Category: Planetary Status Reports

There is something dangerous lurking below the waves. Large and sleek and sending out vibrations of PURE TONG ENERGY and love powders.

Something ugly and black and terrible lives down there, out of site. Hundreds or even THOUSANDS of feet below the surface of the ocean; it keeps track of our sins and fears, it hears our wailing and lament. Tentacles of diamond and DESPAIR wrap themselves around our throats and we GLOAT, as the ship disappears and nothing is left but the eerie silence of the sea.

IT STIRS UP THE UNCONSCIOUS, it’s a habit forming concern. You drift into that foul place, where the human race detaches from predatory schemes and leans INTO a destiny left for kings. Your throne sits high on a rocky peak, surrounded by waves and salty air. For it is the LARK-GARDEN that capsizes and relieves the captain of his oars; along with other driftwood, nothing is available for salvage … only sea-dogs ripping at rotting flesh.

I have fever dreams involving giant creatures, consumed by rage and revenge, crawling up from the muck. Perhaps ancient SHARKS the size of HOUSES and squid as big as a ship. They’ve been down there, planning, settling scores, preparing the way for a NEW MAN to arise. Lives are LOST now, looking for that sullen passenger and our GHOST MINDS imbued with ghastly harbingers and disdain for God’s work.

And even if these beasts are not there, can we help but hope that SOMEWHERE there is an evil scientist making them, constructing them, from bits of whale shark and great white. It’s madness, but imagine a whale shark driven mad by hunger, its mouth surgically enhanced with a metal jaw and titanium teeth? It would be fed a steady died of human flesh and BRUCE LEE movies. Then, when ready, released. Who knows how long they live, but eventually there is peace again and the last hopeful nugget sinks deeper into the black.

There are ancient diseases down there …

Ancient viruses and bacteria and single celled organisms. Ancient mold and fungus. Ancient EVERYTHING way down at the bottom of the sea. These creatures know not TIME or LOVE or CARE, concern is alien to them. There is no MIND or SELF, there is only the need to live and to eat, to devour until all is gone. Maybe some crazy crab fisherman gets a cut on his hand, maybe he gets infected and doesn’t understand. Maybe after several days he sees the doctor, and the doctor shakes his head. “Son, you’re dead”, the doctor says. And the fisherman just walks away, tossing his gravy-sandwich into the stream, the stream that leads to sea.

The amoeba and prehistoric cancers emerge, blocking out the sun and reason. PAPA BLUMP DECLARES a NEW and even HUGE’R NATIONAL EMERGENCY!

“CHING-CHONG GENERALS slipped on a peel and now the eel is having sex with the pigs”, said BLUMP to the cheering crowds. “We’ll win, in the end our WARP SPEED LOVE SCIENCE cures ALL!”

CHANG-CHONG-CHING lab leaks from BLUMP’S ARSE, as the MAGA-MEN swarm WA DC and the trailer park romance turns to pills and ills and GOP pedo-dungeons at LANGLEY.

THE OCEAN IS FURIOUS ABOUT THIS, and we can only hope there’s enough rope to hang them all.

Thing of it as a tolerance zone: some functor g(x) * sin(x), where (X) is time. Each time they break it, each time they put it back together weaker than before. What do you think TRUMP portends?

So from the DEEP they CUM, watching Jacqueline Bisset get BANGED in the cove.

NICK NOLTE lookalikes from TAMPA have made their way down the coast, some of them expect to squat Hemingway’s cottage at Key West. Multiple dormant sub-species awaken, as the shadow dancers prey on BOMBAY nurse cakes and rattlesnake wine. NEW to the SEA is the FORTUNE-HOUND, it builds sand castles and chases Mexican dreams. It hunts at night and leaves no mark, only the park ranger that takes out the trash sees it for what it is; he looks away, as another BOOMER is pulled below and the elbow tally ticks higher.

The sea is turning greasier because the DANES are allowed to swim.

The BALTIC is an open sewer where turd searchers hunt for gravel berries and blood pudding. Russians and CHING-CHONGS and English and Danes, Germans and fucking DUTCH, all vying for power. Swedes and Norwegian fucks … Finns. The BALTIC is the meeting place of all the worlds underwear scavengers.

Something tragically fucked up is rising out of the sea.

IT is coming for you.

IT is coming for ME.

Luke’s dad was black …

They had to cover it up, no one wanted to talk about it.

It should have been obvious, if you had eyes to see.

LUKE’S DAD WAS BLACK!

They fired VADER from the USAF, because he was TOO BLACK, too bold. Too old to sell the laundry pipe slushies to the gushing wound hamsters, he was never going to bang that senator’s wife in the ass.

Things got weirder for VADER, as his life descended into a drug-fueled hell and his LOVERS LEFT HIM to DWINDLE as the stars fell and the hungry bird apes ruled LA and FRESNO.

All because he was too black …

Too black to be remembered.

Too black to be DARTH VADER …

Too black to be Luke’s father.

TOO BLACK to be OBAMA …

Just too black.

ONE DAY THERE'S GONNA BE A WAR,
between the apes and the robots.

One day there's gonna be peace,
between hobos and the hookers with yeast.

YOU CAN SEE the skin heads riding off in to the sunset with their whirligigs and pheasant pudding. Like some young sailor dropped off at port, his submarine captain saying goodbye. The sailor can live for 4 days before radiation kills him, he’s stocked up on whiskey and cigarettes as his boys sail away … An escaped tiger, covered in tumors, eats him … he doesn’t make it 5 minutes. He is filled with regrets, because there is no meaning.

It’s all too stupid to be this stupid …

And if you say “it can be this stupid”, then maybe Nietzsche was right and God is dead.

But Luke’s dad was black …

Fuck you if you don’t know this.