Balls Bazook & the War Thogs .. Odious Attacks of the WereRats

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> Balls Bazook & the War Thogs parts 1-3

 amfap .. the war for fun

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Balls Bazook & the War Thogs .. the Attack of the Odious WereRats, part 1

  Oh the joys of radical genetic engineering. In Place2, the first off-Earth level of shapeshifting density, Balls Bazook was debriefing re his warforplans on Earth.

   Balls was having a balls massage in the new ballsicure machine that had been designed to bring feeling back to the nethers for space jockeys whose balls had been floating in zero-G for so long they had lost sensation. Leeringly, Balls told Fla Mingo, his co-co (pretty much they co’d most things – co-conspiracy, co-racy, co-piracy, co-gent –> co-co) that he’d prefer her not-so-tender aid in his balls restitution. They both chuckled. Ballsbite, the space-floating equiv of frostbite in mountain climbing, really in fact needed the Sonic Ballsisizer, a sophisticated Balls Sucker, to revive sensation in a way that even raw or unvarnished simple or complex sex could not accomplish. It was the deep melodic purring hums through the smooth pearlescent magnetic lotion that relocated the sensitive scrotal molecules back into time1.

   BrideOf Satin was leading the long (not-brief) debrief from the two majestic, triumphant, hitherto completely unsung heroes of subversive warfor, the ultimate terrorism: the war for fun.

 

 The Firstest Amendment: Self-evidently it is trooth that we each & all have the sentient right to as much fun as possible (amfap) consistent with roughly equal sharing of whatever latrine-cleaning tasks have to be accomplished in any given Realm. Awarthogs.¹

 

    The Fight for Fun (FiFF, among the hipnoscenti) was led by the tuffest, cutest, rootiest tootiest war thog they ever hatched: Balls Bazook. Fecund fun, that is the cri de coeur. Hip hip funsaway. Balls was supremely laffable – able to laff. You had to love Balls – he was truly hung. It was hard to know which was bigger, his balls or his heart. Balls Bazook, chieftain of war thogs. 

   Balls said, “The Earth Movie is running over-budget. We’re fouling the locations. Too many droves of extras are actually dying. Karmic insurance will no longer cover this production.”

……

   ¹On Old JeeGoo (Earth) while it was still in the poisoned grip of methreligiosity, one of the extranutter sects (Christinsanity as we recall) used 'Amen' or 'amen' as a signoff from its ever and without exception solemn religio-pronouncements or more often anti-nouncements. Especially Thou damn well shalt not have fun. ‘Men’ being a bygone race of semi-sentients, in our jollier times, we wryishly use drollish anachronisms like awarthogs to laud creatures and states more advanced and farfunnier than ‘men.’

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Balls Bazook & Trazom, part 2

   In his long &/or instantaneous sojourn in space confusing his balls, Balls Bazook dreamt of Trazom, the vaganzany² inclusive kaleidoscopic facetta of Fla Mingo, his consort, his honey whore, his socrates, et otro. He had been stirred and shaken by this encounter. It required the gossamer peripheral vision of the peripheral vision, a subsiding, indeed a surrender, a quintquantum relaxation of effort. He was shocked in his very balls at the experience. Upwelled in him an effervescent fountain throughout & within his cells of a slo-mo shock, like passing through some non-located electroplasmic cloud. The categories of benign & hostile; welcome & distasted, say, were so re-calibrated, so obsidianally fraught with chiaroscuros of humors that the sine waves of frisson were melodies of micro and macro of delightterror he had never raunchily nor ethereally begun to hear before. It was all a matter of fluid foldings, origami but without so many sharp edges. (Cf folding melted chocolate into whipped cream); the inherent became exherent in a coherent ecstasy, generous, ebullient, damned dangerous, parrot-colored glee and pastels of sweetness so diaphanous that he simply laughed like a silvery fish suddenly in a waterfall cascading in all that abun-dance of splash toward a deep pool.

   It was between two eyeblinks that this occurred, no syllable of the beatific, horrific extravagant vocabulary of etre (to be) was slurred – it was quick, sleek, slick as an otter’s dive. As unhurried & unworried as a sleeping cat, a reverential hallowed potential; a raw pagan plethora; any excuse, bold or sly, for concupiscent joy.

     The dynamic was, in an aspect, like a great bolt of cloth in which all the clothes, garments, and costumes inherent became exherent, and the lives lived in them, the dramas played in them became apparent.

     The affinities line up across the multitude of membranes. Flagrantly flamboyant, boisterously buoyant, spider-dainty, cloud-billowy. Trazom was 100% confident, 100% vulnerable. Balls Bazook was not glib for a few days. Tho radically cheerful.

Balls Bazook, Sir Tur Moil, & amfap (as much fun as possible) part 3

   One of the people Balls Bazook recruited for the amfap council was Sir Tur Moil, an asteroid voodooroo. All the asteroid roos were an odd lot when not raving mad. But they appreciated a good joke. Well, it wasn’t formal jokes with  punch lines so much as the underloved irony of the situation that lay there or lurked there.

    There was no infrastructure on most starballs as the asteroids rocks were called in the bangerslang of border space, the peculiar physics and psychics of where k1³ solid matter intervolved with the variable densities and variable chronosities of the suenos4.

    The renegades who dwelt in the asteroid belt tended to be folk who never cleaved to doctrine or might-maintained authority from life to life. Their psychic quarks were quirks.

    As Much Fun As Possible, amfap, amfap, didn’t eschew the standard cheetos & doritos of packaged hydrogenated fun, but specialized in stilton fun, sharp cheddar up the cheese ladder of compelling and demanding taste. Not for the velveeta set. The beer of fun was fine, but the brandy of fun, truffly fun was obsidian irony – which unlike God’s supposed love – remained when things got unbearably bleak.

    Reality is fractal and mosaic – holofractal & holomosaic. Dervish kaleidomosaic pieces flutter like flocks of all different birds in a substrate of randomly moody air. We tell the story with grammar, in a captured, orderly zoo of expression, but it doesn’t happen that way in universe-speak. It happens more jumble and jungle, but most people shriek and freak if you try to display truth to them. They want sentences and paragraphs. Drat.

   Sir Tur, who had carelessly allowed the candle of his otl to be blown out, was a trueblue cognoscente of irony seeing as he had fallen himself into the unspeakably bleak. An otl, a one-true-love, extinguished is a gcubed loss – grim, ghastly, grotesque, and where is up from there? “Sometimes,” she had said, “I have no skin and you must stand between me and the wind.” It wasn’t until she was gone that he realized so starkly so darkly how much light that single candle flame had wrought in sweetness and light, how much it had illuminated in the caverns and dungeons of his mind, what a grace and solace it had been.

   Her specialties had been silliness and patience. She accepted, without dulling, his once-caged rages, however seething, capricious, or ferocious. He didn’t need to deceive her, though he did just to cause random pain. She held it and dispelled it. Nothing tarnished her. God knows he’d tried.

    Fla Mingo slathered Balls’ balls with a cooling minty lotion. He didn’t know the chipotle lotion was next and he rested majestically like a lion. It was a satanically deep pleasure to have his balls lotioned. Fla Mingo wore a soft chartreuse silk shirt and short short pants of a shiny supple leather a dark bright rose color. They talked about the daunting flak these weevils on Earth threw into the psychic atmosphere. A cruel confetti of harsh metal shards – gay marriage, abortion, terrorists. There is no such thing as a free market. There’s the commonly constructed infrastructure. And labor – valued or devalued. Every person’s life time is exactly as valuable to them as yours is to you. Oh Justice, where art thou?  Oh Justice, where art thou?   

 

² derivation OVV (Old Vuravura/Earth): extra-vaganza-ly zany;

³ k1 = the basic old JeeGoo (Earth) solid, steady, persistent density and gravity is the signature of the k1 masterpiece Earth-dream;

4 sueño = the old Spanish word for ‘dreams’ – used in modern times as dreamesque; variable densities;

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6 Night . Akbal . Hearth . West . tzol 121  06.19.06 mon

946 days/2y7m01d left/1349  

ffwofw1355§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g; 

 

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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nazi-lite: frog-in-cold-water totalitarianism

nazi-lite: frog-in-cold-water totalitarianism

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The yawning MSM silence about RFK Jr's comprehensive June 15 Stolen Votes article in RollingStone made me yet more head-banging-against-so-many-walls aware that we are in the frog-in-cold-water rise of totalitarianism in USofA.

This was a Paul Revere article — alarums should have been raised all over the country in editorials. Yet the gigantic HoHum prevailed in such a multitude that this anti-evidence of keeping us down on the farm cowed and sheeped makes me weep as I watch freedom slosh not even noisily down the drain. Oh woe is we.

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There's openvotingconsortium, a high level computer gigageek and concerned citizens group which is fighting for open source code for computer voting that keeps me from thinking All Is Lost.  

 

ps. For those unfamiliar with the Poor Frog in Cold Water: if you throw a frog into boiling water, it will leap out in the searing horror of the offense to its living system. However, if you put a frog into cold water and slowly and steadily raise the heat, the Poor Frog will end up cooked with out much wiggling.


So here we are in nazi-lite, a  totalitarianism of executive aggrandizement and liberties being disappeared or diluted in the almighty (ahem) name of 'security.' Caveat citizen. 

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MSM = main stream media

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If you know or are an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

…………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2006 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

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10 Jaguar . Ix . Ocelot . Panther . North . tzolkin 112  06.10.06 sat

955 days/2y7m10d left  

ffwofw174§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g;  

 

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

………….<^>……………