To Choodle into the Armageddon Sunset

Smoking Mirrors – January 28, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
As they crank up the inevitable engines of war in search of deeper darkness, the brainwashing continues apace; not that it’s all that hard to wash a fundie’s brain, since that system already functions like sending a tank top to the dry cleaners.
The flavor of the month is about to change, well, it did change, sort of, last week or so. Anyway, what Red Adelson wants, Red Adelson gets, until he changes his mind. We’ve got revolving front runners, kind of like if a bunch of meth-infused 6th graders started to go nuts on a merry go round; or would that be Ritalin deprived? I don’t quite get how Romney’s wife makes 6.2 million off of around ten million- except for the “possibly much more” comment, when Uncle Mitt only makes 3 million off of 37 million at Goldman’s Nut Sacks.
So the deal is, keep flipping the front runners so that the Obama Bo Bama Banana Dana, Murder and Poverty Express can “keep on choodlin” into the Armageddon Sunset. He’ll be accompanied by disclaimers which state he doesn’t support Israel, which should keep his support relatively high among those who believe the crap on the surface, when even the surface says that is a lie. Anyway, any fool knows there isn’t going to be any election. Then again, there hasn’t been an election in a long, long time.
Some people get upset about senior citizens eating cat and dog food. I guess they haven’t seen all the creative things that Haitian families can do with mud. Given that some houses are made of adobe, you could almost make an argument for Haitians living in gingerbread houses; metaphorically speaking. Meanwhile, hundreds of millions in Clinton-Bushligula and other unsavory financial holding tanks of interest gathering donations, bobbing like Mylar balloons over the bed of a terminal cancer patient, endlessly circle the starved and blasted landscape below. Exactly why do these funds from so many sources still remain unavailable after so many years? Why did all that money that went to rebuild Iraq either disappear or remain locked up in Rothschild war profiteering battle field banks? Gee, you have to ask?
Well, it’s fairly obvious that we need a row of inhabited lampposts, in a modern day flashback to Spartacus and the boys, along the golden roads to Rome redux; blow me once, shame on me. Oh well. “We who are about to die salute you”. That should be, “We who intend to live refute you” but the script girl spent the previous night in a hot-tub, jacked down on Quaaludes. The speed of stupidity equals ignorance squared by inert mass to the tenth power.
Onward we trudge through the mud and the blood and the bullshit and high waders aren’t the solution. A kayak might work but then there’s all those things that live below the mire line. The good and bad news is that anything will burn if the fire is hot enough. Can I get witless? Darling, you are.
Word has it that they are erecting a statue in the West Village, of Harris Milstead snacking on poodle shit. That’s what the American wet dream is all about. When your mind is a Petri dish, this is the kind of thing modern art aficionados lose their lunch over. Harris will probably be snacking on that too, if it happens and the whole thing will be art; managed and ministered by the usual suspects who handle art the way they handle dead gerbils in the aftermath and possibly in the afterlife as well. I suspect in that latter case the gerbils are no longer dead and have been reverse Bonzaied.
Johnny can’t read anymore but he can definitely jerk off. Contrary to folk wisdom it does not make hair grow on the palms of your hand. It does make it grow backwards inside your head though, until a trap door spider takes up residence, giving a whole new meaning to, “feed your head”. Of course, if this was just a movie it would probably be funny but it’s real life. Real life calls for real solutions, like creating a nationwide energy retrieval system from wiring the bouncing legs of all those teenage girls text messaging the universe. No wonder the aliens never land. Would you come here if you had a flying saucer? I didn’t think so.
There’s going to be so much food for the moon soon that the moon is going to turn pink from Pepto Bismol overdosing. It’s just like what happens if you drink a couple of quarts of carrot juice every day. The people who can afford that deserve to turn orange. Then they can move to Denver and become celebrities. Yes, shit for brains is finally home on the range, where the deer and the antelope are going to be on barbecue standby for that big refrigerator grill, replicating all across the wide prairie; abandoned urban lots, woodland clearings, road side pullovers and under the over passes. Dead in the flood drains is the new under over.
Meanwhile, Porky Pig’s extended family is running the show. Of course, Porky’s been supplementing his daily crack allowance with oxycodone and he’s got one rabid silver back gorilla of a habit on his bacon location. This has, quite ‘frankly’ made him less sensitive and sympathetic to the needs of others. I guess you can say that goes for the whole extended family of porcine, reptilian hybrids, tending the massive flocks of “Idiocracy” rejects. The mental health graph of public well being now only goes from neurotic to batshit crazy, with ‘insane’ being the median. There’s a drive by pharmacy in your future, coming to the corner block of your street, real soon. Well, there would be if you had a future.
Of course, it’s not all bad and worse. There is some good and better. It’s hiding in foothills and abandoned mountain ranges, in places where the minerals have already been sucked dry. It’s deep in jungles and on islands with no beaches and there are islands of consciousness too, connected by invisible webs of resonance that span the globe and vibrate into the hearts and minds of those who might well have read a book in the last year or two. It’s out there and in there but not necessarily in the first place you show up, to see if it matches up, with whatever demonstrations you put into place to get it to reveal intrinsic nature.
No and yes, there are good things seeking to be born into a world, where the children of what has yet to make an appearance, will dance on the mountaintops for joy in a new morning of rebooted time, where innocence is celebrated and broken hearts are made whole by the adhesive of a resurgent love but… later for that. Right now we must, perforce, look into the gaping maw of demagogues and deviants who have ridden the high speed trains of collective, insensate puerility and rampaging appetite to doomsday’s break. We are on the plains of apocalyptic resolution, where countless legions of Teletubbies march into the teeth of the cosmic, thresher combine. You won’t have to ask again why the sky is blue. Barney the Dinosaur is waving that construction flag into the single lane bypass. Ronald McDonald is at the other end. You got to go slow during this unfortunate bottleneck but there’s a sense that, somehow, this indicates one last opportunity to simply stop the car, get out and pick your way over the plastic barriers and then through the rebar forest until you can climb the kudzu hill and make it into the woods, if the snipers don’t get you first.
I always thought when we got to Brave New World, there would at least be a ready source of Soma but I suspect that’s par for the course. Brave New World without Soma is a ripoff, to say the least. I guess you all know that Aldous Huxley got shot up with LSD on his death bed and allegedly said, “Now I see”? Of course, the same got attributed to Sam Kinnison as well, when those drunken idiots in a pickup truck crashed into him and then got out and started moaning about the damage to their truck. Actually, what Sam said was, “I don’t want to die.  I don’t want to die.” then he said “But why?  ‘Okay, okay, okay.” then again, Sam wasn’t wearing a seat belt. Nietzsche also was reputed to have said something to the effect of, “Now I see”. I’m guessing there are many other examples and variants. What do you think you will say, given the importance of the moment?
Hmmmm… well, we have indeed come to the end of another transmission and I’ll see you at the next one if there is one. Meanwhile, keep in mind that things are not what they appear, nor are they generally what you hear. Everything happens for a reason, even if you don’t know what that reason is.
End Transmission…….
There will be a radio show Sunday night at 7:30 Central. See here for location.


Smoking Mirrors looks at much of what the mainstream media ignores. While in Profiles in Evil, he seeks to expose those shrouded in darkness to nature’s most powerful disinfectant, light.

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