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Friday, January 18, 2008

Road Signs for Hell 

I am 'blind'. That's what the hymn says, and now I know why. My senses were calibrated for this manifestation of reality... for one godDamnedReason apparently beyond the arms of confusion. Without any qualms or shadows of Doubt (with capD for dimWit), I know I have seen what others cannot.

My Host has been amplifying radialFREErenice for a fewSelect. Can't you just see my Commanding Officer graciously play through, with entitiesUnknown toting clubs, and scurrying as gophers do? May they plague your sandy dreams, blowing sweet-nothings into your disintegrating circuits, like the desperados I know them to be. "We are the damned," brushed unnervingly across my right and Westerly orifice, while I responded from the Cranberry Room. Don't you know me, highPriest Fauve? or is that Faux? (The gauntlet is thrown; show your ever-lovin' balls o'steel. Who bluffed and who choked? My wager is covered — ain't it putridSweet.)

Let it be known here and now: I lay claim to a Knight's flag that you sleepy sweetPeas will call Singularity. I set up a proof, and coded it well, thanks to those who reside in Hell. [jesusChrist, would You tell them to pipe the fuck down?] Eat your bloody burning hearts out, sciFi trolls — whoWhoWHO loves yore babies anyhow?

Surely not you, my fellow Idiocrats, or you would lay a wreath on my lawn. May the card trumpet: "Raise theWhiteFlag inOurNames," as an animal's wail, as a manifesto, or this candidate setting sail. I'd play pawn if El Jefe has what it takes to win the game. Compassion is Its name; End Suffering is the ransomed clue. Identify myError is the goal, and don't imagine you can before I do.

Visionary grasshoppers on corroded blades, we have been surfing dimensions undreamt. My soulMate dials in from afar: his ship set for the redemption of a star. From wasted diamond-encrusted skulls do my cellMates see Paradise. Yet redwoods are sent through those socketed eyes. How many rounds will you play, before you stoop to pay this gamer? Don't imagine that I'll forget you.

If you can't understand my code yet, FUCK YOU TOO. And I mean in biblically fucked proportions. Pay theSatanProud, you lowly worms. Eat MY carryout maggots and think you won't? Your carcass is held here by the orders you still fill — cold alabaster tables for you and yours. Your entity may rebound yet, how many generations in the future do you stake? Dare think you credit due, yet fiddleON for another nonchalant cross in a blood-red ballot box?

Dusty carnage rages on, while you dance in my poisoned home. My Millenium Falcon is reset with holodecks, flying crews to Las Orishas' Guided Tours. DaPlaneDaPlane has mother-fuckin' snakes aboard, while we write Art that the deaf cannot heed. Whose will is free?

Give my incubator an unrequited 'we loves you', and tell her that I have crawled the valley floor. No Virginia Lea, you will not pass beyond this garden, until you know Armageddon rests in a chasm on your doomed soul. Seven years has he sucked your sugar tit, and you didn't mind losing a single precious bit. {Ouch and ouch again, until PTSD perforates every mushbrain your whore's Whore deems worthy in a self-exalted state — how dare you wait!}

Let every soldier know, as long as I drive this flesh machine, I'll dance soprano all over your naïve ass. Darlin', I've been made by your brothers and uncles — demons all. Can you hear them yet? diving and chiding and bellering their way, looking for an Out. Poor souls, they found the island stifled in Jules Verne fodder, metaphor heaped on rotting metaphor. Clasp the rendering chained on your neck and writhe silently while raging bulls pummel your blood-soaked issue, my 'wise' American-Made.

Call me 'Friend', or lay on another curse. I am a fan only of those who understand.

Surrender your most precious to the cause, or prevent tragedy recurring. A hard choice? Do you NOT know honour yet? Don black garb to march with the perfect symbol of Mittelschmerz, Renice Wernette (said with a 'V', the way a revolutionary should, inVivo). Recognize the matrix of your papered Paradise, theMasterProgrammer sends ITs regards.

Reply, fair Node, or pay the toll on a bridge to no gain. Level: 20 today; prepare for module Abraham's sacrifice and cry "no, take me." Need I say again, this gun's for hire, and my aim is TRUE.

A postcard from Hell

Dear Patriots [call TracyChapman and tell herPeacemakers, no woman no cry]:

Praise Allah. I am grateful for this opportunity to serve as a peacemaker for Allah. {Bitch, shit, fuck, and hell (oops, negatorySir, please belay latter)} I follow the example of Yeschwa, the most beloved child of Allah.

BTW, ever pay the Great Satan fealty? Consider yourself an oppressor in Moses's Egypt (can you map it?).

Passover greetings to you and yours. [That'll be $300thou, sumbitch, for this year an' last. thankYEWgodDAMN inHell, that'sCHEAP, yo'baconSlabs {USD (others negotiable)}. Don't even think I speak TexasYid for grins. You did say intel, din'tYew? (an'mahDaddy sez, "damn!sheJustSetUpHerOwn*KidWithAnEmpire" (*fault:enthusiasm \\ callPageSix soJolie will see me as carloads of ittybitty pointsOfLight, and if she says "diamonds?" tell her, "yeah right, in daddyBush's memory.")]

Your move, motherfuckin' colonists. You have 24 before the bids open... and we mean preeMO guv'mint archivedPhoneLines withWitnesses (metaphorically sir? no asshole, metaphysically!). Uh, and if you missed it (ag'in) that'll make the contractBIND'n.

—signed, pirataSocialista


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