February 19, 2008


as the country clatters down the mineshaft railway to hell illuminated by the glittering invective of posttrostskyist psychotics and the noncrip adjusts his flourescent postglobal warming halo and the cuckolded wellesley wife natters incessantly the hypnotic wonkish warble pursued by armies of her livingdead betrayed friends while zionists wail that the mulatto messiah does not love their suburbs erected on bulldozed olive groves and their clusterbomb democracy enough and the exprisoner fails to point out there was no astroturf on his pickup even when he was younger and could cut the mustard heterosexual angels weep for the republic as the decider awards independence to the whiteslave and drug capital of the balkans and his troll puppetmaster juggles bunkerbusters to distract from the shredding of commercial paper and jihadi youthgangs lionize their offended prophet by burning bimmers on the streets of the little mermaid and what about the polar bears and the forklifted downer cattle and the worshipers of the real american idols are the streets still negro or are they aftricanamerican now let us diversely gambol down the mulatto streets at noon looking for the heavenly prozac ritalin methlab of freedom from politics the media big oil but not big pharma and there is noone to rescue the poor singed little mermaid ah fuggedabadit ill buyya a maltliquor and we can take a leak off the parapet onto the gamboling cartoon animals of our playedout imaginations


TK said...

I could almost hear the soundtrack.

Have you read Wittgenstein's Nephew?

Grumpy Old Man said...

Nope. Sounds interesting, though.