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Economic Porn Stories

by Hightech Hammurabi

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1.
Or Was She 03:36
The prophets of digitalization can’t stop talking now Expertise oozes out of their mouth in a never-ending smelly spurt I’m waiting for the plumber to plug these holes But he won’t come anymore, he now votes for the right-wing candidate Someone says: globalization has come to an end All the products are the same everywhere, everywhere What can you bring from New York City except peanut butter M&M’s? Meanwhile in Botswana: someone chops the horn off a half-dead rhino I go to the doctor, the receptionist is a bulldog not willing to let me in I need my medication, I am a suspect And then I read economic porn stories and think about real love Did the journalist get wet writing it or was she just disgusted? Or was she just disgusted?
2.
Torture Eve 03:26
The cleaning lady she uses a cotton stick To add the strychnine on every single wine glass When will he pour himself a Cabernet or an El Pisón And watch the same old movie once again? She will light a few candles and shave her hairy legs Drink Prosecco from a Bordeaux glass at the quivering light of the candles and some cloying nineteen-eighties’ hits That’s what will happen on torture eve The garbage men handcuff the superstar And show him all these pictures, one by one He looks away in disgust, horror and dread But he remembers just the romance that he had They’ll blindfold the man and bring the water buckets quickly They’ll talk to him quite softly and throw the water at his flawless teeth And the neighbors will hear that ribbing once again That’s what will happen on torture eve And when you ask me, what torture eve means to me Well, let me reflect this question for a while I got a job that don’t suck too much and a wife that loves me still Friends that leave me alone, and the Vertrauensgrundsatz Statutory health insurance, public service television at a moderate fee, but every night I turn problems over in my mind and ask myself, what you might think of me, I don’t sleep a wink Every eve is my torture eve
3.
Remember when were lying in that cell half-naked, hacking cough, when I asked you: what are you thinking of? And you answered: I’m thinking of paranoia in times of post-psychological Neurophysiology, I was giggling. Back in the old days, when we started to bury our relatives, pigheaded fellows running around, dumb, not hearing the girls’ pieces of good advice. Some 75,000 years ago we started to primp ourselves, environment mattered, and we did too. Does the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas? Compose yourself, motherfucker, we pursue our two-degrees target. It’s the heat economy, stupid. In the district heating grid rats are nibbling at the waste of mice and men. Tangible business interests make the world go round, but what about you? Paranoia uber alles! The productivity of this sector continues to languish at lower levels. Click here if you want to achieve a carbon-neutral footprint, because quality of life is not always that high in the city. Methane-powered buses driven by chief executive officers reduced to a skeleton. Bureaucratization, without you it would be boring. This is a mammoth project. Organize it into hierarchies. See the inevitable endpoint. That’s never a neutral decision. The earnings of our love before interest and taxes, the gearing of our feelings, obey the international reporting standards of men and women, the economic growth of sexuality, enjoy the future risks. Kiss your debts in the annual climax report. Open your revenue with your key figures. Feel the assets. Set depreciation and amortization as a strategy for results and effects. Build machinery that redundantize greed. Success is mess is progress is jazz. Get an idea of long-term needs, expansion of emotions, don’t forget about CO2 reduction. Scientific findings, take them into concern, creating sustained value, hate, hate, hate.
4.
An ethical hacker meditates on New Jersey and on Gödel’s incompleteness theorem A lack of pulsation keeps the doctor on the run, it’s quitting time, screams a white nurse Cobwebby tombstones are a nice proper setting for the shooting of that sad gothic band A father kisses the tin soldier molds, saying, son, bring the troops home Sue lost her job and now is sad, all her followers can’t cheer her up No panic, sister 'cause we are informed, the government spokesman stops in The efforts the state made, reprocessing plants, paranoia on a meaningless day Police man takes a shower in an grey outer suburb, thinking, Johnny, bring the troops home A drunk politician asks his hard-working wife, are you already on your way home? She answers, no, I’m stuck in the middle of a night so demanding and clear  Sleep well my dear and don’t have fear on the election day The president vomits, his daughter stands by, she says to him, bring the troops home The leader of the standings says, accept my apologies, I don’t know what came over me Headphones, cell phone, I’m naked in the underground depot Keen endless fizzling and humming, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, tortured ear A pacifist kisses his best friend, a racist, saying, sweetheart, bring the troops home Eucalyptus on the terrace, bloody feet and muddy banks, summer lovers leave litter in the park Guillotine braces killed a king at the races, he laid bets on the old number five The Christmas mails come and the daughter’s words are missing, the family’s not sure about the rank When the national landmarks are all covered with dust, then it’s time to bring the troops home   It’s your turn, says the game master, pick up a card, what does it say? Bring the troops home A teen gambling addict drew the curtains close as his ma proposed, bring the troops home Emergency removal from a two-room apartment and a poster says, bring the troops home A photoshopped model bleeds on a black ISIL flag pleading, captain, bring the troops home The Supreme Court rolled the dice on a mobile device and the verdict was, bring the troops home The agitating morons will not retaliate, instead they try to bring their troops home A gun freak didn't show any weakness when he said, there’s nothing better than to bring the troops home A grey old baboon finds a rusty green spoon and its telling him, bring the troops home

about

Words and Music by Hightech Hammurabi.
Mastered by Philipp Welsing @ Original Mastering.
Artwork by Tim Faulwetter.
Learn more about Paul Strand's iconic photograph: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wall_Street_(photograph)

Rock'n'Roll Fantasy Records
RNRFR013d
(c) 2018

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released October 12, 2018

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Hightech Hammurabi Hamburg, Germany

Now touring with PALILA: www.facebook.com/palilamusic

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