Semantic Blockage lyrics

*(fades in)*
Scratch it verbally, or we’re gonna know who to kill. We got you in this f*ckin’ movie, to exterminate all the lunatics, all at once. We’re the filtering system of God; we’re the psychosemantic police -- you can’t even see us. How in the f*ck can you do anything about it? We’re pure intelligence; you’re not. You’re a biological product of the cosmoLOGICal universe! You’re molecular matter; I constructed you, f*ck you. I made you up, you didn’t make me up; you got it backwards. You know who you are? You’re a f*ckin’ semantic blockage. That’s what made you up.

You’re a f*ckin’ programmer named Christine Gontarek who f*cked up. She sucked my c*ck, fell in love, and she was locked in. She’s gonna get her second chance to suck my c*ck again. If she turns me down, she’s gonna go straight to Hell. She won’t pass “go,” she’ll never f*ckin’ win; she’s the c*nt who thought she was God, but that’s okay, I don’t give a sh*t -- as long as she sucks me off when I tell her, 'cause she’s my zombie. I captured that motherf*cker, and she’s my cassette. I want that c*cksucker to send me, at least, 50,000 f*ckin’ dollars; if she can’t do it, I’ll try $10,000; if she can’t do that, I’ll try $5,000, but that’s it. If you’ve got a dowry of $5,000, come out here and suck me off, do what I tell ya from now on, and you can join me in eternal time. Ya hear me, Christine? You get one more f*ckin’ chance. If you got $10,000…
*(cassette stops)*

Hey, you gotta be genuine. That’s the name of this game. If you’re real, you got nothin’ to worry about; but if you’re synthetic, startin’ tomorrow your balls come off. If you’re a f*ckin’ Iranian named Alex whatever, you know you’ve lost your c*nt to me. Bend over, f*ck yourself in your ASS hole. Cause I’m takin’ your A-hole f*ckin’ family. They’re purer than you are you spurious offspring of home-Q mooooneEEEYY. You f*ckin’ devil’s piece of spit. That’s the size of your mentality: you’re just a piece of spit. You’re not even, f*ckin’, a piece of whole American sh*t. You ain’t reached that semantic value yet. You’re stuck in that f*ckin’ sixth frame of the goddamn Mohammedan f*ckin’ philosophy. Why you f*ckin’ mental midget, you’re just -- oh sh*t, you’re disgusting. You don’t even understand mathematics, or arithmetic -- anything! You’re a f*ckin’ IDIOT on the scale of semantic values. You don’t even know what that is. SPELL IT you motherf*cker! Your c*nt belongs to me. I’ll f*ck you in your ass if I ever see you, you f*ckin’ chicken son of a b*tch! You were gonna take me on? Come on, get me ya mother f*cker. Grab me by my ass and suck me off. But I ain’t gonna c*m in your mouth ‘cause you’re DEAD ALREADY you son of a b*tch! Get your f*ckin’ pinkie f*ckin’ spies and get outta here – naw, we ain’t gonna let ya go. I’m gonna tell you how smart you are motherf*cker: you fell right in our TRAP. You come to the f*ckin’ country of genius, freedom - America - thinkin’ yer gonna con us outta our country? Why, f*ck you, you f*ckin’ profane bast*rdS (with no f*ckin’ capital on that f*ckin’ ‘B’). That’s a super f*ckin’ discharge -- a MINUS f*ckin’ ‘B’. You’re gettin’ graded, you c*cksucker; you’re bein' judged; this is Judgement Day. You LOST, you mother f*ckers. *(Spits.)* Just like that. You’re not any f*ckin’ reality – aaahhhh, any at all – you’re just too f*ckin’ valued, that’s all. You’re artificial. That means you don’t even show up. You’re not real; you’re caught in a comic book. You’re Rick Sevicstie. You’re just a f*ckin’ pinko commie, MOTHERf*ckin’ goddamn hairlip spy. You’re a cassette. So I’ll butcher you, you c*cksucker, ‘cause you’re not real but you’re dangerous. So kill every f*ckin’ one of ‘em right now. SIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEKEEEIIIIIEEEE. You’re zombies. You can’t get outta your frame. You’re caught in a comic book you mother f*ckin’ lame brain son of a b*tch 'n' goddamn lunatic-tictictictictictictictictictictictictictictic-toctoctoctoctoctoctoctoctoctoc *(claps 7 times).* Time! Time for what? There’s no such thing as time. Why not? ‘Cause, sh*t, they had to have something to rhyme; they’re all babies. If he’d rhymed it’d make some f*ckin’ sense, they thought, but they were wrong -- well, f*ck ‘em. They don’t know, they don’t care, don’t tell ‘em so, f*ck ‘em. Aaaaaaahhhhh – shut up! They’ll hear ya. They wouldn’t know what you mean. They can’t get outta there, they -- they ain’t got no brain, they got a jelly bean in their f*ckin’ head. They call it a brain -- aaaaahhhhh -- that’s not a brain, that’s a jelly bean. It has a semantic value of a jelly beeeeeaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyynnah.

*(Begins singing)* I am the gin of the jaca-di [???] …the tavern on the corner. *(Squawks like a bird.)* I am the gin of gunga din. IIIIIII went to the show with a gunga din so early in the morniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. I’m an American movie. I’m a groovie movie. I’m a John Wayne movie. IIIIII – biddily -- IIIII am, I am, I aaaaaammm. IIIII am GOd; IIIIIIII aaaammm capital ‘G’ ‘O’ lower case ‘D’. Who are you? I don’t know you. Who in the f*ck are you? Get outta here. Get outta here you m-mother f*ckers! You like were-wolves? I’m gonna send you some real ones, you c*ck suckers. Heeeyyyyy you mother f*ckin’ faggots, you bast*rds -- oooooh, f*ck you, you c*ck suckers. You think you made me up? Weeeell I got news for you: I am IRONNNNY. You don’t know how to spell me; f*ck, you don’t even know I exist. You think that sets you free? f*ck you. Yooou will ooobey the booounds of RRRRRReality (that’s a capital ‘R’ you motherf*cker). You’re illiterate -- to truth. Without truth, there’s no reality, you don’t exist – aaaaaahh -- you’re so f*ckin dumb you think you do. But life was a dream for you that passed you byyyyy... You don’t have the mentality of a common household fly. Hey, in the natural world of REALITYYYYYY in the order of a -- a capital ‘D’, lower case ‘i’, ‘p’, ‘t’, ‘e’, ‘r’, ‘a’ – Diptera. ‘Cause you’re just a piece of semantic f*ckin’ blockage you little piece of pig sh*t! CAMEL dung! Layin' on the bottom of the ocean but not quite touchin’ because you ain’t been warshed [sic] clean in ten thousand f*ckin’ years and... Hey, if you wanna find the lost, hidden f*ckin’ words outta there, buy ‘em from an American: give him some head; if he wants you to suck his c*ck, get down on your f*ckin’ knees; suck his c*ck, pray to God, say, “Oh, Jesus, I hope he’s an American ‘cause he might save my immortal soul; let him f*ck me in my as*h*le; let him do anything he wants; take my c*nts; take my f*ckIN’ money, please; take my wife; hey, take anything; take my camel; she’s a good f*ck, I’ve tried ‘em all.” I’m God, the great con artist; I just f*ckin’ bullsh*t ya; I never tell you the truth; you’ll never know what time it is ‘cause I ain’t gonna let ya know. f*ck you! It’s day one. See, I’m a liar; I’m the n*gger; I’m the re-n*gger of all; I’m the n*gger turned inside-OUT, who is white on the outside and black on the inside. So I can check ya all out. And I have you all lost. You’re all goin’ back…
*(cassette stops)*

You’re a se-man-tic flea; se-man-tic parrot.
*(cassette stops)*

And that is called se-man-tic poison. Blockage, c*ckage, flockage, mooockage, magpie-ockage -- scar-diddly-arrr *(un-intelligible babble).* Eddie Evette -- that’s the name of a psychic pus*y cat who got a weird f*ckin’ idea one day, lickin’ the c*ck of Raleigh! Ha! Fore-most-ah! For most only, only only Egyptian soldier -- once the father of you all. I’m not from the South of Egypt, am I? (I said “you all”.) Who in the f*ck are you? I don’t recognize you c*ck suckers. You are not my children. Who in the f*ck are you? What are you doin’ on my f*ckin’ planet you freeloadin’ mother f*ckers? You been eatin’ up your spaceship you dumb c*nts. There’s only ladies and c*nts. All the ladies know the c*nts, but the c*nts think they’re ladies! That’s your n*gger in that bunch. She’s a n*gger! She ain’t a lady; that’s why she likes to be called one. f*ck her, she’s a c*nt. Every lady that thinks she’s a lady gets f*cked! She’s a c*nt, f*ck her. f*ck dumb ladies and f*ck dumb c*nts, or you’re gonna lose your f*ckin’ minds! Because somebody has convinced you that you got here on some kind of transcendental line, jackin’ off! You’re wrong.
*(cassette stops)*

Nothin’ ever came out of dead testicles, of unics, ev-er! Every f*ckin day… ‘Cause I don’t even have to look at their goddamn face. And that was the whole trick: just don’t look these idiots in the face and let ‘em steal your f*ckin’ secrets. f*ck em’, let em do their own god damn work. Now let’s go.
*(cassette stops)*

To be able to do that la-ha-ha-ha-ha-la-slh-sa-lascivici-lashivisi-sa-lasciviously! You see I am an automaton of God. I’m a YOGA-HAAA; I’m a YOGIIII. I am everything because I am the foundation, I am the SOURCE -- of all! “All what,” you say? All of YOU, you mother f*ckers. I’m your big Daddy (with a capital ‘D’)! What the f*ck are you doin’ spellin’ my name capital “G”, lower case ‘O’, lower case ‘D’? You little mouse minded mother f*cker, you remind me of a Mickey! Not a f*ckin’ watch! Not a drink! Not a knockout punch! Not a Sunday like 1941. But that’s what the little mouse had done. Mother f*ckin’ Disney was a COMMIE ONE. And he says, “come on over here boys, all the suckers are over here.” That was John Wayne. They’re all, at sight of me, just trembling in their f*ckin’ patriotic BOOTS! What the hell happened? We lost our country; that’s right, you sure did, you bunch of galoots. YA NEVER TRANSCENDED hip street-talk! None of you East side punks, West side punks, North side stories or, ah, morning glories -- well, what a -- you f*ckin,’ bunch 'a as*h*les, you’re not intellectuals, YOU’RE STUPID! I AM THE MAFIA. Listen to me: I am any f*ckin’ thing I say I am; I am, I am. And if you wanna challenge me to a qualification match, put your f*ckin’ ASS on the line because I’ll blow your f*ckin’ BRAINS out, my funny valentine, if you don’t know the f*ckin’ answers -- ‘cause that means that you’re no son of mine and you’re a blas-schemer. It’s a schemer; that’s what a blas-phemer is; it’s a scheme against God -- the highest authority in your f*ckin’ world, and the highest authority in mine too. And we’re two panes apart so you can’t f*ckin’ blow sh*t! You’re locked in the paradigm you mother f*ckers. Try to blow that atom bomb. It can’t be done. You’re in purgatory you c*ck suckin’ turds. You’re not even good American sh*t. You’re just very small, unnourished little pieces of sh*t! You lost your holy comic books. You went for line drawings and you f*cked up, you f*ckin’ idiooot. You brainwashed yourself you motherf*ckin stupid c*ck suckers! Because you never studied your Holy Homework! (That’s two capital ‘H’s there! All the rest are lower case in any f*ckin’ case.) Supreme Court, you are NOT the f*ckin’ supreme court of anything -- except HELL! For the next ten thousand years you will shovel your sh*t and eat it because you’re on re-feed motherf*cker, and it just started backwards and you can’t do a f*ckin’ thing about it. The public are gonna take back every f*ckin’ thing from you that you took away from them you mother f*ckers!
*(from background, orderly comes in.)*

Orderly: Raleigh.
Raleigh: Yes.
Orderly: This is the deal.
Raleigh: Yes, what is the deal?
Orderly: You either cool it down, right now --
Raleigh: Or you’re gonna f*ckin’ die!
Orderly: …or you’re outa here.
Raleigh: Oh, you’re gonna put me out? Well, I ain’t leavin,’ mother f*cker; now whattaya gonna do?
Orderly: You understand? You understand?
Raleigh: What’re you gonna do to this little kid, huh?
Orderly: You’re gonna go to the psych ward.
Raleigh: Well good, that’s where I wanna go.
Orderly: Yeah -- you’re gonna be right there.
Raleigh: That’s exactly right, and I’ll take --
Orderly: So you better cool it down. You better cool it down right now, I don’t wanna hear anything else outa this room, or --
Raleigh: Or you’re gonna -- WHAT?
Orderly: Or you’re gonna go to the psych ward. This is your last opportunity.
Raleigh: Yeah, okay; I get it, let’s go.
Orderly: Shut your f*ckin mouth...
Raleigh: All right.
Orderly: …and don’t make any more waves in the house, otherwise you’re goin’ to the psych ward.
Raleigh: Well, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do -- I’m gonna go to the psych ward, and I’m gonna shoot my f*ckin’ mouth off. So get outa here, you’re cuttin’ into my commercial.
Orderly: You understand?
Raleigh: I’M MAKIN A f*ckIN COMMERCIAL! I’m a business man. GET OUTA HERE! You’re tryin’ to get in on this f*ckin’ thing -- you ain’t no star, as*h*le, you’re just a f*ckin’ errand boy.
Orderly: *(Laughing)* You -- you’re the craziest son of a b*tch I ever met.
Raleigh: Exactly!
Orderly: Now you better --
Raleigh: I’m an American!
Orderly: This is the last warning, Raleigh.
Raleigh: Good! Shut up!
Orderly: *(Chuckles)* Anymore outta you…
Raleigh: Yeah!
Orderly: ...and you’re goin’ to the psych ward.
Raleigh: See? You lie.
Orderly: Anymore outta you --
Raleigh: You don’t eat your feedback.
Orderly: You need to understand that.
Raleigh: I -- I understand that.
Orderly: As long as you understand that, that’s the rules, Raleigh; either you cool it --
Raleigh: Whoever comes in this f*ckin’ room, I’m gonna kill ‘em -- that’s what I’m gonna do.
Orderly: Oh are ya?
Raleigh: Yes.
Orderly: I’m in your room Raleigh.
Raleigh: Well, you come in against --
Orderly: I’m in your room.
Raleigh: This is not --
Orderly: I’m in your room Raleigh. I’m in your room.
Raleigh: Well, back out!
Orderly: I’m in your room.
Raleigh: Back out!
Orderly: I’m in your room.
Raleigh: Back out!
Orderly: I’m in your room.
Raleigh: Back out!
Orderly: I’m in your room.
Raleigh: Back out!
Orderly: I’m in your room, f*ck head.
Raleigh: Back out!
Orderly: I’m in your room.
Raleigh: Words don’t bother me man; actions do.
Orderly: *(Laughs)* Then do it! Go for it dude.
Raleigh: Well, if you come to me, you’re gonna f*ckin’ die!
Orderly: Go for it! Go for it!
Raleigh: That’s right -- I’m not goin’ for nothin’!
Orderly: Go for it! You little f*ckin’ wimp.
Raleigh: I ain’t goin for nothin’.
Orderly: You little f*ckin’ wimp.
Raleigh: You f*ckin’ reach for me and I’m gonna take your arm off, I’m tellin’ ya.
Orderly: Come on! Come on!
Raleigh: I ain’t comin’; you come.
Orderly: Cool it, Raleigh. You understand that? You got it? Either you cool it or you’re outa here. That’s the only choice you have.
Raleigh: Try it.
Orderly: You’re gone dude.
Raleigh: Who’s gonna enforce it? Call the cops mother f*cker. Call the cops! I said call them.
Orderly: We got witnesses right now.
Raleigh: No witnesses, call the f*ckin’ cops. I’ll call the f*ckin’ cops on YOU, you c*cksucker, RIGHT NOW.
Orderly: Good.
Raleigh: Nine-One-One
Orderly: Call ‘em. Call ‘em
Raleigh: Just like that.
Orderly: Good
Raleigh: And you’ll never get outta here, mother f*cker.
Orderly: Yeah? Come on.
Raleigh: I would like to do an emergency call, please. There’s a psychopathic tryin’ to kill me in my f*ckin’ room. Now get them cops over here to 12309 Cantara street, please. He is standing in my door, I told him to get outta here, he tells me he’s gonna put me in the psycho tank -- for makin’ my production here which is a SCIENCE FICTION magazine -- but he’s trying to scare me cause he thinks he’s big, but he’s just a big pile of sh*t, ‘cause I’ll splatter him all over the f*ckin’ wall. I want you to record all of that. That’s a PRE-PROGRAMMING for the police department and send ‘em over here, ‘cause I’m about to kill him in two seconds. Now get them over here as fast as you can, please. I hope you’re recordin’ this. See, I could walk down, and GET the f*ckin’ cops.
Orderly: Good -- do that, Raleigh -- do it now. Do it right now; get the cops.
Raleigh: I’m gonna get my f*ckin’ wallet. You just keep your f*ckin’ hands to yourself -- I’ll tear your arms off, and beat you up your ASS with ‘em! You f*ckin’ little snot-nosed-punk f*ckin’ mentality -- don’t gimme that f*ckin’ sh*t, you’re a punk. Not a punk, you’re a PUNK! Now -- you call the cops, I’m not gonna waste my f*ckin’ time -- get outta here. That’s right, all you -- f*ckin’ b*tches from behind that f*ckin’ mirror -- GET OUTTA HERE! You’re not guests anymore; f*ck you, get outa here you mother f*cker. I got you all on tape, c*ck suckers. You’re crazy; you’re outa your f*ckin’ mind. Did we get all that sh*t? Come on…
*(cassette stops)*
You thought you could steal this f*ckin’ government, you c*cksuckers; you are certainly naïve; no, you’re stupid; you’re ignorant; you’re somewhere in between, some f*ckin’ degree of -- I don’t give a f*ck where you’re at, you’re a liar! I’m gonna kill ya every time I see ya, motherf*cker. Keep your mouth shut or you’ll die in five minutes. I’m Mr. f*ckin’ Consistent -- “Logic” with a capital ‘L’; ‘o’-‘g’-i’-‘c’, lower case (and you figure out where to punctuate it, apostrophate it, and inflate it). *(Fart noises)* Hah, deflate it – whatever, send it to me, it better be valid because I’m gonna kill ya if it ain’t. If you’re illiterate to meaning you motherf*cker, you’re dead. You got ‘til Friday at two p.m. From right… now! *(Makes knocking sound on desk)* Supreme court, pass it into law – karma -- ahhh, principality, cause and effect -- aahhh!

Intermission.

Hey, I’m not God; I’m a science fiction writer. My name is Raleigh Theodore Sakers; yeah, that’s me. I’m a f*ckin genius, obviously. You need my help; spiritually, you’re weak. I don’t do this sh*t for nothin’, you pay me, you motherf*ckers. I did all your homework for you, now I’ll sell it back to ya: fifty thousand f*ckin’ dollars a page. So get your f*ckin’ money together, and chip in or some-f*ckin’-thing, and get spiritually educated while I’m here ‘cause I ain’t gonna hang around here for long. You make me sick; I’m gonna vomit; I don’t wanna regurgitate on sacred ground because I may f*ckin’ drop something natural somewhere and it might grow into another piece of sh*t like you. I don’t recognize any of you f*ckin’ people. You’re not real; you came outta comic books. You’re words that don’t qualify to outside, real-life reference. You don’t make up the f*ckin’ words of the sacred language system, you just apply ‘em appropriately. You have to use abstractions! That is mathematically balanced where that don’t mean any-f*ckin’-thing. You’re just mocking the language system by makin’ up words that don’t exist! They have no value schemes at all. They don’t say anything.

Polly wanna crackerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… *(20 seconds later)* ...If you can’t do that, don’t f*ck with me. I’m a Yoga; I’m a yogiii. I am the source and I am the guyyy... Yo' my gal; I yo' guy. Haha, hehe -- ya get it? I’m an American: I’m hip; suck me off and get smart. You get smarter every time you suck my peter. I’ll let you suck my peter for fifty thousand dollars -- *(makes ticking noise)* Juana Barrett, Linda Darnell, and a few more. See what I mean? Just add any name you want. It’s a form. I’ll sell it to you for fifty thousand dollars, I don’t give a f*ck. Let ‘em suck ya off; go ahead, be a man, be a sport; they’re dumb, but, hey, let ‘em get smart; they’re close, let ‘em suck ya off; you real, American, man, c*m in their mouth; grab ‘em by the back of the neck and press that vagus nerve; that’s it, work her head up and down, she’s a doll, f*ck her in the mouth, stick that c*ck down her throat; turn her on, bust your nuts in her f*ckin’ mouth and have her play with her c*nt while she sucks it! That’s the whole trick; that’s what turns her on. Then she gets hot and busts her nuts and she joins you and wants to suck your c*ck any time you’ll let her. You guys don’t know what love is. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT LOVE IIIIIS, UNTIL YOU LEARNED THE MEANING OF THE BLUUUUES. UNTIL YOU HAD A LOVE YOU HAAAAD TO LOOOOOSE. YOU DON’T KNOOOOW WHAAAAAAAT LOVE IIIIIIIIS.” Let’s see -- what’s happening? Sacks are fillin’ up again here -- yeah, yeah. Well we can stop that thing, ya know, any f*ckin’ time we want. Let’s do it.
*(cassette stops)*

It was a real strange thing the other day along the Appalachian hiiiiiiiiiiiiigghhhhway, and the stars, and the GALAXY – HEY, called the Mars candy bars f*ckin’ corporation or somethin' like that -- and we got confused with that planet of ‘E’-‘T’-‘C’ (period). That mother f*ckin’ so on and so forth, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, etceteraaaaaa – “you’re in the army nooow.” That so and so so-called society of ‘E’-‘T’-‘C’ *(laughs).* Quotation marks -- “civilization” (ahhh, those are all lower case letters) -- end quotation, period! Lemme tell you where you’re at mother f*ckers: you bought a f*ckin’ ticket and came in here, and you thought you were gonna see a science fiction movie; well, I’ll tell you what you’re gonna be, you’re gonna BE a science fiction-piction movie. It’s called *Science Friction.* And we’re gonna burn some heat in your f*ckin’ head and give you a little sinew in your f*ckin’ brain; we’re gonna remodel you’re neuronal structuring and unlock ya. We got your neumeric [sic] code. We’re the Gods. Planets of Gods. And you c*cksuckers’ll do what we tell ya to do ‘cause we’re from outer space -- we ARE outer space, you motherf*ckers. You’re invadin’ private property; you’re invadin’ Heaven. That’s what THE VOID is! There’s NOTHIN’ in here, you motherf*ckers. You’re just thinking there is. You enter here and you’re f*ckin’ sh*t; you’ve entered Hell, you c*cksuckers, ‘cause everything reverses. And that’s God’s f*ckin’ acid test; and that’s the supreme one; that ain't no "supreme court" there on the ground; that doesn’t even register like a genuine, whore-hound, f*ckin’ piece of candy; that motherf*cker is artificial all the way; that’s communism. They thought they could incorporate democracy -- kill the motherf*ckers called Jews. They tried to frame our poor – yeah, poor, yeah, oh yeah, poor – few poor, unfortunate -- yes, yes, yes – negros, hm? Ex-slaves, yes... brought over here to work on those plantations ‘cause he didn’t have anything else to do; he was just runnin’ around in the f*ckin’ weeds, tryin’ to have a lion or camel or any f*ckin’ thing he could find for lunch. But when he found ‘em they f*ckin’ ate him up ‘cause he was dumb; he didn’t even know how to plant corn; he didn’t know the use of the tool; he didn’t know anything; he was a f*ckin’ fool (with no capitals at all); he didn’t know how to spell; f*ck, he had no values, really; ‘cause he couldn’t write ‘em down, see; he had no central language system; he got that from the WHITE MAN, that cauc-cauc-cauc-cauc-cauc-cauc-"honkey," he calls ‘em. And brainwashes ‘em, see? That honkey’s so f*ckin’ stupid that he let that n*gger -- yeah, that f*ckin’ n*gger -- talk him outta his language system. But it was the Jew who framed the n*gger! The Jew that doesn’t have any capitol at all and he just took one. He framed his way right into Christianity, sh*t yeah. He knew he had it all locked up, that c*cksucker, I was watchin’ him; I saw that n*gger re-n*gger; that’s right, he n*gger’d twice; that’s what a f*ckin’ n*gger is; a n*gger who’s n*gger’d twice, the re-n*gger; that’s the n*ggER (with the capital ‘N’-‘I’-‘G’-‘G’-‘E’-‘R’); that’s the devil, that’s satan; that’s opposite, that’s EXACT opposite; that’s extreme, that’s opposite; that’s the exact opposite extreme of truth and everything that’s real; it’s artificial, it’s BULL-sh*t! "It’s formal philosophy; ah, It’s not philosophy." Quote that, f*cker, that’s a Quotion [sic] of maaaaan. Hey, man made himself up; what the f*ck, he made everything up; he invented words; he framed the game; he made the rules; he changes ‘em every time he gets in f*ckin’ trouble; he’s full of sh*t; he’s bullsh*t; he’s TRAPPED in a comic book logic that’s too valued; it’s not real; he’s not real; he’s not alive; he’s a zombie; he’s DEAD! I’m not gonna resurrect him, I’m sending him back; take back to the drawing board, mister artist; redesign please; signed God. I refuse to accept ‘C’.’O’.’D’; f*ck it, I won’t pay for it; I don’t want it; take it back.
*(cassette stops)*

That’s chapter one. Would you like to have chapter two? You better, son of a b*tch; I know the way; I’m here; I’m on the other side; I’m sittin’ right here in my apartment; I’m transcendental man; the first one; the first f*ckin’ man to mature on this planet; I’m the only f*ckin’ man there is; you guys are bullsh*t; you’re eight to ten percent man; you’re in the RACE of man; you’re not man; you’re not me; you’re nothing; you’re sh*t.
*(ends)*