he earned it

she hearn’dit.  oh. that.  town, we lucked out on this one.

town.  he calls it, town.  you can’t speak to a municipality like that, son.  uhh, just did.  i didn’t poison your kids.  assign your own responsibility for that action, sir.  tell those who did what you think about what they did, and let it be.  i have no beef with you, good sir night.  butter might cross dissbridge.  ooh, a new subdivision!  terminologicixmz.  oi

magical mcFucksticks, ratsmyn.  i don’t know about pieces of writing like that last one, that you kids ain’t seen.  nor gonna.  you havta pay me for that.  and for the what i do share, there’s magic spells in those.  condemnations to depths of hell we ain’t known existed.  leave it.  fries r here.  true enough.

always play with your food.  always.  if it doesn’t want to play, it’s not worth eating.

horrible things come out of my mouth.  i blame the tv programming.

what?  you just want to die without being what you’re supposed to be?  i have no interest in dying, and i have even less in killing.  why the fuck can’t we attempt to look at the roots of the problems?  why do i work, non-stop, on questions nobody wants asked, let alone answered.  *proceeds to answer*

so what have we learned, kids.  banks, corporations, industrial food infrastructure and the infiltration/castration of human-supervised agencies of “the people” for an infinitesimally small percentage of beings/entities.  this is how i flail myself. this is how, i flail, my self. this. is how. i, flail myself.  this is, how i, flail. myself.

this song officially makes me your lap dog.  it’s not fair.  using spells like that.  pressing play can trigger all kinds of whatnot.  what’s up, doc?

skaleez, attention-deficients.  look, i don’t give a fuck if they’ve disrespected humans like that in their words in the past.  if they’re workin’ for me, i’ll fucking turn that recording booth into a boot blender.  them’s jes rapper stains.  fuck yeah, fifty shit hisself, right there.  those are kanye’s boogies, and that’s a skull-print from one of them self-hating she-spittaz.  i love that stuff.  i enjoy the sound of the mean stuff.  what is that?  the cruelty of phrases, harsh, bitter, cutting words.  fuck man, it’s like shitting fibreglass.

no you want to empty your bank account and see how close to vancouver you can get in a totally incomplete erv.  i had a police escort to work today, why wouldn’t i have state support.  i’m running for rucking phrezident, for fuckity.  saykes.  i have stated so in a public forum, which is constantly available, and listened to by, uhh, at least hundereds. of people.  my waves echo through larger spheres.  running for president is easy when you’re dictator of planet earth, really.  i got nothing but ta do, but ta tell it how it is.  from the top the sights are different, but mind-warping ‘bout the wasteland got me lovin’ ‘bout the friz.  heh?  skon-skense verds. pond scents werbs.  blonde spence spurs. noun svents plerds.  soundies mattskies, i’ll just take the sounds you already made.  i’ll only use the ones that say what/how i like them sayed, and your person will be attached to any remixes of these files.  the person☯ whose names appear determine percentage worth of contributors, or standard hourly rates apply.  collect the fresh organic vegetables and fruits which you are owed at the permaculture cooperative in your town.  it’s like an off-the-grid conference center/prairie-trade-school/think-tank/business-incubator.  lay down some more tracks in the studio.  of course we get your equipment/space into the database and introduce you to a selection of people to work with.  we collect data on a large range of preferential criteria.  if exactly what you want doesn’t exist, it is automatically custom-ordered, and everyone works to find you what you need.  [it keeps us busy] / {it’s a living.}  people are already gathering.  i got invited to a pig roast.

i am part trash compactor.  speed-processor.

i wouldn’t want to necessarily be in my own show.  actors are a dime a dozen.  seriously.  if it takes you more than one take to do it perfectly, ever, you’re fired.  we film real-time, 24 style, kiddo.  keep up, will ya.  you can’t get fired.  you’re in the union.  the human union, little line-sayer.  you’re bigger than you think, and this is the best bunch of “fans” you could find.  they won’t even let you call them that, because they’re not.  they’re you.

yes, but when i go off the deep end, it’s a belly flop from the high dive.  sounds, dammit.  smack.  groan.  that collective groan is so worth the pain, and redness.  and i didn’t even get to hear it.  you heard it from me, though, huh?  pathetic wails.  oh, whoa is me!  you shoulda kicked me in the teeth when you had the chance.  that’ snot true at all.  yes this snot true.  it is.  true snot.  in spades?  who are you talkeing tew?  4:22 pm.

governor.  i would love to be called governor.  or mayor.  i love being called president, or sir, or vermin or disease, for that matter.  i enjoy being hit, punched, kicked.  context matters.  not just any ol’. no, sirree.  the system they got set up now, those terms are almost insulting.

i’m never wasting my energy when it’s to convey my pleasure with someone else’s company.  i don’t know why.  i know exactly why.  my reasons sound terrible, but there’s something more at play.  willing and able to play.  are you willing and able to play?  fire it up.  look, we have machinists and mechanics in this town.  we got people who have worked in a large, humming, safety-conscious organization before.  this is not a stretch for many of you.  i provide the dictator as example, my actual “preachies,” if you will.  do a little every day.  it will kick your ass.  at first.  then, if you stay in the habit of being on it, you will see improvements.  schedules help.  we are self-organizing, organic randomness generators, are we not?  let energy pathways be charged as we need.  once the needs of all are solid, the wants won’t be a consideration.  wants one.  wants all, perhaps it may seem so.  it never fully detaches.  opportunist.  whatever, i’m a wing-man for hire.  if i’m being fed healthy food and contact or medicinal replacement, i’m a perfect gentlemen.  truly.  ketchup.  yarf.

i feel cleansed.  to a greater degree than previously.  detached.  freed.  my terms now, only ever, from now on.  we are winning the information wars.  someone said that.  i have monks chanting in stereo in my ears.  it’s a glorious sound.

she’s there.  all there.  goddesses don’t want or need shit, sir.  they take care of it themselves.  i’m sitting in the king’s throne as he sweeps cigarette butts out of the parking lot.  he is a good, kind person.  dude commands respect.  so does his joint.  oh, newly spouted branch of SP (and thereby LAW), i dub thee, don’s. [eddies’ note: wheeled perimiter carts for hanging harvest.  what, i like views.]

we don’t always act like worker bees, but when we do, we do it for a reason, and we don’t stop until it’s done.  we work with whatever resources we have available, and we run them as efficiently as needed.  typically, that means three shifts, 24×7.  you’d be amazed at how many people are prompted to start working on their yards at 3 am, and the ninja reforestry crew bikes in and completely reconfigures their dirt/air to open source interstellar spec, triangulated to giza, before the neighbors wake up.  seriously, you with the fucking extra-loud pick-up trucks running all over the fucking place, you’re going to complain about the sound of chickens or goats?  get your priorities straight, human.  if you want to live in an isolated sound bubble, our integrated a/v communicator can keep you connected only to your healthiest streams.  i knew this was a marketing scam.  fucklebritzens.  good one, shaggy. 4:44 pm.

tha’wuz frum wayne’s worl. i know.

i don’t know if the professor of farleyizms has discovered his post, other than house metronome.  oh, i got 90’s kids 50 deep, ma’am.  her snide is so gentle.  i wanted to pinch its rosy cheeks like an over-zealous gramma {ma-ah!}.  dudes in tux-gear.  i have a birthday pig roast to get to.  we’ll get there.  keep your pants on.  i always keep my pants on.  well, maybe that’s part of the problem.  if you can’t catch the vibe comin’ off of me, i don’t think that pants are what’s keeping you from seeing.  i have no idea what you’re talkinga bout.  round 2, fii’t.

why wouldn’t we have zip lines through underground tunnels?  if i get there first, i will sculpt the dirt with ends in mind.  that’s what we have the tires for.  we work with whatever materials we have.  logicians, sir.  ma’am.  your highness.  gentlemen.  honorable priestesses *bows before room-full of children and baby animals*

i met a puppy today.  cute little stinker.  dogs are the diggity.  i need a big sister.  and a little brother.  something.  grandfather?  now hiring: family tribe.

we meet weekly.  we work weekly.  we have to get over this separation of “work” selves and “home” selves.  you are a human wherever you go.  the masks you wear are the cause of our discontent.  we don’t have discontent.  we don’t see masks very often.  dragon-breath dissolves ‘em, remember.  right.  we love your masks, and melting them into/off-of your lovely visages so we can see the divinity of the soul itself.  take off those silly-ass sunglasses.  you know you’re fucking up your own vitamin intake when you wear those.  not to mention we have to assume you’re staring at the most embarassing thing to be focusing on.  why would you hide?  i’ve developed a tolerance to hatred by speaking honestly with every human that i encounter and treating them how i would like to be treated by one such as myself were the situation reversed.  how very rawlsian of you.  why thanks.  see, good batch of weed has us quoting yale.  feesus.  4:55 pm

someone else said thank you before i did, and the waitress said, “you’re welcome” and i said “thank you” again, but for the first time.  and she said you’re welcome, to me, for the first time.  i’m still smiling.  she put her hand on my shoulder, too.  shoulders, done properly, good.  gentlemen, keeps its hands to itself.

armageddon is that magical day (sorta liek fi’ting teh jabberwocky) whenst, or for witched we sayve all the ammoze.  where are those cop-killer bullets getting delivered?  feddies?  i don’t like that at all.  that’s one of the first industries we will shut down once nationalized.  the nation shall rise up and eat the very cancer it helped spawn.  many continue to lose their lives, both useful and practical, every minute of every hour, of each and every day.  your reliance on liquid chemical formulations for controlled burning must be refocused before stores are depleted.  use resources available, but tend towards constant improvement.  in each and every area we work in and about, things are getting better all the time.

this is my family, this place.  these full-time kitchen and wait-staff, who serve truckers and travellers and locals alike.  these are the ambassadors and networkers of the world, and we could all wield the power they do.  both with computer assitance, and through and with our own meat computer selves.

i’m not talking about a tiny garden so you can say that you have a garden.  i’m talking about the biggest functional harvest anybody can ever remember growing in three counties.  the four-h kids don’t take notes, because they helped.  old people don’t have the time or energy or capacity to do these things.  seriously.  you know how lazy they are.  but i know.  they’re not even all that great as whip-crackers, are they.  we have to set up the database so that participants are incapable of the undesired acts.  disease thrives because the environment is optimized for disease.  it’s not that big of a switch to optimize it for health.  yes, we may actually put more into food than we’re used to under the banky system.  we can keep the exchange rates and posted denominations relatively close, so nobody feels like they’re getting ripped off.  or, we can have them customize for each and every person.  look at your own pocket computer screen.  you know how they say follow the dollars?  you’re going to have to follow the pixels now.  matrix sight, i give you.  you can probably see a rainbow of colors in the green alientexts.  there’s lots going on.

we nearly ready?  i believe so.  that was the final straw.  this is the final cup.  i have a party to which to go.  that it do.  that.  it.  do



~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2012-03-31 (Saturday).

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