The Last Underground (Praha 1999) In the shadow of the mainstream, breaking ground at Galerie No D... ...

Ranting and raving without a mention of Trump
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This is a real letter. 

And yet "real" letters can never express the reality of such a foreign organic experience that transcends all meaning in my neuro-synopsis, but in turn inevitably gravitates between an existential and amorphic metaphysical reality pertaining to such habits and addictions, which I endeavor to call my hobbies, belonging not only to me, but perhaps to the generational catechism known to the elders as the atari teenage riot or "losers" without jobs.

Those who are lazy, consumed with mutilating their faces and body parts with stainless steel rods through pierced protrusions culminating in a metallic encompassing mess which they always assume makes the airport security check points send off alarms, and continuously, also causes the moral decline of the golden years.

Golden years in which the woman was oppressed unknowingly and expected to continually be "barefoot and pregnant" unable to enjoy the natural course of life's purpose of SEX and freedom in which we all are raw humanic animals (with needs and desires) anyway, with moans, and heavy breathing, nails leaving red traces of torn flesh down the backs of our sometimes nameless, (or at least we choose to forget their names), and never seen again partners of the opposite or similar gender, beautiful sexual humanistic organisms one and all.

And the generalizationizers call us the evil and bad ones. We never dropped the bomb burning thousands of women and children of a civilian nature, not to protect American lives, as "they" still believe after seventy years, but simply just one man's political ambitions leading and arising only in the desire to gain another term in an office that someone needs to open a window in, because the sh*t stinks there, but who has the right to say "they" are wrong, although "they" are, because their sh*t stinks and "they" don't want to hear it. 

We need to say it. 

But "they" don't want to listen to the truth that we have come to realize through the censorship of history in which "they" can't hear the unspoken reality, for the unspoken still exists; first it was homosexuality, infidelity, the communist "red" scare, THE bomb, John F Kennedy (who apparently was a BAD BAD BAD man), realities of Vietnam, Mai lai 4, the hippie generation, civil rights as a means for the basic rights of humans, which supposedly our forefathers created.

Created in reality only for the rich, land-slave owning white MAN. Free-love, the Cold War, secret negotiations between Khrushchev and JFK, Cuban missile crisis, CIA assassinations, Reaganomics, the rape and American covert genocidal atrocities in urban inner city ghettos in which the government supplies drugs and weapons to minorities (while also suppressing any form of education or police for that matter) in an effort to try to get these inner city minorities to kill each other off so that the government can do away with "unwanteds" in their own form of genocidal ethnic cleansing without the taint of blood on their hands.

But yet they still are bloody-handed for in this cleansing through legal loopholes called capital punishment the government can kill those who did their business for them, and say that justice is done.

But justice is blind, because "An eye for an eye, makes the world go blind" -(Gandhi).

But "they" don't want to talk about it, "they" just want to sip their morning martinis and coffees, "their" afternoon whiskeys, after lunchtime amphetamine shots, "their" mid-day afterwork bar-fly hop, leading into "their" evening champagne glasses in crystal clinks and toasts, into the late nightcap of bourbon and sleeping pills, Prozac, nicotine, all that culminate in a socially acceptable means of "their" own drug addiction, but which also is still part of the unspoken, the abysmal plain on which eyes are closed, ears do not hear the waves of truth and reality, the sense of smell is plagued by "their" stinky sh*t, and touch is taboo ("cause society 'their society' teaches us that allowing our sexual explorations to blossom is BAD BAD BAD").

Their taste also is clouded (I'm trying to hit all the senses) through their inevitable liking for the early 50's idea of Ward and June Cleaver perfection, which "they" don't want to accept is a TV show portraying a false perspective on the right way of life. 

This mass media controls society to keep us down, the idea that raves are an institutional governmental program to take kids, put them in some warehouse or field far far from society to blast music in kids ears (so that we do not hear the realities of "their" sh*t), give them drugs (to alter and kill our minds), and make them jump up and down all night and into the day so that we cannot clean up the sh*t in our cities (thanks to a recent or not so recent article on 'rave and the government' in the sometimes informative sometimes uproarious Prague magazine Think).

This we cannot have.

This is a call to all Atari and Nintendo lovers, to all pierced metallic children of the night, to all of us who see the sh*t but don't know what to do about it, for we have been asleep and sitting down too long, it is time to awake and stand on our own two feet! 

Think about it. 

Don't take things at face value, ask questions, demand answers to what you seek, and then question these making up your own answers. 

Resist! I'm not talking anarchy, I'm talking education through our lives, and not this already formulated structured education "they" say you need to do anything in life, for this is where "they" feed their bullsh*t in heaping shovels when our eyes are closed in one of "their" books we must study endlessly that will either punish or praise us when time comes for testing that really doesn't mean anything anyway.

For "they" are just pitting us against each other so that we cannot unite and bring about a change in a world that utterly needs it.

I'm not saying I have all the answers that is left for you to seek for yourselves, this is simply the rants and raves of one kid in a sea of others.

Remember we are not numbers or statistics, we are people. We are the atari generation (which I guess is also a tool of the government to keep us inside, glued to a machine that some say kills brain cells, so that we cannot see anything other than how to beat the next level of a never ending game).

So... Thanks for listening to this pierced, jobless "loser".

Ciao, baby.

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