A love letter to you.

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

Is it just me or is the degeneration of America picking up speed?  

I thought it had gone into overdrive a while back..... 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Is it just me or is the degeneration of America picking up speed?  

I thought it had gone into overdrive a while back..... 

You're both wrong.

America had an upward blip from 1941-2000, which is now correcting itself.

It's always been a rancid pile of festering shitcockers.  What can you expect from a nation that set out to worship greed, right from the very beginning, and was initially seeded by the religious freaks that Britain didn't want?

This is nothing new.  We've acted far worse than this.  We're just getting back to normal, is all.

[Payne]

It was an accident, you know?  It was just one of those Good Times that got out of hand, and the SWAT team accidentally shot a Marine veteran 60 times, with 71 shots fired (That also means 11 bullets went on their merry way, looking for someone to say hello to, on a nice Tucson spring day.).

She was only trying to make rent, right, make rent and maybe get a little "medicine", to help her forget she was once daddy's little girl, with teddy bears on the bed and a few boy-band posters on the wall.  She got rolled by a John and stuffed in a dumpster, but it was really nothing personal.  Just another day in South Filth. 

Just another chance for the 21st Century to say, "Hello, I know I'm not what you were expecting.  The picture on my OKCupid profile was from a pulp magazine from 1946, but I just know my personality will shine through the bits of wear & tear that I've accumulated since then.  By the way, can I stick my finger in your ear?  That's HOT!  Maybe we can go for a nice walk, you know, maybe to Iraq or Afghanistan or maybe this new club I've heard about in North Africa."

He was just a simple preacher man, a bit of a schmuck, really.  He thought for years that humans could be civilized, if only they were given a chance to slow down and catch their breath.  It took years, but he finally realized why Curly's smile was always so sad looking...That the only thing making the humans run was themselves, and that they no longer wanted civilization.  They wanted self-righteous murder in foreign lands, they wanted expedience over principle, they wanted the trappings of empire.  They wanted rule, not government.

So this preacher man, yeah, he decided that a new career was in order.  He started studying The Machine™, he studied the cogs that it is made of, which is to say "people".  He took off his minister's collar, and put on a surgical smock.  He became a Doktor, and swore to burn it all down.

After a time, he relaxed a bit, he got a little lazy and overwhelmed, he started feeling bad for the humans again.  He began to preach again...For a while.  Then The Truth sank back in, and he began his Doktoring again, only in slightly smarter, quieter ways.  Everyone got used to the preacher man again, and they forgot to look behind his pleasant smile and amusing rage-y rants and sermons.

It's probably for the best, really.  There's nothing behind that smile but malice, 7 pounds of bad wiring and misanthropy that would make Paul of Tarsus blanch.  He smiles and he smiles and he learns where the gears are, and readies his bags of sand.

Just kidding.  He's just a simple preacher man, and he loves you.  He loves you all, and he really wants what's best for all of you.

Because he loves America.

Okay for now.

BA-THUMP-BA-BA-THUMP-BA-THUMPBUMP go the drums. The funeral procession winds through dusty streets painted by a searing sun into shades of beige riddled yellows and whites.

The thump of the drums are the only sound anyone makes, though if anyone tried, they would not be heard. Thump Tha-Thump, it echos in your chest. It caresses your body in that tingling, vital energy you can only get from the primal rythyms of our deepest darkest, reptillian memories.

There are no mourners, just many who wish to witness, and many many more who are forced to.

The dead man had few friends, and most of them were enemies anyway.

And though this is a truth of all giants really worth the name, this event is somehow different, for though there are many enemies there is no celebration. In death, he has become a symbol for all that is being lost - foremost vitality. There can be no joy or grief without life. There can be no pain or ecstasy. No love.

In a sick joke, they refuse to lay his body amongst the Calvinists. They refuse to leave a great marker anywhere near his grave. They refuse to allow his burial to be in any way extraordinary...

For they know that with this dichotamous giant, their greatest fear, died one of the true meanings of life.

And when it was over, the sun beat them still mercilessly for their sin.

[Payne]

Is it just me or is the degeneration of America picking up speed?  

I thought it had gone into overdrive a while back..... 

You're both wrong.

America had an upward blip from 1941-2000, which is now correcting itself.

It's always been a rancid pile of festering shitcockers.  What can you expect from a nation that set out to worship greed, right from the very beginning, and was initially seeded by the religious freaks that Britain didn't want?

This is nothing new.  We've acted far worse than this.  We're just getting back to normal, is all.

The City on The Hill.

Only a few get to live on the top, of course and most live right at the bottom.

Shit rolls downhill, and 1941-2000 were just the years of basic plumbing.

[Adios]

Roger is right yet again. Americans really don't want to be governed, but they do want to be ruled. Everything in a nice neat sealed box, this is what passes for civilization.

This is why sparkly entertainment news is so dominate today. It rides the beast so we are looking at them instead of the underbelly, where the heart of the beast is.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

It was an accident, you know?  It was just one of those Good Times that got out of hand, and the SWAT team accidentally shot a Marine veteran 60 times, with 71 shots fired (That also means 11 bullets went on their merry way, looking for someone to say hello to, on a nice Tucson spring day.).

She was only trying to make rent, right, make rent and maybe get a little "medicine", to help her forget she was once daddy's little girl, with teddy bears on the bed and a few boy-band posters on the wall.  She got rolled by a John and stuffed in a dumpster, but it was really nothing personal.  Just another day in South Filth. 

Just another chance for the 21st Century to say, "Hello, I know I'm not what you were expecting.  The picture on my OKCupid profile was from a pulp magazine from 1946, but I just know my personality will shine through the bits of wear & tear that I've accumulated since then.  By the way, can I stick my finger in your ear?  That's HOT!  Maybe we can go for a nice walk, you know, maybe to Iraq or Afghanistan or maybe this new club I've heard about in North Africa."

He was just a simple preacher man, a bit of a schmuck, really.  He thought for years that humans could be civilized, if only they were given a chance to slow down and catch their breath.  It took years, but he finally realized why Curly's smile was always so sad looking...That the only thing making the humans run was themselves, and that they no longer wanted civilization.  They wanted self-righteous murder in foreign lands, they wanted expedience over principle, they wanted the trappings of empire.  They wanted rule, not government.

So this preacher man, yeah, he decided that a new career was in order.  He started studying The Machine™, he studied the cogs that it is made of, which is to say "people".  He took off his minister's collar, and put on a surgical smock.  He became a Doktor, and swore to burn it all down.

After a time, he relaxed a bit, he got a little lazy and overwhelmed, he started feeling bad for the humans again.  He began to preach again...For a while.  Then The Truth sank back in, and he began his Doktoring again, only in slightly smarter, quieter ways.  Everyone got used to the preacher man again, and they forgot to look behind his pleasant smile and amusing rage-y rants and sermons.

It's probably for the best, really.  There's nothing behind that smile but malice, 7 pounds of bad wiring and misanthropy that would make Paul of Tarsus blanch.  He smiles and he smiles and he learns where the gears are, and readies his bags of sand.

Just kidding.  He's just a simple preacher man, and he loves you.  He loves you all, and he really wants what's best for all of you.

Because he loves America.

Okay for now.

Fucking YES. 

We need a little horrormirth guy with mittens

I mean, shitfuckdamn!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Dear America™,

It's party time in Babylon, I am told, and everyone who's anyone is there.  There's money to be made, and if we can't afford the infrastructure maintenance, we can at least chuck children into the gears to keep The Machine™ nice & lubed up.  And while the repeal of child labor laws in Fat City probably isn't going anywhere, there's plenty of 3rd world children in unfurnished nations that will fit the bill.

You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs, and you can't turn a wicked 20% quarterly growth without breaking some children.  It's how we feed the pig.  It's how we get things done...It's how we turn hopey-hopey change-change into reality. 

And it's what you demanded. 

After all, that 401K isn't going to go through the roof on the backs of well-paid, skilled domestic workers, is it?  No.  It needs cheaper, faster, just on time delivery...And if it means your dog gets a little melamine in its diet, or Junior chews on a toy covered in lead paint, well, isn't that a small price to pay?

And those people walking?  You know that you and I disapprove of them.  They didn't believe in the Free Market™ and personal responsibility. 

And we certainly don't need to spend any money on Pell grants or even K-12 education.  After all, the school system won't do what we like no matter how much we underfund it, so we'd best just scrap it, right?  Hell, we spent BILLIONS on standardized tests, and people in smudgy districts are still complaining about leaky roofs and inadequate heating...School is where you LEARN, not where you go to be comfortable.

I understand all of this, of course.  We all have to make sacrifices on the altar of capitalism.  We aren't told what the return will be, but we'll just have to trust the Captains of Industry (as they used to be called, back in the good old days of Astor and J.P. Morgan) to do what's best for us all.

Or Kill Me.

Love & Kisses,
The Good Reverend Roger

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Horrormirthy chills. Actually, not even that much mirth... mostly  

Too fucking accurate.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Dear America™,

I have heard that quantitative easing is coming to an end this month, and that everything is expected to go in the pooper.  It appears your economic shell game didn't pan out, and that the bills really DO have to be paid.

Well, you can't claim to be surprised.  I mean, this is nothing NEW, is it?  You've spent the last 30 years running around using a credit card, with no inclination to pay down the resulting balance.  You've relied on get-rich-without-working scams like the stock market, that basically resulted in all the jobs leaving for cheaper labor elsewhere.

Just over a hundred years ago, a guy by the name of Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem about this, and one of the lines was:

But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

So now you're looking bankruptcy in the face, and all the rich people, that told you that this was the way to become as they are, are laughing at you as you stand with your hat in your hands. 

But you haven't learned, have you?  No, you attend teabagger rallies, or subscribe to the same "Free Market" snake oil that got you into this mess in the first place.  You still haven't learned to spot basic patterns, and now it's going to ruin you.

You'll notice, for example, that supply side economics has been proven to not work, and yet there you are, screaming for tax cuts for the wealthy, with your hoodlum friends "Libertarian", "Objectivist", and "Tea Party", all waiting for Ron Paul to come along with some fucking fairy dust.

You might want to take a closer look at your "friends".  Libertarians are almost without exception broke (Because, presumably, the big bad government is holding back their genius), Ojectivists are anything but objective, and the tea party is nothing more than a collection of giggling yahoos and "angry townhall face" retards.

But they're who you have chosen, and there's no point arguing with you...So I think I'm going to have to call the whole thing off, and spend my time more productively. 

Or Kill Me.

[Adios]

Damn, that last sentence nailed it.

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

Damn.



And.... 

[Phox]

Roger nailed it. Damn.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I've gotta tell you, I'm just praying for out of hand inflation at this point, because the only thing that's going to save my ass is if the value of the dollar drops like a motherfucker.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I've gotta tell you, I'm just praying for out of hand inflation at this point, because the only thing that's going to save my ass is if the value of the dollar drops like a motherfucker.

The banks will have congress ram through something to make sure your house payment stays the same relative to the current value of the dollar.

Betcha.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Dear America™,

I really didn't want to bring this up, but...You've really let yourself go, haven't you? 

When I first met you, you were in far better shape.  Sure, you weren't the lean, whipcord frontiersman that you were in your youth...But you still knew where the dance floor was, and you went jogging, because you caught a bit of flab creeping over your belt. 

But that was 30 years ago.

Now, you're sitting there on your mobility scooter, with a Big Gulp™ 64 oz soda, and a twinkie mashed all over your face and shirt.  You have that "fat thing", that lop of belly fat that reaches to between your knees.  You haven't seen your own genitals since Bill Clinton got elected.  You punish the suspension of your SUV, and...

...And you have yourself convinced that this is all temporary, that it's just a little dieting and everything will be fine.  You'll get right on that...Some day.  Not today or tomorrow or next week, because you're under a lot of stress after some guy with one leg took the handicapped spot at WalMart, and you had to walk 200 feet to the store, and your knees hurt.

It's nothing personal, mind you, but you make me wish for the return of the Old Testament God, a terrible embodiment of righteous retribution on a nation that wallows in their own suet while everyone else starves.  It's not even a case of "you've got yours", it's a case of outright GLUTTONY, a nation that eats and eats and eats because they've trained themselves into thinking that there are only two conditions:  Bloated or starving.  There is no in between.

Remember when you DID things?  When you went dancing and jogging and cruising on a Saturday night?  Remember way back when, before American Idol and that Goddamn X Box?  Before you plugged your face into a family-sized bucket of friend chicken and let the Spider sing you to sleep, steal your mouth, and web you to the couch?  Remember?

Of course you don't.  And, hey, it's time for Dancing With the Stars.  Better get a thing of powdered donuts and a Frosty.

Or Kill Me.