Category: Boblimptock

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It’s a STRIKE!

You’re all KESTER-FLESH MONGRELS for eating your grape salad and drinking that tangerine spritzer. Your tall hot skin-sack tells you kind things about your everyday living, as your giving heart turns to diesel fumes and my broken pipe leaks acid.

We’re striking …

We’re tired of your bullshit and your crap.

THIS IS A STRIKE because the formula one racers are stripper style bacon steaks and most of the people in charge are eating CHEESE while the rest of us eat fermented whale semen cake.

We gotta STRIKE, WE’VE HAD ENOUGH!

I’m tired of sleeping on mold-mattresses and living on the edge of a hooker nightmare. I know the world is spinning, and some joker is hiding his or her gold in their snatches … It’s what is going on. But we’re striking because we want diamond studded dildos and rhapsody style puppy mills.

People will say: “Why the fuck are you STRIKING DAN?”

And you know what I say: “BECAUSE YOU ASKED THAT SIDE-EYED QUESTION MR FUCKER!” … and then me and my buddies from the UNION find that dude, and beat him with rods … dump his body someplace where secrets are always kept. That’s a strike.

We’re striking because the RIGHTS of MAN, defined by Lord Clovar, have been violated …

We were promised beer-donkeys, robot-beings, half donkey, half robot, half beer, wandering about filling your glass with cool refreshing beer … this never happened.

We were promised 2 show, and 4 no-show jobs for that guy we did that thing with … you know the thing where that stuff that was left over from that other thing got taken care of? Not far from that place we went fishing last year, after the storm. That was a bad storm, when we had to do that thing to that guy.

We used to have sandwich and stew and chili parlors, where old grease freaks from the bowels of TOYOTA KENTUCKY could rub scleavit oils on his sores and drink moonshine with Tennessee whores. We used to be a proper country, and now we have to STRIKE!

There was a time when the hard working AMERICAN MAN of vigor and mineral spirits and aluminum siding was RESPECTED … because he had lungs half filled with asbestos and a heart racing from too much plutonium.

We striking because you drink your LATTE with your fancy BRITISH NAMED FRENCHIE … that beast is rancid and unviable … we’re striking because of THAT.

I know a lot of you think you are fancy.

You’re not fancy.

You are a kettle-worm awaiting a destination of diseased monkey paste because your slime village is the nest of all murder vipers. And we coming …

We coming to STRIKE!

STRIKE NOW, WHILE THE IRON IS HOT!

If you show up for this strike?

Borrow coveralls from your pal Frank, he has a real job, working on cars …

If you can’t borrow Frank’s coveralls, buy some of your own, but splatter them with diesel fuel and oil … it needs to seem like you work hard.

Make sure you have a grimaced look on your face – do not smile … STRIKERS don’t smile.

If a SCAB shows up? – you pick the scab … pick it, take it, put IT in the trunk of the LTD … drive to a magical place of empty forever forgetting … near the swamp.

But you show up to my STRIKE? – you gotta be read for anything …

Please pack some knives, and a fudd revolver, and maybe sock full of rocks and a bat … be prepared to swing and beat your way to justice … don’t let the factory manager get away with it.

Because we’re striking.

And we’re done with it.

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Peeps printing nukes …

“When peeps be printing nukes, what you do?” – Dr. Freckles

I think a lot about WHY:

I am nearly certain I see WHAT THEY are doing, I’m still grok’ing out WHY …

It’s why I talk in terms of BEST CASE and WORST CASE …

But something I started thinking about 8 years ago still rings true: actual useful tech like 3D printing was threatening fundamental power

I also remember saying in a podcast that if someone can crack the nut on x-ray or gamma-ray wavelength high energy lasers, that you wouldn’t need breeder reactors to make plutonium. You would just need raw uranium. This also means that in about 10 years someone with 10 million dollars could be making mini-nukes, in their basement … 5-10 kt yield

But it gets worse: with narrow wavelength nucleus ablation, you might invent NEW more DANGEROUS and FUNNER isotopes … and who knows what yields you could achieve with your micro-nuke printer.

So yeah – a lot of tables were about tip over, and TPTB knew their days were numbered … so WAR against the whole human race, mostly in the form of strategic and orchestrated military psychological warfare.

(a theory as to WHY)

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Simulation Theory

TBH:

The essential metaphysics of a “simulation universe” isn’t really that different from a “the universe is a manifestation of God’s will and thought” …

(first there was the Word)

(another name for a series of bytes)

If you can imagine THE DECEPTION, as being, as ugly and deep that a 10 billion year old universe can instantiate?

Then you are kind of groping in the world of Lovecraft.

(and we might simply be NPCs in an ocean of semi-deterministic bullshit)

(but there’s beer and cigs)

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Remember “malls” …

Remember going to that food court and ordering that REAL ITALIAN pizza slice, named after some Mexican killed in France?

Remember those FUN STORES with fake shit and whoopie cushions? You could buy your girl a mood ring and then test your love at the YMCA shower … those were days, mall rat days.

Some SCRYB is selling cell phone plans in the main hall, and he says “LISTEN UP VERN, YOU GONNA BUY THIS RINGLE DING” … and it’s all I can do to keep myself from braining this GUY with a baseball bat from DICK’S SPORTS.

I would go to Nordstrom’s and try on their spring/summer pastel button down BULLSHIT. I’d go home to my dorm room at the UW and watch GEORGE F. WILL mind fuck me with sideways “small government republican” tripe, as I drifted deeper into a personal abyss that almost destroyed me … but malls helped, amirite?

You remember going to the mall with RITA, and trying on the mascara-dick-wand at Frederick’s? – she would tease you with those strapless bras, and those tube tops, but you were her jizzum king, and she was your sandwich dream. You’d spend the day watching Woody Allen films and trying on skirts and shoes … she would … you’d pay. And by the time the sun was going down, you’d grab takeout from Old Style Panda Express, their motto used to be “Real Good Panda, Real Fast … Panda Express” … you’d get the Orange Panda, and she’d order General Tso’s Panda, and you’d make love in your studio apartment till the sun came up … somewhere.

The mall is where RICK broke your small ginger heart. He was big and strong and played football, he said he’d marry you one day. But instead he left you pregnant, and you’d just finished seeing Jurassic Park … so you think life is a shame. And Rick had his game and he ended up lame and washed up near S’compton. But your cat-spirit burned hot, and you made your way to Hot Topic for some new tees …

There was this store, at this one mall …

Called “S’kleeves”, and it only sold sleeveless clothes …

Gumbo freaks and EAST SIDE TOMMIES and various law enforcement would frequent S’kleeves for buying wife beater t-shirts and sleeveless coats and jackets … the same place would sell MERCURY LOVE POTION from the Philippines, and very abrasive rope, and cloth masks, chloroform …

I recall going to SEARS and buying a new bicycle … I rode and rode and rode down MUH ROADS all summer day long … chased by midget-squirrels and pettergast-flies … and the sun rose so high in the sky … and I was at peace, because of malls.

Malls were our AMAZON.

Malls were our INTERNET.

Malls were our SOCIAL NETWORK.

Malls is where we first contracted genital crabs …

Malls is where we bought smack from Birney.

Malls is where the world died.

Malls.

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GRAVITY CORPORATION

“gravity” is owned by Gravity Corporation …

When you “fall” you pay them their fee.

When Gravity Inc says “fuck you, pay me”

they might actually break your arm or legs

(I know this)

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DIESEL

“As diesel prices increase, the likelihood of government threats made REAL decreases.” – Dr. Freckles

BTW: if you don’t know that TRADE and MILITARIES basically run on diesel, how dumb are you?

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What is subversive?

“The harder it is to find on the WWW, the more subversive it actually is.” – Dr. Freckles

If your FAVORITE YOUTUBE STAR has more than 100 subscribers? – chances are they’re saying precisely what the system wants them to say.

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I carried the straw …

I carried the straw for your 4 star wedding …

You took my garland and exchanged it for mead …

I dove straight into your impossible meadow …

You went to our bed with another fellow.

I yearned for shelter in the mountains of moss …
You put us at risk for cherry lip gloss.
I stood on the hill amplifying your love.
You took a ride with Bill and wore a rubber glove.

I said stop betting on end game losers.
You said don’t get into that bad cop’s cruiser.

I said find guidance from the frost king of Texas.
You burnt my heart with diesel fury, and then drove away in your LEXUS.

I built you a castle not far from Spain.
You said you wouldn’t stop doing cocaine.

I flew with the eagles in the Valley of Sheeb.
You looked at my costume and called me a weeb.

I stroked the onyx cougar and gave her my lead.
You found me in the garden, remember what you said?

I found a brown stain, you said it was yours.
You said you found pubic hair from one of my whores.

I took a long walk with Fister McGhee.
You shaped a new clock for timing the sea.

I fiddled with glory, in a codpiece of steel.
You sold are 3 babies for a crystal meth meal.

I tried to find witches to cure your disease.
You laughed at my quest and did as you please.

I rode a large bear to save you from death.
You spent a “hard weakened” with my brother Seth.

I couldn’t stop thinking you were the ONE for me.
You smiled as Brian covered you in pee.

I got lost in the deserts of Zoob.
You created a shortage in genital lube.

When the Moon went wild and I told you to smile?
You wandered with Lyle near the caves of Zune.

I stroked your Persian rug.
You spent the month with a eastside thug.

I ran the watch in the time of the apes.
You took my soul and squashed it like a grape.

I met your mom and she walked me all the way home.
You took my money to get another loan.

When I forgot your last heart with Marta in tow?
You walked the street like a dirty ho.

And if I mistreat you I can’t see the light …
You are my window lark, I give up the fight.

Fly away little bird …

Fly away sky-hawk woman …

Find your splendid home in the woods.

I’ll find my cave in which to linger.