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Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

By

Winner Take Nothing, he said.

After the storm, a clean, well-lighted place.

The light of the world.
God, rest you merry.
Gentlemen, the sea change – a way you’ll never be.
The Mother of a Queen.
One reader writes, homage to Switzerland.
A day’s wait.
A natural history of the dead wine.
Of Wyoming – the Gambler, the Nun, and the radio…fathers and sons.

Alone in my thoughts.
Wishing for nothing but a year in the presence of greatness.
Perhaps in the place they call blessed.
A silent bow, an honored smirk to Ernest tales.

Violent cuts of the mind,
spliced images in a kaleidoscope coffin,
edges holding the fine scotch for you,
a raft to the next dimension.
14:12 25813

*abide*

By

Goats don’t like Feta.

I came back from an appointment, none of any one particular business, but of many – not yours. Suffice it to say, I was in the orange and digging the gig.

It was the subway.

I know, what a piece of shit. Such a lowlife, I had to use the public transit system. Please, focus more on the word ‘has’ and the context you want to insert, for I have not inferred anything but the utterance of it…oh…wait…you have to assume, from the appearance of the clothes and my choice of public I am a common man.

A working man.

Usually on a discrete seat, with my ass hanging off of it – smiling, or with a tear in my eye because I am watching “Doubt Me” on this machine that let’s me see things, and create things sometimes.

She looks at me, and sees the tear.

I can not watch the video, and not cry.

This is true, as it is factus lebowskius that strong men also cry, twice. After periods. Real men, have to have 3 periods before they cry, but let’s not go there – sure, you consider me a pussy for your own story. Fuck you for judging it. You don’t know why – figure out your own reason. Real men also cry.

Her eyebrows cross – they knit into a small pattern and I go sit beside her. She has had a bad day, I am not too sure why, nor do I care. She has not asked me for anything, other than some kind of recognition of answering her human concern of why, transmitted in a code that goes back to caves and fire.

I say no words, I don’t want to.

I smile, obviously my goat has her disarmed. On occasion, lamb, but as of late goat.

Sitting on her left, I give her my left ear bud to a set of Bose earphones. She has no idea they are Bose, not that it will do anything for her greater than to allow her to listen to the soundtrack, and I ask her if she doubts me.

There is not a word that is exchanged, and she watches. Reads, her eyes will dart to me when she thinks she can breath between the music, and.

She does not.

Her tear proves it, as does her email. Her name is Janet, and she is a wonderful lady in a wonderful world.

If you look closely at the video, you will see her.

She is one of the grains of sand.

As am I.

As are you.

Believe.

You got the magic, and if anyone ever doubts it – even me – you make sure you stand motherfucking tall, sip back the shot of fucking right, and nail the motherfucking goat with some cosmic energy.

*abide*

By

Movie Mashup – Berkeshire Shareholder Letter Summarized by Fetaman.

Pretty much says it all, the whole year has gone by it seems, and we find ourselves in the glorious position of being able to summarize the bountiful knowledge of the grand Hoo Bla of Finance himself, a genuine inspiration and mentor in so many aspects of his life, and a delinquent malcontent that has the beautiful presence of mind and ability to transfer drug patented nano-chemo-Vulcan-nology through all forms of natures states, and mesmerize crowds with a Weedabix smile, and the passion of Christ in his eye’s.

Don’t get me wrong, I am always one to speak the truth, and here there is a solid respect for the man, the myth – the legend. Holding that piece of paper, in your hand. Just one share, is not to be taken lightly. I know some that have had theirs since the mid-90’s, and then some. Pretty interesting tales, Gus has a few of those to tell I am sure, but getting to Gus is another story.

Summary piece from the Business Insider – Warren Buffett’s Annual Shareholder Letter Is Out — Here Are The Best Parts article, that are listed and referenced in the bullet form. Each of the quotes can be seen in the original article on the title, or just avoid that hogwash, and click the quote for the “surprise” video that gives you a little waft of the gig, or you can do that after shaking the Fetaglobe a little and seeing what kind of cheese settles on the matter;

  • “For just the 9th time, Berkshire’s book value rose less than the S&P 500. Buffett calls the year subpar.”

The sub par year for Berkeshire, would be considered an eagle for the common man.

 

  • “Berkshire pursued a couple of “elephants” but mostly came up empty, until the recent big Heinz deal.”

In anticipation of the Heinz deal, a number of failed elephant hunts didn’t cut the mustard.

 

  • …build per-share intrinsic value by (1) improving the earning power of our many subsidiaries; (2) further increasing their earnings through bolt-on acquisitions; (3) participating in the growth of our investees; (4) repurchasing Berkshire shares when they are available at a meaningful discount from intrinsic value; and (5) making an occasional large acquisition.”

(1) Jack up the prices for the papers, to tell you what to buy and think – the old newspaper value/pump play. *raises glass to the meek* Careful though, he is shorting the shit outta telegraph companies. *lemming stampede*
(2) The bolt-on is a cheaper alternative to the full transgender Executive of tomorrow. More efficient, and all female’s to take on androgynous roles to comply with male superiors needs, including any “strap” on requirements on those long and lonely business trips.
(3) When you feed the pigs, their growth is just an FPB (*Future Present Bacon) calculation.
(4) Sell helium before departing, repurchase after the balloon ride. Rest, wake, repeat.
(5) This is code for taking on some big booty, cause you know what – he can no tell no lies, and he loves the big but’s.

 

  • “CEOs who whine about “uncertainty” are silly.”

The whole world is one giant bowl of ass soup. One day you will be tired of it cold, and the next you will be tired of it hot. Don’t like the rules – no ass soup for you! (*Cold Soup Nazi)

 

  • “America’s rail system has never been in better shape, a consequence of huge investments by the industry.”

Seriously, this is almost as good as the free candy ploy at the WeightWatcher’s meeting around 8:37 p.m. What was the name of the railway in the book Atlas Shrugged?

 

  • “Buffett wants to save the company’s cash for the remaining whales in the ocean.”

Dividends? We don’t pay no stinkin’ dividends *shows badge* What, you do this because you actually want to measure worth in money?

*abide*

 

*approaching 50,000 hits on the site, in about the last 4-6 months (*the first chunks were getting the gig going, other projects, and making sure there is a reason to be here – which reminds me, the FREE photo’s are coming up for YOUR viewing pleasure – always get a fucking classic kick out of the haters, seriously, you have no idea how cool that is…to have “it” actually speak without words, IQ or presence – sure thing Uber Hater, I don’t MIND you have a lovely life now…) and I am going to be unlocking more of the areas with the update’s and news on the upcoming “Orange Grass” shit that has been making a buzz. Thanks for being a part of the gig, and know you are always welcome to participate, discuss, contact and indulge. They are your miles, mine are from this side of the path.

By

Change.

It was not possible for one to have to avoid the cold these days. The winter has a harsh bite, and you can find comfort in it. Warm and cradled in the warmth of the world that surround the cotton accounts and the flared sweat pants that scream of your disregard for judgment of others. In some, the action is to actually receive a judgment that needs to validate something.

Sunshine was abound, the skies were left for the sounds of the neighborhood “no frills” – a place where “they” would come. It was convenient.

Not so convenient for one walking in to it, in order to buy the produce that had not been purchased by the Rolls Royce shopper. Down at the docks, with a driver holding the caviar and the tasting stick near him somewhere. He would not be able to select the freshest or the best without these tools. Without this sommelier sorting system, that had the right of first refusal on even those 1000 crates.

Yes, hold them for me. If I want them, great – else, take the 30% deposit as juice that will take the nutrients from the food that was grown and made for all, by the hands of a God or of the Universe, still made and created with time and with love and hope for a sense of continuity and health – yes, take that and allow it to rot and ferment, age into disregard by my patrons, but you can sell it to some other schlep grocer to sell.

Here I am Mr. Grocer, thanks for the surroundings. Reminds me of the tins of preserved food that was fed to the soldiers, as the real food and the budgets and the oils to keep these young men that fought for their countries freedom, warm. They don’t need to be warm though, they are warm enough from their hearts and the love that comes from them as they evade taxes and cheat and lie.

The way of the world it seems.
Welcome to the machine.

Annoyance, irritation and frivolous thought having to wonder alone in the aisles today, mine was awareness and a sense of what is real and true. A seeming ability to see through and feel the people around me, many of them smiling and looking into my eyes as if they knew that as I passed the sad old lady, with a cart carrying all of the stereo types one needed to broadcast who she was, but you were hearing a signal on another frequency.

Your chords, strummed the notes of disdain, and not compassion for being aware of what could be. This is much different than the contempt one feels for liars, or known cheats. People that have attempted to lie, cheat or steal the way through the system, and even they, if they “repent” (*for lack of interest in clarifying, yours is the religious inference, mine is the literal one of a man born into a state of nature, knowing the difference between cold steel and a veil) shall be given a smile, and an exchange of the walk on part for the lead role in their own cage.

The sadness in life, and what someone has to do to overcome it, will come in drops and in stages, all of use battling to get out of the cage and cut through to the freedom that lays on the other side, with no interest in anything but embracing even the hardships and knowing you had come from that time, you had lived that – you had been there, and the place you may or may not be living in right now, is not something that can allow you to simply avoid the true questions.

One only you can answer.

Gus thought of his my mother and the things that they had done to get there. She took the place of the lady at the front of the line – that was behind the one with the wheelchair. That was bad enough, a mood had begun to stir, and the frustrations of the time ticking by with all of these things, cans and bottles, heavier with each pant that she had to take.

It was the matrix, my matrix.

So pretty momma, so proud to be standing there. It did everyone well to see you so beautiful in what you have accomplished. Incredible to learn and re-live the struggles of our lives, an earlier life and of a time, that is not a requisite requiem for a dream so much as a symphony of the miracle and the life you have lived. To know the heart that has born so much, to see through the eyes of the only lady who has stood beside me as the true mother, regardless of hardships and triumphs – always there. Always has wanted to be, and done as much as she could do – to simply walk. The story is of another level that requires nothing more than the snap of a crisp joint. Odd the sound of the snap being like coins hitting metal.

The proud look had seemed so clear and in front of me, but before me now stood a poor woman who has gone through so much, that she had little left to do but to dump her change on the counter and hope it added to the sum needed to pay for the food.

Keeping her eyes low, she gathered her selected items and waited for the tidbits to be returned to her.

Items were left on the conveyor, not his turn yet.

She had left a small box of Jello at the end of the bag section, and he noticed it – appreciated it for what it was, something important – just a small thing, some powdered gelatin for a small desert, and some kind of treat to eat after dinner.

There was no cause of alarm, nobody noticed, no one would have.
It was smooth, like the flash of the silver under the beaten jacket and the track pants – never seen.

The only person who would notice, and then never have noticed is that beautiful lady, with a life that was not asking, but received.

What she received was enough to make the next several months better, and in doing that, the world became a better place.

Just as it is, just because.

Don’t try, he said.

*abide*

By

Orange snail trail.

Ever danced on the edge, under the orange skies?

Freedom is a choice, not a mandate.

Getting sum, is just another equation.

*abide*

By

One small step…?

It is a small step?

It was a small undertaking, unimportant.

iGus peers from the shadows of “fiction”.

I abide.

Oh, how the truth does set one free.

Cowards need not apply, liars lay in thine grass.

No issue, I own my miles, in my gulch.

The grass is orange.

Fuck you cancer, we win…again.

μάνα, για πάντα στην καρδιά μου.

*abide*

02-16-2013 

By

The Muppets

Those funny, funny muppets. Just trying to tie their own rooms together, and share some appreciation for the gig and the league games. I mean these points do count right, towards some kind of marriage proposal of something?

A scene from the muppet movie, a walk into a strange theatre wondering, perhaps this is the wrong theatre? I wonder, if I say a few things to person beside me, are they of a sound mind? How exciting…how so very exciting. Hi Icarus, name is Fetaman, how you doing today?

Amazing, what the change of a little thing like syntax, or cowardly actions, strange behaviours from odd folks, that otherwise seem so kind and real, or perhaps such as others that care to put things out in the universe, as real, with no fear – to enjoy the show.

Cause after all, all the world is a stave.

That stave for me, right now, fully aware. is one giant bowling lane.
*context smirk*

It is yours, and you choose it.

Don’t blame me for the misery of the interpretations you make.

Some funny folks have been included below, as a way of sending a smile and wave. Not a fucking marriage proposal.

The secrets that you keep, may have something to do with your own trip, but hey, just worry about your own miles sunshine, no need to worry about mine.

I got those.

Enjoy the smiles, cause nothing says a man can laugh, like laughing at masturbating muppets.

*abide*

*per above link and YouTube reference, the original footage is from the Muppet Movie, and all rights and love go out to the creators and team that put it all together, making lessons and childhood a good experience. James Maury “Jim” Henson (September 24, 1936 – May 16, 1990) 

 

By

So you want to be a writer?

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Charles Bukowski

 

By

The Questionnaire: Hunter S Thompson

Hunter S Thompson, 60, was born in Kentucky. Jailed for robbery when a teenager, he went on to become a journalist and writer. He was credited with inventing the New Journalism in 1970 – after his stream-of-consciousness account of a week-long bender with illustrator Ralph Steadman – and ‘gonzo’ journalism, for his oddball style in works such as Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Fire, breaking glass and constant explosions.

What is your greatest fear?
Having all my blood sucked out by strangers.

With which historical figure do you most identify?
Benjamin Franklin, coz he loved electricity, and Charles Manson, coz he loved freedom.

Which living person do you most admire?
Fidel Castro, never mind why.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Generosity.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Weakness and failure.

What objects do you always carry with you?
A hookah, shotgun, ben-wa balls, and a fork.

What makes you depressed?
I went to the wilderness once and killed four pigs. This has depressed me for too long. Ralph Steadman also depresses me.

What is your favourite smell?
The smell of cordite.

What is your favourite building?
The tomb of Genghis Khan.

What is your favourite journey?
LSD-25.

What is your favourite fantasy?
In my dreams I am a beautiful naked rhinoceros kidnapped by dolphins and dragged out to sea.

What is your most unappealing habit?
Stealing.

Should the Royal Family be scrapped?
No, send them to prison.

Do you believe in capital punishment?
Absolutely.

Do you believe in monogamy?
Yes.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Jilly, drugs, guns, whisky, speed and water.

Which person do you most despise?
Hitler – he was filthy.

How do you relax?
Necrophilia.

Do you believe in life after death?
Yes, they are the same.

How would you like to be remembered?
‘He was polite.’

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?
To hate the police and to always drive the fastest car on the road.

*note the original can be found here, and is referenced as written by Rosanna Greenstreet for The Guardian, Saturday 27 December 1997 and published at 18.22 GMT. Fifteen years later, to the day, I bow humbly, and can almost imagine the dignity and hubris he presented during this exchange. Long live “Two Thumbs” Thompson. *abide in eternity fine sir, abide.

By

Hypocratic Oath

This is going to be a Fetaman commentary on an article that I read first thing in this morning that was published in the Globe and Mail, argued to be the premier newspaper reporting publishing source in Canada by many.

This piece was to start my “good week” (*ka-lee eh-v-though-ma-tha, kali efthomatha) on the dark sunrise of this first week in December, and it was the lead story and headline, as chosen by the iFeta app that facilitated the right path for digested soft assets to he jettisoned through the removal machine we pay taxes for each day. We actually, as citizens, pay more to remove our shit from the mansions we live in, than it would take to feed a starving family in the Democratic Republic of Congo, who could be considered the middle class of the refuse you refuse to consider – too busy considering the size of everything you need firstly, and want secondly.

Ok, maybe not talking to you so much, as the ubiquitous mass, back to my commentary.

Both need and want have joined forces to create one intention, and I believe that one primary driver, in and of its self is driven by many different factors influencing the quality of your life. The size of want, and the entitlement to certain things, is what consumes most.

Whatever the size of your wants, or as in the case of where you actually live, and whether you actually have grass to cut or not, you are more aware of more wants. In fact, we are so blessed, we have folks that have the pleasure of placing synthetic grass over their dirt patch so they don’t have to water it. Have it be mentally pleasing all year round, if that is something the human condition can accept, and it can, there are snow covered trees in Florida right now so that Grandpa Black Socks and Grandma Sandals can consider which of the toys they have to throw money at will have the biggest box, and fanciest colors, so why not green “grass” in a snow filled yard, to prove you are bad ass? Of course, that includes your neighbors, don’t worry, they will see it past their plastic mold African Lion Safari (c) Petting Zoo entertainment and education platform for children in families earning 5.8 times the average earning of the citizens of Ontario.

We now have become so aware, of the overwhelming nature of what we have to accomplish and do, that we are even beginning to stress about the level of luxuries we are predicted to have, and are going to remain as stressed out as fuck, to get there. Because that is what we do, right? That is the First World Way.

Well, if your world is what you consider a whole one, and the whole world is not considered, or you do not live in your own gulch with a bunch of folks that form a collective, or world in and of themselves, now even more possible with seclusion and technology, ironically enough, but if your world is defined by a border and a collective will all watching commercials that are played across 4,872 channels simultaneously, then yes, it would be your first world I guess.

Not mine.

The piece was called “As student stress hits crisis levels, universities look to ease pressure.” and was written by James Bradshaw and Josh Wingrove. My opinion, or original thought is, just what is the background of these cats? Why should I believe them, and what kind of impression of them will be formed by them at the end of my reading? Well, you find out below, just what I believe, and if it matters to you, what that all has done to raise your awareness, or a change in some capacity within your own life.

It begins by painting the urgent and pressing opening statement of McGill’s trauma, at having over 20 students a day, drop in to the crisis and counseling center, 4 times the regular drop ins. They are crying, or can’t get out of bed, and this year in particular, life is so harsh, that there has been *gasp* an upsurge. I know, right off the bat, I am going to be getting pretty cynical on this piece, but I can’t help but go on, despite knowing that as the classes wind down, there is always the hushed murmur at the cafeteria about how the Legend of Sleepy Hollow is true. There, at Mid-Term Square, or at First Semester Finals Park, is the wonderful fountain of youth, filled with the waters to quench your thirst for extensions. This same water will be brought out from your mental flask as required in the years to come in the corporate world, just don’t confuse it with the one you have filled with vodka.

The article talks about 6 deaths in two years, suicides by students. Obviously, this is tragic, and I do not want to downplay the tragedy here. The loss is a sad one, when any person, especially a young one with a whole life in front of them to live passes, it is sad to hear. It has, however, somehow become a desensitizing thing also, and we begin to think in terms of this being three days in Chicago, or just one night. It affects millions of people, these events and these thoughts, and everyone can relate in some way, whether it is looking at a balloon and thinking about it, or it is a memory of a loved one that passed this way, or perhaps another.

For some of us that went through school, with some better than others because they “wanted” to go back for multiple degrees, there is the flick of the hand to the reminder that these poor, challenged, selected and elite people must pull all night study sessions to be able to perform the way they are demanded to. We are not told about the number, or the intensity of these sessions, rather we are reminded about how lonely they have become because they can not socialize or be around other people, they have to study so hard, to get the jobs they want out of school, working for the machine somewhere, to do what has to be done in this difficult and challenging time.

*shakes head*

Isn’t that called living? Should they not be happy to be able to at least be in a place that will “help them better prepare for life”? Are not all times challenging in an economic capacity, I mean, if you are expanding you have to work harder to get more, and we need more bright and wise people, and if you are contracting or in a recession, we have to work smarter and with greater purpose to get back on the growth track. Growth is good, growth works, growth makes the world go around.

Am I supposed to believe them, like their parents might, if they are not on Twitter, or know of Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram and Whoresbreath.com?

So they are stressed, and have these places to go, but the general population, or those that are not wealthy enough to afford, or attend to the same matters? The general population is not able to attend to these matters in that capacity, so it does not make it the norm, but the exception. The exception to the norm being that you can go get treatment, or help, or are surrounded by an environment that is more able to help, not only because of the awareness that is naturally present in an academic setting like that, but also because of the generation that surrounds you, and others, with an openness and honesty based on reasonable anonymity online. Yes, declare who you are, and soon, show you passport to prove it, but find others.

Community, regardless of where it is formed, will impact purpose, desire and action.

That setting is something, that even the ability to take part in, is a privilege. It is deemed to be a human right that we are able to learn, and educate, and find a standard of living that is enabled as an accomplished because of the very learning we have done to be able to live. Learning is a natural element to the human being. It is what distinguishes us from the lesser beasts and animals, as it then provides a similar classification and systemic qualifier for amongst ourselves.

Technology has become the enabler of information, and we use it to try to have people connect to the information that is being received. Like a call, we are receiving on the cell phone. Our cells, the phone, and the call coming from the universe – it has to be answered, and here most sit complaining that the headset sucks, because it has a wire. The wireless phone does not last long enough, or go far enough, and the signal sucks, I can hear others talking.

Somehow we have to believe that the chords on the headsets we wear need to be improved, so as to not tangle. We do not need chords even, the technology should be wireless, and chords are like hands on a clock. Many of you reading this can still think of the hands on a clock, it will not be the case soon. Soon, you will be like some of those that read that and thought, time measurement devices you can refer to as a clock use digits and do not have appendages, please re-read statement to determine what author was attempting to convey.

Well, I have an idea. How about we try to be thankful for what we have, and use it as well as we can, with a little care, and awareness of the simple solutions to all of these complex and overwhelming dilemma’s – for the love of all that is holy, if holy is what you want to dig as a gig, or your holy is Momma Nature, for the love of all that is holy, please help us keep the wires untangled.

Sure, just place your wires down with some care, so when you pick them up again, they are not only where you left them, but they are left there in a way, that is easy to re-employ and re-engage with. The technology you have as a human, or the ones you have access to, are all of your own making, and are not things to complain about.

Take responsibility, and stop you fucking whining – fix your own shit, and deal with your own issues, just because we have all become more aware of another set, an endless and infinite one at that, even more infinite than our own original one which is overwhelming enough as it is.

Now we have to word about the multiplication effect of infinite to the exponent infinite? I mean, isn’t that something only really smart people can argue about, in math and science and stuff? Does that mean I have to miss Survivor Bora Bora? But we ordered in 8 months of living and medical care for an orphan in an impoverished country *pause* ok, well, actually it is the stuffed crust 36”/24 item pizza and crispy chicken combo, with sugared water and processed deserts, but those are one and the same.

Do I really have to deal with this issue right now?

No, you can do whatever the fuck you want – just don’t expect sympathy, or empathy from me, I am too busy giving a rats ass about the high score on the blog listings, and how many acknowledgements I get for my trophy case. I may be the guy, that is still trying to afford the hair trimmer he needs to keep his pubes all clean and fresh, I mean, fuck those bushes and shit of the 70’s and 80’s, you got to keep it clean – that is what is demanded, so I keep it clean, and then make sure I spend all of my nights listening to death metal, or prattling on about the revolution that is going to come because society is just filled with shit, and it sucks, and it needs to be fixed, and I am so smart, but really what I want is someone to live and love with me, so I can watch Deal or No Deal and order one of them fancy 36” pizza’s.

The good thing is, most of those going through with this formal education and awareness program, are in a fine state of being after they learned the secret to life.

The Hypocratic Oath.

I have taken the liberty of including it below, for those of you wishing to have a quick look at it, and consider maybe posting it and printing it somewhere, for motivation. To be as wise as those schooled in the system, by the machine, to be told – those papers you so cherished? They are yours, now mount them in frames and take pride.

Mine are in a paper tube, collecting dust in order to return to it, under the bed. I don’t need another validation to know what means anything in my books.

I wrote them, and lived them, as I do my life.
There is no longer any shame, any concern of what that has to represent or be.
I am who I am, and I have a buddy named Popeye the Sailor man.
He bowls with me and Walter, but Walter is not Walter, and I am not the dude.
In fact, I am not even really a man made of cheese, but I profess to be.
Cause it’s funny, and allows me to control what and how I say it, taking it from funny, to serious, to far out, to what it is, not to do that, but to express who the fuck I am.

Who are you, and who told you that?

Life just is, so live it, and be it.

*Abide*

 

fetaman, iFeta, fetaChops

Fast times. Fun times. No shirt, no shoes, no service. Just the way it was, I guess. Nice top hat.

The Hypocratic Oath
*as translated via Fetacabulary 1.0, 2012 (c)
**podcast/recording available for download shortly

Apollo Creed, Asclepius Trump and Hygieia-Pharma and Panacea Pancake & Souvlaki House and all the corporate gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

To hold him who has taught me this art of benefits and values as equal to my parents dreams and manifested desires and to live my life in a limited partnership with him, deemed to be defined in the schedule as attached hereto, and if he is in need of money or assets or goods that will satisfy the material want he must please himself with, and on occasion to do so when the wives have been removed from the house, and the socks are granting magical acceptance to the dragon lotion, ne’er to be spilled on the carpet, to give him a share of mine at an interest rate deemed appropriate or with an interest in seeing any and all fetishes, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage, but never with greater girth or prowess as mine own, and to teach them this art of acquisition and wanton abandon – if they desire to learn it – without fee and covenant, other than a material sense that will be measured in drams of bacon, or dove urine; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him, and the sons of the sons of the sons of them, regardless of whether or not they are from the lineage of the Unicorn muses of Olympus, who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the Hypocratic law, but to no one else living, for we can not disregard the worship of the machine, and all of its glory.

I will apply diabetic cotton candy measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice by feeding them sugars and foods that are processed, in order that they may PVR all information on their boxes, or receive and download accordingly for the other boxes.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect, unless I have been compensated by a corporate entity that has been sent by the machine, to ensure that the weak are guided with the right information, as provided by the right Oracle database management provisions, all secured within the heavens on clouds made of Guinness. Similarly I will not give to a woman a supportive remedy, their remedies will always be of their own making, and in their prayers, they should be weary of what they remise, for it may lead to another demise. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art as I guard my passwords, in 3 separate locations, and a 4th being a decorative box carved in Africa that I put my weed in, but you are not supposed to know that, you are only supposed to know that the Caramilk bar is a gift from the gods.

I will not use the knife from the natural organic food, with another spread that has been made holy on the alter of the conveyor belt, as blessed by the holy oil of Exxon, not even on sufferers from stoner munchies shall I provide a sin, but I will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this more detailed work of providing instructions for 7-11 mercenary surgical sniper missions for nutrition and steam heated meat products of varying qualities and condiment covering.

Whatever leisure houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick sporting, sexual, or special arts and crafts camps, remaining free of all intentional injustices that may be suffered due to inebriation or intoxications, and all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves, will be deemed an attempt to let of steam and just be a person, in this pre-Bladerunner apocalypse.

What I may see or hear in the course of the Treatise of Internet, signed by the people, for the people, for a contract term as defined by the appointed representative of the relevant machine entities, or even outside of the Treatise, whether saved in the bookmark bar or in another form, in any of the useful and fully tracked, and identified documents, on any devices that are seen to be personal only as relevant to your own fantasties, in regard to the life of men, or the hard drives they possess, which on no account one must spread abroad without the presence of the holder of said hard drives, for it will only be then that you have full consent to search the historical files and bookmarks, but I will keep to myself holding such things shameful to be spoken about, and promise never to speak of the mental projections I may usurp from knowing your dirty little secrets.

If I abide in this lane and do not violate it, if I remain a good, silent block of cheese, and the brine remains salty and sane, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, and a fine cracker and some wine, with some fine herbs, lit or spread, with the beautiful company of a gorgeous, intelligent woman who can accept me for who I am, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely. may the opposite of all this be my lot, and may my remaining life be spent in silence never being able to speak or communicate, as I wish my curds to turn to dust, and ashes, scattering Karabatsos like, upon the feet of the gods, over the ages of ages, and most certainly for as long as it takes for your spouse to facilitate the all-inclusive global travels, all thanks to the whole life policy you placed with the machine.

So sworn, with the brine of Fetaman as the fluid to burn my soul in an eternal hell, if I speak ill of anything I have re-computed.