The "Woodman" once said, "Marriage is the death of hope." I have to wholeheartedly agree with him on that sentiment as I think back to my ex in her specktacky frills inflated 39,000 dollar wedding dress with the chintzy ruby red L.E.D. blinking tiara. It was insane and seismically embarrassing to even be in it’s sterile artificial presence. An epic Messquire for sure. What was I thinking? I wasn't. I stood frozen - in shock perhaps. I can’t remember. Fellatio, on a daily basis certainly is a mesmerizing carrot chaser elixir right into a diamond ring encrusted Berenstein bear trap where all of a sudden the headache suddenly becomes a prominent fixture in bed! I should have recognized that in my fortune cookie. All I know, is my expensive shoddily capped wisdom tooth fell out from the deafening low end of the cliched, incestuous groove of “Kool And The Gang’s “Celebration” pumped off for the umpteenth time. A constant cacophony of clangoring champagne glasses enforcing us both to dispassionately wax kiss amongst the contrived, cellophane entertainment specifically engineered for her obscenely wealthy morally corrupt fat headed, privileged relatives who craved traditional retro flavored garter belt high jinks while slovenly dining on gold plated filet min yawn and Rhinoceros horn Calabrese Con Carne on ivory keys! THE DECADENT NERVE!
That’s right buster.
A sudden birds eye lens view of self awareness is an existential bitch! But there I was in the thick of it!
And I suspect that even when these NPC Players depart with their silk laced complimentary sugar coated marital bunny egg gifts, they’ll still return home to their status quo McMansions, feeling empty as ever, having an unconscious yen for "dim sum dumbing down America" by purchasing as many 8 k - flat TV screens as possible adjacent to the cheesy silver framed poster of the standard “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams Diner” with Monroe, Dean, Humphrey and Presley mocking our superficial Pleasantville existence augmented by a ubiquitous Giclée of an ultra conservative Thomas Kinkade landscape. Or perhaps if these mindless soap bubbles are feeling false flag creative at the moment, they can always venture back to the good old nostalgia - nostalgic days, and replicate true art at it’s finest: Paint by numbers “dogs playing poker” or “sad eye’d clowns and orphans on velvet” purchased and delivered in a nanosecond from Amazon (that invasive river that has drowned every mom and pop store known to mankind). Yes, my laundry tawdry rant goes on as technology with no spiritual backbone pretends to glue our shattered country leaving us with 13 faded stars and stripes and a Caucasian God of no accountability regaling the march. I suppose it was inevitable. No fife and drum hipster trash bag prayer could avoid it or prevent the premeditated shape shifting tardigrade wresting bacteria culture residing on our religious akashic records iPhone cyborg implants that I suspect is somehow in direct opposition to the recent solar flare cancer Carrington GPS Cataclysmic pole shift hypothesis times we dwell in. But I digress. It’s an anti terminator terminator scenario prophecy where repeatedly “running to the chopper” screaming in agony gets us nowhere all the while illegal federal reserve corrupted circus crypto currency deep fake Progresso blackmail sauce subtly blankets us with unnatural crimson blood pizza fairytales, Barbie dolls and patriotic idiotic redneck pro federate tattoo slogans not to mention the stealth mosquito drones monitoring our every bowel movement waiting for kill confirmation after next years fixed primary election. Don’t deny it. The diffusion delusion is clear. Thank you. But NO THANK YOU to the arrogant Mandal-Lian, CERN - BOZON manipulation minions who keep misaligning our childhood memory frames with alternate dime a dozen universes. This one in particular forcing my throat to stay virulently parched via ultra intelligent persuasive invasive nanobots from the local food mart! Ahem - Ahem Where's that plastic ocean polluting bottle of costly re-filtered toilet water I just had? Vanished in a blink of a computer screen cataractic eye. Like that embarrassingly fuzzy film UPA / UFO tick tock good’n plenty a perfect proto plot for the misdirection disclosure that's in full swing today. And Yes, the New York Times still has the balls to headline that "Patty still likes her diluted down rock and roll and a hotdog still makes her lose control", but should we care? Kissing cousins, why would we? Who has the time with all our paranoid concentration constantly being infiltrated by the daily booster proxy staple in our obese diet that’s involuntarily propagating artificial fish flavor taffy E. K. G. prods to automatically stick and prick to the outside of our skulls as well as everything else that’s been neatly riveted down in this medical mafia movie set simulation. All hail to our gluten free fascistocrisy with pseudo medical benefits for oppressed ghetto dwellers suckling on Martin Luther Seizures Monsanto's nipple of DNA manipulation and racist pig mind control. No lives matter apparently. Divide and conquer! Divide and concrete - paving over the last tree in Brooklyn with barely an audible wince... Hush little darling. Hush. Sandman's coming soon. Sandman's coming soon. And you wonder why I’ve lost my will to live.
Cap’n Crud to the rescue? I doubt it! He’s too much of a lost schmuck to even think about cleansing our rancid Ditch Master ways. The blunder of extra heavy buzz armstrong bread will attest to that. So go ahead, contribute to the Kook Frozen King Size menthol cigarettes for mental vape cases. Go head Jones - blob-dark! BLOB-DARK! If it hurts your stomach don't blame me - blame the retched maniacal munster mint fresh alien cheese dried pasty tomato creeps propagating from friggin’ Fizer. Them along with the cow industrial exxon dinosaur corporation have always had the machinery to produce the slickest, stickiest stuff in town. And who could fault them? Christ, the Schtick Stupid Stained Steel razor blade annuities of an A.I. driven stock market has been holding court as far back as 1913! Even President Hooch, Cannibal Harris, Pepto Dismal Pelosi, Sloop Doggy Stewart and Mantis Evar knows that! Damn well aware of the cunning calculated spew we've imbibed over the millennium. Verified impervious to our resistance! Yup. Nasty led encrusted asbestos milkwash warlocks of suppression hidden in plain site of our addicting hot tottee latte Twiddle Dee Tweedle fudge Chef Girl-are-dee week days single handedly over sugar up the cereal awful bits they commercially feed our stunted ADH under educated offspring for breakfast. It's not enough they are indoctrinated with reactive ring worm virtual reality spaghetti but they are all about the bass twerk. That's the priority as acutely ineffective as liquid bomber drain opener at a transgender rodeo. No help at all. No pro magnum vision. None what so ever! Raw Goo indeed, a snot ponzi scheme as blatant as a botched up virgin Master Card Full Tummy tuck anointed in seamen and as predictable as slipping on Grass Wax Liquid Lawn Cleaner. Sure you’ll have the slippiest grass in town but that will never quench our raw thirst for the real Gatorade made from squeezed Alligators. And that of course brings us full circle with this Lizard People problem who fancy administrating quantum shoe polish on anything the isn’t dull and brown - which isn’t really a real color by the way. That dis-corporate brown lipstick ass kissing lie we’ve been brainwashed by the Q-Bit blue Beanie Meanie Margarine agenda committee is nothing more than just a flaccid knock off of the old "vista allocation lunchbox committee" who quietly sold us out in the China 2020’s. Wunan nanny nanny! Wunan nanny nanny! JESUS H! Remember that lightning speed sinister global panicking monkey see monkey do elbow rub meet and greet disinfect my meat debacle? And the ever widening profiteering porous mask mind set? How was that even possible?! But alas, we all fell for it bat, swine and sinker. Popular vulture moon landing Kubrick conspiracy theorists suspect Covid Fauci chemtrails of immune deficiency gas were leaked into the surrounding parking lot air when we were dosing off at night to episodes of Black Mirror! Cunning Illuminati Veege Leeches! I wouldn’t put it past them! It is time to eradicate the motozola monetary fright guard deodorant oil militia and wipe clean the metastasis Xennakis build up with a heavy dose of LIGETI ON 3! LIGETI ON 3! It's best if we break free of the dark demon hooney head loonies and return to our neutral pepper land state where the loving sweet-soft snatch-a-pack boobie comfort pods can then embrace us emotionally, nourish us unconditionally and we can finally live in it love in it sleep in it hug in it bug in it chug in it snug in it sing in it etc. You know. Put the FUN back in funeral. Like before that crack "inebriated nickle plated twat with the seized laptop" got all the publicity and my ex-wife tossed my original sunburst 57 stratocaster into the wood shredder. There I rest my case... Sort of. I'll shut up now before I start all over again.
credits
from Artificial Tales Of Gleep And Whimsy (Vol. 2),
released November 6, 2023
JT : Edits
Voice: Col. Scooby Watts Sr.
JT, Laura Serpico, Pat Wilbur : "Ligeti on 3"
Recorded and Mixed at Suburban Hermit Studios III, Ronkonkoma, NY
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