Monday, February 13, 2012

Clandestine Rogues from Vegas-7 (an excerpt)

 
S. Tokley Parey, the leader of the Rogues and a pompous ass discusses the operation with his brother-in law, who is scouting the Andromeda galaxy for possible leads: "Those wily bastards are willing to blow the entire planet up if we try the same stuff we pulled 4000 years ago.  These ain’t the same band of psychopaths we had to deal with back in the day when all their leaders wanted was to be considered Godlike in front of their people and raise monuments in their honor… nice idea, by the way convincing them that our hyperdimensional navigational/energy converter pyramids were for them…I think they were finally appeased when your kid sister Sphinxette-Anne made that strange cat-structure in the sand for ‘em….how is she, by the way – she must be in her mid 8000’s by now…  No – these humans are crazy…  They want our power so they can overrun their own people and dupe them themselves.  If no deal – well - they’ll simply blow themselves into oblivion….  Yeah – they’ve even invented a game whereby two mega-states pretend to be at odds with one-another so they can tell the people they need to amass piles of these nuclear weapons so neither side would want to strike the other.  Mad, right?  That’s what I told them, and they went ahead and actually called this ruse “MAD” – mutually assure destruction.  I told them that we wouldn’t be destroyed, because of our interdimensionality as well as global-sweeping telepathic scans, we would be on Mars within a fraction of a second of any of them thinking about ‘pulling the trigger’….  No- they kept the ruse going – I know, they tell their people to be afraid of each other so they wouldn’t have to let them know about about us?  They think pandemonium would ensue, even though we’ve been coming here for millennia…  No – these new breed of “leaders” they have are paranoid psychotics who are in fact cowardly ninnies, and they are simply afraid of losing whatever perceived power their fragile pansy egos have.  If it weren’t such a pain in the ass to get to that nice little planet outside Pliedes-1 I would say screw these rascals—I’d rather deal with amorphous slugs any day.   So, we just gave them some of our out-dated junk-tech we were going to discard into their sun anyhow.  They seem to be appeased…  How’s sis?"

Sunday, February 12, 2012

the nonchalant euthanasia of Clay Yablonsky (excerpt)

After he had spent an hour in a virtual sex simulator, he showered and went upstairs. His mother was cooking a classic eastern European stew – lots of meat, potatoes and onions. The day had come to a close, and because this was Earth Month (though voted down by the populace the thing was rammed through as Executive Order 6ff after the prior election)– no electricity was to be used by anyone (except, of course military, law enforcement, banks, and wall street) for the duration of the month - and of course the month was July so it was 31 days and usually a tad hot.)... The place was lowly lighted via a dispersed array of candles, and aside from stewing water on the gas grill, the wind-up clock ticked and his mother casually hummed an impromptu tune. On the floor laid the old dog, who moved only his eyeballs as Clay entered the kitchen. He hugged his mom, complimented her on the cooking, and asked where the pills were.
Accent in full effect, she responded “I vill get them ven it is time…. Eat first.”
He sat at the table, and she placed before him a giant bowl of goulash and a thick piece of Polish rye bread. Although he had no appetite, he ate the stew and the bread. He thought how lucky he had been to have been able to eat such food his entire life; throughout the course of his existence friends would come over and enjoy his mom’s authentic eastern euro cooking; he wished he had more of an appetite – that he could savor these flavors… He finished his bowl, and set it on the floor. Alas: the border-collie/Australian shepherd stirred and lapped the remains of the bowl clean.
“Vould you like them vith beer, or juice…”
“Water.”
She went to a cupboard and grabbed a blister-pack that contained two medium-sized pills. She poured a glass of water and handed it to him, along with the pills.
She smiled.
“So long” he said as he downed the pills with a gulp of water.
He hugged his mom and went downstairs.
He was astonished how quickly the pills had taken affect – and how strong they were. By the time he got to the couch downstairs he was in a numb euphoria. A minute later, he was half asleep. Casually, a few memories of his existence passed before his eyes, and then…”You bastards” he whispered, and died.

The News Trough brought to you by Sharks

This Just In:
David Rockefeller (L), Henry Kissinger (C)  and Zbigniew Brzezinski (R)
Global financiers are writing the Kama Sutra of fraud (new and exotic positions of fraudulent activity)…catastrophic solutions to simple problems for a catatonic populace are being fleshed out at a weird bi-partisan congressional orgy…bridges are burning in front of us…socialize the risquĂ© and privatize the prophet…the preconditioned presets kick in and the masses laugh like derelicts as their slow-death sentence is issued and their cable TV rates go up…amoral opportunists make a quick buck off the savaging of the continent, “It’s been a mighty profitable holocaust” bellows one multi-trillionaire and the studio audience of seals applaud…follow orders not an oath (unless the oath is to follow orders)…visions of the anointed manifest through a polluted wireless spectrum of pornos, gibberish, hammy jokes, faux realities, fun and games…absence of evidence is not evidence of absence – unless its been tainted…please maintain the fiction and the friction…yesterday has been cancelled due to lack of interest…would you like to purchase tomorrow at 100% interest? …from citizen to consumer slave – step inside and see the magic show as the future magically gets repossessed by classy men in three-piece suits…  This has been the Froward Moroni’s End of the World (as we know it) report – brought to you by sharks.  “Sharks – the Ocean’s Perfect Killing Machine.”

how much faster do you want it?

Ahh yes – the reality of today is the surreality of yesterday.  The Carnival of the Astonishingly Absurd chug-a-lugs on and dogs howl and homeless sleep under bridges and cheap political hacks sext pic. of their junk to teeny-boppers and bombs are lobbed on a country in the middle-east that a good portion of the populace have no clue exists but feel much more secure because they are certain those in charge would never bomb a misc. country in the middle-east for no good reason, right?  Right.

Mad ave. brainwashes you into a state of perpetual insecurity then prescribes the solution.  Sounds familiar, eh?  Note the word “security”.  They are running the same psychological operation on the wee-people – er, we the people and the crowds at the airport lines buy the shitty product hook, line and sinker.  I bet if the next phase of this airport-prisoner training were to be escorted into a windowless room for “more enhanced security measures” people would walk in and bend over – no questions asked.

“You don’t like it don’t fly.”  I hear the rubes chortle…  I don’t like it and I WILL FLY – you fucking pathetic piles of sewer garbage…you mindless lemmings…you astonishingly moronified zombies – have ye no self-respect, no bravery, no dignity?  I – unlike you am a sovereign human being.  I am no menace to national security unless by “national” you mean “tyrannical” (then I will launch volleys of outspoken words against their folly)…  as a matter of fact – I count you as a threat – you are the “Milgrams 27” – you are the one who would pull the lever to release the gas, you are the one who would hand out yellow stars in Ghettos and say “If you don’t like it, get out of here”.  You and your blind fellowship with criminal pedophilic sociopaths are far more dangerous to the security (ie. “stability”) to this Republic than old men in wheelchairs, toddlers, regular joes, and me.


An open call to You Who Don’t Like Hearing People Outraged At the Insanity: eat shit.  This shouldn’t be problematic since your head is already punched up your butt-hole.