...but it's somewhere past funny, past the sad that is past the funny, and it is speeding past despair...Like I hate to say it but, as to Hunter Thompson -- I think it's gotten weird enough for me. I didn't think I'd see it in my lifetime. Things have gotten too weird, and now there's a body count.
I hesitate to paste this because if there's one thing I don't want to be accused of, it's having a political opinion of any sort. This screenshot transcends any kind of ideological concern: rather, when this moment occurred, I had the sudden sensation that someone was taking the piss; like, something cosmic was letting me know the current reality was a joke I *just wasn't getting* and this cosmic force was feeling embarrassed *for* me and sending a sign. NOPE IT GOT WAY STUPIDER.
It all starts somewhere I guess. In 1990 I was looking at a cinder block wall in a dorm room at Rutgers trying to understand Einsturzende Neubauten when I couldn't help but ask, "What's with the guy with the pipe?"
Tribunal Overdrive in Sheridan probably had a story, too, 8 years earlier. But it probably didn't involve Einsturzende Neubauten.
Probably involved Throbbing Gristle.
From the Casper Star-Tribune, May 17, 1982"
A suplerative photograph of Mr. Bing Crosby. I suspect that I am the last to see this superlative photograph. That I am late to the party. That this superlative photograph is yesterday's news.
But, see, the problem is I was too busy fucking all of your mothers. In a respectful, traditional, missionary position, so don't get angry. After 20 years of failing to create a homunculus, I felt defeated.
Fucking all of your mothers was undertaken in good faith and with the utmost respect.
Cut a hole in the floor to see just how close to hell we're standing.
Church of the SubGenius Members-Only MastoDobbs.