On The Ground In Bangkok: Fascists, Face-Fucks And The Eternal O

The trouble with fascist rule, aside from everything else, is it is so uncool.
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The trouble with fascist rule, aside from everything else, is it is so uncool.

#171101852 / gettyimages.com

Like all forms of imposed large scale social order, fascism creates a kind of mass retardation. Very wealthy middle aged men in their toy soldier get-ups are going to tell you what's what.

How brutally uncool is that?

One of the most gruesome byproducts of recent events is watching the capital's fashion gimps, hip resto creeps and various other branding parasites try to remain diffident and louche while armed tools of the paternalistic ruling class send some frowning comb-over creep to go on TV and make a public announcement along the lines of...

Fuck you and your fucking elections! Fuck what you want. This is how it's gonna be, you noisy assholes, so shut the fuck up - especially you hicks from the sticks. Who the fuck said you could have a say in anything? Shove your votes up your sodomistic butt holes and shut the fuck up. Did I already say that? Good. Maybe it'll sink into your thick peasant skulls. (Long pause while glaring into lens) Now would be a good time to bow and scrape and knock head and affirm your lowly bullshit status, you credit pumped imbeciles.

In case you're not sure, this is the point when you can be certain it's not so groovy to be a blithely apolitical strolling fashionista, a boutique bozo, a clothes horse cocksuckerino.

Speaking of which...

Whatever happened to Vice Magazine's hipper-than-branded-hosebags gleaming new SE Asian office they were gonna open with much gay apparel? I hear a launch party was planned but they couldn't find enough arm bands. Y'know, the kind with a carefully shared visual space of various corp logos. Heineken, Mercedes, D&G, Durex, Potatohead Vodka, yada yada.

I'm talkin those branding whore cardboard backdrops covered with sponsors' highly recognizable sigils, those things you see at made-up news events. The fake wall of consumerist identity images behind the blabbermouth telling the media recordists why everybody should get face-fucked by their 25% APR gold card. They're the same backdrops used at manufactured red carpet made-for-TV award show hype-a-thons where tux and gown douchebags pull and suck branded erection statuettes. C'mon, you know what I'm talking about. There's a good chance you've got their cum stain logo dripping down your face right now. The sunglasses you're wearing. Right? Gotcha.

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Even the vast Whoring Industrial Complex which forms the backbone of this city - even that sea of human fluidic charm is suffering beneath the veneer of public morality. Herds of professional dick drainers go unplugged, loiter in the lanes and bars of approved whoring zones, their mouths empty as soapy sex tubs remain unsplashed, fishbowl bars no longer teem with armies of haggling holiday ejaculators slapping their leaking erections against smudged glass. It's grim. The eternal line of eternally blind and vomiting hard-ons are being serviced elsewhere these days.

Wait a second...

Imagine if people had to function while in a continual state of orgasm.

Imagine how corporate board meetings would go. How shopping would happen. Or driving. Could you drive while in the unending throes of a screaming 'O'? What about dinner and a movie with a blind date as both of you gasp and heave while trying to make appropriate small talk? How would it work - everyone stuck in a singular ecstasy loop, left to writhe and grind and flop around, eyes rolled back. Geez, imagine the dampness.

Yes, one endless global orgasm. Even war would be tough or trying to manage a pension fund, groins continually contracting - like those very stupid porn sites where women have giant club-like Hitachi vibrators taped to their crotch and then left tied up some place for days.

Imagine. Those grim faced middle aged men in uniform would be caught forever in their moment of 'release', faces wracked with the sweet agony of a 'completion' which never truly completes.

Jeezus. Imagine the soundtrack...