Xtinction Agenda

Listen folks, we were feeling chatty at the beginning of this episode. It happens. If you don't want to listen to three guys shoot the shit about current events, our conversation about everyone's favourite Kafka-esque dark romance,  The Lobster , begins at about the 10 minute mark. Don't say we didn't warn you! "We dance alone. That's why we only play electronic music."

Why do you believe something? Ask yourself. Ask yourself about light. Ask yourself about light asking about light. Why do you believe? What is it, that underlying certainty? Is that love?

Love, the mother of all bombs, is a mirror, looking back at the horror you might have been.

Thinking about how the red pill/blue pill metaphor was co-opted by racists and shitheads, the blame has to be laid at the feet of David Icke, doesn't it? If he wasn't the first to steal the idea, his online and in-person popularity must have opened the door for all sorts of peddlers of conspiracy ideation. From the Matrix to reptilian infiltrators to FBI crime statistics and great replacement theo...

It's symmeTRY, goddammit! SymmeTRY!

Exit the generals, spooks, and games of chicken missile. Enter horror. The things that man does to woman. The things that power does to us all. Let the noir shine in, illuminating the dark weakness of our hero. Watch him fight against the odds, stoic red, and get revenge for us all. https://mindlessones.com/2008/05/01/superpowers-are-real-goran-parlov/

Little disrespect to Gordon Chan in the title of this episode, I admit. Jet Li did not direct this one. But, really, no one showed up to this event for Gordon Chan. He did a good job, don't get me wrong. But this is a Jet Li movie. And what a Jet Li movie it is.... "So, it's about energy. But tell me something, does a rock have as much energy as an opponent would?" [ Slices a leaf floating in air...

Witness the film that PROVES that George Lucas traveled into the future in order to steal the secrets of martial arts success. He brought it back to the past and profited. With his ferocious nature, he bent the fabric of space/time, all so that Jet Li could become Luke Skywalker. From then to before and now to now. 

Hinged wooden tripod flashes, fire capturing flame, the fall, the blurred chaos of love and family and loss, a trouble-making box that, once opened, refuses to hide its promise, bodies be damned. "Whenever there's trouble, we Chinese suffer."

Aristocrats and royalty wear armour and carry swords. They buy and sell what they need and lie about the rest. Our hero was once on track to aristocracy but gave it up in a fit of conscience and a brush with mortality. Not so our villain. Like all established royalty, he wants to sit upon a throne of fear and desire. "You know what keeps going through my head? Where's my sandwich?"

Gender and Apocalypse. Hear me out. Laurie's mom pushed her into it, right? And Jon, that guy was pushed around by pops so badly, he didn't even have an 'h'. Both waltz around like binary stars. But neither collapses. Instead, centre lost, they hurtle outwards, yin and yang, and then back together. Up until the end. "I--I'm scared. I feel like there's big invisible things all around me."

The gloves removed hit the floor like lead, puncturing lungs, bleeding red, untold bodies left for dead. All this, despite the concussive rounds, remained unsaid, silent infrared exploding heads. The gloves removed hit the floor. The world changed forevermore. "Roth, don't get sentimental on me, okay?"

Why should we not gamble, we at the bottom whose lives are without glory? "Well, we have nothing to lose but our futures."

Behold the rattling swaying snake that chases and swerves along the spine, from shakra station to shakra station towards the eye, dropping passengers, like memories, at the end of the line, where darkness-light divine incinerates the lonely weeping mind. "This shit's something else."

Oh God, don't let those harsh flames and sleepless nights touch me. Don't let them destroy my world. Don't let that grim, waiting horror come upon my life. Let all those ghosts live elsewhere, away from me. Let me have peace. "New toys are coming!"

curious object in my hand, woman/teenager gone, bizarre instrument foreign land, disappearing liaison; far-off frozen sand, I demand save me from this isle of man.   "Just shadows in the fog."

Incremental loss unnoticed. Ignored. Red slurpee disaster. Bedside love revealed. Dance club heat enjoyed. Man lost in hurt. Desire given wide berth.  "No amount of study or research can stop whatever it is that's destroying the sky...."  

Bright bright James Dean daylight katana blade fight, slash flip throw all in plain sight, machine gun bursts, explosions galore, man oh man, do I want more. "Listen to what I'm saying. With your skills, we could make some easy money."

Frank heaves the dusty, splintering crate from the flatbed of the truck. He breathes weakly, his body skinny as a chicken bone. Never been good at anything else, he thinks, sweating in the New York heat. No one who counts notices the daring daylight theft. "I can see it!"

Hair-soaked, standing before the bag, he is an unimposing sharpness, a body forged to figure and spin and strike. Inside, his red intuition whispers and questions. Something has long haunted his life. Black sheet ghosts of the past. "That's the kind of girl I'd like to settle down with, pretty but not too pretty." Note: For a moment, Doc James confused Karen Carlson with Carol Bagdasarian. He feel...

poison seeping  burning circle, dystopian amulet spawns father nightmare babylon.   fragile candle hopeful ray, utopian amulet dawns  ghostly daughter eidolon.   "This is everybody's future."  

Memory. Ghost. Mystery. Joke.  History. Blood. Rose. "Well, I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about what the Polish people think!"

Cigar whisky jealousy. Sad sad man. Moustache in darkness. Moustache flaking skin and long dead fingernail growth. Daddy put me inside you. She will understand. "You've truly taken your father's place."

Blistered, peeling rot stretches reality like spandex, tears through cotton innocence,  erupts from places of pleasure and rest, a geyser of inverted, twisted blood,  a sound of sharp steel dragged along a pipe, piercing your ears.  A crime born of sleep.   "Well, all the lawyers got fat and the judge got famous, but someone forgot to sign the search warrant in the right place and Krueger was free...

The night bleeds red rain, beating hearts aflame, pummeling lives like meteors into moonrock. Grand adventure awaits this drifting spectral waylaid soul. An adventure of darkness and love and woman divine. "There is nothing bigger than the night, Batman, and the eternal blackness beyond."