Mortal Chronicles

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C.S.C.L.D.F

So this is the end. Cool after something like six years of existence. Six years is a nice age to die isn't it? The age of freshness innocence and naïvety. After it's already too late. I've decided to stop that which seems to become too much a pale reflect of my soul. Rather not funny anymore so for something which should be at the origin designed to make you laugh. So I could make you cry for the last time vomit a new time on this shit society which burn us slowly (but is there another aim?)... Society kill me? I can also compare news all more despairing than the other injustice every days more obvious all these little drops of mud which make overflowing the water (sorry I can't translate this it's a french joke)... no. Nothing of that. Just bye bye for ever. Thanks to have read me. Say yourself you're in hell. Do everything like if this is the last time. Get over this loss in listening to the Young Gods for example "comme si c'était la dernière fois" (CSCLDF) or watching a nice movie like "Last Days" of Gus Van Sandt.
So this is the anniversary chronicle above all. Thousand death candles which light up my heavenly thoughts. Especially dedicated to my little death fairy for her two years of concrete non-existence. And perhaps more especially dedicated to my little star of life which shine as the last landmark above the abyss. Happy birthday, one million kisses, thousand milliards of very nice things and all that kind of stuffes.

july 2006

Jerkland.

Welcome in Jerkland. Land of hypocrisy, lowness and treason.
It's the didactorship of the jerks veiled by a peel of democracy, the reign of mediocrity. Be a swine and shut up. We well see nice people have no future when they say one or two stupidities fit for the bigest jerk in this world. Sarkozy, Royal same fight: to be elected. Society set itself up as the perfect keeper of the stupidity as the only way to go. Who want to elevate the debates should better be distrustful. All the publicities which invade our landscapes attest it. So much slogans which mean: be a jerk and shut up. Eat this yoghourt it contains seeds of "Jerkness" it's fine for you to digest.
To tell the truth, everything seems to show that you should better behave as a jerk if you want to have success in your life. If you want to be an "happy" jerk. If you want to bear life, first, it's minimal.

june 2006

The bear's skin.

It's war in the French Pyrenees. They try to introduce again female bears without the agreement of the rabble. Hordes of angry people draw up themself on the road of the bear to bump it off quickly. So they organized convoys like for an international star for the bear. In fact does a bear like eating human meat? The good family's mother think and say that she will not leave anymore her child going walking in the mountain.
Personnaly I'll have much confidence in a bear than in a human person. Go for a walk in the mountain, my offspring. Just avoid the places where there're too much human in a square meter.
We just can't see it indeed. The real life full of human beings isn't very secure anymore for our child. Le Pen want to restore the death sentence? Why not? But just for him, just for five minutes.

may 2006

Profession of faith.

Sometimes perhaps I've two numbers. Long life to schizo-rebellion.
I've watch a movie recently for the second time. I remember I've adored it there's more than fifteen years ago: "Pump up the volume". In two words a teenager really shy sow the discord in his college by the radiophonic waves. Through its pathetic side "movie for teenagers" a lugubrious atmosphere gets clear typical of the American faintness of the eighties. We can eat despair with a sauce which finish by being good and we can believe it. Cosmic enough from an age where you're supposed to have digested since a very long time this news: life would be only finally this large shit.
I have only one number. The one of my keyboard of "pasmalhitude".

may 2006

I'll go spitting on your grave.

For you fuckin' bastard who perhaps read this chronicle know that the plagiarist residue which suppurate from your little brain don't equal anymore the worst of my disastrous fart*.
Where intellectual property is the question.
Broad debate. Never I hope to win my life with my delirium distributed here. Never I think about to earn one penny. Too much bad I see when I can read Joyce in french language (very private joke that only dead persons will understand, understood). It doesn't matter. I've already crossed on the Web or or two of my jokes just some scattered trifles mislaid out of this site of the death but coming from it (I don't show without being sure with hundred percent) recycled on vulgar pages, vague unsewn copies. In two words: unuseless shits. Except the money's question it's obvious I totally scorn these pretending of the neuron, this mean attitude which consist to copy without finding the nice substance without adding anything good and rather without quoting the source.
So I've just to spit a little bit on your face to see if tomorrow on the neighbouring site I'll not perceive the shadow of one of my famous mucus of king of tar.
*Note of the author: I like to speak like that I admit. With two neologisms by sentence but always Celinian wings...

may 2006

Long life for cancer patients.

Chirac reveals his plan against cancer. Be careful that will hurt! It's in fact a plan against addictions. The kind of liberticide and general public hustle. No tobacco, no alcohol, no cannabis, only factories which smoke and nuclear active wastes in the name of economic war... To live the longest time at the taxpayer's expense, this is the golden rule. Eliminating death. Isn't it a nice dreamt plan?
So Ok I admit it make me moderatly get a hard on. It's simply a war's declaration against that makes me write this words: death! And then he can offer us a plan like this everyday. Since cancer is cancer what do the government except subsidize swindlers as Crozemarie and make the average people feeling guilty when he just losts a parent and he should well sign a little cheque for a two pennies association?
PPPfffooouua*! It's the kind of new which give me a furious need to drink till I die and to smoke big joints.
(*characteristic sound of potential cancer patient totally addicted to death vomiting on his shoes)

april 2006

Powder chronicle.

I inaugurate today a new style of chronicle. The freeze-dried chronicle. Just add a little bit of water. Make boiling. And that's enough to obtain some good soap.
It's very fashion the freeze-dried. Everything can be freeze-dried: food, thought, TV programs. For myself I visibly and clearly freeze-drying. Perhaps should I add some water in my alcohol or in the fire of rage which freeze-dry me from inside...
I heard a very well guy speaking on a freeze-dried TV program: suicide is the impossibility to live the next five minutes (or something like that)... So life is how to continue to live all the five minutes which are left. I let you pondering about that like said a crazy stupid guy in another freeze-dried program.

april 2006

Towns, hits and future.

My window is a wonderful reflection of our society. From it I hear sheeps bleating in their meadow in front of my house. When I switch on my TV it's the same song.
When you know that according to polls youth'll mainly vote for Sarkozy or for Le Pen, you should better laugh. Young people are all riot policemen to be. A job with a future without CPE, all that stuffes...
If the faintness is obvious it seems to be before all a political operation to put the foxy Sarkozy on the starting blocks for 2007. We can really ask us what kind of badly placed pride can push our first minister to reach such a top of uncredibility. Be sure that this project adopted without the 49-3 article with perhaps one or two minimal touching up 'll went off without a hitch.
While the grunt grows I enjoy in my open country where nothing can reach me on the way of perfect unsociability... far away from towns, punches which fuse, youthes, olds...
On the whole I say it to you, the future is to find a plot of ground where you can begin happily to dig your own hole. I stop here otherwise it's an assured metamorphosis in Francis Cabrel...

march 2006

Yellow traps.

According to a city council man of Montélimar Bernadette Chirac would finance her promotional trips "collects yellow coins" using these same yellow coins. trains especially chartered or luxurious hotels bills give money it's for a good cause!
So people can still say I always spite in the good soap of humanitarian cause but it should make me sad to pay even a simple coffee for the first monstrosity of France.
Morality: give your yellow coins to the tramp down in your street it will recover the economy of big red wine which stain but if I should choose ... I prefer the big red wine which stain to the big red woman which stain (crazy stupid joke that I'm not able to translate).

march 2006

Maison Borgniol.

We could believe we're returned in the past to the blessed time of plague cholera and scarlet fever. Diseases which in a short lapse of time made a no negligible natural select. Perfect to not pay retreats of all these old men.
Death should enjoy of course. Disease, paranoia, do you want it? Here you have.
The H5N1 virus according to the most pessimistic catastrophe scenarii it could be that. A lucky age for the coffin's dealers. Or perhaps a logic continuation to foot-and-mouth disease and to Creutzfeld-Jacob. So myxomatosis, trembling sheeps... Everybody should become vegetarian?
Everybody should run to take his vaccine and his mask, good fellows... During this time, we can take advantage of pure air and of freedom to starve in our hen houses. H5N1 it seems to be a password to the next world!

march 2006

Bye Milo!

We're all happy as you're dead old rabble. So nobody to snivel. However today Hitler is probably more known than euh... Leon Blum?
Posterity for Slobodan Milosevic. You always could talk about great Serbia in hell. What to say more? We all go vomit on your grave fuck'in bastard?
Note as expression's freedom hang by a thread. Replace the name of Milosevic by the name of Blum, by chance and you're antisemit. Nevertheless I should prefer not tackle the idea to replace him by a name of a prophet or other divinity. My life is still precious for some members of my family.
Expression's freedom hang by a name used opportunely. Who except me 'll make an epitaph for the worst swine on earth? In the style: so we'll meet again in hell Milo.

march 2006

Roll my chicken.

Aviary influenza: what you should do, what you should not do (the big titles of the newspaper this week).
You should do:
- cook your meat
- take masks anti-chickens like in the riots
You should not do (hoooo no!):
- love with a bird of any sort (even with a condom) except if you cook it previously to 70°
- blood transfusions between birds (of any sort) and human, nor the contrary of course. Except in case of absolute need (abdominal pains, pregnant women and so on...)
So. All this mixing fiction and reality of course, to recall there's always more serious than serious.

february 2006

Sad reality.

When I hear the Malians Amadou & Mariam, suddenly I feel nomore guided by reason. Literaly fascinated by the simplicity and the naivety of their texts (ten years old child?). However their effectiveness is terrible, reinforced in the pathos by the fact that they are blind men. Anyway good laugh crisis in perspective for an average European men like me.
There are moments where everything is disguting you, everything weigh on the nerves and you transform yourself in pressure-cooker. Totally disappointed that your life's conditions worsen regularly. Need to flee this new France where you can't make a step without meet a kop, an automatic radar or simply (because it's finally the gimmick of this chronicle) an happy fool.
It's the syndrome of the running ahead. So Sarko, put me in the first charter to Bamako. So I can verify if it's as nice as this the simplicity. There's surely important things to do there.

february 2006

Life's caricature.

We can see how much the mediatization kills. With the manner of the bush telegraph. Ha ha!
News: Outreau, media in excess, a big good error continued by a big good judge's lynching...absurd. And then the famous caricatures... An ecstatic crowd of Muslims howling "death to Denmark" because media say it's the fault of the Denmark. But all these facts are basing on a terrible
Media kill but silence kills too. Nevertheless (since I've seen a report on the French channel Canal Plus) pocket nuclear arms, I mean in bags, easy to travel you see, is almost in free sale. For theone who have the money so. It makes me thinking of Tintin's adventures, arms dealing in a ghost nation completly unknown and with a perfectly autocratic functionning. Bienvenue en Transnistrie!
Others well informed want to make us believe Iranians just like before them Iraqi manufacture nuclear arms but they 'll take care to keep in the reason the crazy stupid guy who governs this pseudo-state.

february 2006