old father hubbard

the aliens are coming! and they've stolen our bogroll!

speak no hideous words of the unholy name of that so-called SCIENTologist. please! the science of social manipulation, of the unspoken gathering of hard capital in a world where even christ is sexy, painted as he is in a masculine pose, all beautiful and glowing, pierced in glory and singing words of wisdom, let it be.

i want no hicky dance.

i refuse to have my personality tested! test me not for deep rooted happy-syndrome. grade me not for gullible dopey thoughts. what am i? a cow to be tipped as i sleep, my hands ripped from my wallet for their pleasure? their gain? their spooky memorabilia machine?

aliens in the volcanoes, singing to me in my sleep while out there, in the dark reaches of space, the eternal blanket of space, where no one can hear you scream in the enormity of space, lost in space, in a world we did not space create space if space could only be as black as space and cold as space and there, hanging in the stars, the fleet of space ships on their space track toward us, the foolish mortals, to help SAVE us from ourSELVES! they’ll save us! but who will save THEM?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?!

they’re living here during the day, stuck inside the bodies of our plumbers and housewives! they’re sending their souls to us during the day, letting us know they’re comin., they’re on their way. hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to earth we go! yet, they’re captains on large space freighters! captains? what idiot would put a schitzophroenic in charge of a space fleet? janeway has no second personality! she’s not spending her afternoons on earth, doing dishes and picking the rugrat puke smash things with horns up from school!!!! no! she’s concentrating on her job! and they’re going to save US? some psychotic schitzo alien hippies are on their way to save us from our own confusion? argh!

keep them away from me! i will NOT wear plaid, i tell you! you can’t force me into corduroy. no way! and none of the silver stuff either. too slinky for my skin, and i’m not built like a greek god, goshdarnit! and who’d want to see oprah in that outfit? not me!

elves. little alien elves, cutting our children to pieces and sticking things up our asses and noses. asses and noses. what does it mean? i shit with my ass and smell with my nose and my shit smells like shit!
there MUST be a connection! there has to be a connection! i will find it, even if i have to save the poop of the next ten years in small freezer bags, and keep it frozen until technology catches up with vulcans!

vulcans. volcanoes! goddammit! the scientologists may be right!!!! spock is living in a volcano! the pointy eared freak is singing to us! no wonder nimoy always looks sweaty! it’s fucking hot inside a volcano, you know!

*pant pant*

must get control. who has control? who’s controlling me now? feel like a puppet on a string. if only they knew where i was going, then i’d be able to outrun them.

outrun them. out. run. run. out. rUn. oUt. the u. double u. UU. W. see it? the connection? you and you!!!

dammit! i must get inside! it’s saturday. STARday! day of the UFOs, when they come out and try to stick their metal things up my ass and nose!

Tags: hubbard, scientology