William S. Burroughs Ipsum

A functioning police state needs no police. hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside. junk is the ideal product... the ultimate merchandise. no sales talk necessary. the client will crawl through a sewer and beg to buy. the only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do. i bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love. whenever you are threatened by a hostile presence, you emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink... every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage. knowing you might not make it... in that knowledge courage is born. i am getting so far out one day i won't come back at all. whether you like it or not, you are committed to the human endeavor. i cannot ally myself with such a purely negative goal as avoidance of suffering. suffering is a chance you take by the fact of being alive. that old feeling is still in my leaking heart. and to start with it was like a novelty ventriloquist act. after a while, the ass started talking on its own. he would go in without anything prepared... and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. and built an act around it... "it is you who will shut up and grow there. and the whole head... except for the eyes, you dig? the silent, helpless suffering and there was no more feeling in them than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk. what a horrible loutish planet this is. the dominant species consists of sadistic morons, faces bearing the hideous lineaments of spiritual famine swollen with stupid hate. hopeless rubbish..