Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Night sweats

Monsters from the Id
When the old men do the fighting, and the young men all look on.
And the young girls eat their mothers' meat from tubes of plasticon.
Be wary, please, my gentle friends of all the skins you breed.
They have a nasty habit - they eat the hands that bleed.
-- Memo From Turner

Boned Jello
Curtain Call - Caleb Weintraub

If Caleb Weintraub was ever to illustrate an essay, it would be Vanderleun's "Monsters from the Id: Good-bye to All That's Democrat."  Here's the opening stanza ...

The monsters from the id that now control the Democrat Party have transformed that party into a mob of undead extras from The Dawn of the Dead. It's an indecent and disgusting spectacle and I suspect there's more than a few million long-time Democrats who are revolted by it. That certainly seems to be creeping into the polls. No matter the good it once did, the Democrats today present as sick and crazed political party that is so greedy and hungry for power that it will do anything, including selling its country down the drain, to get it back.

Regardless of the race of the Democrats' selected nominee, Martin Luther King's dream of judging people by the content of their character and not the color of their skin has been transformed into a tawdry thing; a dried husk in which they wrap their skeletal remains, a hollow phrase spewed by the ascendent race hustlers of the party and lapped up by their acolytes.

Until 2004, with the exception of Guiliani's second term as mayor, I voted the Democrat ticket in every election since 1967. In 2004, offered the Insane Clown Posse of John Kerry and John Edwards, I voted for George Bush. The spectacle of the last four years of various Democrats reaching for the gold ring did not inspire me to change my view. Only the dead enjoy parties in a crypt. Not even Roman columns improve the Charnal house atmosphere that fumes through the party today. - continued
A side of Gerard I wasn't aware of. Clap-calp-clap/

1 comment:

DougM said...

"Monsters from the id."
see: Forbidden Planet

Commander John J. Adams: What is the Id?
Dr. Edward Morbius: [frustrated] Id, Id, Id, Id, Id! [calming down]
It's a... It's an obsolete term. I'm afraid once used to describe the elementary basis of the subconscious mind.
Adams: [to himself] Monsters from the Id...
Morbius: Huh?
Adams: Monsters from the subconscious. Of course. That's what Doc meant. Morbius. The big machine, 8,000 miles of klystron relays, enough power for a whole population of creative geniuses, operated by remote control. Morbius, operated by the electromagnetic impulses of individual Krell brains.
Morbius: To what purpose?
Adams: In return, that ultimate machine would instantaneously project solid matter to any point on the planet, In any shape or color they might imagine. For *any* purpose, Morbius! Creation by mere thought.
Morbius: Why haven't I seen this all along?
Adams: But like you, the Krell forgot one deadly danger - their own subconscious hate and lust for destruction.
Morbius: The beast. The mindless primitive! Even the Krell must have evolved from that beginning.
Adams: And so those mindless beasts of the subconscious had access to a machine that could never be shut down. The secret devil of every soul on the planet all set free at once to loot and maim. And take revenge, Morbius, and kill!
Morbius: My poor Krell. After a million years of shining sanity, they could hardly have understood what power was destroying them.
(Now watch this ending clip which follows the above dialog.)

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