The Walrus Was Right
The US is a myth, a legend in its television mind, a monkey holding a banana thinking it's a cell phone, an ageing, dying, pre-packaged spectacle formatted to fit your TV, edited for content and to run in the allotted time slot...
Post Stupor Bowl Blitzkrieg advertising thoughts. I am not drunk; I didn't beat: the wife, the dog, the meat. I did not consume: snacks, diet soft drinks or pizza. I did not really enjoy the game, much. But I watched, I listened, I learned about the military/corporate/entertainment beast and its emissaries spreading fascism far and wide...and I wondered?
We can put on a spectacle like this but we can't: provide health care for tens of millions of Americans...or a living wage, or adequate schools. But there is always enough money to mount another spectacle, or war. Isn't war just another spectacle to create profit for the privileged and divert the attention of the masses from the real problems at hand, like, the economy is poised to drop off a cliff into oblivion. And the top one percent will profit from the misery of the remaining 99 out of hundred...who sit screaming for their team to win the Lombardy Trophy.
Sir Paul was there, lending his knighted presence to the festivities at hand. And you still think that the global seat of power is here, in the USA. London calling...you, the good ol' USA, to come and do their bidding as the hired thugs.
Interesting thoughts I would like to share with all those who enjoy a good history lesson. The Jordan/Palestinian Army was equipped and trained by the Army Special Forces back in the late seventies (when George Senior was the head of the CIA). The global elite always play both sides against each other. And profit from the conflict. As the jets did their fly by during that crappy, military choir rendition of our bloody national anthem, I couldn't help but think of all the help we gave Saddam back in the late eighties. And how those weapons and training are killing our soldiers today, tomorrow, next year. Fodder in a chess game that will become self evident when their bones have been forgotten. Exactly how is it that we are fighting such a well armed resistance? Is this an accident? We say Bush and Rummy are incompetent. But we ignore the more obvious solutions to the dilemma: our troops are lacking in materials and/or training and the resistance is well armed because...it's been planned that way. From the start, over a decade ago when this military adventure was devised, along with the staged attacks on American soil to instigate this conflict and everything else. Prearranged death, hysteria and insanity to cover up the dismantling of the us economy and our prized individual freedoms, formerly protected by a bill of rights.
And if Paul McCartney wore nothing but a loin cloth emblazoned with a circle A on his crotch, he would still be in service to his majesty, the Queen, and the globalists' capital, London, where all roads lead us onto oblivion, death, disease, misery, poverty, war without end in service of a collection of fat, balding white men with delusions of kingdom come dancing in their pants.
The Walrus was right. Paul is dead--a walking-singing-dancing corpse in service to his queen, prancing on the bones of Linda, George and John.
And the Patriots (from New England), i.e. the Bush family, which are really a bunch of Yankees from Maine, have won the television skies. For a Patriot must be a militaristic, tax paying, SUV soldier who worships these things that we must have: pizza, snacks, diet soft drinks, beer, cell phones et. al.
To all of you patriots: the country you worship doesn't exist. It's been dismantled, owned by foreign banks, global corporations and served up in public imaging commercials. The US is a myth, a legend in its television mind, a monkey holding a banana thinking it's a cell phone, an ageing, dying, pre-packaged spectacle formatted to fit your TV, edited for content and to run in the allotted time slot, which ended, officially, on August 12, 1983.
The rest has been installed, like a time-looped tape in a surveillance camera. The same old shit, day after day, year after year.
Until you're dumb enough to believe: the Spectacle is real; the Spectacle is the truth.
Wonder what the long-deceased Beatles' manager, Brian Epstein, who discovered the lads from Liverpool, would have to say about all this Super Bowl stuff.
The empire has spoken. Do you have a sufficient answer?
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night."
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