574. Plumb that

Society has gone downhill so badly that people are worthless and we should not bother trying to save them, especially Jews.  However, I am likely to get some flak for saying so, perhaps because the life of a young exalted individual is so pleasurable while you are living it.  It is not half over at eighteen.  I am three eighteens and change.

The Jews seem to understand all this and it informs their message.  I merely inform the reader that short people with dark, curly hair and a big nose are worthless, and I pay good money for slaves.  That is, it doesn’t matter what I pay, it matters what I can sell it for.  White people  worth a million dollars comes out to a buck apiece it there is a million, and two bucks if the lot is a half-million, amirite?

The Jews knew that drugs were weapons as used by consumers of drugs.  You use a weapon on somebody else; you don’t take it yourself.  Read the manual.

The name given to somebody, like, “You are a whore,” would hurt, but, “She is a whore,” wouldn’t hurt anybody.  We are spinning along with the planet here, and it contains tracks of dinosaurs, so, we may find one, and say what that is.  But, remember, the tracks of something, or the overall damage that it did, is not that thing.

Just because the drug industry or the justice system got off on the wrong foot is no reason to suppose that it could not have been straightened out.  But, it couldn’t.  It must be for other reasons.  Those two systems being rife with a perilously inhumane protocol have affected many other systems.  The product of science no longer need be examined for its value.  It is all trash designed to draw down the resources of the group and individuals which they may need for their survival.

I thought our lives were bound to continue if left alone, but dead people can’t even be talked about, much less live ones, and really, accusing any one for being at fault is strictly verboten.


The Arrow and the Song

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.




Now you make tracks, Mr. Corey. You move out and up like some kind of ghostly billyclub was tapping at your ankles and telling you that it was later than you’d think. You scrabble up rock hills and feel hot sand underneath your feet and every now and then, take a look over your shoulder at a giant sun suspended in a dead and motionless sky…like an unblinking eye that probes at the back of your head in a prolonged accusation.


Original airdate January 15, 1960


I usually just spit way up in the air.  The sputum, falling to the ground between us, …


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