A Dismal Day At Dick Central™

Today, I just conducted my bi-annual visit to my e-mail account. Sadly, I discovered that my Rigorous Intuition Forum membership has been re-activated.

Words cannot express the sorrow that I feel at having failed to achieve a total shunning. I had even gone as far as purchasing a pointed dunce cap & a special multicolored "EYE OF HORUS" patch that I could wear on my clothes to designate my abhorrent otherness, much like the Star Of David that shunned Jews had to wear in Nazi Germany.

Alas, it appears to be more wasted effort. This latest "shunning" failure has plunged me into a maw of deep depression. An abyss-like chasm that I may never escape.

One can only hope that this will serve as a cautionary tale for those callous Forum moderators who, willy-nilly & without apparent regard for consequences, reabsorb those previously cast out.

You must excuse me now. The worm at the bottom of a Mezcal bottle is offering comfort & succor, a balm that I, in my current state of onyx-like ennui, would be a fool to ignore. 

The Latest Transmission From The End (or He's Talking Out Of His Ass Again)

Weird shit found under Brooklyn Bridge.

More importantly, Canadian UFO sightings are on the rise.

UFO sightings in Canada neared a record high last year, while Manitoba reported its third-highest number of cases ever in the province. According to a report released Tuesday by Ufology Research, which has studied unidentified flying objects in this country since 1989, there were 986 sightings across the country in 2011 — or almost three per day. The national record for a single year is 1,004 sightings, set in 2008. Ontario led the country in sightings, with 406. B.C. and Alberta placed a distant second and third. "Ontario is getting more of the share of the UFO reports every year. There used to be an emphasis on the west, in some of our earlier reports," Chris Rutkowski, the national Ufology group's research director, said in Winnipeg on Tuesday. "But now it seems to be distributed a little better." Manitoba reported 81 UFO sightings, 18 of which occurred in Winnipeg. In Manitoba, said Rutkowski, "we didn't have any that made us scratch our heads," though he cited at least one interesting report from last Dec. 12 about 3:30 p.m., south of Winnipeg. "Somebody had seen a grey, shiny, disk-shaped object flying below the clouds, in a hanging motion, near Morris," he said. "There was no estimate of the size. It was hanging below the clouds and was seen for about a minute and a half, before it just disappeared." More compelling sightings last year came in Eastern Canada. In St. Catharines, Ont., in early February, a man reported seeing a beige object -- the size and shape of a grapefruit -- circling high around a hydro pole before it stopped and then flew toward him, missing him by about two metres, before he lost sight of it. And in late March, Quebec's Eastern Townships saw a report of a more bizarre experience. "A couple seems to have seen some sort of glowing, luminous creatures," Rutkowski said. "They don't want their names to go public, and don't want to talk to investigators right now. "The trouble is that they're completely anonymous. I haven't spoken with them. So we have to call it insufficient or pending right now."

I think the end game is now in play. First the Joker goes on a shooting spree. This symbolizes how we, as Americans, love a good laugh & how our laughter masks the homicidal beast that lives in us all. This homicidal beast then takes the form of a pig with clawed fingers. This symbolizes our propensity to wallow in our shit while still retaining the capability to open a beer can. Then UFO sightings begin to rise in Canada. Canada has always been seen as our dopey northern neighbor, good natured yet somewhat simpleminded. I think this is quite clear. Canada will be the first casualty in the coming 'SAUSAGE APOCALYPSE.' I'd expect her HAPPY MEALS & her CANADIAN BACON & her SAUSAGE to rise up, zombie-like, and turn that nation of eaters into a nation of eatees. Be very afraid &, most importantly, stock up on toilet paper. That shit will be worth its weight in gold. Signing out Roger Roger Alpha Zulu Foxtrot

Mixed Media Lessons

Off a dozen Batman fans & you get a court appearance.

Slaughter entire neighborhoods of civilians & you get hot pussy.

It seems to me that if little Jimmy Holmes wanted to kill a bunch of people, he would have been much safer joining the military. That way, instead of a mug shot, he'd only have to worry about a money shot.

"Sex & death & death & sex... this is the way the world spins & spins & spins & spins..."

It's A Bad Day At Blood Butte

I've just been informed that my Rigorous Intuition account has been suspended.

I've contemplated approaching Jim...the site's originator, on bended knee. Submissively offering up my figurative ass crack for a good Inter-spanking.

I especially would like to please 82_28 by acquiescing and fucking his mother.

While I've heard his mom is a behemoth of no small reputation, with a pussy as dried out & flaccid as Rush Limbaugh's asshole, and possessing a stench that would kill kittens at 50 yards, I view it all as my little hair shirt of martyrdom. Something I must wear proudly as I attempt to crawl my way back into the good graces of the RI "Banality & Blather Mutual Circle Jerk Society Of Hermetically Sealed Lonely Folk."

I don't know how I'll raise my kids without seems like a dweam's "How to raise a non fascist  kid"
wisdom. The subtle way dweam & his/her post compadres tried to make mind control of children appear like a non-fascist necessity was moving to say the least.

I don't know how I'll be dazzling without Bruce Dazzling. Truthfully, when he expressed his desire for a "show your support for the Occupy Wall Street website" I almost cried. Never before has typing obsessively on the Internet been given its due.

There are so many things I've gained from  reading the good folks at RI.

The tender way they try to appear tender as they wallow in all the blood soaked minutiae of the world, hiding their addiction to violence behind a fuzzy blanket of non violence, hiding their inability to maintain real world human contact behind a a false mask of Internet intimacy is more touching, empowering & freeing than I can put into words.

Maybe, at some point in the future they'll see fit to let me shit there again. While the facilities were generally quite clean, on occasion Hugh Manatee would waste all the toilet paper with his scribbles, as he made futile attempts at trying to decipher all the hidden CIA messages he'd seen on every magazine rack he'd passed on the way to the Interpotty I've lovingly begun to refer as "A Liberal's Mouth."

I've even informed my friends not to let my bad experience deter them. Anytime they find themselves cruising along on the information superhighway and suddenly find that that bad burrito they picked up over at Taco Bell's website is starting to rumble in their belly in very disturbing ways, there isn't a better place on said superhighway to spurt a big stream of brown than "A Liberal's Mouth."

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Jim, blog host & forum guru, for allowing me to shit in his living room & wipe my ass on his upholstery for something like 7 years.

Thanks Jim.

You're the best.

I Want To Rubber Neck At An Accident Scene Too

First off, I have absolutely nothing to add to yesterday's slaughter. No spiffy links, no government ties, no empty blather sprinkled with crocodile tears. I haven't read any of the 8,000 continually updated news articles, etc., etc., fucking etc.

What I did do early yesterday was careen around the Internut to the plethora of crackpot sites I've picked up over the years like a bad case of dandruff. I wanted to see what I knew I'd see...accident scene rubber neckers weeping crocodile tears while they minutely focus on every bit of blood spatter.
There I saw "synchromystic" wonks like Loren Coleman who had to point out how he warned the 20 folk who regularly visit his site to beware the Ides Of Batman.
I pictured Loren racing to his computer Friday morning so he could post his big fat "I told you so."

I read the RI forum fruit loops who had 3 pages of fake concern interspersed with every breaking bit of blood spatter. Playing make believe journalists as they cut & paste bits & pieces of news articles.
They really should thank mass murderers. Without this shit to liven up their Interdays, they are a banal lot, quacking loudly about nothing in particular.

At work today, I saw that the TV lived up to the same inhumane standards. FOX news appeared to fill up a days programming by aiming a camera at a window of the shooter's apartment while 2 "newscasters' gave it all a subtle drone-like soundtrack with their endless chatter. I assume every other 24/7 news channel was doing much the same. Raking in the ad revenue as they piggybacked upon the bloodshed while simultaneously professing to be "shocked" & "stunned" & "appalled" by the carnage.

The unspoken subtext of it all was the ghoulish desire to have a camera on site in case those cops attempting to de-bomb the shooter's apartment happened to be blown up in the attempt. Then everyone could mime weeping as they rub their erections while watching the replay footage over & over & over. I'm sure it would have been the perfect substitute for the lack of "massacre" film footage.

They even had a nice alliterative name for it all:

MOVIE MASSACRE

 While Yahoo is calling it

THE BATMAN KILLING SPREE 

The genius headline that featured this spiify moniker was

THE BATMAN KILLING SPREE PLANNED FOR MONTHS

Gee, do ya think? You mean he didn't just cobble together a few thousand rounds of ammo that he had lying around the apartment? Do you mean he didn't, at the last minute, run out & pick up whatever guns they happened to have lying around his local 7-11 right next to the Twinkie/Ho-Ho rack? Do you mean he didn't rig up those bombs from the stray tins of old moldy tuna fish he had lying at the back of his refrigerator like thermal nuclear biology experiments? I'm shocked.

Later in the evening I saw that TNT ran the last Batman flick without seeing anything remotely disturbing about doing so.

Then, as I was preparing to leave, a co-worker turned FOX back on. One of their empty headed newscasters was insincerely rambling on about the horror of it all. In the background, I spotted this woman who had the biggest ear to ear grin on her face, as if the whole thing was the neatest thing. She stood there grinning for 6-7 minutes as the newscaster droned on & on.
I thought to myself "Finally, an honest person."

She felt no constraints, no need to wear a fake mask of empty concern. She was enjoying herself & she was unafraid to show it. Everyone else enjoyed it too. They're were just too cowardly to admit it.

It's all just a matter of degree, isn't it?
From the plethora of folk who drooled over their soldier boys dancing among instruments of mass death as they lip synched some young cuties "love song" to the army of meat sacks who raced out at midnight on Friday to see some live action comic book "morality play" that cost hundreds of millions of dollars to make while other, less fortunate, meat sacks climb into bed with empty stomachs.

 We're a sick lot & the sickness runs so deep I imagine it's indelibly etched on our DNA like a black spot of genetic cancer.

Humanity...we never had it from the beginning.

                               Charles Bukowski

An End Time Station Break Featuring Some Insider Muzak

Nothing like a lip synched sing-a-long with hired killers. They needed to do it while conducting an air strike to give it that added oomph of greatness. With the carefully edited juxtaposition of crappy tweener pop slop & bomb eviscerated kiddies it could have had the potential earning power of a typical brain dead Hollywood blockbuster like Spider Spam.

Seriously. They dropped the ball on this one.

After reading the plethora of "Gosh, golly, gee whiz, ain't this the greatest thing since my morning bowel movement" comments sitting at the bottom of the Yahoo-de-hoo-de-hoo "news" article that featured this, like gobs of vomited out bird shit,  I couldn't see any reason why anyone sane would want to be an insider in this whacked out society of bloodthirsty shoppers.

Then my teeth started to ache & I realized that I'd better vent or risk tossing another computer out the fucking window.
Just having this on here makes me feel dirty.

Enjoy.

2012 Dick Of The Week Pt. 2

Upon reflection, I think that I was probably a bit unfair to Dick Hoagland. Truth be told, I don't find Dick nearly as funny as his army of Internet devotees. You know who I mean, the cranks & wankers who use Dick's "research" to prop up their own unwieldy version of "the truth."

Chris Knowles at Secret Sun comes to mind, but there are other, less literate, examples.

To me, Dick resides squarely in the realm of the outsider. He just lives there in a house built out of science...well pseudoscience, but science none the less.

& I've always had a huge soft spot for the outsiders.

They can best be described as suffering from RDD or Reality Deficit Disorder, but I prefer Jello Biafra's "differently sane" label.

The art world has them. Howard Finster comes to mind.

I find Howard a hell of a lot more compelling than insiders like Andy Warhol.

Like Dick, Howard has an obsession with the heavens. Or, more precisely, Heaven.

But I think Dick would find his closest kin in the world of outsider music, where its denizens share Dick's Moon/Mars/Alien Space Brother obsession to a far larger degree.

There's Joe Meek, the suicidally gay record producer who recorded everything in his apartment.
Meek's biggest score occurred  with Telstar, his ode to the first communications satellite, but he also was responsible for countless other recordings, some successful, others not so much.

It has been reported that Meek was fascinated with outer space, even recording a 12 song LP entitled "I Hear A New World" in 1960, of which Meek has said,

"I wanted to create a picture in music of what could be up there in outer space." 

 Then there's Lucia Pamela, whose one lone bit of recorded output is fittingly entitled, "Into Outer Space."

Miss Pamela insists that she recorded this audio wonder on the Moon itself. No doubt in a recording studio long abandoned by some of Dick Hoagland's Ancient Alien Moon Men.





Into Outer Space is, quite frankly an amazing record that is hard not to love. Of it, Irwin Chusid, had this to say,

"Imagine an LP of a peyote soaked klezmer band, recorded with Joe Meek passed out at the console, wavering on your turntable between 31 and 35 rpm."

Just as Dick Hoagland believes that the world's pyramids are huge "torsion field generators," Lucia Pamela believed her pink Cadillac could fly. Dick has his "Enterprise Project" while Miss Pamela sought to build an amusement park with a ride that would actually take visitors to another planet.

Then there's Syd Barrett.

It's been said that Pink Floyd only had one album, Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. Everything after that was irrelevant as they became "the most expansive of arena schlockers, a lumbering motorcade of fuel guzzling guitars, wide load keys, tanker grade vocals, and drums that don't accelerate beyond second gear. Rock's counterpart to the Chrysler Corporation."

I can't say that I disagree.
Pink Floyd, post Syd, is, to put it mildly, a pompous affair.

But Syd Floyd, that's the real deal. Syd was not only obsessed with outer space, by using copious amounts of psychedelics, he blasted himself into outer space. I'm sure Dick could relate.

Then there's my personal favorite outsider, Captain Beefheart. It's been said of the good Captain that he "took the cracked, primitive, electric country blues of Howlin' Wolf and just kept on going until the 'Delta' he was referencing was not the Mississippi's but a canal on Mars."




I suppose that what I'm trying to say is that I don't doubt Dick's sincerity.

I just don't believe his tale.

 But I do love it none the less.