And then I Wound up in Padmasambhava’s Lap

Dog Poet Transmitting…….

‘May your noses be filled with roses, when you’re riding on the Beltway around Shit City”.

Once again it is time to write about the Toad King; the Gila Monster of international diplomacy, who likes to do the satanic foxtrot of buggery and the lash, but once again I must defer the moment. The fact is that the Ides of March are approaching and what more fitting period is there than histories most defining moment of treachery and literal backstabbing. So Henry Kissinger must wait yet a few more days, to be celebrated at the fitting time. I promise you will see him at the Ides of March unless, hopefully, the Ides of March see him first but not in such a gentle manner as the anniversary is noted for.

I wonder at this blog and I wonder about all the blogs, where I feel compelled to draw attention to inhuman creatures, for which I can find no sufficient comparison, except in each other. It’s not what I would wish for myself; delineating the horrendous crimes of psychopaths, who walk this world to the measured applause of people too stupid to live and who prove that point with each succeeding incarnation. I can see the divine shaking his head, when they get awarded one of- for them- those rare human births, where very little human happens and the divine mutters to himself, “Well, he didn’t make much progress as a dung beetle did he? Dung Beetle Diddy…. Hmmmm, “Honey, get Sean Combs on the phone would you”?

I know most of us are waiting for the day that Kissinger tosses off this mortal coil and walks directly through the gates of Hell and does not pass Go. Well, he spent his life at Free Parking anyway. He’s the guy who came up with the idea of building a kitty there for whoever lands on it.

For some reason, unknown to myself, I continue to travel in these environs, when what I really want to do is talk about Peace, Love and Brotherhood. I keep hearing they’re about to go on tour but Ticketron doesn’t seem to know anything about it. So, I’ll make one of my occasional sincere apologies for playing Phil Hartman as an Alcatraz guide and just keep on keeping on, until I get parole. At least I don’t have to play Machine Gun Kelly’s bitch.

I think that’s what I wanted to talk about on today’s Profile in Evil. Why do I have to be the sketch artist in this one horse tourist town?

I could nominate Governor ‘Stroll’ Walker who definitely fits the bill. He’s an appointed hitman for the Koch Brothers, who like to pronounce their name as Coke, like that confuses anyone as to their genealogy. Well, a lot of those people who used to be dung beetles must have voted for him; not that public voting and election outcomes have anything to do with each other.

I could nominate Michelle Bachmann but you have to have at least a certain IQ in order to be considered evil and she, like Sarah Palin, are not going to get there in this life.I could nominate John Stewart and what’s his name because they fit the definition of a certain type of authentic evil, where you pretend to be one thing when you most definitely are another. It’s a Bill Maher kind of an item.

I could- and will- nominate a lot of people as times marches by and this blog fills up with posts concerned with those who either directly commit evil; finance evil, profit from evil, pretend not to be evil, while leading the stupid into bondage and destruction and taking bows for being a spokes parrot for something that runs every time it sees them coming The ones who worship and serve evil in the hope of reigning in Hell; there seems to be an impression of that happening, according to something John Milton once said and which those who hadn’t died of boredom enroute to it, actually wound up reading. I think it qualifies as folk wisdom. There are all manner of celebrants of evil these days because this is the tail end of the Kali Yuga, where the dregs in the cup have risen to the surface of whatever that liquid is.

I want to write something. I feel like I’m supposed to write something but I don’t want to write about any of these smug, bloodstained cowards. Did you just get a flash of Tony Blair when you read that? I got a flash of Tony. Both he and George W. instantly enter my mind whenever I hear the word coward.

The probable reason why I can’t write about anyone in particular today, besides not falling asleep last night and then moving like a blue streak all day are these wild bursts of energy shooting through my form, since the day after I got out of the chop shop. I’ve been in such a good mood lately that I find myself singing no matter where I am. I was doing it in the doctor’s waiting room today and people started leaving to go wait in the hall. Why that kind of thing is scary, I have no idea. I hear someone singing and I try to harmonize and that’s usually okay, unless they’re on some kind of a trip, or don’t sing very well and get angry with me shoehorning them into key while they’re trying to stay out of it.

The last few days, I’ve been walking around the house singing and reminding myself not to get too frisky, like that does any good. My mood has been incredible. It’s like something is about to happen (maybe the financing for that house) and whatever it is, it’s good (according to how I define that). It feels a lot like I felt when I was going around and announcing on stage that I was going to Europe and two month later I was there. It’s an ‘in motion’ thing. Sometimes life goes into motion and the rest of the time it only looks like it is but nothing is really happening

I could talk about Madeline Albright and how the backs of her thighs looks like a topographical map of her morality. Now I feel a little twisted just for saying that. Last night, I was lying in bed and floating on a pulsing wave of liquid nectar that was impersonating my mattress. Love was pouring out of my ears, my nose and every one of those little portholes in my skin. I kept swimming up into it and speaking in poetic soliloquies of a reaching kind of needing it, as bad as I might need oxygen underwater and wondering if I was finally getting close to what I’ve been after all my life. Maybe that’s why I bought that pressure washer today, so that I could hose down everything around me while I pretended I was putting the outside into some kind of Spring expectant order.

I know how dark and deadly so many of these people are but I just don’t want to talk about them right now. Hosing them down would be okay and watching them impersonate Chinese lanterns- in every sense of the word- would be okay because I don’t have any of that vengeance shit running through my bloodstream .Maybe nobody sending me any Vitamin K is part of some sort of chemical release thing that’s trying to get ignition in my system. I remind myself that everything is under control, even the things I don’t want to be. Still, arid moments come and go but sooner or later what looked like a boulder against a rock wall slides away and I’m talking to Devas, jinns and genii.

I can’t handle this energy so I’m not even trying. That works real well of course and anything else does not work but I suspect I look strange. I catch Susanne studying me out of the corner of my eye but she’s seen all of it that she can see by now and the things she can’t see… that’s just as well. The dogs see though. They make a lot of funny moves lately. Someone’s trying to keep my emails from getting to the people who link my posts. It’s pretty sophisticated but by this time anyone who’s supposed to be reading any of this, finds their way here on their own.

I’m higher than I’ve been in a long, long time but certain things are useful when it comes to interpreting what I can’t see, unless I’m in that particular kayak. I do realize I’m not supposed to know certain things sometimes, because it cuts back on the spontaneity and interferes with the entertainment factor of the divine, for whom I am some kind of a song and dance act without the red nose. The energy thing is impressive. I’m buzzing like a bee hive but it’s a good buzz. You know that feeling where you get the sensation that you have a new circulatory system just under the epidermis and which hits its high points in the cheekbones under the eyes, just behind the ears and at the nape of the neck? Sure you do (grin).

Anyway, I hope you’ll forgive me for wandering all over the map and winding up in Padmasambhava’s lap and feeling nothing but gratitude that this is now over and I can go back to the internal massaging waterbed that doesn’t need quarters to keep playing, Long Train Running, even though all I’m hearing is the chorus; apparently sometimes you do ride for free and ass, grass or cash doesn’t do anything like this anyway. You can’t buy something like this. It comes out of nowhere and there is no receipt. Maybe tomorrow I’ll sound different. We’ll have to wait and see.

End Transmission…….

I’ll probably have an update announcement in the comments section in a little while. Right now I’ve got to go through the spin cycle.

Visible and The Critical List: La Vierge Sperme Danceur by Les Visible and The Critical List♫ The Clicking Mandibles ♫
‘The Clicking Mandibles’ is track no. 4 of 8 on Visible and The Critical List’s 1987 album
‘La Vierge Sperme Danceur’

About this song (pops up)

La Vierge Sperme Danceur by Les Visible and The Critical List

Petraeus and Lieberman sing the Arias of Hell

NOTE= I think a little introductory statement may do well here. I intended to use this site to showcase slimeballs from every operating theater in life, who are deliberately and/or have been deliberately engaged in enemy actions against the human race; either specifically or generally according to the nature of the agenda.

Without even thinking about it, I can list, off the top of my head, more people than I could cover in a year of posting at this blog, maybe more, which are cold-blooded anti-life, bad serpents that get up in the morning thinking about what harm they can do that day and go to sleep reflecting on what they’ve done and visualizing what they may, or will do, on the following day. If I were to try to do that with people who are in the same relationship with good, I have to really concentrate to find very many at all. It’s because of the times, the coming… summing… up and the effect of the negative whirlpool in relationship to the positive whirlpool. People are being sucked away in one of two directions and we don’t collectively have the character of salmon.

I created this site while thinking about Henry Kissinger and his mentor, David Rockefeller and had intended to write about the Herr Doctor Kissinger in the first posting but I don’t make hard and fast rules about anything because I never know when a seemingly wrong move will very quickly right hook into a major time and effort saving shortcut. I leave those decisions to my angels. They can see around corners and through appearances.

Before this introduction becomes a posting all by itself, let me say that I have a couple of features that I am going to introduce today that I hope will add to the flavor and impact of the site and grant us something of a right hook as well.

Each month, one of the subjects of this blog will be named as ‘Extraordinary Slimeball of the Month’. This month, that honors falls to our featured profile of General David Petraeus. Also, each posting will contain a dishonorable mention that may or may not receive a future posting of their own but who reeks to the Heavens with evil taint and must be acknowledged quicker than would be possible in the normal scheme of things. This dishonorable mention will feature someone who exemplifies that image of a goat pissing all over itself with excitement, prior to engaging in an act of coitus (true animal story). Such a person pisses all over themselves, in their impatience to do evil and that honor today goes to the odious and unctuous King of Sanctimony himself, Joe Lieberman.

I had purchased a deck of those playing cards with the faces of Iraqi leaders on them in the hope of making my own deck of cards with Israeli, American and Crown Colony leaders. I realize now I would need a eight deck Las Vegas Blackjack setup to adequately cover the candidates, speaking of which, if anyone out there can get me an ornate, suitably blank (except for number or trump) playing card template, I suspect I could begin to put headshots of the candidates on them to serve as a graphic for each posting.

Well, I’ve gone on too long, you get the general idea, I’ll be away for Friday and maybe the weekend on a minimally invasive, body adjustment so adjust your expectations accordingly.


Dog Poet Transmitting…….

“Ahroooooooooooo! May your noses always be cold and wet’

General David Petraeus is our feature subject today and also the winner of the Extraordinary Slimeball of the Month Award. If I had to think of a movie character to represent him it would be Natalie Portman in the Black Swan, simply because you rarely see such a uniformly bad actor, in such a terrible script with such poor direction, dedicated to the tastes of a specific pretentious niche group, that determines awards, being singled out for an award other than deposit in a burning 55 gallon drum, trash container.

Petraeus is a PR flack in a military uniform. He knows what his superiors want and he delivers without concern or conscience. Other lives, careers, dreams, families and what have you are meaningless in his calculations about his own. He has been an unredeemed shit-heel for a long time but he has finally distinguished himself, in a rare opportunity to cast all compassion, reason and reality aside, in order to justify a horrendous act. Never before have we been given such dramatic proof of the way the US Military Machine sees its collateral damage.

As a matter of fact, family and one’s children are far more important to this culture, being brutally assaulted, than they are to the culture assaulting them. I don’t even have to qualify that with evidence.

I’m not surprised that there is talk of running Petraeus for president. One thing you can be sure of, if he achieves that state, is that it will be Joe Lieberman who will be running him, once he is president. Here you can see what websites that sell for three hundred million dollars think of Petraeus.

I’m not going to concern myself with other horrors accomplished by this armchair general or engage in ridicule (well maybe a little) about him getting the Combat Action Badge because General Petraeus served in combat in 2003. Pray tell what combat Petraeus saw at that time that wasn’t on a video monitor or War Films of the Week recap? It appears that Petraeus hasn’t been near any directly engaged combat unless someone tried to punch him out in the Officer’s Club for hitting on their wife.

Petraeus has been groomed from the beginning, as can be readily appreciated by reading the bio at Zio- Wikipedia. Someone detached from the actual realities of combat engagement are made capable of the kind of statements attributed to him, in respect of this particular Afghan massacre. It’s a heinous statement. It’s a vicious misinformation that cannot be justified or redeemed in ten thousand years. It’s what makes him this months Extraordinary Slimeball and he can wear it proudly next to his Combat Action Badge, knowing he deserved at least one of the awards.

Joe Lieberman has accomplished so much evil in his time that it is hard to know where to begin or even if one should. One could just say, he’s one of the truly evil sonofabitches in contemporary American politics and be, not only right, but done with it.

We can accept without research that he was connected to the 9/11 attacks; most certainly connected to the cover-up, got himself launched into the chairmanship of the Homeland Security Committee, was directly involved in pushing for all of America’s illegal wars on behalf of Israel and, man, there is so much, all the way up to his latest caper. He is a traitor to his country and I would also call him a traitor to the human race, if he were actually a member of it but the contrary has been demonstrated often enough that no one should be confused about it any longer. He was Bush the Stupids go to guy among the Democrats, who he was also a traitor to. He serves only the interests of the Neo-Pharisees like his soul brother, Eric Cantor and a host of other Israeli controlled crime-bots in Congress.

Lieberman has more slither and leaves larger slime-tracks than any other member of Congress. You can close your eyes and literally see him and Chertoff sitting down to a holiday dinner of suckling baby, with a permeating herb pacifier in its mouth, basted and buttered and hot from the oven. I can hear Lieberman saying, “Look David, they burned the feet just like you asked them to, a round of hearty laughter goes round the banquet table, Petraeus has his eyes on the roasted sweet breads, that ring about the body in a special stuffing, which tells any informed gourmand that he is in the presence of true art.

Lieberman jokes, “It’s too bad we couldn’t cook him in one of your scanners Michael”, more laughter follows.

The fact that men like Lieberman and the rest of the Zio-Ogres can prosper at the highest places in government is testimony to why America’s revolution will not be peaceful. There are far too many Americans who have bought into the lies and mass murders of the New Crusades. Will awakening come to them in time or… will it be too little too late? Time and circumstance will tell.

General Petraeus is a prancing pony, beribboned and bedecked for a festive parade. He’s Sarah Palin’s soul mate. He’s one stop short of Dancing with the Stars. One day he’s headed toward that great firing squad in the sky. Joe Lieberman is something darker and more consciously malevolent. Petraeus may be no more than a fool who cannot hear the entreaties of his deeper self but, which once revealed, would cause shame and suicidal despair; a Cardinal Wolsey moment. There is no such hope for Lieberman who is a stone cold psychopath and who gains a sexual thrill from his power to do harm.

It should be a wakeup call to everyone that this blog could feature nothing but dual nationals from various countries and professions for a good long while and never fail in treating with only the top ranks of the damned. In the US alone we’ve ample proof of that and though I have posted this on several occasions recently, it needs to be linked yet one more time. It is a glaring and ugly truth that the ship of state has been hijacked by those who intend to loot it to its iron bones and then sink it at sea.

It is times like these that I take an enormous comfort that there is more to everything than what the senses report. I have direct, first hand evidence of this and it soothes my days and my nights. It speaks to me at intervals throughout and travels in my dreams with me to future times, when much of what torments us has been washed away. I cannot tell you how great the joy and peace are which this knowledge confers. I can imagine that many, who lack the faith or experiences to affirm this truth, are driven to deep despair and cynical stasis, running in place, or frozen in place with no vision of the light upon their horizon.

I have been at pains to say many, many times that this planet, this plane, this sphere of conditions is like a military basic training camp. It is like a Shakespearean play. It is like a classic movie and anything which demonstrates the varieties of human action, ambition and character. It gives us all the opportunity to play our part, be it ever so humble or challenged. I have been in very dark places more than once but there was always a light and unexpected friends and defenders who appeared at the necessary times. We must all of us develop the faith to force our hearts and minds to see what our fear and self-interest have hidden from us. I witness to you that a tiny hole can, with effort, widen incrementally and that it is possible to see the stars as holes in a curtain of darkness, where the light is shining in from another place.

Pretend to yourself that you are a miner. You have a head lantern, just as they do but you need to find the switch, Irrespective of that, dig in the darkness, dig against the entrenched, hard matter of crystallized light. Dig against the karma and blindness that can turn a man into someone like Petraeus or Lieberman. Dig with all your heart and all your hope. Tell yourself that even though you do not know, you know something is ahead, or below, or above. Tell yourself that it doesn’t matter if there is nothing there, that you would dig regardless, because a life spent otherwise is a wasted life. Tell yourself that even if there is nothing there that you will generate it anyway with your persistence and indomitable spirit. Tell yourself that you are digging for everyone and yourself; that there must be something more and that you have the assistance of unseen friends and an eye that watches you from the center of a heart that holds a love so great that only it can contain and command it. Tell yourself it’s all a test and that the only failure is to give up because you cannot and will not fail otherwise; not a single man/woman Jack of you.

There is no stain upon you, no legacy of failure and selfish action so great that it cannot be assuaged and eradicated simply by digging. We are all miners digging in the dark. Some have found the darkness they were looking for, like our protagonists here defined, and some have found the light. Believe nothing except that you will find what you seek and believe that the answers to everything are contained therein. Believe it because it is so.

End Transmission…….

Visible sings: Almost A Capella by Les Visible♫ Light Up Ahead ♫
‘Light Up Ahead’ is track no. 1 of 12 on Visible’s 2007 album ‘Almost A Capella’

Almost A Capella by Les Visible

Bill Maher; You Ignorant Slut.

Dog Poet Transmitting…….

Once there was a couple of glib ranters, whose main purpose in the act was to make themselves look clever and on the right side of the issues. The right side of issues would always have to be the perspective that seeks the greatest good for the greatest number of people. It would also have to be the position that speaks truth to power and recognizes that we are equal in some way, somehow, however difficult it may be to define.

The best and the brightest of us know that conditions differ from culture to culture but that there is much we all have in common, which may not be immediately perceptible to those bogged down in the recognition of differences to the exclusion of commonality.

These two ranters are Bill Maher and Dennis Miller. At first glance you would think that they were very different in a socio-political way. Dennis is a whore for the beast who speaks through the right wing lie machine of Fox Network and Bill Maher is a neo-Pharisee slut, who preens in a distorted mirror of the liberal left but who actually represents the most right wing and Nazi-like force on Earth today and that would be Israel. Both of these men have sold their souls to this single instrument of evil, which parades under a dual banner or any and every banner available.

Bill Maher was yucking it up with Kevin Smith, after a brave soul called him on 9/11 and got manhandled out the door for his trouble. Bill’s comatose audience laughed on cue just like all mesmerized watchers do when their disinfo doll holds forth with the appearance of all that is sane and sensible, wise and reasonable, in a world that is unkind to either. Bill gets routinely yelled at by 9/11 truthers and for good reason. He presents himself as something he is not and is therefore one of the more famous hypocrites of his time in a world severely overpopulated by them.

I know what happened to Bill Maher. I don’t know what happened to Dennis Miller. I think Dennis Miller got the same flu shot that Christopher Hitchens got and it fine tuned his reality into a celebration of the unreal. He’s becoming more and more invisible over at Fox, as he becomes less and less valuable to their interests.

Bill Maher practically lives at the Playboy Mansion where he likes to think of himself as a player. Nothing gives this kind of a man quite so much self esteem as to convince hired blowup dolls to lay there and pretend they like it. Along with the Viagra, Bill likes to smoke large amounts of marijuana, which is proof that evil people get high too but in a different way. All of these things tend to give the impression that Bill is a suave and cool guy who is ‘with it’ in all the right ways but Bill isn’t with ‘it’ at all. Bill is a cog in the neo-Pharisee propaganda mill and he does alright for himself. You can robably locate his Netanyahu interview where he blows the prime minister on paid cable.

The reason that Bill and Dennis; Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, Wolf Blitzer, the vampire brides at The View and all of the people in media, who are paid to lie to you, discount the evidence of their senses in respect of 9/11, is because they either know where it leads or they’ve been told to keep their mouths shut about it …or else. The ones who actually did 9/11 are the ones who control the media, for which all of these back door, rim job experts work. They had a choice; tell the truth and look for work elsewhere, or lie and set the car on cruise control. This makes them evil, all of them.

It’s like this, when you deliberately lie to people about the facts and figures surrounding 9/11, you are complicit in all of the torture and murders that followed it. You are helping to hold the public down on a water boarding sled, while you pump the waters of Lethe into their ears. The river of Lethe flows around, or through (depending on who you listen to) the cave of Hypnos. It’s the river of forgetfulness, the river of sleep; the same river that flows out of your TV set and where you see the sleepmeisters I have already mentioned. They are not just sleepmeisters. They are accessories to grievous bodily harm and murder.

They are not just culpable for murders past but they continue to murder each day of their employ. They murder the truth. They throw a bag over the truth and they point to something else as being the real deal. They endanger the lives of every moron who listens to them and yucks it up along with Kevin Smith and the rest of the vain and hungry prostie wannabees who appear on Bill’s show to simper, curry favor and bray like jackasses, while Bill skewers the hypocrisy of others.

Bill’s not just a hypocrite but also a demagogue too. He likes to go on about the behavior of Arab men as another approach toward hating Muslims with justification. You can add this in with 9/11, which was actually done by Israel and also all those other ICTS monitored terror attacks, which were carried out by Israel and blamed on someone else.

Bill’s also a grandstanding bully who conceals a trembling coward. He jumped up and ran into the audience to personally throw someone out, AS IF security at HBO would let anything happen to Mr. Lizard in Profile boy. This made Bill look like a bad ass, which he’s not. Bill wouldn’t last two seconds with a real hero. Bill wouldn’t even open his mouth around one, because Bill’s survival instincts are as well honed as his hedonistic predilections and high gloss, mirror finish ego.

Every day, accessories to torture, murder and assorted mayhem, hold forth in the electronic court of opinion, taking it up the butt from Satan and proud of it. Bill is an Israeli owned, vampire bat who drinks the credibility from those stupid enough to be entertained by him and then left hollowed out and endlessly confused as they well deserve to be. Bill is audio enhanced pond scum that rots your mind from the inside out and makes you less than you would have been had you never listened to him at all.

Bill thinks his audience is a pack of morons and he’s right. He’s their surrogate daddy who’s all set to leave town with the bottle blonde of the moment, when the shit hits the fan. Bill is a co-creator of that shit, along with all of the horrible acts of empire, which he is a spokesman for.

Dennis Miller has pretty much dropped out of sight, or maybe he’s in the shop for some necessary software updates. It doesn’t really matter. Dennis, like all of the rest of them, is a stolen car being joy-ridden by demons who sold him on the argument for him to be that way. Dennis didn’t even make it into the title of this article.

Well Bill, the day is coming. The day is coming Bill, when you are exposed for exactly what you are, in a place where you can neither hide nor defend yourself from the judgment that attends particular offenses against the human race. You have my sympathy but lessons aren’t of much value without an example and you would be that example of the lesson to be learned, when your sense of self importance exceeds your survival instincts to the point where you don’t survive and… hallelujah to that!

Sayonara Bill, as the ship of the doomed demagogues sets sail on the lake of fire, I bid you adieu and thank you for you service to the truth, if only for having offended it so badly that you had to be made an example of. Thank you Bill, now back on your head because coffee break is over.

End Transmission…….

Visible and The Critical List: Not Politically Correct by Les Visible and The Critical List♫ Dui Do I, Oh Baby D.W.I. ♫
‘Dui Do I, Oh Baby D.W.I.’ is track no. 5 of 12 on
Visible and The Critical List’s 1992 album ‘Not Politically Correct’

About this song (pops up)

Not Politically Correct by Les Visible and The Critical List

There will be a radio show tonight 7:30PM Central.

His Face and his Posture says it All; Kenneth Feinberg

Dog Poet Transmitting…….

Today we christen a new blog because finally the right psychopath has stood out in all his lucre stained glory to be the preliminary icon of the face of evil in our times. Enter Kenneth Feinberg, neo-Pharisee money controller for the Black Death Department of BP. As an independent bursar, for The University of Swindle, Steal and Torture, which is also the name of his law firm, Kenny Boy is living proof that some people have no shame but only take delight in the prolongation of human pain; not his own. Kenny Boy gets high from saying, “You don’t have sufficient documentation”. It makes him hard, primarily because nothing else does, or can. As Kenny Boy likes to say; “When money fucks you, you stay fucked.”

Kenny’s coat of arms shows two dead dolphins swimming upside down in an overflowing toilet. The caption says, “We did it so that you wouldn’t have to flush”. Let it run over the sides. It symbolizes abundance. Our cup runneth over. “Now that’s what I call an infinity pool”. I’m going to break with tradition and put today’s song right in the post:

911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible♫ Oh Kenny Boy ♫
‘Oh Kenny Boy’ is track no. 4 of 10 on Visible’s 2002 album
‘911 was an Inside Job’

Lyrics (pops up)

911 was an Inside Job by Les Visible

It’s that relevant, except for the mention of Bush and Cheney but… the names don’t matter; a psychopath by any other name… Obama is living proof that it doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s still a shit-golem on a Segway, that leaves a hissing, orange radio-active slime in its wake.

Kenny was born in a secret underground laboratory near Bed Springs, Colorado. His mother’s name was Vat #9 and he still has the jar over his fireplace to remind him of his mum. His father was made from the DNA of an unnamed serial killer, whose weapon of choice was a fountain pen. I imagine it’s a little like that Mont Blanc you see around now with John Lennon’s picture on it saying, “Peace and Love to John:. Thank God “Oh no, Yoko” is out there protecting his legacy. Still, times are tough for billionaires and every dime helps. It’s not like reputation means much in the long run. You’re still dead, or… are you? That’s something else for me to ponder, while I’m fielding visits and entertaining friends from far away, like… really, really far away.

Kenny’s got a brother that works for Mossad and a sister who turns inside out whenever she wants to disappear. She’s a little like Obama with that. Kenneth reminds me a lot of Lloyd Blankfein, whose corporation has done more to destroy the United States than all the rest of them put together. It’s the Gatling gun of jail house rape economics.

As is my practice with most vicious psychopaths, I like to imagine Kenneth Feinberg naked, just so I can get an idea of why high end escort services charge so much money. He’s bald but not for the reason you think. He’s bald because his hair all grew in to conceal his thoughts. It looks like somewhere a trapdoor spider might live.

In the masterful article that’s linked in the first paragraph (written by dueling twin neo-Pharisees), you hear certain sources saying Kenny’s doing a good job. One of those is a lawyer and I think the other is a lawyer and then there’s one that’s a lawyer too. It seems, I read that he’s denied half of the claims presented to him for insufficient documentation and also because he’s a Grade A, extra fine sonofabitch, whose nose is so far into the devil’s ass that Old Scratch looks like he has a parrot’s tongue when he speaks. Kenneth, do you mind if I borrow your face for a few days? My ass is on vacation. Seriously though, I thought I’d use it in my work with Scared Straight; keeping kids off of drugs so that they can get into the government pedophile program.

Yes Kenneth, you look like what you are. Your features have shaped themselves over the years so that you look like what people expect from a man in your position AND you enjoy your work. You actually like the work. Well, of course BP is paying you $850,000 a month to attend to the needs of those offended. It’s only fair that an independent and fair moderator of claims like yourself should be employed by the people who have to part with the money. After all, they are the closest to everything, having anything to do with The Gulf of Mexico, in it present state.

As you have probably guessed, this posting is anti-Semitic simply because any and all criticism directed at any of the self-chosen people is automatically anti-Semitic. You know, I can just see God sitting in his Heaven thinking, “I’m going to choose those people as my special go to guys, because of all the things that will later be said about them in some postings some guy is going to write in the far future, where he will mention that I did this and he will probably say I did it because I’ve got such a deadly sense of irony”.

Kenneth, look at you there, the spitting image of Bozo the Clown sans makeup. Actually it’s Bozo the Bloodstained Clown, wading through the tear flooded lives of your clients and imploring them to cry some more, giving them good reason to cry some more. You’ve already distinguished yourself with the hush money 9/11 payouts, for an event that was orchestrated by your primary nation, with the assistance of its larger, catamite cousin. They’re like the oxen that pull the cart laden with explosives that you are driving to the kiddie carnival in Everywhere, U.S.A. Once you get there you can transform into Ronald McDonald and pull cluster bombs out of a hat for party favors. Nothing I am saying here is an exaggeration. If anything, I am being understated.

What’s it like in those meetings Kenneth? The supplicant/applicant stands before you, bankrupted by your employer and possibly given a death sentence as well and you? You have a difficult poise to maintain. I imagine you’re sitting right up against a table because no one wants to be exposed to a vignette of Trout Fishing in America, especially when you’re the angler. Now, that’s what I would call pornography. I know it when I see it.

So there you sit, sweat beading on your brow, like you just came from an authentic Indian restaurant and you’re tapping your feet and you’re about to give it up and take your well earned pleasure right there as you look into the eyes of the object of your passion and say “No, I’m sorry, you have insufficient documentation. See here, according to Section 16B, Item 24, “whatever the petitioner may present, he is to be deemed to possess insufficient documentation, no matter what documentation he may have. This is to be repeated as many times as possible until the petitioner goes away, dies from a Gulf related illness, or is willing to settle for donuts on the dollar”.

You must be exhausted by lunch time. I’m thinking you’ve got a couple of testosterone patches on your body to help with generating replacement body fluids and that the real reason it’s taking so long to process these claims is because it takes so much out of you. You’re a piece of work Kenneth. You are a real Profile in Evil. You are the genuine article. You’ve got no scruples, compunction or conscience. All you’ve got is a bad priapic condition that’s got you thinking about heading over to the Department of the Interior for a fluid depreciation allowance. The little kids are the best. When they bring the little kids in with the sores on their faces from The Gulf poisons and you look into their frightened and confused eyes… you must have a sincere smile on your face. You know you’re going to cum hard and you would be grateful, if that were a state of being you could recognize but you don’t. Gratitude is not a neo-Pharisee liability. Do you exchange pleasantries with the parents? I know you wish you could take a couple of those kids with you to one of those government funded research projects. Well, never mind about that, the pool is stocked, in any case.

You know things that other people don’t know Kenneth. You know that the hardest part about being a blood stained clown is getting the blood out of the clown suit afterwards. You know the excitement of looking death in the eye and knowing you had a hand in it. You’re an Israeli loyal, American born, one hundred per cent psychopath and a worthy first addition to Profiles in Evil. You are the very face of Hell as it looks from the moment we are in. You are the heart of darkness and you only wish you had enough hands and time to refuse them all. Well done Kevin, well done.

End Transmission…….

Patrick Willis narrates:
His Face and his Posture says it All; Kenneth Feinberg