|Happy Cinco de Mayo|
2004-05-05 18:46:43 ET
C'mon, RANT! RANT LIKE YOUR VERY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT, AS IT MAY VERY WELL! FREE-WHEELIN', SQUIRTIN' 'N OOZIN' GUT BLOWOUT!!!!! PUT SOME HIGH-OCTANE SUPER-LITERACY INTO THAT WIMP-DICK LITTLE WORKSTATION OF YOURS AND GET DOWN TO IT!!!! YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KINDA SUNDAY SCHOOL SING-ALONG? YOU WANNA BE A TOO-EARLY POTTY-TRAINED FASTIDIOUS WANNABE-BOBBIE-B'ZARRO? OF FUCKING COURSE NOT! AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! MY LEGS ARE ON FIRE! HOLD ON TO ME, I'M LEVITATING! I SET OFF FOURTEEN-HOUR ORGASMS IN OVER TWELVE HUNDRED SPECIES IN A THIRTY KILOMETER RADIUS WHEN I OPEN A CAN OF TUNA! MY LEFT BRAIN IS PLUGGED INTO THE INTERNET; MY RIGHT-BRAIN IS A GODZILLION GIGABYTE OPTICAL ARCHIVE OF EVERY CARTOON EVER PRODUCED AND YET TO BE IN THE FUTURE! I SURVIVE ON A DIET OF DIOXIN AND COCOA-PUFFS, AND WASH IT DOWN WITH CLOROX 'N TEQUILA! I LIKE MY WOMEN TWELVE AT A TIME, AND WHEN I GET THRU THEY GET BACK IN LINE! RATTLESNAKES SEE ME COMIN', THEY SHED THEIR SKINS, LUBRICATE 'EM, AND ROLL 'EM UP - AND LEAVE THE RATTLES FOR EXTRA STIMULATION! I TOOK THE MAIL-ORDER KIBOLOGY PACKAGE KIBO *DIDN'T* SEND ME, EXTRAPOLATED THE GOOD PARTS INTO A SCIENCE, AND USED THE TECHNOLOGY TO BLOW THE PUBLIC ACCESS WORKSTATION LAB OFF THE FACE OF NORTH AMERIKA! HELL, I GOT WOMEN FLOCKING IN DROVES FROM NEW YORK/BOSTON/BERKELEY WEARIN' LSD-SOAKED EDIBLE PANTIES 'N BEARING GIFTS OF SUPERCOMPUTERS AND DIRTY PAMPHLETS! THE MUTANT HORDES I SIRE FROM THESE TECHNO SHE-BITCHES ARE HOLED UP IN THE VALLEY OF LIGHT IN NORTHWESTERN ARKANSAS, WAITIN' FOR JUDGEMENT DAY OR A GOOD $1 CIGAR! I DRIVE A STEAMROLLER TO WORK; I FUEL MY ELEVATOR WITH HYDRAZINE AND LOX! MY DESK IS A FOURTH DIMENSIONAL TIME-SPACE CONTINUUM EXTENDING TO THE END OF THE UNIVERSE, AND I STILL DON'T PUNCH A TIME CLOCK! YUPPIE NEW-AGE FANATICS FROM THE YEAR 2475 ARE CHANNELLING *ME* FOR ADVICE IN LOVE, SALES, AND GOOD SEX! WHEN I FART IN THE WINTER, SKATERS FALL THRU THE FLASH-MELTED ICE! DON'T BELIEVE ME; MY WORDS ARE ALL LIES, AND ARE THE BASIS FOR ALL KNOWN MYTHOLOGIES AND PORNOGRAPHY VIGNETTES! I EAT RAZOR BLADES FOR DESSERT, AND SHIT TITANIUM RIBBONS FOR THIRD-WORLD SPACE PROJECTS! CLIVE BARKER AND STEVEN KING BROKE DOWN AN' STARTED CRYIN' AND SINGIN' NURSERY RHYMES WHEN THEY GOT A LOAD OF MY EEG'S! I STARCH MY UNDERWEAR WITH SUPERGLUE AND GROUND GLASS PARTICLES! I TWIDDLE MY TOES IN MOLTEN MAGMA AND WIGGLE MY EARS IN THE VAN ALLEN BELT! I BEAT THE HYDRA IN A STARING MATCH AND USED HER HAIR FOR FISH BAIT! I CAUGHT GODZILLA IN ONE CAST, AND THREW HIM BACK TO GO GET HIS BIG BROTHER!
2004-05-05 13:20:21 ET
So we're speeding headlong into the eco-econocataclysm, business-as-usual, corporations so big you scream "Fuck You" from the bottom of your lungs and the echo from the top of the power pyramid comes back a year later as a NOTICE OF DISHONOR OF CHECK form letter. Or no echo returns at all, and you try to scream again but the wet-thick coughs rack your chest (too much NOx from the street) and you realize that the corporate death aliens are turning our air into a hydrocarbon copy of their smog-and-CO2 atmosphere; "Boy Howdy! You can sell those humans anything! We've got 'em buying nuclear-waste fertilizer, we've got 'em buying mercury-loaded meat by-products, we've got 'em buying FEAR as an entertainment industry... We can sell them smog-making machines and ozone-wrecking machines, we sell 'em exotic cancers AND the expensive ineffective cures, we sell them brain-rotting guilt-programming on our favorite electronic drug: TV!" And the aliens LIKE television! Sure it slows a human's alpha waves and puts us in the hypnogogic state for hours on end; sure, it turns our minds into Play-Do for the mass-advertising jackals to shape into whatever tractable sheep like form pleases them. BAA! BAA! "Read my lips: No new taxes!" "This is your brain on drugs." "GE brings good things to life." And the Earth is their Third World and they've spent the past three billion years mastering the Art of Vertical Integration AND our planet is their latest levered buyout...TV is GOOD for them, that raster cutting across the phosphor puts them into disease-free ECSTASY while turning our brains to pink MUSH. So you eat some more paper because that's the only way your mind can find its original shape, and you go into the woods, knowing that those trees will only be there a few more years because the goddamn US Forest Service is selling all of the "National" forests to Mazda and Mitsubishi Bank... and subsidizing the sales with your own "no new tax" money. Yes, your brain is on that hot skillet, sizzling, turning brown around the edges, and you feel SANE for the first time in months. Because you've been getting more and more paranoid lately, haven't you? You see a dumb horror flick by a low-budget director while you're really baked and you realize it's a fucking DOCUMENTARY, not just another teen slasher product, but a last-ditch effort to wake people UP: They Live, We Sleep, OBEY, CONSUME, NO THOUGHT. You see an old friend and he has a poster that says "Paranoid? Most of your fears are real." And you really ARE paranoid, but if ever there was a time for paranoia, it is now; you watch Jolly Ollie North casually explain to Sen. Inouye his plans to suspend the Constitution, as if there even WERE a Constitution anymore, after the National Security Act. But the A gives you wisdom and comfort: YOU aren't going crazy, you're JUSTIFIED in being paranoid because it isn't paranoia, and itís being brutally REALISTIC. Land of the Free, right, we live in McSuperPower and who do you think sells this cheap plastic CRAP that TIME MAGAZINE calls "the American Dream?" George Bush? HA! He is Pure Product, he IS chicken McNuggets, he IS an expendable fuse through which the real powers dump vast energies...the Trilaterals? The Council on Foreign Relations? You don't even want to ASK about these guys, because they're the Big Boys, the Grim Secret Men in Black, and just THINKING about them draws their attention; itís like yelling HASTUR or YOG-SOTHOTH out loud, or invoking the Freedom of Information Act to see your FBI file, you just don't want to do it, if they notice you you're finished. So there are pretty vortical tracers flowing off your fingers now and you remember that death is an illusion and Mind is the fundamental ordering principle of the Universe...obvious things that everybody including you seems to forget...and the neon rainbow colors remind you of that new Floyd bootleg CD you bought from Second Coming records, GEE! How do they get all that DATA onto one spectrally chromish disk? They can store ENCYCLOPEDIAS on one of those things, and by GOD, the FBI must have thousands of pages of surveillance info on EVERY SINGLE NETTER in North America, all neatly stored and indexed, ready to be consulted when they find it necessary to send YOU to one of the FERA camps...If you say, "George Bush, ex-CIA director, was out of the loop" enough times maybe they'll take pity and only use the thorazine; if you say "Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone, murdered President Kennedy" they may even send you to Tiger Island to join up with the Death Squad Elite. You chant over and over, "Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone..." and maybe you can even convince yourself it's TRUE, but not while you're frying, because right now you're NOT asleep, you see through the NSA even if they DO own over half the Crays ever made, you see through the petty little treacheries that are sold to the public every day: Reagan and Khomeini, Bush and Noriega, goddamn GE and NBC bringing good things to life at Hanford and Pinellas, Exxon and the environment President, BP on the move, RJR and their sickeningly subliminal Smooth Character Penis Camel, the glorps at work who don't MIND toxic waste as long as it's "disposed of" in some IBM-owned Third-World country, and we BUY this shit. And above it all, you can HEAR the slack-sucking aliens laughing their ASSES off, because this invasion was so damn easy it's pathetic. "Gawd, you can sell them ANYTHING! Just last week we convinced them that a war on their own country will make them MORE FREE! This 'Freedom' product is the best scam since the $64,000 question!" Yes, Earth is the laughingstock of the galaxy, creatures in the Small Magellanic Cloud tell human jokes: "Hey Vornan-17, how many humans are buying Men-From-Planet-X brand National Security at this very moment?" "Dunno." "Three hundred million! HAW HAW HAW!" So now you're peaking, and tears are rolling down your cheeks from the relentless giggling. It really is funny after all, this "Bob"cid is the best fry you've had in years, at least the aliens haven't gotten their tentacles on the vitamin A industry; in fact they made it a felony because it makes you HUMAN again, blows their Jack-in-the-Box raster-scanned molasses lint out of your brain...it should be given away FREE on every street corner. And a Forest Ranger, wearing the official Weyerhauser smile, puts a .38 to your head and turns you off.
2004-05-04 23:11:02 ET
New pictures. This calls for a beer! . . . or something.
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