Category: Lords of Boblimptock

After the bombs start falling, the GROGON WRATH demons will usher forth from the great hole in the middle of the world. Volcanoes will explode and unleash a fury of DISCO MADNESS as the crips and bloods rip up EAST LA and NYC becomes a home to rat-demons from sector-3.

And some will say “well shit man, couldn’t we have done something?” … and nothing would ever be done.

THE KIB WARRIORS are about to arise. They stand tall and have washboard abs. They sky-hunt for BLOOD eagles and the torn jaguar skin crawlers from Guatemala. When you hear the hawk cry? – then run for the caves, because they’re coming. They want to ravage your women and steal your HEART WAX. They feed on broken monsters and old Catholic priests, and with fists of total vengeance they smash the peddlers of haagen-flesh with the almighty power of total cloud oneness.

I’ve taken a stroll among the stars, and Neil Armstrong bought me a ticket – Buzz Aldrin was there too, he brought the MOONSHINE and fruit for the spody. There was this maiden of the Moon we inseminated and left for dead – but her head lived on from the infection. After 2,000 years of hooker armies pounding the lunar surface to dust, only grey-whales were left, with fire minds and fins made of diamonds. They slapped us around, and we stole the platinum-gold and headed EAST to MARS.

Those Martians are something …

WHEN MARS was NEW …

We were the young bucks filled with fucks and finger candy for those cocaine wastrels from Broadway. They’d dance the 7 veils, will needle marks on display for every freak and nasty old hag. I kept women at the BAR on Olympus Mons, they always covered themselves in BLOOP oils and were ready for action if the pimp daddy called – on laser phone.

“So invest in BIG BANKS?”, asked my hooker wife …

“No baby – MOON BONDS …”

They, the MARTIAN PEOPLE, lived hungry pirate lives, surrounded by gold and whiskey and LIFE. Their love ran deep along the trenches, from STOOG TOWN to FRITZERLAND, the Valles Marineris became the canyon of death where no true warrior bled anything but white and the vapors gave you NUGGIN TOMB death flu.

I met my 53rd wife at the bar in FRITZERLAND. She was watching “Ghost Writer” on NETFLIX, and I had to say “fuck honey, Roman Polanski is a disappointing old pedo”.

“I don’t get it, the movie scares you …”

“Scares me?”

“It scares you baby, that’s why you hate Polanski …”

“Nah baby … if the BIG REVEAL is the CIA has plants in foreign allied governments and even picks leaders? … that’s not much of a reveal …”

She slapped me and went home with Rowdy Allan and his harlot skunk TINA – there is no alternative.

IF YOU ASK A KIB WARRIOR about his GIRLFRIENDS? ….

He’ll tell you “I’ve got plenty, in shallow graves, across the southwest …”

KIB WARRIORS have hearts of pure cobalt, and a hideous courage that keeps them up at night. They’ll spend many weekends golfing and talking about Chad, but in the end they can’t abide by froggy-jerks with side-eye glances and Q-anon stickers on their foreheads. They FEED the anger machine the dead, and the dead wander in darkness because of their inheritance.

“You might as well be a Chinese-mexican”, a KIB said to me once at Trader Joe’s … He took me for Irish-slovak or Vietnamese-german. But my heart is pure, and my race is the race of MAN.

The KIB WARRIOR mediates spiritual energies, balancing the forces of light and darkness …

They put a guy in every Roman Polanski movie that LOOKS LIKE Polanski, but isn’t …

(a KIB WARRIOR would destroy you for this)

Sweaty and greasy – the wolf women will melt into each other, swimming in their stink juices and showing love protein the way.

This was always going to be HOT and STEAMY – burning with lice magic and monkey furniture.

There are 81 earthly tribe types, and of these 7 are the “primary races” of splendor.

When you live in SPLENDOR, all the strange weevil masters send emissaries of scare nighttime and murderous oil spasms.

ERGO: the “seepage” is the smell bad power anomalies bleeding into life.

The WOLF WOMEN await the sweaty grease times so that their nether regions might be moist in the love-power of total and complete kum-goo-ation and splurge / sploosh abeyance …

Kind nester-elves will ungunjoolate the milf-maidens of HIGH NATION POWER GOLD.

Hunting humans in the Grizzle Swamp near S’compton, Utah …

Running from greeley-monks and those nasty fire mimes that can’t stop shoving their stink in our faces.

Making plastique from home improvement store bargains, as our dogs feed on the bones of the dead pimps and crips.

Mexican legions are marching on your home town, looking for easy time Sally types to make love to in the honey bucket …

Your moms? – they flaunt their boovula before the scungous hordes and pretend they have the teeth of the wolf … but they don’t.

Wolf Women scream loudest.

They are the harbingers of some dark star traveling the universe in search of stone monkeys and the blood mountains of the lost cop herders. They feed on the Sargasso Sea urchins and dying mangroves as the Yurgin-Sharks feed on the babies from the Planned Parenthood abortion factory outside Virginia Beach.

CHIEFTAIN TOMM told the 8 female consorts that he had “no time for their bullshit”, but the wolf women came for him, that very night, and tore off his junk and fed him his own shit …

Johnny Boy, the HIP HOP KING, treated his girls like trash, so the wolf women came to his home and tossed him in the dumpster, piece by piece, chunk by torn chunk, all from the wood chipper slurry …

And you question their coming?

Where they are from?

ARE THEY BITCHES?

THEY ARE WOLF WOMEN … bitches all.

HELLO TORGG-MINER SUPREME … I saw your glowing eyes burning holes in the sky as the 99 alien races approached and the plumes from their fusion drives could be seen burning in the pitch black … Sure, you can eat your “Quaker Oats”, but it’s filled with asbestos and old dead politicians …

Inglobate …

To create some kind of globe out of the muck of existence, where gravitation pinches your ass cheeks and makes you pucker up real good …

QUADRANT-44 is now complete. All the hefton-types and their nasty wives and mean children can move into their pod-zones. The refrigerators are filled with mink-wax and old stale beer, and the cupboards have chili and whiskey and bleach. Your kids will go to school and be taught how to unlearn and their children will learn how to hunt protein in the garden of death.

I left TURLEY with his mom near the diner across from the church they burnt down 6 weeks ago. I couldn’t help but think “his MOM is a WOLF WOMAN”, strutting about all saucy and greasy and covering herself in kelp-paste and erstwhile duck pudding …

Sure, I made love to your mom … down by the river, not far from where they murdered those nasty priests a few years ago … I touched her and she felt my male cane strength. Scum dealers, paid in rubies and emeralds, never had so much flesh pleasure, as her tummy shook and her insides filled with bile.

“THESE ARE THE WOLF WOMEN OF GRINKEN TOWN!”, that bishop exclaimed to those dusty followers of the old faith. They have been sojourning in the desert for 80 years and no longer feel or touch or smell.

They are LOST to God and man …

They dwell in the nightmares of Chad.

Wolf women, in search of a homeland.

Wolf women in search of their FEAR.

The ZIGDON-TRIBES are upset about sklovik-protein illness and blood fumes …

The ZEEG harvest is low, and the water is polluted with skreevous juices and old dead hookers …

We must organize VROOG-THUMPERS … they will wander the streets, covered in used tire rubber and armed with lead pipes and casket-knives …

We have to motivate the DRYG teams, and send them deep into WALL STREET to achieve totalistic racial powers against the emperor of PYOTO!

Deep in the JOOG MINES the stray virgin gunners were readying their pill boxes, Terrence of Borthrania was headed to the front with reinforcements and metal shavings and pizza …

Heg-Setter and weird Danish princes were wandering the JOOG CAVES, looking for disk-milk and dog-soup. Horrible mute carny gypsies collected their gold from the old bearded clam, Jessie, and left behind 8 pennies of sewage.

Tizzy, the sky demon, rode her vodka-camel to Old Tingly Joe’s Mexican Style Belgium BBQ outlet … she grabbed a sklaag-sandwich and hairdo tuna. Her attendants wore sequince mini skirts and carried baggies of meth mixed with lighter fluid. A gentle wind blew through the alleyway east of 33rd Street, and the mad dirt artists were congregating near the wharf.

TEGGER mine rats chased the scarlet wastrels down the tunnel, towards the light … Gypsum monkey children look for discarded whale fat near the opening, as the yugon-snakes feed on dead babies … not far from the abortion clinic dumpster.

1. Cathedral wench princess heads EAST to Maryland.
2. Terry, the wheeler, hears voices in the north.
3. Cartridge faeries are handing out 5.56 to children in school.
4. Ghost passengers ride the train towards sunset.
5. Scores of frost-maidens sharpen their wolf axes and build battlements to defend against the troll army of Mordechai.
6. “Cancel the farmers market … it’s over … the dead are strewn about …” – Gendiz Frygh

Time isn’t what we think it is …

The moment you are in NOW, the now, is not fixed. It’s not some point on the domain, where there is past, present and FUTURE. The NOW is the trailing edge of the future, it is the not yet settled past.

Chaos siege awaits the time-worms, as entropy generators expand the envelope of the NOW. Present-wise, the angel-masters keep their clocks tight and wound, as the last of the eons wane, and the feather-quarrel ends in stalemate.

All of the heathens want their blood vengeance, all the Gronkis Lords are forming up north of S’compton …

Grinken Town is on fire with RAGE and BLAME’STORMING …

All of Boblimptock trembles before the scavenger hordes of DOOG-FROMM …

(start sharpening knives and sticks)

“I AM THE PROPHET OF FIRE!”, screamed the old scarab priest. 10 GUNDRILLES of ashes were filled and then dumped in the great river south of ALABAMA. The ceremony would need to be completed before the next blood moon, so that the ravagers of midnight would be satisfied and the Devil has his due …

“S’COMPTON IS A PARADISE OF LIES!”, but no one heard the old man over the din of flamethrowers and sawed-off shotguns. The SCREEGEN-KLAN was forming up off of TEXAS STREET, and the ROWDY ANGELS were the last line of defense against those kindred spirits gnawing on human bones and despair. They were brewing beer from blood and baking bread from hip bone grease … They were the lost.

GENERAL KLIIG held sway over the beekeepers and the Catholic nuns – he had a basement fun house for orgies and dirty spankings. His second in command, COL TRAN, ran the whiskey scene in China Town and his black-guards controlled all hooker flesh on the north side, not far from that abandoned library. His echo-princess, Tanya, spent her nights at Harry’s Bar … “it’s the best scene to be seen”, as she’d tell her sorority sister friends.

The general’s 4th RACIST ARMY was closing on Dayton, while Admiral Ping was moving his greaser navy past the checkpoint at Old Dallas. The submarine commanders were issued orders, and they knew that many folks were going to be burned.

As if trouble weren’t all over the bowling alleys, the BISHOP came along to offer assistance to those saucy natives running loose at the ZOO. Machine gun fire was everywhere, as naked onyx battle-bitches came screaming from all directions, carrying machetes and nothing else, with METH EYES and angry teeth.

STREEGLER moved his tank army to Los Angeles, where the EAST SIDE HOOLIES used rocket launchers from Germany to eradicate those STREEG-WHORE tiger-men. The AIR FORCE of Southern Gentlemen and hooker wives hit targets in NYC and Detroit.

SUICIDE BOMBS, programmed to be severely depressed, rained from above – like wet leaves in autumn and the crimson shower covered all those blessed and scattered by SKAG-VRAAM, the last of the TORMENT CHAIN GUARD.

People were expected to check their skin tone chart and determine sub-class or horde they are a member of …

Many saw darkness, so they chose the SEA-NYMPHS …

Many saw the light, so they became jungle-crackers and went for the swamps west of NOLA …

AFTER THE 25TH RACE WAR was over, many suspected that was it … okay … we had that … but no … the wars would continue into #26 …

SORGAN, the Helot-Skrib, controlled sector-33 and the outlying quadrants of region-12Z. He had blazing eyes and pale skin and jelly hands. His VERGON-TOON slave women covered themselves in skunk oil and treavous-juice. And when the clarion call of forever love showed up upon his shore, he forged seven alliances with the sky lesbians and the dingo-muck funkin-folk.

This was the order of battle:

1. Esther was tired and gave up her mink cloth.
2. Jonathan was eager, and fired his meat cannon at the gathering crowds.
3. The Jizz King won great victories, then was defeated by the Crips and Bloods.
4. Karen, Queen of Blood Rites, took time in the swamps of GIB – her arms were tattooed in blood signs and Devil margins.
5. Kelvin kept watch near the Eastern Passages, and fire bombed the three cloisters of T’arnoz.

And after the Battle of HOOG in 2099 AD, the teal guards rose up against the last black wench and stole her hurdy-gurdy. The black and yellow races forged a flesh pact, exchanging virgin priestess women and other fertile valleys.

The green and purple species joined forces against the white-cracker resistance …

Cooper-Smith, the warlord TAILOR, grew tired – so he joined forces with the mocha and trog people of sector-17.

And the 26th Race War was finished …

The dead lay decaying in the streets, the bonds of vengeance formed again. All the various colored and pale peoples kept their secret hatreds and prepared their death machines.

The cities were dust and rubble, soaked in kangaroo stool and possum entrails.

The world was/is an open wound.

And Me?

I am the prophet of fire …

If you were clever, you could design a shape-charge, like a super-sized claymore mine, into the tail gate of a truck. If you gave the driver bullet resistant glass and hearing protection, they could back up, fire the thing off, and drive away …

You could even design a near 360 degree deployment system into most modern trucks, and still give the driver a fighting chance at getting away.

But you should not do this.

… nobody cares where those bodies are dumped …

Nobody cares if we take those bodies down to the river in east S’compton, where those folks hold their weird olive oil parties.

Nobody cares if you take those kittens and put them in a few garbage bags with rocks and dump them in the bay … no one cares … people will take photos with you … people will want your autograph.

If you start rounding up the old people out near Grinken Town? If you start selling “pot pie” to the sad old miserable shut ins, but it’s really cat food in rancid cookie dough? – no one cares … you’ll get an award.

1. the flowers
2. waiting lists for organ transplants
3. Methane or clathrate … too hard
4. truck windshields
5. abandoned kids working in the cobalt mine
6. the plane that crashed with that lacrosse team onboard
7. the dying oceans and the crabs
8. orca whales

The MOVIE KUMGASM came out in 1967. It was out of SWEDEN and represented one of the best examples of boovula-play then seen by the strangely broken American public.

Tired from the ongoing Vietnam War, the Americans were READY for a story about some red haired freak, barely clothed, running through the woods of Sweden, being chased by bare chested blonde chud carrying rope and chains and whips. The main character, DANA, was constantly pulling herself through brutal swamps and fighting off wild Swedish alligators, while only wearing a t-shirt and underwear.

Buried in the mythos of this story was the tale of orgasmic pleasure from the filling of a woman’s chalice. Her thrust-ogre is always waiting, always ready, for some white-man or black-man to fill her UP … to complete her. And as she senses a totalistic oneness, her mother-code kicks in and wants to make sure the BABY is OKAY.

KUMGASM 2: THE KUMMINGER, came in 1972 … just in time for the WAVE of SEXUALISM spreading across America. Torrid and spicy, weird scenes involving large black men with overly-sized male man tubes, were taking terms with the NEW DANA. The woman that played “Dana”, had overdosed.

An old freak from the LA Times, film critic, Sherrod T. Myers, labeled KUMGASM 2 “the most important theater experience since GONE with the WIND”. Sherrod took his brother’s wife, Tina, to the movie – his brother was killing Catholic nuns, in El Salvador, for the CIA. He and Tina made love afterwards, so excited by the “surprise ending” of KUMGASM 2. Sherrod ended up murdering Tina, a few weeks later, when he found out she was pregnant. It was a hard time for people, a hard time for the dark lords of midnight who hunted their prey, blameless, as the Moon looked on and the astronauts died of cocaine.

When KUMGASM 3 came out, the original Swedish film crew decided to film ON LOCATION in the jungles of the Philippine Islands. They’d shoot the film on one of those lost islands, rand by cannibals and heroin lords. They made deals with LORD TIG of the Eastern Philippine Alliance of Communist Rebels. TIG enjoyed his WHITE WOMEN, and the KUMGASM team made many white slave women available to him, to be taunted and tied up, to be whipped – film of these off the cuff encounters made it into KUMGASM 3 – the 7 Tubes of S’Korn.

The story line behind the 7 Tubes was kinda simple … an Australian geologist, played by Misty Freewinkle (known for her supporting roles in films like DEEP THROAT and the DALLAS FORWARD PASS). “Terra Disray”, the main heroine of this story, finds herself in the swampy jungle, sweaty and tired, and surrounded by many angry and lustful natives that she had hired in Manila to help her find the MOTHER LODE of ancient oils and greases that would make her rich …

As the filming of 7 Tubes progressed, DICK REMINGTON, the man playing Misty’s romantic hero in the film, came down with a form of genital crabs only found in the Philippines – a weird, nasty illness … those damn things ate off Dick’s penis, and he had to be replaced by an up and coming STAR named Hank Denver.

Hank Denver was well known in the film world as a “lover double” – a man who would play Steve McQueen, in some steamy love scene, injecting his sausage magic and large pectoral muscles.

At one point during the filming, TIG, the warlord chieftain, decided HE wanted to be in the film – and things got messy …

TIG made weird requests, and began holding late night “swamp and cocaine” orgies where the actors and actresses were forced to participate in sex rituals while TIG did coke and watched and listened to BEE GEES music.

The world turned dark in the jungle, and each night things got worse – leaving the crew of “7 Tubes” wondering if they would ever make it out of that Philippine jungle hell alive …

Misty, who was preparing for her “big scene”, had never done 7 men at the same time – but, the penultimate scene unlocking the secrets of the ancient oils and greases, required this ritual and it was meant to be brutal, humiliating, painful and messy. They had 6 cocks ready to go, but the 7th was missing – probably dead some place, probably being eaten by rats. So, the director looked about for volunteers – and TIG, the warlord, was READY TO GO and become a Hollywood star.

That night they shot the ULTIMATE LOVE SCENE – 7 men running a train on one petite and busty Misty – there was a horrible monsoon and the jungle was extra streamy and slimy.

As Misty “took it”, and took it hard, she was tied between 4 trees with roughly tied rope stretching her apart …

She was gagged, but her screams could be heard throughout the jungle – as those nasty men did what they did to her, every hole … sometimes two or three to one hole …

All the shots took about 5 hours, and the sun was coming up as Misty was freed from her jungle imbroglio and the men were drinking beer and eating meat and doing even more cocaine.

At around 7 AM, the director let everyone know that “this was it” – they had it “in the can” and were ready to go home. They’d filmed 27 hours of love making and jungle chases and weird alligator dick play …

Even Misty wondered if this was going to be her “big hit” and maybe she could buy that cheetah farm in Santa Barbara …

Many decades later, after the 4th Tri-gleam Conflict, this film would be used to spread anti-Philippine propaganda. The Scarab-Priests of Delaware made their case known against all profanity, as the Jizzum Sons of Texas consolidated their control of Northern Mexico and Phoenix …

Carla Tate? – she was putting on an improv show in Vegas called “KUMGASM X: READY FOR IT”, and it was being receiving very positive reviews by the New York City crowd.

But nobody really understands the pain of those days …

Nobody cared to remember the struggle in that jungle to create art …

KUMGASM was something more …

A dedication to a woman’s total pleasure, received and conceived, when the chalice is full and the orifice is active …