What a Crock of Shit!

So this inspired me to write this little word salad that might be appropriate for my “Who gives a shit”…. There are several usages and meanings for the word.
“shit”.
It can be a positive, negative, neutral and cynical.
It can be used as an insult, describing the content of what sometimes comes out of a politician’s mouth, and as a complement.
Whenever I thought nothing could shock me or remotely surprise me anymore, I go to “HOLY SHIT!” as a default first reaction.

When I hit an elbow,  I would normally go to FUCK! and wake up my half diseased neighbours. Some people can’t tell their arse from their elbows.  Especially not in the higher echelons of society.
It doesn’t mean that taking a shit is a canonized act by the church fathers.
However, it can mean whatever comes out of the mouths of child molesting preachers who promotes stoning of gays, lesbians or transgender people.
It can also mean that something even surprised me, or think my evil thoughts about when I hear them speak, thinking “holy shit! We still live in the Dark Ages?”
I think Lewis Black prefers “HOLY FUCK!” in this scenario.
‘Which is a perfectly valid term, since most fundies are obsessed with fucking…especially everyone else’s fucking.
Nor does it mean that fucking is a sacred sacrament, or that baby Jesus promoted fucking at the sermon on the Mount; even though his sky daddy promoted being “fruitful and multiply”.
I can not imagine their skydaddy invented storks for that purpose of making babies.
It’s also a perfect valid term one have to use every day when listening to politicians in order not to implode. It’s like a security filter.

“This is good shit”
This does not mean that the contents of your anus is your favorite dish (even though it may have been just that at one point or another), or a favorite art piece that you want share with the world, but a hippy slang describing their favorite medical herb. The herb I almost got arrested for possessing only a short time ago.
“I don’t give a shit!”I would not give anyone the contents of my arse at any point unless their name is Drumpf or Clinton. Duterte. Erdogan. Putin. The Saudi sheiks, 96% of U.S Congress, 90 of my own parliament, and a range of corporate CEOs leeching off others like a fucking feudal lord. Send your worst turd to your favorite power whore you hate!
However, it is my first shield against all the drools and drivel that bombards my sensitive senses with senseless headlines, celebrity gossip, and fake scandals amongst our drama queens in the glossy magazines when I stand at the checkout line in every store. I can seldom refrain myself however from making another cynical remark which describes my thinly veiled contempt for them.
“You are full of shit”…
Which applies to most lawyers, politicians, teachers, insurance salesmen, faith healers, teachers, newscorps and PR firms most of the time….Ok…ALL the time. Ever read in a mainstream newspaper lately? It’s like they are living in the same fucking alternative realities as the politicians and corporations they work as PR firms for. You can count a handful of honest “journalists” and politicians. The latter aren’t “real” politicians if they’re not on the take and hangs around in the same cocktail circles as the power mongers. They are Statesmen. Like Mr. Smith goes to Washington.

“I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast”.

Open yourself for a direct hit, moron!

Reply to this one with this little gem coined by Adam Sandler: “You eat pieces of shit for breakfast”?

If you are full of shit, chances are, you ARE a piece of shit. A walking sewage of dung by default. One of Evolution’s freak accidents.  My list of pieces of shit gets longer each year. Ex. bosses, certain cops, politicians, state leaders, religious leaders and scam artists scamming people through politics, nationalism and religion.
Taking a shit is complete void of any positive or negative meaning. It’s neutral.It is just plain something that everyone do at least once a day…or several times a day if you have dioaherra. The SMELL  it creates might be highly offensive to anyone but oneself. Or someone immune against human gas chambers.   However, SAYING “taking a shit” needs context. It is for instance not appropriate to say in civilized settings, like when you are out dining fine, having your parents meet your girlfriend for the first time, and she suddenly blurts out so the whole restaurant can hear it, in the middle of the starter and polite conversation:
“Excuse me, where’s the loo? I gotta take a shit!”
likewise goes for “I gotta take a dump!”
Equally hilarious to say, it just does not have the same whiff to it when you demonstrate when someone are full of shit.
BULLDUMP!
Which has more in common with cow dung, where magic mushrooms are rumoured to grow. This knowledge alone makes it a lot more attractive to seek out dung hills than to a political rally sponsored by your gas station. I would have to wear a gasmask and bring extra bulbs, since my BS detector would explode every 10 seconds, and the speaker would just stink down the entire room.

Excuse me, I have to go take a Drumpf! (Trump)

I was inspired to write this little dark poem when I toked up some of the best sbit I’ve had in months and listened to some DNC hack blaming Russia for exposing their election fraud during the primaries..But it really applies to the entire gang of Establishment hacks on both sides.

Wikileaks Proves Primary Was Rigged: DNC Undermined Democracy

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~A message to voters everywhere~

There is a saying about government from John Grishams “Pelican Briefs” that I truly appreciate.

Let me quote it for you.

“Individual over government, government over business and corporations, the environment over everything, and whatever the Native Americans want, give it to them!”

Where the Tea Party, Dick Armey, the religious nuts, and corporate interests want to take you, is government over people, the corporations over government, screw the environment, and whatever an immigrant does, it is evil.”

The socalled real Americans wants things to be like in the “glory days” while dumping their trash where they squat in while establishing a corporate theocracy where they misuse the term freedom.

They want you to pay whenever they screw up, and they keep the winnings.

And they want you to do their fighting, killing and dying for them. They are too busy counting your money, buying the next yacht, while they have some greedy, bigotted church leaders dump theirquasi religious garbage over you and your heads.

They want big government on pure moral issues. That’s why they want big government to invade your privacy. To decide whom you can marry, whether a 14- year old rape victim have a right to abortion, or whether a person can have decisions over ones own body that will affect the rest of ones life; They want to dictate what you can put into your own body. They want to deny you to use a plant! But if you buy a can of gasoline and drink the shit, it’s none of their business!

Need healthcare?

You have insurance? Sorry! We only take cash with no insurance!

The owners want you to vote in their interest, so that you might keep a job next year! Don’t you see a holy fourome matrinomy between Rush Limbaugh, Pat Robertson and the Koch Brothers?

You whine about freedom, but you give up your rights to feel an inch safer! Put a camera in each home, while your tax dollars are being wasted on the notion that USA is the next 1000 year reich.

Screw the homeless! They have themselves to thank for their misery.

Maybe it’s because they are veterans. Or got laid off from their jobs when their owners shipped their company to some rice field in the Philippines.
Or some over crowded factory in China.
Where they are being told to shut up, or lose their jobs and end up in prison for unionising. Those are all signs of a Fascist state.

USA have been on it’s way to become a fascist state since Nixon. This development have picked up speed since Reagan. I wonder if these two old bastards are having a laugh wherever they are now. I wonder if Hunter S. Thompson have started to give them both the beating of their lifetime.

I wonder if Prescott Bush is proud of his useless wannabe cowboy grandson whom was continuing the work that he started in the 30’s/

And what do you do?

You fall into the same trap as any ignorant village idiot for the same tricks that has been shown you many times if you have ever opened a history book.

You fall for cheap talking points, and appeels to your bigotry.

You are so simple that you think that things you blow up is a lot of fun. Specially when those objects fall on top of non- pre- born babies and they are brown, or belive in something else that your preacher tells you to believe.

C’mon! Let’s send you punk kids and some “true patriots” to do our killing for us and then leave them in the street until you can arrest them for smoking weed!

Their only salvation is for them to become as simple minded as you are and admit they are freeloaders whom didn’t get their limbs blown off for healthcare! They got their limbs blown off for your freedom to give your money to insurance companies, your pharmaceuticals and your boozer.

God forbid if you dare to have some weed instead!

Then your big government will use a private prison complex whom will make millions on your cheap labour.

Your oil companies are receiving billions while they spill oil all over the world, while chanting “drill baby drill!”

I’m thinking about starting my own oil company. Can I drill in your back yard and use Blackwater to chase you out for nickles and dimes?

Can I spill some oil right in your new backyard afterwards?

It might suck for you! But hell, it is good for business!

Why not exchanging your Constitution with the simple slogan “God, Guns & Bullets!”

Here in my country we claim to be the best in healthcare and social justice!

Yet somehow we are on top of O.D statistics. We have the same sadistic cops whom are raiding and chasing away poor gypsies while I’m stitting next to them with a joint in my mouth. My government still do oilspills! And we get fed the same brainless BS on TV, while news and politics here is so bloody boring that without drugs, watching the paint dry is more interesting.

My government is misusing a hell of a lot of funds. My government still persecutes pot smokers. We still have people like you here. They still live in their own bubble. Some of them in position of power. They also want to screw us. And they pack it in golden words and cruel lies.

They should be treated as you! Like neurotics with Herb treatment, the book of Papillion, and a train ticket out of town!

Learn something! See something! Read something! Even my bullshit!

Oops!

I have found out that my step father, the old captain of SS Norway in the late 80’s might read my rant. I better be careful with my language! He’s got such a sensitive soul. He can’t handle any foul words.

But I’ve been living too long in Ireland. They do have fresh language there…

Homeless in Dublin! Fear & Loathing in the underworld!

Tonight a couple will consumate their marriage. I know! I saw the limo pass the backpacker I stayed at. Tonight someone will fall asleep piss drunk under some bridge. Tonight, some couple will have a romantic evening. Some will celebrate their birthday. Tonight someone will sleep somewhere in a hidden back alley. Tonight someone will end up in the drunk tank! Tonight, someone will be brought to the hospital! Tonight, someone will die. And some, the “lucky” ones, will find a shelter. Tonight, the tooth fairy will come visit a kid with dreams.

Crosscare is such a shelter. Right beside a back packers with neon signs and openness. Crosscare seems insignifigant in comparrison. Dark! Unwelcome! Yet it says St. Mary beside it. Right across the street, there is a garda station. The enemy is facing the old and new scum; The drunks, the homeless, the petty thieves, junkies, pot smokers, people whom once had something, are now one step away from a cell. They have lost whatever little they had. Their own fault?

That is arguable. Many instances that led them to the end of the world. The voiceless! And this seem to be the last stop before ending in some grave somewhere. Forgotten. They were forgotten while being alive, so there is not much difference.

Crosscare has a buzzer. You’ll have to wait to get in. Get your details confirmed by a few security guards. Once you are in, there is no going out again. Unless you wanna lose your bed. It is in every sense of the word a prison. All kept locked up, under surveilance, and “safe.” Locked away from the world. Hidden! The shame! There are cameras everywhere. Walk in, and you will see a bit of an Orwellian future. Where Big Brother is filming you while jacking off in your bed.

One of the night guards takes your luggage up to a storage room. Only they are allowed up there. I guess poverty makes everyone potential thieves. And then a locker for personal effects for usage during the night and day. My small bag of toilet effects were checked – for “contrabands”.

There is a sign on the wall in the hallway. «Please keep all your valoueable in your assigned locker! Thieves may be about!”

The rooms have the odors of human waste. Sweat, booze, manic desperation, hidden depression, wild talk, cigarettes and marijuana.

These people are not even hobos. These are human beings that the Welfare Queen would put in the “work houses” for committing the crime of being poor. According to the welfed establishement “leeches on society. Ahh! That sacred word! Society! These are the people that the Welfare Queen have stolen from for hundreds of years.

A society that seems to afford giant bailouts of criminal bankers screwing the economy, while taking tax money to give to themselves as bonuses. A society that can afford spending millions to recieve the biggest welfare queen in UK and Ireland put together. We can afford wars all over the world. Yet we cannot afford taking proper care of the ones living in the gutter. Not without treating them like criminals, or big kids. In many ways, they are big kids. Being watched every step, so they won’t step out of line. We can afford to keep people down! But cannot afford to keep people safe from poverty or the circumstances.

The staff is doing their best. And they all have good hearts. Taking care of people whom are too weak to take care of themselves. People whom survive in ways that would make a yuppie upchuck in fear and loating

So until tomorrow, I will be one of them. An inmate. Someone whom have to abide by strict rules. No booze. No weed. But maybe a meal in the moring. Some white bread, cereal, and the cheapest tea from Dunnes Stores or Spar or Tesco. Food that will keep people skinny. Food that is nothing but empty calories. Food that will keep you dumbed and down. Without the energy to even think about anything else but to survive the next day.

Meet the inmates!

An all skinny lad. Losing hair, teeth, and soon consience. He’s wearing the typical hooded sweater. Maybe he’s got some relief from weed, or maybe something else. Next to him, an old drunk is deep asleep. All dressed up in camo clothes. An older man all dressed in black. Quiet. Maybe he’s thinking about something. Trying to get things off his mind by consentrating on what’s on the telly. images of an imaginary world. Hell! Having a home of their own is an imaginary world for many of them.

Earlier, younger people were busy looking for something dropped on the floor. I can imagine what. Joints are being rolled, and tried to be kept hidden from the camera in the corner. Tomorrow, some of them will be out again on the streets. At least the joints being smoked won’t kill them. Something else will.

Goddamn! I forgot to buy cigarettes!

I’ve just had my last smoke of a rolled up herb. Thinking I could sit down, and relax watching something soothing. In comes some punk kids, I call them kids. And still full blown criminals. Practically skinheads, tattoos, sneakers and track suits. In a different uniform, like a zebra striped, you’d see a hardened capo from Buchenwald.

Tough in their faces. Almost abusive. Wonder what made them that way. These dogs either bite, or just bark a lot. Challenging. What a contrast! At the back packers, there was courtesy. Politness. Down here, they bark at you.

Keep asking me how much my weapon cost. I call my laptop my weapon. And the words I put in my ammo.

“What are you looking at” the “toughest” bit on the block asked me. He was going over to the window to smoke a joint. I just saw the punk take something out of the pocket of the sleeping wino. Laughing and joking at his expence. Right! I guess it’s the pecking order even here!

One were making fake “karate” kicks towards the poor bastards head while he was snoring. And then he came over as to say “you didn’t see nothing!”

Snatching my six-pence, prouncing around. Again showing off his “karate” skills.

“Hah! Funny!” I smirked at him. He could be the Jackie Chan of bums! I don’t know if he ralize that he is in the same situation as the old wino. That we all are in the same boat. I’m just the new “kid” in town. I have no say here.
And when I look at this oldie with the cammo, I see the future for the pick pocket. If he lives that long. I wonder if I will survive the night. This is not the haven of Kinlay! This is a dog eat dog world. Just as Wall Street and politics. Just as inhumane. But in a much smaller scale.

And they seem fascinated by my laptop. I’m glad receptionist have assigned me a locker. I will take nothing of value up to the room tonight. I think I have changed my mind about what I think of security camera in every room. This is a different world. A different reality. Something uglier…. I fucking hate it here!

I survived the night. The room was filled with the same jackalls and pick pockets. And their «humor» was of the anal character. Like any other pimple would have. They kept fretting me about things. I brushed them off. Why? You don’t feel like sharing your life story with punks whom need a hearing aide. The splif was sharedc though. For the first time, a joint of hashish made med sleepy. And soon I was drifting off. So was the rest of them. It’s what I say, people with clear ADHD symptoms like these had, with the next score on their mind for pills and other modern chemistry should be stuffed their gills with weed.

I’m sitting at a coffeeshop just around the corner now. I think I got what I needed. No more shelters for this traveller. So I think I will settle into the back packers the next door. At least there would be people I have more in common with there. 10 Euros a night for not having to worry about being robbed blind is worth it.

And I recommend for any politician and power broker and banker to test a shelter once in a while. It wil boraden their horizon. The inmates of the shelterss have their own horizon. And seems to be stuck in their own bubble of reality. So does the power brokers.

When I got back to pick up my luggage, I had a little chat with one of the employees in the reception. The only thing they could do, was to keep things safe. Many of the people whom are in there, are not well. In many ways, toking up a splif helps relief a hopeless situation. And there needed a paradigme shift all over. Yet the politicians would not listen. They would not change a thing unless they would gain from it personally. Their first priority is themselves, and their sugerdaddies, not to solve problems; Not to actually practice democracy. But to keep things in status quo….

Bohemianwriter1

Hello world!

Hello pissants!

I want to tell you about gonzo literature!

Somehow, it seems that gonzo is dead! Or is it?

Did the whole concept of Gonzo die with Hunter S. Thompson and the ending of Waren Ellis wee take on the future of America die peaceful deaths as to an ending of a good story of Spider Jerusalem or a a bullet through ones brain?

I think not!

For more than 10 years I have been doing the exact same shit as these two with my own take on life and injustice! Have I gotten any good shit from it back? Oh yes!

Gonzo is NOT dead! It lives and breaths and hates within every mouthful of booze and drugs I take!

And with every line I write or snort, I take it upon my goddamn honour to be in accords to the Truth!

Once I had my own column in a major newspaper. Underpaid and overworked! Now, the wee witch whom was my “editor” is not giving a damn!

What the hell do I have to do? Storm into the office building armed to the teeth just to have access to write the Bloody Truth?

Do I have to fear monger the suits and ties into submission  and beat the Truth into them so they’ll look like trainwrecks?

Do I have to pour heavy hallucinogenic drugs into their cooffees just to have them see it my way? Do I have to expoce these bastards for being hard porn whores of Big Lies?

Where newspaper editors are deeply engaged into hard core sex with “our elected representatives”, the big coverup is a must! Hence, true journailism is being swallowed up by corruption and silencing of true voices of Freedom!

I may be poor! I may be persona none grata in certain circles! I may have been on my death bed many times! Does it look like I’m being intimidated? fuck that! I will come in with a flame thrower and a pen!

I have been i a battle more than once! I will to you little kreeps tell you things that official sources will not tell you because they are media whores and prostitutes of their corporate garbage…

Are you ready for the uncompromising Truth people?

 

Morten Alme

Writer and dissident