Kiss My Royal Sash
People with wealth and power see the commonalty as low, beastly, uneducated and useless, unless they can perform remedial acts of servitude and abjection. They see us as their slaves. Monetarily chained to their purse strings, and fearful of destitution and vagabondage. But it is nothing to fear. We have nothing to fear turning away from their enslavement of honorarium. It is something everyone can do but are afraid of it. The only thing that keeps them secure is our desire to be like them? But we are not like them. We are far more superior. Because those of us that see, know they are a bunch of children with inherited powers. But their power is allusive, being stamped into your brain every time you turn on that idiot box of serfdom-ism. “Idiot box” is an old term to describe the television, possibly even radio. But it is boredom that draws us to these devices of conformity. All we have to do is live our own lives and if you have a fire pit, burn all these devices that carry the commercial imprint. The internet, unfortunately, is being dominated by commercialism, making it harder and harder to find commercial-free content. I have seen when the internet was born. It was created with other innocuous intentions, then distributed as a tool for information storage and retrieval. It had many unknown uses, and evolved into a powerful informational library. For the last 20 years it is been marred and distorted into tools of profit. You cannot go anywhere on the internet without getting garbage advertising on every page. It is safe to say the internet has been successfully, commercially dominated. But here again, we could use the internet for informational purposes and not worry about the “WDIGOOT?” (What do I get out of this?) syndrome. Con after con, shill after shill, profiteer after profiteer, hijacking knowledge and information and trying to get rich from plagiarism. Stealing knowledge from libraries and re-selling it via video, because, lets face it, a lot of people are too lazy to read. So we watch senseless video after video about, in basics, the humiliation of the commoners. Because as each of us watch this, we somehow think we are better then the person being degraded or exploited.
Pompous Crass of Prominence
Fame is the buffer between the 1 percenters and the classes. They are the heat sink. The people that actually work in government and law enforcement are not our enemies. They are the manipulated strong arm that is protecting the 1 percenters and their greed. We have to hold the source accountable. We cannot lose focus on the greedy millionaires and billionaires that love the royal treatment they receive daily. Famous people are our enforced roll models. Why do you think they have every sewer stench-scribed nasal discharged blether rag on display at virtually every grocery store checkout till? For your entertainment? No, for your brain honing. Subliminally being convinced that, we want to be them. They are the upper crust that we want to be, to have worth. But, wake up. You do not want to be anything like them because they are bought and paid for, and they couldn’t care a less about you, their serfdom fans, only that you idolize them. But don’t get to close, or you will get clobbered by several police batons as they get escorted off to a more secure (peon-less) area. No slaves allowed in the Royal chambers. Authorized servants only. Idolize them or resent them. They are not the ones we should focus on. They are there to distract, brainwash and bewilder and keep our eyes off the 1 percenters as the continually pick our pockets clean. This method stretches back to ancient Egypt. Nothing new. Just amazing they still use this method to docile (con) the masses. Politicians are in the same category. The famous ones. The ones that run for the top office for every municipality, state, province, or commercial North American country (federal).
Hearts May be Trump, But Diamonds are Forever
The current presidential race is somewhat of an over-endorsed, fable driven fiasco. It can only illuminate the depths that commercial North America has stooped, attempting to get the populous to view this slap-stick comedy routine of malicious, brain insulting, outhouse seepage, verbalism of plague infested, festering media. Trying to revive the feminist movement/male dominance dispute that is so old and moldy, that the hopeful female presidential counterpart (Queen of Hearts, reversed) is confusing this with the odor fumigating from her labia. And the male presidential counterpart (King of Diamonds, reversed) that has died his hair blond, making a feeble attempt to appear young and more progressive, and trying to arouse the female counterpart of the vote with his portrayed masculinity? This guy is seriously out to lunch. Both candidates are out to lunch to be frank. I think they would make a great couple actually. They are so desperate trying to appeal to the younger generation, and really have no clue how to do that, but if they got married, or had a torrent affair, they would both get publicity. And, who ever wins, can be the animus or anima of the relationship. That way, they would both win! Donald and Hilary! Don and Hil! Or just “Down the Hill!”, a tale about “A Bankrupting Commercial Love Story. Starring the 1 percenter’s Poster Boy, The King of Diamonds, reversed. Also starring, the Female non-accountability trait Poster Girl, The Queen of Hearts, reversed. Oozing out of a commercial theater near you, soon!
Yucky Hily and Wacky Donny
The first episode would be Hil getting a hold of Don’s unlimited credit card and going on a shopping spree in France, Italy and all the other fashion-driven countries of Europe, then eloping with some young, European broke beatnik in no shoes, trying to relive her youth when being courted by Bill, but ends up in a drug rehab located in Narconon Sicily, broke and pregnant. Meanwhile, Don, trying to comes to terms that he is an aging youth, and still masturbates to pictures of Ivona, trying to find a replacement to Hil as he frantically follows her trail of credit receipts then ends up meeting her young beatnik lover and hitting it off, only to follow the same trail of drugs and wild sexual encounters across Europe, only to end up in the same drug rehab in Narconon Sicily. Once detoxed and back to relative health, he later finds Hil in a convent, where she aborted her child and became a Nun. As they hugged from happiness to see each other, Hil says, “Glad to see you Don! I have something for you. I have been protecting it for months.” She pulls up the mattress off her bed and pulls out the golden, Excalibur-card, gleaming in the filtered sunlight, entering from the sheer curtains of an eastern window. A halo appeared over her head, and Hil says, “I have been protecting it for you.” Don takes the Excalibur-card and holds it above his head, reflecting in the light exclaiming, “I have been quenched with the thirst of lost credit! Never leave your homeland without it!”
“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)
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