Fishsticks and the Temporary Art of a Plastic Stationary Ass.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Well, I haven’t got any idea who Katy Perry is but I saw a link on Newsweek, which I ran into after reading a link to Newsweek from MSNBC.com about how the seafood in The Gulf of Mexico is safer and tastier than the seafood in any body of water in the world; more or less and it was about her dirty mind. From the picture, I was interested enough to wonder what mind they were talking about, with her ice cream cone licking, children’s fairytale set, which it proved to be when I clicked it and it started playing.

The first thing I saw was amateur Satanic wannabe Snoop Dog, dressed up like what I guess they call a ‘playa’, rolling dice down on to Alice in Wonderland’s tea table and then this Sara Lee, home baked ingénue, demonstrating that the absence of that ancient, unmistakable rhythm, which expresses itself in the authentic dance of what it is supposed to be advertising, is not necessary, apparently, for the real deal to go down anyway, somewhere off camera in your mind, if your imagination is up to it, or incapable of the real thing.

This was attended by some horrific singing of ill constructed lyrics that worked their way to the full nude, short of the predicted ass rise; simulating your eternal dominance of that thang offered for your primal dominance of…the thang? It’s at this point that I shut it off, which is about the most trenchant critique possible of the whole affair and a good indication of the power her naked ass has over me.

So far, this looks like something that ought to have been written for Reflections in a Petri Dish and the real question that will probably exist in my mind, after I am done here is; “how many people will be more inclined to debate my take on Katy Perry, rather than what this post is actually about and which only incidentally includes this air pumped, commercial baked goods, product.

I’m not providing any links. I’m pretty sure you can find all of this on your own. The last I’ll say about it is that the author of the review of the music video, definitely needed to demonstrate his New York City art gallery opening chops, to the extent that you could taste the chilled sauterne that passed through the awed and attentive crowds of collectors who were mingling at the gallery of pretentious, bad art. I love it when they make the language do a pole dance for all the small time Mafioso who just came in from Yonkers Raceway.

What the heck, you probably should read about the wonders of the Gulf of Mexico seafood. I’m surprised they didn’t say that the oil spill actually enhanced both the taste and safety of anything you might be inclined to eat from that body of water. I couldn’t shake the awareness of the irony between the singer and the fish, in juxtaposition with long standing innuendos concerning certain sex acts and the creatures of the deep. It turned me on so much I had to wonder for a moment if I wasn’t, “do do do looking out my back door”. I’m guessing that’s not what John Fogarty meant and probably not what I meant either but it does imply the consideration of personal surrender to the overwhelming presence of the toxic nature of the times, in a way that proves the real point of the culture is to make you its bitch for the profit and satisfaction of those manipulating it.

In the most recent Reflections in a Petri Dish, I happened to write about Homo Erectus and Homo Sapiens, merely using them as examples and receiving, as a result, an enormous amount of feedback on the minutiae of the relationship between them, along with exhaustive histories and theories that took about half a minute to put me out of my depth, since I know very little about them except for the surface associations. Like this post, the imagery used has little to do with the subject of the writing. I must be getting close to some kind of a point here. Part of me wants to avoid making my point all together and let the reader do it for me but... we’ll see.

We’ve come to believe that we are being victimized by psychopaths possessing a diabolical intelligence and capacity for manipulation of our basic drives and weaknesses. Lately I’ve been wondering if they aren’t expressions of those of us most sensitive to a negative, invisible alien presence, which possess a wide range of powers but whose motivations are much different than what we imagine. Having looked deeply into our collective psyche, it could be that they are targeting the most infantile aspects of our being and our most primitive drives for reasons that are altogether different than we think they are. They’re aliens after all, aren’t they?

Maybe all they are doing is entertaining themselves by seeing what happens when they provide us with everything they think we want. The real tragedy here is that they are probably not that far off in general. The nasty end of it comes in when it’s played through the minds of those whose intentions for us have always been more terrible than the rational mind is capable of recognizing or analyzing. Maybe the aliens, the psychopaths and ourselves are all caught up in a common misunderstanding of what is happening because each of us only see our end of it, or see nothing at all, if that is our end of it.

The kicker is that the results turn out to be no different than they would have been in the first place, without any aliens involved at all. No, you don’t have to take drugs to think like this. You just have to be the kind of person who might be inclined to take drugs in the first place.

At the moment, I’m wondering if someone left a bomb in my house, which has now been transferred to a relatively safe location. Without thinking about it, it occurred to me that this could well be true but it doesn’t really bother me very much. I’m not curious about that and have the step by step in place, if I ever get around to wanting to find out. This isn’t the way normal people would go about it. I know that. Being normal isn’t something I prize as an asset.

The real value of knowing, at a fundamental level, that you don’t know anything, is that it causes all kinds of possibilities to come into your head ‘besides’ those based on whatever you think you know, if you are, like just about everyone, someone who doesn’t get the meaning of “I don’t know” and is compelled to reason everything out in terms of what they think they do know.

My own interaction with anyone and everyone is determined by my grasp of what they think they know depending on how much of that gets transmitted to me. There’s no chance that what they know is going to seduce me into sharing their perspective on anything but it does adjust me in a way so that I can interact with them in what looks like an understanding way. My position in the equation is to attempt to transmit unknowing into the exchange and hope it takes.

Whatever happened to me personally must have been pretty severe because I never get the impression that if I knew more about what happened in the past, I would better understand the present. I suspect that it does work that way but my situation doesn’t require it. When it does, the past pops up out of nowhere and the relevant parts come together for whatever the needed adjustment is and then the whole thing goes right back where it came from again and only what needs to remain stays, without my actually being aware of it afterwards, unless I’m supposed to.

I hope all of this is useful where it can be and not confusing where it might be, unless the confusion is an impetus to being useful later on. The safety of the fish in The Gulf of Mexico and whatever this post is attempting to convey, are both dependent on everyone’s individual state of being and how that matches up against the archetypal realities that our existence is based upon to begin with. My take is, as long as I think I know what that is or I think I can somehow discover it, there’s going to be a problem somewhere and… as long as I don’t know what any of it really means, there’s a chance I’ll find out as long as I can refrain from getting in the way of the answer to whatever question is on the way to me as soon as I ask it. I hope that’s all clear enough for me to say, Aloha and Ahrooooooooo and see you next time.


End Transmission.......

Visible and The Critical List: ♫ Overweight Lover ♫
'Overweight Lover' is track no. 3 of 9 on Visible and The Critical List's 1993 album
'Jews from Outer Space'
Lyrics (pops up)


Side note; I was more than a little surprised to find that since I wrote the post about The New Shangri La just a short time ago that there was over a hundred new members added since; close to around 130 to be more precise. Zounds!

Smoking Mirrors Mirror.