Monday, March 31, 2008

Father of Nü Gua has boat not seaworthy

At one time it was known as Xiā Xiǎo Chuán. In its final days it went by name of Zhōng Guó Xiǎo Chuán. And then, nothing but empty, boarded-up shack.

The Curse of Baxter (again)?
Bitter words from kitchen god Zao Jun?
Perhaps General Tso retreat to more advantageous battlefield?
Father of Nü Gua has boat not seaworthy.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

121286: Wohltaten und die Antwort zum Rätsel des Nelsons

On the worktop, beneath a bank slip, lay £400 in cash. Misplaced or forgotten by some scatty student, obviously. Professor Jones and Somber deliberated for several moments. They traded imaginative ideas of what riches they could buy in High Street. But not being the lucripetous sort, they turned in the dosh to the Authorities.

Later that evening at The Gristle (original location) they found their karmic reward perched upon the balcony: See The Cheetah?

Monday, March 17, 2008

The Da Vinci Mode 4-D: High Boss Worm and Butts in the Brie Sea

Artist. Architect. Engineer. From the Tuscan village of Vinci came Leonardo, bringing his genius unto the world. With his Renaissance legacy, many see fit to name things after him. In this case, a pizza parlour.
Leonardo’s, a Baxter Street neighbour of P-Bones, was a long-time favourite hangout for locals and high-schoolers. That is, until the Curse of Baxter cast its sombre pall, as it does eventually upon burghers and good merchants of these environs. Either that, or just bad business decisions were made.

Yep, time again for anecdotal vignettes:

• A melted Brie deep-dish pizza, its buttery fluid seeping into the stained wooden tabletop.
• A waitress bellies up to the table with the cheque, cigarette ashing down on her crusty tunic.
• The new owner, flushed and sweaty, grins vacantly for the camera; his eatery is to be featured in some piddly shopper advertorial.
Photo Editor: “Was this guy stoned when you took the picture?”
Photog: “I think he was stoned when he bought the business.”

And now, an opportunity for applied theory:

In art class, Mr Dugan would speculate on how people from the fourth dimension would appear. With time being a constant, everyone would simultaneously be everywhere they had ever been and everywhere they would ever be -- much like extremely long worms.

So, what might a 4-D amalgam of a closed time loop look like here in Leonardo’s?
Risking lysergic undertones, one might see our baked proprietor, eyes mirthfully upon the ceiling; his body the Infinite Vermicelli, forever slathering in a sea of gooey Brie whilst cigarette butts bob like slo-mo buoys all the way to the horizon.
‘Leonardo would be turning in his grave if he could see what was being done in his name,’ one might think. Actually, since this scenario is timeless, he would be there himself, spinning on the ground -- breakdancing, you might call it --given he could find adequate floorspace. Or maybe he’s doing the backstroke.

A veritable temporal sfumato.

Cheque, please.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Tramonti Notevoli

• am Heck auf Vierwaldstättersee
• “Ave peregrinor!” — Raeda meritoria via Latium
• En camioneta viajo a través del bulevar de Santa Mónica en el asiento del copiloto
• Niebla en el regazo del desierto de sudoeste

Crépuscule Couvrant

Miroitant les points se réveillent au-dessus d'un bateau sur la Seine
et la liberté se tient dans le fleuve soulevant un pain grillé avec une lanterne,
alors que Melodica chante un éclat de fleur de regarder le temps congelé et la turquoise devient velours.

Couler, glissement, pleurant.
En enroulant des vagues, serenely deux mains se reposent,
par lesquelles une énergie chaude se déplace et les lueurs se développent
dans chaque oeil
en chaque ciel

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Das Letztes Mittel: Activität des Surrogat

The Sharepage Meltdown

We're screaming together,
But still it's not well
And maybe we'll come back,
To work, who can tell?
I guess everyone is to blame
We're dealing with clowns
Will things ever be sane again?

It's the Sharepage Meltdown...

Not dealing with genius and so bugger all
Cause maybe they've seen us beginning to bawl
With so many brain cells to go and foul-ups abound
Next time’ll be the same we know.

It's the Sharepage Meltdown...*

*Sung to the tune of “The Final Countdown” by Europe.
(P)1986 Sony Music Inc. ©1986 Screen Gems / EMI Music, Inc.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Performative Proxies in 25 Easy Strata

During the Tenth Stratum, the Jung Technocrats sat at the Round Table riffing on campaign dissemination possibilities. Many of these ideas were simple defensive memetics against Pinks, mall-variety Koogs and Jr. BubbaCabal initiates. The crew knew they needed a unified Third-Level paradigm offensive that would target subjects in the aggregate... a palatable mental balm that wouldn’t trigger bothersome counter-belief arguments.
Captain Intrepid, the Orville Corp. delegate to the Pan-Martian Consortium, stood up at the table. He understood the need for a Pavlovian catachresic agent that would have the Performative Utterance potency of a Fnord.
In a word, he simply uttered, “Pavianhodensack.”
The result? Nasal expulsion of lo-fat milk from all at the Round Table.
Die Eisenfrau would not be amused.

— — — — —

It is now the Thirty-Fifth Stratum. The land is awash in both fatuous Splenda™ Idealism and its twin -- smug, Soy-Based Cynicism -- both redolent with paralogical platitudes that go nowhere.
Isn’t it time we resurrect another Fnord that will clear the mental cobwebs of the collective analysand? Will “pavianhodensack” once again do the job? If not, another P-word, perhaps?