To: Jeednejo@cs.com; firstname.lastname@example.org
Cc: email@example.com; firstname.lastname@example.org; John Knowlton; JLittle139@aol.com; The Current
I have spent the last couple nights drinking heavily and writing.
Yours, as well as others belief in me has sent a whirl of gasoline into my
counter-culture fired spirit. I am ready to explode, emerge, fearing only
impatience and poor gramar.
Please read this and tell me what you think...
Flatulent media mongers in the 21st century:
an age of decadence and the smiling knife
By Andrew R. Gardner
“Everyday I wake up looking for the gun that I do not own. In my dreams I can feel the cold steel pressed against my temple, every time smiling as I pull the trigger…everyday waking up in Hell.”
“I am a tortured spirit forced to live in a world of fools, in the company of collegiate idiocy, the epitome of American higher education.”
At face value thinly stretched smiles communicate spinelessly, back stabbing the off-guard, watchful eye, he who sees the truth behind their façade. The smiling knife is fraudulent, a fake. Fearful of its own unmasking this blade facilitates cliquing, grouping cynicisms like rabid baboons; they snarl and fling feces as if their shit smells like roses, deflowering the spirit of the novice mind once eager to become, rendering the willful impotent in a vulgar display of power.
However, the tortured spirit cannot be stopped, only detoured. Some of us are determined, even in light of self destruction, to dull the blade of the bastard smiling knife…to wipe that fucking smirk off its face.
It is disgusting that that their can be such a privileged group, built upon a tripod of egocentricity, bad taste and a complete absence of any social sense of humor: an organization of boring figureheads that show little or no regard for anyone or anything that does not boost the over inflated feeling of self-worth that each and every one of them possess. By definition, this is a rudimentarily fascist regime and nothing less than an ugly, sick joke.
We feast on freedom, a falsehood that tell us that we can roam in the yard of liberty; wrapped around our necks is a collar of control, a governing fence, invisible: America the obese, saturated with that fatty falsehood freedom, percolated with Republican rogue leadership, sugarcoated for humble consumption, hydrogenated for an extended shelf life.
It is this fat-bodied American whose existence is the epithet of evil, with a sweet tooth for power that it does not deserve and the temperament of a hyperactive two-year-old, the nemesis of counter-culture genius. It is their congealed heart that pumps media into America’s veins, the consumer’s daily fix of the dramatic, a simple minded need to feel alive, holocaustic to the intelligence of curiosity.
Those birthed into this decadent age of pop culture and violent poetics inherit the emotional well being of figureheads most appealing to “marketplace manhood,” the immoral melanoma that has manifest middle class masculinity into a manhunt of wealth and status. Currency and title have become 21st century androgen, the booze of the simian struggle we call the American dream.
GET IT?! ANDY IS A DEFLOWERED IMPOTENT SPIRIT IN A TORTURED HELL OF OUR IDIOCY! WE ARE EGOCENTRIC, SHIT-FLINGING, CYNICAL MONKEYS WITHOUT SPINES!
AND HE CALLED US FAT!