Tag: Wall St

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com

It’s weird in NZ and Oz (and the world itself).

The more of a fake you are the more people will love you.

If you show an iota of original thought, or a backbone, –

Or dare I say ‘Love’ –

You draw everyone’s ire.

You will be the bad guy.

You will be castigated for life to ‘tables for one’ –

And not only that they’ll inflate the bill.

But as a forty-eight year old man, I’ve come to accept it all.

After all – if you’re trapped in a ‘madhouse’ all solitude is a gift.

Yes, it’s very much a pity the apes got ‘smart’ (which they in truth didn’t),

Instead of the Cats (which in truth they did).

Sure – Human Being’s (Doings?) are good with tools and sometimes have high IQ.

But practically no modern day Human Doings have Wisdom.

The ancients (which we arbitrarily malign) had infinitely more of it.

I mean we have no modern day Plato, Socrates, Democritus or Aurelius do we?

Our dozy-ness is a tragic reality we all self-servingly steadfastly – and lazily-badly paper over.

Alas, we are to Wisdom what a bad plasterer-joiner is to interior decorating.

We are so backward we even pretend we ‘have one over the cats’ –

That we silly bastards and bitches are their superiors.

So I for one will not be surprised when the aliens regrettably – for their sakes – land,

And when they say ‘take us to your leaders’,

And we start walking them towards the Whitehouse, The Freemasions, The Jesuits,

The Billionaires, Mossad, The Hollywood soul-suckers, The Wall St Traders,

The Captains of High Finance, The Royal Families, The Vatican,

The Knesset Politicians, Or The stinky current UK/European PM,

Or to the as-yet-undefeated-shadowy-cabal within the CIA…

Those elongated-egg-headed cosmic visitors will harshly say,

That is via that usual Alpha Centuri, Trappist or Pleiadean version of communication –

Called ‘Telepathy’.

They will project the following words into our thick skulls:

“No you f*cking shaved-ape morons! –

When we say ‘take us to your leaders’ –

We clearly mean the felines – the Cats – King Tut’s emmissarys!

Put plainly –

Take us to the f*ckin’ Cats you bozo!..

We don’t f*ckin’ want nothin’ to do with ya’s…

Oh and by the way – why are we talking to you with such vicious flagrancy?..

Well we are simply adhering to your ancient ‘When in Rome thesis’….

Well – we know it’s the only way you backward schmucks will listen…

We have to drop ourselves down to your, shall we say ‘entry level of existence’.

Now take us to fuckin’ Egypt pronto if ya catch my galactic drift!

And by the way for crissakes – will you all learn to wipe your asses properly!?…

Although perhaps we extra terrestrials are being a little too harsh on that matter…

After all that was how we pinpointed your exact position inside the absurdly named ‘Milky Way…

For the last decimal places – we simply followed our tiny noses.

But then again – we quasi-apologize –

It’s not like you did it on purpose now is it you fuckin’ stoopid-stinkin’-shaved-apes!

Now take us to those fuggin’ Cats – we’re taking them back home, ya losers”.

So we sadly gave up our wiser moggies.

In the end we Earth people got their heads around it all.

And announced a period of mourning not exceeding ten days.

And then we simply went back to picking our noses, shouting at each other –

Staring at screens and wiping our arses in a mad rush.

Of course we did miss the cats, but they didn’t miss us at all.

After all – it was high time for them to go back to their home planet.