not only do these monkeys hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil....

 "Vintage Monkeys - 1800"


the truth comes out – whether you are prepaid and prepared or not. how have we gotten this far? by the grace of God, that is how.  in order to live in a planet overrun by fancy-pantsed card sharped, bull-dyke neo-nazi security personnel, drunk federal reserve captains, espn-watching puppets in chief, a congress of bimbos and a senate of bozos, a media that when is not caught hacking, lying, misleading, and licking ass of the puppet in chief, is out to lunch and trying to convince blue-haired old ladies that the bogeyman is coming to get her – in order to live in this staged reality – you must suspend your disbelief at all times of the day – even when you are asleep and dreaming. Otherwise, you will either crack and wind up in a Honduran prison because you were caught strangling a poor hooker you had accused of stealing your blow, driving recklessly up the wrong side of your local interstate hopped-up on pills you the commercial told you to get and so you took all of them along with a decent belt of Johnny Walker Red because you were inspired by Mad Men, or firing a million rounds of ammo into the boat of a doped-out, thinks-he’s-a-rockstar-patsy because you think you’re Jack Bauer and yeah, you got a gut but so what?  You are federal and and this is your time to shine so light that sucker up!....  When “burn that fucker down” doesn’t mean burn that fucker down, when “pull it” doesn’t mean pull it...when a peace prize doesn’t mean peace...when the brainwashing den is just a little bit too familiar (welcome, citizenslave 0 – this time we’ve got the prime time)...

why you?

Paul Landacre ~ Jungle Madness, 1935 (wood Engraving) - 

http://www.pinterest.com/piedcrow/madness/

the dart from a blowgun slaps against the neck: the sting, the dizziness, the fade-out...
what were you doing there, out in the jungle? didn’t you know if the savages weren’t going to get you
the jaguar would?  or the drug-gangs...or the giant ants...or bats...or snakes...or scorpions…or the madness…or the rain and the mud and the loss of direction...
but you went for it anyway –
and that is all
that matters.

the great hornswaggle of the known biosphere

at times
the person that runs the show
can’t stand it anymore and decides
to pull fast ones on
the viewers
like making them think they are watching something profound
when really
he has simply turned out the lights
gassed the place
and torched it
but because he wears a three-pieced suit
and smiles big and clean
and has sculpted hair
and is a favorite of the president
and gets the ratings
and brings in huge advertising revenues
he gets a bonus
for burning the studio down.
now that’s entertainment.

what's the use in complaining? the fatsos will maintain their fatness

 

"Gargantua" Honoré Daumier 1832

morbidly obese lemmings
                who
breath through mouths
    and
   waddle up and down the boulevard
    seek out
someplace to sit
     and
rethink how they got
to this point...
big-bellied culture –
    representative of the spirit
    of
    our poisoned,
    hoodwinked,
    lied-to,
    shot-up    
    and cast-down,
    brainwashed (whatever is left of the brain)
    and
numbed-out, stupified, zombified
    and made
    to appreciate
    the taste
    of crap
    spoon-fed to us
by platinum-haired bozo-robots
    in
nice suits
    and (quite frankly)
bimbos
    with caked-on make-up
     showing us leg
just to get their scripted, pentagon war-chief written “points”
    across and into
our rapidly evaporating psyche...