Make his fight on the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside
Shouting gun, on they run through the endless gray
On they fight, for they are right, yes, but who's to say?
For a hill, men would kill. Why? They do not know
Stiffened wounds test their pride
Men of five, still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane from the pain that they surely know

The salesman "knows not for what", only that he is there to sell-- to push product-- homing in on the goal like "a laser beam" of friendship that pretends "to listen to what the customer is saying and care", even as he is reaching into his bag to knock him over the head "with an offer he can't refuse". I've seen them. . . . . a magician of charm, yet a dog trying to get at the pork chop tied around "baby sucker's neck". This, in a great sea of "blankness" where the only way anyone can stir up enthusiasm for anything is either for the profit-motive or jealously holding on to "what's theirs" or perhaps even subtlety intertwining the two, falling into "moral busy-bodyism" like either political correctness or Christian Right canvassing.

It's just another indifferent slice of the postmodern condition when you have 1000 screens-- veritably 1000 channels running on a nearly simultaneous basis and no one knows what to do anymore. Social control ultimately doesn't come from government but from a natural outgrowth of society that the elites can therefore take advantage of, not understanding that they're part of "the same sump" that pulls everyone "down into the morass". Westerners clump into "their little anger groups", any kind of subculture you can think of-- and hurl invective at each other while the major corporate interests feed at the government trough like greasy behemoths with lobbyists "that get their man". Meanwhile, the grifters play at "petty salesman" and pretend to know what they're talking about with "the new, improved" invention.

One time, I was sick with a cold for four days and heard a rapping at my door around sunset. I opened it up in my underwear, filthy and reeking like "Big Foot", and beheld this little horned toad of a girl trying to awkwardly sell me a cable telecommunications package. She was not very convincing, and did not particularly believe in what she was saying-- no better than when a 400 pound slab of a "heh, heh heh"ing meat-man stood at my door and was trying to sell me steaks when I could obviously just go down the street and buy at the local supermarket.

"Feeling sorry for them" and buying a token amount will do no good, that will only "encourage more" to come back and think you have a genuine interest. Worse are the poor, incompetent black inner-city youth who go from door-to-door mumbling about magazine subscriptions and looking like refugees from a "VooDoo Cannibal" movie. However, I haven't seen them around much since I chased one off with a baseball bat when he was pissing in my bushes. Besides, the recession is "a bad time" for door-to-door irritations anyhow. . . . . especially when they call you up and pester you for your half-hearted commitment, which you gave "to get rid of them" in the first place.

Genuinely the best salesman I've ever seen lived by the adage of "selling themselves" as charmers. They gave you the impression that they were great, successful people who were passionate about their work "and had a life" outside the narrow little range "of pushing product". They were the people you wanted to be, not the stultified losers weighed down too heavily and literal-mindedly with a mostly-unwanted good at which you cringed at the paltriness of, their overall "lack of belief" and loss of manic excitement. They had electricity in their eyes, a lightness in their soul-- that mystical, unknowable quantity of magic that we call "confidence". You can't "get it" unless you have experience, and oftentimes it's a poor idea to be thrown in "the deep end of the pool" all at once. Unfortunately, our schools don't teach "character-building" in any kind of meaningful way. . . . . or how when the spirit is with you, you can make $4000 in a single day.

What I've noticed is that each individual American, on average knows, say-- 20% of legitimate information "on the level" but no one altogether knows the same facts, while the rest of "what they think they know" is pure hokum. I've tried to sit around "Issue Discussion Groups" but everyone is so cautious about stepping around the real issues and not offending anyone with that lack of "SAP", that nothing gets accomplished with a quibbling, irrelevant debating society. Whenever you get a bunch of people in the room, it always turns into liberalism's "easy answers" when they're all laughing "like a bunch of dickless Smurfs". Conservatism is about "the heart of darkness", the fact that "no, WE CAN'T", that the rhetoric "doesn't add up".

I think most people want to be placated with the collectivist infant's bottle, but that's not the fate of man-- not with "the law of the jungle" and how such cradle-to-grave MATERNALISM only staves off the inevitable when "the happy end" turns into a squirming mountain of worms, when men can't slowly and gradually realize their fears and "stare them down".

Certainly the people of Europe have been sold out by their elites. . . . . giving into the forces of globalism and immigration, but they're too enfeebled and toothless to stop it. They all but punish folks who do take a stand, or train everyone to regard them with shivering opprobrium. The rise of "free markets" and "freer behavior" since the decline of Popes and Kings in our Western civilization oftentimes leads to a strange contradictory tangle with an excess of progressive laws-- if not a snarl of copyright law that makes knowledge forbidden in digital bits as the state becomes socialistic yet fascistic. Then you have the dollar and the sword when governments vie for power and influence, and the whole map becomes more complicated. I think all of these trends are ultimately going to lead to the West's irrelevance as other globalist cultures co-opt what they will from us "while cutting out the nonsense" to the best of their ability and bursting forth "full speed ahead". But in the long run, all civilizations have their life cycles and are reinvigorated by new life, new inspiration.

Pass the chips, Josè. . . . . if you don't mount my head up on a stake, first.

Either say that "you bought already" or if it's a charitable organization, say that "you gave at the office". That ought to hold 'em back. . . . . for a while.

Take a look to the sky just before you die
It's the last time YOU will
Blackened roar, massive roar, fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry
Stranger now are his eyes to this mystery
He hears the silence so loud
Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be
Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see

(American Indian College Fund Appeal)

*******************

"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!")

© 2010 by Insufferable Industries

Drop "The Bard" a line at
michaeladams_s@yahoo.com

(Back to "The Undertow")

(Back to main page)