“An automated recognition system that scans crowds to identify the people within them using not their faces, or their eyes, but their knees, has been proposed.”
Something about seeing you when you are sleeping, when your awake, remember that?
Some guy named Satan said that, I mean Santa, the fat guy.
“…software could recognise individuals with 93 percent accuracy”
Number of the Beast? From a fricking knee-cap, we know who you are.
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
Soldiers are supposed to kill the other guy. The one in a different costume. With a different color skin. Praying to a different god, and or gods.
“…new rules that would allow military commanders and mental health specialists to ask unstable troops if they own personal firearms, reports Stars and Stripes…”
Oh, now I get it.
It’s my own ‘Master Plan for World Domination’ and I almost missed the point. This is about demonizing military personnel as to disarm and discard them. There will be nothing and nobody to stop the chaos to come, and the climate of complete social control ushered in after.
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
But let us think, at risk of giving Evil a bad name, about the the rhetoric of something called an Evil gene. My Master Plan for World Domination’, can only get over on the populace if everyone is kept stupid, fat, drugged and most importantly, Fearful. So to ingrain the idea that Evil has a biological rooting, a testable, perhaps treatable, natal and systemic, presence in the human gene pool is to float the idea of helplessness and pre-destined determinism.
Nothing to be done but to summit to Evil inoculations, before and after birth.
The perpetuation of my pretty-twink-twerp-punk shooter is the kind of side-show that corrals people into the coming culture of complete control.
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
It gets bigger faster, a marvel of gene manipulation, it’s the Future of Fish.
But, “…your body won’t notice anything fishy about the filet, experts say”
Trust the experts, they are paid for, and they are very expensive.
“…the FDA likely won’t require a label that says the salmon was genetically modified, consumers won’t know the difference”
I got money it obliterates natural-normal salmon in no-time-flat. But who would care?
My Salmon is better then Gods, so get ready for lunch.
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
Santa was pissed when we ate him last week, a little fatty, but palatable. Since then he has been vomited-up and re-assembled. His attitude has improved greatly.
Fat-boy is ready to ride, and the crap he will be spraying is not vaporized moisture, it’s a surprise!
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
My Master Plan for World Domination’, calls for everybody to have at least two or three guns. It then calls for public displays of carnage, followed by bloody civil war. We will then collect the guns, bury and burn the corpses, and create giant re-education camps.
The End result will be a cuckold-country wrapped in coerced civility. It will fold neatly into my New World Order. A protected peace will follow, a uniformed-utopia, a forced love.
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
A twenty-one year old underwear model falls in love with a sixty-five year old curmudgeon-journalist named Carlos Castro, what could go wrong?
“…he cut Castro’s testicles off with a corkscrew and then he wore them as bracelets around his wrists.”
And why did ‘Renato Seabra’, a sharp-looking kid, do this?
“…Seabra was arrested as he wandered through downtown Manhattan attempting to heal the world by touching people with his “magic talisman…”
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
Feliz Navidad!
“Krampus punishes the naughty children, swatting them with switches and rusty chains before dragging them in baskets to a fiery place below.”
Kinda old-hat. Lot of us here in Hell think he needs to up the ante, fresh-up the show, and maybe get into cannibalism. His whole department is on the line this year. If he knows whats good for him, he’ll serve up a smorgasbord of steaming human flesh in a spring wrap, or something as appealing, really soon.
Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss
‘My Master Plan for World Domination’, has traditionally called for this Fat-boy Santa to wear his bright-suit, fly around the world, and bribe the children with payoffs for proper conformist behavior. Sounds simple enough till one starts doing the math.
Closing in on a couple billions screaming brats all wanting there share. All the overhead, what with the Elf’s union, keeping the Reindeer in magic-flying powder, all a giant pain in the ass.
Understand it is us, down here in Hell, that keep Christmas consumerism at the heart of the Holiday! Fact is that jolly-fat, over-rated, wanna-be saint had not so-much as even checked his list Once in forever.
So after a visceral vivisection, I sauteed and served up jolly-old, Saint Nick last Sunday.
Christmas is Canceled,
The Boss
