Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Fukushima, Mon Amour

Fukushima, Mon Amour
—for Marguerite Duras, Alain Resnais

HE: You saw nothing in Fukushima. Nothing.

(More shots of Fukushima. A street with a burned skull in the foreground. Glass display cases with burned models inside. Newsreel shots of Fukushima.)

SHE: The news films made it all authentic. No illusion, it’s quite simple. One can always scoff, but what else can a person do, really, but cry? I always weep over the fate of Fukushima. Always.

(A panorama of a photograph taken of Fukushima after the bomb, a “new desert” without reference to the other deserts of the world.)

He: No. What would you have cried about?

SHE: I saw the newsreels.

(The coast, empty under a blinding sun that recalls the blinding light of Hiroshima. Newsreels taken after March 11, 2011. Ants, worms, people emerge from the mud. Interspersed with shots of the tsunami moving inland like a wall of raging water. Destroying everything in its path.)

HE: You saw nothing in Fukushima. Nothing.

SHE: I saw the newsreels. On the next day, things began to rot in the heat. They found rotting bodies for weeks afterwards. Dead people. Dead dogs. Dead cattle. All of them dead for eternity. I saw them. I saw the newsreels. I saw it all. On the first day. Then on the second day. It’s been that way ever since…

HE: You saw nothing in Fukushima. Nothing.

(A dog with a leg amputated. People, children. Wounds. Burned children screaming.)

SHE: …two months later. Fuckushima was blanketed with flowers. There were cornflowers and gladiolas everywhere, and morning glories and day lilies that rose again from the ashes with an amazing vigor, quite unheard of for flowers tell then. I didn’t make it up.

HE: You made it all up.

SHE: Nothing. Just as in love this illusion exists, this illusion of being able never to forget, so I was under the illusion that I would never forget Fuckushima. Just in love.

(Surgical forceps approach an eye to extract it. More newsreel shots.)

SHE: I also saw the survivors and those who were in the wombs of the women of Fukushima.

(Shots of various survivors: a beautiful child who, upon turning around, is blind in one eye; a girls looking at her burned face in the mirror; a blind gril with twisted hands playing the zither; a woman praying near her dying children; a man, who has not slept for years, dying. Once a week they bring his children to see him.)

SHE: I saw the patience, the innocence, the apparent meekness with which the temporary survivors of Fukushima adapted themselves to a fate so unjust that the imagination, normally so fertile, cannot conceive it.

SHE: Listen… I know… I know everything. It went on and on…

HE: Nothing. You know nothing.

(A spiraling TEMPCO reactor’s spiraling atomic cloud. People marching in the streets in the rain. Fishermen tainted with radioactivity. Tainted fish. Radioactive rice. Poison milk. Thousands of rotten fish and dead people buried…)

HE: Nothing. You know nothing.

SHE: Women risk giving birth to malformed children, to monsters, but it goes on. Men risk becoming sterile, but it goes on. People are afraid of the rain. The rain of ashes on the waters of the Pacific. The waters of the Pacific kill. Fishermen of the Pacific are dead. People are afraid of the food. The food of and entire city is thrown away. The food of entire cities is buried. An entire city rises up in anger. Entire cities rise up in anger.

(Newsreels: demonstrations.)

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Fukushima, Mon Amour

Fukushima, Mon Amour
—for Marguerite Duras, Alain Resnais


HE: You saw nothing in Fukushima. Nothing.

(To be used as often as desired. A woman’s voice, also flat, muffled, monotonous, the voice of someone reciting poetry, replies:)

SHE: I saw everything. Everything.

(The woman’s hand tightening on the shoulder again, then letting go, then caressing it. The mark of fingernails on the darker skin.)

(As the film opens, two pair of bare shoulders appear, little by little. All we see are these shoulders—cut off from the body at the height of the head and hips—in an embrace, and as if drenched with ashes, rain, dew, or sweat, whichever is preferred. The main thing is that we get the feeling that this dew, this perspiration, has been deposited by the atomic “mushroom” as it moves away and evaporates. It should produce a violent, conflicting feeling of freshness and desire. The shoulders are of different colors, one dark, one light. Fusco’s music accompanies this almost shocking embrace. The difference between the hands is also very marked. The woman’s hand lies on the darker shoulder: “lies” is perhaps not the word; “grips would be closer to it. A man’s voice, flat and calm, as if reciting says:)

SHE: The hospital, for instance. I saw it. I’m sure I did. There is a hospital in Fukushima. How could I help seeing it?

HE: You did not see the hospital in Fukushima. You saw nothing in Fukushima.

(Then the woman’s voice becomes more…more impersonal. She sees the mutilated bodies, skin, burned hair, waterlogged victims like wax models.)

SHE: Fukushima flooded, destroyed, radiated…..

HE: What Fukushima? Fukushima doesn’t exist.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Exopolitics and Big Business

Exopolitics, Planetary Politics and
Business Law in the Universe

Is Earth a Corporate Planet?

Will Exopolitics turn this dominant late capitalism view of our Planet upside down?

What if Exopolitics reveals that we live on a busy corporate planet in the midst of a populated, evolving, and highly organized interplanetary, inter-galactic, and multidimensional Business Society?

Rather than being quarantined for eons from a more advanced, evolved Universe society—what if Earth has always been a busy corporate hub of a Galactic Business Civilization?

Recent Exopolitical research assisted by DARPA time travel and teleportation communications from the Telsa Tech Inc. corporate headquarters in the Fourth Dimension—suggest a supposedly hyperdimensional world seemingly isolated in the Third Dimension, but actually Earth is the vital center of a Fourth Dimensional world of many technologically and spiritually advanced civilizations.

The Third Dimensional Planet paradigm we know as Earth is actually a cleverly disguised hyperdimensional quantum jumping-off point disguise for disengaging our world from this unique, challenging Fourth Dimensional Gateway out of human history into another universe...

Whether this Fourth Dimensional Galactic Corporation is any better than our own “present timeline” troubled Planetary Business and Politics venue remains to be seen. The NWO POV attempt to turn this beautiful Blue Marble planet into a single late-capitalism planetary sphere of influence has many corporate complications and political implications.

But then Terra Politics has always been tampered with, modified with DNA replicant politics, plunged into interdimensional conflicts—and subjected to the usual so-called “nefarious and beneficent” Sugar Daddies, Barons and Big Daddies throughout its own history, e.g. the steel barons, the railroad barons, the oil barons and now the ET barons. Things happen; rules are meant to be broken.

Corporate business, law and diplomacy take on new perspectives and forms of analysis—when time shifts from Third Dimensional Matrix to Fourth Dimensional Matrix phases into and out of existence for us lower dimensional peons. While the Elite who think they are insiders with connections—are just as much suckers as the rest of us Terra know-nothing rubes.

But then, as a wise old Exopolitical scifaiku poet named Bashō once said in his “The Narrow Road to the Deep Fourth Dimension”—

A thicket of asteroids—
Is all that remains
Of the dreams and ambitions
Of ancient emperors.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Interview with Galactic Diplomat

Interview with
Alfred Lambremont

“Adult time travelers were
often becoming insane…”
—Alfred Lambremont,
Seattle Exopolitics Examiner

INTERVIEWER: Today we have the great honor and privilege to talk briefly with the distinguished author Alfred Lambremont, author of the ground-breaking book, “EXOPOLITICS: POLITICS, GOVERNMENT AND LAW IN THE UNIVERSE. Good morning, Mr. Lambremont.

LAMBREMONT: Thank you.

INTERVIEWER: One of the obvious problems with time travel, it seems to me, is how difficult it seems to be on the psyche and physical health of the transportees..

LAMBREMONT: Yes, there were and probably are still time traveler problems—both physical and mental.

INTERVIEWER: For example, Basiago mentions “heart murmuring” with some of his fellow time travelers.

LAMBREMONT: First of all, Project Pegasus needed to use children because the holograms created by the chronovisors would collapse when adults stood within them. That was one problem. Another problem that the program sponsors found was after moving between time lines, adult time travellers were often undergoing various kinds of physical and mental stress. Some transportees were developing heart valve problems and others becoming mildly insane.

INTERVIEWER: Which is why Basagio and young DARPA inductees were used? Conditioning them to avoid time traveler mental distress and anxiety? As well as having young healthy physiques?

LAMBREMONT: To a certain extent, yes. I’m an attorney not a psychiatrist, so please don’t view me as an expert witness on such matters. I can only say that, according to Basagio, it was hoped that by working with gifted and talented children from childhood, the U.S. government might create an adult cadre of “chrononauts” capable of dealing with the phyical-psychological effects of time travel.

INTERVIEWER: In the case of Michael Relfe, it seems, a rather unique way of solving many of these “displacement” anxiety or mental stress problems was simply to age reverse the transportees and time shoot back to their space-time origin point. That way their memories are blocked.

LAMBREMONT: Yes, in contrast to the chronovisor probes, in which a form of virtual time travel is achieved—the teleporters developed by Project Pegasus allowed for physical teleportation to distant locations, sometimes with an adjustment forward or backward in time of days, weeks, months, or years.

INTERVIEWER: They used “forward-displacement” as well, right?

LAMBREMONT: Yes, according to Mr. Basiago, by 1972, the U.S. government was using “quantum displacement” of this kind to send people forward several years in time to store sensitive military secrets in the future—as well as backward several years in time to provide the government with intelligence about future events.

INTERVIEWER: Would this reversal take care of or submerge perhaps any temporal displacement physical and/or mental problems into the subconscious? Can memory really be erased?

LAMBREMONT: Remote sensing in the time-space continuum is a very complex subject. It was then—and I’m sure it’s even more so now. It’s difficult to discuss such Black Budget problematics, however—especially since the tendency is for Black Projects to get even “darker.” The darker Black Projects get—the less information is shared beyond the tight circles of the typical Breakout Civilization intelligentsia.

INTERVIEWER: Basiago and Relfe seem to have been permitted to be “kosher” whistleblowers about such Black Project matters though.

LAMBREMONT: Well, one must understand that what these gentlemen are whistleblowing about is by now rather dated material. The cosmic cognoscente have permitted such disclosures since they have intelligence about the future that we don’t.

INTERVIEWER: In fact, wasn't Basiago pinpointed by TPTB as a future key proponent player of the forthcoming Telsa technological breakthroughs and speaker in the future for remote sensing in the time-space continuum arena?

LAMBREMONT: It appears that way, doesn’t it?

INTERVIEWER: Along with prognostications about future POTUS candidates such as Obama?

LAMBREMONT: It’s beginning to appear that way, isn’t it?

INTERVIEWER: I mean the DARPA intelligentsia could have treated Basiago the way they treated Relfe. Time reversing him back and erasing his memories so that he wouldn’t be able to report his boyhood adventures, such as getting to hear Lincoln give the Gettysburg Address?

LAMBREMONT: The problem is that if Basiago is a cogent intelligence asset who writes and delivers an important paper about Martian exopolitics in the near future, then how can the cognoscenti erase his mind like they did with Relfe?

INTERVIEWER: You’re speaking of Basiago’s paper on Mars?

LAMBREMONT: Precisely. Yes, “The Discovery of Life on Mars” published in 2008. It was the first work to prove that Mars is an inhabited planet. But they had time-transport copies of the paper back in the 1970s—his father even showed him a copy when he was still an adolescent.

INTERVIEWER: Yes, after publishing his landmark paper, Basiago went ahead and founded the Mars Anomaly Research Society (MARS)—which continues to research life forms and ancient artifacts on Mars.

LAMBREMONT: Yes, Andy is an early chrononaut.

INTERVIEWER: But it’s been quite awhile since his early time traveling dayz. Project Pegasus and Rumsfeld are from the Nixon dayz back in the 1970s. We’re into a whole different cycle of 2010-2012 catastrophic and near-catastrophic scenarios going on.

LAMBREMONT: That’s what makes Exopolitics so very interesting—wouldn’t you agree, young man?

(At this point the interview ended. I still had many questions to ask—in regard to time traveling. Such as the 2010-2012 catastrophic and 2010-2012 near-catastrophic futures coming up side by side.

1 If DARPA’s Project Pegasus chronovisor technology for probing future events in the time-space hologram was state-of-the-art in the early 1970s—what about now? Is chronovisor technology like Big Screen tech now?

2 Project Pegasus itself was under the policy oversight of Donald H. Rumsfeld as a Nixon cabinet member. What about new Presidents, cabinet members and policy oversights?

3 It may be that Presidential-level decisions about the submerged DC Beltway scenario viewed in the early 1970s have been acted on. With the commencement of underground shelter preparations like the Denver Airport? On the basis of Project Pegasus and more recent time-travel intelligence about the 2012-13 catastrophic timeline—what other preparations have been made by the Elite?

4 How has time-travel intelligence changed since the 1970s? What are the exopolitical implications of viewing/designing hyperdimensional events like Fukushima and other scenarios? Has anybody started playing “God” yet—strategically playing with time lines?

5 For example, the Mars assignments. Do exo-chrononauts still spend 20 years’ duty cycle on Mars and other planets? At the end of their duty cycle, are they still age reversed and time shot back to their space-time origin point? Are they are sent back with memories blocked? Are time travel personnel still sent back to complete their supposed destiny on Earth?

6 Is there such a thing as the Military Industrial Extraterrestrial Complex (MIEC)? In regard to “The Mars Records” by Stephanie Relfe, B.Sc. Vols I and II (Michael Relfe's Memoirs of 20 years at the U.S. secret base on Mars).

7 Are there secret bases on the Moon, on Saturn and its artificial planetoid satellites—as well as forward strategic military bases for occupation or defense in the rest of the solar system? Have we teleported beyond the Ort Belt—into any local Milky Way galactic solar systems?

8 Are past whistleblower witnesses besides Michael Relfe and others still talking? Such as former U.S. Army Command Sgt. Major Robert Dean and former U.S. Department of Defense scientist Arthur Neumann?

9 Are VIP's still OFF LIMITS? Politicians and other Terran important people who travel to and from these strategic solar system bases by jump gate? Are they time traveled back with memory reversal and erasure like the permanent staff? Surely not.

10 Would Dr. Jean Maria Arrigo, an ethicist who worked closely with U.S. military and intelligence agencies, as well as U.S. Army Captain Ernest Garcia, U.S. intelligence—and other expert witnesses be willing to testify in regard to any future exopolitical legal proceedings?

Monday, August 15, 2011

Time Travel


“Quantum Jump

Time Travel for

Fun & Profit”
By Andrew Basiago

Time travel either by viewing past and future events through a device known as a “chronovisor” or being teleported back and forth across the country in vortal tunnels opened in time-space is nothing new.

Tesla-based teleporters located at the Curtiss-Wright Aeronautical Company facility in Wood Ridge, NJ and the Sandia National Laboratory in Sandia, NM are old hat by now.

A chronovisor is a device that uses a screen or holographic template to locate and display scenes from the past or future in the time-space hologram. The chronovisor was originally developed by two Vatican scientists in conjunction with Enrico Fermi and later refined by DARPA scientists.

Time Travel


“Quantum Time Travel Issue:
Sunken Supreme Court!!!
Salvaging the Ruins!!!”

Mr. Basiago has revealed that between 1969 and 1972, as a child participant in Project Pegasus, he traveled in time both ways.


During one frightening teleportation incident Mr. Basiago actually saw the US Supreme Court underwater covered with moss and algae!!!

Naturally, this got the Supremes very upset and shook up the Beltway Spook Intelligentsia a great deal. Salvaging the Supreme Court and Beltway Pylons and Temples soon became a top priority with the Quantum Jump Establishment.

Mr. Rumsfeld approached this Task and other Project Pegasus responsibilities with the intent of using teleportation and time travel to the U.S. government’s advantage.

He saw Project Pegasus’s chief mission as the salvaging, teleportation and sequestration of the DC Beltway and valuable Foggy Bottoms Real Estate to the New Capitol on Mars.

Time Travel


“Interview with Rumsfeld
On Quantum Time Travel”

"Time travel has a tendency to encourage a depressing view of everything."

"Time's untidy, and free people are free to make mistakes and commit crimes and do bad things. Stuff happens."

"As you know, you time travel with what you know, not what you might want to know or wish you had known at a later time."

"I am not going to give you the time because it's not my business to do intelligence work." — asked to estimate what time it actually was while testifying before Congress about multiple timelines.

"I believe in time yesterday. I don't know what time it is now, but I know what I think, and, well, I assume it's the right time now or at least I hope so."

"Needless to say, the time is correct. Whatever time it was or is or will be.”

"Reports that say that time hasn't happened yet are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are temporal known knowns; there is time we know we know. We also know there are temporal known unknowns; that is to say we know sometimes there are some things we do not know. But there are also temporal unknown unknowns — the time we don't know we don't know."

"If I said yes, that would then suggest that that time might be the only time where it might be done which would not be accurate, necessarily accurate. It might also not be inaccurate, but I'm disinclined to mislead anyone."

"There's another way to time travel and that is that the absence of time is not the evidence of absence. It is basically saying the same thing in a different time. Simply because you do not have evidence that time does exist does not mean that you have evidence that time doesn't exist."

"It is unknowable how long time will last. It could last six days, six weeks. I doubt six more months."

"Well, um, you know, time's neither good nor bad but thinking makes it so, I suppose, as Shakespeare said."

"Washington DC and I agree on every single issue that has ever been before me except for those instances where the Beltway’s still learning."

"Learn to say 'I don't know what time it is.' If used when appropriate, it will often be the case."

"I don't know what time it is — but somebody's certainly going to sit down with me and try to find out what time it is and try to know if that’s the right time. They may not know what time it is either, and I make sure they don’t know what I know or may not know about time."

"I'm not into this detail stuff. I'm more concepty."

"I don't do temporal quagmires."

"I don't do temporal diplomacy."

"I don't do temporal foreign policy."

"I don't do temporal politics."

"I don't do the horses."

"I don't do book reviews."

"Now, settle down, settle down. Hell, I've been time traveling all morning, it's early in the day and I'm still getting my quantum ass back together again.”

"If I know what time it is, I'll tell you the answer, and if I don't, I'll just try to be clever."

“Don’t quote me. I’m not here right now.”

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Portrait of a Pope

Portrait of a Pope
(Ratzinger 2012)
—after Bacon/Velásquez

“The thing that has never been
fully worked out is how photography
has completely altered figurative
painting. Velásquez has been
taken over by something else.”
—Francis Bacon

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Two Portraits of a Lizard

Two Portraits of a Lizard

—after Bacon/Velásquez

“I think that painting today is
pure intuition and luck and
taking advantage of what
happens when you splash
the stuff down.”
—Francis Bacon

“Every movement of the
brush on the canvas alters
the shape and implication
of the image.”
—Francis Bacon

“Painting is mysterious
and continuous struggle
with choice—direct
assault on the nervous
system, continuous,
fluid, subtle.”
—Francis Bacon

“There was nothing to explain.
Slowly, an effective barrier of
non-elucidation grew up
around the oeuvre.”
—Michael Pippiatt,
Francis Bacon: Anatomy
Of an Enigma

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

I Married a Lizard from Outer Space

I Married a Lizard
from Outer Space

Naturally, I was looking forward to a deliriously romantic honeymoon—having just got married to the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world.

Unfortunately, though, this supposedly “most sexy chick in town" turned out to be nothing more than—a Lizard from Outer Space!!!

On the outside—she was tall, dark, charming and so very enjoyable. I had a decent job at Wal-Mart—selling tires and automobile equipment. I was the top salesman in fact—all the women customers liked & trusted me. I was pretty smart and knew my stuff. I thought she loved me—but what a fool I was. I had no idea he was a LIZARD—a cold-blooded nefarious alien Lizard from another world. A Lounge Lizard —from Outer Space!!!

It was just awful—our supposedly romantic sexy honeymoon at the No Tell Motel at Niagara Falls. I wasn’t promiscuous like all those other guyz at Poughkeepsie High. I didn’t mess around with all those lascivious cute pimply-faced bad girlz—the easy ones who went down on those pushy arrogant muscular Porky Pigs on the Poughkeepsie football team. They tried to get me drunk on weekends—out there at the Snake Pit Drive-In under the stars. But I stayed virgin and chaste to the end—I wasn’t some tacky hustler like all those other guyz...

It’s all my fault, I suppose though—because I fell head over heels for this Snake from Outer Space. I should’ve known better—skanky Snakes from outer space are no different than the terrestrial ones who dated the Porky Pigs. Was I any better though?

Lueez & I ended up living in the local white trash Zero Trailer Park in the back of the city dump. Of all the Tramps in the Universe—I had to get stuck with a Tramp from Planet Zero. There in the Zero Trailer Park. Zero love, Zero sex—Zero everything. It was just awful the way it worked out—but then things got worse...

Lueez's debonair mild-mannered slick-chick façade—it was all fake. There was this monster from outer space behind her polite disguise. They’d landed just outside of town—a whole gang of extraterrestrial creatures. These Lizards oozed their way slowly into town—hanging out at the local bars on weekends. My so-called wonderful wife was assigned the job of Top Priority Nasty Duty #1—getting to know just how easy Earth boyz were.

It was rumored all over the Milky Way that us Earth boyz were easy that way—that’s what all those Grade-B teenage sexploitation movies at the Snake Pit Drive-In were all about. “Teenagers from Outer Space,” “Mars Needs Women,” “The Monster from the Black Lagoon,” “Zontar the Thing from Venus,” “Attack of the Giant Shrews,” “The Giant Gila Monster”—all those crummy sexist Grade-B drive-in flicks. There were just excuses for stupid high school guyz—to neck around and get to know just how easy chicks could be. Actually it was the other way around...

It was just awful—those atrocious double-features out there in the fuckin' sticks under the greasy old K-Y full moon. All that crummy stale popcorn, those awful hot dogs and slurpy, noisy Orange Crushes mixed with vodka. The endless weed & speed & acid trips: all cheap aphrodisiacs.

Those Passion Pits outta the ‘50s and ‘60s are all gone now—abandoned weedy parking lots, ancient ruined relics of us skanky Baby Boomers growing up back then. All those junkers & muscle-cars all the guys drove around in—chopped '57 Chevy's, tons of Ford pickups, a few lumbering, chrome-hog Cadillacs & DeSoto's. Later the sleek garish '59 Fins, Big V-8 engines, used Trojans left scattered in the dirt, sobbing virgins mostly boyz.

Lots of cars, booze, dope, rubbers, popcorn...plus lots of Big Egos. I don’t get nostalgic for any of those days one little bit—because that’s how I ended up Married to a Lizard from Outer Space!!!

"Jeeze, Lueez!!!" I'd say. You want it again? Wasn't once enough, darling? I don't know if I can do it again. That's when she'd go down on me & get a second wad. She gummed me to death; she was pretty good at it. But still I ended up bruised and black & blue. If I only knew... "The Thing" from outer space was actually in the backseat & not up there on the screen.

Being married to a Snake from Outer Space—it was a really skanky thing to happen to a guy. Lueez wasn’t just a normal run-of-the-mill slimy bug-eyed slimy monster. No, No, Nanette. She was the Pits. I just had to end up getting stuck with the biggest & ugliest Slut there was in town—that was somehow my biggest mistake. There’s nothing worse than a gnarly alien ugly Snake—a Skank like Lueez can really fuck a guy's life over.

You know what they say—in sickness and in health? Until death do you part? That’s what happened to me—I almost kicked the bucket in bed one time. Lueeze was pealing my cheesy uncut foreskin back one time. Before blowing it or sitting on it for a long pony ride.

I lit a cigarette & happened to look down at her. Only to have a bug-eyed Lizard creature look back up at me!!! She'd always insist on making love in the dark... she said was shy & felt ashamed about sex. That didn't stop her from draining me every night...fucking it, sucking it and getting her extra-long tongue up my asshole when she rimmed me all the time.

Big mistake... flicking my Bic that night. I got to see my wife as she really was... and it wasn't pretty. She didn't look human... her face was more like an Iguana lizard from down there in Mexico. She had this big slimy slit for a mouth—and a big old nervous-twitching red forked-tongue. Flicking in & out of her lizard-slit... so that was her fiendish French tickler!!! The one she used to tickle & torture me to death with!!!

It was so scary and disgustingly mind-fucking. And wouldn't you know it? I was right in the middle of starting to have an orgasm. That’s how I ended up with a sprained neck & having to wear a neck-brace. Lueez didn't seem to care... all she wanted was to get her lips on it. Milking that last spastic wad outta me...enjoying me going spaz, shooting my poor brains out, getting off on me whimpering & spraining my poor neck....

It was the last time we had sex... for at least a week. She kept me gagged & handcuffed to the bed posts the rest of the weekend. Keeping me loaded on horrible Martian aphrodisiacs... as she & her coven of E.T. whores & space sluts met in the living room. Discussing what to do with me... now that I knew the awful extraterrestrial secret of their cunt conspiracy to take over Poughkeepsie...

They tuned to their Great Queen Bee... the ancient intergalactic swollen pussy up there in the center of the creamy, cumly Milky Way. The order came down from on high—that I was to be reamed to death inside-out there in the dumpy bedroom of our ratty old trailer in the Zero Trailer Park.

The last thing I remember was... Lueez strapping on her killer Sick Zombie Taser-Gun Vibrating Dildo & fucking me to death. It could've been worse I suppose. I heard they had this terribly painful Splooge Roter-Rooter Dildoe Gun... nefariously called “Zontar the Thing from Venus.”

But I was at Death's Door dontchaknow... my poor Earthboy broken heart had simply had enough. Betrayed by badnews Lizard love... sucked dry by skanky Snake-Oil suction-lips. That's what happens... when you marry a Lizard Chick from Outer Space.... But then I was desperate for Love I suppose. Even Snake love from Outer Space—was better than nothing at all & lonely nights. Kinda? Sorta? Maybe?

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Lizard Art

Lizard Art

“How singularly
innocent I look
this morning.”
—Waldo Lydecker

Lizard art: Dig it or run for your life. These new large scale paintings by Brooklyn-based artist Alphonse Dick explore the margins between lizard and myth. Dick’s work is a synthesis of human and snake libido.

These creatures & their captives are true to life in size and shape—unbelievable, impossible to comprehend as human. The poor mortal model’s faces obviously mirror their unease, yet butchy gentility and cultivation prevails. Alphonse Dick leaves visible the seams in his snake nightmares, reminding the viewer that the reptilian and human is coexisting in these striking portraits.

Alphonse Dick asks us to embrace contradiction and question man's uncertain relationship with his latent underlying lizard violence—so shamelessly unsheathed just beneath the guise of Dick’s control.

As Waldo Lydecker the famous art critic notes in his NYTimes review, “Becoming Snake: Evolution and Human Uniqueness,” our human features sometimes get distorted and metamorphosed into their own demonic doubles—unnatural, pealed-back, foreskin-esque. Our serpent heritage has allowed for an enormous range of subversively misunderstood erotic expressions.

The ability to provoke outrage, fear, shame, sympathy and even worse emotions—has helped humankind to create an uncivilized culture based on cold-blooded reptilian mistrust in others through these universally misunderstood lizardy expressions.

Perhaps Alphonse Dick’s creatures are evidence of our twisted human condition—striving to disprove a troubling disenchanting déjà vu existence we sometimes experience in our human past. Yet undoubtedly these same wild animalesque feelings may indeed feel the same way about us.

These painting’s unsympathetic lizard faces and the human ones tinged with sexual lust, boredom and disgust question what it is to be human or beast.

Organized by the Claire Crumb Gallery, New York City, with the generous assistance of the artist for the BP Museum of Art.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Invaders from Mars

Invaders from Mars


It’s already happened—the Invasion from Mars.

It happened millions of years ago—way back there a long time ago. The way you look at me—the way you touch me. The fire in your eyes—gives me a fever inside. There’s nothing I can do about it—except feel the rush of Snake déjà vu coming back again through you.

When I hold you naked, perfect—so beautiful. You turn me upside-down—you turn me inside-out. When you fill me up with love—I just cross the line. I can never get enough—baby, it’s always overtime.

There’s nothing I can do about it—there’s nothing more I can say about it. Your lizard love is all I want—your reptile romance is all I need. The way you look at me—the way you touch me.

There’s nothing that seems so true—as just being around you. You’re not just a cute naked ape—you’ve been genetically modified so fine. That snake of yours down between your legs—the streamlined genealogy of your Garden of Eden nice big thing.

I know what it’s like—being exiled East of Eden. Every time I go down on you—it’s my own shameful Fall from Eden all over again. The Tower of Babel comes tumbling down—my babbling tongue can’t get enough of you. No wonder poor Eve went for it—I go for it all the time too. Down she went, my little downfall girl.

Zontar from Venus & the Devil Girl from Mars—had their eyes out for humanity’s swanky downfall. When they sent a guy like you—to fuck around with a queer like me. Bad Seed & Bad Biology right up my alley—I’ve always been a Deformity Lover.

The first time you uncoiled it—pulled it slowly outta your pants. I realized then—the game was up. You were Cain & I was Able. You were gonna slay me—every night from then that’s for sure. Mars Needed Women that's okay—but my queer lips needed it bad too.

You had dark kinky Jurassic Park pubes—and a badboy Martian buzzcut look. You had slinky Saturnian hips—and a skanky Venusian bad attitude. Adam and Eve might have been our stupid monkey-brained parents—but you’re the one that had that big awful Plutonian Prick.

It started off—a long time ago. The perversion of Planet Earth—after the Great Cosmic War. You were part of the Enemy Alien black budget—you were genetically designed to counter-attack Earth evolution.

Snakeoid sex & teen Lizard love—that’s what makes you so serpentine & dumb. So smooth, slick & uncut—down there where a million years moans. Pop goes the Weasel!!!—what more can I say? Especially me...and probably you.