Man Talk


Walter: Nothing changes. Goddamn Nazis.

The Dude: They didn’t say they were Nazis. They said they were nihilists.

Walter: Nihilitsts? Fuck me. Say what you will about the tenets of National Socialism, at least it was an ethos.”

From The Big Lebowsky,
by the Coen Brothers

So I went to THE MAN and I said, straight to HIS face, “Who’s fooling who, MAN? I mean, what kinda hustle you trying to pull? That’s two countries destroyed in two years and Iran and god-knows-who else on the way. What happened to Al Quaeda and Bin Laden and all the other excuses for Police State laws and rhetoric and all that killing?”

THE MAN said, “Freedom, democracy, eternity. We the people united stand Superpower bless us God. This land your land my land Daniel Boone.”

I said, “Yeah, yeah. Flags for the children and a Chicken Hawk in every pot. Come clean, MAN. We’re catching on. Lotta folks are wondering what really did happen on September 11, 2001. Facts, rumors and suppositions jam the Web, yet YOU closed down the investigation of the single most deadly attack – aside from YOUR own nuclear testing – ever on U.S. Soil. What gives?

THE MAN said, “Brave, brave Fireman. Postage stamp. Statue. Hero, hero. Ham on rye.”

I said, “Yeah, we’ve heard the ‘hero’ thing, it’s old. Today’s hero could be tomorrow’s homeless ‘loser’ (ask your Vietnam and Gulf I Veterans, or Tom Paine) You lied about Weapons of Mass Destruction. You lied about respecting States Rights (or you wouldn’t be in power). You lied about so many things related to 9/11 that one can only suspect you’re hiding something. Else why not a full investigation to “get” the terrorists? Unless there is an investigation by someone impartial – if that’s possible — other than the Gallery of Graft we used to call ‘Congress,’ why don’t I just believe everything that’s out there until I know the truth? After all, as someone said, the most unbelievable conspiracy regarding 9/11 is the story foisted upon the world by your Mainstream Media.”

THE MAN said, “Truth in truth lies gravid with The Beast. Protect you. I. Will defend. Us. All of us. In this. Together. Spawn of Saddam’s poison seed neutralized, deleted. Get a job. Buy stuff. The markets are free and safe.”

I said, “Yah! You’re not protecting anyone but Big Oil and the Old Gory Glory Flag Factory and whatever other private companies you hired out to ‘fix’ Afghanistan and Iraq. A hundred billion dollars already and more on the way? While the U.S. is in economic meltdown. Crisis. And you cut taxes for the super-rich but not the other 99 percent of the country except the super-poor? And you cut over-time pay (to increase the ranks of the super-poor?). And you talk about needing us to buy more troops to deploy and ‘support.’ What are you thinking?”

THE MAN said, “Rebuild this vale of tears. Better than it was. Better, stronger, faster.”

I said, “How, by smoking civilians with high tech weapons? By ignoring the worldwide economic nightmare, and the approach of an environmental seizure? Don’t you ever think of your own grandchildren? What, are you gonna lock them in a giant, climate-controlled dome while the rest of us have our faces pressed against the glass?”

THE MAN said, “Close the door on your forever forgotten bleeding heart junk science not worth my dime – time. Rasta la vita, mother-fucker. Adipose.”

I said, “Fine, fine. I’m sure you’d be happy to steer me toward extinction, as I would you. But a lot of people are getting sick. Food is poison. Water is poison. Air is poison. Your own Flag-waving sheep are in for unexpected tumors. Who’s gonna deal with all this sickness? You? How are even your ‘supporters’ going to live in the wasteland you’re creating?”

THE MAN said, “Apple a day no smoke. Work out. Oat Bran, Broccoli, Marmite. Don’t eat pretzels. Meat is good. Beef the red in RedWhiteandBlue. Freedom Fries. Prairie Oysters. Viagra. You are who you eat suggest don’t go down on Laura.”

I said, “Forget about it. I might as well be talking to Stalin, in Russian, for all the sense I’ll get outta you. But let me say, there’s something uniquely wrong with you. All your paved highways lead to Death.

“Imagine if the worst. The Nazis got their way: Hitler’s little theme park. Wouldn’t be good for the non-German majority, but I guess if you landed in a space ship from Planet X, you’d see a bunch of Germans in clean cities, green fields and not much else. Slavic slaves. A Jew or two in a museum or zoo. Nightmare, from the non-German point of view, and probably the German too, but a form of life. A mad vision. Same with the Zionists. They got their way you’d have a bunch of settlements in “Greater Judea” clean cities, green fields, Slavic slaves, and a Palestinian or two in a museum or zoo. Bleak vision, again, but still a form of life. Something the tourist from Planet X might have seen elsewhere, in other totalitarian pockets of the galaxy.

“But you , Corporate MAN, your vision, if fulfilled, would be grimmest of all, for it yields no survivors. Nothing. Dead air, dead animals, dead oceans. Ghost cities. Brown, rotting flora under gray-black sky. Green money in your vaults useless. Who you gonna pay? All the money sucked from the consumers of the world can’t buy you an apple from dead trees. The Tourists from Planet X would think they stopped at a Ghost planet. Trashed and abandoned. Nothing, not even totalitarian ant colony life, in this wasteland. This sooty rock”

THE MAN said, “Bright shining burning screaming not my problem Sodom and Gomorrah. Door-to-door chariot my House to Heaven’s Gate. Crush the people cleanse the people love the people bread and butter.”

I said, “I hate you. Hate you. You’re destroying just about everything that made it tolerable to be human. Six billion people will curse the day you appeared out of the Cosmic dust. But it will be too late. You’ll have long since returned to dust, oblivion, while screams of terror, outrage, will reverberate throughout the globe. I wish your vicious Deity were real and not merely a grotesque delusion in your Depleted Cranium. I’m sure the billions of folks you’re helping to whack would appreciate front row seats when your freak fantasy god kicks your ass from Hell to Eternity, AMEN.”

ADAM ENGEL lives at bartleby.samsa@verizon.net

Adam Engel is editor of bluddlefilth.org. Submit your soul to bluddlefilth@yahoo.com. Human units, both foreign and domestic, are encouraged to send text, video, graphic, and audio art(ifacts), so long as they’re bluddlefilthy and from The Depths.

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