Reflections in a Petri Dish – September 26, 2011
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
According to a number of calculations, the ninth wave of The Mayan Calendar began in early March of this year and will complete on October 28th, around one month from today. This is supposed to usher in the new world that we have been awaiting for so long. The death throes of the old world seem to have gone on forever. The death rattle has been vibrating for so long it has been like living day and night with an angry diamondback in the room so long that accommodation has taken over. It could just as well be a jackhammer going on outside the window because we no longer hear it.
That bloated corpse of the treacherous and hypocritical left, Michael Moore, is lumbering about the landscape as living proof that our clay footed pigeons have grown fat in the massive profiting of our need to know the greater lies served to us from the buffet table of the alternative media. Alex Jones is dancing with rabbis from Goldman Sachs and the degree of naked patronizing on the part of those leading us have shown us what an ugly and unappetizing figure naked ambition can prove to be.
Webmasters of full disclosure are berating the big guys for censorship, while practicing it themselves and more concerned with being important than with representing the importance of the message over the medium. They’re all expanding horizontally, while shrinking vertically in terms of standing up for what we would all rather believe in. Only the few remain, while the majority follows their lemming leaders over the cliff, as only true believers can manage.
We argue about planes or missiles hitting The Pentagon; particle beams over controlled demolitions, strain at gnats, while swallowing camels and miss the irony entirely, while the best quarterbacks in the business throw four interceptions in one game (grin). We’re a piece of work without having put a whole lot of work into it.
Perception governs appearances, as myopia becomes epidemic. The end of the road has disappeared from the rear view mirror. The president of the United States is dragging himself across the floor of the Knesset in estrus, hoping to be mounted by one of the hounds of Hell, before the leaders of Britain and France can preempt the penetration on their own behalf. Bend over and wait. Bend over and wait.
The flatulating functionaries speak to us out of the wrong orifice because the message they bring can only be produced from there. It’s a bad hair day in the wind tunnels of irresistible destiny and we are left with a legion of bad Elvis impersonators, going mad with cans of hairspray. Pass the Krazy Glue.
‘Shit out of luck’, is the winning phrase on The Wheel of Fortune and it’s Bob Barker on all of the channels with a dead animal on his head. Sane has left the building and the only cameras working on Wall Street belong to the people getting maced on behalf of the rest of us who don’t care. Where’s my latté?
Bill Clinton told the truth, can Armageddon be on the doorstep? Israel got the bunker buster bombs, now they only have to get the lumbering delivery system past the missiles and jets. Ahmadinejad tells the truth and everyone who gets paid by the lie leaves the room. All of this is for the purpose of demonstration. We need to see the traitors in action before court convenes.
If you lie down with dogs, you wake up with cat scratch fever. How much does the moment resemble the intro to the French Revolution? You tell me. How much truth can we manage to ignore? You tell me. How much evidence can we bury before the ground rejects its presence? You tell me. How far can the minority push us before the majority react? You tell me. You tell me, cause I am watching to see. Somehow we seldom get told who it is that complains when people exercise their constitutional rights and that is a good indicator of who it is. It’s the same people that want crucifixes out of The White House but insist on a Menorah in the window. Well, the crucifixes will be making their way back and they won’t be scale models. That is, if you believe in cruci-fictions. Well, Batman should be along any time now.
Shall we gather at the river? Don’t worry; the river will be coming to you. Maybe you can sail away on that ship in the bottle. It’s all for the purpose of demonstration. Life is for the purpose of demonstration.
They don’t make them like they used to and they are no longer made by the people that used to or for the purpose they used to make them for. Animal Farm has become a reality. The pigs are pumped in defense of The Bull. They are no longer the protectors of the public. They are the private police force of the rich. They aren’t rich themselves but they do have jobs, so do the absent reporters and cameras of the catamite media, which is owned nearly entirely by the people who brought you Wall Street, for the purpose of grand larceny. ‘Something wicked this way comes’ and something witless that way goes.
The phony Libyan resistance is in disarray, in retreat and fighting against itself. Weapons depots are being blown up and nothing short of the introduction of mass amounts of foreign troops on the ground is going to have any effect now, unless, of course, they want to bomb entire cities out of existence. Baring some huge and monstrous new development, Khadaffi has won and Libya- the true spirit of the Libyan people has won. This is how it is going to go everywhere because there is no support in the hearts of the majority anywhere for those oppressing them. Israel is toast as well. It only takes going through the motions now. Not only does the whole world hate them but the Earth itself hates them for the abomination that they are.
The suffering and loss of life around the world is tragic, the result of it will not be, except for those instrumental in causing it.
The slow motion movement of long awaited change has been excruciating for all of us who have been waiting upon it for so long. It is finally here and all of the long time coming shifts are about to shift. Within the days of one week, leading to another, the whole world is going to change and it couldn’t come soon enough for me and the rest of you.
The time has come for the old world to die and for those, who have made bloodshed and theft the final expressions of her last gasp, to die right along with it. We shall only mourn the extent of time that was given you to accomplish so much disaster and heartbreak. The invisible hand, inexorably moves for the golden handle on the cosmic toilet, flush once and give thanks. Aloha, psychopaths and miscreants, the Gates of Hell await you.
Last night’s radio show is available for download now.