SONG OF THE DAY: Waiting on the Sidelines (kudzu'd)

I hate American football's artificial intelligentsia of a game of slamming human heads together exploitatively to move a weird shaped ball forward or not. What started as an aberration of unassociated football, with a weird ball, that was simply 11 dudes on each side, has morphed into this weird phenomenon that has squads of like 50 or more to fill those eleven slots in increasingly specialized ways, with a support coaching staff of almost one person per player at times, where the top coaches in the staff have overvalued their own genius in figuring out deceptive ways to concuss the less fortunate. And then all the dudes on the TV screen talking about are wearing suits, as if going to a football game is something important like arguing a case before the Supreme Court or some shit. Nonetheless, as with all cultures, whether poisonous or not, I do enjoy certain fringe parts of this. And in the over-specialized era of postmodern American football, there is nothing I love more than the Long Snapper. This is a guy who has somehow figured out how to be good at chucking the football between his legs in a highly consistent manner, to hands awaiting 25 to 45 feet behind him, depending on the stupid "special teams" play involved. And in the NFL, most teams have one guy who is the designated long snapper, to where that's all that dude does, maybe a half dozen to two dozen (on busy days) times per game. And the NFL minimum salary for a guy with one year professional experience, is over a million dollars. So these dudes are just standing around, waiting on the sidelines, and might long snap a football around 250 times a year, which averages out to a rough minimum of $4000 a long snap. Even in a sport that is scientifically proven to diminish mental cognizance, at a position that mostly just dives forward and downward into the other dude's abdomen most of the time, that's a fairly good risk vs reward ratio in the last dying gasps of capitalism. And in this mundane dystopian state of affairs we're in now, who doesn't want a little chronic traumatic encephalopathy, to take the edge off things?

HVM4N L4NGV4G3 BV1LT W1TH ST1CKS...

human language built with sticks 
to give meaning to all of 
the unspeakable truths known 

SONG OF THE DAY: Super Duper Love - Part 1 (kudzu'd)

As an impracticing Greater Appalachian Unorthodox Priest of Southern Gothicc Futurism, I refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of the Gregorian calendar, which has only been in full effect for less than half a millennium. Relatedly, its papal predecessor, the Julian calendar, was instituted by Julius Ceasar in 46 BC. But how did he know it was gonna be BC? It is still only December 19 in the Julian calendar, which is still used by many Orthodox churches, which is why them bearded ass dudes don’t have Christmas until later in January. Anyways, time isn’t real; I have a broken clock on my living room which says this – TIME ISN’T REAL – and it’s only wrong twice a day.
Nevertheless, this mark ass “new” year is still a great excuse to let love (thinking with the heart) rule your life a little more. There are those who would tell you this is weakness, because they think with their brain, which is so poisoned with misinformation that it behaves in predatory ways, even to ourselves. So I do suggest letting love from your heart, enter your mind. One of the basic tenets (or “dirtgod theory”) of Southern Gothicc Futurism is that our Mind is a studio wrestling ring where Heart, Brain, and Gut have a three-way melee for control of our being. Heart is ruled by Love, Gut is ruled by Ancient Knowledge Beyond Conscious Comprehension, and Brain is our Well of Consciousness, which is constantly polluted by the information our external census consumes. For me, I find it helpful to sneak into the ringside area regularly (five times a day, ideally), and when the referee is not looking, nail Brain with an unprotected steel chair shot to the head, to let Love have the advantage. In mark thinking, this is against the rules, and I am cheating against Brain (or Logic and Reason), but lolol have you looked at twitter lately? There is no way wielders of Logic and Reason are not the heels. And sometimes heels must be bashed in the head with a concussive chair shot, even if only metaphysically.
Anyways, if you celebrate the arbitrary prisons of calendar boxes, I hope you have a lovely new year, and may it never lose its zest, even when it becomes last year, replaced by the unsustainable newness our poison culture so desperately cultivates, to leave us all feeling lost.

0R0G3N0VS Z0N3S VPL1FT...

orogenous zones uplift 
the Earth closer to heaven; 
within this space, spirits sage 

TH1S W0RLD C4N F33L FLVSH W1TH GR33N...

this world can feel flush with green 
during times of abundance, 
but browns are far more common 

PL4ST1C N4N0P4RT1CL3S...

plastic nanoparticles 
breaching blood-brain barrier, 
compromising our old souls 

N4V1G4T1NG TH1S C0LD W0RLD'S...

navigating this cold world's 
stolen heart of abstract worth 
causes physical decline 

SP34K1NG TRVTH T0 P0W3R H4S...

"speaking truth to power" has 
become dulled sword, brandished by 
mass marketers of false change 

1 4M STR0NGLY F4M1L14R...

I am strongly familiar 
with knowing the unspoken 
words carry the deepest truths 

1 TH1NK 1N TH3 CH40T1C...

I think in the chaotic 
fractals of ancient mystics 
(which is futuristic style) 

SQV4R3S 4DD CR4FTY 4NGL3S T0...

squares add crafty angles to 
their pyramid schemes, to seem 
as if open to my kind 

M4NVF4CTVR1NG W1Z4RD...

manufacturing wizard 
smiles with wild bumpkin dimples 
for this world, to trick myself 

SONG OF THE DAY: Push (kudzu'd)

To shank billionaires is to make them feel the pain they have showered the rest of us with most of their ever-hating lives. Carry a raw but sharp instrument for true school shanking, conceal it well on your person but make it easily accessible. Most folks don’t have security details all the time, and are surprisingly easy to figure out comings and goings of in the digital age. We all have very large footprints within the 0s and 1s. Shanks create much more emphasis than simple bullets, because you push and twist, push and twist, push and twist. It makes the point we the people are trying to get across much more clearly. You should go for at a minimum seven push and twists, but go ahead and go for a dozen or two to really do it up. Hopefully the holes allow for empathy to begin trickling up (the trickle up theory of billionaire bloodletting).

3NT4NGL3D W1TH1N T3NDR1LS...

entangled within tendrils 
of techno logic running 
antithetical to wild 

SONG OF THE DAY: Careless Whisper (kudzu'd)

I rewatched They Live the other night, on DVD so that nobody could capture data on it, although I've now self-snitched on the internet, so I partially ruined the effect. That one dude, billed as Drifter, who was in the Justiceville camp and then magically got accepted into the alien-adjacent caste, he really was a weak link in letting Roddy Piper blow up their propaganda machine. That actor played three millions characters, all who were working class white pieces of shit. In fact, here's the partial list of his movie roles from Wikipedia, as a poem:
Mother
Bar Patron Walter Wimpy
Harry Belmont
Maheim Jarkoff Boris Clitoris
Benny Grip Flasher
Luther Toby William Simpson
Unnamed Igor
Wilber Bassett
George Smutman
Unnamed Florian Petulia
Rex Boorski
Earl Gordon Jed Binz
Wade 2nd Cab Driver
"Boomer" "Thirsty" Drunk Gambler
Detective Sergeant Earl McDonough
Detective Stone Beggar
John Paddy O'Brien
Porno Crew Member #3
"Painin Theass"
"Bull" Parker Clem Park
Suspect in Warehouse Ben
"Spiker" Lem
Hank "Boomer"
Pete, The Witness
Drunk Tucker
Eagle Man
Zep Morrison
Cook
Rip Rider
Guy Giving Directions
Unnamed "Red", The Bum
Tramp Pappy Nyquist
Bundy Willard, Allison's Father
Pop The Janitor
Old Man Pop Mr. Wallace
Security Guard Drifter Ed Simpson
Bailey Old Man Seed Drunk
"Red", The Bum Workman Redneck
Bed Patient
Preacher On The Radio
Crane Operator
Sheriff Julip Wino
Vern Jericho
Turrell Wolfman, Sarah's Stepfather
Rich Tramp
Man In Crowd
Pa Norville
Heckler Harper Carlton
Pappy Putz
Window Washer Homeless Man
"Elk" Drunken Man
Chip
Window Washer Homeless Man
Grampa Truck Driver
Wino Lloyd
Train Conductor, Prison Guard
The Cashier

WH33LS 0F L1F3 4ND T1M3 W0RRY...

wheels of life and time worry 
my mind when inclined to think 
by mechanistic design 

SONG OF THE DAY: Be Thankful For What You Got (kudzu'd)

The seven questions I ask myself every morning, to maintain proper perspective (and sanity in these times of institutional decline):
1: Am I fed?
2: Do I have shelter?
3: Is there a valid physical threat I have to either fight or run from today?
4: Are there others I share a loving relationship with in safe, mutual, and ongoing ways?
5: What is the bare minimum of actual maintenance needed for my life today?
6: Previous question considered, can I do anything to make the end of toay better than the beginning of it?
7: Can I maintain my pokerface of simple acceptance when the Universe deals any new cards to my hand today?

TH3 P4TH 1'M W4ND3R1NG D0WN...

the path I'm wandering down 
don't always feel that solid, 
because I can't walk like goats 

VN1V3RS4L P0T3NT14L...

universal potential 
is infinite when detached 
from body’s egotism 

TH3 1NT3RN4L J1H4D...

the internal jihad of 
thoughtful seekers hoping to 
arrive at peace continues 

TR1CKST3R SP1R1TS M0V3 4M0NGST...

trickster spirits move amongst 
us, hiding their angelic 
guidance in devilish tongues 

G0DS 0F 34RTHLY D1RT H4V3...

gods of the earthly dirt have 
obvious limitations, 
being bound to their bodies 

G1V1NG 1T 4LL VP T0 F41TH...

giving it all up to faith 
in Universe ain’t the same 
as abandoning control 

C0MPL1C4T1NG TH3 FVTVR3...

complicating the future 
conceals simple truth within 
infinite obsolescence