(Image borrowed from Mr. Topp).
Lecture on Marxism 2 – Resolution on the Current Situation, June 2011.
So the Trotskyites didn’t like the class composition at Syntagma Square .
No, composure is not entirely different from composition.
For example, I had a rabbit-headed character once – I used to draw comic books to entertain my friends – who calmed down enough to be a Marlowe-like detective.
I suppose I did mean the one who wrote “Edward II.”
Some people thought that Marlowe was a spy, which is somewhat like a detective.
Anyway, here is how people in Chengdu eat rabbit heads: after the spicy meat is gone, use the jawbones as utensils.
Once I held the rabbit head on my fingers and made it say funny things, like a puppet.
“I’m the gay King of England! You can’t find my butt!”
Nothing peeks out when you are incorporeal.
The story of the King’s two bodies was in another play in which two bloated, bobbing monarchs were towed out to sea.
I’m so sick of monarchs, aren’t you? They just swell, explode and ooze.
Swell, explode and ooze.
That’s also the three stages of socialism.
If trinity could be a verb, it would mean something like that.
Meanwhile, I have never met a rabbit that enjoys high humidity.
They just fall out like the rest of us, lolling about in the grass, demanding to be shaved.
Well, they don’t say, “Shave me, shave me!” It’s just that everyone knows what they mean.
And then, as the harpsichords plink merrily along, a real human baby is born, or a champagne bottle is smashed against a big spaceship or a crowd of workers is shot.
That’s how it goes most of the time.
Since the Moon got popular we’ve been gathering at the riverside lighting incense and commemorating the late Michael Jackson.
Some have been grumbling, but, as I gnaw at the cheek flesh of this rabbit head, I think we have a lot to be thankful for: no King; actual Soviets; General Intellect.
- Mark Hossfeld
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