Smoking Mirrors – May 10, 2011
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
‘May your noses always be cold and wet’.
The million man march in Palestine is coming up this weekend and the Ass- Ke- Nazi Party that rules the faux nation, criminal banking empire of pseudo-Israel can’t be pleased. Their first comments are that the numbers don’t reflect any sense of fair play. “Hey we only drove 700,000 people off the land here. What are they doing, charging interest? That’s our job”.
People are still poking me on my Facebook page and my ribs hurt. Why would someone poke me? Is this the same kind of ‘poke’ that Robert Duval was talking about in “Lonesome Dove”? (Grin). Facebook is another Israeli construct. They sure do have a lot of money to throw around. They’re tearing at the flesh on their faces. They’re weeping at the stolen wall of tears, probably about lowered interest rates, while the diamond merchants at 47th street huddle in the doorways, asking you if you want to buy a watch. I’m not into time, man. They all look like they should be sitting on The Supreme Court, or on a dead branch over some nearby road kill, and it won’t be long before that’s true either. Lil’ Chuckie Schumer wants frottage junkies and ‘no ride lists’ at all the railroads. These guys are really coming out of the closet these days and it can only mean their time is running out; probably why they want to sell everybody a blood diamond watch.
The flotillas are gearing up and Egypt is determined to open up the Gaza Strip. Actually the Gaza Strip stands for a destined Free Monty, where half the inhabits drop their pants to show that the truth hasn’t been circumcised. Do the guys who do this, what are they called, ‘moels’, moles? Do they actually bite the extra skin off with their teeth? That’s got to leave some childhood memories. That Egypt revolution didn’t work out so well for the Little Georgie Sorrows gang. It stands to reason that nothing is going to work that well anymore, because The Apocalypse is doing some headhunting, which is another kind of circumcision, proving that truth hurts and it leaves a lasting impression of resistance to it.
There’s something about the United Nations or some front op, looking to declare a Palestinian State on the ‘67 borders and talk of Israel just annexing the entire West Bank. I get a little curious about the need for all that land. Where are they going to get the people, when they make up only .0185 percent of the population? How are they going to control all the land from the Tigris to the Euphrates, when so many of them live in New York City and LA? You got publishing, media and money in New York and music and entertainment (they are not the same) in LA. How are they going to get enough border crossing guards in all the needed locations? They’ve got too many balls in the air and not enough jugglers in order to go for the jugular. Meanwhile they got to run one Las Vegas in Nevada and another on Wall Street and The City in London. And… the Chinese got that big money bomb, which all the messing around in Pakistan is not going to be any help with.
Poor Bin Laden, he’s more famous than Elvis and he didn’t even have to die on the toilet seat, which I think also got done by the same people. Bin-liner Nitwityahoo and I were having lunch the other day, thousands of miles apart. I was having cerviche and stir fried tofu, with lots of vegetables and silky Japanese noodles and he was having consommé of Christian children, with a special kosher blood pudding and we were chatting to our empty chairs about, wassup with dat? This was in relation to all the incredible things that Israel is doing to the rest of the world and all those Mossad, Terror Chabad houses they’re got like a MacDonald’s franchise, scattered around the world from Mumbai to Wellington, NZ and I was saying, “Binnie, you’ve got to take a little personal time and kick back somewhere, like the max facilities at Marion, Illinois or The Hague.
Binnie agreed with me. He said he was seeing double Saddam’s and Bin Laden’s everywhere he goes now. I told him that maybe he needed some corrective lens. He said he already had corrective lens that did a number on what was actually to be seen and it hurt like a circumcision in the Sudan already. Then he went on about, “forget about all those MacDonald’s franchises”. He’s got to manage all those Bugger King holocaust franchises around the world too and that Haavara Agreement, was giving him nosebleeds, along with the Zio-Ogre memo from Dr Heller. He was saying they couldn’t catch a break and it wasn’t the best of times for any psychopath in full bloom. It was like Lecter having to deal with that Dr. Bloom in Silence of the Lambs. He did promise to send me “something wet” in the mail, which would be another kind of cerviche. I’m all anticipation at this point and we’re not talking about Heinz catsup, though there is a parallel.
I asked him how it felt to be herding large Palestinians families into buildings and then dropping bombs on them. He told me that, logistically, it played hell with their white phosphorus stockpiles and that it wasn’t like Lebanon, where they could drop half a million cluster bomb party favors for the children, because they’d already turned Gaza into the most populous place on Earth and there wasn’t anywhere to drop them without hurting their own people, given what they were using for human shields at the time.
“Binnie”, I said, “you’ve got to take some time for yourself and your family. Have Uncle Satan in for some consommé or cousin Abadon over for some human skeet shooting. He said the launcher was broken and nothing seems to be working. He murmured something about that Samson option and all the nukes they’ve got stashed around the world, along with that collection of blackmail material on world leaders, but what a drag it was to have to play your hole card too early.
I asked him, “Where does it end”, Binnie. He said, “With every goy in the grave or in chains”. I responded that that was certainly what it looked like and could he pull it off. He said that where life remains, there’s still hope. I tried to cheer him up by mentioning the legacy of thousands of years of usury, slave ships and things like the Bolshevik Revolution but all he could reply to was, “Yeah, but what have I done for myself, or to you, for that matter, lately”. I thought about cutting off a few of my fingers, or someone else’s and mailing them to him for something to go with the consommé, but he just wouldn’t be cheered up.
It’s hard to know what to get a full blown psychopath as a gift. They generally like to shop for themselves, with a specialized toolbelt, some rope and other restraints and then it’s into the Range Rover and a trip into the San Bernardino Mountains for the weekend. You try to do your best. You try to be thoughtful and compassionate but sometimes you just can’t cheer someone up. I told him that with all those torture chamber, chateaus in the south of France, he might want to give Europe a look, it’s not like they’re going to run out of missing children any time soon and that Interpol could always stock the larder in advance. He said he might give Dutroux a call in Belgium and see what could be had and then he went into a tirade about Putin, when I mentioned that he was reading Smoking Mirrors now and again, when he had the time.
He got morose and went on a rant about Ehud Barak, screwing up their 9/11 caper with Dov Zakheim. I couldn’t quite figure out what he was talking about. I told him it went pretty well from what I could see but he was really down. It was getting to where the only thing I could do was go to the piano with some Stoli and do a medley of early Tom Waits tunes. That always leaves me a little less than fine tuned the following day and then I had to go and mention that Israel was going to be destroyed pretty soon and the guy just lost it, “I know, I know”. He sobbed. God, I wanted to give him a hug or the kiss of life but that consommé makes your breath smell awful and we were thousands of miles apart.
“We didn’t even get to destroy Christianity and Islam”. I said, “Go figure and… anything I can do…” but he was inconsolable now. I’m thinking of a ‘cheer up Binnie’ day and I’d like to get some support from the readers here; maybe you can send Binnie a dozen yellow roses or a few fingers and it might help. I’m pretty sad myself right now so I’m just going to close this down for the day and go see if I can hang myself in an auto-erotic accident, while Hava Nagila loops on the mp3 player. Ya’ll have a good day and stay frosty.