Listening to: Love & Rockets, Express
In my last post I overtly challenged the tiny-minded weasels at the NSA to come lock me up for "seditious" words, words those dimwitted fucks no doubt needed to consult a dictionary in order to decipher. Considering I'm now on their radar tighter than their deoderant (honestly, fellas, think about personal hygeine a bit, k?) and obviously in their pock-marked faces, I figured I'd attempt to expand their horizons a tad and continue with the "word power" exercise. Hey, we all need it. When I was reading Harold Bloom's Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human, I discovered the following words and wrote them down on my bookmark (an unpaid parking ticket) so I might flesh out my vocabulary a bit.
That last word is what I've been accused of, for good reason, although I have nothing on Bloom in that regard. Still, considering the fact that I went to the trouble to write the words down and look them up gives you an idea how I got where I am and I yam what I... yeah, yeah.
However, this post is for the edification of those NSA ciphers who are taking a look-see at this spot on the blogosphere (and you know you are, asshole... btw, how's that male enhancement drug working?) and making little notes for their nazi stormtrooper colleagues; perhaps they'll use some of these big, dangerous words in their reports to confuse the hell out of the entire division.
Why am I so shitty with you sppoks? Because I assume you grew up learning about the same vision of the US and its principles that I was raised with but you were led astray, either by confusion or cupidity, and you've sold out.
If suckered, scared by swarthy men with bombs and scarves, you're more confused than you know. The terrorists don't win by body count, the terrorists win by having you listen in on phone calls, read emails, or send people up the river for no reason other than suspicion. You're allowing the terrorists to destroy much more than real estate, the confidence of shaky psyches and, God forbid, a few lives, you're allowing the terrorists to destroy 200-some years of freedom.
If, on the other hand, you're doing this for the jay-oh-bee, you're a whore. Although, I suspect I'm not telling you something you don't already know. Most likely your mother is/was a whore and this is part of a tragic legacy, whether you're here or walking the streets or working as a spammer. Whatever, hooker, you're used to taking it in the poop chute with or without lube and in some twisted way, you like it.
However you manifest justification for your meretricious little task, consider your place in history: a shit spot in the diaper of a president not fit to run a company much less a country. "Grampa, what did you do in the War on Global Terrorism?"
"Why, I spied on Americans."
What a fucking embarasment.