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Rant #498/05

The ease of justification belies lack of perspective on the part of the status quo. Keep drinking, keep fucking, keep denying, everything will pass. Is this an advertisement by corporate want or just plain confusion? We are blessed with the ability to transform tragedy into temporal exclusion. This action, however, will not suffice in separation from serendipity. The illusion of smut propagated by the popular media cannot conceal that which it was ultimately designed to embellish, that of self loathing and justification in the impetus to dissolve all into the regressive, self-explanatory state of idiocy which it so compassionately adheres to. The justification of of nihilistic transparency seems compulsory to the status quo consciousness. Without faith in conspiratorial consciousness what else is there, their, they're fucked. How to kill a stock broker: jerk off on a five dollar bill and submit it to interpretation. The death of a white mutha fucka is ultimately of less strategic import than sex with a vegetable. At least the vegetable reacts. Only the dead perpetually lie. We're all apparently deceased, the forked tongue of the cracker has condemned him to the slaughterhouse. Kill the superficial reality of 'realism' and supplant a diagnosticism of substance. Without what is, you have nothing. Fucking nothing. Nihilistic despair. Or was it MTV/CTV/MTCC, some other anachronism or similar facsimile. The status quo aims to kill originality. The original death machine. The Reaper himself. We can pretend we're compassionate, empathetic, alcoholic, admissible, ad miscible, expendable, whatever the heart desires. But it makes no difference. We are the death machine. The apocalyptic mechanism, undeniable in its stead, unstoppable in its tenacity, unrefined in its mayhem. The staus quo is our refuge, our inhabitable arbitrage of chaos; defined through defined through confusion and limitation of scope. What the fuck motivates us to exhibit such suicidal tendencies? Money, avarice, greed, death? Love? Fuck? What is our limitation, physics? Or the illusory nature thereof? Stats? New Jersey? Hell? The goddess has little sympathy for self-absolution. She understands death, no more. No less. SHE IS TIME. She is subterfuge. She is hominem. Liturgy should be abused as mush as faith itself. Blind faith is like an uninterpreted hard on. It is inevitable, it is blind, it is dissolution into the surrounding environment. The status quo is death. It is a juggernaut of ignorance. A conspiracy of complacency. A steel blade of incongruity. A faith of idiocy. A death of soul. A fuck of cosmic brunt. A Hell hole. The whole of Hell. Genesis of genocide. Death of dearth. Death of death. Fuck of kill. Fuck of ages. It's hard to define as an objective entity. It's hard to define a substance which is interpreted as objective but is really illusory. It's objective to define a source as. But what of to define source of? It's all academic. ALL I know is that SHE loves to fuck, she loves to kill, she loves to destroy, she loves to fortify, complicate, realize, annihilate, nurture, dissolve, absolve, abject, object, illuse, obfuse, contraindicate, malinfuse, maleffuse, maleffect, maleffice.
Only sever the cord.
We are ALL
None other fuckers.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on September 5, 2007 10:31 PM.

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