9/11 is now officially old enough to do porn. That makes today's anniversary fraught with meaning, as lambs in vengeance suckle, at the teats of irony. Tangential to this, the amazing monster paranoid machine, is transmutating sunlight into dreams. He's hiding in the curtain, but no one's really certain, why he doesn't want his amplifier seen. We've come a distance along the vanishing peripheral margins of what was once called reality ...but is now beyond the reach of voices.
In NYC today, the fitting tribute would be a Zombie Walk, First Responder Fashion Show but I've heard nothing about this taking place. I can see them in their shrouds and grave wrappings, coming up like Rhianna and Kim Kardashian, doing a Pepsi commercial, in a rap remake of Michael Jackson's, Thriller. The money shot moment, is when their hair catches fire, running naked through an automated car wash, that is spraying the area with kerosene jet fuel. Then... upon some Jumbotron, multiple steel buildings, fall into their own footprints, following which the tide comes in and washes them away. You know, the usual, with a side of maggots. There will be a stream of trans-sexual, acrobat models, who will be walking on their hands; what the Hell... up and down and sideways, as a symbolic representation of the public's awareness of what actually happened on 9/11.
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