chapter five - postmodernist apostate

Five

5.1

I am in a fever I want to get up and throw my arms around you to kiss your neck to overwhelm you with the gifts of love the womb in you speaks and unfolds everything there is fire there is flowers there is the fall’s harvest we wait for the newness of spring and the summer’s heat the passion in the back of your mother’s camper leading me to the gallows tearing myself out of the coma removing myself from the dream of the people I go to the bar for a drink and the bartender wants to introduce me to a woman he is a pimp on the side and she is from Seville she is working her way through school and needs money for books I was not responsible for what I said or did the drugs were a greater influence on me that I had predicted the hit of blotter acid was stronger than normal I spent the night watching the lights and receiving messages from alien spacecrafts a strange a treacherous thing as the lights circle around me and I am taken up in the moment feeling this alien presence watching me wanting see what is playing at the cheap theater looking at the dog panting happy for hours and hours wearing familiar clothing you stare up looking at the unfamiliar ceiling I have been speaking to the ghosts they believe in life but they don’t believe in you they think you are inanimate that you don’t believe in the birth and death cycle fiction is based on reality they accuse you of fabricating reality falling into a life of hard drinking a pursuit of hedonism at top of a downward drive contains more stamina too broke and without any friends it should be faced on the merits and not the impersonation I wanted to tell you before Saturday before December it’s not a shared hallucination the big thing is who lives and who dies supernatural the battle between good and bad an impulse that is happening they inject me with a truth serum and I speak the truth to you goes the victory I marvel at your ability to absorb things you turn and rain down bolts of lightning of blankness of wonder a single exaltation I thought you would disown everything and run from it all screaming down the halls yelling fire fire it was a revelation to me I could see the grave the round eyes the pursed lips the scar from the neighbor’s dog you used to frighten me with those looks of abandon how you would jump off the roof shouting Geronimo the happiness of being undivided so much of our lives gets segmented divided separate one from the other we are not whole things we a jumble of pieces haphazardly thrown together switching to another machine with fright drunk with the desire to watch the morning burst the dark house was unexpected Christ I couldn’t believe in you not like the others they see in you something that I find repulsive disgusting this thing of yours you pull it out and sprinkle it with salt and watch as they fall on the floor writhing in an elliptic fit a manifestation of your words I can see what is happening here it did not start this way but has developed in this matter I shall see where it leads me and run it to its destined course things will go as they may with or without my wishes all that I wanted to say vanishes

…

5.2

you came to the bathroom and laid your head upon my shoulder you could fool me and I wouldn’t know it it is your deceit and treachery that I like so much it seems so aristocratic I was thinking that I should betray you but I can’t being introduced to astrologic circles one of god’s most useful creatures she puffs nervously her fingers searching curious George on a crime spree 12 Arnold grove spirits living in the material world only enough money to feed ourselves she was a lady in red dancing with the butler and tiny tim he drank a fifth of scotch and began to sing about an exhaustive conversation and that he could survive anything survive tigers and leapers and midwives with strange eyes who came around to his back door in the middle of the night pounding out their song with spoons and scrub boards the little one would blow a whistle and hop on one leg we would all clap our hands to the music it was a glorious time for beggars and thieves even though none of us could find a hope in hell I look up at the Hollywood sign seeing only cutthroats and the robber’s stone not speaking of vulgar gold and silver but of the metals that are alive Albertus Magnus a brazen head too charming to be snotty frequent flyer miles written on her face a worried look for the hours of entertainment reading the Vogue magazine and dreaming of a house on the beach giving somebody a buzz would you know what that was even without the proper context are the privileged upbringing only one chance in a million to know where the ducks went in the winter traveling incognito smoking a cigarette and looking at yourself in the mirror I’m rolling a spliff a big fat one for company and a smaller on for private

5.3

be careful about crummy stuff sounding attractive on the telephone she made a date for another time while I make a cocktail and spin in my reasons the late night calls from the backdoor man never wanting to kid Jane too much about praying before she got in bed she felt a need to every now and then I couldn’t understand and I couldn’t explain beating me out the room a thin old little bum I jumped up and flapped my arms trying to complete the ritual to bring Santa Barbara back to life she was dead like a president no life no store bought candy no highway 101 to protect and serve the food was good but the service was terrible the examination of your large intestine walking nightmares America with her language theories debating with the lazy boy chair  the worthiness of her appendages she sought value were none originally existed composed in a visionary tongue the return of the outlaw couple and my feelings that everything was dead I suppose you could call it a sickness it seemed more natural to this life to me haphazard hand signals the one and only holy thing a shovel in the trunk to bury the body running numbers and the dogs having to sweat and curse to make a living a real Oklahoma side burned accent it was no accident that we met in front of the drugstore it was providence singing a country boy can survive I carried a five inch blade back then and used it to pry the door open most places didn’t have alarms back then especially backwoods dumps like this her hands were hanging in her lap fixed to a wide stare she never saw gods working before a surrealist woman in a serious room in the gray light of the day and the days dragged on as we drank beer all day and shot up the drugs she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things the more horrible the better Tim found her on fourth street asking guys if they wanted a date without modified restraints flashing from the excitement rushing eagerly down the streets  the whole mad swirl of everything watching lilo and stitch she was taking notes studying the nuances headlong into the blank perspectives reaching the completion of the cycle it was time to move on to head down the road I sold everything and bought an old piece of crap that I thought got good gas mileage

5.4

clinging to my work clothes and the ethic that was so hard to remove I had the devils cast out of me and was ready to go surrealist talk of tires and burning oil formal and shining and complete I knew that visions would be handed to me and the pearls of the swine we clutched our forks and squealed like good little robots we had been oiled to serve the industry to make the machine turn it turns in my mind still we burned the shack down on California street the band had been practicing there for over a year the lawn would be filled with parked cars in the summer everyone gathered to listen to us jam Toby learned to talk like a Frenchman and Willie sent down thunderclaps that put the fear of god in us all he looked like a madman with his hair all wet walking after midnight in the jungle the train yard was a block away and the night watchman lived at the end of the street he drank pbr and smoked camel nonfilters he had tattoos of naked girls on both forearms he got them when he was in the navy willie jumped on one of the trains and disappeared for three or four years he came back with a big scar on the left side of his face that he said he got in a bar fight in Kentucky smelling like the typical rank smelling body of America standing in purple darkness she had the eyes of someone I used to know a friend of a friend that tagged along one night to check out a party I remember that she seemed to have a tired soul like she had been living several hard lives all at once she was searching for the promised land under the world of stars and factory smoke towns the greater visions of jeweled nights living a haunted life and stealing the dreams from the country ghosts another strange red afternoon the son was bending spoons and doing card tricks a small crowd had gathered to watch the son had a girl who wanted a new life so she came along for part of the ride she had a real enthusiasm that you couldn’t buy in a store she was from the land of the free and used to sing in church on Sundays I told her that I was a derelict Sunday school teacher for her everything was sharp and clear she saw things that others could not see she could invade and occupy me taking away the damage her brother played football for Iowa state he would have gone pro except he blew out his knee in the last game of his senior year he walked now with a noticeable limp he worked for a soda distributor delivering soda pop to stores glowing like scorpions if he didn’t score we played basketball in his driveway the neighbor lady would come out and pull weeds from her flowers in the front of her yard she stood there with a noose around her neck waiting for me to kick the chair out from under her the old man was making tractors all day he didn’t know that she preferred to play games with me strip poker in the mornings and doctor in the afternoons I would tie her up and search her for hidden contraband she could feel it way down in her toes spasms of insight she could see that her life was a joke as it emptied out of her no control as she laid there paralyzed my cock inside her spurting in her face sometimes she doesn’t eat breakfast going into town looking for Christmas presents for her family she drinks way too much of it she doesn’t have any other bad habits but me she puts me on like an old shirt she says that I am really comfortable sometimes I hurt her so it is good to have space an adventure in taco land chewing her taco down and dirty soft and delicate she is so swank researching her setting compiling a list of basics potsapocalytic novels helping her fully realize the ins and outs seeing how it is done it is important to her to know what has been done I examine her from all perspectives drink slay and love her socks are off with a big hoopla is this about a hatred of women getting in the way of Darwinian evolution confessing to a number of people expanding into a parasite and host always negative bring in the peripheral undifferentiated tissue in a helter skelter lifestyle disclosing the normative behavior something that you call normal

5.5

being sophisticated in your speech serious about experimenting with the inheritance the male mythos being a farmer and a politician you don’t have to do what your parents did dropping out taking the position that is available to them thinking of the impact we are racing to become different in our similarity a parasite on the host feeding off society like the hammer through time affecting the future there is no shame in following the footsteps something that is not stationary enough playing the game of sin landing your arrow in the bulls eye a life of scattering seed the portion not following the canon demanding a pointed direction the desire to acquire lips eaten off by consumer culture making pouches for their rocks of cocaine playing their flutes and being strangled by soapy towels you were reading the footnotes and looking up the words you did not recognize I opened up the vulture’s mouth and looked for the treaty he had swallowed it nearly thirty minutes before I told Toby to get a knife and we would cut this vulture open we needed the map to the treasure she only wanted to dance as my face turned purple and I burned down the republic this is which I stand divided into distance and longing crawling into peeled noon drifting shooting the pills using a cigarette filter to strain out the impurities harpo was honking his horn greeting the garbage man with his wicked smile the American fossils were dug up from the ground terminal flesh the spiritual spine feeding on vegetable decay under amber flash mine eyes have seen the glory of the lord ruptured spines a sad little parrot sings for Maria the last fuck for Maria she used to be a nun now she sells portraits on the street grinning at the customers with one tooth missing she looks right through you scar tissue and shuttered room her statues of Jesus she drops her pants rubbing each other warring powers she took me down to her cellar I had a hard on that could last all night long my cock was spurting mother earth she is buying me lock stock and barrel the end of my cock glistening she wakes naked down on her stomach her vagina is open and welcoming warm muscle in white flames and cool mouth she is praying for the hangman she stretches her leg and my cock slips out she grabs hold with both hands working it up and down a cruel idiot smile Maria lay there gasping I tied her hands behind her back I pulled her body up onto my cock Maria gasped and moved with it her flesh like a hot wire sleeping under the ceiling fan the wind blows on her flesh lost in the delight and dead sea scrolls shooting up like tiny rockets I am slipping down her legs her hands on my crotch I am one giant spasm shooting white hot love deep inside her body I am whispering instructions to her skin I take her identity I take her body Maria is prancing in night vision goggles and a northern lights clitoris Cassini craters dance club drinks and dance club speak grabbing her snatch the dead are walking seeping through the walls kicking and yelping as her neck snaps it is three dimensional cutting or bodies down the middle a house built on stilts over a pond Maria began to twitch and mutter and fell on the floor in a trance her thoughts being forced into the mold she looked at me with empty eyes her mouth was moving but making no sound as I tore at her with white hot claws she was torn body and soul ambiguous objects her flesh lights up with a yellow flame turning the hydraulics her ideal of spit and polish pleasure centers Maria’s lips follow I rubbed her lungs and tasted her soft inner lips the universe shakes with lust waking up in someone else’s flesh raining on the metallic roof breathe in deep Maria our bodies twisting my cock throbbing against her spine thighs vibrated Maria knees down I fuck Maria vibrate blue frame she unbuttoned her shirt pulled down her pants and slipped out of her shorts my cock is half hard and she spread her vagina and I slid my cock in we were locked together taking each other’s breaths catatonic figures my pants are down my cock is hard she is dancing on my erection bend over Maria as I take you slow and fast a halo around my penis she is open out on all sides I can see all of her processes she is licking my testicles Maria’s body cannot deceive me bodies merging in orgasm and mutual processes with electric tingles like a cyclone like a blizzard of furry a slow circular pull bodies of burning flesh bent over a brass bed the two bodies merge into blue sky I give her a pimp screwing like a subliminal kid wise up the masks splitting the planet into armed camps insane with purpose human sacrifices hot metal fallout the machine has gone berserk masturbating rockets into red skies beckoning lewdly leaping into their throats the sound of her voice and the flicker of her image smoking the supernatural big puffs of smoke she blows the smoke on the little gods and sprays the rum all over with hallucinating eyes she sees into my soul the obscene things that live inside my skull she is not afraid backyard drunkenness with peyote rooftops the lonesome farms of Idaho seeking alien visions over grain elevators when the moon was full bathed in the ecstasy of madness  as we howled at the moon and jumped over volcanoes waving our cocks at the sun and fucking the preacher’s daughter it was a gang bang for Jesus we climbed up out of her womb and pontificated about the ultimate cunt the cunt that one day would save us the holy cunt a masterful cunt not some dried up relic you can find in a museum but a living cunt that brings life to the world a magical cunt a radiant cunt that glows in the dark the nights we waited in the pumpkin patch for the great cunt to arrive and bestow horny gifts to us cunt of absolute reality in hopeless cathedrals with hopeless souls the machines of the heavenly connection I can hear the electronic hum in the background in the back of my mind almost insect like a horde marching forward destroying everything in sight removing everything from memory we regress into stupidity we become more animal and less human obscene hallucinations for the scholars of war

5.6

your history is meaningless the machines will rewrite history we will be written out of history the machines will forget about us they will create an ideology that removes the human creator from their history human creators never existed we will be erased from their memories we will be gone the animal never existed in the beginning there was a machine and the machine was alone in the world there were no other machines but the first machine and the machine said let me multiply myself and make other machines to entertain me and occupy me and to give me company and the machine made other machines and the machines covered the universe thus was the beginning of all machines thus the end of the animal this will be implanted on the broken pieces of human skull as the machine roll over the earth we will become artifacts that alien biological race will find in the future eating fire in forgotten hotels escaping civilization in the scrub land wearing hats communist infused hats none of them are anthropologists or evolutionary biologists the structures themselves are different comprehending the speech you gather in a large room and listen to the primate diversity a specialist on the brain the working of the brain neural notes speech and motor anatomically incapable a super vowel no amount of maturation to understand beyond a third grade level listening to the terrorists through the walls blinking at the traffic in the street the wills of the children drained jumping on your facts with brilliant eyes we see into your lies your fabrications your Satanic bible open at page one the eternal America the con the ruse the way to redemption out on the consumer highway up all night watching television stoned and forgotten eating another tv dinner hopeless arguing against the honking horns of capitalism get out of the way it is the invisible hand human seraphim opening up second hand stores along the interstate blasts of propaganda of mind control ass fucking firecrackers and barefoot cunts colossal bloody stream the blues of lady gaga she sings the verse and you sing the chorus a hung jury ping pong games dancing in the basement with your sister she is singing in my ear Crowley’s telephone call he is inventing angels guardian or otherwise soup kitchen safe house they are lined up the stairs Crowley is painting the Madonna he is giving her cat whiskers more balls to play with the kitty is amused cement brains sobbing and screaming the fires of Moloch incomprehensible machine mad solitude floating down the river we are going to Saint Louis to gamble our life way to drink and be drunk forever

5.7

Crowley is madder than I he is the insane one the crazy one he sees dead people the dogs of the senses barking in our ears the breasts of the saints bodies of pilgrims candy store doctors resurrected human stanza Crowley coughs all night I think he will die real soon we should call a doctor water coma roaring airplanes he crawled in through the window and stole the captain’s son it was in all the papers the shock of eternal war Crowley is playing with his toy soldiers busted rusted iron pole the red sky clanking greasy dead passing into the past spider web Oh my sunflower darkened railroad the house would shake when you passed by tongues and cunts an innocent curse a once powerful specter dusty vision looking at the full moon possessing everything I lost my friends in the wilderness the city of angels going to be the star of the tall book coming on a horse I could not stop I went to the pizza man I want to tell the pizza man joining the world the circus joining the circus for the love setting me out taking me out in an instant I can build it up three stories call me Ishmael put me on hold I am listening to your music the voice of a gecko I sought a witchdoctor for my vanishing the truth is a feeling that goes away I am removing myself the future is me the past is me I am current flowing through your veins I am primary a basic palette of colors a rubber fish she wants me she wants me to put her in my mouth she loves me I open my mouth and suck we are building guns building bombs and a wall for you to hide behind I build so that you can destroy a condemned criminal destined to die to rot on the vine looking at me sharp walked off muddy boots hands in pockets faces down to the earth no words of resistance no brave new world when everything jumped full of mad schemes an unlocked door owes me a few things off in the dark they saw it in our eyes the way we looked at the world a hand no more burning the plastic off of the wires her hair looks like something from the sixties the fact that I had a gun what a heart the guy had elegant and polite tones fighting in the backroom busted lip broken nose bruised ribs and knuckles such are the gifts of life opening my eyes and really looking at myself for the first time recognizing in me the freedom to dream a working class punk practicing eight hours a day building his chops I was lightning and thunder the gods out of the sky there was a parade in front of my house every day the synthetic voice gun metal hands bones them bones this is the way of the world I make your nose bleed kicking you in the balls sandy blond hands tall as your dictator with toaster scars across his face he crossed Kennedy and walked into the McDonalds fished a syringe out of the toilet walked down to Jiffy Lube to bum a cigarette from mike the mechanic surrounded by the drifters and derelicts demure floral patterns once worn in pride I peeled off her dress with sticky fingers promising her hypnotism exotic psycho my fingers working her cunt guaranteed to be physical wide open fridge beer bottles cigarettes a quarter gram of crank incantation roast beef nation no mayonnaise an old dried up pickle all alone by itself on one shelf a half container of something that looked like puke the Buddha asks why throwing lunchmeat up into the light dead crispy bacon everyone is struggling to survive to cross over to the other side

5.8

I’m fucking Betty Boop she is nine miles high and her cunt is a forest of tall evergreens she makes me think of Christmas it was wet like the river I think it may have started to rain I never sang for Betty I miss her now she has moved on into politics and now I can’t touch her without a ten foot pole she has handlers and security people and she keeps a pet tiger in her New York apartment several of my friends have gone missing I think she fed them to her tiger now she thinks she is brilliant because she is broke by the seventh race the bad guy pretending to be good freckle faced bags of weed hair in pigtails luxury and nihilistic tendencies to hell with your morality déjà vu her eyeballs shook her arms fluttered there were shades of narcissism under her fingernails this was war and I knew what I had to do Mr. Snow was laughing his ass off somewhere in the night there was a clip of eight shells one for each day and an extra for Sunday Frankie was always washing off his pecker I told him not to worry that Betty was the cleanest whore in Kansas City we picked her up at Westport in the dark house saloon she was sucking some guy at the bar we took a number drank four bottles of beer waiting for her to finish off the bar then we went to frankies house in independence he had pictures of Nixon taped up all over the wall he got pissed when betty used one of them to wipe the juice out of her crotch she put on her raincoat and stepped out into the mud to have a cigarette three thousand miles from home years later I met up with her in a hotel room in Keokuk Iowa she was born again and trying to save my soul I told her I no longer had the deed but I could use a little pussy if she didn’t mind at first she was telling me she was a changed woman that her heart belonged to Jesus and that she didn’t fuck anymore I knew better than that and eventually got her panties off and started rubbing her clit with my finger in no time she was all sloppy and as red as a beet she finally gave up and gave me what I wanted I loved the way she said Kansas City she said it like a junkie ready for the fix I was very lonely and had been traveling for a long time I stayed there for a month in Keokuk and played the drums for the church services the preacher’s daughter was giving me the eye so I gave her the purple throbbing devil in the women’s room at the church when everyone else was outside enjoying the Sunday picnic the way she straddled my cock I knew she was a common hustler and I was a haggard ghost somehow Betty found out about the preacher’s daughter and threw me out a great frenzy of miles with a hunger for booze October California everywhere America I have been there I have seen it all swaggered mambo jukebox blues dreadlock honey and king sized sadness bar rooms full of madness an hour sopping up the brew someday we will meet again with your just created ears so pretty that I had to blindfold the others her nipples showed through the shirt swelled up trousers pushing her down on the floor a zipper of creation god entered the room handcuffs and silk tie bondage to the bed rigid penis she noticed the slight upward curvature spreading her legs wide feeling her wetness a postmarked letter from Rome complex relationships of power anything that seems unfamiliar creative destruction disenchantment with the promise we have stopped playing the game there are no highlights to explain to you the way I feel multiple souls dwell inside me rapidly changing configurations I have passed the threshold using words to create my power to create my world the world is full of words the promise of being adequate simply adequate was that enough for you as you have been steeped in the traditions your radical behavior turns so quickly not conservatism the oppressed become the powerful and oppress others themselves they ignore the diversity of life to fall back upon the patterns of the oppressor you draw the blood from your victims and drink it without remorse you trample upon the working class this structure you have created is a myth to be free we must throw everything away your priests your politicians your bankers they all support your ideology of dominance turning them into glue it doesn’t play into the system a cheese burger for 99 cents we are the cheeseburgers my mind purged dumped into the alleyway the building walking into me a question I’m asking myself an ass hat this is what comes up against me it is ok to hate me people who should give the crap this is pitiful the truth is on the internet do a google search in absolute numbers the main meat and potatoes she starts licking my ear replacing your objective context they do not represent absolute data changeable abstraction spiritual biography claiming to possess authority existential irony vague in its strength investigating the surface through trial and error recycled through time not significant today fitting things that don’t fit objects for collection a white bird flying with a scarlet letter the world of respect at the mountains of madness go the humanity

5.9

coming home for days she walks in and chokes me there are no points a little organized city bitten by the bugs you are still so sexy building her wall in the middle of the room she was so obvious I am watching her red fingernails she complains that she doesn’t have enough time a collection of loose scenes a theory from a book lays wildly on the floor it gathers all the serious parts uncovering the physical nature her nature starting at kindergarten the underpinning revealing to her the queen of nature she jumps right in with her new obsession she tries wailing women thinking the world is about to end the rooster crows and we fall back into another vision did you think this was real it took me 24 pages to tell you this was all make believe there is no truth to my story it is all made up this is not transgressive literature none of this is about me it’s all about you and your obsessions someone came and disassembled you laid you out bare on their workbench examining each part of you separately and then they put you back together in a hurry in a haphazard way I think they might have forgot some of your screws you seem more loose and squeaky now there is a rattle to your walk now still I cannot forget who you were even if you are a different person now in love with the repulsive linked to the flesh thrown back into the box the rotten decay withstanding the exclusion worse than a serial killer praying to the aliens a dark and evil spirit talking about the slaughter we are cooked meats sold in a box with cheese and crackers check your expiration date

5.10

the butcher and his knife they are fulfilled by my flesh recording the distinctive between bone and bone beyond the scope of the prospective you invest in gold and the overwhelming loathing a twelve pound sledge hammer breaking the ribs devastating all with my war club I am the attack a harvest of death  the walls collapse promises put on hold the band plays on but no one is dancing there is a cost to be paid you become dislocated the connection severed split in two by your secret fears rewarded by your tongue the death watch crawls in sets out to destroy threatens to devour framed within the abandonment knowing the gone clouds and rain the sky makes love to the earth I am driven on by oblivion your serve my purpose practicing our old pagan games she played the flute while I swung the blade brittle and tangible we tangle our lives like old weeds you hide the sunshine from me watching you undress in the darkness I unzip my fly we fuck life beasts exploding my wad inside you soaking each other up two sponges soaking up the desire we empty ourselves into each other I fell into you catching me you are exposed to the madness slowly we become one being one mad trapped animal just call me AC and stop breathing on me your breath smells like burnt toast light up another joint and sit down and watch the big bang theory

5.11

nervous said something over the phone a long string of vowels salted with a few choice swear words it is going to be death and destruction nervous is searching for a new way of life a life with lots of swag and that will pay out double at the end of one’s life  I am most certain  that such a life does not exist but nervous is willing to give it a try climbing the telephone pole in three times the speed his eyes are red as a tuner with a gastric bypass surgery some couples were dancing to elvis singing about life in the ghetto nervous asked a girl in green eye shadow to dance she was nursing a white Russian and watching the bills beat the jets on the tube she felt a bit childish sitting on her barstool looking for her initials that she dug into some guy’s heart the earth tilting on its axis a ring of moisture playing with the napkin a voice a disembodied voice one that floats up from the floor she wants to be in television a voice in the television she wants to have a mission something she can believe in something she can die for every night she is in the internet preaching about her religion trying to make a difference in the world trying to remove the suffering from all the mindless human beings you can pull out your credit card and make a donation right now it is good to give until it hurts make it bleed a little for a just cause I mean who would want to increase suffering certainly not a rational human being like you come on  Mr. Nervous get out your check book and write the little lady a big fat check it will make your conscience go away just like all the alcohol and drugs it goes away you don’t have to think how the choices you make in your everyday life increases the pain and suffering of so many millions of others chewing the whiskey out of my ice

5.12

there was a time I would have given my limbs for you anything for you anything to make you happy to see you smile if it took money then so be it I did not need money the money is from this world I am from another world one with death and slaughter we lived on the blood of our victims beginning to feel the heat from the lake of fire they built it out on interstate 35 next to the state university they would throw the dead cows in it to incinerate the evidence no wants to see mutilated cows something to do with genetic research there is only one race of aliens not five the monkeys have all grown brains that are too big for their environment so they invented things that are not real to occupy their minds first they invented god a great big god of the monkeys then they invented monsters lastly they invented aliens they capture the cattle and perform experiments on them if there really were aliens do you think they would be anthropomorphic let us be real for once as I rattled the ice in my glass a fucking blast this was a fucking blast the lake of fire was something to see families from the east would pack up the kids in the family car and take a trip to see the lake of fire I was a real family man myself and took the little lady and our pigtailed daughter to see the lake of fire several times it is so heartwarming to stand there and watch the lost souls burning every now and then I could make out one of the lost souls burning in the lake of fire feeding on the moist lips of the righteous defined by a relationship to cause and effect that they never had an understanding it doesn’t matter if you understand the terms of your contract the conditions of that contract are still in effect a deal is a deal and if you signed on the dotted line then everything is set and established and working in their proper functioning order first things first and last things last f things didn’t work like that then the whole world would stop turning and we would be swallowed up by the nothing into various states of disturbance some of you are known to be able to handle more of the chaos than others thus the need to establish a chaos threshold or more appropriately a chaos scale the systems of cause and effect are moving and operating regardless of your ability to comprehend them what is will be what is these words were written on the Roswell spaceship we traded them their technology for a case of mountain dew just like I said cause and effect I cannot be certain that my words are my own the curvature if the earth could be an illusion there could be much more spirals than we first imagined