"It’s the end of the world, DonJon knows it." DonJon.
Chelsea Hotel (MP) - Stammering and slurring on the main stage of MoCarnival 2012, DonJon made his run for the office of President of the United States of America official. The speech, titled DonJon’s Fifteen Minutes of Fame, was read from a make shift teleprompter held by his Campaign Mismanager Alpha Bravo, famed Dalmatian Ninja.
Critics have panned the speech as a “mendacious malady of incoherent bile delivered by a rambling and delusional drunkard seeking withheld maternal adoration from a bored and confused audience.”
Full text of the announcement speech below the fold.
DonJon’s Fifteen Minutes of Fame
2012 Presidential Campaign Announcement
First Given at MoCarnival August 19, 2012, Austin, TX
I'm DonJonVonavich HRH King of Mo. You may call me DonJon, as my friends, fans, and foes all do.
I want to thank the organizers of MoCarnival for allowing me to speak today. I was told I had all of 15 minutes. Ironic I thought, because a while back at the Chelsea Hotel, where I've maintained a residence for my entire life, a new old friend was filming an experimental movie; an Art film of minor importance titled Chelsea Girls. At my suggestion of course. On the first day of filming, despite having a crew, and cast, he focused the camera solely on himself, his face only, in portrait. He just sat there and stared into the camera, expressionless, blinking on occasion. This went on for eight hours with no cuts, breaks, or second takes. I was there to give him creative feedback. It was near midnight, dinner hour at the Chelsea, and the crew and cast were getting irritable. If it hadn't been for a large quantity of a certain stimulant, they'd have been long gone. Finally, when I sensed they couldn't take it any longer, I commandeered the directors chair, stood on it, and shouted, "Cut." He looked at me in anger, and I responded, "For fuck sake, Andy, you only get 15 minutes of fame."
Well, as you may know, he rather liked that and used it later in his career.
Now for my 15 minutes.
Again, I'm DonJon, a mildly notable misfit of fortuitous means, laudable habits, and haunting passion. On Darwin’s Specielological Chart of Human Division; not Charles but DonJonDarwin, my cousin by artificial insemination. On cousin Darwin's chart of Human division I'm of the sub-species called HomoSapian Creatus, there are only two sub-species on the Chart of Human Division, the other being HomoSapian Consumerus. In common nomenclature, Creator and Consumer. Now keep in mind we all carry attributes of both, after all, we are of the Human species. But in cousin Darwin's Theory of Human Division, each of us has an overriding nature for creation or consumption that becomes the driving force of our Being Human.
Sub-Species to unrelenting desire.
Below sub-species on the Chart of Human Division is tribe. I fall in the tribe Bohemian right between Bi-curious and Bunko Artist. From the ancient to the modern, all societies have had their Bohemian tribes. One does not train to be a Bohemian, nor earn a University degree in Bohemianism, nor attend a Bohemian trade school, nor apprentice with a Master Bohemian. The Bohemian is self discovered, self-explored, and self-declared. I've come to believe that Bohemianism is a genetic disorder passed down by generations of obsessed seekers of truth, beauty, and love, elements of Human Being that glare more brightly in the eyes of the Bohemian, forcing them to take shade and seek their source.
I see the squint of the Bohemian in many of your eyes here tonight.
The roll of the Bohemian has always been to question. Why? Why not? What the fuck? Because of this Bohemians have always been on the cutting edge of extinction. They caused cousin Darwin utter frustration, as to why, being so unfit for organized society, they had survived. But, fortunately, survive we have.
The tribe Bohemian is divided into a vast sub-classification called order. There are hundreds of Bohemian orders on cousin Darwin’s Chart of Human Division. The 20th Century had its dadaist, beats, hippies, and punks, to name a few. Bohemian orders are known for creating cultural movement. Movements which Homo Sapian Consumerus consider passed from the bowels of humanity by a bunch of shit flinging wackos.
They’re not all wrong.
But, I'm not categorized in one of the historical orders of past centuries. I'm a Bohemian of a new order. The first Bohemian order to emerge in the 21st Century.
I'm a MO!
If you're taking notes that's spelled M O.
MOs are a little known pre-pubescent order of Bohemian that adhere to a simple MoManifesto that declares the recognition of another’s Humanity their Art, their highest purpose. Simple as it may sound, it's truly revolutionary... A MoRevolution, if you will.
I call myself The KING of MO, not because I rule anyone or anything... I just RULE.
You see, in the Kingdom of Motropolis all subjects are both King and Serf; Monarchs in recongnition of the uniquely Human ability to create, and servants to the understanding that creation advance being Human.
But in all humility, I admit, I have my peccadilloes, my endearing little quirks, my faults, my obsessions, my self-indulgent delusions of grandeur, actually... But, I blame my Junkie Uncle Bill, the great beat writer William S. Burroughs. Upon his passing in 1997 he left me his DreamMachine, a delightful little indulgence that induces lucid dreaming, a state known as waking dreams. It's the ultimate high. I'm a bit hooked, consumed, addicted... a full-fledged dream junkie, actually... But, I kicked yage enimas, payote body wraps, and self-induced electro-shock therapy. All in search of the ultimate rip-roaring, mind-bending, psyche-dream trip fantastic.
Dreams, the Junk of Champions.
For over a decade now, under the loving guidance of my DreamMachine, I've been a traveller in the Multiverse. Believe it or not, our existence extends far furthur than the three-dimensional universe we all know. There are in fact eleven dimensions that comprise this greater world that quantum physicists call the Multiverse. Fortunately, my brain has been rewired to visuals eleven dimensions. I taught Stephen Hawking how to think in eleven dimensions; from a purely mathematical view.
Junkie Trumps Genius.
But, this is not why I'm here today. You can learn more about my adventurously addictive behaviours, my multi-dimensional dalliances, and my quixotically quantum brilliance in my recently released episodic novel, The KING of MO: An Autobiography of a Dream.
Rather, I'm here to talk to you about something far simpler... The End of the World.
I'm sure all of you have heard that 2012 is the end of the world. I am here to clear that up. 2012, in fact, is the end of the world.
Now you ask, "DonJon, how the fuck do you know?"
I just told you, I travel in the Multiverse.
Not so long ago I was in 500 BC Meso-America raging with some Mayan Bohemian friends of mine. Yes, the Mayans had Bohemians, from the order called The Rolling Heads. They were on an early extinction path. While smoking a bowl of morning glory, we were discussing their calendar and the significance of its ending in 2012. I suggested simply that it was a mathematical error and possibly my friend Stephen could help. They said, 'you need another hit,' and, "it's the end of the world." And I said, "as we know it?" And they said, "you need another hit,' and, "no, it's the end of the world." Well, I took another hit, their heads soon rolled, and I got the hell out of there...
So with that world-ending confirmation I've made my decision. I stand here before you to announce that I will run in 2012 as the only End-of-the-World Candidate for President of the United States of America...
End it All with DonJon 2012!
I know America can do better, and I also know America can do worse...
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know the Republicans offer you government small enough to drown in a bathtub, and I also know the Democrats offer you government large enough to be designated a planet...
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know Obama offers you the grinning mask of hope, and I also know Romney offers you the slick pompadour of nope.
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know the Tea Party offers you tea bag laced tricorne hats, semi automatics strapped to the hip, patriots with grade school grammar, and All American bigotry...
But, After all, does it really matter?
And I also know Occupy Wall Street offers you off-beat drum circles, honkies in dreadlocks, bong hits of hydroponic kronic, and anarchists with fast food addictions.
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know a dysfunctional Congress offers you the partisan jock itch, and I also know a disingenuous President offers you the smelly armpit.
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know the Capitalist Plutocrats offer you an unending consumer paradise of pink slimed fast food, cartoon emblazoned disposable junk, high concept entertainment from New Jersey, and an ocean of artificially flavored high fructose corn syrup.
But, After all, does it really matter?
I also know that the Collective Communist offer you a library of Marxist coloring books, socialist re-sexualazation camps, reams of bureaucratic recycled red tape, and forced comradeship with your next door neighbor.
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know Rush Limbaugh offers you ditto head butt plugs... And I also know Jon Stewart offers you green tea colonics...
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know that the Hollywood Establishment Liberals offer you unending gratuitous sex, pointless violence, and the Kardasians; and I also know the Christian Cultural Conservatives offer you unending sexless marriages, un-intellegent designs, and Rick Santourm fudgesicles...
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know the failing American Dream offers only corporate servitude, material obsession, and Human disassociation; and, I also know our economic nightmare proffers monetary enslavement, drug dependency, and Human disregard...
But, After all, does it really matter?
I know Humans could do worse; But, I also know Humans must do better.
I know that a new world, based on the Human Dream, offers all the pursuit of their highest potential, sustainable abundance, and peaceful Human engagement; And I also know this Human Dream, rooted in our nation’s founding creed, offers the true protection of our right to life, full access to the fountain of knowledge that nourishes liberty, and the honest pursuit of Human happiness...
But, After all, does it really matter?
Thank you.
End it all with DonJon. 2012!
After All, Does it really?
Hit it boys!
(DonJon 2012 Theme Song, sang to REM’s It’s the End of the World)
It’s the End-of-the-World, DonJon knows it.
It’s the End-of-the-World, DonJon knows it.
It’s the End-of-the-World, DonJon knows it and and I’ll vote mine.
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