The American Pickelhaube
economic meltdown, Operation Iraqi Liberation, state-sponsored terrorism, war crimes, the Project for a New American Century, false-flag staged-terror provocations, AUMF, mission accomplished, the Patriot Act, the Military Commissions Act, renditions, torture, monstrous human rights violations, suspension of habeas corpus, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, prison ships, black sites, yellowcake, green beams, cluster bombs, the phony war on terror, the scam of peak oil, the Enron loophole, stop-loss, soldier suicides, 5-13 discharges, Vaccine A, depleted uranium, white phosphorus, Active Denial Microwave crowd control, LRAD sonic weapons, mercenaries, spy drones, missile drones, signing statements, US Attorney firings, DOD sockpuppet message force multipliers, perception management, Jeff Gannon, NSA quantum snooping, CIA drug running, Total Information Awareness, telecom immunity, DHS Watch List, black helicopters, Halliburton detention kamps, chemtrails, weather manipulation, Fort Detrick bioweapons, the North American Union, Africom ...
Not quite for the man who has everything, but for those who have had quite enough...
If you're going to wage war on war, it's best if you come well equipped.
The Biggest Little Oil Well in the World is at First and Capitol Streets in Washington, D.C. Our AMERICAN PICKELHAUBE replicates the US Capitol building and what it currently stands for, with a nostalgic nod to boot-on-throat Prussian imperialism.
Since December 12th, 2000, when five black-robed turpidudes appointed an unelected voldemort as usurper, a treasury's trillion flew to the land of lost buttons and socks, Congress got quislinged, America suffered a constitutional coup d'etat, society took a two-by-four between the eyes, and "exporting democracy" bankruptingly continues in Mesopotamia, Afghanistan and elsewhere ... all for a tank of juice.
Resuscitating the Constitution is not a spectator sport. Inaction is complicity. It's time to sass the massa in your American Pickelhaube, reviving the spirit of William Sloane Coffin, Robert La Follette, Philip Berrigan, MLK and Eugene V. Debs. You're The Chicago Seven, The Tank Man, and Flower Power. You're the Little Prince. You're a vortex of positive energy who's been wondering how to civilly rebel: here's your chance.
Storm the rhetorical ramparts under the protective halo of an American Pickelhaube! Snap your heels, clench your fist, thump your heart and give a stiff fascist salute:
Sieg! Oil!
Sieg! Oil!
Sieg! Oil!
War chic. Celebrating humanity at its worst, our retro-cool and quixotic American Pickelhaube essentializes ancient and enduring manifest-destiny imperialism, an emblem of empire updated for uncle samming in far-flung foreign fields. Goose-step into yesteryear and force-march toward a future of endless armed conflict!
Fashion-forward design boldly exhibits the Temple of Democracy's recessed windows and contoured dome, under which the Constitution - the only document in the world that limits political power - is shamelessly compromised by the 110th Kennel, prostrate to Petro, mutts who've forgotten who and what they're sworn to represent.
An attention-grabbing oil derrick hails Petro's triumph [replacing the Capitol building's Statue of Freedom which was bronzecast by a slave named Philip Reed in 1860], spitzing the war hat's chalky dome with raven filament for spume or plume - short-pull for geyser-gusher, or long-pull for imperial weeping willow drape - in oily black so velvety deep onlookers will think they'd get ink on their hands if they touched it. Key the launch codes!
Sweeped rear visor and peaked front beak, as shiny as gunbarrels, add artful emphasis to a menacing military silhouette.
Lock 'n load!
Accented at sides with tricolor rosettes in bleeding red, fightin' white and bellicose bloo, snapped to attention with silver buttons. Pull the pin!
Face-framing, adjustable, snap-clip chinstrap for no-slip fit in close and contentious cultural combat, or john wayned for grab 'n go swagger. Mount up!
It's freaky, it's sleeky, it's uniquey. Get your war on!
If you're going to wage war on war, it's best if you come well equipped.
The Biggest Little Oil Well in the World is at First and Capitol Streets in Washington, D.C. Our AMERICAN PICKELHAUBE replicates the US Capitol building and what it currently stands for, with a nostalgic nod to boot-on-throat Prussian imperialism.
Since December 12th, 2000, when five black-robed turpidudes appointed an unelected voldemort as usurper, a treasury's trillion flew to the land of lost buttons and socks, Congress got quislinged, America suffered a constitutional coup d'etat, society took a two-by-four between the eyes, and "exporting democracy" bankruptingly continues in Mesopotamia, Afghanistan and elsewhere ... all for a tank of juice.
Resuscitating the Constitution is not a spectator sport. Inaction is complicity. It's time to sass the massa in your American Pickelhaube, reviving the spirit of William Sloane Coffin, Robert La Follette, Philip Berrigan, MLK and Eugene V. Debs. You're The Chicago Seven, The Tank Man, and Flower Power. You're the Little Prince. You're a vortex of positive energy who's been wondering how to civilly rebel: here's your chance.
Storm the rhetorical ramparts under the protective halo of an American Pickelhaube! Snap your heels, clench your fist, thump your heart and give a stiff fascist salute:
Sieg! Oil!
Sieg! Oil!
Sieg! Oil!
War chic. Celebrating humanity at its worst, our retro-cool and quixotic American Pickelhaube essentializes ancient and enduring manifest-destiny imperialism, an emblem of empire updated for uncle samming in far-flung foreign fields. Goose-step into yesteryear and force-march toward a future of endless armed conflict!
Fashion-forward design boldly exhibits the Temple of Democracy's recessed windows and contoured dome, under which the Constitution - the only document in the world that limits political power - is shamelessly compromised by the 110th Kennel, prostrate to Petro, mutts who've forgotten who and what they're sworn to represent.
An attention-grabbing oil derrick hails Petro's triumph [replacing the Capitol building's Statue of Freedom which was bronzecast by a slave named Philip Reed in 1860], spitzing the war hat's chalky dome with raven filament for spume or plume - short-pull for geyser-gusher, or long-pull for imperial weeping willow drape - in oily black so velvety deep onlookers will think they'd get ink on their hands if they touched it. Key the launch codes!
Sweeped rear visor and peaked front beak, as shiny as gunbarrels, add artful emphasis to a menacing military silhouette.
Lock 'n load!
Accented at sides with tricolor rosettes in bleeding red, fightin' white and bellicose bloo, snapped to attention with silver buttons. Pull the pin!
Face-framing, adjustable, snap-clip chinstrap for no-slip fit in close and contentious cultural combat, or john wayned for grab 'n go swagger. Mount up!
It's freaky, it's sleeky, it's uniquey. Get your war on!
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Grace karma: 5% of your purchase goes to Veterans for Peace.
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