Tuesday, August 23, 2016

I'm such a redneck.

Really. Deep down. Angel believing, Jesus loving, know we don't die and all that asking for answers from the Light stuff notwithstanding, there is a redneck.

The guys who run North Korea and Syria, for starters, just need all kinds of ass kicking which is soooo not what'll make anyone great again.

I'm not dumb. I know that guys on our side go under cover of darkness and do all kinds of things that are against the rules. You know: those grand, necessary rules made in the light of day where people sit in great halls, civilized places, wanting the very best of humanity to be what rises to the top like cream that'll never come from a cow long past her milking days.

What becomes of those hopes and those old cows? Are the dogs are my feet right now happily nibbling on chunks of her?

Is my subconscious bizarrely suggesting that despots be made into chew toys with squeakers in the middle?

Am I, instead of both that closet and apparently unrepentant redneck, a genius in disguise: not suggesting random assassinations after all but a repurposing of commodities long past their usefulness?

And, in the perfect world I'm just now inventing for your consideration, those old cows would die a peaceful, bucolic death on green rolling hills. And then humongous angelic forces will simultaneously sweep through this earth, disappearing the wholly malevolent, the ones who, by God, don't play fair.

Instead of the exploding bloodbaths these cancers of humankind cause, they'd be removed simply and suddenly by, well, sort of a cellular remodeling. Yes, that's it. A radical transmutation would occur and the flotsam and jetsam of who they once were taken to a plane above, a far less dense one than here, where all things are made new.

If heaven needs fertilizer, we'd have plenty.

Pretty heady dream, that. But when it all boils down to it, it's just another way of saying there are those who are no longer welcome at the party. And the frightened opportunists who make such leadership possible - what of them? Reckon that's a whole other cat treat to think about.

We now return you to whatever it is that chaps your ass in hopes that thoughts of it so not expend too much of what makes you beautiful and important on this earth. Because heaven knows the bad damn news is a killing thing, but but seeing it is how the genocide starts.

PS. It may be a momentary fit of pique, but still. Full fledged citizen of Redneckia. And a seven year-old one at that.. Scribbling on the subways of Facebook...

Kim Wrong Un

Bashar al Asshead.

THAT'll show 'em.

Weird to think I'd be put to death for that there.

Oh yeah one more pants kick to Julian ASSange for releasing stuff that'll probably get some innocent people killed. You pasty faced self righteous candy ass embassy hiding mofo. I'm all for the dissemination of that hidden arcane shit that proves all power corrupts absolutely but damned if you haven't become a parody of the freedom fighter more like freedom Fuhrer. Whassa matta? Can't get good take out?

OK. Someone OBVIOUSLY needs to fix her blood sugar. Or take a nice walk.


P.S. -

Thanks for reading that. It felt good to write: like the comedic fits I'd have before some weird resolve hit me. When I'd do extended Rabelaisian riffs on just about anything that didn't "set right with me".

Perhaps those things need to be let out after all. Maybe I forgot the Jester Imperative which is this...

You can't kill real archetypes. You can put goddess dresses on them and say OM in Sri Lanka, but really, the Alabama slow pitch all star softball playing joke telling ho will wanna hit a grand slam in the end and know Jesus loves me anyway because - aha - I've known that stuff deep down and true blue since before pointy headed idjets who put mean stickers on Him told me so.

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