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2011, the modern year, coming closed in 2012, and passive fat assed American apathy strangles feeling from the esophagus, **** it. I choke, cough out vowels in wolfballs. Owwww, couuunterculture, Uhhhhh, Ohhhh coca cola. But make no mistake, the guzzling and guzzardry of modern lore, dwindles. Now last minute survival, duck and cover politics: carrot, apple, pear, grape, tomato -----> so gently placed in plastic, lid covered, transitory to umbilical cord socket-sex, button sodomy, and the machine-like THUNDER of Mexican blade-bombing and the garish gore-grind. Vrummmm Vrummmm Vrummm, and, and, orange safety pylon juice meets fruit software unincorporated, hums, sticky desert fringe fruit unwormed and hanging like a sour breast finds love in virgin wine, Bacchus walks away laughing. Oh and the swollen GMD red clown nose gets squeezed of its comic jelly in a controversial orgy of fluid intercourse. and it SLIDES, ALL THE WAY DOWN THE THROAT. That's what hindsight tastes like... But, but, but, it won't heal the Dr. Pepper gut, and 30 years of exhaust-pipe rape. Not to mention pizza Saturday, chicken-wing February, and 1997: The Year of Bacon and Beer. Might as well vomit regret, bet on black, and stick a heroin needle in your eye, you're ****ed. Hey, not to advocate passive hedonistic pleasures, but Epicurus saw truth in the bottom of brown goblets and pink asscheeks. We live for pleasure. Pleasure breaking rules, silent sneaking greed, pressure of self-indulgent fantasy realizing, uncompromised, counter-cultural cum-fiesta: the pornographic fix, the malignant business pleasure cancer cell, self-absorbed do-goodery in ego-built mosques of morality: religion as the psychological security of being GOOD. Ohhhh to be GOOD, to be GOOD, to worship a MAN nailed to WOOD. Not even the holiest incarnation of V8 fruit juice can save the soul from the body. Rotting. Rotting, as you drive to deposit paper, media, machinery, the labour of hand or mind that drives resources to extinction, imagination and sweat into money, money into monopoly, monopoly into politics, politics into personal pleasure torture camps, adopted adultery adrenaline, cocaine-fuelled power-posturing and the snorting of ignorance, forgotten children, and the fattening of the proletariat power core. But no macaroni communism creations, just pleasure, sadness, confusion, thankfulness, ignorance, oxygen, and the inability to stop existing.