July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005
If you haven’t noticed, then let me tell you. True Journalism is Dead. It is a dead form and one not worth dying over. What some might call fake news, I call sensationalism or Entertainment to be exact. People either know the truth now, or refuse it if it doesn’t match their mental wardrobe and those people are free to continue in excess, building the infested Pyramids of their own irrational and media diseased minds. Hunter got us to the gates and instead of storming the corrupted Heavens we chose to get side-tracked and take sides with the CIA so we could feel secure in our twittering. Its quite OK. Any person who can’t suss out the facts and tell the difference between a handful of cash and a handful of silly-puddy deserves neither. If there is anything to Report nowadays, it certainly isn’t Politics or the driving forces that hide in the hornet’s nest inside of the world inside of the world, no sir. Now is a good time to take notes on the acceptable insane, the fact that the streets of America ARE the hospital and mental ward. It is a good time to notice who pulls whose chains, but very unwise to report this back to Mama and the town folks back home in the Great Wide Yawning Yonder. Report back to yourself and maybe to a handful of close criminal minded friends, or heck, maybe even 300,000 people, but i would advise against it, if you happen to be addicted for the time being, to breathing normally. When I think of Hunter, I think… is it really time to quit drinking? When i think of Hunter, i think… best not try to sneak those sex toys and cans of alcohol in through Airport security if you wanna make your flight on time… I also thank Hunter for reminding me from time to wicked time who the Culprits Still Are… and a dash of paranoia is good for the soul and the only true law now is not getting caught… to remain alert, to lay low when you begin to get a bit sloppy around the edges, for even bald eagles need to make a pit-stop at their nest and repair a few feathers and empty the semen from their trash’trunk guts in order to fly shit-wired tight. Remembering Hunter today i am reminded that it is vastly approaching 10 am here in Berlin and I’ve got 50 euros i need to deliver to the Liquor store… I have some writing to do today about Roger Waters being a very fucking pushy Holy Moaner. Over and Out for now, fuckasaurus.
Chinese Poker and Dry Gun Powder!
Now Drive Onwards! Up and Over!
Goddamn it man!