that was the headline on het parool today. thought it had a nice ring. and it's dutch, ferfuksakes. blie dat? were one to catalogue the sonic qualities of the dutch language, "nice ring" would not likely abide. pearl in a gritty oyster.
anyway, big front page pic, you've seen it, with all the goombahs hunkered down in the situation room. man. pathetic. that's the world's superpower's situfukkinwaytion room. fuck dudes, take a pointer or two from golf ball blitzer -- give it some zing! get some csi lookin' shit in there, zaz it up. good grief, this is just sad. ya'll look like a buncha bobos humped around someone's suburbanite coffee table, grimacing through an online poker tourney. but the secret kind, that only the white house gets to play now. think it's outta russia.
what a sight, ain't it? the grand poobahs layin' out the hit, and watching it play out in real time. we all get to revel in ex post exposition of glorious vengeful illegal murder by those precise killing machines so wonderfully and lethally trained under the auspices of american taxpayers. that america has military kill squads operating in far far away lands, secretly roaming and killing, under no writ but by the hand of obama, is now openly celebrated as a good and great thing, this lawless murdering. damn, they's efficient killing machines, ain't they? teevee americans marvel. it's such a great thing we have, these international know no law kill squads. and so the corporate media launches a full warp press release on the hollywood details (count on it!) of the courageous bold strike by an american assassination team "secretly" operating in pakistan to take out bin laden. think i've seen five different ways he was shot. media horndoggin' this one. now, the white house is pondering whether to release photos of the hit, because, of course, the natural conspiracy theories arise in the wake of bizarre behaviour.
shall we release the photographs of our most recent and surely most glorious and well publicized assassination? a beautiful dilemma for the assassination bureau. offend or forfend. such a difficult choice in the age of the kill squad cult.
way back when kids had a hopeful future, like most kids then, we all figured we'd be zoomin' around in flying cars by now, zip-zppin' around in the air. what a hoot! we'd have awesome giant ring cities in orbit, would excavate the moon. couldn't wait for that future. didn't quite go that way though, did it? the world, that is, and what the world chose to do. what we got, instead, is "persistent conflict," stealth bombers, killer satellites, flying death bots, stealth flying death bots, remote control DARPA moths, and globally available whisper tip kill squads. what we also now have is digital high-definition satellite teevee and the DARPA internet for viewing ghastly images of the imperial footprint, the dead, the dying, the murdered, and football in the comfort of the modern plasma screen living room. mostly football though. if recent images brought thusly indicate anything, americans loves them a righteous killin'. jump for joy at the killin'. much as they would for football. decades of psychotherapy have brought them, finally, to know that revenge killing is actually a much softer, warmer thing: closure. hear that a lot lately. justifying the myriad sins of empire, kill squad death dealing is therapy.
not exactly flying cars.