Saturday, February 12, 2005

The UNPERSONING of Eason Jordan - A Return to Modernism Is Nesassary

Eason Jordan was a man off bravery and nobility. He rightly so, accuesd the jesusland milatary of assassanating journalistes, and then the bloggers have just willy nilly distroyed his credability. But that wasn't enough for the manicheanism of the blogger' s. No. They had to cause him to disappear alltogether. He has been UNPERSONED just as surely as Ronald Reagun, and Ollie North GHW Bush did to the the good children of Nicaraugua.

You will notice that there were no press conferences called. There were no interviews with Barbara Walters or 60 Minutes. There were no NPR reports, when it came to the Eason Jordan. Just a press release under extreme duress, emitted by a cowed CNN.

The reason their were no interviews with Mr. Jordan is because he doesn't exist anymore. In fact if you look him up on Google you will not be able to find any credible infromation on his Person. He is gone. Disappeared. Persona non grate. Finis. Vanished.

How could this have happened? He was a promanant individual. He was the CEO of CNN. The answer is George Bushstain's evil legion. The Bloggers. The Hounds of Hell, baying at the moon, their malevolent carnivorous incantation of crap. The Reichrabble of righteous, ramroding, rightwingers. Bushstain has somehow brought these people under his absolute control. There is not a dissenting voice among all of them. The evadence for what I am saying is because they always disagree with the reality presented in the Main Stream Media. How could they always disagree with reality unless they were under some sort of control?

The bloggers are out-of-control. It does not serve the interests of the people to have this cacaphonous crowd of crisis-inducing democracy crackheads tirelessly giving us their pajama clad opinions. We need to do something about these bloggers. I propose a sort of licensing process.

Fro instance my Internet Magazine (Screaming Memes.blogspot.com) is liscensed and given authority to speak my opinion by an official political entity called the Bureau of Assymetrical Democrisy. BAD works to insure the voices of the weak minorities and underrepresented are given power through the applacation of assymetrical systemi within the "Democractic" construct.

BAD has a subsidiary which has interests in the licensing of the Internet waves to insure that only accredated voices are heard. This organization is called the General Accredadation Service. The office of BADGAS issued my license to me (it just so happens) on the day after Bushitler restole the electoral process.

So my voice has the right to speak and be herd, and I have been granted legitamacy. The evil thing about the Blogs is that they are the illegitamate spawn of the slovenly slew of the slime-slinging swarm; the masses of mindless swinish scum,. The undesirables. The vermin. The Just Anybody.

We can not allow this.

Now, I want you to think about something. Even though it is we, the Intellagentsia who have ushered in the consept of Postmodernism, it has backfired on us. We declared the Reader to be the Author, and the Author to be the Reader. We believed that we would be able to undermine the underpinnings of the Capatalast Construct through the relentless deconstruction of the authority of text (ie Histroy ). But it has not worked out the way we thought it would.

Instead we find that we have empowered the rabble. They took us seriously and believed that, as Reader, they could be Author. And the evil tentacles of the American Online Systme has empowered them with the tool of the blogosphere.

Now, instead of sitting on the couch in their skivvies, scratching themselves, drinking beer and belching out curses at the Authority of the Anchormen, now they are giving there opinion. And what's more evil is, people are listening to them. They are distroying all that was "good" and "holy" about the world.

I'm going to propose something that's gonna sound a little crazy at first. (I know I know your thinking, "Comeon Meme,s, we would never think you we're crazy), but here it is anyway:

I say we need a return to the prePostmodern. We need to return to the Modernism Construct.

If you think about it the consept of Modernism wasn't so bad. Big monolithic syscrapers installed in the center of town to house the poor. Hierarchical bureaurcracies. Three-part forms. CBS/ABC/NBC. The American Library Association. The DMV.

What do all these things have in common? The answer is Authority.

There is a wisdom in Authority. Do you understand what I'm getting at? When their is Authority, then the ravenous rabble can't run ruffshod over the runes of civilazation.

Yes, I think we need to return to a Modernist Construct. I will be meeting with the Chief of the Intellagentsia first thing tomorrow morning to put register my porposed legaslation. I am enlisting you're hlep and suggestions. (Keep in mind, all suggestions will be run befroe a Board of Trussees befroe they are granted the right to be reviewed)

Also, please sign my petition (located in the comments section) if you support my idea.

Friday, February 11, 2005

Hansel and Gretl and George Bushstain

Something has occurred to me. What it is , I am not exactly clear about yet, and yet at the same time, in some ways it seems infinitely clear.


Here it is.
I 've have been thinking about 9/11. there has always been something strange about 9/11 if you ask me. The thing is, I was there almost. I was living in the Village at the time, and I was out for my morning walk. I always like to start my day by venturing down to the business district by the WTC. I find nothing so inspiring as to watch all the little Goebbels, and Eichmans in their daily processional to the office so they can be there in time to drop the Zyklon B into the chamber and start the killing that is the Capatalist System. I love watching the looks of horror on their faces as they face the daily terror that is their lives. I love to watch them wallow in their psychological excrament, like a dog to their vomit they are. Discusting pigs.


Anwyas, so I was about 7 block from the WTC, straight up the street when I heard a jet come whooshing overhead vary loudly. I looked up just in time to see the awestriking aesthetic pinwheels of fire created by the jet pieercing the first TC buidling. It was an explosion writ large a kind of simulacrum of fire. I found myself so surrounded by the trappings of the Capatalist mindset and it's pseudo-real frame of referance, being mired in it's very presence, that I couldn't bring myself to except the reality of what I was seeing.


Surely, the trade center it slef was just a big screen TV upon which I was watching the simulated "Apocalyse brought to you by Microsoft."


But, slowly it dawned on me as I stood there looking into the gaping maw of the 82nd floor of the first building that I had truly just witnessed a jet crash . And I understood that there were really people up there dying, and not just figuratively for once. This time, they were truly dying.


I could sense that there was something not quite afoot here. Jets don't just fly throught the center of Manhattan at low altatude like that. I stood there drinking my Starbucks cooffee and wondering aloud to myslef. "What is wrong with me? There is something afoot here, and I can't figure it out?"


Just then I herd another roaring whooshing like the sound of a billion lions roaring at the same time, and another exploosion of pinwheels and coloredlights and fire billowing. it all seemed to happen in slow motion, like an instant replay on the National Nazi Nightmare SuperBowl Nuremburg Rally. Cue John Madden, "Yes Dan, watch here as the tight end pierce the defenses and penetrates the back end of the defense in a virtual rape strategy of the Capatalast construct. Yeah, the hole country just got gangbanged."


"Thanks John."


It was at this point that I, Memes, passed out in a puddle of my own urine.
But from where I sit now, I can see the truth. Then I saw through a glass darkly, now my doors of perception have been cleasned and I see the conspiracy as it is ... Infanate.


All you, one, needs to do is look at the events of the years which have come since the 9/11 tragedy. Littered upon the landscape are the unmistakable breadcrumbs of the Bushstain Milatary Industrial complex, leading us like a trail right back to the wolf's house posed as our Grandmother. Consider the evadence:


Diebold, Richard Perle, Halleburton, Dick Cheney, Enron, Preston Bush's Nazi connetctions, the Skull and Bones, Oil, Wall Street, Bunker-busting Nuclear weapons, Joseph Lieberman, the whole nefarious shadow banking system, the JFK assassanation, the oppression of voices like Ben Affleck and Sean Penn, the Iraqi invasion of the first day of Spring (pagan halleday of the masons) , the feudal system of hire taxes for the poor, the company store of Nike/McDonalds/Coca-Cola, William Kristol, Britney Spears, Abu Ghraib, the destruction of Dan Rather's reputation, Donald Rumsfeld, no WMD, depleted uranium, unguarded museum of antiquities, Guantanamo Bay, AIPAC, the "bloggers",


each one of these another breadcrumb leading down the path to the rabbit hole, which leads to the truth which has hit me in the face, with all the lucidity of the proverbial "ton of bricks":
I know now, what the truth is. I know the truth now. I know it, and no one could take it away from me, because once you know, you just know. I have awakened from the deep dormancy created. I've got it on good authority


9/11 WAS AN INSIDE JOB!!!


There it is. The truth in all it's technicolor glory. The Capatalast System (and you know who I'm talking about) conspired to bring about bring about 9/11 so that they could COMMODIFY THE ENTIRE WORLD.


George Bushstain and his evil group of shadowy brooding vipers have craftily stolen the entire world right out from under our noses.


There is no getting around this truth. It is our hypperreality.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

The Trains

Preface: In order fro you to know just how herrowing and terrorizing the events herein described have been to me, it is fisrt nessessary to know that I, Memes, is half-neocon, I mean Jewish. Little slip there. I'm just in the habit. Anyway, that's right I, Memes is half-neocon on my father's side. This makes me not an official ne Jew, because the lineage in the jewish tradition is matrilingual therefroe, I am not considered a real neocon. I hope I am making myslef clear hear.


Anyways, so I ventured out today for the frist time in days. The streets are still crowded with soldiars. I had to make a crossing over to the Reichland (used to be called Queens) in order to meet with some nebulous forces who shall remain nameless. Now, understand, I, Memes, is not used to having to take publice transportation. I use my car, or, if I don't feel like driving, I order a car. When I go to the hamptons to pick up my stipend from my mother, then a limo comes for me. In my whole life, I have only taken public transpo twice, both times just for a hoot when I slumin with a particualrly slutty chick.

But, I can not use my car now, because of the check points. It takes to long. Hours at each check point can make a trip to the Reichland take 12 hours round trip and back. I would run out of gas, just sitting there in my stew.

For the same reason, taxi's and limos refuse to attempt passage. They stay in the Land of the People (what used to be called Manhattan) at all times. This leaves just the subway trains.

So, I'm frightened enough just to think that I will have to spend time with the rabble who ride the subway. And I was very tired because I couldn't get too sleep til 4:00 in the morning because of my anxiety over the impending trip to the Reichland. When I finally fell asleep it was so late that I woke up just in time to run out the door.

When I got too the staiotion and got herded undergroun, lines were alreadt almost impenetrable. Imagine thousands apon thousands of cows all mooing and chewing their cud, and passing their gas, and you will get a picture of just despicalbe the human rabble is at the station.

When I finally got too the front of the line, The secret policeo of jesusland demanded to see my Id and asked mme where I was going and why. I told them it was "none of your business Herr Gestapomeister." He didn't take to kindly to that and he backhanded me with his rifle. I fell to the floor screaming. He ordered me to my feet and said "Go loser. Go ahead. And don't froget to take a shower ..."

I got on the subway train with those words ringing in my ears. A shower? What could he have meant by that? Where was this train taking me? Would I die hear among the masses? Was I speeding to my doom at some new Auschwitz they may have built up in Albany?

The memories of my ancestral relations were crying to me from within my head. "Don't get on the train. Don't get on the train. Whatever, you do , don't get on that damned train." But, I had to get to Reichland. What was I to do? After all, I can not be sure if I am just being Paranoid! I don't know what to think.

when the door opened in Reichland and I was ordered to get off the train, I wondered if the Scecret Police would be there to excort the whole lot of us, but they weren't .

It was as if the whole sky had prated and shone down all of natures' rays on just one of my eyeball all at once, when I came above ground and realized that I had evaded the cluthes of the jesusland regime once again. But, it is an ominus reminder of how the jaws of death are circling and slowly closing on us. There is NO WAY OUT.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

The Great Consoladation

George Bushes Great Consoladation (as it is being called) has not stopped with the government and the media, but has continued on as the milatary troops have begun to storm the coporations of America. In this way we can see that Bushitler thirst for power knows no limits and is really just another expression of his alcolholism.

Niether should it come as a suprise that the Chimp would want to want to occupy the corporations of America. We have known for a long time of his lust for coparate power. He is a true coprophiliac. He has run many corporations into the ground. His desire to just milatarily blitzkrieg a corporation is the only way he could ever run a company again. He is like a child playing. I picture the Chimp sitting in a CEO's chair, picking up the phone and barking orders at the dial tone, while the puppeteers behind the curtain run jesusland.

Monday, February 07, 2005

The Flowers of Romance

I must admit. Their's an excitement about being underground and their's a certain headiness to the impingement of Fascism upon the peoples. The palpable fear brings out a kind of "WTF have I got to lose-ness" in the proletariat. You can see the looks on the faces of the women, as they throw all caution to the wind. Wearing plunging necklines in the middle of winter, revealing skin flushed with the vigor of perpetual agitation and excitement.

Furtive meetings are the order of the day. In bars and alleyways, doorways, and taxi cabs. The wind carries with it, an aural declamation of lust. This is a romantic time, when men are men , and women are women.

The streets are still barricaded. The milatary is out in froce. Occasionally you meet the odd soldiar upon whoms face seems suspended the look of doubt, the look of "what am I doing? what is happening to the good ole US of A."

The answer of course, is that it has been invaded and occupied by the forces of jesusland.

Horaitio, Ngude and I get together and sparrk up a few fatties and watch the government controlled CBS (complete bullshit) for kicks. We laugh at it like children, so hard that tears stream down our faces.

Fro instance, last night the three-star general Anchorman said the following,

"In the streets of the major cities, clam has returned. A joyful look abounds of the faces of the contented people of jesusland."

Outside our window meanwhile, their was a tank staring down a group of students throwing molotov cocktails. We watched as gunfrie erupted and the students scattered like rodents. The tank covered in burning gasoline was our fascist lamp against night's darkenss.

So, you can see that our Anchorman's proclamation was somewhat inaccuarate. What kind of country is it that froces it's citizens to be the "contented people of jesusland" by pointing tank turrets at them?

There is a certain camp to fascism, an antiquated, yet quaint buffoonery. Somewhat charming in it's naiive insistence upon "conservative values" enforced through malignant violence.

Fro all that their is to hate about jesusland, I must admit, our current situation has it's pleasures, and I find the soldiers uniforms to be quite beautiful in a sadomasochist and monolith sort of way.

Like I said, these are heady times. We must be prepared for anarchy.