Endless Fables of Regurgitated Prosperity, Ho Ho, you Ho Yo

In December, You are Incredible. In January You will be In-credit-able

Economists for the 1 percenters of the population toil over how to make the system look fair amongst the masses, the backbone of any greed induced economy. This time of the year is extremely special because the 1 percenters want to convey that they really give a hokum’s ass about anyone  other then their own cess spawned families and relatives. So, in a not so perfect illusionary world, everyone who works gets their fair share of the spoils and prosperity. And to show this appreciation from getting your fair share, you must do the “Fop Dance of Consumer Consumption”. So, as you play favorite Country, Rock, Pop, Rap or R&B CD or stream of that famous, rich, opulent rebel artist, playing or singing their brainwashing tunes, wearing multi gold chains and rings, bought by you, who were stupid enough to buy their unoriginal aneurism inducing intellectual art, you can spend all your money in all the commercial corporate establishments with confidence that you are being financially sodomized. How popular is sodomy? Just do a internet search and find out. By the time you are into the 3rd week of December, most people and families see that they are financially broke. What do they do now? Don’t worry. Just pull out that credit card and start charging, if you haven’t already done so. And for those that have already maxed out their credit, the 1 percenters and banking institutions will take care of you. With their money stores! The 1 percenters have faith in their slaves. That is why they will let you borrow on your next payday! So instead of living paycheck to paycheck, you can live from next paycheck to next paycheck. Or next, next pay check to next, next paycheck. There is really no limit to the downslide of credit. That is, until you lose your job. Once that happens, then you will be financially exhausted and in-credit-able.

You May be the Next Billionaire on “The Fantasy is Right!”

I have learned in this world that to be fair, one must assess what one has in order to be fair with someone else. If I had $10.00 and you had $0.00, would it not be fair to give you $5.00? Of course it would. Would I do such a thing? To be honest, I have no idea. But I think that is because we are valuing paper and not the actual commodity. If I had a plate of food, and you were hungry, I would gladly give you my plate. But brainwashing tells us subliminally, that we cannot trust anyone. So if you say you are hungry and need $5.00 for food, The first thing that enters most programmed minds is that the person is soliciting money from you, so do not give him any. He does not really need any money. If he does, let him find a job. Is that fair to think on those terms? Not for a second. But we all do, not by nature, but by distrust imposed on us by the 1 percenter’s commercial brain honing. They want you to think like they do. How else can they live with the fact that they have billions of dollars, gold and almost every other so called precious commodity and not share while nations of people starve to death. They can live with it because we allow them to live with it, hoping we will be a billionaires some day, not! If anyone could fathom how much space you would need for 1 billion dollars, it would exceed most small apartments in space. How much space would the bank need for your money? A small coffee can most likely would suffice.

Molding Golden Calves of Wanton

It is opulence that defeats us. What real power does the 1 percent of the population have on the community? Nothing. Can they eat money? Gold? Diamonds? What real practical use do these items have anyway? Nothing, other then the measure of wealth. Who is giving them the power to measure wealth with these inanimate objects and paper? We are. And we continue to allow them to control us in the hopes that we can someday be wealthy. It is a pipe dream. It is a distorted illusion of success. Do you really think that everyone on the planet can be a billionaire? Even a millionaire? Of course not. So why are we idolizing these greedy people and their greed inducing media of brain control? We as a community can have it all and be happy. We as a community can grow are own food and livestock. We as the community can build our own houses and barns. We as a community can blacksmith our own tools. We as a community can make our own generators. We as a community can pulp our own paper or make our own lumber. We as a community can make our own clothes. We can survive without opulence. And if we find a lump of gold, we can melt it down and use as a conductor. Or use it for a doorstop. If we find a diamond, it could be used as a frequency controller or oscillator or we could see how many times it would skip across the lake. These things, other then being shiny, are just things of opulence. Not worthy of any community’s worship. If any community knew what power they really have, the 1 percenters would attempt to crush that community with some sort of police action and/or label it as a extremist cult or commune justifying intervention by the FBI or CIA. Come on, you did not think that they knew that this may happen? They have nightmares about it every night. That is why they have such organizations like the FBI, CIA, NSA, RCMP…etc.

No Diamonds in the Manger

You can’t fool a government/establishment founded upon insurgency. Or at least a government’s puppeteers who are the 1 percent of society. No hope? Not by a longshot. We as a community have the right to insurgency. It says so in the constitution of USA. But it really does not have to say so in any constitution. For a community to take action in order survive is the right of any community and every person in that community. Survival is an instinct. Cannot be bred out of us or abolished as a way of thinking. It is a natural response to evasiveness. And it is legal to survive. If anyone knows of any laws that prevent survival of a person, group or community, please enlighten me.  But to rebel in an open evasive action is outworn and antiqued. It is our thoughts, not our actions that rebel successfully. Because eventually, it will be taught to our offspring that opulence is truly our enemy and the destructor of the independent community. Merry Christmas, the true meaning of the birth of Christ.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2016

Yucky Hily and Wacky Donny

Episode 4: I won the Election? Are you still my Bitch? Honey?

Still holed up in the Seedy Motor Inn, Donny and Trixie were laying half dressed on the left most bed, closest to the bathroom, after finishing another hit. A trail of used and broken fits were all over the floor, leading everywhere, in multi logarithmic paths, in the messy, unmaintained room. Outside, the maid was knocking loudly. “We have to get into this room to clean. It has not been cleaned for weeks. We need to clean.” said the woman with a Spanish accent pounding harder. After a few minutes, the pounding stopped and the maid pushed her cart to the next room, opened the door and went in to clean. “You know Trixie, you are not much of a house keeper.” slurred Donny from being totally inebriated from his close to diminished stash. Donny and Trixie just continued to lay there, bursting out in laughter. “You are going to have to go to work tonight Trixie. We need some money baby.” continued Donny laying there debauched and totally spaced.  On the small cathode ray tube TV set, images of Donny’s double in the news media flashed away with the volume of the set very low. Donny’s cell phone , on the night stand, displayed 398 missed calls and 321 pending messages. As Trixie continued to lay there on the bed with her black bra pulled down, exposing her large silicone  enhanced breasts, and black panties, Donny got up, grabbed his stash and went into the bathroom, starting the shower as he closed the door. “Honey, how come you just like oral sex? You haven’t even touched my pu….” said Trixie being interrupted from a loud pounding on the door.

Trixie, being startled, sat up quickly and pulled up her bra and grabbed her top, now standing up. “Go away! We will put the sign on the door when we need the room cleaned! Go away!” said Trixie in a trashy Hollywood styled accent, putting on her trashy, tight black top that barely squeezed over her oversized silicon enhanced breasts. “Pizza! You ordered a pizza, pepperoni and anchovies.” said the voice outside the door that sounded muffled and purposely disguised.  “Pizza? Did you order a pizza Donny?” yelled Trixie, not getting no response from Donny in the shower. Seeing some money on the dresser, she grabbed it and stuffed it into her over-stretched black bra and went towards the door. Opening the door with the chain lock still on she seen a person standing with a baseball cap and red shirt holding a pizza box. “Hold on boy.” said Trixie as she closed the door to release the chain lock, then opening the door. Suddenly, with a rage, the pizza carrier lunged forward and grabbed Trixie by her bleach blond hair, bent her down and kneed her hard in the diaphragm area of the stomach. Trixie immediately fell backward onto the fit covered floor, choking and gasping for breath. The pizza carrier slammed the door shut and kicked Trixie one more time, square in her face, causing her nose to bleed porously. Trixie still gasping for air held on to her nose, now choking and gasping on blood and the limited air intake caused by the swift knee into her hard-bodied gut. “The pizza carrier, removed the baseball cap, releasing semi-long blond hair, revealing that it was Hily. “Who the hell are you, you sleazy bimbo?” shrieked Hily as she kicked Trixie in the stomach again. Hily was dressed in odd cloths, that appeared to be robbed from a real pizza carrier, still having the mental hospital bracelet on her wrist. The cap’s logo laying on the floor read “Hugio’s Pizza Pie”.

The bathroom door opened and Donny came out dressed in a towel around his waist and another wrapped around his head. He noticed Hily standing over Trixie who was groaning and moaning in pain. “Hey honey, careful, she has to work tonight. We are out of money.” said Donny helping Trixie up. “Go on and clean up baby.” said Donny leading Trixie to the washroom door. Trixie once in the washroom, slammed the door. “So I see you have a new whore to play with. I thought we had an understanding. You leave me and then hole up with this sleaze bag? When you could of come and got me? Leaving me to rot in a mental institution?” yelled Hily very upset and distraught, not to mention being doped on several Demerol pills and other tranquilizers. “You know you are my number one baby!” I had no idea where you were. I was told if I came back to your campaign headquarters, they would have me arrested. So I got the hell out of there. You could of called me baby.” said Donny lying through his teeth. “So you pick up the first trollop you see and bring her here? The first place we went together? You didn’t think I would find you, slime bag?” said Hily severely pissed off. “Baby! Please forgive me? I will make it up to you! I will get another stash and we can return to my apartment in Rome. It will be like old times babe.” said Donny trying to calm Hily. “No way! We had an agreement! Who ever won the election would allow the other access to the corridor of power. You won so you owe me big time. Especially after this drugged out sexual fiasco. I have pictures of that tramp and the condition of this hell hole and you in that pathetic towel. All on my phone. So you better honor your agreement or CNN will get all of them!” said Hily waving her phone with the picture thumbnails. “Please baby! I will do anything you ask. I will honor my part of the bargain. I will get you a prime position in Washington.” said Donny acting desperate. “And don’t think Mel would not get copies of these pictures! That way she will know exactly what kind of sexist pig chauvinist you really are! The first thing you are going to do is unload that tart in the bathroom! Then you are going to get me out of that funny farm for good!” warned Hily still waving her phone with the pics. “Yes baby, anything baby! I will be good baby!” said Donny as he finished dressing and putting his stash and other personal effects in his bag. “Lets go then!” commanded Hily opening the door. “Yes ma’am!” said Donny somberly as he followed Hily out the door, towards his car where they both got in and drove off out of the motor inn’s parking lot. Minutes later, several cop cars pulled into the motor inn’s parking lot. They all got out and several of the police stood poised pointing their weapons. Four police officers with bullet proof vests and guns went strategically towards the door.  One of the police tested the door and seen it was ajar, kicked it opened, and the four police ran into the room yelling, “Freeze!” Trixie who was mostly dressed minus her tight black top, raised her arms up holding her top with her left hand. Two of the cops rushed over to Trixie, subdued her, handcuffed her then dragged her out of the room kicking and screaming. “Get your hands off me you slimy pigs!” shrieked Trixie as the two police opened the rear door of their cruiser and pushed her into the backseat, closing the door swiftly. With the cop car that contained Trixie in the backseat leading the way, the rest of the cop cars followed with full lights and sirens a blazing.

To be continued? I hope not…

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2016