Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
(As promised, one last post for a bit. Be assured, if anything happens, I'll chime right in.)
Chicago is famous for several things. One of them is for having the dirtiest political machine in the country; a country that includes Philadelphia and Houston. Is it any surprise that the Anti-Christ, Rahm (is not) Emmanuel is presently the mayor of that city? It is also known as having one of the most brutal police forces and thug response mechanisms in the country; a country that includes Philadelphia and Houston. Is it any surprise that Chicago is exhibiting the kind of behavior for which it is rightly famous? It is no surprise and there is no need for links. The news is all over and they are beating the press into submission as well. Of course, beating the press into submission may not be the worst of ideas; given whom they are already in submission to. For decades now, the press has been bent over a dining room table, with a red, gag reflex, rubber ball in it's mouth. Looks like it's got rubber at both ends but... then again, maybe not; given that homie does play that shit.
Any minute now, that good, old time, false flag religion is going to be having a spontaneous, tent revival, rapture fest somewhere in the country that includes Chicago, Philadelphia and Houston. They need it. They want it and... you get it, except that, for the most part, you don't get it. So you'd better head on down to the corner market for an industrial size bag of Cheetos and a cold pack of Schlitz (Breakfast of Also Rans) because ♫it's going to be raining outdoors♫ Oh yeah! Can I get a shit list?
The fabulous accordion waistline, of the brother and sisterhood of expanding pants needs breathing room. Fire up another blunt, cause we're getting too much oxygen. Bring out another platter of saltines and lard pate... ummm good!. It's time for another PNAC heart attack and with Bin Laden dead already a whole bunch of times, we're either looking at a zombie triple feature or Israel is going to have to pull another rabid rabbit out of it's yarmulke. I suspect we're looking at an MKUltra, Tavistock MeK bot, with “made in Iran” stamped on it's ass. Look for 626 and the reunion label.
Step right up, step right up, get your rubber truncheons and batons. They also come in metal and wood and your choice of designer colors. Red is our biggest seller. Get your bleeding ear, noise guns and microwave heat machines. How about some Banana Peel or Vomit Gas? Stocks are limited. We got exploding Pintos and remote detonating suppositories that you can locate in the same place where you got that Talmud. We got exploding Talmuds for Christ's sakes (oops, context violation). We got everything and we got nothing. We can't handle the truth but we can certainly handle your privates. We're the TSA, up, up and... not away.
Did you drop out of high school? Do you have a sexual or eating disorder? Are you a kleptomaniac or just a garden variety thief? Do you like, on the job, pornography downloads? You might well have a career in the TSA. You can go to work for John (starter) Pistole and Janet (poison planet) Napolitano. Go where no man or women has gone before (in some cases). What can you say about Janet Napolitano? She's a true patriot in Satan Nation. She's the queen sewer rat, from that alley behind the Chinese restaurant, down by the docks in Baltimore, where they used to have 7 rats for every human being and probably still do. Of course being human and defined as human ain't what it used to be and neither is the old gray Napolitano (♫she ain't what she used to be♫), with an ass the size of a piano that is out of tune. Cue the blind man with the vibrating speculum. Is that a D or an A? Well, look at that, something really did climb up there and die. Is that Jimmy Hoffa or Bishop Pike? It looks like a petrified Sasha Baron Cohen and almost as funny. He'd look good, as part of a human centipede with Bill Maher, throw in Michael Savage and Bill O'Reilly and you got a trifecta plus one. The only difference here is which side of their mouth they're talking out of, course, they don't talk out of their mouths. Relax folks, it's just humor and the poll tells you what the majority think. Want to guess how the numbers got like that?
No post ever written here could be as offensive as that but some people have a special dispensation. It just goes on and on and it's all cool. I shouldn't call attention to these things but for some reason I do. It must be that old hate crime gene of mine. Don't worry folks, there's a justification for everything and for everything a justification, ♫under Heaven♫
Any time now, the lid blows off of the pressure cooker. Barracuda Soetoro and the puppet masters are going to be dancing with the stars, or partying down with The Octomom. ♫She'll be pulling a train♫ Look for it on YouTube. It will be right there with the walking dead inside your head. They live!!!
Facebook is sinking without a trace but Arsebook is coming. That IPO is being launched right here by outsourced readers. They propped up Facebook, so that they could suck in the little guy and the little guy did what he always does; went down with the ship. The point behind this is all about The Chinese and the future. What future? You might well ask that very question. We now know that Facebook was all prearranged or, maybe you didn't know that. Hey, I don't know it either. To quote those people with no imagination (in the majority), “just saying”.
Heah comes the false flag. Here comes the false flag. ♫The old gray whore, she ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be♫ Now some of you may think I'm talking about The New York Times and some of you might think I'm talking about Janet Napolitano but I think it doesn't make any difference. Both of them want to lock you up and throw away the key, after a full body, cavity search that is.
Ah well, so it goes, getting funkier and nastier by the minute. It's can't get any worse but it always does. There's no bottom apparently. This is probably because they were born out of the phlegm on the sidewalk from a dying alcoholic, on an any given Sunday. Don't worry, nothing human is involved. I never thought I'd see the day when it turned out that J. Edgar Hoover's boys would be neck deep in all the dark shit they were sworn in to prevent. I never thought I'd find out they were players in the Oklahoma City bombing and 9/11. Where does that leave the rest of you; not sitting pretty. There are nothing but feathers left in the catbird seat, except for traces of blood. Don't worry, C.S.I is on the way.
Boom! ...goes the big bass drum. Boom! Goes the big bass drum. The orcs are marching and the lidless eye is flaming. Mt. Doom is erupting and whatever else comes along for the ride, down that thirsty, molten, mountain-slide. It didn't have to get like this but it did get like this and it's time for the blame game. The lid is coming off of the garbage can. Mr. Apocalypse is seeing to that and the crowd is getting restless. You hear the early voices crying, “Where are they at? Where are they at”? They're booking to their bunkers. They're locked in the panic rooms of their fortress high rises. They're headed for Paraguay and Patagonia, while Kissinger is stabbing kittens with a fork. Bush Senior and David Rockefeller, are getting ready for their final luxury cruise and the cosmic Abu Nidal is on-board as well. It's the moonlight liner, all expenses paid, to the boardrooms of Hell. All aboard! All aboard!
The sweat hogs are in makeup, coming home on the night's last return trip, on the Staten Island Ferry. Sad lasses and absentee lads, doing an all nighter at The Eagle's Nest or The Mine Shaft. Here come the Armageddon tasers for the final culture shock.
What to do? What to do? It's too little, too late, for most of you. We're hopeful and helpful we think, those of us waiting on the margins, for those on the brink. The hands are extended but you can't see the hands. The voices are calling but the noise is so great. It's hard to hear anything. Is it really too late? Where there's life there's hope, if you call that life, when you're born into darkness and death's the midwife. All aboard!
Help is on the way. The final reel is playing. The hero saves the day... maybe, maybe not. We don't know but we will see. Today... tomorrow... next week. We shall see.
'I'm Coming Back' is track no. 4 of 12 on Visible's 2007 album 'Color Ball'
Lyrics (pops up)