Jim Trainer


In Uncategorized on June 17, 2011 at 1:02 pm

The Offices of Jim Trainer
Avenue of the Dead
Land of the Free

David Hagysback
Lap of Luxury
Hippie Town, USA



Trouble comes in a myriad of merciless and twisted forms.  We’ve taken on the Blues, it came with the Night.  We bought it part&parcel at the onset of this twisted dark journey.  We’re pioneers and we’re Kings.  The Big Boss Man will find you, however, so sip your iced drink with the dumb&the Blonde, we’re all gonna be judged and we’re all gonna pay.

The good news about Democracy and Revolt in the Middle East and parts of Africa is nothing good for the workingman lest he’s a company man but even he ain’t smilin like they do in the boardroom when they hear about some immoral pirates taking to the streets in the third world.  Military time has always worked for me-at least it did until I discovered that there is no War, just this paltry day to day dumbing down of our minds as we try to make a living with our heads in and hands caught in an American dream.

You can never believe anything and if what I learned from psylocibin is correct then everything is suspect.  Nothing can be trusted.  The truth is some slippery shit but the Grand Imperialist Strategy will be realized.  Just like you’ll be there on Monday morning, life goes on and etc.

“What is this paranoid garbage?”, you may be thinking.  Just a reminder to you mon ami that we are stronger than this Life.  Even if our generation yields no more Wisdom than that sung by Van Halen:

“Where have all the good times gone?”

Maybe the real Drama and the only good money to be made is not here in the USA but in the OTHER hemisphere, fighting for democracy and whatever, and using the barrel of a gun.  Maybe we could take a ride to Oma, I know a guy there, he could get us a job on a boat with our own Berettas in Sierra Leone or Bahrain.  Last I heard they had ships in the Gulf of Mexico but my guess is, by now, they’re probably looking into other, less “contaminated” markets.  Fuck him and pardon my bitching.  We could be knee-deep in the dumb in some sleepy town on the gulf, waiting for orders-out with all the other roughnecks at the Red Carpet Inn bar.  Instead, we are in Paradise.  Don’t forget this, David.

We are Kings.

Jim Trainer

  1. Reblogged this on Going for the Throat and commented:

    From a Letter Day in June of 2011.

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