Blogs Soma

I think that blogs are a significant waste of time which of course is what attracts me to them. I like mindless things. Things that can swallow up my time; keep me off the streets. I need mindless activity, otherwise im capable of all kinds of shocking behaviors. Too much time, at least for me is dangerous. I need a giant rodent wheel to keep me busy.

It's been awhile

Well, I have moved...I still live in Chicago but I have upgraded finally. Now I have a shower that really works and a girl friend that seems to work as well. I am lucky; at least today. Tommarow is always another story. Nevermind all this though. The thing is I am trying to live by a rule that I have yet to fully create. I need to develop a set of standards from which to make all my decisions. I need a hal 9000 to guide me.

Long Lost Nobody

Ok so I'm back...Back to scream from the coldest cave, in the deepest depths of the blackest ocean. So, this week I came to realize that exploitation is alive and well and hiding in the front pockets of complex legal grids. Retail Corporations are the new company stores on steroids. Billions and billions of dollars are made in these big box stores that are nothing more than a modern equivalent of the ancient bazaar. The only difference is you cannot buy three pounds of hashish, a woman, and a monkey on a leash. What you can get however is an endless supply of crap that you really don't need and cant figure out why you bought it the moment you take it home. Do we really need a George Foreman Grill? Is another Gut Buster really going to make the difference? Is it at all possible to live without a homemade ice-cream maker...I submit that it is not. No, we need these...We must buy.

In America we don't spend out of material need anymore. We don't even spend out of material desire. No its entirely different. We spend in a mad frenzy to keep from having to face the boredom of our lives. We live the day in day out pain of the day in day out push to the grave, and if we stop buying we will have to have full blown recognition and that would be truly out of the box. Of course this lowly state of existence is recognized by the Retail Corporate Satanists. They foster it by keeping us primed through guerrilla advertising tactics, and constant bombardment with the new and stylish trends that are churned out with mechanized speed. Trends are shot from an electronic cannon in New York City directly into our squash rot brains where it bounces around for awhile. Once it looses momentum all it takes is another blast and we are off and running again.

The bottom line is we need to wake up. Or maybe the bottom line is that there is no bottom line and as long as that's the case...People will Buy.

CNN

No time to write anything but I shall place my flag in a new word called agendaspoitation....its the main function of CNN....More later...

Zombies....Cambodian Style!

Check this out.... http://65.127.124.62/south_asia/4483241.stm.htm


Finally, my big chance to run amoke through the streets banishing heavy arms and molotov cocktails...Attacking the living dead at random and at my own discretion.

IRAN'S SISSY JIHAD

Oh my brothers! Iran...what a country...apparently a country of weak bullies with manipulative tendencies...Exploiting a 24 year old female for there own political aims. Of course this is why 30,000 persians couldnt defeat 300 Greeks at Thermopoli....All I can hope is that there food is, by the grace of God, tainted with pig and they become dyslexic and wipe there mouths with there left hand after eating it; and all the vaginas of the Iranian Imperial Guards becomes inflamed from a yeast infection....even the women.

All I can say is Iran better pray to God that the western world doesnt decide that the United Nations isnt all what its cracked up to be and go postal and Nuke them sons a bitches....Apocolypse Now Style....

Not Narrow Minded

Impossible Angles

Chicago Art Institute

Reckless Chicago

Just so you dont think I have an obsession with death and all things associated, I decided to add a few more pictures for balance.

Graceland Cemetary Chicago Illinois

Eternal Prayer

Sentinal

Overview
Prison

Pictures of Graceland Through my eyes... If you ever get to Chicago visit this place...Down the street from Wrigley Field.

Another Experiment

I have come to yet another realization...Well not exactly a realization but more of a musing. I have a feeling that if I use a lot of words like sex, pornography and big boobs in my blog writing from now on I will get a lot more hits from search engines. By using words and phrases like MILF, hot wife and a whole shit load of porn I will increase my exposure and maybe...Just maybe someone out there who is actually looking for pornographic websites will take a moment of pause and spend some time reading the things which I have written and his or possibly her life will be changed...Transformed...Enlightened. I will keep you posted, unless of course I get discouraged in which case you may never hear from me again. Especially since there isn't actually a "you" out there to which I direct my thoughts via text too.

A Picture of Modification

This is an experiment...The purpose of this experiment will not be made public for a purpose that will also not be made public...

Microcosmic Box Life-Cycle

I live in a world of boxes. My biological existence was formed in a living, breathing bio-box. I was expelled from that box into the man made. The man made is where I learned the way of the box.

I grew.

I became educated in a collective learning box and everyday after my education, I came back to my collective family box and opened a storage box to find something to eat. I took the food and would then go to a special box within the collective family box to watch entertaining things from a box that showed me what I am supposed to be interested in.

Eventually, I leave my collective family box to search for more boxes. I find them.

In a house, within a room, and trapped in my own head I live. I leave a box, and enter a transportation box to travel to the collective business box where I work. I work to get money to support my own personal box which I rent from a landlord who has a bigger box than I do. Sometimes, on a Friday or Saturday night I leave my own personal rented box and walk down to a collective lonely box to sit around with strangers and drink alcohol. I drink in a box and think about how I can get more money to buy myself a bigger box. I have to think outside the box; or so Im told by managers, commercials and self help books that I buy to help collect the dust that forms in my own personal rented box.

Christmas.

Christmas is a time that I bring a living dead tree into my own personal rented box. I go to the closet and take out boxes upon boxes of orniments to decorate my dead tree that once was alive. I jump into my transportation box, and drive to a big box store to buy things that were placed in boxes by migrant workers struggling in sweat shop boxes on the other side of the world. I wrap the sweatshop produced boxes in nice wrapping paper and place those boxes under my formally living tree and wait.

Sooner or later I will get old, or sick or find myself in some sort of forgettable accident. I will be taken to the box from which I originally emerged. This is a box that hold those in need of a cure. This is a box that resonates with fear, dread, and hope. This box is the alpha and the omega.

I die.

I will be taken to a cold freezer box and placed in a small metal storage box. I will be placed in a small metal storage box and remain silent and still. I will be formless, and still. I will become a product.

Phone calls will be made.

The product will be removed from the small metal storage box, placed into a transportation box, and taken to a box that are for the preperation of dead people that were once alive. The product that once was me, will be treated with various chemicals to make my dead self appear in reverse...From alive to dead to faux alive. My former living self that is now a product will be placed into a box, which will be then be slid into a tranportation box for the formerly living. The product that once was me will be driven to a place where my final box will be buried in the ground and quickly forgotten.

Dead.