Laughably, if you would SEE who most of these characters are-- who say, break into chicken coops and commit THE WORST kind of savage, heinous, unthinkable crimes with carnage and blood "and feathers" all over the place-- it would BECOME APPARENT that these are not lions or "noble beasts" or true hunters of the jungle or woods who perpetuated these deeds, but oftentimes. . . . . some very sick, cracked-up, demented schnook or emotionally-wounded "screwball" WHO FELT AS IF HE HAD TO PROVE HIMSELF and "perhaps got a bit CARRIED AWAY" because they made the error of taking THE SPECTACLE n' EMOTIONAL ENTERTAINMENT of events "both grand n' common" WAY TOO SERIOUSLY until they fell into a hole they could not get out of TO THE JEERS OF OTHERS "and wandered, half-deranged, out of the house" with a glint of pure malice in their eye toward the source "of what ailed them", either with their bare hands or a weapon taken out on whatever kind of personification of their troubles, when it occurs to them-- that this cult "of blinkered SUFFERING" had been but for NOTHING and the horror dawns with the whip of the empty winds through a sacked n' vandalized life, "the only one a guy like you ever had".
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But erroneously enough, IN SOME ATTEMPT TO BE A MAN-- you need to think about how "ALL OR NOTHING"-type attitudes frequently leave us WITH LESS THAN NOTHING; especially "should something go wrong" or we get CAPTURED. Captivity is "no fun", and if we thought that we lived life "on the outside" AS SOME SORT OF FEMINIZED JOKE, well sir-- "you ain't seen nuthin' yet". You will not emerge from prison, PRESUMING YOU EVER GET OUT-- as a man, but instead will live in a jokey, exploited "Tweety-Bird"/"Betty Boop" revue of sexual slavery BECAUSE YOU WERE NEVER MADE OF PARTICULARLY "HARD" SUBSTANCE IN THE FIRST PLACE. Yes, amidst the jaw-stroking relaxation and cynical guesswork of harder, crueler men who will see the raw existence of your form "as something that can be put TO GOOD USE" whether as a sexual orifice (-- "or three"), a laughing-stock, or someone whose commissary fund they can loot at knife-point "or get you to perform LIKE A BARKING SEAL" for a thrown "fruit roll-up" as you grunt like "Wavy-Gravy" in a different sort of "get-up", perhaps getting your nose "honked" or worse.
So take that sour knowledge "and limp off with it". . . . . YET RETURN TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY by bulking up through legitimate means, "however you can", even if one has to drop off the radar for several years like "The Star Wars Kid" or whatever. Resources exist out there FOR YOUR QUEST if you're resourceful and determined enough "with a creed of iron" and THE HEART OF CHAMPIONS.
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(-- "Who's da Pussy?!")
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Remember:
1) Just because someone's "black", that doesn't make him "the good guy".
2) A fat-headed adult "is just what he seems", grubbing around for job safety.
3) Power is warped over the mass dispersal "of what passes for individual responsbility" and the reality of student-body control; like sentries grown bloated and distant with Ceasarian skepticism "for thy fate".
4) Emotional-syrup/happy-joy-joy/patriotic-liberal/school-spirit-poison is meant to make you more suseptible to brain-washed command, hopefully for a fruitful induction "off into the yonder" which does not reflect this sugary quasi-lie BEHIND THESE WALLS.
5) Corporate sponsorship deals assures "that products will be shoveled into your midst" with all the crude, happy aplomb "of sloppin' the hogs", whatever thy bared fangs of darkened, spidering cast of loathing in thy teenaged cape.
6) Paid lady staff do not have "inappropriate relations" with the brooding, furrowed, and overweight "driven by demons". (-- Even "off-campus")
7) Don't ever, EVER mistake yourself for "John Rambo". . . . . much less drive back someday "to show 'em all" with delusions of paramilitary grandeur.
(-- "You will be "hunted down" and/or "killed" to the curious, rotten, bonkers delight of the splatter-hungry fascinated by your "exalted" last stand)
Hostage negotiation teams aren't particularly "interested" in whether or not you get your free, token phone call "to Avril Lavgine" or whatever; or even a damn pizza ordered there in a warm, gracious box. . . . . what matters, MY FRIEND-- is that some unruly, dangerous uppity WILD ANIMAL is brought down from some perch of armed public disturbance. BY WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY.
Now, don't you think-- friend, if someone out there WOULD LEVEL WITH YOU "A BIT" and get you off da' syrup and get you on the direct, rewarding path "to what you always wanted anyway" but society was always maybe too fritter-minded or lost in its own delusional self-pursuits TO KICK YOUR WAY, that maybe you or I anyone wouldn't have "to gronch down" in some rotten, fly-blown place. . . . . ?
Much less, what goes through the head of any guy "dumpin' bodies" along the turn-pike near Jones Beach, with whatever his method of a cast net of thoughts "as he'd brood there" in vile, subterranean darkness "over that which ails him" like a thinking statue, like that "Rodan" thing.
I once saw an "EXTREME METAL" t-shirt that said, "Dead girls don't say 'no'". Well, they don't say "yes" either, now do they? I want you to stop right now. You or anyone down in some bad, ugly place of malarkey. Whether you'd chuckle over it, or fantasize, or patrol around, OR ACTUALLY THINK YOU'D DO IT-- I don't want you to have to prove yourself to the world or to anybody.
Funny how'd you choose a victim-- like say, a woman or small animal, maybe-- "starting way back"-- who could never fight back against a character like you "with whatever your power-plays" and what you think you gotta inflict. You obviously wouldn't mess with nobody who'd turn around, and give ya' a funny look or belt 'ya or laugh "or call ya' a fag" or something.
If anything, you're not tough. And it's only just a matter of time until you get caught. So I'd say, the brave thing would be "to quietly turn yourself in" and bring this to a close. 'Cause otherwise, boy-- "you ain't foolin' anyone".
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Well, sir. Some government archive has released some old FBI memos about the alleged business over at Roswell back in 1947, and what it seems to me-- in about that year, is to signal the beginning of head-scratchin' boredom for a bunch of poor, woefully-lumpen post-war folk and their hapless, subconcious fantasies splayed out thar like a grisly, spread-eagled corpse of happenstance like either Elmer Fudd "getting a blow-job" or some tractor-accident, or if fate had knocked him out of the sky with a screaming scratch-flutter of birdshit and left him personally-devestated, as if asking-- "why me, Lord?". . . . . here on the carnival midway of sideshow attraction like low-down, morbid curiosity and woeful times of drought and dust and tittie-bars and tin-pot fuhrers and incest and Air Force bases and no "Top Secret" clearence required. The mind is a basement and would sludge down with a zeitgeist's mirror of its lowest common-denominator fantasies along some fine, cracked mirror edge between rational answers "and spooky rhetorical refrain" until kicked off in the seat of the overalls "with a boot" for all the proof I need, and "the little bit of kernel" that may have ever really existed BUT GREW WITH THE TELLING so someone can hold their lapels "like a king".
The marketplace has always pandered to fear, anxiety, suspicion, and pulp-novel happenstance as unheroic as it is bogus. In whatever manifestation, with either "high-brow" or "low-brow" delivery-- there is typically a victim here. If it isn't yourselves "ultimately swindled" with the turkey-eyed whoppers ya' tell each other "to avoid hurting anyone's feelings", then it's the wrath turned on some "poor misfit" or category of one who never stood a chance. Even if this is your own paranoia about being judged or handed that uneviable label, ultimately you can not escape your own essential alienation from your fellow man in secret, hunted lives. Jackal media violence, whether in Hollywood or with a slapped-up circus poster, misses the surly ugliness found in the bloody, gawking spectacle "of the geek pit". Which is about as funny as the propagandistic drives of Goebbels & Hitler and what that meant for millions whom fell under "a category" that did not make fine distinctions, even back then-- "in an age of movie-house jeers".
© 2011 by Insufferable Industries