Love Line is Being Interrupted for reflective comic and science commentary to remove dysentery from anklets. The old love line is near the bottom of page. This page has multiple segmented sections. Comedy Follows Science and Vice Versa. I would rather talk about inventions in science for living in space, but for some reason while I am being thrown out by corrupt governent and denied the right to vote I tend to think of yet undiscovered weaponry and methods. Many already know that due to our technology of this era, we can have paradise or we can have extinction. I talk about weapons of that generation to prove my point, sometimes with comedy. Mon Amir Ellen de Troy et Galileo. Also although I joke about drugs here, I urge all people to avoid their drugs they have taught many of the lower caste to use, including marijuana, methamphetamine, crack, coke, heroin and alcohol, especially alcohol, because it is pushed by the billionaire owned propaganda medium the mass media with their lies of harmlessness and their glorification of mafia.
An announcement comes over the news in a small South-Eastern city, Mobile Alabama
"An important announcement and cause for celebration." "It has been three weeks since local philanthropist and Air Conditioner repairman Saint Ram Bone dropped a sack of what has now been determined to have been a genetically modified Killer Bee colony while repairing an Air Conditioner duct at the Mob. County courthouse".
"As you may recall the attack of Killer Bees through an A/C duct at the Mob. County Courts Building caused only two people to be stung, Mayor Mike Dow, the ineffective mayor of our gridlocked retrogressive city, and his thief and cohort who is Sheriff, Jack Tillman."
"Saint Ram Bone, the perpetual student, allegedly through genetic engineering mixed the genome, or DNA, of three creatures and created a swarm of Killer Bees whose larvae behave like a fly that eats fire-ants from the inside out, eventually causing the fire-ants head to fall off." "The fly is the Pseudacteon spp and is a marvel of nature". To help ward off the host creature's immunological system he also integrated the DNA of another fly whose male is a fire ant eater, Strepsiptera.
"Mayor Mike Dow, while preparing to tax the poor more heavily with the approval of the city council, noticed a bug was crawling across his eye today." "But it was inside the eye!" "He was rushed to an area hospital where the Veterans Administration Hospital in Los Angeles, Westwood, was contacted who then contacted the Mayor's family and told them they would be rushing Mayor Dow to Los Angeles and doing experiments on him to cure him since this is the first attack of this kind and they also will try some minor experiments with adjustments to his metabolism. Saint Ram Bone reports that particular VA hospital is very astute at forcing experiments, and in this case Saint Ram Bone gave his approval and intends to run for Mayor if Dow does not make it."
"This just in, Sheriff Jack Tillman's head has fallen off in midtown in Councilman Copelands three 6's district." "It appears that a larvae is deposited when the bee stings an individual and then it goes straight to the brain to begin the pupation phase and then the feeding and maturation phase."
"On the scene is Indymedia News Reporter Saint Ram Bone"
Saint Ram bone :"It was a terrible tragedy but a scientific breakthrough." "As you can see, Sheriff Jack Tillman's head has fallen from Its' body." "The larvae from the cross between the bee and flies has pupated, eaten, and I caught him in this jar."
Saint Ram Bone holds up the Killer Fly he genetically engineered by combining parts of the Fly's genomes and Bee's genome, the DNA of each of the creatures.
Saint Ram Bone tries to pick up the head which now has the loving attention of his male 4-pound Yorkshire Terrier Mutt Bow-Bone and Saint Ram Bone says, "Holy Fly-S---, Bow-Bone is attracted to the scent like the hormonal fluid of a dog in esterus" "I have got to note that in my journal". Saint Ram Bone writes in his journal, "Jack Tillman wreaks."
Saint Ram Bone: "Now if you will excuse moi, I have to go wash this out and synthesize that chemical my fag dog Bow-Bone is attracted to," and snatches the Jack Head from Bow-Bone's loving grasp. Saint Ram Bone stumbles over the headless body of the thief and political criminal as he is walking away with the Sheriff's fly incubating skull. "Good Grief, Look at the money falling out of his pockets." "Jack is a wasted millionaire" "Pick up that money that fell out of his pocket somebody, and put it back into the inmate funds account from where he stole it." "There must me One-Hundred Thousand dollars there, maybe a couple of Million Dollars!"
Saint Ram Bone walks back to his truck where he lives in his birthday suit and the dog jumps in the passenger seat with Jack head. The news anchor comes back on the air and says, "You heard it hear first." "That man's head smells like a slut" "Back to you in the studio D. Silbernt."
Saint Ram Bone places the head on the seat and drives out going to do some more experiments with the odorous substance left by the pupating Killer Fly as Bow-bone looks in the skull for rats.
News Anchor D. Silbernt obviously titillated by seeing Saint Ram Bone's tight buttocks says out loud, while thinking to herself, not knowing she is back on the air, "Um, Um, I wish Saint Ram Bone was my private camera man." "Oops, I'm sorry, is the camera on."
And so ends another day of Saint Ram Bone taming the insanity of the governmental leadership in Mob. AL.. After the experiments at the laboratory Bow-bone inherited the Jack Head and hides inside the Head when chewing on bones and rats. The Air Conditioner works fine now also, in Mobile AL, AKA Village of The Damned, where the intense Summer rarely ends and neither does the political tragedy.
Stay tuned as SainTramBone's extracted substance from the Jack Head is discovered to be a pheromone left by the Killer Fly larvae that drives women into a sexual frenzy. SainTramBone sells the substance as Killer Fly. $250 oz. Warning: To be worn only when not in the presence of Living Killer Flies or Bow-bone.
Of course Saint Ram Bone has yet to market Killer Dirty Hairy Super Fly pheromone, a combination of the world wide spanning hairy blow fly, (Chrysomya rufifacies (Macquart) (Insecta: Diptera: Calliphoridae), with a fly that eats fire-ants from the inside out, eventually causing the fire-ants head to fall off." "The fly is the Pseudacteon spp and is a marvel of nature". To help ward off the host creature's immunological system he also integrated the DNA of another fly whose male is a fire ant eater, Strepsiptera. Saint Ram Bone says, since I was forced to lick criminal governments boots, I made sure I left some sugar between the soles of my new enemies shoes for my Dirty Hairy Super Fly to feed upon for his just desserts when he is done with their empty criminal head. It does not sting, but lands for 1/10 of a second depositing its larvae on political criminals and their criminal associates. America has suffered to long. The time has come to rise up. Legal roadblocks are in place. We need a new regime.
Because I dislike the idea of earth bound extinction by my enemies design, I simply alert those that I can of what is around the next corner in transgenic warfare. The weapons are limitless and of a spreading nature, unlike conventional bombs. Take for instance the Anopheles mosquito and falciparum malaria. Even the mosquito could be the vector when combined with the fly Strepsiptera and Pseudacteon species. It is not a matter of if the mayhem of transgenics will be unraveled, but a matter of when, as science is like a locomotive that can not be stopped. Wait until those geniuses with other phenotypical traits appear, if allowed into the public's open view.
Are we trapped on this miserable planet under the burning Bush's and melting North Sea till extinction?
Foreword:This story is comedy based on true facts regarding an upcoming court hearing in Mobile Alabama. Kurt Brown was denied entry into Mobile's city council meeting and was arrested for raising his voice in the auditorium. The criminals of the city council who steal funds and the mayor saw Kurt report at a meeting that someone had tried to kill him, either sent by the corrupt Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation or the National Treasury Employees Union after he had reported the attack with no police response or federal reply. They claim Kurt carried a gun to the meeting. The cop at the gate claimed that Kurt had a gun in his pocket. He had not slept for two weeks and he might have because he had carried the gun and the gun permit incessantly since the attack on his life. When he was going to report the attack, he was so frightened when walking to the courthouse, he probably did sub-consciously deliberately carry the gun, just in case federal mafia associates tried to kill him again while walking to the city council meeting where he was going to announce the attempt on his life in front of numerous witnesses. Kurt was a bank examiner for the FDIC in San Francisco, where he suspects money laundering from the Pacific Rim at area banks. That is big big bucks, boys and girls. The regional director is dead. Kurt Brown sings his tune the only way he knows how. Listen.
In the Mob. County Courthouse: Saint Ram Bone does his impression of Jack Nicholson in the Square Headed Nazi Inbred Judge McMaken's Mobile Alabama court with his lackie punk DA, the thieving Sheriff's best Good Ole Boy Redneck partner in crime among the criminal bureaucracy of Mob. Alabama.
"So tell me Judge McMaken, how much did it cost you to box that haircut?". "I remember the same square head inbred haircut in my former life when I was taken from a gypsy caravan and kept in a pen and one of your ancestors was walking around with his tongue in Adolf's Hitler's crack with that Bizarre square inbred head, except on the top was a color died death black swastika."
Judge McMaken," I sentence you for contempt of court?"
SainTramBone "Judge I am so so sorry. I had a stroke, and a stroke of bad misfortune when I caught your favorite Good Ole Boy Criminal Sheriff Jack Till-man hording $300,000 in an account and taking home $100,000 personal Certificates of Deposit." "I had a hunch when all of the youngsters buying the government's crack were thrown in jail." "They got skinnier. "
"Someone tries to kill me from federal governments mafia associates and I get no police response." "Then I carry my gun and permit, and now, these criminals hiding in the cubby-holes of political office do not want me to spy on their thieving actions, and they have the audacity to call me a criminal for legally owning a gun." "Then they label me a criminal under extreme duress and torture and drug me forcing a felony plea, and now those filthy un-human associates of your corrupt privileged caste will not let me have a trial by jury in Los Angeles, due process you Nazi Mother F-----, and now I have to listen to your Shee-it in my native city."
Judge McMaken, "I sentence you to swing from yon Oak Tree on a branch", and points out a window where the District Attorney's ancestors once placed his great great granddaddy's trouble-making ex-slave niggers who swung, "but only after we take all of your money and put you in exile for three and a half years". "Forget it, we already did that to you" "You ignored my order to stay away from the courthouse" "I sentence you to death" "We do not need any inquisitive auditors in our family affairs here at the Courthouse and in the Mobile City Council Meetings."
Kurt Brown, whose only goal was to help an impoverished city and nation swings dead from the Oak Trees as the urine from his last piss on his native city's soil dribbles down his pant leg and into the mouth of the statue of Robert E. Lee below, slave-herder extraordinaire, at the Bankhead Tunnel in Mobile, Alabama, where it turns blood red on the green copper.
Note: This is a true story except for the actual hanging. A court date is coming up on the 11-17-2004 8:30 4th Flr. Mob County Courthouse McMaken Judge. The names and thiefs and only some of the criminals are mentioned. Kurt never did like the place as an adult after venturing out, but he felt compelled to stay, family, and hunt criminal Sheriff's named Jack Tillman who operate in stealth and sway, with criminals in office who let a J.C. die everyday, Mayor Dow, Councilmen Copeland and Johnson. The dead cheer Saint Ram Bone's and Kurt Brown's M.F.ing name pointing as Nazi pigs of Mobile government, especially the heads of the snake, federal, state, local allow and perpetrate unlimited atrocities.
A prayer is heard from Abolitionist John Brown, "Sweet revenge, Red Soil, Rise, And Open Their Bloody Greedy un-human eyes."
A little black woman who resembles Hariett Tubman from the underground railroad on the front row opens a magical can of cola.(See partial manufacturing instructions below, modified Trump Grenade). A bolt of lightning seems to leap out of the sky striking thief and culprit Sheriff Till-man in the badge on his chest, giving him a massive coronary. The little woman says under her breath holding the cola can, "C.D. $100 Amp K, Charge Dispersed, Damp Fried Tastey Cola". Then she says, "Welcome to the Damp K Ring".
The old woman disappears back to the world of possible improbability before the judge could start to motion for her execution also.
After the bolt of lightning, an arc from criminal Sheriff Tillman's Tin Badge travels the wire on the microphone, bolting out into the square forehead of Judge McMaken, who stunned and in a coma, awakens in wartime Nazi Germany where he is on the front line of some Hellish forgotten place and in the cross-hairs of his gun is another Mr. Brown, for in the end is the beginning and in the beginning is the end and the Judge recognizes Kurt Brown through a skip of two generations to see number three. Repeat ad infinitum blood-letter to cloak of injustice in a time loop that spans 100 years through infinity, what was a Nazi-Germany in yesteryear to Nazi Alabama of this year, the year of the blood-letter cloak, 2004 C.E..
Now complete and among the Dead, Sheriff Jack Till-man in the new Necropolis, Dead Sheriff Jack Till-man opens his reptilian eyes and remembers vividly the days where he stole money meant for captive men from the county accounts for his own use, and how he thought to himself, "Hell, this is politics." " It does not matter what you do." "It only matters what you say." . Saint Ram Bone's dog, Bow-Bone, a 4-pound Yorkshire Terrier Mutt, is licking Jacks face like it is a ham reviving Jack to consciousness in the firmament, but Sheriff Jack can not feel his feet or his arms or his neck and he can not move. Jack hears an announcement over a loudspeaker, it is hollow like from the Mobile Alabama County Courthouse, where atrocities are allowed everyday. "Welcome to the world of the disabled veteran, Jack, Jack is in the Crack and your kids ain't comin back". It remembers dis and It remembers dat. "Come Bozo."
Bozo's ears perk up as he hears his favorite romance melody, the song Jack Is In The Crack by Kurt Brown's alter ego Saint Ram Bone in mp3, as the song starts to play romantically on the loudspeakers Bow-Bone thumps frantically like a little rat chasing Jack Rabbit in tiny holes.
A feminine male voice comes out over the loud speaker to Jack, "Now stop that Bow-Bone" "You are getting dirty" "Leave It alone." "Sheriff Jack In The Till-man", "Wipe Bow-Bone's snail trail off Its eye"
Sheriff Jack replies, "I can't." "Help me, I am seeing tiny sperm-whales" "Would you wipe them off my eye"
The voice on the loudspeaker replies, "I can't" "You are missing dat eye. Remember Dis, Remember Dat" "It needs to Learns how to plays one handed golf with one hand, dis and dat, left and right. Remember, you fag crazy varmint one hand Till-man. Dis and Dat.
The little fag dog, Bow-Bone, marks It for later as Bow-Bone's favorite romantic song Jack Is In The Crack ends, and Bow-Bone barks and runs off chasing live prey, rodents and criminal politicians in the coal mines and snake pit courthouses of Alabama with Saint Ram Bone and Kurt Brown.
Kurt slips back into the firmament, Dirt Brown, waiting for it to go away, so he can come again to play with those snake bastards to be Kurt all M.F.ing day.
The art of illusion can be described mathematically as a percentage from 0 to 100%, where-as delusion would be described as the same. It is possible that any living being is under unlimited illusion or delusion as the philosopher Plato mentioned. We know that much of what we see in government in the USA is an illusion.
The illusion we have a democracy when thousands can not vote or even attend government meetings is one of the most significant. If you can not attend a meeting, how can you tell if the criminal politicians are even human, or if some actually are not, and especially learn firsthand who is in their inner criminal circle. With technology, an amazing array of deceptions can titillate the little rat brain of us humans, and the lieing politician of Alabama with a pocket full of ill-gotten cash claiming he loves you while he beats you with a steel cross taking away all rights and freedoms and throws your family into pens and addiction and the lower caste.
Always be wary of deception. Sometimes the slight of hand is layered, if not always or some portion therein.
In admiring the most beautiful predatorial designs, and after taking a close-up of SainTramBone's teeth, I happened upon the Cookie Cutter Shark. As the design for a defensive weapon, a self propelled device a foot long released in large numbers could attack to submarines and ships and space craft and drill a hole and possibly detonate a small explosive directional charge if tampered with and if left to completion. Smart chips could further enhance ability of detection and precise location.
Many people ask, "What is SainTramBone hiding?" "Saint Ram Bone was manifested the day that a young Sailor in Long Beach California from Alabama hitched a ride with the notorious serial killer Randy Kraft. (Kurt, when a young US sailor truly did ride with Randy Kraft and this story is partly true). Two weeks later, Randy was nabbed with his last victim, number 16, 66, or 100+.
While on leave, Saint Ram Bone, after ingesting six pints of ale at a sports pub named Yankee Doodles, decided to hitchike for a ride at a bus stop in Belmont Shores, a subdivision of Long Beach, California. Saint Ram Bone got in a car and the middle aged man seemed clean cut, but there was an aura about him, like bloodied steel in a battlefield. The seat was uncomfortable and there was a large rod of some sort under the seat cover making Saint Ram Bone nervous and uncomfortable, as he immediately thought it was a dog catching device, a wire loop in a pipe.
Randy asked, "Do you want a drink?" "A bottle is under the seat.". Saint Ram Bone pulled the bottle from under the seat, a bottle of whiskey three-quarters full. Saint Ram Bone declined the offer when he remembered what his father had told him as a child when they stayed on skid-row in New Orleans. SainTramBone's daddy, Bruised Brown SainTramBone taught him, "Never drink from a strangers bottle that is already opened." It was good advice as Randy's liquor was laced with an overdose of drugs, Valium or similar drugs.
Randy stopped at a store where to Saint Ram Bone's surprise Randy bought condoms, rope, and erroneously sensed a love connection, when Randy turned to Saint Ram Bone and said, "I am going to make love to you until you are dead, Angel." Saint Ram Bone, knowing what he was up against, started sensing cold-cuts and said with a smile, "I'll be right back". Then he ran in his birthday suit and boots to the condiments section and picked up Kraft Yeller Mustard. Returning to the check-out he smiled and winked at Randy and sang the little ditty, "Everything tastes better with K R A F T".
They left the store and were traveling down the ocean front toward Long Beach when Saint Ram Bone pulled two long objects from under the seat cover. A dildo and the dog catching device Randy used on his victims. Saint Ram Bone remembers vividly the day he tried out Randy's human-dog catching device on Randy.
Saint Ram Bone, asked, "What are these?". Randy smiled like a Cheshire Cat in demented love. Saint Ram Bone, tapped Randy on the head with the dildo and smelled it at a distance, "Smells Randy", and laughed. Then Saint Ram Bone began to sing the Sammy Davis Jr. song as he squirted some mustard on the dildo, "The Candy man," "The Candy man", "The candy man can cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste fool". The mustard on the dildo, he said, "That's better", and resumed tapping Randy repeatedly on the head with the foot long dildo as mustard covered knots started to rise on Randy's head. Randy, playful but obviously angered said, "Stop that". "No" said Saint Ram Bone.
Randy grabbed the dildo with his right hand, and Saint Ram Bone hit Randy hard in the side of the head with the pipe with the wire and then looped the wire over Randy's head and down to his neck. Randy became very angered and let go of the steering wheel to try and grab the pipe also.
Saint Ram Bone leaned back, Randy lost his grip on the musktird dildo, and Saint Ram Bone pressed his back paw and army boot on Randy's head against the window, tightening the noose on the dog catching device and proceeded to kick Randy repeatedly, thumping him in the ribs with the other paw covered by an Army boot, and said joyfully, "Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free!", and Saint Ram Bone began to sing the little Spanish ditty about the Cockroach (La Cucaracha), "La Cucaracha, La Cucaracha, I'll never let you go","La Cucaracha, La Curaracha, Oh how I love you so", and laughing uncontrollably while holding the dildo and the dog catching device as Randy's head turned a deep shade of purple.
Randy Kraft's car went out of control and ran into a curb in Long Beach where a small African American child was on his bicycle. The car door came upon as Saint Ram Bone tugged on Randy's now purple head with the noose until Randy managed to place his fingers and the noose and work free, at which time Saint Ram Bone fell out of the car and onto the sidewalk. The child on the sidewalk gave some hand signal and said like Snoop Dogg or Flavor Flav with a Nappy Head, "Y'all's white men is whacked" and then he ran off, leaving the bike for Saint Ram Bone to ride with his new musktird dildo and dog catching device, courtesy of his first encounter with a Los Angeles and Long Beach serial killer.
Riding the bike, Saint Ram Bone chased his Kraft Mustard in Randy Kraft's car, his musktird dildo in one front paw, and the dog catching device in the other front paw as he sang a modified song as a prayer by Deep Purple, "Smoke over water, There's fire in that guy".
"Could SainTramBone be hiding Randy's dog catching device and dildo?" Stay tuned, "Hell-Bent Enquiring Minds will want to know, Jack er Randy?"
Truthfully, Kurt just rode with Kraft while hitchhiking in Belmont Shores after some beers, noticed a large lump under the seat cover which he thought was a dog catching device, and he declined a Kraft-e Drink offer and declined Kraft-e death sex, and Kraft let that little Angel go, and Kraft was caught two weeks later with a dead drugged marine in his car. Kurt was the next to last entry in Kraft's death journal, "Angel". (...Isn't that sweet to be called 'Angel' by a serial killer...Pass the Kraft Ketchup.)
If you want Randy Kraft's foot long dildo, signed by SainTramBone and Kurt, and a large jar of Ole Yeller Kraft Mustard, please contact Saint Ram Bone at email@example.com Total Price $66.60, C.O.D., shipping and handling not included. Randy aroma free and pregnant.
In considering weaponry that is of our desired type, that is one that is precise and lethal to the extent we desire and has no casualties outside of desired targets and areas, I remember considering a weapon that was called a "Trump Grenade". About the size of a can of Coca Cola or larger, the can is placed in the desired area and a radius around the can is set for activity of the device.
Method of defensive activity is to follow the path of a magnetic spectrum, forming a repetitive circular shield pattern which acts as the conduit or path along which the slicing effect of another more intense wave (type to be determined) intense magnetic spectrum. The second wave can be determined remotely for strength, i.e. stun or destroy organs.
The distance of the spectrum and the strength is accurate, however, the desired effect of preciseness and placing of the can in the space is problematic without exterior devices. It may be possible to skew the waves with a second wave so as to miss an audience and have its full effect on the intended target area, such as on a panel of mafia and criminal American politicians. The ideal would be to have the magnetic wave directed to one point with a discharge, after which a withdrawal, regeneration of the wave with another charge, and in effect in real-time would resemble lightning coming down a striking each individually, except most likely more transparent strikes. Perhaps that version of the weapon could be called the Piston Can as it would fire like a piston.
If the exact precise could be determined from a remote point, then exact targeting of specific individuals could be made.
In considering weapons, we must be careful in their usage, so as to not let emotions harm those who may not actually need to be eliminated or dealt with. Our allies may be made to look like our enemies through many methods, and that is always the danger. If they deny us our right in government, as the American government has denied to millions, both explicitly through loss of voting rights and loss of rights to attend government meetings, and implicitly through economic leverage such as the only ones who can advertise are millionaires, we have a right by law of nature to fight back to varying degrees.
I remember considering how some may traverse time in ways we do not comprehend. Through the placing of two points in space with the correct physics apparatus, one could theoretically place things or persons between and move them in very much the way a person sits on a swing set and is moved. However, it may not be the person that is moved, but the space around the person, thereby creating the delusion of a shift in time. The amount of movement of the object or person will be determined by the amount of distance between the two points of the physics apparatus.
The vanity of mankind never ceases to amaze me. When you hear scientists talking of life, they will often say that water has to be present. It is my belief that there are life forms or consciousnesses that span vast distances that we can not even realize or imagine. There tissue may pass right through us and we would not know it. Their being could be as small as neutrinos, or the theoretical sparticles. In fact, their tissue may be nothing more than magnetic waves as viewed from our scale, possible of a wave-length so large or so small that we can not detect. As a matter of fact, we could be living like microbes on what is nothing more than a preformed milk particle, planet earth, in a mammary gland, the milky way galaxy.
In looking for life in outer space, scientists always think of life as relative to our scale. Life outside our planet may be infinitely huge. So huge that if the universe or sector of space where the galaxies and stars we view with our apparent physical laws, may be in fact be buried in nothing more than extra-celestial soil. Imagine our planet like a pecan on the ground in an orchard buried by a squirrel. We can not see the other pecans because we have been buried away from the others.
It could be because the leaders of our planet often act like carnivorous swine with monkey hands. They may not want such life forms in their extra-celestial garden
In other considerations of life forms beyond our physical grasp, we could possibly be surrounded by a life-form(s) whose dimensions in space we can not see or calculate, or are hidden from some of us in varying degrees. Even something such as the aging process could be hastened by varying levels of life feeding upon our essence and being.
I truly doubt much of history has any validity because of the tendency of the conquering war-like human to distort the truth, lie, and to dumb-down the adversary. The dark ages would be the best example, where knowledge was punishable as heresy. A superior life form would likely view humans as either rat brains or carnivorous swine with monkey hands.
It is in my belief that there is a possible dividing order where one level of life controls another on a completely separate level and plane of the many dimensions. For example, one controlling esoteric level manipulating through an "apparently abstract" level to another controlled esoteric level. Those who exercise through brute force, power and control, soon die out due to advancement beyond that level. The process likely continues again albeit on another dimension crossing some of the same planes and apparently far-flung from the originating source. That is more of a physical or physics based concept.
It is theoretically possible to integrate one organism into another organism through bio-engineering or other modes. The host organism may have total, part, or no conscious of the invading organism. The host organism could be used to gain access to private information or to see into things or places that are not observable without the aid of the host. Just as the eye has the vision split into two, so could the view from one optic nerve. Possible adaptation to acquire senses may even be used. The myriad of complexities do not allow for the doors of government to be closed to anyone. I once heard an afflicted person with the thought of a possible invading organism in their own consciousness say, "Do not tell me any secrets and I will not tell you any lies."
I believe we are held back by our captors in government and industry and that we should never trust anything they may do, especially when blindly with our children. Beware of their propaganda apparatus, Television and Radio and other mass communications dominated by the billionaire's media oligarchy. They are not our allies and would sell our flesh by the pound at a Friar's convention for a pound of flies as part of an act in a gypsy caravan on a backwater swamp.
The Sheriff Jack in the Crack Till-man of Mob AL was asking, "Did you see that guy with California plates drive by masturbating and smoking marijuana?" "I bet those Humboldt Hempheads are here to start a riot".
Saint Ram Bone in his Rent-A-Cop day job attire, "No, that was the mayor of Eureka, Pee Wee Herman."
Chris Gallegos, District Attorney, Eureka, dressed in Pee Wee Herman disguise, says with a big wig wink nod, "Do not vote for that Gallegos Guy"
The Eureka Probation Officer, Nor-Dick Redwood Mo, is seen driving off with his supervisor, Sweet Curly, with SainTramBone and Pee Wee Herman in the Humboldt prisoner hold, working out plans for their run on the Presidential Suite of Heimlich Bush, and the Gubernatorial Mansion of Steroid Hun Shwarzenegger. On the major networks, their passing entourage is known as, Tour de LA LA Vision Coupe.
ON A MORE REALISTIC POINT: It is too bad that the government causes the price of marijuana to be worth its weight in gold. It is done on purpose by those with criminal intent. It should be made legal with each outlet mandatorally having free access to a smoking cessation and drug education clinic. A drug war is being waged in much of California and some parts of America, and it is a result of ignorance, greed, and the deliberate manipulation of the laws to foster black-market activities and to control some sectors of the populace. In other words, if you use the shit for recreation in illegal environs, you are being used for your money and the drug is being used to control you by having a weakness that predatory lawmen can sieze upon, therefore you are literally screwed coming and going. If you need it for medicine, use it in good health, and beware of cancer. It can not be any worse than many of those drugs coming from companies abroad and nationally that are in many cases nothing more than a ruse to gain money or prestige.
In a recent article I read, it was said, if I understood correctly, regarding the Cassini Space Probe, scheduled to arrive at Saturn in December 2004, that the probe was going to use Saturn and its rings as a way to communicate into the depths of space. Although that is somewhat frightening, due to the distance that may be afforded by such a large transmitter, it really is of no concern as if there is anyone or thing there, they probably know of us and it would be viewed as a Mole-cricket with flatulence. On this dark morning, I found a ray of light in the voice of Jorane, Singer and Cellist, of Canada. Perhaps instead of having George Bush, AKA Hell's SUB, or Presidential Candidate Kerry, AKA YeaR of the wREcK, blabber some policitically masticated verbage bull-shee-it, we could have this angel dove, Jorane, sing a song with her cello or violin, or maybe just use a harp, to say, "Help" "The USA is overtaken by verbally masticating politicians". You can see her looking skyward if you click on the top row of text at the link. Oui Oui Madame, I will depart Pre-charred Alabama's extension in Mobile, Alabama to hear you play and sing when the chains are cut from my ankles, here in the misnamed "Land of The Free." Forrest and Bubba will assist with melody.
In examining and reflecting upon the eternal struggle for dominance, it appears that the being or entity on the outer realm has the greater control from a macro perspective. Like a giant holding a drop of water in the palm of the hand, the outer layer is obvious and the inside is visible with specks of other matter visible. The law of finite control is a gross one from that perspective and although the total consumption is easily had, the manipulations of the dust inside, or as we see it, those beings and their material inside is not easily had without extensions to manipulate the inner workings, and in reality would likely be of little consequence at that level, with only the substrate and like components usable for practical purposes in their reassimilation into a greater whole, for example the collection of many drops of water with constituent matter as a broth.
However, if one can take the perspective of the infinitely small while manipulating and controlling from the finite larger perspective, the control and manipulation lends to a controlled growth or manipulation for a desired end result of infinite complexity for each drop and eventually the consolidation of many drops that are designed in such complexity to arrive at an end result that would not be visible from those beings or matter or specks of dust that were contained in each drop, yet had been maneuvered under the influence of the greater and stronger attraction of that directive force exerting itself and its physical dominance on the macro level and eventually into the micro level through its active extensions.
Because of the tendency of all things at lower levels without outside influence to fall to lower levels of size and gross complexity, there is most likely always the tendency for the outside influence that is one step beyond to not concern itself with minute details at all times and is known by many in science as entropy. The time of seizure in control would be when the accumulation was great enough to warrant notice, like putting weights on a balancing scale until a shift occurs.
Nothing is wasted in the grand totality and its discernment may never be ours, and if it is, it is of a fleeting nature as the push for a smaller entity would always be present, whether in extensions from the outside in design, or through what would appear as decay, yet would be controlled by those or that dimensional influence to which we had not been privileged or able to know or recognize, most likely by design of the growing and shifting outer influences.
Once I was told there are many things between us and the planets and stars we see. Could it be that some of those planets that are somewhat nearby are as inhabited as ours? Could it be there are cities there of life, that wish to remain unseen by those with simple minds and stingers, which they or it may view us as? Similar to leaving a hornet's nest undisturbed, yet admiring the travails of the little extinguishable taloned creatures.
On another level, I recently read that some mathematicians believe we live in a 10-dimensional space. That is somewhat comical, as the dimensions are likely infinite with infinite and shifting permutations. Discerning the levels of infinity may not be for the beings of this level.
Therefore, it could be that life and beings may and probably do surround us, with our being most likely sharing or inhabiting certain sectors of those permutations, even if fleetingly and in transient flux and motion.
I have heard a lot of rhetoric about religious dominance lately. To me, wisdom is wisdom, and intolerance is intolerance. You can rip out the third electron from every cell and fill the voids between with tar and feathers, but I would rather just enjoy the sanctity of all life and strive for the higher beings goals, which most likely relishes Freedom, Peace, and Mutual Respect.
To be quite honest, right now all I want is my freedom. People can label you whatever they want in your current neighborhood or country. However, they can not label you in another neighborhood or country if the rules are different, or if the over-lords are different. SainTramBone in the pic above would like to say, "Un-Guard". Some ancient Indian women liked his Freakin DICk Sword.
Many people are so naive in America and trusting and uninformed that they trust everyone and everything, including those who come in contact with their children. That is a very very big mistake. Blind trust leads to extinction in death in our era of no ethics, greed, hatred, and indifference.
For instance, many doctors put young children on heavy doses of drugs because parents do not know the truth. In addition, The Drug Companies lie incessantly to make money and the government is full of criminals so that checks and balances do not exist. The hospitals have numerous apparatuses in their possession that may harm newborns and the parents do not even realize the dangers. Nosocomial infections, i.e. often severe untreatable infections acquired at the hospital, can lay latent in a child, slowly destroying the child, or putting them at extreme disadvantage. Many people expect God to look after their children and trust doctors. God helps those who help themselves. Never trust any doctor blindly. There are many large and powerful groups who intend to stay that way through any means possible. Having a child birthed with the assistance of a Mid-wife, near a hospital, is most likely preferable in our era of deceit and trickery and malevolence.
I trusted the Los Angeles Veterans Administration to give me shelter, to let me park. They jammed needles into me, took my belongings, forced a felony upon me, and while they hauled me around, some of them slammed their carseats into my shins, and others sneered when I walked by them, chewing sunflower seeds while they deliberately let the shells dribble down their stinking and ignorant chins. They are not our alliances in society. There are groups who hate you and yours. Considering bio-engineering, I suspect that some may even put organisms that are used as vehicles, into the ears or nose or mouth to enter a newborns brain. The slight of hand by beasts should always be watched. Trust no-one blindly. The world is starving and they believe in survival of the fittest, which includes destroying our children.
On another matter, due to man-made radio frequencies bouncing in the air around your child's soft cranium, a protective head garment may be recommended. Perhaps something as simple two layers of soft cloth with no dye or coloring chemicals, with a small sheet of protective gold flake or something else that is non-toxic. Lead is a definite NO. Those who smile at us are often devious and may not even realize their atrocity. Homing Pigeons are even getting lost due to modern manmade airwave pollution. Also, if you live near a noisey location, e.g. a railyard or airport with late night noise, either move or have your childen wear earplugs at night. The noise pollution alters brain development. It is no wonder so many deviants come from cities.
If you trust any government, you are naive. If you trust any government whose only motive is profit and control, e.g. the USA, you are destined for ruin. They are at best a care-taker like a prison guard, and at worst, an atrocity that will destroy all of us, coming and going. For instance, the government allows drugs into the country, including manufacture. And then, they try to arrest those whom they want to target. They are not our friends. They are not our alliances. They just are there for there own behalf.
Many may not even realize their actions. I believe that flocks of birds have a collective conscious. I believe that some groups are controlled by a collective conscious they may not be aware exists. It is like being caught in a Jellyfish.
I firmly believe that not all men are from planet Earth originally. If evidence is correct, Africa was the native people. Others, I believe, have come from other places and planets and have interbred with the Native African descendants over time. The universe is designed so that the diverse survive. Note the imperfections of too much inbreeding. Cherish the sanctity of life and the diversity of life, saving the islands of original and mixing the islands of original, therefore diversity at its greatest. Maybe someday we will stop eating meat and only eat other material or derive energy from light.
I believe also that through leverage in outer space of forms and functions we have yet to comprehend or understand, some were able to move large distances without effort. Similar to using a lever and fulcrum so that a small being can lift a large being or move a small being hither and fro without effort. It could be the sentient being or spirit that moves. The firmament may cling too tightly to the firmament to travel in certain methods and directions, or it may move as one to some degree, greater or lesser in the cycles.
That brings me to my point in this section. I believe the pyramids were either directly connected to those motions of grand movement or they were built to emulate a lost ability to make the movements necessary.
I do not claim to understand the full depth of the knowledge required, however I have a general idea. Much like a swing set whose chain is connected to two points on the overhang with a seat below for the rider, I believe the pyramids or some actual thing or entity they emulate, could be used with other pyraminds or some actual thing they emulate in a distance place.
Similar to the lifting of metal shards between two powered magnets with attraction and repulsion to keep the metal shards elevated, the dynamics of the powered magnets could be driven to hurl the metal shards to a controlled distance, e.g. from a point in space, perhaps the old planet Saturn or Saturn's satellite moons could be moved like a bullet train through vast interstellar distances of space, just like the metal shards between the powered magnets.
On the other hand, the system could have been overloaded or a freak accident from ignorance could have caused the destruction of planet Saturn, which is 96 times less dense than earth and has ice in its rings. Of course this is pure conjecture and deduction from facts. I only wish I could go to some far away place with peace and harmony and happiness and health and where everyone and thing appreciated the sanctity of all life, and had the ability to protect it from its self, without harming any of it.
When I look at the predatorial nature of our world, e.g. the top of the food chain is a predator among the other animals, and it is the lion. The rabbit is harmless to other meat filled living things, and yet is the dinner for the top of the chain, the lion. There has got to be a better way among the higher life forms.
Mankind always assumes he is at the top of the food chain. How much did you age today? Can a rabbit ward off a lion? No, and we may find we can not ward off predators in space. Diversity guarantees a higher chance of survival when our universe matures and we find ourselves face to face with our neighbor universe, who may or may not want to eat us. Our universe where our laws of physics apply, is actually shaped like a cocoon or loaf of bread according to a program viewed on PBS. The question becomes, can we escape beyond that loaf, e.g. is the outside like a solid unescapable black hole or a wrapping sediment?
8-18-04 Update: The two points to power the motion of objects within their grasp could very will be on the wall of the coccoon shaped space where our known laws of physics apply. Very much more powerful than a waterfall, the pressure and mass of the walls could be tapped upon with the correct apparatus and move any thing within the boundaries of the coccoon shaped area of space.
Like a hand that holds down a ball in water, I believe our overall knowledge is leaked in slowly, for all life forms with the outer being the great totality and overseer with its own rules and ettiquettes for self governance or liberation.
History is likely infinite. Mankind may be in the interim decorum. It is obvious that the Egyptians knew about high technology when many were either cast back into stone ages or just developing. Could the Egyptian heiroglyphics of a Helicopter and Zeppelin and others been the presage and reinvention of the wheel for us, once again. Universes collide, universes expand. Fractal cosmology indicates that all is a reflection from lower to upper and vice-versa.
After all, you would not give the keys of a large automobile to a four-year-old with a bad temper on a crowded sidewalk. Mankind is obviously still learning to walk, perhaps again. Learning from mistakes. Time is relative to where you stand. Minute or large, it is in reality a reflection within and without.
I pray we can walk from this planet without having the branch severed and having to start again. Just for our childrens sake. For little me and little us, Que Cera Cera, Whatever will be, will be.
I had a dream or two once, perhaps when I was having my little stroke. I heard one say, "I hope you like doing dishes", in a stearn voice. Now does that mean I am leading us to our end like the view of Saturn as a dish, with its rings pressed out. Are sentient beings, or souls as some might call them, still clinging there? Or did it mean that I and we are leading our future selves, children, into an era of obsolescence where we are simply washing test tubes for the smarter beings we helped create through biotechnology? Or does it mean that I get to breed with a whole bunch of fine looking women? Hmmm...whip me silly and call me Blade Runner.
In another dream, a more stearn voice said, "You can stay on the porch, but you can not come into the house." Maybe we can only move one step at a time and we have been in the wilderness. Maybe something more, for me, for us. Maybe something less. That I believe is not entirely my call. We are a collective, like it or not.
To those goons who keeping trying to run me off the road. I am not intimidated. The first time was a cherry, the second time was a dumb plum. Even after a stroke I can make Kurt's Truk dance, at least until my number is up, and that is not anyone's call but the greater Ethereal Consciousness.
We should have one agency per union in government, just like the Canadians. Not 29 like the NTEU, which is our gangster Electoral College among other things. Evidence, see Nepotism, see W. Then we could have one union collecting a small percentage to give a collective voice with extreme monitoring from other levels of government. Nietszche said, "Art will replace religion, and aesthetics will replace ethics." Evidence, look at us. It is sad, but I still have hope and cherish the sanctity of life. I am just a little guy from Prichard Alabama who is only scratching the surface.
On Saint Ram Bone's first day in Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC) Bank Examiner school, he did not wear any clothes. The second day he brought his Freakin DIC sword. The third day he noted that the visiting National Treasury Employee Union employee representative seemed to run the place and that the NTEU Union representative was just like the old wise-guys from the block in the French Quarter. The fourth day he started counting FDIC corpses and the relevance and reliability factors of the FDIC bank examinations and audits . The fifth day the FDIC told him he was going to be fired for counting. The sixth day is now and it appears that the orchestra maestro at the NTEU has strung up a concerto that involves every agency from the FDIC to the IRS to the Treasury to the President Election Committee.
Saint Ram Bone's burning question, "Is that an itch on my Freakin DIC?" "And just how much collusion does it take to rob the US Treasury?" "Enquiring minds count 29 Federal Agencies and One Corrupt Orchestra Maestro of Hoodlums at the NTEU, just like in the ole quarter, where I too used to wear, "Sock Feet In New Orleans Government Cheese"-- An auditors song of childhood memories of eating Free Meat on the River Bank in Windows Streaming Media on the Home Grown Music page.
Saint Ram Bone's helpful solution...Separate the agencies from under each other where collusion is possible from a mobster maestro's perspective. After all, would you want to get an itch and find out your wallet or your life had been raped? SainTramBone is getting used to it and keeps his own accompaniment of salves and condiments and is rumored to tap his Freakin DIC sword on his boot every time he enters a new town, because there is always another pile of mobsters to drop in upon.
Saint Ram Bone, the unannounced auditor, bursts in on an National Treasury Employees Union managers meeting and witnesses his Ham-Bone Soup du Jour, European Union President and Billionaire Mobster controlling the USA through Proxy and associates at the National Treasury Employees Union (NTEU), "Ah-Ha, Mi Ficca UN Culo Berlusconi, Das Bank Vencedor Dumplin" Translated Italian/German, "I can’t find no place to sit." Or in Pre-Charred Translation, "You bank robbing garbage, let me wet my G.D. beak."
A crew of Wiseman who did not see "W", also can not hear evil, speak evil, or Freakin DIC see evil. The Freakin Dic Manager told Saint Ram Bone he had dug a hole that he could not get out of, and now posthumously declares,
"See the leaning tower of Freakin DIC in San Francisco?" "The Manager known as Jutt Butt Slut and Brown Finger told me, 'You dug a hole you can not get out of'" "I burrowed to D.C. and ended up on Sesame-Seed street, the NTEU building and the Freakin DIC Seidman Center in Arlington, Vaginuh." "Now, have you seed my friends bunny rabbit hole." "Mighty Mitey" "DENNISe sPERmON,"
Enter a man barely dressed in T'weed with matching Cammo. " Call Mr. Sweeney Green Beret's and tell him to take his property back from these G.D. Union mobsters." "They are like an octopus on The's nation". "And I am ready for fried tentacles"
Saint Ram Bone, "We do not cook those. I relish The's boys Grotto." "Collect em and sort em out by putridity and size" "White collar crime is a made up word for major atrocity and it is often called, 'A mere slippage of ethics'."
Saint Ram Bone in card game with the Saint Lucifer, and a corrupt U.S. government agent, which in this particular case is a Nazi-like badge toting mobster we will refer to as simply Jack, or you can think of Jack synonymously as Sueet Carol, his in-cum-bent.
Saint Ram Bone says, "Beware! When you are playing cards with the devil, she does not play with a full deck."
Jack, Waiting for that straight flush had made a 'Slight of Hand' taking $100K from SainTramBone's pile of $911 million earned from the Kurt Brown charity art and house Talisman sale for food funds for the poor. An ax of laser light clips Jack's hand and he screams in agony.
Saint Ram Bone, "The devil leaves you a little Short-handed, don't she, Jack." "The wagers $100K". "Your deal Saint Lucifer" "Sorry, you can not deal with a Short-hand, Jack." "Catch .22" "Rome N Rap City" "The rag is under the X-Mas Tree, Uncle Mas, Alias Jack Er Randy N Sueet Carol". (Pic Link of Rag N Freakin DIC shadow Dragon by the X-Mas Tree, Kur)
Saint Ram Bone announces, "Would anyone like to play a game of, Jeopardy With Saint Leprosy"
Suddenly a guy with a cigar missing thumbs and such appears and smiles, "I like Jack Er Randy" "Dildos ER dog-catching devices, all leave a lump in a Kraft-E death seat" "Guess who's up", and the Leprosy victim from the islands pulls Freakin DIC gun from its pocket.
Saint Ram Bone waits impatiently and nervously chewing the nut scented Christmas Agaric shrooms in his pouch. And says to Saint Lucifer, "That Jack Mutt-A-Fibba is a freak". "Look at him grabbing one hand without a hand when the other hand already fallen off"
Saint Lucifer stands up revealing the Ruby Miller Wanker Arm Dildo Special, and Saint Ram Bone in awe exclaims, "Now she a-bout horn-in some-tin" "Jack, she knee-deep in butt-cheeks See"
Saint Ram Bone looks in the mirror and walking through the door, "Kur, Papal-Lion, Look-out "Kur, Papal-Lion, Look-out"
Anxiously the sun sets to give birth to a whole new morning at the Mourning Star Fight Club House of Cards, where the light is so beautiful when it first appears, shedding its warm, hastening the cracking of little roach eggs letting their spawn free, in the in-cum-bent light, as Saint Ram Bone puts on his socks in the Pre-Charred Alabama Row House, Circa 60-3, and says, "Ollie Ollie Oxen Free, When will I be free like the King III.?"
Saint Ram Bone says, "I thought I was going to have a war’n La Colin class to get rid of the shee-it that gets in the way of development". "Then, I found out that if I masticate real hard, the whole dag-blain surface pops clear off of the shee-it." "Indian Women Leaving Messages S scratch my knuckles." "Then I beat the leaving Shee-it out of the first rump-ranger and moving on down the line." "The Freakin DIC manager says that 'Nobody' likes a martyr." "Well-come to Martyr-dumb."
Saint Ram Bone rambling a new song, "Twelve can be the loneliest number as the number one, one," "Two can be as bad as one, but you frighten a stranger when you takes his gun-un-uns" "You better wash your mouth out, the strangest number is the one sucking on a Freakin DIC gun-un-un."
Cancer is due to the vulnerability of the cell. Bananas bruise when placed in the cold. Likewise, if cells in origin of cancer infused with structures vulnerable to attack, such as vulnerable to attack by cold, or vulnerable to attack by chemicals opposed to a transient state of the cell, could thereby rid the area of aberant growth processes and return to a normal state, without inducing chemotherapy. Note: Correction for later entry-- Descartes, ruminator of 10 falsities and one truth per second, died of pneumonia from sleeping in his cart, not his Truk.
Serial Path Do-Gooder Auditor, The Kurt Brown, conference with a federal agent sent by federal grocery clerks like an errand boy to collect on a bill for a billionaire. They are seated at the conference table, a dinner tray coffee stand in a barn converted into a house with co-contaminant animal farm.
A few hand gestures to the corner of the barn by Kurt and a slight mumble initiates the ceremonies. One of Kurt’s visiting acquaintances steps out of the barn with a broom and in the light of the door is seen wearing a gothic black attire, slacks and black jacket with razor wire roll draped over the shoulder.
Kurt, "Watt’s The name, seems to like the fresh air", and gestures toward the barn door and lifting his pants leg to simulate the flood of shit that flows with some government agents.
U.S. Government Sanctioned Agent Das Ufer Vencedor Ashba, AKA The Bank Conqueror Garbage, "What have you done, auditing us and running for President! We are victims! You are not the victim with your ignored cries for help and release! You are nothing! You will never be President! We are just feeding our families! We can manipulate the U.S. international monetary system anyway we see fit! We can try and kill any Goodie-Two-Shoes auditor, Kurt or Saint Ram Bone, Dog eat Dog, Attila the Hun!"
Kurt "I ate with a dog once. Your mother was rich".
Agent Das Ufer Vencedor Ashba, "I see you still hold contempt for Das Fuhrer Pseudo Bethlehem" "Perhaps the fact that you were set up by the forece s of Das Fuhrer Pseudo Bethlehem was only the beginning, as we have already forced injections at the government facilities upon you , given you jail time, still hold you in exile, and our taking of your fathers only gift to you, the ‘oh so precious Win-Chester twenty-two caliber rifle’ was not enough."
Kurt, "The old homeless and penniless Indian Woman left message ‘s’ on The’s Windshield." Kurt cracks the walnuts and begins to masticate. "You take away her right to breathe, and now she has become a flighter"
Agent Das Ufer Vencedor Ashba, "Gosh darn" "Is that a bat or a cow on that rafter up there?" and looks toward the apex of the barn in the rafters above.
Kurt, cracks another walnut, "Did she leave message s?" not looking at the huge black unknown void in the darkness above.
The agent begins to cough and cat-call, Roaring like something mechanical or a voice not quite adjusted to the varying barnyard environment., the cough broken up as if in a segmented wave, with pulses of sound and silence varying intermittent, like a more than mechanistic human or one who was losing his humanistic traits.
Agent Das Ufer Vencedor Ashba, "I", gasping, "Find You" "X 911", and falls into the soil like it is a tub of graphite.
The door on the barn opens and standing there is the old indian woman with a sledge hammer and the sprawl of razor wire.
Kurt, "X never comes back, not like SainTramBones"
The old homeless Indian woman back from mending fences, "Saint Ram Bone, Kurt Brown, X 911 for President, Send the Governator Schwarzenegger of Cali and the Governor Riley of Alley-Bama to the Tater Tote-em fields." She then takes the razor wire and whips it, throwing the razor wire into the shape of an S with a Double-Crescent-Cascade shaped set of wings at the top. The wire settles into the space where Government Agent Das Ufer Vencedor Ashba, AKA The Bank Conqueror Garbage, had Been.
All of the barnyard animals begin a procession, stomping the mud.
In the distance in the black void above far from view, yet exercising its’ muscle, a Celtic hymn is played. Bagpipes, hobo’s, homeless, homo’s and hetero’s, a ticker tape parade across a snow covered golf course, with Saint Ram Bone and his Pal Saint Zigfield Hatter-toss, the ghost of the forgotten artisans of history. Each of them taking turns, left and then right, in one handed golf using frozen beer cans, with Zigfield sipping Peppermint shots, of red syrups and white sugars.
Saint Ram Bone, above in Italian Nice-Matin Wear, is prepared to go to gas chambers as Stand-in for Cooper of California. Saint Ram Bone reads mustard gas instructions, "Drop in water, sit on stool, wait for vapor". Spits on it, licks on it and says, "mmmm, tastes Gump" Link to Comments on Cooper on Countdown Death Row. "Death without life ain't no family affair, and life without death ain't neither." "And if you takes a man's freedom, you takes a man's life. How many lies are there in history? And who is truly, human, and why, when it seems to skip generations in mud-line, or family, lineages.
Saint Ram Bone is with his less-than-inviting family, Uncle Billy Goat and his boys, Rod-Knee and B.J., and he has dropped by unannounced in Sun Su-I-O. They are looking at the Highway across from the front lawn. A truck is broken down on the roadside and it has Sueet Carol in the cargo-hold with some D.C. dignitaries, and together they are the embodiment of all broken down government and corporate has-beens who have turned to simulated cannibalism with human blood.
Sueet Carol springs from the chicken wire and runs across the lawn, agile, yet dove-like, flailing her knuckles on the Grass. "Please, Please, Help Us!" "Our coupe has broken down and just one of my many dootey's is to see that the chicken-coop has flies".
Uncle Billy Goat who resembles SainTramBone sorely, replies, "Well lookie he-uh! Another passer-by with juicy knuckles looking for somebody to turn the ole, 'Monk-E Wrench". The pet pitt bulldog starts a fight with the other dog, a Collie and the 3 foot X 3 foot dust lawn becomes a dog-snatch-dog garden knuckle fest.
Uncle Billy Goat, angered by the ruckus, shoves Sueet Carol onto the loveseat as he hobbles by with his infected, Polken Toe, also known as Dutch Finger Toe, with Brown rim rot. "Get outta my way! Damn Dogs! I'm going to MO the lawn" "Hussie Ass Bitch Got Shit on Moi Stoop" "Keep Your Peter In Brown Paw Prints Off The Upholstered Linens" "Sceeter Mudd!", and slams the door behind him and goes onto the lawn.
Sueet Carol looks at Saint Ram Bone, "You look familiar. Have me met?"
Saint Ram Bone, "I would like to say that I nose you well. But, you might remember that Taxi Driver with no nipples or teets"
Sueet Carol, "Yeah, that San Francisco nut case"
Saint Ram Bone, "Well dat was my Daddy, and he sees what you got"
Sueet Carol, "Get the Hell outta my way. Freakin HillyBilly Nuts"
B.J. and Rod-Knee start their fornicate-art lesson with their favorite Silly Putty Paison's, Berlusconi and Mass-Uh.
Sueet Carol gets to the front door and Billy Goat is watching his dogs spinning around the yard, each grabbing the other's flank, snarling.
Billy Goat, shitting on a stump flatulating and constipated says, "Feels kinda good, Don't it now" "You and I being two-of- a-kind. Home-owners, settin our own directions" "You watch for those pecans back there won't ya?" "Callin em, Pray-Leans", and a little pig squirt lets loose and the dogs stop fighting, turning their attention to the awful odor.
Sueet Carol horrified, grabs a shred of an awning and swings over the 8-foot-fence and he tail and mono-cleat-shoes clear the barbwire skirting. In the distance, the only growing species of birds, the scavenging predators, loungers of road-kill, Ravens and Crows and Salt-Buzzards, follow Sueet Carol and the Merry Band from the High-Top Glass Roof House of Government and Industry.
Next stop, for Sueet Carol, one doorway down the rocky roll, Village of The Damned, every Truk dwellers Home. And the next un-inviting relative to answer, Doctor Dawg , the finder of the little organ grinder, Bo-Bo, and then on to the Slaughter House for a sip of iced tea and more memoirs of pleasurable pain.
Saint Ram Bone meets terminator turned Governator, Schwarzenegger, aims his Dick Gun and says in a mechanical voice, "Tell Das Fuhrer, Shimi Shimi, bi- bi-du'un" meaning translated, "My name is", "with, with-out", as he cocks the amanita muscaria, AKA Red Magic Santa Mushroom, in his scrotum pouch sewn in by the underground, and attached to his modified scrotum, the US governments Veterans Administration medical procedure with balls. The loaded weapons bears traits of a Alabama/California fag, and it could go off at any second.
Arnold Schwarzenegger gets hot flashes, orders a dozen white powdered donuts and asks, "Is that Kurt's Truk leaving California over there?", and high-tails it to the millionarios Hollywired homes, only to be tethered to a loop of earth snot controlled by SainTramBone.
Leaving on the coast in a shippin vessel piloted by Cousin B.J. of the SF Bay, are SainTramBone with the Governator in a trout suit, scaling the trout is Cuz Rod-Knee of Napa Hills, and tethered to a post while taking a dump is Uncle Billy Goat on Pacific Beach. See Uncle Billy Goat in the $91.1 House Talisman, painting, below.
UPDATE 2-4-2004 Famous Lame-us has fled Oakland's Pot Town as mafia monopoly makin that sound, 2 ounces, 6 plants, and $5,000 Per Annum to La Fuente Clown and the Posse 4-Star Crown...Saint Ram Bone declares, "NO BARTER Wit La Fuente and Caen" "What is the Masta Plan by KimX, Mass-Uh's Touche! Tongued SainTramBone"...(link to some known LOCAL ORDINANCES on CA Norml site)Should be Just like San Francisco..as medical needs dictate, at least, 99 pLAants, and 6 Los Angeles pounds....La Fuente et La Cosa Nostra no problemo schemo wit LA FED OH! Berlusconi es next, La Ficca Un Culo? Senor?!
Joan Rivers and her White Terrier are on a Talk Show complaining about Saint Ram Bone, "Saint Ram Bone should not call rich people in Hollywood names." "It is not polite." "We pay our taxes." "To show how sorry we are," "I am going to let you go out on a date with my 'Single' (Wink, Wink) daughter"
Joan River's daughter replies, "Mommm, I do not even know Saint Ram Bone, I do not know if he will even like me".
Joan, "He'll like you sweetheart. You got Two knobs and a Twat." "Believe me, things don't change that much from Humboldt Elk's herds to Hollywood's smelliest Tirds."
Joan's Daughter, "Butt mom, I heard his name was Kurt, and he sleeps in his truck and spells Truk wrong." "And look, he lived on Sip and See Street in Pre-Charred and ate coach-roach droppings on paint chips." "He should go out with Spelling's daughter."
A phone in call to the show, Saint Ram Bone, "Ms. Rivers, I think I love your daughter." "That is a 'rich bitch' living next door to you, snot you." "I want to call you, 'Momma'." "I think I would like to try out your daughter, I mean take your daughter out, This Weekend! In moi Truk" "Spelling can wait".
In the background on the phone, BoBo, Saint Ram Bone's possum dog, a Yorkshire Terrier, 3 pounds, yelps, and the 10 pound White Yellow Terrier 'Trixies' springs the coop from Ms. Rivers grip.
Joan's Daughter in a stern voice, "SainTramBone, Quit coaxing my dog into the curtains back there." And she looks at the shifting curtains where the dog is being tussled about by BoBo, Doggie style.
Saint Ram Bone on the phone, "Joan, send your daughter to fetch y'all's puppy." "She all knotted up with BoBo obviously"
A small pop is heard and a faint mist of Saint Ram Bone A. muscaria and cumlin mist from his scrotum nipples drifts into the room.
Joan, rolling her eyes back, opening her mouth twice the normal size of a human, licks her lips, and says, "I'll get Trixie from BoBone".
Joan goes to the curtains and a lot of sexual moaning and carrying on is heard. More pops and the mist gets thick.
Joan's daughter gets up and walks to the curtain, more moaning and tossing about, and suddenly BoBo and Trixie leaves the curtains to go on stage, Ass to Ass, locked up like a Limie sailor and a mistress in heat.
The curtain is torn down. Saint Ram Bone is going at it in a Menage A Trois, cameras and all, Joan down, Joan's leaning on the music stand pedestal while Saint Ram Bone munches down, sporting his new Look Alike Don King Hair-Pees.
Sally Struthers runs up on the stage, angry, her mouth covered with white confectionary sugar, and a glazed look in her eye.
Jim Neighbors, AKA Gomer Pyle in the audience, raises his left hand and points to the stage and starts to take off his belt with his right hand, "Sha-Zam! I ain't never seen it done like that before", and starts stripping going to the stage.
Onstage, Bobo is dangling like a Musk Rat on the back of a "Trixie" in esterus, and Saint Ram Bone is becoming much more mobile while Joan spanks his derierre with a fly swatter and says, "Bad RowBone, Bad RowBone, You stay away from my daughter."
Tootsie Roll Cop, Holy-S Wheel-Son Opens the door above the stage to allow in Dennis Peron, the Lake County Guru barely in Tweed, he has pulled up his short showing his fuzzy knobs and he is wearing the Ruby Miller Ceremonial Wanker Arm Dildo for "Special Occassions" and matching Lake County Hemp Marine Camo loin cloth.
Onstage the music goes loud to the soud of the song from "Rambo", and he screams, "Vivid Wren-Ten-Ten", raising his left arm in the hoo-rah Presidential candidate position.
Jim Neighbors starts to pet BoBo on stage who snaps and growls. Saying in Doggie speak, "Bitch! I know you didn't just do that! You possum chasin fool. I know you! Get Back, Jack! or is that "Jungle Jim...Grrrr"
Dennis Peron slams Jim with the Ruby Miller wanker arm dildo and a small drop of minstral blood appears on his forehead, then three splits, then four, like a bar room bouncer chasing fleas on an unruly patron.
Screaming in the ecsctacy and the agony, Jim falls to the floor with Dennis Peron, screaming, "You're not Kurt!" and jumps down to help Jim up, licking his wounds, while Jim is flatulating.
Walter Cronkite appears on a Teleprompter in a cut-out in the studio with a breaking news flash, "I do not remember Kurt as a good reporter, and I probably never will," as he turns to wave goodbye to Uncle Billy Goat, Sun-Sui-O resident and San Fran United Airlines mechanic, with his boy, B.J., a shippin cap'n from Frisco piloting the vessel, and onboard the shipping freighter, passing Angels Island is a large old jet engine on the deck with Kurt chained on and sitting on the gang plank, looking out to sea and hearing his sweet Kelly, his never dieing teenage love an astonomer and astologist, whisper like an Albuquerque, New Mexico woman when Hell freezes over, "Come Again", and eager with anticipation he whistles with a smile, the Prisoner of War internment song, "Bridge Over River Kwai"... the studio teleprompter fades to a pink-red-blue sunset.
As soon as SainTramBone says, "Uh-Oh" while munching on a young mousey mons veneris, Sally snatches his new Hair-pees as SainTramBone clings on. Saint Ram Bone's face turns blood red and so does his scrotum nipples as the hair-pees pulls lose on its elastic bands. He runs from the stage, chasing his hair-pees and Sally Struthers.
BoBo, Saint Ram Bone's terrier, turns his attention to the Rivers gals. Barks, 'Comin Bitch!' then he and Trixie twirl in circles, still knotted, out to the Truk with he and his new rich bitch sniffing sniffing each others derierres, "Ooo La La, 'Trixie Rivers." whispers Bobo.
A Breaking News Flash on the Teleprompter, Walter Cronkite, "Unbelieveable, The Horror, As Soon as They passed the Port...Well, It Appears that The Ship Showed up in the Orient with", "A Sperm Whale" "Mo-Bee Dick Exploded." "The Taiwanese did a search of the whale for a Jet Engine, a Truk and an unknown semi-red(pink), neck, named Kurt." "They found the jet engine, butt there is no word as of yet if the Truk and Kurt have been found, however their have been two dogs found in coitus", one speaks, a Yellow White Terrier with huge canine teeth, and she barks, "Phone Home" "Momma Rivers".
The Truk driver, resembling cousin B.J. hauling the carcass of the exploding Mo-Bee Dick reports, "Yo-Daddy Billy Goat told me to go North and Turn left, so I went South and Turned Right, and I ended up in the same place. I got to go...I got to drop this har sperm whale off, at least what is left, and I have to pick up my cousin, Mal-Comes...Get out of my way." "You see I got Catch XXII"
Six hours later and 180-degrees hotter, floating somewhere in the Pacific, near the equator, where the water runs in both directions in a 10-foot span, the real B.J. and his Yo-Daddy, Uncle Billy Goat, float on the Gang Plank discarded by the new shipping vessel captain, an unknown buccaneer. Uncle Billy Goat bobbing up and down, spinning and gyroscoping in the currents, "Dis ain't so bad".
B.J., "Yo-Daddy" "Get your sock outta my butt" "I apologize for bringing Cousin Kurt a glass of water."
BoBo lives happily ever after due to The's design, on Trixie Rivers on Sex-A-Me Street, Chauferred in Holly-Wired by Joan Rivers, that all began in an abondoned shoe-box with a puppy found by Saint Ram Bone in the depths of Mo-Bile, given to Dr. Dawg, and passed onto his family, of which Kurt is part in his Truk, and who adopted BoBo, or BoBo adopted wHOm....
Update. BoBo has flown the coop and is back in the's Truk with his helmet and without Trixie. BoBo say, "P. Whipped is good, P. Whoopi is better, butt BoBo P.'d out." "Dam the loose lug nuts on America's highways, in particular, N.O.Way Gorge, Los Angeles to Lower Alabama, full speed ahead." "Oops, Rat Hole, Slow Down Ram Rod" "Twist, Turn, Ebb and Flow, Count like an Auditor".
Click to enlarge
For Sale, A Pic Commemorating The Departure and Final Resting Point of "Uncle Billy Goat". This is a Two in one set, where one image has been painted over another, a Talisman of light...The First is the bottom layer of paint, and is Uncle Billy Goat's view of Kurt Waving Goodbye to yim and his Jet Engine and yon Whale, as thar appears to a Depth Charge of Jet Engine Fuel down Yar.
The second image is the top layer, and you may note that Uncle Billy Goat is taking a shit on a log or wiping his ass on a stump in Pacific Beach in San Francisco. The jet engine was repaired and put on the back of The's Truk, and falling from above is Uncle Billy Goat's stolen retirement money retrieved from the National Treasury Employees Union mobsters vacationing in the orient, tossed by Cousin Mal-Comes and Kurt, just to keep Uncle Billy Goat alert, while singing the song, "Yim, Yim, Frock Yim". Uncle Billy Goat gets knocked silly, success in the effort to help him and his "Dis ain't so bad", ilk, hanging from America's rear and Uncle Billy Goat's protruding colon like a 'Butt Bubble', relieving the constipation caused by stress from an unknown source ET N U, NTEU and Freakin DICk (FDIC). (Warning: The Bail is Self Igniting).
Shippin Cap'n B.J. is enroute to pick up his pay check in a new canoe courtesy of Kurt and Cousin Mal-Comes who are landing The's Jerry-Rigged Jet Power Truk without Rudders somewhere on the 'Dock of the Bay', Short of Angel's Island, and Long of Devil's Island.
Saint Ram Bone is allegedly vacationing on Horse Mountain in the Snow in Humboldt County, while trying to ease his anxieties. He cordially invites all who can use a golf club equally with each hand for a game of one-handed alls-tar golf, switch hands after each hit. It is a dress-up event, so no Blue Jeans. There, Saint Ram Bone usually wears a Tuxedo or new Bermuda Shorts, depending on mood and temps. If you are disabled, just listen to the silence, as it is the same. Beware of Snake Oil Drugs, like the anti-depressantZoloft, and the pain killer, anti-depressant, and miracle drug that turned out to be a lie, Neurontin, as these two drugs are just a couple in a vast array of what amounts to nothing more than "Designer Snake Oil Salesmans Drugs" whose manufacturers own the courts and the government in 2004. Buyer Beware. Organic medicine will be the best bet in times of distrust of the Snake Oil Kings, and we will know eventually who is really, "Blowing Smoke Up Our Ass" "Arrgh Mate, Feels Good At First, Butt Leaves a Bit of an acrid taste, Don't it now!"
If you suffer the melancholy blues, then visit Saint Ram Bone, with or without a Medical vaporizer, on a trip to the world's mountains vanishing snow peaks, especially if you are from a hot ghetto like Mo-Biles, Pre-Charred Alabama. Bring two golf clubs and Swamp Boots. If you are agile and rich, bring cross country skies and use the clubs as your pool cue golf clubs...Warning do not tell Saint Ram Bone you are rich, and if he is wearing Bermuda Shorts, lose the snow skies and put on the mud boots, as it is either too hot or he feels a little, 'Scrappy'.
Watch for Pedestrians, limit strokes to XXII Feet. Dress your best, and if Crystal AKA C.E.B.A.G. AKA God AKA Allah AKA Buddha AKA Ethereal Consciousness is your pest...then Don the bad kharma look, AKA Jack Rabbit fur skins, the height of fashion Tuesdays, High Noon, VD US.
The pic above was first of Earth saying Farewell, Kurt painted it over, only to bid Billy Goat, "Fair Well".(Acrylic on Canvas 3'x4' $911 Million OBO). 100% of proceeds going to charitable foundations. 99.22 Percent to outside charities and the rest to the charity audit team at Mobile Audit Club, the auditor on the behalf of the poor, downtrodden, and dead downtrodden.
Alternate Email Link for the Blue Phantom, the relay to Art Purchase Contact..Courtesy Relay of Blue Phantom, Blue Nose Poets Society, UK. Kurt and Saint Ram Bone can not design websites according to some hidden criminal dictates by the LA Courts handed down through the Fed., in particular FDIC, insuring your bank deposits to $100,000, the same amount that the Federal Government and Alabama state government allows the now acting Sheriff of Mo-bile Jack Tillman to steal. Millions can not vote in America due to the hidden word on modern media, "Disenfranchisement", and in Kurt's case, a loss of voting rights, disenfranchisement by design, thanks to Jack N Freakin DIC. ARRGH MATEY'S..Ta Feeshin We Go. Germany allows everyone to vote...including prisoners. Why? You figure it out, and say, C.E.B.A.G.
What angered Saint Ram Bone the most was when Kurt tried to just enter a city council meeting in Mobile Alabama, circa 9/2001, and the Secret Service, which is part of the Treasury Department, sent agents to his home. Then to push things over the limit, they disturbed his wife at her place of work where she cares for the poor, the sick, and the dieing. Why? You figure it out. They may be the naked gun behind the Freakin DIC, FDIC, and the NTEU, National Treasury Employees Union. If someone tries to kill you in the US, and if there is no 911 response, forget the constitutional right, "Right To Bear Arms", just buy a ticket to a high locale and make contingent plans, as we will not stand for a mite to stand in the place of The's might, the might of conscientiousness and empathy. Cold blood breeds cold blood..hard facts.
Saint Ram Bone wants the truth, who is the best example of Uncle Billy Goat's 'What Not To Be'? Jack or Kurt... Your answer might depend on where you sit in the Elephant Tree...Little squirrels chitter chatter, like Moi, while egg robbers stuff their pitiless faces.
In the end, Kurt, like all men of conscience, we all look over the other's shoulder, including Uncle Billy Goats, like when Billy Goat was walking back across the Golden Gate Bridge, Hobbling on a stick on one leg with no socks, one polken Toe with a bad infection. Kurt, on his cane, gave Uncle Billy Goat one of his mud boots for his good foot, and they hobbled across the Golden Gate Bridge, each bearing the cane on the left, and hobbled on the right. Sure they had a scuffle and injured a duck, but they ate what they killed, and never killed needlessly.
It appears that another of Billy Goat's spawn is riding over the hill with a 12-passenger Seat Van from the Napa Vineyards, it is Rod-Knee and his trousers are down, as usual. On the side of the van is the old logo, K-Mutt. Uncle Billy Goat knows a dog of war on the move when he sees one. Kurt says, "I bet, Uncle Billy Goat is also queer for To Fu Soy", and Lice-fur begins to fly in a 12 seater van somewhere North of the new Pungent Sound, Sun-Su-I-O.
Saint Ram Bone is lonely and he needs a date. As usual, he has to go to the least likely a source to find his mate, a group of Hollywired Dollar huggers. He follow Whoopi Goldberg to the Sto. after being agitated by her comments about the internet being a big lie.
Saint Ram Bone backs his truck in the spot behind Whoopi's car and waits for her to return. He follows Whoopi to her car. "Whoopi, you do not know Moi, but I am in love with you. I want to play with your ass till you turn the color purple."
SainTramBone smacks his teeth and chaw like a cricket and raises the knuckle of his second finger and scratches it like it is a clitoris with his thumb and two fingers out like a peace sign. He shows a little arousal and his scrotum appears wet and glistening.
Whoopi Goldberg, "Little Man, get your clothes and leave me alone before I spray with you mace and call the police." Looking at his arousal and the smell of the pheromones from his scrotum eases her guard and she says, "You are kind of special though." And she gets a little, Sweaty.
SainTramBone, "Look, I have Oprah in the truck eatin donuts. Come on join the party!". Saint Ram Bone has placed a picture of Oprah on a manneguin and mounted it on a pedestal in the truck and it swings and moves in the winds and he points to it with his gloved paw with white donut powder on the finger tips.
Whoopi, "Oprah? You have got to be kidding." She looks back at SainTramBone as he is squeezing the pheromones, or sex juice, from around his Amanita Muscaria pouch on his Veterans Administration genetically enhanced scrotum sack.
Out from the corner of the parking lot comes a scream at the sto. and a blonde lady comes rushing across the parking lot, she weighs a lot, and she has white donut powder, sugar, crusted around her mouth.
Whoopi, "Sally Struthers?" "What is going in here?", and Whoopi reaches for her mace swinging and pointing it at both of them.
Sally Struthers, "I fell in love with him." "Cooked him donuts forever, and now all he does is ride around with that Oprah manneguin in his Truk, and talk about Whoopi this and Whoopi that."
Saint Ram Bone accidently pops a yellow cyst next to his nut nipple and a foul smell hits the air. Sally Struther has another allergic reaction and goes nuts, like she is taking VA pain medicines, Steroid psychosis sets in.
Saint Ram Bone runs to the middle of the street, but it is too late. Sally Struthers grabs Whoopi. Saint Ram Bone runs back to The's Truk and slings the Oprah manneguin into a shopping cart.
A scuffle ensues and the steroid psychosis gives Sally the strength, to over-Come. She slams Whoopi into the middle of the love-seat, grabs a donut from the glove compartment and shoves in Whoopi's mouth, spreading white confectionary sugar everywhere.
SainTramBone pulls out of the parking lot with Sally Struthers and Whoopi Goldberg. SainTramBone, "Dang Baby, you fine. You remind me of that lady who walked to fast in Pre-Charred Alabama." "Go ahead, try me again" "I ain't shy now" "I really love you Whoopi!", and Sally casts a look of anger and starts eating 8 donut holes at once, still delirious from the cyst mist.
To woo his new babe, virgin purple, SainTramBone begins to sing, "I'm looking over a four leaf clover, that I 've overlooked before", and places his hand on Whoopi's mons veneris, driving Whoopi mad with erotic passion
SainTramBone targets his trajectory on his new time jumping device. Whoopi awakens in The's Truk with donuts everywhere. Outside are thousands of naked women making donut offerings to Saint Ram Bone. They are in the SainTramBone zone where Amazonian women only have the one male with a million testicles, all popping like pop corn, filling the little butter balls of his island empire with erotic visions of another romp with, "The King".
Whoopi, "Where the Hell am I?" She turns to Sally still in The's Truk "And Sally, You need to get yourself fixed and go on a diet plan, or some-tin."
SainTramBone does the Jack Rabbit Shuffle, like a Hawk chasing mice on the ground sending gold dust into the air.
Whoppi, "Are those poisonous mushrooms on the driver's side of the seat?" "She reaches for one"
Sally says, "Go ahead and eat em, they aren't that bad." "You get used to them in this place." "Have a donut to wash them down."
Whoopi places a bunch of them in her mouth, attracted to the nutty taste and sucks the juices.
Whoopi becomes intoxicated on an unknown chemical reaction with the donuts and starts making out with Sally in The's Truk.
SainTramBone "Hot Hams!" "Count me in sweet sisters." "Color me purple and suck on my donuts all night", and jumps into the Truk, striking a pose with a new Donald Trump look alike Hair-Pees.
So ends another Trip to the Sto. for a Ho with Saint Ram Bone.
When looking for ways out of this quagmire of confined time and space, I ventured upon an algorithm, which with improvement and modifications could yield possible trajectories unimagined in a non-linear stress environment as exemplified outside of the theoretical. The link is here. Although it is another application algorithm dealing with seismic activity and related estimations, I believe their application is one that could be evolved upon into using theoretical and engineering applications on the frontiers of theories such as the determination of sparticle activity with possible non-linear transport of some matter forms. A link to programs that might hold part of the code needed to assist the program above into reaching the theoretical plausible mechanism of transport on sparticle boundaries or such that it resembles Central Nervous System activity in which nodes are jumped to accelerate time of adjoining neural response.
The ideal situation would be if we, human-kind, could create our own spaces to grow, as something tells me much of that apparently open space is already called for, lmuch like the inside of an organism has structures needed for life of the whole, e.g. viruses live in a cell until a critical point, burst outward and killing the cell, therefore not symbiotic, and lacking Compassion and Empathy to the host due to design.
You should never be hesitant to theorize, despite the monkey picking his rhino-gland next to you. Descartes theorized 10 theories a second, and only one was true. Descartes was the only one who proposed the one theory in that second. His taste in clothing was impeccable for a Truk dweller.
Saint Ram Bone remembers his childhood in Prichard, AKa Pre-Charred, Alabama. It was so hot staring from the unheated row house. Steam collected on the windowsill paint chips and the smell of the paper mills was not even noticed due to familiarity of the falling white clumps from their smoke stacks. The clumps looked like snow on a cracked windshield, but was adhesive and solid like bird droppings with glue.
An unbroken beam of light came through the broken screen of the window, and it danced millions of pieces of dust, each containing a dead man or woman, including the mighty kings, or animal or plant, as of most recent, and the light shined brilliantly on each, like a dancing rainbow.
On the floor a discarded roach egg, left by one of the variant species of roaches. Opening in the warm light, the egg opens, the little new born roaches scatter out and about, their new skins as white as white chocolate.
The sheet on the bed had images of football players and such, and the world seemed to hold a place next to the Ginger Bread Man in lucid moments, with the exception of a lurking fear. A fear of the woman who walked to fast down the street, and the fear that father would not return home, and the fear of uncertainty that inahabited all things in the sultry room.
In the evening the old rusted RamBler banged down the road to the Pre-Charred road house, always somewhere near Sip-See Street. Saint Ram Bone screaming out in delight, breathing in innocently a Life-Saver candy into his windpipe.
Saint Ram Bone's father, a little nobody, not panicing, but attentive, reaches into the throat of Saint Ram Bone (an ill-advised practice on any suffocating child) and the life saver shot upward, into the Blue Alabama skies, of an innocent child, in a sea of uncertainty and the loud roar of battles and the innocence of temperate moments.
Soon a brief respite came, in the fields of the Mockingbird Kill, Monroe-Ville, where in a brief return to those fields 12 years later, a young astronomer named Kelly, whose beauty I had not known, 14 or 15 years delicate, predicting her on death correctly, and still I count her predictions on my own date with destiny, hinging and bolting as I look at Bush and Schwarzenegger and the Billion New York Mayor and the Billionaire European President Berlusconi, the way the "Pet Detective looked at Pedakter and Finkel", and I only hope it is my date alone, if putrid morbidity. Alcohol and vehicles do not mix. Sweet Kelly in the golden fields of mine. Does she still count like Galileo? Or am I the stem from the trunk? Or the root from the briar? Or nothing more than a passing, glistening, rainbow in a speck of dust, somewhere in this blue water drop called Earth.
Kelly and I were in the same grade, and our brief encounter left a mark on my life that will last forever. I hear her in Pat Benatar's lyrics, "We are young, heartache to heartache we stand, Love is a battlefied."
How bizarre and ridiculous the pompous Four, the elitist leaders of the dictatorships worldwide, appear in those rattle trap vehicles made of metal stone and flaccid leather. The only thing Saint Ram Bone really likes about his anvil wheeled bicycle, his Truk, is that it has a comfortable love seat to sleep in when parked near the many Golden Gate Parks.
1-27-2004 PST Imagine Saint Ram Bone's day of Reckoning with the vile television media idol of the menstruating month, Donald Trump.
Donald Trump is taking a dump inside the stall of one of his casinos. A drip of a yellow liquid hits his forehead. Rubbing his head, he sniffs the sticky substance. Then a flood of it appears, and he looks up, and above is SainTramBone evacuating his Testes cysts after a night of RamBlin and ballin with the Dirty Dozen. Donald Trump exclaims, "Hey!"
Saint Ram Bone pounces off the stall wall landing on Trumps back. The shitter stall door opens and out rolls Trump with SainTramBone riding Bare Back. A magnificent golden egg of brown shit rolls out onto the floor.
Saint Ram Bone chews his chaw and exclaims, "Oops, you droppin apples" "I used to eat roach droppins on paint chips in Pre-Charred Alabama, butt I ain't eatin dat". "Nope, smells like a gosh-darned paper mill in huh."
Trump, "Please, Please don't hurt me SainTramBone, I will give all of my ill-gotten funds to orpan charities, medical research, and other charities, butt please don't hurt me"
SainTramBone, "You see Kurt standing there in the corner with his cane and hat and golf club?" "He has a bone or to pick with you, starting on Hole One."
Trump notices SainTramBone getting an Los Angeles County Jail erection, and screams, "Help, Security!"
In walks the Tootsie Roll cop, a friendly motorcycle cop who has been rolled on the pavement so many times, he has become infinitely jointed, and exclaims, "SainTramBone! Wake Up! Your Dreamin! You got an erection and that SOB ain't even cute!" "Who's your Daddy?" he exclaims and starts flailing his arms about slapping Kurt on his back who winces in pain and laughter."
Trump, "This one is my baby's Daddy" "Please, save moi" "Late May Go!"
A small whimpering, like a Wheezee, could be heard, "Nuh-Uh", and the Trumped up tird sprouts cockroach legs and runs and jumps back onto the toilet.
SainTramBone, "May Bee, butt first....I want to know who does your hair? I had a hair-pees and...then this light...well never you mind."
Tootsie Roll Cop and Kurt leave the stall. Trump trembles in fear with Saint Ram Bone laying next to Trump and the brown skid mark left by his golden egg.
Saint Ram Bone, "You know ethics goes the long way to avoid damaging the innocent, just like me" "Trump? Is it?" "Finish taking you shit Trump." "I am all awake now, done sleep walking," "You should take a spin with that Tootsie Roll cop." "He is wierd, wired, and got an ethics claws, just like Moi"
SainTramBone in his super human strength slings Trump back on the shitting stump, and exclaims, "Back to Da Louvre, Mammy Flusher!", and the shithouse door closes on trump.
Appearing in the stall with Trump is the Silhouette of Wiseman, a young veteran in Vietnam Camoflouge and long since passed, and a victim not of his design, and Wiseman exclaims, "Make sure you are pointed in the right direction, Chump!"
Wiseman flips Trump and flushes the toilet, and outside, Saint Ram Bone, "Gosh Dang somethin steamy stink in huh...I am having a childhood Pre-Charred flashbacks" "Send me some Cookies, I'll be asleep in the Park in The's Truk".
What is Rambone Hiding?
Eugene Walter, deceased Mobile Renaissance Man, interviewee and interviewer, summoned by Kurt from The's Truk outside of vacant hall at Church Street Cemetary say, "It is likely the Badge of the acting Sheriff Jack Tillman of Mob. AL, and a cookie or Kurt's gun permit, stolen by the Sheriff and returned by Cookie.
Eugene Walter was a gay or Bi man in Mobile Alabama, and was almost the exact opposite of Randy Kraft, i.e. both were gay or bi and only Eugene was SANE. Eugene was the heir to part of the now defunct Gaylord Department Store empire, and an adopted son of an English immigrant to the USA named, "Gaylord". He also had an acting part in the movie, "The Pink Panther", one of Kurt's favorite classical detective comedies.
Eugene would likely agree, remove the federally approved Felon who is Sheriff of Mob. AL, Thief of $100K Freakin Dic insured Inmate Food Funds and Felony Violator of Open Meetings Law, for not allowing Auditor Savant Kurt Brown into Mob. AL city council meetings. Sheriff Tillman, assistant to Mayor of Mob. AL, Boss Hog AKA Mike Dow, is also in violation of Open Meetings Law, and hiding his derierre behind the City council."
Eugene's last request when Kurt last interviewed him for a college paper in 1987 "Mule Skinner, Bring Me some Buffalo Hide and whistle my flying skateboard hither." As a young reporter I did not know what he meant, however I have a vision that at the next Eugune Walter seance at the Church Street Graveyard, Eugene will arise on his skateboard, draped in only Buffalo Skins, and seek Jack Rabbit, Sheriff in the Till-Man fleeing on Side Walk.(Eugene Walters was a poet and actor interviewed. He was the last liberal in Mob. AL from his generation in the area and shall be missed.)
Saint Ram Bone say, "It is no coincidence that Auditor Rain Drop, Kurt, looks like Cap'N KAnga-ROoK", "Where is dat Jack Rabbit song, "Run Wabid Wun, Jack?" "Uh-Oh Flying Skate-boards and Orphan children of A Gay-Lord! Oh My!" "And a detective wearing Pink Plastique Bunny Slippers" "One Flying Golf BAll and A Broken Jet-Liner overhead". "Oh My!" "And what is dat smell?".
"Vietnam Veterans at Funeral Pyre Pit!" and a cross wind whispering, "NAM E Si W" "NAM E Si W".
"Oh MY!". "Run Jack Wabid(s)! Wun!"
On the corner is Kurt's truk with someone sleeping in the Truk "Love Seat". Jack ax, "Is that you K?"
The reply, a Saint Ram Bone raises his head and puts his claw hand with tar black nails on the Window, "Jack Is in The Crack?" "Oh My!"
An assortment of relishes and Mustards are on the dashboard of The's Truk, in addition to Kurt's guitar.
Saint Ram Bone, "Oh My!", "Where is Cynthia Johnston? I " "I got some-tin to tail her"
A small voice from somewhere in the vicinity of The's Truk, "Never you mine, Jack!,Wabbid!".
The sound of a cap fires into the night. Suddenly appearing is Mark Morford, Electronic Editor of the San Francisco Gate, and staring at Jack is Mark Moford with his smoking Dick-Gun, and a Pink haze of Fly Agaric Tainted Cumulin envelopes Jack as Jack hears, "I am knot Cynthia Johnston", and the entire neighborhood stood over him, and they all said, "Everyone of us in the Mob. AL phone book knows someone you have stolen food from, Sheriff Jack".
The Vietnam Veterans on the roadside stop their chant on the funeral pyre and reverse the direction of the winds, from the blood curdling, "Nam E Si W", to the cool and calm rythym of "Wiseman", as one young veteran turns from the group to face us, "Wiseman".
Rue Paul in Pink Plastique Bunny Slippers appears with Eugene Walters on his skateboard and Buffalo Skin attire. Ruby Miller puts her foot down, Kurt's silhouette appears in the back Window of The's Truk, suddenly he scampers through the KAB window to lay down on the love seat closing the windows and muttering "Where is Cynthia Johnston and those donuts", and a puff of smoke fades all to white and pink.
A song by a Queen can be heard coming from the KAB of The's Truk, "I smell a little silhouetto of a man, scally oosh, scally oosh, let's do the Ban Tango, Scatter Bolts and Lightning Very Very Frightening, Oops, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, we let you Thaw, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, oop!". Fade Out
Saint Ram Bone says, "I always smell buffalo when I am around a bunch of bullshit artist politicians."
Saint Ram Bone say, "I believes in the 4 F's, Freedom, Feedin, Fuckin, and Fightin, and not necessarily in that order" "Cause if you takes away my Freedom, there is going to be some fightin, then feedin and fuckin"
Saint Ram Bone say, "One of my bottom nipples has a cyst", "I been ballin the dirty dozen"
Saint Ram Bone say, "Saint Ram Bone versus the Governator with The Kurt Austin Brown, X Number X ***911**, making prank calls to C.E.B.A.G. or CRYSTAL on behalf of the homeless without blankets and the AIDS victims without modern AIDS medicines." "Governator, who is you hidin back there...is that Bill Gates or Spielberg?" "Call Dirk Diggler or The Kurt Austin Brown, to flush em out"
Saint Ram Bone and his sit-in Nanny Rue Paul are on a shopping spree is some North California or South Alabama hamlet. Outstretched is Ruby Miller's leather wanker arm, Dildo Granny Ruby Miller special, AKA Grandma Rue Paul, with Saint Ram Bone tied on at the wrist with pink Ribbon.
Saint Ram Bone looks into the used squad car Ruby bought at the political thieves and mass murderers they collected, "Ruby, The windows should be rolled down." "They are going to suffocate."
Ruby, "I want them to suffocate. They want Kurt to suffocate." A man resembling Pee Wee Herman, the District Attorney of Eureka appears lurking in Bushes, "Boo Ya" "Pee Wee, Phone Arnold" "Ask if Jack-O-Bone is white and if that woman is his wife"
Pee Wee "VD Figures for President" and sing with Sexy Brown Sugar "And Sang like Sexy Rue Paw" "Two Bitz double team on you."
Auditor Rain is a squirrel that harvests nuts, always out on a limb, and alerts the other squirrels to danger in the forest. Depending on where you clamor in the heirarchy of the elephant tree forest determines your fondness or dislike of the chattering squirrel, out on a limb, much as yourself, whether the tree of this life is in feast or famine.
1-13-2004 A visionary is as welcome as another Prickly Pear Cactus in a desert of starving hyenas.
Theoretical Metaphysical Forecasting...Orwell 84 No-L...Know Albuquerque, Know Santa Rosa proximity..(Lovely in Winter)..The Seven Triangles witnessed in the sky and at the feet may be a new fractured window in physics, wasting mother nature's time and resources...the pyramid stack and reflection likely a celestial giants play-toy, gone to the care-takers. Biological stun guns would not be very amusing either. Of course that is Earth's forte.
The young woman at the fillin station with the normal teeth raised her left hand as I left into the cool night, and said, "Come Again!" "I do not get off until 2....Question 1 "Were there pheromones" Question 2 "Was there some CUMuLin on her hand"..it licked a little bit sticky.. Question 3 "If my wife knew that a superior being jerked off my sentient being, of which I am unaware, would she forgive me?" Question 3 "Was that an invite to a close encounter of the umpteenth kind, or was that just another fillin station escapade in The's Truk?" Question 4 Could CUMulin, i.e. a deliberate collection of two semen samples from two beings constitute a new method of extraction for courses of wrong? If so, would you want Humans like W and others who attack innocent of both man and fawn to have that ability?
I suppose what we need is a change of gears in the Planet's thinking, and it is transition that is the trick, as one hand rubs the other, it should not rip it off. Compassion and empathy are the only desirable virtues in some corners of space. "Watch across the field." When I passed the cow slaughter fields on I-5 from LA to SF, I understand why India does not flaunt hamburger meat. The Bigger the brain, the greater the suffering.
Theoretically, picturing our sky as a blue bubble of water vapor in mass density, it is likely there were Blue Noses whose span would be so great we could not detect and yet there in form and function, just like our organs that we think as of meat, or flesh from the soil ingredients in large percentage of mass. Not to be confused with the Blue Nose Poet Society of the UK, but also a likely being of beauty, who could inhabit flesh, and have wing like motions or other apparatus we would not know or would be anesthesized to. Due to variation of species some would likely be symbiotic.
Leading to Handedness in Humans...Theoretically, The Pressure of the Organism could press itself into the brains of organisms, both for form and function, thereby creating two brains, yours and theirs. Could we live withoout it? e.g. having a child confined to a certain era restricting movement of all, or at least most, neutrinos and other minute matter, for a time period to test? Would the child be an ape? Would the child be as intelligent or more so before the inhabitation by the sentient or unknown being or influence within the weak or preferred half of the brain.
Regardless, I hope humans handle that type of life form with care, if at all. There are checks and balances in every living system.
The base of the Planet Saturn, could be the preternatural cone shape of the mentioned Blue Nose species based on and around Saturn....We should rename it Teliot, because if we Teloscope it, it might set off a chain reaction or immune response..and reveal that it is a lever for the Toilet. Could that strange planet be an orginating source or cluster for those beings that plummeted or shot up to this point in our solar system. Can you teach your monkey being, and sentient being to play one handed golf.. Choose your weak hand, lean on a cane with the other if you need support, and flex lightly the elbow and use the wrist..accuracy, not mute strength...Concentrate...Do not Rupture your Shoulder Cup or get tennis elbow. Your sentient being already knows how to talk, but maybe not to the monkey in you, and likely would recall the last Jack Ax he jammed his pokey into. Order is the divine final cause, and without empathy for the final form....Well, to put it as someone once whispered, "Do Not Make Crystal Go Mad." "Rolling Octopus in 'Help'".
Wars are actions initiated and not felt, obviously, by the over-ruling masters of the moment, are often as a result of something I would described as an octopus rubbing together what it had collected on its arms. Watch for the second and third level influences, others unascertainable due to design of final form. If life gets you down, remember, "Most of what you see is just part of the program". Watch the area where the road rolls backward, then add the area where it rolls forward, and in the crack where the tire meets the pavement, you will find a void in time and space, or poetry in motion with possible exit and entry windows. Always leave a back door open.
Scene: Welcome to Hell's Kitchen, or somewhere in proximity: Today's Chef, Rue Paul, with Saint Ram Bone in His High Chair, and Pee Wee at the Door Bell. Background music playing, Sonny and Cher's altered version of, "I got You Babe! I Got You Babe Under My Skin! Just like a squirmin spermin swarm of Wren!" (Contrary to belief, in this sector anyhow, Life is Butt an Illusion, and Hell is jUst a purification lesson, Short Lived, Hell Remembered.)
Chef Rue Paul reads instructions, "Put On Personalized Rubbers of The Day, Mount Jack Rabbit on Pedestal, Pack Shrooms, and Mo Heat mushrooms inside Jack Rabbit Until Jack Rabbit Pee Turns wRen, " "Sounds easy enough" "Pass the Giblets SainTramBone"
Saint Ram Bone, "Now Rue B, you know the giblets Is mine", "You got Jack Rabbit on the Pedstal Now" "Do you inhale, do you exhale." "Heat Em' Up Like IsUs tells You and Phone In Egypt" "Then whistle that Sueeeet Carol of a Ho Ho Homebody, Hell-enda Boyz Void le Bon Bon Exquisite, Betwixt Us"
District Attorney, Humboldt County, The Kurt Austin Brown, Wearing DA Pee Wee Herman face-off mask, asks, "What are the Charges by Rotemore and What will be the Resolution" "My little angel dove?" as he turns to watch SainTramBone's Hyper-X-CNS Speed PC. A little Girl named FurZe from Isreal starts playing her harps-while-ichord while Saint Ram Bone drizzles. "Commence The Ceremonies", DA Pee Wee Kurt starts Whistling "Bridge over River Kwai", the WWII internment SONg, at Truk Window In The Floor, with his characteristic "bird smile" and no pucker. Kurt in his Truk Turns on Heat Gun through custom backwindow into Truk Bed with wRen head, to hear "Baretta" Cold Wind Blowin 1200-degrees fahrenheit, 100 percent insured per Apostle, igniting Fruit Flowers covered in Red Extract of Fly Agaric, Billowing Smoke Blows onto Floor of Hells Kitchen, Outside, Queen of Big Lagoon of the down-river Karok Tribe, Yurok Slap Wren. (Live Sound Track Comin Up IN the Court of Festers Jesters.).
Falling from the sky, thousands of red mushrooms, Fly Agaric, under Chef Rue B's Bunny Rabbit Feets.>
Thumping the Jack-Asp Ass, the corrupt Politician we call, "Jack Rabbit"
Chef Rue Paul drops Pantie Hose and undoes zipper to reveal leather Mandingo, melody playing in Background, "Big Black Mandingo by Sexy Brown Sugar"
Saint Ram Bone, "Aw, Nuts, I Forgot my Discquise" "Rue B" "Shuffle Him Around A Bit" "He has Got a Lot To Learn Before He Pee Red"
Two Hours Later, Fowl Du Jour, Spinning Violently on Pedestal, Spewing Red Out and Ren In, The Announcement
"It's Ren", say DA Pee Wee
SainTramBone, "Open the Gosh Darned Windows" "Douche Blossom Cherry 8 Up" "Ren In Red Out". "Give Me A Mars Bar."
Chef Rue Paul peels some-thin off the cupboard
Famous LAme-us appears wearing chaps, "That one ain't kosher baby" "Try some of these, Brownie Brown Brownies" "If you need me, call Pot Town, I'll be downtown with Jerry Brown" "Tell Kurt Brown to bring The's Truck on Down" "Huh, I got $91.10" "And Tell Uncle Billy Goat 'Sun-Su-I-O'" "And watch that Golf Ball at 12 o'clock" "And to quit flying that Jet-Liner with a broken calf." "Damned Fools".
DA Kurt in Pee Wee Face-off mask, "Uncle Billy Goat, Sun-Su-I-O wants a Bag of Cookie's, I am Sewer" "I'll take Cookies HashAla-Mode and the ransom payment, Amos." "Kurt's ransom can never be paid" "He is prisoner refugee from Los Angeles to Alabama by NO Way Gorge" "Butt we have him in Eureka Now" "Have a nice day," "Au Revoir," "Too Da Louvre", slamming the door violently behind Amos in Ceiling, cracking his wood cane. "Goodie Two Shoes Auditors always smell like Cookie's...mmmmmm Good Oreo...mmmmm Inside out, outside in, tastes look Cookie...mmmmm".
Saint Ram Bone slyly shoves some of the 8 Mars Bars under his Scrotum Pouch.
Jack gives relief? To the melody of a singing Fellow Mobile Homeless Cynthia Johnston coming over the hill and into the park with a Jack Snatch Hook "Up UP and Away In a Magical BAlloon, Up Up and Away like A Sueeeet Carol fingerin Buffoon"
La Musique et Ellen De Trois, Deja Vieux as Uncle Billy Goat Sun-Su-I-O Mechanic tightens nut on Ram wREN, with Rosemary Controlling Terminal Runway Flares, Couleur Trois Radio Online tunes into zone as Mrs. Johnston whistles with Melody.
UPDATE 2-4-2004 Famous LAme-us has fled Oakland's Pot Town as mafia monopoly makin that sound, 2 ounces, 6 plants, and $5,000 Per Annum to La Fuente Clown and the Posse 4-Star Crown...NO BARTER...(link to some known LOCAL ORDINANCES on CA Norml site)Should be Just like San Francisco..as medical needs dictate, at least, 99 pLAants, and 6 Los Angeles pounds....La Fuente et La Cosa Nostra no problemo schemo wit LA FED OH! Berlusconi es next, La Ficca Un Culo? Senor?!
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBSiberian Huskies, Reindeer Herdsmen, and Celtic Warlords, Feast Your Eyes ON the Latest Ingredients For San Francisco Tu-Lip Incense. Warning: Amanita Muscaria, the mushroom used in chemically altered pesticides, is of unknown reaction with some fruit flowers and may be toxic. Do not fall in "Fly Agaric" with milk. Numerous Alabama, California, and Federal politicians are reportedly commiting suicides, having drowned in Fly Agaric milk. There is an unidentified white crustation on their lips and chin...See Interview Between SainTramBone and Sherriff "$100K Food Funds Thief" Below. "Remember to Gore the Spores out with a good Spoon-In Before You Trip From the Fields There 'Friend' " "So Life Is Lucid, Gain and Again"
"I remember my father feeding dog food to me next to the lion exhibit in Prichard Alabama in 1963 and again in New Orleans in 1974. I was the only semi-white semi-indian semi-semian in Prichard, and I was the only one without monster teeth in New Orleans. My father always had the hiccups. His last words to me were, "Boy, I weaned you from that cat! Catch XXII!" "Let little us feast while you still got feet" My New Orleans Sock Feet Smell Like Prichard Cat Pee in Windows Streaming Media Format.
1-1-2004 Upon reflecting on the Southern and Northern Auroral Phenomena it appears there is the dance and dual of light seeking light in the flesh of earth...Photons like the Meiosis To Mitosis, or the growing of the organic flesh".
Saturn emits more energy than it receives. Why? Is there life within or is it life itself? A satellite probe arrives there in late 2004, and of that I am somewhat concerned...Auditor Rain Man says, "Uh-Oh" "Do not want to play cheek easy with the bit tater!" Saturn may be the next inhabited planet in our Solar system. The method will most likely entail manipulating Saturn's moons, perhaps to eventually look like ours, that is to say a Singular Moon that is Stationary on its own axis. The rings of Saturn contain the elixir of our life, H20 or water, in the form of ice. By taking the ejected rings into the atmosphere, and with the right manipulations, Compression of the planet may accomadate us. It is A planet 96 times larger than Earth, uncompressed. Do We get to choose the genetics without tampering with precious Planet Earth? Or is it a past inhabited planet, with its oceans and mountains blown or town outward into rings? Hence the name, "Sat Urn."
I hate Automobiles and Governor Bob Riley ejaculates ejecti when he thinks of a new Toyota plant. I agree, we need the jobs and the money. Take some of that Bio-Engineering technology from the campuses and marry it to industry. There are many intelligent medical students in Alabama who could design the "Gump Dump Mobile", Bio-Engineered transportation device, that pulls over to take a shit in front of Mob. AL Sheriff Jack Tillman's path. Never make a slave of anything or anyone and create as least pain as possible in higher functioning organisms for your survival. Eat more soy beans. I am queer for To Fu Soy.
Spinal cord damage and resultant paralysis is an ancient condition with no modern cure. It appears that the easiest way to repair the damage is to replace the entire Central Nervous System through the use of Stem Cells. The problem becomes, how do we reinstitute the memory traces back into the new Brain that constitutes the top of the spinal cord. The saddest comment on war I ever witnessed was in a room of paralyzed veterans. Support Spinal Cord Injury Research. Contact the Paralyzed Veterans of America. George Bush, Jr. needs to attend a PVA meetings. The calloused oil baron and President, as a result of a political coup, might not make war as quickly. Fund the Spinal Cord Injury research and solve the dilemma. You or your loved ones might be the next victim of SCI.
The paradox of time travel...for example, if you go back in time and point that knife of the opposing forces slightly closer to the heart of your genetic grandfather, pre-coitus conception with Granny, then you could not exist, and therefore you could not go back to do so. ---- King For Eternity....Toppling slugs, King For Eternity....Toppling slugs, ad infinitum.
Permanence and Impermanence in the void (Our current apparent laws of physics within the edges of space in its multiple dimensions, in which we are inhabitants, within the layers of spaces, is deceptive due to the liquid nature of consciousness. The transient matter constituting the apparent life we witness around us and that matter that constitutes our apparent flesh and provides us the animal senses is already on some level ascribed as transient and ephemeral in distintive form. The paradox is due to multiple questions intertwined, with some possibly left out.
Is there a trail of life, like a lense or layer after time has past? Would someone catch a wave and ride back, and back, and back, each time improving and dominating, until there was only one? Possibly, or they could find something they would not want to change, as it would have to be entirely destroyed, like shattering fine chinaware. But this is only one of the variant dimensions we are aware....The eternal struggle...tumbling slugs, Kings for a Moment.
To not sound too cynical in my point, I will preface with a statement I reflected upon once, "The more something is cut, the more it grows". There is also paradox in that statement, in that it provides hope in the most horrid of situations--That of loss.
Why after all of eternity are we as a world species so primitive? Why is man as a whole not empathetic to loss? Why are we accelerating toward an apparent meltdown of human society due to antiquated transport and living mediums in a exponentially populating world with dieing environs? Why is there No conscientious observation or comment from our leaders on the next step out of the technological nightmare fallout of the present? The true question is that of whether it will be life or death of the species in the rather immediate future? The earth is hollow they say, Or are we looking into the expanding past?
The reflection of within and without is where the chain is deceptive in the time travel paradox. Sparticles, to me, resemble a lense(s), or bubble(s), moving under the direction of a higher order...that of the many points on the surface of our planeted system with a sky that looks like a blue water cell.
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCIf you have children, there are two things you can do for them that is of immeasurable value. First, if you live near a noisy area where the children can not sleep peacefully, relocate to a quiter location. It causes severe mental mal-development due to abnormal neural growth patterns and other complications. As seen in this article by twoCornell MD's.
Second, send them to private schools in grades 1 through 8, at least. It was Proven that children avoiding the under-funded public school system when in grades 1 through 8, they have far higher success rates as adults.
You have entered the "Collection Zone".
Saint Ram Bone enroute with a Slave Emancipator to Alabama are in the "Collection Zone".
Ahead is current Sheriff, Jack Tillman, Proven Thief, Federally Approved Thief, talking with reporters about his $100,000 food fund theft, the hording of over $300,000, in the account, the theft of Kurt Brown (Auditor Sauvant's) Gun Permit by the Sheriff that assisted in framing the auditor and caused the death of an inmate, J.C., eaten by bacteria because the Sheriff could not afford to spray handcuffs with a can of Lysol due to the $300,000+ budget surplus.
Saint Ram bone Gets a Big Bozo Boner at the speed of Sound in Earth's atmosphere, snatches Jack in the Crack. Hurling the Sheriff 20 Leagues beneath the C-shaped crack in the windshield and depositing him in the livestock hold, to be used for future Headlight alumination.
"Smells like sulphur burning" say Gomer Pyle AKA Jim Neighbors in San Francisco's Castro...Showtune Melody..."Chest Nuts Roasting on an open Pyre, Austrians Mutating in the Trees, I only wish for Killer Bees, Merry Xmas, never mind the Fleas".
Forrest Gump grabs penile projection, bends over, lets out a cough and say, "Ain't got nothin to say about that", as he remembers Jim Neighbor's romps in the creek together when he turned 16. Jim always dressed as Michael Jackson, with one glove only.
When Forrest's mother found them together in the watering hole, her last words to Jim were, "Don't Forget to Wear A Mask The Next Time....Little Milton Burl E Scone eating Perv" "See You In Church" "Come On Forrest!"
In Alabama church, Forrest say to Jim who is wearing mask, "Mamma say I can not play fools games, like," "Jack Is In The Crack" Mamma say, "This Kid Ain't Comin Back. Au Revoir Jim, Hola Jenny."
(This section means no offense to Jim Neighbors. He is obviously not a malevolent or cruel or ignorant person like Sheriff Jack Tillman and it is highly unlikely that he played leap frog with Forrest.)
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXA true advertisement suggestion for the US armed forces. Scene: A roadside in the woods a disabled veteran is parked with a U Haul resting.
A Veterans Administration police officer with Federal and State of California Authority pulls up. He takes an old .22 rifle from the UHaul and puts it in his personal duffle bag. He demands the Veteran lay on the pavement. A search is made and other old hunting and sporting guns are found. They are taken to another facility and destroyed while the .22 is taken in a theft by the VA police. The veteran is thrown into jail, his family harassed, and he is subjected to years of abuse.
That is about me. I have one question of you. Would you join their military, if you knew? It could be the beginning of the war that ends all wars, or the end of the war that will end all wars, or it could just be another bloody blip on the oppressive blood stream of life.
Praise the crimson flow, taken a 180-degree turn, XLTZ. Northern California casino, Indians sent the message, "Jack, Snatch!". Mob. Co. AL Sheriff Jack Tillman in Auditor Rain Man's vision below is dreaming of "Chief Uncle Tom's" and the Northern California coastal indian's big feral bear charging and chewing through fence and bolt. Kurt says, "Uncle Tom and Big Foot" likely agree, "Let Bear eat Jack Snatch. Bear has too eat more than honey in Jack Snack's locust hole." "Save the 7 Elk."
The mascot of U.S. Governments, the proven thieving state and county government official who steals from the poor. The Federal Government allowed the theft and he has helped to frame and destroy an honest auditor who now requests his "freedom" or his "death". Criminals can not even smell their own shit. An eye for an eye dictates that some yokel Jack's will get jobbed out when the meat thermometer goes hither and fro, eventually to hear the familiar Yurok, "CHOE!" (As in Polken TOE). . Arnold Schwarzenegger is next Cochise, as the first Austrian stole Jews and Gypsies money, and this one, Arnie, wants to steal Indian money. Two TONgued heifer says, "kNOw way!".
Jack ax', "Dat you K?" The reply to the blind came a Big Foot, "Ka-Root". And the great overseer saw that the Carpenter was without a hammer and gave him a Jack Ax that quickly manifested into a Jack hammer. When the carpenter was threw building his shed with the Jack Hammer, the Overseer inverted the four-skin of the Jack Hammer like the sleeve of a jaded hun and Put the Jack Ax back in the Shitting Position. Jack Ax ILk going down. Embezzlement is theft is Truly felonious. A Felony according to Webster's dictionary, "A greater crime such as Murder, Arson, Rape, etc., therefore greater than a Misdemeanor==Jack Snatch.
Imagine if you will, Saint Ram Bone in psychological counseling. His illness is post traumatic stress from finding 6 nipples on his scrotum with 6 extra testicles after being arrested and injected and operated on by the US Veterans Administration for being an honest auditor of government and especially for being caught asleep in his truck on VA property. His first illness, Coupled with his second illness, an obsessive compulsive disorder to find corrupt politicians, bureaucrats, and their mafia alliances and collect their testicles, while in a future dimension for safe-keeping in the present, in his nippled scrotum sack.
Dr. Hip of Marin County California, AKA Medical Marijuana healing specialist and keeper of Grateful Dead Ghostlike Heirlooms, leads the session.
Dr. Hip, "SainTramBone, How is it hangin?"
Saint Ram Bone, "Well Doc, my scrotum has been itchin...you know... the feelin" "And I did a bad ding" "I hung a picture of Jacko Bone on my wall and he not convicted, yet." "I also been fantasizing a Lot, about Jack." "The big tater said I could have piece at the Jack fry".
Dr. Hip, "It sounds like you need to play some music with the Grateful Dead." "Sit over there next to the Jerry Garcia poster and strum a lick". "Bong Hit? Ooops..Doctor's note first"
Saint Ram Bone, singing, "Oh Loathsome Malady, Jacko Bone, come to The"
Dr. Hip, "Too much pent up hostility". "Take your Rx and Go play some one handed golf in Lake Tahoe. The snow is deep there." "Some day they will have to let you go back home to Alabama, 'SainTramBone'." "Some day Sheriff Jack will have to get on the pot and shit in Mob. AL."
Saint Ram Bones truck, an old beat up Dodge Ram with a S over a Star on the window, that used to be a C over a Star. Medley, "Times are a changin", "The genetic mutant cats tail has rattlers and the head has venom" "I just can't wait to play with em."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&Arnold Schwarzenegger can not tell a balance sheet from a phone book and he is governor. The time has come, "Saint Ram Bone For Governor of California".
Saint Ram Bone say, "Two lipped punk", "Got a Bow-Flex", "You Goin Down Austrian Genetic Mutant Governator Tater Head!" "XY Ta Z, XL C." "Every Arab in the world knows than Arnold was spawned from a mutation that Saint Ram Bone's daddy, the cook at St. Vincents charity in San Fran, donated to a batch of Sourdough Bread." "Human Yeast symbiotic with a Human Papillioma spawned the first batch of 'San Francisco Sour Dough Bread". That is correct. The Yeast on San Francisco 'Sour Dough' bread, is straight from the human's eternal loving skin tag on Pappy Cappy Cook's Freakin DiCk, and straight from there to the bakin pan to your little fattened lips. Cannabalism exquisite. "Pump You Up Schwarzenegger" Papilloma or Veneral Wart Garden Yeast, courtesy of Pappy Captain Cook, Yeast Saccharomyces exiguus, also known as just plain ole Pullet Leavins.
Humboldt County Courthouse, Picture if you will, the trial of Kurt Brown, Auditor Rain Man, Theta Vechter, Saint Ram Bone, SainTramBone, Government Auditor.
In the Jury is Chief Uncle Tom of the Karok of North California coast, Douche Cherry Blossom of San Francisco the tranvestite with a holster, Uncle Billy Goat the meanest ingrown dysfunctional nail en La Familia, Pee Wee Herman, Pee Wee Herman's Genetic Mutant Range Chicken the horse pullet. The judge called in sick when Saint Ram Bone played "Oh Loathsome Malady" and Randy Kraft, Kurts favorite serial killer of hitchhikers, sent a telepathic message into the judge. The judge took a bong hit and the vision and exclaimed "kNOw Way Dude". "Big Nuts", "Big Big Nuts" "Alabama plus Los Angeles equals Helter Skelter" "Auditor Rain Man, Uh Oh." "Bird Man in the sky, Teach Me to Fly". (In MP3 Format AKA Brown Lizards Laughter)
TO BE CONTINUED
When I look at the automobile and our current transportation apparatuses, I see a long history of road kill, millions of animals and miles of wilderness destroyed. There is an answer and a cure. We must first make the current elitist regimes quit writing laws that allow Oil companies and others to buy the patents and shelve them. The transportation quagmire is unraveled through genetic engineering.
The possibilities are as endless as the imagination once we have all the building blocks assembled, i.e. significant loci of genes of various plant and animal could be recombined for a myriad of end products.
First, I envision hollow tubes above the tree line that grow from trunks on the ground. Soybean pods could be integrated into the exterior fiber to provide protein in abundance. A combination of trees with various hollow reeds could be combined. Transport in the tubes could possibility be gained through initial power surge from Thermal or Sun reserve power with kinetic energy reuse in heat from friction through movement or other biologically safe sources. The apparatus for transport could be as one described below using a genome combination of the heat loving and utilizing loci of hydrothermal vent bacteria and the smallest bacterial genome for a small efficient motor (Described below).
Picture if you will, a talk show in Humboldt County California, in the forum are Church Lady as Talk Show Hostess, Saint Ram Bone as Mourning Star Fight Club collection agency spokesman, Kurt Brown the Mobile Audit Club chairman in a Truk, Sheriff Jack Tillman of Mob. AL who is a proven thief, and Pee Wee Herman the District Attorney.
Pee Wee, "Kurt, why don't you take your shirt off and show us your muscles." Pee Wee clutches his left hand like a wing and holds out his right like a claw chasing shrimp.
Kurt, "Pee Wee, why don't you bite me."
Pee Wee, "Testes!"
Church Lady, "Who has my purse?" "Saint Ram Bone don't got my purse, and neither does Kurt, the two evil twins." "That leaves who, let us see, Jack!" "I see my purse behind your chair, Jack." "Incorrugible little Nep Tune" "Going deep with these two nuts, Jack". "Well isn't that special, I am missing $100,000 of orphan charity money."
Jack, "I don't have your purse church lady." "I'm Jack. Jack can't do no wrong."
Saint Ram Bone grabs the purse from behind Jack's chair to give to Church lady and throws Jack on the floor and sits on his throat.
Jack, "I will wire it to ya Church lady." "Ask Kurt. You don't know who you messin wit there little feller." "I used to be a top rate boxer till my knees gave out, beggin for mercy and all." "I ain't right Church lady. Ask those people who voted for me." "I gave all the rest of em felonies so they cain't vote" "Please make Saint Ram Bone quit flexing his udders on my chin"
Church Lady, "Well isn't that special" "We are all God's children but only a few wear the right panty hose vote in the Pulpit at the crematorium church in Mobile." "Enjoy the teet there loan-some". "Village of the Damned to the Two Nut Twins, and that Deranged picket Pocket Sheriff." "I vote for Saint Ram Bone as Sheriff."
Saint Ram Bone gets up with his scrotum nipples dripping, "Church Lady, you know I just got off the trail, and things are not looking so spry in moi la Chambre De Couche." "Shall we, Tango?"
Church Lady, "Saint Ram Bone, I never. Kurt Brown as Mayor, Saint Ram Bone under my skirt." Singing Church Lady "Swing low, sweet Marriot, comin, comin, SainTramBone..Swing Low..."
Outside in the distance is "One Genetic Mutant Austrian Schwarzenegger In the Pear Tree". Sacramento.
Recently I observed that a certain bacteria near hydrothermal vents near the ocean floor could survive at unbelievable high temperatures. Also, another bacteria was discovered to be infinitely small with a simple DNA strand. The heat absorbing Loci, or point on a gene, could be removed from the heat loving bacteria, spliced into the tiny bacteria, thereby creating a very very small and efficient energy capturing mechanism and organism. The organism could then be used in Flight or Navigation apparatuses. The bacteria absorbs heat or light from motion on the exterior surface of an chitin-like exterior with a concombinant disruption, redirection, and redirection of energy and heat.
It has been observed that there are numerous dimensions of which we are unaware, and there are theories they are reflections of the same already known. If numerous dimensions, therefore numerous life with possible influx and exchange in ways and of complexity our little rat brains can not understand. Or are we just stylus's like needles of a phonograph, doing as we are told, held motionless, hearing movement as sound and sight as medley as weave our little lives into the greater cloth. Bent little humans, we.
A larger particle than proton and neutron is suspected but not detected. In my estimation and theory the Sparticle, as it is known, is beat into a large sphere or sheet or fragments of such by neutrinos or the gravitational pull of other particles, including other Sparticles, therfore the mass can not be determined in the same manner, if at all, as that of the proton and neutron.
000000000000000000000000000U.S. Justice is for sale. Most, if not all of America's supposed and guiding principles are for sale. When we let child molesters walk, and when we allow proven thieves to wear badges, it is time to take a reality and ethics check.
Jacko Bone, that is to say Michael Jackson, gets more freedom after molesting children than SainTramBone, auditor savant, gets after blowing the whistle on a murdering by negligence and theft Sheriff...i.e. Jack in the Crack of Mob AL. AOL threw Kurt out of their comments section in the news on the Jacko Bone subject for saying, "Boy, that Noxzema on Jacko's face is good." "What you do is, hold him close and sing, "Oh Loathsome Malady", then Jack Snatch that Loco Jacko Head and toss that SOB in there with the rest of those Kraft-lings in San Quentin. No payment necessary.
Picture if you will, Pee Wee Herman, the District Attorney of Eureka. Pee Wee says, "Where are you going with that Coal Pot Kurt?" With a squint in his eye and a hand full of Pee Wee goober as he sits naked on his genetic mutant chicken horse.
Kurt, in his multiple personality arrangement here in psycho-ville, USA, summons, Saint Ram Bone, and replies like John Wayne, "Well, there fowl ranger, you see my coal, you see my pot, you know I'm no stranger around here, and I am no stranger round there, so you better move your chicken and let me pass." Saint Ram Bone reaches to between the six nipples implanted by the VA on his scrotum and retrieves a small golf ball of Silly Putty consistency and drops it in front of his walking cane and flips his cane to reveal a wooden golf club.
Pee Wee says, "Ack, that is dino-mite! Ack!" Pee pulls his pullet repeatedly and the bird horse bucks violently, as Pee Wee takes off down the road on his steer bird. "Ack!, Pullet!, Ack! Pullet!", and the bird scuttles out of control into another Humboldt sunset near Patricks Dicks Point
?????????????????????????????????????????Science Thoughts....The universe that encompasses the laws of our universe, as seen from our apparatuses and senses, have been determined to be applicable to what equates to what appears to be a loaf shaped area, or cocoon shaped area in space. Beyond that is an unknown area. The question becomes, can we travel between other loaf shaped areas of space with our laws, or are we trapped. If we are trapped, we are like a cocoon in space, perhaps in the end a meal, or perhaps the beginning of an end product. To escape, is intriquing. Matter changes form, like sugar to mollases to gas. Retention of form or reinstitution of form would allow passage.
Genetic Manipulation...The great hidden secret of government and industry is the explosive potential of genetic engineering. I have heard rumors we are 30 to 40 years behind government and industry on its cutting edge. Therefore, check your compass bone heads. Already they are getting a protein for a spiders web from a goats milk. Can that Nanny prowl like a house cat and make love like a White House prostitute? According to media sources, "Na aaa aaaa".
Never send your children to America's public schools if you can afford good private schools, especially in 1 through 8. The world is too complex.
If you want an image of the night that I, Auditor Rain Man, Theta Vechter or Death Watchman was arrested by the Westwood Veterans Administration police in West Los Angeles while parked in my truk with my Uhaul attached, you would have to picture the combined picture me asleep with a guitar on the dashboard, on top of blanket, somewhat in fear of an assassination attempt and fleeing the corrupt proven thief Sheriff Jack Tillman of Mobile Alabama. I am in night shirt and pants undone.....I am Inspector Clouseau of the Pink Panther, I am the detective Colombo of the old TV series, and mostly Beetle Juice from the house of horrors who knows the low score on the whole scherade and keeps it to himself. "Jab me with some more of those needles, why don't you there, Shanghai Sheck, NVC Queen, Tong Loque, and Khmer Rouge. NVC control the LA VA Westwood in Auditor Rain Man's opinion. You jab Theta Vecher with needles and you are pricking the skin of a dead man who holds the hand of a blood letting tyrnat in his teeth.
Theories on premature aging and structure of symbiosis through extraction. (e.g. scientically speaking Neutrinos or the remnants of sparticles organized into a form of life) Just as a school of Goldfish can swim through kelp and feed, it is also possible that the structure of the universe in our realm is permeable to some beings who would be capable of feeding upon all living things, i.e. much like sap seeking fibers in the body of a tree are always following the current of equilibrium. Therefore, when we have discovered these Goldfish of tenuous fleeting and rapid life in the fiber of our life's sap, seeking the energy of life within the tree of life, who pass through all living cells in the ecosphere(s), including our own human cells, it would serve well to exercise precaution as their technology, or the implementer of that technology may have a response to any sort of manipulation, i.e. much like an immune response. All life should be cherished and respected, because what comes around, goes around, and it appears that we are on the edge of development in our galaxy thereby following the example or trend that started within the center, which insists on greater complexity and options at every turn, even if it means severing the limb and reprocessing its essence thereby arriving at, someday, perfection, which dictates the cherishing of all life, with respect.
This is simply thinking outside of the box, which is a far better cry than becoming transfixed to the idiot tube, television, and the array of charades that our keepers in the fiber use to manipulate some, if not all, and keep us in their cycles, or nets. Remember that life, including humans, appear to be manipulated to the point of progression, always making and releasing energy and slowly moving forward, always at the brink of extinction in the current form.
War and subjugation on Earth appears to be their destiny and ours. It is obvious, we humans of pain feeling flesh must take control of our destinies by having our most intelligent minds work on turning our minds intellect toward propagating life(s) and not destroying any of it. Pure knowledge is pure energy and does not require input from vegetable matter or any other matter that might share consciousness with us. We are almost at that point. After all, McDonalds, Burger King, Taco Bell, etc. etc. have us feeding blindly on the dark side of the meat tree, and our fat asses bear witness by casting large shadows blind to the howling death constituting our cellulite inflated derrieres.
It is obvious there are two choices at critical junctures in time in the development of any eco-system, to have vivo couleurs (life of colors), or allow the doors to light to be closed by the less intuitive and less sensitive, thereby vivo post-mortem, and at some point, maybe back to vivo pro-forma. The only up side is a more complex mix of DNA in the next mélange or shelter of life that is the ecosphere. I read a quote recently that is obvious in a sense, "The dinosaurs and the mountains thought they were humans once too." The compassionate life forms will predominate in the end as those who try not to minimize damage are pushing us all toward another black hole in space, which requires severing the root, disintegration of the fiber, and the rejuvenation of life anew, minus me, minus you, i.e. minus humans and most, if not all, pain feeling flesh.
Favorite lyric of the Goldfish era, ""Be quiet, oh so quiet", but this monkey see, this monkey hear, this monkey do, so be so quiet, as the loss of freedom of speech precedes the howling, "Chitter Chatter" reading "Freedom of Speech among a body of fleas does not matter." Time to start collecting life's degradation elements in full respect, for our own self-respect as thinking compassionate beings. If only we had true democracy in an enlightened world. We have the tools to move ahead, but our leaders seem to want to move backward to an era of bullets flying like larger that life Goldfish fleas through our flesh.
Beware of the wording used by many. At some point in this site you will see the boiling over by people who have been enraged but who have sheathed their swords and chosen vocal dissent through technology. Everything has a reason, a reaction, and constitutes a portion of space.
For your brief entertainment, and since This Is The Bible Belt, "So it be said" sayeth the Lord, "I sent my foot soldier to the pit that is Earth", and I hear from a man named Kurt who had gone fishing, He said, "I caught a Jack", and the Lord replied, "A Jack Cravelle?". "No" sayeth Kurt, it is a "Jack Tillman". The lord replied, "Scale him where the woodshed is to be built by the carpenter", "His victims will be along shortly to gut him", "And then the swine shall dine". Double rainbows set over the bloody bay as the little evil government men and women of the Democrat/Republican regime dined on what Kurt called a fish called, "Jack Ixoye", each slice cut into the familiar ixoye fish and spiced with mercury and cadmium from the bay, and the Porkly Mayor Dow dined and belched until finally, someone realized he was not human and led him to the field with the councilman of the 3 6's district, Copeland, where Saint Ram Bone chased them like a saber-tooth tiger. Once caught he removed the "Little Horn" that was on each of their foreheads. Saint Ram Bone allegedly adds also after each romp through the killing fields to his private weiner roast and testicle collection. Saint Ram Bone's comment, "If the snake portion tastes like chicken, and if the little pea nads makes my scrotum swell, it lessens the competition in moi chambre de couche (sex chamber)".(Now that is True Southern Jack Ixoye hospitality)
Jack Ixoye Fish Fry Hostess, Saint Ram Bone's Half- Italian Cousin, Ineeda Garibaldi. She was incontinent and is in mourning. Although she has a fatal bullet hole scar above left eye inflicted while running for Alabama Governor, she announces, "Jack Ixoye Fish Hunt!" "Where bets are made January First of each year" "Who will catch the politician stealing the most money that year?" "Come and let us dine on Jack Ixoye 2001 Fish Fritters" as "Kurt won SainTramBone a Jack Rabbit named Sheriff Jack Tillman. Feast among the fishes on Jack Ixoye"
Is Cleopatra out there? We mongooses want to hear her sing. We warrior prophets loved the sound of song from Cleopatra, as we remember the fullness of the beauty of the melodic tone in the cool night next to the Nile upon the lovers couch under the palms while the cool breezes cooled our pulsing intertwined bodies.
The mongooses want to lick Cleopatras' clover one more time. The mongooses never hurt Cleopatras' clover as they are gentle with the delicacy of the fruit which their appetite whets. They sometimes go very deep and gentle when their appetite whets for the things they desire most, deep as seeking truffles, as their tongues and spades are very long. Kurt and the other mongooses will sing a song a while Kurt strokes his six strings to lure the Cleopatras to their mongoose nests.
To lure the Cleopatras, the mongooses will soon have a camera hooked up to their computer with a decent microphone and will sing songs. In addition the mongooses will televise the activities of the mongoose nests' "chambre a coucher", i.e. bedrooms, late at night while in the "City of The Damned". We will also show how to chew political asp without getting bitten, and we will demonstrate how to lick Cleopatra's clover and go deep seeking truffles with tongue and spade. The minister with the bulging rectum is invited to the games also as the mongooses alway have room for another player and we have unclogged many pipes, au gratis, of course, as the mongooses are many things, but we are not for rent like the whore of Babylon, we are free, and enjoy the large orgy style of Northern California upon the mountains of high, even while relegated by the power we serve to duties in the lowlands of the deep deep South in the Village of The Damned.
The whore of Babylon is the "mongoose of the other stripe", and she resides in San Francisco. The mongooses love her as we are the warrior prophets and want to role with her in a loving embrace in Golden Gate Park and place flowers in her hair, as we think that she is very spunky-mean also and shares a similar large appetite for deep, long, and sometimes gentle sensual explorations in the fields of clover with many mongoose lovers. The mongooses likes a crowded "chambre a coucher" and admires the frothing tree frogs gelatinous bead at the end of a long croaking night, as they can challenge the little humping thumpers with their own seeding froth when the moon is bright like a moUrning star.
To put it in the mongooses own terms, we like, "Piacevole sesso gruppo con beaucomp femmes bonita est destin sien.!". Translated, the mongooses like to have as much beautiful late-night company as possible as we were bred to be the great entertainers and our spades and tongues can prove it best in a field of clovers!.
The mongooses' songs basically are just Brutus rips of political asps in which we tear the corrupt political asps new and bigger holes, as Kurt's six strings and our words slice asp holes like lawnmower blades. On the other paw, we can be as gentle as a proctologist and his guitars strings can be like an elongated six-tine fork with blunted rounded ends scooping deep in the minister of confused logic's bulging recto compaction of fecund fecal fatale to relieve him of pious obstruction due to constrained passage of entry and exit. In other words, "Bonbon divinement entree a' paradis insecte," or to put it in English, there is no fruit sweeter to enter than the pungent heavenly fruit in which the insects find paradise.
Some enchanted tune may rip occasionally, but that is the Cleopatras' domain and forte, and the mongooses do miss her so. She is out there somewhere, as we can smell her sweet flowing robes of mensa. We are the mongooses and once more we want to lick all of the Cleopatras' sweet clover. The mongooses crawled out of our dins one night recently as we heard the faint call of a Cleopatra's name, but it was just the local asp dung beetles taunting them for digging into the asp holes that had been filled with bureaucratic asp dung of the Horned Political Asp, Reggie Copeland, at the city council of the, "City of The Damned". The Horned asp, Reggie Copeland, was not at home but a local native, a convict of french origin said that the Horned asp of 36606, Reggie Copeland, was, ""J'ai une grenouille dans mon de cuernos rana phallus!" Translation, he was in his den playing with his horny toad that he calls his pocket croaker.
Cleopatras are out there somewhere, as we can smell her sweet incense. It has been told that there are as many Cleopatras as there are mongooses, and you may be one. Come, come, join the party. Mon sexuel soif brulure chaud est. Translated, my thirst for the nectar of Cleopatra(s) love is insatiable. Below is a pic of Kurt the mongoose warrior prophet with his noble cat, Sidney Vicious, chaser of rats. Kurt and the rest of the mongoose crew are willing to relocate for abundant love.
Sidney Vicious, chaser of rats, says rub and click image with mouse to enlarge himself and Kurt
Mongooses, Lovers, Prophet, Warriors, Webmasters