Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Something is definitely going on, I don't know if it's 'naughty or nice'. I know it's squeezing people and making various kinds of tasteless whine and in many cases, ♫it was -NOT- a very good year♫ (cue Old Blue Eyes and The Chairman of the Board). I imagine walking into the Oval Office, Senatorial offices and offices of Representatives, offices of Supreme Court Vultures, corporate boardrooms and... in every case, inevitably coming before a flaming red demon, with black smoke discharging from it's nostrils. The other residents are wearing chromium steel chaps, with nothing in the back; skin tight leather head masks and a red, gag reflex ping pong ball in their mouths, “Oh beeehave”! You probably won't be able to see the Sharper Image, George W. Bush model, Vibrating Butt Plug. However, if you put your ear down close, I suspect you can hear it. I'm guessing for the Ipod junkies and ♫make the world go away♫, mindless music bots, they are offering a headphone attachment, that connects to the unit, so that you can hear what is happening in the nether realms; “pump up the bass!!! pump up the fucking bass!!! Oh God!! Oh God!!, Oh God”!! “Knock, knock, Hello? This is not God”. Heh heh, well, we've had any number of dramatic renderings. “Pump up the bass!!! Pump up the bass”!!
♫No one knows what goes on behind closed doors♫ It's not a good time to be an animal, unless, you're a beast in human skin. In that case it is a very good time to be an animal. Speaking of beasts, let's not overlook six legged, vampire mutants like Jeff Bezos and... to what demographic does this stately humanitarian belong? Uh huh. Oh the surprise, be still my beating heart! I would never have guessed.
In the meantime, events, pretty much unreported or fabricated out of whole cloth, by the media arm of the people committing the offenses, are bringing things to a kind of unendurable STD infection and then you hook that in with things like this. They're trying to get to the finish line, before Mr. Apocalypse replaces the tape with razor wire. Wack a Mole isn't working, the Satanic corruptions keep breaking through the skin of the world, as the purple headed dragon rears up and spits... into the swollen darkness, from which springs, both madness and escape (go ahead, quote yourself, visible... so what?). Yeah, you can hear their boots, pounding on the pavement, as they race forward to control the future, never realizing that the future flows into the present and does not exist beyond that point, except as multiple potentialities, which simultaneously manifest into multiple destinies. They want to cram as much evil into a short window of time as is possible for them. There are no more contemptible creatures on Earth, than those who prey upon their fellows for personal gain, unless you want to consider those who allow them to do it. The force of darkness, being evicted from the inner planes, is hijacking minds, at every level of consciousness, from the most basic to the most sophisticated levels of self interest. Orders, like poisoned waters, flow downhill ...and dimwit monsters, carry out the dictates of all those heavy breathers closer, to the source of the darkness, “Yessss Master”!
What would a posting be, if the author didn't show some sign of his unflinching intolerance? Does the author have to restate his objection to the loathsome agenda, as something apart from matters of private choice? I guess if you sell your soul for a paycheck that's just how it goes. Then you can stand there, dumbfounded at what appeared in front of you and give the whole steaming pile of demonic excrescence that look of a poleaxed steer. Don't forget people, Christmas is coming and... if you have the money, well, of course... in many cases you're already doing it with a robot aren't you?
Listen up, take it from someone who is speaking from direct experience. It is possible to take a particular force and reverse the natural direction of it's flow and experience sex at another level that blows (pun intended) ordinary intercourse out of the water. When one hears about the rapture of the saints, or studies arcane pictographs, like the Ninth Trump (to which the sense of 'touch' is ascribed) you should consider the inner contact with the engine of all bliss. Everything out here on this plane, is a poor facsimile, of the more subtle vibrating internal reality. Believe what you like, that's up to you.
Pay careful attention!!! Listen with full attention! Though I now live on a plane of personal experience that is much different from what was once true of me, I can tell you that there are no wilder sluts than those who come from this particular country. Comparatively speaking, I've been around and I know whereof I speak. You may not like what I have to say. You may not agree with me but... what is so is so; “Shut up and gimmie a fish sandwich”! Humor? I got your humor swinging”.
Yeah, I have to live in this world and so do you. “You enjoy it here? Well, ...do you, punk” (grin)? Do you? There were not that many people as funny or self convicting or acknowledging as Richard Pryor. He should have been president instead of Stepin Fetchit, the Israeli Zombie bot. I know these are dark times, so I want you to take some time today and enjoy what it was like once, before it got the way it is today. This man had a true beauty to him. I loved him dearly. I used to drive by his house on Maui, on the way to Hana and think about dropping in but... I don't do that kind of thing. It was the same way with Muhammad Ali. I got invited to his house once also and didn't go. Another time, I got invited to The Dakota to meet John Lennon and Elton John; still didn't go. I walked away from or ignored all kinds of things that might have led to something else for me. I just figured those people were all being bothered enough by the flies and mosquitoes that attend fame. It wasn't always easy for Richard. He's gone now, gone to- I am sure- a finer land.
There were a lot of people who made us laugh, at all kinds of things you can't laugh at now. They were some of the best and most truthful prophets of our time.
There is something unquenchable in the human spirit and we don't want to forget that, in the midst of all the dumb cattle and stupid fucks, who shamelessly parade in front of us, on the arsenic laced media created for that purpose. A large part of manipulating our mental and emotional climate, is to get us to hate each other. There are people who hate me for imbibing this or imbibing that and saying what I say, or acting out when I feel like I see snakes hiding in human form and... if I weren't right and hadn't have been right, then they wouldn't have acted like snakes and kept continuing to act like snakes, still to this day. The thing is that my imbibing in anything is of very limited duration and a hardly measurable part of my day to day and something that anyone who lives around me, or has lived around me, in recent years, can attest to but... as far as the critics go, well, they imbibe revenge fantasies and resentments, envy, jealously and god knows how many different toxic things every goddamn minute of their days. They wouldn't know freedom or humanity if it pulled over on to the side of the ruined highway they are standing on and offered them a ride. What they'd say is, “Fuck off! ♫I'm waiting for my man♫”
Yeah, the one thing all of us, who truly are servants, across the length and breadth of our every days should remember, is to not take the hostile glares and seething acrimony, of emotionally paralyzed losers seriously; to not buy into the mirrored, false-self generating hate ...that is the standard reflection you are left with, every time someone who is not you, looks at themselves in you. See... here is something all of us need to keep in mind. A great percentage of the time, what others accuse us of, is nothing more than what they would be thinking, feeling and being motivated by if... IF, they were doing what we were doing that they imagine we are doing, if they were us.
This is why I don't let fair-weather friends and people incapable of doing what I can do, pass judgment on me. People who swim into my fish-tank and blow smoke up my ass and tell me how much they love and admire me until... until I don't do what they want me to do, or until I scare them by threatening their material world position, by challenging the value of what they consider important, or exposing their addiction, to the vibrating glitter of animate dust, while they hand me a whole lot of phony doubletalk, about how this is this and that is that,when this ain't this and that ain't that but... all of it is just posturing and the endless self abuse, of perpetually arrested development, pretending to be grownup when there is nothing grownup about any of it.
Ah well, I hope you enjoyed some of the skits, linked for you here today and that you will take advantage of so very much more of them that are available in the sidebar menu, of the pages you land on, courtesy of this posting. Meechum anbu my friends; meechum anbu!
'Frogman' is track no. 2 of 8 on Visible and The Critical List's 1987 album
'La Vierge Sperme Danceur'
About this song (pops up)