Kali Yuga Twilight in Skank Town

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always search out the truth until the plug uglies go into oblivion and may you know the difference, since you have two nostrils.

When, in the course of human eventual intercourse, it becomes necessary, to calculate, who is the giver and who is the taker, who is the passer and who is the receiver, who is the villain, who the assailant, it is because some specific somebody is doing what they usually do and if we had had any brains we would have dealt with this the last time, we gave our full measure of devotion but probably because we didn't have LSD then, we fucked it up big time. We should have already known somehow from earlier times given our contact with you before and whomever you were then. Anyway, here they are again. This is what you might do when you are a psychopath. You go up to your brother and you punch him in the face and then you run to your mother, screaming, “Mommy! He hit me!

You have to wonder about things like this. I'm up around the corner from Sherlock Holmes in terms of deductive reasoning; given that inductive factor. It does seem strange that a busload of young children, in this day and age, in broad daylight, can motor right up on the tracks and get hit dead center like that; given what's all of a sudden started going on right over the water, right over the border. I'm catching coincidences of late, like a seal in a sardine factory (don't ask).

Then, at the right moment, The Twitter Twat comes along and blows her kazoo and probably everybody else in the room, unless there's nobody there. It's an ill wind that blows no one. Though there will be a whirlwind that shall blow many things away. Skank Town appears to be a high market commodity these days. I guess if you have a whole lot of money or power and operate anywhere, around or 'under' the Washington Beltway. This is what you are looking for, or what you get. I don't know how it all works. What I do know is that I would not have sex with any of the ladies in this paragraph and have done better than that all my days ...and still do... and have no power and no money. There must be a God. This being because I was given the eyeballs by which I can tell, if ye be Lord Dracula's daughter or no, mon. Holy smoking centipede shit! Beauty is truly in the eyes of the beholder, That is, if Eric Holder hasn't taken away your vision rights.

I can't figure out if it's no class, or no taste. It can't be intelligence, can it? If it is intelligence and has no class and no taste then that would explain it. It could be a dietary consideration that accounts for the fact that purportedly uptown people suddenly start drinking Thunderbird wine and spending their nights in Skank Town. Even Donald Trump has way more taste than this and I know I got better taste than Trump; better hair too and mo betta mojo also.

It's Kali Yuga Twilight on this dark deceiving evening, my children and Kali night be coming. We're way past Halloween, even the calendar can tell you that much. I got that last Ikeandtinatinerary from Da Huffington Post UK. Whot! The Huffer has gotten all international-eelyees and you know that lady don't own that 'paper' anymore?

You see what happens? When thing's happen? The corruption has ♫gotten to the point, where it's not fun anymore, I am sorry, I'm going to fly away, what have I got to lose♫ It seems that this corruption is endemic, bone deep to the place where the sun don't shine.

How is it possible, in this day and age for so many missiles to get endlessly launched into abandoned territory or the sea and on the weird occasion when it does hit what they call white people, it's just collateral damage and otherwise it's mowing the lawn? The Huff and Puff Post has got that alternative integrity that, were it a pair of Levi's, or Wranglers, if you prefer, I don't care either way, they would be made out of pleather.

I'm twice past half-convinced that this whole circus has to come down and I am sorry for the elephants and the other critters but not so much for the clowns or the rest of the spectacle. GMO bread and smoking mirror circuses, are not my idea of a good time. Economic implosion is coming and western culture is going to look like a souffle that went wrong. Of course, if you do not know how to cook maybe you don't know a souffle from a Twinkie and your Creme Bruelee is now sailing on a moonless river, more than half aft gang aglay. What I am saying is we are living in the meringue and that kind of shit burns. That should be simple physics but I'm a retard with only one left foot so...what do I know?

It would not hurt my feelings to see Kim Kardashian and all the rest of the shameless wastes of space enjoy their coming flambe but I don't like to think about those kinds of things. Still, I can hear the voices crying. I swear I can hear them. They are crying, “Help me! Save me from these evil people!” I lay in my comfy bed of a night and I know there are those who have no comfy beds and I have been there too and may be again before I see the gates of that castle of my dreams.

I fear that doom is soon to come upon so many people, who are relentlessly pursuing their idle dreams of this and that in the meringue, with the chocolates on their pillows. I am one man. I cannot accomplish this effort on my own. Thankfully I know there are brave hearts out there, in the gathering darkness that will not fail in this time of dreadful trial and I am struck down in wonder day after day at the beauty and recognition I catch in the occasional eye. I am often alone, just as I am at this moment and I always know that I am not alone and have never been alone but...

Ye fiends. You princes of darkness with your attendants, suckups followers and hangers on, you are truly alone though you may not know that you are. You ride the high hog of personal consumption, seemingly invulnerable to anything that might impact on your pressing needs and you got all the time in the world and no time at all. You publicly murder, torture and oppress a people that you are the superimposed counterfeit of, while you live on their land; the land you forced them off of and you laugh about it. You boast about how you control the United states of America and much of the rest of the world. You think you are gods but you are not. You are demons in human skin and when you are gone you will be past remembering. You will be a black hole of nothing in your own private hells and public eternal hells with your kith and kinder and kin. This is the irresistible result of anyone and everyone who ever cared nothing, for anyone but themselves and had the temerity to boast about what you have done. You put your own words into print, so that the world could hear them. There is one who will not be mocked and I speak for him and I am not alone in that.

Your day has come. Your day has come. Judgment day is upon you and not only you but every rat-tailed traitor to the human race, with no conscience in their hearts and your mark upon their face. Justice might be swift at times and sometimes overdue but... justice always comes and now it comes for you.

There are green fields that have yet to come and people who will take their leisure in them. You will not be among them.


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ Good News and Bad News ♫
'Good News and Bad News' is track no. 9 of 10 on Visible's 2002 album
'911 was an Inside Job'