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Smoking The Scabs

European eels which occasionally frequent the river Thames are evidently acting up, and scientists believe this is due to excessive levels of cocaine in the waters. In a world where charges of fake news are laundered and trafficked heavily, this is a real thing that is actually happening.

Found on Drudge today is this story about concerns that deep fake videos might nastily play in the oncoming political campaign cycle stateside. Also found at Drudge is this related story, concerning the Sundance premiere of a new documentary showcasing somehow never before seen footage of the Apollo 11 space mission. I’m voting that this is an effort by producers of deep fake vids at testing the waters of the public’s susceptibility.

National-level news presenters such as Paula Zahn and Nancy Grace have covered the story of this former candidate for Nelson County sheriff being let go for first degree murder charges by the utterly corrupt local law enforcement. I wrote a thing ago concerning my family tree, but I was serious in talking to the FBI in Louisville in 2011, my one and only experience at being a narc, about my little cousin Anthony’s mom and stepdad’s security cam installation business being a front for interstate drug trafficking. This is why she continues to pay bills for Anthony’s father, my youngest uncle, because he provides contacts for their efforts. I was informed then how the feds know all about it, but state and local levels of law enforcement have set themselves up for an eventual civil war, arming themselves militarily on par with those Mexican drug cartels.

I’ve been entrenched in confronting local corruption for the past decade, but nobody from among my kin wants to hear about that, only about how I am not using my big fat brain to be filthy rich, thus implying there is something wrong with me. As far as our family is concerned, Anthony has no drug issues, he is fine because his mom is rich and being rich is all that matters. When I questioned the logic of his driving my goddaughter anywhere after he’d wrecked 3 vehicles in less than a year, I was forbidden from seeing my favorite person in the world anymore. Anthony’s mom is financially among the upper crust of upper middle class. Enough to overlook his rent as he burns his brains on heroin, truth be told, precisely as did his father before him. How dare I try to help where help is clearly not needed! Anthony’s enabling employer is Brooks Houck, who has been dating the sister of Anthony’s rich mom for the past few years. The bank accounts of Anthony’s mom and Houck both are publicly attributed to their respective real estate wheeling and dealings stretching across central Kentucky, but I’ve been shouting from the rooftops how each and every one of Houck’s laborers move pills for him. Yet despite their bank accounts, federal authorities view them as small potatoes in the regional criminality, regardless of trickle-down effects such as that experienced by my cousin Anthony and my goddaughter, and me. So, my disdain for the ineffectual habits of law enforcement comes from firsthand experience. If I could afford to hold any trust in the courts I would gladly testify to all of this, but nobody should instill importance in something so subjective as the court system.

These are real matters worth stressing and obsessing over.

As opposed to the sentiments of this op/ed over at Bleeding Cool. Tom Chang gathers and adds upon comments from comic book big heads offended by remarks made by comedian Bill Maher, in regards to what passes for their passion in life. Some commenters cite Alan Moore as an exception to what Maher was saying, but most of the interviews he’s granted in recent years would lead us to believe Moore would actually agree with Maher in this case. In fact, I believe it was on Bleeding Cool just a few years ago, where a Moore interview was discussed, with pages and pages that followed in its forums with comic fans throwing their defensive hate at Moore for daring to frown on the medium. Capitalism will never be challenged, much less booted from off the face of the Earth, as long as its products and byproducts continue to be fetished with religious fervor. To be a fan of any aspect of the manufactured culture which abounds, means nothing more than that such a person responds really, really, really well to marketing. Not only is its defense insisting that make-believe is as viscerally important as actual experience, but it replaces the potentialities of personal identity with what’s ultimately cover songs and fan fiction. I love Alan Moore’s writing, his prose in particular, but I would never define myself by his fictions, and I fervently believe that my own verbose dissections of this universe are of far greater and more legitimate importance than anything with his name attached, because the terms “fake” and “fiction” are synonymous. It’s not real. This world is increasingly screwed explicitly because western civilization grows its own escapisms, permitting even the theft of entire nations to be conducted in broad fucking daylight while its own peoples cling to their fantasies. The wonders of the universe are all the inspiration anyone needs, regardless of what marketing informs us. I define myself not by what appeals to me, but by the results of my own damn bruises and victories, my dreams and my nightmares. My loves lost and my questions unanswered. If all of pop culture were to abruptly vanish, I would still be the same exact person living my life the same exact way. Same goes were it never to have existed at all.