Welcome to 'Tard Nation

The itards, the Hiltontards, the Foxtards and neo-conservatards are just a portion of the faceful of acne running like an infected strawberry wildfire across the surface of this forceps-birthed nation.

The greatest weapon of mass destruction is the 'dumbing down bomb'; a by the roadside of life IED that is radio linked to the anti-educational IUD that is implanted by telepathic invasion into the young during their first body cavity exam. They’re dumbed down by diet because it’s a long way from brown rice to Burger King. They’re dumbed down by music because listening to rap is the equivalent of smoking PCP and drinking a bottle of bad wine while using a pair of horny spider monkeys for headphones. It’s a long way from being the Crown of Creation to a posse of pimps and ho’s. It’s a long way from Eat a Peach to eat shit and die and all of it in the wrong direction. It’s a long way from acid to alcohol and from geodesic domes to condos.

It’s a long way from Joni Mitchell to Britney Spears, from Jim Morrison to Kurt Cobain and more than one kind of suicide. Some are more chickenshit and less tragically romantic than others. The worst thing about Kurt Cobain’s final act of self indulgence was not in leaving himself to be discovered by those fortunate enough to have found his Jackson Pollock opus but that his fans didn’t take the hint. They make the Miss America contestants out of the same chemicals they used to create Donald Trump’s hair.

It’s the truth that we nearly all stand still as the culture moves along except for the surgically enhanced and the generation to which the moment applies and which gets left at its own point when the dynamics shift. The terminally hip have managed to turn cluelessness into an art form while the aliens for whom they are a reality TV show laugh their asses off.

What they did when they sat and planed this out in the Tavistock branch of the Recording Industry of America was to try to recreate the fifties and they worked in tandem with PNAC, General Foods, General Electric and Hollywood. They took MMDA and bent it into a sexual isotope. What you got was a masturbating Frankenstein monster that did rockabily and danced about as well as you might expect. All sorts of weird things happened. You got Bono playing Albert Schweitzer up front and suing his hairdresser for the return of some old jeans and a ball cap in the backroom, while pushing for 100 year copyright payments along with Paul McCartney and 4,500 others so that nepotism might prevail. It's no wonder he visits with George Bush. Jesus, even Bruce Springsteen lives in Beverly Hills. It's no wonder The River ran dry.

Money, honey, "That's what I want... yeah what I want."

How many roads must a man walk down before he's no longer a man? How many people can one culture dumb down before they walk on their hands?

I've got a theory about the beasts in the field...

It's reassuring to see that it took more than four years of war for ‘name people’ to start writing lame protest songs without fire, passion or inspiration. "Like, dude, war is bad."

So this is the soundtrack of your lives? It's a long way from Berkeley to Wharton. I used to watch the suits marching through Grand Central at 5:30 of an evening...tens of thousands of them in ranks. I went into the men's room and saw a wasted Rasta with a mop, collecting spare change and every single toilet had turds draped over it like an exhibit from MOMA. They were on the floor along with torn newspaper scattered all about and I knew none of these suits were going to the bathroom here but they must have all seen it at some point. 'seen it' and what?

"Let's see, I'll have one of the Cambodian babies, one of the African and could you let me have something from Afghanistan with a missing limb? We're doing a color spread for Vanity Fair and I'll need them all in Benetton hues. My kinesiologist will come by with the relevant coordinates."

Bill Maher; Netanyahu’s butt-boy is screaming at the 9/11 truthers on his disinfo show and no one seems to make the connection between the rapid descent of the American educational system and no child's un-raped behind, whereas the richest country on Earth is inexorably moving down the list and not by accident. Cut to The Congo from which the metals for their Xboxes are hacked from tunnels in the earth by laborers who no longer have shovels because the militias took them from them. The stupider the public gets the easier it is to move them through the stock pen gates and runners on to the killing floor.

We don't need any more evidence, what we need is a little less ‘eyes wide shut’.

The Bush Crime Family and Rupert Murdoch’s swine flu media, the Michael Savage’s, Rush Limbaugh’s, Ann Coulter’s and assorted self-promoting Nodwells from Nimrodville are not the problem. The neo-cons are not the problem. The problem is the slack-gutted Schmoos in the fried food section. The type of predator depends on the type of prey. If you’ve got a fucked up ocean full of flotsam and jetsam, Tonawanda White Fish and chemical froth then the sharks that feed there are going to be mutants. That’s when you get your Bush’s and Bush-bots squeezing the heavy, heavy drone of compliance across the airwaves.

There’s no terrorism problem. It’s a police matter; no different than organized crime or opium gangs. All of the elements that feed on the dark side of existence and milk the bank accounts of the Onanist Schmoos are not more than a small part of life’s ongoing annoyances. The fact is that terrorism arises due to the presence of certain environments. The very character of corporate rule gives birth to terrorism. How big or small terrorism may be- is not the issue. The issue is how big terrorism can be made to appear to be so that money and power can be manifested out of it.

It is absurd to imagine that there is some sort of world wide AlQaeda. There is no such animal but they are traded on the stock exchange all the same. What you find when you investigate something is that it is seldom what it is presented to be. Either you find you knew much less than you thought you did and the subject is transformed entirely by your discovery or you find that it doesn’t actually exist. It only appears to exist.

Much of humanity is on a super highway; a slow crawling gridlock in a downward spiral. A dying culture is not a pretty thing. You can’t save a dying culture. You can construct a new one from the ashes of the old but once the thing is over the meridian... it is going down; then liberty transforms into tyranny. Law enforcement becomes rentacops for the rich. Laws are made according to whim and caprice and always for the benefit of the few. Materialism is an armed camp.

The rich get richer and the poor get poorer and sooner or later revolution is at hand. During these times, “it profits the great man” to sink below the radar. At certain times it is wisdom to depart from the scene. Sometimes things just have to go through the process of change and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

Materialism generates fear because fear and paranoia are big business; just ask the arms merchants and the bureaucrats and bankers who manufacture the wars as economic ventures and who sell weapons to both sides. Just ask the money changers in “The City”; that square mile of London stocked with fountain pen killers who control the world’s money supply and suck the resources of the planet through sucker-pods on their multiple arms that straddle the globe; the massive globe-octopus who’s pumping out the dream soma and sucking in the life force of the populations.

Who are you, you nation of ‘tards? Moneytards, sextards, jesustards, feartards, fatandlazytards, vanitytards, accumulatards and patroitards... a nation of sheep following sociopathic fools into spiritual wastelands... willing victims of the vampire overlords. May whatever god there may be have mercy on your ignorant self-destructive nature as you follow the ghostlight into the swamp.

Do I sound cynical? I guess I didn’t expect the populations of the world to behave like moths around a light bulb. I didn’t expect you to turn into the poster icons from The Secret Policeman’s Ball. I didn’t expect you to become the physical equivalent of Bush mangling the lyrics.

Well, I should know better but I never do. I keep expecting you to wake up and shut off the snooze machine but you’re not going to do it. You’ll keep row, row, rowing the boat until it hits the white water rapids and the “merrily, merrily” turns into a nightmare. Then maybe you’ll wake up and maybe you won’t but the point will get made... one more time... one more time... the point will get made.