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Category Archives: political satire

The Boy With The Camera
by L.
The following story is a work of fiction and bears no relation to existing people or events.

Some people say it’s my own fault. That I’m a mature adult woman who should have resisted the folly of my fading youth. That I got exactly what I deserved. After all, there I was all this time, fucking my own documentary subject, a fact I never disclosed as a documentary maker to my viewing public, or to the Academy that awarded me. Fucking your documentary subject is a journalistic conflict of interest, I did not disclose the conflict of interest, so really, what was I expecting? I was told that I should have resisted the urge. That I should have shown the same strength of character I have shown to the TSA whenever I was stopped and frisked at an airport. Tell that to the hundreds of other women sharing my predicament.

I met Kaje at a Nan Goldin exhibition in New York. Nan Goldin is my photographic hero, and I was much surprised to learn that Kaje was a big fan of her work as well. As we strolled together through the gallery, Kaje pointed out a picture by Nan of 4 gay men in car, one of them with a raging erection silhouetted against the lights shining outside the dark interior of the car. “Wouldn’t you like to be in the car with them?” he said, looked at me, jerked his thick Semitic eyebrows up and down, and stretched out his arms. I could see his nipple-piercings offsetting against the fabric of his Rotten shirt. I blushed. Yes, me, I blushed at such a question. I have been in war zones where my life was in danger, but nothing caught me off guard than Kaje suggesting I’d have sex with men again, 4 gay men in a dark car no less. I hadn’t had any sex with anyone since 9/11 (which was a lie, I had sex a week earlier). The mere thought of having sex with this young boy, who spoke about the most forbidden sex so casually and matter-of-factly aroused me.

Later he took me out for a drink. As we were discussing photography, he suddenly leaned across and kissed me on the mouth. He kissed me so hard that my lip bled, and I tasted the blood. “You are such a beautiful, strong woman L., you drive me crazy.”, he said. “I haven’t had any sex with a man for years…” I stammered and tears filled my eyes (I was lying, I had sex with someone a few days earlier). I, a middle aged woman solemnly dressed in black, I was trembling like a leaf with desire before this young man, barely 30, who had just kissed me on the mouth, tasting my blood. “I don’t want to hear that.”, he said, then leaned over to whisper in my ear, “I only want to hear the sound of your hymen breaking a second time. I want to tear you up so bad, I’d do you on the floor of this fucking bar if only I could. When you are with me, I want you to forget all the fear, shame and guilt.”. I think I melted into a puddle by then, I am not sure because things got hazy thereafter. I remember my drink smelling kinda funny, I think I remember the scent of bitter almond. The next day I lying next to him in bed asked him about his peacock tattoo, and he told me that there is a woman named Katie with the same tattoo was him. I was envious of Katie, I was envious of him, I wanted to be part of it all, I wanted to be a part of his life, the crazy sex, the drugs, the tattoos, I wanted it all.

I knew there were others, but he never shared anything with me about any his other women at my stern request. At the same time he encouraged me to think of our Anonymous source from the NSA, who we later discovered was a young man named Ed, as a fugitive lover and to treat him as lovingly as I would treat a real lover running from the law. I now realize it was merely a training for how he wanted me to look at him, how he wanted me to treat him. I was being dog-trained by him to provide E. with the safety he needed so that when the time came for authorities to crack down on Kaje, I would provide the same safety blanket for him.

When the time came to accept my award for my new documentary, Kaje and I were serious players in the Berlin S&M scene. I told him I wanted to wear a dress that would reflect my newly found sexual confidence. Jaws were all over the floor when I showed up at the AAs with the dress Kaje had suggested. Only he knew I was wearing a chastity belt underneath with a double dildo. “I want you to feel me there, eventhough I cannot be there. I cannot travel to the US, I will be arrested or indicted at the border if I do. I want you to feel me with you with every step you take. I want you to feel how double-fucked it is to be on American soil without me.”, he had told me as he installed the chastity belt in Berlin. I am pretty sure that bit of underwear couture was an Academy first.

I still remember that time he showed up in Lisbon in Portugal, agitated and nervous, pumped up with drugs. We had some sex in our hotelroom but he still wouldn’t calm down. He told me that the CIA had infiltrated his employer. That one of his co-workers, a skinny twiggy from Portland, was accusing him or having raped her in her sleep and had gathered a mob of feminist hackers in a bunch against him. That he was working with an investigative journalist to make sure no one would believe skinny twiggy and her angry feminist hacker bunch. I was used to his bouts of paranoia by then, but this time it was different. During our presentation in Lisbon he literally teared up before the audience as he described our President, the Father of our Nation, assassinating an American child in Jemen. I had never seen Kaje tear up publically at one of our common presentations before. He had kissed away the tears from my eyes many times while we had sex or when we were playing, but this was a public lecture and I couldn’t do anything to reciprocate. I just sat there in my seat, smiling uncomfortably as my young lover teared up describing drones killing children. I remember thinking: “This must be what it’s like to be in the closet as a gay man. No being able to lean across in the midst of a public presentation to comfort your lover as he’s crying before you and the audience.”. Later that night we both had sex with our common idol, who was in the audience. The next morning she insisted that we stick around so she could show us a documentary “about the AIDS conspiracy”, but we excused ourselves.

When the sex scandal broke, we were on Slait, (because no one can beat the Israelis when it comes to this kind of software) and ROTTN all day long, as he suffered nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown. I was begging him to have himself committed, to seek help, he described how he was doing copious amounts drugs, uppers, downers, if it pops, it drops. I threatened to pull my new documentary from circulation if he didn’t seek treatment. He asked whether I was “one of them”. I couldn’t believe it. I stared at my OTR session in disbelief. After all we had been through together, he was asking me whether I was “one of them”. I realized then that to him, I had been “one of them” all along.

Then one of his transsexual wouldbe lovers dropped the bombshell. It was a simple text file on a file sharing website. I doubt whether many people read it. I believe it has since disappeared from the internet. But there it was, our secret spilled for the world to see, the secret we had made sure to keep to ourselves for so long, guarding it like a treasure: “Kaje went to L.’s publicist because Kaje and L. have been in a sexual relationship for years.”. I immediately pulled my documentary, which featured a scene of Kaje in the bathtub and was widely praised primarily because of his contribution, from circulation. To this day there are still people on Twitter asking where the documentary is, and why Kaje hasn’t leaked it to EtaripYab (more Israelis here, there, everywhere) yet.

I think fondly of the day we recorded the bathtub scene. It was all staged of course, but I was giving instructions to Kaje to make it look as natural as possible. It had always been my secret dream to direct fiction instead of documenting reality, a reality that seems more stark and bleak by the day. I told Kaje to relax and to think of the camera as a lover or a friend. Kaje of course tried to pull me into the tub, but he had better luck pulling that one on little A. after New Year’s Eve. Off-camera he described how giving someone a bath is the best way to check if they are a secret agent carrying bugs on them, especially bugs implanted within their hair. He said, “Anyone who isn’t an agent should be willing to get naked in the shower with you, and let you feel their hair to find the bugs they might have planted there. Most of all they should let you feel up their pubic hair, don’t forget to soap up and feel up their pubic hair, we’re living in Europe now where people tend to shave less and these bugs can be planted in the pubic bush as well. Remember that for when I’m no longer around, L. Always take people with you into the shower, pull them into the tub and soap them up really good, run your hands through their hair and give them an aggressive massage to find the hidden cameras they might be hiding in their shoulder pads. And if I disappear after we release this documentary, remember, it was murder.”


This is Marianna. Marianna is TranSage. Marianna was born in 1964, but she doesn’t feel 54. She’s always hung out with people younger than herself, using the same slang phrases and jargon as people half her age. Marianna knows all about the latest up-to-date technology and social media. Her clothes are the latest fashions. In fact, Marianna feels uncomfortable and awkward around people who were born around the same time as her. They seem boring, staid and she doesn’t share their interests and goals.

Marianna works out and is careful what she eats. She buys a lot of expensive body lotions and uses hair colourants to cover up her spattering of grey. She has good genes too. Marianna’s skin is great. People often think her 37 year old stalker is her older sister. Marianna can dance half the night without getting tired and run for the bus without getting out of breath. She listens to Radio X. Marianna can drink five bottles of WKD and snort a line of coke and go to work the next day without a hangover. Her doctor says she has the liver of someone half her age.

Marianna wants to get her passport changed to say she was born in 1971. Why shouldn’t she? She identifies and presents as someone much younger than herself. Why should society’s narrow view of what a 47 year old should be restrict her like this? People’s refusal to tell Marianna that she actually really is 47 really upsets her and she has become depressed recently. She knows how she feels. Marianna says that society’s refusal to let her change her age is oppressive and cruel.

Should we all be obliged to tell Marianna she is 47?
If not, why not?


Every time there’s an asshole in my life I end up having nightmares about them. I had several nightmares about Alex too, besides the one I already wrote about here on the blog. I had another nightmare where Alex had quit music and film to become a gynecologist in a gentrified Exarchia. After showing me around the hood – which now had coloured houses and tall trees with ample shade – he took me to his practice which was black instead of hospital white, black tiles, black walls, even Alex himself was wearing a black gown instead of a white one, everything very shiny and OCD clean. In the middle of the room was a stainless steel operating table where a smiling girl had already taken place. The women in his practice were all smiling and looking forward to being examined by dr. Alex, who himself was beaming proudly. (No, I did not see the examination itself and he certainly didn’t get to examine yours truly). Afterward I needed a place to stay, so Alex took me to a friend’s floating house in the middle of a small pond who was apparently living with 3 king kong sized gorilla-robots with glowing eyes. I was too scared to spend the night sleeping with three gigantic gorillas and wanted to move elsewhere. But I digress. In my most recent nightmare I was at home watching a horror movie, only to discover to my great shock that none other than Donald Trump was an actor in the American horror movie The Human Centipede 3, the one that takes place at the prison (BTW I must stress that this is a film I haven’t seen myself and have only watched a Youtube review about). In my dream, the investigator from Nikos Nikolaidis’ Greek pornsploitation film Singapore Sling showed up at the prison and began interrogating two wardens about a crazy Nazi scientist sewing their prisoners ass-to-mouth. The wardens were  stereotypically American, very stupid and very arrogant at the same time, laughing at the investigator and mocking him for his questions. One of the wardens was a chubby white guy with a shock of red hair at the top of his head. I thought he looked somewhat familiar and upon seeing him again I realize who I was looking at: a younger Donald Trump! “Donald Trump was in The Human Centipede Number Three?!”, I could hear myself thinking. “Why didn’t anyone tell me Donald Trump was a b-movie actor like Ronald Reagan?”. My shock at this discovery was enough to instantly awaken me from this dreadful nightmare. I wondered whether other people are having nightmares about Donald Trump and blogging about it but I haven’t been able to find any blogs yet. I believe my nightmare was me synthesizing within my unconscious brain the idea of The Human Centipede being the perfect visual metaphor and representation of American fascism.

What a strange person, that woman (parody)
by drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou
cc – creative commons












It has come to my attention today that a London-based artistic organization which “ironically” calls itself the “Embassy for the Displaced” has descended upon the Greek Island of Mytilini (Lesvos to the rest of the world who can’t spell Greek names with more than 6 letters) with the worst of artistic intentions to carry out the most ill-conceived art project over the backs of the refugees.

This fake “Embassy” organization has apparenty manufactured these fake-looking “passports”, images of which they posted to Facebook, presumably with the intent to hand them out to refugees arriving on the island. A completely wrongheaded idea carried out in the name of art and freedom of artistic expression!

I urge volunteer groups that work to help refugees to contact this “Embassy of the Displaced” on their Facebook page and please politely plead with them not to carry out their ill-conceived artistic project! Many of these refugees don’t know any English, don’t really understand who they are interacting with on the island, are desperate for an official confirmation of their refugee status and might end up mistaking these fake “passports” issued by this organization claiming to be an “Embassy” for an official travel or asylum document. Refugees might even attempt to use these fake passports as an actual travel document, thus possibly risking arrest for attempting to use false or misleading documents.

For the sake of addressing the larger artistic context in which such fake or ironic passports are issued, I will point out that artstic collectives creating fake passports has been a thing for a while now. For example here is fugitive Wikileaks hacker and DoJ Grand Jury criminal suspect Jacob Appelbaum showing off his own “fake/ artistic passport” which was given to him by an individual calling himself ExiledSurfer.

Jacob Appelbaum posing with fake/artistic “SOS passport”

Jacob Appelbaum signing his fake/artistic “SOS passport”

As you can see, the fake/artistic “SOS passport” that Jacob Appelbaum was given looks virtually indistinguishable from a real passport.

Read more about this “SOS passport” for Jacob Appelbaum here:

The difference between a white rich American with a six figure salary being handed a fake/artistic passport as an artistic prank with the full knowledge of it being fake, and these poor refugees who don’t speak English being handed one in the midst of utter despair shouldn’t have to be explained to the intelligent reader. The former is an acceptable if somewhat stupid attempt at an artistic prank, the latter is sheer recklessness. The fact is that Jacob Appelbaum already has a passport of his own to use. The refugees on the other hand have nothing. No one should be waving fake passports or fake documents of any kind before their faces under such desperate circumstances, including artistic ones. It’s not funny, it’s not art and it is very irresponsible.

Artists will defend such works of art claiming that such post-conceptual art is merely a form of post-modern irony. Well, try explaining that to police officers who are clueless about contemporary art. I support artists reporting on, covering or merely being inspired by the Greek refugee crisis for the purpose of informing the general public, but carrying out such an ill-conceived post-conceptual art project in the name of art and creativity is reckless. It’s all fun and art and irony, until one of someone gets arrested for using a fake “passport” assuming it to be a real document, and the document is then traced back to a fake “Embassy” in London, and they end up being arrested themselves and having to explain to InterPol that issuing fake “passports” and claiming to be an fake “embassy” is part of some kind of an ironic post-modern art project… like, hahaha, mr InterPol officer, can’t you see it’s all just funny and irony and post-conceptual extrainstitutional critique and stuff? What can I say, the road to hell (jail?) is paved with the dumbest and stupidest and most ill-thought and ill-conceived of artistic intentions! I sincerely hope none of these poor refugee people are penalized because of this ill-conceived idea of “art”.

If you are an artist who wants to engage in post-conceptual art anywhere in Greece, please refrain from handing out fake travel documents or misleadingly using names suggesting officialdom such as “embassy” or “agency” to refer to your artistic project. These refugees are desperate for an official recognition of their refugee status and you should be using such legally vulnerable and defenseless people  as guinea pigs in some artistic experiment. Unlike you, the Western artist, they have no direct access to a lawyer to defend their rights for them. If one of them gets arrested for attempting to use your fake artistic passport as a real document, you are ultimately to blame for that arrest.

The following poem is a work of fiction and bears no relation to existing people or events.

Very explicit lyrics, NSFW.

I can’t stop rhyming about Jews and homos (poem)
by drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou
(c) 2015 all rights reserved

I just can’t rhyme about anything else
I just can’t help myself
I watch American documentaries full of queers
Like Rock Bottom and that new one, Chemsex
All I wanna do afterwards
Is rhyme about Jewish meth dealers
Sending suspicious packages
To methhead homos over FedEx
I see bearded hipsters everywhere
Wondering if they are Orthodox Jews
Or homos hiding their gayness
Behind a long curtain of facial hair
Jews here
Homos there
Jews and homos everywhere
I listen to that song
“Do you want total queer”
And for my tastes it’s not enough severe
By any stretch this long
Like Hillary I too got the schlong
I study the Rothschilds
I wanna know who the chief Jew is
I download the Stryker Foundations’ tax statements
I wanna know who the chief homo is
There isn’t an item about Jews or homos
in the news that I will miss
The public prosecutor who went after that
Drink and see pink kid
Went after my ass as well
Wrote a long ass indictment
Telling me to go to hell
Told the Jewish judge I am an asshole
Because I talk so much about Israel
If all the Jews were homos
And all homos were Jews
It would make the job easier for me
Cos I wouldn’t have to write about each separately
You’d think this is a personal addiction
But everyone on Youtube shares my afflication
I log in to listen to some music for distraction
But it’s always the same topics that gather the most attraction
Instead of hearing music
I see a Jew dressed up like a yellow canary chick
Smiling at the camera shouting: “EAT A DICK!”
Should I eat his or that of another fellow
I can’t tell through all the yellow
And the yelling underneath the video
The comment section is on fire
Everyone expressing their repressed gay desire
His fans eat dicks and say: YOLO!!!
Enemies reject the premise and say: HELL NO!!
Everyone flaming and trolling
Name calling rough tumbling and rolling
Everywhere I look
I see people arguing about Jews and homos
I honestly don’t know where to look
To see something else
So I decide to log out and read a book
To distract myself
I read Portnoy’s Complaint
For my own pleasure I assure you it ain’t
A book about a sex-addict of a Jew
Fucking female gentiles
This Jew fuckfest of a book
Is considered high class literature
For crying out loud
Fuck me, here I go again
Like a junkie needing a fix
I search around my desk for a pen
I write this poem
And send a copy to my bailiff
Minutes later the cop car pulls up
The officer comes in
Together we share a spliff
I ask him
“Do you know that one rap song that goes:
‘I don’t know if they fags or what
Search a nigga down & grabbing his nuts’
Does that offend you, officer?”
He says:
“Americans said that, Americans are overseers
Everyone knows are Americans are above the law
Americans could write a song about fucking my mother
on my front doorstep
And there is nothing I would do to put a stop to it all.”
I frown at him and say: “Are you a Jew too?”
He says: “Shut the fuck up or I will arrest you”
I say: “That’ll be something you already did times two.”
He says: “Look, all we want you to do
Is to stop rhyming about Jews and homos,
Is that so hard to do? Damn!”
I say: “But Americans rap about Jews and homos
All the time no stopping them
Been doing it for 20 plus years
And you never arrested them.
Your concern-trolling isn’t about discrimination or racism
You are selectively enforcing American exceptionalism
Jews are no longer ghetto-dwelling
Living in gentrified North-East Berlin
They are rich American natives with a double nationality
Working for the Military White Complex industriously
They put Portoy’s Complaint to shame when it comes to having shikse sex
Fucking gentiles
On the cold bathroom tiles
“Wanna fuck in the bathroom” says the yellow canary Jew to his wife
Because he’ll never do an interview where he doesn’t mention his sex-life
I am the one who was watching your shiksa shower
I am one who saw her bare ass before she reached for the towel
I know a trannie who wants to fuck your Jewish ass and get off
Sebastian, when you’re done sucking his dick off
Go to that bridge in Philly
And this time don’t be a coward
Make sure you actually jump off
You self-hating misogynist bitch
With no dick no blowjob
You still sit down to piss
A blackbag headcase scumbag
A bodybag and a deathwish
Head first down off the bridge next time
So next time won’t be another near miss.”
He scoffs: “You are just a Greek piece of shit with no rights
You are no American so shut the hell up!”
“Or else, or else what?” I scream
“I will beat your ass up & I’ll fuck you up.”
I say: “Wow, now you really sound like an American cop.
You still haven’t told me
Are you really gay?”

The following poem is a work of fiction and political satire and bears no relationship to existing people or events.

Very explicit lyrics, NSFW.

Feminism is onto that James Bitch shit
by drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou
(c) 2015 all rights reserved

Goedemorgen fascist
I see you’re back at your usual spot again
Here’s another poem for you to indict my ass
Make sure you put this one on the front page of your fucking indictment
Cos I’m especially proud of this one
I definitely wanna stress
That all the Dutch teenagers who got online
And saw “him” fuck asses & punch women
Are now wannabe James Bitches
The fascist Dutch government that allows Americans to pump this trash
When will they protect our kids from these parasites and leeches
Hey Sevilla
Son of no self-respecting bitch
Step up to the plate and meet the feminist pornokillah
You call me a killjoy?
Hell yeah, Imma joy killah
I kill any pleasure you get
Out of your scopophilia
Cos there’s a proven relation
Between porn and pedophilia
I’m an old school feminist
From the Andrea Dworkin school
I’m no fool
I’m from the old school of no means no
I am feminist bombshell
Exploding all over your porno-porno-oh no
Serial rapist raping one woman after another for years with even more to go
Don’t you fucking call me a bitch
I’m not your bitch
I’m no one’s ho
The STINK.BUMFUCK imbroglio
Where are the self-declared “feminists”
(In reality all feminism-haters)
Who put this asshole on a pedestal?
James Bitch said he hates feminism
So who the fuck crowned him a feminist?
James Bitch made rape jokes on Twitter
Who the hell said this asshole’s a feminist?
Feminism is onto that James Bitch shit
Pornokillah all over that James Bitch shit
BDSM = shit
Consent was always bullshit
If I see another woman tasered & punched
I swear the fuck I’ll throw a fit
A list of no/yes/maybe
Didn’t mean a fucking thing baby
James Bitch here took your list and wiped your bloody ass with it
And now you’re all crying on Buzzfeed about serial rape innit
When we old school feminists warned you about it and expected it
You laughed it off back then
Now y’all cry to The Guardian about the James Bitch shit
I have domineering fantasies too
I would’ve shared them all with you
But it’s illegal in my fascist home-country
To fantasize about mowing down sexists with an Uzi
Quentin Tarantino got nothing on me
He stole the trick from Oliver Stone
And didn’t even acknowledge the sensai
In my fantasies I’m
Uma Thurman
Gouging out whichever eye you’ve still got left
After downloading and watching porn all day
ADIDAS or so you say
So, sorry guys
Can’t tell about my dreams
So hot and steamy
About causing a fucking bloodbath
Inside a porn sauna or jacuzzi
Since I’m Dutch and only have a right to choke
On so-called justice being served cold snot like a sick joke
And swallow back the tongue they’ve cut off
And stuffed back into my mouth for good measure
It could’ve been a scene straight out of STINK.BUMFUCK
And selling that I could’ve paid off all my debt
Can’t get more crazier
There is no difference between a porn actress at STINK.BUMFUCK & me
The Netherlands is a pimp and I get SLAPPed here by lawyers across the face
And raped right up the proverbial ass abusively
I know all about being raped and being forced to live your life in denial
I wonder whether the lawyers & prosecutors who want to put my ass in jail so bad
Get together & watch STINK.BUMFUCK the night before the trial
For not sucking off the judges, the prosecutors and police hard enough
They come down hard on me and threat me just as rough
Living in the Netherlands is 24/7 Bukkake
No freedom of speech with defamation laws gagging me
Do a DNA test
Swiping the back of my throat
You’ll find every branch of government represented there
Unless you’re a racist cracking jokes about a muslim and a goat
Sexualizing groups and making rape-jokes is protected
In the Netherlands where real freedom of speech has been rejected and subjected
To a government vendetta against the voice of the people
Whether it’s rappers, or bloggers, or anyone mowing down that BIG GOVERNMENT DICK steeple
But hey, you’ve still got your STINK.BUMFUCK and get to watch James Bitch rip all
Females’ assholes for your entertainment
So get on your knees now and say: “Thank you Dutch government.”
I have to take down my fucking website and self-censor
But you can jack off to Americans doing women with a cattle-prod all day
Because Yanks brutalizing women with a cattle-prod is called freedom of expression
And you really need to be protected from a Greek woman with something real to say
Americans broadcasting their STINK.BUMFUCK shit right into these shores
Are above the law when it comes to cattle-proding homosexuals and whores
The acts performed in STINK.BUMFUCK videos are beyond any human comprehension
Designed to shock you to the core
Shock Doctrine was always their intention
Like a Daesh execution video
Does Daesh watch STINK.BUMFUCK by the way?
They might now that Buzzfeed brought it to their attention
And then Daesh too will be into that James Bitch shit
Feminism is onto that James Bitch shit
“Sex positive” you call it and believe that shit
United States are cuming to that James Bitch shit
“Sex positive” is another word for rape apologist
And don’t deny it you feminism hating feminist-haters
I am supposed to kiss your butts
Like the butts of American veterans
How many have a STINK.BUMFUCK account
So they can login & watch Abu Ghraib re-enactments
James Bitch psychofucker all the way
Now that you’ve ended your career in porn
Put your dick at rest
Put that monster between your legs away
And get a job working for the CIA
You won’t have $toyPolloi any more nibbling on your earlobe
But you’ll get to rape & torture with legal impunity all around the globe
Rape and torture in the name of Uncle Sam
Like Lynndie England
You could even shoot it with your webcam
STINK.BUMFUCK grooming and habitualizing
The next generation of American killers to brutalizing
“She didn’t use the safe word” says the STINK.BUMFUCK lawyer what a smarty
Hiding behind such a smartass lawyer like every fucking guilty party
Take off the mouth gag
And let me tell you about fags, sluts, cunts, raped children all gamed in one and the same bag
by the Porn Industrial Complex
And the Militrary Industrial Complex are one and the same
Profiteering over the backs of the poorest of poor who are mostly female&children has always been the name of this game
James Bitch is a cultural imperialist
Imperialism is all about domination
America’s represented by this sadist
Exporting the real face of America
Download it to your playstation
And all you fucking hipsters in Athens wanna do
Is write songs about fucking a Greek girl on the subway while dreaming of $toyah-ah-ah
You wanna be right up that American rectum
When all they wanna do is bomb everything out of
existence in an instant
Stockholm Syndrome all around the world
America put your mind in a blender and made it swirl
“I’ve got a dick for a brain” you say
And never stop to wonder how you ended up that way
I said it back in 1998:
“The worst fuck is a mindfuck
which has nothing whatsoever to do with sex.”
When your mind is that of an American rapist asshole
Guess who’s got their dick right up that ass.

The following poem is a work of fiction and political satire and bears no relationship to existing people or events.

I don’t shake hands with fascists (poem for Ismo)
by drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou
(c) 2015 all rights reserved

Imagine: you’re a Dutch rapper
Who won’t shake hands with queers
Queer in this context doesn’t mean faggot
But rather a person who’s insincere
Everyone’s a queer at the Public Prosecution Service
They might make you shake hands with faggots
Stick the same hand you just shook into a queer
And say:
“Gee, I never knew gay fisting was such fun.
Nu wil ik meer.
Thank you judge.
Thank you mister prosecutor.
And thank you cops for making that clear.”

If you wanna say “fuck the queen”
I won’t let you win
It’s so obscene
Your freedom of speaking
Cos we’ve got cops and dogs
We’ve got cops and dogs

If you wanna say “fuck the king”
I’ll drop by, dingaling
Raid your home indict your ass
Now you need some lawyering
Cos we’ve got cops and dogs
We’ve got cops and dogs

See a rich pedophile raping kids in style
Shut your mouth
Don’t say nothing
Or we’ll put you away a while
Defamation laws got the backs of all these bitches
The long arm of the law doesn’t reach where their dick reaches
All the Dutch kids say yeah
#fuck_the_cops #fuckyeah
Fuck a princess fuck a prince
Fuck me here no fuck me there
Middlefingers in the air
Lying in court without a care
Wanna say what’s on your mind
This is Holland don’t you dare

Imagine: you’re an Arab rapper
Who’s read Norman Finkelstein
And thinks Jews are worse than Nazis
But then you met the Dutch themselves
And had to change your mind on this
Oh no fuck no bro no
Why put a Jew in this rhyme yo
Go find an eraser
Before the cops read this
And burst in with a taser
With everything that’s already been said about Jews
Over the past two decades by every gawddamn American rapper in the States
Does a Jew really give a rat’s ass
Whether I call them worse than Nazis
Or instead write a poem
About how I’d love to line them up to suck their dicks
Hey, as a woman I know it’s a given
That I have to suck yours and many others for a living
Or would that too get me apprehended
For public insult
Public indecency
Fucking the republic publicly
Don’t claim you wouldn’t be offended
If I bended over
Told you I rented
Space in my ass
A hefty discount just for you
So all your money wouldn’t be spended
No one fucks ass like you do
Just ask the Jewish lawyer from Tarzana, California
Who served me in that earlier poem I wrote
He will confirm it’s absolutely true
With all these snowflakes mistaking insult for assault
What should we call it when the Public Prosecution Service
At the request of 4 assholes out of millions of viewers
Criminalizes you
Indicts you
Wasting tax payer money to do so
Sees all the charges dropped in court
And says: Aaa well (AAA SHIT)
Looks like you’re free to go kiddo
I know you’ve watched The Lives of Others
The brain-washing mechanism
Is psychological terrorism
Through frivolous malicious persecution
Inducing self-censorship
When inside your head
You’ve built your own prison
I don’t shake hands with fascists
I see no difference between prosecutors and the Stasis
But we’re supposed to write happy songs
And act like living amongst fascist censors is a trip
To the land of hashpipes and hippies
All of whom already died of cancer
Now my hood is gentrified by yuppies
I don’t do drugs but
I might have to get a bong too and hit it
Next time a rapper gets indicted again for saying bullshit with precious snowflakes claiming they’re offended
Do you think we’re here
Because we acknowledge your fascist authority?
Look up poverty
Would my Greek ass be here
If I wasn’t up to my nose in debt
With Dijsselbloem breathing in my ear
Telling me I gotta pay him before I pay the rent
I know you hate my criminal immigrant ass
Wished I’d never met you either
But, believe me, I too
I would rather be a crazy ass punk back home
Then come here and annoy you with merely breathing
I know you want to be left alone
How the fuck can you expect me to say this the nice way
When I was here 25 years and all you could think of doing with me was putting me away
I am no different from you
And you are no better than me
All we wanna do is make a shitload of money
(“Doekoe, doekoe, dat is wat ik zie”)
And never again will you ever be hearing from me
Why would you try to stop a kid
From using music to make some money
Making him get lawyers
And feed his money back
Into the legal SLAPP-suit industry
I am a feminist woman
When Americans came over here rapping about raping bitches & hoes
All you Dutch fuckers were cool with that
And didn’t give a shit
Tell me
How many rappers did you indict back then
For insulting and threatening women
That’s right
Not a single one
I say doubledutchfuck your sexist shit man
Since when is a Jew or a homo more important than a woman
Think I can’t see right through your self-righteous bullshit
Can’t see you’re making up excuses to harass this kid
I could write another 1000 poems
About fucking Jews hard and fisting homos
None of which would be a true account of what I really do
I just wanna speak my mind like this kid does
So what the fuck am I supposed to do
With government fascists like you
Lurking at my blog 24/7
Fuck you and your cyberwatch crew
Do I have to quote NIN again
Saying I know you’re reading this right now
Thinking it’s about you
How I’d starfuck and incorporate my hand inside you
Is it because this kid
Gave you a piece of his mind
And you have nothing to throw back at him
That you hide your stupidity behind an indictment
Expecting me to only write poems about Jewish ass-rimming
Will you indict me again
For telling you to your faces
That drives you to hate raps like this —>

The following blog entry is a work of political satire and collage and bears no relation to existing people or events.

Blowback Blowjoback: Because Americans love children so much
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