I am Scatology: ...On Major Depression...
Thursday, November 26, 2009
HECK-SA-STIX PART V
Yep. It has been a long, long, time since I have been able to coherently join my words and form a complete sentence. HECK!!!! It is a bitch!!! Thank you Clorazil. I do not remember much of what has taken place in my life over the past month and, say, one week. Who cares right?! I certainly do not. I take an apathy pill every morning and transform: human to Vulcan...you know like that Spock guy. Highly Illogical!!!!! And because I have been off the subject (Hexastix) for so long you ALL probably do not even remember what this shit is all about that I am going to abruptly continue as if I never went AWOL. A wall. I was staring at a wall for more than five days. And I know no one gives a shit and most of you have no idea what I am so gabbing on about, but I can assure you "HEXASTIX FOR DUMMIES" shall be published shortly after. I personally enjoy accommodating. To hell with annotations!!! They cause attention-deficit-disorder. I was working so hard I forgot to take my medication and IFRANKMASTER almost rolled around the bend of my brain faster than a speeding speed freak superman fuck tweak! But, alas, no. I am Henry. And I want you to know, invisible audience, EXACTLY what I WENT THROUGH to obtain the information I needed to gain information on Hexastix-book V. It was fucking hell and damnation! Jesus yippity Christ Christmas! Well, FUCK!!! I will just lay it on the table for you all so you can not appreciate it! I work for myself. What more can I expect? Exactly. Highly illogical to expect any more. Maybe, if you can spare an eyeball or two, just go back over the previous books to set the mood for my revelations. KEEP IN MIND: this is only what I WENT THROUGH to obtain the information and not the information itself. That is a whole different story. These stories must be told separately (and without neologisms) because they are too significant to lump together. Highly illogical-that lumping together.
HEXASTIX: BOOK V- THE TOIL.
Book V-"The Justice Sticks"
Very complicated this one.
Here is a short summary of what is to come: There comes a time, once, maybe even twice upon a time, that, unfortunately, we, the stick-people and believers, must defend ourselves physically. Keep in mind, we do not believe in steroids....that is cheating. Unchivalrous. Oops, a neologism, excuse me. ATTENTION!!!! And mind you we are not pushovers and dare not turn the other cheek so that the perpetrator can pound it to a pulp. Highly illogical. That is just pure stupidity and, might I add, masochism. Suffer thee children!!! NO!!! ATTENTION!! We do not play that foolish game of Mr. Martyr Pants. Peh. Anyhow, there exist such ignoramuses that allow prejudice and intolerance of diversity to rule their testosterone or progesterone levels, thus causing a phenomena commonly known as an "ANGRY MOB" a.k.a. "HIGHLY ILLOGICAL SHIT FOR BRAINS POSSE." I will not apologize for self-defense when it is absolutely necessary. We are just as good at playing Romans and Spartans on steroids as any poor fool. Anyhow. Five steps. I had to complete these grueling tasks in order to attain the (privilege) information necessary for me to explicate "The Justice Sticks." And on I go. Pacifist idiots ideologically crippled AWAY! None of you would understand. Go find something better to do than complain about "necessary" self-defense-like go get your asses ripped to shreds by blockheads. AH-HA!
Task one:
"Have Gun Will Travel reads the card of a (wo)man.
A knight without armor in a savage land.
His/her fast gun for hire head's the calling wind.
A soldier of fortune is the man called Paladin and/or the Noble Women of Tortosa in Aragon.
Paladin, Noble Women, Paladin, Noble Women,
Where do you roam?
Paladin,Noble Women, Paladin, Noble Women,
Far, far from home."
Keep this little ditty in mind when shoppin' for knowledge my brethren and sistern.
TASK TWO: Convince American Republican Congressman Tancredo that he is Gloria Steinem. By Jiminy! What hardship!!! It was great though! All I had to do was take out a rifle and say "Let us take back America and drink ten shots of jack!" and he was all ears! I never actually drank Jack. I drank tainted water. He got the alcohol though, boy he did! Passed out American Republican Congressman Tancredo went from this:
Oh No Tancredo!!!!
Friday, November 6, 2009
Hexastix: Book IV-A Review Before the Final Book
If any of you folks out there have been paying attention to the messages in “O’Say What Is Gross,” you may find a semblance of similarity in the message of book IV of the Hexastix. The Book of Plastic Sticks basically serves as a warning regarding false prophets or anyone claiming to be an “expert.” It is an anomaly that people these days rely heavily on the supposed knowledge of such “experts’ and that most of the time the “expert” does not have to have any credentials and if he or she does, this does not mean that they know any better about anything than anyone else. In modern society you may be watching a commercial about such and such product and a voice in the commercial says something like “….highly recommended by experts.” Or a book review listing in the New York Times claims that a book deserve praise when, in fact, it is a piece of shit. Or the movie critics (a.k.a. experts) tell you a movie is “The best film of the year” when, in fact, it may possibly be the worst film of the year. Yes, false prophets are everywhere these days. The scary thing is that people actually consume whatever
these so called “experts” tell them to and take their (the experts) word as the word of God, and, as some of us of higher intelligence know, God is a fictitious and invisible myth just like the experts. Anyhow, The Book of Plastic Sticks was written in 1855, the year Alexander Parkes officially invented plastic. It is hidden south of the equator and its hiding place is, of course, only known to the stick-people and their believers. When The Book of Plastic Sticks is held up to the light of a full moon the words are etched into the plastic and read thus:
There exist such entities in the world that claim and give forth false knowledge. Beware of them. If someone or something implies that you are a subordinate and that someone or something claims to be more knowledgeable than you on a certain subject use your gift of skepticism. These false prophets may be trying to trick you into giving them or some other affiliated party your money and they may also ruthlessly cause you to waste your time. Remember that opinions or perceptions coming from one who claims to be an “expert” is simply an opinion or perception and does not have to become your own: you have your own opinions and perceptions and should never mold them according to someone else’s standards. Heed this warning well!!! There are false messages all around you!! For example, one, usually a female, may be told that she should not look like a female, but that she should go on something called “a diet” and look like a little boy. This is false!!! Women are supposed to eat well and look like women: voluptuous and curvy. Eating healthy and within certain boundaries (not over-eating or eating too much “junk) has been replaced by excessive fad diets that are most unhealthy. Most diet “experts” are lunatics and/or misogynists.
The source of a prophecy must also be questioned. Just because it has a wide variety of followers that buy into its nonsense does not make it a good source of information. For Americans, The New York Times is a good example. A highly esteemed piece of crap is what it really is. Did you ever read their book review? Utter nonsense!!! Don’t let them tell you! The Museum of Modern art has a shit ton of crap that passes for what we call “art.” Jackson Pollock? Abstract expressionist?! True fucking tripe!!!
Grab some paint and throw it at a wall….yeah! That’s art man!!! How utterly awful! The Museum of Modern Art is a false prophet: Don’t believe a thing you see. Only on occasion does it offer quality, but rarely. Be careful what you believe and always, always, question! Question! Question! We were born with brains, were we not? Our society hates when we use our brains and so it invents things to control us. Some of this is “old-story” to some of you, but there are those poor souls out there that need to be told they are being manipulated and lied to!!!! Take that asshole John Edwards supposed “psychic-medium.” He makes a killing lying to gullible people! He should be assassinated (I did not say this) or executed! He is no expert and is no prophet…this is what he is: A BIG LYING SCUMBAG THAT LAUGHS AT ALL THE REJECTS THAT BELIEVE HIS LIES AND SPEND TONS OF MONEY TO HEAR WHAT HE HAS TO SAY OR RATHER HEAR WHAT THEIR DEAD RELATIVE HAS TO SAY THROUGH HIM WHICH IS CLEARLY (TO SOME OF INTELLIGENCE) IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!
Plastic here refers to that which has been chemically modified by man to suit some devious purpose. And don’t forget about Los Angeles…many plastic people live there….beware of them…a whole plastic community!!! Cosmetic plastic surgeons….mostly misogynistic highly paid bastards or lying bastardettes that prey on people’s (mostly women) low self-esteem. Beware false prophets, beware of the lies, look at the man behind the curtain…..he’s terrified….he is a FRAUD!
End of Book IV of the Hexastix. Valuable information. Be smart and make the choice today to believe in the stick-people and their believers. They are the only entities that carry the truth as it should be. Listen to them.
Good Day,
Henry O’Malley
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Hexastix: Book III
The third book of the Hexastix can only be read in the sky at night on a certain date and is, in fact, like a constellation. The International Astronomical Union does not acknowledge this constellation-like pattern because, sadly, no members of this union are stick-people or believers. What is particularly interesting about this pattern is that is can be seen from all hemispheres as opposed to being limited to only one hemisphere like the 88 “official” constellations; because it has no boundaries it is not considered a constellation. The date in which it can be seen is October the 31rst. The pattern can be seen in the form of four paragraphs that fill the entire night sky. The message is as follows:
If you can see this document you are either a stick-person or a believer in stick-people. There is no such thing as life after death. Beware this myth! To protect yourself from myth-makers and to become immune to their tall tales you must submerge your head in your own urine for thirty seconds. Warning: if you do not do this you will most likely succumb to the great lies of the world and perish as a delusionist. This is, by far, the most disgusting way to perish.
To your right you will see four bioluminescent sticks. Use these sticks to distinguish what is true and what is false. Wave them before people, documents, etcetera: they will cease to glow before all that is false. These sticks will expire on October the 30th; you will receive your new set of bioluminescent sticks on October the 31rst. If you are questioned when waving the sticks simply state “I am conducting scientific research” and that should be sufficient explanation for the curious. If the curious demand further explanations tell the curious “I require complete silence while conducting my scientific research.”
If the bioluminescent sticks indicate falsehood do not point your finger or draw attention to the falsehood. Acknowledge the falsehood silently and act as if it does not exist. If you openly declare a falsehood you run the risk of public estrangement, confinement to an undesirable area, or execution. Take it upon yourself to heed the words of this book. The general public lacks the ability to think rationally and may react violently to your claim. Beware.
I must inform you straight away that the ideas of “original sin” and “holiness” are falsehoods. Heed these ideas not, for they are lies. Beware of individuals and documents that perceive these ideas to be true. Only delusionists believe lies and spread myths. You don’t want to be a delusionist do you? “Original sin” and “holiness” are two myths that exist for the sole purpose of controlling and disrupting your natural thought process and actions to suit the outfit of lunacy. Many are the delusionists. *Quality not quantity*
And so the third book of the Hexastix ends. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, nonsense gets the upper hand in life. I prefer perfect sense to nonsense. I am no delusionist.
Regards,
Henry O’Malley
Hexastix: Book II
The Book of Drumsticks was written on parchment: this suggests, but roughly, that its original message was expressed around, say, (6th century BC, or beyond). The Book, or parchment, is covered in a sheath of red granite. When unsheathed and unrolled for viewing, its message is revealed in drum beats similar to this: Ta-tum, Ta-tum-tum, Ta-tum-tum-tum-tum, BANG, CRASH, Ta-tum-tum, tum-tum-tum, Ta-ta-ta-tum. The drum beat or rhythm is a code, much in the vein and intention of the First Book: It can be heard, but only Stick-People and believers, OBVIOUSLY, can decipher its message. The message is interpreted thus:
Here ye, here ye, we be sticks that drum. Our resonance may signify warning signals, communication (similar to what we know to be Morse code) of many varieties, manifold are our capabilities. We make powerful music. However, we have and will often be misused to signify disaster created by mankind, inhumane treatment of human-kind, battle scores, or triumph relevant to insidious contests that assert the power of such and such party, in marches indicative of good values and/or bad values, or utilized for entertainment such as what is heard before a trapeze artist dares to pull off his or her stunt before an audience in a circus. The Stick-People and believers know our true intentions: despair befalls them when we are misused. Good and evil as words are used to refer to that which is honorable and atrocious. Good and evil: the true source and logical implication of these words have been and are often exaggerated and grossly distorted by humankind. Logically, good is allowing the earth to flourish, freedom and diversity acknowledged and accepted, tolerance, peace, compromise, never harming a living creature or object, and not limiting oneself to a narrow scope which spreads and permits stagnation and evil itself. Evil is destruction of earth, slavery, prejudice, intolerance of differences, war, lack of compromise, harming a living creature, living within a narrow scope, closing the mind off from beauty, from love, from respect. The Stick-People and their believers know our true intentions sound out and communicate that which is good. We sound our messages, and if they are pure and heard by the correct entities, spread joy at intense decibels, but at decibels never so intense as to disable those that have eardrums. We shall now end our song with five key concepts:
1. If a stick does something wrong to you, go to that stick. Talk alone to the stick and tell the stick what it has done. If the stick listens to you, you have kept that stick as your friend.
2. But if the stick does not listen to you, take one or two other sticks with you to talk to that stick. Then two or three sticks will hear every word and can prove what was said.
3. If the stick does not listen to the other sticks, tell a tree. If the stick does not listen to the tree, treat that stick as a stick that does not believe in the Hexastix and as bad as a tax collector.
4. We drum out the truth. What you tie on earth will be tied in our drumming. What you set free on earth will be set free in our drumming.
5. If you believe in transubstantiation, you are a numb-skull and no better than a vampire.
Thus ends the “Book of Drumsticks,” book two of the Hexastix.
-Henry O’Malley
Hexastix: Book I
I, Henry, recently split up a lecture with the title “O’ Say What is Gross” on my myspace bandsite; it is a seven part lecture highly regarded by the High Priestess of the Sacred Intelligence. I, Henry, also recently decided to disengage myself from myspace because I solemnly disagree with the developer’s
-Henry O’Malley
Monday, November 2, 2009
HAPPY-JACK-O-ME-HEADLESS-DOUCHEBAG.
I was an exaggeration of myself for Hallow's Eve. Every Hallow's Eve 1989 to 1995. Cleared out all the good watering holes (the only five on Main St.) ten minutes tops. Art Studio. Evening. "Showing" of Jenson Donnelly's great artistic rip off of the Dada era. His "pieces" all had a main theme: "I am Not An Artist, I live on the prairie." Everyone gone. Five minutes. The mall. Bit longer. Bout' an hour. Exhausting. All those stores. Two-hundred-plus consumers.
Man in food-court: "FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!"
Henry: "IT'S NOTHING MORE THAN HALLOW'S EVE ASSHOLE!!! TAKE SOME FUCKING EXAGGERATION!!!"
Punched in face. Four blows. Balding. Stocky. Ignoramus. Realized he could not ruin my Hallow's Eve. Pain in the ass. Eventually gone with the rest. Half-hour. Nobody. Nobody. Ruins my Hallow's Eve spirits. Not even Johnny Mathis. Not even Casey Sports-Tourette's bore me to death. Away he went from communal living room. Thirty-nine seconds. Vomited on crazy-man Al's snack. Al. Punched me in the face twice. Karate-kicked Casey in chest. White-coats. Here they come. Take Al out with syringe. My exaggeration wished him "HAPPY HALLOW'S EVE!!!" Twenty times tops. Big Dick's Titty Bar, testosterone nightmare, haters of man dancing through clenched teeth, EMPTY, after my exaggeration passed through door and into the room of hard blockheads. Ten inch heel, medulla oblongata, then, gone in a flash, fifty-one minutes tops, blood on my face and to the "French" Cafe. "Great baguettes!!" "What is that?!!" Undigested food and horror, evacuation, twenty minutes tops (I had to use the bathroom-+ five minutes) hors d'fucking nerves! It's Hallow's Eve!!! Fun times! Starbucks cafe. Five shots of espresso. One latte. Large black. My exaggeration. No money. vacant. Fifteen minutes tops. Trepidating cashier. Too trepidized to dial the men in blue. "HAPPY HALLOW'S FUCKING EVE!!! HOORAY!!! No one rips me off on Hallow's Eve. $7.95 for a large black the size of (see picture). No way!!! You away!! Five more espressos. Two largER cups of black. Peaceful. Solitude. Sirens approach the almost empty cafe. My exagerration. Gone in a flash. "HELLO WALMART!" "HAPPY HALLOW'S EVE!!!" "ALL YOU GRACIOUS WHITE FOLK!!" Segregation is not extinct, trust me. "HOLY SHIT PRICK!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!"-some anglo-saxon. Confusion. Up and around the gimcrackin' aisles, forty minutes tops. My face, already battered, white man with surprising common sense, how to beat the battered? Would it make a difference? Hotel de Rich. Bejewelled fops. "Money spreads germs, don't you see!!!" Multiple misers. Faces knotted in disgust. Hotel de Rich. Deserted. Fifty minutes tops (busy night, lots of call-girls and married men searching in desperation for their clothes, not the call-girls though, they had the balls, quickly they exited, no tops). The Scene as well. Fetish ball. Hallow's Eve fiesta. Goth kids. Very serious. Lugubrious, the azure sky only brings me pain. Concerned. Low-threshold for the pure wickedness of my exaggeration. Startled cult of the space vampire. Disappear into the black night. Twenty-six minutes tops. Punk rock night at Lou Phlegm's. 'Bout forty-five mo-hawks. Chains. Spikes. Hallow's Eve. Shameful posers. Received one blow from chip-on-shoulder-punker-pretense. "Take my blood, it's free!! All of it!!! Boo!! Boo!!! You can blow me all night!!!" Seventeen minutes tops. Goodbye. Punk is dead? Souns morbid. Kind of like HALLOW'S EVE!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! My exagerration with swampy blood eyes retires. Back to the cave. The bats there waiting with dinner. HAPPY-JACK-O-ME-HEADLESS-DOUCHEBAG!!!!! You never know when the gooneyman shall appear on Hallow's Eve. Oh dear.
Lex talionis,
Henry Thee O'Malley x 2,000