Camp…aigning It Up
Election time draws nearer and behold! campaigning activity’s picking up. Here we can see little Jimmy Two-Tails trying to persuade the Hermit ProtoShoggoths to vote for his faction, on the grounds that although they (the PSs) haven’t got tails, they can easily grow as many as they like, as they are protoplasmic and all that. Jimmy has brought with him his campaign manager, a young Night Gaunt (very inexperienced but very enthusiastic) and a string of Dancing Puddies -who, may I emphasize, are NOT goose-stepping but actually trying to do a Ziegfeld musical, bless their furry socks.
Update 11/03/15. That’s it folks, the electoral brouhaha starts here properly. Meet your firs candidate, from the Coalition for Real Chaos (Final Void Splinter): the ineffable Shub-Niggurath, The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young, a single mother of far too many Young, each and every one a nogoodnik, and two monstrosities she disowned and disinherited eons ago. In a perennial strop herself, she can offer the nation nothing but blood, pain and tears. She thinks that if that did for Churchill she can’t see why it shouldn’t do for her. She promises, however, special dispensations from blood, pain etc. to anyone (excepting Karl Rove et al) willing to babysit on regular basis. Also, she brings her own cabinet, civil service and armed forces, that is, her Thousand Young, aka the Shub-Niggureths, as part of the deal. She’s all for nepotism because she is a great believer in family values. She also promises to preserve a free NHS so that the blood, pain, etc. can be somewhat mitigated. Under her monstrous management you will suffer horribly but if it’s any consolation, so will Henry Kissinger, Warren Buffet and them of that ilk, for whom she has a very special kind of affliction in mind.
Update 15/03/15 The fight is full on, with the other heavy weight butting in and young Jimmy pitching his bid. And today’s plats du jour are: For the Heads & Tails Unified Combo, Jimmy Two-Tails, the new Kid on the Worm Block. Mutant vermicello. Distantly and vaguely related to the Uncouth Larvae of the Final Void, runs on a simple ticket of physiological discrimination: Two tails, Good, No tail, Bad. His campaign managers, Aspic and Aspan, the obstreperous tadpoles, are not quite sure about that NHS caper, for they think it sounds a tad Stalinist, but young Jimmy’s adamant. The NHS stays. Trident doesn’t. Mr Sheepshape and his little son Roderick are fascinated by the pledge of universal, free Irish whisky on demand. They don’t know what whisky is, poor mites.
And for the Final Void Hegemons, Yog-Sothoth, the One-In-All and All-In-One. The Gate and the Key. Also every Path that leads to the Gate, and all the Service Stations in between. He offers you oblivion without peace, darkness without end and everlasting dementia. Will suit masochists very nicely. He hasn’t got the foggiest what the NHS is but he’s willing to incorporate it into the communal nightmare. He will not renew Trident, which he regards as pathetic little toys for mentally deficient children, as he can do far, far better with a mere twitch of his smallest tendril. For a fully Comprehensive and Integrated Reality, for that Theory of Everything you spent your entire life searching for, for that Ultimate Truth your soul craves, vote Yog-Sothoth and merge with the whole shebang. Just…caveat emptor. *Today’s complimentary quotes on the nature of reality:
The illusion of freedom will continue as longs as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theatre. Frank Zappa …Suskind quoted an unnamed aide to George W. Bush (later revealed to be the sinister Karl Rove). He wrote:”The aide said that guys like me were ‘in what we call the reality-based community,’ which he defined as people who ‘believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality.’ … ‘That’s not the way the world really works anymore,’ he continued. ‘We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality… we’ll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors… and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.'” http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/article41179.htm
Update 17/03/15 Happy St Patrick folks! Here, allow me to introduce, for the as-yet undecided-but-just-in-case candidates for the In a Permanent State of Flux Party: The Hounds of Tindalos. Curves keep them away from our worlds and angles let them in. They are older than anything you care to mention or even imagine. They beat Azathoth by a long chalk in the chaos and mayhem league tables. If they could be bothered to boast, they’d boast they can offer the nation really new angles on your common or garden Nietzschean outlook. They claim, when they remember to claim anything at all, that their ice cream is, verily, yea! something else; truly sinful stuff. Right now they still haven’t quite made up their scatty minds as to whether they want to compete or not. They say they are far too busy having and rearing new puppies, looking for crinkly spaces, or linear chunks of time, so they can invade Reality and give everybody a time they’ll never forget. And generally behaving like the yahoos they are, although they don’t put it quite so bluntly. I want them to run because I have only four candidates and 4 is a bit of a boring number. I pointed out to the fuzzy creatures that five is a much more dynamic and disruptive number. They did not react in the least to the word dynamic; they just sat there looking for imaginary fleas (no parasite is stupid enough to invade these creatures), scratching non-existent scabs and looking vacant. At the word “disruptive”, however, their ears pricked up, their tails started going like the clappers and they began salivating in a manner that would have made Pavlov roll his eyes with delight. So they might enter the race after all, which is why I made them a poster of sorts. And yes, they are not the most endorsable of candidates, but then again neither is Nigel Farrage, now, is he
Update 21/03/15. That’s it, chaps. One more poster and we’re done. Here we are introducing to you and proposing as candidates for the General Election 2015, UK (a junior branch of Transatlantic Exceptionalities Inc.): Spartacist League 0.2: Gibbets, Imogen and Rudolph, Renegade Uncouth Larvae, lately of the Final Void. They run an ideology-free shindig. They pledge free Belgian chocolate, free drinks, free drugs and free high-cholesterol takeaways for everybody. A full restoration of a universal, free, and Big Pharma-free NHS to be implemented forthwith. They are also quite keen on letting every Tom, Dick, Harry and Johnny Foreigner into the country because a) It’s a good prophylactic for inbreeding and b) It SO irritates Nigel Farrago and the Daily Mail. Loosely aligned to: Emiliano “The Mexican” McFluff, of the Rosa Luxemburg Lives! Conventicle; Zorro the WonderDog, of the Free Bones & Biscuits Party; Edwina the Singing Chicken, of the Loopy Fringe Chamber Ensemble; Tampopo, the Educated Whale, of the Sleeping with Fishes Cabal. Their motto is: Life is too short and ideologies are for peasants. Eat, drink, smoke yourself silly and be merry for tomorrow… who gives a toss? Carpe diem, mate, the party’s on us!