Thursday, April 18, 2013

Notes While Waiting for the Knock on the Door

Meme me up Scotty there's a tempest in the bean pot, a Mass-Casualty Incident in Massachusetts (god bless you), one could call it a Mass-panic, Mass-acre, or even a Mass-querade, this Boston Terror-thon, a dirty o-bomb-sniffing yellow dog with blue balls bearing through the walls on the twilight's code red finish line, the false flag that didn’t hunt, the lone wolf pulling the willies over the red, white and blues of the sheeple’s eyes, the dog without a drone who ate the lambskin bill of rights homework with a cell-phone, at the “it’s only a drill” remote-controlled-explosion pressure-cooker of a photo finish, receptacles of fire played by Terror-Vangelis, a Greece-fire smoke-filled Cyprus room to jog our memories on the Oklahoma City and the Waco Anniversaries. Who will it be? The tea party patsy on saint patriot’s day (in a grey hoodie) or the ex-pat Saudi National “dark-skinned male” with multiple black backpacks and passports and a hillbilly’s smokebomb-making skills? Either way, the Gym Fixx is in, on Tax Day in Taxachusetts (god bless ewe), where the Sandy Hook kid was never killed, the marriage never proposed, the additional unexploded devices never disposed of, the 12 people never murdered, the Saudi National dark-skinned male never arrested. Instead, a Vox Publica Castor and Pollux stamp of disapproval as sweet as Tupelo ricin beans was sent to the suddenly syrius man behind the Terror-prompter curtain waving a smoking backpack and doffing his tin-foil black hat without any ricin-able explanation. There are HAZMAT crews in Saginaw, quarantines in Beloit, three cars in a hole in Chicago, and in Boston (lettuce prey) the Moakley courthouse is now flooded and the wounded have been medi-hoovered from the cold blood code red Peter Bent Brigham Hospital, as a fertilizer plant near Waco exploded (dozens killed), and the earth suspiciously quaked near the Oil-Opium border (hundreds killed). Ah, but our eyes are fixed like muskets on massholy Maskachusetts (god bless you), watching the Lord & Taylor surveillance camera for shoplifters instead of asking about the Navy Seals with wires and skulls and multiple black backpacks, hearing “is it safe…is it safe?” from Governor Devil in the Details instead of asking who is Silk Tork and Yohanan Danino and what kind of sick, twisted fuck would send such James Bond villians here? Ask not why the bomb went off in the library, ask why the library went off with the bomb! We want this all to go away so much we don’t notice that Boston’s in lock-down now like Manhattan after 9/11 never was. Americans are such irremediable wusses – this is a Boston cream pie compared to a drone strike, and we can’t even handle a morning of it without crying Uncle to Sam for protection, for our sense of fun and games has been rudely disrupted and we’re scared, they tell us, scared, and when that happens, certain people can do anything, and anyone can be guilty, even you.

1 comment:

the walking man said...

We fear because we're told we need to we are afraid because our role has been to make mayhem not suffer it. Argus is the name of the new predator drone that flies twice as high and carries three time the camera's and armaments.