The Inoccous Nature Of Farcical Resonance

From the Mighty Mind Of John

Somewhere in the subculture of social psychosis and populatory insanity lies the paradigm of the incredible that borders on total mind evacuation, like a giant being taking a thorough crap on all the good stuff that people can imagine… and I guess we are all trapped, against our wills in this treadmill through the sewers of existence, like it or not.

Who, in their right mind, can even remotely conceive of the idea that someone as brilliant as myself can be a party to such malefactorousness? Not happening friends. Not happening because my superior intellectual sensitivities scale well beyond the torrid mountain of nuftflakes who populate the nether regions of this realization.

Having thus proclaimed inevitable truth of an egregiously huge and magnificent scale, I bring to consciousness the reality of the insanities associated with war, the lust for blood and human nature that defines the world at this point in which we now find ourself, bearing the agony of it all while desperately searching for and hoping for some kind of positive release.

I really should have been elected king of the world by common consent back in the 50s when I still possessed my youth and my burning desire to make things better for everybody. The fairies that dwelled beneath the mushroom caps out in old man Gould’s field knew of my magnificent prowess in analyzing, fixing and inventing things but, for one reason or another, they failed to achieve what I could have offered them, so now they sit en mass on their collective little rear ends ruminating on what was lost.

And to the great advantage of the whole living world, the inebrious dolt with the green face and the red eyes, who dwelled himself in a kingdom of darkess, despair and death — we called him, “Herr Swindler” because he promised much and delivered little and when he got lucky and something did turn out as he had said it would, it was always because of his own self-proclaimed genius. But this sulphurous expeller of noxious methane from his over fed and pompous ass finally did himself in through his neglect of his own health and in his many indulgences, including the feasting on the fairies.

Turn a rock over in a shallow muddy stream in that forsaken kingdom and you will find many little fluorescent snakes which do not bite, but who do suck fingertips of those lucky enough to find them. And this very act of submission is the key to great wealth to the lucky few who knew how to advantage themselves because of the attention of the snakes.

Why in those days, the early days of The Kingdom of John, John himself possed an entire mountain made of solid gold, on top of which he built his castle, far above the clouds, in a region where the air was sparse and the only reason people could breathe up there was because a constantly flowing current of fresh air climbed the mountain like a river of life and refreshed the castle and the grounds on which it stood.

This very piece of ground, on top of the mountain of gold, where the royal castle was built, was also the location of the infamous fountain of “Cerulean Blue Water.” It was rumored that anyone who drank a glass of this viscuous, lucious-beyond-imagination would automatically have 10 healthy years added to his or her life.

Someday, if my fingers hold out (Or if I learn to type with my toes) I will relate the great story of how a teen-aged boy suddenly was made into a man of impressive knowledge and even more impressive talents because of a forlorn civilization of little people-like creatures whose lives were being made miserable on their home planet of Thatoahs because of the aformentioned “Herr Swindler” who, as I have said before, was not only the king of his own dark kingdom but was cannibalistic as well.

But for now, a foretaste of what I am capable of producing in my more than interesting mind (I am a legend in my own mind after all) has been presented for everyone’s perusal and even comment if you so desire. See how generous my nature is?