so what esteemed purpose should we follow now we have been cleverly chastised by one needing compliance to their will and sense of reason?
are you joking?
we’ll be as rude and stupid as we feel. tough shit.
so that goes like that.
in other news, the clown experiences some minor computer problems that seem to be fixed now (?).
he knows little about computers as he pretty much does about anything else on earth in this world.
the collective ignorance of the whole of the human species is astounding to him what he is able to imagine what it must be. we have our work ahead of us. don’t look back.
allowing our gazorbnik leading the way.
suck on that, you monkey.
monkey in the middle of a riddle we can barely comprehend. the clown is constantly amazed by the complex simplicity of it like a puddle in the rain. how now not to appear unwise? following a pathless path of certain transformations to occur beyond the scope of our recognition programs. fear no evil. develop the ability to survive despite the consequences.
and it’s medication time already!
the blessed and the inane ceremonies of ancient times until now they are performed to SRO crowds in the burning theater on the corner of easy street and paradise boulevard never to be seen again.
a peaceful parade of blissed out hooligans marching by with heads held high and long strides toward their estimated destinations to be determined at a later time.
it’s always a parade with those people, isn’t it? who can blame them? it’s not their fault. big tits. we each have our sacrifices to make. some more than others. this is the directive from high command.
everything is as well as it could be. we don’t seem to know any better. perhaps that is for the best for all concerned.
but be that as it may be, the party’s over. everybody can go home now – those who have homes to go home to. we are fortunate. not everything is to be believed. doubt is the question.
the clown thinking about rowing a boat ashore while typing not p0em (for those who forget what this is supposed to be) cuz he ain’t no poet wonders happily about whether the moon may not be real as many believe it is not. he thinks he should flip a coin to determine the truth. he can hear laughter now from the peanut gallery of those too young to remember who they are.
queer little fish. he speculates symbolic motions to devise a machine that’ll fix everything that’s not right according to a specially selected committee who will hear all who wish to plead their thoughts on the matter before making a final decision. be prepared to die.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
morning sun bright on the blinds of the window. all is right in the world. all is right in his head turning around. wild thinking thoughts that come from outer space for all the clown knows by now. easy does it.
a banana for breaking fast.
most of life is routine and ritual even for those without religion. same difference really.
the fat black cat goes wild with a catnip mouse. back to her roots her comfortable easy living does not dissuade. and her with a limping paw hunts and kills.
preemptive strikes against what’s left of the middle class who have not learned their lessons according to the revolutionary vanguard of misfit toys.
down down down we go. like a rolling stone.
feathers in our caps we continue our habit of making fools of ourselves. this is nothing compared to what our fate might have been to be someone successfully important with their pompous pride putting others to shame.
the leftover traces of tears our sorrow leaves us with. and there were those who foretold our fortune among the tribes in conflict. we were counted on to be cowards in the face of continuing war. no gallant deeds for us along the way of the holy grail.
others are too smart to think like we do. but we suspect it is a joke. we mumble discouraging words and are seldom heard over the din of people making $$$.
we hope we are wrong about what we have experienced in visions.
a rat in a trap coming to chew your face off.
our misguided mission of peace, love, and understanding to those who know only war from the household to the battlefield. they refuse to disarm fearing their enemies are tricking them into doing so in order to defeat and subjugate them.
the clown sighs. this ain’t as easy as it seems.
but this is not the way it goes perhaps. most everything is destroyed in one final world riot. the following day we awaken from what we have done and those who are left able among us scavenge for their next meal in the smoking ruins of our despair and frustration. we didn’t think about this.
ridiculously absurd in thought, word, and deed we have anxious thought about our role in this world is to confuse and to mystify everything we can. unless we really are idiots chasing our tails. haha.
every village needs an idiot, even in heaven. one the others who do not consider themselves idiots can scorn and ridicule and feel themselves superior. and we laugh and laugh.
but that’s not the point. the point is to follow our own direction of spirit in happy pursuit of where when it might lead us to forsaking all else along the way as instructed by secret codes in the narrative of our lives we receive in random perusal of everything from comic books to scriptures as we have related before now and then facing east to close our eyes and breathe thinking mantras of our simple minds ceasing to be influenced by desire and fear as we are much of the time wasted on the wayside of our journeys continuing from 0 toward infinite oblivion.
to not believe in anything is thoughtcrime. it does not matter what is believed as long as it is something. have no fear, gazorbnik is near.
idle infantile thinking about concepts beyond our knowledge but not our understanding. we imagine what we will. we ask questions no one bothers to answer turning their heads and coughing.
it’s just a joke to us, observers of this world reporting to the committee via not p0em.
but everything takes our minds away from our anointed appointment of duty. we think in contradictions forcing us to doubt. and doubting leads to self-annihilation.
people, get ready.
when idiots have something under their hats and up their sleeve. but what harm can be done allowing them their fantastic delusions. we need just to ignore them. but they don’t go away.
it’s the other side of this life, baby.
bees in bonnets.
no more excuses now.
the time is come at last.
like falling off a log in a fog into the bog where we supposedly belong according to our betters.
but we have different ideas to cut off supplies to their enlightenment fix without which they have a long way to fall.
we with our feet on the ground have nothing to lose.
truth is a monkey on a rock without a clock to tell the time that is lost.
truth is pearls before swine among which we are numbered.
let it be so.
we know we are 0.