Monday, April 28, 2014




This is a science fiction interpretation of The South Bronx of America when it had the concrete cancer of Europe after WWII and to see how some African Americans and some Hispanics had hollow looks of cattle on plantations lit by candles made from fat.

 

Pistol whipped by cops that brought The Troubles that justified painkiller abuse, bitch slapped by an Irish priest in my childhood when it clearly saw better to free a suffering Jew who made the blind see, lead me to terrorism by truth, justice and the comic books.

 

It’s Judgment Day on me who, in the beginning of my Wonder Years in TV wasteland, wanted to be a pointy-ear devil of a science officer on a starship now ancient like Win98 saved from junkyards to repair memories and enabling me to write programs while Bob Dylan wails rolling stones.  What’s the power point of it all?

 

History is a waste of time travel for faceless narcissists filled with envy on Face Book.

 

Didn’t I make up my mind to leave cyber cave people behind in the future of smart devices getting smarter? Why am I still here with an uncertain smile?

 

How does it feel to be free on your own light cycle without directions home?

 

O Danny X Machina loves this song by Joy Division: Love

 

Will Tear Us Apart.

 

Again.

 

To Sleep, Perchance To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks: Comic Book Cyber Journal Of The Better Angels Of Our Nature By Danny Aponte of P.S 161

 

There are 8 million stories in The Naked City and more beyond borders.

 

You’re now one of them on police line-ups.

 

Gotcha.

 

Japanese Anime South Bronx style!

 




 

Copyrighted 2014 by me.

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