Our castle was burnt to the ground!

Die Antvoord Tour Kick-off-Vancouver 2014

You know what?


fuck a BEAT!


From SA to Vancitay!

Spare a Thought?

The highest degree of evil deed will cause a soul to be reborn as a denizen of hell,
 a lower degree of evil will cause a soul to be reborn as an animal, and
 the lowest degree will cause a soul to be reborn as a hungry ghost.

 As he approached he saw the stream of shoppers
slow slightly and glance down, then, having obeyed one of the
 troublesome evolutionary tics that had hung on to these shoppers 
since they crawled out of the primordial seas, serving no other
 purpose than to irritate those behind them, before continuing down
 the block, leading him to think it was probably dogshit. 
As he passed by, he broke his pace, reached down, and picked the
 mound up firmly by both sides.
 
The understanding is that all people become a regular ghost when they die, and would then slowly weaken and eventually die a second time.
 Hungry ghosts, by contrast, are a much more exceptional case, and would
 only occur in very unfortunate circumstances, such as if a whole family
 were killed or when a family no longer venerated their ancestors.

  
 
      No one really likes dealing with  thoughts of questionable origin. No
one takes a thought from down on the sidewalk and does any good 
with it. 
 
 
Desire, greed, anger and ignorance are all factors in causing a soul to
 be reborn as a hungry ghost because they are motives for people to 
perform evil deeds.[1]
         Shit, he thought, look at these fucking things. I bet they are 
fermenting in this heat. As he inspected them, the voice of a long
 passed mentor came to him.  "You don't turn down free thought.",
 the elder never failed to remind him, always punctuating his koans, 
by tapping the bottom of his cane in the rhythm of his 
speech.

        









 He lived through the crash. Witnessed the value of intelligence drop so low, it had a Chinese accent when it finally rose again. And the drought of sense that endured. "They'll use a flag, to make you go against your logic and your brother." his voice rattled, sadly.

Zej let the memory linger, using what the  Attractor taught about the

quasi-matter of the afterlife. He paused briefly to not only acknowedge, 

but relive the tape of memories roll through his head for long enough to pack away the

 thoughts he'd scavenged. The brittle old man , now a ghost of losses, had the 

sun grace his pale skin only long enough to remind him he missed it,

 and then he had to go.

 These thoughts were too big,even for his head. So big, in fact, if

 they got all the way inside his head, he envisioned them being cut

 out by fake fire fighters on The Learning Channel.

 He put them to some use though.After building a time machine,

and beating Vegas,his curiosity beckoned.

 Whose fuckin brains are these, Would the Arboretum know ? They would know at least the type of head these thoughts fit. He guessed it was some deranged Yakuza lone wolf, Who thought he could beat the house.

No one beats the house, motherfucker.

36 hours later he got woke at the Arboretum. Confused and parched, he grabbed the first attendant who got within reach,  pulled him up close. 

Now his battered meat wouldn't have to strain to say it. The wide eyed attendant was startled, but remained non-plussed as he and Zej came nose to nose.

"Who the FUCK is Ray Torres?" , Zej growled.

We've all been there.

                 

                

 
                Up until that moment he thought he'd seen himself through the worst of his days; in the rear-view mirror of his life, strewn throughout the ditches in time, in the collected pockets found in the deepest valleys of his life, were a few soul crushing days that he always assumed, would,  in his final moments , when he was told his life would flash before his eyes,be  a great time to go get popcorn and maybe stretch the legs a little.

                 It was a hopeless day that ground into your skull like a rusty, 747 full of babies and shifty looking Pakistani tribesmen . A day that made him think he might skip that  pre-game show altogether. A day, he realized,  he'd rather get mauled by sharks than live through that moment again. If he found the sharks to be uninterested in his bony container of skin and futile struggle, he'd even consider watching something Doug Benson made, anything. Just so long as he didn't have to begin the afterlife reliving any of that bullshit again.

Found Some!

Nourishing, ghost food

Eat it up!

(xxxF-F-Gxxx)

Oh, Biggie Give Me One More Chance....

           He'd read about this type of flirting. He got it. What she'd really done, was the old, " forgot-my-coat-out-on-the-deck" second date move. That was IT!

         But this was will you choo choo choose me on some whole other level.

These calls made certain they would have time to get to know each each real good. He had mixed feelings though. This wasn't just one coat to grab and deliver. It was like 75 coats!

Did she meet them at a couple uptown parties where, at some point during the night she blacked out and somehow convinced them he was a terrorist.

        Because these motherfuckers went up one side of him and down the other like these coats had punched their nice coats in the face a few times. He admitted to himself, this was kind of a fucking drag, most of these ass holes don't even have coats?!

          This was some old fashion "meet the folks" type courting. Fuckin A, he thought...... except they weren't her folks, and their kids were probably all dick heads not worth spending time with these shit heads over.

          Its possible, he wagered, he could have got a coat or two from an Aunt or Uncle in the mix. Maybe her family were everywhere, referred to in hushed, respectful tones the Retard Illuminati

          All he knew for sure was,she knew how to play hard to get. And she was well familiar with being committed.

Wasn't that just his type!

        He fantasized for a moment that she was just ensuring the legacy that started in the second century glue factories, continued derping the planet for millennia to come, like a learning disabled Illuminati.

        But instead of hiding in plain sight and controlling the media, they played hide and seek and celebrated every day hour they didn't swallow their tongues.

Maybe they'd make him Prince of the Doors in honour of his knowledge of child safety devices and they could get out of the basement more

He was SURE she told him her folks died.

You don't forget a story like that straight away.

Her Mom and Dad were scuba diving at the lake, she said.

It was a bad summer for fires, and no knows HOW, her parents were somehow scooped up from their shallow dive in a nearby lake, by a water bomber, an air-plane contracted by the government to pick up much needed water from the local lake.

 He thought that would have fucked them up enough

But THEN, to add insult to injury, she recalled how the plane dropped the hapless couple, on a sloped section of Goat Mountain from 1700 feet. He winced at the thought of those two human potatoes, coming in for their last landing. 

 They only knew WHEN it happened, because, after seeing those tards pretty much sublimate, the pilots returned to base and filed a compo claim. Only lake water was in their contract. They'd talked about this.

Jesus christ. His inner voice now asked him,

"Did they at least piss their pants on the way down, y'know be productive for once in their lives?"

Naw, they were probably so full of stupid they exploded violently, sending sparks of broken idiot flying off in every direction," the voice ranted on.

Probably right, he sighed, this gang probably didn't want break their streak of uselessness and dependency.

They had a good run and they died like they lived, screaming and wondering why they just landed on the ground so hard.

This girl was his Ralph Wiggum for sure, choo choo chooing away somewhere, rocking back and forth, with glazed medicated eyes,

but she was thinking about him, he thought.....

Another Dog Whisperer, but for people.

The word innocence, is commonly believed to convey an idea, that you did not do anything, "wrong". You want the word to make you look like Jake, shown below.

Outside of the legal realm, its a symbol for not doing ANYTHING wrong. Ever. Like Pickles here.

But the Illuminati thought it would be awesome to confuse everyone and put in our laws. Knowing full well everyone is guilty of something.

Brutus was a bad boy.

 

The word doesn't seem to be a symbol fit to be applied to matters of law. Max,shown on the right, volunteered to demonstrate this for us.

                                  

THEY, don't "look" innocent.  I dont want a puppy that looks like THAT, society cries, and besides, they say, everyone has done something wrong!  That puppy is too ugly to be innocent! See picture of ugly puppies below.

 A pre-loaded confirmation bias,(from being exposed to television and lawn darts) has most humans assuming guilt, just by hearing the words not guilty. Especially if this fucking puppy said it.

 

If he reacts in any way his instincts prod him to, he hands them proof of their bias on a silver platter and could end up actually doing something wrong. This puppy was out on bail, till this happened. He was sentenced to bad bad bad boy, you go lay down right now! He wasn't the same when he got out.

 
 

And after a few more encounters like that, he wouldn't even "feel", innocent anymore. Because innocence isn't a feeling. Normal is a feeling. Guilt IS a feeling for sure. You feel me Buster? Yeah you know you did it.

I'm just saying, innocence is too subjective and the goal posts such a word encompasses are too arbitrary have a place in the service of justice.

 Look at Charlie, is that a world you want to live in?

 
 
                                

 You know who's a good dog don't you. You are!  Yes you are!

                                   This message paid for and approved by Dog for president.