As mentioned on occasion here I have pondered on the 100th monkey 100th phukkwitz process. You know the dynamic at work everyday from wandering amongst the dunging masses. The stench of deliberate ignorance, that certain je ne sais quoi ming of the unstartled gestalt.
One would reckon that phukwittery could not be caught, unlike flu, that phukwittery would be a disability acquired from contact sport. Like the clap or killing a woman/foetus combo with one round. One would reckon that by now the self unloading cargo surrounding one would be alive to the idea abroad that rockrothplanet is simply regarded as one great big bursting womb in an abortion compound. The clues are everywhere and yet all eyes are parisitised to make Marie Antoinette’s pigsty’s midden look like a Pasha palace boudoir.
So much for centuries of struggle by ordinary persons to make sure they got as far from the harem vortex as possible. These days the sterile mares queue up to get bitched and the jaffamales prance everywhere for counterfeited nothing.
The only qualification required in both sugarcoatedpalaces is an inability to read the weather and an aptitude to assume the position.
Not one of them would care exactly what it is they do every day.
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If one were to complain that there is no sign of the 100th monkey turning up, that all we have are legions of 100th phukkwitz, that any bunch of clowns who can get away with such orchestrated perpery as WW1, Nov 63, Pol Pot, privatisation scams, murder leisure, the Fed and others too gynonumero significant to mention, that this unending run of demonstrable success versus nothing on the monkey side would tend to make a simian a bit mizz then just reverse the lens.
From the 100th rothperp perspective the place is teeming with 99th monkies and for every monkie there are 100 unstable state phukkwitz waiting to emit high velocity particles at strange rockactors. One wrong move and the whole chain reaction will go off.
Isn’t race memory terrifying rothboss?