Stoned Again!

GOOR-GEEE!!!!

Thunderbird and toking—Jesus, I love them! Earth spinning, wailing my prick to the heavens as the demiurge Jehovah did embrace me and join me to the St. Vitus dance of the free and the mad, spinning spin in the putrid green glow of their screens, blinking on the pale faces of the crazed made wise, pumping their keyboards in a frenzy of abstracted passion ‘til they spunk the milkmaid evil of brain-decayed intellects to explosions of blood and viscera, glowing in the vacant stares of the pinch-faced powerful, farting not flames but platitudes as their manicured fingers squeezed truffles out of road kill to the rattle of abstract equations made elegant as the broken and the shattered sing praise to the greater glory of the demiurge, praising the martyr’s death as he suffers the little children into the purifying flame ripping open their wounds with his nails that their blood might sanctify the holy ground of battle to the dry chants of formula and policy, consigning the dead to the glory of the Homeland as the scalpel of peace cuts away the rot of the old, slicing to the sound of a little child at play, then a blinding flash and a red smear and a child’s torn sneaker on a sidewalk, to the boom-boom symphony, played in the techno-fetish dawn of the new age of the St. Vitus dance of the free.

whomever