Monday, August 9, 2010

The Culture of Looting

“The walls on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams…”


People in high levels of government and business know it is certain. People on the streets sense it. The remainder plods to the next mark and are no more aware of it than a turtle is aware of its shell. And what is it? The party’s over.

The “host” liquidated his assets and took his jet to Bermuda before the invitations went out. The butler passed out trying to pork the maid upstairs, and the maid booked with the silverware. And the “guests” are madly trying to snort the rest of the dope.

Meanwhile, an angry mob is advancing from the ghetto; intent on stripping the place… maybe catching some stoned-out cash-carrying porkies and helping themselves to a free BMW and a coked-out trophy wife. The party’s over. Not everyone knows it yet.

Not everyone was invited. Not everyone even heard about it. Not everyone knows the massive drywall box by the golf course is wide open and there are free doorknobs for the taking. Guests pissing in the potted plants are unaware of the advancing mob.

Maybe somebody will call 9-11 and the cops will come and shoot the looters until their shift ends. The cops will go home and wait for their paychecks that will be tied up in litigation. The burning drywall boxes will light up the golf course for a few nights.

Nobody told the mob where to go. Evicted and armed, they were all just looking for a warm place to shit. They shit in the plastic cups on the manicured greens and plant the flags in the mouths of crispy blackened trophy-wife corpses.

It has happened before… like when the Black Death took out half of Europe. It will happen again, but there might not be anybody who can write it down. Nobody could read it anyway. And what was it? The party’s over. That’s what it was.

There was never any party to begin with. It was just a gaggle of fat overpaid looters converging on the carrion before the lean unpaid looters took them. A Financial Advisor was cheering for the Bulls when his head was rammed through the plasma screen.

They came to see a show. They came to network and tinkle and chat about images and icons something academics called culture. That was the party that never existed. But the culture exists as the fires flicker and the dead are brought on. Culture is a verb: looting… like “cultured” pearls.

Soon it will be time to make more things to steal.

The party’s over.


  1. How weird. I was singing that song to my dog just this morning........~sigh

    The party's over
    It's time to call it a day
    They've burst your pretty balloon
    And taken the moon away
    It's time to wind up the masquerade
    Just make your mind up the piper must be paid

    Fuck the piper !!!

  2. [...] Now maybe if we can play this number before the party’s over, we can change the Culture! [...]

  3. Good post waldo.. except I don't get this:

    Banana nut goat rabbit purple-
    Have She the Purpose– High Lee!
    Never the moments in God my attending
    gargantuan almond door free.
    – waldopaper


  4. Brilliant post Waldo.

    This headwise stuff is sprouting up all over the web like rumes in a cow paddy...

    You can see the reality of what Lao Tzu had to say about the latter days of any culture or system of government where evil and venal men and women mine the wreckage for personal profit. It’s the accepted thing to lie and conspire while presented oneself as a patriot and defender of the land and the people they are looting. Speeches are filled with flowery words that mean nothing. Honor is an empty suit that parades around as a mockery of itself while ignorant people applaud and wonder at the mysterious presence and power of those who give the appearance of possessing virtues, which would instantly compromise all of their selfish actions. It doesn’t matter anymore what you are, it only matters how you make yourself appear to be. All of these seemingly, intelligent people dance around each other like courtiers at the palace of a corrupt monarch. The trivia of important lives has replaced the substance of what everyone once expected.--Le Visible

  5. It's an "epigraph." And it's Dada. ...and I just thought I'd throw it in here for shits-and-giggles.

    Never mind that. The reaction I get is (first): (eeeeewww... it's so neeegaative. If ya got all them bad vibes ya gonna ATTRACT "negativity" an then..." and then my reaction is:

    wal then wash down an ol chill-pill with a nice cup of shuthefuckup, pil-grim. you ain't gonna "good-vibe" yer way outta fucking Armageddon, so just get really stoned and maybe you won't notice the rats gnawing on your septum.

    No... the reaction I've done FAR more work on is this... the Ned Flanders diddly-dang-DO-something, "hmmph. well so what... you don't offer any SOLUTIONS..."

    A-HA! But I DO!! An I got it and here ya go (and btw... this took about 20 years of research and I didn't just pull it out of my ass five minutes ago) so TA-DA! Here it is!


  6. boomerangcomesbackAugust 9, 2010 at 5:40 PM

    King Solomon said, "All is vanity".

    Throughout the ages we have seen vanity perfected until we've arrived at this stage of the "play".

    What an ugly, wasteful, arrogant display they make, dancing and parading around with such self-importance. It is a macabre dance of soon to be ghosts in the machine.

    Their lives will be measured in the damage they've done.

  7. boy howdy. dog-poet be down wit' da doo... but he DO go on (and on and on and on and on)

    Thang is: "...the last shall be first and the first shall be last." So the more ya try to git yer poop in a pile... the more likely ya find out the Clue-Train left a delivery on the other side o town from yer poop-pile.

    The clothes on yer back and the thoughts in yer head. That's all ya got or need. As good a "private fiefdom" as any!

  8. whoops... now having said THAT... there's a difference between centering on "energy" as opposed to "keeping negative energy away."

    c'mon think about it... is there REALLY such a thing as "negative" energy? Yeah yeah I know about anti-matter and the big Quantum nuh-uh... but I'm talkin bout the heat it takes to keep yer ass from freezing and the calories it takes to dispose of yer turds.

    Chop wood. Carry water. That is Zen.

  9. I have the intuition that this new world order contraption is going to find itself in Icarus mode quicker than they can even imagine.

  10. The Answer To Everything; sweet, very good Waldo.

    A brilliant 'Epitaph';
    "The walls on which the prophets wrote
    Is cracking at the seams..."


    ..the Crimson King being the Red Shield


  11. The clothes on yer back and the thoughts in yer head. That’s all ya got or need. As good a “private fiefdom” as any!--xxx

    Yea, that was me in my troubadore' twenties...the most free and carefree time of my life.

    Life on the geezer trail is not as trick, and the bones are more brittle and a matress sure is a sweet thing when it's bed time. Lolly?

  12. Thanks Willy! I took da liberty o stealin' that line!

  13. So, like, check dis out- OK?

    Yah- Lockheed-Martin, Boeing, Xe and da zoo really care bout dat ol Constitution yoo betcha!

    Yet one more example of how the sock-puppets think the puppet-show is real because THEY'RE IN IT!

    Thanx an a tip o da waldohat to Shannyn Moore-

  14. yaah I seen dem strings all dancy bout.

    You got marion and mixum up with sockguys and the stage gets a mangomess be. Punchunverol.

  15. Yeah- that's what my preview said too! Didn't sound like Waldo so I checked it out anyway......Puddy? what's up here?

  16. Hey Laudy:) Yea, what WAS that? That silly wordplay was posted under the picture when I first read the article.. gone now...a tear in the matrix??!! ha!

  17. I think if you tore off Sarah's head it would be full of wires and stuff. She can't be real.

  18. I replaced it with a quote I stole from ol Willy. I used to write "poetry" and considered that ditty to be one of my best. Hey- I never said I was any good at it or anything. But hell- I got more!

    "Hey punk, get a haircut," the passing man shouted--
    Now why can't that man get his mind
    Out from under his crew-cut and and into the Cosmos
    To ride the Etherial Wind--

    To bask in the warm and wise smile of the Shepherd
    Who created all men to be brothers?
    To taste, in this life, all the sweet fruits of Reason
    And sew the Great Seed among others.

    Just think, troubled brother, if you thought this way,
    Wouldn't your life be more pleasant?
    Besides, if I cut of this beautiful hair
    Then I'd look like you-- you peasant.

    ...ummm... well that was a long time ago... and again, I never claimed to be good at it or anything.

  19. Yea...she is your typical Chatty Cathy pullstring puppetette.

    Did you see WESTWORLD? One of dem carryactors, best used as a blow p dolly.

    "come'er baby, let me show you what that mouth is for". You could see McCain droolin' and thinking that during the 'presidential primary" debauchathon.

    In every dream home a heart ache...

  20. Hell yea, wasn't McCain caught on film staring at her butt on stage?

  21. Now that's a poem Waldo! The other one reminded me of something I'd hear from the caterpillar in alice's wonderland that scared the hell outta me when I was a tiny child.

  22. Oh yea...he was sniffin'...itsa doggie thang.