The Book Of Revolution: Part 1 (For Bob Cole, by request)
This is the revelation God gave to Jesus Christ, that he might show his servants what must happen very soon. He made it known by sending his angle (not a typo) to his servant Kevin, who in reporting all he saw bears witness to the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ.
To the seven churches in the province of America: Kevin wishes you war and oil - from him who is and who was and is to one day decide on a particular point in time at which to be, I suppose. And from Jesus, his homeboy, the first-born from schizophrenia and ruler with which the kings of men shall forever slap fear and guilt into the palms of innocent school children.
On the Lord's day I was doing ecstasy, and I heard behind me a piercing voice like the sound of Axel Rose ripping it up, which said, "Write on a blog what you now see and send it to the seven churches: to News Media, Big Business, War, Racism, Government, Organised Religion, and Mel Gibson." I turned around to see whose voice it was that spoke to me. In his right hand he held seven stars. A sharp, two-edged sword came out of his mouth, and the elephants did tricks for him, and he blew fire and juggled the crushed spirits of misguided Africans who prayed, gave all the little money they had to the church, but still died of AIDS or starvation. "There is nothing to fear. This is the secret of the seven stars, write of what you see in these visions, for the stars are the seven churches."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of News Media, write this:
"I know your deeds, your labors. I know you can not tolerate facts or relevant news. I know that one time FOX and CNN got all fucked up on blow in Vegas and had sexual mediacourse, an affair which gave birth to the twins, Gossip and Propaganda. I hold this against you: You have turned aside from your early love. A love of patience, of whistle blowing. A love of trying to educate and inform citizens in an attempt to cure the evils of this world. This love traded for flashy graphics and ridiculous names such as Wolf Blitzer, Trace Gallagher and Zap McSlicerton. But you have this much in your favor: Soledad O'Brien is mad hot, son. I'd hit it."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of Big Business, write this:
"I know of your tribulation and your poverty, even though you are rich. I know the slander you endure from self-styled Jews who are nothing other than members of Satan's assembly. (The last two sentences are straight from the Bible in the letter to Smyrna. I thought I'd leave them intact to give you an example of the kind of hate spewing shit that's in here) Have no fear of what is to come. Ken Lay and I play poker for the souls of the poor every other Friday. Tell Ted Turner and Michael Eisner to request that they be buried with weed. It's dry up here, man. Tell Bill Gates he should have stayed on our team instead of donating $50,000,000 dollars to AIDS research. Way to go, dumbass. You know it costs Billions of dollars and white skin to get up here. Now you're short."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of War, write this:
"I know you live in the very place where Satan's throne is erected...hehe...: and I know you hold fast to my name and have not denied the faith you have in me, not even when you couldn't find Osama Bin Laden, not even when you couldn't find WMDs, not even when people died, not even when history told you that you were a bad idea, not even when the entire world was saying no to you. You have always served me well, War, and you will be rewarded upon your entry into Heaven with the gift of wisdom, at which point you'll be like 'shit, why did I kill all those fucking people? It doesn't make any sense', then you'll suffer for eternity from flashbacks and post service dementia. Admittedly, I should have thought to give you wisdom sooner, but if War held Wisdom then it wouldn't exist. Booom! How's that for a paradox, bitch."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of Racism, write this:
"I know of the t-shirt you wear to clan meetings that says "God don't make no trash", I also know of your cross burnings, lynchings, hatred and ignorance. I know the meaning of irony. Amen"
TO BE CONTINUED...
To the seven churches in the province of America: Kevin wishes you war and oil - from him who is and who was and is to one day decide on a particular point in time at which to be, I suppose. And from Jesus, his homeboy, the first-born from schizophrenia and ruler with which the kings of men shall forever slap fear and guilt into the palms of innocent school children.
On the Lord's day I was doing ecstasy, and I heard behind me a piercing voice like the sound of Axel Rose ripping it up, which said, "Write on a blog what you now see and send it to the seven churches: to News Media, Big Business, War, Racism, Government, Organised Religion, and Mel Gibson." I turned around to see whose voice it was that spoke to me. In his right hand he held seven stars. A sharp, two-edged sword came out of his mouth, and the elephants did tricks for him, and he blew fire and juggled the crushed spirits of misguided Africans who prayed, gave all the little money they had to the church, but still died of AIDS or starvation. "There is nothing to fear. This is the secret of the seven stars, write of what you see in these visions, for the stars are the seven churches."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of News Media, write this:
"I know your deeds, your labors. I know you can not tolerate facts or relevant news. I know that one time FOX and CNN got all fucked up on blow in Vegas and had sexual mediacourse, an affair which gave birth to the twins, Gossip and Propaganda. I hold this against you: You have turned aside from your early love. A love of patience, of whistle blowing. A love of trying to educate and inform citizens in an attempt to cure the evils of this world. This love traded for flashy graphics and ridiculous names such as Wolf Blitzer, Trace Gallagher and Zap McSlicerton. But you have this much in your favor: Soledad O'Brien is mad hot, son. I'd hit it."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of Big Business, write this:
"I know of your tribulation and your poverty, even though you are rich. I know the slander you endure from self-styled Jews who are nothing other than members of Satan's assembly. (The last two sentences are straight from the Bible in the letter to Smyrna. I thought I'd leave them intact to give you an example of the kind of hate spewing shit that's in here) Have no fear of what is to come. Ken Lay and I play poker for the souls of the poor every other Friday. Tell Ted Turner and Michael Eisner to request that they be buried with weed. It's dry up here, man. Tell Bill Gates he should have stayed on our team instead of donating $50,000,000 dollars to AIDS research. Way to go, dumbass. You know it costs Billions of dollars and white skin to get up here. Now you're short."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of War, write this:
"I know you live in the very place where Satan's throne is erected...hehe...: and I know you hold fast to my name and have not denied the faith you have in me, not even when you couldn't find Osama Bin Laden, not even when you couldn't find WMDs, not even when people died, not even when history told you that you were a bad idea, not even when the entire world was saying no to you. You have always served me well, War, and you will be rewarded upon your entry into Heaven with the gift of wisdom, at which point you'll be like 'shit, why did I kill all those fucking people? It doesn't make any sense', then you'll suffer for eternity from flashbacks and post service dementia. Admittedly, I should have thought to give you wisdom sooner, but if War held Wisdom then it wouldn't exist. Booom! How's that for a paradox, bitch."
"To the presiding spirit of the church of Racism, write this:
"I know of the t-shirt you wear to clan meetings that says "God don't make no trash", I also know of your cross burnings, lynchings, hatred and ignorance. I know the meaning of irony. Amen"
TO BE CONTINUED...
posted by Hooligan at 6:04 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home