PLANETARY STATUS REPORT!

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SPIDER EGG PIZZA:

I ran into DEZ MONTEZ …

He told me “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about spider eggs, what you can do with them things …” Dez and I go back to the swarthy days of chick rustling and FRIDAY NIGHT CINEMAX cable, we bled the white goo for Shannon Tweed and learned the secrets of boob magic from the b-style lovers and bird gropers from the valley. When DEZ was 13, he met Turk Calder and the Roller Boys of Blunkton, California. They made their way from Compton to LA with skizz-metal gear and motorcycles powered by GIZ GREASE and coyote chili.

Dez went on to describe a new RECIPE for PIZZA that he knew how to make, cheap …

“You can raise HERDS of spiders in some old shed out back, not far from the spot where we bury the dead cats”, he said you can make every part of the pizza from spider eggs and maggot juice.

Dez MONTEZ was a disco DUDE in the 1970’s, his BAND, “THE SCROBS”, was big when the lights flew from coast to coast and Farah Fawcett did nip-slip pics for $40 bucks a pop.

We, Dez, me, the Goobly Twins, went down to the Santa Monica pier to eat jurgen sandwiches with Bill Cosby’s lost son. After a few hours some cops showed up and began wailing on Dez with night sticks and bicycle chain and a pillow case filled with rocks. “You can scream but we don’t care”, then I got ahold of one of them BLUE FALCONs and tossed him into the sea to be eaten by sharks. The other cops bugged out, burning rubber and heading back to FRESNO to hang out with the WEST COAST HOOLIES of the California KKK. Then things got dark, because the scowl-monkeys from north Hollywood showed up, and then THEY started talking about this new joint that sold SPIDER EGG PIZZA … and this made Dez quite perturbed.

I knew DEZ was going crazy with street-rage. He’d been drinking all day and smoking meth and doing TRANQ so his wounds won’t heal. His hands were shaking as he looked down the boulevard toward the meeting of lights and the urban dread on the horizon. But it wasn’t just DEZ and his spider egg fantasies. It was my girl Lola, and the lost sidewalk urchins, that approached us … “YO DEZ, you got SPLIZZ?”

SPLIZZ was the new STREET FUEL, it was made from mixing ketamine with gunpowder and fentanyl and diesel fuel. Gurg-freaks would do splizz before heading OUT, downrange, to meet with the ZIPPO-CHICKS of SECTOR-12, and then show the NIGHT RED ROCKET to those tusky-wenches. Cops were getting addicted too, after so many crackdowns, and you could see those splizzed-out FIVE-OH driving sideways to Simi Valley, so their cradle mommas could sleep with just one black eye open.

I stopped taking my NURL-DROPS, the ones Dr. Benway recommended. My other physician, Dr. Grunkis, said my mind was “filled with mosquito larva and hippo spice”, and nothing good could happen to me until all my insides were drained out into a large steel drum, and then tossed into the sea off of Santa Catalina, where the wolf-groupers hunt dolphin and carp.

“WHEN I WAS A KID WE’D DRINK FERMENTED LOIN GREASE FROM STRAY CATS AND EAT SPIDER EGGS FOR DINNER! WHY CAN’T IT BE LIKE IT USED TO BE!”, I screamed to the street lamps, but they did not reply. Only the flicker of dying civilization in the rotting cables and corroded wires.

We get lost and forget why we’re here, breathing fumes, drinking pop-milk from 7/11. We get lost finding STIRLING LOVERS and the great cascade of chaos energy. The tunnels get filled with misunderstanding and dangerous cattle marches, the sewer snakes lurk near your toilet prison.

Spider egg pizza is popular now, and everyone is having a go. It’s bigger than CRISPY CHICKEN SANDWICHES or MCRIBB PUS PIE. Half of Los Angeles grows spider eggs in their basements or closets or attics … they’re digging holes to pile spider eggs into.

Spider egg pizza is cheap …

Life is cheap.

Life is spider eggs.

I lost track of the crew and walked back home like a zombie. The BLUE SHARKS or fentanyl freaks were out tracking raccoon and squirrel, cuz everyone has gotta eat something. After several nights of enchantment, I was left on the heap, sorting through my past to find a way back … back to where?

Just before dawn I reached the barbed wire and old corrugated fence that was the edge of my turf, where we hung, where we’d hang one day …

I saw the sun rising and mocking my dirty soul and the boilermakers were getting ready for work, to sell their turnips and babies to the swells that live uptown. They wrap themselves up in coffee and cigarettes and try to erase the mold stink from their clothes – but their lives dwindle now, and the candle is about to go out.

The USD and Israel: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12164

Landmine Machine: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12167

Pretty Privilege: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12131

Haiti: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12136

White Boy Summer: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12144

Poop water: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12148

Touch it: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12152

Copper: https://planetarystatusreport.com/?p=12179

Kids are going to public schools to learn about NEGATIVE EGO INVERSION and Tennessee love-affairs with greasy teachers and dirty cops. They show up at health class, and it’s mainly a discussion of eating scorpion eggs and raising cane rat to feed the tribe. No more time for books or math, only pale castings of tire iron getaways and the forest regions where parent’s are dumping their dead babies now. You’d be SURPRISED by what happens 50 feet from the principal’s office, or maybe you wouldn’t be shocked.

They have a new vocational training program at the local schools …

Skages, the deed-baron, has a course in farming for the kids. He talks about raising mites and mosquito larvae and extracting venom from wasps and hornets and yellowjackets … He lines up the kids in the trenches, and MR GRIBBS comes by to check their underwear for doormat soup. Kids with bruises and shaking, kids seeing dead eyed manger rats chasing them back home, down the hill, to the burrow under the docks. “You kids don’t understand, you can extract REAL CASH from these things”, and Skages smokes a cigarette and laughs at his cadre of misfits, as each young soldier pulls poison from the thorax of the pinned insects.

Yagle-spikes are being set up on the perimeter of the local school. Triple-strand concertina wire, claymores, crew served area weapons, all set in place to keep those hell-spawn in the fenceline. Dick-whorlers rustle the runaways from their black/white cruisers, in their polyester uniforms, whacking the young ones with bats, batons, sticks. The parents are busy doing the BLUES, which they buy from the POH-POH, as the local councilwoman stands up for “JUSTICE” and the mayor talks of dead animals being dumped in the sewers.

“Clever mother fucker!”, screamed the bus driver to little Tommy – that damned kid had placed homemade dragon’s teeth on the road, cuz his parents let him stay up late watching TV. The bus flipped over, throwing those little pedals about the yellow box, as Mrs. Gombley is skewered by a pine branch, and her stool is spilt all upon the bus floor. Some of the kids survive the wreck, but they drag the bodies off into the woods and begin preparing them for STREET TACO MEMORIES. The cops show up 6 hours later to tag the bodies, identify the wreck as a “mishap”, and to arrest the local woman who filmed the event and uploaded the whole thing to TIK TOK.

“The softball team is heading to state, go out to the tennis courts and wish them goodbye”, so the DORG-CREW, led by Steevis McDoob, storm the courts … they spent the morning drinking drain cleaner and hand sanitizer … they are looking for them TOOG-REALM dancers, who feel special, feel loved, and so must be destroyed. Most of the GLEE CLUB is stuck at the skate park doing tranq and PCP, while the CHUD are cooking street-buffalo in the caves near Migg’s Town.

A cactus hero from New Mexico stopped at the school to give a “motivational” speech. He talked about “cash energy” and “slave benefits” … he made the kids scream “SCORPION POWER”, and then he spent 20 minutes talking about his new style scorpion juice energy drink for kids … and prostitutes. Most of his helpers come from CAESAR’S PALACE, or Ship Rock, and carry with them curses from the elders of the dust storm.

Yellow and red, dried out rinds of life. As the leaves turn to sand and the ground shakes, the future quakes and stakes out time near the funnel river. The skies are covered in crisscrossing sketches of death and nasty marmalade burdens. None of the kinder folk feel safe, as adults march on WALMART demanding more cricket flour. And now there’s talk of an OLD STYLE PANDA EXPRESS opening up in town, and maybe taking over the cafeteria at the school – so that the kids can have healthy panda meat just like their ancestors.

I can still see the flipped over bus …

Catching fire, screams heard over the rustle of a dying timberland.

The parents too busy to know …

The officials too drunk to care …

The road painted crimson and white …

And the school day is over.

The long emptiness awaits.