Smoking Mirrors – December 28, 2010
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
Well now, I was wondering what I might write about today when I saw this. It’s impossible for me to resist an opportunity like this, so I’m going to go on record and say that Wikileaks is an Israeli scam and Andy Warhol Jr., better known as Julian Assange, is a Rothschild backed, Israeli stooge. Knopf and Canongate are giving Assange 1.5 million dollars to team up with hungry Ghost Writers in the Sky and spin his autobiography, accent on ‘auto’. I had heard that Rupert Murdoch was involved. I realize that since this involves dark places under large rocks, near unregulated, septic systems that… Murdoch has to be connected somehow, still… I don’t actually know that he’s engaged, so I shouldn’t say so. However, as a line in Murdoch’s theme song goes, “the butt bones connected to the smut bone” so we can’t discount him.
Let me encapsulate the main thrust of the last paragraph, Assange is an Israeli stooge and Wikileaks is an Israeli scam. I hope that does it. I hope I make the list. I don’t know how much time my mother may have left and I do want to make her proud. If I don’t make the list, I’ll be devastated and she’ll be disappointed. I’ve been singled out by members of The Neo-Pharisees for career destruction in various media, as well as being blacked out in the major markets and, I have to admit, that is a sign of disfavor that wears well but, it’s not the big time. The big time is when you are not just ignored but publicly noted as someone to be ignored. It’s a toss up really. Do you settle for nothing as a sign of something or do you thrown in ignominy and calumny and take the risk that there might actually be no such thing as bad publicity? It’s a two-edged Ginsu is what it is.
Assange is getting the full boat spread. I’m not likely to get anything like that. He gets the ‘tropo caro treatment’ that includes accusations of testosterone rampaging as an overlay on sexual ambiguity; something I occasionally favor when my kundalini is acting up but which I don’t recommend practicing at home, unless you’re alone and like to dress up… Julian… Julia… costume ball on Corfu… detecting… detecting… “Rothschilds! Meet the Rothschilds; they’re a plague on human history.” I don’t suppose I have to mention that goes with the tune to The Flintstones. “And over here we have the Silas Marner exhibit which is next to the Jack the Ripper diorama… moving right along. I don’t know how much truth there is in this; more than Wikileaks or less than Wikileaks? “wiki, wiki bra”
Yes, when you’re Assange you can get the 96% Neo-Pharisee owned media to paint you as a bad guy and turn you into the people’s hero at the same time. This is like being crucified with red gelatin nails on a custom, comfort cross. It’s got an off-Broadway, Jesus Christ superstar kind of a feel good, fun for the whole family thing, especially if this is the kind of family you come from, only it isn’t listed in the theater program; that’s where hungry Ghost Writers in the Sky LTD comes in.
Um, let’s see; Julian Assange is an Israeli stooge. Julian Assange works for Israel. Julian Assange got paid by Israel to not publish cables incriminating Israel in doing what Israel does 24/7. Cue the ADL and… start up the war machine for another crack at the Litani River. As it is, the water coming in from the taps in Tel Aviv, looks like the water that’s going out of the drains through another fixture. One hopes it tastes like that too.
Abe Foxman is a 100% ambulatory, shit golem who looks like Tottie Fields when he’s naked. Someone should unscrew that wooden leg, carefully, and then beat him into shit kibble for the coprophagia crowd that meets at oh… any one of these people’s houses after one of those major openings at MOMA. Well lookee there, David Rockefeller is the big cheese. No visible, that’s not cheese, that’s just more shit kibble, made to look and taste like cheese and old socks, slow cooked on a car radiator, until it’s ready to serve. It goes really well with a chilled Sauterne.
Am I being unnecessarily rude and crude here? I assure you that no Palestinians were harmed during the writing of this essay. There was no animal testing involved either but… there may be once this becomes available to read.
What can you say about a guy like Julian Assange? Well, not the truth of course but you could repeat what you’re being told. I’m sure we’re all walking a little taller and standing up a little straighter now that we’ve got a real, one hundred percent manufactured hero to admire and study. He’s environmentally friendly, since he’s composed of completely recycled materials that you can burn in your Prius, if you run out of gas in the outback and Julian happens to be in the car.
I haven’t seen them yet but I get the feeling there’s a whole crew of ex-Vogue photo people who follow Julian around because of all those artsy, back-lighted, fashion pics that keep showing up in the media. I’m guess they’re dressed in black turtle necks and look like they do air guitar backups on Robert Palmer music videos. I imagine they’re all just one big happy family; the hair people, the FX people, the publicity corps and of course the liaisons and flacks that work the space between Julian and the people who want to touch him. My guess is that like Andy, he just like to watch, or says he just likes to watch like Andy since, I know for a fact that Andy didn’t just watch.
It’s hard to imagine this whole extravaganza hasn’t come to reality TV yet and then I realize, it is reality TV, it’s just pretending to be news but it’s scripted so… oh, I see, the news is scripted too? Okay then, it’s becoming clearer.
Well, it’s good to see that the Anti-Defecation League has got Julian’s back and everyone else has got his front. Chief anti-defecator, Abe Foxman made the point some time ago that anti-defecation was a primary concern of the organization because they would run out of material in no time otherwise. Basically, it’s a plumbing thing, where the material backs up until the pressure of social need grips the toothpaste tube with an invisible hand and provides the world with something to eat, snort, drink or make love to. Don’t worry about whether it’s love or not, attention will do.
I’ m going to ask the reader to join me now in a little creative visualization. It won’t be pleasant. If it is, I’d rather you didn’t come around here anyway. I want you to imagine Abe Foxman naked in an elementary school playground at recess. I want you to imagine it’s a really big elementary school and that Abe is the school principal but that aliens took over his mind and forced him to disrobe at noon near the swing sets. I want you to imagine Julian Assange dressed up in a pink party dress with ribbons in his hair and a big load of Wiki-Leaks in his arms and that he’s standing in front of Abe and trying to hand Abe the Wiki-Leaks papers but Abe has suddenly been overcome by yet more alien intrusion and has begun to masturbate in a wild frenzy and that his eyes are rotating in his head. Children are screaming and covering their eyes.
You can hear police sirens in the distance and there are a number of teachers running into the playground with blankets to cover Abe with but the blankets catch fire when they get close. Abe picks up the pace and goes turbo and then begins to gasp as he gets closer to release. His face turns crimson and his knees begin to buckle. It looks like he’s trying to get closer to Julian so that he can finish on the big stack of Wiki-leaks but… just as you think he’s going to manage it, you can hear his heart explode like a tire blowing out on the freeway and then he falls to the ground and lands on his face with his big ass up in the air.
The sirens are getting louder and then you see two bicycle cops pull in and one of them parks his bike in the crack of Abe’s ass and dismounts. He scans the crowd and says, “Okay, what’s going on here?” Julian replies, “Nothing officer, nothing is ever going on here. It just looks like it is.” The one officer looks at the other officer and then back to Julian and says, “Well, that’s the important thing, isn’t it?” Julian answers, “Yes sir, it is.” Then a man in a trench coat comes into the playground and picks up Julian and takes him through the gate in the chain link fence and tosses him into a white panel van and drives off.
I realize this is going to look all the stranger when I get named as one of the avatars but that’s just how it goes. Get used to it.
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