Apocalypse Porn

Rant #498/05

Just as Catholic extremists defended morality by justifying murder and torture during the Inquisition, the contemporary child justice system has justified itself through hypocritical protection of paradoxical practice.

First, I fought my daughter’s mother in order to protect her. Now I fight the legal system ostensibly designed to protect her in order to protect her.
What justice lies in a system bent on contradicting itself?

Canadian politics is an “impediment to the abolition of poverty.” – De Schutter Report (U.N. Special R)
The family court system is this country is impoverished to the point of betrayal.
The mere fact that the OCL did not consider the fact that unsupervised access may not be in the child’s best interest is evidence that the OCL is too near sighted and biased to genuinely understand the situation which I have been attempting to alleviate for 10 years.
The fuckin’ courts are good for shit. Bunch of fuckin’ monkeys fucking eachother and living off the backs of others. Justifying themselves through inadequate and incomplete judgements which will inevitably lead back to insolvent fighting – perpetuating themselves through their own incompetence.
There is no justice in the fuckin’ courts – until the JOP’s, judges and counsel find themselves standing in the same pile of shit as everybody else, there will be no justice. For to be just is to truly understand the scope of the problems with which you deal and until such time as all those fuckers perpetuating the system experience the situations they attempt to understand every fuckin’ day, there will be no justice.
Only money.
If the love of money is the root of all evil, then the love of fake justice is its putrid fruit.
Swollen and rotten, the phallus of vanity poses as justice. Self-import is a sin.
It’s child is called misery. Fuckin’ goof mother fuckin’ justice system.
May all lawyers rot in Hell. And may all judges be forced to eat their maggoty flesh prior to being tortured and sodomized like the dissolute whores they are.

Fuckin’ scum.
Decant it off, I say. Siphon off the shit before it suffocates reason and betrays a malign Satanism in its bulbous nature. Smoke those fuckin’ goofs before they smoke us. And commit our children to a future of perpetual triviality and victimization.
For every lawyer and dog-fucking social servant that parasitically feeds off the social system that is dragged through the streets kicking and screaming to be disemboweled and decapitated in a most heinous fashion on the steps of the superior justice, an angel gets it’s wings.
And the Lord rejoiced.
As he ought to have had a long time ago before the law of man corrupted nature to the point of unrecognizability and folly.
Reveled in the destruction of the fantasy that holds one man above another and man above nature.
The fantasy that sacrifices logic for utility and prejudice.
The fantasy that drives many to kill, to rape, to pillage, destroy, annihilate and endlessly corrupt.
Money.

To buy ethics, respect, education, security, honour, death, and all the other things so envied by the living.
To live in fear is to live in fantasy.
To believe that all is the way we have imagined and no other perspective could be tenable.
For this weakness in insight, justice is but another name.
Another fantasy created by money, the ultimate fantasy.
Eat the rich, they are better fed than the poor, fatter and tastier, more succulent swine for the palate.
If one truly believes the second law of thermodynamics, all returns to its source.
All that fat created on the backs of the poor will sate the peoples need for justice, which they have never known until the moment was right – to strike.
For the mighty to fall is just, for the fat to feed the hungry is just, for the justice to bellow.
And scream.
Bloody murder.
May their eternal souls rot in Hell.

There are instances of annoyance in which we may feel bugged, ticked off, pissed, perturbed, or otherwise frustrated.
Then, there are other instances which fan the beast within, stoke the inner rage, bellow the flames. Instances of moral and psychological despair and insult.
And then, there are situations in which we may be Bugged, surveilled from aloft, catalogued within the scope of the eye of Horus, observed, monitored, watched.

When Marshall McLuhan stated that, "The medium is the message.", he spoke of extensions and "personal and social consequences".
In the digital age, we watch ourselves through the lens through which we gauge others.
In this sense, we are level. In this same sense, we are veil. In this cents, we are evil.
Live are We. It's all the same forwards and back. While we watch eachother, we are watched.
We are all being observed as we are through time. In time. With time. Out it me.
Monitored digitally. Through the monitor.
Cyber-fucked; our secrets stolen and sold for props at the office.
Why the interest in what our puny lotto species thinks?
In order to gauge whether orb knot the genetic manipulation has been effective thus far in driving the change necessary in order to remotely control the situation on this celestial orb.
Which leads me to my final understanding of the term, "bugged".
Gradual genetic transformation of the human genome through employment of a viral reverse transcriptase enzyme, capable of affecting change 'oer increasingly smaller quanta of time.
An accelerated evolution, if you will, in effect courtesy of the overlords / custodial gods / aliens / dieties / ad nauseum.
Surgically implanted technology capable of transforming our species into mechanized golems.
Our sole intent to destroy the environs of this biosphere, cloaked however it may seem in self-absorbed hubris.
Perhaps, a knee-jerk reaction of the murder gene, coded to destroy any remaining evidence of the inter-galactic conspiracy responsible for the accelerated destruction of the ecosystem we are witness to in the present day.
Who can imagine what forms of political counter-espionage and sabotage exist on the galactic level. Who fuckin' cares?
For all extensive purposes, it does not really matter why we are / have spread the waste of an entire generation of elite swine across this planet.
Only that we halve alleles in play that our alien counterparts have supplied.
In trust.
In paranoid delusions.
In random decapitations justified in the name of the God.
The One and Only with many Eyes.

They / We are monitoring the situation currently ...

Bated Breath.

Embrace the Darkness.

In genesis.

Ad infinitum.

Out damned spots.
The read spot. The stain of death.
Fuckin/ warm sanguine embrace. Like a glove, .like a fuckin; tool.
That manequins' head - on a spite,
Spoke of murder.
Sputtering with culture.
With angst and genocide.
With love.
What was it that attested function, righteousness, complicity?
Was it respect or recalcitrance or merder?
Was it spite nor consideration?
Was it murder?
Head on a spike, head on stone. Head ohm red.
Trachea still gasping. esophagus contracting.
Fuckin; murder.
What it is, what it was, what otbe.
Forget what you've been formed, think of the reel.
Think of the head on the spike.
Thjunk of the muder.
Had it with this shiot ass dfabricAted nuance.
Words will not suffice, only murder, decapitation andf mayhem.
Chaos is a contant. Real yet fleeting. Necessary yet sufficient.
Reel quick, like bullets, like murder, like self import.
These hands won]t wash clean, only invisible, cloaked like murder.
Like hjeads on spkejs; like muxrrer.
Like blocks of sand and the murderous fuck you are.
Like recalcitrance and murder.
They will continue,
Despite the guilt and the murder.
Such as angels fly, such as meteors fall, such as we die.
Time will not tell us why we murder, only while we pontificate will we murder.
And justify our love.
For life, for change, for murder.
For heat, for lust, for necessity, for sufficiency, for profit, for justification, for the love of God.
For the love of murder,
\for whati tis n' wiot it was.
For that last little peice of morality which you hold sacred.
And justify through the act of ,urder.
The act of being alive by killing.
Justification of being via negation of substance.
Kill it. KILL IT.
Whatever it is. Let us not define it, let us kill it.
\let us destiry what it sio hywat we want it to be.
Death is a necessary function of life, of progression, of enrichment, of knowledge.
Of fuckin' murder.
Her lifeless head on sa pike, her severed parts on s a dias.
Murder.
Murmering merder, soked in blood, in ash, in money, in murdr.
Soaked in culture and assimilation.
And mudrdder.

Bleach na d vineagr dissovel.
Vineagr dissolves the oriteisns and bleach kills the parhos.
The pharohas no -- leave no traxe.
No symbolism nor semiotics pf urder usb.
Fuck status quo bullshit muthafuckin goof fuck er.
Murdrrr us in tent.
While still breathin' . gasping for air . for rreason , for magninomy.
For murder.