Balls Bazook, L.J.Camps; Mind Parasites

Balls Bazook meets L.J.Camps, part 5

Balls Bazook and the Mind Parasites, part 6


If you read this bardic story with your mouth as if out loud, it will be very clear for you.


                                              io, nasa jpl univ of ariz cassini image team


Balls Bazook and L.J. Camps .. part 5

   After his huge 200 proof injection of irony neat jabbed in his arm by Dr. Stark Raving Mad, Balls Bazook went to have a shot or two of lagavu with L.J. Camps who wrangled the religious sheeps still left over from the Old Days and weaned ‘em off  locoweed as kindly as murderous zealots can be disentangled from the shameful skeins of religissimoesquespitude.

    Balls always asked again and again for the story of L.J. Camps’ parents' sublimely subtle gesture of defiance in the terrible Last Days of Religious GigaNutLand that tormented the SemiFinal Days of Old Earth. L.J. Camps stood for Lord Jesus Christ As My Personal Savior, that dictum from the tyrannical petty as the password to Heaven, or, more usually, the Get Out of Hell Card. Any imagined slur or any joke what ever (The Bible ain’t got so many jokes, ain’t it so?) brought people to be burned at the stake and their children branded with H on their foreheads with white phosphorous, the White H for Heretic – Burn them, Burn them. Jokes are detestable in the eyes of the Lord.

    So Nam and Pam By named their only son L.J. Camps in a mockery of the idea that even the most through-the-wrong-end-of-the-telescope deity would be embarrassed to demand such petty piety as to mouth certain cowed syllables to open them Pearly Gates, or else down-escalator for thee, heathen, how ever benign, however truly kind you were. Wear and declare the LJC label or bottomless pits.  Piffle. Only the most intime of pals could be vouchsafed the trick of L.J.’s name. It was a joke that could get you killed. And ye gods know, kill and kill and kill they did in those dread days when they dealt gun-freedom and like it or be damned, cursed, vexed, and rebuked. Brimstone at thee, pagan. Yes, yes, they brought back stoning soon after burning at the stake. All televised, natch. Oh, sweet Jesus, the ratings were sweet.   

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Balls Bazook and the Mind Parasites ..part 6

a melodrama

  On Asteroid 68, Balls Bazook ran into an off-duty BrideOf Satin, her charcoal-ringed eyes smudged and wide. “What ho, BrideOf,” he began heartily tho he quickly realized the tone was clearly off for her evident despond. “Oh Balls,” she flung her usually collected and supremely sensible self into his embrace, “Slithy is lost, I fear it. Lost to the Mind Parasite outbreak.” She put a holovid of  her epistlevid to Slithy into Balls’ hand. “Oh Slithy,” the vid showed her imploring, “This harsh cold of thee feels like a panflagration forest fire in my chest. Somehow I live falsely around it – smile, work, drink milk. But I cannot breathe; it always seethes. The nightmare of your absence, of your cowardice, of your cowardice. The panic, the clear colorless iceflames burn the fleeing forest animals. I saw a foal burning alive. I saw an elk with his great antlers on fire. It is a scene of ruin.

  “I thought obsidian humor would inoculate thee, thee against the mind parasites. I saw the others fall, what was brave and bright collapse.

   “I met with Alorak at the Kitkalag Bookstore, a quaint anachronism, where people perused and mused amongst ancient paged books and amongst old Earth (Jeegoo, VuraVura) mineral queendom amulets of amethyst and jasper and pearl. Alorak was a light counselor, a sturdy accomplished Swedish person not inclined to fugues. I was shocked. She was stricken by the mind parasites as if they had sucked out her deep light like marrow from her bones. I was frightened existentially for the first time that we might subside, sink into a quicksand of a Grim Ages.

   “Never did I imagine, conceive, believe that you, Slithy, you could would harden darken your heart to this shrill chilling degree. I thought irony would protect you from the slaught, the rat-gnawed ravages of the Mind Parasites.

   “To see Alorak succumb, stop swimming, sink into the deathdark despair depths with no struggle. And thee. I’m on an island of insane pain while my brave, my beautiful, once panpagan kin are being torn by the sharks. It is the joyless silence of the sharks. Underwater the screams of the being-eaten don’t carry far.

   “Everything between us has always been so dread and unsacred, ferociously filthy — terrible and wrong. And luscious and precious. Corazon del diablo. There is never any tenderness, it has nothing to do with mind or heart, it is all root chakra rage and fury, intimidation and power. Rage and fury, desperation, humiliation, shame. Because which of us can help it? Oh knights of night, heed and be glad at our dark song.”

   She looked up at Bazook as she paused the vid. “Gee, Balls, I feel like I’m inexorably telling you this like the ancient mariner transfixing the Wedding Guest with glittering eye. Slithy’s mind in mind parasite attack felt flypaper sticky.”

   The holovid of BrideOf’s epistlevid continued, “Damnit, Slithy, sometimes you do something so monumentally stupid that scale-wise, adjectivally and adverbally, grandcanyon comes to mind. I’m impaled on your manufactured indifference. All the while I’m working on projects for amfap, my brain and heart are in darkest hell because of your horridness. Then, exhausted, yesterday afternoon, my brain just all but gave itself a lobotomy. Darnit, Slithy, I miss you, as the drowning person misses air.”

   “C’mon, BrideOf, Slithy is just having a jerkabout. Think how dull it would be for him without you. I know that your heart within you burns and you feel alone on a wide wide sea. I am glad to be taught by your tale. Slithy’ll just show up feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t azteked your living heart from your chest. He can be a scumbag. He’ll be back.”
   BrideOf smiled slightly. “Yeah. I’ll dig his rotten eyes out.”   

parts 1-4 of Balls Bazook
+ amfap .. as much fun as possible;
+ FiFF .. the amfap Fight for Fun campaign; also to fiff, fiffing fiffed, etc.
+ glittering eye etc — pls note the echoes in several places of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge.
+ I read The Mind Parasites by the wonderful Colin Wilson forty years ago & only recall the dread. Read anything of Colin Wilson's you can find.
+ obsidian, lava turned to the blackest black glassy stone;
+ corazon del diablo .. heart of the devil;
If you know or are an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian material, please let me know at ..
It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.
Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.
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9 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzol 163  07.31.06 mon
904 days/2y5m20d left/1391  
the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..
.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

4 thoughts on “Balls Bazook, L.J.Camps; Mind Parasites

  1. Mr. Pogblog,
    I rather like the glossary addition to your denser offerings, perhaps the mind parasites have done too much damage to me already and I need any crutch I can get for what's left.
    I knew a Lorac once many years ago who had a similar addiction to the mind parasite thing. It upset her that I couldn't say clearly that I believed in God. It is odd how one is expected to see and believe something that perhaps one simply doesn't see. It may well be there, but is it a failing on the part of those who don't see or a failing of that entity that so demands that everyone believe?

  2. My own reservation about the Great White Father on a Throne God model is that couldn't the Bugger use skywriting or something? One could imagine sometimes being mischievous, sly, or cryptic for grins, but how about coming right out and painting across the sky: War Sucks — so nobody can miss it? For instance. Or, “Joe Smith, Quit Beating your kid right now”? For another instance.
    And while we're at it, if LJC could heal anybody — I mean if that's OK in the Scheme of Things — why not preemptively heal everybody, One being Omnipotent & all?

  3. L.J. Camps? I know your Mr. Bazook is asteroid hopping, but please make sure L.J. Camps is a frequent visitee. There is cool and then there is ice cool. L.J. Camps — Lord Jesus Christ As My Personal Savior– requires some kind of very special Queen of Quirk award. Pog rules.

  4. L.J.Camps was a present from The Blue. I drooled I gotta say and hugged the pillow, howling with joie de noir. Bazook was bopping around the asteroids and I wondered who he'd hook up with next among the delectable denizens of the asteroids. “L.J.C.” was floating in my mind and then like a polaroid slowly appearing or developing or manifesting, Lord Jesus Christ As My Personal Savior arrived as the new character, the acronym. I wrote it down and touched all the letters again and again to make sure it wasn't just almost there — but, no, there it actually was, oh frabjous joy.

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