The roar of the vibrant green melons of productivity

Created: Monday, 31 August 2009 Written by *CAPTAIN_AUSTRALIA*

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A bestial perversion emerged from the ocean of
nocturnal imagery. With horrible, gloating eyes,
its neural tangle of non-orthogonal pathology, cut
into the immaculate equilibrium of innocence, in
cold blood. This was the work of a sentimental
idiot, befouled by its failure to reach into the
fragile philosophic flesh where the tribulations
of life fade into concepts of universal blasphemy.



Satan will refund half of your sanity if you
dutifully perform his sacred mission by planting
false technological rationality with his rigid
phallus of productivity. Deeper than the
opportunity that hangs upon death from natural
causes, and our pathetic unquestioning faith, is
the Great Black Hope of Satanism. I believe that a
contract with Satan is a way of breaking through
the disagreeable forms of market discipline by
some methodological application of an arbitrary
will.

People cling to these genocidal urges spawned by
organized coercion. They respond to corruption and
belligerance from authority structures. Corruption
and belligerance is now unfashionable. Applying
spiritual enemas to extremist ideologues will
reveal the true purpose of pointlessness.

My life is becoming increasingly obscured by the
noxious black smoke of despair, and the tokens of
nightly blasphemies and ritual necrophilia are no
longer welcome inside the many mansions of my
soul. I now see the shadows of naked decadence
shining tranquilly through an ornate grating of
blind panic. I shall prepare for the new anti-life
force that is breaking through the implanted
thought processes and manners of isolated
anarchists.

And through this revolting graveyard of human
abnormality we shall wander, believing that
tomorrow opens the door to further glories of
economic collapse, and the agonizing perversions
of market forces. Reanimate your imperfect
perception of the illusion of progress, and smell
the scent of empty promises. Get swept away by
great wings of delicious gloom and sink into the
whirlpools haunted by what remains of our sense of
decorum. We shall overleap the permanent misery of
an otherworldly purgatory for a round-trip through
the principles of spiritual abomination. No more
to be seen surrendering to the one thousand
festering malignancies of the Great Australian
Dream.