It Loves To Happen
Posted: Sat Dec 21, 2024 2:21 pm
Douglas Mercer
December 21 2024
Literally Las Vegas means the “fertile field” and every primitive culture has its vegetation rites. That it is dry and dusty and in the middle of earth’s nowhere and alternately ridiculously hot and cold is the least of its ironies. It is America’s fantasy city, a playground for the mongrelized and lumpen proletariat, and it a testimony indeed to how destitute America’s fantasy and imaginary life is, a palace called fertile is a place that nothing ever grows except rank materialistic dreams, a place where you can pay for sex on the street and pay with your life at the table.
They say that the original inhabitants came by the place some 10,000 years ago but it of course stagnated until the Europeans came, and soon the Italian (and Jewish) criminal rabble made it into a tacky locale famous for a drunk Ann Margaret shaking her goods at the paying public, and then the faceless bureaucrats of the managerial state made it what it is today, a sterile no man’s land of concrete and steel, a place where all of human history is recapitulated as a similitude, where all the stars, has been and otherwise, have always come to entertain the masses with their gory and gruesome schlock.
For the god looking for a site, a site to mock humanity, and to awake it to its senses, could there be a more fat target? Really, it’s the broad side of a barn. After all fate is chance and all around the clock in this depressing city the wheels of fortune spin, the dice are always cast, games of luck go on and on and, what is better, the house always wins. It is quite literally the metaphysical city, the celestial city, with secret military installations nearby given to vague rumor and hard fact, so what better place for an alien homecoming? Anything that high handed must always ask itself: why don’t we do it in the road? They say that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas but word of the Event will go planetary (and more) in a moment. Strange days indeed, at least that is what the man said.
December 21 2024
Literally Las Vegas means the “fertile field” and every primitive culture has its vegetation rites. That it is dry and dusty and in the middle of earth’s nowhere and alternately ridiculously hot and cold is the least of its ironies. It is America’s fantasy city, a playground for the mongrelized and lumpen proletariat, and it a testimony indeed to how destitute America’s fantasy and imaginary life is, a palace called fertile is a place that nothing ever grows except rank materialistic dreams, a place where you can pay for sex on the street and pay with your life at the table.
They say that the original inhabitants came by the place some 10,000 years ago but it of course stagnated until the Europeans came, and soon the Italian (and Jewish) criminal rabble made it into a tacky locale famous for a drunk Ann Margaret shaking her goods at the paying public, and then the faceless bureaucrats of the managerial state made it what it is today, a sterile no man’s land of concrete and steel, a place where all of human history is recapitulated as a similitude, where all the stars, has been and otherwise, have always come to entertain the masses with their gory and gruesome schlock.
For the god looking for a site, a site to mock humanity, and to awake it to its senses, could there be a more fat target? Really, it’s the broad side of a barn. After all fate is chance and all around the clock in this depressing city the wheels of fortune spin, the dice are always cast, games of luck go on and on and, what is better, the house always wins. It is quite literally the metaphysical city, the celestial city, with secret military installations nearby given to vague rumor and hard fact, so what better place for an alien homecoming? Anything that high handed must always ask itself: why don’t we do it in the road? They say that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas but word of the Event will go planetary (and more) in a moment. Strange days indeed, at least that is what the man said.
