America, land of the free?
Whoever told you that is your enemy
I sing of simpler times, when we were free to have blow jobs in the Oval Office. Let us recap the non-violent American news today:
Fast food politics, the theory is always prettier than the reality
Is this what the people want? Is this for the people, of the people, by the people?
I want to impeach Cheney, I am so sick of this evil feeling, but maybe it is just tax-day.
Over the weekend, Sen. Chuck Hagel (R-NE) visited Iraq, his fifth visit to the country. He held a press conference yesterday where he reminded reporters that the U.S. commitment was never intended to be “open-ended,” adding, “We can’t continue to stay in Iraq the way we are.”
Hagel also took a jab at the recent trip by Rep. Mike Pence (R-IN) and Sens. John McCain (R-AZ) and Lindsay Graham (R-SC), stating, “We did no shopping while we were here.”
Via Think Progress & Not Very Bright.
If I can not be an artist, then what is the next best thing? Consume consume until consumed. Without malice, without hate, detach from all wordly attachments. Drink till full, then drink again. Love till full, then love again. Masturbate till empty? Jeez, what a hard life, always full of intrigue and double meaning. Someone measured the fractal-nature of Jackson’s painting, and found that over 2 was too much. The best was 1.something, but I forget the exact number. Maybe 1.618? Lol, math.
The best math is philosophical, but maybe that can be said about the best anything. Can you connect two unrelated things together, my young artist? Look at the sphere swirling inside, outside and find the new way, the new look, the new idea that fits round peg into square hole. I have been thinking about n-dimensions, en-dash and em-dash, n-words and f-word, sea-wards and inwards. And all I have gotten for my troubles is a hangover headache, post-dated for tomorrow morning. Christ.
And the creator of Bokononism has passed. I am dual faithed, I believe in both Bokononism and Pastafarianism because I believe that they are both lies. Yet, these lies are more honest than a fundamentalist. The truth is, you’ll never know, the truth is, why not be happy? But the truth is, I want to know, and the truth is, I’ll never be unless I know. But yet I must accept that, believe them both until I burst stars in my eyes flying over rainbows in unicorn driven sleigh, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, my savior, my God. Given to me by the Lord above, who lives just below my right ventricle, trickles through my aorta till, he hits my brain.
But Christ died, man, he DIED. For your sins and mine, or at least it was something like that. In any case, does it matter if you spit on the Cross, or bow before the imprinted figure on the cheese toast? As long as you believe in Jesus, believe in his heart and soul, can you disregard the body of Christ? The blood of Christ? Because truth transcends the body, the mythos, the big Lies we tell ourselves to help understand truth.
Truth is not the words, but it is The Word. Draw, sing, write, preach facsimile after facsimile after broken-hearted empty facsimile but remember the Spirit is not the Form. This bottle of booze, this wine, is not The Bottle, it is not The Booze, it is not The Blood. It is all dots and lines constructed. It is electric shocks applied astutely to our synapses firing quickly like machine guns tearing through. Spinning wheels picture show, show me life, show me death, let me pretend to live, then live through this light, live through the swirls and twirls that circle my mind.
Penance, penance, penance, forgive. Sins and fathers, maries and mothers. I am looking to replace you Adam, replace you Eve. To love you Jesus, marry merry Mary, mother dearest, my friendly Freudian phantasmagoric fantasy. Isn’t it strange to see Mary, Jesus and the Holy Spirit? Did Jesus get the Holy Spirit with Mary in that barn yard? Is that how he learned the truth about ol’ Pa? I’m just rambling, blasphemous rambling, but I’m trying to question, to question my questions, to learn, to love. But God damn it if it ain’t hard to know the right thing.
I’d consider myself a fan of the base intellectual conversation created by Gawker, but Ms. Gould did not do herself much service by acting finicky and weird along with being unable to present a reasonable defense. Emily: You’re hot and one day you’ll make a great trophy concubine for one of the five jew bankers that rules the world. But until then, don’t blow it with these TV appearances, ok?
By the way, you look hot Emily. If you read this (doubtful), I’m coming up to Manhattan this weekend and I’d be happy to spray you with some goy sauce. Though it may make you melt like holy water on a vampire.
One week away from computers and I feel disorganized, detached, and unsure of the world ahead. How am I supposed to know what to think and feel if I don’t have the constant stream of blog diarrhea pouring its wisdom directly into the ol’ medulla oblongata.
Thankfully, I’m back and blacker than ever. It was April Fool’s day, and hopefully you noticed some ultra-disturbing images and thoughts canvasing PBH (more so than usual). The most important being, of course, Portrait of a Young Man as a Republican. Now, I’m not one to judge people, but this Matt Sanchez guy is too much. If you don’t remember, he was the conservative boy hero honored at CPAC, only to be later revealed he was formerly a gay porn star. Yes, a gay porn star honored in the bowels of a conservative political conference. And if this wasn’t enough, he apparently also conned donors of $10k to support his deployment to Iraq. I’m thinking he probably brought some tear sheets featuring him doing the nastiest homosexual doggy style a man could dream of, just to, you know, bring some wonderful American culture to Iraq.
In other farcical worlds, we had the privilege of watching soulless McCain v2.0 ‘walk casually‘ through an Iraqi market. Afterwards, he proclaimed that Iraq was safe for all and that real progress was being made. But how is your mark of progress a heavily guarded photo-op at a site attacked only 30 minutes after he left? Only if you’re John McCain, too busy cozying up with the part of the Republican base that stomped your testicles in 2000 to realize no one cares or likes you anymore.
Other important artifacts of the blog world include an elaborate underground labyrinth to store delicious marijuana, 10 hot steamy facts about Einstein not including his moral shortfall of endorsing Zionism, see what a woman looks like with a lot of makeup (the serpent seducers way of preying on males), never ever believe a waiter who says restaurant, be disgusted by nerds, stop ruining our housing economy with your SUV’s, and when you hate God, do it in the friendliest way possible.
