Going for the jugular

Hey, you say you are innocent of blaming others for your shortcomings?

Look again, we are into the blame game hook line and sinker.

It has been hard wired ever ince, including the many years living in the jungle. Among animals, there is no morality, a kill doesent have to be justified, hell with that, if something is perceived to go wrong in this long term game called survival, then sure the heck it will not be taken as a sign of weakness on part of the instigator, the more it will bare its fangs and growl.

So that’s the given, we approbation fault to an outside source, no one who does not have animal roots can deny that in all honesty. We all point fingers and usually toward the weakest link.

The weakest link becomes the institutional martyr-victim, the payer of the price of the game. The victimhood, as institution, by virtue of the potential profitability involved, will adhere the priesthood, drawn, as bees to the honey.

Our subversive innate guilt of agression , in order to be expunged of the weakness of the horror of discovering truthfulness, will join any cult, organized religion, for redemption any responsibility.


This sort of a relation to the above. How, or where Trumpism enter the picture, or does it?

Well I woke up sort of blah, which is more then usually, and after spending a few hours with miss tightlips, trekked down the hill , missing the very growly dog who they either put inside with the heat, or got rid of him. Nothing that the quite puppy used to be.

Going down the hill, thinking how politics connects with psych. in particular democratic appeal of the masses, with the undemocratic , albeit idiosyncratic ,
and narcissistic egalitarianism have much to do with each other, or can they even get together and talk to each other.

And then I thought of the totalitarianistic control ridden binding force of The Brotherhood of my wife,
which somehow connects with the ontologically loaded,deeply aristocratically closeted person whom I despise,

and see how Trumpism can get along with me, and my with my wife, and what is the grey area which exists between Trump and me.

Who cares. Thinking, really, who the fuck cares, but instantly recognizing the 4letter word in the above, similarly shadowing the four letters consisting the the name/term ,trump.

Of course

that I had to write today, was inescapable, an urge, or even a demiurge haunting, it embraces in a sort of Iron Maiden.

Ending up at Mcdonalds, thinking about the Brotherhood, everyone inside because of the heat, left a small table sitting on high stools, eyeing the large expansive table behind us. Course they asked almost in unison, if I had better stay where I was, and excusing myself as to the real motive, they were releaved, especially the two mailmen, and as I changed posture from smart guy to idiot, one of them said coincidentally, that Now Everything Has Changed.

For me nothing changed except maybe a moderate swing in the stereotype department, so I got up and chimed the chat like, ’ watch out for the heat’ using the term with obvious ambiguity.

That sufficed them for chatted back something fading and forgettable.

So have a kind of framework here, and I don’t want to overload here, just to replete the angel with in, where upon cannot do with out.

Course besides some fire cracking, the outsider, the steppenwolf comes to mind, and such trifles as Thomas Mann an alleged bisexual was also tortured, as the son also rises.

Trumpism is really a backwash about attracting those, with some very faint socio political affiliation.

No that’s no good.
Trump is the kind of strength, that this country needs, because it’s buried in their subconscious,
their ontologic values of cherishing those, on basis of subtle recognition, getting nearer , unafraid, so that they can relate closer, honestly, and forthrightly, in other words they feel betrayed by the system, and the feel powerless against the hidden controls that political and social values exert on every man in the US of A.

Why do I like Trump, even if I think that he was elected to fail, so that his VP Pence, or somebody else, can mediate between Trump’s extreme views and those of his detractors.

Trump may, even if this thing comes to a constitutional crisis, still assert himself, and nowadays it a display of strength which matters most to people who feel disposessed in some way.

Now the big picture seems far larger and probably consists of a gigantic power struggle among the biggest players.

Ambiguity is not only far flung rhetoric, and it has devolved from ambiguity to the use of contradictory logic, oft denying the very makeup of the narrative.

For instance, Walmart appears some kind of persona non grata in a few important tabloids, giving the impression and the column went something like the following:

85% of Americans shop at Target. The context may or may not matter at this point, only that, there was the omission of Walmart,supposedly the largest business in the world next to the US military.

Why the omission? What corporate side is it on? The duplicity is inherent in Wallmart’s very structure, it thrives , like Uber, on minimum wage, no benefits to talk of, and not adverse to illegal immigration.

Thisduplicity, is nothing else then the assertion of the law of contradiction up and down the social spectrum.
It’s quite possible that the duplicity has become faux reality, and the suppression of which will do more damage then good.

Of course I wouldn’t be honest if I were to say, that such repressed contradiction may not needed to be unearthed, just as, the contradiction within the psychology of a Thomas Mann, became his strength, rather then his weakness. No. Political psychology, is also waning, with the concept of the ‘realization of the short duration of phases beset with idealization’

On the other front, where style can be exaggerated , disassociation as form of insanity, for one, or as an art form , beginning with James Joyce, occurred, where the connection sought, has had an event less fading.

But the fright night type horror genre comes to mind, where, Roosevelt comes on, his head quite recognizable, bespectacled, with derby hat and cigar, black long winter coat, and as soon as that image fades, Rosie whisks: 'Now there is nothing to fear , but fear itself.

Trump is also a charismatic leader type akin, and outwardly proclaiming his affinity, not yo fdr, but to ray-gun, but the comparison fades, On Account of him having not much substance, YET.

What does a Real POTUS need to blow himself up into publicable and recognizable placards minus the ones he had been chariaturized? Orangtrumpan, and deTwitter o’Potus are inadequate. This is the big fear, Roosevelt meant, his fear, that the insubstantial emptiness that occupies so much space within his bowls, can never be filled, and the one and only outcome of that is to break away, to isolate, and take it out of Others reality, so that, and this is important:

He can reimpose himself, into the mass of those, who think of themselves as democrats, (so that it starts their juices flowing), and rise up on a platform of populism, if only to deliver them from this crushing ambiguity.

Show us the way dear father, as he promises anything, only so, as to retain at least a semblance of what it means to be a human being. And the thump the Bible, sadly, but instantly recognizing a real soul with whom they can share.

Sad, because their reality is crushing them, their pain immeasurably greater then the euphoric onticlogically
troubled , starving for affection third world.

Sad, sad, sad- the lines from 'Who is Araid of Virginia Wolf, the title far flung off from an illusion as a hanging metaphors. How low can you go, or how far, out?

All the children are gone, except one mailan, and I was going to chat up a conversation about I used to work as a mailman, one time in c.1967 in Terminal Annex, way downtown, and Charles Bukovsky worked there same time, blah blah, but he sneezed, and I said god bless you, and let it go with that.

Finally, the angel muse leaving, some left, as in post orgasm, the afterglow far exceeds the pleasure of the explosion, if I would have to answer to the query whether to check like or dislike Trump box , all things considered, would check ‘like’. Why?

Because of the waves. The duality between democracy, based on a feeling of bounding between inadequate and insubstantial social entities, the particles, lost in a space of their own, in soap bubbles floating in a miasma of love, then of course…

But what is reality, what is not fake news, what is it that everyone wants that he cannot live without?

Everything that He has, and everything that everyone has denied as being jealous of, and to prove that: The bind with that, who can and does have all that, the mysterious conjunction, the irrepressible odium, the very philosopher’ said stone, …That a re-repression can give.

If you’d ask the average man which he would seek above all others, he would opt for suppression,control, internal or external, it matters little, where they could reinvent this, put back that missing energy-(but what a cost), that can switch, that can evaluate, one against the other, with the hope, with the fucking hope of creating that overlap, that grey to come white.

To delianate the basis of the failure of democracy, not merely the slow decay, and just as slow turnaround, no, this time it’s big. The Great Depression was a wake up call, but the Great Recession was much more then that, it was the beginning of the Great Realization. The great realization of the battle of the isms, democracy in its post classical, modern dressing worked, tediously, but not as well as the post Lutheran beginnings , where trade began as a bourgeois enterprise.

The great realization is that it’s a process, a cyclical one at that, and post modern democracy entails pribkems about the very nature of man, his rights, his understanding of what the guaranteed ‘enjoyment of life’ may mean to him, as connected to the very most broadly hinted connection to Freud’s unhappily repressed man.

Reality principle is only for old philosophers, and the likes,

Last words (today)

For those who mired through this, the thought, that perhaps I may be sharing something I had to write, and write I had to, unashamedly, just because, I thank You with being there in spirit, because it only takes two.

I have started to write this thing named ! ‘going for the jugular’, because having reached a crisis, both internally, and externally, constitutionally/both in the Capitalized and dimunitive sense, serving as a beginning which may yet serve minimally as a catharsis, :i thank you reading me, and the way out of this obscure heart, this dark maze; for knowing within sleeps She, the beauty, who has been poisoned by the very same apple which the harlot so cunningly stole. A confusion with that elf, who from the dreams of rheinmaidens the glitter that would have been, ought not be made.

Trump, a glittering oaf, will not survive this , except to an equal force outward, and that’s Not Acceptable.

To moderator: on re reading, I found this piece to be more creative writing then psychology, so please place it there, if you happen to come upon it.

On second thought, moderator, if you feel that this can stay here and be built upon, with more emphasis on reference , then please leave it. The ambiguity is appearently here, as well.


Well I guess it’s settled? It’s not art, but rambling. How about rambling as art, or, rather, the twist in responsibility, of mining, unearthing of the allusive meaning, which after all, is in direct opposition of the meaning of ‘objectivism’.

Objectivism defined as the communication production of various singular views, -but wait, that is
tantamount to the supposed idea of the existence of
uniqueness and singularity.

In other words, if, all so called singularly held beliefs
and thoughts are basically , originally tribal, and in
some manner or fashion have been incoded in a neural network, herediteraly, then, the so called singularity becomes a questionably false assumption.

The estrangement acquires a representation of difference, a reduced pre civilized semantics, based in the language predations even the earliest beginnings of tribalism.

The tribalism, of which Levi Strauss speaks casually, yet in terms of the meta language of symbolism, is an astounding development in the evolution of human bondage. That most regressions stop at the level of tribalism, and the almost casual relationship of tribalism on the modern devolution of social organization, is, I believe a bar to the outbreak of the pure aggressive nature of early men.

That the devolvement from primitive bonding to the idea of the loss of the soul.

Regression on the level of individual psychological effect links with repressive controls, at a juncture where the forces flow over from one to the other. That is about the point we are now, and it seems an indelicate, yet calibrated effort, not prone to an ascription to the best case scenarios of the Prisoners’ Dilemma, that probably inadequate to describe the interplay between individual and mass consciousness, where the grey area has become a silent acceptance,
Percie call it the vague, or fuzzy area of consciousness, where the signs and signals have become indistinguishable, where repressive tendencies are seen or even understood in the most optimally beneficial way.

At these times of dramatic and overwhelming times do the witchounts begin, usually signaling not the one who proclaims it. These times, if left untended, create the messiahs, the victims, who are hoped to reveal their redemptive talents.

These may prove to be times of great trials, tribulations. The lessons of the fate of empires have been well learned and versed, and perhaps this time, may not need to be repeated.

A very well known and respectable columnist remarked on the apathy of the voters, who suffer from the syndrome characterized by 'how my vote can’t make a difference, anyhow.

He asked the all important question of how in the
world have we gotten here, to elect Trump? How
conceivable is it that the ‘dauphin’-Kushner, would have thought of solving the Middle East crisis in three days? In light of what has gone down, is anything can be characterized as preposterous?

A thought occurred in light of the high point of summer, the days starting to get shorter with the
passing of June, : of enlightenement, and how to get
there, conceivably within this lifetime.

The deterministic personality, thinking they can
determine the outcome of this or that scenario,
whereas their consciousness, if were thought of as
some kind of over the top cloud of energy, are
determined, and the degree to which they are
determined corresponds to the degree of opening up
the third eye, by suspending the conditions on which,
heretofore, their life made sense.

The sense of things, their conditions , what has been
called ‘sense data’, and the objects around us, if we

were to have in some god forsaken view of life, be an ascending lark, for instance, and that birds eye were
see the carpet roll of the massive extent of human
history, would in an instant convert that vision, into a near eternal landscape, for what is the duration of a
lark’s lifespan next to a man’s?

The longest recorded lifespan of a recorded skylark is
8 years 5 months. In that time, they view and learn

the things they have to to survive, and the majesty
of their flight , as they nimbly are borne upon the currents of wind, give homeless to the forces which
lift them to heights , as if designed by the greatest
aerodynamic expert. Oh to fly! The dreams of
visionaries for thousands of years, only to come to fruitition , as if to draw their flight patterns in congruence with far , beyond aspirations!

Just this thought alone, in a quiet space, can reduce
the ever moving anxiety of an unanchored lifeline, to

excuse, the closed in spaces of Immanuel Kant, who
had never left his town, and his nature treks consisted of the hills nearby Konigsburg.

When , once you are ready, oh not in that preconditioned crowded way of not seeing the unusual and extraordinary, but of the singularly
deepening realization of smelling those flowers,
through which time was recaptured, then, the lark, and the swan, mutually betake of that which was always, and will ever be.

When that cloud impregnates the soul as was Europa through a cloud of bees, then could Aristophenes jest of the clouds of Athens give vein to the humor in it, for want of which, it may never succeed.

It all seems so fair, so trite yet, it bespeaks of the most horrendous trials of which Marcus Aurelius so eloquently spoke.

The anchor aweigh, most troublesome of seas, yet drifting through eons this, yet Trump, be only a faint vestige of a footnote, in this loss of identifiable markers. But then , even if faded, not lost, for engrained and encoded, in the cloud, yet to be taken seriously.

The soul has a thirst unfathomable, and at times, the least becomes most. Only the true poverty can gain the soul the luxury of musing so.

It is for such that angels weep, and not require a new return, because they never were obliged.

Everyone is terrified of what he could do, that is why, so much complacency, so much uncertainty.

Going for the jugular
tug on that beard, expose the neck
and plug her

its all fuckable
if you say fuck it

its all a bunch of nuggets in a package you can stuff it
in deep dank holes,
therefrom it never return
but burn we shall
and urns shall fall

Idioms, characteristics, ways of usage, personifications, games, honest, games, theatrical,
Two ways byways, enigmas, epwho are your, this should be the most,
Of your troubles, alinlessess, finding thinkable edibles, philosophical tidbits, judgements hanging on a thread, a liver of a thread of silver, hanging,
In total darkness, in an iota,

Never ever been hanged,
But hanging on a thread, darkness nveloping,
Silver in a dark place, be judges ,
When each hanging in an individual cat,

Then remember try to imagine back, when so ganging,
Inividually trying,
To hang in,
Hang into those around, while playing the game, so that you can hang,
You can bang,
Remember then the price of judgement, in any way wished.

Duplicity, beyond the visually pleasing,
But in hole the deep, as sink in the sinkhole of sand,
Slowly, slowly, remember so.

Sure thankful of engagement of the imposed upon rationality, then eventually self imposed, through colors and myraid of forms,

A perpetual machida of non sense,
Yours not knowing, too abtruce for the sake
Of emitting visual charms, attracting the fireflies of opportunity.

That’s me, and who you and you and you,
Buried nuggets remain buried, but the burnt offerings
Of ashes skywards greyly spire toward 7 th Heaven.

Into the jug
Into the jog
The jugular, into the vat, the brew assembles
a strange brew,of alchemy,
Strange brew,

She is some kind of demon messing in the glue
If you don’t watch out I’ll stick to you
To You
What kind of fool are you
Strange brew kill what’s inside of you