All the promised goodies

Cargo cults make you feel good until you realize
stupidity and malevolence are infinite.



I followed the smell of deceit. It led me to my
own icy reality. Everything there is laid bare. I
have to elaborate on this because it is an
important difference between the grace of God and
perversions of disturbing timidity. I think about
it when I see the dividends that foreign
shareholders leave across the globalized economic
level playing field.

The hills are alive with an abundance of crabs.
It's not possible to be skinned alive and be
committed to object-oriented programming at the
same moment. In physical terms, this means I was
happy to stay right where I belonged. I needed to
continually fight recycled despair seething with
depraved nightmares. So, in a sense, I was sort of
drawn to some black, hidden horror.

There are those who have pathology, who hear the
shrill sounds of misguided idealists, and yet they
now drink from a relativism that has become
blackened by a gradual growth in perfect clarity.
They engulfed me in the narcotic fog of capitalism
and the darkness of stupid, formless struggle.
They shelter in the black sewers of human
abnormality, but I was dead, and I didn't care.

Redemption goes to those who have examined and
correlated this labyrinth of propaganda. Tourists
will be able to operate at full capacity within
their own diseased third world countries, and
landlords will be mixed-up with the degraded
proteins of the Howard epoch. You feel that you
are there.

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