The Left Column
They've got their heads inside the echo chamber. There seems to be no hope that they will snap out of it. Don't get victimized by them, don't approach them with a counter-narrative while they are in the throes of the trance. They chant who they hate. They all agree, in unison, as if that makes lies true. And they pander to all worst case conjecture as long as it conforms to the on-message narrative that they dare not reject because they craft a world with this, weave the thin threads of lies into a giant tapestry of false narrative and accusatory talking points. They know how to bully.
Aren't you glad that they are just a fiction and their their minds can be touched, at any time, and become aware of the cesspool into which they have dove, having dived, having been dived upon by mosquitoes of delusive narrative while in an induced state of ejubbulation, brought about, no doubt, by the infamous, if only mythological, pill-pot, used within the derisively named pill-pot scrum, at the place of (political) emergence which, in some languages, translates into bawdy talking, a joke which the linguist may not have understood was being played upon them by the more clever than them , 'natives'.
Yes, Snowflake Anthropology, it's a useful topic for bawdy, ribald fictions. Drink up! You never know what delusions are on tap at the Amillia Pub.
dunt dun dunttt
What crisis do they think it is? That the Constitution might start to be enforced for a change?
blah blah blah blah
June 6, 2017
Hollow theories The hollow theories of hollow people. In fact, there are no 'hollow people' what they don't show you, you don't know. They may seem 'hollow' they may act 'evil' but, in fact, you are not their judge or jury in the court of final judgement. It is not for you to bloat their name from the Book of Life. Hollow theories. the hollow theories of those who then seem to be hollow people, but we know that therer is only hollow behavior, or paganism: interaction without regard for morality. There are only hollow theories about hollow people. No hollow people actually have ever been proven to exist. In the end what does anyone know about the empty spaces of void within what seems to be a person but doesn't display significant behaviors that marks them as a moral creature. If you can't see the mark doesn't mean that the mark exists. You could only say, if it were true about hollow people (in some sense) that you can say you can see them as not hollow. They clearly show as being not hollow. They never would or should be marked as 'hollow'. Maybe juveniel? maybe stunted? Maybe alternative behavior. in the end it's those who make the lists and say hollow, hollow are you and you are now a special case marked for a certain kind of treatment against your liberty. those who make lists of others who they deem to be the 'less than' crowd, the 'hollow' or 'soul less'. If there were hollow people it is only for . . . to ascertain (I leave out The Name). If there were hollow people you must always imagine the idea of hollow people as being a hollow theory. I can't see how full you are. It's a dry gorge. It's hollow. When the rain comes the gorge will flood. better not be standing there when that happens. How would you get over there? You'd have to be standing there anyway saying this is a dry gorge I'm safe here where there used to be a rage rapid and a waterfall in full flood. It's dry here. I can stand here forever. But when it rains way up stream thus it breaks your hollow dream When the gorge of someone else's emptiness floods in full with the rage of torrents, don't be standing around saying "what a hollow fool is he, I'll stand where ever I F-in wanna stand." Hollow theories. the poeple, they never really are. If it seems to be empty maybe it's a channel when the rainy season comes. Maybe it's a waterfall a sight for sore eyes in a dessert. No person is actually a wasted-land, with deep river ravines burrowed down in it, gorges flowing in rivulets with sudden drop offs, no person is actually that in the physical world. but in my cavernous view of others I see these hollow spaces seeming to be void no flow within, no insight, no hidden concept, no secret message coded in ancient symgbologies no special meaning for the special people no free pass to the all-night fun-room arcade and bardo no runs left on, no more hits, no more errors, and not another man on base . . . there are no hollow poets. perhaps there are hollow poems like the inside of a crystal structure deep within a cave hydrologic processes carved it out the volcanoes spewed up their magmatic energies and thus we have these crystal things gigantic in mind where it seemed to have been hollow how could it have been formed? This giant bubble that we call awareness? How could it have been formed? Seemingly hollow, it's filled up with you reading this and wondering where does this idle poet get his idle hours to spew out this bubble web of hollowness?
these can get you banned from school?!: 🔫 🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣 🚣🚣🚣 🚀 🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 ⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
spinfont unicode-isms 🍀 Praise God! 🍀 🍀⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰🍀 🎠 🎠 🎠 🔫 🔨🔨 🍀 Praise God! 🍀
🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣 🚣🚣🚣 🚀 🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 ⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🖐🖐🖑 🖑🖐
Here is today's pretty poem:
mute no more
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♥♥? Blathertational 🖐🖑 🖑🖐
glossary of what's next♥♥? :
Be nice to yourself and others. What other choice?
What we have done What we have failed to do.
♥♥ Praise ♥♥ the ♥♥ Lord ♥♥ !! end of column
The Message Column
The statues represent the children lead to fight for a failing cause Violence in the name of politics is political failure
Know-it-all-will-tell ya goes on about how in a healthy forest the low parts are always boggy and swampish in the wet season . . .
What is the purpose of finding? everyone ought to have an answer to this when they are looking. looking? looking for an answer? looking for an answer? what is the purpose of your answer? looking? just to find? if you don't know what you are looking for . . . then how do you know it when you find it? Obvously people know. Such confusion is merely a polemic. It's a bit. Some people fall into it. They get confused. They follow a 'cause'. Later on, those who promote such a cause dump them for rich foreigners who they bring in with great dreams of happy future and call you a racist for noticing. When there is enough for everyone why do some people still try to take it all for themselves?
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Oh tiny font nonsense, just because your letters are smaller doesn't mean you have some alternative importance.
Praise Praise Praise the the the Lord Lord Lord! for because Easter He's so awesome! welcome to The Message Column!
Is it obvious parody or News or both?
Vote Once One Vote here is a fresh link, a new path to some older content:
Kafka was a dillhole, Orwell was a submissive? depends on who you ask. . .
Tear down the ugly statues of your own delusions, stop the obcession with the dead past.
Sept. 1, 2017
delight in the delete.
Remember the Sultana!
April 27, 1865© 2016 © 2017 ©
Praise Praise Praise the the the Lord Lord Lord for his for his for his unfailing unfailing unfailing love! love! love! well, little else now.
The Right Column
12:06 PM Sept 25, 2017 Purpose and relevance. Shedding bad habits. Picking off burdock. choose your velcro. Mitigate the tildal collecting, shed the dead skin. Begin again. Somethings never change nothing need stay the same
Catch the Cure!
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🌛 Wind Rain Mist Snow
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Live your life in constant resurrection! ⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰ ~ ; )
Praise the Lord!
I got nothing more
Poem Shards Eulogy I met him in the fog of war after he was already dead his visage in videos speaking dread and how the public is mislead. If only I could have known you before you gave up the ghost to haunt the crossing ferry off to places unknown, an undiscovered . . . virtue. A new country! A new type of people who respect the things that work that ferry churning through the fogs and mists and dank smelling out-gassings of these many foul rethorics spewed plausible no one knows who is sure? Which shore does your ferry pull up to to let out the ghost, so the story goes, the one that gets told . . . better be one that people can hear when their kids are there outside the house at the top of the stair. She can't hear that story if he is but a ghost now she knew him he was her friend and told her how he had been destroyed, remorsed, fallowed, wasted, lost abandoned on the battlefield of soul blow up your fallacies, this war needs to be taken way down inside those dark-thought places where hate channels freely destroy the hate by sending it off to unthought rhyme unspoken words unkind unthought hate. We try not to think of it, what the plausible story can be he's off on that Platsburgh ferry a shroud of fog the mists and fowl outgassings must some how be endured one last time to say good bye, come back to me come back to me you friend now gone and lost never known all hopes of how to write this story . . . his story . . . if he had asked me . . . I'd start the book: "He faked his death to escape . . ." from Unipoems She asked " If you get across can you take this to the King of Nowhere and tell him, plead to him to think of her and the way that she needs him? but he won't come home so she goes out looking for him went down to The Flatiron Building asking anyone wrote a card mailed it home. I imagine her collapsed on a bench people shuffle through she feels the lonely loss why won't he come home? I imagine her. She wrote it like that on her card. But it was all for sympathy, just an expression of her drama and she felt lost because of it and didn't know how to proceed the tricks didn't work with him he'd gotten willful, run off with a different girl who doesn't go to church. Hear the steam whistle of an approaching ferry turning to make a smooth connect. Moving back from the railing and the ropes she notes the impatience of the people at the dock and how the other women really like to talk. the crowd rushes forward have your nickel ready she gets swept along now she is way out there in the ferry out past the jetty. Ferry to Red Bank 1906 🚦 🚧 🚨 🚩 🚪 🚫 🚬 🚭 🚮 🚯 🚰 🚱 🚲 🌛 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 sometimes there is beauty within the fragments . . . 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛 Sprongg . . . onng . . . ongg ga Her tired morning seems more like poetry than anything you can find on a blog. Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Tree Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Dog 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 Woof and woe🌝 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥
who da thought?thought is sequential the end of it is never flood on, river of wise neglect let the bough break let the wind blow removed the baby from that cradle long ago and took him somewhere safe. Thought is over rated when it's thought for being mean to be mean being mean what you mean when you are mean when you 'mean what you say'. Memory is overrated there is joy in the person even when they don't know who you are anymore they still love you they usually don't forget that they love you usually. It was cold that day he'd driven all the way there and plodded through the snow to face the sorrow of his loved-one who didn't remember him but thought him to be someone else as thwarted. Memory is overrated when it's hard hurt of past tragedy as if it happened yesterday from the long ago. Bill Perilli, writer of all of the things on this blog. 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛
What does one do with old software books? I'm packing them into bankers boxes. I'm going to stack them against a wall. Some of them were very useful. It serves no purpose to throw these away. Some of them are still useful, though it's easier to do it on line now.
May 10, 2017
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