Dog Poet Transmitting…….
I guess we can file most everything these days under, “You can’t make this shit up.” The number one social justice, vaudeville sodomy routine has been on the Billboard Top 100 for years now. You know that the hits are just going to keep on coming. The lack of humor in the attempt for humor is like holding neo-liberal Barbie underwater at a preschool swimming pool; no bubbles, no laughter, just cringing embarrassment at the sight of it, falling flat on its smiley face ass. I could not write something this bad. It takes a very ‘special’ lack of talent, way south of retarded to compose something like that.
It is happening in a step by step fashion. The point of this is that the craziness is much less noticeable. You’re given a brief period of accommodation. It’s a sort of stutter stagger, drunk and hanging on the lamppost, near hurling vertigo thing that takes up all your attention and you can’t remember how you managed to drive home, or if you did and ‘where’s my car, Dude?” Actually is is more like a ‘where’s my life, who am I? What happened to everybody? How come people are so incredibly dim? They all have this look like that of a stunned ox. What do you get when everyone is dancing to a different drummer and it’s the same drummer (there’s something… something about the shape of his head) and he sounds like this?