Backstage Between Curtain Calls

Today’s Porn-a-Like is Dick Cheney. Dick Cheney is a terrible evil shitehawk who is renowned for his underhand dealings and his duplicitous and mercenary manoeuvrings on Capitol Hill. Some of this is demonstrated in this quote in which he makes reference to his presidency of the Council On Foreign Relations.



And in this testimony by Cathy O’Brien of how uncle ‘Dick’ raped her with a butcher knife.

Plus of course he was one of the principal architects in the illegal imperialistic war in Iraq that killed millions of, (what’s now apparent), was more or less passersby, intentionally, as highlighted this last couple of weeks by wikileaks among others.



But to you who might balk at the idea of Gordon Brown being a paedophile, or Tony Blair being a protector of nonces, (or even a paedophile himself), or even Boy Bush: The Mass Murderer, consider that the whole lot of them and many others too, a Garasene battalion with a very particular strain of treacherous venality exclusive to their nature alone, launched a war on known false pretences and produced this with the slings and arrows of their DU (Depleted Uranium) tipped munitions, as well as, day after day, continually aspiring to the numbers of Pol Pot or Hitler or Kissinger with their amorphous statistical tabulations totting up their murderous and satanic intent.



So here is Dick Cheney, today’s porn-a-like. He is here captured on a hidden DGSE surveillance tape preparing to strangle an unsuspecting teenage call girl, or what the DGSE called ‘tenderising the quarry’ in their field report.

Dick Cheney is a bestial sadist, specialising in the defacement of both the body and the soul. See here for the testimony of those he and his ilk have left in their wake:



Today I witnessed Mad Otis’s favourite pregnant Rottweiler waddle around the courtyard out the back with big foamy soap suds dripping out its hole.

I suspect Mad Otis has laced the its food with detergent or some other soap based product in order to induce a miscarriage in the dog, which is (as mentioned in previous post) Otis’s most long held, most ideal ‘spectacle I want to see before I die’ thing, he tells me.

As I have already witnessed a dog having a miscarriage I am in no hurry to see another one.

I think my ‘spectacle I want to see before I die’ would be both a spectacular miracle set against a gentle pastoral backdrop, AND, more specifically, the adepts’ occult revealing of esoteric secrets buried deep in the everyday and, just for me on my request, teased forth by complicated and musical rites chanted in breathy mantras (in the fog) that incrementally drew the veil back on the true nature of things. A glimpse backstage between curtain calls, so to speak.

At the sink earlier doing the washing up I heard a man out the back loudly say he was gonna ‘kick his head to a cinder’ him that poisoned his dog. I’d tell him it was Mad Otis but in the interests of self preservation I will not.

Judging by the dangerous looking transitory cast of characters that pass through his very well kept flat, I imagine Mad Otis would have reach outside his prison cell and beyond where he ever to be found out of dog poisoning and given a stretch inside. And there is no doubt, as I was the only one, I think, who he ever let into his dog miscarriage fantasy, that he would know who grassed him up and afterward devise a very suiting revenge in accordance with my betrayal of him.

And knowing Mad Otis this revenge would be horrible, but it would also be, more than anything...in its completion, it would smell absolutely un-Godly!

Let's Do Some Living After We Die: A Near Death Experiece (NDE)

Tonight, in the mood for a fag, I take up my Swan Slimline Filters and break one off from the end in my mouth (I feel like an enormous parasite assailing a tiny host and sucking the shit outta his hole when I do this) when the filter torpedoed to the back of my mouth and bounced daintily in a spiral manner down my throat. I imagine it looked like Luke Skywalker’s proton torpedo going down the exhaust chute on the Death Star, so flukey was it.

I have always had a love hate relationship with filters. It is true, I’m peeved when I come to not having any, but not totally devastated – and once I made a lesbian laugh when I showed her one and told her it was a midget’s tampon.

But tonight – when over the head of a filter my life nearly came to an end – I have decided to stop using filters.

I suppose I should now say how I didn’t end up choking to death on offending filter and turning the colour of a pale Smurf from asphyxiation. I leapt from the chair and stumbled round my living room, knocking over and breaking sundries till I upended myself over the coffee table (all poncey, me) and landed smack down on the floor under the TV. On the TV was Susan Boyle doing her cover of the Stones Wild Horses. She got to an appropriate bit “let’s do some livin’ after we die...” which inspired me to begin thumping myself very hard in the back and chest, like a maverick self harmer, till I’d coughed (now green) filter up.

I know how Bush felt now when he nearly choked to death on that Pretzel (and by the way: if you want to read about how Bush single headedly murdered 17 people, all on the same night, then click here. There’s apparently proof of it, and he had to answer questions about it when he was running to be Texas Governor).

So no more filters for me. I might check out if midgets are issued smaller tampons though and take it from there.

Boy Bush The Butcher

Aloysius hasn’t been in touch since yesterday evening so I’m to assume he’s safe. There has been no sign of Torturer Gregory the drug dealer either. Nevertheless last night I constructed a makeshift catapult, getting a woman’s stocking I found behind the fridge and nailing it either side of the doorframe at head height. I then selotaped a load of nuts and bolts together to use as a projectile were anyone to burst in unannounced. I reckon I’ll have some time to prepare the catapult, stretching it back and lining up my shot before anyone gets in. it would take a good five minutes of solid hard booting of my door to get it through.

Last night in order to stop being paranoid about Torturing Gregory coming round I trawled the internets looking for something else that would distract my strung out psyche. And fuck a duck – did I find it!

If I were to tell you George W Bush was held on suspicion of mass murder having carried out a Satanic Sacrifice Ritual in a place called Brownsville, Texas would you believe me? No? Yes? Well go here and look then...

Portland Indy Media Centre picks up the story, making the well researched point that the only individual spared the death sentence during W’s tenure as Texas governor, over battered women, pensioners and the mentally disabled, was the notorious and massively prolific Henry Lee Lucas:

'On June 30th of 1998, Henry Lee Lucas, arguably the most prolific and certainly one of the most sadistic serial killers in the annals of crime was scheduled for execution by the state of Texas. Given the advocacy of the death penalty by Governor George W. Bush, things clearly weren't looking good for Henry at that time.....

The very next day ... Lucas became the first ... recipient of Governor Bush's compassionate conservatism. The official rationale for this act of mercy was, apparently ... evidence ... did not support his conviction ... Never mind that many of the 130 death row inmates who did not get special attention prior to their executions had credible claims of innocence that were met with by nothing but scorn and mockery.'

They go on to cite an article from Sherman Skolnick who details Bush Senior’s involvement with Zapata Offshore Oil Company, a tentacle of the CIA, who ran their drugs out of Columbia, funnelling it through Mexico into...Brownsville Texas, which is a stone’s throw over the Mexican boarder. This was principally to fund the Contra’s in beating the reds – an op detailed in Gary Webb’s Dark Alliance that I talked about here. Skolnick goes on to connect the dots between the El Padrino cult, CIA drug mules, mind control and SRA (Saranic Ritual Abuse) all taking place in and around the smuggling routes between Matamoros, Mexico and Brownsville. Here's the start of his article:

'"SUNNYVALE, CA - Telling reporters and critics to 'stick to the issues that matter', Republican presidential candidate George W. Bush declined to answer questions Monday concerning his alleged involvement in a 1984 Brownsville, TX, mass murder, in which 17 people were ritualistically murdered and skinned. 'I will not stoop to discussing that,' said Bush during a campaign stop at a Bay Area software-packaging plant. 'We've got people across this country without health care, a broken educational system, taxes that are way too high, and all you want to talk about is something THAT MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE HAPPENED 16 years ago? I'm sorry, but I find that offensive.' " (Emphasis added).'

So, yeah. Bush butchered 17 people. And yeah, he butchered a million and a half or whatever in his War On Terror (ridiculous as a war on dandruff! says Gore Vidal) indirectly, with orders from on high. Must’ve been that back in the day Boy Bush liked to hone his trade on the factory floor, so to speak.