My mailbox contains multitudes... of weevils
Correspondent:: HellPope Huey
Date: Mon, 06 Dec 2004 03:00:13 GMT
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That bilious scalliwag John v Trubee mailed me this here:
>>> My question: Are we healthy organisms manifesting a vital life force
or are we unhealthy, enervated zombie slaves beneath the ineluctable
yoke of our socialization into submission to the eternal collective?"
You forced me into momentary submission when you made me read that just
as I was having coffee. You fucker.
What you are asking is self-evident: Are we being forced to eat shit?
Well SURE, man! Its downright biological: Alpha dog, beta dog, dead dog.
A LOT of it comes down to fucking-privileges and as often as not, the
fuck, when you get it, wasn't quite worth all the sweat of getting to
it. Not always, but often, especially if you are on the prowl for it and
not in a nice steady eye-to-eye relationship. Of course, it can also be
golden; that's partially up to you, no matter how big a dump you want to
take in God's punchbowl for your odd luck o' the draw.
By doing ANYTHING creative, particularly things of a nature not
inextricably bound to excessive money in order for them to happen in the
first place, you toss off those shackles every day. On the one hand, it
can be cold comfort, true, but on the other, it makes all the
difference, because even YOUR vile filth lifts you up to a place that
cannot be reached any other way and that's the proverbial pearl without
price. After all, you COULD think re-runs of "Walker, Texas Ranger" were
high Art. You've come too far too sink that low again, even if you are a
uniquely grinding wretch.
I am amazed by even my single, 9-year-old synthesizer. Every time I
turn it on, its only because a long line of people did humbling things I
cannot, in order for me to have it at all, yet its just a hunk of metal
and plastic until HUEY lays hands to it. Then it sings, so
quintuple-fuck them Mundanes.
We *are* zombie slaves, yet we have a golden pleasure our "masters"
will never know: the giggle you get when you see them waddle away with
your broken-off foot up their asses. They never get to giggle and thus,
we will eternally be "better" than them because they have no sense of
scale and can play only one note, whereas we have access to the
orchestra. Plus as a rule, I am generally cuter than them. Same to you.
Prost!
--
HellPope Huey
Noted Broadway Producer of "Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Rabbis,"
"Sing A Song of Soylent"
and "The Genetically-Engineered Mouse
With Three Replacement Penises Growing From Its Back"
"I lit a cigarette that tasted like
a plumber's handkerchief."
- Raymond Chandler
Talent hits a target no one else can hit;
genius hits a target no one else can see.
- Arthur Schopenhauer