Slant

New World Disorder: Ridykeulous

Ridykeulous, It’s NOT What You Think It is: Banksters, Pineal Glands and Microtubules, Examined in a Meandering, Friendly, Nonlinear, Nonclinical Way (From Pineal to Penile to Penal: Western Civilization at a Glans), 2017, mixed-media and artist text on vinyl.

It’s NOT What You Think It is: Banksters, Pineal Glands and Microtubules, Examined in a Meandering, Friendly, Nonlinear, Nonclinical Way (From Pineal to Penile to Penal: Western Civilization at a Glans)

We’re all inspired by the future. Can we remember, human people, that everything is sentient? Monarch-butterfly people know it, bird people know it. And contemporary ding-dong science can’t take that away from us. Hello, PS and by the way, money doesn’t exist. Will the liberal order survive?

Who wants to know? And what are you talking about. And survive for what? We can’t even keep a bee alive anymore. Devolution, the US’s #1 export. Depression, tyranny, genocide, genetically-modified intestines. Personal Soul-Encrushment Machines™—the latest in trash-compaction technologies made by Ronco! And redwood-sized toothpicks! According to the experts at Berlin-SanDiegoPlatz, there’s not a dull moment living through the 2nd Indouchetrial Revolution. And we feel fine!

According to CIA whistleblower-types, without whom there is nothing but the giant rubber REDACTED stamp of the choad buried twenty stories beneath the White House, said choad is having a hard week because this whole drone thing has encroached onto his cubicle, cutting it into a shard of carpet remnant within which he and the flayed muscles of his overdeveloped forearm can hardly fit anymore as she/he/it, informally known as S.H.I.T., mechanically pounds his tool on all Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests, classifying and reclassifying everything from Camille Paglia’s home supply of ICBMs to the texts your mom keeps sending to inform you that she’s “going on a Walkabout. See you in 10 years lol, why don’t you take me seriously??!!”

The macroeconomic is personal. We’re locked in a zero-sum tradeoff of black prison bars substituting for soft rainbow worms, placed eternally in close proximity to a frosty jigger of RoundUp. Preposterously large and very very tiny screens—what the Gnostics called “Black Mirror Magic”—are crowding the forests. Populism vs global-ism vs Are you fucking kidding me?!  The real question right now is: Which book for Book Club? And after that, Is deep government really hiding in the deep time of no answers whatsoever? And then the next question is: How many civilizations does it take to hide the things that are really happening? Answer: Yes, no, do you still like me?  

Never mind that. Let’s just start with the bones of giant humans hidden in vaults of the Smithsonian (just ask Charlatan Heston—he knows). PS We’re not even joking. It was on TeeVee! And we’re not talking Public Access. Hint: NBC! Self-healing properties are being withheld from us at this very moment, while the international order crumbles under the lie of progress known as The Security Umbrella. And btw, fyi… by “Humanomics,” we don’t mean anything except reality is a trade deficit, the architecture of hideous right angles, fluoride pourovers and a soupçon of asbestos encrusting your pineal gland, which btw fyi looks like an eye because it actually IS an eye. See our forthcoming opera: Detoxifying The Third Eye: Adventures In Medical Scraping Procedures.

Let’s do this instead: wymmin perform rites in secret sacred groves. The search for certainty is a lie. We’re a shred forgetful, the human race, but let’s not forget: headdresses of Nightshade, lightning from the cosmic Yoni over the Elysian Fields, the mysteries of Isis and her bffs Neith and Nut. Forget the hypnotizing whippoorwills of mortgages, aka dead money, dead pledges, dead ends.

Here’s an interesting thing: Isis said in her best-selling autobiography, How I Made The Universe, “OUCH! Pushing out a baby sun ain’t no one’s idea of a party. Plus, I am Nature, the parent of all things.” She stated this loudly and drunkenly at every spaceship bar in the firmament.

Bottom-lining it now: The leviathans in the financial ocean lubricate a collective in a patch of dead swamp flowers known as Bohemian Grove. Which means your pension funds are burning down the Amazon and killing toads so that you can waddle around taking selfies as you watch yourself get killed from the sidelines—which sounds physically impossible but, look! It’s Happening! Baby boomers are the economic equivalent of a locust swarm, through no fault of our own. Oh yes, we di’n’t! PSS—we’ve been lied to, ensorceled, and roofied into obliteration, Mr. Gentle Rapist!

It may surprise you that we need to fight wars, create fiat currencies, and rebuild entire continents, aka “learning as we go.” What about safety? When we talk about post-crISIS reforms, are we talking about what happened to me this morning? The thousand plateaus of psychosis? Coincidentally, the terror alert system coincides with our periods. This is the last time we’re going to say it: If you want a teacher, try a waterfall.  

The best guesses are lies. The world could be anything. Just lick whatever toad is left, you’ll see.

Love, Ridykeulous

Ridykeulous is Nicole Eisenman, A.L. Steiner, and honorary guest Laurie Weeks. This text appears through March 10 in the exhibition “Divided States of America,” curated by Alison Gingeras, Stuart Comer, and Robb Leigh Davis at The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center in New York.

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