The antichrist is here. It’s not a who, it’s a what.
consensus is hat the gog/magog is theequivalent of a personification, an imam, who is equivalent of the antichristus. The gog/magog being the source of the final conflict, after the passage of the tribulation. The peronifier is the artificial replacement of human thought, and personality.
This Iran deal the massive content of all the science be dwarfed by the thin, dangerous veneer of human frailty, consistent with national pride and influence? well, ahem,yes makes the politicians strangely familiar bed-fellows.
The antichrist kind of suspected that his time was coming. He was a complicated man, but very naive and with barely a smile of character. Actually the antichrist may have been a woman sort of like pope Joan, in the very Middle Ages, and after that, if literary gossssss sip could be believed, they reconstructed the papal throne. This may have come directly from the pen of the writer of believe it or not?
But, it goes on to write that the pope’s throne was reconstituted by a simple act of drilling a glory hole into the seat of it, thereby making the requisite job of papal peeping to. A novel but well paying and need to mention, influential job.
Thereafter there was never a doubt as to whom, the possession of said seat truly and rightfully belonged to.
But, aside from gossip, others may be viewing for the job, the retarded, Spanish bourbon, no whisky, no that’s it Spanish Hapsburg prince, or even one of the offspring of the court of st James, son of the most evil creatures alive claims one source, or even
The new Russian tear, or Obama. Yeah, whatever.
Any rate tounge Waggers and habitual jerkoffs know best, because missing so much along the way,
They cannot understand Henry millers wise pronouncement
That u do not have to go to Athens to be there. If you can put it into your heart, then there is no reason why you should not immediately start a course of cholesterol drugs, Greece tends to clutter it all up, and the great fear of really being there
Is claustrophobia to the nth power. or some kind of power.
That Such a creature, who can have himself crucified in a black mass exists or not, remain to be seen.
But, or BUTT, dunno which, (and it is important to)
Which is which, but often sloppy, bukovski type classlessness mixed with unwarranted bravado works well. At any rate, he must love stories to be such a figment of their own imaginations, to be able to appreciate nature walks, and retro images of Nietzchean confusion edging on delirium.
He must be Ecco homo , the same Eco of pendulum fame where such trivial madnesses as going on and on as in total unaware ness of how ridiculous the whole idea is, is mitigated.
It is certain that the antichrist is of the same type of product as Luther martins original edict nailed to the cathedral door, but the sources are much more
Obscure, which incidentally was caused by a very
Nerve wracking and uneven penmanship of
Revolt against the periphery of the
Repression of stigmata, upon the body
Of a naive boy, who was widely
Admired by such as various barons
Of mainly Germany and England in cahoots
(Described very well in various covens by
Tom Crusing)
What any of this had anything to do with Foucault and his pendulum remains to be explored,
But the fact of covens, secret societies and such have always been a matter of extreme interest and speculation
Among the ones in the know, whoever they may be,
And they are even now, plotting the necessary extinction of most of the population.,
The remarkably good reason not to believe this,mis the comforting thought , the supposed fearless cyborg community will not yet evolve to the point where they can actually foreclose on style, since their preoccupation with content is in the rare to well done rane, skipping the medium for reasons unknown.
at any rate, there will be fear, and trembling
Resembling Black Friday when hordes tremble the weaker underfoot getting to the best buys for incredible bargains
Only to find the best stuff gone,
There will be no comparison, and no judgement,
Every piece of art may then be gone, except
The Rembrandts and the Other classics,
Because the entrepreneurs left the most expensive
And childish murillos and Warhols for the last
So here we are at the bottom of the third,
Waiting for HIM, like for a Godot ,
And I bet my bottom dollar if I had one, that everyone will cheer him on, I suppose he will look magnificent riding on a totally devistating and incredibly beautifully white Siberian tiger, of the finest lineage. (No not the one that nearly killed
That guy in Vegas)
Crowd will cheer, super computer headed humanoids will stomp their feet in agreement, barely contained by the growling ten feet tall flaming fire eyed cyborgs with drawn lazor hatchets . the mongoloids will nod in agreement, some excited to the extent, they actiually slashed their own hands and started to munch on them. Ambulances and screaming mothers
Crazed, threw their children into the flowing river, which appeared lava like burning the coastline as it silently flowed down the embankments of that
Very famous city south of Vienna.
here the prof stopped, and suddenly to everyone’s surprise, removed the skin of his body appendage,
And stepped out of it, and hey the crowds roared in disbelief, when it was revealed he was non other than
Dr…oh no,someone played the sax, slowly and sweetly, as the riverboat gently the red city of the lava flow drift by, and he said, well
What do you expect, after all the refrain
By Judy garland to the wizard of ahhhhhhhhhhs?
I have an idea as an afterthought, the woman looked into his eyes, and said you are a dick thinking
there is no anti-Christ…there is hatred and killing…it is part of our nature
And the little shrouded baby, cried and her momma picked him up . he immediately stopped as he suckled on the withered old hanging tit. it went poorly, only a few drops of milk came out of it. As the desperate baby sucked on it feverishly. His teeth
were few, but elongated and razor sharp. the mother, his eyes be taking the scarlet drops left by his infants son’s greedy bites, was angry at the furry
Brownish thing whose tail hung out noticeably stiffer when he first started to feed.
The mother chided the baby, "ts ts ts scummy, don’t
bite me next time, "as the baby growled even more
menacingly.
And he spoke with a voluminous deep,pitched roar, "
this lady told me there is no antochrist, mommy"
The lady, our lady, gently placing her trembling claws
upon the babe , said almost in tears, which hit the
ground with distinctive thuds, tried tomcomfortmthenwretched little being.
“Now now now, little one, don’t believe everyone ,
Cause they don’t know what they’re doing”
“thank You mommy, the little tykes shrieked out with
a hiss followed by a mist of dark red vapor, " I will remember that, as she bit the nipple off and spit it out like it was some kind of seed.”
the mommy caught this, and cheered It at on.
“dear, there is no telling…” mommy what will
they call me ? The mommy said nothing, only looke
past the little bundle of joy before she fling it out far out, into the roaring ripples of the blue waltzing river.
She saw his little beady eyes flaming red darts, as he
finally submerged in the eternal blue, in a gut
wrenching sizzle of union between water and flames.
(Even for her, this was too much, so she would again waitmpatientlynformher one and only satyr to return,
Until then she took to her other reality, as if waking from a bad dream, Dildo and Aneas.
Adiago Dazzle is the anti-christ. Therefore, the statement “coming through the antichrist” is sexually arousing. I am God.
I had a feeling You’d like it dear. my hunches are usually right on the money. (Curtsies before the god) lyst she upset proto call,mor so thin’. Mind her manners dear, don’t go screwing around with that no good anti so thin, he ain’t good, not for you, noway.
Shoot, you’d been studyn that guy 'postor, he got lot of,studyn and come to think of it he ain’t nobody specia no how. So go on shoot. God! Tsk tsk,tsk, my word the stories them youn ons dream up nowadayz,this wold coming to no good I say, no good.
Take your meds.
I will never fall for the temptation to erase each and every absurdity I have ever written so help me god. now, that’s my excuse, presto agitato?
My statement was not absurd. Adagio is real, she exists as an entity, and has power and influence. She sexually arouses me. I am God.
That’s plagarism.
Saying basic phrases is not plagiarism, and if a body of monkeys deems it such they are in error.
I have to confess, though,presto is not real. And neither is agitato. Well that’s a load off my chest.
They are real, they exist on screen, but have little depth or connection to any other energy other than Italian energy. Unless there is a planet that speaks such language and is reading this right now. They would not make the connection to Italian energy. However Adagio has more connections than simply Italian energy, in fact.
But noblesse oblige, I feel ur getting bored with absurdity, if not yours, then mine, …bands of monkeys? I know of only three see, hear, nor speak no evil. And there is a good reason they choose not to get involved, they know better. The absurd is always a way to get out of a sticky situation, especially if they resent silence as a given. But let’s face it, in the numerals forums in which your godhead was declared, the call for pills echoed down the halls of places of confinement. Some people are born page turners, by natural inclination.
I am a God. God’s made mistakes, after all this planet was a mistake. However this was no mistake. Though composers may hail from different lands, the energy behind musical phraseology is very much Italian energy. Such things would be outside of the connection forming capacity of an alien culture.
The monkeys are not absurd, for the DMCA are absurd monkeys.
yes, yes Italian energy, the energy of Boccaccio, or Respighi, of Boccharini, of Tibaldi,Callas, Toscanini, Verdi, Mario Lanza , Perry Como.,Sophia Loren, Anna Magnani, Vittorio de Sica, Michelangelo Antonioni, Madonna, Michalangelo, Pier Angeli, Beneditto Mussolsini, Rudolfo Valentino, Machine gun Kelley, El Capone, all the inhabitants of the Vaticano living and dead, all the Christan martyred thrown to lions, and a cast of thousands more.
What’s that I hear, You snoring? Well good night and have a very merry Easter. if You were from the country of my origin,that is Hungary, tomorrow, if You were of that mind set, You would take cologne to spritz the kind ladies in Your neighborhood, but that’s just a faint
remembrance by now. And I was little, oh so little, and the kind ladies after they were spritzed, landed enthusiastic but very proper kisses on little boys
reddish cheeks, …
good night sweet godess, may the queen of the night offer You proper rest.
Oh it’s Easter? Humans and their silly traditions.