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"You were from a perfect world, a world that threw me away today."
Marilyn Manson : Coma White

Dear Katy/Linda,

Welcome to the last day on Earth, you lying goddamn bitches. Remember when people used the expression "this is my 9/11" when something bad happened? And people would reply, "too soon?" Or that part in The Big Lebowski, when he's writing a check for half & half at Ralph's on "9/11/91." Apparently I'm not the only person in this galaxy you've pissed-off. So, this is on behalf of me to you.

On 8/11/10, you wrote your final check. The one your ass won't cash. No more half & half for you, bitch. Today is the last day of your lies. Burn your fucking dusty bible for heat, because the sky opened for me. Because now I'm watching you. My refrigerator is empty, and they sold my piano for you... so I have the Time.

I spent this morning in court. I have now been convicted for a DWI, although by breathalyzer test was under the legal limit. I was at a bar with my neighbor across the hall. At closing time, an employee of the bar came up behind me and yanked me by the arm as he tried to yank my empty glass from my hand. My friend saw this and tried to shove this six and a half foot-tall spic out of my face. Simultaneously, a cop yanked him by the collar so hard it ripped the seems. I dropped the glass and ran him out of the bar, to essentially escape the ass-beating we were about to get from two fat pigs and a simian bar-tender.

I called 911 from the parking lot; having attended law school, my friend was physically assaulted by officers because he tried to help me from being crushed by a fat ass. The 911 lady told me to go home and follow the instructions of the officer. I'm not an idiot, and this was a typical set-up, but principally I was sober and would rather be arrested than go forward with a shut mouth... just another bitch to authority. In other words, I did this to myself, because you have to fight for your right to party. You never did. I did. Cuz' either way I get screwed.

My lawyer said "It was your bad decision, after all. You shouldn't have gone back."

Such is the story of my life, you fucked-up bitch. Standing up for my rights against the fat pig mongers who you let into the garden.

When they couldn't prove I was drunk, they did a "hawk-eye" test on me. There's a DVD with my eyes going back-and-forth for over 2 minutes. Because I'm fucking dead, just like my dad. Because of you, I am a stranger in my own house.

Accordingly, little sister, my pure and true authority is bound to YOUR mindless war and hate authority for the last time, Eva. You are the definition of "logjammin." You are a part of me, I know you better than I know myself. This aggression will not stand, man. You woke-up all the sleeping dogs. The trees burn where the bears hibernate.

The thing about now, is that you're messing with THE son of a bitch. I'm kind of a big deal, you see. You might remember my role in A Hard Days Night as Paul's clean and strange grandfather who the boys end-up with in the coup. You are Diane Keaton in Godfather II as she tells Michael that she aborted his son, who'd be the family's sole heir and hope.

You fucking CUT in line on the way to heaven and stayed there. And now you turned THIS world into SHIT. You're an emotionally dead junkie. But you're still a part of me. I cannot shed your smoky shadow. This is how to look at Everything You Did:

"Woman is the Nigger of the World" is about of YOU. In The Prisoner, per se, everyone there was fucking brainwashed and white. THAT'S HEAVEN. HEAVEN SUCKS BECAUSE OF YOU. YOU TOOK LOVE AWAY. YOU MISUNDERSTOOD MY WORDS AND IT FUCKING KILLED ME. The first moment in the last episode of The Prisoner, you hear All You Need Is Love. 2 explains to 6 that it is to make him feel 'more at home,' since he passed "the test" by surviving all the wicked Mind Games during the series. Yet the episode turns into 6 cunningly kicking everyone's ass to escape back into the "real world."

You keeping track, bitch? Everyone in the world hopes you are. And a bunch of us have just been waiting.. and waiting.. and waiting..

"I'm just a soul whose intentions are good. Oh lord, please don't let me be MISUNDASTOOD."
The Animals - Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

6, upside down is 9. Say "nine" like you're playing Hitler. Because that's what it means, and that's who you are, fucking mutt. I know you are, because I Am. And because you're just a fucking zero, I'm perpetually dead with no control. You are why the only content people in this world are fucking white drones. You're not as much as my "sister" as you are cancer to Mother Earth.

You ever notice how in 1980, as Bill Hicks always said, everything started to suck? Music became plastic and soul-less. Reagan. The Trickle Down Effect. Love & Rocket's "Holiday on the Moon." Black Flag's "Everything Went Black," et, al.

I'm fucking tired of typing, and life, so I'm gonna cut this to the quick. All of The Beatles are just dead kings. There has not been a real king since Richard III. For a decade, they were pranced-around like a soap-opera and it is/was all an illusion to try and make people believe that love exists. Hence the legacy, contemporaneously foretelling the fall out.

In 1980, somehow, I was born. 10 days later my dad "was killed." I exist only because I killed my father, because it was love, and it was the best thing that could have happened. That is technically so fucked-up and hard to deal with. What makes me perfect is that I'm the angel of death. The fuck!? The sequel to the Genesis: Ryan, the lovey-dovey un-fallen biblical Satan. Having been born to a dead guy in heaven, this boy got into a tie with you in the queue to a luscious afterlife. I feel like a girl, pretty and small and powerless. But unlike the rest of the other side of the wall, I have all the power and carry the love of God in my heart with the fire of a loving, but ass-hole sicilian mother. I'm the last fucker with his feet on the ground and mind in the sky.

Sounds fucking stupid, eh? I hate it, too. I carry the world's weight because I live in Heaven and Hell at the SAME FUCKING TIME. I'm the conduit between life and after-life. My conscience is the result of an eternity of prayers of hope.

And if you could hear me, it's all right there in the music! The entire story!

Oh, the story!

If you were here, to look into the white screen of my pupils, WHICH CAUSES ME TO BE DISCONNECTED FROM EVERYBODY AND HAS NOW OFFICIALLY CAUSED AUTHORITY TO BE SUBJECT TO AUTHORITY'S ANTI-AUTHORITY. Everyday is opposite day, so I watched and I figured it all out. But I'm still hiding inside from the rape machines. You could see it too, if you were here, but you're a cold, cold stupid blissed-out cunt bitch.

And if you had ever put your hand on my chest, you'd feel a goddamn lump lodged in my sternum that feels like a mother-fucking bullet. It just happen to appear when I FUCKING KILLED MYSELF during law school on dissociative medication and playing pinball with a $70,000 car pushing 150 on the Hardy Toll Road. JUST TO get away from you. YEAH, BITCH - I killed myself because I actually found love, but you're my reflection. Everybody hates you. So, everybody hates me. So I really did fall into the dream. Which is really a nightmare.

"No Stairway!"

In Donnie Darko, you know why they say "cellar door" is the most beautiful term? Because your ass has been a lump of cancer on the way to Eden, letting the lamest people in, and keeping the good people out. You're too dead in the heart to know what love is. So, you made love a sin. Because of you, all the girls in heaven have a number, just like in The Prisoner. You're my little sister because our souls are tied together in eternity. I'm an innocent boy that reflects your fucking world-ruining apathy. I'm Willy Wonka, but can't taste the chocolate. Hot, hard and dead as dirt... over YOU.

You are why all the best jazz musicians had to junk themselves into a trance to feel the source of love. They were black, and their habit was self-destructing just to make the most beautiful music, ever. It's why people in the 60's ate so much acid, and then coke in the 70's and crack in the 80's.

We're all sinners down here, where you never are, who are just looking for Something. Meanwhile, heaven is like sleeping on the concrete in a traffic jam, having tinnitus and being on fire, you stupid bitch. Once, for a month, it felt like I was living every bad acid trip ever. Everyone thought I went crazy (like Syd Barrett with hair) because you just hide behind me, always, taking no heat. You undeservingly float around in my grace, you fucking bitch. I've never met you in my life (likely a result of your omnisciently good fate), but I get a hard-on when I fantasize about choking you and beating you with my hands. "Eye for eye & tooth for tooth, no?" I mean - you had left us all dumb and blind, so it's be more like absolution than sadomasochism right?

And that's why I'm splitting. ALL THE LONELY PEOPLE COME FROM YOU AND ME. I'm taking it all back. I want the friends who left me because of you. I want to be in love again. Essentially, I would very much just like to be alive. Somehow, both of us are stuck here, but you still don't understand the cellar door. Or how you keep me from everything I've ever wanted and deserved, but never had.

Hell, you killed every single one of The Beatles, too! Here's the trickle-down theory: while you and your vanilla drones were sleeping, I watched as the entire world was bought and sold then bought back for a prophet. I know there's no fun climbing alone into nothing, you vacant piece of shit, but that's on you now. I skull-fucked your world out from underneath you, and the only thing we've done is sell your door. It's now at the bottom of the C, where the beautiful people are all drowning. You are the people's Titanic.

And the band plays on...

"Imagine there's no cunt, Ry. It's easy if you tri."

"I'm not what I used to B, and love's not a game for 3."

It's all part of my rock and roll fantasy... this story, that is. Except the part where your vacancy has completely fucked my own world, as you have now officially put the 5th unborn Christ under the rule of a bloated abuse of authority which, is my own authority, but I can't protect myself or my sons and brothers against. EVERY GOOD DECISION I MAKE RAPES ME. YOU'RE TURNING ME ANOREXIC AGAIN, YOU KNOW? JUST LIKE HOW I WAS AS A KID NEVER MY CHOICE. I CAN'T EVEN AFFORD THE MEDICATION THAT LETS ME SLEEP. AND NOW I'M ON PROBATION, I CAN'T SMOKE WEED YOU GODDAMNED STUPID FUCKING CUNT.

So, I'm at the axis of nothing to lose and everything again. All out of Valium, and 20 minutes away from pawning my TV and picking-up a Taurus .9mm

I've tried myself to death and cried myself to sleep for the past three years. The last dick with a soul in your material world.
I hate myself enough now to torture you.
Let it B.
But u cant c!

Time tells me to split. I've literally carried the world my whole life, but I'm not shrugging.

Instead, I'm just going to shake this goddamn Etch-A-Sketch model of the world blank as I lurk in the dark corners of your undiscovered mind, waiting to jump out and fuck you till you want to die, and then stop to make you listen to Merzbow on 11 every single goddamn night. Because that's what you deserve, and we've all agreed it's the best course of action. Everyone's gonna watch, too. Really stoked.

So I'll just be taking this CD, and all my tapes and records back. I literally cannot repeat myself again, so... here's to my brothers and bonds. Be there now.


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