Archive for July, 2011

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Dominance Games: Power corrupts

Posted in current events, dominance, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , on July 22, 2011 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

Power corrupts.  It corrupts mightily and famously.  It corrupts hedonisticlaly, morally, severely. It turns virtue on its head and relegates expression to a game.

Power fuels the laundered images of fear and the abject lack of restraint.  Power goads and practices, flails and takes what it takes.  It can be a serene thing  it can be a strong thing, a mocking thing, a self satisfied thing.

Power can shine like a beacon, drop like a stone, crush like a runaway truck.  It lures.  It calls.  It wants.  It produces sweet songs to calm the ear, sweet reason to sack the instincts.  It may turn away from its prey and seem to be something else, a trivial thing that hides itself  from challenges and flies sweetly from inspection.

Power knows.  It sweats.  It works very very hard.  It knows itself.  It knows its dupes.  It glorifies all.

Power rides the tall horse.  It beats with a whip.  It smacks with delight, hisses with a sneer.  Power coddles the beast of intentions.  It coddles the war horse of inclinations.  It answers to itself and laughs.

Power chides.  It raises high its mighty sword.  It is useful unto itself.  It has to depend not on the good offices, good wishes, good works of others.  Power dictates.  Its game and lightening bolts will survive.  Its victims will not.

Trust always those with power.  They learn how to use it.

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Dominance Games: Rancid fire

Posted in current events, dominance, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , on July 21, 2011 by B Schiff

Dominance Games: Politics

Again we mock the human soul.  Again we mock the human spirit.  The cadres of popular imagery are apparent no more.  Damn the torpedoes, all speed ahead.  The more we behave badly the better we become at ability.  The more we are drunk with the powers of sure observation, the more we are observant of the void.  The emptiness of the great desert of formless nothing haunts our futures and it is a barren desert, a hot dry place.

The landscape gets cold at night, a counterpoint to the extreme heat of the day. It is an uninviting place, the future in times of trouble and uncertainty.  It mocks us, our belief in it, in its presence, its shape.  It can retreat and hide, run away or crush.  It stares us down a hungry lion.

Deal with what isn’t there.  Deal with what is.   Build monuments to what is not real.  Build real to what monuments we do not have.

A view the other side .

A view from trying to beard the tremulous lion.

The future gets cold at night.  It burns heat during the day.  It sears heat and rains acid.  It sears our nightmares, our night sweats.  It commands us our apprehensions.   The landscape gets cold at night, a counterpoint to the extreme heat of the day.  The landscape gets cold at night and rains down arrows of pain and violent hail storms of anger.

The landscape gets cold at night.  It freezes and mimics.  It throws godlike presence and excuses for the messianic.

The landscape gets cold at night and it offers fight and flight, panic and arrogance, acrimony, back bites, division,  lust, dominance and void.  It offers the fun of fear and the great chances to harness same.

The landscape gets cold at night and it offers cold power and rancid fire.

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Dominance Games: Swords emasculating

Posted in current events, dominance, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , on July 20, 2011 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

The moods moody.  The lights misty.  The dancing seals dancing.  Blood sport sporting.  Kill sport killing.  Derision sport deriding.  They damned well like it.

Commentary as machete for the lazy and the rich. Toys to be abused for the ones who take wings off of flies.  Hateful hates.  Vile devils.  Deemed demons.  They damned well love it.

Hope is for those who work at something.

Trips to lovers lane are guaranteed those who look mighty and brave in their mirrors of choice.  Mouths mouthing, egos flaunting, dunces duncing, tantrums wailing…… no childhoods end.  They damned well love it.

Trendy rackets and self immolation.   They damned well love it.  More the thrill of erotic passion.  They damned well love it.  More the vivid.  More the emasculating.  More the basically simpleton;s simple.  They damned well love it.

Self inflation, self importance, self flagellation, self satisfaction….. the show of them forever.  Great wars of swords and sorcerers they play.   Chargers chargers.  Heroes heroing blithely saving fair maidens from any undesirable greatness.

Zoos come and go and animals act up and perform and there is comfort in the love.  Tactics.  Tougher.  Stronger.  More evocative of pain.

The bating bated, the hate hated, the smarms smarmed.  The fight enjoined.  Odiousness …. the smell of flowers…. the all purpose passport.  Thine self holy, wise, noble and good.  Fondle the love.

I think they like it.  They damned well love it.

Screech.  Screech.  Shrill.  Shrill.  Color tawdry and putrid.  Enemies divine. They play good and they kiss their shadows.  Power allows.

Night is coming.  The dreams of all good people are coming.  The rough hewn sleeve rollers are coming.  Get thrown under the bus and to the wolves.

Love makes to play dirty.  Sincerity makes to implore noble tricks of the trade.  Speak loudly and club the bastards to death.  Taste the taste… blood lust, blood sport, blood.

Some are better at it than others.  The real joys of politics.

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Dominance Games: Barbed wire

Posted in current events, dominance, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , on July 19, 2011 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

Into nether world jobs they go.  Whistling and skipping and wailing and scheming,  swords of mighty justice they are.  The usual exchangeable parts who fit the slots and make noxious noise they are.  Hordes of independence, realism and thinkers, seers and lemmings swooning gracefully.   Good searing hacks can enjoy the laughter of achievement and ritual, attainment and lobotomy, speciousness and tripe.

The virtue in the weak sisters and the hairy apes.  The rank prancers, the  weak dittos?  Love all the damned all the damned time.

The masters of mirth, the procurers of entertainment, the light show, the tinder box.  The answer to questions not asked, the question to answers not given.  They appear and disappear.  The phantasms of dimension, the spines of the spineless.  They endure mightily as they are unendurable.  They are the free thinking potted, rotted plants.

They are special.  They are coy.  They think.  They act.  They feel and maim.  They promise to promise.   They promise promise.  They promise to be alive.  They promise.  Base blase full of vim.  As valuable as a post they are.  As approachable as as the barbed wire toppings on their fenced in predispositions they are.  Flags around their shoulders,  the aura of Miss Liberty they are.

Hard scrabble worth and abundant luminescence, they are.  Voice, privilege, moonstruck mountains they are.  A  mound of dirt and a pile of rubble  upon which to sink they are.  The  strong special grifters grifting well with rocks and stones they are.   Cream rising to the top they are.  The bats in the belfry they ate.  Great movements and dead brains they be.

The solid frenzy of empty, void.  Faith, hope and charity they are.  a show they are.  All show all the time they are.  Can’t close out of town….. to damned humble they are.

Bless the beasts and the children.  If I only had a brain.

Its nice to have injected thoughts.  Spares the head muscles.

The sun don’t shine where there are shades of gray.

Gray is dull.  Like me.

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Dominance Games: Gigolo and princess

Posted in current events, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , , on July 18, 2011 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

Just a gigolo and the pimp…. the princess and the madame….and all the lame damned fools who fall for them, cede to them, bow at the feet of them so damned often, so damned wisely and so damned well.

Elections are for suckers.  Listening is for the self loathing.

Sometimes you see a dance step you’ve seen a thousand times before and its just a damned dance step.  Sometimes you a dance step you’ve seen a thousand times before and its  a damned whirlwind of warped motion and preening vapors.  Sometime things go bump in the night and sometimes things get so that one more dollop of the same old same old can cause one to tremble with the bends and have seizures of anguish at the thought.

How useless is useless.  The first best scourge of the emissaries from hell is prefabricated noxious sounds that makes spectators dirty and creepy when forced to be in any close proximity…… the automatons of political sneering scare away all known intelligent life.

Nimble minds please nimble feet and nimble feet retrieve phantom futures.  Our America means hard knocks and tough brawling; means no crying, no self pity, no banality; a tough country but a hard one.  Freedom means earn it day after day.  Freedom to be of stern stuff and bold charity… not for show, not for value.

The deft secure hard put interests of survival through the eye of a needle.   The passionately frugal must be preserved.  We fight for real things.  We do.

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Dominance Games: The text of aggression

Posted in current events, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , , on July 17, 2011 by B Schiff

Dominance Games / Politics

The avenging angel, the hidden conqueror, the mighty sword.  The punitive beast is always.  The punisher cometh.  He cometh hard.  We strive for accomplishment and sincerity.  We wing our way towards the melancholy ways of fierce combat.  We wish to be absolved of sins and be of the pure.

The text of aggression is a quiet text.  It needs daily editing.  We edit.  The text of aggression is the bible.  It is a cathartic thing.  We wish mounds of it to spread.  We wish the absolutes.   Absolute power.  Punishing power.

There are the dictates of the balancing of forces.  Avoidance of chaos demands giving to Caesar, to the power brokers.   Games are games.  Those who live at the mercy of the games get singed.  The structure of the game is its outcome.   No one sees.  The blind enjoy the lack of dissonance.

Transgressors usurp trust.  Cerebral warriors die on the vine.

Desperate for balance and control is the precise mind.  The threat, the image, the fair warning…the vitality .  The life blood of certain restitution, redemption is action, action of need, of like, of reverence.  Action is the antidote to impotence, impotence of the kind that comes with the narrow thoughts dismantling different proofs that the world offers.

The milk of political debauchery is the empty lust for ratification and seething self sustenance.  The hands that define ourselves in the images of the worlds that define our lusts take no prisoners.  The tools not used against entrenched enemies are tools of  unholy gnomes and the choices narrowed by their evil heathen ways.  Pledges, and rants, demons and daggers, in times of need all power is the complete aphrodisiac.

Dumb as we come we get what dumbness brings.

We demand no better.  The humble bastards stand up and shout.

Core principles are without logical construct.  Those who honor the emptiness of character and the chimerasness of the system at the mercy of gamed elections in gamed districts by gamed minorities of gaming tin soldiers allow the wild wind of politics as a poor last act in a grand experiment.

The dumb …… the honored creed. The rancid bastards …… the true……politics, news, commentary, analysis   Dominance Games / Politics http://dominancegamesb.wordpress.com/

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Dominance Games: Painted women

Posted in current events, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , , on July 16, 2011 by B Schiff

Important metrics of behavior are all wisps in the wind.  Gone.  Reason, stature, a shadow … it is now reported.  Cry baby, cry.  Tears baby, tears.  Play baby, play.  Be baby, be.

Store bought wraps wrap around store bought men, painted woman.  Rotten candy comes as sweet gifts of our betters.  Be good and give early and often, the depths of your soul.  Be good and buy early and often, the stories of your heart.  Be squalid and vote early and often, thankfully taken to your place in the sun.

Balance power early and often.  View rough justice, principle floating in the winds with the vapors of civilized history, the trials of insouciant thought and defining principle, the backbone of  daunting things.

Use baby, use.  Be used, babe, be used.  The regal.  The royal.  The sublime.  In the court of rough justice damned fools know plays and problems  jokers can’t define.  The logical structure of idea is an academic fantasy.  Better just shoot to kill.

The power metric favors the aggressor.  Set ups for ever.  Power is power and the business of power is power and the business of the business of power is power.  The back bites are always huge.  Forget other things.

Fairness.  Temperance.   Demeanor.   Cool.

Tolerance.  Tradition.  The  sullen hammer.  The respect.

Blessed are those of woefully uncommon common sense.  Tis fear all about.  The taut and tight.  Tis the bright light of morality shining and defining.

Champion aggrieved hedonistic moralizing slashes down as graceful swans turn ugly ducklings over night.  Power speaks with forked tongue.  Power wrests itself from them that cannot fathom it.

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Dominance Games: The put upon

Posted in current events, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , , on July 15, 2011 by B Schiff

For viewing pleasure there are always the perfect villains and perfect fools of the corridors of power using the levers that they hold in order to work things out in ways workable.  Checks and balances work in so far as there is the ability to execute.  Laws, after all, are just means to direct the execution of the power of the state.  With the governed increasingly unwilling to abide by the sanctions of the state directions lead to one of two outcomes.  Either a tightening of force or the grip of the powerful or the fragmentation of power without cohesive structure or finely tuned apparatus to enforce unknowable rules and standards.

The games may be different in different places and systems but the principle is the same.  No agreement on an umbrella political structure gives way to the savageries of power plays and power grabs.  Corruption is not corruption.  It becomes the order of disorder with, in the extremes , the order of death.

Fragmented views of society are wished for by those in opposition to the order that is.  Push too far and hoped for new orders become no order what so ever.  Allegiances to cohesion are hard allegiances when corrupting power wanes out of control.  Allegiances to fraction and divisiveness are not attractive measures when they invite  a broken world without recourse to fixing.  A non lethal state can be mended best from within.  A lethal state invites the danger of getting better or worse.

Firebrands would do well to judge the level of real toxicity prior to sinking their ships of state.  Puzzlers ponder answers, define not questions.  The powers of those in the catbirds seat always trump rage and rant.

The self interest of the fears and cries of the put upon is dear.  Perceptions  are often eternally skewed.  Perceptions of power bases are often eternally skewed.  Readings of power bases are often eternally flawed.

In the rush to build government, the rush to build equity, firmness grabs often by the  short hairs.  Whom gets whom by them, the short hairs? The world is the world of unintended consequence.  Who rages for these, the unintended consequence?  Those who risk too much for too little or those who risk too little for too much.  Lasting fancy and gifts from the devil make martyrs out of the righteous.  The righteous put much good in play and much good in jeopardy.  Judgement is a hard to come by commodity.  Laws may be a sham.  Too much fracture and the trust of the populace is lost.  Too little and is is co-opted.

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Dominance Games: Lust driven fancies

Posted in current events, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , , on July 14, 2011 by B Schiff

We beg the grim reaper to not waste our poor little lives.  We watch the angels as they watch over us.  We watch the little devils…they that saunter about and just come from every which where to tell us that they shine and will be our answered prayers.

We have our little lusts.  They have our little lusts.  We have our little  depravities.  They have our little depravities.   We are bold in manner, strong in virtue.  They just want to know the nobility of our character.   We just want our dear little selves spread around for all to see and know.  They will love us to death.  We will give money to strangers,  our lives to the depraved.  They will take it and do with it as they see fit.

We lust for composure in a void.  They wish us no void, tell us no tale, love the ones they are with…us …always us….always lucky little us.   We marvel at the variety and depravity of  life’s blood…. sins unapplauded, unwanted.  They suck sin as life’s milk, manufacturing the right mix of joy and steely eyed disdain.  No more lust driven fancies.  No more fun.

The pleasure of the deeply held perversion of not wishing a mind mucked with incessant trash is gone with the wind.  The pleasure of deeply the held perversions of lusting to be not in the company of boorish grinds is a spectator sport to be attacked by the thought police and the enemies of my soul… let me entertain my enemies.

Let me give my lustful fantasies to others to enjoy.  They will  harbor sacred noxious fumes.  They deserve it.  They need their thrills and fancies.  They need their nourishment….. their little hatreds, their taught logic, reason, discourse; the age of the Enlightenment they constantly honor and indulge.  I need their prurient interest, the great arena of shared experience, the oh so recognized theater of the primed absurd that allows me to exist to be used by them.

Reap the wild dirge of rapscallion fancy….and be better wonders for it.   Reap the wild wind together and know  the breeze in the trees….the pains of the gains, the crud of the stealing of us, the  cheep thrills and good shopping.

Tawdry and good and fun and done..the passing panorama.  The product of me is packaged.  Sold, bought, used, exploited, mashed and broken down just so the dumb can get to speak.

The main character, the star of the constant story of our dreary little lives is the product of us…. a weak product unable to get out of the way 0f the cursory infants that corrupt our lives.

I liked it better when there were just hidden cameras and bugs in my bedroom.  There was a nice cozy sense of security there.  Now they want my reason, my soul, my freedom to think good thoughts.  I live in a world where the calmness of reflection is punishable by instant insanity and mass stoning.

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Dominance Games: Spare no blood

Posted in current events, News, opinion, Politics with tags , , , , , on July 13, 2011 by B Schiff

And the virulent shall be pure and the pure shall lead and the true shall beckon heaven and the good shall be forthright.

And the secure shall be strong and the tolerant shall falter and the self righteous shall be our sultry light in the skies.

And the humble shall be honored and the loud shall not be silenced.  And the quiet shall not simmer, the reflective shall have no time, shall have no home.  And the reflective shall be taught to do no other thing.

And the rich shall be of fire.  The poor shall be of disdain.  The winds shall not be of reaping.  The thieves shall not be of compromise.

And backs shall be straight.  Limbs shall be strong.  Aim shall be true.  Thoughts shall be lustful.

Principles shall be devoured. Kings and queens shall be given crowning glory.  They shall be fierce and they shall be bold.  They will work tirelessly to stroke their flags and worship their wonder.

And the purity of being shall be attainable.   Operations of worth shall be secure.  Tactics, rewards devoured and status irrevocable and certain shall be cherished

And war is the beauty of the pounding, crowning, frolicking.And the high octane weak sisters of the here and now ….. their calling…. their mission… their honor and right…. empty vessels and weak kneed shakers celebrate nobility of cause, the political cream of an enthralling epoch.

Home shall be where the heart is.  The righteous shall right all wrongs, take no prisoners, spare no blood.  Then they will alight to heaven and we will be aghast with awe.

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