15 Mar 2007

"It is what It is"

Of all the cultural catchphrases that have bastardized wisdom into pacification... it is what it is ... is the shittiest.
What it is is a stir-fried crock of shit

This catchphrase of nothingness passively negates any conversation that precedes it. It draws a conversational line in the sand... it takes the rhythm and direction of a conversation and concedes it to passive acceptance of the past. It not only acknowledges the speaker of the phrase as an intentionally ignorant participant... it presents the listener with the hopelessness of agreement... or combative defense of the fact that It, in point of fact, is not what the speaker assumes it is.

This is a ripe and prime example of the forked tongue and pretzel logic of a death culture so full of shit that the poo becomes a catchphrase. It is what it is takes the speakers assumptions on an indirect offensive... in the context of a conversation the phrase forces listeners to accept anothers' assumptions as truth or escalate the conversation into an argument that is logically impossible and undesirable to defend...

this being that most times, it is something... but noone knows exactly what.

Whenever there is an It there is an observer... it is what it is deceives the listener by pretending that a truth exists in the statement separate from the speaker or listener. But this itself is an impossibility... if there is no relationship between what It is and the conversation... how can the conversation exist?

it is what You think it is.

it is what i think it is.

it is Not what it is'nt

it is...


Beautiful Babylon Babies Unite !!!

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,
Love Trumps hate.

Hits of the Month

Poetic HyperLinks Defeating the Impossibilities of Peace

Also sprach Zarathustra to the brothasistahs lost out in the woods…
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It