Continued from lambda.
Your correspondent was just watching witchvision, hexTV, one of those crap STASI undercover BBC (Habiruclue) controller, gruppenfuhrer, MiSpi hidden Kombrig shows for fake bosses to wankon they are just like us, at the moment. Do you remember the double glazing clown who worshipped business guru commie, my way or highway retards? Do you remember the call centre freek? Think temple whores and you might get the truer perspective as willing autoeunuch as castrati.
It, Altophukkwitz, was on PyongYang channel as I parked my arse and it just brought some things to mind. If one can land a container of mind gas, tits out, what is the point of developing 5 note Horst Wessel madrigals in the kitchen when there is a reign of fear in the upstairs, seeping, downstairs world of forced oral phukkery? The house seems to think that it can sustain by pumping mandolin oil up the arse and pimping Agent Orange down the throat. Rubbish in, rubbish out. The altershitter is non specific arthritic urethritic channel on petrified freeview.
Cordite and Semtex leak continuously out the cracks as turded birth canals, a modified, drugged and trepanning uterus, of semicognicent barren issue.
In this particular show we’ve got anyothizier krypto, faux origin, selected for slaver characteristics, Lamarkian complex, workshy, limelight huggin bosses fagg Apiru de Santos, fannying around in the tractor stats world that can only exist when Balondyonian counterfeit currency is flooding everywhere, trying to pull a load of Madison Avenue schemerschmeer on the feudal coffee bean kaffirstate.
When one looks at the creep, it just cannot get its unselfawarehead, round the fact that in every way the teary phukker is a star spangled eon parasite.
As always with these ignorant clowns they are constantly on recon. The fact that the slaver farm in backwardumbia will be a private cleared estancia for his inbred extended family, if the farm has nice things they covet secretly, is never alluded to as the tikka massala heals the world. But it will be done slowly through engineered failure as thorough debtonation with blurtmoney that stinks like a herring boat bog door.
To put it simply for those who do not get it, the world is a house. In the upstairs a magic infintinflato kranks out fake eating vouchers and the master of the krank makes everyone expose their holes for depositits and deathcum.
Now don’t be getting all upset you boybitches and birtchboys of devilersity and enkquality for fluid filled nothing, the master can be succubus and incubus, it does not matter just so long as the shaft kranking unspirals all spirit to denature.
Out here with you and me in the herb garden all we can see is the closed curtains, smell the powder and hear the constant screaming, the unending misery distilled within those four walls. We are unwanted and we empire.
If Parsley is overhead we will be dead soon.
Hiding under the briars we await the beautiful Tayberry, blackcurrant, blueberry and bramble crop capturing our freedom for honour and grace. Laying quietly these passed few weeks listening to the squadrons of busy bees, dinging their unformatted precision thing, has been purest delight and the extra bonus is that despite the best efforts of the award winning iGREENCOMINTERN to destroy all fauna and flora, I espiedinthesky, heard the careening, witnessed the swifts who have been pulling their gorgeous yoyos and wing tip stalls over head upon their return. Failure free aeroelasticity as art is not in man’s power. Only spiritually sprite drained engineering in a net.
If you think that we are going into space soon, you know my opinion of stahl toecapping, that will require the expansion of the mongmind to reduce bitparsecs to failed bitmeasure. Nothing is created from the ever empty pity hands that kill. Nothing can be conceived in the cranial void of dead death.
All power resides within us and the last breath of beauty is unifying and unending.