We are living in a Woke prison camp gulag PC automaton echo chamber world where all the magic, wonder and life’s unique eccentricities have been flushed away into nothingness. What would the wonderful eccentrics of the past think of today’s insipid puritanical boring world where a little craziness and freedom of expression would be a refreshing breath of fucking air?
You cannot do this; you cannot say that, you cannot dress like that, you cannot write that, you cannot make that film, you cannot sing that song, you cannot drink or smoke that, you cannot mention that person, you cannot paint that picture, you cannot have sex with that person, you cannot say you like that person etc…
Eccentrics like Serge Gainsbourg, Oliver Reed, Burton, Mad Jack Churchill, John Wilmot 2nd Earl of Rochester, Keith Moon, Rimbaud, John Bonham, Gaius Caligula, O’Toole, Richard Harris, John Mytton, Lee Marvin, Hicks, Bowie, Hendrix, Hopper, Marquis de Sade, Baudelaire, Roky Erickson, Hunter S. Thompson, Wilde, Crowley, Jim Morrison to name a few dead unconventional folks…must be all laughing at the complete boring fuckery of what is going on right now. At least they got their rocks off and their kicks before they bowed out ungracefully, living a hundred lives in one life. This assortment of effervescent monsters intertwined within a vortex of genius and madness pulsating with wild permeating vigour metabolising into an almighty globular titanic mess spelling out the magical formula for disorderly unfettered freedom and existence.
