Tuesday, November 20, 2012
The sounds of Nightkill remain the Cue for this particular Vision as well, sung here instead by Hesperis rather than Eos Erigeneia in the original. Maturation of the volition was reached by the 12th Stratum when transmission of the song to the Bonus Chamber provided a fitting audio to the pre-existing visual.
The setting here though is more domestic than exotic: Rolling tracts of the East Bank, notes in the air of freshly mowed lawns mixing with hints of charcoal from righteous grill-outs and the intermittent crackle of UV bug zappers. All under a blazing scarlet canopy. And once again, above a tree-silhouetted sky, the arpeggiated major sevenths chime through the crimson ether, cycling their march in semidiapente, fading into night.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
That particular November day in the 32nd Stratum was unseasonably hot, as was evidenced when the engine overheated on the Interstate close to the Point of No Return.
On the shoulder the trio sat, loosening their neckties as the midday sun beat down relentlessly. Lester attempted mobile assistance while Stoddard and 8TG silently eyed the hissing steam climb from the car’s hood, the background a loud blur of whizzing traffic. Thirty minutes later the three, soaked in perspiration, climbed into the cramped cab of a wrecker with car in tow. They found themselves on the outskirts of the closest burg, a tired stretch of road named for some obscure Confederate general. It was a desolate landscape of body shops, pawn shops and signless concrete bunkers with iron bars over the windows unnecessarily emphasizing the obvious seediness. With the car in a service bay in a garage, the three fellows stood in the parking lot slowly sweating at the prospects. “When’s the funeral begin?”
“About an hour or so.”
“We’re still at least two hours away. What did the mechanic say?”
“He doesn’t know yet.” They stood silently in the sun assessing the reality of their predicament and in unspoken agreement came to the same conclusion:
‘WE JOURNEYED TO HONOR A FALLEN COMRADE. BUT WE ARE FETTERED BY OUR STRANDING IN THE ARMPIT OF CENTRAL GEORGIA. AND IT SUCKS GREATLY.’ In the heat, they sat miserably on a curb outside the garage smoking and muttering. The hours dragged on. Soaked clothing began to stick to skin.
“I tried calling a couple of different numbers but nobody’s picking up. The service must’ve already started. Oh, and the mechanic says the repair will take three days,” Lester said. Collective groan. They each passed the time mulling about the lot kicking pebbles or sitting pensively in the strip of dead grass beside the garage, staring at ants marching through the dust.
Stoddard broke the stifling silence. “Time for sustenance. There’s a DQ we passed a couple of blocks back…” Soleil + Cerveau = Séquence Surréaliste:
[INT. FAST FOOD RESTAURANT – LATE AFTERNOON]Suffice to say, the three guys never made the funeral. The day waned, and eventually contact was made with associates returning from the service to pick them up on the way back home.
The day may have seemed like a wash, but it really wasn’t, and no one complained. Because even though being stuck in The Armpit of Central Georgia could be on the Bottom Shelf of experiences, the memory itself is seared in honor of one on the Top Shelf of gentlemen: ECW.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Thursday, July 05, 2012
An Bord Graudonner II, war naiv sein Herz, aber er sah durch die Lügen.
Und wenn der Wind bläst vom Himmel, wir alle wissen, wer aus ihrem Kopf geflohen.
Elise wird da sein, sie vergisst über Anton. Wie läuft sie herum und sagt, sie ist einsam und weint: “Ich bin einsam ... sehr einsam, Baby ... jemand von mir denken.”
Doch als er zurück auf dem Bauernhof kommt, Elise will dass Schulter zum Anlehnen,
Und Anton sagt zu ihr: “Baby, mein Herz bewegt vor sich.”
(Entschuldigung an C. Westover und Brute Force.)
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
• Aptitude-intensive Ideo-Barrage
• Short-term alalia agents
Monday, June 11, 2012
Wednesday, May 09, 2012
Upon arrival at Tech the group stared up at the cylindrical, windowless structure. Stoddard beamed in awe.
The 5-megawatt heavy-water-cooled research reactor was known for producing the finest of epithermal neutron beams. The ‘Techno’s’ felt quite privileged to be granted access.
Inside the containment building, a tour of the operations floor and control room commenced.
At the shielded window of a nearby hot cell hung a pair of telefactor arms. (An inspiration for a future Orville™ project, perhaps?)
After a thorough review of the facility, old Professor Auensen piped up: “All this radiation is making me hungry!”
The Techno’s made a quick jaunt over to the Gri CV for a midday repast [Glorified Steak, Ring One, and an F.O. for Master S.]. The field-service-style paper caps given out were a hit with the group, and were quite different from the Tyvek® variety worn at the reactor.
As the bus cruised under the bright sun back to the academy, Prof. Auensen realised the day was only half over. How to kill time?
“Hey everyone, who feels like ice cream?”
And so the bus pulled up to the Piazza Mercato del Traghetto del DiGiovanni where the students and Techno’s filed out and marched into the Gelateria del Barone Biskin for refreshments.
After enjoying a satisfying scoop of “Irish Meadows” (though it was inferior to the homemade version at Creamy’s), Stoddard popped in next-door to Trulet’s Music Shoppe.
In the cut-out bin sat a Stereo-8 cartridge by The Nü Hotdog Hour Trio. A score for any music aficionado.
The bus trundled back to the academy and the remainder of the school day was spent recounting the day’s events.
Afterwards Master Stoddard made his way over to the West Bank to share his musical find with Son of Smiling Walt.
Un grande giorno: Radiazioni… gelati… canzoni…
What’s not to like?
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
• Stratum 5 societal std.: Don Juan manqué.
• After-effects of 20 strata PoMo march renders Machismo concept into pejoration.
• Bio/evo impulse conflicts with cultural programming, resulting in cognitive dissonance. The concept comes full-circle, minus the marrow.
By Stratum 44:
• Machismo will be subjective.
• Yesterday’s Gold Chain is tomorrow’s Compliance Collet.
• In the future, everyone will be macho for fifteen minutes.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
In observance of the Orville Corporation’s 30-year anniversary, a commemorative edition of the original Orville™ LabVac-2 will be re-issued as a limited-run series available in retail/wholesale and industrial/commercial markets.
The original LV-2 was the 10th Stratum successor to the LV-1, a failed tech demo with major design flaws:
[The LV-1 was a similar vacuum unit that featured a directional headlamp in the event of power failures. Unfortunately, since the unit relied solely on an external power source, a power failure would render the entire unit useless.]The LV-2r features twin “waldo”-style removable telefactor arms for use manipulating the hose assembly and cleaning head.
But the standout feature of the LV-2r is the “boombox”-style console interface entertainment system. Updated and improved, the re-issue includes mp3/USB docks and a digital streaming receiver in addition to the “classic” AM/FM receiver and stereo cassette deck.
Headphone options are unnecessary as the audio signal is channeled through the vacuum’s impeller unit, so the vacuum/“boombox” twin decibel outputs operate as complements in tandem.
Back in its day, the LV-2 was very popular in the custodial engineering community. Orville™ is confident that the “face-lift” of the LV-2r will bring a smile to old pros while winning over new converts.
Power: 1300 Watts
Weight: 6.8 kg
Cleaning reach: 36.8 m with RC remote control
Filter: OrVex + HepaSuc-3
Combined Sound Output Level (SPL): 105 dB
Monday, April 02, 2012
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
In observance of the Orville Corporation’s 30-year anniversary, a commemorative edition of the original Orville™ Mobile Motorised Wastebasket will be re-issued as a limited-run series available in retail/wholesale and industrial/commercial markets.
The MMW-1 was indeed a breakthrough in its day, and was a vanguard in applications in systems engineering and the sanitation arts.
The MMW-1 re-issue features a polished brass plaque with laser-engraved autographs of Johnny Gutts and the late Mark Hall, Orville’s own “brain trust” who both helped to catapult the corporation to unmatched success in wide-ranging fields using cutting-edge technology.
The MMW-1r is ideal for lab work, hazops, kitchens and nurseries alike.
Volume: 95,425 cc
Max. Velocity: 43.4 km/h
EPA est.: 66 km/l
Hwy. est.: 83 km/l
Fuel Tank Capacity: 1.89L
• Foot-pedal lid access
• RC remote control
Monday, March 26, 2012
A particular trademark feature that these women of a certain age sport is the anti-style expression of their hair: Graying frizz, unbound. Sometimes thin and scraggly like an aging Riff Raff, but more often a thick and dull coat like ruined mohair. Think of Bea Arthur’s shrubbery, if you will, but in terms of acreage.
Okay, enough with the visuals. What’s important to note is that these bold free-spirits take a brave stance with quiet fortitude against “The Man” (and maybe even “The Woman”).
But they are “getting up there,” to put it politely. The torch needs to be passed on to our younger sisters. But many younger women today don’t consciously disdain aesthetics. No, they are just unaware of the concept in the first place. Still, they are too young to make their hair do those crazy things. So how do we show solidarity with our older sisters?
Johnny Gutts has the answer: The Freedom-Do™.
The Freedom-Do™ is a hair prosthesis that reproduces the exact “look” fancied by Classic City’s elder stateswomen.
Gutts, Regional Merchandising Manager for the Orville Corporation’s Beauty Division, has worked with cosmetologists, wig designers and other hair professionals to develop this cutting-edge, yet classic lifestyle product.
The Freedom-Do™ comes with a variety of features and benefits:
• Full coverage with strong and durable base cap
• Easy to rat
• Orvalon™ and Prima-Z sustainable fibre
• Washing unnecessary (not that anyone would)
• 5 varieties of “salt & pepper” blend
• Also available as 50-cm clip-in hair extension
Coming soon to Classic City…
“Freedom Means Letting Yourself Go”
Monday, March 19, 2012
GWC2D:Y2K+12 is a made-for-television movie about the trials and troubles of one Mrs Corbett.
Mabel Corbett, a sweet-natured senior suffering the harrows of dementia, is taken aback by the influx of college hooligans to her gentrifying neighbourhood. Her tokens of hospitality are soon taken advantage of by the clamourous co-eds, much to her confusion.
Through the miracles of social media, grandson Johnny Gutts receives a mysterious notification. What will happen?
Mabel Corbett as Herself
Kitteny Bradford as Herself
Blake Henderston as Himself
Johnny Gutts as Himself
Jefe de Allende Mateo as “The Gardener”
DIR: Johnny Gutts
Monday, March 12, 2012
Name one good reason
No longer does it matter if you have a good idea, a good reputation, good prices or a good location.
The Allied Pungeoning Front wants to open a pungeonary. In the past it was the BubbaCabal who got their hackles up over the prospect of local pungeonaries. Today it’s BärteHansa who is circulating a petition around town trying to stop the APF from establishing one anywhere.
Back in the day the excuse given for opposing this was that it would cramp the Cabal’s local robber baron “bidness” interests, though the argument had lost most of its bite when one found out that the Pink Boys contesting it had pungled innocent citizens themselves.
Currently, why does BärteHansa think it okay to ban pungeoning in the face of an acceptable majority-sanctioned entity? Just because they think they have dibs on “quality of life” issues should they try to stifle justice being brought to the community?
They Don’t Want ‘No Stinkin’ Pungeonary’
Look at the list of projects that BärteHansa has been opposed to: Such “nair-do-wells” as Eastside Pungeonary, the proposed Downtown Pungeonary, the Ghetto Prescriptionary, Bio-Mart on the Heritageville Road and an Orville psychological adjustment facility out near Furley Square Mall.
BBACBL and Bad Gaijin had been mafioid splinter groups that harassed independent thinkers in their time. But look at the threats to the area’s psychological health that BärteHansa has recently been pushing: the new InfoToxin Dispensary on Barney Scholl’s Road, the Vibrancy Estates down by the Augean Lodge, and Megan’s Sustainable Cupcake Shoppe just to name a few.
Instead of old BBACBL tactics like Pleboid Gutter Manoeuvers and windscreen smashing, we get innocent-sounding fronts like “People for a Better Classic City” who hijack public input sessions with Self-Centered Public Gushing against imagined corporate poodle-bobbers and other forms of Ego Activism.
One could suppose that, if the public is sympathetic toward BRTHNSA’s incessant nannying, then we are all quite satisfied with their opportunism and the dystopic paratonic outcome: the dumbing-down of everything cultural, peanut-paying jobs and an imminent psychological wasteland.
But we are not.
The public is very much in favour of a downtown pungeonary, given the pressing mental underload of local bêtise arts.
And the public is weary of the hijinks of BärteHansa’s wannabe radical epigones. Their “direct action” tactics most surely will backfire and the APF probably won’t have to get actively involved.
A Passive Solution?
One guesses the whole situation could be summed up by something Johnny Gutts once said: “Why pungeon someone when they’re eventually gonna do it to themselves?”
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Unfortunately, in the resulting vacuum a loose, rag-tag assortment of former Easy Breathers, Nattering Nannies and Gray Ponytails coalesced into a formidable SWPL faction that, while perhaps ideologically opposite, rivals the former menace of BBACBL: BärteHansa. [BRTHNSA]
Indeed, the BärteHansa threat may be greater than the BubbaCabal ever was — after all, BBACBL blatantly gave away their games of cupidity, unable to break free of the Pink Boy stereotypes in which they had cemented themselves. With BärteHansa on the other hand, the rot runs deep with Good Intentions paired with the taint of Kultural Kuru that they cast upon the community.
The rise of BärteHansa has caused much chagrin for the Allied Pungeoning Front. Having their hands tied dealing with BBACBL mischief, they considered these upstarts benign before their ascendancy. (In hindsight, it is all too easy to point out that pungeoning requires eternal vigilance.)
What has BärteHansa been doing that could be so heinous?
Well, BRTHNSA individuals’ activities have been noted over the years. While annoying, they were rarely toxic on a macro scale, so the APF’s Emotive Response System was infrequently utilised. Pungeoning was left up to individual citizens to deal with Ego Activists, Stupefacient Scenesters and other annoying anoetics.
But Spent Histrionicians and Aging Fauxhemians often suffer from Role Strain, realising they’ve lost a mojo they never had. After achieving a black belt in Emo Tae-Bo, they tell themselves that it’s time to Do Something Important.
And this is where things become alarming.
The aforementioned Nannies and Ponytails, ever sycophantic to disaffected “youth,” jump at the opportunity. And our Tired Hipsters, ever enthralled with tales told of Radical Boomer Exploits, jump as well.
Ponytail, Meet Beard
The result is like an open marriage made in Unitarian heaven: Do-gooder control freak fossiloids holding sway over a flock of failed artistes starving for purpose.
BärteHansa elders hold rancid marxoid views that should trouble any free-thinker. But their skinny-jeans-clad foot soldiers, unable to form an original thought, use the stale tactics of the elders’ youth: street theater, occupation, and general attention-whoring — poor methods of persuasion, and ones very prone to backfire.
It is this weakness the APF will seek to exploit. Stay tuned.
Monday, February 20, 2012
A once-meaningless doodle ascribed the moniker by 5th Stratum cohorts; the appellation was later assigned to the new neighbour on the West Bank.
“Smiling Walt from Boomershine”
In umbrage the gentleman’s son launched a weak counter-effort, but the stunt failed to adhere in the community’s consciousness.
On the other hand, the “Happy Jay” meme gained traction. Even today, the nickname “Happy Jays” is widespread in the world of haute couture, referring to the trademark lemon-yellow culottes made famous by the gentleman on the West Bank.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Gass-Boy would sometimes brandish the totem at random and inopportune moments, often to comedic effect. On the corridor march to the mess hall, he once flashed the amulet to the acting custodian, an easy-going fellow who seemed to be “down” with things. The man was in fact a narco-informant, but had the horse sense to shrug off eccentric but harmless lads waving their makeshift idols in the air.
It seems even in youth there is the anthro-ethological tendency to recognise the power of the talisman, regardless of whether any actual significance has yet to be applied to its schema.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Today was such a day for Travis.
Along the pavement he skulked, hands thrust in pockets, muttering about the incessant headlines.
“Protesters. Protesting how Life Is Unfair. Paedo scandals. Grown adults acting like children. Cultural coat-tailers. The fatuous gestures of the creatively bankrupt. The suffusing stink of ubiquitous nihilism. The filth and the rot and the fraud and the waste and the p!ss and the swill and the...”
Someone was having a bad day.
But oftentimes the ills of the modern world are topped off with a layer of the ridiculous.
So let us take Travis’s litany of wrongs, ball them up and plop it all down in one steaming heap of absurdity.
In his foul humour Travis made his way down the walkway where he found himself amidst a group of protesters. Protesting how Life Is Unfair. A gloved hand jutted out of the crowd, and out of polite reflex he shook it whilst trying to place the face.
“Travis! How you been?”
It was Mr Melton. Former co-worker, aging boomer. Convicted paedo. Hanging around a group young enough to be his grandkids. Reliving his lost youth in the most pathetic way imaginable.
“Hey, Lynn, look, it’s Travis,” he called over to his wife. [His wife was still with him?]
She barely looked over her shoulder as she was more entranced with shaking an illegible placard at passing traffic. Her faced beamed with the crazed grin of self-importance as headlights reflected in her eyeglasses.
“We’re having fun,” Melton smirked, trying to imply that this was all just a lark for them, not to be taken seriously. Somehow, that admission made the pair seem all the more sad and hollow.
The Nostalgioid Opiate is a strong pill indeed.
“Yeah... cool,” Travis mumbled weakly in response.
He stood dumbfounded at the scene, a seeming summation of the media miasma that had permeated ― nay, occupied ― his aching head.
Abruptly he drew away from the half-arsed conversation and crossed the street to get away from the crowd. He wiped his hand on his pants in visceral disgust.
Not only was his psyche suffering in consternation with Today’s Malaise, but now his physicality was sullied as well ― contamination by handshake.
Travis strode down the dark streets trying to shake off the taint of the encounter. But as he thought about it, he got a small chuckle at the odd confluence of events.
More often, we laugh not at the humourous, but the absurd and the inficete.
Still, he wanted a hot shower.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
BubbaCabal interference with native sovereignty had previously resulted in the APF acting as clean-up agency during both the EBB Debris Field Incident and the EBB Contagion Drill. The worst of the crises turned out to be what was known as “Mission Manqué” (EBB010597), a real flaming burnout.
Diplomatic relations were smoothed out in agrément once BBACBL was ousted, thanks to APF and envoy Johnny Gutts.
Community outreach programmes were then implemented with a considerable degree of success:
Alas, in a reversal of the ‘Egg of Columbus’ precept, Ugand-A-Thon 2K was shelved, stirring sharp criticism over the proposed activities:
• Airport Re-Enactment
• Riding on Fumes
• Dead on Auto-Pilot
• Investigative Report
[TRAFSYS COMM ERROR: Distressed Directional Glyph]
By Y2K+1 (28th Stratum) the idea of a future brokered Ugand-A-Thon was in doubt...