It is true that we should probably be more concerned with “who put the bomp in the bomp she bomp she bomp and who put the rang in the rangalanga ding dong or… even more trenchantly “who wrote the book of love”. I don’t think it was these guys. Yes, the mosque at the WTC site is not at the WTC site and Zio-Nazi, Pamela Geller is not going to be played by Pam Grier in the made for TV movie but you can still watch “Machete” if you want to.
Little Georgie Sorrows; shit! I keep misspelling his name; Soros, that’s it. He gave a bunch of money to ‘the’ Human Rights watch. You won’t hear about the behind the scenes fighting between Cartier and Rolex about the rights to make the watch but you couldn’t afford one anyway. So what are you doing here? I don’t appreciate having to do this every day when you still want to know what time it is and All Along the Watchtower is not playing at a theater near you. It’s time to wake the fuck up but that’s just my version. Everybody is talking about “seven come November” and “baby needs a new pair of shoes”. Keep rolling them dice people, sooner or later you are going to get ‘snake-eyes’. September marks the fall. November is an addendum.
It’s not like we need a schedule. These things tend to repeat themselves, while weird, inexplicable shit keeps right on happening. Let’s see, major earthquake and nobody dies… okay and moving right along. Where was I? Who am I? No one will be seated during the last ten minutes of their life. Maybe Paris Hilton will break into The Wax Museum and drive an ice hammer into the head of the display dummy at the Trotsky exhibit. Yes, you can count on it getting even weirder than that. I’m in the unenviable position of having something to do with it and being one of those guys that asks, “What are all those dials for”?
Well those people from Dove; I can’t figure out if they make gourmet ice cream or bar call hand soap. I do know that the Holy War thing is ratcheting up. 0.2% of the world’s population is making war on a quarter of the population AND using a third of it to do their work for them. It’s got to be time for another Nobel Peace Prize. Yom Kippur is coming up, right inside the time zone of that critical period I was just talking about over at Reflections in a Petri Dish. Now there’s a rare event, actually linking my own work.
This constipation thing that I’ve been talking about; this waiting thing; is becoming more and more clear. There are a handful of very bad people propping up a dead system and they are doing it the way a male black widow spider goes about its mating ritual. Let’s hope they are unlucky. Of course you can’t hold something up that gains exponentially more weight as it loses value for very long so… look out below!
I don’t know what the Fox-holes are saying but I know there are no atheists in them. However there is a line of true believers that runs around the block and they are “waiting, just anticipating” (as Otis Redding might say) for their big moment in the privacy booth. They got a condom in one hand (scratch the faith angle) and a gun in the other. It was either cooze or food and cooze won.
It literally blows my mind off the hinges, or it would if there were walls and doors containing my mind. I dressed up as a suicide bomber inside my own head, some years ago, and took care of all that window dressing.
Keep cranking them out visible, remember, you’re getting $0.00 a word so it’s got to be adding up. It’s the thrill of engagement, that’s what it is. Yeah somebody told me that the future was dead but me I never believed them, I caught a seat on the inward bound and trailing the future behind me …and so it goes. You can’t pack bullshit beyond the limits of its compression. It will explode into flames and… that’s what we got. As the unreal has to grab more and more air and force it into a smaller and smaller space in order to give the semblance of real to the few bits of inert matter willing to remain, it becomes ever more explosive and combustive as it proceeds. The irony is that most people will think its confetti when it goes.
Well, I’m still trying to sell that watch idea. It only keeps time in the dead zones but that’s where all the action is. That’s where all the things you don’t want to be late for are happening; reason you need a watch. You get one of these watches and the shaved head muscle boys at the velvet ropes will be coming down in person to lead you in; just show them your wrist and tell them you’re with the color revolution. It’s either teal or puce this time. Tell them you’re with Little Georgie Sorrows.
Bo boma, banana Osama, gangbang Obama. Yeah, Rawhide!!! So it goes and t’was ever thus. Our forefathers landed on this yet to be plasticized wilderness and said, “Here is the country of my dreams. I’m going to juice it up with freedom and human rights because that is the only sure guarantee that tyranny will follow. Nobody likes the Teletubbies anyway and they are all that’s going to be left in the end.
There are many crimes against humanity and there must be a pecking order somewhere. I tend to think, ‘in your face hypocrisy’ is at the head of the line and it’s wearing the biggest watch of all. I couldn’t tell you where it’s headed because these are truly uncharted waters and I wouldn’t know a sextant from a gyroscope, except I do know what a gyroscope is. I keep seeing people like Jerry Lewis collecting money for something that I haven’t seen a single cure or benefit for yet and I see Little Georgie Sorrows giving away money. I know there’s going to be all kinds of philanthropic insanities as the hours grow shorter.
It would only stand to reason if that guy they crucified came back the way it was promised, with a kick ass persona and started right in with his biggest most self-professed followers. I don’t know how many good deeds it takes in the final hours to ward off judgment but I expect its more than any of these wonderful humanitarians possesses.
We’re just peering out of the undergrowth because the whole landscape is shaky and getting more tremulous with every moment. The sheer, ever increasing speed of it all, is breathtaking. My idea of going outside is to open the window of my office up here and stick my head out. Last night I was having one of those cosmic conversations and every time something meaningful got said there were great big peals of thunder in accompaniment. You really had to be there. It didn’t happen every time but each time it did happen it sure felt like it was part of the act.
Will Jessica Simpson and Joan Rivers get stuck in an elevator at that appointed moment? Will Barry Manilow be singing during the closing credits? When this whole thing blows there are going to be a lot of people dancing with the stars in a whole new way. I’m hoping I’ve done what I could, even if I don’t get done what I wanted to. I probably won’t be playing “Grand Theft Auto 4” when the trumpet sounds.
All you fine folk out there in the wilderness and pariah land, I want you to know that my heart is with you and if you can get here or I can get there, then one of us probably will. I’m thinking an authentic Japanese Tea House might be the right environment. There would be early morning mists shrouding the evergreens that ascend the mountain and the sound of a nightingale or a whippoorwill. Poetry and redemption will find its way to some of us in the process and I hope it finds me in that tea room, just like I said.
Give it your best shot and give it everything you got. Right now is the time to start if you’re willing and able. Hitch your wagon to a star. You’re a whole lot better than you think you are and… so it goes.