Girl Sweat Pleasure Temple Ritual Band – Hyper Rituals

girlsweat

So then, we’re all agreed: it’s a farce. But exactly what kind of farce is it? McWilkinson will take the first seminar, arguing her hypothesis that the farce should be read like a deconstructive take on a Bakuninian-level revolt disguised as hot marvel. The second seminar will welcome Mordant Furniture, presenting his best selling vision of an illusory farce in a mentalist dogma, preceding the reality which followed it because of inbuilt hypotheses planted by previous venerations. Then Professor Summat Whassup will take the floor, and only return it when we agree to peer review his latest article on the cultural importance of whippersnapping the well-fed, who we should be concerned with because they’re the future of his fan base. And we shall end this enthralling day by dethroning the prevailing revolutionarism and slapping it, all in the capable hands of a brilliant PHD strident, fresh from the aristocratic jam function, known as Manjenium SLobobacker-Roosevelt-Ckumbucket. Tickets are a very reasonable national debt of Guatemala, or the soul of one or more of your children. This includes a buffet lunch – dingos kidneys wrapped in lettuce strips served by small white boys from the council estates that we’re paying minimum way-ge to in order to assuage our guilty consciences that shout at us when we write content-less articles depicting their way of life instead of fucking doing something about it.

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The Switching Yard – Yet Again

yard

(the bloke behind the wheel looks like my mate Dunny)

What do you do when you ate your shoes and you need to walk to Gallards Hill? You can’t walk barefoot or they’ll lock you up, using a criteria that they purposefully fit to you, even though it’s not fit for purpose, and now no longer are you. Enjoy the pills, tell us what’s in them, and hopefully we can see you when you survive.

It’s an ice age, an intellectual and spiritual ice age, where the insecure perpetuate their demons. So it’s not about the selfish gene, the selfish gene has been outflanked by the sociopathic demon. Tell me, have I got demons? Do they too have demons? And where are their demesnes? Enough to believe that demons are forward thinking – roughly 20 minutes, after that they hit a wall which you can’t drive through but the wall is not real but then neither are you, so we still can’t drive through. I’ll real you. I ask you, if this is all some quantum dream, what has the quantum been eating?

Lonker See – One Eye Sees Red

 

lonker

 

I transformed the light into darkness
simply by closing my eyes
I transformed the darkness into light
simply by opening my eyes

I am you

Disguised as me

Remember that in your dealings

The dinosaur chases the Christian and hounds him till the end and says
‘when I come back, I want to be a materialist.’

(the) Dead Sea Flowers – Cult of Sargasso

sargasso

Imagine, right, that the human race gets wiped out in such a way as to leave behind all of our works – I dunno, a virus, really virulent, incredibly fast acting. We didn’t stand a chance. And then, as luck would have, we actually are visited by beings from another world. They land, they take a look around, they see signs of life (you know, frogs, trees, foxes, free-market cheerleaders) but no signs of yer actual intelligence. And yet, puzzlingly, there’s all these artefacts. Football stadiums, for example: what would they make of them? Factories, some of them including forklift trucks. Some of those sexy sensual temples in southern India (that’s a religion I don’t mind signing up to (typical bloke response)). Postcards. CD’s. toy aeroplanes. Real aeroplanes. Helicopters. ‘mobile phone antennae.’ Wires. Offices. Essex. Ironing boards. Et so on.

Would they recognise these as artefacts of an ancient but extinct civilisation?

I suppose it depends on their own ascent up the evolutionary ladder. It’s bound to affect their perception of what constitutes intelligence. Bit like how the Europeans were when they encountered other countries with different coloured people who did different things differently. ‘You must be savages!’ we screamed, and promptly tried to ruin them and their descendents.

In other words, how enduring are artefacts if there is no-one to explain their purpose?

Therefore, what exactly is legacy?

(Pyramids, I want me some pyramids…)

Pixvae – Pixvae

pixvae

Me and marbebi, we getting down and getting hot. She whispers in my ear, you don’t need to know what. She make me feel inferno in my linkin hot rod. She smiles at me suggestively and I want to explode. She sighs in anticipation – I’m heating up, off the scale, heating up just for you.
Meanwhile groups of cells within my body are gathering together and chanting, “action now on climate change!”

 

Hi! I’m from the everything festival

My motto is ‘that’s my motto.’

Is that halo real or are you just pleased to see me?

 

 

 

Mr. Airplane Man – Jacaranda Blue

airplane

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. This was because the bottom had fallen out of the housing market, and the house had never got finished, leaving the wall standing there on its own. Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall. This was because the wall was uneven and unfit for any kind of purpose at all, including, it must be said, dividing one area from another. The reason for this was that all house builders were profit makers and profit makers only, and were expected only to care about making profits, because all forms of coercion whereby someone had to earn their money honestly had disappeared when the supreme money earners took control of the society in which the house/wall was built. And all the kings’ horses and all the kings’ men couldn’t put humpty together again. Notice how the king himself isn’t having to try and make good the damage that has been done? Leaving it to his men and his horses, who are patently unqualified for the job. And as soon as all the fuss blows over, which it will with the help of a secret PR offensive which will cost a lot more than it would have done to just build the damn house properly in the first place, the king will sell it on again, and it still won’t be built properly.

 

Kaos Karma – Deathology

kaoskarma

(sidebar: they have a new album which seems stunning based on the teaser track, but I can’t find a version to stream)

Within the undermonk, a brew is stirring, felt by only signals, seen by only mushmen, heard by only ethernuts. I spotted a freak trying to get a message through just last night. Stopped him just in time. You never know what he might have done if his communication would have succeeded. Tried to do it again, most likely. See, in this job, you gotta know the freaks, their wiles, foibles, minimums. In hilarity and in health, the freaks are always there. You exterminate one bunch, another takes its place. Its like tissue regeneration in a way, like when a limb goes and a new one grows back because the organism wants it back. And here I am, facing an equal compulsion to get rid of the freaks, despite they constant, they constant, they always there! In my head, they always there! I close my eyes, I open my eyes, all I see is freaks! Like spots on my existence, piles of angst quaking my moorings, fishing for my soul and hooking into my eyes with their slimy forked vision. Look at me! I will not be freaked out! I will keep my constancy, keep what I have known, at home with my stagnation and spores and what. Ask me my mind, I dare you, you cannot infect me, even though you’re leaving, even though you got nowhere to go, I have no sympathy, you’re not human you’re a freak. Leave me with my things, my constants, my anchors, my knowledge that the morning is the same as the night is the same as the day is the same is the same is the same is the same. My freak, my freak, where did you go? I need you my freak. All of a sudden you gone, and the world don’t seem so safe no more.