Jesus,
I'm in a rut. Please, pray for me and bring me deliverance. I remember hearing the news as an 11 year old that a crazed hobo had broken into the church and stolen the sacrosant golden ciborium, leaving the contents strewn on the altar. Oh sweet Jesus, how they cursed that maniac.
Please, oh please, lift me from this steaming hellbroth, lest they curse me as the New Maniac.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Friday, November 2, 2007
Stock Market Crash and the Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla
Hello, again.
I was jarred awake this afternoon when Milky barged into my room with news of a plummeting stock market. Seems she was on the phone with Marvin from Syracuse, and he had been filling her head with all kinds of nonsense, and making her crazy with panic.
It was the last thing I needed at this hour. Two in the afternoon. My stomach hurt from eating a bowl of cinnamon crisps at about 4 am, then all the beers we had together, and someone was cranking eggs out of the kitchen, over easy. This all went on 'till about 1030 am, at which point sleep on a hardwood floor no longer seemed possible, and I went home and found my bed. And then this shit about the stock markets crashing, and oil pushing 100 dollars a barrel. For Christ's sake, leave me alone for a little while, I told her. I couldn't get back to sleep after that, especially after the conversations we'd been having for days. The astrologers out in California laid out a two-year moratorium on economic crisis and revolution in this country. Fine with me, I told Old Uncle Frank, I'm broke anyway, and I could use some hearty revolution, after all, I've been calling for some action for a few years now. He thought we should continue this conversation when I get out to Albuquerque next week to interview him for the new book. Maybe I'll call it 'Last Stand.' Or maybe not.
In the past two days I've come across two references to that great turn of events of the spring of 1980-The Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla. Hot damn! I first came across it in 'Songs of the Doomed Vol. III,' a collection of letters and notes by the great Dr. HST in a chapter entitled...ah shit, I forget. Something about how he left a swine's severed head in the personal toilet belonging to the motel owner to whom the good doctor was heavily indebted for weeks, if not months, of room charges, room service, and bar tab. One of his lesser moments, but a fine tale nonetheless. Then we popped in Scarface for the background noise as we partied on this evening. The wrenching and tedious organ bits toward the end of the film really elevate heartbeats. No no, it's the beginning of the film we're interested in-The Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla. Goddamn Castro sent us Tony Montana who proceeds to follow the American Dream and fucks his boss's wife, kills the boss, kills his best friends, watches his sister get sprayed up and down by submachine gun fire, buries his head in mounds of cocaine, kills numerous others, and gets rear-blasted by a ten gauge. Serious fucking residual disturbance from that film. Castro played it nicely. Well done ya scumbag. Now let's move onto some other scumbags.
I've got a whole list of people and questions I need investigating.
Chomsky...left gatekeeper? Federal stooge?
Alex Jones is half-nimrod, half-breed jackass.
So, what really happened on 9/11? And what the hell do anarchists have to do with it?
Absolutely nothing at all right, Roger? Uhh, a 9/11 alternate theorist is no anarchist, right? Not by association. What a crock of shit.
Trilateral Commission? Council on Foreign Relations? Will they soon be reading this email and putting me on no-fly lists, or is there nothing to them?
North America Union...when?
6 billion dead by the end of the century, and Gore is a goddamn climate crises profiteer. Imbeciles are the people that listen to this guy and then want him for president.
Imbeciles are anyone still wishing to participate in this system of human organization.
So many more, too tired.
N.B. Those are all rhetorical questions. Please never write me with your answers, suggestions, corrections. Thank you.
I've received a few reaction from some people on the section of the 'Letter to Mark...' post. Some incredibly offended, particularly by the "comments" made by Senator Barack Obama. If that "story" lands me in shit somewhere, I'll be all smiles.
I'm goddamn tired, and this writing is pure shit. It's time to stop, know your limits imbecile.
I was jarred awake this afternoon when Milky barged into my room with news of a plummeting stock market. Seems she was on the phone with Marvin from Syracuse, and he had been filling her head with all kinds of nonsense, and making her crazy with panic.
It was the last thing I needed at this hour. Two in the afternoon. My stomach hurt from eating a bowl of cinnamon crisps at about 4 am, then all the beers we had together, and someone was cranking eggs out of the kitchen, over easy. This all went on 'till about 1030 am, at which point sleep on a hardwood floor no longer seemed possible, and I went home and found my bed. And then this shit about the stock markets crashing, and oil pushing 100 dollars a barrel. For Christ's sake, leave me alone for a little while, I told her. I couldn't get back to sleep after that, especially after the conversations we'd been having for days. The astrologers out in California laid out a two-year moratorium on economic crisis and revolution in this country. Fine with me, I told Old Uncle Frank, I'm broke anyway, and I could use some hearty revolution, after all, I've been calling for some action for a few years now. He thought we should continue this conversation when I get out to Albuquerque next week to interview him for the new book. Maybe I'll call it 'Last Stand.' Or maybe not.
In the past two days I've come across two references to that great turn of events of the spring of 1980-The Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla. Hot damn! I first came across it in 'Songs of the Doomed Vol. III,' a collection of letters and notes by the great Dr. HST in a chapter entitled...ah shit, I forget. Something about how he left a swine's severed head in the personal toilet belonging to the motel owner to whom the good doctor was heavily indebted for weeks, if not months, of room charges, room service, and bar tab. One of his lesser moments, but a fine tale nonetheless. Then we popped in Scarface for the background noise as we partied on this evening. The wrenching and tedious organ bits toward the end of the film really elevate heartbeats. No no, it's the beginning of the film we're interested in-The Cuba-USA Freedom Flotilla. Goddamn Castro sent us Tony Montana who proceeds to follow the American Dream and fucks his boss's wife, kills the boss, kills his best friends, watches his sister get sprayed up and down by submachine gun fire, buries his head in mounds of cocaine, kills numerous others, and gets rear-blasted by a ten gauge. Serious fucking residual disturbance from that film. Castro played it nicely. Well done ya scumbag. Now let's move onto some other scumbags.
I've got a whole list of people and questions I need investigating.
Chomsky...left gatekeeper? Federal stooge?
Alex Jones is half-nimrod, half-breed jackass.
So, what really happened on 9/11? And what the hell do anarchists have to do with it?
Absolutely nothing at all right, Roger? Uhh, a 9/11 alternate theorist is no anarchist, right? Not by association. What a crock of shit.
Trilateral Commission? Council on Foreign Relations? Will they soon be reading this email and putting me on no-fly lists, or is there nothing to them?
North America Union...when?
6 billion dead by the end of the century, and Gore is a goddamn climate crises profiteer. Imbeciles are the people that listen to this guy and then want him for president.
Imbeciles are anyone still wishing to participate in this system of human organization.
So many more, too tired.
N.B. Those are all rhetorical questions. Please never write me with your answers, suggestions, corrections. Thank you.
I've received a few reaction from some people on the section of the 'Letter to Mark...' post. Some incredibly offended, particularly by the "comments" made by Senator Barack Obama. If that "story" lands me in shit somewhere, I'll be all smiles.
I'm goddamn tired, and this writing is pure shit. It's time to stop, know your limits imbecile.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
From a letter to Mark: California burning & Violent orgies
....
The news of California on fire and Atlanta running dry has troubled me to the point where I have decided never to put another moment of my time into the pointless and joyless pursuit of 'thinking about my future.' What for? We are being torched for our collective transgressions; Mother Earth is ridding itself of this pestilent species. Christ, we have another two generations, at most, left if we continue this way and there are no signs of stopping. Good people are needed to lift [off] the curse-good people with their eyes on the prize, with solid brass balls, with an appetite for [some of that] good, old time Christian revenge. The kind of barbaric Front that eats tyrants for breakfast and spits their bones out at lunch. A real vicious pack of wolves.
I say all this because an insider friend on the presidential elections trail has alerted me to the fact [or was it a hearty rumor?] that 2/3rds of the Republican hopefuls, half of the Democrats, and all of the Independents are gathering together at discreet locations and imbibing heavy doses of a rare Amazonian drug that simultaneously fires neurons in the sector of the brain responsible for speech and produces non-stop amounts of semen (and in the case of Democratic hopeful, Senator [Hillary] Clinton-who has been to every [single] one of these maniacal, agenda-setting orgies, always without Bill-excessive amounts of vaginal juices). Allegedly, what seems to happen every time is a mixed event- half gibberish confessional and strategy planning matches with equal amounts of vigorous homosexual sex and gangbangings, and of course, multiple dirty tag-teams on Senator Clinton. At no point, it appears, do any of the candidates stop [babbling], [not] even to catch their breath, but only to take another shot of the mysterious elixir that produces this frenzied romp.
At their last gathering about 100 miles north of Billings, Montana, this event took a nasty turn, when after the maniacs had come down from their outrageous behavior, pretty-boy senator, John Edwards accused Rudolph Giuliani and Mitt Romney of using his "mill house" (his word, roughly translated as "asshole") in an attempt to prove one another's "greater manliness." This was mentally recorded and passed onto aforementioned friend by the surgeon who was called in to deliver local anesthesia and twenty seven stitches to the poor man's "mill house." Amongst other gross scenes of debauchery, the surgeon made a special note to report that Senator Barack Obama was laid, passed out in a pile of human feces, still mumbling something about the need for "concentration camps for unruly citizens and nigger-lovers." Clinton was sitting in an armchair with a neon green rubber dildo in her mouth to (as naked and scarred Congressman Ron Paul of Texas noted), prevent herself from leaking lucrative campaign funding sources for any candidate who would lobby for the invasion of Great Britain and Japan. The [good] surgeon confirmed that Bill was not present, and he suspects this is one way that the Senator is repaying him for the Zippergate scandals of her husband's presidency.
This may sound very explosive to you my friend, and you may want to reach for your phone to call your polling office and cancel your party affiliation, whatever it may be. Don't do it! For God's sake, they'll be onto you, and then you'll be a ruined man, a hunted man. These kind of freaks will stop at nothing for total control, Absolute Power.
...
The news of California on fire and Atlanta running dry has troubled me to the point where I have decided never to put another moment of my time into the pointless and joyless pursuit of 'thinking about my future.' What for? We are being torched for our collective transgressions; Mother Earth is ridding itself of this pestilent species. Christ, we have another two generations, at most, left if we continue this way and there are no signs of stopping. Good people are needed to lift [off] the curse-good people with their eyes on the prize, with solid brass balls, with an appetite for [some of that] good, old time Christian revenge. The kind of barbaric Front that eats tyrants for breakfast and spits their bones out at lunch. A real vicious pack of wolves.
I say all this because an insider friend on the presidential elections trail has alerted me to the fact [or was it a hearty rumor?] that 2/3rds of the Republican hopefuls, half of the Democrats, and all of the Independents are gathering together at discreet locations and imbibing heavy doses of a rare Amazonian drug that simultaneously fires neurons in the sector of the brain responsible for speech and produces non-stop amounts of semen (and in the case of Democratic hopeful, Senator [Hillary] Clinton-who has been to every [single] one of these maniacal, agenda-setting orgies, always without Bill-excessive amounts of vaginal juices). Allegedly, what seems to happen every time is a mixed event- half gibberish confessional and strategy planning matches with equal amounts of vigorous homosexual sex and gangbangings, and of course, multiple dirty tag-teams on Senator Clinton. At no point, it appears, do any of the candidates stop [babbling], [not] even to catch their breath, but only to take another shot of the mysterious elixir that produces this frenzied romp.
At their last gathering about 100 miles north of Billings, Montana, this event took a nasty turn, when after the maniacs had come down from their outrageous behavior, pretty-boy senator, John Edwards accused Rudolph Giuliani and Mitt Romney of using his "mill house" (his word, roughly translated as "asshole") in an attempt to prove one another's "greater manliness." This was mentally recorded and passed onto aforementioned friend by the surgeon who was called in to deliver local anesthesia and twenty seven stitches to the poor man's "mill house." Amongst other gross scenes of debauchery, the surgeon made a special note to report that Senator Barack Obama was laid, passed out in a pile of human feces, still mumbling something about the need for "concentration camps for unruly citizens and nigger-lovers." Clinton was sitting in an armchair with a neon green rubber dildo in her mouth to (as naked and scarred Congressman Ron Paul of Texas noted), prevent herself from leaking lucrative campaign funding sources for any candidate who would lobby for the invasion of Great Britain and Japan. The [good] surgeon confirmed that Bill was not present, and he suspects this is one way that the Senator is repaying him for the Zippergate scandals of her husband's presidency.
This may sound very explosive to you my friend, and you may want to reach for your phone to call your polling office and cancel your party affiliation, whatever it may be. Don't do it! For God's sake, they'll be onto you, and then you'll be a ruined man, a hunted man. These kind of freaks will stop at nothing for total control, Absolute Power.
Good people are needed.
...
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