Thursday, December 4, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Mayonnaise and the Mayon
Mayonnaise is a great boon to both our society and our sandwiches. I even take the liberty, as all free men should, to put a sizable dollop in my hair each morning to revitalize it and give it the consistent cowlicks so often sought by someone of my intellect. Mayonnaise is a thick spread made from emulsifying oil and egg yolks. What mayonnaise is made from is no mystery. Where mayonnaise is made is another beast altogether.
A plebe such as yourself may not appreciate the significance between champagne and sparkling wine. Champagne comes from the Champagne region of France, all other sparkling wines are not champagne but merely sparkling wine. This is also the case with mayonnaise. All true mayonnaise comes from the Mayon, a massive volcano in the Philippines. The Mayon is a stratovolcano or composite volcano. The current cone was formed through pyroclastic and lava flows from past eruptions. Mayon is the most active volcano in the Phillipines, having erupted over 47 times in the past 400 years. The Mayon erupts furiously, issuing forth torrents of molten mayonnaise. All of the mayonnaise in the world comes from the Mayon. Other so-called mayonnaise is actually generic emulsified egg oil sandwich tonic.
Now that you know the truth, please try to give justice to the true mayonnaise and stand opposed to the dilution of the market with inferior products.
While I was researching that for you, the reader, I ate a large poundcake and drank a bottle of wine mixed with a pot of coffee. Winecoffee is a mixture that only the finest palates appreciate but once you have acclimated to it, it is an undeniable pleasure. It also is an effective way of making an otherwise expensive bottle of wine last longer in the mouth. With today's economic hardships certainly upon those of you who did not heed my warnings, this tip will be invaluable. Salvage what you can.
Call Barack Obama and tell him about the Mayon. He is a wizard, so do not expect him to treat you well. He was made to be the politician who proves the system to work. Instead, the system will prove that his sorcery over the electorate and his desire to deal the final blow to the American economy and our freedoms is as powerful as any prior tyrant.
Long live the king, the wizard, the philanderer, the magician, and may the Mayon provide for them all.
A plebe such as yourself may not appreciate the significance between champagne and sparkling wine. Champagne comes from the Champagne region of France, all other sparkling wines are not champagne but merely sparkling wine. This is also the case with mayonnaise. All true mayonnaise comes from the Mayon, a massive volcano in the Philippines. The Mayon is a stratovolcano or composite volcano. The current cone was formed through pyroclastic and lava flows from past eruptions. Mayon is the most active volcano in the Phillipines, having erupted over 47 times in the past 400 years. The Mayon erupts furiously, issuing forth torrents of molten mayonnaise. All of the mayonnaise in the world comes from the Mayon. Other so-called mayonnaise is actually generic emulsified egg oil sandwich tonic.
Now that you know the truth, please try to give justice to the true mayonnaise and stand opposed to the dilution of the market with inferior products.
While I was researching that for you, the reader, I ate a large poundcake and drank a bottle of wine mixed with a pot of coffee. Winecoffee is a mixture that only the finest palates appreciate but once you have acclimated to it, it is an undeniable pleasure. It also is an effective way of making an otherwise expensive bottle of wine last longer in the mouth. With today's economic hardships certainly upon those of you who did not heed my warnings, this tip will be invaluable. Salvage what you can.
Call Barack Obama and tell him about the Mayon. He is a wizard, so do not expect him to treat you well. He was made to be the politician who proves the system to work. Instead, the system will prove that his sorcery over the electorate and his desire to deal the final blow to the American economy and our freedoms is as powerful as any prior tyrant.
Long live the king, the wizard, the philanderer, the magician, and may the Mayon provide for them all.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Buy American
Readers, you've heard the age old adage, "Buy American". But did you ever stop to think that we are only Americans because of the tyrannical oppression of our government and the institutionalized violence that pervades every realm of our society. General Motors? Violent. McDonald's? Violent. Even something seemingly innocent like Coca-Cola is violent. When someone tells you to buy American, tell them that they might as well be saying, "Buy violence."
You see, all of these companies pay taxes. And the taxes go to the government. So by offering products that Americans want, they support the government, which is the violence which makes us American. Even the dollar bill is violence. The fiat currency that the government props up with the falsehood that is freedom is inherently violent. I've converted all my currency into instruments such as gold and platinum. I do keep one dollar for the occasional cheeseburger, but if you have more than one dollar, repent immediately against your violent tendencies.
This is an avalanche that can never be stopped. The laws of inertia dictate that an object in motion can never be stopped and so similarly an object at rest can never be moved. And so America is the immovable force versus the unstoppable object, and with that comes the violence, the killings, the rapings, and the rape-killings. We rape the killers, and kill the rapists, and in return are raped and killed by the Government of the Corporate States of America. Nothing can stop it.
You see, all of these companies pay taxes. And the taxes go to the government. So by offering products that Americans want, they support the government, which is the violence which makes us American. Even the dollar bill is violence. The fiat currency that the government props up with the falsehood that is freedom is inherently violent. I've converted all my currency into instruments such as gold and platinum. I do keep one dollar for the occasional cheeseburger, but if you have more than one dollar, repent immediately against your violent tendencies.
This is an avalanche that can never be stopped. The laws of inertia dictate that an object in motion can never be stopped and so similarly an object at rest can never be moved. And so America is the immovable force versus the unstoppable object, and with that comes the violence, the killings, the rapings, and the rape-killings. We rape the killers, and kill the rapists, and in return are raped and killed by the Government of the Corporate States of America. Nothing can stop it.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Agoraphobia and the Orator
So I finally totally lost my shit and now the world is over.
I wanted to stop it. I tried to tell people. I even cooked a turkey for 35 minutes with the oven on self-clean last night and nicely caramelized the individual slices using a drapery steamer. But no. No. No.
Free will corrupts freedom absolutely. Can man ever be free if any man is free to do as he would, freely? The answer is no. No. And the fear of the outside is ever present. You see, soon this will all come down to the come down. We have been riding a high for years, falsely inflated like the blowjob lips of your favorite supermodel. When you harden the dicks of all mankind it is only a matter of time before someone is skewered. And another. And another. And finally, the collapse. The bottom falls out and every prince is left a pauper.
I have already proven the principles. I have shown the reality. But reality deviated from the forecast. The forecast is rain, and the great flood is here. I can only hope that it all doesn't come unraveled before I can finish knitting a sweater out of the hair I routinely pluck out of the stinking, living corpse that is the vessel of my belief here on earth.
If the fall is now, I will set up shop in a world isolated from man, from his vices and from his money. I will move to the land before the agora. When deregulation prevailed over standards, and the misinformed nature of man lead him to fill bottles with urine and put bilious liquids on his asshole to soothe its savage nature.
Only one thing can truly be. That is the freedom to be free. By being free we act in contrition to the enslavers, the rule makers, those that enable society. Society constructs society, and as such, a self-defining term cannot be defined. Remember, society is truly defined by those that deviate from it. And in our deviation, we pave the way for a new society, where men destroy men for their own gain, just as they do now.
I wanted to stop it. I tried to tell people. I even cooked a turkey for 35 minutes with the oven on self-clean last night and nicely caramelized the individual slices using a drapery steamer. But no. No. No.
Free will corrupts freedom absolutely. Can man ever be free if any man is free to do as he would, freely? The answer is no. No. And the fear of the outside is ever present. You see, soon this will all come down to the come down. We have been riding a high for years, falsely inflated like the blowjob lips of your favorite supermodel. When you harden the dicks of all mankind it is only a matter of time before someone is skewered. And another. And another. And finally, the collapse. The bottom falls out and every prince is left a pauper.
I have already proven the principles. I have shown the reality. But reality deviated from the forecast. The forecast is rain, and the great flood is here. I can only hope that it all doesn't come unraveled before I can finish knitting a sweater out of the hair I routinely pluck out of the stinking, living corpse that is the vessel of my belief here on earth.
If the fall is now, I will set up shop in a world isolated from man, from his vices and from his money. I will move to the land before the agora. When deregulation prevailed over standards, and the misinformed nature of man lead him to fill bottles with urine and put bilious liquids on his asshole to soothe its savage nature.
Only one thing can truly be. That is the freedom to be free. By being free we act in contrition to the enslavers, the rule makers, those that enable society. Society constructs society, and as such, a self-defining term cannot be defined. Remember, society is truly defined by those that deviate from it. And in our deviation, we pave the way for a new society, where men destroy men for their own gain, just as they do now.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I was right!
By now I'm sure you know that I am always right. My forecast has come true perfectly, and my investments are so secure that I cannot be unsettled.
I spoke to my father, and "Go west, my son", he said.
The sun rises in the East and sets in the West. So too has the sun set on our economy and our way of life. Already as I write this the lawlessness has set in and the major cities burn. Martial law has been declared, but it is at best farcical. The government declares martial law when their laws have already failed. It is like a plea for the finally free populace to come back to being sheep. As if the shepherd could merely rattle his crook and have the sheep come running back to him.
Think of a game of a billiards. The two players vie to sink their balls into the pockets in order to ultimately pocket the eight ball and defeat the opponent. Billiards is a great game, because it so closely mimics the operations of the government. Two men with sticks vying to subjugate the ceramic balls of mankind. And in particularly exhilarating games, I put the blue chalk on the end of my penis.
If you have more than one dollar right now, woe is you. The dollar is worthless. Do not act. React. React to the false governance and urban slavery of our era. React to the upside down loans issued by criminals to ensure that no man ever copulates again. The race war is beginning. By oppressing the races, the White is blending away the dignity of man. And so he bleaches them in his image at the government financial centers, just as the dollar bill is bleached white, a worthless piece of paper not fit to be wadded up and sullied with the filth of a thousand bowel movements. I too am white, but not a conformist to the government's wholesale whitewashing: my turgid member is anointed with the powdery blue of true freedom.
8 ball, corner pocket.
I spoke to my father, and "Go west, my son", he said.
The sun rises in the East and sets in the West. So too has the sun set on our economy and our way of life. Already as I write this the lawlessness has set in and the major cities burn. Martial law has been declared, but it is at best farcical. The government declares martial law when their laws have already failed. It is like a plea for the finally free populace to come back to being sheep. As if the shepherd could merely rattle his crook and have the sheep come running back to him.
Think of a game of a billiards. The two players vie to sink their balls into the pockets in order to ultimately pocket the eight ball and defeat the opponent. Billiards is a great game, because it so closely mimics the operations of the government. Two men with sticks vying to subjugate the ceramic balls of mankind. And in particularly exhilarating games, I put the blue chalk on the end of my penis.
If you have more than one dollar right now, woe is you. The dollar is worthless. Do not act. React. React to the false governance and urban slavery of our era. React to the upside down loans issued by criminals to ensure that no man ever copulates again. The race war is beginning. By oppressing the races, the White is blending away the dignity of man. And so he bleaches them in his image at the government financial centers, just as the dollar bill is bleached white, a worthless piece of paper not fit to be wadded up and sullied with the filth of a thousand bowel movements. I too am white, but not a conformist to the government's wholesale whitewashing: my turgid member is anointed with the powdery blue of true freedom.
8 ball, corner pocket.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
All Questions Answered
I realized in my exchange with the chinese food man, that sometimes answers are hard to come by. It has occured to me that despite having fans of truth in Europe, Alabama, and Japan (though maybe I only get these hits because people are properly cloaking their IP addresses when they access my blog, as they know how dangerous having others know that they know the truth can be for them, and me) maybe my readership is local, but it is most certainly vast, afterall, the market for truth is greatly undeserved, and the free market dictates that the goods I've got are in high demand.
Still, the truth is sometimes difficult, and my reasoning often a little outside my reader's understandings. With that in mind, and the fact that people may not want their questions about the truth published with their pseudonyms attached (as I never get comments, but my posts are certainly thought prodding), I've created an email account to which I am not attached so that I can answer your questions here, and not attribute them to you, if you so desire. If you have any questions about my ideas, the future, loose ends I haven't followed up on, my past lives, etc... please email me at askloaf@gmail.com. remember, there are no stupid questions, many other readers probably have the same ones. don't be afraid to ask. If you have any security questions, ask me.
Still, the truth is sometimes difficult, and my reasoning often a little outside my reader's understandings. With that in mind, and the fact that people may not want their questions about the truth published with their pseudonyms attached (as I never get comments, but my posts are certainly thought prodding), I've created an email account to which I am not attached so that I can answer your questions here, and not attribute them to you, if you so desire. If you have any questions about my ideas, the future, loose ends I haven't followed up on, my past lives, etc... please email me at askloaf@gmail.com. remember, there are no stupid questions, many other readers probably have the same ones. don't be afraid to ask. If you have any security questions, ask me.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Bad Moon Waning
Last night I went out into my spacious backyard and looked up at the moon like I always do. But, this time I realized something. I realized that this moon is bad. Not bad like the the milk you forgot to unpack from the trunk of your car while you impulsively picked up a hooker instead of taking it home to put in the fridge. Remember, readers, never spend for sex. Only for rainy days. That's what that musical Singing in the Rain was all about, but I digress.
This moon is bad. As we face the inevitable mocking looks from its 33% waned state, we must realize that one day the moon is going to act against us on earth. It is trying to force us into the status quo. The moon does this by a simple deception. The moon is not visible because it reflects the light of the sun as was misguidedly thought by astronomers and scientists of the past. It actually is a negative light source. So when we think the moon is full, the moon is really empty. And when the moon is empty, it is really full. The empty moon absorbs all the light because it is at its full power. The moon gets its power from the ocean, the dark trenches of which cannot be penetrated by the rays of the sun or even the hardest member.
So the link between the ocean and the moon is established. Because of this I have filled my bathtub completely to the top with unflavored gelatin, and I am going to lay submerged in it, using a hollow reed as a snorkel until I can diminish the influence of the moon in my life.
If laying in a bathtub full of gelatin is so simple and rewarding in terms of solving life's problems, imagine if this principle was applied to health, security and education!
This moon is bad. As we face the inevitable mocking looks from its 33% waned state, we must realize that one day the moon is going to act against us on earth. It is trying to force us into the status quo. The moon does this by a simple deception. The moon is not visible because it reflects the light of the sun as was misguidedly thought by astronomers and scientists of the past. It actually is a negative light source. So when we think the moon is full, the moon is really empty. And when the moon is empty, it is really full. The empty moon absorbs all the light because it is at its full power. The moon gets its power from the ocean, the dark trenches of which cannot be penetrated by the rays of the sun or even the hardest member.
So the link between the ocean and the moon is established. Because of this I have filled my bathtub completely to the top with unflavored gelatin, and I am going to lay submerged in it, using a hollow reed as a snorkel until I can diminish the influence of the moon in my life.
If laying in a bathtub full of gelatin is so simple and rewarding in terms of solving life's problems, imagine if this principle was applied to health, security and education!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Marinating on Greatness
I sat down today with a singular goal: to realize how great I am. I sat in one place today, staring at the wall, trying to think of something I didn't know. I couldn't think of anything I didn't know. Everything I know, I know. There's nothing I know that I don't. I starting asking myself questions, and I knew the answers to all of them. Then I realized there must be a flaw. Maybe I couldn't ask myself questions I didn't know the answers to. But oh, dear reader, I bet you thought that was a hole in my reasoning. Your assumption that I wouldn't take this into consideration proves that I'm always one step ahead. I started looking up information to quiz myself on. I found that even when I didn't know, I could know, and found out (potential for knowledge is just as good as knowledge.) It was amazing, and all the amazingness made me hungry.
You'd think that's where my productive day ended. But that would make your SECOND false assumption this blog. I ordered chinese food. It came in thirty minutes. I will post an analysis of all the chinese food delivery places in my area soon, but I'll save that for another blog. Right now it's not so important what I ate. I ate egg roll for strength. Egg Roll is also important because it's the eastern dollar menu. there's not much you can get for a dollar anymore, unless you're paying a dollar worth of gold. The egg roll was good. Immediately I felt like I could do Tae Kwon Do. I finished my Egg Roll, but that's not where the chinese food ends. You forgot the fortune cookie, but I didn't. I opened my fortune cookie and ate it. Looking down, I read my fortune cookie, and to my surprise, it said:
YOU WILL BE HUNGRY AGAIN SOON, ORDER MORE CHINESE FOOD.
I was skeptical, but, in the east they have a different perspective, and chinese food has been around for 5000 years (100 times longer than Social Security!!) so they must be doing something right, and if they evolved into fortune cookies, maybe there's some merit to it.
I sat and waited. An hour later. I was hungry. I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. I walked to the chinese place and ordered more food. I ended up in a conversation with the man there, asking him about the history of fortune cookies. He was cryptic and noncommital. He kept speaking in short sentences that were hard to understand. I knew I was onto something, because he wouldn't give me the information necessary. He kept trying to give me fortune cookies and smiling politely. I was shocked. I almost believed he didn't fully understand me, that's how good he was at hiding the secret to fortune cookies!
I went home, even more determined, and did some research online. "There must be some way I can tap into this eastern knowledge" I thought. My intellectual rigor was awarded when I found this site: http://www.myluckyfortune.com/
You can custom create chinese fortune cookies!!! I custom ordered 200, at ten cents each (they didn't even ask for ten cents of gold!), a small price to pay for controlling the future. Wait til you see what the future holds now. It's going to be crazy. and smart.
You'd think that's where my productive day ended. But that would make your SECOND false assumption this blog. I ordered chinese food. It came in thirty minutes. I will post an analysis of all the chinese food delivery places in my area soon, but I'll save that for another blog. Right now it's not so important what I ate. I ate egg roll for strength. Egg Roll is also important because it's the eastern dollar menu. there's not much you can get for a dollar anymore, unless you're paying a dollar worth of gold. The egg roll was good. Immediately I felt like I could do Tae Kwon Do. I finished my Egg Roll, but that's not where the chinese food ends. You forgot the fortune cookie, but I didn't. I opened my fortune cookie and ate it. Looking down, I read my fortune cookie, and to my surprise, it said:
YOU WILL BE HUNGRY AGAIN SOON, ORDER MORE CHINESE FOOD.
I was skeptical, but, in the east they have a different perspective, and chinese food has been around for 5000 years (100 times longer than Social Security!!) so they must be doing something right, and if they evolved into fortune cookies, maybe there's some merit to it.
I sat and waited. An hour later. I was hungry. I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. I walked to the chinese place and ordered more food. I ended up in a conversation with the man there, asking him about the history of fortune cookies. He was cryptic and noncommital. He kept speaking in short sentences that were hard to understand. I knew I was onto something, because he wouldn't give me the information necessary. He kept trying to give me fortune cookies and smiling politely. I was shocked. I almost believed he didn't fully understand me, that's how good he was at hiding the secret to fortune cookies!
I went home, even more determined, and did some research online. "There must be some way I can tap into this eastern knowledge" I thought. My intellectual rigor was awarded when I found this site: http://www.myluckyfortune.com/
You can custom create chinese fortune cookies!!! I custom ordered 200, at ten cents each (they didn't even ask for ten cents of gold!), a small price to pay for controlling the future. Wait til you see what the future holds now. It's going to be crazy. and smart.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
The Free in Freedom
Men think that doing things in the name of freedom makes them free. Your government does this all the time. They are not my government. They do violence in our names and cheapen the dollar until it is worth even less than the flimsy cardstock that Driver Licenses are printed on.
I have been right in the past. When you count up the amount of times that I have been right in the past, you will see that I will be right in the future. The reason is simple: logic appeals to reason. My strategy is logical, so it must be reasonable. Since it is reasonable, it is right. You cannot argue with logic.
Because I am logical, you cannot argue with me. This is the transparency that the world strives for. My goals are plain and my methods are clear. If only more people were heeding my advice. Soon they won't be able to afford even a handful of dirt to put in their starving mouths. They won't be able to afford fresh glasses of champagne to put their cigarettes out in. They'll have to reuse the old champagne. Even the government will be eliminated as the government realizes that they don't have enough money to pay for the government.
Worse yet, all families are governments that cannot pay for themselves., and all governments are families that cannot afford a pot to piss in. See, that all families are governments. That is self evident. Because all families are governments, so too are all governments families. Because of this, we are all related as people. That is the proof for why anybody who has ever fucked you over is not actually a person, because they are a government.
It is on us. The onus lays with the citizenry to escape from their family and their government and start a new family and a new government before it all comes crashing down. You can be sure that when it does, there is no room in my chamberpot for all your shit. Not unless you give me 50% and obey my violence. This is a natural construct.
Freedom. It's naturally free.
I have been right in the past. When you count up the amount of times that I have been right in the past, you will see that I will be right in the future. The reason is simple: logic appeals to reason. My strategy is logical, so it must be reasonable. Since it is reasonable, it is right. You cannot argue with logic.
Because I am logical, you cannot argue with me. This is the transparency that the world strives for. My goals are plain and my methods are clear. If only more people were heeding my advice. Soon they won't be able to afford even a handful of dirt to put in their starving mouths. They won't be able to afford fresh glasses of champagne to put their cigarettes out in. They'll have to reuse the old champagne. Even the government will be eliminated as the government realizes that they don't have enough money to pay for the government.
Worse yet, all families are governments that cannot pay for themselves., and all governments are families that cannot afford a pot to piss in. See, that all families are governments. That is self evident. Because all families are governments, so too are all governments families. Because of this, we are all related as people. That is the proof for why anybody who has ever fucked you over is not actually a person, because they are a government.
It is on us. The onus lays with the citizenry to escape from their family and their government and start a new family and a new government before it all comes crashing down. You can be sure that when it does, there is no room in my chamberpot for all your shit. Not unless you give me 50% and obey my violence. This is a natural construct.
Freedom. It's naturally free.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Economy of Money
The economy of money is ruined. The bankruptcy of the United States is at hand. New Age morality will never be able to act as a substitute for the Stone Age level of financiality we have reached.
In times like these, we must turn to a tried and true recipe for improvement. It has been a while since I posted a recipe, and the emails from the readership have been crying out for one. The lemon angel.
You'll need:
PREHEAT OVEN TO 375 DEGREES
1. In a small bowl or 2 cup measuring cup, beat the egg until foamy.
2. Add the buttermilk and vanilla and blend well.
3. Add the baking soda, one teaspoonful at a time, sprinkling it in and beating until the mixture is smooth and the consistency of light cream.
4. Add the lemon juice all at once and blend into the mixture. Stir, but do not beat (you want it creamy, but without a lot of air)
5. The mixture will congeal into a pasty lump. Scoop it out of the bowl with a spatula and spread it on a floured surface.
6. Sift the flour and 3/4 cup of the sugar together and use the fingertips to work it into the egg- lemon mixture.
7. With a floured rolling pin, roll the dough out 1/32' thick and with the tip of a sharp knife, cut out 'angel' shapes and twist the edges up to form a shell-like curve about 3/8" high. Sprinkle on the remainder of the sugar.
8. Brush each 'angel' with melted butter. 9. Place the angels one inch apart on an ungreased baking sheet and bake for 12 minutes or until golden brown.
These tasty lemon angels will make you the talk of any potluck party. You too can crawl out from under the rock of the national debt and the tanking economy and the heavy weight of the skeletons in your closet. Remember, a man holding a basket of eggs does not dance on stones.
In times like these, we must turn to a tried and true recipe for improvement. It has been a while since I posted a recipe, and the emails from the readership have been crying out for one. The lemon angel.
You'll need:
| 1 | Egg |
| ½ cup | Buttermilk (or 1/4 c. milk a nd 1/4 cup vinegar |
| 5 teaspoon | Baking soda |
| ½ teaspoon | Vanilla |
| 1 cup | Lemon juice (fresh is best) |
| 1¼ cup | Sugar |
| ⅞ cup | All purpose flour |
| 8 tablespoon | Butter or margarine, melted |
PREHEAT OVEN TO 375 DEGREES
1. In a small bowl or 2 cup measuring cup, beat the egg until foamy.
2. Add the buttermilk and vanilla and blend well.
3. Add the baking soda, one teaspoonful at a time, sprinkling it in and beating until the mixture is smooth and the consistency of light cream.
4. Add the lemon juice all at once and blend into the mixture. Stir, but do not beat (you want it creamy, but without a lot of air)
5. The mixture will congeal into a pasty lump. Scoop it out of the bowl with a spatula and spread it on a floured surface.
6. Sift the flour and 3/4 cup of the sugar together and use the fingertips to work it into the egg- lemon mixture.
7. With a floured rolling pin, roll the dough out 1/32' thick and with the tip of a sharp knife, cut out 'angel' shapes and twist the edges up to form a shell-like curve about 3/8" high. Sprinkle on the remainder of the sugar.
8. Brush each 'angel' with melted butter. 9. Place the angels one inch apart on an ungreased baking sheet and bake for 12 minutes or until golden brown.
These tasty lemon angels will make you the talk of any potluck party. You too can crawl out from under the rock of the national debt and the tanking economy and the heavy weight of the skeletons in your closet. Remember, a man holding a basket of eggs does not dance on stones.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
ADIDAS
I normally wouldn't entertain product endorsements in this space. However, because I have very narrow feet, I am partial to wearing Adidas Samba soccer sneakers. They are comfortable and I go through them like I did Trojan condoms at whorehouses in Ho Chi Minh City. I'm not here to talk about Vietnam. I don't want to talk about it and I never did mean to get so involved there. There's something about starting something that makes me want to finish it. And maybe some day I'll go back and finish it. But that isn't what this is all about.
Adidas. Some say it is an acronym for "all day I dream about sex". Everyone knows that isn't true. For starters, shoes don't dream about sex. And I don't dream about sex either. When I want sex there's no point in dreaming about it. When you want a cheeseburger, you don't dream about it. You go to McDonald's. And I do the same thing with sex.
You see, there is a much more sinister meaning behind Adidas. And Adidas has been trying to keep it secret from their consumers. I realized this today while looking at my new Sambas in the foot height angled mirror at Finish Line. SADIDA.
"But what could it mean?", you ask. SADIDA. And then it hit me like a bolt from the blue. "Stick a dick in Dad's ass".
Adidas. Some say it is an acronym for "all day I dream about sex". Everyone knows that isn't true. For starters, shoes don't dream about sex. And I don't dream about sex either. When I want sex there's no point in dreaming about it. When you want a cheeseburger, you don't dream about it. You go to McDonald's. And I do the same thing with sex.
You see, there is a much more sinister meaning behind Adidas. And Adidas has been trying to keep it secret from their consumers. I realized this today while looking at my new Sambas in the foot height angled mirror at Finish Line. SADIDA.
"But what could it mean?", you ask. SADIDA. And then it hit me like a bolt from the blue. "Stick a dick in Dad's ass".
Catastrophy and Opportunity
Readers, I've discovered something that should be just as alarming to your feeble minds as it is to my highly learned one. In the unlikely event that you are standing up while reading this, be sure to have a seat.
There is a whole number between 5 and 6. This number is called "zal". Because of the existence of zal, all calculations done in the past are off by at least 1, and sometimes by thousands because of the existence of zal-hundred and zal-thousand, zal-million and so on. And as a result, the buildings of the world are inherently unstable. Financial account balances are not accurate. Sales of goods are nothing but frauds. Even the materialists have maintained an inaccurate count of their possessions.
Call your congressman and tell them about zal before it is too late. Until then, I am taking advantage of the discrepancy in the price of gold before they correct its value for zal.
There is a whole number between 5 and 6. This number is called "zal". Because of the existence of zal, all calculations done in the past are off by at least 1, and sometimes by thousands because of the existence of zal-hundred and zal-thousand, zal-million and so on. And as a result, the buildings of the world are inherently unstable. Financial account balances are not accurate. Sales of goods are nothing but frauds. Even the materialists have maintained an inaccurate count of their possessions.
Call your congressman and tell them about zal before it is too late. Until then, I am taking advantage of the discrepancy in the price of gold before they correct its value for zal.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Bigger than Jesus...
I am the greatest person you will ever meet.
And you don't even know if you've met me.
Which makes me the greatest person you might/might have meet/met.
Which makes me greater than God.
Which proves that the existence YOU believe in is false.
And you don't even know if you've met me.
Which makes me the greatest person you might/might have meet/met.
Which makes me greater than God.
Which proves that the existence YOU believe in is false.
Monday, August 18, 2008
I know what I'm doing
There is a lot of hubbub surrounding the coming presidential election. When an educated reader like yourself, whose intellect pales in comparison to mine, evaluates the prospects for president, you probably see two fairly opposite candidates vying for your attention. This is because you cannot see the forest for the trees.
Let me explain something that as of yet is unknown to the public and perhaps even the candidates themselves. McCain and Obama are the same person. I know what you're thinking. Sure, they're all parts of the same corrupted system of whores and prevaricators. That's true too. But, the sick, burrowing weasel-hole goes much deeper than this. They share the same numerical identity.
That is right, reader. They are actually the same person. McCain and Obama are numerically identical in the way that Superman and Clark Kent are the same person. Only that neither candidate is magnanimous, and both are foul conjurers who cook fetid cakes out of the world's misery and thrust it into our face like the night soil that it is.
Both are the same, and both devils are rebuked in the name of Jesus.
Let me explain something that as of yet is unknown to the public and perhaps even the candidates themselves. McCain and Obama are the same person. I know what you're thinking. Sure, they're all parts of the same corrupted system of whores and prevaricators. That's true too. But, the sick, burrowing weasel-hole goes much deeper than this. They share the same numerical identity.
That is right, reader. They are actually the same person. McCain and Obama are numerically identical in the way that Superman and Clark Kent are the same person. Only that neither candidate is magnanimous, and both are foul conjurers who cook fetid cakes out of the world's misery and thrust it into our face like the night soil that it is.
Both are the same, and both devils are rebuked in the name of Jesus.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Criss Angel: minddouche
All I know is that I know nothing- Socrates
I am not a know-nothing- Abraham Lincoln
I know that Socrates is right and Lincoln is wrong. Therefore I am smarter than Socrates.
I am not a know-nothing- Abraham Lincoln
I know that Socrates is right and Lincoln is wrong. Therefore I am smarter than Socrates.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Secure
I am fucking insane, I am not as smart as I think I am and whoever is writing this knows that.
"Your reaction is bizarre and you are so fucked up."
Come to think of it, I hope there is some humor in all of this.
"Your reaction is bizarre and you are so fucked up."
Come to think of it, I hope there is some humor in all of this.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Gas Crisis
In 1973 the first American oil crisis was underway. Men struggled to stay afloat. Most people were not economically viable. But, I was already a millionaire, many times over. The average person is so far distant from their survival skills that the smallest flux in the variables of life sinks them.
I spent the 70s with unfiltered cigarettes and overproof liquor. My neighbor complained about the hookers until I killed and ate his dog. It tasted like gamey, wet cardboard, even after I cooked it over the coals of my oil drum barbecue. Then I took the bones and made a statue of it in my garage. Sometimes I burn a candle under it for all the hookers who didn't deserve it, and for those who did. I tighten my belt for the priests and the womanizers, for the addicts and the adrift.
The masters of our destiny have been preparing since then. Like me. The future slaves are those who have not prepared. It is they who will need to take from those who have prepared when the comedown comes. And so too will their plowshares be made into swords and I will scramble the yolks of their babies into a great omelette for the ages.
I spent the 70s with unfiltered cigarettes and overproof liquor. My neighbor complained about the hookers until I killed and ate his dog. It tasted like gamey, wet cardboard, even after I cooked it over the coals of my oil drum barbecue. Then I took the bones and made a statue of it in my garage. Sometimes I burn a candle under it for all the hookers who didn't deserve it, and for those who did. I tighten my belt for the priests and the womanizers, for the addicts and the adrift.
The masters of our destiny have been preparing since then. Like me. The future slaves are those who have not prepared. It is they who will need to take from those who have prepared when the comedown comes. And so too will their plowshares be made into swords and I will scramble the yolks of their babies into a great omelette for the ages.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
Sex or extra art xeroxes?
Mankind must come to the realization that things are the same backwards and forwards. Just as the big bang created all the matter in the universe from the big nothing that preceded it, so too will a great suck reduce us all to the singularity. The one consciousness, the single solid.
When we are born, we are destroyed. The man seeking defeat finds success because in defeat he succeeds. Through our attempts to improve, we become inherently vitiated. Just as the fish swim, so too do they drown.
To simplify this for the readership, think of putting water into a cup. Then imagine shooting the water from the cup back up into the faucet. It is the same as the original action. It is not distracted. It is as single-minded and powerful as a course of action as possible.
This is the way of all things.
When we are born, we are destroyed. The man seeking defeat finds success because in defeat he succeeds. Through our attempts to improve, we become inherently vitiated. Just as the fish swim, so too do they drown.
To simplify this for the readership, think of putting water into a cup. Then imagine shooting the water from the cup back up into the faucet. It is the same as the original action. It is not distracted. It is as single-minded and powerful as a course of action as possible.
This is the way of all things.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Romulus and Remus
Life is a big pasture full of sheep. The flock stays together, with the wool pulled over their eyes. The shepherd leads them where he pleases. But, the shepherd and the wolf are enemies. The sheep is happy with what he is given.
The wolf takes what he wants. There is the old saying, "a wolf in sheep's clothing". That wolf is the top dog until he meets a real wolf. The wolf in sheep's clothing is the laughingstock of the other wolves. He is a cross-dresser, and a pervert. The real wolf's thirst for blood cannot be quenched, and his gonads are like bowling balls. He is a wolf in wolf's clothing, and he leaves the sheep as a tattered, sanguine quilt of wool and entrails for the shepherd to clean up.
This is my life, and yours brother, even if you are too stupid to realize it.
The wolf takes what he wants. There is the old saying, "a wolf in sheep's clothing". That wolf is the top dog until he meets a real wolf. The wolf in sheep's clothing is the laughingstock of the other wolves. He is a cross-dresser, and a pervert. The real wolf's thirst for blood cannot be quenched, and his gonads are like bowling balls. He is a wolf in wolf's clothing, and he leaves the sheep as a tattered, sanguine quilt of wool and entrails for the shepherd to clean up.
This is my life, and yours brother, even if you are too stupid to realize it.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Everybody raise a glass!
I thought of glass as I read the paper today. Online of course. Apparently there's still debate about whether glass is a solid or a liquid.
People can be so caught up in theory, when the truth is staring them right in the face. Just ask them what's really real, and they don't have a clue. Caught up in books, booze, or a glass menagerie of lies.
Real life poses many situations where, if you open your eyes, the debate ends. Of the many things I've done with my hands, one of them provides the perfect example to illustrate my point.
I used to be a mason. Not the capitol Mason that begins with "Free" that is nothing of the sort. My calloused hands laid brick. Sweat and dirt building up a thick residue on my arms, washed away at the end of the day, but never truly gone. I worked with Bruce. Bruce stunk like booze in the morning but always sweated it all out by 11 am. Bruce was the perfect man for the job, but you could tell the job wasn't perfect for him. He was always forgetting something, whether it was a shower in the morning, or his past sins after work, cleared away with a cold pint and a shot of Jack. Bruce isn't the story though.
Brucey and I were building a chimney for this rich fuck. Real prick of a guy. He was greasy and wore a wifebeater and a toothpick out of the left half of his sneering mouth. Nouveau Riche hailing from Howard Beach. I could tell he was going to be trouble. I had a good read on him. He watched Bruce and I the whole time and gave us instructions. I finally had to tell him that if he knew so much, he should build the goddamn thing himself. He didn't like that too much, and repercussions were imminent. I could feel the guy was going to stiff me, so I devised a plan.
Halfway up the chimney, I built in a plate of glass across the floe. Bruce didn't get it. Bruce told me I was paranoid. He was scared the glass would get us in trouble. Ironic, but Bruce was a good man.
Time came where the chimney was done, and the man had to pay. We didn't go half in on the job. We really built the man a nice chimney. You set yourself to something, you might as well do it the proper way. Me and Bruce took pride in our work. The man opens up his wallet, and says, "I don't have the change right now, I'll pay you later." I would've been happier with myself, but I wasn't paid. So I told him "Sure thing, man, just don't use the chimney until you fork it over."
Three hours later that Howard Beach guy calls me up in a real frenzy. Smoke and the stink of deceit are now filling his house. What a guy. I go back and ask for the money. He opens up his wallet and the change was there all along. I smiled to myself. Bruce would be drinking well tonight. I climbed up onto the roof, and dropped a brick down that chimney, shattering the glass and the man's "I'm smarter than you" persona. The smoke billowed up, and I'd like to think the deceit left too, but I bet that guy is still the same. Bruce never changed either.
None-the-less, glass is solid.
People can be so caught up in theory, when the truth is staring them right in the face. Just ask them what's really real, and they don't have a clue. Caught up in books, booze, or a glass menagerie of lies.
Real life poses many situations where, if you open your eyes, the debate ends. Of the many things I've done with my hands, one of them provides the perfect example to illustrate my point.
I used to be a mason. Not the capitol Mason that begins with "Free" that is nothing of the sort. My calloused hands laid brick. Sweat and dirt building up a thick residue on my arms, washed away at the end of the day, but never truly gone. I worked with Bruce. Bruce stunk like booze in the morning but always sweated it all out by 11 am. Bruce was the perfect man for the job, but you could tell the job wasn't perfect for him. He was always forgetting something, whether it was a shower in the morning, or his past sins after work, cleared away with a cold pint and a shot of Jack. Bruce isn't the story though.
Brucey and I were building a chimney for this rich fuck. Real prick of a guy. He was greasy and wore a wifebeater and a toothpick out of the left half of his sneering mouth. Nouveau Riche hailing from Howard Beach. I could tell he was going to be trouble. I had a good read on him. He watched Bruce and I the whole time and gave us instructions. I finally had to tell him that if he knew so much, he should build the goddamn thing himself. He didn't like that too much, and repercussions were imminent. I could feel the guy was going to stiff me, so I devised a plan.
Halfway up the chimney, I built in a plate of glass across the floe. Bruce didn't get it. Bruce told me I was paranoid. He was scared the glass would get us in trouble. Ironic, but Bruce was a good man.
Time came where the chimney was done, and the man had to pay. We didn't go half in on the job. We really built the man a nice chimney. You set yourself to something, you might as well do it the proper way. Me and Bruce took pride in our work. The man opens up his wallet, and says, "I don't have the change right now, I'll pay you later." I would've been happier with myself, but I wasn't paid. So I told him "Sure thing, man, just don't use the chimney until you fork it over."
Three hours later that Howard Beach guy calls me up in a real frenzy. Smoke and the stink of deceit are now filling his house. What a guy. I go back and ask for the money. He opens up his wallet and the change was there all along. I smiled to myself. Bruce would be drinking well tonight. I climbed up onto the roof, and dropped a brick down that chimney, shattering the glass and the man's "I'm smarter than you" persona. The smoke billowed up, and I'd like to think the deceit left too, but I bet that guy is still the same. Bruce never changed either.
None-the-less, glass is solid.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Carnival (when the rush comes)
I love carnivals. The buzz, and the excitement of it all. The creepy carnies in their filthy get-ups trying to swindle little kids out of their last nickel. The rigged carnival games. Throwing blunted darts at under-full water balloons, or baseballs at wooden milk bottles. The best game was always the one where you'd line up shoulder to shoulder with all the other kids and shoot a water gun into a clown's open mouth, inflating a balloon above the clown's head until it popped.
I was great at that game. I still am.
I went to confession after Sunday mass. The church is hard up for money these days. Kids are too busy being promiscuous little miscreants to respect the Lord. And men have moved on, worshiping charlatans and whores. I won't write here about what sins I disclosed to Father Baker, but I did give him $100 to help the church and to hold his mouth open so I could piss into it, like the clown game.
What a rush.
I was great at that game. I still am.
I went to confession after Sunday mass. The church is hard up for money these days. Kids are too busy being promiscuous little miscreants to respect the Lord. And men have moved on, worshiping charlatans and whores. I won't write here about what sins I disclosed to Father Baker, but I did give him $100 to help the church and to hold his mouth open so I could piss into it, like the clown game.
What a rush.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
The Man of La Mancha
A wizened man once told me, "I bought a basket. I put a box of bags in the basket. I put baking soda in the bags." His voice was frail, but his words were strong.
I changed my phone number today because of the heavy-breathing pervert who keeps calling and asking for sexual favors. We live in a disgusting society.
In this foul era, I remember the parable of the basket, and hold fast.
I changed my phone number today because of the heavy-breathing pervert who keeps calling and asking for sexual favors. We live in a disgusting society.
In this foul era, I remember the parable of the basket, and hold fast.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Film Industry
I've bounced around through a lot of jobs and met a lot of people. Some of them are still my good friends. Some turned out to be enemies.
Clarence had been fired from the machine shop. It'd been a couple of weeks and I continued to work there with Kenny and the other guys. We spent our days fixing machines, slopping on thick layers of caustic grease on to their moving parts and making dirty jokes. Kenny was a good guy, a survivalist, with a passion for guns and women. He also had a hard head and wouldn't roll over for anybody.
We were having a pretty typical day. Fix some heavy machines, work on the hydraulic press, CNC mill some new small parts that needed replacing. I was putting anti-seize on a handful of bolts when Clarence showed up.
It was five minutes after closing, so Clarence was probably back to pick up his last paycheck. He got fired in a huff when the boss found his perverted stash of bestial pornography. This job is dangerous enough without sick fucks like that and I can't say that I was sad to see him go.
I looked at Clarence as he walked in and then went back to work. I looked away just in time to miss seeing Clarence take a chrome revolver out of the brown paper lunch sack that he had with him.
Before Kenny and I could react he had the pistol trained on us and demanded for us to get down on the floor. Clarence shut and bolted the machine shop door. Kenny and I exchanged looks of fear, silently trying to figure out what was coming next.
Clarence was a small man, with a weasel's face and cantankerous demeanor. He weighed 140 lbs and sported a tattered lumberjack's coat over loose coveralls. Most importantly, though, he had a gun.
"Strip," Clarence shouted. He backed up across the machine shop, with his gun still aimed at the two of us. I added a few filthy, oily handprints to my coveralls trying to take them off. One rule of dealing with the man with the gun is to try to not make him more angry than he already is. If you can cause a lull in the action you might be able to talk him out of it.
They say when you're in a life and death situation that your life flashes before your eyes. It didn't. The embarrassing realization that I was going to die naked with Kenny in the machine shop overwhelmed any contrived nostalgia that I might have had.
The worst of my suspicions was confirmed. Clarence didn't want revenge. He wanted to have his way with us and then suicide in this greasy pit. He had already stripped out of his outfit and his disgusting figure looked like a mountain of mash potatoes adorned with a hot dog flagpole. He crept forward, being sure to use the gun to submit us to his will.
Our genuflect position made us vulnerable. He tried to force Kenny to do something revolting, grabbing his head with one hand and waving the gun. Kenny struggled to not be humiliated.
I grabbed Clarence's gun. I jammed it into his bare ass and Kenny fell away as I fired round after round into Clarence's degenerate body.
The exit wounds left Clarence's penis looking like an overripe banana peeled by a cotton gin.
Kenny and I don't talk about it.
Clarence had been fired from the machine shop. It'd been a couple of weeks and I continued to work there with Kenny and the other guys. We spent our days fixing machines, slopping on thick layers of caustic grease on to their moving parts and making dirty jokes. Kenny was a good guy, a survivalist, with a passion for guns and women. He also had a hard head and wouldn't roll over for anybody.
We were having a pretty typical day. Fix some heavy machines, work on the hydraulic press, CNC mill some new small parts that needed replacing. I was putting anti-seize on a handful of bolts when Clarence showed up.
It was five minutes after closing, so Clarence was probably back to pick up his last paycheck. He got fired in a huff when the boss found his perverted stash of bestial pornography. This job is dangerous enough without sick fucks like that and I can't say that I was sad to see him go.
I looked at Clarence as he walked in and then went back to work. I looked away just in time to miss seeing Clarence take a chrome revolver out of the brown paper lunch sack that he had with him.
Before Kenny and I could react he had the pistol trained on us and demanded for us to get down on the floor. Clarence shut and bolted the machine shop door. Kenny and I exchanged looks of fear, silently trying to figure out what was coming next.
Clarence was a small man, with a weasel's face and cantankerous demeanor. He weighed 140 lbs and sported a tattered lumberjack's coat over loose coveralls. Most importantly, though, he had a gun.
"Strip," Clarence shouted. He backed up across the machine shop, with his gun still aimed at the two of us. I added a few filthy, oily handprints to my coveralls trying to take them off. One rule of dealing with the man with the gun is to try to not make him more angry than he already is. If you can cause a lull in the action you might be able to talk him out of it.
They say when you're in a life and death situation that your life flashes before your eyes. It didn't. The embarrassing realization that I was going to die naked with Kenny in the machine shop overwhelmed any contrived nostalgia that I might have had.
The worst of my suspicions was confirmed. Clarence didn't want revenge. He wanted to have his way with us and then suicide in this greasy pit. He had already stripped out of his outfit and his disgusting figure looked like a mountain of mash potatoes adorned with a hot dog flagpole. He crept forward, being sure to use the gun to submit us to his will.
Our genuflect position made us vulnerable. He tried to force Kenny to do something revolting, grabbing his head with one hand and waving the gun. Kenny struggled to not be humiliated.
I grabbed Clarence's gun. I jammed it into his bare ass and Kenny fell away as I fired round after round into Clarence's degenerate body.
The exit wounds left Clarence's penis looking like an overripe banana peeled by a cotton gin.
Kenny and I don't talk about it.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Reasonable Mind of the Rational Man
Since the dawn of time, there have been men. These men used their rational mind to make the decisions that allowed rational men like me and you to exist unto this day. And so they reasoned, and were reasonable. Sometimes they did things like kill each other, but only because that seemed like a good idea at the time.
Ergo, to what can we deem the title of a good idea? Well, a good idea is had by a rational man, acting reasonably. Reasonably is to be conceptualized by "for a reason". And he came up with the reason to act because he felt like solving the problem. He felt like it.
Do feelings legitimize truths? No. Truths are true whether or not we feel like they are.
What is reason? My feelings. And what do I feel? I feel what is right. Because I am a reasonable person, who acts rationally. And my rationality is behind the reason. And that is what I feel.
But do we always feel rightly? Any fool can tell you that of course we do not.
Readers, this is why our reason is essentially no reason. Because our reason is a feeling, and our feelings are based on falsehoods. Dignity is one such falsehood. Dignity is definined as The quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect. But who determines who is worthy? The self. And the self is no judge of one's own value. He is merely a pawn in the game of the government and society.
But if we allow social constructs such as society and the government to judge us, we can have no dignity. And so our imagination allows us to pretend to reason, using our feelings to further the government and being unable to judge ourselves in the light of a world without humans, where nature could remain red, in tooth and claw. And we could still fuck each other man's wife in a pile of blissfully crooning women, rip each other apart with mighty scimitars, and worship the false idols of money, drugs and sex.
I wrote this before my wife had a miscarriage. Before she gave birth to our son, Mortimer. She went into labor on the toilet, and my son's birth was perverted into a pathetic, amorphous glob of blood and cells being dumped into the bowl's cold porcelain embrace. She didn't cry, and sometimes when I drink out of a whiskey bottle I think of breaking it over her head and shaving my genitals with the bloody glass afterward.
Ergo, to what can we deem the title of a good idea? Well, a good idea is had by a rational man, acting reasonably. Reasonably is to be conceptualized by "for a reason". And he came up with the reason to act because he felt like solving the problem. He felt like it.
Do feelings legitimize truths? No. Truths are true whether or not we feel like they are.
What is reason? My feelings. And what do I feel? I feel what is right. Because I am a reasonable person, who acts rationally. And my rationality is behind the reason. And that is what I feel.
But do we always feel rightly? Any fool can tell you that of course we do not.
Readers, this is why our reason is essentially no reason. Because our reason is a feeling, and our feelings are based on falsehoods. Dignity is one such falsehood. Dignity is definined as The quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect. But who determines who is worthy? The self. And the self is no judge of one's own value. He is merely a pawn in the game of the government and society.
But if we allow social constructs such as society and the government to judge us, we can have no dignity. And so our imagination allows us to pretend to reason, using our feelings to further the government and being unable to judge ourselves in the light of a world without humans, where nature could remain red, in tooth and claw. And we could still fuck each other man's wife in a pile of blissfully crooning women, rip each other apart with mighty scimitars, and worship the false idols of money, drugs and sex.
I wrote this before my wife had a miscarriage. Before she gave birth to our son, Mortimer. She went into labor on the toilet, and my son's birth was perverted into a pathetic, amorphous glob of blood and cells being dumped into the bowl's cold porcelain embrace. She didn't cry, and sometimes when I drink out of a whiskey bottle I think of breaking it over her head and shaving my genitals with the bloody glass afterward.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Always Coca-Cola?
My last post may not be easy to understand. Think of a coke can. Now think of a coke can without any coke. I drank the coke from what was formerly a coke can. You call it an empty coke can. Is there coke in it? Does it hold anything? It has ceased to be coke. It has ceased to be can. I am more of a coke can than it is. There is only commodity left where the coke can was. You throw it away. I pick it up.
Once you cease to define things in their former, negative terms, and begin to define things in their current forms, you see a more real reality.
Once you cease to define things in their former, negative terms, and begin to define things in their current forms, you see a more real reality.
The woman isn’t tight enough.
Disorder makes me happy enough. That’s how I used to live, that’s what I used to believe. I burned through women like tires in a tire fire burning until I found my singular woman, leaving them scattered like yogurt on the ground. I burned through her, too. Life was a waste of half empty bottles. The kind you find rats scurrying over in an alley, or broken as beach glass washed up, run over by waves again and again, worn down and pounded into the sand until I was misshapen and no longer opaque. Nothing was clear. She found me more than anything, as I lived life through beer goggles, unable to discern right from wrong, whore from angel. Sometimes they were the same. I used to lie in bed, rolling over, and thinking the titular woman was tight enough. That disorder made me happy. I was vaginated in a haze of beer and smoke. She left and I knew she left. But I didn’t know she left until after she was gone. Such were the times that truths were truths, but not until after when they revealed that they were falsities and only then could be seen as truths.
I awoke one morning to realize that these truths were true only after seeing that they were false, seeing that she left and missing her, the different woman I never saw. The reasoned life I never lived, the disorder that made me happy enough until I realized the falseness of itself. The falseness of its truth. Everything is upside-down until you realize its upside down. From that point on it is right side up. Sometimes you have to stop looking for the truth of things and realize the truth for the lie that it is.
I choose to walk through life not afraid to call truths lies. I see them for what they are. Happy enough isn’t happy. This woman is tight enough doesn’t mean she’s tight. Living a happy life means living a reasoned life. Living a reasoned life, means seeing things as they are. Right now I see the world “government” crumbling and everyone around me are in denial. Oil is skyrocketing, the housing market is crashing, nobody is prepared, and seeing this makes me happy.
I awoke one morning to realize that these truths were true only after seeing that they were false, seeing that she left and missing her, the different woman I never saw. The reasoned life I never lived, the disorder that made me happy enough until I realized the falseness of itself. The falseness of its truth. Everything is upside-down until you realize its upside down. From that point on it is right side up. Sometimes you have to stop looking for the truth of things and realize the truth for the lie that it is.
I choose to walk through life not afraid to call truths lies. I see them for what they are. Happy enough isn’t happy. This woman is tight enough doesn’t mean she’s tight. Living a happy life means living a reasoned life. Living a reasoned life, means seeing things as they are. Right now I see the world “government” crumbling and everyone around me are in denial. Oil is skyrocketing, the housing market is crashing, nobody is prepared, and seeing this makes me happy.
The Pleonastic Theory of Governments and Life's Garrulousness
Anything that cannot be explained in one sentence is based on deception and lies. Like the sentence before this one, about explanations. And this one, about the government.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The Mountain
I found this story in one of my notebooks.
Once upon a time there was a mountain. On the mountain there was a house. A hermit's house. And the hermit lived there for a long time. Even though he was old, he enjoyed the pleasures of life. He drank wine. He baked cakes. He did play-by-mail chess.
The old man didn't have a telephone or any modern conveniences. But he didn't need them, because he knew a dark secret. He was a wizard. Not just a magician like Barack Obama, but an actual sorcerer, in total mastery of the magicks of space and time.
He used the magick to make something into nothing. Nothing into something. And sometimes, he would create phantasmal hands to masturbate himself.
Once upon a time there was a mountain. On the mountain there was a house. A hermit's house. And the hermit lived there for a long time. Even though he was old, he enjoyed the pleasures of life. He drank wine. He baked cakes. He did play-by-mail chess.
The old man didn't have a telephone or any modern conveniences. But he didn't need them, because he knew a dark secret. He was a wizard. Not just a magician like Barack Obama, but an actual sorcerer, in total mastery of the magicks of space and time.
He used the magick to make something into nothing. Nothing into something. And sometimes, he would create phantasmal hands to masturbate himself.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Lasagna
I love lasagna. I made this lasagna recipe today. It took me closer to three hours counting the prep time and even longer if you count purchasing all this stuff, but it was worth it. I made two trays and I'm going to drink a few liters of grape soda and eat as much lasagna as I can.
While I was cooking I looked out my window and saw a snake in my yard. Imagine that! A snake, in Maine. I'm not sure if there are poisonous snakes here, but I'm not taking any chances.
An old fisherman's trick that we used to use to repel snakes is to defecate in flower pots, and space them out evenly around the perimeter of the property. I've got a bunch of flower pots downstairs and this lasagna should be the very thing I need to fill them up.
I've got a business to protect.
While I was cooking I looked out my window and saw a snake in my yard. Imagine that! A snake, in Maine. I'm not sure if there are poisonous snakes here, but I'm not taking any chances.
An old fisherman's trick that we used to use to repel snakes is to defecate in flower pots, and space them out evenly around the perimeter of the property. I've got a bunch of flower pots downstairs and this lasagna should be the very thing I need to fill them up.
I've got a business to protect.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Plareen
I got a good deal on a Wiffleball set today. I am going to take the day off and play wiffle teeball on my lawn.
Imagine the ball, flying in all its wiffliness. Carried by the wind, doing the will of the batsman. The mighty eagle has fallen, and the wiffle ball has risen in its place.
Imagine the ball, flying in all its wiffliness. Carried by the wind, doing the will of the batsman. The mighty eagle has fallen, and the wiffle ball has risen in its place.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Business
After I smelt and weld the scrap metal, I trade it to guys around the way. For other metals. For parts. For hot dogs. I sell it to the dope heads and the pushers of the world. To the priests and whores of it all. To anybody with a worthless dollar and a shitty dream.
Like Jackie. Jackie was a stoned gem of a guy. He'd come by my garage on weekends to buy out whatever I had ready. Usually in the afternoon, but mostly just whenever he'd had enough time to huff some toluene out of a filthy rag and smoke a poorly rolled joint. His hands shook, and I'd never seen him eat. But he had cash, and when he didn't, he had other stuff. Ammunition. Gasoline. Whores. Business was booming.
He'd bring his girlfriend over for a fuck when the metals were on the way up. She was too good looking to be with a guy like him, but I didn't know what was going on behind the scenes. I didn't want to know. I would put her up on the hood of my blue '75 Mercedes and fuck her brains out. Jackie would sit in a dilapidated lazy boy recliner in the corner of my garage and watch, breathing in and out of his rag. When I was finished, Jackie was passed out, and I smoked a Marlboro. Sometimes I smoked a second one.
He'd come to soon enough, pack up his car with whatever he was there to get, and leave with a wave and a smile. The last time I saw Jackie he was fumbling with his car cigarette lighter trying to get a joint to light.
I saw her again. And we made the old Merc's shocks squeak like the rusty box spring on your high school sweetheart's bed.
Back then. When men were men. Back when Jack Daniel's was Viagra and old men's broken dicks weren't everybody's problem. Business was booming.
Like Jackie. Jackie was a stoned gem of a guy. He'd come by my garage on weekends to buy out whatever I had ready. Usually in the afternoon, but mostly just whenever he'd had enough time to huff some toluene out of a filthy rag and smoke a poorly rolled joint. His hands shook, and I'd never seen him eat. But he had cash, and when he didn't, he had other stuff. Ammunition. Gasoline. Whores. Business was booming.
He'd bring his girlfriend over for a fuck when the metals were on the way up. She was too good looking to be with a guy like him, but I didn't know what was going on behind the scenes. I didn't want to know. I would put her up on the hood of my blue '75 Mercedes and fuck her brains out. Jackie would sit in a dilapidated lazy boy recliner in the corner of my garage and watch, breathing in and out of his rag. When I was finished, Jackie was passed out, and I smoked a Marlboro. Sometimes I smoked a second one.
He'd come to soon enough, pack up his car with whatever he was there to get, and leave with a wave and a smile. The last time I saw Jackie he was fumbling with his car cigarette lighter trying to get a joint to light.
I saw her again. And we made the old Merc's shocks squeak like the rusty box spring on your high school sweetheart's bed.
Back then. When men were men. Back when Jack Daniel's was Viagra and old men's broken dicks weren't everybody's problem. Business was booming.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Pavlov's Dogs
We are all sheep and I can prove it. Watch:
AAAACCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
You just said "God Bless You!" and I tricked you into saying it. I resolved long ago to no longer adhere to these foolish consistencies. You see, we have been trained to mindlessly say "God Bless You" after a sneeze. We have been brainwashed. Do you really need a blessing when you sneeze? What is a sneeze? You are merely proliferating the idea that the soul is leaving the body with that discharge. You are confounding ignorance.
Who ever questioned this? There are many theories regarding the origination of this brainwashing, but one thing is clear: 1) we are trained from birth to say it. 2) We are coercively forced into an innate belief in "God".
This is what I'm talking about when I look all around me and see sheep and feel bad. Everybody does these things without questioning them. Meanwhile Matthew Lesko makes millions questioning everything. People say "God Bless You" and its meaningless. When people sneeze now, I say "God Fuck You". It forces them to think. I am changing the world, one sneeze at a time. I will not be one of the flock. I will not believe in the false economy, nor the bubonic plague.
ACHOO!
GOD FUCK YOU!
AAAACCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
You just said "God Bless You!" and I tricked you into saying it. I resolved long ago to no longer adhere to these foolish consistencies. You see, we have been trained to mindlessly say "God Bless You" after a sneeze. We have been brainwashed. Do you really need a blessing when you sneeze? What is a sneeze? You are merely proliferating the idea that the soul is leaving the body with that discharge. You are confounding ignorance.
Who ever questioned this? There are many theories regarding the origination of this brainwashing, but one thing is clear: 1) we are trained from birth to say it. 2) We are coercively forced into an innate belief in "God".
This is what I'm talking about when I look all around me and see sheep and feel bad. Everybody does these things without questioning them. Meanwhile Matthew Lesko makes millions questioning everything. People say "God Bless You" and its meaningless. When people sneeze now, I say "God Fuck You". It forces them to think. I am changing the world, one sneeze at a time. I will not be one of the flock. I will not believe in the false economy, nor the bubonic plague.
ACHOO!
GOD FUCK YOU!
To walk along the edge of a straight razor and survive...
That is my dream.
Nobody gets it. It's tough believing the truth, but once I opened my eyes, I couldn't stop. People don't see the eminent demise encompassing our false beliefs. I'm writing under a new pseudonym for new perspective. People are afraid to assume other personalities. I am not. It's something I'm experimenting with to gain fuller consciousness. I am playing my own devils activate. Everybody fears questioning their beliefs, but I do it as another person. I do it as William of Occam. When you look around you, and you see that you believe one thing, and everyone believes something else, sometimes you can have doubts. But when I look at myself using Occam's razor, I understand that the simplest explanation for how strong my beliefs are is that I am right. If everybody else understood this, they'd agree.
I'm living in a tent in my backyard now. The basement is full. I know many of my readers wonder what I do all day. The truth is, I visit junkyards for scrap metal. Junkyards are the last bastion of the True Free Market, and the only thing I can endorse for economic activity. Any other exchange is Statist. I know at junkyards everything is off the books, so my transaction doesn't go to support coercive force. I have five old radiators in my basement now, the metal is going to be worth tons.
I picked up a dandy today. Afterwards I walked to Wal-Mart and bought an industrial blow torch so I can do some smelting. I've figured that I can make $5000 off the radiators after smelting the metal, and according to my calculations I'll have enough scrap left over to make a bust of my hero The Mad Monk.
I am certain I am he reincarnated. I am the same man, denouncing the same myths of this flawed economy. Just like with Joseph, history will absolve me. I feel pity for the nonbelievers.
Nobody gets it. It's tough believing the truth, but once I opened my eyes, I couldn't stop. People don't see the eminent demise encompassing our false beliefs. I'm writing under a new pseudonym for new perspective. People are afraid to assume other personalities. I am not. It's something I'm experimenting with to gain fuller consciousness. I am playing my own devils activate. Everybody fears questioning their beliefs, but I do it as another person. I do it as William of Occam. When you look around you, and you see that you believe one thing, and everyone believes something else, sometimes you can have doubts. But when I look at myself using Occam's razor, I understand that the simplest explanation for how strong my beliefs are is that I am right. If everybody else understood this, they'd agree.
I'm living in a tent in my backyard now. The basement is full. I know many of my readers wonder what I do all day. The truth is, I visit junkyards for scrap metal. Junkyards are the last bastion of the True Free Market, and the only thing I can endorse for economic activity. Any other exchange is Statist. I know at junkyards everything is off the books, so my transaction doesn't go to support coercive force. I have five old radiators in my basement now, the metal is going to be worth tons.
I picked up a dandy today. Afterwards I walked to Wal-Mart and bought an industrial blow torch so I can do some smelting. I've figured that I can make $5000 off the radiators after smelting the metal, and according to my calculations I'll have enough scrap left over to make a bust of my hero The Mad Monk.
I am certain I am he reincarnated. I am the same man, denouncing the same myths of this flawed economy. Just like with Joseph, history will absolve me. I feel pity for the nonbelievers.
On the clock
For years, I worked refining iron. My job was to take the pig iron to the cupola furnace to separate out the slag. It was always really hot in the refinery. You'd sweat through your clothes. The protective clothing was constricting. My OSHA working mask was sticking to my face.
I got to thinking about this broad that I had seen on the walk to work. She was about 5'9", a hundred and twenty-ish pounds, probably about 10 of that was pure tit. The slight drizzle had dampened her top as she walked to the bus stop. She was carrying a bag. I figured she had probably just left her boyfriend.
She wanted it. I thought about all the things I'd do to her, her moans filling the refinery. Her soaked from the rain, me drenched from the heat. The clanking of the metal, the sizzling of the iron in the furnaces.
And then I heard a scream. I snapped out of it. I wondered how long I had been thinking about that. What a great way to fuck up my day. My miserable prick coworker had taken it upon himself to leap into the molten slag. "At least commit suicide off the clock," I thought.
There's a common misconception that people have from movies and TV that if you jump into a pool of molten metal you eventually sink below the surface as if you jumped into some kind of swimming pool. I guess he had it too. Because what actually happens is much more horrible, louder, and smells awfully of a burning ham hock. A man-sized burning ham hock. A body floats in water because water is about as dense as a body. Iron, molten or not, is so much more dense than a person. A body helplessly writhes, unable to stand, unable to put out the fire, frying like a 200 lb piece of bacon. A piece of bacon that screams, for what seems like an entire shift, before the last bit of fucking stupid consciousness leaves his body.
The day now over, I punched out and wondered about the girl at the bus stop and when I'd see her again.
I got to thinking about this broad that I had seen on the walk to work. She was about 5'9", a hundred and twenty-ish pounds, probably about 10 of that was pure tit. The slight drizzle had dampened her top as she walked to the bus stop. She was carrying a bag. I figured she had probably just left her boyfriend.
She wanted it. I thought about all the things I'd do to her, her moans filling the refinery. Her soaked from the rain, me drenched from the heat. The clanking of the metal, the sizzling of the iron in the furnaces.
And then I heard a scream. I snapped out of it. I wondered how long I had been thinking about that. What a great way to fuck up my day. My miserable prick coworker had taken it upon himself to leap into the molten slag. "At least commit suicide off the clock," I thought.
There's a common misconception that people have from movies and TV that if you jump into a pool of molten metal you eventually sink below the surface as if you jumped into some kind of swimming pool. I guess he had it too. Because what actually happens is much more horrible, louder, and smells awfully of a burning ham hock. A man-sized burning ham hock. A body floats in water because water is about as dense as a body. Iron, molten or not, is so much more dense than a person. A body helplessly writhes, unable to stand, unable to put out the fire, frying like a 200 lb piece of bacon. A piece of bacon that screams, for what seems like an entire shift, before the last bit of fucking stupid consciousness leaves his body.
The day now over, I punched out and wondered about the girl at the bus stop and when I'd see her again.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The Past
I haven't always been such a beneficent person. Before I retired, I lived a life in a tumult of anger. After bouncing around through society's institutions, I came to see the error of my ways. Now I am awoken and I can never go back to sleep.
But early on, I was in it for the quick buck. I ran with the wrong crowd. My ideals got all twisted up in a neighborhood more full of piss and vinegar than of knowledge. Boy, I thought I knew then.
I knew how to make money using my hands and an upside-down smile. Me and the local guys started a card game for degenerates to piss away their electric bill money on. I collected the vigorish debts.
Most of the time people paid right on the spot. Other times we'd track them down. Not like Unsolved Mysteries or anything like that. More like a knock on the door asking for the money. Nobody was out to get hurt. These guys had families and didn't want their bad habits to follow them home. Sometimes it was more than just a bad habit that could follow you home. Eventually you were the bad habit. You did the following. And you could follow someone further than home.
The stories were always the same. He'd been in debt for weeks. He meant to pay but he couldn't. He'd have it if you just gave him another day. A day turns into two days. Word gets around that you're a fool. And then one night you'd cave in his fucking skull with a claw hammer.
But early on, I was in it for the quick buck. I ran with the wrong crowd. My ideals got all twisted up in a neighborhood more full of piss and vinegar than of knowledge. Boy, I thought I knew then.
I knew how to make money using my hands and an upside-down smile. Me and the local guys started a card game for degenerates to piss away their electric bill money on. I collected the vigorish debts.
Most of the time people paid right on the spot. Other times we'd track them down. Not like Unsolved Mysteries or anything like that. More like a knock on the door asking for the money. Nobody was out to get hurt. These guys had families and didn't want their bad habits to follow them home. Sometimes it was more than just a bad habit that could follow you home. Eventually you were the bad habit. You did the following. And you could follow someone further than home.
The stories were always the same. He'd been in debt for weeks. He meant to pay but he couldn't. He'd have it if you just gave him another day. A day turns into two days. Word gets around that you're a fool. And then one night you'd cave in his fucking skull with a claw hammer.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Visions
I don't see, I foresee. I am a visionary in my field. Think of me as an alarm clock sent from beyond to bring about the new awakening. Past prophets have been too concerned with personal profits to truly benefit mankind. You, of course, know by now that just as all profits are falsehoods foisted upon us by the government, that so too are all past prophets. I remembered this because the chaotic strands that order reality put a black lady in my bed this morning.
The one true king is here to keep you protected from yourself. But there is sorcery afoot, preventing the truth from reaching TV. The mass media is dominated by these sorcerers and all of their reports are elaborate lies staged by the world media conglomerates and the shadow government. This is the time in which a visionary like me can thrive by sifting the diamonds from the feces, the great minds from the deceptive automatons sent to stop us.
For years the government has been snatching up land across the United States. In fact, the shadow government owns 30% of the land in the United States. Why should they be allowed a monopoly over the citizenry to use these areas to deal death with their murderous machines and practice their sorcery, animating once lifeless mechanical bodies into fearsome automatons now indistinguishable from an ordinary man but for their brutal intentions and their purple internal "organs" formed of fulminated gold.
It is at this crucial moment that we today as believers must ask ourselves, is Barack Obama acting in the best interests of the true Americans like you and me? Or, is he a sinister magician using his powers to shrink the penises of the many and adding their length to those of the few shadow governors? Fear for the best my readers, but prepare for the worst.
The one true king is here to keep you protected from yourself. But there is sorcery afoot, preventing the truth from reaching TV. The mass media is dominated by these sorcerers and all of their reports are elaborate lies staged by the world media conglomerates and the shadow government. This is the time in which a visionary like me can thrive by sifting the diamonds from the feces, the great minds from the deceptive automatons sent to stop us.
For years the government has been snatching up land across the United States. In fact, the shadow government owns 30% of the land in the United States. Why should they be allowed a monopoly over the citizenry to use these areas to deal death with their murderous machines and practice their sorcery, animating once lifeless mechanical bodies into fearsome automatons now indistinguishable from an ordinary man but for their brutal intentions and their purple internal "organs" formed of fulminated gold.
It is at this crucial moment that we today as believers must ask ourselves, is Barack Obama acting in the best interests of the true Americans like you and me? Or, is he a sinister magician using his powers to shrink the penises of the many and adding their length to those of the few shadow governors? Fear for the best my readers, but prepare for the worst.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Cinema Verite
As many of you know, I am retired. I am retired from a life of working as a government puppet and a slave to wages. Money is worthless anyway, and the instruments of currency are known by all to be falsehoods. My retirement has been a bountiful one, because I have the true knowledge that making money to spend it only keeps down mankind and lets the government destroy our ability.
I live in a world after employment, where there is no money and there is no work. If we work, our hands do the work of devils. We are jackals pillaging the coffers of our fellow men, for whom there is no retirement. They will never be able to retire unless they wake up, and I am watching the sands of time slip through the wasp waist of the hourglass, robbing men of their futures and women of their virginity.
In these unchaste times we can only struggle to document the coming end. Our fate is inevitable and the nonbelievers merely deny their destiny. Kismet will not wait for the average person to wake up, and by the time they do, their eternal sleep will already have come.
Be safe my brothers.
I live in a world after employment, where there is no money and there is no work. If we work, our hands do the work of devils. We are jackals pillaging the coffers of our fellow men, for whom there is no retirement. They will never be able to retire unless they wake up, and I am watching the sands of time slip through the wasp waist of the hourglass, robbing men of their futures and women of their virginity.
In these unchaste times we can only struggle to document the coming end. Our fate is inevitable and the nonbelievers merely deny their destiny. Kismet will not wait for the average person to wake up, and by the time they do, their eternal sleep will already have come.
Be safe my brothers.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Devils
"You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father's desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies."
John 8:44
Devils surround us, readers. As they close in, we must work on the best solution to send them back from whence they came. Even our fathers are devils and from their loins we leaped into a devil's world.
I am a speculator, and a supragenius. And with my great power comes great responsibility: the responsibility to spread the word against the devils. The devils do plot, my friends. They plot to unhinge the world economy. They plot to dominate the singular consciousness. They plot to bend the wills of men to their wills, to heat up coat hangers on stoves and to stick them underneath our toenails. Our pain is their bliss.
They are the cheerleaders, the jackals, the crisis profiteers. They ignore the real crises and promote their own, ever the profligates. Act wisely, restore the value of gold back to its true 1920 value of $21/oz before the one world government cannot be stopped.
Just imagine a cake. It is a good looking cake, but a sinister secret hides within. The cake has feces baked into it. If we could separate the cake from the feces, we would have perfectly good cake (and feces). But the truth is that the cake and the feces are inexorably one, and to separate them mitigates the very possibility that the cake and the feces are formed from the same ephemeral aether that allow us to make the decision in the first place.
This is my mission.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Explanation!!!!!
I want to tell you about an important piece of punctuation that is almost never used for its true purpose. The explanation point.
Because I am a smarter than average, and because I know how to separate the truth from the lies, I want to open everyone's eyes about this fantastic piece of the English language. Let's imagine an apprentice mechanic learning from a master mechanic. The apprentice will need lots of tutoring and practical experience before he becomes a master. But how can the master impart the necessary knowledge on the apprentice?
The master can tell him what to do, but nobody likes being told what to do. Not even yours truly. So he must take a different route. He must explain what to do. And the key to any explanation is the explanation point!
If you are smart I know this explanation has helped a lot!!!!
Because I am a smarter than average, and because I know how to separate the truth from the lies, I want to open everyone's eyes about this fantastic piece of the English language. Let's imagine an apprentice mechanic learning from a master mechanic. The apprentice will need lots of tutoring and practical experience before he becomes a master. But how can the master impart the necessary knowledge on the apprentice?
The master can tell him what to do, but nobody likes being told what to do. Not even yours truly. So he must take a different route. He must explain what to do. And the key to any explanation is the explanation point!
If you are smart I know this explanation has helped a lot!!!!
Divided We Stand, United We Fall
I started today on the right foot, which is the left foot. After a few rousing rounds of the hokey pokey, I got down to the real business of today. I ate 5 hot dogs and took a bite out of a yellow onion, taking my best crow hop and pitching the remainder of the onion into the basement wall like an underground Cy Young. The onion exploded into a smashed set of concentric cellulose layers. Immediately afterward, I reached into the freezer to put a heaping scoop of crushed ice down my pants, like I do every day at this time. There are tons of wives' tale type remedies out there for cut onions burning the eyes, but if you have the knowledge that I have, you know that 1-2 cups of crushed ice applied directly to the groin cures this condition immediately.
I also wanted to thank the readership for making this blog what is is. The message is getting out there! We're also up to about 100 unique views per day, meaning that hundreds of people have taken off their rosy colored glasses, left behind their ivory towers and let slip the dogs of war against the one world government. The sound track of sizzling hot dogs is our victory march, and we shall not relent until every last man, every last woman, and every child is freed from the grasp of the governments that seek to break their will and crush their reproductive organs.
We shall stand divided against the government and their mind control schemes (link). If we present the united front, we are but a bunch of sheep, easily corraled and shorn of our beliefs. If you'll excuse me, I am going to roll myself up in a coracle fishing net and sleep in the cabinets under the hot plate.
I also wanted to thank the readership for making this blog what is is. The message is getting out there! We're also up to about 100 unique views per day, meaning that hundreds of people have taken off their rosy colored glasses, left behind their ivory towers and let slip the dogs of war against the one world government. The sound track of sizzling hot dogs is our victory march, and we shall not relent until every last man, every last woman, and every child is freed from the grasp of the governments that seek to break their will and crush their reproductive organs.
We shall stand divided against the government and their mind control schemes (link). If we present the united front, we are but a bunch of sheep, easily corraled and shorn of our beliefs. If you'll excuse me, I am going to roll myself up in a coracle fishing net and sleep in the cabinets under the hot plate.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Tyranny of the Minority
On April 2nd, 1792, Congress passed the Coinage Act of 1792. This act established the United States Mint. It also authorized the government to begin to stockpile precious metals ostensibly for pressing coins. This was all a clever ruse however, as it really allowed the government to devalue the currency and cheapen the wealth of all men. Through exercising their murder monopoly, the government was able to hoard all the pure metals and leave the false ones behind, killing those who dissented. Those killed for their dissent include Benedict Arnold, who died in 1801 after moving against the one world government. He was poisoned with uric acid in a one world government plot to prevent him from restoring the true gold to the masses.
I have documented this truth more fully in a series of marble composition notebooks that I keep in my hamper. Periodically I will reveal more as my research compromises the great secrets of the Illuminati. For now I fear that I have already said too much.
Life in the basement is a simple existence. I have but a bucket of excrement as my only pal, and he has gained weight appreciably since his introduction to the pantry. This is the key to an environment where the best work can be done with the greatest ease. Readers, you have not lived until you live off of only hot dogs in an oubliette of your own devise.
I'm a genius, and as pure as the gold restoration ideals for which we toil.
I have documented this truth more fully in a series of marble composition notebooks that I keep in my hamper. Periodically I will reveal more as my research compromises the great secrets of the Illuminati. For now I fear that I have already said too much.
Life in the basement is a simple existence. I have but a bucket of excrement as my only pal, and he has gained weight appreciably since his introduction to the pantry. This is the key to an environment where the best work can be done with the greatest ease. Readers, you have not lived until you live off of only hot dogs in an oubliette of your own devise.
I'm a genius, and as pure as the gold restoration ideals for which we toil.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Octopus
Today I made 4 slices up most of the length of the hot dogs before putting them in the marinade. Then I sliced each of the 4 slices in half vertically so that I created a hot dog octopus. Octopus. Octopus. What a strange word.
The octopus is a cephalopod and may be as smart as most dogs. It has 8 tentacles and a nasty beak that it uses to consume lesser creatures. Some octopuses are poisonous, but hot dog octopuses are not. Hot dog octopus tastes good with the hot dog marinade mixture.
As a bipedal being with only 4 limbs I have been spending my time imagining my life as a unipedal creature. Standing on one foot. First the left foot. Then the right foot. Which is a better foot to use as the only foot? It is clearly the left foot, because when looking into a mirror, the right foot is the left foot and that is just wrong. You see, only mirrors show the true appearance of things. The right is actually the left and the left is actually the right and mankind has been making its spatial assessments all wrong since the beginning of time.
Delusional public. I typed that standing on one foot.
The octopus is a cephalopod and may be as smart as most dogs. It has 8 tentacles and a nasty beak that it uses to consume lesser creatures. Some octopuses are poisonous, but hot dog octopuses are not. Hot dog octopus tastes good with the hot dog marinade mixture.
As a bipedal being with only 4 limbs I have been spending my time imagining my life as a unipedal creature. Standing on one foot. First the left foot. Then the right foot. Which is a better foot to use as the only foot? It is clearly the left foot, because when looking into a mirror, the right foot is the left foot and that is just wrong. You see, only mirrors show the true appearance of things. The right is actually the left and the left is actually the right and mankind has been making its spatial assessments all wrong since the beginning of time.
Delusional public. I typed that standing on one foot.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Buttons
Luckily my wi-fi reaches down into the basement. The first day of the basement plan went well. I've smoked my days quota of cigarettes and gone through about a pack of hot dogs. The Wall Street Journal is fresh as ever. I have been urinating into a joint compound bucket partially filled with coffee grounds to tame the smell of waste. Early this morning I defecated into it and the striking juxtaposition of the dark brown grounds with the light brown feces was a sight to behold. A tan cetacean, his echolocation ruined, lies marooned, glistening on the coarse mahogany sand. The uncertainty remains surrounding whether or not the lid will blow off from pressure created by the mixture during the coming days, so I've put a few bricks on top to keep it in there.
More hot dogs in the hot plate. I'm developing an affinity for the hot dog recipe. This recipe is a processed meat ambrosia, this basement my Elysium. If only the ancient Greeks had hot dogs their empire would still flourish today, our fossil fuel woes solved by riding great chariots through the streets.
However, uncertainty of how to pass the time between hot dogs mounts. I have been playing a game where I turn off the lights, rip a button off my shirt and toss the button in the room, trying to find it by touch until I do, and then tossing it again.
So far I've found the button five times and lost four buttons. I'm sure they'll turn up in the next few days so long as I can keep searching. This basement preparation ritual is a great American tradition, and I'm thankful for all the words of encouragement I've received from the readership and the fine folks at the national hot dog and sausage council.
More hot dogs in the hot plate. I'm developing an affinity for the hot dog recipe. This recipe is a processed meat ambrosia, this basement my Elysium. If only the ancient Greeks had hot dogs their empire would still flourish today, our fossil fuel woes solved by riding great chariots through the streets.
However, uncertainty of how to pass the time between hot dogs mounts. I have been playing a game where I turn off the lights, rip a button off my shirt and toss the button in the room, trying to find it by touch until I do, and then tossing it again.
So far I've found the button five times and lost four buttons. I'm sure they'll turn up in the next few days so long as I can keep searching. This basement preparation ritual is a great American tradition, and I'm thankful for all the words of encouragement I've received from the readership and the fine folks at the national hot dog and sausage council.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Basement Man
Today is a milestone day in my action plan. This morning I went down into my basement pantry where I will stay and make all the posts for the coming week. To build up strength I have stocked the pantry with the following items:
Onions
Scallions
Garlic
Hot dogs (frozen in coffin freezer)
Shoyu
Mirin
Ginger root
Sugar
Defrost hotdogs.
Mix 1/2 cup Shoyu and 1/2 cup Mirin together in a bowl with 2 tablespoons of sugar. Chop hot dogs and marinate in sauce for 30 minutes.
Chop onions and scallions and set aside. Smash a garlic clove or two and add to the onions and scallions. Finely grate a bit over ginger over the pan. How much depends on preference.
Heat up a frying pan on the stove. In this case a hot plate will be used.
Pour hot dogs and marinade into the frying pan. Add onions, scallions and garlic. Allow to boil in the liquid for 5-6 minutes. Serve over rice (optional) or eat straight, reserving some sauce as dressing.
There's no rice in store this week, because this regimen will require consuming only the hot dogs. The aim for this following week (until July 3rd), will be to eat a pack of hot dogs per day and to smoke at least 500 cigarettes in the basement pantry, and to not leave for any reason.
I bought 5 copies of today's Wall Street Journal and will read them during my week of seclusion. After this I will be prepared for whatever comes.
Onions
Scallions
Garlic
Hot dogs (frozen in coffin freezer)
Shoyu
Mirin
Ginger root
Sugar
Defrost hotdogs.
Mix 1/2 cup Shoyu and 1/2 cup Mirin together in a bowl with 2 tablespoons of sugar. Chop hot dogs and marinate in sauce for 30 minutes.
Chop onions and scallions and set aside. Smash a garlic clove or two and add to the onions and scallions. Finely grate a bit over ginger over the pan. How much depends on preference.
Heat up a frying pan on the stove. In this case a hot plate will be used.
Pour hot dogs and marinade into the frying pan. Add onions, scallions and garlic. Allow to boil in the liquid for 5-6 minutes. Serve over rice (optional) or eat straight, reserving some sauce as dressing.
There's no rice in store this week, because this regimen will require consuming only the hot dogs. The aim for this following week (until July 3rd), will be to eat a pack of hot dogs per day and to smoke at least 500 cigarettes in the basement pantry, and to not leave for any reason.
I bought 5 copies of today's Wall Street Journal and will read them during my week of seclusion. After this I will be prepared for whatever comes.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The Apocalypse
The financial ruin of the masses and how the one world government has devalued currency to the point that even our billionaires are destitute. What we haven't discussed is how the apocalypse is going to follow the psychic singularity, brought about by the efforts of the government. When the government formed the Federal Reserve System was created in 1913 by the Federal Reserve Act, the government began stockpiling gold at Fort Knox and in other secret locations around the world.
There is only one real gold and that has all been ferreted out by the scouts of the Illuminati and their agents. The gold bought and sold on the stock exchange is not this gold. This false gold was created through alchemical secrets that were lost to the dark ages and were contained in the library of Alexandria. The one world government needs to stockpile this gold because of the Rapture. When Jesus Christ returns to Earth with the saints to bring the reckoning to mankind and separate the believers from the idolaters, the false gold will lure the demons. These abominations will then rend the flesh of men and tear them limb from limb. The true gold, possessed currently only by the one world government and its agents, will form armies in the afterlife which will slay the demons and ensure its domination of the heavens.
The demons will come in the pre-chosen forms: the lords of the 9 hells with their furious whips to flay the men and impregnate the women with their demon seed. And from their loins will spring forth more demons, hungry for the false gold of men and subservient to the one world government. The Illuminati's goal of bringing about the end of man will then be fulfilled.
There is only one real gold and that has all been ferreted out by the scouts of the Illuminati and their agents. The gold bought and sold on the stock exchange is not this gold. This false gold was created through alchemical secrets that were lost to the dark ages and were contained in the library of Alexandria. The one world government needs to stockpile this gold because of the Rapture. When Jesus Christ returns to Earth with the saints to bring the reckoning to mankind and separate the believers from the idolaters, the false gold will lure the demons. These abominations will then rend the flesh of men and tear them limb from limb. The true gold, possessed currently only by the one world government and its agents, will form armies in the afterlife which will slay the demons and ensure its domination of the heavens.
The demons will come in the pre-chosen forms: the lords of the 9 hells with their furious whips to flay the men and impregnate the women with their demon seed. And from their loins will spring forth more demons, hungry for the false gold of men and subservient to the one world government. The Illuminati's goal of bringing about the end of man will then be fulfilled.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Destroyer
In 1950, men and women lived happily and the United States was a great place. We had lots of money and were world leaders in culture and prosperity. As the millstone that is the corrupted one world government slowly eroded, the United States and the world as a whole have taken a turn for the worse. Back in the golden ages of our country and our planet, we had so much money to invest and upon which to receive return that even the poorest Americans were millionaires in today's currency.
This is because of what the one world government doesn't want you to know. That they have systematically devalued the world's currency while hoarding the world's true wealth: the ancient documents from the razed library of Alexandria that allow them to use psychic mind control on the citizenry of the United States and of the world.
Take a look at the Seal of the United States. The pyramid with the eye on the back plainly says below it "Novus Ordo Seclorum", latin for New Order of the Ages. Throughout the history of man, the Illuminati has covertly worked to undermine the wealth of the average man and hoard his mind control foci in a great conspiracy. When the Illuminati became an object of public focus in the late 1800s and early 1900s, they began to use these ancient foci of mind control to subvert world leaders and ultimately cause the formation of the federal reserve system, a system designed to devalue the currency of men and women just like you and I.
Having read this document, everyone can plainly see that we must shield ourselves from the influence of the one world government on our currency and on our minds. How you ask? All is revealed.
"And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.
This is because of what the one world government doesn't want you to know. That they have systematically devalued the world's currency while hoarding the world's true wealth: the ancient documents from the razed library of Alexandria that allow them to use psychic mind control on the citizenry of the United States and of the world.
Take a look at the Seal of the United States. The pyramid with the eye on the back plainly says below it "Novus Ordo Seclorum", latin for New Order of the Ages. Throughout the history of man, the Illuminati has covertly worked to undermine the wealth of the average man and hoard his mind control foci in a great conspiracy. When the Illuminati became an object of public focus in the late 1800s and early 1900s, they began to use these ancient foci of mind control to subvert world leaders and ultimately cause the formation of the federal reserve system, a system designed to devalue the currency of men and women just like you and I.
Having read this document, everyone can plainly see that we must shield ourselves from the influence of the one world government on our currency and on our minds. How you ask? All is revealed.
"And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.
And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion: and the dragon gave him his power, and his seat, and great authority."
Revelation 13:1-2
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
2012 and the psychic singularity
The end of the world as we know it is coming and I know when. In 2012, at the end of the astonishingly accurate Mayan calendar, the world is going to undergo a massive psychic shift. As oil runs out and global governments falter, the average citizen is going to have to make it on his own. I've already talked about the values of investing in sexual intercourse in the previous post. I want to underscore the important of planning for this psychic singularity.
When December 21 of 2012 arrives, the psychic barriers between individual consciousnesses will be broken down and mankind will think with one mind. As we all know, humans are currently using only 10% of their brains. As impressive as all our works created today are, their magnitude is only amplified considering that the other 90% of our brains have been idle all this time. When the 2012 consciousness shift hits, we will unlock the true potential of our new 'hive' mind. Social insects have unlocked the secrets of cooperating with a sole, unflapping consciousness eons ago. It is, naturally, the next step in man's development.
Once the psychic singularity is reached, technology will advance at an unprecedented pace. If we do not prepare now by making as many offspring in our image as possible, our individual consciousnesses will be drowned out in the merging with the masses. Readers: reproduce now before your mental virtues are annihilated by the coming inevitable singularity.
When December 21 of 2012 arrives, the psychic barriers between individual consciousnesses will be broken down and mankind will think with one mind. As we all know, humans are currently using only 10% of their brains. As impressive as all our works created today are, their magnitude is only amplified considering that the other 90% of our brains have been idle all this time. When the 2012 consciousness shift hits, we will unlock the true potential of our new 'hive' mind. Social insects have unlocked the secrets of cooperating with a sole, unflapping consciousness eons ago. It is, naturally, the next step in man's development.
Once the psychic singularity is reached, technology will advance at an unprecedented pace. If we do not prepare now by making as many offspring in our image as possible, our individual consciousnesses will be drowned out in the merging with the masses. Readers: reproduce now before your mental virtues are annihilated by the coming inevitable singularity.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Financiality
Today I was on my way to the sustainable organic market to buy free-range chicken when I thought of something. It's been raining for a couple of days and I'm sure it is due to global warming. As the climate change progresses, those of us who are not preparing for a drastic change in the habitability of the earth will have their ways of life undone. This unmaking will lead to their infertility and eventual demise and the start of the 7 biblical plagues.
As the rain drops fall I've realized the importance of divesting my stores of currency and investing in commodities. Amongst these commodities are sustainable agriculture, guns and sex. The necessity of the first two of these things is unquestioned and need not be explained. However, I have realized that buying sex is the key to investing for the future. Sure, some analysts on CNN are going on about investing in gold, or oil, or foreign wars. But I've realized that if we don't stop our institutionalized murder culture and start to buy sex to reproduce, we will run out of people and leave all of our gear as a rotting monument of nothing on the face of God's earth.
So please, tell your friends, tell your parents, buy sex now before it is too late.
As the rain drops fall I've realized the importance of divesting my stores of currency and investing in commodities. Amongst these commodities are sustainable agriculture, guns and sex. The necessity of the first two of these things is unquestioned and need not be explained. However, I have realized that buying sex is the key to investing for the future. Sure, some analysts on CNN are going on about investing in gold, or oil, or foreign wars. But I've realized that if we don't stop our institutionalized murder culture and start to buy sex to reproduce, we will run out of people and leave all of our gear as a rotting monument of nothing on the face of God's earth.
So please, tell your friends, tell your parents, buy sex now before it is too late.
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