For Every Tib and Tom Cat


33. Better uncounted, unaccounted

Count yourself out

Count yourself out

or would you rather be another bloody darkening figurine waning in that short night?

You see

power has it seems this mandatory flaw: it’s always falling into the wrong hands.

Only violence solves that grievous problem.

But the powerful kill for less than nothing – a mere stir in their cup of tea.

And don’t you dare intrude into their hunting grounds.

They’ve got on their roster all kinds of cool killers called cops

and judges

and priests.

They pay them not too much but enough.

They – those murderers – are told how necessary they are for the well-being of all

how what they do is approved by society and “god”

how it is society’s and “god”’s bidding they accomplish – this the more gullible are told

though there are plenty among them who are not easily fooled

and do the authoritarians bidding with full knowledge of cause

with a clear conscience

deeming – they do – that that’s their lot

that if their actions are just aiding and abetting the owners’ rage

so be it – life’s too short to bother splitting hairs too thin and so on.

Should one include the stupid minions of the press among the abettors?

But of course – cops judges priests and propagandists: the subservient operators in the gang

they do the dirty deeds

just as told – they are just following orders – the orders must be followed

the word is...

the world must have order and law

law and order – their daunting task is to maintain the fiction

that law and order bring justice

when in fact they bring peace sure enough behind the ramparts

to the powerful

those whose hands are wrong

their hands are poor and tremble – too weak – unsteady – at fault –

and must shoot

must shoot fast or...

must shoot before the opposition

who has a much better hand and is a clean hand

has a chance to play – the winner must be killed beforehand.

The loser gets the power – it falls as from the heavens into his wrong hands.

The violent the aggressive the choleric the psychotic

the dispossessed who perchance would want what’s coming to them

here – I tell them – for I’m their doctor –

you’ve got two ways to go about it

rebel and murder and get shot – get even for a speck

a very ephemeral speck


That’s what we do here

We reward guys of your particular type with free television sets!

Unbreakable armored unwieldy and inviolate.

With an unreflective screen – for we don’t want you inside

or believing that you are yourself inside: that would really be sick.

We tell ‘em – too eager guys of your type

ready to shoot and get even and so on

we tell ‘em: “It’ll do you good –

vent your anger against it

shout and bang at it

and shoot the fuckers inside.

Shoot the fucking figurines that swim inside

all those cops judges priests propagandists

the patsies of the powerful.

I know

it makes me a lot of good

it helps me vent my anger


it keeps me alive

that fucking unbreakable television set I’ve shot so many times already

looks like a fucking colander

with all those disgusting dark dead fishes inside

go ahead


Never so well

Never so well


anyocs de nyacs!

who the 'ell?

La meva foto
C.R. Morell his paltry efforts,