Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
How craven, venal and ridiculous is the Breast Cancer Awareness Money machine? This says it all. It is truly amazing, the extent to which people can reveal themselves to be shameless opportunists. All they see is the money; honor, integrity and sundry other qualities lie bleeding and gasping for breath in their wake. Here is yet one more chance for me to be grateful. I am not like this. I could not be like this and remain myself. Such naked greed suggests those demonstrating it might be capable of anything; recent history has shown this to be true... unfortunately.
Still that is how is comes and goes. This is the time of the death of empires. This is when the sun of progressed fortune sinks into the sea of oblivion. I can see the orange slice shimmering upon the distant waters. It is the time of the fall of collective and personal fortunes and it is to be expected that they increase in their appearances of power and gain to an absurd degree because... at the end, everything turns into a cartoon. The leaders are ridiculous. The religious leaders are posturing pederasts. The charismatic entertainers are nothing but teeth and sunglasses; just add Evian Water, or booze and barbiturates.
In times of global decline one can tell where they are by how steep the descent is at whatever point a measurement is taken. Another sure indicator is how many barbarians are already through the gate. There are all kinds of digression markers, such as the mental and physical health of the populations; take a look around. The intelligence level of the entertainments and the entertainers is a good indicator. The level of police presence, in tandem with the level of government corruption; is... (drum roll) off the charts. I could go on but you can fill in the blanks. Now that I think about it, there are a great many blanks to be filled AND they are being filled by, what else? They are being filled by the objects of desire. There is a vast and interconnected 3D printer that is set to Turbo Shake n' Bake and it is 24/7 cracking out 57 colors of day glo shit. Real shit in, de-natured and pasteurized shit out.
Anything you want goes into the hopper as raw ingredients and comes out the other end all shiny and opalescent; done up in hard plastic, shrink wrapped to where you can cut yourself and bleed to death if you're not careful. They got everything in every size and shape. They got things you can hump and things that will hump you and there are legions, legions and legions of professional voyeurs that you can hire to come in and watch you for those special youtube and Instagram moments, hashtag #humptownCharlieBrown. They got something for every need and needs that get filled before you become aware of them and then? Then you gots to have one.
You can tell it's getting close to the edge, of whatever it is getting close to the edge of, when both crime and varieties of insurrection are everywhere to be found because singular moneyed interests have hung Joe Public out to dry. Well... what do you expect? Joe Public got wet and stepped on a live wire, short circuiting his brain. It looked so much like scrambled eggs that the pathologist ordered sides of hash browns and bacon before it occurred to him that he was talking into the autopsy mike. Then the shocker! “Wait a minute, this guys not even dead.” “How can he not be dead when his brains are in the weighing pan over there?” “Well... I'm guessing he hasn't had any need for them and so it made no difference when we took it out.” Okay... that makes sense.
You can tell it's getting near the edge of whatever it is getting near the edge of when millions of people are being displaced around the world and most people don't give a shit one way or the other. You can tell it's getting there when those displaced people start getting whipped into armies by bankers looking to make a few bucks. Then they get faced off against whatever military is looking to test their new weaponry. You can tell it's about to roll over, into who knows what, when human life doesn't mean very much unless we're talking about your own.
You can tell all kinds of things, should it so happen that you care to, though most people don't. Most people are so sidetracked, so self involved, or so riveted on some trivial pursuit or another that you kind of have to hit them on the head with a piece of lumber several times to get their attention which is only going to result in, “Whut? Whut?” Whut indeed.
Armies are rising up in desolate places and marching on population zones where occupying armies protect stolen resources and applied hegemony. These armies have been cobbled together by those interests who employ the armies they fight against. Somehow this makes sense. You kind of have to be a businessman or a banker to get it. I don't. I think it's the same dynamic where Evil picks up an automatic and then shoots itself in the foot. It makes perfect sense to Evil at the time. Later on it looks like Bozo in the house! But... at the time... uh huh. This is what you get when, instead of using math as a neutral science that accurately computes whatever you're computing; should that be the effect you're after... instead of that you take the science and warp it so that it funhouse mirrors the equations the way you want them.
All of this is a product of, “where there is a will, there is a way”. This is exemplified by the Israelis, whose motto is, “If if doesn't work, use force and if that doesn't work, use more force.” However, as Lao Tzu says, “Let life ripen and fall. Will is not the way at all. Deny the Way of Life and you are dead.” Of course... you can throw immortal quotes around like Skittles at a Seahawks game and it won't be anything more than Skittles to those whose imperatives would be compromised by paying attention to them. It's like Joe Redneck at a vegetarian buffet. “Whut is this shit?”
This is why I say values are of near supernatural importance because they color and tinge every aspect of your life. If, like honky tonk sweathog, Blake Shelton at his Pizza Slut commercial, you think bacon and cheese stuffed into a crust is even better than finding Jesus in a piece of toast, it's not likely you're going to be able to see beyond your own vacuous celebrity at any point in your brief meaningless life. Good grief Visible, that's cold. Where did that come from? Don't ask me, I just got here.
Where is whatever it is that we need when we need it? That's a good question and I suspect if we can answer the first part it will be a lot easier to answer the second part because, like they say, “the hip bone's connected to the leg bone” This is why all those permaculture types and holistic heads (some portion of them anyway) are more likely to wind up among the survivors than the mindless consumers of everything that shows up in front of them; values, yet again.
I would go so far as to say one gets cosmically sorted according to what they value. Furthermore... their life adjusts itself according to the manner in which their Karma is bound to play itself out in terms of showing precisely just how much value is to be found in their values and just because it says, 'value added' on the box, that don't mean anything.
You have to know that critical mass is just about as close as close can be to taking off its clothes and dancing on the table, for however long it takes for the EMTs to show up and take it to Bellevue. They got undercover cops hanging out in the public toilets of NYC restrooms looking for guys who shake their dicks before putting it back in their pants. This is insanely ironic because in NYC, gay is the new straight. I thought it was hands off any kind of reactionary behavior all across the board, including in elementary schools and day care centers. We're talking about protected species here. The very whisper of any law enforcement censure, concerning Heather and her two daddies, prior to Heather actually showing up through immaculate adoption, is anathema and against every unwritten law in the book. The mere hint of such a thing should be enough to bring Mayor Bloomberg out in a grass skirt with holographic hypno-twirlees, eyes pinwheeling from a double dose of X. I'm guessing the Bloomster and his whole retinue of retainers were fixtures at the Limelight back in the day; usually on those alternate Saturdays when the sign outside the door said, “Closed for Kosher Black Mass. I'm guessing this means all the demons have been circumcised.
Well... I wasn't supposed to write anything again until Friday when my commute ends but for reasons unknown to me I wrote this disjointed, borderline funny load of crap. Lucky for me, I'm now done with it. One can't say the same thing about you.
End Transmission.......
