Casta Extras 
CASTA of extras
Original text
Letters night
Your world is blown up in a night of lousy death. Did you run for your life and you are no longer returned home. I spend sleepless nights worried about you, with my head spinning. Make the night shift so you are not alone. I'm used to the cold. You come so far from home. And along the way the sentence was followed at every step. You are trapped between this life and the life you left behind. I know that burns inside like a sun exploding. Your mind always returns to a place that is not so fucking cold, which burns in the fire of war. Anew from zero, sending money home. You try very hard as you can while life remains suspended in midair. I see distant lights on the horizon but I worry for you. They're all paying the price and you can not concentrate. The world crushes you. I've been lucky so far. We just sit here a call at the end of the night. Finally an answer comes from the trunk line. News of threatening letters at night. Stones thrown on the fence. Your loved ones laughed at by assassins. Them, 'that will have to wait three years while their whole world implodes.
Casta appeared
When will flow to the end credits of this story, the worst that has ever been told, do not scramble to find your name or that of any of your acquaintances. Unless the case is not for kings shepherds, parts virginal, resurrected, messianic principles or other such child. You can attack the editing room or try to block the exit in the theater, but I think we can safely guarantee that the script will not be revised to meet a (a) cast (a) of extras. Because the story only enhances the strength of pornography - that of psychopaths and murderers (the others are removed in mass from the story and put as background) - as we saw half and then push us on stage to kick off ass. No touching the curtain fell for the masses. No floral bouquet. No luck. No recurring role. No artistic control. So these days, in this final stage, everything is left to chance. A word of advice: even if you slam on thin ice you can dance. Fa 'that you feel you must do, as I'm concerned I have not been brought into the world to subdue or serve.
Tertium non datur
All thumbs sucked and cling to her skirts, covered so safe that hold them away from the spotlight that could free them from the darkness around them. Braccano taking out demons from them their eyes, until they can see that rigid dichotomies of the sacred and profane. Salvation or remorse, with all the fucking rest in between. The human impulse to explain is hijacked: impact of a controlled flight into the ground to make sure that no passengers are never any connection between the proscription of the mystery and its malaise. Ordered pairs of binary reverse. All we seek the meaning of life, but when you deny every shadow of doubt the sanctification of hatred thrives on sucking every inch, on each skirt to hold on, on every cover so safe that keeps us away from the spotlight that could liberate us from the darkness around us. From the demons that continue to hunt. There caviamo eyes and blame the blind.
Dear Coach's Corner
Dear Ron MacLean. Dear Coach's Corner. I'm writing for someone to explain to my niece the difference between these mandatory collective rituals of submission and pre-game rallies in Nuremberg. In particular the role that ritual plays in relation to what everyone knows to be, after all, just a breeze. I appeal to your sense of fair play when I say that is not disturbed by the constant pressure to disobey the collective will and yellow ribbons in lapels by , as the soldiers descend without any reason from the rafters of the stadium (which, if it were not so crazy, it would be a good reason to scompisciarsi laughter) . Dear Ron MacLean, do not bother with these questions if you did not feel a certain spiritual affinity. Maybe we will not be identical, but we are not mica from two different planets: we both love this sport so much that we can hardly tolerate it. I was born and raised in Alberta Prairie. It seems that there is only one sheet of ice north of Fargo on which I have not played. From the Penhold Gatineau, every beautiful childhood memory I have is tied somehow to the culture of the sport. I just can not help it. But I suppose the question is to decide what kind of world you want to live, and where diversity is disagreement, the disagreement and treason, well do not be surprised if we are left to reap a strange and bitter fruit that sad old man next to you is still to feed the minds of young people claiming to be virtues. To raise a child it takes a village but a flag just to demolish the children until they are nothing more than ballast necessary to fulfill the dream of a madman a paradise in which complexity is reduced to black and white . How can I protect her from the cult of death?
This is your life
In reality you are not angry for Iran or the ' Afghanistan. You're angry because your wife will not hold anymore. You do not know where he is. You're stumped in your basement. Crush the buttons on the remote control. Spitting insults at the television screen because tomorrow you will return to work, where you can not stand to be a nullity. As you can not crawl your way. Your jokes are not funny anymore. You're too cynical and mean, so they broke the balls. Are your kids at the mall. They sit staring at the walls. You think to tell it like it is. You say you hate the broken hearts, but every single day are you sitting there broken in to the complaining. Cryin 'and whining with your voice as a man. This is your life. You do it yourself. Free your mind from this burden. It should be 'out in the world. You'll probably survive. This is your life.
human flesh (skinning by Sandor Katz)
" I swear I did my best to make his final moments they were quick and painless. But we must keep in mind that Sandor Katz was the first one I killed, so I trust that the reader will understand that, while his cries may have seemed the shiny object, they really were not a request to honor her strength and speed! With gratitude and sweetness I shaved every hair from his body, I gently placed his severed head in a pot, I boiled the meat and I made a spread galantine ! I believe that the only way to interact with another living creature and destroy it completely! I am sure that friends and relatives of Sandor will appreciate it! "
(um) so idiotic reasoning that hard to believe. Post-vegetarian, I have to break it to you - with respect - is' attentive to the world that you want. might one day knock on your door.
" Let me in! Let me FUCK! I just want to 'fully relate'. I swear that I will do my best to make your last moments to be quick and painless! "
The boundaries of Potemkin
Francis not give a damn if the reduction of prices, overproduction, the reduction in demand. He never cared much about the contracts at issue. In its short life has known only the panic, fear, pain, darkness and madness (in the hell that was his home). The expected returns for the fourth quarter accelerated his death. The panic increased when humans began to chase them. When the shouting began, Francis closed his eyes and felt the hand of inhumanity that it touched. But her would-be murderess turned for a moment and a blinding ray of light illuminated the floor. In a crimson puddle he saw his reflection while he slipped out the door. It is a parody of a fairy tale, although I wish it was. This is a tale all too real. Yet, somehow, we still cling to the stories that bridge the gulf between what we know and what we believe. Any old implausible denial that might alleviate the dissonance that Francis was left out calling on its way, and to escape penetrated into the heart of the city park. It ran there for 5 months free, always coming back to that his only happy memory: only a distant dream of the warm and loving gaze of his mother. Francis went farther than she had done: a quarter of a mile from the city limits eventually captured. There is a statue that the abattoir was erected to remind all of their contributions. For me, this bronze cast in Francis marks the boundaries Potemkin . It is a parody of a fairy tale, although I wish it was. This is a tale all too real, and yet we cling ...
The funeral march
The funeral march has passed through here today. And along the way has spread confusion and questions. It is as if I knew her pain - a mechanical failure while we endure the norm. Some of us are broken, others simply lose their elasticity and become deformed, losing forever the shape of a time. I wonder what is worse. I try to keep my composure in the midst of the madness, resigned to the truth that I will not live long enough to see the dawn of a better day that can wash away the sadness of this time. I try to keep at bay the voices that call me, clinging desperately to every futile gesture of human decency. The voices remind me of my love futility. Sitting on your hands, hoping that anyone but me will do what should be done, it's hard not to succumb calling my name. You still go on.
Without love
Everything in nature ends in tragedy and I I was the first in the end, to fade from the memories of my grandfather. How well will it be before I forget him? Fading to gray. Breathe is only the ticking of a clock that you download? Only a countdown of time remaining before realizing the true importance of each precious breath that we missed? I did everything I could. I begged the universe to take my life instead of hers. But it is not enough money, drugs and crying to hold here. What purpose did his suffering? Breathing is only the ticking of a clock that you download? Only a countdown of time remaining before realizing the true importance of each precious breath that we missed? All this agony. All of this indifference to such suffering, and it is easy to be tempted by appeals to hatred. But this world is nothing more of what they do. Revenge is not a solution to the inevitable pain that we face when we lose all the spirits that are similar. Life is so short, so disappointing, so messed up. When Crone gone I hold in my arms, and I could only say: "Please do not leave me. What shall I do without you? "But this cosmic sadness is only here to remind you that without love, breath is just ticking ...
incalculable effects
We were all together in the pouring rain. Solvents turned to mitigate the pain. The air was full of that grim stench. The stench of sorrow and despair. Fucking minds without remedy. She said she had just turned six years. He knows some good jokes to be a girl. Work hard to prevent a woman bleed from the teeth. His life goes on despite the fact that his mother fucking sleep on the concrete. He cast a look, an image etched in my mind. I know fucking well that sinking feeling. The shame, the frustration that you occupy. The confusion that devours you from within. "I do not know what's wrong with me. I do not know why he wakes up. " His life goes on despite this. His mother fucking lies on the concrete. It's an ugly world of shit.
intercourse Of metalheads
The day came The Equinox began our pilgrimage: 1,200 miles, a cruise missile fired towards our unholy land. We were fucking euphoric, as there happened to be when we were pimply teenagers and mangy. From every corner of the world came other fans like us to show that the meaning of the verse had not lost in the mists of time, but survived to leave this monumental signature. They say you can not relive the past, but when the lights dimmed all came back to stroke: half a life ago, at night, for the first time in a solitary life, a young soul soar. rushed on stage with a fury that broke, and we all shouted: "Terminate !!!". A half head in a shirt with me and the whale was He breathed in the face. I did not care. He could not ruin this was rhapsodic, transcendental. When the music died away, the two leaders of the time were pretty well connected to. Lights descendants had scorched the plains. The king had returned to reclaim lost disciples, left to tend the fire. Hurl in the street a bunch of troglodytes Unleashed! We waited for our bus, then we run headlong into the night! Well below the cold, pale light green robotics rotation of the radar. 20,000 Leagues Under. Go to the place where all the bands best.
Last Will & Testament
In these moments we are, what you propose to say in our defense? That many things were decided before we all were born? That we were anything but objective observers of folly, and to give in to sadness? "So we do not have the power to change anything." So lie on your deathbed and be as idiots the chain of command from which we receive our orders. I suppose it is only common sense to preach what should be but not sure ever at present.
Editor's note: Inside the booklet contained in the custody of the original CD, there are these two ideas written by Chris Hanna, I felt it necessary to translate these as well.
EFFECTIVE DEFENSE
Everyone knows that the first rule for successful defense of their ideas is not to insult the interlocutors. This rule is particularly important when it comes to speaking in defense of animals, mainly due to the fact that carnivores have a tendency to whine and whine like a bunch of kids fucking shitty when you remove the diapers of their disgusting lifestyle. Ahaha, joking. Stay calm children.
No, but not as you would use terms such as "morons," "egocentric," "chicken shit" or "filthy pigs" to describe so-called "radicals" who insist on killing defenseless animals for use as food and a very adequate amount of pimps, brokers, corrupt police, politicians and fans of the Habs - sociopathic among other sources of protein - running around in our neighborhoods every single day. No, you'd never such a thing. This would be considered counterproductive .
Nor would you go up and down the lanes of your Kentucky Fried City cutting the throats of your neighbors' dogs and then liquidating the consequent indignation of the community as "childlike sentimentality," "childish anthropomorphism" or "cultural imperialism". This would be considered antisocial .
And never, never, would you maaaaaaiiii fire at an abattoir, a fur shop, a whale or a pig being built because ... Well, I can think of no valid reason why you should not (other than life imprisonment), but we understood each other. It's all a matter of effective advocacy.
here I am! At your service! ready and willing to do so that people who already know how things will not feel guilty about their choices stupid, selfish, inconceivably cruel! And do not you know? Vegetarians are classist ! At least that's what they all say the white schoolboys when they go home for Thanksgiving dinner! Ahaha, Merdin, which will be the first to eat when I finish Sbrocca, atteggioni fuck. Ooops! Where was I? Ah yes, effective defense.
No seriously people, every social movement has its claque. In fact, I believe that every social movement that respects should have his claque, and if it is the movement against egomaniacale cruelty that humans continuously engaged against animals, then take me a subscription for the whole season and a big fucking bag of blessed Arachis hypogaea , which are a brush with my hat and my monocle.
And while it may be true that I feel great pleasure in ridiculing fools the cool that eat dead animals and their reproductive secretions, it is important for me to clarify the fact that veganism is not a question of purity or superiority. It is simply to extend moral consideration to the other inhabitants of a whole planet in a universe morally ambivalent where, despite the statistical improbability of the thing, we seem to land (both human and nonhuman) are the only example of sentient life that exists or ever existed.
fucking tough stuff.
And seriously, if we as a society we do not care even handle a simple creature, humble, gentle and amazingly clear sentient as a cow or a deer with a minimum of decency, as fuck can we expect to be able to treat one another - human beings is infinitely more complex, deeply different and often at odds - in a manner even remotely resembling civilization?
Indeed, quite simply, this does not happen.
So with this in mind, and spirit of the first rule of effective defense, I leave you with this short list of potentially transformative, created by defenders of the animals most talented and effective me. Have you seen? I did not insult you even have to argue my point, after all.
infamous fuck.
Editor's note: the book follows a list of books, documentaries, web addresses also findable this address
CONCLUDING REMARKS
On a planet where the majority of human beings throughout history, lived and died in abject subjection to an unbroken series of ruthless opportunists and autocrats it is understandable that some may believe that we are condemned to a perpetual Dark Age.
When all this madness - permanent war, ecocide, sexism, racism, homophobia, mindless concentration of wealth and decision-making power - is simply normalized, and our private concerns are passed to mental illness, invitation to passivity and complicity may appear attractive: life is short and absurd, so what difference do our actions?
And in a sense so, I suppose. I myself we find to cope when I spend hours of my life watching sports team, absorbing the liquid from the second embalming that advertising will improve what is left of it.
But some are like me - who do not have to spend your life taking kick ass - who can afford to indulge in this kind of abstraction.
We must remember that every action has the potential consequences for human life on earth. We are all part of a network of events and choices that ultimately determine the future.
You can not be "apolitical" in a crowded world of competing ideologies. people who claim to be "apolitical" and are simply making the pathetically final political act to get back to the overriding interests of the order (usually because profited from that order). They are indeed traitors. idiot. Idiots. Comedians. Atteggioni.
The truth is that, as history shows, any elementary freedoms we enjoy and the few sane social policies that we inherited has never been rained from the sky nicely by the ruling classes. They were average citizens (and those "below average") to fight for them - often at great price - when they refused to live as if they were state owned and risked their own safety and privileges to try to ensure a better future.
If you really want to be the richest fool the cemetery, go ahead. But since you can not bring back anything, and since all that matters is what you left behind, because they squander the inheritance?
Live from Leaf Nation,
Chris H.
