Gooks and Geek Versus Goons and Geen...

9/2/2004

Gooks and Geek Versus Goons and Geen...

Gooks and geek have big round eyes, rivers of blood run them through and over and across and every which other way... They are the longing of our life while we have to content ourselves and go on chewing metaphorical gum... Chewing gum: From time immemorial martial endeavor par excellence... When will we be able to chew again on their eyeballs?... Sir, that's what we warriors do!... We the goons, the good guys, chewing incessantly on geek's eyeballs... And that we do in honor of Mars -- all-seeing eye in the sky. God Mars, sanguine, steady, unblinking Eye of War scouting the infirm firmament for whom to kill right away, limp horrendous enemies... God Mars, the ruler, you bet. God of my month: March, Month of War! God of my day: Tuesday, Day of War!... No divinity dares touch the hem of his dress!... Actually, we shit on all divinities, like our same patron saint formerly did. General Ajax, I mean, who courageously raped Cassandra, the meek, the frail, the cowardly, lost in tears while invoking a fucking stone divinity. He ripped her tunic to smithereens -- her chitoniskos, if you please (some gook whore chemise, I should say)... While she was asking of her goddess the pity of an earlier death; "asking off favors of no flaxen stone idol never brought nobody no assuagement to their pain," wise Ajax interspersed, while raping away, and chewing some eyeball found by luck still half intact left in his pocket... Shitty woman, he added, why, oh, tell me, so much chitoniskos and whore chemise is thou art flat as my encephalogram?... He was born, if I remember right, same glorious day as me -- sex, I mean six of August 1945, when War was the dandier!... And like me he'll vote next election, whenever the hell mayest thou be, for the real thing -- and the real most vicious thing will be not a hairy chap with deranged dandruff to boot, but the real killer. Bush or Bust, we Martial Warriors say as loud as our heavy lights allow, not only because we hate tits -- we cut 'em soon as seen -- but because The Bush Beats The Bust a hundred times over, or plus, any day, be it Tuesday, Thursday, or the others!... The calculation, the tabulation, the reckoning, I reckon couldn't be easier. Who's the wiser?... The jerk goes miles and miles away to geek paradise to kill just a score or two from a dangerous distance of less than a mile!... or the kindly intelligent man of order, godly, correct, righteous, and so forth, who sitting in his parlor and signing just a few killing papers kills millions and millions, first in his own state -- Killingests Gov'ner Ever, Padner! -- and then half across the blue (blue, can you imagine such a fay and gay quicksandy planet compared to Red Hunky Mars!), blue globe -- which we gladly would chew to a spew!... And now, girls, ha-ha, each at ease, and to each my speach: lift thine chemise...