House of Paine

white papers 11

( or how we need to 
alienize the boss klass )

red cube discussion paper 

----------------------------------
whiteyworld
amerdep (main)

we or them 
part 12 
----------------------
  (early   draft of 
    red cube "jam thru "

 air wave broadcast  
   planned to hit the ether 
  on day one of the Iraq Occ 
 later on  project scrubbed  )

  its called


    WHO'S THIS "WE," 
                        SHIT CHIEF ?


 ===================


 
( an all to obviously 
fake black
jock voice  starts shoutin )

wake it uuuuuppp

whitefucks !!!!

ya you
  twinkle toes

yes 
i mean you
and 
you 
and 
 you 
all you

  little white 
 thangs out  there

 
 you 
over
 by the copy machine
and 
 you 
  with the fucking rash 
and you 
too 
ding bat
and hey there 
you too 
you 
pushing 
the two/wheeler
and
 especially 
you  asscan
 you 
with
that brew pot 
  pourin out 
over yer belt 
loafin by the head 

listen the fuck up 


whooooooh
hold it 
 soap heads
  
 don’t you be 
tryin ta  duck me 
shitface 

yes
 you 
in the french fry hat

  i’m talkin
 to  you 
 cause
what i got here to say
pertains to you all

i' got somethin here
for  
every single 
 white faced
 white assed
fuckle buck
in america 

all of you 

and its a question

 yes sir  
i got
 a
big
 prize ass
 question 
 for ya 

so listen up 

(clears throat
into a yawl )


white fudge

answer me dis 
 
are you 
 feeling we ish
 with 
yooouuurrr
 prezzzadent 

are ya 
these days ?

  are ya ?

you free
      white
 and wagered
 ginks

how 'bout it


ya all share
 a white gob with him

so 
iz
that
" plenty nough"
 for ya ?

that  nough likeness  
ta get you off
 
brotherwise
 i mean

answer me 

let me 
in on yer scene
pals 

cause 
ya got me
laughin at ya
right now

and i wanna 
be fair to ya


tell me 
are you 
cross dickin 
with georgie ?

huuuuu ?

 if ya are 

well listen 
ta me quick

ya 
stung- fucked 
time  jocked
  wage  pillaged 
poor
 innocent 
spoon headed 
pale   fools 

before
 you bite too deeply
 into all that 

“ we we we ” 
shit

all that
 me and my prezly
 handjobbin'

Are you sure 
you know who 
       your Prezly 
             sucks  for 

that is 
who 
 your Bushman
is willin to suck

are you all sure
 he's willin
to suck you back
or are you 
doin all 
the suckin here 
fer nothin ?
 
 

 cross your heart
and answer 

this one question

down deep now 

does his “we”
really 
got a seat
picked out 
 for the likes
of you ?

is
 his "we"
 the same as 
your" we ”

  
be honest


 take Iraq 
we're
 there now
and we're square 

 do you 
really believe  
  your commander in  chief
put uz in there 
and 
we ain't leavin believe me
do you think
old prez bush the younger 
has been 
usin your 
kids 
to short  stroke
 those sand snakes
for the sacred cause
of protectin
 your 
white weeny 

for polishin up 
 your
 half wit dignity 

 
for sealin' up 
 your
dollar worthless safety 

  take your time
 on this one 

we got time

we got plenty of time 

we always got time

this is america

and 
 besides
 you iz
 one of the preze's us  
right ?

  you iz 
 a white folk

   its your country 
right

  so stew
this IRAQATHON  over
a bit 
and 
I'll be  RIGHT BACK  
after the brake ....
----------------------------------
    (musical interlude 
rappish jibber followed by 
 jungle drum shit
and ugha bugha cries 
         lasts three minutes
so the moronians
 can  take a pizz 
and grab another
 brew )

-----------------

(jock comes back on
 still in black voice)

right on right on 
righhhtttt
ooohhhnn

my  soul brothers
 righhhtt ooohhhnnnn


(  whamms the table )

come on 

lets sample 

  aaahh
heres some bad shit


its ah
shiiiitt 

on the red cube label
 
somethin'
by a group
callin themselves
the proletarian
 white mans chorus

nooo shit 
how about that 

and they're 

 reciting ... 
  
   fuck man
they're recitin 
 no shittin here 

the 
 paleface  pledge 


( first big orchestral build up 
 then 100 voices recite)

" We, the white klowns  
      of these several and  United States of America....."

 (  jock interupts)

 
  ough ooooooooh

 man better 
 fuck off
 that non sense 

 way way     to pompituss
for my blood 

 shit 
i'll
gist rant ya 
 a tad
 instead
  while you're cookin on
 my top of the show
 questions


while you chew over
 little georgies we we 
  and yer lilly willy 

  let me berate ya some

  (clears throat into yelp)

 hey say white fry 
 what 
the rooster fuck 
  are you  living
              on 

i mean right 
the fuck now 

white fish 


  is it
 a full deck 
  yer 
gettin 
dealt from 


iz
   yer very own
 personal
job  honcho 
from
the boss klass

iz he 
 dealin ya clean

 ya holdin   
 a good hand ?

lookin at 
lots a face cards 

are ya 
buddy?
 

or are ya 
stuck with deuces and tres 
are ya 
living 
 on duck scratch 
and 
 phantoms  ?

whooow 
look at those
phone lights

fuck the rap

 dinners ready now 

lets 
take some calls  

bobo from boob city
yer on red cube



  (  he  listens
to one 
 shit ender after another
 jock cuts through em like 
 they're hot cheese )



( then recommences patter)

"  and thank you too
 union bill from slob hill
thank you fer sharin yer
  private patch of turds
wid uz....
well fellas 
  seems its
mostly  fuck food and phantoms 
 fer ya all  ehh ?

  ya make me sick

yer 
a gaggle 
of flunk outs

no 
yer 
 a school
        of
unflunkable  fools 

no  
yer 
a pile
of crumpled tin men

a wreck site  

 a series
 of bad plays
 without a season

yer
low dollar 
 face fucks
and
 i pithy you 

cause 
I know
yer fear and yer pain
 
yer all   
tortured
by  phantoms

   wild gaelic phantoms

  yer phantom fucked 

  brothers of the white legion 
 that is ezzzactly what alllllll
   you iz and what 
aaallll you izn't
  
yer all stuck 
  in some silly ass 
 dickless 
     cartoon struggle   
 
face fucks 
  vs 
   their own  mind phantoms 

fightin
and fightin

 a loser
against his loses

 loses 
that come back 
at him 
as phantoms

mounting loses 
mounting phantoms 

 
phantoms 
of the gone
 and 
 phantoms
 of the near  missed
   
post screwing
  some day phantoms 
  and 
post dork out 
 somehow phantoms 


shit my  boys 

 who fucking
 stuffed you all
so fuckin full
 of 
these  quenchless phantoms
these ceaseless hopes
  of yers
  
what 
fuckin good are they 
anyway 

what
 can
 a dumb prick do
with all thiz hope/fear
 shit 
comin out of him

what kin he do 
but
pull hiz pud
and 
do more 
 phantomizin 
 
 listen assmen 
 hope is 
nothin but
a  comp
 plan
  for chumps

  hopes phantoms 
 keep 
yer  soul  alive 
 just so long
 as there's
 a days work 
left in ya

 but
   hell don't
 "da man"
  keep ya
 honest 
wid it too 

yer hope-a-dope 
 be  keepin
  ya fresh
 and 
why?

  well its
just fer him

you
iz
 his

you iz 
the mans 
 free range 
   chickens 
  baby 

and 
al he needs do
at the end of the job day
is set ya 
ta roaming 
 around
 in your  head 

 roaming 
 
 around
 and
 around 
and 
around
 

to help out 
with yer roamin

the mans 
 implanted 
mind pastures
in there 

and you  
ya fuck freaks 

you 
waste
the only 
at liberty hours
 ya got 
comin to ya 

in this  bit part
  yer playin 
here on earth

you throw em away
on  brain 
 jag offs

you pizz away   
all the fuckin
 nonjob time 
you got left 

bouncing
 off the fences 
the mans
 strung  inside
that dumb ass
 skull
of yours

how nice 
of you to put up
with yer confinement
and 
still report
 to the 
job site
next morning
 

  see  bluto
  
yer all cows 
 restless cows 
maybe 
but  herd cows still

we used to tend yer type
back in africa 
 
 you
get milked 
and bled 
each job day 
  for  profit  

 outside you chew 
and  get bled
make milk


while inside
 yer heads 
you just  wanna 
  roam 
 
 roam yer   headlands
 

 the headlost critters of profit


face it pale  brothers
 even though 
 each and every one  of you oafs 
 was built with
 your own 
very special 
   get-real machine
 in your head
 face it

 today 
 the fuckers  
 short
 a  good half dozen parts 

either
 they fell out
 got removed
or you
 pulled em out
yerself

any way round

you 've ended up
a dupe -o -maniac
fool

lookin fer yer next
  foolery kick 
ta keep 
yer head  music playing  
while ya roam 

( now the jock spins a choral pledge)

listen to this dumb-bells

"  We, who live here
                   in search of jobs
            in need of a plan
              we who 
       box each others noses
           just to live  a mile’s drive  
from rightsville

     we who operate daily
 
happy to be    hemmed in
  cause at least 
    it means 
 we’re not 
totally
   tied down
    and  
 trussed up 
      
hemmed in and 
  step dancing    
  to   
  somebody else’s
 patterns  
  

patterns 
 we sure as hell
 never green lighted 
 ourselves

 patterns  fit
 for barn beasts "

  ya baby thats yoouuu
 
good folks listen to
  your own soul songs

  you're nothing
 but
 big mister greenjean’s

horses and dogs

and whats the 
  deal 'round
the barn yard 
these dayz ?

simple 

on the job
and off
 my bro
 
   the farmer
still  runs the farm
 

 sure
  its supposed
 to go yer way
in the U S  of A


sure the big print
sez
the place iz suposed ta 
 run your way

" the consent of the governed "


well this consent
this contract 
you got

read between 
 the  fucking lines
 you idiots

between the lines 
it says
 
the bigs 
ware  gold rings
on their pinkys
  and 
you
white wagelings 
  ware
rings in
your noses
  
  no better 
no worse 

 or is it   saddles 
you’re wearing ?

  maybe   you’re  wearing saddles


their saddles

saddles they take off ya
 at nite in the stall

 
 maybe you’ve
 consented to 
 saddles
humane 
loose fittin saddles
and 
maybe the bigs
 don't
ride ya all the way 
down to a frothing 
foamy  collapse 

 
one deal or other

  still 
   you all  prove
 every day
   yes every day 
when the gate opens
 you  prove
 one blunt fact
over and over again 
  the bigs can
still ride ya 

consent by silence 

 they're still riding 
 and  yer still trotting





 and whats yer tack

 self shame
 self defeat
 self abuse 


you the wagered white  people

 you with the manufactured
    dreams 
  in yer heads

 you nit wits goin around
with  
their blue prints
shapin yer rainbows 

admit you 
 hate yourselves
you dumb bastards 
 or
 else you hate
 the  dark shadows
 of yourself 
  like me 
and faggy francis 

you idiots
you fools 
you're   projectin
 onto 
the gettable outs 
in stead of
 rejectin 
the powerful ins 


 god has the man
 messed with
 those 
those 
sheet rock brains 
  of yours

( plays another choral sample )


"we who would
  be anyone but ourselves

  we who  call ourselves 
 honest working  people "

(cuts in again)

what a fucking joke 

" honest working people"
 
come on 
you know whats up 

 yer "the  people" 
with the most 
dishonest 
kind of  secret 
 imaginable
 
   a secret
 hidden best
 from yourselves

  turn around 
face the audience
 stoopo 
everyone sees 
your secrets 
 the back wall
 collapsed long ago

( again the red cube  chorus)

  " we the white working people
 of this free land 
where
   the sunshine..."

( cuts again)

 sunshine?

 sunshine?

sunshine from what ?

  booze peaking

     alcho-liberty
       is the sun of your  brightness
  now 

even if its only an hour of
" miller time '
  on the way home to the" Misses"

  thats yer best shot of the day 


( BACK TO SAMPLIN)

" we the sacred fruit
of freedom’s tree "

 (interject)
 shit 
  yer fruit done  
 fallen
 into freedom’s  shade
           to rot brother 
        
fuck this chorus

I'll get this out my way 

(  makes voice viciously  sound like  homer simpson )

 We who
 can't seem
 to get a foothold
we who
 even as we slip and slide
  scream out 
 don't tell uz 
 what we're doin wrong

( voice is gradually 
 morphing to natural white guy voice )

 we who
 claim ever 
and always
we know what's what
      or at least
 we got a pal who does
   

 well bull shit 
ladies and gentlemen

 stop the fucking self con

get yourself a life

 and a desire to  act
 like you know 
what it is 
 to be alive

       heres your real choice
  
you aint you aren't
morphing into 
  a bobcat 
or a flamingo
anytime soon 

face it  
your a part

a human part  

a plain old fucking  part
  
  so what are you going 
       to do about it 

like being  
a damn brass  washer
  in a bag full of washers 

    just a  damn washer 
a piece of cheap metal 
stamped out with a hole
 in the middle

 going nowhere
 doing nothing    
 looking for 
the center you 
never had
and never will have 
  
a washer or 
maybe a 
a cog 

 a cog among cogs
 on the move
   producing in concert 
with other cogs 
somebody elses
 birthday present 
 
why not wise the fuck up
 and 
   try for a new existence 

      here
 there
      everywhere 
a new existence 


stop
   fitting yourself in 
to the great white
 home front

you know it 
isn't enough
 
and you fucking know it 
to your core 

    getting yourself
 caught up 
in all this cheap
  whirling
 and whizzing
   
this over and over
     finding 
and
 refinding 
      what you can do 
that    has enough
 profit use in it
to keep
the boss quiet  
     
 over and over again

 always part of the making 
       of somebody elses
           profitable  something 
      
           and thats it 

     theres nothin more 
 besides your lawn your deck
 your big screen
   and your kiddos' little  kiddos 

thats all you get 

plus a 100k  feeding tube
   at jouneys end


 
     ever exhausted 
         

   and
  never at rest
    till yer
 too tippsy to
 watch the game 
any more 

  and miss 
yer teams  final ups

 
-------------------------------------------------------