Author: flyagaric23
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Off the Top Morning Moaning
Let it flow let it flow let it flow
Something about opening up
And spilt ink
Johnson Farage Trump Three WanketeersAbout psychology and votes
The glint in your eye
The wind in your hair
The sun bouncing about you
So many things, so little time to…
Back to breathing living survival
Back to the word, the global village
Back to the world
Colour does matter
Johnson Farage Trump Three WanketeersIdentity, sex, music taste matters
Show me a hierarchy of your values
Otherwise the conversation’s in tattersSo many things to say, so little ear space
Where can I write and speak this exotica
Pursue the air musicThe paper bag on a branch
The cat sneaking over the fence
Um’s and R’s and “Oh my god’s”
Hidden gems in every family loomEach Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom
Hides a genius of that space
A magician to any outsider
Knows the stairs like the back of his hand
Could walk the path blindfolded
Everything in its right placeNo space for change
Johnson Farage Trump Three WanketeersNO machine to rage against
Rage against the information
Truth and Lie
Up up up upThe bit of pavement outside your front door
The handle of your tea cup
The hole in your sock
These are the things missing
Under the torrent of geo-political deep state shades
Light in the pantry
Wisdom in your Grandma’s biscuit tin
Dew drops and flower tops
Once forgotten memoriesHere now this is it
Shit or bust
Do or die
Funny or not funny
Choice is yours, future up for grabs
And for your children,and grandchildren
A day out in Devon fishing for crabsThe postman tripping up the step
Your first bike ride
Wet dinners at schoolMeeting new friends saying goodbye to old
Think you muppets, thinkGod damn it read into the stuff
And when you see lies kick up a stink
Whatever you do in life
Do it easy and to the best of your ability
Tolerate my manias and I’ll tolerate yoursSpecial effects are not the cause
Special defects and special ways of hiding shitAsk me anything and I’ll give you my answers
I want conversationA truly democratic vote would be
Johnson Farage Trump Three WanketeersOn an individual basis
Tick the box for getting out of the E.U
Tick the box for staying in
Each and every vote is treated with respectGet rid of this system where a bunch of
Half witted peeps, Oasis!
drag the rest of the country
Off a cliff
WHO speaks if direct democracy
Each person can decide to remain in or leave?Why does a country have such control of its subjects
And hold them to ransom based on its political climateJohnson Farage Trump Three Wanketeers
Leave us the fuck alone and get out of my business
Vote for your own laws for your own family and friends
Leave my decisions up to me and my community
All talk of national and/or foreign policy is bunkRepresent yourself
Encourage others to do the same
Be the change you wish to see -
How do you measure betrayal? A betrayometer?
What degree of bad faith, how much disloyalty and how to measure treachery?
Can you make a hierarchy of Betrayal values? Here’s my first attempt, and please keep in mind that one man’s treason is another man’s genius, depending on the conceit of nations and the conceit of scholars (media conceit). When the tabloid newspapers declare X to be a traitor, and betrayer, compared to what I ask?
Betrayometer Level 0: Everybody who changes their mind based upon new information.
Betrayometer Level 1: Jeremy Corbyn. Betrayed some labour voters, the jury remains out to what degree.
Betrayometer Level 2: Hugh Grant, betrayed his wife by soliciting a prostitute.
Betrayometer Level 3: John Bercow, betrayed parliament (according to some people) but hard to put your finger on specific evidence of this.Betrayometer Level 4: Edward Snowdon, betrayed his employer, the CIA, arguably in the interests of the American people and citizens of the world?
Betrayometer Level 5: Ian Austin, Labour M.P for Dudley, who betrayed his Labour party by voting for Boris Johnson’s Brexit deal.
Betrayometer Level 6: Ruja Ignatova, Bulgarian scammer, betrayed customers of OneCoin with a Ponzi scheme to the tune of 4 Billion.
Betrayometer Level 7: Kim Philby, betrayed the British, and allied spies for the Russians, as part of the Cambridge Spy Ring.
Betrayometer Level 8: James Jesus Angleton. Betrayed everybody and everything he got near to. The magister Ludi of betrayal, lies, and spreading double-cross paranoia.
Betrayometer Level 9: Boris Johnson, betrayed his wife by having a mistress or two, betrayed his brother and father, betrayed his own party, betrayed the people of the UK, betrayed the DUP and Ireland, betrayed the Queen, betrayed Europe Union. (Level 9.5: Trump, Betrayed Kurds, Europe, China, Russia, India, Asia, Africa…all humanity)
Betrayometer Level 10: Vidkun Quisling, double-crossed Norway, the country and its people, in support of the Nazi party during WW2. The name Quisling is now recognized as a synonym for betrayal.#Brexit
#Betrayal
#HierarchyOfValues
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Bobby Reefer R.I.P
Bobby Reefer.
Bobby! Bobby. Man, this cat. Let me tell you about this cat. Bobby was the coolest hippest cat you ever met. Bobby spent a good 7 years of his life in the 420 Coffeeshop in Amsterdam, where I was fortunate to share a few thousand hours together with the rascal. We were pretty close, I mean, we had a good time together at the cafe’ and to be honest more people will remember Bobby than will remember me, but that’s cool. Bobby deserves to live in eternal memory as the legendary cat of Amsterdam coffeeshop 420.
I was there when he first walked in the door, no really, he just walked into the coffeeshop, a kind-of stray cat, looking for some adventure and food. Bwoy did he find it. The 420 Cafe’ was the perfect cafe to pick due to the fact that Max, the previous 420 Coffeeshop cat, had recently died and there was space availbale for a new puss to move in. Who knows, perhaps the previous owner shoved him through the door, either way, as soon as we saw each other I kind of knew we would become colleagues. Sho’ nuff, Bobby hung around, and after some proper cat food and sweet treatment he found a home at the cafe. Eventually getting special bedding, treats, knuffles, and even his own room which was bigger than mine, and free of charge.
Within a few short weeks Bobby was up on my lap (back in the day when you had time to sit down in a coffeeshop, and maybe read something) creating the cozy atmosphere that cats and humans enjoy. Sitting purring, minding his own business. A cool cat…unlike a lot of tourists, Bobby could shit in the right place, and even managed to control his vomitting-up of mouse body parts with a certain, je ne sais quoi. A true gentleman cat.
When not on my lap, Bobby would often be sat to my left, on the hash and weed dealer counter, seemingly asleep or very relaxed, until…some customer would take the liberty of touching him. Oh man, I’ll never forget the scratches and hisses you gave to those heavy handed motherfuckers, hahaa. Serves em’ right. Some might say he was too rough, or too quick to pounce, I will always love Bobby for his scratching, that made fine entertainment for the regulars, and staff, who knew what Bob was capable of and who anticipated a deep scratch and a hiss when some over confident mofo’ touched that particular part of his back. “Go get em’ Bobby”.
Bobby made the whole shop his turf, patrolling the tables both under and over for mice and men, sometimes deciding to sprawl out across a table like a lion sunbathing, often getting small amounts of weed stuck to his mottled fur, becoming a kind of weedy mammoth cat. What a legend.
Since the gov. project to close down many coffeeshops around the central area of Amsterdam, the 420 Coffeeshop got busier and busier, to the point where life for Bobby, and some staff, became unworkable. Eventually Bobby was relieved of his duties and went to live in Amsterdam East, where I was fortunate to visit him a few times. As most cool cats do, Bobby didn’t seems to remember me when I met him again after a few years away, I was expecting it to be just like old times, but he was older now, perhaps 18, and seemed to want nothing more than to be left alone, sleeping, dreaming of scratching pot tourists.
Today, October 22nd, 2019, I got the news that Bobby took his last trip to the vet, and was “put down” as they say in England. On the contrary, today Bobby was put up! Up there with “Miffy” “Zack” “Grover” and a few other cats I was fortune to spend time with, and millions of others, gone but not forgotten.
Bobby Reefer (1998–2019)
#DeepScratch

Bobby, 2019 (Amsterdam East) -
Brexit Vasectomy And Euthanasia
Doctor: Hi, can I help you with something?
Me: Yes, I’m unsure about having a vasectomy, tell me more.
Doctor: Just get on with it!
Me: I beg your pardon.
Doctor: Vasectomy means vasectomy
Me: what?
Doctor: Trust me, I’m a doctor. Next!
#Brexit
#Vasectomy
Doctor: Hi, you again. Can I help?
Me: Yeah, I’m considering euthanasia, can you explain my options, please.
Doctor: Euthanasia means euthanasia.
Me: Oh, that simple eh, well….
Doctor (interrupting me): Just get on with it
Me: my groin hurts…
Doctor: Next!
#Brexit
#Euthanasia
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In like
In
Out the dirty bin, like Flynn, trippin’
Sin of Johnsin, Jonesin for deregs
Suckin’ the last dregs of capital
From a burst bubbleIn, in with them, in it together
With Europe to weather the weather
You choose Trump or Tusk?
In with your kin
Folks in mass who be from working kingdom classIn for the workers rights
In for fair and decent opportunity for all
In for one and one for all in
In good we trustIn over your head with the out gang
In the thick of it and getting thicker by the Wetherspoon full
Think McFly, think quicker
Sicker and licker shot to shoot the big dipper dobberIn, like cucumber in Gin
Like a holiday abroad on a whim
For consumer rights
For human and animal rights
Stay in, come unity
Not separatism
No schismReady up for the fight, for the flight, the blindsight roulette zit
In like a hole in one
Like a slam dunk, a corner kick, a prick
Inn like a stable for JayzeusIn without Tory heist
In without Brexit Party hallucinations
In like Quintin Tarantino movies
In your face Ian Turncoat AustinIn the pool of commerce the largest market
In the mood
In the future of international learning with European cultures
In the market place of market places
In your own skin
In place in positive spinShedding Camerons pigskin and Johnson’s sheepskin
Leaving deadley sin, Dudley sin by Ian Busted Austin
In with the strong, in to underpin your rights
In and ready to take it on the chin
Begin trackin’ thin lines that lead to lies and Gove coke puffin’
Boris de Pfeffel huffin’ lies and elitist disregard
For everybody but them, the BullingdongersIn like the loony bin Boris should be confined within
In like the firing pin
In the cross hairs of hate I relogate to the trash bin
Reason, fairness, openness and up-to date information
In memory of Heathcote Williams
In time
In like Huckleberry Finn.
In like a drawing pin to the shin of Boris Johnsin.In
In
In


















