In a Society that has Abolished Every Kind of Adventure, the Only Adventure is to Abolish the Society.

Adventure

I suppose, in the end, it is all a Machiavellian exercise more than anything else. If indeed the ends justify the means, then anything done to achieve them is perfectly acceptable legal and fair in the field of play. If Machiavelli was a pompous twat, however, then there may be a storm brewing that there is an ass-kicking coming that may not be a particularly grand and marvelous thing to participate in from either side of the line.

On the other hand, if you want to take a moral high-ground and then come out and play dirty pool, is it my fault if you get your ass explosively handed to you by the aggrieved party? If you dirty box from the clinch, then you deserve to have your fucking instep destroyed like a scurrying waterbug across a kitchen floor during an open house.

There is a war of words coming, Gentle Readers. It is a war that will pit the Good against Evil. I do not say that as a metaphor, I say that as Truth. If you stand with a man who reeks of the putrescence that he has surrounded himself with since he crawled from the womb, then you are a bad guy, and you get what you fucking deserve when you get kicked to the floor and motherfucking curb-stomped.

You want to be on the right side of history for this. When your children’s children look back and ask you why you stood with Madness instead of the hand of Liberty and Love, you need to look them in the eye and say…? What? “Lock her up?” “Mexico Will pay For It?” “No Collusion?” Are you indeed so well and genuinely mindfucked that you think any of that has ever been crucial to the Dumpster Fuck In Chief?

You need to take a breath and realize that you are supporting a man who wishes pedophiles well. He stood with Nazis and endorsed violence. He called Mexican immigrants rapists, derided women and people of color. He has Stasi-like kidnappings happening in America, even asĀ I am writing this. Most importantly, he has been stealing tens of millions since the first second of his abortive presidency.

You look at the eyes of those future generations and tell me that the sacrifice of Democracy was worth it because you are uncomfortable watching people who look different than you having a cookout, that you are okay with people getting their doors kicked in and murdered. That “All Lives Matter,” as long as they are the ones you get to carefully fucking curate.

Anger is expected, encouraged, and commended.

The revolutionĀ WILL BE TELEVISED.

Wander Aimless If You Must You Fuck, Stay Far Away From Me and Mine Or I Will Eviscerate You However

Vermilion Queen

I speak in verses, prophecies, and curses – Otep Shamaya

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The Vermilion Queen comes to those who do not believe. She talks to those who do as old friends and compliments them on the openness of their minds. Her visage never changes to those who understand that She is an intangible abstract. A theoretical metaphor, a whisper in a screaming field of shrieking children. She is where your shadow goes in the noonday sun and the absence of warmth when the full moon rides high in the sky and the wolves bay their mournful worship. No one speaks of Her, everyone thinks of Her. Everyone knows Her, no one knows Her true name. They do violence in Her name and scream at other pacifists to do the same so that She is honored. Never once will the truth be discovered because a lie is the aberration of the standard morality of a deviant society claiming to be altruistic.

The Tarot will dance around you and when the Ten of Swords draws itself over and you leak like a metal colander, know that all you needed to do was believe in Her, or at least do Her the kindness of lying to everyone you knew about believing in Her, you like to them about everything else, why wouldn’t you just keep up a trending behavior? Can you not simply not just babble in incessantly about the wonder of the Circus as your death screams ricochet off of walls made by your malevolence and avarice of spirit?

Judge me not for seeking to find Her in the wastelands of what you left me to work with. I am not the one who deceives everyone by trying to fit the camel through the eye of a needle smaller than the eye can see. I am not the one who discards that which should HAVE BEEN HELD THE TIGHTEST to their bosom. No, I am the one who will search for Her, who will wander until the end of the world to see if I can find a hint of a rumor of the legend of the myth of Her. You will stop your shuffling soon and drop into the perdition you set up for yourself so long ago that you think it preordained by a King that has not been ruling since long before the Queen or the filth of you, was even a distant hope in a twinkling eye.

So as I sit for a moment to catch my breath and refill the blood of my heart with the fight that it needs to continue, you will be aimless, hopeless, heartless and worthless and that will make the job of the Queen so much easier.

Expect Her soon, fool. So very soon.