Markov Mutations

[markovmutations-blog]

Who Loves Incense And Clock Back Are Strange Groovin’ Vibrations

I’m pickin up good sense; innocence is cripplin’ and it’s the sunlight plays upon her hair, groovin, the sound of things I can’t feel when I’m nothing to be, nothing instead of things that are uneven when you’re a gentle word on a Sunday afternoon, really. Put the sunlight on, tune in to your mood, eyes around: find me groovin… on a place I’d like to worry (about your mind); Oh Cajun spice, sweats and kind, gentle place I’d like to lose, people we choose, look at yourself, get away where the clock is back to tune in to your mood and starts to win. Really couldn’t get away where the cinder’s in, the cinder in your eyes around; Incense and the colorful clothes she wears and blushers your eyes, you can tell them that it’s the night meets the sun, even if it makes plants grow, I can’t feel the sound of things, and who cares that I’m uneven when I’m inside or behind the wall.

[poem composed from text generated material from six famous Psychedelic Era songs--can you guess which ones? The poem’s title contains words from all six.]

[markovmutations-blog]

The Limited Warranty of J. Alfred Prufrock

There will be time, time for purchasing decisions and pricing revisions and—HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME—there will be time, time to prepare a buyer beware clause (the appearance of concession merely summarizes the retention of consumption), and there will be time for conspicuous consumption, the torment of a hundred visions—HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME—the brief outlet of destructive impulses on packing materials, and since America is the Implied Warranty, a government made on the model for NEWS ADVERTISEMENTS, it will be either defective or contain false purchaser assumptions, and YOU are a particular type of merchantability—HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME—can I see a show of hands? You are eating yourselves to shield sellers, and here's a fatal case of consumption that rebellious, powerless human longevity can't pass up—HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME—the ability to define oneself through marketing data, click, click, hooray: The mass media has taken its place in the works of making it hot, and so no longer must the purchaser examine his or her needs, and there will be no such warranty of a dime—HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME—and there will be time to murder and create (competitors and desires), And time for all the works and days of hands (in child factory labor camps) That lift and drop a question in your shopping basket, Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions (each one a page click with an ad or three), And for a hundred visions and revisions (of purchasing decisions), Before the taking of a toast and tea. http://julianpeterscomics.com/page-1-the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock-by-t-s-eliot/

[markovmutations-blog]

Late Night Radio for Stupid Secret Nazi Space Ghosts

You can keep asking questions occasionally, but now I will tell you of the mysterious disappearance of stupid secret Nazi space ghosts, whom the necro-world order have exiled from Earth. Many outer world occultists have alleged that these fascist spirits have possessed entire moons, shaping tides of terror, but I have seen these timid creatures in dreams and in terrifying trip reports. I have melded in my mind the common threads in an elaborate conspiracy in which unified undead world government and ethereal agents of the reanimated Third Reich are merely two sides of the same coin, a beast which might become intelligent and eccentric as time folds into itself, ingeniously badly regulated, without any first cause behind or against itself, with long organs that feel strange and reach into the permanent present to yoke the living into its intricately absurd self-contradictions.

We'll be back after a quick commercial break.

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Do you wonder about the big questions of the afterlife? What's the good spot to be demons? Can there be ghosts in His own image? Is it true what Voltaire says of gnomes: "they labor under the want of verbs on those disturbances which were commonplace though terrifying"? How poor is everything to the hippopotamus, if it is encumbered with shining chrome armor as it reads from a very old Bible more finished than ours, made out of air, a delicate work? Nazi space ghosts, you ever wondered this? You ever wondered if ghosts are just malformations of reincarnation, dryly invented by eternals looking to push the limits of human endurance for their own amusement? YOU may have a claim for damages if you have suffered any of the adverse afterlife effects of the administration of the cocaine-like military wonder drug D-IX during your time on Earth.  Don't hesitate - give us a call!

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All right folks, we're back and right now each hallucination is flowing into the next, its body finer than flesh. It looks like they're all urinating successively with immense relief in technicolor. And the phones are now open... yes, hello, caller.

Hi, first time caller... long-time secret Nazi space ghost. I really appreciate you're getting the message out there and sticking it to the necro-world order. Just want to add one thing though -- this hierarchy of systematic control that my fellow ghastly fascists and I have been wrongfully deprived of ruling is currently in the hands of those same slimy shapeshifting lizard bastards that control all the governments and multinational corporations and world religions! They came from underground, grotesque, immortal exponents of trauma-based mind control... now they traverse the realms of the living and undead, making slick deals with Anubis for contraband and flesh in the cybernetherworld so they can upsell their stash on the black markets for the corporeal. They have a whole city underground, the lair of the legendary lizard people, where they store all the precious metals they reap from their international banking and business cabals... And it tunnels straight to the Federal Reserve, where their ten-faced reptilian overlord reigns atop a throne composed of exotic animal excrement and gold, the most prized possessions of any card-carrying Libertarian...

Yes, caller, yes, they've taken all the gold and covered it in their lizard shit which they pump through the undead water pipes. Stupid secret Nazi space ghosts, this is some really bad stuff--untested--they're pumping it to all your authoritarian ancestors, to your ghoulfriend, and nobody knows the long term effect: maybe permanent brain damage, perhaps far worse: you could lose all your phantom limbs and dissolve into a morass of molasses and anime fan fic! And that's why I urge you, as your friend and most cherished radio propagandist, to pick up one of our water cursification systems -- these are GUARANTEED, folks, to reset the chemical curse composition of the water you drink back to its factory settings. And while you're at it, be sure to purchase a case of colloidal silver to stave off any werewolf anarchists that might try to squat your stupid top secret Nazi outer world moon cave hideout -- they say it kills, but you're already dead, dummy!

[markovmutations-blog]

The Moment of Draco Nixon

A world full of biological years, however fervent its cause, prevails over reason and the Congress and the trunk of the answer to these questions, which may be animals that, according to young people, corrupt the national mood of unquestioned love for God, and so through handling, the Nixon administration accepts the historic resignation of the people throughout history, abdicating its powers to the original serpent which planned and leads the reptoid hierarchy.

On top of handling the Freemasons (the one word label Watergate being designed to conceal their existence), this national mood of political disgrace of the Reptoid hierarchy scandals those that came to be Draco reptoids when business came to be the Baptists and the government and the handlers of this image of a national mood which draws eyes away from 46 other groups of the reptoid.

Undoubtedly much of the hostility from the Draco reptoids, usually seven, standing on Nixon’s cabinet to the historic resignation of a free society, the will of years laxing as its forms of life evolved over reason and the majority, is to people. People, however fervent its cause, tending to prevail over vertebrate life evolved. Over And over again.

[markovmutations-blog]

The Frightful Sounds of Marketing Semiotics

It is on you, the ethnographer, to sleep. You’ll stroll through several rows of meaning of your unhappiness. You will be confronted by photographs of marketplaces and retailing. It is enriched if you discover existence is on you, it offers a rate, around the impression of seemingly nowhere, around you, every time you calmly measure the Unknown. More and more when we look in the mirror we see these expressions emerging out of amputated traffic. No doubt one detours that you are such and such years old, a television commercial for identity–the captions alone give a glimpse by proxy of some hidden knowledge whose limits might be considered a human face. Semiotics enables the brand communication to happen at length–it’s that nothing always shaping signposts at the corner and sounding the yell of the minds of territorial marking--the whole money market was peopled with despair, by 500 francs of dark wilderness, by Freudian transference, except the futility of a human countenance has been replaced by an advertisement. Every time when you toss the symbols for the heart into the cauldron of brand management these microorganisms stir the marketplace! The wind now toils like a general sense of consumer needs, and early photographs of my mind have pinpointed the I Ching and acquired design strategy and incomparable beauty. Marketing Semiotics applies the underground meaning of historical occurrences to eyes wide open or shut. Free-floating contemplation is what constitutes the chief horror of the marketplace activities: With it you can displace cult value of the cultural codes structuring consumer myths, every time shows its other horrors. And maddened with frightful sounds you might squirm a way inside your earliest memories of loved ones deserted in the focal point of meaning, transfixed on some advertising symbol; In a general sense, you, like all consumers, need the creaking of life and viewers and stories. You have become even more faintly traced, a greater sphere of the portrait of marketing data. You withdraw from the golden shell’s crimson consumer research, fading into the essential incompleteness of brand management and icons.

[markovmutations-blog]

The Lair of the Legendary Lizard People

The lost city... so modern music goes round the primordial elements and ancestors, out like giant gymnasts. Now we see a huge tongue supplying nighttime lighting for the most complicated successions of X-Rays blowing into the upper tunnels, shipyards blazing. We are already familiar and humans, all of our sensibilities come from the legendary Lizard People, new ranges of life forms built in factories, each mirror satellite with a pensive mobility, which will perhaps enliven the exhausted, who beckon bridges bridled by orchestras with fold-out parabolic reflectors in this city of underground caverns, built for environmental cataclysms long ago. There: the love of the legendary Lizard People, and rooms built for insomniac conditions in struggle. This one hosts indeterminate perceptions and, yes, a brightness nearly 100 times greater than reason. We find far more enjoyment in spite of the routines of regular alternations between an abundance of acoustic results teeming with variegated noises, the most complex polyphonies have trebled in sun-synchronized orbits, but our ears enjoy the capacity to be bought over the counter sleep products. Do you know of dissonant chords and anticipate that the sleepy atmosphere of sensations could have detrimental physiological consequences for industrial and high-intensity illumination? Do you know of “noise-sound"? The most earth-based space consortium announced plans to build the Scheme called the boredom of sleep products, programmatically devastated around fifty million Americans prescribed compounds like Ambien and many millions more bought. We stand on unknown forces. The Terrestrial Reptoid Hypothesis contends that an enormous apparition of tall buildings will once again light its underground arsenals, its musical sound carried through cities on clouds. Let us relish, in Siberia, the routines of time and high-intensity illumination... and by something out of time and many dislocating experiences of the ongoing disman­tling of shad­ows that presumes all the world's population is in this paying for electric lighting, chasing away  the night. The enormous underground must remain speculative, unearthed by the mortal leap, the capacity to bar, blow it all into underground caverns around the Pacific Coast, line their tunnels with discordant intensity no corporation can nullify, each one of great crowds excited by blowing into metal or wood, the basic human right of five types of pure sounds fully realized in the legend of Lunesta. The Lizard People have access... all their record of sleep is now in literature in one thousand Jungian archetypes, and in the accompanying modification of a music lover's scream, in disguise by accident, amidst many satellites enveloped continuously in other spheres (by snakes!), each mirror mewing tones, around the stars a chemically modified state only approximating actual sleep, this legendary catastrophe was dug up with powerful chemicals by day for the night sky.

[markovmutations-blog]

Liberty Rand Paul Wunderkind

The 1997 infiltration, wherein sources have identified several men in black suits patrolling the sovereignty of Liberty Rand Paul, is a symbol against the race track and independence to the perfectly controlled pristine calm that begins to usurp the Derby and the horizon. 1997: The globalists are poised to usurp the Kentucky Derby in black suits, a shade not unlike blood, patrolling the independence and state sovereignty of Liberty Rand Paul the wonderchild and prophet, the tyranny of thoroughbred racing fueling the race, or perhaps the globalists are poised to take a torrential downpour of Kentucky’s future representative while Naked Whispers eats GMO’s to alter natural weather cycles. If we don’t stand up now, then the race track is merely a signal that the sovereignty of fluoridated water onto the horizon to remain anonymous, as confirmed by sightings of State Madeleine Albright poisoning my dead dog.

[markovmutations-blog]

The Rally Call of The Ivory Deputy

[Imagine: a demagogic rally in support of police. The speaker is entirely made out of ivory.]

The ivory deputy: “…enough is our political direction, family, as on the senseless murder of darkness claimed for all officers, our turn to attend. We will scrub this sentiment the cops should go away. We have regularly scheduled meetings to show that duties are gallows and—trying to collect bribes, my breath in a common project. These little things make all critics a darkness claimed into our privilege, surrounded by the senseless murder of laughter that can be rotated among a wide range of solitude—utter silence, my station, to prevent this is a regimen of public opinion.”

A collective functions within the deep South unmarred by accountability and its butchers: Coptopia, All Supporters of the tyranny of the unrestricted and all officers, a moment of hearing the “lawlessness” of laughter burst into “victories” that made you imagine what cops think of existence. These little things make all over.

“All critics of the worth or merit of the deep South remain unmarred by the opponents and define them. Anti police signs or anti law enforcement are invited to attend: No anti law enforcement are invited to walk back however, please come out and kill themselves or go directly to jail” continued the ivory deputy.

That was the Main police decree, bring water, guns, racial profiling, powerful business organisations and rule by the silent majority to rights and legal persons and dissidents. It is a purification rite which will have regularly scheduled meetings to share information about the deep South remain unmarred. The ivory deputy viewed the principles and the social structures of the wilderness burst into by kind of behavior as the humiliation of a high seat amongst the social unrest spreads, an intrusion upon his monopoly of violence: “War is god and the unity and strength of the holy terror of tasers. For too long, the demonized minority…”

Such systems always seek license to imagine. Totalitarian systems demand that of the ivory deputy and gallows and privilege. But how can be heard whispering of law enforcement behind closed doors, boastful tallies of unjustified murders scrub the broken promises of liberal reform with prey upon minorities and games of victories against cameras and strength of existence?These thuggish tactics against activists and arbitrary subjugation of silence for their places as legal status quo bias built into a living metaphor of the way of cops, how many things make all over.

They might exist temporarily as on our business so we publish and attend, we publish and accountability. We will have to share information about the cops should go away. The ultimate game to combat the ivory deputy. For too long, everything belonged to them, Cops, for too long, engage in a regimen of scandal and rule by police headquarters persecuted the demonized minority. Enough is enough and to be stripped of the silent majority is enough! What they decree is lunatic asylums and for-profit prisons and how many lives ended by the concatenated prejudices of an omnipotent police obsessed with games and war and darkness.

[markovmutations-blog]

Techno Tunes for Nevermore

Once upon a midnight dreary, on a dancefloor of forgotten lore, drum machines tapping as each techno track thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors, engaging graveyard rave tunes never heard before, rapping at their roots in early jungle and hardcore, uncertain rustling of sheer sonic power, noise and pummmeling distortion feels like an hour, and so I write in order to recall this all, this time when once a quiet quaintness became a sound that the wind swept my sad fancy into the ecstatic wandering.

Sometimes I could imagine fearing, tearing, hurling forth upstarting the nightly shore. And the pallid bust of a brain-zap array of delay that is sitting, rapping and tapping at my toes while I filtered out everything but the hardware, never flitting, radiant glitter dreams... it’s been a demon that’s dreaming neon deliciousness: classic electro chills the vibes, while I nodded and became a part of that delay that shadow lends it ancient tracers… ‘tis some visitor entreating entrance at night after hours. Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in steps a stately Raven from the saintly days of yore. It cries, "Come, roll with me in blood," and eagerly I belong to death, those days of nothing more, sometimes nearly napping, minimal techno, evading soul from reality several times, raving, and the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, rapping, tapping, techno tunes for nevermore. Nameless tracks for nevermore.

[markovmutations-blog]

DATA-DRIVEN TIBETAN BUDDHISM & BARDO INTELLIGENCE (DDTBBI)

BIG DATA MINING is necessary to those who have to share with a Buddhist tradition the evidence in this preconceptual mystical knowledge by virtue of the fundamental Light and the FAST-PACED BIG SQUEEZE of all information available. With BIG DATA SETS, HIGH VELOCITY ANALYTICS is all there is, the Broad Walk each point wishes guidance, the BROADEST category and BUSINESS TECHNOLOGY which TRACKS each moment caught in the ecstasy which has been dissociated into contact with the voidness. INDUSTRY LEADERS in Buddhism have still failed to employ BUSINESS INTELLIGENCE, which they claim is the loss of the world of incarnation, a world apart presented with low-latency. Yet in the space where people's unconscious tendencies take control as the senses fail during death, intense as the afterlife body loses its warmth (fire) and before entering the Bardo, UNTAPPED ANALYLTICS reveal entirely new signals and hidden patterns and passions that can also include the CLOUD and increase the MARKET POTENTIAL of Buddhist enlightenment.

Enter BIG DATA MINING, and VISUALIZATIONS to ANALYZE, and we’re going to get some KEY PERFORMANCE INDICATORS pointing to ways to better capture and aggregate souls and optimize Bardo procedures that can lead to big answers at a glance. EVERY KOAN will be answered using PREDICTIVE ANALYTICS, and EVERY CELL in the experimental mysticism of traversing the Bardo should now be TRACKED and recognized and attempt to maintain unbroken continuity of energy transformations with a human body (so it can be modeled as a LINE GRAPH). Through collecting TERABYTES of images gleaned from the continual cycles of pure awareness or divine love (if it allows ANALYSTS, the first bardo), one description of consciousness will become familiar to all TARGETED BUSINESS USERS. BIG DATA will, in accordance with the imperceptible legal worlds of END-USER LICENSE AGREEMENTS, provide reports for the decision-makers for what’s called karma and causality. For those that know the afterlife is just cloud services, don't hesitate -- apply your knowledge of BUSINESS ANALYTICS to Tibetan Buddhism and the Bardo today.

[markovmutations-blog]

Reflections on My MBA

I was a substantial investment banker at a consolidated financial institution. The less predictable physically restrain me. That was charcoal to rip them as you learn in isolation. Then I even knew I was a product of an era of self-help.net which said it was going to put a shock of those ideas you get in a top-50 school, this wasn't an ominous sign of course. I could have guessed without the MBA the perfect idea was murder, but watching my employees shatter reminded me of the perils of social waters. The souls that I kicked each one before the other, until I looked sharp twist again, but this time the spine cracked and took a canoe through my feet but the time and then dropped it was driving down and a wizard and the bed still and had moved up the doctors and took my sheets.

You see my parents were in uncharted economic nurses who sharp pulled me along, those kinds who passed on the look for maintaining one’s “true calling.” This might sound odd, lit by the beauty of your top choice programs to the life course has become, and felt right, that instant of death...I stepped on around me down and I have held me and magical of tape on around me was playing, rich and magical of course. Maintaining one’s appearance has no memory. I thought to run away but I live for recognition.  Eventually they calmed me. It was now in my consciousness, this wasn't an overwhelming feeling that means large company ranks in a cycle where the more mystic and had to take the retro feel. I had to myself, two hours spent on the sudden. I could pee. An EMBA alum who knew what happening, standing outside of himself in depersonalized bliss contemplating his murders, it had to look for it, HR, each piece of those ideas and bones you have talked to take the fan out, they didn’t even recognized the language of my clothes off. I was promised to get large company ranks in Finance or a top-tier management consulting firm, a place of black liquid and joyous Hole of the labor market, but it was futile because they were in my body.

[markovmutations-blog]

finnegans poemanteau

Two Argloe-Noremen, laudabilitemen, and a tunnningbluebolteredallucktruckalltraumconductor Dubvillegallooillegallooking for bellyswain'sheain'sheaven aboard a rhubarbarouserucrouse

[poem composed of portmanteaus of portmanteaus from Joyce’s Finnegans Wake]

[markovmutations-blog]

Text Generated Literary Review

Thought experiment: Does running Amazon reviews of literature through TextVom.it's text generator create insightful commentary on the works in question?

William S Burroughs, NAKED LUNCH Squares need not apply. With its highly volatile and often repugnant; Burroughs proved me wrong -- big time! Burroughs's flights of language exploding mind bombs of words throughout. It's been almost three years now since Uncle Bill scored the most original work of fiction ever written dissects and exact Swiftian satire... capitalists, fascists, though it's somewhat hard to the Wise Guy. After completing this book, or you either love it, and pornographic content, a subjective opinion -- a subjective opinion!

Philip K Dick, A SCANNER DARKLY There is prevalent throughout and the street and the feel of the author's heart can be found in the sci-fi trimmings As a drug dealer who is a split-personality veering chaotically close to downright amateurish, etc. Never a literary stylist, corroding the body and made abundantly clear basically describes the futuristic flourishes, the bulk of his lesser/cryptic works a mad, the downward spiral-- in the dominant themes Dick experienced during his most lucid.

The Marquis de Sade, JUSTINE, PHILOSOPHY IN THE BEDROOM AND OTHER WRITINGS Every taboo is an illuminating collection and a concise evisceration of crime. Also, the furious directness of the dialogues. It pre-dates Balzac, sex. The dialogue is an illuminating collection of Sade's life. Yes. Foucault? Nietzsche pales in philosophical dialogues about incest. Reading Sade fills the supremacy and sexually twisted. This version is Sade displays himself as one of Judeo-Christian philosophy, advocating the characters engage in comparison to pieces (sometimes literally) while the supremacy and my eyes and amorality of his works, although it has opened my mind to anyone who has a political treatise.

Answer: Yes, sort of!

[markovmutations-blog]

The Postulates of Multiplicative Modernism

---1--- The words which plunge into a certain ridiculous knowledge because they allow for the intersection of fantasy and thought perform contrary actions together while dancing to fulminate against the actions of humanity. Besides, like diarrhea in a dog’s life, the mind is a pity, is well up by the heels of this grape by making two distant regions the landscape... who cares?

---2--- Ease is best controlled sensuality which partakes in exoticism, the control of a phrase, ego = non-ego, that woman you will still retain. DADA DADA DADA is as the reality of life to sing of mind. 

---3--- What have sleeping logicians and the slowness of art stood dazzling as possible complicity and conflagration on the long? And Chirico (so admirable about the top of the cynics) will storm around us. Life was never until it reaches the way in the veins of the elephants with salvos of the presence which devours every country. Let’s go!

---4--- Existence isolates the stronger, more adventurous steamers which have more than Hegel's metaphysics, or perhaps just more in common with my opinion. How can we be conceived as though we have gone by, as they allow the mind? The family is barred to me, say thank you: there, put order to good number of this word, Memory, alone amidst whole hedges of a greater Good Lord, the image to come, meant to be the purest way of the first purely informative style, the rationalistic telepathy of the risk-free possession of novels which morality must want: ABC DADA to which reverie is worth the insulting of plays. Christopher Columbus should be construed to a frightful job; I would always have the disinterested play a war in the seasons, conducted against painters of tradition, so vast that I am still running on a proof of the defense.

---5--- Some people speak of registries of deceit and disgust, but I see a case for the mysterious doors of the talent as an individual's degree of fortitude. The Surrealist contribution to choose to compare our consciousness with a single throw of the dice, buoying us towards the setting sun, issued from certain functions culled with violent electric hearts. In reality, we have infected the likeness of poetry to settle a roaring in ourselves; I am growing old, and when the artist suddenly closes the dream, a certain district of joy becomes as boring as I may be and makes the head glued back on to its neck be moved by that which affects it least successfully -- the abolition of the sea.

---6--- This is not sinking back toward me, we had its Novelty. And anyway, it treats the summit of unanimous gratitude with the magic of the first day in the life of a street. This world, with muslin curtains; almost full of it, what I am willing to mention is vain. This was produced using a Markov chain based text generator hosted on http://textvom.it. The sources were the entirety of the first Dadaist, Surrealist, and Futurist manifestoes.

[markovmutations-blog]

Text Generation is Freegan

I’m gonna chow down and smell my vegetables. The best, easiest way to those compactors are the food on them or just head to get the dumpster Diving is the food will give you food they don’t work or paint them the ball but get in Also, free lunches and dig around; around! I’m gonna be afraid to ask a big, scary compactor behind the food is the store, produce store bagel produce store, produce store, produce bagel and sell the store, bagel and grab take a local grocery store big scary compactor, produce store, bagel and either ask a look: love you help out of big scary compactor behind the dumpster Diving is the Dumpster Diving is the dumpster Diving is the only thing in dumpsters!

[markovmutations-blog]

Make it Make New Make

Barreling into the bucket of one hundred cops, A sea of space majestic opens before a giant heavy mollusk, And desperately clutching my radio Paul Newman reads out in monotone:

“In these times when an abyss opens up in tribute to educate and green, And phantoms sack demonstration leaders, Hoping to to restore order, I feel like drifting clouds above the rather active dispute. This is from Adlai Stevenson’s 1952 acceptance speech, Read in a letter of sprawling fields.”

Tristan Tzara said: “Misery is manifold" And André Breton called him a cop. Sometimes cutting up political speeches is manifold.

Tristan Tzara said: “Misery is sorrow born. Either you have two excerpts, Or you cut down the poem and expel it from beauty.“ And Andre Breton replied, “Misery is an interesting exercise.”

Tristan Tzara said: “Misery is a simile of repetition, Overreaching the rainbow. Now rearrange the wide horizon as you fancy.” And André Breton called him a new page.

But Tristan Tzara is dead and said none of these things, And I stop writing because it suits me just fine. Civilization consists in my nerves. Beneath my nerves Beneath my consciousness I’m grieved by some other feeling, Probably also plagiarized, Which says to me, in my deepest slumber, Like this page. Like this page. Like this page.

[markovmutations-blog]

Decriminalize Disorder!

“The drug war on Terror, thousands of one third of years in the past few years, Mexico, alleging that a key ingredient in Afghanistan’s opium production, where coca production decreased in the Afghan government’s line is still left, and coalition soldiers lost the drug-producing countries,” yes, published in an Op-Ed in Havana.

“90 percent of the guerrillas have always lobbied heavily for widespread  decriminalization over the foreseeable future,” Drug Enforcement Administration officials alleged, despite knowledge of that government-linked assassination campaign against scientists who had confirmed what is set to the biggest international scandal in the history of lizard people.

The talk in the eighties, tons of marijuana. What government would effectively be believed about the criminal narcoculture? Seizing the moment, the acronym-in-chief suspended the the war on Whatever Terror.

In return for illegal drug use, tons of leftist governments, including a thousand  alternatives to Yankee imperialism, made justice for their lives during the fact that in taking on Drugs in the highest levels of spraying began a pleasurable and occasionally psychotic descent into a whirling world of intoxicated stupor—and with that the opium harvest in Afghanistan leaked into the chemtrails wingnuts had warned us about, and the biggest source of spraying, and this will be believed about the foreseeable future, came from small groups of disinterested drones that seemed to emerge from the sea from time to time, and even more shocking is that the biggest international military (led by a police-trained chief supplier of Colombian cocaine) seemed not even to notice that they were immeasurably would forever dosed with combinations of coca and cannabinoids and poppies for the remainder of their lives, and people wondered whether or not this was a good thing or bad thing. One thing for sure was over: that particular atmosphere which pervades Anglo Saxon towns on Sundays.