Romantische Landschaft mit Menschenopfer

Romantische Landschaft mit Menschenopfer
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Mittwoch, 16. Dezember 2009

Hey Buddy


24.12.1997




Hey Buddy, yes you in the white shirt
Who never seemed to have touched the dirt
Allow me humbly to demand
A bit about of what you dreamed
When you where young and still a child
Before you started to run wild
Before you went to make your hits
Before you went for bytes and bits
Before you learned to make your way
Through fields of cheating and decay
Before you taught the world to feel
That you are made of stainless steel:
What are the goods you’re looking for
What is your reason to make war
Who is it whom you wish to bomb
Whom will you hit into his womb
What is your reason for career
Hey, tell me what you are doin’ down here?
How does it feel to have the wit
To be a four billion dollar hit
To suck all minds and make a whim
Out of culture, thought and reasoning?
Hey man, there’s no way to escape
You too prove that we’re but an ape


Our physicists already proved
How far we got, how far we moved
And that human intelligence
Means to hold our own end in hands
That the real sense of history
Is the extermination of all humanity
You didn't have to prove again
What from such ‘intelligence’ we gain
There’s hardly time that will remain
Half the world’s already gone insane
The other half will follow soon
(You never really reached the moon)
You too will soon come to an end
And still believe that you were intelligent
Go an and make your way to death
By gosh, your profits take our breath
How does it feel to be the prophet
Of a digital religion you created
To be a hero of our times
To work constantly to make the chimes
Flash, bur not of freedom, nay, of those
That accompany the noise of a slaughterhouse?
Tell me more about your politics
(For instance: How you will get your future kicks
While you are cheating us with your newest tricks


For instance what do you think will be seen
As the newest features of „Word seventeen“?
Or will it ever be worthwhile
To buy the twentieth version of Excel?
Or will you finally get your kicks
With the ultimate „Windows twenty-sixty-six“?)
C’mon, tell me more about your politics
Nay, that is definitely not route sixty-six
I tell you what, the route you’re on
Will lead you straightway to Babylon
Or may I say it it quite direct
You’re busy to be it’s architect
And the end, that is plain to see
Is the end of the rest of humanity


I could decide that this is fine
Because it means your own decline
Hey Buddy, do you have a child
To be born into this world
And do you really think it’s birth
Is of any human worth?
Do you think your contributions
To the form of social institutions
Beside your capital interest and profits
Are of any human benefits?
Hey, listen, King of Babylon
It’s a destructive road you’re on
You invest all of your properties
To keep mankind down on it’s knees
While you may think you are the king
That’s come freedom to all to bring
While the bells of freedom that you ring
Should keep us all from reasoning
And while they toll from every steeple
That and why you killed your native people
A gift that you are up to give
To any alive alter-native
To teach us all why we are here:
To make career and to make career


I see that you might seem to say
That hasting forward is the only way
To beware from falling on a slope
That leads to falling interest rates
For your enterprise and capitals
If people thought about to tend
To be themselves intelligent
If only they had the light to see
Not to leave it to programs and machinery
And to lead a life without your dope
Yes, you believe you’re mankind's healer
With the business you’re in
But instead you’ re but a dealer
With kind of programmed heroine
I can be sure you get your kicks
With designer drugs made out of bytes and bits


You preach about the human rights
Meanwhile you’ve posted your armed knights
At every door, on every hill
And still they are ready for to kill
You built of bits and bytes a dome
To surmount Egypt, Greece and Rome
It is meant for to guarantee
To waste all our resources and energy
There’s hardly more than that to say:
You’re heading down the road to doomsday.
I listen and hear you ask and say:
„Where do you want to go today?“
But let me ask you while you’re here
Where must we all go next year
Or maybe in two or three decades
If you go on to make your grades
In such a way that must imply
Such a monstrous machinery
Not to mention the destiny
We’ll reach, let’s say, within a century




Don’t you think your phantasy
Might have dumped down reality
While you have filled up your stack
With a cover-version of star-trek
Where your commandments easily
Reach to every point of ‘our’ galaxy
While deep down in hangar six
Unseen dwarfs work hard to fix
For their life’s sake and for to survive
Every mistake of your life?
Take a look at yourself at the hour
You’ve become a monstrous dinosaur
All the windows that you paint
Are an illusion on a plane
Nothing but digital machinery
And nowhere a pathway back to reality
That’s how you do the monster-mash
Gain dollars, power, bonds and cash
While the world may remember still
Charming short-sighted little Bill
Cleverly you amalgamate
With circumstances that you take
For granted simply as they are
You never wanted to be revolutionary
Money is your destiny
And greed must be the place you’re from
Look at what have you become
In every country at the hour
You mingle with social and political power




What started in a young boys wit
Has turned out to become concrete
It binds together to be hardest form
‘Modernity’ and what it came from
And the Fuhrer’s men reenter
To become a technical education center
Authorized to be the generals
Of intelligence and social health
You pretend to sell logical machinery
But it serves for all to be
Slaves and only to succumb
To become stupid and numb
What could have been a means to logic
Turns out to be a simple trick
To make fools out of everyone
And education remains undone
Instead teaching ways to precision
And means to make one’s own decision
You sell a drug and in the end
It’s only your program that’s ‘intelligent’
The machinery becomes logical
Everyday life remains irrational
The programs will be full of wit
And their servants turn to be shit


Could the end of your computerism
Be something like worldwide computerfascism?
An army of your brain-washed dogs
Synchronized by your computer-clocks?
And Intel© runs them - ohne Scherz
By let’s say eight-hundred megahertz?
To rule the world and get their kicks
By computerfascist inner politics
The loss of political bipolarity
Fits well into your business phantasy
You do not at all have to be bothered
That your sinister plans are smothered
Still in the meantime you rely
Upon your missiles by and by
You can make peoples wages fall
Your profits in return grow tall
The price for oil is growing far?
You lead a merry little war
Your friends are grateful and they clap
Their hands, and profit’s up




While the best your programs can
Do, is stir missiles to Iraq or Iran
Launched by president Bill or secretary John
And the eternal advisers of Babylon
I tell you, if you go on that way
There will be nothing more to say
About your holy cow that fights
All over the world for ‘human rights’
While you deliver the amp’s
For a new type of concentration camps
I dare say you do not fight
For anything like a human right
It’s part of your advertisements
While all concern, and means and ends
Are pointing to a dollar, Bill
Who minds a tiny little kill
As long as all’s just business
And you get more and others less
Instead to say all that’s in need
Means: You are fighting for your greed
Ba the way: it’s a question of definition
To discriminate what is not and what is human
And human is this special sense
Is what contributes to your ends


You want to drive the biggest cars
Go to the most expensive bars
You want to run the biggest houses
Have the most beautiful spouses
Frequently turn down to ashes
Anybody to disturb your consumer wishes
And surely the highway you’re on
Needs an ever rising income
At any cost, the causes set
By it don’t make your fur wet
Nor do you see blood on your hand
You’re living in the promised land
For all the world you are hands on
What to your natives you have done
To practice and to exercise
What has become your first success
Who should blame you for the strategy
Your native culture was your enemy
Hardly more than a century ago
It drove you out and made you go
They did not need you in their place
Your ancestors were no success
They had to leave their native land
Nobody there lent them a hand
The only way for you to culture
Led you through a foreign future
And now it’s your turn till the day
A stronger one fights trough it’s way



A future day might come and sees:
The final winner speaks Chinese.
But let the cannibals that win
Be white, black, red or Ming or Han;
Beneath your white shirt it will show
Tyrannosaurus Rex art thou.


You on your ladder of career
You are a veritable man-eater
You are the cannibals lost in the mist
Of the ideologies of a well-payed anthropologist
That teaches for you - it’s his duty
That you are long left in history
You paint the picture of a cannibal
It’s clearly seen, he has no cloth at all
Or hardly some, to cover his genital
(It might cover at least one ball)
He lives within a wooden hut
He drinks from a wooden water but
For days he has not taken showers
He comes in feathers and in flowers
His women are easily to impress
With cotton shirts and pearls of glass
No dentist ever saw his tooth
His skin - unlike yours - is not smooth
But what -no doubt - impresses most:
He is not yet (sufficiently) computerized
And he is not really christian
Before he turns his first TV-set on
To receive the final mental good
From NTV and from Hollywood
Shortly, the picture that you give
Shows: cannibals are primitive
Instead you bear - it’s plain to see
Social responsibility
You trade it far and trade it wide
You take it for your personal pride
As long as there is you and your white shirt
Civilization will proceed.



dedicated to Robert Crumb

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