Obama can spend the next week looking ultra-Presidential
as he cleans up debris from the Frankenstorm, while Mitt
bitch-bitch-bitches at his pitiful campaign events. Fortune favors
the fortunate, I guess, and Obama wins again on the basis of
nothing, or not much.
You fuck like a drone!
Thank you!
I fuck with everything!
Nothing fucks with me!
I fuck like a drone.
Thrill-kill all of your hillbilly women-folk, Abdullah!
Yodel-ay-hee yodel-ay-hee yodel-oo!
Thrill-kill all of your hillbilly women-folk, Abdullah!
Yodel-oo-hoo yodel-oo-hoo yodel-ay!
I fuck like a drone.
1. Google returned all the other images in this array as
"visually similar" to the two off-duty super-models at top-left.
2. Drone pilots in Colorado use a similar algorithm to identify
"high-value targets" in Afghanistan.
3. The gear-heads at Google are much, much smarter
than the gear-heads at the Pentagon.
Therefore...
The next time Obama claims one of his drones killed
a bunch of jihadis on some God-forsaken mountain in Afghanistan...
It's just as likely that he killed Bob Marley, Franz Kafka,
Willie Nelson, Frederick Douglas, and the Flying Nun.
Abbey Lee Kershaw
Who
stole
my
soda?
Who stole my oats?
Who stole the sky and
my blue data?
photo-credit: Joshua Lott
"I've told people after I die, I'm coming back as lightning," he said.
"When it zaps the White House, they'll know it's me."
Russell Means, November 10, 1939 – October 22, 2012
Are you dead?
Are you listening?
Are you dead?
Are you listening?
Are you dead?
Are we there yet?
Is the past
really
irredeemable?
Shoot to kill!
Do not resuscitate!
I immediately remember everything you forget.
Everything you remember I immediately forget.
Shall we loot or retool?
Pop or poop?
I pollute the intuited tulip!
You devolve to a root.
They don't understand us.
That's their weakness!
They don't understand us.
That's their strength!
Our invisible dreamer undreams us!
Are you peeping at me in my sleep?
5 PM - October 12, 2012 - Santa Monica Boulevard - West Hollywood CA
What's this thing we call "artness?"
Is it art?
Aristotle says it isn't.
My igloo is alive.
Our cosmos wheezes and alliterates.
My groove is trivialized.
Alfred North Whitehead ate my love-muscle.
My igloo is alive.
I'm a bit that wants to be, my sweet angel!
I'm a bit that wants to be!
Chinatown - 11 PM - ISO 6400
You bought an Icebone Hauberk.
I bought an egg-beater.
You bought a Razzashi Raptor.
I bought a tooth-brush.
Then we killed all the beggars.
You killed them with an Icebone Hauberk
I killed them with an egg-beater.
You killed them with a Razzashi Raptor.
I killed them with a tooth-brush.
First they taught me the strangleholds,
then they strangled my dog.
I'm talking about our goodhearted landlords!
I'm the brain in your nose.
You're my favorite electrode.
I wanna be your cocaine.
I wanna be your spasmodium!
I can teach you the strangleholds.
We can strangle our goodhearted landlords!
Hamish Bowles - wax on sandpaper - Jacob Freeze - 2012
Start with salt.
Add saltines.
Nestle in the stove.
Tell us everything you know.
I know wrong from wrong.
I know 2013.
I know all the best chefs are cannibals.
Are you the ape that ate my Bible?
Are you the cop who gobbed my zoo?
Are you my boobs?
What we really need is more transparency!
What we really need is more incinerators!
What we really need is more transparent incinerators!
Are you my boobs?
How many is too many nightingales?
How many is too many gardens?
Can you see in the dark?
Are you the ape that ate my Bible?
Are you the cop who gobbed my zoo?
I was born in Pine Ridge, South Dakota, May 4, 1919.
Before me, they say, ten thousand generations.
I don't want to die in the white man's hospital.
I don't want to die in the white man's paradise,
in these windless rooms, looking out at a dog-tooth skyline.
I don't want to die like rain swallowed into a sewer.
