praying for tidal waves

2011-09-19T23:13:00.000-07:00

2011-07-31T21:23:00.000-07:00

some writings.

slump back in the chair

even blanks'll leave a mark

sight is crooked

(an) empty head + dead heart

make lousy targets

first thing i did today,

when i woke up.

was to lie to you, dear

and tell you i'm OK.

you set the plague on me

began the crumbling

undoing

that it'd taken me decades to.

consume the lie that i am.

a pitiable creature

seen falsely as an enviable man

destroying + discarding

the things they desire

spitefully watching them starve

broken bicycles

rusted shopping carts

dead fishes +

drunkards

on the bank

asphyxed eyes

bacterial green

waters

ruptured veins of our lives.

always the coward's way.

i've never known my role

but it'll leave a scar when i go.

poem |ˈpōəm; ˈpōim; pōm|nouna piece of writing that partakes of the nature of both speech and song that is nearly always rhythmical, usually metaphorical, and often exhibits such formal elements as meter, rhyme, and stanzaic structure.• something that arouses strong emotions because of its beauty : you make a poem of riding downhill on your bike.ORIGIN late 15th cent.: from French poème or Latin poema, fromGreek poēma, early variant of poiēma ‘fiction, poem,’ from poiein‘create.’

pome |pōm|noun Botanya fruit consisting of a fleshy enlarged receptacle and a tough central core containing the seeds, e.g., an apple or pear.

weird war tales

2010-09-07T21:33:00.001-07:00

as per usual a combination of informations collide and coalesce in my mental soup...

while reading an old copy of a DC Comics war book, WEIRD WAR TALES 102. the story was about a teen playing a video game which turns out to have a been a type of virtual war machine planted by an extra-terrestrial race to enlist the youth of today in combatting an invading race. the kid subsequently defeats the attacking armadas and ultimately gains a commodation from the aliens.

then this add pops up on my internet minds eye. COMBAT ARMS which causes a spiral of apocalyptic thoughts in my brains.

what if our own neerduelle nations conspired to create technologies of this ilk?

isn't the star of the early 90's top programme THE SCUD and Patriot MISSILE -with their onboard viewfinder directional death technolgy- of kin or ancestry to this?

it creates the oportunity to create a defacto pocket universe of arm chair generals to actually wage war and murder upon the little fish of the world.

we already do this to a point. there are a pockets of office worker bees who sittly complicitly at their desk and cubicles each day in iddle amerikkka and type away at a sort of global battleship type software that even Milton Bradley's nefarious Mr Monopoly would be aghast at

and also make Ronnie's StarWARs seem simplistic.

but keep in mind those these white shirt and stained pit and collored drones are bombing awaya at islamic misunderstandistan they are not murderers, they are PATRIOTS!! part of the war effort you see, tho not much more effort than is needed to pass a sloppy turd.

but what if you got the grubby paws of kids into the biz?

first make em pay, they sign up for these online scenarios of death, mayhem and dismemberment....

the evil little bastards even have their own online weapons trades already for things such as FINAL FANTASY and WOW...

so extrapalate this and actualise the carnage into the physical realm...

i would prefer to say the "real world" but that seems ti be even more subjective today than gautama could have ever dreamt under the bilbao tree.....

at any rate

we can have or could already have 10 year olds financing the war and shuffling artillary across the greying pock marked barely green and soon to be irrevocably charred scorched earth of our father who ain't in heaven.

sleep well.

Bert

2010-09-05T16:41:00.000-07:00

nothing fancy or creative today. just a report.

waking around 1030 to get up and ready for another trip to the old saw bones.

rabies vaccines, part two. or it would have been if today was monday not sunday.

i barely distinguish between days anymore. tho it wasn't until i'd already checked in at the clinic and waited 45 mins or two chapters worth of what i was reading. BIG SUR, by Kerouac if you need that kind of info. the parallels lately are wondrously hope dashing.

so tomorrow i return dubiously and bashful to get my curious vaccination for a disease not common and the circumstance of which no one comments verbally on, tho i see the critical disapproval, they eyeing me my animal caused wounds like a scarlet alphabet.

the walk there was also not with out incident. i discovered a wounded pigeon hobbling around a construction site and made a silent pact to come back and save it if it was still there when i returned from my appointment. it was. wing torn and bleeding. ripped thru the ribcage but ever silent and dignified in a way man can't understand. i picked it up and carried it home in my reddening hands. i bandaged it. got it some seed, dried bread and water, hoping.

i caressed it some, checking intermittently. resigned silence he turned inward to the cage i'd placed him in for safety allowing my kindness. i'm sure he knew his fate was soon to come.

just after our dinner i checked on him and found him cold, eyes closed and resting much where i'd left him laying on a pillowcase i'd put in there. i called him, Bert.

when i get on these missions my wife always reminds me that i have done more than anyone else did or would.

why is it never enough?

22.06.09

2010-07-10T20:52:00.000-07:00

a selection from the vault to send y'all into a sleepytime abyss.

3am. my serotonin is loose and sloshing around my too many times concussed, hemorrhaged hemispheres of my mind. sold. for nothing. all i want is hot dogs and some internet porn right now. i’m contained within one room and a kitchenette. motel on the edge of cottage country. but specifically in the part that no one would put their cottage or let their kids play. toofless mulletted aboriginal youth from mixed homes out for fine dining at the burger king and begging for change with dopefiend foster parents representin’ in front of the Walmart store. smiling meth rotted grins. violent leers. that pitbull ain’t got no muzzle. i hope someone else tells them about that.
out on the porch trying to enjoy the deer flies feasting on my calves. wondering what disease they’ll give me next. maybe CNN hasn’t given a report because the bug seems distracted and undecided. god forbid , a major insectoid social faux pas to transmit a disease that some one has heard of or that their government has released the cure for.
cars race one way down the highway. they must be lost. this road sure as hell don’t go anywhere. if bugs are on the bluetooth now do they rock PINKHUMAN brand?
grizzly with his rotted teeth and sour sugars smell is on the porch again. what words of approval can i impart that will make him go away. be,never come back forget his insulin and pass out to Entertainment Tonight dancing with the stars in the sky (fuck! my ipod just said that, “stars in the sky!!!” simultaneous organism.)

at one point i could joke or remark humorously about insomnia. find amusement and provide it to others with matter of fact suggestions about my disinclination toward unwakefulness. i don’t think its funny anymore. i feel like i’ve joined the dead that i mocked and taunted with patented, and oft quoted smart ass comments such as, “ i’ll sleep when i’m dead.” or the always popular ,” sleep is for the weak.” i’m now wishing that i wasn’t made of quite so sturdy and stubborn stuff. i find my self grey dull and frozen.

my mind stained and halfway between liquid and solid, like the car exhaust stained snow outside. ligths and shapes flicker past my eyes. my reactions are dull and delayed. it seems at this hour the whole world has achieved REM and i am left as its captive and caretaker. dispassionate observer, cataloging and ..... i stare at the walls and computer screen ... i cant close my eyes and they dont want to be open. my mind follows too many tangents of thot. and when silence sneeks up on me it seems worse. when i actually doze some times its not for long. every sound, creeking of floorboards shuffling of blankets. cat eating hard kibble the floor below. snores grunts. dogs the next street over. police helicopters watcxhing in the sky hovering scrutinizing and mocking my attempts at slumber, empowered as gods to fit their fantasies and to comfort the dreams of the just and guilt free suburbannites. conscience clear thru willfiull ignorance and oblivious abuse. i want that. oblivion. rest. doom, the big sleep. becuaase this isnt worth it anymore. i cant turn them off. my mind wanders out onto the lost highway.....dark endless, hopless.

T.O. G20 B.S.

2010-06-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

NOTE: i offer this unfinished, unedited and with no clear direction. at this point it is only a collection of some of my thots on the mayhem in Toronto over the past few days.

good morning G20. you murderous vampires. hope you have enjoyed your vacations. congratulations to the thugs that threw this party. to all their undercover shit disturbers , narcs and Ratfinks, suck a grenade. oh, there has been some entertainment to be sure. enough ultra-violence to keep your dicks hard, good solid television type drama on closed circuit television. who needs pay-per-view when you have live from the streets snuff? women trampled by horses, hippies catching rubble bullets in the teeth
after you’ve flown back to your castles and caves and the ........ have clean the poisoned jizz from the hotel carpets and make sure to dispose of the dead prostitutes left in your wake. it’s a matter of time until evidence of internment camps is found.

ask yourself why have the conference here? what tactical purpose does it serve?
what are they testing?
they could’ve picked docile socialist ski village in europe or some small populaced inaccessable Polynesian island. if you think American politics don’t involve or affect you , that their skirmishes and military conflicts are irrelevant you must have already taken a few too many truncheons to the head. they’re seeing how far they can push this. they’ve successfully proved that you can pacify the masses and make the dissidents fearfull and docile enough to go about their way.
someone thought they would use this event to tell our PM that what he was doing is wrong and illegal/. preach to the converted. these swine work under that principle. it’s like telling a whore that she fucks for a living.

not all cops are bad, some are even human. they just happen to be of the mindlessly obedient thuggish type whose obvious stupidity makes mongoloid baboons scratch their lice infested heads at. but you put that gun on in the morning and stand there with all the manufactured authority that the threat of death creates and you stop being a person to me.
you are an ideology. a concept and practice of violence, bullying and malicious intent. the pretense of serve and protect is long outdated and is likely a mythological conception of bygone years. coppers are the customer service branch of the totalitarian state. just doing their job. which only compounds the guilt. most know better and do it anyway. they stand there blue and strong to give the dissidents a target an identifiable object to focus on while the legislative hocus and truly corrupt pocus happens behind the barricades. a few burned squad cars just as a reminder that you are not welcome. you are following the wrong orders, what just government needs protection more from its own people than from the commie hordes or anarchist factions? you protect the very scum that your friends releatives and public are taught to fear and patrioiticly denounce

legalised gangs. bullies. enforcers.

say nothing

freedom of speech has been repealed.
only free in those forums we are not allowed to join.\

preaching to the converted springs to mind. protestors being pelted by bystanders as pigs wait for retaliation so they can put their truncheons in some peacenik’s skull.
sound cannons, tear gas, tanks and rubber bullets. the standard diet force fed by the state. prison food for the currently mobile and soon to be incapacitated or incarcerated.

elected officials and bloated dignitaries float down upon our cities, lounge rape steal and murder, watching the riot show from penthouse windows taking odds on death toll and number of minorities oppressed .....our rights disappear in the blood and polluted haze.
rain of shit from the heavens.

the media is the terrorist. the only one. working for the company. there is only one. gawd and satan have always been two sides of a coin. but all that latin lawyer speak confused you. you didn’t understand. they serve the same cause. they are and deal in the same currency one needs the bohter to operate. there is no news without war death and controversy and there is no state if the people are afraid and confused enough to believe they need someone to hold their hand thru the night. drumming fear to the beat of the war machine.
it’s a case of semantics. of the seal clubbing victor, writing histories. the official account is nowhere near the truth. ever.

then to onto disseminating the juicier images of hearty protesters cowed and beaten sounds of sniveling, groveling and whimpers cut-in to add to the arousal of victory and to make palpable the futility and dread fear of the situation. hope is a 20th century concept. there will be no revolution no overthrow. not like the old days. the monster is too big.

a terrorist to incumbent forces, is the freedom fighter for the oppressed. guerilla technique is the only avenue left.
(dont use muslim ref/ remind that they arent the only ones/ others been labeled as such thruout hist/ war of insurrection/)

to all that went out and risked limb and perhaps liberty or life to speak their minds, stand up and let not just the politico fuckwads know what they think/ good job./ you shouldn’t have to be afraid of maim, harm or death to communicate you thoughts. and tho its a seemingly unwinnable Sissyphusian battle you tried anyway. it may not have dented the beast’s armor visably but your acts are part of the collective unconscious now. your children and there’s will remember this and will look back into the wheres and the whys/ the me generation is in its death throes, its why they seem so ...... keep at it. we will force change thru sacrifice. thru ideas thru words and shared experience. change will never be the dramatic wall crumbling horn blowing that history tells us they were. life if more immediate now as change and growth become more incremental true core change of nature and life.

woman feels a prisoner in her own home.

attacking the top of a building almost never makes it fall ;) but ruin the foundation......

businesspeople held for questioning. most close down and leave a ghost town while the warpigs gather.

it’s a sad day that i long for Tieneman or Kent State, Chiapas or even that old commie bastard, Castro. he had some balls back in the day. we seemed to be going somewhere. we believed we could accomplish something but as we mature and tyranny adapts those become just that, beliefs.

but the ghosts will not be quited. cars burned..... head cracked. people imprisonned for undiscolosed reasons.

road ways completely cut off.

in the meantime

2010-06-01T18:06:00.000-07:00

yes, HELMET put out some good records in the mid 90s but that's not what i'm on about.
for the time being this will serve as home to my particular brand of misanthropic capitalism.
i need you to buy the stuff i make: books, prints and for the truly self-hating, music.
www.twozeros.com is the ticket to oblivion.
i had plenty of other Urls before but they lapsed or i forgot them.
the company i claim to operate is d0ublezer0 publishing. it is difficultly spelled but despite this some braindeads have co-opted the Urrrl for their lousy band.
i've also created a FACEBOOK page so i can pretend that i have friends.
i intend to post up excerpts and images from my fine works in the near future.
stay tuned. or not. but feel free to eMail hatred to those bojangling nimrods that thieved my web address.

00%

stopping mid-stream

2010-05-25T22:34:00.001-07:00

now when the 30yr old reprobate with the 14yr old girlfriend who lost his license for running over a customer with her own car tells you that pissing on the head of drunken, passed out and possibly dead vagrant in the alley is a bad idea and that he expected better of you you should probably pay attention,
but gawddamned if i’m going to stop mid stream.
that shit burns like a mutherfucker.
this is probably around the time i should have realised that 400mg of codeine and 2500mg of cafeine a day mixed with cough syrop, sudafed, ginseng and a cross eyed, borther fuckin girlfriend who only dated guys with the same name so she could could keep it straight wasn’t a good combo.
i’m not sure i gave it much thot later as i downed a 60oz bottle of whiskey and was alternately making out with a friend’s whore of a girl and his rottweiler.
at least the dog’s mouth didn’t taste like jizz and cigarette ashes. tit’s were firmer too.
tho i gave it some consideration rambling home whilst trying to boost AM stereos from service vans and school busses.
16 was a weird age.

don't forget your sunscreen

2010-05-20T07:54:00.000-07:00

it's warm sunny birds peeping and a fluttering their joy.

i couldn't be more miserable. sliming my way down toadstools and i just can't reconcile the world i see with what i know can be true.

dragging my slug ass around the town. breathing deep as i can to fill my lungs with life with joy and i just feel stuck to the ground, wallowing in my mucous.

little birds land on windowsill chirping me to come play and by the time i get to there they are gone. friends not to be seen again until they want something.

stuck. i'll never make it far. looking with all my eyes but it still don't get me anywheres.

go fly into a window, avian plague carriers. a curse a pox a general unqualified malaise on you yours and the sad bastard who has to wipe your bird brain off the window.

no purpose

2010-03-09T21:12:00.001-08:00

this has no point to it. at the least, i haven't one in mind. struggling to write anything. can't communicate even at my usual short circuited misunderstood misanthropic level.

doesn't seem to be any brain activity. i've had foggy periods, but i'm just blank. can't even string together a few malevolent thots about the things that piss me off daily. used to be easy. point, shout, type. i've no interest or attention span for any subject. i'm not reading. don't draw. don't give a shit about the music on my stereo. i don't even turn it on some days. which is quite a dramatic thing for me. this keeps up, i'll just start boozing up in front of the TV every nite and wait for death. i'm aimless, no goals that i believe in, no hope or aspiration. i just get up, do little or nothing and slink back off to my room at the end of the day.

it's not a life.i want to care but don't. never been much of a doer. a ponderer or thinker at best. now that seems to have abandoned me too.

blah.

i was going to end it there in a typical juvenile unimaginative manner, but i just couldn't. guess there's some life left in this. probably not. fuck you optimists.

2010-01-25T07:23:00.000-08:00

i don't use this space enough. and i don't imagine i always use it in the best ways.

this probably doesn't fall under that category either, at any rate here it is.

i write. poems. the obvious editorial malignance. short stories.

i publish books.

five of them so far. small matters. none exceeding a hundred pages.

some are good, some are of questionable quality.

all of them, and this is the real point i'm trying to make here,

are available for purchase.

as follows:

monster(s): and other ghost stories $5. - 90+pgs poems, stories,

no fucking editing or sanctuary

women $2 - pretty poems about the lovely women who've made my life better.

abortions in the 123rd trimester $2.- a tribute to the 30 years on earth that i've put to little or no use.

memorium $2 - for my grandmother

telephone $5 - fuck you Alexander Graham Bell

more info, samples and pics to follow.

contact at bignothing00@gmail.com

2009-12-20T23:27:00.001-08:00

as much as i love your smug chain e-mails, you are wrong. Jesus ain't the reason for the season. the Jews and the old Megalithic crowd got y'all beat by centuries, millennia even. and Coke-a-Claws have had a bigger market share for the last hundred years. better luck next messiah.

2009-08-21T00:22:00.000-07:00

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

this city isn't gonna kill me yet.

2009-07-16T14:29:00.000-07:00

keep trying though.

Good evening, London.

2009-06-28T03:16:00.000-07:00

"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.

gravity

2009-05-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

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.

keep it up

2009-05-12T22:10:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-05-12T18:44:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

earth hour ( reposted from 29. mar.08)

2009-03-17T01:19:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-03-08T14:17:00.000-07:00

happy birthday, Grandma. you've never left my thoughts.

midday thots and happy recollections

2009-02-28T13:42:00.001-08:00

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.

would auld acquaintance and diseased civilisations be taken out and shot!

2008-12-29T23:55:00.000-08:00

yes, Santa received your letter. and i’m sure he was over-fucking-joyed to to fill your latest absurd and thoughtless request. your brainless wishes for big screen televisions, global positioning devices, diamond pendants in the shape of some fucking stupid cartoon cat from a country that doesn’t even believe in his existence or for one of those asinine brown plaid scarfs that every furry boot, logo’d exercise pant and pea-coat wearing dingbat has on, indoors or out. while it’s spectacular that you got your wish, that your hearts desire came true for you, you the entitled, you the undeserving and over privileged you the ungrateful stupid docile masses. lets us say that i am unimpressed.

my request to Santa was a bit more pragmatic. i asked that he take time to truly consider what each and everyone of you deserve based on your contributions to the world, your community your fellow human plants and animals alike and reward accordingly. which is to say i wished for him to perch his portly sainted red hind quarters over your chimneys x-mass eve and for him to fire out cranberry and anthrax filled turds, steaming with sulfur and mustard gas down into your over sized stockings or outstretched hands. clearly i did not get my wish this year, because as i arose on x-mass morn and flicked on the idiot box, i saw no breaking news of millions of homes having been violated and vandalised. sadly, no frantic bulletins in regards to housewives black-eyed from trying to mate with white bearded robbers. nor of presents stolen, substituted with dried and sculpted reindeer jism in the shape of candycanes and no horrified reports of turgid hot steamers left in now soiled stockings on the mantle, oozing from their holiday prize.

so i have had to turn my optimism towards the new year.

desperately hoping that the Spanish/English translation of the Mayan calendars were inaccurate and that the world is in fact scheduled to be thrown into armageddon this coming year. 2012 seems too far off to wait. patience is not one of my virtues as pertaining to the apocalypse. i’m praying for Ragnarok as the calendar turns january. maybe i’ll be rewarded this year, get lucky and as the last second of 2008 ticks off we’ll discover in a grand and deadly explosion that the big shining lighted balls (the ones that all you troglodytes watch drooling in front of your idiot boxes) descending at the midnight hour are actually nuclear warheads, counting down the remaining seconds of all our lives, deforming and/or killing all pretentious, scarf and plastic party hat wearing, socially medicated, corporate logo emblazoned shitbags within a 1000 kilometres, with extremely painful and hideously mutating radioactive spores. all being filmed for the world to see. with the audience at home left only to wait for it to come to them. though i’m sure Dick Clark will survive along with the cockroaches and other members of his immortal insectoid race. too bad you can’t actually die directly from watching something on the TV.

one of the main problems with people is that they always want some one else to do everything for them. they want to be taken care of by others. have their arses washed and to be tucked into bed like the good little children they aren’t. what a wonderfully communist idea that is. any wonder that fat bastard Santa wears a red suit.

you’ve never been responsible . you never had to make any of the hard choices. all you do is make an X on a small slip of paper every 4 or five years and stuff it into a cardboard box. a ballot box maintained and and watched by the elderly and simple. and this makes you feel like you are involved. one pencilled mark on a folded piece of paper and your work is done. you pass on the responsibility and give authority to some megalomaniac that has interest in you only in the way a hungry man looks at a bottle of whiskey. desperate, depraved and full of malignant lust for your demise. you are there for them until you’re drained then dumped off to the landfill with all the x-mass paper, Chinese baby girls and last years gift baskets and toys.

lo and behold this year is extra special. this year your messiah has come. received unto us the bright and shining western world, leaders and plunderers of all the universe. your black baby Jesus has descended upon us and will cure all the ills inflicted upon us by the terrible regime that has controlled the world for nearly half the century. you finally have a leader, nay, a messiah that is the embodiment of all that you hold dear, tho not all that you are. he is from poor mongrel stock, just like you. a broken home of fractured ideology and has shipped around the world thru enough slums and squalid townships to know exactly what you need. but lest we forget that the messiah must be martyred to be worth a damn. and so you can have an excuse why things didn’t go as planned. saviors are set up and rubbed out as needed. dead men are easier to control. do what ever is good for business. manipulate the back story and the masses have whatever fictitious figment of faith they needed to make the daily doses of shit pie and cod liver oil that are doled out palatable. keep believing that there is purpose, that the light at the end of the tunnel is something more than your brain chemicals leaking out from blunt trauma, to numb the pain of death. keep hoping for a better life after your life of physical misery and servitude is over.

you need the promise of change. you clearly do not however want actual change. and you wouldn’t know what to do with it should it ever be granted. you are satisfied with the soon to be unkept promises of your latest messiah and master. same as the old master. its all about marketing isn’t it? who has the strongest brand? whose face looks best on TV or has the best catch phrase. you couldn’t give two dog turds about what they really want from you, the adoring public. but you know what? they get it every time. with your consent, your blessing, with your armchair politics and disinterested attitudes. you give them all the power to do whatever they want with your lives. it is why they are called leaders. but it doesn’t mean they have your interests in mind. the power corrupts and no one is getting to the top of the food chain with out burying a few bodies. but alas, this is the price of fame and fortune in the land of opportunity. stop letting people run your life for you. life is not a queue for heaven or whatever other nonsense your pre-verbal brains dreamt of.
doctrines and laws are not often just and not immutable.

at any rate glue your sprayed tan and heavily made up faces to the idiot box tomorrow night. put on your best leather elbowed sweater and sparkled nylon dress and the good panty hose with the reinforced toes.
play grab ass with the neighbours puke breathed wife. act like you give more than three seconds of regard towards the people around you each year, as if you ever stopped to think about something other than your base and venal sexual needs. crack open a few more bottles of shitty wine and drink it down friends. suck it all in like the gluttonous swine you are. i won’t even call you whores because you pay for these privileges. this is the world you make happen every day, just by doing nothing.

myself? i’m going to put on my bestest radiation suit this year, spin some pre-millennial funk records and sit out on the roof and wait for death to come over of the horizon. you keep waiting for miracles. in lines, huddled, groping and stumbling through your lives. keep waiting for someone to do it all for you.
one of these years we’ll get what we deserve.

and when you go out, don’t forget.
dress warm,
its cold out there.
30.12.08

so this is christmas? (from 08.dec.08)

2008-12-28T20:32:00.000-08:00

what have i done?

apparently not enough. the world is still a filthy seething mess and that bastard commercial with all those bastard starving children in it that has that lousy bastard song are still on the air. tell me how this is my fault.
i am not going to adopt a child. not in reality and definitely not in the symbolic and futile way you propose on my TV.
sure, your paid correspondents/actors tell me that it buys them clothes and meals and a chance at an education. that is of course if they submit to the will of the christ and abandon their backwards culture and religious practices for yours. and your warped World Vision.
without slipping into a completely paranoid rant i will tell you straight up that your kind of charity is not one that the world needs. altruism with conditions. generosity with ulterior motives.the salvation army can take a handful of nickels from the kettle and choke on them as well.
you’ve been selling this since you got run out of egypt. sure you weren’t called christians yet, it was before the Italians got involved, i know. you turned the simpleminded feeble attempts of uncivilised barbarians into the world’s first corporation. and all trickled down and fed off the mighty Cathlick teat. some went independent and claimed their own sovereignty they found new profits and rewrote history to resurrect old ones. but that was your trick. you taught them. the blind and devoted are docile and easy to control. keep them worshiping and begging, indoctrinating against questioning and making sure they remain obedient. this is best for the powers of the world.

conversion under duress. live saving food and medicine in one hand, a bible in the other. not a soul can make any more sense of that slapped together bit of ecclesiastical nonsense even since they started publishing it in something other than Latin. i’m fairly sure King James himself couldn’t read that mess either and put it together like a dogmatic MadLibs.
just one more mind control experiment after another,
they’ve been telling you about poor starving bastard kids in far away lands for what seems like forever. shouldn’t all these little fuckers be dead or saved by now?
just for argumentative and slanderous reasons lets focus on their activities since the 70’s. . they’ve been collecting money and spreading their mind warping tendrils across the world.

Live Aid.
Christian Children’s Fund.
30 hour famine.
Jonestown.

did you catch that?

anyone ever tabulate just how much you bastards gave to Jonestown? how much world vision money for a better world went into the reverend jim jones’ pockets? how much grape FlavorAid, cyanide and artillery did you wholesome god fearing folk buy with that? Focus in on the fact that both work with the same primary demographics, the poor + disadvantaged and more precisely , blacks, females and children. they are simultaneously an endless resource and most “receptive” to the conditioning and relief offered by this insidious beast. and the good Reverend Billy Graham has had his henchmen sniffing around the old stomping grounds in Guyana looking for a place to relocate.

another year older.

i hate this time of year more and more while one commercial hypes the latest sex toys apparatus and implants, the car you need, the necklace you need to buy her to prove you care then the next switch right over to aids ridden puppies and starving rabid children for that guaranteed guilt marketing dollar. mindless consumerist nonsense.
what do the misadventures of some poor bastard Rabbi from Galilee have to do with camcorders,cheese logs pine trees and diamond solitaires?

well back to Africa for a moment. Africa’s number one export is of course a girl’s best friend. the always popular diamond and they ship them out by the tonnes. where’s all that money going to? ask some poor bombed out Iraqi son of a bitch where his oil cheque went while you’re at it. send a letter of reminder to your Senator or former President maybe they forgot to put it in the mail for those poor 3rd worlders.

the root of this is that i find your choice of theme song inappropriate. you are the people who killed John Lennon after all. Mark David Chapman was a World Vision devotee just like John Hinckley Jr. Who wants to get someone’s autograph just before murdering them? how much more obvious do you need to make it? keep rubbing it in.

2.6 billion in the coffers last year. not bad for a charitable organization. whose only concrete accomplishments were the murder of a has been rocker turned politco that would have potentially derailed their meddling in international affairs and the further poisoning of peoples with christian dogma. another year of waste and mindless numbing braindead programming that you’ll swallow like the good little sheep your taught to be.
let me be on the record as to say i hated the Beatles and am grateful this eliminated the possibility of a reunion tour. but that weird hippie - as lousy a musician and father as he was - was really on to something in the peace market. and all those bowl-cut wearing and hash smoking wasteoids that worshipped him like maggots to rancid cat food would have done whatever he pleased. they would have heeded the word, healed the world and fucked up everything for the powers that be. do you think the C.I.A was following him for an autograph? and i would have appreciated the attempt on Reagan’s life if i didn’t think that George Bush Sr. was the one behind it.
How proud of your accomplishments are you that you use you license music from a man that you hated and who opposed your ways. sure you do the heal the world dance and make it sound like peace is your goal, but at what cost? at whose expense? people are an easily lead bunch of lemmings to begin with and religion institutionalized it. church and state are never that far separated ideologically. this is the next level. they’ve had it in place for over thirty years. you believe, operate and breed under the concept that the population is dwindling. you are told that people are dying and need your assistance.but where? whens the last time you saw the city welcome sign lower the population numbers?
what makes the members of this benign christian group kill? too many spins of the White Album? Salinger’s apparent serial killer manifesto, Catcher in the Rye? or government funding to a religious cult that specialises in totalitarian indoctrination and brain washing. preying on the disadvantaged and undereducated.

28 years since Lennon was offed and the official report on the event still stands. do everyone a favor. stop watching so much TV, question everyone’s motives, don’t accept anything at face value (this article included) and the next time you are accosted on the street by one of these World Vision operatives (apologies i meant to type “missionaries”) you kick them in the shins then start asking the questions. we get sold the same story every year. give money, give food, give blood. we the target poor and middle classes ( yes, it still exists for the moment) we the devoted and docile, the ignorant and unwashed masses. those who have the least to give, give most. its a pretty good scam. make or keep all but the ruling class poor so in the end we have no choice but to take their handouts. on their terms. with their conditions. Peace never got a chance. it was bad for business. Wars are marketing campaigns. Stop supporting the war. You already support the troops every time you pay tax. Stop humming that song. Sit down to your fat turkey dinner with the family in your oil and gas warmed homes and look out at the falling snow on your new SUV with yellow ribbon bumper sticker and think about what you have done. Things haven’t changed. The advertisements are just better.

a new year just begun.

now a small exercise in unlearning:
lets play 6 Degrees of separation.
John Lennon- peacenik voice of a generation and crappy musician,
Mark David Chapman- crappy music and JD Salinger fan, World Vision member
JD Salinger- recluse writer, CIA operative, friend of Sen. John Hinckley Sr.
John Hinckley Sr.- U.S. Senator, father of John Jr. , World Vision supporter and president, friend of George Bush Sr, Billionaire Oil Man
John Hinckley JR- Salinger fan, world vision member,
attempted assassin of Prez. Ronald Reagan.
George Bush Sr- VP to Ronald Reagan, former director of CIA. Billionaire Oil Man and weapons manufacturer.
Ronald Reagan- monkey loving yutz, puppet President, too stupid to die.

more to digest:

http://www.nathanielblumberg.com/bush.htm

http://www.mackwhite.com/lennon.html

http://www.whale.to/b/jonestown1.html

dress warm, its cold out there.
from the bell tower.
08.12.08