Sunday, 27 March 2011
Imagine Non Entity
(Don’t even bother. Yes, we are off to Lalaland again. No, I’ve no idea where we’ll end up.)
As I remarked at the other shop. When all else lies ruined there it stands, alone and original, larcenous death is the fundamental commercial intercourse in iCSI. Like rape as love. From that bastard union all misery issues.
Even the least offensive and repugnant of our free contracts and liberating transactions still has the taint of sacrificial blood on the promissary note. And what a shrill defence of that freedom our murderous, in on the kill, MSM and madrassa’d intellectual whores play to keep us ignorant of that very simple, very plain fact.
In a corporate entity like UKplc anyone breaking health and saferty rules, even if allowing people to die, will get slung in debtors gaol or handed a stiff fixed penalty. Yet the land is a base of terrorist operations and homicide against the defenceless who believe in anything other than the sterile monoculture of the Afflicted.
Imagine yourself gone. Blinked out in the twinkle of the eye. Vamoosed. Would you be missed? Would your removal from the time lines cause any discernable ripple in the fabric of space crime.
I suppose you might try and evaluate your life, in that all knowing pico second, before the darkness came. And repent. However you won’t get away with it that easily. Perhaps you would say “OK I’m a worthless bum but I have my family, they’ll notice I’m gone”.
So we move out into the first degree of separation.
Did any of your immediate family do anything other than mimic your own behaviour? Your own obeisance to ritual, ceremony and worship? Or did they follow you round and round and round the aisles, always the aisles. Ever decreasing circles of stupification. Week after week, month after month, decade after decade, lifetime after lifetime of doing the same thing, punctuated by acting out something supposedly exciting to your jaded senses, that everyone else was doing, in your own unique, cloned, mirrored, replicated, same as every other muppet, way? Were your kin, were they, Afflicted like you?
Oh dear, out we go to the second degree then.
Perhaps your colleagues and fellow professionals, highly educated and trained, the crème de la crème, all the bright lads and lassies who went to the top scholastic gulags and comintenured compounds to earn their spastic degrees, perhaps they will notice. Intimates and inmates. Pale limmitators of the intellectual archipelagos like Habs, Rugby, PoxBridge and Henge. Perhaps all those straight A students with double firsts in politics and crumhornothology, maths and necromancy, religioKriminal practice, fisting and lawerlying, perhaps they miss you. You know the people who have made this wonderful world what it is by their meritocratic gangsterism, through the simple application of their massive intellectual horsepower.
Ooops a daisy! They didn’t even notice you existed as they stroked their way through their onanistic remission. Third degree then? Have any of your alters noticed you are missing? Your chummies from the lads’ or ladies’ lodges? You know the goons that will cover your back when you are in the ordure because you made the mistake of getting caught by the blinded? Nah, didn’t think so.
No one really misses you because you’ve spent your whole life in inreality and unsanity. You have been Afflicted and smitten your family and society. You are contagious. Toxic and a lethality space. By your existence you have ensured the continuation of the lineage of death.
Are you beginning to understand the tension? Do you get the conflict? Can you sense the turmoil of those who hate you and love you? Wish you dead because you make their joyous existence untidy, yet cannot live outwith your adoration? Can you?
Even going out to the full 6 degrees we aren’t going to find m(any) who aren’t immersed, slipping away, molar, in the great spiritual solvent of the Affliction. Are you catalytic or precipitate? Are you actions leeched out into nothing? Do you auction your inviolate spirit unknowing?
The wealthier in terminal nature you are the purer your Afflictation. How rich are you in the accretions and acquisitions of your slavery? Even the innocent affected cannot escape your lethal kiss.
We need not worry though because the seeds of your doom are contained within your ignorant action.
So let us just cut to the chase and eavesdrop on a little conversation that might be going on around now.
Auld Nick to Gabriel “When?”
Gabriel to Auld Nick “Soon.”
AN2G “Great. It is my right to let them divine”
G2AN “You really enjoy special ops. Don’t you?”
“Yes. They’ve forgotten who we are.”
(I know those of you waiting for the latest at the other shop might be wondering where the mind drip has gone. Well strange though typing these words would look to my young self. They will appear when the time is right. The above muse barph is part one of something later.)