"I have a conspiracy theory." Oh my God. Here comes a pantload. And then you know you've seen or heard a fractured version of a yet more prismatic world, a granulated distillation of something that is as fluid as the train of thought, as fluid as human consciousness, with charts, pictographs, dana points, and JW documentaries.
As they say in some circles, "JW got dem niggaz werkin'."
But one has only so much of a belly for the grift, and then comes all the rest, and some real rest, too, however tossing and turning or untroubled as of Costanza, unhurried as of the implacable cosmos.
"Mister JW, who tole you to do dat, cuz?"
Don't forget KT Ber.
"Your greasy granny, Little Cheever. And you knew that before you asked."
She said to bust-up her chifarobe, but that little escapade went all to hell didn't it? Just wait. Up ahead it's Cerberus with Sean Hannity's hairpiece on.
A dog eat dog world, and there were just too many Kevins and Kims.
And the old breakroom joke, "where can I get some chicken shit?"
From Kevin's savings account.
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| Thespian Michael Pitt, waiting for his moment to scream at the world, to tell it the truths that have been so long buried just beneath the surface, waiting and picking his moment, and noticing that the girl's feet have no smell whatsoever, not of sweat, nor bathsoap nor floor debris nor anything. Just nothing. |
A seemless lapse into complete bullshit, as of the Obama/Hannity Beer Summit that never happened, and Hannity admitting that he is just a figment of Barack's imagination. Some part of Barack takes to the satirical and tries to put out his own lights, then, as of a moth scampering for the bug zapper, powerless but to destroy and seek dissipation.
It says, "I know you, and I rebuke you for all that is around me in here, inside of you." Why, this is good old fashioned Southern Baptist guilt, self-rebuke, sin-consciousness. One can hate himself best because he best knows his own sins, what he knows first, of his own fractal design.
As Howard Kirvonnen had it, humans were the waste by-product of universal sin consciousness, having that original moment of mistrust. Akamiel the Wizard, the doubting type, would rather watch with a cynical eye than actually do, but then he was spurred by the cause to action, and I didn't get to see his best hours. And Cookie Houston, to take the air, have a smoke and philosophize, whether it met and end or not, just for the sake of approaching the formal status of the universe.
That befuddles the real status of the universe, I wot, but there is time and chance available yet. Time and chance for us all, unless you're reading this and you died from the Coronavirus. Then its kind of done, like "fun is fun and dancing is shunned."
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