Writer's block.
Contrary to popular belief, it's not the absence of ideas, it's a case of too many. It's hard to figure out where to begin.
It's kind of like Joyce's Finnegan's Wake. It begins and ends in the middle of a sentence, so that the entire book is a full circle. I've always thought it would be interesting to make a movie like that, with the credits in the middle, and starting and ending in the middle of a scene. People would be completely befuddled. Movies and writing are linear, in that they must begin at some point and end at another point, with a series of building climaxes, until the pay-off.
At the moment, as I sit here trying to organize the bee hive in my head, it's hard to pick a point at which to launch. I sat for an hour tonight making my world-famous spaghetti sauce, which is a pretty mindless project involving cutting up dozens of onions and tomatoes. While I was working, my mind was pondering all the events going on the in world. Obviously, I'm not alone.
There have been so many things happening that folks have comepletely forgotten that the world's worst nuclear accident in still in progress in Fukushima, Japan. It's belching out piles of radioactive isotopes known to cause all sorts of horrible diseases and birth defects and other really fun stuff. But, if you look at mainstream media, hardly a word. Nobody remembers it.
Instead, we've been distracted with 'royal' weddings, birth certificates and farcical bad-guy baggings. And while we are arguing over whether Obama's birth certificate is genuine, or Usama bin Laden is really dead, we're all literally cooking in our seats.
I've gotten a couple of nasty-grams from folks laughing because I like silver, and the price has dropped nearly $20 in the last two weeks. I can only answer, "Go out and try to buy a 100oz. bar." Can't do it. JPMorgan can play with COMEX to save it's "too big to fail" ass, but it doesn't change the fact that they can't cover their naken shorts. They're hiding with by playing numbers.
But it doesn't change the fact that we're cooking in our seats.
I got a couple more nasty-grams saying that I'm unpatriotic for not backing Obama and the UBL fiasco. I can only say, "You're unpatriotic for not questioning every utterance from your government."
Meanwhile, we're all cooking in our seats.
Got one nasty-gram saying I'm seeing boogy men under every rock with all the talk about symbols and stuff. Sorry, but that kind of stupidity and willful ignorance doesn't deserve an answer.
All the while, we're cooking in our seats.
Take a look at this link. Don't know about you, but it pretty much takes the wind out of UBL's, Obama's and the 'royal's' sails. It looks like Clif's web bots talking about ill winds circling the planet nine times are pretty much spot on. I live 6 degrees south of the equator, so it'll take a little longer to get here, but that crap will eventually end up in my salad, too.
Makes me feel real good about what my grandchildren will look like, not that my genetics were GQ stock to start with, but a healthy dose of plutonium in the zygote stage sure ain't gonna help things.
But hey! Cop-killing rappers at the White House and Lady GaGa are MUCH more important, right?
Because all the twhile, we're cooking in our seats.
Gee, you don't think THEY'd create all this noise to hide the fact that we're all cooking in our seats, do you? I mean, just because the 'royal' wedding started at 11:11am, and certain important objects, such as Venus (the Light Bearer) was passing overhead in London at that moment, we shouldn't worry, right? All's well, brother, Everything is double-plus good. Choco rations are up 15% this month!
What's really interesting is that the Untied States are setting up for a truly unique revolution, in which the States themselves revolt against the federal government. I can't really think of it's equal in history. It's already begun in States like Arizona, which took away the federal powers to regulate immigration, in California which took away the fed's power to regulate marijuana, in Utah which took back the power to coin money. Little by little, the States are asserting their 9th and 10th Amerndment rights. It's a wonder to behold from over here on the Far Side.
Hope it continues.
I think they should just dissolve the federal government and start a fresh one, using the same Constitution, but put it somewhere in Nebraska this time. The only States that could possibly be against that idea would be, oh say, Connecticut, since they have absolutely nothing but rich New Yorkers there.
Despite all the fun and games, we're cooking in our seats.
Shouldn't we be worrying about things that will affect our great-grandchildren, instead of all this fluff and stuff that won't mean a damn thing next year?
Can't you feel the heat yet?
Here Thar Be Monsters!
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Showing posts with label British royals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label British royals. Show all posts
12.5.11
1.5.11
Feudalistic Orgy
King Arthur: Old woman.
Dennis: Man.
King Arthur: Man, sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there?
Dennis: I'm 37.
King Arthur: What?
Dennis: I'm 37. I'm not old.
King Arthur: Well I can't just call you "man".
Dennis: Well you could say "Dennis".
King Arthur: I didn't know you were called Dennis.
Dennis: Well you didn't bother to find out did you?
King Arthur: I did say sorry about the "old woman", but from behind you looked...
Dennis: What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior.
King Arthur: Well I am king.
Dennis: Oh, king eh? Very nice. And how'd you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers. By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society.
King Arthur: I am your king.
-- Monty Python and the Holy GrailWoman: Well I didn't vote for you.
King Arthur: You don't vote for kings.
Woman: Well how'd you become king then?
[Angelic music plays... ]
King Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. THAT is why I am your king.
Dennis: [interrupting] Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
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Dennis: Oh, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you.
Dennis: Oh but if I went 'round sayin' I was Emperor, just because some moistened bint lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away.
Dennis: Come and see the violence inherent in the system. Help! Help! I'm being repressed!
King Arthur: Bloody peasant!
Dennis: Oh, what a giveaway! Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about! Did you see him repressing me? You saw him, Didn't you?
The past week, we witnessed a disgusting display of oligarchical power. The whole point was to let us peasants know that we can't possibly throw a party like these inbred, insane and megalomaniacal scum.
We are told that the whole world came to a halt to witness the re-inforcement of our servitude. Supposedly, all us serfs stopped our grinding labor to witness our owners display their superiority, sovereignty, 'divine right,' and absolute power over us.
Wilhelm Hanover, Prince of Whales, wed his selected breed-stock, a supposed 'commoner' (actually descended from a break-away branch of the House of Hanover thus re-uniting the estranged family). The breed-stock, often called 'Kate,; as if we're all friends and equals, comes from a family of 'self-made millionaires.' Well, of course. The scum wouldn't chose some poor Cinderella for this perverse 'fairy tale.' What's the bet they even genetically tested 'Kate' to make sure she was proper breed-stock for little Wilhelm?
We are told that the new breeding line will not take an immediate honeymoon. Little Wilhelm must return to active service in the RAF, where he can mount his magic carpet and sail through the Heavens, collecting bodies of real commoners in his blood-lust rituals of passage for our Masters of the Global Elite.
Just look at the photo here. Notice Little Wilhelm's bared teeth, in a primal display of intimidation, like an alpha wolf putting down his challengers.
Look even closer, there on the right side of his uniform. Why...isn't that a goat's head, symbol of Baphomet, and two lightning bolts, most famously used by the Nazi SS, and symbol of Zeus/Jupiter-King of the Gods? So this guy actually thinks he's one of the Masters of the Universe.
Ah, to be an inbred hick with delusions of grandeur.
It's all rather sickening. And what adds insult to injury is that the lap-dog media worldwide has fallen all over themselves to tell us how we are all breathlessly awaiting this 'sacred' event. Every network, every paper, every fawning internet outlet couldn't tell us enough how we are all just begging to see this Orgy of Feudalism. In fact, to hear the media tell it, this is the event of the century, just as Wilhelm's daddy's joining with his own breed-stock was the event of the last century.
Oh really?
So landing on the Moon, two bloody global wars, the first Depression, and all the other major events of the 20th century couldn't hold a candle to Charlie taking possession of his cow.
For anyone who knows about animal husbandry, especially dog breeding, the events taking place here are very familiar. One selects a good sire with strong lines and good stock, and mates him with a good dam. The pups will be sold as 'leaders' and 'masters' and 'royals,' but they're just dogs, after all the marketing clears. I suppose the terms sire and dam are a bit more elegant than cur and bitch, though.
It's really amazing how hard the media are pushing the idea that the whole world stopped to worship at the foot of royal spectacle. I imagine a lot of people watched, in the same way rubber-neckers slow down to see a car wreck. And I'm quite sure that a lot of loyalists who love groveling and sniveling at the heel of inbred lunatics watched their beloved Masters perform fertility rituals. Heck, even the Jakarta Post, which caters to Australians, has been chock full of fawning and drooling, as if any white person gives a rat's patoot about royals.
I wasn't going to acknowledge this whole spectacle of oligarchical power, but the rubbish is just everywhere, and it begs for comment since it is foisted on one's eyes in every possible outlet. So, there it is. With any luck, we won't have to listen to too much more about the royal dog breeding festival. It's nothing more than a massive waste of resources surrounding what is literally just a straw full of bull semen and a prize cow.
Now can we get back to more substantial matters?
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