The Cataloony-bin and its Cataloonies as seen by Carallot d'Antares, voyager. Somebody truthful enough had to investigate that despicable, despised, and warmongering and barbarian nation called the Cataloony-bin - and somebody had to report on the concomitant noisome terrors suffered by their martyred neighbors, the rightfully hallowed Shitholers particularly.


Mena the Menace, Zapped

Mena the Menace, Zapped

In Asspain, a country of fascists,
A general called Turdsucker Mena,
Dubbed “Mena the Menace” appropriately enough
By the stupid rank and file,
Has been zapped by that famous zapper,
Zap-a-taro, the pres of the fascists
In Merd-Is, their lugubrious abode.

The sin of general Turdsucker de Mena
Wasn’t so great — only saying aloud
What the rest of ‘em killers dares not quite
Say, but what the rest of ‘em fascists
Yell everyday from the radios, the pulpits,
The tvs, the papers, and whatnot,
Namely that the Catalonians
Deserve not only annihilation by the regular
Fascist methods at hand, as, say, suppressing
Their culture, and forbidding their
Most basic rights, as is use of language, and so on,
But, again through panzers and bombers,
By bloody and massive physical elimination too,
At once and once and for all…

Turdsucker said: “We, the fascist guardians, must
Enter as a conquering army into Catalonia
And leave no stone unturned,
After we’ve left no stone over stone of what used
To be their doomed country. We are armed and they are
Not. We’ll win that fucking war for sure. We’ve
Never won another, ever. Either the fucking frogs
Or the nazis and Mussolini’s thugs have won
The wars against Catalonia for us, or we’ve lost
Them fucking all. Time to retaliate!”

Zap-a-rutabaga, the pres, confronted to such
Obvious candor,
Had to zap him. “Boy,” he said, “don’t you fucking
Know those kind of silly words
Aren’t fit for the fetid mouth of a
Turdsucking military officer…?
You’re fried, my friend, at least momentarily,
Until the dust and the ashes settle;
In the meantime, zap, go to hell…
Boy, don’t you understand?
Or else our hidden strategy becomes too apparent,
We might frighten into action some vacuous
European organization,
Let’s say, who knows, in Holland,
Where they sometimes take a closer
Look at human rights…
Or even, who knows, Slovenia, Poland…,
Countries used to resist annihilation from neighbors
Too avid to zap them to oblivion.”

Then Zap-a-Horseradish said:
“Not even that piece of soft shit, king One Callous,
Would dare say as much as you did.
He’s not saying let’s enter and bleed them to death,
He’s much more diplomatic, he’s saying
Let’s stay united, meaning let’s bleed them to death
By peaceful means, let’s annihilate them
By bleeding them dry, as we were so smoothly doing
Since they lost the war against fascism,
And always, of course, with the cowardly
Complicity of the Europeans: They don’t see
The blood on tv, that’s good enough for them.
They don’t see that the work of Franco and his
Fascists is kept on track by us “democratic
Nationalist asspainers”; they don’t want blood,
They like the extortions clean.

Whom are you waking up, you creep…?
Fuck the Catalonians,
They are nobody, can’t do shit, unarmed,
Broken up, untongued, unrepresented,
Slovenly slaves, rightless, in the vile shackles
Of an alien constitution, filthy beggars all… And
Do you want to kill off such a source of cheap
Parasitical bloodsucking… Whom the fuck
Are you trying to alert…? Let’s hope
The inured Europeans heard nothing;
In any case, here you are, dormant — zapped!

Worry nor, my lovely.
Little lullaby on the side — here’s me zapping
You, dear honeypot, with my harmless magic wand…

Now take a few winks, at least
(As I was saying,) till the fatherland
Your loyal services
Doesn't indeed need again, of course…”

[A song sung by plenty witty Midge Omission.]

entre el mirall i els ulls

entre el mirall i els ulls
no voldria pas que l'escaient paral·lelisme patís tampoc de paral·laxi


La meva foto
Under the speckled canopy / Where, along the autumnal whisper / Of fair weather, I walked, / The enkindled persimmon, / And then the flaming chestnut, / The imploded acorn, fell… /.../.../ My eyes, and nose, and ears, / And tongue, and skin, in joy / Praised such fragile perfection. .../.../

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