Why do you put up with this….?
If some con artist got your confidence and then commenced stabbing you in the side, would you still give him another chance to be your friend? Would you say: Let’s give him another year. The previous criminal had been knifing me for eight years. So this new guy needs a chance. At least two years to change his knifing me at every opportunity. We’ve just got to give him time to turn this thing around.
Don’t do it! Don’t put up with this….!
And Chi-Coms don’t stink, no matter how bad the smell. They could start eating the Tibetans and we wouldn’t care. We need their cheap shit. And we owe them trillions, Are the politicians going to pay? No, we are.
All the lies, the spin, the insincerity, the deviation, the final sheer effrontery and mind control. Why put up with it? Do you just want to fit in, just go along, be a good “progressive” or “conservative”? Lick the hand that feeds you? Or slaps you?
Even the poets and artists serve the system. Science is even worse.
They camp by the floors of the money changers, offering up a savior for a study, a purchased opinion, or just a song. Painters and purveyors of the visual art I envy for any truth they reveal can just as easily be denied. The money-men like that. They do have a soul, it’s just it’s kept always under the strictest control…
Mercifully, I’m cutting this rant short.
But here comes rant no.2…
Rant 2
I don’t like to talk about it. I love the sweetness and the light. I can’t help but see what’s going down, and I’m not going down without a fight. The future is murder, and it starts with the smallest curse then it grows to pure damnation as darkness does it’s worst. But it starts small, a little injustice that’s all, then some nobody or next to nobody is there so convenient to frame, till at the end a poor devil waits for his end for a crime he can’t claim. The DA is doing fine, he’s got it going on, for while the poor man pays with his life, the rich man sometimes gives up some coin. What’s important? This election’s in the bag!
Talk about a four sided game? O well, make it five! Check it out! Bring it in, Sell it to ‘em, Set ‘em up, bring ‘em down, Work ‘em for peanuts, We’re already at Five! Wash the cash, Ponzi it till it bloats. Then loan it back to the suckers! Charge ‘em interest for just printing it up! And then call it free enterprise and keeping kids free from the scourge of dope…what a joke!
Is that eight or nine?
There’s a madman at the wheel, his minion on the brakes. The tracks are disappearing, The conductor yells we’re lost. And the prophet blackened with ash, coal black but burning with the light howls “I told you so” to all…the one time in this life he’s been right. What did he say? They say. Beyond terror now…They didn’t hear a word.
Mexico is going mad. Don’t kid yourself, Gabacho, you and me we’re right behind. At least they are killing for the cash… You and I murder and we don’t know why. Some liar that’s never been anything but said “Kill the primitive tribesman. Spread war throughout the world, or else they gonna blow your ass up!
So a trillion goes for a little blow, or the flower of the opium dream. Some will take a toke, meth heads are a bad joke, some give their lives for a drug that can only betray all it seems. And Big Pharma kills ten times more. That’s the score…and they never go to jail.
It’s not much fun to talk about it.
But somebody better do it.
