Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Most mornings I take a cautionary (and ill advised) ramble through the slanted and manufactured, toxic treacle that passes for news, in this Kali Yuga cluster fuck (post dated profanity advisory). I don't know what else to call it. Negotiating this time sequence, is a lot like walking across glue boards, intentionally placed on the way to crumbled bits of cheese and kibble, that seem to pass for attractive and tasty fare, calculated to meet the appetite demands of those who think pink slime is “a dessert topping AND a floor wax”. Well, this introductory spiel is a little gratuitous but it all depends on the segue.
while making my rounds, with my own version of a white coat and a stethoscope, actually called a stealthoscope in my case, it has come to where the news proves incidental to the intent. The news is a flat out and often mendacious lie. The news is not fabricated by Mason's or the Catholic Church, or any of the others, whose non presence on the ownership lists and boards of directors, should signify something but signifies nothing, because the sound and fury, a transparent but necessary distraction, has sucked all the oxygen out of the room. You will note the trend of late to sprinkle the names of Indians, Asians and any number of 'affirmative distractions' implanted, to take away from the glaring evidence, of who writes the majority of most warmongering and culturally decadent garbage, that spills out of the torn garbage baggie, magically transforming into the poisoned ink that passes for a medium, if the medium is the frottage (overused term alert).
This is not to say that some amount of Masons and the upper, infernal depths of the Catholic Church, along with the Scientologists, the fundie, evangelical, faux Christian Shmoos, the military industrial persecution complex, the political prostitution stable, of brokeback horses and ho's, the lobby vampires of 24/7 corporation blood sucking, preejaculating, fascism and a host of other second string, Satan-fellatin' wannabe bad guys, haven't added their devalued two cents to the evil, carnal, banal and anal torture circus, that is the over riding theme on the road to judgment day, (cue the deadening, earfucking, brain raping, rap soundtrack, whose intent is a collective lockstep into darkness, by those who think the degradation of the feminine and the worship of gunfire and bling, is some kind of art thing) sure, they're all playing a part but they are not the central players, out of the twisted heart of the abuser in chief.
What I most noticed, in my tiptoeing through the knife edged tulips, of the despicable press, were the comments that followed the despicable articles, written by despicable people. Especially in cases of personal misfortune, sometimes a comeuppance, where everyone forgets about, “there but for fortune goes you and I”, the comments generally reflecting a meanspiritedness that has taken over the mental and emotional climate, of the more than ordinary and often anonymous Joe's and Jane's. In a world of junk foods, junk bonds and junk culture, it's to be expected that malicious and unforgiving cretins, living in a world of spite, would spew their venom beneath the toxic ink, spilling from the torn garbage baggie. America and the rest of the west; you bobble-headed nimrods, with your cries “librals” and all the rest of the terms of diminishment; you who cry out for the death penalty, who support the midnight flights of special rendition, who support the murders of unsuspecting villagers, labeled as terrorists by the real terrorists from Tel Aviv, London and Washington D.C., whose six pack is on the coffee table and not on their abs, who shit where they eat and are proud of it, whose arrogance is only exceeded by their intransigent ignorance, who allow and permit every kind of horrible actions in their names and are proud of it... proud of it, proud of it.
Anonymity can have its reasons and justifications. It can also be an emblem of cowardice, an expression of those who are incapable of standing behind what they say, who can't put their money where their mouth is, because they are bankrupt, who cannot walk the talk but have no problem talking out of their ass, which appears to be their guidance and inspiration. The cruelty is impressive. The indifference to suffering is amazing. I understand the cause of it. When you are living an empty and desperate existence, of little and no accomplishment, the success and courage of others is more than you can bear, when you possess neither and are unlikely to attain either. I understand the impotent rage and the inability to connect, with the objects of your desire, because these objects and persons are out of your league. It didn't have to be like that but your one real triumph, the possession of cowardice, accounts for it.
A big monster or a little monster is still a monster. You become the result of the qualities you embrace. All qualities come from a source and when you are disenfranchised from the source of the most desirable qualities, it is unlikely that you will ever acquire them. What you get in their place are the shortcomings that are the living testimony of their absence.
We live on a concentration camp planet. The necessary effort required to attain a working liberation here is beyond the capacity of most people. “Whut do I get out of it”? Yes, these seemingly abstract and unimportant qualities, appear to have no bankable value. They take great sacrifice to obtain. They get you into trouble with those, who find these things interfering and offensive to their objectives. They compel you to behave in ways dangerous to your freedom and survival but those of us who have walked that road, know that there are no prisons or limitations, within or without, that can do anymore than test your determination to pass through and rise above them.
It's a trick of the mind you see. It's something done with lights and mirrors. It is set up to convince you that the safer course is the wiser and saner choice. You're convinced of 'going along to get along' and what that brings about is a willingness to believe what is not true, in order to avoid the confrontation that conscience demands. All over the world, the few are now rising up, from among the many, while the many peer out from between the curtains in their bunkers, hideyholes and homes, waiting to see which way the wind blows, convinced that it is an ill wind if they don't blow someone AND it's good for the economy.
When I read the comments of the ubiquitous anonymous, here or wherever it may be, it's credibility is reduced to not much, unless I (and I often do) sense merely a desire for privacy or good reason for the presence of it. I generally have the immediate sense that there is no conviction and less certainty or security in anything that gets said. Anonymous is the natural evolution of the stunted progeny of ineffectual and powerless parenting from government Cliff Notes. It is the legacy of the ambush and the assassin. It is the aimless and expansive malice of the clerk mind, at work in massive departments of waste, excess and restriction. It's the one who definitely doesn't get the girl or score the goal. They masturbate beneath the bleacher seats. They are the blind dates with no understanding of Braille. They are the mass consumers of breath mints and deodorants and they need them as well. They dress themselves from magazine ads. They eat while walking nowhere in a hurry. They wear rubber over-boots down shoveled sidewalks and carry umbrellas just in case it may rain but it is always raining in their lives; a decent camouflage for the Tears.
If fear guides you, it leads directly into the path of what is feared. These are the lottery ticket junkies and coupon cutters. These are those afflicted with poverty mentality. These are the resentful and private abusers of the ones they might have loved. These are the ones who despise themselves and reflexively wish ill on everyone else. These are the parrots, who find safety in numbers, on the broad road to destruction. These are the extras, in a cast of thousands, dreaming of the spotlight with no performance to give. These are the karaoke singers and slam poetry artistes, who know the names of everyone who made no real contribution but got famous anyway. These are the pattern baldness salesmen, who hawk things they don't believe in and end their nights in corner bars dreaming of waitresses with bad teeth.
I want to hope and believe in all of those with no hope, who believe in what cannot come true. I want to hope and believe they will awaken before doom comes to claim their inconsequential, unexamined and unlived lives. I know it doesn't have to be this way and I know the greatest treasures are only the things you can take with you when you go, but convincing people of the obvious seems to be the most difficult thing in the world. The arguments are instantaneous, “Yeah, what about this and what about that?” The arguments are endless and only for the purpose of argument. The subject is incidental to the necessity for strife. It is no wonder they are used as canon fodder and buried in forgotten graves, over something that didn’t' exist, which they allowed themselves to believe in, for the purpose of conformity and a reward that never arrived, only an anonymous grave and the indifferent, posturing litany of perverted and faithless ministers and priests.
The last decanate of May now approaches. The pinata of the unknown trembles from a tree branch, while blindfolded fools with heavy sticks lay about themselves with a will. We shall see what we shall see or we shall see nothing at all.
'I Love Country Music' is track no. 1 of 13 on Visible's 2007 album
'The Sacred and The Profane'
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