(Courtesy of Jack T. Chick)
But first. . . . . the worldly wisdom of Reverend "Lenny" von Mötorhead:
A thinking man's philosophy, "no doubt"! (hee, hee, hee)
(Yet the silence "speaks for itself")
Now.
. . . . I want you kidz TO KNOW that rock n' roll
is fun and parties AND ALL THAT GREAT STUFF. But in
the truest sense, if you can learn to cross-wire "fun" with "discipline" you can
have an even more high-grade level of entertainment, than say-- "plain, old
useless ignorance" found in worthless boredom n' hedonism, if not low-rent
pursuits "that keep getting drug TO A LOWER AND LOWER
LEVEL" until all you got is about all that you'd ever find "down at your
ole' DOLLAR STORE" if not six shy, jumpy jerks sitting in the back room of an
X-rated store "for six hours", hoping that a drunk meth-trailer refugee "with
his open-minded wife" will supply "a few moments of sheathed, rubber-dulled
entertainment" between CONSENTING SWINGERS for
hushed whispers, presuming that law-men don't KICK DOWN
THE DOOR with a raid and have these scared strays' faces plastered on
billboard's. Or it's duped, 8th generation "plastic knock-off's" of low-budget
toys n' video games n' STARCH & GREASE. . . . . and
the foxy, blue-jeaned behind of some outlaw bandit girl "who'd size you up" as
59¢ Jello on sale, "and pay it no mind". . . . . whatever the romance of
marginality that about adds up to a splattered possum on a back-road. Or chubby
little kids holding out their hands for the magic of rain-drops with a placid
smile as a granny baby-sitter snarls at 'em to run back inside an' watch
"Hucklebery Houn', NOW!!" If life has a way "of festering at a low-down level"
enough, YOU DON'T HAVE TO ADD TO THE SQUALOR. Rise
above, and don't get involved in the squabbles of emotional-invalids
WHO WILL
ONLY DRAG YOU DOWN IN THEIR FRUMPY, IGNORANT HELLS. It's funny, how when others can't do A
DAMN THING "to change the world", they have a way of tormenting someone
unfortunate enough to fall within their net "and not have
THE WHEREWITHAL TO SHAKE 'EM OFF". Conflict, control, and squalling is
almost some form of joyous, "dark gratification" on some level. . . . . whether
with "reformer" or INMATE.
4444
k
Join "B.R.O.E.S" or the Nubian B.R.O.therhood of E.ternal S.leep"
"I'm way smarter than you ever gave me credit for"
Go find another bassist to mangle the lyrics to "Dick-Rash"
j
Say, some guy like this goes up to a hot-dog vendor with a cart and says: "I'd like (to be) ONE WITH EVERYTHING". And then, however-- your hot-dog merchant says with a pointed finger raised up in the air like the fount of Jewish wit & wisdom: "ah, yes-- but change comes FROM WITHIN" and waddles off like your sage of practical, squawking, street-wise affairs. Even "Uncle Murray" would "wink at that"!!!!
So beware of FALSE gurus, sages, messiahs, n' SHIT LIKE 'DAT!!!!!!!!
Whatever, man. The only thing I'll tell you, brother-- is having "the good sense" to identify a withering, poisonous, parasitical environment of negative, corrosive energy AND GET THE HELL OUT. Not all pain "is created equal", the difference between constructive, positive experiences that hones one's character "and builds THE WILL" as opposed to being addicted to a gratifying masochism of self-loathing Jewish guilt and grinding, dirge-like despair that serves neither you nor I nor "The Creator", even as you "bag" your problems and attempt to hand them off to others with a greasy flicker of insincerity.
"Got a complaint?" Well, there are always sneaky, insinuating characters "who will take a SPECIAL shining, to 'ya, lad"-- as they try to schnooker ya' into "the local bath-house" where you'll receive lots of sympathetic rubs and hugs and significant "glances". . . . .
There comes an absurd, gritting, PERVERTED JOY in dazzling your opponent with such insufferable goodness with the good ole' leverage OF POWER, ARTISTRY, n' THE MIRROR EFFECT that you make the transference of their malarkey "sail right past you" until the clashing, roiling DEMONS of these culture-wars ARE CAST UPON THE REAL CHRIST-KILLERS who are taken out & joyfully butchered "so the tribe may rejoice" at the solution to a long-nagging, pesky conundrum "that can no longer be swept under the rug" AS THE FALL-GUY(S??) PRESENTS ITSELF and the snarling wolves "have their feast" over some broken, slithering, insectoid/squid/parasite's elitist fashion/gold-medallion STUDIO 54 body to the blood-roar of the savage Teutonic skull-riders OF MIGHT, the war-whoop of Genghis. . . . . and the splattered brains of thieves.
(Talk to Father John Dominic Crossan for wonderous questions raised)
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/17/opinion/17hochschild.html
I find that "an
unlikely story" on your side of impotent, ignorant, face-saving threats
FROM THE FORCES OF EQUIVOCATING DARKNESS WHOM KNOW THEIR
DAY DRAWS NEAR like the cowardly, turkey-gobbling
JEW-HORDES that ducked out "many-a-war" behind thy gray-palloured "Think"-tanks
like the limp-dick of some squawking Neo-con torture-porn fantasy,
but upstaged
by a rather joyous, limb-flailing gaggle of harmless black teenagers "on a
subway" who made RIGHTEOUS FUN of thy frozen, mother-harried mind-lock and incestuous
turtle-fantasies with matter both inanimate and
dead. Whatever the shrill, slightly foot-stepping
"mojo-flutter" of back-street fish-hawkers selling their dumpy, rotted wares
in a sad splorch of a flower raised "to a girl who never knew you existed", much
less sickly-eyed, boiled-egg Matzah pseudo-Marxist ramblings to
SHEENA--
blonde jungle panther in
some television studio FAR, FAR AWAY before chased off
by a Dago bouncer who did
not understand "Klutzy Klezmer love" like a cranked Victrola of "big-city"
cachet, but dashed to pieces over your head like a broken record "when truth
comes in blows". . . . . . Go dance with your mother, or fuck your cousin. . . .
. or fixate on the films of Martin Scorcese or go suck Levi Strauss's
dead, tolling, ding-dong dick. . .
. . . if not that bearded con artist up in New York whom you think "is gonna
rise from the DEAD". I am
THE ARYAN CHRIST, my name is "Charisma", and you are
but "mouse-meat" which is unkosher and
pilfering in the roast beef menu of carivoous royalty.
Now, if you may-- you may attempt to do some sort of funky Ju-jit-JEW maneuver,
like something out of some cagey, spry 1960's detective show
AND FIND YOURSELF BUM-RUSHED before you can do but
another bit "of fancy footwork" by bouncers "who know grueling embarassment"
WHEN THEY SEE IT. So take your policy "position
papers" n' planted stories. . . . . AND GO WIPE YOUR DICK
WITH 'EM. That is, presuming "that you have ONE".
If this be ROBERT GREENE, the silky Los Angeles WUSS for-hire who wrote "The 48 Laws of Power" attempting TO SAVE FACE. . . . . . we will keep you within the confines of a labortory, perhaps inside an IRON CAGE-- "for further insight and study" into the barbaric PRIMATE condition where perhaps a 450 pound bald-headed biker "thrown in there" will make a particularly noble n' fascinating experiment "as to adaptive, nesting behavior" and "the parsing of rectums". . . . . NAMELY YOURS with a DINNER-TRAY SHOVED UP THERE, if not the clenched expression of bit pillows and perforated GUMS. Cig?
5 Elevated Ways to Look at Dying here
'
"D.J. Quik" won't let 'ya down. We wanna have "a good par-TAY". . . . . and there's a symphony goin' behind "the mixing booth". There just comes a great sort of "intuition" for how this stuff works, by feeling "the crowds's energy"-- mapping out THE TENOR of the climate "with sensors" and responding appropriately by guessing the subtle ways "that something might have an a(e)ffect ON A WATCHER". Typically, "grandiose statements" would tend TO FALL FLAT-- not unless they were "juiced" with a bit of jumping, rolling "sparklers" of electricity like rolling, volting "Slinkey's" with a touch "of irony" AND PLAY-- like the fluid of life, of motion, of change, if not high gamesmanship with the intrigue of language and ironic meaning "that keeps the audience guessing", yet hypnotized. YOU ARE FILLED UP WITH THE RISING FIRE OF THE MUSE, the spirit of what you believe "like a charismatic actor" upon otherwise-listless or inanimate matter, with well thought-out "back-up plans" should folks ASK QUESTIONS-- and lead folks toward a positive, thoughtful end.
This is a responsbility-- and no one SHOULD RUN A CULT AROUND HIMSELF to make you think that he's anymore "than just a really slick D.J." Dudes like David Koresh "got too big for his own britches" by thinking THEY WERE A BIGGER D.J. than da' HOUSE-MASTER in da' SKY as they'd jealously hunker over the turn-table "and gobble out commands", ultimately scared ABOUT BEING LED AWAY IN HANDCUFFS from the club-compound and thrust in a lock-up environment WHERE THEIR WHITE-BOY PREACHIN' SKILLZ DIDN'T MEAN SHEEEET. No longer "Kingz" but "bitchzes". . . . . so stay away from those underage girls and don't walk around with wide, maniacal eyes and frump-chinned expressions "as if you have main-lined SUM REAL VEIN o' BULLSHEEEIT.
Because truth be known, cats-- we all start off, ya' know-- lookin' like the poor character down in this scene. Spot da' honkey WHO DON'T FIT IN!!
Let not the apparent "no-show" OF SOME "GREAT WHITE HOPE" here on the hip, smug, self-satisfied streets of liberal St. Louis "dissuade you" from looking at a Jack Chick tract or two. Much less some goofus splattering himself as he'd fall off a fire-escape to deliver one, in apparent "complete disinterest" in striking up a conversation AND GETTING YOUR PHONE ###-####!! The flesh is weak, "fear of mortification STRONG", as few inroads have been made into that cynical, wizened "side of town" where every gal is a W.C. Fields, and street-smart with a cocky "is thaaaat soooo?" that would send most of us "running for cover", and pulling the lever for goofusy "moral MAJORITY" (?) candidates whom condemn "immorality". What a vicious, if ever-amusing cycle. . . . . . . of "Blueberry Hill" & SIN.
ddd
(Don't
go there. . . . .)
"Will
you go to HELL
for asking questions
ABOUT
HELL?!" Not on this
network, son!!
What occurs to folks here in the modern world is the massive absurdity heaped on, almost like cruel, incongruous INSULT when those around them who raised "the lil' tyke" with fairy-tale conceptions of how, perchance-- THE WORLD NEVER WAS-- and what happens with young, brutalized anxiety "and the realization" of the nursey school's LIES as the adults go scholrping off like grotesque, unaccountable seals WHO LIED TO THEM-- whatever their cries "of lost innocence" and the final irrevocability of LET-DOWN. . . . . and SHEER AVOIDANCE. And then told "they're going to hell", after all of that, because they don't believe. And making it worse, watching Christians "and true believers" carrying on like the equivalent of/or revelers at a "Star Trek convention" amid the grotesque, sniping pitiful. . . . . and what that says about ignorance and self-abstinance "and sneaking behind the corn-field" GREED.
Let that be THEIR IDIOCY, not yours-- and you certainly don't HELP THE SITUATION by acting like a flippant, adolescent TURKEY thinking "will I/won't I" leaping back n' forth across various "lines drawn in the sand" of quasi-intelligent MONTY PYTHON derring-do "like you're really as daring as you think". A notion of hell is that if here in this veil of suffering, churning torment "with episodes of agony" that if WE DON'T LIVE WELL WITH SPIRITUAL GRACE "there won't be anything of particular value" worthy of ascending on to the next level AS YOU GO DOWN INTO ROT AND WORMS AND FLAMES and the impurity is smoked out. Christianity is a set "of keys" that unlocks vast spiritual potentials inside and what it means when one "walks in the faith".
Years ago, I remember being an obnoxious, snickering little magician of a half-Jewish young teenager with the sole audience being my easily-rattled ole' mother as I felt myself rising with "Devil's Advocate"/Luciferian "palour-game"-proposition on some dusky, humid June night of drizzles and crickets and heavy metal t-shirt catalogs "that carried pot-leaf pendants" in the back, like zonk-minded counterculture bombing-runs "against THE PIGS, man!!" and Ozzy Osbourne laughing with eyes eyes rolled back in his head, "taking a leak" on the side of the Alamo. . . . . if not even "scuzzier diversions" involving cactus-holes, groupies, prarie dogs, n' tequilla-- when I extended my palm out like a junior Howard Stern broker on the New York trading floor of loaned absurdities and proclaimed with a trembling, rising voice that only swelled with impetuosity-- "that I AM THE MESSIAH!! I am THE CHRIST!!" My mom told me to "settle down" because I'd either be "locked-up" or killed by a fundamentalist, which only added to the allure "of seedy danger".
(-- It did not get me "a girlfriend")
A funny story that sprung somewhere out of the depths of the 19th century was about this mystical, magical "spirit-woman" who had a bit of a cult-following around her. . . . . "a society of believers" who surely thought that she must be a great, founding "World-Teacher": this dowdy, "who-ever" with her strange, mysterious ways. Upon her death-- she left instructions to open up a box of her belongings "which contained the universal secret"-- perhaps some years after her death, WHICH THE SOCIETY duly did-- and this had the effect of H.L. Mencken leaving behind a rash of racist n' anti-Semetic jokes as he chewed over a cigar "from the depths of hell" where he (kn)ow doubt BELONGED-- "looking over us all" with an expression of electric prankster's vengeance and a surefire contempt for the foibles of mankind. But it's not nearly "as simple" as all of that. . . . . because WHAT THE OLD SAGE-WOMAN was trying to tell the now-piffling "appalled" leveling their opera glasses and looking GREATLY DISCONCERTED is that man lives in a cage suspended above "the unknown". Through his act of mischief, play, and POSITIVE-BELIEF, he sends "the cage" rocking n' swinging back & forth with greater, more exultant swings to the cheers of his fellows until the damn thing actually falls down AND RELEASES THE PRISONER-- "where they can make an excited jail-break" AND COME BACK FOR THE REST LATER AS "THE LIBERATOR".
4
The
Bible
on sex, much like the whole book taken in its
huge, winding "DOUBLE-RECORD" concept album entirety,
is a swashbuckling epic full of adventure, intrigue, and craftiness in the
pursuit of GOD'S PLAN. . . . . yet down here,
absurdly enough-- stuck down in human form in the desert of sand-washed boulders
and oases. . . . . and traveling caravans; the human heart and age-old passions
of lust n' murder and betrayel. . . . . . the charisma of raised armies and
drafted peace "and burnt offerings", if not "runner-up prizes"
TO FORGE ALLIANCES. To make "a long story short". .
. . . well, "it's complicated" and a far more interesting
and satisfying take on the human and spiritual dimension than knee-jerk
simplistic answers found in cultural hang-up's that only make us-- and
everyone-- "far more miserable".
4
. . . Who are these guys-- the four thrashers of the post-millenial apocalypse with "The Gor-Gor of Revelations"?
Don't be "G.G. Allin". Don't be a "Skinny Puppy"!!
Now, I like you personally. . . . . but this is PROFOUNDLY MANIPULATIVE BEHAVIOR like getting your audience addicted to sugared-over lil' fibs so you can then "turn around" and bludgeon them WITH GUILT.
What I never liked about your show was how you were "an inside trader" in other people's misery n' gangreous social dislocations, presuming as if you did not know the dark, seeping nature of this rotting cruelty n' pain AND THEN MAKING MILLIONS AS YOU HUSTLED THEM OUT THE DOOR to the cheers of the hooting, degraded mob.
If it's one thing I've learned about YOUR EMOTIONAL POISON. . . . . it's that you rip us off five or six times then try to make us "feel guilty FOR POINTING OUT YOUR GUILT". I strike at your rotted, cowardly Jew-head AND DARE YOU TO BE A FUCKIN' MAN instead of a blood-suckin' leech. The world does not revolve around your turd-sniffin' nose, which ought to be KICKED IN. Death to the liberal insect!!
l
God
help you, there was the "soul roots" authenticity of "The
Red Hot Chili Peppers" to back up these P.C. Commandments of the quick-cut MTV generation:
the
Meso-American, Afro-Caribbean
apolitical communal-Trotstykist-funk of four white guys giggling, whooping, and flapping around like chickens with
socks on their dicks. . . . . . if not the skirting, "surf's up!" authenticity
of meth-addicted "skate-rats" through whatever cracked, spitting, buck-toothed
consciousness like a quasi-Latin American "comme-ci/comme-ca" paean to Flamenco,
rotten-crotch poverty. Of course, these dudes must be such radically "loose
screws" IN THE FIRST PLACE that they'd fly through
the universe like a jangled wind as the foolish, naive, and over-earnest among
us would fetishize "THE TRAIL" of their silliness
instead of War (THE PROCESS) Magic in which "the
content" is far less important THAN THE FREE-FLOWING RIVER. Every scene is
full of characters, geeks, slackers, pretenders, outcasts, screwballs, and some
old giant of a Bluesman who'd fool "young folkies" in nebbish glasses "that
he has a devil's tail"-- no different than a pan-handler struttin' up &
down the street, shouting obscenities and mostly scaring "women and children" and
baby-faced liberals. Whether all of matter "is a radio receiver" and collects
the broadcasting frequency of consciousness that exists all around the universe
and in fact, cognition puts a spin on EXISTENCE "on some
level"-- thinking of course, that "your hole of mind" is an aggregate of
matter complex enough "to do some nifty tricks" with this
conscious-ether-substance-spirit-energy, "The Red Hot Chili Peppers"
are but a sloppy vessel for quick-cut MTV
enlightenment and I'd sooner take it all "with a grain of
salt".
4
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2011/jan/10/earth-close-encounter-aliens-extraterrestrials
Many folks in religious, "New Age" circles frequently deal "in emotional truths" to somehow "justify", or otherwise "explain away" what makes them feel frumpy, off-kilter, "out-of-sorts", or unattractive in this glee-pit of society's ideal of collective, well-adjusted DENIAL. It never pays to feel as if one is but "just another schmuck" or otherwise "caught in some unappealing rut" of the otherwise "UNMENTIONABLE" human condition because folks feel embarassed "talking about it". Why do they feel embarassed? Because it's something deep inside we all know & dread, yet "don't have ready answers for" except "duct-tape solutions" as we skip off with the mask of society's "false fronts" of ritualistic "happy-go-lucky" avoidance, desperately afraid that others "will find out".
One common way "to compensate" is the conviction "that we ourselves are somehow THAT MUCH MORE DEEP & SPECIAL THAN OTHERS" as we project "a mental structure" onto our surroundings "that THERE MUST BE MORE THAN THIS" to justify the pain, suffering, agony, and loss. To put it another way, to otherwise construct "rules" or a coherent "world-historical picture" that justifies our adapted helplessness, if not self-exempted cynicism "and passing THE BUCK onto someone else".
Human freedom IS BUT A SCARY THING. Especially "in times of pessimism, dislocation, and decline" when we may find ourselves like Indiana Jones & his lovely assistant "running around a library", finding hidden signifiers as if carved there by your Nintendo "game-master" IN THE SKY, but this probably comes from this mish-mash of old movies, dingy comic books, pulp fiction covers, and loathesome "sexual befuddlement" sloshed around IN HIS HEAVY METAL ID like the rumbling, storming ocean.
Imagine "how it would BLOW OUR MINDS" if perhaps, the pathetic termite-hill of spit, n' sticks n' slime we keep dragging ourselves around everyday was threatened, or perhaps VANDALIZED by sharper, cagier forces "insensitive" to the frumpy power of cynical, wasted defeat-- if not prone "to the mockery of the world", then we'd sponge off IN MANY DIFFERENT PREDICTABLE, YET COMICAL DIRECTIONS as loony as they are straight-faced. . . . . with 1001 homilies of apparent, "selfless" pledges and greasy flickers of "spot-lit" denial, if not MYSTICAL, FAR-OFF TALES OF UNDISCOVERED COUNTRIES that is only concealing "HOW SMALL YOUR DICK NOW FEELS" as women are fluffin' their hair, and flockin' over "to the other venue".
Do I believe in UFO's? Maybe
"a little bit" but not with enough intense,
gnarled, single-minded interest to scare away a nice girl dabbling "on the
edges" of the subject like a rich chocolate of emotional harmony for the the
spiritual, cosmic, and star-lit possibilities of the wise, romantic dolphin
guide of the eternal ocean who is versed in Homer, Ovid, "Ms. Pacman", and
THE MOON.
"Settle down, Butt-head!!"
d4
Some
montebank "of a human insectivore" would wish to claim. . . . . . whether or not
"a touch fanciful, delusional" OR A BIT
OF BOTH-- that he hails from some other "planetary
dimension", NOT OF THIS WORLD--
playing into tropes of Victorian crime-sheet tastelessness
n' the fog-swirled shiny gas-light glistenings "off some
haunted bridge", let alone-- some "Bobby" of a police officer looking on with
the maximum presupposition of civilization's romanticized innocence toward such
"supernatural-exploitation" themes of the gothic/uncanny/macabre not seen in
such quantities since the 1979-1984 British television season
AND MOSTLY FORGOTTEN. Lest we "haul you in" for a
live "vivisection", or plant you in a cemetary with a little bell affixed to a
tombstone, with a string looped down to your coffin which some unfortunate soul,
if buried alive, "may ring for help"-- so "the body-snatchers" can come along
and vivisect you again before pressing you into the British navy there with the
philosophy, as Lord Winston Churchill put it so eloquently, lives by "rum,
sodomy, and THE LASH". Remember that not all of
English history is "shits n' giggles". . . . . . and THE
BEATLES earning the wrath "of the old-guard".
"If ai' souns li' bull-sheet ta' dem. . . . . I'EEZ!!"
What I will hand to folks whom take stock in
supernatural happenings, is that there are energies, patterns, harmonies, and
vibrations "in existence" that science hasn't fully
MAPPED OUT-- and just
because a fellow in a white lab-coat can't "officially" record this stuff under
controlled circumstances "with instrumentation" DOES NOT
MEAN that IT DOESN'T SEEM REAL TO YOU. The
mind is fallible, and can project illusions and expectations and dreams--
perchance, whether or not the universe "on some unexplained basis" mirrors our
expectations with some illusion-play with conciousness-tricks, built within the
fabric of space/time "that we don't quite understand" is an interesting idea to
dwell upon.
However. . . . . the issue IS NOT HELPED
once you have "the mass-marketing" of illusion, misconception, and a bit of
"exploitation FANTASY" that begins to take on the
cast of either a Star Wars or Star Trek convention with a table staffed by
merchants taking on the cast of pie-faced "Medieval usurers" playing into a
low-rent "Aliens vs. Predator" playground of
fan's delight full of notions both fanciful
and base with fringe authors, lecturers, "miracle cures", and dreams of furtive
sex over "purple Druid candles" with Chardony after dinner in some Sheraton
lounge "with suggestive NEW AGE music"
with the pipes of Pan. Clear out of here before Ms.
Marina Sirtis' rock-musician husband rises from the corner of the signing table
AND CHASES YOU OUT WITH A SNARL.
It won't happen for you. . . . . NOR WILL IT EVER. And the sooner you can get "square" WITH THIS, then perhaps you won't waste time on bonkzoid UFO-cults preying upon thy pallid, stuck conundrums of feeling like "an insignifigant speck of shit" who just needs A BIT OF ASSURANCE that if he bares down "with the right priorities" AND PUTS HIS SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL that many of these dislocations, if not "need for validation", will eventually "go away". You might even "code" some beautiful scripture. . . . . .
d
''
Well, well, well. . . . . lil' Mousketeers. Let's all "perhaps have some
perspective" put on that stabbing, sicked-up, POISONED
feeling of spiritual malaise OR WORSE by your
favorite practitioner, "Dr. Chuckles".
(hee, hee, hee)
In a world of frittering, short-changed, shorter-fused desperation-- perhaps you miss "the bounty of what is", "what you have left" as you get over wailing ecstasies of over-wrought "ROLE-PLAY" like some MAUDLIN ACADEMY AWARD PERFORMANCE that in a bengin world would have George Burns looking on "with a magical wink", and if the cosmos were cruel. . . . . a seasoned STREET CAT cocking his head and goin', "sheeeet, man!!".
Perhaps, once "chargrined" with a bit of eye-bulged "collar-tugging", then go
back "to your lair of secret competitive advantage"
and work on the basics, FROM SQUARE #1 if necessary. . . . .
like even wiping your own ass. You can "get a
handle on that", can't you-- in comparative "quiet & solitude"
without the world looking on "nor getting a medal
for it"? I'd much rather "get my act together"
instead of relying on "aid n' support" in my most private, wretched moments "of
fetid human endurance".
Why, I think I'd be too embarassed you know, to tug on somebody's sleeve and call in "FOR THE BERLIN AIR-LIFT!!!".
No one "really wants to jump in the fire", or "tumble down the void", but on some level think "that nothing is really going to happen to them", whatever the rushing "dance" or "flirtation" IN SOME "APPARENTLY" TRANSCENDENT CULT OF DESTRUCTION. It's all "fun & games" until you realize that you may have been in for SOME SERIOUS, LONG-TERM CONSEQUENCES by drinking in the devil's den, half-heartedly "placing your chips" on YOUTH REVOLUTION, and then again-- bottomless, youthful conundrums of unanswerable existential questing until "you sort of get it" with a snap of your fingers and laugh at uncertain, nebbish folly "trying to act way more convinced then it sounds". . . . .
Just don't take "any wooden nickels"!!
Mash the phone above to be spirited away to the "Mickey Mouse CRISIS HOTLINE" @ a YouTube video far, far away. . . . . .
I remember, way back in those so-called days of "transition" concomitant with being 12 or 13 with the paradigm shifts of the INFORMATION/STARBUCKS/VIRTUAL REALITY ECONOMY back in '93-'94 or thereabouts. . . . . THE PATHOS of a shop window DOWN IN THE LOOP(y) shopping district and trying on "hats" in the trendy, funky, and hip stasis of "COOL FASHION STATEMENTS" like a drooping flower offered around, as if you were saying: "Love me" but you just "sort of knew" that no one would "no matter what hat you tried on" as you stared into the mirror "with a sheepish grin or whatever". Upon shifting, unreliable sands of pulsing, heaving corpusles and vomity-nauseous fluid of middle-school conundrums that afflicts so much of the (post-?)adolescent experience for longer n' longer periods, apparently-- IT BEGAN TO DAWN ON ME that life is mostly about those gray, rainy, dank moments "of huddling under a warm shop window" in the rain" with about $7 in your pocket. . . . . enough for a slice o' pizza n' a large Styro-cup of fizzing, popping lime-chemical stimulants (SODA) where your hands will get "soppy n' greasy"; stale, broken cigarattes (-- if you were rebellious enough to smoke them) and the indifference of an older 20-something wiping down a counter "with a rag", apparently off in the MTV-"paradiso" of "free Republic liberty" proffered through constant, flashy "lifestyle commercials" with the exchange of cold, hard cash "you mostly didn't have". If a pattern here "is emerging before you". . . . . it's "PAY TO PLAY" (-- or eat). What is the basis upon which value "is stacked"; and more frighteningly, HOW DO YOU SIZE UP BEFORE THE CLANGING ANVIL OF LIFE?! Meet your Nordic version of "Good Cop/Bad Cop". . . . . Santa Claus and Odin. I'd much rather deal with him than the avoidant, nasal quacking of "Haunakkah Harry" as mighty, resounding laughter booms through "THE HALL OF THULE".
You gotta
laugh at the ever-dry conclusions derived at by the slow swirling "ice-berg"
dance of existential "starry-night" dead-ends and the ultimate disappointment of
joyless, government-machine "red-tape" as jolly/happy Smurfs "play leap-frog"
and boozers n' brawlers "fuk shit up"
via anti-immigrant hooligan stunts at
soccer games as the revolving, hypnotic screwball eye "of lost, cracked,
DEMENTED liberal humanist COMMONSENSE found in universal values" can think of
nothing better to do than A) snort cocaine "when they think no one is looking";
B) robotically shove things up their own ass. Pray for the all-surveillance
state, or at least "an informally-educated GOOD GUESS"
as what passes for progress "is laughed out of the court of public opinion" to
rowdy, bawdy cheers. . . . .
When one pokes fun at the likes of Laura Albert n' the ruse behind "J.T. Leroy"
& Co. one would tell the poor lady and everyone "taken under the wing"
of this
damn tall tale. . . . . is that art, narrative, n' acting is a kind of religious
catharsis like that good ole' Navaho sand painting: War (THE PROCESS) and how
maybe in this life there's "good bullshit" n' "parasitical bullshit". . . . .
that leaves these psychic vampires of ghoulish "pscyhodrama" lurching about "for
more", hoping to chomp their jaws on the nearest main-line n' arterial spray of
muddled, stubby "human sewage" found in the overly-serious literary character. The
issues covered in "Miss
Bonkers'" work-- though not unknown here "on the outside",
were "a bit far-fetched" with theatrical Oliver Twist flair that could yet not
"step back" with a sure sense of that good ole' Charles Dickens "eye for comedic
detail"-- AND HAMMER IN THE TRUTH ABOUT IT, even in between "the cracks"
of all
put-on sanctimony, as if you'd step back and collect "some good, healthy
SOBS"
but to impress some startled homeless drifters passing back and forth
a rumpled
bag of package liquor and singing "Auld Lang Sang" up to the stars
through
yellow corncobs of rotten teeth like squalling joy, if not a cot at Larry Rice's
and a fish-rot crotch o' dirty balls. Even Tom Waits would stiffen up with
morbid disregard, no space "to solemnly recede" at "The City Lights Bookstore"
or whatever in 'Frisco as "Willie 'da Jiver" would attempt to dismember a rival
"crank case" with a meat-hook, only catching the tail o' his coat in a flurry of
rat-trap/cheese n' socially under-serviced "services" mayhem like a bunch o' toothless
panthers howling through their icy/ragged-plastic/scrtiched-stretch o' thawed
hot-dogs like back alley-abortionist royalty with a sprung-toe shoe "to boot".
I'd throw you a rolled-up, rat-infested newspaper so you can fuck yourself with it before one big hootin' party while Kimbo Slice from the UFC stands there with his Muslim brotherhood arms crossed in a bloody, camouflage bandanna, nodding "no pain!! No pain!!" like Rocky's Balboa's trainer through the infernal, frigid snows of the Euruasian tundra, hefting the handles-- a wheel-barrel "of unsold bullshit" over your shoulders with a defeated, womanly vegetable-drawer of mouldy, drawn, mope-mouthed Tampax complaint like the gentle bean fields of Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail gettin' torn-up down at a Monster-Truck rally with the oily, wicked, shooting, farting flames of TRUCKASAURUS and your harpie-curb/ass-clown demons exorcised like Baranabus, god of Jewess mischief like the slithering snake of Marc Jacobs' limp, dribbling excuse for a hoe's beast.
Into the lungs of hell. . . . . and back: "wag the dog" (-- but look at Jim Morrison, "the ole' Lizard King" himself, with skepticism). WHAT AN IDIOT.
gggg
I
bid you out there, recoiling from the last outing of your "essential
fallability of human nature"-- to snicker at the ole' tale of our pet
turtle, "Turtor"-- named after the loping, clammy, "top-hat" snappiness of some
bygone early 1960's cartoon produced by the same slap-happy forces behind "Rocky
n' Bullwinkle", if not other flat-a-tat grungy, mouldy "day-old bread"
cartoon favorites that played on "Channel 24", Larry Rice's television station
as your shoestring "New Life Evangalistic Center's" pentitent offerings to kids
living somewhere way below in some hokey, grinding, struggling existence down in
late '80s PALEOTHIC HELL. A time of party-hats,
pizza, and lop-sided, lumbering "six-foot" stuffed-suit rats you'd call
Chuck'e'Cheese as you threw up Koolaid, the
thinking "that any of this could have MADE SENSE"
with flashing lights and the grim inevitabilities of Skee-ball's "failed
valour".
Well. . . . . beyond "birthday clowns" (-- presuming that we could AFFORD ONE), we picked up a pet turtle splonking his way through a grassy field in some public park and decided that we'd adopt him. Yet, there "was no real place" to warehouse "Tutor" except in a barbeque pan beneath our bunkbed "in virtual darkness" where he lived like a P.O.W. "of sorts" for two years, when my Dad every couple of days would feed the poor, lunking Garrison-Keillor lookin' bastard a can of bargain grocery/depot DOG FOOD and stroke his shell, if not clean out the reeking stink of his enclosure until ONCE MORE he would be slid into the abyss of memory's blackness.
Now. . . . . obviously, WE WERE NOT A FAMILY OF BUCK-TOOTHED CANNIBALS, but then again-- to have paid any mind "would have somehow been TOO MUCH WORK". The onus of "debt" and "falling behind" in our duty to this cold, unresponsive beast that stared on "with unblinking eyes" and a bit of "a beak" like an old, crabby "dud" of nature's beauty would have had us "embarassed"; if not "appalled" at nature's unfair hand and the gratifying stories we tell ourselves, almost fighting to keep POSSESSION of "Tutor" as Dad came around to the conclusion that we ought to spring "the old guy loose", even as we skipped off to buy "penny-candy".
And there he went, splunking, splunking, splunking across the grass in a new habitat as we followed his path with misty longing BEFORE WE WENT OUT TO GET SOME FRIED CHICKEN.
l
REMATERIALIZE. . . . . . and laugh at the hellish, fiery smoke-a-thon o' life UNTIL YOU ARE REBORN on a greener, swell pasture THAT IS JUST ANOTHER WAY OF LOOKING UPON THIS ANIVIL O' THINGS beyond all evil, jibing, pitch-forking spirits of anxiety, depression, spiraling "complexes", n' fear. Complete WAR (THE PROCESS) and but laff at stress's snipings.
There was once a "Calvin 'n
Hobbes" comic strip when the lil' stinker "in question" spent the whole panel
complaining about his miserable experience "down at the beach" on vacation as
his parents unloaded the car "and tried to pay him
no regard" throughout a long, miserable day-- when, at last-- they began
"loading up the car" at sundown and the lad was shocked "that they were
LEAVING".
d
"Hey, I kinda
liked listening to ole' "Howard Stern". . . . . and this article
here
seems to be "a bit nervous", "a bit beseeching". What I'll say is that life "is
a buffet" and sometimes it's fun to go slummin' to the dark, "risky" side of
town like a moth darting around a flame. Of course, there will always be "some
sad, scuzzy, UNFORTUNATE CHARACTERS" who collect like soot down there in some
really awful, bad-off dens "that will exist" no matter what "we wanna think".
Whether "Howchie" needs to be paid "so much", even as his coterie of poor-off,
misfit pals "stab themselves", inject heroin, stomp around "like the addled,
grotesque retarded" as ole' Schnozz plays
"da' ring-master" and pays his interns
NOTHING for the privillege of padding meekly around the station like dutiful,
string-bean geeks and mild girls raising their eyebrow at the vomit-splashed
antics "and not wanting to ask" what the blow-job closet is
for, amidst humming
snack machines and scorched stomach-lining coffee urns, I
THINK HOWARD NEEDS TO GET RELIGION and take a pilgrimage down to Branson,
Missouri in a cowboy hat.
A
difficulty in this life is the odd thing known as "commodity fetish" or the
cannonization of talent-- what is supposed to make someone "talented" or an
"icon" or whatnot, when secretly down inside "you kinda know"
that without this or whatever you would be "some
poor guy standing around" with his arms hanging "at his side" helplessly with
the other blank, clueless, expendable FACELESS HORDES
who don't have "the telltale signs" of conceit & genius,
whatever that is supposed to mean. Of consequence, it can make guys
CRABBY who run from their monsters-- getting paid to draw them, even-- in a
festering crock-pot of creativity "that never gets resolved" as a money-making
appartus is tacked, trailing behind "their bonkers creative gizmo" and
oftentimes THUSLY AFFECTS THE CREATIVE PRODUCT,
usually for the worse as they become "a caricature" sold to the layers of
squabbling fans "with various levels of taste" and stand-offishness with warped,
mismatched sociologies unto itself "of who they are", or even "who they wanna
be". Are crude "doodles n' sketches" some kind of answer
of existential completeness? Do they deserve to hang in some cold,
distant, foot-tapping gallery "of modern art" for millions of dollars? Well, I
guess so. . . . . whatever "the market will bear".
Click "Play" to begin, Mouseketeers!!
Watch Dave Chapelle in this PBS interview mess with the confused, white, uptight, pentient liberal head of Charlie Rose over the use of the "Nigger-word" ("N"-word) and throw the press into circles over the fact that his best friend and writing partner is a white comic "who understands the dynamic" beyond all accusations "OF THE RACE CARD". The fear, basically-- is offending "a breed o' cat" who is "a wild card". . . . . incredibly-gifted and soulful in many ways, but then again, "not as good at some things" as "other tribes". The struggle down in a fetid, steaming "crock-pot" can give rise "to congenital BAD FEELING", yet ennoble with the struggle "of superior character" so long as you're willing "to get off your plantation" AND NOT MILK THIS FOR ALL IT'S WORTH. With the right kind of understanding, acceptance, and honesty-- rising up TOWARD THE LIFE FORCE with the profound appreciation for graceful nobility n' "good form". . . . . then may we strive toward infinity; each and everyone of us-- and surpass the frustration of short-sightedness of today's corroded slime-dime limitation for destiny's profound imagination!!
a
One of the most destructive things about growing up was the loud, tempermental, blatting nature of others "that never stood in one place for very long", but were always selling the next scheme, elixer, or magical happy-go-lucky "parlour trick" that of course, though VERY EMOTIONALLY-VALIDATING, could not really "do a-lot" for some out there "with some very serious problems" that no one "really knew what to do about". The answer, apparently, was to offer you "a pinch of fool's gold" and try to cobble the thing together with kandy-korn "chewing gum" themes . . . . . whether your insufferable neighbors or the constant "lifestyles" that were inexorably, relentlessly, pushed on television "through PEER PRESSURE" as if there was "no escape". There's the world of "Bazooka Joe Comics", but then "there's what everyone REALLY WANTS-- whether stuffed piggy banks or scrumptious chocolate chip cookies or the shy smile "of a pretty girl or two" that even a "bullshit artist", half-Jewish or otherwise, "knows what's what". . . . . but's it's the beauty of the charming, relativistic "sales-pitch" that keeps us from stringing up Hugh Hefner with piano wire. The charm, the magic, "the attitude" of 'da moxie n' mojo is that "if you believe in the right way", such things WILL START HAPPENING FOR YOU-- and the fact that you made do with less, so much in the magical world of "the inner child"-- then it makes the experience THAT MUCH RICHER while others who indulged "all their lives" are by far POORER FOR THE EXPERIENCE with the messy concomitant problems of disease, unwanted preganancy, and a string of unfulfilling, broken relationships when the reality of "pay-to-play" doesn't occur to you until biology's inevitable recepit is plunged down on the table with deep, stabbing anxiety and the slow, sinking feeling of baleful regret. "Big talkin' cahoonas" and "good girls playin' floozies" ultimately have silence, eternity, "and the punch-line" of fate THAT SAYS FAR MORE THAN THEY EVER COULD, much less to their friends and families and to themselves in those haunted, tossing n' turning "small hours" WHEN GUILT BEGINS TO BITE. I'll laff if you will. Have a cookie.
Some experiences I had with a fairly bogus minister can be detailed
here from a substantially long time ago. . . . .
when a problem so many young people have "with the fundamentalist crowd" is how
their mind LOCKS on some hokey, scratchy, "cruddy-sort-of-answer"
AT THE EXCLUSION OF EVERYTHING ELSE as more nimble,
free-flowing, flexible conciousnesses "dart around uneasily" and refuse to
ACCEPT THIS MONSTROSITY in its limping, screwball
"literalist/mechnical" conception THAT IS SIMPLY MISSING
EACH OTHER AND PERHAPS FOREVER WILL. Take the marriage/abstinence issue.
"Mr. Hokey" recites these starched, all-American studies with a flourish of Ronald Reagan optimism on the hint of a chilly, clammy wind "from some early 1980's Doomsday crypt" that would be laughed out of a bar-- much less in front of "the merry vulgarians". Inevitably, some piping young upstart will demand, "how can you be SO SURE that this is the way. . . . . and why are you trying to take away my right to decide FOR MYSELF?"
And then the flood of implication, and real echoing "chiller"-- just because you were force-shaped by a cultural violence "of blinkered ignorance, fear, and superstition" that otherwise HAS NO REAL JUSTIFICATION than practical realities and the half-truths of folk tales, then why should a young intelligent person willingly clamp themselves "into the chains of your system as the ultimate existential authority"-- when this is about power, mud, greed, resentment, AND SOCIAL CONTROL?
All intra-groups n' sub-cultures ARE GUILTY OF THE SAME THING with systems of reward, punishment, "merit", and ostracization ultimately built around MIGHT or some abstracted concept such as MONEY, built on the labor power "of the loyal". Even liberals, socialists, Marxists, and communists..... if not "grunge-indie-alterna-rockers" fall into the same thing as well. You just need "to think outside the carton" and give a jaundiced, seedy squint at St. Ben & Jerry's "ice cream", Mecca of fruti-tuti selflessness, with a throaty belly-laugh and a joy for reissued old Blues n' Jazz classics via "Rhino"-C.A.R.E.-packaged box-set.
cc
What comes to one, is "the sacred silence" and glorious rot "and slow turning of the face of time" as one sits by a Missouri creek or a swamp "or whatever", supremely serene to a silhouette or two that may gather on the bank "and trade stories about life", and then "won't be there" after a time. . . . . and then neither will the bank.
Increasingly. . . . . today's young people find themselves dropping out of the
work-force, moored into "the disability system" as they get hooked into
Serotonin-adjusting "mood-helpers" for those twin demons
of anxiety and
depression, when society is affronted with the imbalances, lies,
hyper-stimulations, "and patent let-down's" here in the known limits of the
Western world WHEN WE DENY NATURE or don't have
enough genuine folks "enough on the level" to help PUT
MATTERS IN PERSPECTIVE as aging, candy-corn baby-boomers and
MTV-entertainers hop around like grotesque marionettes, leaving kids stranded n'
marooned "with the punishing silence "of who they are OR
EVEN WHAT THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE" with
chemical/capitalist/biological/spiritual/political lures, inducements, "and
honey traps" going on like a cross between a sales-pitch and a 24/7 media
strobe-light as folks die in gruesome ways, chained down in unfulfilling jobs
and abusive predator/prey relationships when the ignorant n' hurting "are made
to feel guilty FOR POINTING OUT THE OTHER SIDE'S GUILT" in this shit-sea of
mud-weevils and skittering, chaotic avoidance when any kind of truthful light is
snapped on through the murk, IN SEARCH OF SOME KIND OF
BEDROCK that apparently old movies and television shows can't answer "in
whatever kind of mythical GOLDEN AGE" giving rise to terroristic furor,
and "the worship of violence n' death" if not the transcendence of the holy
destructive act with opiated dreams "of after-life's ineffable carnal
pleasures". I guess so. . . . .
There's a-lot of shame n' misconception around blistered, brutalized, slop-pot's of life-stories when folks judge you, condemn you, or would lock you into an even more crude, unfufilling, painful version "of slavery" that conforms inside the bounds of their ignorant vision-- all because you don't have "the strength to deny them" as you end up "fleeing through the night", once more disassociated from all of humanity as they hop around "like shit-birds", fully intending "to dissolve your personality" with their ugly, holy vision "of enlightenment"-- basically some kind "of pyramid scheme" when they care not for your independent, clever insights but only heavy, blind, deaf, dumb "fealty to the system" AND THEIR VERSION OF CONTROL THEREOF. It is why the spirit of wise libertarianism with the nodded cap of a fatherly cop is the way to go. Medicine must be paid for, like treatment for a gangreous infected foot instead of somehow being expected to limp along a brutal, broken "no-man's trail" as the childish and ignorant "live it up" with life's succulent pleasures and the scavangers then move in to prey on "the old, sick, limping, blind, and feeble" as politically-correct codes of upright rectitude are enforced with nary a care for society's REAL VICTIMS, in fact STRIKING YOU DOWN HARDER when you raise "a bleat of objection" in this hateful state of a degraded, compromised America. "We hate niggers, we hate Jews, we hate Washington, AND WE HATE YOU. . . . ." goes the ole' refrain from millions in an ever-swelling chorus. This, supposedly the height of all progress and human ambition here in 2010 as the system lurches "to a nauseous halt". . . . . just about "out of gas".
(No one ever "went broke" underestimating "the bad taste" of the American public)
-- "Knock you over the head wit' a MALLET,
'pecker-wood'!"
"The Stowaway"
A band
like "Megadeth" has seen it all as your combination between teenaged
malevolance, Nintendo eight-bit values, and the flat-out exclusion of that show
"Baywatch" with the whole culture that seperates
attainment from "zeroes". Such are the hard, "zero-sum FACTS O' LIFE"
when one supposes they can scrape up enough money for a pizza and escape off
into the world of "Metroid", hopping around "with a space-blaster" and
defying gravity with unlikely spinning leaps against a host
of even more bogus blood-sucking enemies. . . . .
much less "this drain on personal initiaitive". And
there would be a little girl, "like a stowaway" trying to sneak back-stage
"without an official pass" as she intends "to follow the band around"
FOR A LITTLE WHILE and get some kind "of
existential INDEX of what life is all about". Now,
a certain bassist would shrug and initiate her into "the commonsense of higher
wisdom" like a cool, hip "Older Brother" as he noodles there on the bass with
daring, hair-flecked aplomb and teases her "like a little sister". Sometimes the
supposed "Glamour" behind "this or whatever"
amounts to all those great years of practice and good times as you mastered the
instrument and learned more about yourself in turn like an
alchemy of magical transformation. You too can learn-- by getting down to
the root "of what's honest" and building from there with
the gift of creative discipline, not necessarily "creative accounting". .
. . .
Suffering
unto itself is not inherently "ennobling" or "joyous" or but a heavy, plug-ugly
"existential duty"
FOR ENSLAVED BEAST THRALLS locked in unredeeming, compulsive
LABOR "not knowing what"-- but there are
intelligent ways TO SUFFER, "put it in
perspective", and "build character" with the grace and flow and opportunities
here in the crying slop-pot out in the universe like a torn-flesh buffet,
but
for a spiritual-lesson if you are creative and perceptive enough to extract it
"and spin shit into gold".
The ultimate source that throms and hums "like a machine"
IS NOT YOUR VENDING MACHINE, nor will it accept your dubious play-money
backed by "the coin of self-pity", and if you "see water flowing uphill". . . .
. inevitably, IT'S BECAUSE SOMEONE'S DOING YOU A FAVOR.Try
dealing "in any other currency" and you will be served a
rotten gift, indeed. Yes-- even as we hear about a series of
increasingly-grotesque "train-wreck's of human carnage", least of all up here @
this website at dearwinona.com!! "The Machine" of godly power is largely
indifferent, but it is up to you to cast a positive, friendly relationship with
the harmonious, electric forces OF GRACE.
sd
s ssa
ggggggggg
gg
"A Word About Witnessing":
"THE DARKER SIDE OF CLASS & STATUS RECOIL". . . . .
Cultural stratum "comes on
many levels"-- like the consumption of alcohol which is also just as much a part
of the human dimension "as anything". From raw, kerosene-tasting "moonshine"
from backwoods stills "like old-time religion" to "smoother spirits" in a hot
night-spot where most beliefs "are pretty flimsy", at best. So much of how we
live today boils down "to lifestyle choices"-- WHAT WE CONSUME, mostly through
"a branded image" and most "jaded hipsters" don't want to deal with us because
"of guilt-by-association". . . . . when you don't want to quarrel "with a
loser", "a doofus", "a moron" not hip to the seedy, pathetic, underlying
realities "out of blindness" that can only make you smirk "as a
defense-mechanism". No one wants to quarrel "with a doofus" over morality,
religion, or politics-- particularly when the soul before you "doesn't want to
admit they're one", and will do everything "to prove you wrong" in a pathetic
quagmire "of bad feeling" when someone perhaps "a bit more objective" would see
how both "have a point". Sometimes, the mischievous "will trail on the heels" of
a far-out person "or fad" for the sake of novelty-- or some kind of absurd,
grotesque joke.
Look at these buttons--
That is the fount "of all spiritual wisdom", at least in my book. And will put many on the road to spiritual wisdom, starting with yourself. . . . .
"Humanism's
Halting Lamness". . . . . and the middle-finger
given to Kurt Vonnegut-style candy-cane sugar-kitsch/rot for a society gone
mushy with abundance's gift of dithering, limp-dicked uncertainty like a
piss-errection of sniveling liberal libido for "the greased lightning" of hokey
pursuits. Channel the swirling sparks, forks, and edies "of the spiritual
imagination" like ironic, giddy role-play. . . . . the magician's "lightning
rod" running into the grounded mass of earthy "life experience" found in bonded
unpleasantries that the sheltered middle-class neophyte "would prefer to avoid".
Among "the gals", particularly on the left, comes a piteous Vaudville
tear-jerking routine of amorphous shapes and nameless dread that mirrors the
anxieties of the day, precisely "how folks don't know HOW TO FEEL"-- or in WHAT
QUANTITIES, or what is AN APPROPRIATE RESPONSE under the onus of their
neighbor's reproval. Ambiguity's contrition is the silent killer that makes it
"far easier" for the poorest, most-confused "to be picked-off" by malice or
other unfortunate circumstances as others drag themselves around "the cult of
suffering" like death's drum-beat, anticipation's gallows-chamber of dread &
morbidity.
(For
all that you oaken-faced lecture-hall activists crucify "McFood", their 99¢
value menu is more tasty "than
your joyless pulp". MASS MAN "has spoken")
Support your local
"Chamber of Commerce"!
(Looks like YOU fed off the trough of capitalism, "fat boy")
(You're "the joker on the left"!)
There are intelligent ways to think about "Faith". . . . .
No one can believe anything "to the utmost" 100% of the time.
Here
there be some interesting night at a place called "The Ethical Society". . . . .
when I "dropped in" to some
MYSTERY PROGRAM entitled "Warrior vs.
Diplomacy"
when I was intrigued, unsure of "what the show" was about-- wondering if this
was about strategies for coping with life in THE GENERAL
SENSE (?) as means n' methods of power, seduction & "the art of war"
which obviously. . . . . I have a deep fascination with and was expecting some
elderly gentleman to speak on subjects of diplomacy facing our increasingly
tested & ever-complicated (geo)political situation. Rather bemusedly, I would
find instead. . . . . "the secular-humanist ATHEIST"
society staffed by flairless, young dumpy "string-bean" punks with their fellow
nerdy, hollow, morose, crabby, and rather mopy-faced LIBERAL-ARTS crowd
contemplating upon the stale face of materialist-chopping logic like a joyless
karate "brick-smasher" with dopey jokes "and giddy" set-asides, like the tolling
bell for whom it rang for democracy's legions crushed by
EL FASCISTO in the Spanish civil war in 1936.
I would tell them that THE WAY is "warrior diplomacy" with neither fusty, irritating "culture-jamming" nor sad acquiesence-- "as if ASHAMED" to bargain and trade ideas with bemused "Wild West" banter with your fellow frontiersmen. . . . . whatever the "uncrossable" cultural gulfs of these cowardly NON-INFILTRATORS whose company I not only breached, but disturbed rather quite by accident. Being confined to a drab, debate/lecture/note-card-question format. . . . . WE WERE UNABLE to have a lively discussion, much less A COURAGEOUS EXCHANGE OF IDEAS. . . . . as if we were drearily expected to return in two weeks to once more, accomplish very little. Yes, in the joyless "religious" duty of stuck-inside-the-box thinking of secular-materialist-rationalistic-humanism or whatever AS YOUR GODHEAD. . . . . as if folks would not otherwise turn to "cotton-candy" thinking of happier answers and sloppy "moral acrobatics" of remaining unchallenged. . . . . much like these idiots @ "The Ethical Society" who were only deluding themselves. In the name of, by the way: OF FIGHTING DELUSION.
There are "bad" reasons to be "good". . . . . and "worse" reasons to be "disgusting". But consciousness and spirituality, if it exists "as an emergent property" that plugs into the currents and waves "and patterns" OF DESTINY, remember the imperfections "of matter", "ego", and babeling idiots walking around "with their heads screwed on backwards" around "The Tower of Babel", hailing you out their asses in monkey-demon salute like something out of "Dante's inferno"-- this, "our hell on earth" and our childish, egotistic, lashing, ignorant attempt to supplant THE ULTIMATE CONSCIOUS WILL-- "the true godhead", beyond all comprehension or even a complete Dick Clark Time-Life 1950's rock n' roll collection-- that supplants our god-damned muddy, imperfect, squalling MIND-HOLE down here on this imperfect blue-green rock of modest, hard-scrabble hard-hat progress with a hard-day's work for a hard-day's pay. . . . . AND NOTHING ELSE. And if you're going to play around "with spiritual bets", make sure its "nickel-poker" UNTIL YOU AMASS YOURSELF UP A FORTUNE of swirling, electrically-coursing dynamos of energy and vital, harmonious POWER.
See
ya' at the
Game!
When it comes to a steadfast anti-Catholicism that exists in some "Bible-believin'" Protestant Circles. . . . .
I've heard the arguments, stared hard at the hysteria, but what you must understand is that all religion and culture exists to assimilate and mix with other preexisting forms and generate something that is also part of the spiritual experience, just as valid and as much as "that impulse" as anything else-- otherwise it would not have lasted as it did. Just "the why" or "the how" things have come to be have always had mixed motivations-- one that is "of the light", one "of the dark", and others that are just "of the day-to-day". The larger an institution with gravity and needs, the more inherent potential it has to carry, to a certain extent, "the dark, sucking NEGATIVE energy"-- made possible only because of its "sheer size". This potential exists in all representations "of a living organism", whatever its form and no one is free "from the dark side of the coin". One must just be wise "to have enough distance" not to take anything "as the ultimate existential authority" except for the sheer state "of light". This state of higher consciousness has the potential to be realized within all living beings, depending "on how they're wired" culturally or in their personal make-up to understand it, and many are perhaps in disagreement about the meaning or interpretation, but man-made vessels are but a crude passage "to that ultimate reality", and should be taken "for what they are".
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All human beings carry around a twisted basement somewhere deep in their psyche full of dark, lurking thoughts-- full of doubts, paranoia, irrational fears, obsessions, and blood-lust that conflicts with "our public face", and then again-- who we think we're supposed to be. This can take expression in rationalizations, conspiracy theories, and all manner "of creative bullshit" that avoids the issue of why, objectively, "you're not moving the ball" as you think yourself into a corner, floundering around in circles either in fear or "self-congratulation" that refuses to take the next step "and actually move the ball forward". Half-truths can be expanded upon and make one look far more pure and morally self-righteous, when someone with a bit more of an objective, bemused air can wink at the self-important, self-serious, and ultimately "self-serving" parading about of the other's apparent humbleness as a form of hokey, down-home manipulative posturing.
You can't fool "a half-Jewish bullshit artist", though I will walk away with the best of your message that shines through your grungy flaws. . . . . beyond "the bogus turn-off's" that cause so many not to listen.
An article to consider, is one right here from "The New Yorker" to perhaps get "an historical take" on the flesh that would become the life force of vibrant LIVING LEGEND in hearts & minds. . . . .
Have
Mercy on a so-called "Fallen Woman". . . . . if that's "what she's supposed to
be"-- It's always funny, touching, "and
perhaps a bit sad"
when you have out there in the eye of pitiless "public judgment" a zany, grandstanding "super hero" who gets caught in a messy
contradiction, "supposedly A HYPOCRITE" when if you
really pressed them, "it all kinda worked" in their screwy "comic
book"/contraption way of moving through the cosmos. Sometimes "we fudge" or
"cheat", or silently justify with the extended, warped "carnival-like
atmosphere" of holiday, pageantry, party, patriotism, or lost, forsaken military derring-do
"of the emotionally-young":
in which our perceptions and judgment may be distorted. And this is only made worse when others
are not traveling "on our wavelength"
through that magical haze "we thought they shared".
The Bible essentially exists as "rules-of-thumb" that ties together faith, providence, destiny, and "how things tend to work out on their own" if we stay reasonably-harmonious and in spiritual accord "with the sillent assent of the universe", which typically has no comment. When it comes to sex or gold or wine or pleasure, we may have very mordant/mixed or conflicted feelings toward guilt and indulgence, if not "letting go". . . . . which can play into a bonkers, "over-the-top" comic-book conception of the universe in which we may be fearful or spooked about things in that ever-reliable stimulus-response button "of dread" that plays well to the naive n' vulnerable. Though between you and I-- "The Creator" and the gate/post-- sometimes we may figure "the hell with it" and leave "the hinge open a crack" and see what happens "like naughty children".
There's really "no sense" in living "in a nursey school" conception of juvenile "world-denial" when it comes to things like this. . . . . folks "pretending" yet pilfering anyway like "trick-or-treat'ers" and some mob yelping on an agitator's heels, infinitely easier than standing on one's own as "A STURDY CHARACTER" with an appallingly, ever-restless, self-centered anxiety that obviously "judges more than they have ever sold". It's that need to buy into "an unrealizable fantasy" when apparently, the rags of virtue hide "the wink of privilege" if you were really wise to things.
And this is why I always turn my head and nod "a bit subversively" at the apparent transcendence of human freedom as told by "The Nobel Peace Prize" Commitee/Intellectual types when the break-down of character through modern degeneration of childish, enabling lifestyles makes it increasingly difficult to stand up to the piping, lower "moral tone" of insufferable upstarts-- when using government for enforcement "of flawed, comic-book reasoning" only makes the problems WORSE and no matter what "the foggy opium of agreement", the mask will inevitably be lifted to reveal a field of some broken, tortured war-zone left behind by ideological "back-seat driving". Demonized misconceptions "& blind parroting" of dogma, whether secular or fundamentalist, do not enlighten a situation, and only delivers a far more "present-tense" conception of hell RIGHT DOWN HERE ON EARTH and why comic books and pulp fiction should best be left to those hobgoblins of the small-minded "pushing around jelly-beans with forks". . . . .
d 
A
very funny and cynical read. . . . .
that everyone should definitely consider is
"How to Get Rich as a Televangelist or Faith Healer"
by the author, Bill Wilson which talks about how in the world there will always
be "mixed motivations"-- in either believer, half-believer, or cynical operator
in which a combination of taboos, excitement, gullibility, the mass psychology
of crowds-- and of course, everyone's desire for an easy, "quik-fix" solution
with a bit of magical thinking and suggestibility can easily be misdirected by
less-than-stellar characters with perhaps a bit of charisma and audacity, if not
an excellent grasp of timing and showmanship. As "a half-Jewish bullshit
artist", I kid you not that you will enjoy this book which may be purchased
directly
here on Ebay. "When Love is not Enough", we
always turn to our recovered "veteran" of the scene, Bill Wilson. . . . . a fine of "a pen name" as any. . . . . or am
I just "pulling your leg"?
(Winona is Frozen, "Without Comment")
(No, I didn't write the book)
(This is not a clever marketing ploy)
Click
here
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Laughable Ideas Concerning "Magick", "Satanism", and "The Occult". . . . . if not "Super Secret Levels" in Video Games with the Whirl-of-a-Joystick:
If you really wanna know the funny truth about this, it's much akin to a 12 year-old boy much like myself "years and years ago" gulping, and going into a record store "with holy Mike Judge caricatures of Beavis & Butthead" dancing through my head "like sugar plums", wanting to be initiated into the world "of heavy metal concert/juvenile-delinquency" WITH LOTS OF BABES n' mayhem. . . . . . "like Tom Sawyer playin' pirate"-- or more like a very telling scene in "Young Guns II" when a young lad went up to "Billy the Kid" with a whole bunch of sacred, upright "dime-novel" conceptions of who "The Prince of Pistoleers" was. . . . . . but stuttered, faltered, and called him "The Prince of PISS"; probably FAR MORE ACCURATE TO THE MISERY OF OUTLAW BANDIT LIFE as Emilio Estevez "messed with his mind", "roughed him up a bit", and then threw him out the door.
In this squalid "world without heroes". . . . . the soda fountain rack "was putting young men like this on"; and then adults "were putting each other on" like this bullying society had any legitimacy as they made the small and weak suffer. And in despair of all this, "Billy the Kid" got carried away "with THE BADNESS" of his own act and trashed the poor, pathetic boy. In fact, this whole MOVIE is "putting on" young ticket-takers WHO WOULD EVEN BE CAUGHT DEAD watching such malarkey. . . . . instead of A) Making money; B) FUCKING; C) "Bullshitting others" of WHAT A BIG-SHOT YOU ARE-- hopefully rerouted through the previous two (-- IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER).
But to send up ENERGY "sloshing back and forth" by CASTING A SPELL via "power of suggestion", that unblocks our rut and brings us up "to incredible potentials" SO WE BREAK DOWN WALLS based on physical and phyisological principles, which in turn-- is based on energy, ergo THE POWER OF THE MIND which one sees through their PERSONAL VIEW-SCREEN and personal choice of how to look at the world, through THE POWER OF WILL-- ROUTED THROUGH EXPERIENCE & INTELLIGENCE. Think prayer; chanting; drumming; singing; dancing; theatre; the arts. Otherwise, "the mind can play TRICKS upon itself" just as others will "play tricks on you" for fun, greed, and self-importance. Just as others may be "mutually deceiving each other", and THEMSELVES by not communicating "nor being honest" about hopes, fears, or expectations. . . . . leading to disappointment and withdrawal WHEN NEEDS ARE NOT MET. . . . . when a society begins "to shut down".
Saying that. . . . . many folks have "a conflict-of-interest", somewhat-- or may take a whole lot "of flowery poetic n' artistic license". . . . . OR FLASH THEIR FANGS, when this reveals "the core of emptiness" AROUND THEIR BLUFF-- and "how the bluff" GROWS WITH THE TELLING until others "simply have nothing to do, BUT MIGHT AS WELL START BELIEVING IT"-- when "what's left OF OUR CIVILIZATION" becomes a bit of "a mystery cult" of vague avoidance that tries to SPOOK YOU AWAY FROM THE FLAT-OUT FUNNY ANSWERS. That is, not to say-- that there is not "some basis n' methology" AND REAL TRUTH behind this stuff, but it's as if it's been MOSTLY GEARED TO KEEP YOU PLIANT, UNQUESTIONING, & BRIBED WITH "BEAVIS & BUTTHEAD" until the damn thing "smokes out" over its own pawned, mortgaged, underfunded BANKRUPTCY by financial bullshit artists "who really didn't know WHAT THEY WERE DOING" when they played "BIG CAHOONA", if not cultural and media broker of "INCONSEQUENCE".
To think about what times were "way back when" in what we would know as "The Holy Land". It was a miserable, wasted, occupied "backwater" in decline by nodding, indifferent overseers in a harsh land of desert, mountains, arid gravel. . . . . and dry, whipping winds like scorched waste n' ruin "and a poverty of oases". Like boredom. Or "Death Valley". Or Southern California or some stark Brooklyn tenement with the torment of yammering, pesky mothers. Or pulp writers n' rock n' roll martyrs or "The Doors" of perception. . . . . crossing the line "in the sands of cool" as Jim Morrison or maybe Slash knocked back Jack Daniels like a sage in sunglasses n' a leather jacket. Perhaps one "ate a psychedelic plant" and had an insight "over and beyond" what we call conventional, mutually-agreed upon reality WITH A VISION QUEST; maybe one "chilled down in THE CAVERN OF SKULLS" amid "the heart of darkness" and has a fundamentally "more sober, realistic attitude about things" then the overly-coddled n' civilized there with their conventional, napkin-patting expectations.
One problem in the West is the conundrum of what to do when technology and greed and comfort outpaces the ancient rhythms "of sun & soil" and leaves folks "very antsy". . . . . bored. . . . . "biting their nails". . . . . perpetually anxious, dissatisfied, and disassociated "with radical alienation" and the unredeeming HEAVINESS of life "and apparent lack of answers", except the trickling comfort of scientific materialism and but the infinite, boggling vastness of a cold, violent, and terrible universe of disease, entropy, infection, IF NOT A PIANO FALLING FROM THE SKY and crushing you like a gruesome, understated cartoon. You would rationalize "covering up information", apparently FOR THE GREATER GOOD. . . . . in the name of HARMONY while not understanding that the codified, clumsy "rigidity" of "your stretchers" will eventually cause THE SYSTEM TO COLLAPSE; "no matter HOW GOOD INTENTIONED. And even so. . . . . others may "lie, cheat, and steal" under the shadow of this system WHEN THEY THINK THEY'RE NOT BEING WATCHED. . . . . unable "to make up the difference" as THE DAMN THING COLLAPSES.
Such is "THE CREDIBILITY GAP". . . . . which comes through the infernal lie of scumming over the keen eye of valuation THAT DASHES THE NOTION OF EQUALITY. . . . . even as others USE IT AS A VEIL UNDER WHICH TO CHEAT. And then, others as cowards nod and passively agree with "the goodness and correctness" of their oppression as powerless, obediant "GOOD CITIZENS". . . . . . bought off with "Beavis & Butthead" and FREE MONEY leading to unaffordable lifestyles WHOSE FORTUNES WILL EVENTUALLY GO ROTTEN WITH WINTER'S HOWLING STARVATION.
I refer not to Jews but TO CHRISTIANS whose attempt at bogus "prostheletizing" AND KEEPING OTHERS IN THE FOLD are no less juvenile and disgusting. Jesus is not "a cult of personality". He is not "an action hero". He is not "a pentient, groveling object of worship". He is a lifestyle. . . . . a trickster, a guerilla provcateur, a hero, a Robin-Hood, a BANDIT-KING who is always kind to the ladies. He teaches self-empowerment, not to rely "on voices from the sky". . . . . and spiritual might, personal will, and the charisma "of spell-casting" BRINGS ORDER TO CHAOS with a bit of Luciferian light, "but in the good sense". He is the Arch-Angel "Michael" who led the forces of good into spiritual warfare, like "an older brother"-- he beliefith NOT in the lil' punks dancing around the gold-green, rotting "CALF" that turns to worms without an essential nothing-belief IN SOMETHING HIGHER. The essential 10 Commandments. . . . . . whether "the short-form" or a more lengthy commentary exist like the ineffable logos in the spirit of the law, "Do What Though Wilt" (-- but think it through).
On
"Minister's (Un)Holy Daughters". . . . . to say
that church is a little bit "like show business", a traveling act-- and
sometimes the kids are drawn in "as carnival workers", especially when they're
expected "to play a role" or maybe be sent out to draft young rubes "into the
tent". They can grow incredibily jaded and cynical-- because no one's being
PARTICULARLY REAL with them, which is why they get into trouble. . . . . looking
for mischief and adventure. Boys grovel at their feet and they're not
particularly impressed. Only a more experienced carnival worker "with a heart of
gold" can see through their tricks and get them away from "the den of snakes". .
. . . or even Phil Anselmo of Pantera. But to say
that evil has always had "an appeal", and yet there would be the hopeless
situation of say, the would-be "frat brother". . . . . "Flounder" from "Animal
House" trying to make an impression somewhere in a "Danzig" t-shirt with an
ominous-lookin' toothy skull, grinning like "nebbish fat-boy confidential" with
twin "devil's horns" with the obnoxious insufferability of it and probably
"getting stiffed for beer money" as
Lil' Miss "Am I Demon?" tosses her head with
studied indifference. . . . . as lunking, crude circus/muscian/ acrobats make
ominous comic book gestures "without particularly understanding what any of it
means", only that bathtub acid, fried killowats, and quasi-homicial occult
fantasy "sells", one supposes-- and one should never underestimate the bad taste
of putriefying young minds. . . . . surely as "unsupervised", neigh AKIN to
stray dogs eatin' out of dumpsters.
GOTTA LOVE IT.
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In the "Karate Kid", Mr. Miagi's devious teaching methods ultimately "had a purpose"-- to send the young student on some sort of whimsical, misdirected "fool's errand" with praise n' silliness and a profoundly MISERABLE good-time until the lad became "a sophmore", or "A WISE FOOL" and saw how this path of repetitive, bulk-enhancing skill-sets that increased his FOCUS & SPIRITUAL WILL "was really the point all along". Neither "the car" nor "the fence" really MATTERED-- but it "was his personal development" under the mentorship process of a wise, capable, and experienced LEADER.
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There
was once a wise saying put out by a sage that said: "If you meet
THE BUDDHA along the side of the road
THEN KILL HIM". This was probably a phrase put out
by Mr. Buddha "himself"-- in order to root out self-proclaimed prophets,
saviors, n' bullshit artists WHO MADE A CAREER out
of bilking the wishes n' hopes of others in banner-waved fanfare as he went
skipping out of the temple with the money in a meal-bag. What I will tell you is
that throughout history there have been many characters with profound, deep,
reverential spiritual GIFTS-- or the ability
TO SEE. My gift came from a partial "blindness" or
"outsider" state as I was buffetted around by the absurd, cruel indifference of
others, when you realize through reading and talking and
sharing and listening that life is a comedy
for those who think and a tragedy for those who
feel until you gradually begin "to get A HANDLE ON THE
SYSTEM" through SHEER OSMOSIS with the tools
available here with the benefit of modern technology at the dawn of the
millennium. We live with a plethora OF RESOURCES if
we just use OUR INGENUITY. The question is-- "how
bad DO YOU WANT IT?" as the mystery unravels and
becomes self-evident with a laugh and a
knocked-back Coca-Cola of snickering awareness.
"Men at the Cross" runs on the principle of a
mentorship/discipleship program when you basically "take a
buddy under your wing" and show 'em the profound mysteries "of
the way".
I would choose to see ourselves as "an older brother/Nintendo tip-pal" who shows
'da squire "secret rooms" n' nifty strategies in a
work-shop, like "a man-cave" of bonding n' jammin'
on "spiritual craft" as you advance to higher levels of consciousness and
understanding like spiritual blood-pals. They
in turn go out and teach others with much the same
solidness and method TO FOSTER STRONG, SOLID OAKS 'N A
WHOLE FOREST OF STRONG CHRISTIAN MANHOOD. You gotta be "the change
you WANNA BE", beyond all talk of "can't
someone else do it?"-- but it relies on MAN-POWER.
. . . . which starts WITH YOU TODAY!! "1001 Points
of Light" are real. . . . . and they need not "be fires in Los Angeles", as the
ole' snarky joke went "some years back".
To ask whether or not "if I am the Aryan CHRIST". . . . . well-- I can just "make this stuff up as I go along", like Rush Limbaugh raising his finger in the air and announcing "with a bit of tremelo" in his voice that his talent "IS ON LOAN FROM GOD" as if that is supposed to impress a segment of the listening public. No different then the warm emotional confirmation in "King of Kings" when John Wayne, "The Duke" himself said: "He really was the son of Gawwwwd"-- or Ronald Reagan talking about "The City on the Hill" in his speeches, though the sonofabitch "was so spacey", he probably DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT. No different than the showmanship "of the spear of destiny", as a bunch of growling Crusaders clonked through the desert, "raping n' slaughtering".
If I would be perceived "as some kind of spiritual leader/founder". . . . . I would hope to point folks in the right direction and remind thee of the league of other "such annoited" throughout history, of various credibillities through the raised opera-glasses of scientific inspection, and how folks frequently "raised their arms for transcendence" after selling all their possessions AND NOTHING HAPPENED. Worse yet, when the forces "of oppression" that you drove off for a spirited "people's holiday" RETURN and have you all brutually slaughtered and "the annoited remains" of whomever and whichever "had delusions of grandeur" were gruesomely shown off IN AN IRON CAGE above the city walls AS AN EXAMPLE TO SURROUNDING TOWNSHIPS. Gotta love it, "Bill & Ted".
(Laughably,
"Media
Matters"
took the speech down)
. . . . . then put it back up again.
For all that folks ridicule Glenn Beck's show, particularly this speech, this is a perfectly-legitimate expression of destiny, and piecing together "God's plan" when at first the chunk of the jigsaw puzzle may not be "immediately obvious" and we have to slowly "work through" toward the solution with a healthy bit of skepticism-- that those down here "on Earth" inherently have all the answers with a liberal "statist" government run "by experts", whoever they may be "or think they are".
Like "hokey old comix"? Have a ball with these here
d
"American
Klassic Minister"
here
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97 Minute Movie: "Baraka" (1992)/p>
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Tune into the Bott radio network from time to time
here
online, or listen locally in St. Louis at 91.5 FM (/) 1320 AM for intelligent
spiritual talk.
Drop "The Bard" a line at
michaeladams_s@yahoo.com