When one enters again, the kingdom of inventory, one realises the conundrum dilemma before you...
Do I carry all this around,
For the sake of better writing?
Do I lie, on the spinning wheel,
Until split into two?
Getting my heart back,
I can feel my sharp edges,
The points and the blades,
That will cut you in two.
So think of your life now,
And all, that you hope for,
I'd try to start running,
That's, if-I were you.
Here's the link to the last post:
Van Jones on CNN
the morning after
Donald Trump wins
election 2016
I think the beauty of #gonzo is that the prey at the centre of the piece has to cry:
"It was me that begged to be violated by that football team, in return for money, because I'm not afraid to confess: I'm a dirty, shameless whore, who only looks out for myself, at the expense of decent, hardworking people."
That's another reason, I never write about real people, only the sickest, foulest, "thank the Lord that these fucking scumbags don't really exist" - type fictional characters.
Thank goodness for the freedom of the innermost imagination of the "without-any-context-whatsoever" fiction-writer, characters.
So I lie here,
just pouring out,
In the falling-out midst,
of the in-crowd,
Talking about the zone's tones,
And the mellow charge,
Of the breaking hearts,
On a route to the slide,
Of deriding guides,
Who know the scores.
Much time has been wasted,
Trying to reach a people,
That spend to acquire,
But, don't seek.
Costs of desperation,
Fighting for survival,
Is the revival, of hope.
Before we can move,
We need to rid our being,
Of the thin, small people,
And the brittle limitation,
Of the rational plaintiff,
Of the ways of this world.
Throw down your conscience,
Test it in the wind,
That its rightful condescension,
Will omit, its special thing,
As the fashion of redemption,
Cling to the pretty things,
But the test is in the darkness,
As the hollow reaches outward,
Out of outlaws' syndication,
We just work to keep the lights on,
Onward, staining as we go,
The dust, beneath our feet.
"The problem seems to be that the only minds equipped by society with the education, voice and social etiquette to be listened to by those with any power to do anything about this mess, also appear to be hook, line & sinker part of the whole fkkking thing, if only subconsciously!"
This is a class address by top, fictional educator, Professor Charles Gonzo. It's from the forthcoming Novel entitled #KillTheDean
ProfCharlesGonzo is star, and anchor of the new @Outlaw_Academic series of books by @GonzoLecture
These are a fantastic range of fanciful, fictional accounts of various points of view about education, fkkking, money, Tories, partners of large city firms, buggery, politics, comments about the coalition "government", Obama's America, anarchy, the British monarchy, business, events, media, Jimmy Savile, staff disciplinaries, employment law & ethics, queefing, and of course, - what's that thing when guys suck another guy's semen from another guy's anal cavity with a straw?
It's all about the truth, in other words. The socially constructed, currently invalidated, subjective, independent, unapproved, unofficial "truths" untested and completely fictional conjecturing by characters in a novel.
"How exciting!" I hear some of you cry.
"Oh crikey, how terrifying. Get the lawyers!" I hear another, imagination-devoid, human-skull-like creature cry from the darkness.
"But Master," I hear still yet another, grovelling, teflon henchmen reply, "he escaped our cleverly laid trap we waited a whole year to spring the last time, when we realised that we didn't have legal powers to dictate his social media conduct. They are too clever for us, beautiful yet horrifying Master. This is something they call Gonzo. It's fiction. The only way we can even recognise the expressions of our own, evil injustices, oh Great One is to unfortunately confess to them. Hideous though you are."
Like you say Mongo, if you got nothing to hide, then you got nothing to worry about.
Now stop reading this blog and get back to beating down on hardworking folk who are simply trying not to lose their souls completely while they go out to work to feed their families.
It'll be lunchtime soon & it'll be time again to talk about sucking that little willy of yours... You know what they say about people who talk about things & don't do them. Hope you're both well.
If we are to be self realising individuals, allowing others to be the same, we're going to behave differently regarding the value of personal (and personalised) experience.
One thing we all possess is the faculty through the senses to personalise our own experience. The weapon to resist overbearing social conditioning from our environment is the validation of our personal experience.
The formation of personalised truth, as discussed in the previous post, comes from a comparison between what we're told and what we know. We will anyway. We must also know that to "let people be" needs to be out practice, to avoid in anyway that we become the controllers.
The ethics of avoiding learner dependence of those we are mentoring and perfecting is a commonsense & well established principle. In practice we see those teaching others often inadvertently using power against those they seek to serve, either through threat, or "love" to impair them.
Even as I'm writing, I'm cautious of manifesting a sort of sanctimonious Norman Vincent Peale, or Charles Spurgeon type tone that would cause my critics to recoil with the sentiment I'm trying to create some sort of blueprint for self improved personal behaviours. That wasn't the way of #HunterSThompson not is it mine, nor should it be any of those who seek to develop a better way for us and our fellows.
Comment below.
"kindlespaniard : #Ihaveaquestion...What if it also amuses his audience? Refer: the Gonzo journalist"
GONZO: raw, truthful, subjective 1st person point of view run wild may be often funny, It may also be horrifying, dark, sexy, sweet, & stimulate all the other "honest" "real " emotions in the audience that we all experience as we live life - perhaps two or more of these at the same time ...?
It'd be great if the gonzo community might now jump in, if it still bothers reading this crap?
Charisma Theadora Rory, marty, Ralph? Anybody?
Professor Menschenchowder was apparently perusing the faculty herb garden, which has been under the care Dr Wheedon since the unveiling of our new conservatory, when the dastardly incident occured.
The herb area is part of our new winter garden complex, established for the entertainment of our esteemed, retired or disabled faculty professors.
Using this facility, originally sponsored by the Depends Foundation for retired academics, we're able to spend our spare time between classes visiting those upon whose shoulders we stand, to learn everything we can from them, in order that our pedagogy might be the best it can be. Incidentally, please substitute the commoner expression "teaching" for "pedagogy" if that word in any way threatens you.
Professor Menschenchowder, a fine gentleman of good standing in our community was apparently in the throes of cramming one of Dr Wheedon's fabulous "Moon-face Brownies" into his fizzog when another of our once-esteemed colleagues ran into glasshouse number 7. We first assumed that this junior academic, Dr Free had come to collegially greet our visitor, but things turned very nasty, very quickly.
Before we knew it, Dr Free appeared to be kneeling on
Professor Menschenchowder's chest and had his hands clasped at his throat. According to our later review of the establishment's CCTV records, Dr Free trembled shouting "you fucking, conniving, power-hungry, hypocritical, pseudo-marxist jerk!"
At the time, Professor Menschenchowder seemed to be mostly gasping for air, clearly shocked by the sudden actions of his young assailant.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Dr Free continued, as Professor Clash and I grabbed him and began pulling him off as the orderlies arrived with the chemical cosh.
"No!" I gestured to the orderlies to stand back. "We must first find out what has happened here!"
To be continued...
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