Succubi Hallucinations in Cellblock 99.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be in the wind in the moments when the world changes.

What am I gonna do? What am I gonna say? Must be something in there that hasn't made it's way out yet into this potpourri of weird shit stepping on the heels of the weird shit in front of it. I'm going to say a little about the astrological situation. I am not your usual astrologer. I am an esoteric astrologer so, when people are handing out their pronouncements about Neptune in Pisces, I get a different picture and if you will bear with me for a moment I will give you my take. We are leaving the Piscean age. We are passing out of the transiting period into the early days of what's going to stick around once the rest of it is gone. It is only fitting that at this point, the illusion machine and the boundary remover should enter its home base for a final house clearing. As is ever the case, things happen two different ways. When you are wrong they go wronger and when you are right they go better. Neptune's got a lot to do with drugs, hallucinations and WTF!

Most astrologers try to put all of this into the context of a personal relationship to what's operative. I try to see it as it hits the whole nine yards. Since I don't have much personal left, the whole nine yards tends to apply more to the way it hits me. Keep in mind that Neptune is the sea god and the sea is the great subconscious. Keep in mind that things which appear in the world have a tendency to come out of nowhere and suddenly be everywhere. Well, that's the subconscious for you. It percolates like the hot lava at Kilauea, sooner or later, coffee is ready. That's why the Hindus have that red dot in their forehead.

What we are about to see is the fate of illusions when they come up against the inexorable force of the cosmos. Some of it is going to be tragic and some of it is going to be funny but mostly it is going to be a breath of fresh air. That's going to be exhilarating and scary at the same time, like someone switched your oxygen feed with a nitrous oxide canister. I'd say that Neptune is a lot like nitrous oxide. Welcome to Cartoonville.

The negativists among us, and there are many, seem to believe we are all screwed. They are missing an important part of the equation. Those of you with real mathematical skills know that it all makes sense and when you get to algebra, onward to trig and then into pure theory, you can shoot around corners, even when you can't see what's there and you can make suspension bridges that are pretty much like modern bras and you can probably figure out why things like this obsessed Howard Hughes so much (grin). Math is nothing more than what we've been up to in apportioning and parceling the female body. After all, that's Mother Nature, or it used to be. Now we got boys in bikinis insisting that they can be here as a stand-in, since she's toothless in the alley and being gnawed on by rats. This isn't going to last long but you have really missed the point if you've missed the reality of that and no doubt I will hear about it for having said this and it's really not a criticism but an observation and acknowledgment of the fine job that's been done on us by those who never liked her to begin with and who punched her teeth out and shot her up with Fentanyl in the first place. Well, she has her teeth back and the Heparin Lock is gone from the back of her hand so watch out.

When you twist Mother Nature too far out of shape, you get Kali. This is no indictment of people's desire to perform the rituals in their own way. As I have said, many times, this is a phase. It's the same thing that happens when you get born black, yellow, white or brown for the purpose of demonstration. It's the same thing that happens when you wind up speaking a new language every time you show up. The point of the affair is to smooth your edges and also to wake you up to the fact that we are all one body. You abuse the feminine principle at your peril because there is no way back into this world except through a woman and she can be Hell on wheels when she has to be.

At the present moment, every major religion, except two- and one of those comes out of the other; at the present moment, every major religion sees the feminine as something to dominate and abuse. This is why a lot of men meet only bitches and are cynical and pissed off because she isn't doing what she used to do, which is just lay there and take it. You could have had a willing and eager partner in the exercise but you had to be on top. Well, you're not on top. It turns around. It always does and those who get pissed off about there being nothing but bitches, should have caught a clue when they were turning them into bitches in the first place. Some of us don't meet bitches cause they don't have our house number stamped in their forehead and when we do meet a gargoyle or two, we tip our hat and ease on down the road with black Dorothy and her pit-bull Toto, who keeps screaming about “Hold the Line”. The way it goes with lines though is that they get snorted up, sooner rather than later, if you're spending too much time in the john getting your hair right.

You mess with Mother nature at your peril. You mess with her representatives at your peril. You turn her into ho's and bitches and you will get something you never imagined in your darkest nightmare. Your bowels will turn to water and you'll be in Cellblock 99 where they keep the freaks. Just because you're on Wall Street today doesn't mean you won't be there tomorrow, metaphorically and karmically speaking. You'd be surprised at how Ladders and Chutes plays out in real life. You can go from oil lord to galley slave in seemingly no time at all. Some people have terrible luck. They're just standing there when the death goes down and the next thing you know they're being fitted up for a felony murder jacket as an accessory, on both sides of the entendre. There's all kinds of bad shit that can happen to you. You could be born as Richard Dawkins or get half lucky and be born Daryl Dawkins. Anything can happen.

See, lifetimes are like suits of clothes. You can be suited up in anything for the purposes of demonstration. You can be standing on the gallows and screaming that you are an innocent man but you're not, are you? It's just more of that math that shoots around corners. Let's take lil' Georgie Porgie Bush. He's got hundreds of lifetimes coming that you don't even want me to talk about. Those people at Monsanto? They will probably be born with two heads and no legs about ten thousand times and get kept alive just in case they want to do a sequel to “Freaks”. This is karma in your face. This is the karma no one wants to hear about and everyone wrings their hands about and cries out, “Lordy, Lordy, it ain't fair and... there is no injustice anywhere.

I've had a hard life up until not so long ago. I couldn't make head or tails of it. I come to find that God fancies himself a meat tenderizer. Sometimes karma can fool you. Anyone who thinks they can make sense out of it beyond a certain point of conjectured potential is one more fool with a clipboard building Mother Nature a better bra. You don't have to go too far past America to understand what's so fascinating about breasts. America is all about cleavage without the nipples. Over here in Europe you see the whole boat in most parks on a given sunny day. Nudity is a big deal in the US and so is the kind of force used to herd the residents. Muslim countries have a similar constraint and young boys come into the picture the same way they do in The Catholic Church. Both of these come out of the Abrahamic tradition, which is the same motive force pushing the envelope for the satisfaction of beer soaked layabouts addicted to the products from the places they shoot the films in ranch houses in Studio City and West Hollywood. But no one gets connection? No one gets the connection? I'm pretty clear about why I like the South Seas, how about you?

Keep in mind that all of the bullets, other weapons and indifferent violence comes out of this same thing. Yeah, that's right. Mess with the sex force and you will see how fucked up it can get. It's all about controlling the sex force in all the wrong ways and that's how you get impotent 'freaks' with rubber truncheons wailing on their fellows and don't tell me tasers aren't sexual.

It's all about sex and messing with Mother Nature; “don't stand so close to me”. Keep it up and see what happens. Now, it's perfectly fine for a sadhu to walk off into the forest and spend his time fighting off succubi hallucinations, till the real thing comes along. It's another thing to set moral standards for yourself and your offspring, while the people running your lives sell you all the bad shit and... and... you don't have a clue do you? You don't see it. You've been paying kosher tax on your libido since you got here and you haven't been free for more than 15 minutes or an hour or two since and you got all those psychologists and doctors and philosophers and deep thinkers 'splaining how what it is is what it is. Well, take it from me, that ain't what it is and never was.

Sooner or later you're going to catch on, probably when “The Stand” becomes your timeline reality and Randall Flag and Trashcan Man does their thing. That's the funny thing about the Apocalypse; it's never convenient. Just when you thought you could sink down into the pleather with one more Bud Tallboy; you would have two but you need one for your dick... just when you thought it was okay to slurp, swallow and pork anything that was standing still and in your reach, that damned old Mr. Apocalypse is knocking on your door with his solid silver wolf's head walking cane and you know you got to get the door. You don't know why or who but something about this knock has authority to it and it's not the same authority as the corporate police who protect all the drug shipments and get wild assed on the entrepreneurs who don't have permission to operate here cause the usual fuckheads own the street.


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ I Got a Feeling ♫
'I Got a Feeling' is track no. 4 of 12 on Visible's 2007 album 'Almost A Capella'


There will be a radio show tonight, and, stop picking your nose, I'm watching.