“Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep, and doesn’t know where to find
them.” Mom read me those words when I was about six. This marked the
beginning of my worldly education. I said to mom that “If Bo Peep lost
her
sheep,
she could not know where to find them, could she?” Mom’s eyes became
tight little furnaces as she asked, “What do you mean you little rat?” I
knew then from the fire in her eyes that I was forever to be persona non
grata, but not yet fully conscious of the MogamboHood (MH) within me, I
replied in a timid voice, “Well, mom, lost is lost isn’t it? Why would
you have to add that what’s lost is something you can’t find? Only a
moron would say that.” Mom stood up, put the book down slowly and
menacingly, and said, “Go to sleep you little bastard.” I knew then at
that very pregnant moment in the flowering of MH that I would dedicate
my life to moron detection (MD). Thanks, mom.
Since then the Mogambo has slept in many beds, chairs, and bars as he
traversed the planet in search of beer and that solace really ever only
gotten from a saintly floozy whose only aim in life is to be blessed
with free beer and to be loved by the one she is with. I think it was
Hazel’s breast that I had
lain
my head upon that day in some flea trap on Beatme Street when the TV
station broke in from Days of Our
Lives with Obama behind a lectern. “Fake floozy (FF),” I said to
Hazel. “FAKE! I say, FAKE!” Hazel put her arms around my head and said
nothing, just squeezed until I thought I could feel blood coming out my
eyes and ears. She loosened just in time to save my life, once again,
but also in time for me to hear what the saintly Obama fake was saying.
“It is wonderful to be back in Delaware,” he said, chin up.
Yeah, looked nice there in Delaware, blue skies, everyone in
shirtsleeves.
Wonderful day in Delaware.
Then he says: “Before I begin obviously the world is watching reports
that there is a downed passenger jet near the Russia-Ukraine border. And
it looks like it may be a terrible tragedy.” “HaHaHaHaHahhhrrrgguuuuu!,”
I laughed and gasped as Hazel drew me into her ample bosom where Mogambo
dreams come true (WMDCT).
But the FF Obama was not done: next he says that “they,” meaning his
office chimps, were “working to determine if there were any Americans on
board. That is our first priority,” the FF said, saintly.
Obviously, the FF Obama has lost his mind and HaHaHa doesn’t know where
to find it! It’s even possible it never existed. If any Junior Mogambo
Rangers in training (JMRIT) ever needed proof of moronity (POM) here we
have it. This MD stuff is easy!
The Continuing Adventures Of The Gazomba Guru (The
Mogambo Guru's Distant
Cousin-Lord-Knows-How-Many-Times-Removed)
So I'm sitting in my Gazomba Fortress Of Hiding Under The Table,
polishing
my five iron, when JGR Dan bursts in (thus making a mockery
of the
'Fortress' bit).
"Guru," he exclaims, "You're a just a
crazy gold bug. You've been saying
the same thing about how We're
Freaking Doomed since..., well since 1971
practically. I followed
your advice about buying gold, silver and oil after
2007 and I
thought you said I'd be a gazillionaire by now. You keep
expecting
the system to collapse but you don't give enough credit to the
vested
interests. They've kept it going this long and they have the
firepower and above all the willpower to prop up the whole rotten
edifice
for, geez, another twenty years maybe. Are we supposed to
wait twenty years
to get rich? Being early is indistinguishable from
being wrong."
Sighing, I put down the club and pick up an Uzi.
Waving it vaguely in his
general direction I make two of my
Unanswerable Guru Replies (UGRs):
"Number one, I'm not a crazy
gold bug; I'm a crazy gold bug with an arsenal.
There's a world of
difference."
"Number two, you think this is about *getting rich*?
Haven't you heard a
ranting word I've written? I said "We're Freaking
Doomed", not "Let's Make
Money." If you want to get rich by next
Thursday then you need to find a
few cronies at the evil Federal
Reserve who will lend you some of their fiat
currency at practically
zero interest. Buying gold, silver and oil is not
about joining the
1%. It's about being able to look yourself in the mirror
and say "I'm
Still One Of The Freaking Good Guys (SOOTFGG)". And I don't
think it
will take that long, but if you have to do that every day for
twenty
years then THAT'S WHAT YOU DO."
The Rez-erection of the Mogambo Warrior
Having perfected my golf swing and full transcendence
of being
‘an
inert carbon blob’,
energized with the growing awakening of the public formerly the walking
dead zombis of whom the bankers eat regularly for dinner, I arose and
escaped from my prison, donned on my sword and re-entered the fray.
Reports from all over the country that used to be home of the brave,
land of the free, renamed as the home of the free eating of zombis by
the already well FED….
that there was actually a sighting of resistance to the 100 year-elitist
money scammers.
My hermitical life came to
a sudden end as the last burning ember of hope began to catch
other lumps of dead coal on fire.. Americans were awakening as a
butterfly begins its escape from the cocoon.
So with all the fortitude of Don Quixote de la Mancha, I raised by
gleaming sword to do battle again despite by growing middle, graying of
the few hairs left, and slow drawl of the ability to emit words from my
mouth.. I am back on the saddle.
I am flabbergasted and have seriously thought of changing my name of
Mogambo guru into General of
De-Zombied (GODZ).
To the trenches, to the front, attack on all sides all ye de-zombied
fellows who have come back to life.
There is a hole in the bankers wall.
They have been exposed of their complete manipulation-mutilation.
A call to arms I hear in the streets of the net as new bold warriors
arise young and old, rich and poor, black and white,
green and not so green to
take back our country, our world and our sanity.
It is fantastic I tell you. I see bankers being arrested. The homes,
banks , private jets and island resorts of Rothchilds, Rockefellers,
Diamonds etc etc and all their slaves being taken over by mobs of
de-zombied warriors who just…
‘can
t take it anymore’.
The banksters overly FED with their zombi eating cannot run and are
easily caught by those few who they were not able to buy off.
The manipulation is ending as those behind the scenes get caught with
their pants down and running for cover.
The media has been taken over by truth warriors and proclaiming
to all the masses of the world that they have been duped and that a new
world will begin with freedom to all, with all IMF debt canceled
and new currencies based on real wealth are created…
you are free free freeeeee.
Even greater progress was made in the revitilization of the walking dead
when TV s were turned off for at least one month to detox from mental
poison; computers and mobile phones turned off to end the CIA s secret
brain manipulations and the NSA’s
slaves free porn of watching us in action.
We took back the financial control when tin foil hats were changed to
silver foil hats, and to hold up our
‘pants’
we changed from tin, nickel, and brass belt buckles to gold.
When I awoke from the dream
I smiled. YES!
It IS possible. YES we CAN…
as I arose from my comfortable , grabbed my sword, put on my silver hat,
buckled up, to lead the troops into battle.