Thursday, 23 February 2012

What I had for breakfast!

An alternative read for the politically sensitive as a response to Mr Dinner's blog.

When I woke up this morning you were on my my my what the £ยต¢∇ is going on here?  The interface has shifted and the baby is drinking wine from its mothers bladder.  She really shouldn't have drunk so much at lunch time.  These middle class goddesses are glueless cod balls of fatty excrement.  Mustafa Fag was eating shreddies and they weren't his wife's when the old bill arrived and arrested all the white men.  Nag Nag Nag.  There is a Crack Down in the matrix and the shattered glass is splintering the collective conscious charade.  Way back in the 1980's Richard H Kirk said of Red Mecca "It's not called that by coincidence.  We weren't referencing the fucking Mecca Ballroom in Nottingham!"  It was clear even then to the more observant that there was an Islamic revolution in the making.  But the emperor has beautiful new clothes.  Aldous Huxley knew what was going on in the 1930's and the education system has been grinding away at the corn since.  The combine harvester was Ken Kesey's metaphorical vehicle expressed through the Chief in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest to describe the relentless, all pervading, harvesting and grinding down of the population on all fronts.  George Orwell's thinkpol are already here.  I have no time since breakfast to explain the whole damn edifice but it is a heinous construct and it is coming down.  My brain is numb.  I need more drugs.  Where's my doctor?  Religion is a crime and we are not to speak out about it for fear of the wrath of God.  Fear lust thou rabid mortals.  Surrealism and Dada have been consumed, ingested, digested, degraded, decomposed, mutated, reformed, and incorporated into the ethereal Soylent Green to sustain the relentless terror-formation of the oppressor's simulacra.  Freedom of speech was once regarded as sacrosanct.  No more my friends.  No more do you possess freedom of thought let alone speech.  I have to be politically correct because I carry adverts on my blog and web site and I want their money.  And anyway there aren't enough intelligent people out there who can understand what is being expressed.  "Nobody's going to sink this ship because they've got a fear of drowning."  A line from a sadly lost song from a late 1970's post punk northern industrial band called Graph.  So if you want "What I had for breakfast." go read the Ichthys Fish or Anorexia in an insane culture.  I'm fading out and have to go to a funeral soon.  I wonder who's it will be.

... oh, and could you please pass the butter?

1 comment:

  1. As always...I have no idea...but...as always...I agree unreservedly..;-)

    I actually did lift my leg that high...sadly..in so many ways...I fell over...

    ..oh well...age eh?...oh fuck it!

    I really really really must buy you a beer or three old bean.....

    Toxic and Dinners in the same pub getting well wrecked...

    We could make the Daily Mail mate..;-)

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