Is it bad if you dream that you travelled forward through time and found yourself working as a post-op tranny hooker? That can’t be good, right? Ah, dreams, you murky, evil, disturbing glimpses into the subconscious, you. What’ll be unearthed next?
Imagine having your dink removed in a bid to become more like a woman. I can’t imagine it. I love my little guy; sure, he’s ugly, but I’d never hack him off. I wonder what the surgeons do with it after they it cut off? Does it go in the medi-trash with all the rubber gloves and used syringes? And what do they do with arms and legs after they’ve been amputated? And how do they bury conjoined twins when they die? Do they separate them or just build a ‘V’ shaped coffin? And why hasn’t anyone invented water-proof cigarettes yet? And how come, and why? And when? And, indeed, who?
What?
It’s important to ask questions. It’s important to be curious. Otherwise you’ll turn around one day and the government will be fucking your ass off. Wait! They already are (don’t get me started).
One person who asked a lot of questions was William Cooper, author of Behold a Pale Horse.
I’ve never read Behold a Pale Horse, sheerly because I’d rather not trouble myself with anymore paranoia, but I’ll bet it’s a real page-turner.
Bill was the son of a U.S. Air Force officer, and after he graduated college in 1961 he too enlisted in the U.S. Air force. Then, when he was honorably discharged in 1965, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy and served in Vietnam, rising to the rank of petty officer. Bill was awarded the Navy Commendation Medal with V device and the Navy Achievement Medal with V device. Then he became a conspiracy theorist. Why not?
While serving, Bill claims to have seen a disc shaped craft- the size of an aircraft carrier- come out of the sea and zip off into the sky. He also claims that he, and the other servicemen who witnessed the craft, were told that they hadn’t seen anything, and if they talked about what they hadn’t seen they’d be dealt with severely. Suddenly, Bill found himself privy to all kinds of crazy top secret documents (assassinations, coverups, sub-goverment organizations, stuff about UFO’s) and he felt it was his duty to show them to the American public, so he published his findings in a book: Behold a Pale Horse. After that, Bill was pretty much on the run. The government busted his balls endlessly, ceaselessly, mercilessly, and they even ran him off the road in a black sedan causing him to lose a leg! A LEG! Then Bill started a worldwide shortwave radio show called Hour of the Time, where he talked about civil, criminal and political conspiracies, past and present. Bill Clinton, who was President at the time, said, “Bill Cooper is the most dangerous radio host in America.” Which he possibly was; it was a very popular show. However, it was really unpopular with the powers-that-be, which sort of validates all the paranoid shit he was sprouting… maybe.
Two months before 9/11, Bill, on his radio show, predicted an impending attack on the United States that would be blamed on a “scapegoat” called Bin Laden (Bin who?). You can listen to that broadcast on Youtube. It’s actually pretty creepy.
Then, on the night of November 5th 2001, Bill was lured out of his Arizona home by members of the Apache County Sheriff’s department who accidentally shot him dead on his front lawn.
Mental. Check it out. Maybe he was bananas, but then maybe “they” want you believe he was bananas. Either way, I’m not reading that book.
Ignorance is bliss. How about that new IPad! Don’t get me started.
Now, here’s a letter we just received:
Jason Crombie, you’re alright. DA LAKERS FOREVERZZZ
There’s few things that irritate me more than the current Boston Celtics team. For starters Paul Pierce is a cry baby. He constantly throws temper trantrums and has a faces begging to be punched… quite frankly he also looks like he eats poop.
Kevin Garnett never graduated HS, he’s dumb as rocks and dribbles the ball like a prehistoric raptor. He probably has sleep apnia.
Don’t get me started on Rajon Rondo. He looks exactly like Fooo Ronda, or whatever her name is, the former contestant of America’s Next Top Model. It’s creepy.
The only person who gets a pass is Doc Rivers because he has a cool name and is kind of an all around awesome dude.
ANyway. The point is Boston is gross and it’s nice to see you’re rooting for the right team.
In other news, I was recently promoted from low flush water savings toilet expert (without a raise) to sustainable flooring sales expert and let me tell you, I know how to sell hardwood floors! Last month I sold over $30,000 of that stuff. I’m possesed by it. It’s in my veins. I sweat low VOC wood wax finish and lately I’m even dreaming about closing sales.
The last time I had dreams like that was when I first started listening to Cobain in a Coma
‘s radio show in 2006 or 7. There was something about the live radio show that was so completely horrifying but somehow just sucked you in. It was the best. Uncomfortably cool vapid social drama live on pirate radio! I also had a huge crush on one of the contributers, Laura Sutro, the babe of all SF babes in 2005. I’d always run into her at parties with the most unbearable sexual frustration. She once kneed me in the balls and screamed at me that I’d ruined her 21st birthday party because I told her I thought eggs benedict was boiugie-doche and all her friends were using her for her money. Several times I felt at any moment I would cheat on my girlfriend with her but we never even kissed. I think she had that effect on everyone though. In the end she was just annoyed and not impressed. Now she lives in LA with a 45 year old record producer/provider protecter/ saviour. He’s pretty dreamy.
Wow! The point is though, that I’m reading this book you’ve probably heard of. I found out about the author in the Vice fiction issue, How To Sell by Clancy Martin. It’s great. Very bleak yet seductive. Very realistic. AND there’s Canadian characters in it. I love Canadians.
Gotta go now. Today’s my Saturday!
Best regards,
Adam Walker
Thanks Adam!
And now here’s a picture of me living the dream in the year 2035.
Weird… That could actually be me in the future. The pecker is uncanny, and I do like crosswords.
And now here’s a song.