know you’ll call back. when you do, i’m not saying hello. see how it feels. better add the word “NO” to your corporate vocabulary. that’s all you’re getting. no i don’t want security. i do not need my ducts clean. you can not talk to the lady of the house. and no you were not speaking to her. she didn’t forget to tell me anything. she didn’t agree to have one of your salespersons come to our home. she doesn’t exist. sometimes i wait for them to come on the line and just hold down the # for five or ten minutes. until they are off the line. other times i tell them no i’m not the one they are asking for but i’ll get them. i tell them to hold the line a moment. i put down the phone and go out to get groceries.
on a related note, tele-marketers are by nature morons and incapable of intelligent thought which does make them easier targets for scorn, their retarded simplicity almost makes their existence forgivable. but smarter people? people with thoughts and feelings of their own? not from a script. why do they call? i have nothing to offer. i give nothing. i do not share. i am not compassionate. i just wait for you to stop talking so i can make what premeditated statement i have prepared as response to their line of questioning. to acknowledge their opinions. to validate their feelings. to change topic to suit what i have need to communicate. don’t call to invite me to something. to your house. to your party. i’m not coming. i’ve stopped playing that game. i’m beyond that. i’m not buying what you’re selling. if you don’t say something within 2 seconds i am hanging up. i know you’ll call back. when you do, i’m not saying hello. see how it feels. better add the word “NO” to your corporate vocabulary. that’s all you’re getting. no i don’t want security. i do not need my ducts clean. you can not talk to the lady of the house. and no you were not speaking to her. she didn’t forget to tell me anything. she didn’t agree to have one of your salespersons come to our home. she doesn’t exist. sometimes i wait for them to come on the line and just hold down the # for five or ten minutes. until they are off the line. other times i tell them no i’m not the one they are asking for but i’ll get them. i tell them to hold the line a moment. i put down the phone and go out to get groceries.
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