Nazis have all the fun. Slice enough throats and the rest will fall in line. And because everyone is a potential criminal, all must be shackled. The Nazi overlords tell you over and over: "Work will set you free","We build body and soul" and "The Reich will never be destroyed if you are united and loyal" - and you believe these tenets with all your heart, all your mind and all your soul. Snap those shackles that bind you and all society falls apart - or so you believe. This leaves the Nazi smirking as he looks upon line after endless line of enslaved souls.
Work will set you free!
With twisted mind and tortured heart, the bent body of the slave defends his slavery. "Who cannot call me good? I'm proud of the shackles I wear! We must not question our overlords! Who among us can speak of a better way? Isn't to question and complain the way to doom and chaos? Do not these shackles keep us in line to do good? Let this thought possess you: Never break the shackles, no matter the heaven or hell that may come!
Parents didn't pay their bills, so this is not a crime!
"Freedom is the mortal enemy of us all. Let scum such as us do what we please and what would ever get done? Nothing! Give dreamers their dreams and who will do the dirty work? No one! Trust your fellow man and where will that lead us? Nowhere! These are your enemies: freedom, dreams and trust. It's nice to believe in such pleasantries, but no society can survive serving naive delusions like these, we must be practical: no freedom, no dreams, no trust!
"He's behind on his mortgage!" "Ok then, run him over - it's not practical for him to live!"
"And if you die from the shackles you wear, know that you die serving the greater good - a glorious death indeed! Who are you to ask to live anyway? What have you ever done to prove your worth? Life is for the noble and only shackles can bring nobility. Life has no worth if lived without shackles! Listen, and understand: within each of us is an Enemy - an Enemy that will stop at nothing to destroy each and every one of us! Cage your Enemy, lock the Beast deep within you, never to release its devastation upon us!
Money worship brings unity to the nation!
"I bring these words to save you, to be the voice of reason and responsibility. I seek to give assurance in your hour of doubt, when temptation comes to release the Beast. The Nazis have control for the good of us all. Do not be high and mighty, famously full of yourself, thinking yourself above the law! If you do, you will find yourself standing alone, outcast from we the good citizens. Do that and your fate is surely sealed - as surely as the laws of nature cannot be defied. What I bring you here today is one simple thing: hope for mankind."
What kind of country invades a country that never attacked them?
It's 1939 and Hitler has just invaded Poland, raping and pillaging at will, the atrocities of the SS repulsing even the regular army personnel. It is a nightmare of evil. Der Furor's rationale? Why to bring freedom to the German speaking minority of Poland, of course. The true reason was to grab ever more resources for a fanciful future. War fever swept through the country once more, giving them cause and direction. But really, Germany was doomed at that point having staked itself to a course of self-destruction.
Cut to 2009, America has invaded Iraq (again, to bring freedom!) and we too have failed to repent. ("We elected Obama, what more do the ingrates want?") To not repent means to stay the previous course. So while we may have repented in name, we have not in deed - thus we too have staked ourselves to a path of greater and greater violence. But our false egos will not let us admit that. Can't compare our killing to that of Germany's because good people like us deserve that oil over there!
We do this as if the truth cannot be known - and will not will out.
Looking to earn the SS merit badge
The drug of a "Holy War" is powerful and enticing. But like any poison, the longer it stays in you, the higher the cost of the damage it does. (What's really absurd is many people believe we need this poison to survive!) But those who carry the poison inexorably fear others won't follow its path to destruction. But paranoid Holy Warriors know the value of brainwashing at an early age. The Middle East is light years ahead of us on that but seems now we are catching up!
Cyborg dogs bark at me But they know not why; Abandoning their dreams Thinking they won't die
Mindless hate is a beautiful thing in an attack dog. Remember Napoleon from Animal Farm? He took the Puppies and brainwashed them to suit his own ends, the perfect Useful Idiots trained to find reward in servitude. This same behavior is trickling down from our Permanent War mentality:
One of the Training Monsters is quoted thusly: "This is about being a true-blooded American guy and girl." Same thing was said to the children of Germanic wars. The Monsters teach character building tactics such as this: "Put him on his face and put a knee in his back," a Border Patrol agent explained. "I guarantee that he’ll shut up." The voice of experience, I presume. They hope to seduce the children with guns and violence and regimen designed to appeal to an unformed soul. Turns out, they like to seduce them in other ways too:
"...the Explorers have faced problems over the years. There have been numerous cases over the last three decades in which police officers supervising Explorers have been charged, in civil and criminal cases, with sexually abusing them."
Well, no fucking shit they're abusing them! It's not Gandhi out there teaching them this shit. These aren't true Christians, they're psychos looking to spread their disease. Under the guise of "law enforcement" we are training our own terrorists-to-be, unquestioning and addicted to the kill.
Teach them to hunt the "Bad Guy" - then make the bad guy whomever you want!
"Their hearts pounding, Explorers moved down alleys where there were hidden paper targets of people pointing guns, and made split-second decisions about when to shoot. In rescuing hostages from a bus taken over by terrorists, a baby-faced young girl screamed, "Separate your feet!" as she moved to handcuff her suspect."
The Typhoid Monsters know that once infected, the children will fight tooth and nail to stay that way, for it gives them their sense of worth and purpose. With our Permanent Wars bankrupting us not only financially but morally, the more we'll find this sort of "training" to be acceptable and to some twisted minds, necessary! We are sliding down the slippery slope of violence and worship of our war machine - just like every other civilization that has imploded. And I see no signs of our stopping. Fear has won the day.
The building had more hallways than ever to be counted, Which was good, I rarely ran into the same person twice, So the time I spent was only in moments of greeting, And I beguiled them who I be: Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief; That's how I wove my web of disguise, For a moment's time I could be anybody - But never me, I saved the truth of me for none but me, But that's a fate too lonely.
Yes, my shirt is ragged and shoes in disrepair, My holy jeans in tatters - the clothes of despair, I told this poem to some, But not to a Certain One, Journeying through secret passages, Revealing the thief in me, Finding the closet of hope, "Come see the suit of me," The linen shimmered in unaccustomed light, My Visitor smiled and eyes grew bright, I had taken an awful chance - My breath both uneasy but finally shown, But my gentle Visitor, Left my cover unblown.
A handsome word was spread, "He has a suit to see!" I really got to say, Was not the worst thing happened to me, I tire of my disguise of rags, Seeking safety among the paupers - Of whom nothing is expected, Because I know where the world is blind, And how it ignores the divine, And finds the shallow sublime, Knowing this place never admits its crime, I knew I'd never have to admit mine.
But lonely feet can never stand still, Seek! Seek! Seek! But too much wandering makes you ill, I came upon a garden party, Through the prison of my eyes, I felt the life within, Wishing to join in, But the guards were of official mind, Pretty policemen in uniforms creased, With I clad in disdained smudges, Against reveling partiers in finest finery, The copper hissed at me, "Piss off, you! We'll have no soot upon our suits!"
But a voice spoke up to hear, The Visitor of my hidden closet, "He has a suit to see!" So that somebody let me in - Sometimes it takes only one, Reluctant, scared, proud, profane - That's how my suit debuted, Among the acceptable folk, Admiring hands lovingly touched the fabric of my soul, Sweet carresses brought forth an involuntary smile, But these threads feel so ill-fitting, And crooked as I walked, "Dammit, that's why I keep it hidden!" Until finally I balked.
I had a greater hunger Than those who munched their food, And came the fatal moment For my acting rude, Peeling off my clothing Until completely nude, With needs so stiffly showing, "My God! He's just too crude!"
Sharp dressed men and well-heeled women, Observed pristine police wrestle me down, Below their noses, In jailhouse my suit glows bright orange, Of course it wasn't of my choosing, But that happens when you're losing, The naked man is evil! Worse than killing souls combined! He reveals the ultimate crime, A sneering inmate asked me of my time, "Life" was the only sentence, No more this suit of mine.
He greeted with a politeness - But never with himself; His pleasantries were delightness But had he secret's hell?
He never raised a word That threatened or cajoled; His speaking tone was heard: "If I may, to be so bold."
In a world of fiery lip aiming And with bony finger pointing; He forsook angry blaming Finding no soul disappointing.
Flocking femme fancied his demeanor, "Oh, he's as polite as could be!" Burning hearts wished he was meaner, "Oh...he was as polite as he could be..."
Hidden was a Keyless Door, "This room where none can endure me." Politeness forbade us asking more - Such a lovely currency!
But plain the quiz upon our faces: Was he a pretender to his joy? "Please, rest assured my life is aces! "Forever I the happy toy!"
Well-honed instincts trained to please Knew the gifts sold to be lauded; Receiving our soothing appease We then dutifully applauded.
Yet of his Room I wondered, Did it hold a raging sin? Fretting I had blundered Never asking to be let in.
In proper politic, he said he had it made Charming us with irresisting kindness; We kept sunny his pop parade With a keen obliging blindness.
Dancing to his silent dreams We mistook his shuffles for a voice; But life is never as it seems When felt lived without a choice.
So till the time of no more breath He claimed impossibility of strife; Polite he made his tear-stained death: "Fear not what's lost in life!"
But in hasty post he'd sent a letter Telling of the Room with Keyless Door; Hope's confession to sway death better, "T'was in that room I pled for more."
Happy Mother's Day. She just lost her hearing from the factory noise.
If the world was stripped of all illusion and facade, and all things and all people revealed to be as they truly are, what we'd see is a vast vortex of love around which our lives are centered. And how we deal with that vortex defines our lives. If we could see our lives truly, we'd see our actions for what they are: expressions of our need for love, that love is at the center of all of life's issues. Money, religion, war, sex, suicide, dreams, politics, debating - whatever issue you want to bring up is really about our struggle for love.
Of course, we rarely admit that. I mused on my last post why we accept without challenge throwing people out into the street. We see it, we shrug, we move on. I asked why but I already know why: most of us don't see ourselves as worthy - but since we all need love and therefore need to feel valuable - we build value systems to make us feel valuable regardless. Assholes say assholes are the way to be. Lovers say lovers are the way to be. But if your values aren't true you still won't actually feel valuable. That is how sheep come to be.
"The way to despair is to refuse to have any kind of experience"
It is commonly said Hitler killed six million Jews. Technically, that is a lie. That's way too much work for one person to do, especially a quitter like him. No, he ordered the deaths for sheep to carry out and obey they certainly did. We love to praise those who blindly follow orders but that is just another example of creating false values - there is no value to being a sheep! And since a sheep can never feel good about itself, the sheep never fights back - even when it's in the sheep's best interest.
Would a nation of lovers followed Hitler? Would a nation of truth-seekers followed our previous President into a false war? Do dreamers ask the state to control their lives? We like to blame our leaders for the state of the world - and certainly words of evil flow from their lips - but we determine which voices to praise or deny. And that is why we accept the injustices inflicted upon us - we figure we really aren't worth much anyway and who are we to question anything? But the real question is: who are you NOT to question anything!
"Are you sure I'm allowed to dream?"
So I can't imagine the role of a union organizer in a conservative southern town where people pretty much don't care about themselves and don't much care to hear life should be anything than what it already is. Me, I'm a negative person and would swear it could never be done - but that's why my counsel is so often unwise. It takes a certain kind of self-love to pull off a feat like that and I too often resist the vortex of love to have that virtue. You see, you can't fight for the rights of others without also fighting for your own right to love - I often despair on that count.
Jesus came to divide, not to unite. And standing up for your rights will certainly cause people to part like the Red sea - it's a person's value you're truly questioning, a matter of life and death. Some rush to your side, emboldened by the strength you show while some depart your side, threatened by that same strength. The more you stick to your guns, the more bullets come flying your way. You're told in no uncertain terms you are no one to make waves, you are a destroyer of lives, you are unworthy of love. For the most part, you're out on that limb alone and the thought of "What the hell have I done?" will surely come to pass.
Copper says: "I enforce the rule of self-hate."
So while in one sense it's a battle for union rights, the true warfare is the one for self-love, of finding your worth. A conservative person resists the call for change - he fears change more than the company's abuses. A liberal person faces the need for change, embracing it as much as one's bravery allows. Tell me, is there any greater oxymoron than the phrase "conservative philosophy"?
There's a commandment that says not to take the Lord's name in vain. What that means is you are not to say you are without worth. You may do things that have no worth, or take a path that has no worth - but no matter what you do there's still an inherent value in every soul, that piece of God within you. The more we recognize the value of our soul, the less injustices we tolerate.
So yeah, I know why people don't stick up for their rights - but being a sheep won't save you.
It's a special kind of dying in the desert, a cruelty all its own, an attack on the mind as well as the body. The roasting sun hears not your pleas and knows not your protests, its only job to bring suffocating waves of heat without pause or hesitation. Your brain literally cooks in the oven that is your head. Your protective skin withers in peeling layers from the fiery rays. Parched lips crack and split open, knowing tomorrow will bring more the same.
When the sandstorms come, no one is left on the planet but you. No beast may hear you or see you in the blinding and deafening winds that trap you more surely than any prison cell. With the time of your sentence unknown, the mind goes mad with anticipation of release yet feeling that time may never come. Yes, when the imprisoning sand rises up, its rule is absolute, severing you from all human needs.
Nighttime is daytime's left over decay. During the day's domain, the mind, body and soul hunker down like in a tank-like bunker. The task then is simply to endure. Night brings the pain of breathing. Demons of the dark demand their due. Where is love? Where are dreams? Where is hope? Unsatisfactory answers are rewarded by a pitchfork's painful poke. The torturers ask again and again until night reaches end. You cannot beat the demon, only expel it.
Any "water" you find is rancid and foul, pools rejected by the living souls who travel by in life's caravans. One taste - and drink one must - and your guts twist in agony as the black liquid poisons it way through your system, bending you in contorted hell. You pray for death, but death will not come. You stand as your own enemy, cursing yourself for the water that sustains nothing but delay of doom.
Sometimes, wandering angels drift by - my only companions without snarling teeth or a lizard's cold skin. For hours I've sat motionless in an empty stare, caring only for the end. The angels spark a faint flicker of life in my black universe. Crawling slowly, my worn feeble hand rubs my sand encrusted eyes as my body protests my movements with howls of pain. I reach my pen and paper, weathering the sandstorms of my mind unleashed by the fury of sudden sobriety.
I can hear the angels above discussing me.
"What on earth is that wretched creature doing?"
"I can't imagine it's anything of use."
"Perhaps he's writing a suicide note..."
"Who's going to read it? The vultures?"
"Oh, I see now! He's blogging!"
"Blogging? Well, all I got to say is it better be witty and funny or I'm not reading that shit."
I'm more outcast than outlaw but I've always had a disdain for the facade of our pretentious world order where we always claim to know "the way". There's a whole underbelly of reality out there you won't see any "proper" talking head on TV ever admit with all their "serious" talk of the economy and other garbage they pretend is real. And any of us who do speak the truth are immediately dismissed because, you know, our suits aren't as nice.
But as I've said before: the world is a criminal enterprise. You know how you can tell a place is crooked? The assholes live the best.
So I have a certain amoral response when all the "responsible" folks tell me money has to rule. I say, "Fine. Let's play by your rules - fuckers." Let me place money over you!
When I first moved out, I got a job as breakfast cook in my tiny hometown and I was living with a co-worker, a disturbed Vietnam vet who told me stories like when he's driving down the road he often fantasized about swerving into the oncoming traffic. He also had no running water in his house (I guess 'cause there was none in Nam) and the window in the room I slept in was broken.
So when my parents offered to send me to a vocational school just outside of Amarillo I said OK even though my interest in it was completely zero. But it had to be a step up. And it was there I met Robert - he really was an outlaw so we were sympatico instantly. Robert was a rock 'n' roller complete with - gasp! - a pair of drumsticks used in an actual concert. His dorm room had nets on the ceiling where he placed album covers and memorabilia to lord over its inhabitants. He also had the coolest poster ever of aliens rocking out on a stage in space.
I "stole" his bike once and when he came pounding on my door looking for it I told him I had no idea where it was but I had one just like it I could sell to him. I also called him "Lius Chama" (a character from "Joe Kidd") for no other reason than for its esoteric value. ("It's not funny! I don't know why you're laughing!") I remember I took something else of his - don't remember what - and he started chasing me down the hallway in his underwear. I smirked as I headed for the exit thinking he'd never follow me there. I was wrong. (Yes, people saw it and everyone wanted to know who the "underwear guy" was.)
Luis Chama!
Robert's roommate was Duane - who had no problem telling you how "fine" he was - and he owned an item of truly exotic worth: wheeled transportation. Duane wanted some new fancy wheels for his pickup and when he and Robert asked if I wanted to tag along I said sure. It was the first time I ever set out to intentionally steal something. We drove into Amarillo proper and found some fancy apartments where Duane might be able to "obtain" some new rims.
We split up, looking for unlocked cars - I remember sitting in a Corvette for the first time - and though the car wasn't stolen, the feeling sure was. It was great just sitting there outside the law. I think one of us finally set off an alarm and we scurried away to IHOP for some midnight stoner food. It was a giggle fest with me with making the syrup container "talk" by flipping the lid up with every word and I stuck an exploding cigarette into Duane's pack while he was in the bathroom and when it actually worked we thought that was the funniest thing ever!
Such was the genesis of my life of crime and by the time I was through, Amarillo would never be the same with the psychic scars I'd leave on her sad soul. Like Dillinger, Robert and I were tired of our meager existence and we demanded munchies for all! I was visiting him at his Mom's house in the city and we hatched our plans to grab edible goodies from a nearby 7-11 by making a mad dash out the door with our loot. Some old lady was behind the counter and we thought, eh, this'll be an easy knock off.
But after running out the door, Grandma Sneakers comes chasing after us yelling out, "I got your license plate number!" Robert looked at me with a pained face. "We gotta go back, man, this is my sister's car. She's going to KILL me!" So we trundled back and I actually bought some Doritos with the last of my cash as a way of apologizing with a genuine purchase. But like Pharaoh of old, God only hardened my heart and I failed to repent.
Stacy was a friend of "the gang". She lived in the city and she too was an actual owner of four wheeled transport. We made her the (reluctant) Bonnie to us two Clydes. The rampage would continue, but this time I had a plan. First, we put a cloth over Tracy's license plate. Then I came up with the idea of Robert and me going in separately. I was first, my job to grab as much beer and chips as possible and then stare at whatever items were by the exit. Then Robert - who was a rather athletic fellow - would come in and start to wander around. That was my cue to make my mad dash out the door with Robert assuring the clerk, "Wait! I'll go get him!"
Worked like a charm! Feeling rather heady, we knocked off a second joint, only this time a customer in the parking lot thought our covered license plate rather suspicious and when we scrambled to the car to make our getaway, this guy decided to play Smokey and the Bandit and follow us in a high speed pursuit! Bonnie, err Stacy, panicked and floored the car out onto I-40, hitting 100 miles per hour. We lost him, but a fuming Stacy wanted no more of our life of crime.
We only had the chance to pull it off one more time when some guy somebody knew showed up with his parent's brand new conversion van. We found an isolated 7-11 to hit but some black kid was on the pay phone out front exactly on the escape route Robert and I would need to take. So Robert took the liberty of telling him we were going to steal some shit and the kid was cool with that. We screeched away with no problems, on our way to sneak into the last song of a Ratt concert (I know, so not worth it).
Might wanna rethink that!
Our last act of terror was at a Denny's. Four of us were there but we were not about to let poverty stand in our way of a fine meal. My plan this time was for all of us to leave but Robert, who would then go up to the counter to "pay". He'd say, "Oops, I left my wallet in the car." Then join us in the waiting ride for a frantic escape to digest our ill gotten gains.
In a dog-eat-dog world, sometimes one must resort to the ways of the outlaw in the gritty struggle for survival. What's really scary, though, is when I see America pulling the same trick - only we use our military to steal what we want. But the times are still woeful for me, and Robert, if you're reading this, I can tell you where all the easy 7-11's are in Dallas.
"Work will set you free!"
Work will set you free!
Parents didn't pay their bills, so this is not a crime!
"He's behind on his mortgage!"
Money worship brings unity to the nation!
Don't dare to ask for more!
