...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.

An endless cavalcade of something past hyperreal. It makes you think whoever is in charge, cosmically, is a snickering 14 year old idiot...

People get too hung up about whether they agree with a point or not, and fail to take in the WHOLE SPECTACLE of things. Seriously goddam just look at this thing and take it as, like, a chord, on a piano. A brown noise.

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.

Arnold Bocklin, "Sacred Wood," or, "I got the local cult to help me find my contact lens."

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"

My first job was delivering the Asbury Park Press. Some kook wrote this letter to the editor on May 17, 1982. Which goes to show, they'll publish anyone's crazy ravings.

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.


Church of the SubGenius Members-Only MastoDobbs.