Steal a word and I OWN YOUR SOUL,
Richard Krout ( liquid felix )
attachments
no one ever uses attachments
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU JESUS SAVES FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
1<=ging in the air above your naked body, as your only companion. And you just lie their in bed with the raw clammy arm of absolute APATHY stretched across your belly, and the somnolent zombie of SOMA NIRVANA curled up beside you in the form of a beautiful lover.
In short it's where extreme melancholy meets extreme elation, and you just sit back and think `God is a robot to the D.N.A Worm SQUIRMING in his sphincter. '. Atleast, that's as close as you'll ever come.
Question: How is the After-slack secret? '
The After-slack is ubiquitous and always. IT IS NEVER TOMORROW and rarely yesterday. Currently though, the individual can only observe the Fractal and are thus always blind of the Under-whole, which is everywhere present. The average Sub-Genius (the pink boys never, never perceive) can only perceive the After-slack for odd moments of "Reality Lapse", from which they assuredly "recover".
Question: ` Will I ever see the After-slack? '
Read on, read on !!!!!!!!!!!!!
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SECTION 1: FUCKED UP IN NINEVAH
by
LIQUID FELIX
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For how long I had been fucked up on Soma-2 I didn't know, I I had only a dim sense of SAD LUCK, and a wicked head-ache. I felt my hands bound in cord; its coarse fibers tearing into my wrist. With some painful effort I focused my eyes in the swirling haze. Horrible images filled my senses; vague figures with massive drooping lips, sagging blood filled eyes, and wretched sack-cloth skin lounged in beds which were strewn chaotically about the room. I could tell by their wretched heavy stench that they must be the INBRED TRIBE OF HUMANITY.
STAY TUNED..................................................................................
ed up on Soma-2 I didn't know, I .Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII; X-MAPIextension=".TXT"
A message from Buddha Ripped-Cord:
Own the immortal soul of Richard Asa Krout. Send 29.95 to
533 w 6th, 66032 Garnett, Ks
And receive the IMMORTAL SOUL of Richard Asa Krout.
Enjoy hours of amusement watching Richard Asa Krout BURN IN THE HELL-BEAST OF THE DARK-ONE.
OR MAYBE NOT
Signed,
Richard Krout
1<=VIDE IT.
John Satan Jelly is Jesus Christ in astronaut apparel...... The cure to its own disease........
The coagulated motion of inertia......
The girl next door and your mothers breast, all COMBINED.
The sales pitch: "Buy it or MISS IT."."
Director of Public Hygiene:
"We can no longer turn our backs on the stinking carcass in the alley. We can no longer close our eyes and pretend, like a whore spread over her father ( best customer for years ). We can no longer turn up our noses like an erring surgeon ( "well, that was worth it for novelties sake alone.", the surgeon declares with a hardy chuckle.) . J.S.J. is some-how creating a debt in souls, BUT WHO IS PROFITING? I suspect a government official, or even, quite possibly, an entire shadow bureaucracy. The Soul is a product which can be bought, sold, and otherwise consumed......If this is gluttony than who's the glutton?
Who is on the other line picking up? If we're getting empty, than who's getting full? "
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MARY
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Mary has a solid connection.....a pure vein of J.S.J., uncorrupted by narcs and other infirmities.
"meet at the factory", her parting message. ____________________________________________________
DOCUMENT #555
____________________________________________________
The aroma; ah the heavy aroma, it always invigorated me. Really lifted my spirits, it intoxicated me with the rushing sensation of pure life. The savagery of youthful avarice, all around. Young men levitating 10 feet off the ground, gray aliens hanging from their backs like infant simians clinging to their mothers. They insert transparent worm-like penises into the young men. The men curl up, their eyes rolled back into their heads, there teeth clenched like enraged apes. The greys just sway back and forth in obscene rhythm.
Other youth rent their bodies out to spectral entities (the younger the better) , possessed by desperate spirits they run screaming through the square.
Johny America is negotiating with a decrepit old Arab on the proper price of a three-day possession. The Arab strokes his long bronze fingers through his white beard. Johny America roles a joint and collapses lackadaisically into a lawn-chair. The Arab rocks his oak chair back and forth, the floor creaks below. A pile of leaves whirls in an eddy of wind, the Arab's old shack whimpers beneath the pressing air.
" 800 hits worth of raw John Satan Jelly, for 3 days during the Carnival.", the Arab speaks with a subtle accent, his voice rolls like a heavy oil. Johny slowly exhales a slender stream of smoke from his thin lips. "Last time I awake with terrible warts, and my eyes surgically transferred to the less savory hind regions. I want 500 on the table and 500 later, or no go.", Johny glares out through his artificial eyes with a stubborn leer.
Everyone is merchandise, but time is the only one buying in the end.
As I pushed through the crowd, a girl suddenly unsheathed a 2 ft. long knife and plunged it into a salesmans gut, the salesman fell against me moaning and crying in agony.
Things were getting too crowded here, I kicked his carcass off and made my way towards an opening in throng, emerging finally into an empty plot of arid swirling dust. Only a few ragged shacks and booths remained. I didn't know why I had come here, but I felt close, very close.
I approached a small shack, composed of long narrow sheets of metal strewn together haphazardly to form a rectangular sort of booth. Inside the booth a merchant with dusty brown hair and jaundiced skin, gazed down with his black slanted eyes. He was well over 10 ft. tall, and he swayed back and forth as if his narrow legs would at any moment collapse. As I approached him I could hear his clear child-like voice which didn't seem to fit this towering man before me.
" You come to collect your debt.....No?" It was now that I noticed the fact that his booth was completely empty, with the exception of a black folder, carelessly laying on the front table. " What debt?"
"I give you something, so you owe something.....No?" "You give me what?"
" I give you information, and you give me what sweet little Mary provides.....No?"
" Mary? What do you know about Mary?"
" You go to meet sweet little Mary......No? You get the jelly and I give you something worth much profit.......No?".
"You want John Satan Jelly ?"
" No, not me! My Over has thirsty pores to feed......Yes?" " Your Over? Who is you Over?"
" Trinity Phrack is THIRSTY. I feel this. I led you here telepathically, because I knew you go often to Mary.......No?" " Phrack ! You serve Phrack?"
" He is an associate. Nothing more I assure you. It is a symbiotic relationship. If he has than I have that much more. You see......No?"
I knew that this was a lie. Not a conscious one, but still a LIE. Trinity Phrack has NO SYMBIOTIC RELATIONS. Trinity Phrack is a parasite. " What do you have for me?"
" Look in the folder. Document #555.......No?" " I don't buy for people like Trinity Phrack. An evil narc karma hangs about his person. He has a way of PISSING ON GOOD LUCK. Besides a big man like Phrack assuredly has other ways of buying. If your "Over" is thirsty than let him drink elsewhere. Preferable far from my self." " Please, don't be hasty, Mr.Ripped-cord. Document #555 will reveal the muck which tarnishes many a clean hand. The burning liquids which dirty many a fresh linen sheet, such things are credit to those who know......Yes."
I needed closer to Phrack, but this seemed to simple. CON-SIMPLE. I felt the line being tapped, the van rolling in, the satellite drifting over, the baby dead in the alley, and the mother hanging in the kitchen. THIS WAS LESS THAN GOOD, quite possibly even bad. _________________________________________________________
DISEASE IN EQUATOR
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Score the hit........snuff the record..........scratch the disk and spread the jelly. This is not a toy kid......it's just as hungry as you. A dead body an empty jar.......the alleys swept clean. Satan never dreamed such evil as the FACTORY.
Mary was a sweet girl.
Rusty innards of contorted wall, broken assembly lines, grinding gears dripping acidic waste onto soiled floors. Places where daddy died a thousand times......a slave at the time neglected. Every one has a daddy in the Joy- Womb, but Mary was sprung from sperm spilled outside the system.
Time is time enough when time is dead and past. Mary owns dead time, but who's buying?
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impressions of a flash-pan suicide
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Things are deaf and blind in the Promethean dusk. Merchants stand ineffectual
sucking in the heavy tenebrous soil
of the fading ambers smoke;
the recently dead,
and death not yet fully conceived.
Adherents to the old policy
fill the gutters.
Limp on the concrete
or some such surface.
A redolent steam rising off the pavement communion with the jaundiced virgin
of the streetlights.
The street is filled
with granite statues
of beautiful women and men
in the midst of their youth.
The sculptures line the boulevard.
Their pallid translucent meat ;
their ruddy flesh sucked out
and bottled for resale.
The man fumbles with the latch,
welcomes the merchant in,
pours him a drink.
The merchant sinks into the famished upholstery of the man's sofa. The man is at once abashed and utterly humiliated. If only he had known the merchant was to come, atleast then he could have prepared. Maybe covered his sofa, and certainly, without question, he would have hidden his writings. The merchant scans over some the papers which lay scattered about on the coffee table. His face full of patronizing disdain, like a father finding some erring sons pornography ( " Well, atleast you're not a faggot." ). The man hands the merchant a small, exquisite mazer, carved from the extremely dark adamant wood of an extinct tree. The dark wood of the mazer rests against the fibrous fingers of the merchant.
He swishes the lactescent substance, his eyes have a kef dreamy smoke in them.
The merchant speaks in a strange disembodied voice which seems to reverberate through your gut,
rising like a massive worm,
pushing up through your throat.
that much more. You see......No?"
I knew that this was a lie. Not a conscious one, but ....#Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII; X-MAPIextension=".TXT"
My previous attachment fucked up a bit but you get the general idea.
YOU ARE INVITED:
The third annual Richard Krout Acid Carnival of Lawrence Kansas.
September 26,
FREE ACID FREE ACID
TIMOTHY LEARY
ALICE IN WONDERLAND
ORGANIC BY THE SHEET
I the LORD PUSHER OF KANSAS DECLARE:
This is only a joke in case any of you fun loving K.B.I. agents are read'n along
FOR DETAILS E-MAIL STAINEDPETER@AOL.COM
FUCK YOUR PRIEST NOT SATAN sIGNED,
liqUID FElix===========
DISEASE IN EQUATOR section two
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The terrible crashing of REDUNDANT MACHINERY and children cowering in the alley as the wretched thunder rolled over their heads. Broken medical cots and congealed blood on torn green canvas.
Amorous honey smeared on the door, a kef dreamy smoke rolling off the smoldering copper of a torn wire.
MARY SWEET MARY WITHIN
Mary went to spectacular lengths to debase all forms of humanity. She founded the ` Simians for Christ Abortion Clinic ' , which was promptly disbanded after allegations of improper dietary substances in some of the simian meals.
She subsequently founded the 'Soft Tin Whores Abstainance Committee Against Biological Recombination.', which still exists and was, in fact, rewarded the Presidential Innovation Award for ` innovations in non- biological reproduction'.
SOME OF HER OTHER PROJECTS INCLUDE:
( SODOMY OR SALVATION?...THREE STEP PROGRAM)
( REMOTE CONTROL GOD....HOW TO CONTROL THE D.N.A. WORM SQUIRMING IN ALLAHS ASS)
( RESURRECTION FOR KIDZ. )
Although generally scorned by the scientific community for her `eccentric methods' , she is, none the less, well known and loved by her mindless clones.
Recently her clone race was accused of` numerous atrocities and `basic bad taste', for their activities during the Carnival Riots of the prior year.
EXCERPTS FROM THE SPEECH PERTAINING TO THE CARNIVAL RIOTS DELIVERED BY THE DIRECTOR OF GODLY FUN:
" What is Equator, if not a secure haven for thoughtless docility ? How long must we endure the wrath of the GENETICALLY UNGODLY ? Jesus was a cancerous life-form, but HE DIED FOR OUR CANCER.
He delivered us from genetic impurity by BECOMING THE ULTIMATE IMPURITY.
Yet, even now these UNREDEEMED RECOMBINATE GENETIC STRANDS wander the streets; mugging, raping, having sexual intercourse in new and unpleasant ways.
When will this madness stop????
When will we restore peace in this greatly mediocre land????
When Mary dies Peace lives!!!!!!! ".
A bullet whistles through the air, the Directors head implodes. Mary leaps onto the stage and tears his beating heart out. The blood streams through the alabaster fingers of her third arm. A pagan sun fills the sky with a blossoming red glare. Grotesque and rather pointless cannabalism follows.
MEDIA EXCERPTS PERTAINING TO THE CREATION OF MARY:
BROADCASTER: "Earlier today Dr. Vaseli Rot announced the successful completion of a hybrid human known as `Mary1'."
CLIPS OF DR.VASELI ROT PRESS RELEASE:
DR.VASELI ROT: " I deny in the utmost that Mary1 was created for my own sexual amusement. If this were the case, I would have surely deprived her of all cognitive faculties, but instead I have endowed her with a wealth of functioning neurons and synapses."
PRESS AGENT: " Would you like to comment on the allegations that Mary1's consciousness was due to a spontaneous mutation which you could not control?"
DR.VASELI ROT: " Ha! Nonsense my dear boy. Utter nonsense. Mary1 is the christian ideal, a loving, compassionate HUMAN BEING. I assure you that she was designed to be such , from the beginning. Mary1 is not a new creation, she is only a new way of creating the old creation. The public has nothing to fear."
PRESS AGENT: " Could we get a glimpse of Mary1. I think the public would love nothing more than to see your masterpiece of humanitarian science."
Mary saunters onto the stage, something smolders like a dying flame in the lacuna of her eyes. She flashes a horribly immodest grin; cameras inundate the stage in a catarract of light.
Mary jerks her arm back with one fluid motion, and impales the Dr. on a steel saber. The press gasp and begins stampeding out the door. Mary stands like a god, bullets pouring out below her feet, pounding into the backs of the fleeing masses below. Cameras shatter with a repugnant `pang' , bulbs burst releasing a odious tail of curling smoke, doors splinter into fire wood as the frantic hordes flood the halls. Bodies collapse into the shards of glass at their feet, the machine gun empties its last round and the room is silent.
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A bottle of John Satan Jelly rested atop the old broken assembly-line. Mary dipped her finger into the bottle and lifted it to her famished lips.
The Factory, where old yellow bulbs dimly lit the place at night. And when the red-eyed dawn arose needles of light flooded the main floor, refracting and reflecting in the shimmering glass of the huge windows. Within the walls the heat of the sun was concentrated to an unbearable intensity during the after-noon hours. Plastic melted, water boiled, skin burned.
But Mary was not of such delicate stuff composed. Flesh and sinews were not among her vices.
I waited till the raven-eyed sea swallowed its sad children; cloaking them in masks of Unknown and Unknowable. Only then when lines were atrophied and connections exhausted, could I go to Mary. Only when the dark ocean swells beneath the alleys, and ascends in the form of mists obscure and somber. Only then beyond the moon and stars, with weary eyes and languid pace.
Only after I purchase a snub-nose pistol......that assassin bitch is going to die.================================================== =====================================================
NEXT TIME..... THE KNOWER LOSES A MONKEY.....A CLONE GAINS A SOUL.......A SAINT PISSES ON THE ALTAR; BUT THATS IRRELEVANT......DIVINE MESSAGES IN A URINAL(REALLY I SWEAR).........AND OF COURSE VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE (I PROMISE A LITTLE SEX THIS TIME ALSO)
Original file name: a happy meme for a sad virus
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