http://ex-skf.blogspot.com/2011/07/beef-from-fukushima-to-be-tested.html
Good to the last bite.
がんばって日本！
If you live in Japan, sooner or later, you’ll hear about fake wedding priests. English language teachers who need spare change, do weekend weddings for Japanese couples.
The usurious Matrix conditions you into thinking your comfortable position as a tenured university teacher is socially respectable and wonderful.
The problem is you are just as fake as any foul-breathed weekend plastic wedding priest.
Most if not all teachers are also–fake that is, part of a con job to part you from millions of yen lying around your bank account.
One reason why so many of us in the world deny the horrible DNA-demolishing reality of Fukushima is because we went to school, that brainwashing clinic, that place that makes you love the UN, “democracy”, Mickey Mouse, consumerism, fluoride-flavored toothpaste, and IAEA/WHO-approved MOX-fueled nuclear power.
We the sheeple are so fucking stupid that we have allowed criminal psychopaths to take over–everything, including those thoughts you think are yours. Yokohama school kids love radioactive Fukushima beef because we have given the criminal nut jobs the power to determine what we eat.
If we had even an ounce of intelligence, we would never allow nuclear power plants to be built. We would be awake, alert, like the people of Sardinia who keep telling the likes of Atomic Anne, to take a one way hike to hell.
All politicians (excluding Cynthia McKinney), anywhere on this planet, are fake. The mass media lies because that is its job. The UN is glossy but underneath you find a diabolical and stinking core. Your job and life are meaningless because predominant materialism is nothing but the insect pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain in a mad game whose ultimate reward is death.
If you still haven’t understood that Barry Obomba is an ionizing totalitarian hemp-hating fraud, from bottom to top, everything about him, you probably went to school, graduated and feel proud about your Huffington Post-sponsored accomplishments.
Go ahead and orgasm about sitting on top of the world. You’re going to Hawaii again this all expenses paid summer vacation, unlike that rat race-losing sucker schmuck working at 7 Eleven for ￥800/hour, the guy who still lives with mommy and still sucks on her teats. He’s not going to Hawaii; he hasn’t even been to Tokyo.
But something’s changed since March 11th. You’re starting to feel the cold vacuum of your pathetic radioactive existence. Sooner or later, you’re gonna meet Munch’s screaming model who is none other than your heavily mortgaged empty self.
As Chris Busby keeps saying, we’re in science fiction territory now, kiddies.
Kyoto Observer 