Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
As the reader well knows, I've mentioned my invisible friends more than once and more than once, I have mentioned that I was told that 'someone' was going to show up right in the middle of these creeps who are doing all of the nasty shit and expose them and do it in an ingeniously humiliating and convincing manner. Well now, what do we have here? Given this fellows comment about wanting to have nine more children with his wife, maybe we can assume he was doing nothing more than rehearsing for that eventuality. Meanwhile, the truth goes viral, as a counteraction to the bullshit already having gone viral. Can I get an Amen?
As pointed out in the recent Visible Origami, the problem, negatively impacting on all of us is laid out here in terrific cogency with all attendant brevity by the inimitable James Petras. Then we get George Clooney and his dad at the Sudanese embassy and you will note, after his father speaks, that the guy on the right pops in and says, “If the words, 'never again' mean anything...”; uh huh. Who is that guy? I know who he works for, I just don't know who he is. He looks a little shoehorned in to me and the looks on Clooney's and his father's face look a little interesting as well. I don't want to take away from George Clooney's sincerity on the matter but as to who is behind whatever is happening that they wish was not happening, well, I'd ask the shoehorn guy; not that I would expect a truthful answer but... so it goes.
The world has begun to go topsy turvy and this is being exhibited like runaway teenage acne, in various established locations, of formerly sacrosanct heartland enterprises. When squeeze comes to crush, it's no time to have your nose stuck in a bottle of Rush. Anyway, by now we know, all you got to do is follow the money. Consonant with that, backlash is coming to an airport near you soon. You remember those cartoons, with the red eyes staring out of the forest? Well, now we know whose eyes those are. That ought to do it for the links, except for the strange curiosity of things like this. Wouldn't you think there would be some kind of a communication device inside that thing or a handle on the inside; some kind of alarm? I could here list many, many strange events taking place in these times, to add even greater weight to the 'strange days have found us' phenomena but that's for you to peruse at your leisure, on your own time.
All of this tends to clarify the uncertainties and confusions I have been feeling of late. Of course, they don't actually clarify anything. They just confirm that there may be reasons for it all. I've my own theories about the whole affair but we'll probably just have to see what we see, when the time comes to see it.
I'm not amused (well, maybe a little) or entertained by what's been going on but I must say that it is comforting to have so many of the things I have been told, confirmed by conditions and events as they surface and occur. It's something to hang on to in this crazy atmosphere of; 'what could possibly happen next'? That's the thing about being on the receiving end of something you can't see. Rational doesn't always apply. That's a good thing for those of us who live at the corner of Irrational and Inexplicable. Of course we have neighborhood watch but it's probably not what you're used to.
We're talking about total exposure here and Biden is talking about impeachment. He's probably heard all he wants to hear about Johnathan Pollard by now. That bring us to the mind-blowing arrogance of those who are being exposed, who just motor along with 'Segway Naked' tattooed on their chests and rear ends. I can't figure out if they're running scared with Roy Orbison or cool, calculated and indifferent to the consequences, because they don't think there are any. It's got to be some kind of psychedelic Mardi Gras behind the scenes. Any minute now, I expect to see Lloyd Blankfein, coming down Wall Street, on a motorized skateboard, dressed in a pink tutu, with a big sign talking about doing god's work. He mot certainly is but not in any way he ever intended it to be.
The gates of Hell seem to have opened and cartoon devils are tripping all over the landscape looking for banker booty and backdoor, politician romance. They had it all where they wanted it. They have never in the history of the world had such a large body of terminally stupid, deluded and deceived people. They'd already stolen more than they could ever spend. They had the police outfitted with cyborg riot gear. They had the military in place, all over the world and they could have just put the whole thing on cruise control and rolled on into the East Rutherford sunset that they were kind enough to provide us with but, oh no, it wasn't enough and it's never enough. Now, just like that, it's all too much.
It's day to day and week to week and I do believe this is St. Patrick's Day. One more dead drunk, transplanted, alcoholic holiday to fittingly celebrate the end of the world as we know it and, of course, you feel fine. Yeah, that'll do me Koot Hoomi. Here's what you're dealing with. It seems calculated and controlled, beyond rhyme, reason or effective reaction. It's been delineated and illustrated by writers, philosophers and many others for a long time now. You see it in action in the moment and you know it's been a long time coming. It can be very intimidating, when you realize how much thought and effort has been put into getting it where it is. Can it be affected? Can it be altered? Can it be done away with and by whom? These are all good questions. They move through our minds to the soundtrack of soundbites by people like Henry Kissinger (will he never leave?) who continues to croak like a Bufo Toad from that Monsanto engineered lily pod, in the polluted swamp that has bred so many like him from Talleyrand to Metternich, to Disraeli, from Rothschild to Rockefeller, from here to the no there, there, ♫private thighs are crushing you, private thighhhhhhhs, yeah♫
I don't know how this all winds up but I can't see it turning into 1984 at a later date. It can get like that in certain coordinates, where the collective makes the drama possible, in the minds of those open to anything, at the hands of anyone but in other places it will only be a movie, a rumor or an echo from down below. One thing we know but which they ain't saying, is that there is dissension in the ranks. The truly irredeemable and corrupt, are using every means at their disposal, to keep their minions in the ranks but that appears not to be working very well. The heartbreak of psoriasis, is attaining plague status. The commercial is now your regularly scheduled programming.
There's just so much damn information. 90% of it is an outright lie. They're putting on a bold front but like Vincent Price, after things went dreadfully wrong in that fly experiment, if you lean your head down close enough to the underbrush, you can hear a small human voice crying, “help me, help me”. It's probably Hillary Clinton and not Vincent Price but that's as it should be.
Like I said, it's day to day and week to week at this point. The serial killer drop zones in the ice plants will be a theme park soon enough. Obviously they have to keep on pushing. If they stand still they're in deep trouble. I don't know what to tell you. Stay frosty and keep your distance.
'No Tracks' is track no. 7 of 11 on Visible's 2001 album 'God in Country'
Lyrics (pops up)