Campaña de turismo.
Fin del clip
Y ahí se podría cerrar la historia. Pero soy escritor. No escribo mamadas que exploten rápido en tus sentidos. Todos. Ya a lo bestia. Espera el peyotecapitalismo. Ya verás cómo comprarás.
El marketing manda. El nuevo rey en el capitalismo. Caminando con la cabeza alta ante los banqueros de Wall Street. Los brokers. The crazy hour of the chosen ones. The money making machines. That league of followers of Leonardo di Caprio, wherever he goes, as an actor, as an activist, as a humanizer pig. I meant womanizer. But that would be judgemental. And I am not that kind. But he IS Leonardo di Caprio. And we ARE ticos… so… you know…
Somebody had to say it. Nobody was taking this complicated stand. I was going against the supposedly good ones: the Democrats.
The movie didn’t get funded when it was just a script on the inbox of the first movie producer in Hollywood. It was my first time in town, and I was playing the big hand in. I was going to take the New América by surprise. I had to sneak in through the southern borther, where a wall already lies. More wall. You surely are gullible. Damn. But back to the topic: the nine mexican gang. The 9 mexican gang were a group of horseback riders from the recently refunded capital city of the continent: NEWDF. The center of the 9th transfomation. We had to get ahead of time by traveling to the future. This is the first time something like this has been done. It’s a postcinematography stunt. A performance based society. The allin of art deliverance.
Spain was dead already. I didn’t kill it. It nearly killed me. It came after me. Or was it just capitalism. It was the new immunology threat. Illegal alien gone mad. He most be placed in our top rehabilitation facility: New Barcino. The center of how we decided this new city was going to leap into the multiversed future. This stunt is worth all the bets in this one basket: ALLS.
You are complete. Deal with it. You are here. Perfect. Imperfect. Yourself. No need to feel anymore pain. Nor dispair. Something made you survive through your overdimensioned fear of belonging. Of being just you. Day in, day out. Like life was rolling down the hill. Like a tribute to jews.
This city has got it. ALLS. This palace belong to my family. Nobody is going to come here and say diferently. Unless I pull the plug. And that’s not what we want, now do we?
I’ve got to have only nine more meetings with who’s on charge right now. I am going to bring the house down. Let me get that clear. The fucking glass roof… gone. Broken in 999999 pieces. Much more surreal than any decimal number you want to throw at me, you square faced mathmatician. Loosen up. Allow the art in New Actuarial Protoscience.
You’ve had your full hand of ball sucking dick erectum double barrel white man boss theocracy. No way, Jousé.
Away from old America New América went.
Them New Américans love a new fairy tale to rescue their sorry asses.
I will go on forever.
I can’t get enough of controversial half stories about your sickest motherfuckers. You won’t know how, but you’ll get hooked. I know. I had you at hello.
I have a way with time. I have two ways to take time: back and forward.
Es verdad que cada año hay una letra nueva que entender. Y tiene sentido. Y lo vamos pillando. Ahora está claro. El orgullo está en ser como uno es, y expresarse sin vergüenza. ¿Quiénes somos nosotros para juzgar?
¿Por qué lanzó la piedra?
¿Libre de pecado?
Y ahí caen todos los católicos.
Y ese católico caben todas las mujeres.
El prom es la mujer.
El macho blanco americano alfa en su día ida de olla: prom.
Count the violentions and sexual asaults on prom night.
Don’t count. Hide. Men will be men.
That’s what’s got to go.
American dick most fall.
And who’s gonna be responsible?
How many yelled that in tha last campaign?
Let me count you. Let me see you again.
I’ve got a punchline for every 99%.
I am motherfucking 99.
And here I am: 9.