Merry Christmas from the Empire of Flesh.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Last night’s radio broadcast is up now.

This is the cultural blog. Is dis a culchar? This is a culture in the way that that mysterious oleaginous, sewer scum taffy on the Petri dish could be called a culture. It’s horrific and fascinating in the way that a bad traffic accident appeals to rubbernecking death and dismemberment junkies; cue the zombie buffet, catering department. It’s horrific and fascinating to watch the whole shebang slowly and then not so slowly, picking up speed like a global warming snowball, filled with a multitude of toxins with unpronounceable names, gathering steam on it’s way to static entropy. The steam is some kind of cold fusion of wicked shit from (Tribe founded) Monsanto, Dow and Dupont, in tandem with all those Swiss serial poisoners, living where the dirty money makes its bed in between, during and after wars created by the dirty money. Yeah, the dirty money bunks in the politically neutral (we don’t fight in the wars, we just make money from them), clean streets wonder world of Captain moneybags land. It’s truly bizarre to watch all the self important suits, going about their business as usual, while the whole collapsing infrastructure, trembles above their heads. Their beady eyes gleam with the fire of greed and acquisition at all costs, betting for this, against that, for and against this and that and the only one who loses is you. Derivatives are economic porno. They just keep on keeping on. They see nothing but the promise of gain and care not a wit for anything else. This is one cancer for which death is the only cure.

In light of this, it behooves me to link the online website for The Way of Life by Lao Tzu. If you need a guide book for getting through failed cultures and social experiments gone wrong, this is what you need. He’s got an answer for everything. Of course, the people who need to read it won’t. They prefer to have that seemingly well worn copy of Sun Tzu’s “Art of War” on their desk. They haven’t actually read it. They had one of their interns rough it up so that it would look like they had, so as to impress clients.

Meanwhile, the fast food virtuosos of WE Be Holocausts are working overtime on their construction of the ultimate theater of the absurd. You won’t be able to turn a corner anywhere in the world soon where you don’t run into one or another kind of memorial, whipped up on money stolen from you, in honor of yet another flavor that left Heinz’s 57 varieties in the dust long ago. “Ve vil haf more holocaust franchises zen Starbucks und McDonalds has outlets!” and if you do decide to “fart in their general direction”, they’ll make you wear one of these.

I don’t know what this means. Besides being against the law, it’s in poor taste to employ anti-Semitic math. Only the bankers know how to properly employ math; part time and with no benefits. Well, what do you expect when the poster girl for the culture happens to be this fresh young thing? That really says it all doesn’t it? Damn, it makes me want to rip off my shirt and walk out into the streets and let fly with several verses of ‘America the Beautiful’; ♫Oh beautiful with wasted skies and endless waves of pain, thy steaming landfills travesties above the looted plain♫, followed by a rap version of “Onward Christian Zombies”. “Visible? What’s with all the negativity? You’re just mad because you’re not getting serviced by Kim Kardashian with a strap-on.” Yeah, maybe. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s when she asked me if I wanted a lubrication cocktail of Vick’s vapor rub and Krazy Glue that caused me to hesitate. You do know Kim does Reiki with a handheld TSA body scanner? Right?

For some reason, it’s always the Asians that embrace the worst aspects of Western Culture. You see it in Hong Kong, in India and definitely in South Korea. Rats! I’m being negative again. What I need is to try to see the beauty in it all. I need to get into an ecstasy threesome with Marianne Williamson and Ekhart Tolle, on a futon woven out of hundred dollar bills, “hand me that vibrator with Donald Trump’s head on it; Donald Ducks? Quack! Quack! It speaks!!! Now for a little echo chamber work.

I see it in front of me. I see it in the windshield of my Samsung monitor. I see it in the peripheral hallucination zone. I see it forming into a face in the magic mirror of the toilet bowl. It speaks!!! Ah well, another day, (in my case) another day. “But Visible you don’t play nice. You could be on the fast track if you’d just go along with the program. We’ve been altered and it didn’t hurt a bit.”

I am aware of the children climbing on those massive garbage heaps outside of Manila. Yeah, Merry Christmas! I’ve seen the pictures from The Congo with the mine workers. The women have permanent indentations of a quarter inch into their foreheads from the pressure of the ropes holding the bags on their backs, hauling the rare minerals for cellphones and Play Stations. Merry Christmas! I’ve seen the details of sex trafficking, courtesy of the United Nations and Dyncorp with massive assistance from the Israelis. Hey, the American Slave Trade went well for them. Why not something contemporary? Nothing to see here, keep moving, remain calm and. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

Western culture has turned into a massive shit souffle. Mind how you take that out of the oven! The East is no better. Both ends of it all are managed by international corporations whose massive profits ensure that all political structures will remain docile and compliant. It’s a rat-fucked romance between elected bodies and connected bodies. The Empire of the Flesh is on the ascendant.

No... Don’t sit there confused and perplexed. Don’t wring your hands in helpless dismay. There’s not much you can do with placards and a bullhorn. They’ll just laugh at you. Tomorrow’s another day and then another and before the week is out you won’t be there anymore. You can only work on yourself. You can only refuse to contribute. It’s the ignorant and indifferent that make it possible, wandering around in a mesmerized corpulence, through the aisles of Wal-Mart, chattering away about meaningless trivia on their cellphones, text messaging Twitter with the latest ‘yeah’ and ‘nay’ about something so irrelevant that I’ve already forgotten it in the process of writing about it.

Corporate rape is a voyeurs paradise. Entire nations are bent over a rail and being buggered by industry lawyers. How about the education system? Merry Christmas!!!

I don’t want to leave you with the result of what you’ve been exposed to so far. Let your heart swell with gratitude because... because you’re not doing these things. Bask in the aura of inexpressible gratitude that you are not setting policy for Nestles, that you are not lunching with Astro Turf munching Janet Napolitano, that you are not in the munitions industry, that you are not a guard at Gitmo, that you are not so many things that no decent soul could countenance. Give thanks that though you may be living on the margins and lacking many things, you do not lack a conscience or compassion. Be very grateful you do not lack an awareness of what is taking place in the world around you and that you possess the necessary restraint to refuse to engage in the evils operational on all sides. Be grateful that you are not a steroid enraged policeman or a murderous military automaton who is only following orders; “sign ze papers old man!”

Always remember, no matter how bad it may ‘seem’ to be, you are nowhere as bad as you could be and as others have evidently chosen to be. Yes, at the moment, fortune favors the profane. Enormous fortunes are being made by the most despicable kinds of people. Fame is bestowed upon superficial cretins. Nothing makes sense in the present order of things. Talent is on the verge of being outlawed. Manners have gone into the dumpster. Never fear, it is only for the purpose of demonstration. You’re not shooting dogs and defenseless college students. You’re not spraying mace into the face of sitting protesters and then suing the state for mental distress in the aftermath AND getting money for your professed suffering. Thank your lucky stars that you give a shit, that you care, that you help where you can and hang in there. Sooner or later you’ll know why it all had to be, or didn’t have to be this way... but was. Merry Christmas!!!


End Transmission.......

Visible sings: ♫ Peace ♫
'Peace' is track no. 4 of 10 on Visible's eponymous 'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)