pro licks....
Current mood: voluminous

I just want everyone to know that i called cliche from the get go.....


You know, people are always stopping me on the street and saying to me, "Cordell, what is the future you see? What is your impression of where our great country is headed? What are your thoughts concerning this upcoming election, now that we as nation have basically allowed the congressional equivalent to loaning five hundred dollars to a friend so he doesnt get his kness broken to be perpetrated on the country?". Now lets be fair. I usually follow this line of questioning up with a bit of an incredulous glare, one obviously a result of surprise at their knowledge of my kind of  name, and a quick glance around for something blunt to strike out at this mystery inquisitor with. Its right about then that i remember i probably made them up to give myself the impression that someone actually gives an infuriatingly vague smoke monsters ass about my opinion. As to what i would actually say to someone who asked me a question similar to one posed by my imaginary fan, it would probably come spewing out as follows...



It seems to me that we seem to be just a hopskippin and a jumpin down the yellow brick road towards damnation and not a one of us seems to be aware that not a one of us has the heart nor infamous courage needed to confront the man, the men, the machine behind the curtain. It seems that sometime oh so very very soon we are going to laying down on our cots, cheap cup, the cardboard kind, in one hand, and a pill in the other, accepting our fates with smiles to spare while the rest of the world tries to pretend they didnt see it coming, or better, turns as blind an eye as we've granted to all international matters that actually did, that actually do. This country is being purposefully and calculatingly fleeced, a flick of a pen the nail in the coffin that it appears that we're just begging for, like a leather clad cad begging for his mistress to show him the only kind of affection she knows how to lend, her only love the scream of the helpless, this is what we've allowed ourselves to become.Submissive.Weak. Unwilling to rise up off of our heavy haunches and bear the arms we are still able to bear,to raise our voices against a power that needs, nay, deserves our fury, deserves our fire, deserves nothing less than a frenzy, a fight to the very last.Think of everything you hold dear, from your body to your earnings to your children to the very life you cling  so desperately to, to every single thing you were raised to believe in, even if it was nothing, even if it were nothing because at least you had the right to believe in it. Our freedom is an illusion.That we have the right to protest does not our liberty automatically guarantee. That we are granted that right by those that we rally against is a clear indication that we are, in fact, not free at all. We lend ourselves the delusion that we have some say now that we have an infinite number of web sites devoted to the idea that our opinions mean something, that somehow with all of this awareness, we can actually make a difference,that without ever stepping foot on tainted soil or looking the helpless in the eye you can somehow have an impact, make life better for those who aren't even aware that the word "better" exists. Never is any heed paid to the fact that for all the virtual vitriol being spewed all over the inter web, the bad men keep on being bad and the do-gooders keep on pretending they're doing any good. They own nations. They own people. They own institutions. They own you and they most certainly own me. You have nothing that is not granted you, nothing that is truly yours, nothing that is anything more than a slavery subsidy, an extension of the financial leash you and many like you so foolishly let, with smiles to spare im sure, be wrapped around your throats.

It is in these last moments of freedom where your expression of it is so important. As if it was never yours to begin with,hold onto your opinion as if it could be ripped from your grasp at any moment, for there are those, at this moment, laying the foundation for just such a scenario, a scene where the truth is torn scratching and screaming from those who bear its mark, where the fires of those proclamations will stain the sky black. The world the world seems to want is one where the words of man as anything more than an extension of the new gods golden plan will be the stuff of legend, of a morbid mythology, the stories the elderly ask permission to tell the newly minted youth, the fables as fact, the truth the product of the powers that be.

I hope nobody reading this is under the impression that im here to offer any solutions, any suggestion of any sort of social salvo, for i have none. None that involve anything less than a complete dismantling of the entire capitalist infrastructure and a complete overhaul of our understanding of resource depletion in regards to overpopulation.That we,and i mean we, because they certainly meant we, did not raise a single not a single fucking word,did not set a single building on fire, did not storm the halls of congress as they decided whether or not to make us pay for their obscenely inappropriate and downright insulting handling of the barely there financial stability of this country is a clear indication that the very lot of you, and that now by default includes me, are ready ,steady and willing to be led to your doom by the devils delegates.
As for me, you ask? I like to think I'm a smidgens bit aware of how this ridiculousness will play out and find that there is a certain comfort in my ability to more or less guess what's coming. There is consolation in the knowledge that if things keep going to way they seem to be going, I wont have to deal with all that pesky regret anymore, not when the button pushers get busy.

I'm done now....



j

Currently listening : Fantasma By Cornelius Release date: 1998-03-24

12:00 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

smut.....
Current mood: needs me some elbow room...

no need to take it personally kids....


No
No
Theres no way
No

What do you mean
No
Why No
I dont understand what your deal is

My deal
My
i dont want the responsiblity
like you have some grip
some mature grasp of the ramifications

Responsiblity
seriously
you
please
get a grip on your importance
im not asking you to take responsibility
for
anything
im just
giving it to you

just like that
arent you all grown up now
just handing it out
to the most qualified of stock
how generous of you
how empowering

Tell me something

What

is there a reason
a purpose in your quest
to burn every bridge
you've ever crossed
or
do you just get off
watching the fire

i thinking maybe
that maybe
you're being a bit
over dramatic
but if you are going up
in flames
ill be happy to stand back
and cheer you along

theres something very wrong with you

yeah
how fucking clinical of you
look at you
medically presumptuous as well
let me get you
a cookie
and this gold star
for the effort

Words fail me

doubt that

fuck you

right back 'atcha


*crackle*


j

Currently listening : Homogenic By Björk Release date: 1997-09-23

4:26 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

tussis...
Current mood: flickering a little bit...

*cough*



Happy belated really shitty excuse to destroy a nation and its people day.....




Ive gotta say, man and lady, that it has been a bad couple of months for me to have decided to take a step back, a sojourn of sorts, from my stepping stone, my soap box...

For starters, we've now found ourselves in dangerous proximity to a future in which what appears to be a stroke ridden crypt keeper with the intellectual capacity of a downs-ridden pelican will have found himself with the keys to the castle, with power over the palace proper. This man will fail you, ladies and gentlemen, and he will fail you catastrophically. He will burn the world entire so that his name can finally be carved into the walls of history. As his decision making skills weren't questionable enough, he has chosen as his charge what appears to be a feeble attempt to shovel up the vagina vote, a move most should find offensive, but is appearing to actually work.Just you wait, wavering white women, just you wait and see how Palin sets the clock back on you a good hundred and fifty years. Wait until you're the one in the emergency room with the scent of violation on your skin and a judgemental nurse refusing you treatment and passing you off like a tainted hot potato. All of this merely because,based on her obviously egregious interpretation of what i would call a pretty straightforward allegory, her good pal JC seems to thinks it wrong to help the helpless. Boy you sure are going to be kicking yourselves then...

Which brings me to the Department of Health and Human Services. In short time now, as a result of what has got to be an example of some horrific oversight on the part of gods quality control people, it will be a medical practitioners right to deny you contraceptive services based on some sort of bullshit personal moral imperative, faith based or not.That this barbarism is occurring in this ,our supposedly magnificent modern age, is a testament to how far we've allowed ourselves to pretend we've come and about how little actual progress has been made in the field of equality for those that would give us this life, our daily light.It has become damn near a crime to be in possession of a vagina and yet that which springs forth from it is given almost a saints pass in conversation, as if every fetus full to the brim with potential is actually going to fulfill it. Which is a delusion of course. The cold cruel reality of the situation is that for all the effort you are putting into saving that child, none of which will be put to the actual raising of that child, mind you, but for all that exertion, your reward some twenty years down the road is going to be putting change in the hands of a barren man thats found his warm spot for the night,another wasted stain on a citys sidewalk, a precious life you say, a life better off having never begun i say in return, a life that would have been better off just being flushed down the goddamn toilet.

*insert segue way here*

In yet another of the progression of lifes attempts to completely undermine the smatterings of joy i like to think i experienced as a child, it would appear as if the older model me isn't too impressed with modern animal imprisonment technology.I was thinking of nothing but good times,with beer and beasts to spare and what i was left with was the understanding that if it hadn't been for the alcohol, i would have most likely blown a gasket and set about in equal parts weeping and wailing. We are on the event horizon of another world war, there is devastation in the streets,and there is the distinct possibility that we are going to have to endure at least three more Dane Cook movies before he gets the hint, all of this and all i can think of is a killer caged, a creature captured and stripped of it proper purpose, skinned of its souls greatest desires. It is this now more embittered battle scarred copy of my mind that views these entertainments as nothing more than yet another extension of mans perpetual need to take that which is strong, which is powerful, that which poses even a smidgens threat to his precious vanity, and put forth the effort of gods in order to find it in no more a position of power than the bottom of his boot. He tears a hole in the center of it, letting all that was good and righteous in it drain to the floor, its essence broken, its spirit slowly circling a drain into which all thats left of wonder slides into oblivion.To instill weakness, to steal the will of the willful, that is mans motto, his malevolent modus operandi and it is in the bestial big house where his motivations are most obvious, where he lays his sickness bare.As he is with great beasts, so is he with the lowest of our kind, with the foreign, with the strange, with those he keeps under vigilant watch and ward, fear and funds alike the means by which we relinquish not only our humanity, but the inherent indelible ties to our brethren in the jungles, in the deserts, even in the sea, all into the cages of those who collect such things such as these.


*sputter*



j






On a lighter note, its nice to see Robert Downey Jr. really back into the groove. Soloist trailer. Go. Now.

Currently listening : Ghosts I - IV By Nine Inch Nails Release date: 2008-04-08

7:24 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

middling....
Current mood: like another exhibition for the atrocity inclined.

Halfway....

the liquescent line showed halfway...

Half empty or half full, it didnt matter. What did matter was that he was halfway to where he wanted to be, not to be mistaken with anywhere anyone necessarily needs to be or should ever really strive to be, but regardless, he was certainly on his way there. Pouring over an obscene aggregation of  notebooks, scouring line after line, looking for something he knew wasnt go to be there, some validation, some reassurance he knows he never recorded. Some record of his affectation for the woman this evenings drunken delirium is dedicated to, some mild suggestion that he actually cared for this ingenue instead of held her captive in his skewed little reality,his own chimera for the modern masochist. He reads, he tries to read, he sees lines of sodden ink, these minor synaptic connections the only lasting impression of a life that never strove to make one.

This is useless, he says to no one in particular maybe save for the unspeaking beast that prowls round his quarters. That he gleans no epiphanous revelation from this is telling, for this is a lesson even a decent fool learns early on.He grabs the bottle as if he means to discipline it, as if it means him great harm and he will be damned if he allows even but one scratch. It will not break in his hand, though, not under his watch.. It will never get that far. It means too much to him. His intent is merely to drain it to the very core, to the very apex of its purpose. It, like him, seemed much like the vessel begging to take a couple of steps backwards, to play lets play pretend and try to be reborn in a place that they should know wasn't as easy as their nostalgia seems to want them to think, to when it was nice to pretend that there was a purpose to this. Back to before they were both drained of what made them relevant in the first place. They both feel foolish. They both put more stock in the attention that was being showered upon them, as if there weren't millions of people, millions of products just like them, waiting patiently for their chance to be devoured. Even the child with his blissful myopia knows never to trust his eyes and more importantly, his heart.

He'll be inspired now, though, yes oh yes, he knows this from the diluted rage in his gut, the barely tempered fire of too much time spent here in the wastelands of a battered populace, where the weak are weaned i hear, and not enough time under the mentoring of a mild strain of sanity  All he knows is that sometime soon, he is going to collapse under the weight of his own animus over father time, the intractable sands of infinity, going to have to bear witness to his failure, complete and yes dear friends sweet and predictable, and find himself in what only those in the know truly call the bottom beloved bottom of the barrel. There will be no peace there, but it will be honest, and an honest life is all one can ask for when the good life gives you no more tools with which to find strength and solidarity than a nations best of charlatans and provocateurs....


j

Currently watching : Arthur Rubinstein Plays Chopin and Rachmaninov Release date: 2004-05-25

4:57 PM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

a musing
Current mood: a few steps short of imaginary...

Any relation to anyone living or deceased, or was once living and is now deceased and is shambling along on a never ending quest for sweet, nourishing brain flesh, is entirely coincidental...

This is the part of the story where our protagonist finds himself staring at a bottle of mid-shelf brandy, holding it by the neck, wondering what kind of slippery slope is implied by his grip, what kind of future is implied by his grin. This is the part of the story that everyone knows, where the head and the heart, that inglorious bastard, turn on our man and against all reasonable rational workings, his own to be sure, he finds himself begging for oblivion, wishing for someone to take that last step for him so he can just sit back and enjoy the ride.This is the part the part of the story where our hero cries.
Back against the splintered frame, staring through blood shot eyes, an unwavering solid mass, his focus only on the unchanging space in his direct line of sight, he cries. For days, for maybe even weeks he cries. About everything.About nothing. About him.About her.About them. About a future that seems like the aberrations  of a wayward and broken man, the idealized hasn't happeneds of a person prone to delusions of ascension, who thought he would acquire happiness when the bad man had no recourse but to walk away.
This is the part of the story where our hero realizes that he was never good enough...
Not good enough for the woman who sleeps in his bed....
Not good enough for the woman who said she'd always leave room in hers for him...
He want even good enough for his whore, he thinks, as he stares hard at that bottle, a fiery gaze full to the brim with intent, its implication obvious, inexorable...

This is the part of the story where our man starts to become a little bit unglued.....

Currently listening : Boys for Pele By Tori Amos Release date: 1996-01-23

9:48 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

expiration date part 2
Current mood: blank

So it has passed....

My camera finally,with an impeccable sense of timing mind you, arrived fashionably late at my mothers doorstepa mere two days after i stepped foot back here in the cirrhosis scarred liver of the midwest , this little chunk of homegenized paradise i call home. It is now en route, bound on a mission pure to give meaning to a lonely plastic wrapped memory card....


As promised, the rest of the images from my minor escape...




in passing...



what i think of when i think of the head of a pin...



abode...



baby got locked...



side note....



im such a.....



beach bunny cinderella got herself lost in the woods....



these kids and their accumulation disease....



the subtext is the fun part....
swelling pride for the accomplishments of the blood....




detritus...



laying low...



delightfully appropiate...



yeah....they love me unconditionally....why?



in the thick of it....



personally, i like the other one, but as a slave to popular opinion, i begrudgingly present the goofy face less version.....


well there you have it, lady and guy.....

the only record i have of a life once lived, all silent and static like a good memory should be....

and here we.......go....


j

Currently playing : Mario Kart: Double Dash Release date: 2003-11-18

6:16 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

expiration date part 1
Current mood: caffeinated....

There is no reason for a business,online or not,to be as incompetant as Buy.com has so succinctly proven themselves to be in the last two weeks, happily taking my money for a camera and the accompanying memory card, plus the extra cash for expidited shipping, yet,in a audacious move deserving of a kick to the shins, sending only the memory card, which,as im sure you can imagine, does me absolutely no good. They attribute the delay in shipping to a "malfunction in the fulfilment process", which basically means that the process by which my money hits their account works just fine. Its that whole actually sending me what i paid for in a relatively speedy matter that get their gears all mucked up. The part that bothers me more than just about anything is that ive had dealings with these guys before and it was more than satisfactory, leaving me with that sinking feeling one gets after a really shitty second date.You know the one. Where the girl talks about how her fantasy involves condiments and pictures with a equine theme.

So i stole my grandfathers camera....
this is the result....for better or worse....to be divided up into a couple of these...



its a...well...its a sunset....obviously.....do you need more than that?



I believe rednecks call it a "crick"...




on airs id say...



for some reason, David Lynch comes to mind....



42...



Zordo....



guardian of the gates and eater of worlds...



before Zordo there were my thighs...



goofy fucking faces...



see...still making goofy fucking faces...



what i think is a rather brilliant logo....



aforementioned logo in context...



its pretty....thats about it...



same curse i suppose....



apparently the world is big enough for more than one shitty hotdog related pun...
side note...if you pay more than two-two fifty at the most for a hot dog, you're a twat...



i prefer it when the jokes write themselves...




that strange feeling you've got....yeah...thats your soul he's raping....gender issues aside....




thats right...back off, im flailing..
i could not get a clear picture of this for the life of me...



look up....obviously...



my version of a zen garden....



zen garden got nothin on a decent bottle of wine....



thats right Suzie.....we're gay....



OshKosh had a cash cow and didnt even know it.....



Well thats just about it for the time being.....you might be wondering, "Jason, you're by a frakkin beach....where the hell are the snaps of those infinite shores you spoke so pretentiously of before?". Well i assure you, all two and a half of you, that im getting on it and would appreciate if you would stop pressuring me. If you loved me, you would wait until im ready....

j


blanket baby
sat back
poor jack
got his rhythm
sacked...

Currently listening : Rock n Roll By John Lennon Release date: 2007-12-27

7:03 AM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

twilight incensed
Current mood: like the scenery is the only thing that changes...

Geez...

Is anyone out there under the impression that this war, this perpetual skirmish we as a nation claim to be a justified assault on the innocents of other nations, was at any time a well intentioned mission carried out in the name of goodwill and democracy? Is there a man or a woman among us who can say that they were under the perverse delusion that our young men and woman, the best cannon fodder a filthy lie can buy, were at any time commisioned to bring not violence and bloodshed, but love and benign wonder to the great heathen nations? Save for those sad souls residing far below the Mason-Dixon line, still lost in a world where lady folk are still expected to spread em and shut it and even the impression of a darker tan than usual is cause to be spit on, there should be very few of you who are still sucking on the thumb of this ignis fatuus we call a nation building policy, still staring at this mystical mirage we know only as the disease of a democracy, the illusion of such at least.Keeping this in mind, it seems a bit unreasonable that the powers that be, the men and women who have taken as their charge the truth, that malevolent bastard, have taken it upon themselves to portray themselves as absolutely surprised and unequivocally aghast at the knowledge that ohgeegolly whoa, Mr. Bush did indeed decieve the nation, did lie to the general public about the perceived threat of a Mr. Hussein and his mystical weapons, his magical distractions, all so he could lead this nations poorest and most despondent into harms way all in the name of, you know, freedom and stuff.

All of this according to a new book, a long line of those that have come out recently that make a point of the obvious mental defects of not only the supposed lord of the land, but his cronies as well, written by the big bad Bush's former press secretary, Scott McClellan. According to Mr. McClellan, Mr. Bush had a nasty habit of making decisions based on a serious and pervasive"lack of inquisitiveness and a detrimental resistance to reflection". He made decisions based merely on his gut feeling about a situation, an idea that wouldn't seem out of place on a fake news show that airs on a comedy station,but turns out to be a grievious and unforgivable error when placed in the context of an actual leadership position, one that isnt scripted, one that should be based on the actual reality of a country that has been on broken knees since the early part of this rapidily declining decade.
Taking the reins of the public podium in 2003, Mr.McClellan claims that the extent of his job resposibilities was to purposefully decieve the american press corp. and by association, the american public in regards to not only the Iraq war, but to the absolute and unforgivablely lax response to the Katrina fiasco and the undehanded machinations responsible for the outing of CIA agent Valarie Plame. It came to a point, he says, where he couldnt do it anymore. He couldnt take the pressure of being the go to guy for fairy tales and fractured facts.Seeing his decision to write a novel of his various dealings as a member of the inside track   is apparently coming as a shock to those that kept Mr. McClellan under steady employ in various positions within the Bush camp since early 1999. Karl Rove is taken aback that such a close friend, a confidant of sorts, could say such things, that this is not the Scott he knew, no sirree. That this is a sentiment shared by many a white house insider is indicitive of the absolute about face it would seem that Mr. McClellan is guilty of, as if somewhere along the line he grew weary of carrying the weight of an administrations lies on his back and made the rather admirable choice to walk away while his soul still had a pulse. What his motivations are, though, remain as mysterious as the motivations of those he so faithfully served under, for both their tunes are songs that have all been sung before, for better or for most definitely worse.


j


hey there
mister suit and tie man
you got a soul
to match that style
the devils whispers
behind a saccharine smile
or did you hide it in the back entrance
of the tenement
you've built
as a testament
to a life well spent
and if not that
then one at least well paid for

Currently listening : ’Round About Midnight By Miles Davis Release date: 2001-04-17

7:48 AM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

afternoon delight...
Current mood: desperate for air...

Dear god, it seems almost unreasonable that i haven't left my specific kind of stain on this,our shared digital carpet, in almost two months. I would be lying if i said i haven't stared at this goddamn screen time and time and yet time again, knowing what i want to say,lord knows the inspiration is there, yet not having the gusto to move those meaty little digits of mine across qwerty way.It could be said that I've run out of things to say just as easily as it could be said that i have too much and not the time nor the motivation. Maybe im under some delusion that what i have to say with this "mighty pen" of mine bears no  more value then the ramblings of some sick man borne of the ward, given a pen to merely exorcise his various demons, though the difference between myself and that sad character is minimal at best. I know not what drives me away from this, my only record of these stormy synaptic connections, what fear i find in letting loose these dusty dreams. Whatever it might be, whatever the cause, whateverwhatever.....i now find cause to let it go, let it be, let the storm settle and be on my merry way.....

A bit of a backtrack for the sake of posterity....

as most of those in the tiny little circle i call mine know, my dreams of enjoying a long and prosperous relationship with the retail sector came to a screeching and unmitigated halt on Wednesday, April the 30th at approximately 5:45 in the evening, a day that seems to me now like a faded idea of something i would recall in my later years, something that happened long ago in a time that could not possibly define me....

I have met my past in a bar room brawl and lost the fight by leaps and bounds, though id say he cheated. I'd also say i should expect nothing else as time is known to be an underhanded player....

I feel like cheap plastic down here yonder in the good ol sunshine state, melting away like that one witch that wasn't so good...



The beach ive been to here, the first one attached to an ocean that ive seen in 15 years, would throw the beach i know into a locker and leave it there to cry for its mommy....
The beach i know, the one that reeks of sewage, human and otherwise, is so limited in scale compared to the infinite grace of these sands. From infinite glass to infinite shores to an infinite horizon, i have no recourse but to stare silently ahead and accept my obvious weakness in the face of such infinite power, of such infinite strength, of such an infinite and unyielding dominion....

it is from here, in this moment of weakness, where we would do well to glimpse towards that fabled crystal palace....


j


ps.can you believe i had never read Animal Farm until this week? Delightful little fable, that one.....















and so i live out these days in the corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is only the fool who becomes something.....

Currently reading : The Jungle: The Uncensored Original Edition By Upton Sinclair

1:35 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

notes from the underpaid...
Current mood: like im trying to hold back a cough at the symphon

There is no semblance of purpose here...just scratches and open sores...

Its cute how we can so easily pronounce the name of the names we so readily pay for, but i can gander the guess that those with such disposable income would have quite the time trying to pronounce the name of the person who actually made it...

I dreamed a dream last night, but it was not the dream itself that so moves me to record its happening for i cannot actually remember the dream, as is the case with all dreams it seems, both live and those born of a slumbering soul. It was the fact that i did actually dream, as it had been too long.For too long now i have shut my eyes on the silence of the fluid darkness and woken up to the daggers of that garish sun with what felt like nary a minute in between the two, confused to be sure, and having no record of any flashes of any sort, no expansive recollection of worlds known yet unknown to reflect upon, no need to look back and comment, in some sort of psuedo-freudian fashion, on these minor insights into a consciousness i honestly know nothing about.The  fact of the matter is that there has been nothing, in this world or that, for so long that im starting to think i made the whole thing up and therefore appreciate the stimulation....

I got a rhetoric jones
like a needle per paragraph
purging the process
by which i grow weary


Christian themed summer "getaways" for the kids, these indoctrination concentration camps, are akin to the lollipop the pedophile offers the smiling child and trust, the consequences are just as grim....

I dont think there is ever going to be a time where i will feel the need to advertise the means by which i lose all motor control function....im talking to you, Guinness hoodie guy and you, really tight budweiser shirt girl....way to let everyone know what specific product you use to expedite the process by which you make horrible, life wrenching decisions....

People are always spouting off about "well gee golly ho, i gots me some experience, so pick me pick me"....I say that just because i dont roll around in the mud doesnt detract from the fact that ive got a pretty good idea about how to be a pig....

If you find yourself in times of trouble, catch a quarter and call someone who cares, cause mother mary walked away years ago....

Could it be that our increasingly declining national economic status is result of a finely tuned orchestration by some very devious but rather brilliant composers? Could it be that these tight times have been perpetrated and perpetuated for the sole purpose of granting the federal reserve, the central bank even more sway, even more tightly wound control over the kings subjects, to aid them in creating a dependent republic, one whose will is born of national decree and not self interest of any sort? Could this be how a how a man makes slaves? Yes it could be and never before in the time of man has a nation so willingly wrapped their skin in the shackles of servitude and most definitely never so much with such smiles on their faces. With so much information at our fingertips, it is unfathomable that nothing has been done to stem the flow of narcissistic nationalism that flows so steadily through the blackened veins of this country. Nay, it is unforgivable. There is a dark cloud a comin, a morbid storm is brewing just beyond the horizon and from my vantage point, that of the precarious perch at the edge of corporate collapse, i would say that ive got a pretty good view.
For the record, people have never shopped at any store ive ever seen the way that they shop at a store thats know to have a terminal illness, once word gets out of its eventual demise. This culture, this carrion capitalist system, set up straight for the sycophants, it breeds vultures and they seem to relish the role as they pick so neatly the meat from our bones as they escort us into irrelevancy.


There is something wrong with a world where we tell kids "You know what...i used to walk around a lot as a kid and i gotta tell ya....it was a bitch.....heres some shoes with wheels in them so you never have to go through what i went through....like learning how to balance myself on my feet....patience...that too".

In a related note, studies have shown that the consistent use of text messaging has a serious detrimental effect on the brain of a child....breed em stupid, keep em stupid....

Only in a country this backwards can it be a states right to take your home by force and at the same time make it a crime to be homeless.....

Not rain, not snow
no apocalyptic tendencies
can keep the vultures from their prey
look at the non breathers
lined up for the deal of the day

Im a badbad man mister mouse and yes my plans have gone awry.....

The fount of knowledge from which i so greedily slurp will soon, too soon i assume be too bitter to consume...

Ive got a static habit....

.....



j



so it would seem as if myspace’s technical group have had better things to do in the past two months than re-write the code for the music billboard feature,what seems to me like a pretty simple feature....maybe Tom should stop getting $500 blowjobs in the back of Volkswagens and get back to whipping his minions......

9:40 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment