Sunday, May 31, 2009

Monopods For Canon Ef 500 Lens

THE REALITY SHOW OF HUMANITY IN EARTHQUAKE

happened is there are not even noticed, a bit 'like the old advertising syringe that does not hurt. We have removed the backbone. Do not you have more. No, think of it, but really do not have it.

I demonacci filthy toyed with your lives. It is a sad game, because a real demon would affect other things, the balance, the darkness, the mystery of the cosmos. The questions are many. The demon is also a scholar, an alchemist, a seeker of truth. You know well as I call them those demons that are the seats of power, those of lower rank to be clear ...

Using servants with no brain, gaunt and ghouls of the night, you call the police, unable to feel the abject creatures real emotions, organic machines handled with subtle tricks of persuasion. Soldiers, police officers, guards, pawns in a game already seen. The old story is repeated over the centuries. The tall man against man down. The white against black. The good against the bad. The strong against the weak.

Do not believe us? Think he's exaggerating? So tell me, because between you and demonacci there's always half a squadron armed with these creatures? Because your "representatives" must be surrounded by ghouls and hide in bunkers, but to welcome and invite you to speak? Why can not you do the more questions you want? Why do you come rejected, abused, hunted, intimidated, beaten, killed ... Why can not you take with your camera or taking pictures?

I'll tell you. Why have you lost your spine. Ve have taken away a little at a time, and so have you found to crawl thinking of walking proud, on the streets of your splendid civilization. It is true that some of you have managed to keep it, and fight with what they have, kicking, scratching, screaming their desire for freedom. But you look at them unarmed, defamation, and thinking that they are ghouls, creatures without a soul. Well, think again. Even here you are wrong ...

Annelids rosicchianti of reality shows, continue to tangle in your bedroom, procreate new worms. How come silkworms used to carry on the great pantomime your gentleman called Democracy. You are only possible votes, that's what you are.

I'll stay watching you, from my high tower that soars beyond the shadows of your world. The story of you men is only an interlude of eternity before me, and between all reality, it is definitely the most fun. Good life, as someone said ...

0 comments:

Post a Comment