For some reason, this was hidden as 'troll' on my screen when it's anything but. Welcome back, Mozambiguous, but maybe you've been here for ages but 'they' are shunting your radical analysis to the sidings? You raise a number of.....
'MOZAMBIGUOUS' responds to the message sent to him by 'BRUMMIEBOY'
Thanks for the welcome. Good to be back. I wouldn't be surprised if they've been pushing my posts out of sight as they've been attempting to jeopardise my position here since day one.
Mozambiguous is radical and irreverent. Always has been. People can't handle it, hence the swift flurry of thumbs-down and movement to label me as a 'troll'. The haters always try to slap on a label so they can freely disregard pertinent criticisms of Morrissey's bizarre behaviour and not have their bubble burst around them upon reading it.
Like the time Mozambiguous was accused of being 'BrummieBoy', for instance - which would have been impossible because there is no 'BrummieBoy' in the traditional sense that we understand sentient life to exist. Unable to cope with so many articulate posters (BtBB, JB, yourself, and others) debunking Morrissey's every move with skill and clarity of mind, they had to try to amalgamate all of us dissidents into one bedsit dwelling 'being' to contain the threat and reassure themselves that the number of people seeing through Morrissey's nonsense wasn't as large as they feared.
But... if there is no 'BrummieBoy' what does that make 'Mozambiguous'? That's a difficult conundrum to figure out, and I thought I was dead, anyway! But I'm not, seemingly, which is good as it gives me more time to pulverize and eviscerate the Cult of Morrissey. But to give the lurkers something on which to masticate: as BrummieBoy is a spatial entity communicating through Zozo, as we know, Mozambiguous *could* just be the detritus of BrummieBoy's singular vision. The leftover ideas floating through the ether, picked up by some kind of highly intelligent undiscovered extraterrestrial amoeba living on an asteroid travelling light years from Earth which collided with and absorbed the 'mad genius' detritus of 'BrummieBoy' and is transmitting the thoughts through satellite signals into an unaware Earth being's internet connection. Or I could be an unemployed loafer with too much time on his hands in Mom's Basement - but that's less likely. If I had to pick one of the two to describe what 'Mozambiguous' most probably is, the former is the likelier option. But what would I know, I'm just an amoeba. A half dead/half alive thing like Schrodinger's cat.
As you and I both know, the only true troll here is Morrissey. And it's impossible to troll a troll. I'm punching up, so it's an act of defiance, and a comment on Morrissey's use of his - despite all the disastrous missteps - still relatively sizable platform to spread his bitterness and jealousy and conspiratorial sense of victimhood that he missed out on global capital f Fame, that nagging burden which he relieves by lashing out at undeserving targets like Utoya camp-goers, pregnant princesses, and African orphans.
Trolling means privilege + power - that's the definition, and it leaves Morrissey as the only possible troll. The privilege has been undeservedly his for 30+ years, and as for the power, well he thinks that's his too but we might find out later in this post where the true balance of power lies.
I'm eagerly counting down the hours to Morrissey's return to the MEN. (Not his return to men, which has been a constant throughout his life; no need for a 'return' there. I doubt he takes years-long absences from the men like he does from the MEN. He can't even fill the MEN to capacity but many men can fill his... ahem... to capacity. 180! Many tickets still available in nine out of the 44 sections of the arena at the time of this writing.)
This concert has generated almost zero enthusiasm among the general public as far as I can tell. In comparison, Paul Simon is coming to Dublin in November and the buzz about his appearance is beginning already. Morrissey, meanwhile, is returning to his hometown for a concert TONIGHT - after the GIANT news story which was his retirement from performing in Britain, which resulted in a special suicide hotline having to be set up to temper the outpouring of grief his announcement caused - and nobody cares! Only nobodies care - like the Cult. The rest of us would rather spend the night ogling gonzo bitches or watching Match of the Day than spend it in the company of a never-was with a trollish visage.
Those with tickets to this farcical display must be chomping at the bit right now. "Will he play 'Have a Go Merchant' or won't he?" "Will the casuals and loyal punters receive five songs from his Magnum Opus, his tour-de-force WPINOYB (LOL!), or six?" "Will he splash out for side screens this time so us poor f***ers in the back can see his haunted features and wilted quiff?" I'm sure they've been up all night wondering.
I'm following it all closely. I have all the upcoming tour dates marked off on the calendar on my wall, with a drawing of Morrissey with a stake through his heart beside each one. As the tour progresses the stake gets pushed in deeper and deeper. I can't wait to see him turn to dust on the last day. It's a lovely sight to wake up to each morning and never ceases to fill me with joy as I ruminate about the incredible - but in hindsight inevitable - downward trajectory that his career is taking. In past, more optimistic moments, I may naively have stated that this tour will be make or break for him, but no longer. He's been given chance after chance which he has been unable - due to his congenital failings as a man - to capitalise on (but only cynically attempt to financially profit from). So there is no more 'make', it's officially broken and can't be fixed.
There wasn't a final straw for me, there was a cluster of straws which he clasped and systematically snapped in succession. (But even in metaphor form he wouldn't have snapped the straws himself; he would have got an assistant to do it since he doesn't have the musculature.) Trying to find something positive to say about modern day Morrissey is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Looks, (veneer of) charm and wit, anything of importance to state, revered legacy - all gone. The voice remains, I suppose, but so does Tony Bennett's, and Charles Aznavour's. And with both of those legendary chanteurs (both of whom look much better at 90 than Morrissey does at 57) you wouldn't get even one tenth of the hissy-fit drama that you get from Morrissey, and yet both would be far more entitled to act that way than him. But they don't, they just sing.
No wonder Charles didn't want to go into the recording studio with him, someone must have got into his ear and let him know. They would be feuding by now if Charles had accepted the invitation - with Morrissey trying to lift himself up at Charles' expense like he did to Bowie.
As for where the true power in Morrissey's life lies - who's pulling the strings? I'll tell you. The power lies, in large part, with morrissey-solo.com. Not that he knows it. "You are our possession, you just don't realise yet." Am I moving too fast for you, Morrissey? LOL! We can look to the recent interview with the Israeli website Walla for proof, where Morrissey was hilariously, for the first time to my knowledge, asked about #Cheesegate. That was entirely BrummieBoy's doing. Without BB's investigative journalism and tenacity - which put the NY Times to shame with its thoroughness - none of it would have come to light. Now it's seeping into the mainstream consciousness where Morrissey is concerned. Expect him to stop granting these email interviews - or putting even firmer restrictions on them than before - as he fears being exposed as a 30+ year dairy consumer to a media which never had the requisite knowledge about animal rights to call his bluff themselves.
Imagine if the Walla interviewer had asked Morrissey about the fax he supposedly sent to Spencer during the late '90s... now that would have been interesting. It might have made him so angry that he'd get his assistant to smash his keyboard against the wall in disgust.
Another example of morrissey-solo.com dictating which direction Morrissey takes his career is the addition of the original version of 'It's Hard to Walk Tall' to the setlist after being shared on here months ago by UncleSkinny. It still sounds like a combination of 'Ordinary World' by Duran Duran and 'What's Up' by 4 Non Blondes, but it just further demonstrates the inextricable link he has with this website. Its spectre follows him wherever he goes, whether he's aware of it or not, in his soulless life away from the stage, travelling back and forth endlessly, desperately, like the Israelites trudging through the desert for 40 years. Looking for consolation and finding none, only emptiness. Empty like the desert, and like the dozens upon dozens of rows at his concerts. LOLOL!
f*** you, Morrissey. f*** you. We own you. Do you realise yet? We own you. And we can crush you. So don't step out of line again with vicious attacks on the innocent and vulnerable in society or we truly will crush you, once and for all. Then you can just wander the globe aimlessly for the next 30 years like the tortured shell of a man you are, until Time and Karma finally catch up with you to put you out of your misery.
Enjoy the gig tonight everybody! Let's see how highly it ranks on the disaster/WTF!/time-to-crush-this-fcuker scale. Just because he's a CrankFraud doesn't mean you can't enjoy The Voice. At least he's good for
something.
MOZAMBIGUOUS
