"The Glory Days of Bush and Cheney go to Spain
This is Easter. Obama’s going to egg roll with gay parents and heal the nations disaffection with everything unlike itself until everything is everything …but first he’s going to go eat bitter herbs in a SKULL cap as the Angel of Death passes over Tel Aviv and lands in Gaza for an ‘all you can kill’ buffet. He’s going to assume so many positions that he’ll look like Steven Hawkings combing his hair with the Chinese Acrobats in a massively magnified spider’s eye. He’ll be like The Scarlet Pimpernel in reverse.
On the way to pleasing everyone and pleasing no one; on the way to fixing everything and fixing nothing, he’s going to reverse none of Bush’s extraordinary assaults on The Constitution. He’s going to leave everything just like it was as he makes everything different while changing nothing at all and The Daily Kos is going to be serving dog vomit that’s been reclassified as oatmeal and Moveon and all the other Peace Now… End the War…bullshit artistes are going to dig in and hum Kumbaya as the Terminator Drones cruise the shooting galleries of
When I said that 9/11 is the Litmus Test. You’ll see it there at the top of The Google Charts with a bullet; I didn’t realize how very true that is. So keep it in mind that everyone and anyone who doesn’t stand forth to declare that 9/11 was an Inside Job is part of the job. You want to go deeper, you only have to look at those who question 9/11 but make no mention of
Do I sound a little ticked off and acrimonious on this lovely Easter morning? Gee, I wonder why that is? ‘sup with that Visible? This is wasup with that. This Zioshill authored ‘just a regular guy’ doing normal things and having one of his buttmunchers relay what we’ve heard about a hundred times now… “Bush told former White House press secretary Dana Perino that he had found comfort reading several biographies of George Washington. If the first president still required analysis, Bush joked, then what could the 43rd president have to worry about?” This is what ticked Visible off this morning.
Well, this is one little detail that I don’t believe The First George ran into. Oh “tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.” Here at Apocalypse Central; Division of Slip Lifting and Upskirting, we like to point out how progressively… step by step… things are coming out …as all the rats hiding behind the drywall are having their little midnight confessions about what so and so did to so and so in/at you know where.
Yes… if dirty laundry was dollars some of us are soon going to be billionaires and some of us who lied are going to be known as liars and some of us that told part of the truth are only going to be liars by omission and some of us that said it doesn’t matter who did 9/11 or who pretend to be investigative reporters, pretending to be Humphrey Bogart playing an investigative reporter …and who snarl and sneer on TV about how deluded the people are who tell the truth… well… they’re not going to be the grand lions of the college circuit and liberal drawing rooms any longer come the main hour of The Apocalypse.
Go ahead… make yourself sick… read that whole disgusting article on that sick, torturing, mass murdering, conscienceless clown, George W.T.F. Bush. And spend a little time thinking about everyone who made what he was and is, possible. Think about all the nasty crack whores in Congress and on the Supreme Court… all their associates in the press… all the true believers and easily deceived on Main Street everywhere who made it all possible and who keep making it possible… now that another turkey-jerking manikin has replaced the former manikin with zero Change we can believe in.
Just for today let’s forget about the new clown in town dancing to the same murderous orchestra. Let’s stroll backwards a little ways down Memory Lane, over the dead and still twitching bodies and body parts… dead economies and homeless families and gaze… just for a moment upon that awesome train wreck that was Bush/Cheney Murder Inc. and in that moment consider… yes consider that… the same Al Qaeda that didn’t exist before but kept showing up everywhere is still doing the same thing. Consider that not a damn thing has changed in
Wait a minute. We aren’t going to focus on the same old same old in present time. We’re going to reflect back on the same old same old from the time before; those halcyon days of the Haldol sired spawn; Mr. High Heeled Sneakers, little Georgie Bush. I’m feeling poetic so I’m going to blast off a little stream of consciousness for our boy and his lawyer shotgunning side kick, the man who kept telling the military not to send up the interceptor jets, Dick’em Cheney.
lost in the bushes
with the WMD's
and all that compassion
running like the clap from
an infected dick
and everybody lost and nothing got found
back in the day
when the lies seemed so real
but were not enough to win
so …they let the court steal the country
and the heart and the mind
as the neo-cons got up as one
to kiss his red behind
spanked in private
kissed in public
and came all over himself
couldn’t remember where or when
hum a few bars
I’ll get back to you
Do lunch
Do your wife and kids too
If you
mess around
all the kiddies that got left behind
along with truth
justice
and the
getting skull-fucked by
Spiderman
Cock-blocked by the frogs
On the Champs Elysses
lost in the bushes
and screwed behind the bushes
and discovered in the bushes
somebody needs to beat the bushes
till the tigers appear
♫and the beast ran away on the spear ♫
Halliburton
and Venell
up on the hooks
drying in the sun
Justice jerky
“Did it make your nipples tough?”
Got to be a Lecter moment
while the twins hit the bongs
could be from Laura’s dimebag
go to girl in college
dead man on the highway
and the Iraqi children bring the water home
that shimmering radioactive water
from the nuclear containers
that they found in the caverns
while we
were protecting
the oil ministry
and the museums were smashed and looted
and someone’s
having tea with Osama
on the beach at
WMD’s sitting in sun-chairs on the sun blasted shore
of purple mountains travesties
cocktails at six
with the great whore
of
who squats on the banks of the
where the necessary work gets done
and the vultures soar
over the looted plains
the blasted limbs of children
that will never dance again
in the streets of
As Nintendo jet fighter pilot bush
lands on the aircraft carrier
with his sock stuffed crotch
packed like a Piñata
waiting for history
to kick him in the nuts.
Sooner or later justice is coming and I don’t want to hear any more from the people who tell me that nothing is ever going to get done. I don’t want to hear about how they got it all locked down and we are all screwed and how Bush will sit on his porch steps and rewrite history through tear filmed eyes as he gazes back upon the glory that was Rome. On this Easter I want to believe that the truth, however dead it may seem, is going to roll away the stone from the tomb of denial and deceit and rise triumphant into the air and right into the face of everyone who helped to roll that stone into place.
Something New
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