Societal Promulgate Bedeviled by Mercantilism

Gorged By Indoctrination

We have been victimized over and over again by marketing and advertising and it seems we fall for the same ploy time after time. People have a need for social interaction and is why social media is very popular. But what happens time and time again, is it gets virally contaminated by the greedy of society. If you look at the social mediums on the internet, they are now plagued with corporate commercialism. When this happens, control sets into the once “free forum” that many enjoyed exchanging thoughts, idea, inspirations, creations, or just idle thought. Socializing. People are now complaining about the censorship madness happening on once free forums like Ewe-Tube, Half-Witter, Disgrace-Book  and many more. They actually blame the owners of these mediums which is, yes partially their fault, however, it is not really about them, or the corporation that owns the established societal runnel.  It is really about the advertising dollars fed to these forums by advertisers, corporations, businesses, fortune 500 companies, products and services, franchises, etc.. So much so now, that it is almost 100% controlled by advertising dollars. Thus, if you decide to release a video rant about a game that stunk, or a movie that was excrement, it will be censured. Because it is legal? Not really. Because of the “pecuniary attitude adjustment theorem”. In a capitalistic society, people forget that monetary influence over-rides rights of individuals and freedoms written in the constitution. If you think it is wrong? Just take the multi-billion dollar corporation to court. Yeah, right! Many people have been ruined by indoctrinating slander and you could be the next victim if you do not stay in the light for all to see.  At best, you would most likely grow old, grey and broke before you see satisfaction.

Refuse the Refuse

What is the best way to combat these infiltrations of commercially fueled brain-honing? Turn it off. Leave it alone. Forget about it! Start up your own media forum. So what if no one uses it and it seems stagnate. Eventually people will listen and if you are smart, you will not put advertising on your site, ever. There are so many examples of corporate influenced ruin on the internet that it is becoming a scrap yard of innovation. Want to see an array of corporate dismantled creativity? A bone yard of a once, free information highway? Just go onto the internet where it is about 75 to 80 percent  controlled by advertising and large corporations, owned by the 1 percent of society. You may sit their and say, “the internet is still free. We do not pay for it.” If you say that then I guess you live at home and live off your parents in Wheaton, New Jersy. Because, unless I am mistaken, to get on the internet, you have to go through an ISP corporation and pay a monthly charge for that service (hookup). Thus it is not free by any stretch of the imagination. Anything you do on the internet, you pay for, or someone in your family or circle of friends are paying. That is why the internet is so insulting now. Not only I am paying for the hookup, say I am looking for instructions how to fix my bicycle’s gear assembly, yes I could go on the internet and find the instructions. But it is not for free. First off you are paying to be connected to the internet, so nothing you look at is free. Second, you can bet your grandmother’s hawked wedding silver, that you are going to be intruded upon by some stupid form of advertising, that you again, are paying for. Virtually, there is nothing on the internet not contaminated by advertising swill.

Versions of a Virgin

Why do you think cable and satellite broadcasting is going down the tubes financially? Because, the same techniques that are being forcefully intruded upon the internet, are burying cable and satellite media, being replaced by the once “freedom of the internet”. This preference initially had to do with “less advertising”. Because, at one time, you could actually go on Ewe-Tube, Disgrace-Book or Half-Witter and not be constantly barraged by intrusive advertising ads, pictures and predictive search changes that ultimately lead you to some stupid product or service that you were not remotely looking for. Thus censorship raises it’s ugly head and makes everyone behave and/or run, once again, into the cloakroom, clinging to the teacher’s dress.  There are brave souls on the these social mediums that retaliate. But one would have to recognise if they are upset because of the actual censorship, or the loss of revenue experienced by their channel because of the re-direction of residuals produced by their publications being censored. These mediums, yes make it easy to publish, but also have experts on staff that know the legal loopholes of publishing. Publishing is by no means, “simple”.  That is why it is truly categorised as a “covet level profession”. Although I understand the “draw” to these social media platforms on the internet, I also see the backlash. If you drink from the contaminated well of commercialism, you are bought and paid for by the sponsors that is paying the residuals. Because, they are, in fact, becoming your employer, if you solely depend on their advertising dollars. But, it is not all a loss, really. All you have to do is step back and control your publication if you do not want censorship of the monetary providers. This means less revenue, but more control of your own content. I guess it boils down to what is really important in your life. Is it just a “job” or a passion. I respect the alternative media producers on these platforms because they are taking a large bite from the main con-stream media. Hopefully they do not bend to the “pecuniary attitude adjustment theorem” that we all, one way or another, feel the pinch. The only power the greedy corporations have over anyone is greed itself. So if you do not succumb to financial bullying, you are truly a self-thinker.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

Media Decimation

Freeze Shame

Pictures as believed by ancient aboriginals were “soul traps”. They feared  getting their pictures taken because they did not want to lose their soul. This interpretation is not far off from the actuality of pictures and what they can do as in setting an attitude or belief of what the picture portraits. In most cases, main con-stream media uses pictures and film to ridicule or disgrace the specter. The specter being the one misfortunate enough to be captured in the moment or that series of events. Because now, what ever the picture or film portraits, is a “dead” event of that persons life, taking a piece of their soul. Never to change unless the picture or film is destroyed. Pictures, in ancient times were believed to possess power over people or situations, and some believed that if they “altered” a picture of a particular present event, would change the future or reality of what situation that picture portrayed, thus changing or persecuting the people involved in that “captured moment”. Media is used for power. This power is used for control and brain washing. Could media be used for positive motives? Possibly if it is used for humanitarian and environmental awareness. But in most cases, it is used for greedy self-motivated purposes to make a quick buck. Most aspects of social humiliation can be related to pictures and film. Captured moments of destruction, domination, compromise, sexual deviation, injuries, infidelity, etc.. All of which make money due to the fact that people tend to watch these films or clips more then anything else. The more destructive or disastrous, the more the draw, and more advertisers are apt to make lots of revenue reaching the populist that are viewing these captured atrocities. Is this human nature, or side effects of control. Domination, is how we live day to day as oppressed slaves in a world that is seemingly free, and to find the limits that society sets, one does not have to stray to far from the program.

Lobby Loiterers

People argue that we have the freedom like no other country,  that commercial corporate North America is the best place to exist. This is the biggest con job of them all that the majority believes. The sad truth is the masses in commercial corporate North America are limited like no other country on earth. Why are we controlled and brainwashed that we are free? This is necessary to keep the 1 percent of society rich, opulent and secure. But as you go to your depressing job everyday and can only look forward to 2 weeks off per year, you would feel the oppression every time you walk into that employers door. Our labor laws are non-existent because of the backlogs and the pecuniary lobbying these industries can afford, influencing the law makers, making labor suits and complaints ineffectual to the extent of non-existence. If you have the misfortune of having to claim compensation in commercial corporate North America, you will be black listed for 7 to 15 years, making it virtually impossible to find suitable work, even if you fully recover and do not need accommodations to do the job. If you think that lists like this cannot exist in a free society, then you must be a permanent resident of Wheaton, New Jersey.

Unionised Work-farce

Large companies, corporations, conglomerates, and industries all live with the same general attitudes about human resources.  That we are all expendable and disposable. They have little or no real empathy for their work force, only apathy. They view all employees, even upper management, as foppish serfs to be used until they are useless. Many of these employers have no pensions or real benefits and if they do, they have been cut down and compromised by concessions given back by their workforce out sheer fear of being unemployed. Unions are bought and owned by the companies and in most cases are really not unions at all, just a phoney fore props to attract skilled workers to apply. Once they apply, they have to pay to become a member, anywhere from $400.00 to $1500.00 to be accepted as a full fledged member. Any union delegate or representative are bought and paid for, and are nothing more then corrupt money grabbers, not in the game for a long haul, only to grab what they can and run. Internal delegates that work within the company’s work force are just puppets with no real power of decision making. Are there legitimate unions? Possibly, but to be honest, I never encountered one.

el-Bribe-a

Large corporations view of Green Peace and other organizations that are dedicated to saving the environment as “terrorists”. If you have ever sat in one of these corporate internal meetings of an environment offending company lecturing about Green Peace or other environmentalists, you would see the indoctrination first hand.   They feel these groups should be persecuted for attacking large companies that pollute and compromise the environment. Large corporations think, because they are rich, they live above the law. Large corporations enjoy this treatment by our government and our law enforcement agencies because of the corporation’s lobbying and pecuniary attitude adjusting.  And in the rare occurrence that someone with integrity slips by the decorous education filter and makes it into a position of authority and calls these corporation’s double dealt hands, the corporation will either bribe them or destroy them. There are many victims of “integrity” and the most prevalent are the people that get snared in this moral turpitude of places like Hollywood and/or the entertainment industry. These conflicts arise and are most visible on alternative media hubs, but seem to get buried quickly or so called “de-bunked”, a term used by the alternative media community when a sceptic or more commonly called, “gatekeeper”, attempts to destroy the validity of the alternative news story. Alternative, referring to, in this case, a news source other then the main con-stream media. If the story represents too much relevance (proof) to the accusations made by the accuser, that accuser is summarily socially and credibly destroyed. “Media Decimation”.  Of course, the only people that would believe Media Decimation are the truly proselytized.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

3-60’s Beatniks In Granny Boots

Spring-Summer Episode 2: Psychedelic Retro-Torture

Back in the original interrogation room, Mark was still interrogating Sara. “By the way, where is my van anyway?” asked Sara trying to relax in the stiff boardroom like steel chairs. “Don’t worry Sara, your van is secured in our compound.” answered Mark, looking through the compiled information in Sara’s file. “You know, I though being interrogated by you would of been somewhat more fun, I mean, I would think you would of taken certain liberties, like seducing me, or something. You are starting to disappoint me Mark.” said Sara, mustering up all of the vivaciousness she could. “Please Sara, we need to be serious about this. You were caught trespassing on the Whitehouse property. We are trying to establish motivation. You had no weapons, or explosives. So the intent of your invasion is in question. Why were you there?” asked Mark remaining serious. “On that note, I think I need a lawyer. This is getting far too serious. There was no intent or invasion. And I would like my Miranda rights. Right now.” demanded Sara in a calm, but serious tone. “Look Sara, you are not under arrest. There is no need for a lawyer at this point. We can detain you legally for 24 hrs before charging you with anything. So I suggest you should cooperate. Why were you there?” asked Mark not being derailed from his line of questioning. “Hey Mark, you have no reason at all to think we have any motivation to do anything. The reason for us being there really has nothing to do with the Whitehouse. Let just say it was more of a “trip” then a destination.” explained Sara playing the game. “Ok, lets try some obvious stuff, like your driver’s licence. It says here you were born in 1949. The licence looks like a replica of licences that were issued in the late 60’s. And your clothing suggests you are portraying a hippie of that era. Everything seems authentic to that era, only it would not be possible. Therefore you are masquerading as an old hippie to make some sort of political statement? Or just an elaborate prank? asked Mark getting a bit impatient. “Yes Mark, that is when I was born. And I am not old as you put it, I am 20 years old and ready to be wooed. Not for the boredom you are feeding me. I guess you are hooked on that corn-fed, bare foot swamp runner.” said Sara trying to control the conversation. “This would mean you are 67 years old, Sara. You do not appear to be 67 years of age to me. Besides, even if this licence was authentic, it would mean it is expired. So you could be arrested for that alone. Not to mention the plates of your vehicle as well being expired, reflecting 1969.” continued Mark in a stern tone, not wavering. “Oh my, you have me on traffic violations? Trespassing? Impersonating a hippie while driving a flower powered VW van? What a career maker! That should get you promoted to, lets see, a traffic constable in Whitehorse, Yukon Territories? Too bad. That would mean instead of the Inbred queen, you would have to hook up with Kirima, Princess of the Igloo, because it would be far too cold for Miss Genetic Deficiency to handle.” said Sara letting Mark have it with both barrels. Mark just examined Sara, but had to use all his strength not to retaliate to Sara’s razor sharp comments. “You should attempt to be more politically correct with your responses Sara.” said Mark taking his file, getting up and exiting the interrogation room. “Politically Correct? What a comeback Mark!” yelled Sara, throwing a people magazine featuring Hilary Clinton at Mark, only hitting the closing steel white door.

In Mary’s interrogation room, Rhonda was scratching her head, reading the file. Looking again at Mary’s ID again, she glanced over at Mary, and then back at Mary’s ID. Mary, topped her chair back and plopped her feet on the table, with her legs apart, curling up her maxi skirt above her knees, leaving nothing to the imagination, exposing her flaming red panties. Rhonda looked at her position and then at Mary’s eyes. “That is not very lady like Mary. Could you please put your feet down?” commanded Rhonda becoming uncomfortable. “Mary reluctantly but innocently brought her feet down to the floor, keeping her maxi skirt up above her knees. “Are we finished here? I am a bit tired.” complained Mary as she tapped the table to a rhythm playing in her mind. “Mary, according to your identification, you were born in 1950?  How do explain this?” asked Rhonda very curiously. “What? don’t I look 19? My friends think I look older with my big, ah, large breasts. But I was born 19 years ago. So what is to explain?” said Mary not understanding the question. “Do you know what year it is Mary?” asked Rhonda examining the contents of Mary’s purse. “I know that one, it is 1969, right?” said Mary impervious to the implications. Rhonda stared at Mary, then back at her purse contents. You know, the makeup in your purse has not been available for a very long time. I have not seen a purse like this since I was at my grandmother’s house, looking through her stuff in her attic.” said Rhonda trying to break a clean answer out of Mary. Mary, who was still tapping, started humming an old Jefferson Airplane tune, ignoring Rhonda’s comments. “Mary!, Mary! Pay attention please! Do you know that it is 2017? According to your ID, you are 66 years old? You are not 66 years old! So where did you get this stuff from to appear you are a 60’s beatnik?” asked Rhonda in a commanding tone. “2017? I thought it was 2016? Oh well, I guess we skipped up a year. That makes our doll replicas a year old already. My, does time fly, literally!” said Mary as she started to giggle. “What do you mean by “skipped up a year? You mentioned 2016? What is the significance of 2016 in relation to now? You stated that you thought it was 1969?” asked Rhonda not comprehending Mary. “Space time continual, or at least that is how Sara explains it. It seems we are window-pane time travellers. We take a LSD pill, and end up God knows where! In this case, on the Whitehouse lawn.” said Mary revealing the truth known to her as she continued giggling.

Patti, who was in the smoking lounge having a smoke, finished the cigarette, butted it out, then left the lounge to go back to the interrogation room where Marsha was still waiting. Marsha, who was now in front of the large 2 way mirror, was attempting to fix her face without makeup, getting her vanity fix. “Did you bring my makeup?” asked Marsha still looking in the mirror. “Come back to the table and sit Marsha.” commanded Patti, as she sat down to reopen the file. “Before I give you your purse, I still have more questions.” said Patti as Marsha returned to the table, sitting down, straightening out her clothes. “You mentioned a tornado. How does a tornado lift you from New York to Washington DC? Are you and your friends on drugs? Where did you get the drugs from?” asked Patti attempting to talk on Marsha’s level. “Timothy Geary, some guy Sara knows who gave her a pill bottle full of these thin paper pills and we each took one and that is how we flew on that tornado thingy, but don’t ask me how because Tim explained to Sara what they were and how they worked and somehow the bottle ended up in my clothes at the Howard Johnson Hotel in LA.” explained Marsha in a clued out mannerism that was irritating to Patti. “Please Marsha, do you really think you flew on a tornado? Quit acting like that because no one on earth can be that stupid!” said Patti now very frustrated. “Do you want me to explain it again Patti? I don’t think I left anything out.” said Marsha trying to look astute. “No, please don’t. How old do you think you are? According to you ID, you are 66 years old. How can this be possible? When were you born?” asked Patti, trying to keep on track with the investigation. “I was born in 1950, duh! Like is says on my ID? May be Sara was right. You can’t read.” said Marsha snickering. Patti’s fist smashed on the table, as she got up in fury. She then unsnapped her weapon, in intent to draw, but composed herself and re-snapped the weapon in her holster and stood there glaring at Marsha. “My, you reminded me of Sara just now, only she mostly comes back with a witty remark after I tease her about her sunken treasure chest.” said Marsha looking at Patti, then glancing at Patti’s non-endowed mammalian region. Patti who was already set to  execute Marsha, calmed herself and collected her file. “I think we covered enough for one day. I will be back soon.” said Patti gritting her teeth, then closing the door, leaving Marsha’s purse behind. Marsha quickly grabbed her purse, opened it, and pulled out her makeup kit, sat down in front of the mirror and revamped her vanity session.

To be continued in a possible death-resurrected continual thingy…

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

Circumvolution of the Antiquated Opulent Artists on Gyration-Cathedra to Perform

Stale Freedom

To be honest, there are many opulent artists that are not old enough for wheelchairs and that being said, it is the concept of over-usability that I am attacking. We see so many stories about the latest and greatest pop stars, rock stars, metal stars, country stars, rap stars, genre after genre, chart after chart, label after label. It is really rampantly out control, and better said, out of grasp of the layman to ever achieve on a fair basis. Like puppets, these artists seemingly come out of the woodwork and perform to the strings being pulled by the label, owners, promoters, publishers, etc.. And it is all to brainwash anyone stupid enough to buy their phoney intellectual art. Old bands, too many to mention, that made their mark and should be retired, are rolled out (on wheelchairs) on queue to quench the thirst for soulful music in a time when it was plentiful and “allowed” by the A&R of whatever label that wanted to capitalise on whatever artist that seemed, or was, hot at the time, taking advantage of the tail end of the freedom movement of the sixties, only to be “boxed in vinyl” for the seventies and early eighties.  Canned Freedom. Open it when you feel oppressed and this will cure, for a short period. Many bands of that era promoted freedom in their lyrics and feel of their music. Music is just a reflection of the times that are experienced. That is why since the late eighties on up to now, the music is a reflection of an oppressed society, thus although amusing, just does not quench the total thirst for real, raw, freedom inspired music. Are artists less talented then before? Not by a long shot. Just dominated and controlled by pecuniary strings of attitude adjustment, forced to adjust their intellectual art into intellectual madness and distain.

Intellectual Art Buyers, Beware

However, in a not so free society, one cannot expect much more then that. Control. There are many bands and artist out there in the wings. But that is the wealth of the pool, and when you are desperate enough, you will dance to the A&R’s tune of slavery. My advise to bands and artists is this: play from venue to venue and do not do it for free, and forget the illusive record contract of the so called “big labels”. The more bands out there that will travel and play in different venues will awaken the scene away from piped in garbage music enforced by the so called charts that now, really have no basis, reason or rhyme. Not that they ever did. But if a person prefers the ladder, then they are far beyond brainwashed. They are hopeless and conduits of commercialism. But what about Lady Gag-me or Katy Ferry, Madowner? They are major stars that have been dominated by the pecuniary strings of attitude adjustments, or more commonly preferred it seems, Monarch (MK, MK-Ultra) programming. Bottom line is brainwashing exists and is used on the populist on a minute to minute basis thanks to mass media and advertising. If you do not see any form of advertising where you are right now, you are most likely in the middle of nowhere getting eaten alive by mosquitos and gnats, thinking of course that you should of brought some “Off”. The biggest irritation about entertainment now is the  production’s need to control the outcome of your attitude after you watch, listen or read the production whether it is a movie, TV series, special, concert, video, music, book, etc.. As if they have been enforced to an agenda to manipulate your mind with commercial seepage, that will undoubtedly contaminate your thoughts after for a long subliminal period of time, if not for a lifetime.

Rise of the Monarch

The only way to fight this type of infiltration is to recognise the pollution so you can trash it from your mind. Once this happens, your mind will automatically reject all that is impure and free your brain cells. Victims of Monarch (MK, MK-Ultra) programming have so called meltdowns for this very reason because ultimately, their minds (brains) know the difference and reject it eventually. They appear to do strange things, but if they were left alone, would most likely totally shed this sewage spew and have a chance to become normal. People that charge money to help people to become “normal” after brainwashing are just brainwashers themselves with no real motivation to help people that are brainwashed other then to take the victims money. Why pay someone to do what your brain will do normally if you were just left alone in a safe place to work it out. I actually feel bad for these opulent artists because they are far more controlled then you or I. That brings me to the aged opulent artists wheeled out on queue when things seem to fall apart, where the charts and sales are concerned, and that bottom line is just not happening. Wheel them out. Let them give everyone a dose of canned soul to further pacify us to continue on and spend some money to feed the commercially fueled nightmare of “Control”.

Beyond of the Outer Age Limits

Everyone ages and for that are benefits and drawbacks. But when you see opulent entertainers that are old enough to be a 50 year old’s father touring like there is no end, you have to wonder why. Is it because they have no money? May be. They could of wasted it during their youthful famed years. But that would make them prime candidates for control and would make perfect sense why they are still raking in the cash with their overused epitomes of intellectual creep-age.  But to each his own and if they want to dominate the music industry until death, go ahead. It is just not very inspiring for young bands or anyone really, waiting in the wings that are breaking from the sheer numbers, molting it’s feathers. Capitalism is the inspiration for this type of adornment and clinging. Keep it rolling until it is ground into the earth and not useful anymore. When it is commercially useless, develop a new brainwashing campaign to fool the masses.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

Yucky Hily and Wacky Donny

Episode 5: Plastered In Paris, can be therapeutically calming.

Sitting in a seedy bar in downtown Paris, Hily was dressed in a college graduate robe and mortarboard (hat) smoking a cigarette and drinking vodka and tonic. Her mascara was thick and running slightly at the corner of her both eyes, with her blush over-applied, camouflaging here excessive pancake makeup that hid her wrinkles and most recently added worry lines  from the stress induced from shock therapy that accompanied her frequent visits to the mental hospital after the election. One cigarette after another she lit and choked down, following large gulps of vodka and tonic. A young man was sitting at the bar who was frequently looking at Hily between sips of his beer. Hily, although engulfed in her gulps of vodka and cigarettes, noticed the young man looking at her. “Why don’t you take a picture sweetie? It could last longer.” said Hily taking another drag from her smoke. “I do apologise, but you do resemble that woman that was on the TV frequently not so long ago. I was intrigued.” said the young Frenchman with an accent. “Well, don’t be shy, come over and sit with me and we can chat, honey.” said Hily as she pushed a chair out with her black high heeled boot, inviting the young Frenchman to her table. “Thank you madam.” said the young Frenchman as he grabbed his beer and walked to sit down beside Hily at her table. “Call me Hily, handsome!” said Hily in a sexy tone, sensuously taking another drag from her smoke.  The young Frenchman sat down and smiled, as he placed his beer on the table. “So what is your name baby?” asked Hily trying to appear sexy. “Call me Pierre, Hily. I am from this area and would love to show you around. You seem to be alone. Is that intentional?” asked Pierre eyeing Hily up and down. “I am a big girl Pierre, don’t worry about me. I am just taking a break from my life right now and need some action. Do you have any thing stronger then this turpentine I have been drinking?” said Hily as she finished the last gulp of her drink. “That could be arranged, but I would need something in exchange, like money or, well something in equivalence perhaps?” said Pierre coveting Hily’s older but enticing form. “Oh Pierre, what would I have to do? As if I did not know!” said Hily sarcastically. “Well, for one session with you, a man would pay, perhaps, 800 euros? I could get you at least 4 to five sessions each evening. The night is young. Perhaps 3 this evening?” said Pierre now rubbing Hily’s plump but curvy thigh. “Don’t I get a session with you first? You do not want to test the goods Pierre?” said Hily winking allowing Pierre’s advances and groping. “There will be plenty of time for that Hily. I will give some morphine when we get to the room I can arrange for you. You just have to wait there and I will bring the clients to you. Is it an arrangement?” said Pierre in his well rehearsed tone and manner. “Like I am the whore and you are the pimp, right?” said Hily being thoroughly street wise from Billy’s and Donny’s influences in her life. “I prefer to call myself a “procurer of fine women”. I only deal with classy femmes” said Pierre, now with his hand up Hily’s college robe, slithering around here inner thighs and vaginal area. “Ok, Pierre, I will do it, but I better see the smack first, or I walk. Got it?” said Hily with authority. “Good, good, Hily, I will show you to your room. You can order anything from there using the phone. ” said Pierre now standing up helping Hily from her seat. They both walked out of the small bar arm in arm, with Pierre’s hand on Hily’s buttocks.

Meanwhile, back in the United States, in the Whitehouse, Donny was sitting at the head of the strategic boardroom table, with his pertinent Whitehouse staff sitting around the table. “Mr. President, we really must get into the budget for the proposed wall on the Mexican border.” said Donny’s Chief of staff. “I told you all before, I said mall, not wall. It is not my fault that my double can’t read. A mall would of brought commerce from both sides, as well being a major tourist attraction, and girl magnet. We all know how much money women are responsible for spending while shopping. We could make fortune and staff it up with all Mexican labour and under pay them legally. That way they would have no reason to illegally cross the border. They can all work at the border.” said Donny fidgeting with his pen, drawing breasts on his note pad. “But that is not even feasible financially. We can barely afford to build the wall, let alone a mall that would stretch across the vast area of the Mexican/US border? Are you serious? You said wall not mall.” said the Vice President. “Hey Mikey, step back to your place bozo. I am in control.  You think I would want to build a fascist wall? What, are we Communists now? Is Fidel at this meeting? Come on people. If you were on my TV program “The Apprentice” you would be all fired. Now, lets get to work on the mall. not wall! And that is an executive order!” said Donny storming out of the boardroom as his entire staff sat there in confusion.

A bit later in the Whitehouse master bedroom, Mel was dressing and applying makeup. Donny was laying on the bed all wired up after taking a hit, something he was trying to hide from Mel. “Come on Donny, sober up. I really do not want to have to go to another theater with your stupid double. Can you get ready to go at least? said Mel applying some eyeliner at her vanity. “Why can’t we go to see a concert? Bruce Springsteen is in town. Lets go have some fun and party!” said Donny flicking through the channels on the TV with the remote. “Grow up Donny. We are both above all that right now. You are the President and I am the First Lady. We cannot go to a rock concert. Are you kidding? We could see a classical concert. There is one playing. Want to go?” asked Mel in a snobbish tone. “Not really. Hey, why not we fool around tonight, right here and order a pizza? We can get hot and heavy baby!” said Donny looking with hope and enthusiasm while coveting Mel’s impeccable female silhouette. “Not tonight dear, I have my period.” said Mel in an untruthful tone. “I will be right back honey. I am going for some smokes.” said Donny jumping off the bed and quickly leaving the room, closing the door. “Don’t you dare Donny you jerk! Not again!” said Mel in a Slavic accent she was camouflaging but sneaks out every once in a while when she gets mad. Not getting a response, she dialed her cell phone. “Yes, please get Donny’s double on alert. He may have to escort me to the theater tonight. Yes, thank you.” said Mel speaking into her cell phone, admiring her face in the vanity.

Knowing the secret tunnels well under the Whitehouse, Donny had no problem coming and going without being noticed. He got to a nearby street and flagged a Taxi down. “Take me to your nearest bar.” said Donny dialing his cell phone. “Hey Just! you wanna pick me up in your private Jet? Can you get away from ball and chain?  Lets party dude. I will wait for you at the international airport. Cool dude. And bring some tight ass Canadian girls with you! Alright! See you soon!” said Donny as his mood picked up now having someone to party with. “Drive to the airport instead Haboob!” said Donny lighting a smoke. “Yes sir, you give big tip, yes” said Haboob. “Of course! who do you think I am, George Jr? said Donny chuckling. “No sir, but he was very cheap, yes, very cheap.” said Haboob changing his route to go to the airport.

To be continued. Or censored. Which ever comes first.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

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