Reporting
from Ibiza:
Sir, the project in Cambodia is going well, so
I took a flight to come back to what is defined as “my country” to see how the
project is evolving here. From here, I would like to tell you the story of a
very special and encouraged Space Monkey. She used to be a professional
pleasure manager deluxe in Ibiza. What we usually know as a slut, bitch, whore,
prostitute. She used to hang around all the VIP’s rooms in the most worldwide
known discos, sharing expensive champagnes, mojitos or cocaine with rich
magnates of petroleum, soccer players, stupid deejays or drug dealers. She used
to think that, some day, she would be able to get that same unconcerned life
style if she had kept attached to those successful menfolks and fucking them
for money. But, at her late thirties, and looking the end of her physical
beauty approaching her, she found out that she will never be nothing else than
the flower to decorate the success of the rich men. A flower that soon would be
withered and no man would want to have next to him. She didn’t save much money,
she didn’t have experience in any other job, she only could live out of her
beauty, and once it had ended she would had nothing, and that pissed her off.
The first fight she had was against a client
who used to abuse her. She almost killed him, and enjoyed the feeling of taking
the reins of her life. Then she joined the club at the basement of a trendy
beach club, and she gained my trust. She was an example of Angel of Change. She
used her connections to seed the chaos in many massive party events where tons
of high people waste their lives. And then she volunteered to be the first
Flower of the Utmost Devastation.
The mission was to get infiltrated into a
luxury elitist boat party in which the attendants were mostly sheiks who ruled
one of the main energetic sources, so a big part of the world, famous soccer
stars, and other capitalists managers. She set up the soap made explosives
inside the boat and detonate them causing a big explosion that blew up the
whole boat. Many obstacles for the New, New World were executed that day,
quickly, ruthlessly, without mercy but with compassion, like you ordered. They
died enjoying one of the best parties ever. And that is the way how the space
monkey became the Flower of the Utmost Devastation. In death, a member of
project Mayhem has a name. Her name is Paula Martir, and I think she deserves
to be noted in the book of the New, New World.
Before executing the plan, Paula poured one
bottle of three thousand bucks champagne trough the drain and introduced a very
clear message inside instead, a message that the waves brought to the shore,
much more valuable: Rize or die.
Space
Monkey Bartu Juan, singing off.
