So, the snipers who peer through my bedroom window and watch my pale arse as it thrashes in my satin sinkhole of a bed through the long nights of torment are getting angry. Poor snipers, those long-suffering sharpshooting types with their good bladder control and “one-shot-one-kill” t-shirts and guns they probably paint veins down the barrels of when no-one’s watching.
Why are they up in arms? Why are the coordinated squadrons of stealthy murderers that dot or fair city getting itchy trigger fingers? I’ll tell you why: Their lines of sight are being scuppered and skyscrapered.
The wanton development of Auckland into some vast concrete Megapolis is threatening the “cultural” and “aesthetic” lines of sight that dot the landscape and allegedly mean everyone can see the volcanoes that remind our city of its mortality. These ticking lava-filled zits waiting for god’s teenaged fingers to rupture them and squirt hot magma and pus across the metaphysical mirror of heaven. What those who installed these “Sightlines” didn’t mention was that if we can see the mountain, the mountain can see US (As in an emphasis-added capital “us” not the U.S. given the world being ROUND you stupid flat-earth creationist trouser-wearers). Oh yes, Big Brother has been perching assassins across the city atop these defensible positions for decades now and finally anarchists have infiltrated the business armed forces and council commando squads to lofty-enough positions to be able to strike a blow for personal freedom by building towering blocks of unaffordable housing to block out the laser-sights and armour-piercing rounds of the black-clad death-freaks. And the killers are sad. And, I’m told, a bit lame live, which is also sad.
For too long the so-called “Heritage” types have been hiding their desire to control the country and their twisted ability to decimate the population with a word, pretending to be about keeping Aotearoa green while the true bastions of liberty have been pinstriping and boot-strapping up through the corridors of power to use multinational billboards and faceless corporate edifices to break up the natural beauty of the city that is cruelly used to target us all with hollowpoint death from above. I say support the conglomerates who wish us safe in our beds while the Clean Green Killing Machines smoke their hemp trousers and dream of a world where my skull is ventilated with lead. Save yourselves, save your children, ask for a big distracting Golden Arch effigy in YOUR garden today!