"The Plains of
Europe"
(As
Bolstered by Delta Press!)
*******************
"Conan" was a fat, frowzy little boy who came from a family of scribes. He had ideas of greatness upon this fearsome Paleolithic slab, swooping scythes chopping down fields of wheat over the Eurasian plain. Life was hardy and unforgiving, how you broke open the hard ground with a hammer and chisel to drop in seeds. He had notions of being from a sword-strong race that had never been conquered, "a sword of destiny" rising from the earth like an 11 year-old's boner.
What would secretly catch his attention were those grim, "how-to" guides to picking up girls from early '80s comic books that existed in the frigid ice age of the Reagan years like belt-tightening or arranging one's primitive stone tools and clay pots in their cave with a lone wolf's skin wrapped around their shoulders like a hunter relying on his trapping skills in winter.
"Having more in Common with than I'd Admit"
The warm, spongy indulgences of civilization confounded him as he struggled to find "a place" in his teenaged years. The lack of honor was endemic, and he unwisely compromised his principles in order "to go along" and "be a good boy". Oftentimes he was "made the fool of", made to look "out of place" with his lack of understanding of "this code" by which "the system" operated by. He got lost in the world of illusion, drifting in and out of the opium dreams of Pink Floyd cerebrality with laser lights, fog machines, and floating pigs but it proved to be all for naught.
"The Torture Never Stops!"
Marauders looted his cave and his self-respect, because he had "let his guard down".
He wondered if you laid out your martyrdom, your pathos, out to the world "in the name of sophistication", if that would award you inherent "gravy points" with "the motherly fabric of time & space" manifest in the pores of the universe but they just came back and stole again.
Eventually "you get
smart" and figure that this system ain't no good if
it actively denies what goes on and can't level-- hell, won't even
educate it's citizens about what's happening. . . . . made all the
crazier when you can't shoot the predators who are breaking into your "smoke-house".
To bust it down in it's most elemental terms, there are those "who make" and those "who take" with a strange nether territory of middle-men, bureaucrats, and those who have set up our economic machine to generates paper wealth with interest in the sphere of investment banking and the stock market. Eventually, you figure out that voting is useless-- that when you cast your ballot, your voice is being pulled down to the level of 100 million other idiots, most who barely even know what the issues are. Besides, you're only throwing your miniscule weight behind a candidate who's going to screw you anyway on the behest of greedy lobbies. . . . . and mobs placated by watery compromises make for "bad policy" when the show is run by the Washington thieves.
What the government is
great at doing in tandem with the media is play up fear in the unpleasantries
that pretty much can't be stopped anyhow. We pretty much "hand over the
helm" to experts "who will take care of us", taking away
the notion that we can do things for ourselves. The more ridiculous and
chicken-hearted a set of beliefs is, the more likely it is to be believed,
ultimately. What is hilarious is how either side of an issue
try to hijack to
definitions in a debate. Take for instance,
"gun violence" and "assault
weapons"
in the liberal media verbiage. . . . . no worse how partisans have used the
term, "pro-life" to define themselves in opposition to "the
baby-killers"
on the other side of the fence. If you get down to the long and short of
it, no one is keen on "gun violence" but would be for "gun responsibility" if
they heard the other side out. And when push comes to shove, everyone is
"pro-life" but most may be also "pro-choice" when it comes to this issue.
Perhaps "pro-life" should be changed to "pro-term", for bringing the child--
fetus, or whatever, to term.
The implications swirl off into some "pretty strange realms", once you learn that little tracking devices (-- i.e. barcodes) are being placed on practically every single manufactured product ever made. Perhaps done so for perfectly legitimate, cost-cutting purposes, it wouldn't take long for this information to be used for less-than-savory purposes. As Mussolini pointed out, what is fascism but the merging of state and corporate power? And though it would certainly be fun to go out on a raid and kick down your enemies' door, it's no fun when those jack-booted thugs have your personal address and your name on their "hit list".
Though "the left" tries to get along with consensus-based, non-hierarchal communities that ultimately have "no backbone" on the marginal right it's far more hilarious. . . . . everyone "wants to be a leader". They follow someone who has "a stronger personality" for a little while, and then bail out over "the slightest conflict"-- grousing on about how much better it would have been had they been in charge. . . . . without actually ever having taken the steps "to assume leadership" in the first place as they bay on "like an old hound dog" and feel sorry for themselves.
Maybe-- we all hang together, or we hang apart for certain. But many a "Socrates" has gone to his death, perhaps too long-winded and principled for his own good. But it's all the same to the executioner down at "the ole' death house".
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"You want a-nuther song? Well I ain't plain' one mutherfuckin' note until someone comes up here and puts sum money in my god-damned tip-jar! You know I only came here for one purpose. . . . . to take yor fuckin' cash! Why, I could make more profit puttin' out my meth-head neighbor's asshole and ringin' a bell, hollerin' 'Man for sale! Man for sale!'
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(Rheeee of Crickets)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
("I heard that, Missy!")
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