Dog Poet Transiting.......
May your noses always be on your face.
(This weekend's radio show is now available for streaming).
Sometimes we have to address things that are unpleasant but... less unpleasant than the tactics that brought the subject to our attention. This has been taking place in the formerly democratic states of America and also in the land of the financial masters, The UK. I travel around and one of the things that happens with me, is that I see things out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes I don't have to see it out of the corner of my eye, like when I was catching the little mind confetti about The UK. Sometimes it hits me smack between the eyes, accompanied by olfactory enhancements, as if I were in the VIP section of a lower East Side defacatorium; not that I've ever been in one but we're talking peripheral input again. A lot of what goes down in the passing of an age, due to the corruption and decadence that pretty much requires a passing of the age, at a certain point, can be nauseating, due to the exposure tactics of Mr. Apocalypse, who arrives on the scene to damn well make it clear to us, how deeply in denial we are about so many things. It is made effectively clear as a result of the degree of pain necessary to wake our asses up, because by some inexplicable and mysterious process, our brains somehow wound up located (seated) there.
I am no fan of bombast or pretentious and empty ceremony, especially when it results in support for continuous, unnecessary torment, torture and bloodshed. It is the perpetuation of this odious shit that makes support for these things, indifference to them and ignorance about them, a crime. You keep your mouth shut and your head down and sooner or later, you will be marching through something you would rather not be marching through, because it wasn't important enough to you to take responsibility for a country you say you Love. Love gives a shit. If you don't, or you're prepared to reflexively waffle in what you miss-perceive as some form of self interest, it ain't love, it's some kind of convenience, some kind of mailed in affection, some kind of fatuous air-kiss and then you do lunch, or each other; who cares? Anyone who doesn't understand about how the military operates needs to go watch “Full Metal Jacket”. That's a pretty good exposition of what's going on. However, the Hallmark Greeting Card image we get is anything but that.
I was watching the games on Sunday, alongside whatever it is that I do most of the time and there's this commercial for The Marines, filled with sound and fury and signifying bullshit. It's all about running into trouble, to help some poor unfortunate people, whose resources the bankers want to steal. The idea is that they run into trouble and then the voice over asks, “Which direction would you run in”? All these wars of recent memory, have been the result of a nasty, calculated piece of work by some real villains. This is the truth. Turn your head, ♫row your boat merrily down the stream♫ wave your tired and compromised flags and strangle your conscience on the bunting and banners. It doesn't change what is. Just keep telling yourself that somehow it's all fine and the way it has to be. We'll see about that. Even now they are building the new gulags because that is what they do. That is what they have done before. It's a consistent and repeating pattern. It's what they do. What is referenced here is only a small portion of the evidence presented by many sources. Anyone can find these things, should that be of any importance to anyone.
All through the games and now streaming through this one, in Chicago, as I watch it this AM, are these pathetic displays of patriotism. They parade 92 year old veterans down the field. They show a veteran touching the names on a Vietnam war memorial. Soldiers stand on ascending steps and fire blanks into the air, as a demonstration of prowess, not unlike a sterile, GMO fed prole, firing his own blanks. Nature is embarrassed at the possibility of any more of them. You can see the generations dying out, like they have done in preceding cultures that were dying out and did die out. Of course sometimes, like in Carthage, they just burned it to the ground and sowed the fields with salt.
I understand what it says in the Bhagavad-Gita about there being “nothing better for a warrior than a righteous war”. The operative word here is 'righteous'. There's been nothing righteous about any of these wars. They have all been mercenary actions for venal gain. You can be tired of hearing about this. You can not want to hear about this; given that a certain onus is placed upon you, as the result of knowing. You can follow your dick wherever it wants to go, playing pocket pool with one hand and fondling a bottle of Rohypnol with another. You do what you do because it's a numbers game and maybe something or other won't get around to you; maybe. Or you can do what so many of the people responsible for all of these things do and that's to put yourself in a position, where you are orchestrating or assisting in the conflicts and have made yourself too vital and important to serve in the violence you get paid to engineer, like Dickhead Cheney and all the rest of the Chickenhawks, who have the capacity to do things that no decent heart and no rational mind, would tolerate. They continue to walk among us, untouched by retribution and unmoved by any sense of conscience.
You who wave these tawdry emblems of a bankrupt patriotism are responsible for this. You useless eaters and sensation seeking automatons, masturbating to the bloody fantasies of life, as detached video game, like the perpetual adolescents, at their drone control boards, gunning down women and children and farmers in the field; insulated musicians who perform for craven politicians, who take their orders from bankers. No living entity is more damned and demented than the central bankers, who wallow in the steaming carnage of the dead.
♫When Johnny comes home still and prone♫ Then you can put that photo they took when he graduated from basic training and stick it on the mantelpiece to remember his sacrifice by; his sacrifice to the twisted dreams of bankers. He died for the profit of bankers and THAT IS ALL HE DID!
You find out things about yourself when you've been turned into a killing machine that screams, “Kill”! till their throat is raw on the practice fields, before it goes into real time and you soon enough get so fucked up and scared that you do something you are never going to forget, or you make it back with all your important parts missing and spend what remains of your life shooting junk into your veins; Oorah!!!
Lots of people get pissed when they hear this kind of thing. They got that 24 caret investment in the time dishonored lies. They can't bear to look the whole sick situation in the face. They have to opt out for the soiled dreams that are fed into their minds, by the ones manipulating them, because having to see the truth of it ruins everything. Having to see the truth of it, means having to be responsible for your part in it, for sending your children off to die for the fucking bankers, who also destroyed your economic system, thereby erasing your jobs and then rigged the housing market, so that they could take your house. Why don't you just cut to the chase and have “Fuck Me”! tattooed on one ass cheek and “Kill me”! tattooed on the other and just get into the habit of walking around with no pants on. You might want to have “And” tattooed just below the sacral plexus. You don't want the predators to have to wonder if there's some kind of either or choice. You need for them to know that you're going for the whole enchilada, given that you are the enchilada.
I'll tell you what I see when I see the commercial of some young, handsome black man, walking around his neighborhood, in a uniform, all TV-enhanced as a local hero. I see a chump. I see a fool who still didn't get his forty acres and a mule. I see someone who likes to threaten to riot because they got some kind of a black man in The White House, who is hosing them just like every other color of man before him but they are too dumb to see it. The symbolic effect is enough for them. There's little difference between Obama and Shortpants, dumber than rock, Bush except that Obama likes to get blown by men like Bush and Bush likes to get ridden by James Gannon, while Karl Rove watches, or waits his turn, I don't know which and I don't care either. One MKUltra, Tavistock rendered troll is like any other.
Primitive tribes have rites of manhood. Civilized societies often don't have them. The military serves for that. If you don't die, or wind up in a wheelchair, they still want you in a willing position to take orders. They want that embedded discipline to be happening. You've marched off the battlefield, maybe, now you can march by the long route to the grave. You were born for a higher destiny. The available promise of what is possible for you, lies by the side of the road, where you discarded any consideration of it. You may not know about all this now but you will at some point. You will.
'Bush Family History Lesson' is track no. 5 of 10 on Visible's 2002 album
'911 was an Inside Job'