The last of us, thankfully

 

Well now, Hell's Bells. There's that fruity cipher-number, 18, again, in a scene that smacks of anti-christ type energy. Just your average old length of your average ol pipe-bomb. Someone wants to give the RCC the ol pipe, again, this time in the "City of Brotherly (perhaps Greek?) Love," ha, wink. Saynomore

As an obvious aside, some considered notes on the steadily less watchable "Last of Us" apocalypto-serial that the probable criminals at HBO have dawned upon us at this pivotal time in history/her-story:

1. I never thought i'd live ta see the dei when poor Ron Swanson (and thus, his irl cognate who is not much different from his famous and intentionally cartoonish sitcom character, which mirror-status is now to be considered hinky bc of his Last of Us role) i say i never thought i'd live to see the day Mr. Swanson got methodically cucked and emasculated in one of them ol symbolic humiliation rituals on TV. But there we have it. It was then clear that the audience could expect more in-your-face, vulgar items of Wokeism from the increasingly dull, dreadful and potty-mouthed Sunday-sabat series.

2. Why can't these Millennial/Gen-Z showrunners, writers, and skulking Thelemite producers ever manage to find an American actor or actress to play Americans? The darling and goofy, effeminate Pedro Pascal playing Joel, this is now more or less a wash, a miss. Watch two hours of PP interviews (from any period) and his solemnity and masculinity as the original product Joel will basically evaporate before your eyes, but times yes they be a-changing. And naturally, the role of Ellie couldn't be trusted to some shallow, emotionally stunted American teen-ager/member of the Gen-Z borg entity. So bring in the British, etc., sauce-pots who "have to bind their breasts," and who were just in some horrid Lena Dunham production about women not needing dumb, aristocratic, cucked and toxic pasty-men. Already the hapless, skinny-minded, fat-bottomed think pieces have been published in the wake of last night's episode, in which Joel broke down and sobbed about how weak he was, and willing to give up the protagonist manly role to his communiss younger brother, who though dressed like a denim-god cowboy, is still subordinate to the Micheonne cognate, the macho, mean, dread-locked, former DA black heroine whose physical type is now de rigueur in post-modern entertainment, as her own ultra-powerful and ultra-recognizable embodiment-trope. These motherfuckers in holly-wood have been toying with us for generations. I've known about it for several decades; it is disgusting. They love a good negro stereotype, and i despise them for it. And even more than that baseline contempt, i despise how obvious they are, how contemptibly ruthless they have been in clinging to these pernicious, indelicate, and really quite toxic stereotypes. "I ain't be got no weapon." The problem is that a lot of fucking white people, even the most fully wokest, have no idea about this embedded, baked-in, traditional racial contempt, that even seems to stretch back to, say, biblical times and theologies. It's also incredibly obvious that the contempt for Christianity is now a standard trope and tool. Every Christian one sees in our shit period of entertainment, going back several decades now, is a nutter, a stand-in for the insincere fears and the outright objects of hatred of the occult fascist over-class, as they see themselves.

"Joel Embodies the Perfect Beauty of Non-toxic Masculinity."....says some vile little scribbler with a meso-morphic body-positive body and secretly modified-from-above body chemistry. O brother. No, Pablo just says his bleeding lines and pretends to be masculine pretty good.

(UPDATE: i have today learned that in the scenes where the hero and Protector, Joel, seems to be suffering some incipient kind of heart attack, he is in fact having "panic attacks." Nobody is safe, everything is touch and go, and there are no more ADHD or anxiety medications being over-produced, or even made at all.)

3. The UK gal pretending to be Ellie is a foul, potty-mouthed little harridan who needs a spanking, or a catastrophic ear-cuffing, some would say. "Dick, dick, dick" just keeps spilling out of her mouth, along with variations of "fuck" and "shit." "You're a dick, Joel." "Dont be a dick." "Dicks are bad, bad." It's clear that some of the dialogue-writing was sub-contracted to some very very cranky junior high-kids. Or the kind of edgy 20-30 somethings who think putting banal epithets in the mouths of babes is raw, and real, and edgy. That only works to some mild extent, then it just shows the horrible, boring, lewd immaturity of its baphometic creatrixes.

Here, have a menstrual cup, which most men are going to identify incorrectly as one of them gadgets to let a gal pee standing up. "Here, Ellie, you're almost a Toxic Woman now."

Who writes this shit. What escaped little sociopaths probably benefiting from some deep form of nepotism. O shit, and Penis, never mind, the credits are right there. I know who's writing this horrible predatory social engineering poppycock. Cute of them to strike upon a RESOUNDING UNIVERSAL ADDICTIVE SERIAL SUCCESS Just As the world is flying towards fishy earthquake and train disaster apocalypse, and WW3 as well, bc psychopaths are controlling state governments around the world. Very slick timing, i would say, with "The Last of Us." And fwiw, as a decent writer who knows writing, i can assure you that on the whole these callow pigs can't write for shit, and that's one of the reasons our cannibal modern entertainment tends to eat asshole---in a bad, toxic, cis-orthodox way---more and more, and why so many articles seem to be written by AI. The reason is, that young writers are less and less in possession of adequate or original minds and thoughts. They are coming to resemble more and more the AI that is meant to replace them. That is, when AI bots are not literally writing the articles, which is happening at this time, we now know bc some rogue journalist proved it as to Business Insider, or CNET, iirc. It is almost depressing how average people continue to be entertained by powerfully weak forms of below-average art. Even allowing themselves to become obsessed with it. Or so they imagine themselves to be. It would be more depressing if these cultural forms were not also a method of mind-control, and so the victims can on some level be forgiven. 

 

Any kind of rotten entertainment/pop-cultural tripe they fling in the direction of our cages and pocket super-computer's wi-fi radii, we will eagerly consume, in the end. No generation has a very good edge on the creators of cultural content at the noxious occult or conspiratorial level, which is overtaking all levels. I liked rap music as a kid bc i was a dumb american kid. But at least there were alternatives still. At least my parents were pre-digital. This unquestioning participation in a dying world and its dying culture, this glad embrace of degenerate art forms like modern super hero movies and serial shows, and torture-fetish-horror-nihilist SAW-type terror movies, and vulgar, anti-social forms of (casually homicidal and blatantly promiscuous) modern rap music: these explain perfectly what im saying. It's the only explanation for why they all willingly consume this slop and ask for more just like it, and please more sequels within the "X-universe." We are entrained, we do not Choose our passions, or at least we do so at a drastically lessening rate. The damned HBO show is about a mind-virus, effectively. That is exactly what's over-taking the developed, privileged world as we "scroll," take starbux at age 12, and legal and extra-legal amphetamines prescribed for any old anxiety and discomfort, and fuck like the monkeys without a mating season that we are coming to be.

This cucked and vulgar, cynical, trite, enervated, dissolute version of Joel and Ellie is a metaphor. None of it is hard to understand or see for its general, meaningful, low-culture toxicity. 

So then, here are my details in case the reader would like to donate. Times are hard and i'm actually still willing to write things that need to be said, while allowing for a bit of bold humor and humanity, we hope, both of which will never go out of style even when the coming posses are unleashed with their Po-mo murder directives against those two boomer-era virtues.

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The Gloves Have Been Tore Off Decorum and Decency: Some Respectful Words on the Will-Smith/Chris Rock Bad Boy Supper Theater Club Awards Ceremony, with additional commentary on geo-politics and also doe-mestic politics, with at least 6 links

 

The Red Leather Drag-on never Sleepeth. Cross-dressin' is never not funny on the come-up

In its own trite, hackneyed way, the majikal Will Smith "schizophrenia/comeuppance/Best Actor-Winning Humiliation and Turnt Out to Pasture Ritual" continues to toddle along gamely. For what it is worth. It's like witnessing the last MK-drug-courier-ing and Target Compromising cruise ship trip of a hot, blonde "Presidential Model," only it is a beloved bottom black man edition in this case.

It feels like the slowly chewing ungulate public of the hollywood-consuming herd-world has never been treated to such a juicy prime-time live event, or "ritual." As "The Slap," as an act or casual, permitted assault. I have to suggest it's too easy to dismiss it all, just bc it was so...hackneyed and obvious. And also seeing as how it occurred in modern, collapsing, morally desolate Hollywood, at its biggest, most sewn-up in advance, self-congratulatory gala event, where sociopaths may be assumed to outnumber normal, docile, cud-chewing citizens, 3-1. I won't pretend to be too awfully interested or all that capable of dissecting the very tense action, not truly and with footnotes and such, or legitimate syntax. But some of the themes which have emerged seem to weave neatly enough into the well-established command and control matrices of:

1. Messing with and using African-American men as memes and useful archetypes/symbols for mass public spirit-massaging and spirit-barbecuing. See also bullet-points number 4 and perhaps also 6, below. ("Will Smith," and "Chris Rock" must be examples of The Cosmic Giggle in action, as those names sure do tremble with occulted resonance, if i were being asked about it.)

2. Greedily Arranging and then Generously Eating Up large quantities of the pre-positioned oxygen in the room/zeitgeist.

3. Insuring that Will Smith tenders his career-weight of due and his pound of flesh to Caesar, and to Satrapy, Inc., et al, after an epic and rewarding career. One last profitable or utilitarian hurrah, like with OJ. Or like with MJ (michael jackson) and his farewell, creaky animated zombie dancing tour, with heapum insurance payouts. Or Robin Williams with his farewell multi-movie tour. A kind of manic Last St. Vitus' Dance. Or Kobe with his possibly willing role in the trauma-based inauguration of The Global Corona-madnus for all of our twilight benefit. Kobe who seemed to have two humiliation rituals because he was such a bad-ass. You can just have your pick of very slowly fallen stars.

Speaking of Compromised Actors

4. The continuous cultural matrix/memeplex of The Cosby Ritual. Made, club-membership-having men who achieve the loftiest status, then being whipped down into a lowly, very lurid tabloid state. We must include Bill Clinton in this ritual, and perhaps Orenthal Simpson, as well, who gets a name drop and a very questionable analogical inclusion in this "ugly" affair, from a philosophical Chris Rock. CR just recently or like right now compared himself to Nicole Simpson, check your newsfeed for this reverberating update. One may even speculate as to the connection between this "Bros Down" set of ceremonial themes on the one side of the scale, and on the other, the eminent ritual display of Surging Matriarchy/"Hoes Up?" phenomenology with its amusing, romper room, Madonnist, black magical/"pagan" Lizzo Fertility Goddess themes and excrudescences. By which we can routinely see A) men made more fragile and insecure, and replaced by women in most alpha-male leading action roles across all of silver screendom, and B) black female dwarves hammily inserted into beloved anglo-saxon literary and artistic products. (note that in a Zora Neale Hurston kind of way, the black man is the proto-masculine stud of the world, and by denigrating, controlling, or reducing Him, one does so to manhood, at large, quite mathematically, or exponentially) Hopefully the reader is familiar with these trends and i do not sound like a stodgy ol white conservative, which i am not at all. I am young and spry and i love all the things and all the races and all the flavors, except children. I for one do not go in for children or even young adults, or if you insist on me coming clean i also don't go in for dressing in dresses, not publicly at least---but that is just me personally---and definitely not for scaring and confusing toddlers at the public library on the state dime.

...It is all connected, all of a piece, part, and parcel. ...anyway, this degradation-performance at the Oscars can be said to link up neatly with the point above, point number 3, and en toto with the #MeAlso movement, in this way: that hysterical gender equality movement, as such, can be reasonably well viewed as "Master cleverly rearranging the deckchairs on Der Titanic, so that the womenfolk have the front seat to the chamber orchestra's calming, reassuring impromptu concert, as the water rushes in all around. Rather than seats on lifeboats, you see." Many of us have been forced to see that movement as a means to cut a lot of old cis white male Fat, to shed burdensome Weinstein-caliber slabs of grotesque weight, while looking proud and good in the offing. To pave the way for a new vanguard, etc., with objectives just as cynical and manipulative as those of their forebears. Also, one can accomplish micro-goals or various occult ritual designs in the process of ushering out the Will Smiths and Matt Lauers as they expire in terms of marketability, niche friendliness, and sexual freshness. A massive game of mostly meaningless musical chairs in which those who get to sit down had lots of inside information and the floorplan, and the controlled use of hologram-chairs, and moved much more quickly than the older, less woke fellows. The Older darlings like Les Moonves, Andy Rubin, Charlie Rose, Roger Ailes, The Prince of Whatever in that German Family atop the British Throne, and the endless list of other nasty males too long to get into. Note that all these kinds of would-be criminals and age-inappropriate producer-royalty-types were permitted to go and retire with their billions and their underground garages and temple-complexes stocked with slender nubile concubines, hermaphrodites, and Ganymedes. We safely assume, from our existential basements and actual hovels.

"How Much for Just 1 Rib, of Adam?"

5. "MASKS." Now sage Chris Rock is tellin' the world how WS let his mask fall after 30 years of pretending to be a perfect, good guy and probably more importantly, also a thoroughly perfected and smooth-running yes-man/androgynous/gender fluid-reppin'/DID-golden boy of magic-town, The Globe. Something like the brown and fit Tom Hanks. Not quite "there" or organically believable, and indeed smelling quite fake as fuck, yes, but yet still "everybody's" greatest Everyman and favorite fella/leading man of the new era of colorblindedness. This whole Kubrickian and Covid season of "masks" is surely at its root symbolic and occult in nature, and that is no great leap of analysis or prodigious insight. Hollywood is a mask, Biden is a mask, Ric Flair, too, and also Trump and his metastasizing clan and mafia.

Exhibit 237-77-69: The Gloves and Masks

6. The intensely tacky Cult of Cuckle-man, woke-robo-male, who is readily subordinated by the whims, side-eyes, and general majesty of one's female partner as she sits there before the world, issuing weird silent orders on her husband's long-awaited, Big Old Night.

7. And lastly, bc i dont feel like going on too much longer and giving it more calories or drilled-down analytical thought, Will is long rumored to be a very malleable sex-creature. Meaning Closeted, etc, which adds one other level of autonomy, or not, to this scene during which anyone familiar with staged dramas and body language can tell that CR was himself involved and seemingly, completely aware of the fact of it all being a face-slapping scene and public moment of truth-falsehood. Whose antagonist just happened to be the man who won the biggest academy award that night (for probably some intrepid work of wokeness that is completely stale and uninteresting, who really cares) and was permitted to stay the entire time, and eventually give a teary mea culpa as believable as any of his other stabz at mummery.

8. Ok one more: i'm quite sure some people who are neither bad nor uninformed would view both of the black-male participants in this tinsel-town occult psy-op as being fairly fit symbols for "house negroes" but in different genres or lanes. Equivalent to Step-and-fetchit roles throughout culture and career. In this sense, "game" or corrigible or pliable. Also let us not forget they are actors and jesters, like many other powerful personalities who occupy both the dream-world and the hardcore world of sentient human emotion and politics.

Just add one Jordan Peele and a Bill Clinton

9. Ok just one more: Now Chris Rock is on tour with Dave Chapelle, another figure of some peculiar controversy in the "alterna-C.T.-realm/community." And this tuning-fork-dinging new salvo in the melanin-negative-drama happens to come from Englande, as the two are on tour there now, what-what.



Part II of the General Commentary:

From the beginning of this Oscar's Ceremony, i vaguely and then helplessly interpreted the proceedings as drawing from a kind of "The Gloves Are Now Off" symbology. Very much in keeping with the savagery and the false, ginned up acrimony and antagonism of our fake, shifty, shitty times, when plainly neutered, milquetoast optics-insurrections are a-happening and former prime ministers are being actually murdered, and in the homeland Rushdies are being stabbed upon again and again in public, and gangs of trans-gender lunatics are permitted to surround and menace supreme court justices who are themselves rumored on the dark web to be transexual, and still other supreme court justices are found quite dead with their arms neatly arranged crossed on their chests at highly questionable getaway resorts in the desert, all alone, without their wives and families or even any chummy friends to speak or report of in newspapers and such. A period of time when congressional trains are derailed in very spooky ways, and congressmen are shot up at soft-baseball games by men with a very far-off look in their eyes, like late-stage Robin Williams.

You may well agree that shit is passing crazy and flying off the rails. Just note Charlottesville and the BLM Summer of Permitted Arson and then that horrible, horrible Insurrection of January 6, just the other day it seems like, a day that will live in various cinema verite news-reels and hack editorial pages, and in the feeble, entrained minds of about two-thirds of the rube-patsy god-damn public.

So then, part II here is unworryingly brief, and draws mostly from my notes i jotted down just yesterday, in a file on my own super-private cellular device. The notes appeared as they often do for me: in stilted bullet-point form, and like touched, inspired auto-writing, like the following. The theme which unites them all, unlike citizens of a noble republic which fought a vicious Civil War entirely over the subject of African Chattel Slavery and definitely no other concern or issue a'tall, and then again quite like citizens who finally realize their only real enemy is Legacy Monetary Power and Occult Oligarchical Rule throughout the Lie-Soaked Chapters of Disconnected History, i say the unifying theme or thesis is:

Shit is Demonstrably More Serious Now in this Age of the Gloves Being Tore Off (2022): To Wit:

1. Dutch policemen come to America for training in something? (i don't care what kind of training, my interest is in interpreting masses of tea leaves and not necessarily isolated ones, sometimes) and get shot up and killed. By black men, allegedly, reportedly, soothingly for some, surely, or just perhaps, who knows, i am just a mixed-race, unqualified prole commentator. One who instinctively feels he Knows what this incident must or likely may have been about, globally speaking, even without inquiring about granular specifics.

2. Dutch Farmers, like Canadian and American truck-drivers and food-distributors, forcefully standing up for themselves, and some of their governments just as forcefully shooting back, and freezing their finances and bank accounts. Let us pray that story number 1 isn't somehow related to story number 2, and that the USA was not teaching The Netherlands how to shoot or crack the heads of dangerous, unreasonable farmers.

3. Defenestrated Russian energy monarchs.
4. Missile-targeted, individual Ukrainian grain merchant monarchs and their wives and presumably house-plants and -pets, all dead.
5. The comely and brilliant daughter of Aleksandr Dugin, car bombed.

6. Anne Heche, car bombed. Leaves a trail of bread-crumbs leading straight into hell on earth. She gets her own Celebrity Death bullet-point.

7. Salmon Rushdie, again. Will he never die? Yet another god-damned university or Vanguard Think-Tank-sponsored event. Has deft, apocalyptic, geo-political overtones.

8. Them Georgia Guidestones getting bombed and very expediently swept into the trashbin of news-speak history.

9. Celebrity Deaths? Yes, lots, including the Baddest Ever, so to speak, Bill Russell.... and then Gorbachev, who represents peace and formal attempts at dialing down needless MIC war economies and institutional psychopathies. Didn't Jane Fonda, James Franco, Daniel Craig and The Queen all just die?

10. The orchestrated and unnecessary near-murder of the world economy and the clinging livelihoods of the world's seriously poor and already hungry, which inhuman war crime we call The Pandemic. Coronavarrus was always about What is Coming and Installing preliminary systems of control that are very creepy and evil for their breadth and permanence, and their effects on bio-autonomy and freedom of human movement, altogether, imho. It is what it will be.

11. The coming food production and distribution crises, a huge part of which is the obvious war crimes/Arson we see in the many food production and distribution center fires in America. And elsewhere, i assume and iirc.

12. The current VP and former President of Argentina, "Kirchener" !!! being given the sort of very eloquent, up close message that former US Potus Jimmy Carter once received in 1979.


13. I believe i've already mentioned above somewhere the BLM/Antifa/Proudboy matrices of ginned-up or less than totally authentic, dialectical crowd control developments of recent years. Permitted and for some, profitable, arson; very shady movement organizers/agents provocateurs who can be used thereafter as news-story chaff and material for further Public Acrimony Ops. Here and there an honorable member of these controlled ops groups seems to wind up shot dead or burned in a car, etc.


14. The brazen calypso-king and astronaut, Jeff Bezos, goading many of the more avid fans of the Tolkien Lifestyle Choice and Universe with the precious, ultra-wokist character re-evaluations of his LOTR "passion project." See original bullet point 1, of part I.

One Marketplace To Rule Them All and in The Darkness, Blind Them

Addendum, 15: Right, i forgot about Biden's strange and demonic, semi-fascist speech and double-down oratory. But i've come back to include this bit of topical, scandalous brinksmanship.

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O where o where has My Little Lamb Gone

Recently I was tasked with an enormous responsibility. That is, to accept those of my fellow citizens who are sick, mental cave-dwellers for who and what they are. To not be annoyed and spiritually troubled by their meager, haplessly downloaded, boil-covered personalities. Or by their politics which are more like antics, and performative, based on an idiot's incomprehension of propaganda directives doubling as "news" and "science," and on a childish but no less formally state-engineered lust for smashing the damn hell out of the people on the other side, with its inferior politics and morality, then dancing and posting on their destroyed, canceled, ugly bodies and wombs.

This newfound forbearance and acceptance of mine didn’t take a word or command from any God or their Vicar for me to adopt. I simply realized it was time and I challenged myself. Truly, I had become so drenched by the insanity of the modern collapse of so-called civilization, especially the tidal wave of this late, Great Reset/Plague Roll-out/Global Krakenist's War on the Credulous and Co-Morbid, and by the fierce, dispiriting cultural and filial warfare it spawned---tensions that so suspiciously resemble the divide and conquer methods of the largely imaginary but obviously goaded racial and gender-sexual tensions of my contemporary America---that i like to threw my hands up and went dripping back to the drawing and ouija boards, altogether. A kind of spiritual great reset.

Way down in my lofty but anxious, medicated, probably now pensionless soul, I said, "Anita, there is little to be done about this dreadful situation, as far as you're concerned. Lookahere at this wasteland of infirm, compromised hominids armed 24-7-365 with fantastic communications technology and not a clue how to use any of it properly. When what the world needs most is unvarnished truth, and objective, digitally enabled and enhanced forms of research, and some intersectional dialogue as well as communicating. The obscene but somehow normalized ironies all by themselves threaten to end humanity and your own precious peace of mind. Very young children are forming BDSM clubs and coming up with their very own sexual sub-groups and nomenclature. Members of fraternities and sororities now look almost like everyone else, except for the arrogant bloodlust in their eyes which is difficult to fake without a legacy of some kind. Just get on with being a hermit and a predictable vanilla sex-addict, and trying desperately to reconcile these two things."

(Junior is the defiant one in the diaper)

All of their stupid and rubbishy degenerate nonsense, their pandering, their flimsy ideological grand-standing was now to be overlooked, and just plundered for its wisdom. Plundered sensibly for its wisdom. Even the tendency of white people to appropriate so much of what they perceive as black culture, i'll now try to regard as somehow dignified and even charitable: a sign of deep, authentic respect.

We must accept these rotting, dismal conditions of the putrefying material world, like good and dreamless followers of The Buddha. We should accept the seeping mess that people have made of their own individual destinies, as symbols of The Great Work, in minutiae. What did you expect, Anita? These dim motherfuckers believed in The Ogre, Bin Laden, and in the Moonshot Optics Hoodwinking of 1969, and Kobe Bryant's sincerity, as well as the kabalistic numero-logy of wondrously coincidental dire emergencies, and how this last logic does not under any circumstances relate to collapsible skyscrapers or 15 NSA anti-terrorism drills on the Day of The Tragic Events, after all. Just go on now and heave those ideas into the maw of Google if you don't believe it and are having fantasies of canceling me or getting me fired, as if the information has not already been scrubbed or completely debunked by Bill Nye, and Snopes, and Vanity Fair, and The Atlantic Monthly, and your wise old mom, and the other club- and kennel-members.

After all, we can't reasonably expect blood from stones, unless they are African diamonds, or coltan, etc. And it never rains pennies from heaven, and there are very few super-heroes who go unhomicided for their deeds. Even Charlie "Yardbird" Parker was probably murdered by mafia-type assets of the occult dynasties of the Euro-mesopotamian regions, after all, and Hendrix, besides, and Sam Cooke, and so many, many others, including some very talented and culturally significant, resonant wypipo.

 

Junior is the one with the hair, sort of chemically serene countenance, graphics t-shirt, framed and boyish martial fantasy posters, infantile plush decorations, and Oedipal desire to fuck his own mother, possibly. And now that we've reached the end of this exercise in harmless satire, i shall say sincerely that i believe the January Sixth Insarreckshun has all the hallmarks of a Psy-op and is quite canned and stinky, from top to bottom, (including this shabby moral drama of the Reffits, perhaps, with its totally indelicate notes of subduing family loyalties to those of The State) and i will have you know that i researched the whole thoroughly videotaped Optics-Phantasmagoria of that day extensively, from my catbird seat on my beloved internet. Hours upon hours upon hours of scanning, reading, ratiocination, and video evidence-watching. Even though it was so bloody obvious what that day was about, obvious on the day itself, in fullest real-time. Yes i researched it comprehensively on the internet, which is a fast-dwindling source of information, insofar as the ease of accessing good data, because we are near the end of many of our best, good things, and maybe of objective reason and forbearance.

 

 

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poem about mass gatherings und mass subordination

 

tharz a puhticula redolence

over all the voild,

the odor of a growing margin of

non-margarine peeple

being forced all at once

by monstruss obfuscations

und coercive perradom shifts,

forced to Be Fucking Right,

Once A-fukn-gain,

before und then, even moreso, after the fact

und in this puhticula

case of bio-autonomy

und universally sober, serious political feelossofee,

to then Resist based on that rightness.

it's the smell of a

smelly, party-pooping minority

of peeple who both recognize that they hava choice,

und in their cases the will

und power to exercise it

----in our wealth or our security/privilege, or our childlessness, or our cognitive fitness, etc.,---

und are then

like swiss astronaut clockwork

made to feel selfish, anti-science,

cunspeeratoryull-minded, arrogant, irresponsible,

yup the whole gamut of borg-epithets...

you may recognize this stench,

of social und societal contempt,

ridicule,

censure und ostracization,

ginst those who

are simply taking a stand by not

ten-hupping right into line,

into

This Next Big Shoe of a State Queue...

ginst those who are simply in

their desire not to be treated experimentally, manipulated, and lied outright to,

Correct

---in spite of the dismal, throttled unpopularity of this awkward position---

und typically, correct not for the first time,

just as they were

when they resisted

other purnishus, even dastardly,

egregore ne'er-tuvs,

ne'er-tuvs from years past

which might in a more sensible voild

have served for others

as templates of non-conformity
und rightful non-compliance,

such as,

in no puhticulalee scientific order:

1.Darwin's rather too-tidy und -gassy philosophical near-fraud

2. the ethics und precise, material/corporate/shipping concern Involvements of the industrial chattel slavery "era"

3. the viciously pragmatic concept of original sin

4. the Stated und enshrined reasons for both voild wars of the brutal 20th century with its fine tech-advancements und eventual, deeply sincere concern for human und environmental rights, both

5. as well as other elaborate methods of well-organized population reduction and infantilization, like tap water, and fashionable campaigns of State-, Celebrity- and Corporate-encouraged sterilization, sorry i mean, gender modification

6. yes, yes, motherfucker, we refer to the gratuitous addition to public tap water a toxic chemical waste by-product of industrial processes, whose official justification is that master loves a servant with strong teeth und of course doesn't trust the servant to responsibly maintain them without being forced, achtung, achtung!

7. Just as we refer now to the practically secret use of Depleted Uranium/cancerous slag in the materiel und ordnance of a purely arbitrary und acquisitive Institution of warfare

8. the usefulness of a billion-dollar regimen for the public mind, of enervating und distracting super-hero talkies, slouching from Hollywood in an endless line of sequels und profane resurrection rituals

9. the Disney Ingenue Pipeline to Tartarus, WB, und SONY-Viacom, etc.

9. the meat-salting, odious, pederastic contours of the Pop Music und -Cultural mega-corporate Demonic Force

9. AIDS und HIV

10. Jamestown, ATL murders, und most of the rest of such flamboyant, unimaginable terrorist things

11. Vietnam und Operation Enduring Freedom, or whatever this endless war of occupation and lies is officially called these days

13. Kubrick, In General, as well as that lil-ol situation with NASA und the anglo-teutonic-zionic rocket wizards

14. varyus slippery mass shootinz

15. JFK, MLK, RFK, and so on

16. Obviously, the sordid occult mega-ritual und blood sacrifice of september eleventh, two-thousand and 1, marked by its near-mythic unimaginability, und the epic difficulty of defending against it in any way whatsoever, speaking sigh-un-tifficalee, by the Greatest Military Super-power in History (TM), even or especially when it was actively that very day Drilling against the potential of exactly that sort of hijackers gone wild und genius thing.

all thru tom, und

all over the voild,

that is the grisly smell of civilization

slow-burning

in the Occupation's cosmic burnpile,

the scent of a minority

being right again und again,

und having the courage and/or the option to resist,

und being made to suffer for

that unruly impertinence

by The Majority,

and by that peace-loving beast's

secret masters,

und public ones

Modern civilization is a quaint little country church

built atop a vast

labyrinth of mysterious,

chock-full charnel houses.

Only a handful or two of those attending the religious service

know of the labyrinth's existence,

and they are widely considered

to be insane or

unreformably cranky,

by the general lot

of true worshipers

and impious, insincere parishioners

who still agree to tithe,

alike

 

 

 

 https://www.google.com/search?q=european+and+worldwide+vaccine+protests&client=firefox-b-1-d&sxsrf=ALiCzsaonZAJW66KduYrGSt83ZspyASL2Q:1660128737033&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjewZu9jbz5AhXBEmIAHfziBB0Q_AUoAnoECAEQBA&biw=1920&bih=938&dpr=1#imgrc=kFaPC-64yg066M

 

 https://duckduckgo.com/?q=european+and+worldwide+vaccine+protests&va=b&t=hc&ia=web

Dream Analysis with Shifting Tenses, Part 1.

 

 

 

Went to my favorite iced cream parlor. Ordered my favorite iced cream sandwich, the Gorge Costanza. An A.I.-powered interface kiosk in a shimmery rainbow wig told me they only had three flavors now, new management, and no iced cream sandwiches because the term is offensive to both pagans, and of course also, in some yet to be revealed way, to the Israelites in their championing humanity and their finicky legal organizations. I experienced a self-righteous feeling of Gen-Z-tainted churlish dismay, a jerky, unfocused and scattershot, self-righteous spasm of a feeling, and meekly asked what flavors they now offered.

A tall, beefy, humanoid employee-organism dressed in sheer pink sausage skin, through which all 666 of its tattoos and metal fetish-appurtenances couldn't be unseen, by way of reply muttered in its querulous, monotone, weak-willed way, a tone seeping all the languid, irritated, pointlessly rising-pitch inflections one now expects from everyone between the ages of 7-35,

"We can now only provide "Woke-Sauce Cream," "Woke Sauce-Cream wit Sprynkles" and "Buzz Darkyear's Sleepless Snowbunny Banana Cream-pie, with Scrotal Surprise."

"What about chocolate, lol! surely you still have chocolate?" i challenged the laborer.

"Yes but it only comes swirled with vanilla."

"Why then did you just lie to me about having only 3 flavors? You have at least 5."

"Chocolate is no longer designated as a flavor, but rather, a state of mind. A sexual world-view, if you like. Besides, you live in a super-post-truth dream-world. Everything exists along a scale of suppressed desires. Trust The Science."

"Sure, sure" i said, "Give me the God-damned miscegenation sundae please. I'm definitely not an independent thinker."

"Do you want Sprinklz?"

 

 

...Then i wait the customary 30-plus minutes for the treat to be produced, customary because the attendant is and forever will be, as indicated earlier, of one of the more recent, obliviously lethargic, fastidiously unhelpful generations, who believe in their tiny, shriveled, negated hearts that to be polite or friendly or mildly effective at their jobs are each telltale signs of weakness and white privilege. It gives me the iced cream as it bores lazily left through me with its glazed, anemic gaze, then returns to caressing some kind of scrying mirror or communications gadget installed in its forearm, and connected by medical-grade tubing to its fluffy belly. The tubing courses with an evil black goo. The goo contains glitter.

I pay One Billion digi-creds to the furtive yet still painfully slow-moving, dead-eyed baphomet creature and turn to leave. "Come back here. I forgot to give you your free brick. The iced cream comes with a brick." It had just spontaneously appeared in its giant, puffy, genetically modified hand.

(aghast:) "Where the fuck did that brick come from?!"

"They just pop in from out of nowhere. Nobody knows. But they're real. It works fine."

The haughty but distracted and dropsical mesomorph handed me the revolutionary concretion, to go along with my randy confection. Later that somnambulatory afternoon i was attacked by a pack of huge mongrel university students, also clearly genetically modified. One of them was literally just a giant trigger made of tattooed flesh, riding a motorized scooter. University students all only come in one size now: too fucking large. All that hulking lack of promise in the service of an uncreative narcissism is frightening. They were all chanting something about long rifles as they hurt and beat me with (admittedly fashionable) backpacks bulging with absolutely nothing useful, and jabbed me with hypodermic needles full of mysterious, gene-tamperin inoculation top-offs. One of the gang had a stubby little rifle---no bigger than a pistol with a very large clip, really, of the kind readily available out here in these streets teeming with the endless products of prosperous arms manufacturers who also make bullets for the armies, etc, and which would probably be quite effective for a mass shooting if we are dealing in truths and physics here---yes a cute little rifle that shot magical bricks which could only harm fuckin-wypipo and black-owned businesses. I was badly half-wounded, thanks to the unwashed 1960's-era Californian miscegenation of my parents. Great, fearsome students of various creamy and beige colors lashed, pounded and throttled me; the mob included one chunky, token white girl in garish athletic gear; each of them had a comfort chimera trained to attack penises and redirect the Male Gaze.

This entire deserved come-uppance of mine occurred on campus, and, as i would discover, only because i had been indulging in my stupid habit of whistling be-bop-inspired improvisations with my mouth, lips, and pretty, pink little tongue, like a 4-year old geisha's.

The throng of mongrel matriculates heard me whistling all those annoying, outmoded eighth-notes, and they immediately set upon me, chirp-braying,

"The only people who whistle are old fuckin-wypipo!"

I dodge the first blows and feeble tautologies but an armadillo-rabbit manages to seize my groin. I shriek, but certainly Not like a little Anglo or Ashkenazi girl who had been raised in privilege but who still had managed to develop delusional and toxic political beliefs, then i manage to cry out,

"That is categorically untrue! And my whistling is inspired by authentic Negro cultural artifacts! I watched the entire, questionable Buffalo-Tops massacre snuff film bc i was determined to unflinchingly confront my white privilege!"

But the Kultural Revolution was on and nothing could stop it.

The leader, a lumbering, sexless, aderall-powered creature of indescribable sleeplessness and attention to generality, bellows "We know and understand that black people have never in many decades been heard to whistle, whistle Anything at all. Have you ever heard a black person whistle?! Ipso Facto, you're old and white and are super-overdue for a beating, i mean a beatdown, for a wee bit of reversal. Plus you have just openly admitted to Kultural Appropriation. We have a way of dealing with that particular crime." (Cackling theatrically)

And it was true. I silently concede that not since the vile sell-outs, Uncle Remus and Bobby McFerrin, (who preceded these fierce revolutionaries by at least 20 years and are therefore obsolete) had I heard a single black person whistling, probably because as we all now have learned and understood, they have literally Nothing to be happy about except for their steadily increasing prospects of inter-racial unions, and their newfound, endless supply of magical bricks. I curl up into a ball and accept my vicious beating, hopeful that the results will show up on the next refresh of my SCS. (Social Credit Score)

Nearby, a Posterity of campus police officers discussed sports and placed bets on how long my re-education would take. I caught the eye of one of them and winked at her, as if to say, "Obviously I deserved this, clearly I was not standing in a safe space."

The officer winked back, as if to imply, "You ain't just whistling Dixie, child." Instantly the token white girl, who because of a recent update to her neural link was now psychic, broke from the pack of dour, gloomy, and contrarian activists and with a terrible swooshing of limbs headed for the police-woman to avenge the racist micro-aggression of thought-terminology.

It was there, beneath the tutelage of the rest of the play-university vanguard, my junk torn apart by parrot-ferrets, armadillo-rabbits, and sugar glider-rats, that i ....

(You see, it takes QUITE A WHILE for an unpublishable writer as serious as me to decide on an adverb or the most immaculate syntax)

that i...mentally! engineered this trenchant, revolutionary-minded poem, with embedded links: (Clears throat)

 

 

THIS CRAY-CRAY WORLD

Has sets of cabinets
And flights of stairs
And closets of fancy items
And whole wrecked trains
Of government ministers
in drag
and black-face

It has sturdy things
We point to all the time
in our search for reason, guided by
The Science
and the academicians
and the comfy tautologists in
coats of super-severe
Whyte..

But then,
seeming to cover everything,
there is a vague,
webby 
Madness
And
Murderlust,
And an even more
organized bloodthirst
Than that…
There is always the greater
Violence
Of entrained crowds
Of poorly rested,
And even more poorly reared youths,
Youths themselves
reared by the infantilized,
By callow,
mind-controlled, thought-po-po'd parents...

"parents" whose highest ambition is to remain young forever,
while becoming rich,
and staying abreast of all current african-american slang

dumb, dumb parents,
in whom the mental lethargy
and moral turpy-tood are
deep, and thick..
filthy lethal parents,
these, the proximate biological points of origin for
these packs of rabid ideologues
then scooted ruthlessly into
this crazy bordello-world to be
raised by the matrix of internet, propaganda, and
hideous, occulted social engineering schemes
and hoaxes,
ideologues addicted to themselves,
with I-phones for hands,
waiting, waiting
in the wings,
with genetically modified
quick-twitch muscles
and index fingers
that swipe
and blast
with frenzied impotence
and the energy
of various forms of unlimited,
legal speed...

and here now,
at the green screen
of all ends,
i give to you
the Golden Chalice of Starbucks Coffee,
the Children's Edition, with a squirt of
Puberty Blocker,
and as well, here, once more,

is my..

we know and understand as we thrust unseemly

in your direction...

i say yet again,

because we are all such proud and
spicy, self-pimping little IG sex-workers, after all,

here we present for you

my cashapp handle:

$natteaze

and here too is my Venmo:

@natteaze

 

and my OF:

 

Buzz Darkyear's Delitez

 

 

How Dare Ye tell me how to raise my Baphomet

Today we learnded about Psychedelic Mushrooms and the Apple Juice tasted funny

Geld the Guns Away

 

 

 

It’s not really like me to 

take to the internet with forceful statements of purpose, 

or to act like I’ve had an original political thought, 

or even a series of borrowed, learned thought-kernels which might 

eventually through gymnastics 

and total moral earnestness,

form a coherent and valid, 

singular thought 

worth pronouncing online, for all time. 

 

But it Just occurred to me 

that we could now…yes we have it within 

our power and political Will to right now

End all Rape 

and therefore a Significant Percentage of 

Unwanted Pregnancies 

if we 

 

only 

 

Chopped or Chipped

 

All of the Penises of Men 

and also Teen-aged

And even many of these astonishingly well- and early-developed Adolescent Males,
fond as they and their parents are of flavorful and tasty growth hormones. 

 

If we don’t remove the penises at their offending root of origin, then possibly we could put them behind some kind of state-supervised Firewall, dependent on a telemetric chip survey of Ruddy Flag Laws, and of the Mental Illness or Fitness of the male wishing to use the often so despicable penis.

 

Men do not rape or impregnate Women:
Penises rape or impregnate Women.

 

I’m dead-ass and definitely ngl about this, frfr. If I’m being honest. Facts. No Cap. It is lit, on the strength, and my word is bond, and I think we can do this if we lean into it and strike at the very essence of The Patriarchy which is/are the Obelisks and the all-male priesthoods, but definitely not the Pro Sports Leagues or Rule by Bloodline Military Juntas and Socio-Political Clubs who have Kept Arcane Magical-Technological Secrets as to Separate, Wondrous and General Cosmologies, or else How do they rig the very Physics of the precious sports-ball games, or fake all the reality events, with their occasionally convincing video footage and highly evaporable Pillarmids? Bc if they were to rely merely on these legions of tearless, hollow, gibbering, bribe-gobbling potential crisis actors then it would all come crumbling down sooner than later.

 

No, I'm kidding: I know each of these bereaved relatives 

and agreeable witnesses 

is every bit as real as Anderson Cooper. 

 

No more long, long guns,

no more spastic would-be mothers

with a strangely regular sniffing problem,

 

or perhaps a cold in late Texas May,

 

a sniffing problem 

but not from crying,

and with a strange jerky frantic demeanor

that i recognized within 7 seconds from 

my time spent in greyhound bus station environments,

obvious even before the sniffing came on

and the emphatic, seemingly scheduled railing

against those buffoonish, cowardly,

clearly hung out to dry Local Cops,

now even more clearly in need

of federalization,

no more sad mothers and fathers with eyes that if not

dedicated to avoiding those

of both the grim CNN correspondent

and the camera,

are somehow nestled behind sunglasses,

it is a new day,

with a turbid timeline,

and no coroners or gurneys in sight,

and very hasty pudding tweets 

put out by the school district and 

police admins alike,

that are then utterly revised and contradicted,

and of course,

there'll be plenty of money and 

viciously ex post facto-apparent back-stories

of Rage but No Motive,

yep plenty of cash for 

the maniac temporary employees of Wendy's

who had only recently got visited by 8 local cops

for a surely minor domestic incident

with his mama,

thousands in cash

for to help them

buy long rifles

and plenty-ammo

and ballistic clothing...

 

A change is gonna come,

Now send out the prime doddering geezer

to maunder painfully

about Carnage again,

and mumble,

and flap his frail hands 

over the land in

a plea for...what's the word?...enough!

whatever you do,

do not watch the entire unedited 

twitchy live-stream footage from the

other one in Buffalo

if you want complacent dreams 

of believable 

helter skelter

public race-war slaughter,

for it is indeed a very problematic

Movie.

and now,

as we all stampede dutifully

to the unlocked entrances,

away from all the unpredictable death

at the unitarian church, and synagogue, and the school,

hospital and post office..

but Never Simply in the street or at a god-damn mall,

unless it's a mall in Africa

owned by familiar real estate developers

who also owned crucial property 20 or so years ago in Manhattan,

and Never at the home or favorite 

dining spot of the sort of "high value targets" 

which the manifestos often seem to 

prescribe as the problem, 

as we gtfo of here

in our mindless, impressionable terror,

please consider pausing by the

virtual donation bin,

if you'd like to support a 

struggling thespian

performance artist, 

 

and here is my cashapp handle:

$natteaze

 

and here is my  Venmo: 

 

 @natteaze

 

i will be resigned but still contemptuous for cash 

Finders, Keepers