We Are in The Armpit of the Gangrenous Syphilitic Monster

Money changers, Judas, the perversion of lending (sic) and renting (sic) Two of Five

It’s a dangerous sign – the consumer crank sold from birth to grave, tied to the perverted narrations of elites and college grads and these under bites we call the creative class. Californians and Big Apple sucks, and for the majority of the tools of lobotomizing and propaganda coming from these distorted humans on Broadway, in Hollywood, in those fake academic circles, the movies and fluff and sickness of this mob crack orgy, well, here we are, sold a bill of goods called weekend leisure and fractured thinking. These film schools and directors from the upper class of nepotism incorporated, the rot that comes to the silver screen or LED square, it’s one of the reasons for children lost in confusion, hate, aggression, convoluted allegiance to the corporation, searching for the shiny coins at the bottom of the cesspool of American life.

Stomaching the James Bond movie, this new perversion – Spectre – well, emblematic of the warped vision of the elites in UK land, and the credits roll and shine the light on the all powerful minority of minorities – sliver of humanity flash-pointed in the cauldron of Zionism, the money changers, the same old sex-guns-racism that has been the cornerstone of the Ian Flemming droll that is now so “creamed after” by both sexes – this washed out little man playing double oh seven represents the celluloid of insanity.

The lines are cardboard but so un-creatively hip, according to the coders and the giants running the guns of a truly murderous film industry.

A story told a million times with variations on the theme, but always a narrative that puts whites and Christian-Jews in the light of over-lording the planet with insane ideas, obscene story lines, incredibly racist scenes.

That monster is the armpit we have all nose-dived into, our fear of outside the lines coloring, the fear of telling these assholes and failures as men, that the crap fed to the young and the un-anchored macho-in- their-minds consumer boys and girls, it’s as radioactive as Chernobyl.

Stories of white trash, crackers, heaving blacks, slinking Latinos, corrupt Asians, a landscape of money and spies and silly shit, anything you can see from the shadow of their Brad Pitt castles, these weak of spine George Clooney types.

They take us to the depths of their molding id’s and their schizophrenic super-egos. Consciousness limited to the rolls in the banks, their inbred sons and daughters, the McDonaldization and Professional Sports-zation of the culture, the thinking patterns, what’s keeping their attention span near Ronald Reagan’s, and it’s always John Wayne whether it is the sexually depraved John Malkovich, whether it’s all those blondes and skinny things called actresses.

Size 14 is the average size-shape-countenance of America’s 30 something female class, and children in junior high school are huffing and puffing, full of the plastics and pharmaceuticals and vaccines and high fructose supercharged multiple dyes synthetics consumed with the guidance of the elite, the marketing devils, those cereal box generators, those pigs of profit.

How is it that we live in that armpit, unconcerned, coddled by the consumerism of EVERYTHING – school, thinking, higher education, conversations, thoughts, dreams, history, and futures.

It’s all there with that Aryan thing called Bond, the distaste for people of color, those poor nations, this white man’s sexist world that is vaunted by more women in America than men, and you can count on that bank job by Johnny Depp to create another million swoons.

The music, oh so popular music, and the blending of everything with the Commercial, the Super Bowl fun of consuming sick and dumb commercials, and we slave for the bills, the satellite dishes, the endless apps on the atomic smart phones, and we lust after those Nazi cars on the road with the sort of Hollywood male and female parading their disposable income while beggars stand at corners asking brother and sister can you spare a thought?

If this consumption of the Zionists’ and elitists’ bowel movements we call media continues and if this mass incarceration of the soul of communities regenerates bigger each day, if this surgical excising of soul and inward thinking grows in frequency, if we sit and watch the lies of these millionaires carved into the stupidity of their narratives and invented horror and racist, sexist, ageist, nationalist shit, then we are in their show, the vast brain fucked masses who watch more and more of the narratives devolve into brainless but violent and raping crap, where oh where will the poets and philosophers and doers go?

I’ve got eight year old foster twins and a 19 year old daughter, and they are beautiful, and luckily my daughter has flown over the morass, more or less, that shit-strewn field of no dreams, of the empty souls that populate her world, her schools, her public spaces. The boys, foster kids, have so many influences outside anything their foster mother and father might impress upon them. They are stuck in the silliness and compliant world of K12 school, and all those games and distractions from reading real stuff, all the inane children’s books and silliness of the children’s book world. Big splashy illustrations, big simpleton ideas, dumb-downing and cutesy stuff.

I am in their world, but not present in the fluff and failures of literature and thinking, and it’s those elites, monsters who go to Ivy-league shit, those elite schools in Southern Cal, all those private schools their sick parents can afford to sign them up to, they learn the tools of corruption, and live in the belly of the Gangrenous Monster eating our children alive, eating minds, eating souls and eating.

It’s a pig-pen of thinkers, social skills on the trash heap, no conflict resolution skills, family values sucked into the grease trap of our collective action and inaction.

We have a monster running the numbers, breaking the backs, creating the destinies of poverty and addictions, pathologies, special ed, disabilities, crippling inaction, the rheumatism of the things that even stick in the brain.

This monster is the collective product of 2,000 years of muscling, the ancients, robed, heads covered in cloth, the wailing wall and unleavened magic of contracts and patents pending.

We watch these people, these singers and broadcasters, and we try to separate from the inanity of billions stolen from society, the billions ripped from our own existence, and it’s like a daily cup of mind stealing liquids, conjured up by these leaders who have all the answers for all the pain they dole out, evenly to the vast rest of us frozen like ostriches in the sand.

• Part One, We Are Under the Foot of the Gangrenous Monster!

Paul Kirk Haeder has been a journalist since 1977. He's covered police, environment, planning and zoning, county and city politics, as well as working in true small town/community journalism situations in Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Mexico and beyond. He's been a part-time faculty since 1983, and as such has worked in prisons, gang-influenced programs, universities, colleges, alternative high schools, language schools, as a private contractor-writing instructor for US military in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Washington. His book, Reimagining Sanity: Voices Beyond the Echo Chamber (2016), looks at 10 years of his writing at Dissident Voice. Read his autobiography, weekly chapter installments, at LA Progressive. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.