Friday, December 31, 2010

Deathfarm 5

this morning I was brushing my teeth too hard and I accidentally jammed the toothbrush right up in to the side of my cheek. I got it entangled in a cord of flesh and had no choice but to wrench out the fleshy mass along with the tooth brush. At first i thought this advantageous as it looked as though i had accidentally ripped out a face tumor. As I examined the gorey mass, still attached to the inside of my cheek, an addition to my vision was forming. The tumorous mass was receiving light and sending it to my brain. I was viewing my own face from the angle of the mass. I then twisted the new eye around to view the rest of the bathroom. The attached toothbrush worked well enough as a tool to aim my eye with. At first the vision was blurry but as I looked over my bathroom the vision started to sharpen. That is when I saw something new. A blue glowing two and half foot tall door next to my toilet. There where thick pulsating tendrils that ran from the door to the inside of my toilet that looked like they fed off of the contents of my toilet bowl. For nearly twenty minutes I sat looking at that door afraid to touch it. But curiosity got the better of me and i opened the door and crawled through. On the other side the tendrils continued off about fifty yards to a large bland square building. I walked slowly and quietly up to the building and followed the walls around to the other side. Nothing could have prepared me for the horrors on the other side of that large bland building. All I could tell for certain is that it was a type of farm. What was being farmed there is harder to say but the word death describes it best. Mutilated piles of creatures like bloody haystacks. Along with thousand of living creatures barely alive. Strapped to machines that tore at them little by little rendering their limbs down to scarred protuberances. A thick aether hung around the farm less palatable then ammonia. Complimenting the visual horror, the farm seemed to function softly quietly humming along with a sharp interruption of tortured inhuman screams timed with the same frustrating regularity of a kitchen faucet drip. Loose organs and a fleshy pulpy foam carpeted the ground feeding insects many fattened close to the size of my foot. Further in to the distance lay rows of dead trees that still bore strange fruit. Bloated corpses hung like oranges. There was no sign of any intelligent life form operating the farm. Nothing but automated mutilation. The putrid mess got to my senses and I became dizzy, collapsed to the ground, and projectile vomited all over myself and the wall next to me. The vomiting and dizziness continued so powerfully my body tremored and I loss control of my bowels filling my shorts with liquid shit. The vomit that filled my nostrils barely hid the putrid smell of that farm. My eyes all three burned. I retreated from the barn crawling desperate. The weakness in my body killed my hopes to return through that door but i continued to crawl slower and slower. I crawled blindly following what I assumed was the blue pulsating tendril that led back to my toilet. For three days I attempted to crawl along that tendril frequently passing out only to be awaken by large insects biting at me. What small amount of energy my body could muster was wasted fighting off those hallow eyed insects. The tendril seemed to be withering away as well having not had my shit to feed it for a few days now. It would no longer be usable as a guide soon. Which did not matter to me I had accepted death. Suddenly, without warning, a cold metal hand grabbed me. It lifted me up. Paused for a second. A smaller sharper hand ripped the third eye off of my face. The hand carried me forward to the door and shoved me through it. The last experience I have from that world was the sound of the door locking. My smell alerted the neighbors almost instantly and i was taken to emergency care. But I refused to stay for even a day as I felt a new found duty to my metal savior. I needed to shit in my toilet. And feed that blue tendril for whatever unknown purpose it had. Which my friends is why i have invited you here to this party despite my weakened physical state. Obviously so soon after an ordeal like that I could not possibly have any shit to excrete in to the shinny white bowl. But you who had all so eagerly excepted these drinks, have all just ingested a powerful laxative. Do not worry my toilet has never clogged once.

Thursday, December 30, 2010


Four days ago Mr.Hudson decided he would no longer be going to work. He drank nothing but cheap whiskey and Nyquil for the last three days. At 3:15 am Mr.Hudson noticed the sun wasn't glowing bright but instead held a very mild orange glow that grew brighter and weaker according to his will. Two hours passed and Mr.Hudson became very excited about his new found powers. The more excited he got the more he proceeded to brighten the sky brighter and brighter. After four hours Mr.Hudson did nothing but stare unblinking into a blinding light that nearly burned the skin off his eyes. Until 9:13 am when what appeared to be a semi translucent blue alien humanoid creature attempted to communicate with Mr.Hudson. He did not understand what the blue creature was saying but instead perceived the creature as a monster from another dimension and assumed it was a threat. Mr.Hudson, with all the strength of a man on a three day cheap whiskey and Nyquil binge, tore the limbs off of the blue translucent creature and smashed at it's torso thoroughly obliterating it. At 12:15 pm Mr.Hudson went out to lunch having completely skipped breakfast. He ate at a popular fast food sandwich restaurant. At 5:23 pm Mr.Hudson finished his last bottle of Nyquil and went to sleep.

Death Waits for Sam

movie idea: Death waits for Sam
A man goes back in time to impregnate the mother of his adopted daughter when he begins to think that his adopted daughter is actually his own daughter. Then in a fit of jealousy his wife goes further back in time to plant herself as a fetus inside the adopted daughter's mother's mother so that she would also be the adopted daughter's parent. The adopted daughter gets pissed off that she is constantly changing into a different person so she goes into the future to her adopted fathers death bed and shoots him in the face with a double barrel sawed off shotgun. The life cycle is complete. Also the main character's name is Samson and the adopted daughter's name is Samantha.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010



ill be candid for a second.

really im all about blue.
not like picaso blue vagina period

NO i mean blue. its fucking awesome

i cant wait tell im an old bald dude so i can tattoo my whole scalp blue.

walk down the street blue warpaint tattoo old and weathered.

drinking blue slushi

wearing blue

its all blue

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Orange you glad it's Tuesday

Yeahhhhh!!!! it's the third Tuesday of the month which means it's Orange you glad it's Tuesday day. You celebrate the third Tuesday of every month by eating nothing but orange things. For lunch I'm having an orange and a carrot and a bowl of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Then later today I'm going to the liquor store buying a big bottle of orange soda and a smaller bottle of Everclear. Because everything must be Orange.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Galileo II

im fucking losing it.
(that's supposed to be a love symbol but i guess it looks more like butt cheeks coming out of an ice cream cone. Which gives me a lot of mixed feelings or at least makes me question if love is just the joy of eating ice cream out of a girls ass. what if it isn't?) fuck that's right i wanted ice cream earlier...i almost never want ice cream.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

swap club


Aracknid is a worthless chauffeur, barely able to drive. On one occasion he ran down a pregnant woman in from the mountains with a load of charcoal on her back, and she miscarried a bloody, dead baby in the street, and Keif got out and sat on the curb stirring the blood with a stick while the police questioned Aracknid and finally arrested the woman for a violation of the Sanitary Code.
Naked Lunch

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

command bridge

The broken image of Man moves in minute by minute and cell by cell . . . Poverty, hatred, war, police-criminals, bureaucracy, insanity, all symptoms of The Human Virus.
The Human Virus can now be isolated and treated.
Naked Lunch
Since there is no sure way to detect a disguised replica (although every Divisionist has some method he considers infallible) the Divisionists are hysterically paranoid. If some citizen ventures to express a liberal opinion, another citizen invariably snarls:"What are you? Some stinking nigger's bleached-out replica?"
Naked Lunch
The Buyer spreads terror throughout the industry. Junkies and agents disappear. Like a vampire bat he gives off a narcotic effluvium, a dank green mist that anesthetizes his victims and renders them helpless in his enveloping presence. And once he has scored he holes up for several days like a gorged boa constrictor.
Naked Lunch


materiality is eating me

Monday, December 6, 2010

Od' und leer das Meer

Desolate and empty is the sea.

Huey Lewis & The News

Patrick Bateman: Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?
Paul Allen: They're OK.
Patrick Bateman: Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far much more bitter, cynical sense of humor.
Paul Allen: Hey Halberstram.
Patrick Bateman: Yes, Allen?
Paul Allen: Why are their copies of the style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?
Patrick Bateman: No, Allen.
Paul Allen: Is that a rain coat?
Patrick Bateman: Yes it is! In '87, Huey released this, Fore, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square", a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity, and the importance of trends, it's also a personal statement about the band itself.
[raises axe above head]
Patrick Bateman: Hey Paul!
[he bashes Allen in the head with the axe, and blood splatters over him]

Free Bacon Ultimate

slam the ball

Super Baseball 2020

Mistress Monique

instinct and capitalism