Re: Fucking Clueless Political Analogies [ RE: From MSNB--Jobs in the spotlight ]

spunkanado (tomwhore@interport.net)
Fri, 8 Aug 1997 18:14:45 -0400 (EDT)


Tell me true, tell me why, was Jesus crucified
Is it for this that Daddy died?
Was it for you? Was it me?
Did I watch too much webT.V.?
Is that a hint of accusation in your eyes?
If it wasn't for MS
Being so good at marketing an OS
The plants would still be open in the valley.
And it can't be much fun for them
Beneath the redomnd sun
With all their kids becomming millionares.
What have we done, Steve what have we done?
What have we done to APPLE
Should we shout, should we scream
"What happened to the post war dream?"
Oh Steve, Steve what have we done?" based on roger waters Final Cut

People need the fight

they jihad

they need satan
or create one in thier image

People have always needed the boogey man
the troll
the irs
the fcc
the wrath of god
the sink of fate

People

pople who need props.. are the fuckupedest people that i know

ready to hoist their fears unto the next generation of folks, constantly
in the fight for the fight of the fight, made so much an investment
towards the fight that without it they are

empty

wanting

cold and lonely
like a 2 port hub
with no connection home
like a complete unkown
like a rolling stone

and rather that

they would with all thier fiber
fight
the good fight.

"Take all your overgrown infants away somewhere
And build them a home, a little place of their own.
The Fletcher Memorial
Home for Incurable Tyrants and Kings.

And they can appear to themselves every day
On closed circuit T.V.
To make sure they're still real.
It's the only connection they feel.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Reagan and Haig,
Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher, and Paisly,
"Hello Maggie!"
Mr. Brezhnev and party.
"Who's the bald chap?"
The ghost of McCarthy,
The memories of Nixon.
"Good-bye!"
And now, adding color, a group of anonymous latin-
American Meat packing glitterati.

Did they expect us to treat them with any respect?
They can polish their medals and sharpen their
Smiles, and amuse themselves playing games for awhile.
Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you're dead.

Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
With their favorite toys
They'll be good girls and boys
In the Fletcher Memorial Home for colonial
Wasters of life and limb.

Is everyone in?
Are you having a nice time?
Now the final solution can be applied.