Addicts
In one way or another, we are all addicts.
Some are addicted to T.V., others to food or
drugs or sex or clothes or one of a million other
things. Yes, in one way or another, we are all addicted.
So why the Judgement? Why does the "moral" majority push
their values? They are dogs, mongrels of the spirit, telling
us that this is good, and that is not, while they sit behind
hardwood desks eating bonbons by the truckload and swilling
mid-afternoon drinks. Seven T.V.'s blare seven different shows,
shows about bulemia and dogs and police and women who beat their
husbands and drug wars and how to beat your husband and where to
vacation and a million other ways to feed your addictions..
These addicts of the visual-audio sit and rot and eat bonbons
by the truckload and swill their drinks and yell "You must not
smoke or drink or masterbate or fornicate...." or do anything
else their video-rotted minds find offensive. And why? It is
because these are the worst of the addicts. The addicts of power,
or at least its usage. For in truth, they have no power. It is sad
to be so addicted and not be able to satiate that need- an itch
ever just out of reach. It is also hazardous. The junky will do
anything to fix. He will crawl through the gutters, he will f*ck
and be f*cked, he would kill. And so it is with these power-addicts,
the government-men, the christians and their "moral" majority.
But the Power-Addict is far more dangerous than your average junky
with a monkey on his back. The junky is small and the damage he does
is mostly to himself, he just consumes himself. But the Power-Addict
f*cks on a grand scale, he drags society through the gutter with him
as feeds his monkey, he creates our addictions so that he may gain
power over us. He imports our drugs, makes our porn, visits our whores,
raises the price of housing and food and even air if he could. He builds
and nurtures this world of stress and hatred and grows fat on our addiction.
He feeds all of us to his monkey. Worse, he never consumes himself,
dying quietly one day with a rusty needle in the arm. On the contrary,
he grows like heated road kill, bloated with maggots, writhing, swelling,
growing beyond his body, yet emptied inside. The power is ever beyond
his reach, he knows it will never be his, he knows he can never be fulfilled.
No, give me the gutters full of junkies, give me bound and gagged sexual
deviant, drag queens, dykes, homosexuals, and acid phreaks. It is they who
are true, who know their bounds . Dash the powermad dogs to the ground, smash
their heads with rocks, split their bodies and let the maggots flow forth.
Let anarchy and chaos destroy all their hatred and the evil that they breed.
Let us rejoice and find rest in their destruction. Let us ease our addiction.
And from the ashes let us build ourselves anew...Project Utopia.
- Anonymous
(
geocities.com/starswillmelt)