Mitigating the effects of my idol

It has to be controlled. We have to re-negotiate the terms and reconfigure our systems. But, as you've seen for yourself on more than one single occasion, manipulating a machine that has defied its master for so long is no more simple that controlling your falanges when trembling from Parkinson's. Statistics (from somewhere) show that it's not as popular as it was even last year, but let me tell you, this post wasn't created because I had something to say about American Idol... intitially. But, because it's power is so pervasive, here I sit, on a Friday evening. Fuck. In fact, let me say in my defense that I don't even want to write about it. I write about American Idol to rid myself of my demons, nuch like that in-the-closet homosexual entering the ministry to "get right."

Here, even if I exorcise the demons, I won't be right and neither will you. It's gone too far. It's out of the hands of man! Wow, am I being overly dramatic. Anyway, the story is that presidential candidates, running in one of the most hotly contested democratic primaries of alltime (! - I've seen my share of this shit, now please somebody just fucking concede. I heard that the media chose the winner a long time ago anyway.) So, where does Paula Adbud fit in? That's a good question, really, simply considering what her or any of the other idol judges have done... ever. Nonetheless, she fits in alright, in being a part of the most influential construct ever known to the human and humanoid races. It turns out that candidates vie and pay the most for commercials during the idol. Decagon of decadence! If you can buy time during AI, you win! Drats! Even more important, and underhanded, is that showing commercials during this time slot is like exposing feeble minded children to candy piles. "Undecided" voters, better known as the people who look for a president who would likely make a good, solid casual friend, are mesmerized and hypnotized by Simon Cowell. They listen to everything their master says, and everything that's said in between his snarky phrases. Now, more than ever, we're really fucked. It's a sign of the times, the end times that is, and if the neo-prophets don't jump on this one, we have all the reason we need to burn down there fortresses and steal their scrolls... once and for all... may our souls be saved lest they decay and become muck piles waiting for the wild animal feast.

Don't stop believin'

Fiestawizard - gargoyle king and bear keeper (a melancholy nighttime chant)

Extra - I made this. Other's have done better - look for the Brokeback mountain or Big Lebowski themed versions.

The Jesus drums

Yeah, ahh, listen, I get this Jesus channel and I've had run-ins with it that past few days here. Let me explain:

1) Friday night, quietly and passively viewing Charleton Heston in Planet of the Apes. I start to feel that the film is causing me to worship false idols (mainly ape men, which also brings up another point: primates are evolving rapidly and may soon begin to live in cheap apartment communities in a city near you). The feeling is blasphemous. The Jesus channel is simultaneously giving me a free viewing of "King of Kings." What a treat. Van Impe would be pleased. I want to be punished.

I proceed to call the 800 number on the bottom of the Jesus channel screen. A lady answers my call, she seems to be Latina, and I explain to her the situation. I believe that it's likely that the Jesus channel is also using illegal immigrant service labor. She offers me a prayer. I am sure to mention Heston's influence as well as my feeling dirty. She agrees and begins to pray for me. She prays, and prays.... and fucking prays. Probably for 10 minutes or so. I'm likely immune for at least as many years.

2) So, I think all is well with me and Jesus, but now the channel, which I am apparently attracted to, is bombarding me with the facts on why every band since 1960 is in fact Satanic, and that if you have children, they will be brainwashed. Everyone from George Harrison to "cultist" William Burroughs to "heavily into the occult," Sting. They do a lot of this:

So-and-so said, "I wrote that song in 1975 because I was feeling I needed and outlet... to lure people in, you know... to change the minds. We want to... destroy the youth... church."

And you see, the three period break is the way you actually lure the youth in and destroy them. It's that simple really, the youth are very much stupid. The good news is if you have children, god bless their little innocent souls, they can easily be trained in this manner, and also lots of large, popular Christian music fesivals are available.

Wasn't it Todd Rundgren who said, "I don't want to work, I just want to bang on my drum (and chant, in an occult manner) all day."? He did indeed, and that motherfucker is a true Satan loving Jew.

Blue Harbor Resort Memoirs

I remain in the ugly arms of winter's monotany. It slowly depletes you this time of year. My energy remains at annual lows. The only good news so far is that several area K-Marts are still alive, indicating that even entities with the lowest of energy levels are still able to survive. Nonetheless, in an attempt to increase my health, and to ultimately break the gloomy terror, I made the only logical choice: travel to Sheboygan Wisconsin, home to Wigman socks, Kohler water fixtures and also a giant coal plant! This coal plant is major, and lies on lake Michigan. As an added bonus, a small parcel of land and lake is available near the plant for your pet to romp in the warmth of the cooling pool.

Now, since I haven't left the grime of the city since Christmas, I was sure that this trip would be a spiritual journey. It had all of the proper indicators of this initially: The song, "Dreamscape," by Rush playing as I got on the highway and a beef sandwich at Arby's later in the day. Spirituality can be simple you condescending assholes, so get off it.

Now, anyway, Sheboygan is actually a nice place, but it's also what you'd expect. I have some friends up there, from Madison, that gave me the following analysis: a good place for white, married, Christian men with children. Familiar to me.

So, there you have it - the reason why I should be a saleman.

An advocate for inquiry

Assume for a moment that this money has worth. Pile it up and count it. Now assume that you and I are distinguishable. Revel in it. Test the assumption that you are fortunate to have been given these tasks. Smell my finger, man. Assume that this futuristic way is the best. (Don't) choose your own pop-melodic adventure. Assume that these awards must be for you. Put them on a top-shelf. Assume that the known beat is old-school funk. Pretend that it can improve you.

Now for the second, and most important, set of assumptions:

Assume that the simple set of rules set forth will increase your order. Keep your questions to yourself. Proceed to assume that it's business as usual. Cast a doubt if you want to taste the chrome. Taste it. Now assume that when there's lightning, it always brings you down. You're a rainbow in the dark.

Okay, so I hope you're able to put everything together, for your own and your god's sake. I'll tell you right now that I've eaten rancid meat on several occasions, none of them being as terrible as you might think, tonight included. Apply that to the set of circumstances. Personally, I'm sick of them.

To whom will your vote go this session? I'm fixing to vote next week, but I have little passion. Why again, can somebody tell me that the party(ies) run the primaries this way? Actually, I wouldn't be voting for any of the candidates now available if our primary was in January. My vote would have gone to Warblin Griffin, the dimensional black warlock running on the fornification ticket. You've probably never heard of him. In the eye of the Tornado,

Fiestawizard

Flight of the Navigator Part II

This is what happens when you connect a theremin (theremaniacs brand) to my computer and utilize the voice dictation capabilities of Microsoft Word:

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And this is what happens when you forget about people:

Jamal