Tuesday, November 14, 2006

In Alaska and Russia it's okay to lie, cheat and steal. Raping and killing is okay too. If nobody is looking.

Top of the morning gents,

My phone rang yesterday.

Which is weird cuz ain't nobody got my phone number.
The only folks that know my phone number are spooky
fuckers, scarred to shit government agents and spies
in exile way off the fucking reservation.

A former Army intelligence officer jingled me just say
'what the fuck' and 'how the hell are ye?' Sure.

We carried on about recent inflammations abroad. North
Korea's nuclear testing, Iran's nuclear salivation,
and why the hell Russia and China appear reticent.

"Corruption is the reason we win!" (Movie-Syriana).

Strange days indeed. Chats with you butt fuckers
always brings back wonderful memories. Good memories
akin to a punch in the nose, busted ribs and renewed
respect for electricity.

Hearing the radio broadcast of Yeltsin’s resignation
from my rear view mirror whilst making quick strides
back across into Finland is seriously scary shit
mates. But you know that as soon as I cleared customs
I hung a BA towards the East. Fucking Russian fuck
offs: cunts all of 'em and they can kiss my fucking
goat ass.

I'm pouting cuz I'm a bitter bitch. Yup I’m pissing
and moaning cuz my hobbies vigilante have no need for
graying gunslingers much longer. Ain't too many towns
I can dissolve into despite clandestine measures,
without somebody recognizing my ugly ass pie hole.

My bunnik fucking hates it when I log onto foreign
Internet broadcasts and put on The Voice of Russia
(http://www.vor.ru/Audio/audio_eng.phtml) or check up
on mass graves and gangland slayings posted on the
Helsinki Sanomat newspaper (http://www.hs.fi/english).
The Commander asked me if I still check my watch when
the church bells toll at 6am Moscow time-6pm Alaska
Time. Funny fucker. Made me look.

The American military intelligence services are
engaged in 136 countries. This covers industrial,
military and political espionage with tremendous
effort put in locating and stopping the steady stream
of nuclear material out of Russia and China. North
Korea is the main shipping port for China's illegal
human smuggling, counterfeit, narcotics and atomic
contraband; Finland and Estonia are the main shipping
ports for Russia's goddamned dirty shit.

See the parallel? Now email your elected official and
tell them to increase funding for black projects and
off budget expenditures, fuck all. Besides, as long as
rogue states continue to get their dick skinning hands
on dirty fissile, the mish ain’t done.

There's always a job available to you contractors that
ain't feeling "too old for this shit." If yer ever
caught in a pinch, the food ain't half bad, as long as
you are immune to E. Coli, Salmonella, Tetanus and
Hepatitis, and the beatings warm and welcoming every
morning.

The Commander asked me if I awake at night hearing
echoes of metal doors. Being a congenital thief I lied
and said 'no.'

"Plugging your ears doesn’t do any good while yer
fighting yer way through another pissy nightmare.”
“Did you have to go to the bathroom and wash your
bottom and penis?”

To which I replied, "Fuck you very much sir."

Speaking of riding dual diagnosis PTSD roller coasters
for fun and pleasure and in deference to 6Killer we
all owe an obligation to John Erlich and Ham. Those
two guys got stung perty fucking good from live fire
and we agreed that such an abrupt appreciation of
mortality causes a phase shift in a lad's perception
of time destabilizing sentience exacerbating mood
swings.

To which, the Commander agreed wholeheartedly, then
scolded me that accuracy is arrogance to the naïve.
Now look around the room. You just had a flashback
awakening submerged in Kikiktagruk Spit.

My wife is right, this ain’t fucking Finland, ye gotta
dumb down when in Alaska.

After a long chat reminiscing really shitty jobs on
Alaskan soil: foreign too, we concluded our long
distance intel briefing with updates on the FBI
raiding our state capitol, no state law against
influence peddling, and why Alaska is losing the war
on drugs.

Alaska is a smuggler’s paradise run by a parliament of
whores and organized crime requires complicity with
elected officials. Which is why I spent my dinner hour
down at the gun shop. An armed society is a polite
society and I sent every extra gun I never touched
down to me pops. This gifting of surplus small arms
inventory is a family tradition: shipping veritable
arsenals to yer Finnish padre.

Thus rendering me without a decent revolver. So last
night me bunnik picked out a fancy S&W 357 Maggie,
grips, custom machine jewelling on the hammer and
trigger. We also snagged a slick holster and some
ammo.

The shop keep had a pair of non-sequential magnums,
but the theory of dollar cost averaging: spreading
capital investment over a pre-determined number of
future months seemed logical. I’ll pick up the
matching pistol later.

Oh, the reason the Commander phoned me was to tell me
that an old spook from the old days had passed on. A
genuine cold war genius radio dweeb and electronics
wonk adept at collecting faint radio code bursts,
replaying them at much slower speeds, then deciphering
the entrepreneurial covert languages to our blessed
Commander Craig.

All is well gents; ye still got dry powder and dick
hard. Enjoy the snow and get psyched for the holidays
ahead by exercising yer capacity to give.

Karl.

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