Slut Cops 23 Easy Android Aktion

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I dunno maybe it’s just me, but if I were God/a god, I under no circumstances would want to see the future where we just failed to get our shit together. But it’s that kind of thinking that has allowed me to survive all of the carnage it has been my good fortune to be around.

She looked fantastic of course. I made her come. Two into One. Those stockings again. She was excited and thrashing from room to room ‘oohing’ and ‘arrrring’ at the various things. The decor, the carpet, the wallpaper. Those big tits jiggled as she trotted around. Nascent Goddess. I scribbled with the betting shop pen on a Hotel menu. Writing fast, not wanting anything to escape. The TV was fucking huge. She switched it on. Star Wars again. Fucking hell.

I asked her once why she became a part time Police Officer in one of the roughest cities in the UK. ‘Serving my community’, she said. I wasn’t horny when she paraded around in her Police uniform. I felt a little sick. My inner Fascist was disgusted by her disgracing a valued public organisation. My outer Anarchist wanted to kick her head in. But I found out why afterwards. 

‘Let’s try that Cocaine out’ she said in a Hotel room in Birmingham. She grabbed the plastic bag from my stash bag and expertly chopped a trio of sparkling white lines on her phone screen. Now I knew why she had chopped ‘three’ lines. But that hand moved like a Bolivian Civilian. An expert chop-a-holic. She had the cheek to ask me how to roll a twenty pound note into a tube. She even twinkled her blue dopey eyes, flashed those pretty eyelashes. I rolled it for her and she bent down and snorted two lines. One in each nostril. It hit her as she passed the phone to me.

Eyes glazed, a guttural half unheard throaty groan. Some Coke had got in her hair. Diamonds white and lovely. I put the phone down and just watched her for a moment. The TV screen behind her framed her upper body. She was ‘lit’ and aware and sexual and all the mad things I could say I loved about her but couldn’t. C3PO the Star Wars Gaybot was tottering around a desert on the TV. The sound was muted but I could hear Neu playing ‘Hallo Gallo’. Both his legs were gold and I knew I had to remember that somehow. That it was important. I knelt down and licked her throat as she moaned, head back. I needed a fucking pen, I needed to write something. Fuck this cop chick.

‘I only became a cop so I can lift Cocaine’ she moaned. Man, such a Tory. 

A CHECK-LIST OF ESSENTIAL OBSERVATION SYSTEMS FOR THE DISSEMINATION OF RANDOM VARIABLES THAT LACK ORDER:

-Check out the authenticity of any disturbing, remark, movement, rock band,  letter, rumour, phone call or other communication before acting on it.

-Document incidents which appear to reflect covert ‘Big Eye’ intervention, and report them to the Movement Support Network Hotline: 2112/233-666

-Deal openly and honestly with the differences within our movements (race, gender, class, age, religion, national origin, sexual orientation, personality, experience, physical and intellectual capacities, etc.) before the FBI and police exploit them to tear us apart.

-Don’t rush to expose a suspected agent. Instead, directly criticize what the suspect says and does. Intra-movement witch-hunts only help the BIG EYE create distrust and paranoia.

-Support whoever comes under BIG EYE attack. Don’t be put off by sexual slander, such as recent attempts to smear radical theorists as “sexual deviants” Organize public opposition to CIA investigations, grand juries, show trials and other forms of SEXUAL harassment.

-Above all, do not let them divert us from our main work. Our most powerful weapon against BIG EYE repression is effective organising around the needs and issues which directly affect people’s lives.

Actually fermenting dischord, that is exactly what she is doing, regardless of whether or not she states it explicitly or not. 

I say Star Wars dark/light philosophy creates a false morality, and the fantasy force is limiting to the imagination. It is a vehicle mainly designed and created to market merchandise to children, pretending to be a harmless escapist fantasy. Stupidity perhaps. She was standing up now and bending over to do the straps on her heels. We were going to dinner. Her fucking beautiful big ass. C3PO on the screen was in pieces in the sand and he was staring right at me.

In military culture the ‘Three C’s’are Command, Control, Communication. Or what the people in the Pentagon do whose job it is to- Think and Give Orders. = Protocol droid? I remembered painting C3PO when I was a kid. Two Gold legs. The gold air-fix paint. The Newspaper underneath the model of the droid. The headlines on the newspaper. ‘Mandela Dead-South Africa Burns’ The date for fucks sake. I was 13. 1980. Fuck. Time.Split.

I stood and put my hands on her waist and stared at her. She was as tall as me. Eye to eye. I couldn’t help but smile and her pupils were like pin dots. Her hair still sparkled. Her lips as ever drive me to walls and dark places. We stand and look at each other and she sees I have pain and that I don’t belong in this place. I don’t know where we are at all only that it’s all wrong and all I have left is you dear dear Eris. In a world of chaotic tropes and insane narrative the only stability, the only constant is you. What ever distance you may look like on the outside the nearer is always the inner you.

‘He was all gold Mikey. Both legs, arms, everything.’She said. I know that much.

 

 

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