The Stupor Bowl: Dancing in the Hallucination Zone

Reflections in a Petri Dish — Feb 3, 2013

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
First off, a mention for Philip Seymour Hoffman. “You can only call it stad (Gstad) if you’ve been there.” One of the finer actors, he did an Elvis Presley. Go with god, Phillip.
And then there’s the really important news, concerning one of America’s most ‘can’t do without’ products and whether your life goal is to get an early head start on lasting obesity, or you just want to clean your battery cables, Coke is there when you need it and, more importantly, when you don’t need it. Now, go on… waddle on down to the Shit and Giggles store and get yourself one of the family size 55 gallon drums of Diet Coke and remember, no doubt, Coke messes with your hormones so… if you keep drinking it, you too can show up in one of these Coke ads, just take that next left into Estrogen Alley.
Since this is the cultural blog, it serves that we would talk about The Stupor Bowl. Actually it was a pretty good game, something of a teaching clinic, on any number of levels. Things I noticed; Bob Dylan doesn’t have enough money so now he’s selling cars. That doesn’t bother him so… it shouldn’t bother me, ‘I guess it’s time for my (bootheels) Chrysler Tunabaker to be wandering”.
I didn’t listen to the ads, except for brief seconds, when I didn’t turn the sound down right away but I didn’t turn the picture off, which would have been counter-productive because I was watching the game after all. Then there was half time, a half time that the announcers and the people writing the followup today simply gushed over. It consisted of a fifties club band, something you would see at the Copa and of which variations performed at high school proms during that time. It opened with a spotlighted ego trip of the main player trying to give the impression he is a hot drummer. Steve Gadd he is not. Then he went into his bad Michael Jackson imitation or… was that a parody? Then… yes, then, the surprise guests showed up with their shirts off and launched into a testosterone, spittle flecked rap production, not one word of which was intelligible to me. I think to myself, am I being too harsh? No… it was ludicrous. It mostly showed the level of dilution that permeates the entertainment world these days. Now, I didn’t realize that the Red Hot Chili Peppers were a white rap group but… that’s where the money is because the same people selling you elephant shit Madonnas and Piss Freak Jesus art are also in control of the music business and when your avocation, vocation and passion, is to drag every willing soul down into the bowels of Hell with them, this is the kind of thing you finance for the programming effect and as a heads up to any and all who might want to get into that business. Of course, they closed the production with a blowjob for all of those dying in Israeli Banker Wars.
Any number of celebrities showed up, shilling for one thing or another. Scarlett Johanssen closed out the program with a commercial for Palestinian Genocide Juice, manufactured by the occupying forces in the stolen lands of Palestine. I’m only partially equipped to comment on this because I did have the sound down but WTH, a picture is worth a thousand words. There will be over a thousand words in this posting. Hopefully I can paint the picture. In the Crass Media today is a lead story that appears across the board, wherever you go, it’s headlined as, “Five Super Bowl ads you don’t want to miss“, or some variation. There wasn’t anything to really get excited about that I could see. The chihuahua with the head of the Great Dane was moderately entertaining but all this sort of thing is sham hocus pocus and we go to war over this and kill people in foreign lands over this. Were you aware that a few decades ago, Coca Cola had an assassination squad in South America?
Yes, you know the end (of something) is near when soft drink manufacturers employ hit squads abroad. You know the end (of something) is near when you have a wooden marionette for a president. You know the end is near when the most mercantile people on Earth, control every aspect of your government and laugh about it in front of you. Oh… how easily people are led by simple basic desires, into a darkness not easily exited.
I was pretty sure of how the game would go and that’s how it went. I gained some small satisfaction from that (mostly the sight of John Elway, the very picture of arrogance in his sky booth with the lights shut off so you couldn’t see his face. He didn’t see that coming.) but overall it was what it was and emblematic of the persistent hypnosis that the general public operates under. That hypnosis is all important to the ones engineering it. Without it how would they sell their cars, their soft drinks, their insurance policies and a vast assortment of sundry others, which includes their wars and international meddling abroad, without any regard for the inhabitants of whatever country they are doing it in? Without the ability to sell more and more junk and more and more empty dreams, all of which are advertised, with beads of spring water, glistening on the ass of a pneumatic blowup doll leaning on an expensive car hood, with a glass of scotch in her hand, only incidentally human in appearance. I close my eyes and visualize her engaged in a sexual act with an incubus. Her hips rotate and rise up and down in the invisible embrace of a four armed demon from the apocalypse. I do not picture myself in that demon’s place.
I see the intoxications that manifest out from all of the objects of desire. I have enjoyed a season in these environs, well enough that I can say nothing has been overlooked though some things have been skirted as a matter of choice. The thing is, I have come to understand that these thing just go on and on and on and all pleasure is fleeting and the extreme of enjoyment actually resides in the anticipation of it and all of it is much stronger in the build up and most often disappointing in its conclusion. None of these things remain in any lasting sense and neither do the hungry ghosts, who feed and frolic in their short hour in the mix. These things are cosmic verities and enduring truths that have been defined and and explained across the reach of time, in books, in songs, in demonstrative examples in what we call history. Yet for the most part, all of this is worm squiggles dancing across the pages of an unread book.
The force of the dream web in the hallucination zone is very powerful and the object of all the hoopla and spectacle is the pacification of the objective mind. It is no accident that alcohol is the approved comestible for society. It fuels all of the worst qualities out of the subconscious and into manifestation. It especially feeds those all important emotions that no self respecting corporate police state can do without and these are guilt and regret. It’s no accident that the unhealthiest of foods are the most actively promoted, or that tiny splinter demographics are blown out of all proportion to their size and importance, under the guise of political correctness, for the sole purpose of destroying the family unit, upon which the culture is based, but first, first they morph it beyond all recognition.
Well, at least one thing of positive note occurred at The Bowl and that was this now that, that was a cool thing to do! Expect more and more of these sudden Scarlet Pimpernel appearances and disappearances, as Mr. Apocalypse slips up into obliging consciousnesses for the purpose for demonstration. Expect it to happen in groups as well and for waves of collective and momentary happenings to begin to manifest as Mr. Apocalypse cranks it up, all the way to 11 on his Marshal amp, like something out of Childhood’s End.
As the apocalypse tightens its grip on circumstance, the productions from the manipulators will become increasingly more lame and more desperate. The fact of the matter is that they lose, no matter what. The reason that the productions become increasingly more lame and more desperate, is to assist in the public’s ability to see what’s going on. They need all the help they can get. They would literally kill you at the command of their worst abusers. Consider how clear it all appears to you that the world is riddled by sham and hypocrisy and under the control of Satan’s agents. It’s as obvious as the nose on Pinocchio’s face. Yet… yet, the public cannot see this. Sure, some portion of them know that things have gone wrong but they’re not even clear on what the cause is. Republicans insist it’s the Democrats and the Democrats insist it’s the Republicans. Christians insist that it is the atheists and the atheists insist it is the Christians. The hedonists insist that it’s those party pooper ascetics and the ascetics know damn well that the sensation junkies are a big part of the problem. The problem is, source wise, the devil, cause that’s his job and secondarily, those who serve his interests. The kicker is that the devil doesn’t actually exist and that’s why the people who serve him keep inserting that phrase into films like, “The Usual Suspects”; “the biggest trick the devil ever pulled off was in convincing people that he doesn’t exist”. Well, boys and girls he does and doesn’t. The Devil is the way that the wicked see God.
Remember not just that statement. Remember the meaning. Tattoo it on your forehead. It’s that important, or better yet, engrave it, brand it, on your mind …because it is absolutely true and you don’t just see the devil as God because you are evil. It also happens because of fear and ignorance. These are two of the greatest weapons of the enemy but is there an enemy? Remember the corona of light around the Baphomet and the fact that this absurd caricature conceals the presence of the angel. Remember the prophetic words of one of the early psychedelic voyagers, “Even the devil is transformed into an angel at the given moment, be not deceived”. C’mon, it’s simple, it’s appearances and they lie and the devil is The Father of Lies. You don’t need to know any more than that about the world and its tactics. As far as the other… the otherness goes, “Seek and ye shall find”. Is that mysterious? Is that somehow difficult to understand because of its complexity? “Seek and ye shall find.” “Knock and it shall be opened to you.” It’s right there. It’s right there!!! But… there’s a problem? Uh huh, it’s a matter of faith, isn’t it? That becomes clear when you look deeper into what you have put your faith in. What? Anyone who goes for two weekends of study and a gangbuster four day retreat at the end gets to be a master? Jesus Christ! I don’t know if I’m being ironic or attempting to pun here.
It’s not for the uncommitted. It’s not for the delusional. It’s not for the timid. It’s not for those who seem incapable of fucking learning anything in the first place. You get out of it what you put into it, only, only in this particular case you get ten times or more back from what you put into it.
I’m going to leave you with something to keep in mind. Everything… and I mean everything you see every day; the homeless person with his cup on the sidewalk, the dog barking, the testy state of someone close to you, the inexplicable event that comes out of nowhere, the way you suddenly feel, anything anyone says… it’s all choreographed. The only thing not choreographed, is your reaction and upon that rests the kingdom and the glory, as well as forever and ever, amen, except in the authentic version it’s not Randy Travis singing it to you.
You really shouldn’t have any questions after this. You really shouldn’t.
End Transmission…….

Every Day

Visible sings: ♫ Every Day
‘Every Day’ is track no. 11 of 11 on Visible’s 2001 album ‘God in Country’


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