The Unibomber's manifesto is more famous than this one, but look where he is.

Kay bingle oogie raga! The New Linguistic Order wants to thank everyone like they pitched in cash. You showed up. That's plenty for now. I feel like talking, and you're here to talk to. Oogie raga!

First of everything, this beanstalk growing up my ass is theory. It's for non-believers, mostly, with an aphorism or two for everyone else. I believe heavily in organic personality traits. One may be a pugnacious born blowhard or hard wired healing angel of mercy. Some hot studs are born with a natural tendency to pontificate. Or to moralize. A tendency to either believe or doubt almost anything, corporeal or illusory, has been socked onto the same platform with hair and eye color. 

It's still impossible, in all cases, to levitate or walk through walls. But there have been millions of poor dumb suckers, since Genesis, who were made to believe it's possible. People are born with the ability to instill belief and fervor in others. Some of these folks do it by pontificating. Preaching, mayhaps, as in the case of religious leaders. My theory is that religion itself, and the practice of it, originates and sustains because some people have a hereditary trait for pontificating, which in preachers, takes the from of sermonizing.

Whether a leader is a delusional snake-handling Baptist, a dogmatically self-riteous rabbi, or a constipated methodist minister, the origin of the personality is moon walking within the double helix. They got that way when mom and pop did the wild thing. How the Earth got here is science. How one deals with being on it is linguistic. People are bargaining, negotiating, interacting ass motherfuckers. We shape life by writing and talking.

The New Linguistic Order is another shot at making a substitute institution. Churches are impractical. Too much up keep. The internet is where the new alternative is located. It's a humanitarian charity share of bandwidth. As near as anyone I know gets to power over the universe is in their ability to describe it, hence quazi-religious faith in linguistics. Also, in heredity. And in silliness. Nonsense words matter, because they sound fun. Like the NLO official slogan, 'oogie raga.' It doesn't mean shit. I just like saying it.

You're throwing a bird, and I understand

I've been oozing, gently, like an inflamed facial pore, some thoughts on political centrism.  Like a pustule, some zit cream from the Westview Dollar Tree store could heal it up in no time.  Same way with de-escalation and mediation.   That doesn't cost jack shit.  You run your mouth, or  type words in your tiny, cramped nervous dialog box.  You take joy in hearing diverse opinions on every lousy fucking detail of what is going on here on the big box called Earth.  When your zits are finally under control, it's time to propose a plan, a strategy,  for chrisake, with which to get Washington to quit giving us all gas.  No one has to go along with it.   Hell, people might love it.  

Or, if people seem to be just awful to one another in any capacity, one can gallop close on one's Shetland pony and help them cool their jets.  Try using the humanistic method when dethroning and infantilizing.   I posted an old video of Buckley chatting with Ronald Fucking Reagan.  Not because I'm angry.  Because I want to help people better understand asshole fucked up Now.  You have to bone up on the past.  Enjoy, like a maniac.

Didactic Old Videos that are Fucking-A relevant right the hell now.

Watch this puppy.   Notice how there is a jinglely jangle of subtle conflict in social politics.  Also, a lot of people are missing a few spokes and are gonzo, then as now.    We must all de-gonzo, and become centrist.  We must hose cold H20 on crazed nut jobs on all sides of popular media politics.  We must learn some shit from the past, and twinkle forth less asshole-like.

Two things I feel like yammering on, eugenics and cloning.    The first thing is easy.   Less kids.   Reproduction is completely unnecessary.  People could refrain from having kids.  That would improve the species.   Quietly, as if it wasn't happening at all, eugenics means, too that desirable human beings will continue to breed, in moderation, in gated communities far and away from riff raff.  The easiest concept of eugenics is less assholes, more valedictorians.   How I wish people would stop accusing common sense of fascism.

Cloning is a perfectly logical way to sustain excellence, which, in recent years, took a powder.  

I feel it is imperative, compulsory, if you will, that Diana Ross and Supremes get replicated, to the eye lashes and dance steps, with all penchants and skills.   I wish not to face eternity without Diana, even if she has been Xeroxed.  

An aspiration. I am composing The Return Of Kazootra

I guess it's safe to share a fulminating, painful secret.   There is an epic project shinnying up the greased inside track of a cosmic stainless steel cork screw that is forever pointed downward.  I hope to reach the synthetic scrimshaw handle, carrying with me a book titled The Return of Kazootra. 

Don't bother trying to plagiarize.  I've already published fragments of the work, with the same title in fat bold Times New Roman.  It's a modern mythology based on stooges I've known too well to let slide out of permanent opprobrium, at least if I can help it.   I feel entitled to some form of justice, something off the grid.   To realize any dream, one has to describe it to people who have the beams and nails to build it for you.  I am constructing greater knowledge of chickenshit losers from the past. 

Return Of Kazootra is mythology.  People are fixated on ancient myth.  It's why Trump is president.  People were reading ancient myth, when they should have had their snoots pressed to this myth, mine, about people who did us all the disservice of being conceived by their pestilential and ambitious mom and pop during the fart-biting disasterous baby boom.   Instead of that, everyone has been drinking main stream media atomic fizz and bilge water while Rome gets conflagrated.  I've decided to post, openly, about the writing project, even though the fucking thing isn't ready to be published.  And, you will laugh, if and when I finish Return Of Kazootra, I will try to hawk it to a main stream publisher.  I wanna, wanna, wanna fat ass book deal.