Category: Planetary Status Reports

You think I’m a woodland hero, searching for Bigfoot in the land of Gnorr, but I’m really a whiskey scout landlord, holding nature captive to my cyanide nightmare.

You think I’m some pimp daddy? With 30 girly-girls and 10 flashy cars? Do you think I drive around all night, looking for action, looking for some poor sop too tired or drugged out to care – and I’d take that guy to the pier, and beat him with rebar, and steal his meth? Do you?

You can’t really see the person inside – weak and vulnerable and ready for cuddly love. Sure, I look scary and angry and old and sick, but that’s just the veneer covering up this leather bound warrior, willing to liberate your womanly pleasure zones and unscrew your boovula.

There are dark places where you can hid your real face, and hide the deeds. Old abandoned rest areas, poorly kept national parks, haunted Indian burial grounds – all prime for the great forgetting and re-imagining of broken selves seeking chain store redemption. And this is true?

A kind demon would punish those too bold for truth, and lead you into the MIND MAZE of Hell. You’d lose your baggage in those caves, and live off of cattle plans and bovine pleasure rods. A trip too deep for the timid, too far for those who lack the necessary VISION – and you think you’ll be okay, because that demon gives you cocaine? – nah bro, you’re buried in lies, and the deeper you go, the more brazen the deceptions.

[curated: 3/13/2023]

I was there when the strange travelers gave you AIDs …

and I told you …

I told you about the guys from Vegas who were looking for Sara West. They had sleek hair and greased cars and leather jackets covered in steel rivets. They spoke of “two time Charley” and “sideways sally” and other sexual positions only the perverts and newlyweds know about, cuz it ain’t in the Kama Sutra, and your butt is backed up with cheese.

I told you, but you didn’t care …

I told you about the coming of the gear ghosts and the car fiends. About the catalytic converter mayhem, and the fresh whores of East Hampton. I told you about that guy named FRED who lives down by the docks, and why he goes out at night – and what kind of “produce” he brings …

I could have stood back and had my french whiskey. I could have accepted my fate while not bemoaning yours, and perhaps I could have offered you a drink of malt liquor, with a side of stale pizza and rotten meat. You’d be thankful, taking that slag home to your family, with pain.

I kept the secret, to protect, to adhere. I sanctified the RED REALM with oil magic and the soot from an East End London fire pit, rubbed into the boovula of a long dead queen. And the King’s supper is laid out, with the vegetables and ale, and the cat’s memory of death is dim.

I TOLD YOU my DEAR and LOVELY FRIEND …

I warned you of the amber sky …

I saw omens of the cockroach kingdom, while taking the tram to velvet village …

I was there when the 9 elf armies relented before SKR’YB, and the various angle iron brigades were shut down after beating all those white people to death …

GRONKIS LORDS? – they mean nothing to us now … but I did warn you.

When the HOOKER REPUBLICS of CHOP and CHAZ were formed? – I guided you through that turmoil. I made my bread with their saccharine treat. Spice and blood mixed with lies and dirty cash – the MAYOR would have three plastic tubes inserted into his anus, and the Chief of Police would roast marshmallows near the reservoir. My girl Dez? – she would give them all head, near BURGER MASTER, off of Aurora and your jingiz-protein would stain her dress, but she had a touch up stick and some bondo, so it was okay. But I did tell you …

DENDRA?

THE S’KEEL BITCH?

She rode hard in the night, as the storm rose and the winds blew. Her lover, Jin, had 9 lead pipes he carried in a satchel, and he’d use those damn things – in a pinch.

Dendra ruled ZONE 6, and all the chud and trog and morlock obeyed her reign – but nothing lasts. She would be chased through the streets, rocks and fruit being chucked at her, the people screaming “YOU DIDN’T TELL US ABOUT THE DOLLAR!” … Dendra and her banker whore allies dug in deep near Gaslight Park, off of Lake Union. The kite fliers bought dog music, and the fires of the dead lit up old Ivy Town. But DINGUS was AROUSED, and Dendra was in descent. The path was messy and filled with foreclosures and PhD hookers, moms and dads pimping and whoring, just to get a few turnips and a snail. And I did warn you, but you fuckers bought BITCOIN.

I cancelled the phone and the cable …

I set my alarm clock to SNOOZE …

I stopped dreaming about your wicked world and its twisted path …

I will engineer a ship to take me away, beyond the battles at 20 miles up …

I told you about those lesbian near-space navies, battling in vacuum ships, at 150,000 feet?

I told you about admiral LESTRA and her FUNKET-FLEET and the busty sailors that pilot that dreadnought, so far above the earth.

Rocket planes and rail guns, flashes of light. Scantily clad pilots, pushing their sky ships to the limit, all of them at odds and for WHAT? – my love …

They battle for my affection, my spunk, my love grease …

These lesbian navies, high above the land, murdering each other so that they might have some of my skleevus-oil … and I told you what would happen.

I said that THIS was tipping over, and history was unstuck …

I reminded you that all things turn to dust, and that history has become unstuck …

I took you on fancy journeys to a Thai-style sex paradise, filled with RED CURRY and SWEET PYTHON passion … and you ignored me, because history has become unstuck.

History didn’t end.

I told you this.

History has become unstuck.

[curated: 3/14/2023]