April 04, 2023

The Bijouterie of Winnie and the Shiba Fellas

On social media, at the beginning of the war, the CIA unleased an army of twitter 'campaigners'/bots supporting Ukraine (at the same time preparing cyber tactics for Taiwan for the coming war with China which the US will manufacture after the Ukraine). They created the identities in the first instance by appropriating a subculture from computer gaming where cool teen gamers used cartoon dog-human hybrids as their avatars and called themselves 'fellas'. The second 'anti-China' 'army' similarly adopted an animal persona - this time Winnie the Pooh, because there had previously been a campaign suggesting that Xi Jinping looked like Pooh and had therefore banned Winnie the Pooh from China - untrue of course. If you look at Fella twitter accounts they often don't even hide their location is 'Langley' (the CIA HQ). It initiates pile-ons, cyber bullying and abuse campaigns, as you'd expect frequently racist and misogynist. Yesterday, a North Atlantic Fellas Organisation (NAFO) dog replaced the blue bird logo with their trademark dog-face - it is unclear whether this is an actual hack or a Elon Musk marketing stunt related to a court case; either way, I wrote this poem some months ago in response to the Fellas but the twitter hack seems make this a good time to post it. 


The Bijouterie of Winnie and the Shiba Fellas

And did those in ancient time walk upon mountains?

And was the anonymous pleasant pasture anxious?

And when the oozing flood conspired to the anthropomorph,

And assertive hope was mocked to undermine,

And mills still Satanic, though closed and burned out

      For future residential development

               or locations for cold people to starve.

As bristling musculature stared at screens and, chewing,

As if cry havoc dogs and wagin' doges, callin’ tantrum chagrin for war

As if broadcasting pustular to its proud constituency of residual pornocrats,

Ageing as futureless empires do, sanded in desert storms lost, herniated,

 burger fat believers in a half-century pre-dream state,

as if every night, without fail, the bijouterie of Winnie and adrenal Shiba Fellas struts

that banal masturbatory oath. 



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