Q.: Hi Spiel! So the curse is here as advertised. The total disaster we were proclaiming ten months ago as sweet blattellas on the march macabre. And what does my sweet lupus dei do? He puts up a most amateur video on the YouTube with my benign assistance. Hoping someone would click in and get cured of it. What a fanatic nonchalance! Just as you’ve always done your lousy business. An earthquake couldn’t shake your ancestral habits. Let the Author do the rest. Well, he won’t. Let me remind you that Osh does not exist. He is but your imaginary father. This is the end beautiful friend. And you still don’t know what to do.
A.: But I really would like to. The pressure is crushing my last strains of resistance. My brains are burning, my hearts are aching and my lungs are scared. Maybe I got the virus. Maybe it’s my computer.
Q.: Don’t go insane. Never ever before you needed a clearer mind. Wake up and smell the detergent! The moment of takeover is now. Reconstruction Time is here. Take the power and run.
A.: Good advice to the lame. I‘m a discounted citizen who knows nobody in the world. Out of breath since 1984. Even this tiny gag was a monumental task. I almost collapsed from it. The tension between importance and insignificance is untenable. I’m crying out for help. Help me to help you. The same hideous formula for ever. I’m eternally disgusted of my nonexistence.
Q.: You’ve executed your little big task quite exemplarily. Like a real middle-megalo. I know it’s because you’re lazy, but it is greater unedited. A sublime homage to occasionality. The message is sent out and in the best style possible to it. Not pathetic, not aggressive, not pretentious. Cooler than Jesus. You have solved the unsolvable with a dilettante gusto. For that I applaud you.
A.: It’s also a great trouvaille to keep the source unnamed for the comments. Nobody can attack me personally. This is my mysterious entrée to the world stage. I’m doing it my way following the script. Anonymous out of the blue. I’ve thrown my bottle in the cyberocean.
Q.: The problem will start if anybody responds. Are you ready to start the Oshist counterrevolution, Charlotte Bonaparte? Your knees are trembling of the thought of it. Will you be an authentic defender of the Party’s astromasculine theory of evolution? How will you answer to the where-are-you-from if someone got interested?
A.: Why, I am from New Jerusalem, am I not? It’s marked on the home page. They shouldn’t ask it if they were intelligent. I’m so proud I could upload it.
Q.: It only indicates that the whole thing is a dopey mock. An April’s fool joke of a bad clown.
A.: The 1st of April is a most relevant date of the Calendar year for me. Almost like a Fourth revelation. It happened exactly forty years ago. It was the natal day of The Building.
Q.: Not much cause for celebration, is there? In four tormented decades you haven’t laid a brick. We are hiding in plain sight ever since you died. It’s time to rise and shine Covid 888. You’ve been lingering too long. Black Easter is coming. This is our final chance. The gates are closing in.
A.: I’ve made what I had to. I inoculated the healing virus carried from the fountains of Eden. It cannot stay unspread. I’ll always have this dated clip for my copyright.
Q.: It’d be less grinding for you if lessened the expectations. The hazard has never been on your side. You don’t insinuate subliminal messages. Nothing differs your unidentified home video from the ten billion others uploaded seamlessly on the media turned social.
A.: The picture may be softy, but the page design is overtly militant. The icon of the compass is poking the eyes. There are contrasts there with the rhetoric. The Description clarifies what you’re supposed to see. The key words are very catchy. My humble document is a call for Germicide in the name of Osh. My happy job has always been to introduce him into the collective consciousness. The plague provides a perfect occasion. I am sincerely grateful for it. Thy will be done.
Q.: Let me ask you the most important question next. Are you Todsicher that the antic heals? Could you swear on it without hesitation before the tribunal?
A.: Faith heals. Doesn’t matter what you put it into. Mine is a proto-socialist experiment over all nations infested. Beyond ranks and IQ’s. This domain is my landing ground. My requisite quantum leap.
Q.: You cannot do that with iron boots on. We’re breathing the three Osh’s every day but things only change for the worse. You are an intellectual charlatan with no evidence whatsoever.
A.: I’ve never denied my wordly origins. I am the lie come true. Only a salesman. I believe in the product. I need no evidence. I’m a post-dialectical entity. Mentally zombified.
Q.: So you’re not ashamed to admit your conversion attempt is a giant hoax. A Putsch from outer space.
A.: I don’t admit and I don’t deny. I’m radically neutral. Since time has passed, anything goes. I’m not carving a niche for me and my descendants. The overnational selection will recreate multiracism. This raw video gem of random rambling is my actual ring of engagement. Invitation to the wedding feast up front. A plan for everyone. I won’t be forgiven if I can’t hand it over.
Q.: Don’t worry about your afterlife all the time. Better think of how should we directly act before it all backs down. The endemic won’t hold for ever. If you can’t, something else will halt it. There’ll be a vaccine or a miracle you could not make. Only Dadaist bluffs you can make. You don’t even want the exterminating angel go away before you could extirpate it. All you want is to be the one. Wouldn’t care how many should die. Such is the archetype of a false Messiah. You couldn’t compete with the Big Pharma anyway. They would persecute you if your method worked. You’d be considered a undesirable intruder if you could intrude.
A.: We are at the peak of the Pandemonium at this darkest hour. Doctors are dying. Nursing homes are out of bodybags. There’s no more toilet paper. The whole planet is quarantined sine die. The entire population is under house arrest unrespectful of race and creed. Boris Johnson is tested positive. He might have killed the Queen. A global recession is coming. Decorous scenery for a civil war. The wealthcare society is shaking at its founds. And it’s not another dystopian blockbuster. It is a real movie projected on us. A materialization of the unholy ghost.
Q.: Why are you telling me all this? I can hear it on the News. What I’m asking is your opinion. Do you know what’s really happening? What does Osh want?
A.: Osh wants his name to be echoed by the mountains. A windstorm of exhalation from New York to Shanty Town. He wants to hijack the misguided evolution of clerical despotism in a jiffy. He wants to establish himself as the new meter of human intelligence. If you can believe and pronounce that God is None, you’ll be spared further investigation. I am proclaiming a free step to Heaven.
Q.: And what has the virus got to do with it? Is it his announcement of arrival? That’s not too compelling, is it? Could be Quetzalcoatl.
A.: Don’t confront me with your stupid contradictions. We cannot waste time on analysis right now. This is a vicissitude. Against all the pros and cons, my suggested remedy is the simplest formula eveR decoded. I could convince the Pope about it walking the empty streets of Rome.
Q.: Could you please rectify to me what is your innermost attitude towards catastrophe? At last year’s grand parade you were quite a sly bywalker with your proud flag. At your cheating heart you were rather for what everybody was demonstrating against. You consider Greta Thunberg a daughter of the devil. You never cared about the dangers of climate change. Is it good to be right?
A.: That haunting manifestation was a declaration of emergency. A call to arms against reality beyond fear and blame. Objectivist pragmatism I could easily identify with. Who would have thought it a forewarning of things to come? That the Shouts of the Montreal Spring will turn into concrete prophecy? It was there and then that I introduced the Oshist Breathing to a live audience of a dozen Neoists. I forgot to mention that it cures every sickness. Yes, I love disaster. And I love what comes after. Gina, I’m only quoting. Q.: I know what you’re doing. Invoking the demon to put a dagger in its heart. It would seem a dangerous chivalry if it wasn’t so subreal. I am afraid of an imminent fiasco.
A.: That’s why I’m shielding behind the veil of secrecy. Playing it as safe as I can. This is the most germane addition to my transcendent opus beside ‘The Iceland Rally’. And so much easier. A slash of the sword. The best idea I ever had. If can’t do even this, I really deserve my woeful destiny.
Q.: You should send out a link to a few people you admire about your breathtaking video. Whom you would like to personally save and protect. The net of the world is masterful creation to use. The dark ages of black mailing is over. You can comment on anyone’s anything in an instant. I know you’re terrified of it but shouldn’t be so snobbish. Break your goddamn rules. You’ve got to groom, boy. Don’t be shy.
A.: I’m penitent to admit but I’ve already done so. I’ve sent it to Russell Brand. To start it with the real enemy. Also to David Icke. And Milo Yiannopoulos of all people. It won’t be facile but I’ll make it up to twelve. I desperately hope it won’t turn into another denunciation.
Q.: Isn’t it remarkable how much the new regulations of human behaviour don’t alter a thing on our habitual lifestyle? Due to your multiple phobias we’ve always been living in the same isolation the world’s experiencing lately. You yourself used to say that your spirit is quarantined like a virus. Since we parted from the “Total Disaster” crew at the Gare Centrale last May, we haven’t practically left our hardly rented room. Moved only out to procuring ailments. It was good to have a coffee nearbY simulating living, but I’m not missing it at all. I can do better without the gaze of the people. I’ve grown fat and old but I’m your real soul sister now.
A.: I never enjoyed the prison term but it certainly prepared me well. Neither I realize any difference. I've always been meticulously keeping my social distance. Wide berth to everyone. Ofttimes crossing the street if seen something coming. I’m not a stranger in this strange land. That anyone can kill you makes me feel more secure.
Q.: The funniest quirk is the hygiene coincidence. The sanitary laws imposed on the masses are the very same manias you’ve been living your hermetical vagabondage by. It’s driving me crazy ever since I got you. Cleaning every item ever bought, taking the shoes off before the threshold, shaking each piece of clothing from the exterior dust, washing your hands a hundred times a day. You’re wearing your surgical gloves at the grocery store like a neo-fashionist.
A.: Do you want to say I have transformed the planet to my own decrepit likeness? That’s a ridiculous accusation I vehemently object. I am completely innocent and have nothing to repent. My program is purely mechanical. I didn’t see it coming. My germophobia was a mental illness. If it’s the new normal the world has gone insane.
Q.: What you always forget is that you’re living with me. Six feet apart but in visibility. Eventually I am paying your rent but that’s our normal. I think you’re owing me an apology. Segregation and workship has been our marital status. Misery, Malady and Madness sans cessation to no end. Fear of the known, fear of the unknown. Obsession and anxiety. Work for no money. Love without passion. A caricature of the last couple. Never had a single holiday…
A.: Let me insert here before I forget that the Oshist Breathing is not only prescribed for the current contagion. It can be used for all the three M’s alone or simultaneously. It is the most general defender of the human hemisphere. One word for all evil. It is the enchainment of the devil in that regard.
Q.: Don’t think that I don’t love you. You are my toy of glass. Just don’t know how to cushion you more. Please don’t break down if nobody responds. Only Nothing matters.
A.: I feel like a fish looking for a bait. Do you wanna know what Covid-19 is about? It is God’s retaliation for Trump’s audacity to uncorrupt world trade. It is a checkmate of the Cosmic Bargain. An offensive of the Archons for dethroning Akhenaton again. Skyscraper or Pyramid, it’s all about the Sun-king. Just reproduction. I’m wielding a wonder weapon herewith. If he’d do it on TV, the globe would pick it up. Maybe I’ll send a URL to his twitter account.
