I do plan things, feeding in, say, Elizabeth Montgomery, then youtube latch onto it or Lord Somber … you know how the covering books thing went. It’s probably far less ethereal, less prescient than we might feel, as today there’s surveillance even in our personal tastes.
But this last post was unplanned. And in bringing you this below, my eye caught my own words written well before the Mark W news reached me … I was referring to the Untouchables series, nothing else: “ This is the last from me here.” Meaning the last of those episodes, nothing … er … bad … ok?
Then came the news on Mark, I need to write a proper reaction so for now I just brought the news, that’s all, via Microdave.
So I’m looking about at Zeppelin, it drifted onto The Doors and there was a reaction video to The End … you know … Apocalypse Now. My fave two black reactors.
Now this is starting to get freaky, me here Friday evening, that madman Morrison about to unleash his craziness on this unsuspecting black couple, millennial, no idea what the times were like … remember me writing about Vox in a similar vein?
And not just the young but the quite old know nothing of what horror is in store below either. Boomers and immediate pre-Boomers know though.
And I was of the left at the time. I remember where I was when I heard it as a student, we were blown away. The full insanity is in this uncensored version the pair somehow got hold of … we never heard the F word in the song … we only ever had the censored version at hand. Morrison was one sick puppy. And to think he and Ayers’s Weathermen were our heroes!
So many lines in the song were so prescient today. Even this very day, a report came out about kids finding a new cheap high, off in some desert place in their heads … Morrison sings “all the children are insane”.
Yes they are. Leary planned it, Kesey, John Phillips, Melcher, Zappa, which means the FBI, CIA and spetz-op groups back then. Planned on the kids, just like today with the Fauci gang, Gates. Laurel Canyon, Manson. People dying in the bath.
Morrison starts on this “ride the snake”, “the snake is long, seven miles”, “his skin is cold”. Summer rain … that desert festival … did you see those hundreds of cars leaving in that photo last summer? Resembled a snake, yes? Everyone bumper to bumper, compliant, obedient, having gone there for their fix.
Glastonbury. Pagan rites. Man, it’s all there if you would but look. Remember Dylan singing about the kids beyond your control? 60s. And today, look at the tranny push but don’t tell mum and dad. Not that there’s a dad any longer.
As I write this, freeform, guess what comes up on ticker? Critical Drinker reviewing Resident Evil. Ride the snake … to the lake … the ancient lake. And the kids? The blue bus is calling them.
These two reviewers … the girl entranced, swaying to the rhythm, the guy can’t work out what’s going on.
Way more than a reaction video. Friday night. One sick puppy, Morrison, but oh so prescient. All planned by the evil muvvers.
How did I escape turning into a young zombie? I was already shaping up as a Bill Ayers. Perhaps there’s a more powerful power which plucked me out. I’d have been a monster for sure. But I saw what a sicko Freud was and said no thanks.
I pray for everyone’s soul caught up in all this. There’ll be a post on Mark tomorrow morning sometime.
Post a Comment