JEF Talks: Ideas Worth Believing

JEF is the Orville Corporation’s nonprofit arm devoted to Ideas Worth Believing. It started out in Stratum 40 as a brainstorming sesh bringing people and ideas together from three discrete fields of thought: Jobation, Epitropy, Fulsomeness.
  JEF Talks brings together the most fascinating thinkers and doers found, who are challenged to give the public a good talking-to.
  Orville believes passionately in the power of ideas to change attitudes, lives, and ultimately, the universe. They are building a clearinghouse of wisdom from the world’s most galvanized thought leaders, and also a community of the curious to engage in heretofore unspoken ideas and with each other.

Keynote Address:
Johnny Gutts:
The Pungeoning — Transformative Paradigm for the Future
Orville CEO Johnny Gutts lays out an impactful roadmap to personal success using situationism, neosemiotic Narrative smashing, and Orville’s own SetUp™.

Other Featured Talks to Whet Your Curiosity:

Camper Brown: We Beat WalMart!
Classic City Activist and former Low Van Winkle musician attests that run-down, undeveloped dumps are better than local economy-boosting chain stores.

Grumman Sims: Dam the Mississippi!
Orville civil engineer and consultant discusses efforts to lower the worlds ocean levels by damming the Mississippi River, the benefits of a potential “Lake Mississippi-Ohio” and Florida being doubled in land area.

Barry Bluck: Punk Rock Facelift
Successful Kilowatt Klub impresario advises reinvigorating and upscaling your seedy dive/rock venue by introducing late night disco and Zumba.

Jared Staylee: Chasing the Retail Dragon
Top-of-the-ladder entrepreneur asks: Is your sales force plagued with addiction problems? Make it work for you! Make it a profit center...

Davey Garge: How Do We Bring “College Rock” Back to College?
Music Business lecturer takes you on a collective stroll down memory lane with anecdotes and an embarrassing amount of stories (once told as first-hand) being relayed as “A friend of mine once heard [rock star name redacted] tell this story...”

Petra McBreyer: Branding the Tard Virgin Flesh
Social Coach stresses the importance of establishing identity, orientation, social class, and racial or religious membership in regard to social media obligations for people with no personalities.

La Chute du Rideau: Plaza Cinéma

Ostensibly built as an afterthought behind the “Platt Plaza” zone commerciale off Route de Cheval Noir well before the First Stratum, the lone uniplex grew in popularity due to its proximity to local neighbourhoods.
Feature films were a mainstay as well as matinées for the younger set.
Exorbitant concession prices (for that day and age) forced youngsters to innovate ways of smuggling confections from home into the theatre. A common tactic for moving contraband was to take a sandwich bag containing sweets and stuff it into one’s sock before entering the premises.

Alas, due to the economy and louche mores of the shifting times, the Plaza Cinéma had finally gone pr0n0 sometime after the Sixth Stratum, but not without protest.

Supposedly, it finally closed during the 29th Stratum; a final, ignominious end was reached by Stratum 35: Demolition.

C’est encore frais dans ma mémoire.

The Abandoned Temple: ilHaraami ‘ala ra’su riish

By accident, amnesiac Calcia supplanted her past with that of another.
By intention, the Wanubian did the same.

Cognitive disorders are not uncommon after brain injuries in individuals. But what explains voluntary delusions in the collective?
  Hucksters using pseudo-esotericism as their con is nothing new. And neither is the human tendency to follow the piper, whether as a result of PsyOp manipulation, “Mutually Assured Delusion,” or by their own volition in seeking a “better way.” Plus, perceived access to rarefied esoterica, regardless of its actual quackery, does wonders for that constant of human nature we know as hubris.
  As a guy from Radio: Tahiti said, “It’s your house of cards.”

Memory eventually returned to young Calcia. But to the huckster, it appears karma caught up with the con. His temple lies abandoned at the far end of a squalid car park.

Orville Corporation expands into area real estate markets

The Orville Corporation has expanded the company’s operations entering into the real estate market in the Classic City and Heritageville area.

CEO Johnny Gutts will target properties in in need of modernisation and other ‘diamonds in the rough’ that will garner high returns on investment creating positive cash flow for the corporation. The company will then allocate these assets into existing projects and future ventures.

With a reputation for placing clients’ needs, goals and objectives at the forefront of every transaction, Mr Gutts provides communication, negotiation and management prowess in combination with in-depth knowledge of the Heritageville area’s neighbourhoods and real property market. Earning his place in the upper echelons of highly respected real estate professionals, Gutts and his team specialise in the sale and purchase of homes and fiefs in Classic City and Heritageville. Johnny leads the way with his personal qualities, professional strengths and skillz.

“Walk Away from the Explosion”

A celebrated Hollywood trope, known for its realistic consideration of international threats and real-world hazards, has trickled down into the collective subconcious, where savvy media consumers can model their astute public behaviour on the omnipotence of celebrity avatars, smugly knowing such nonchalance will go quite far as a defensive tactic whilst roaming exotic locales like the West Bank and Mogadishu.

The Future Holdout

SPIRITVS PVGNARE: Alive at Pompeii

STRATVM XI: Seppo funsters channel the ancient luctatori of lore in boisterous form, clad in the meager armament of T-shirts and tube socks in loco at the timeless spectacula.
Grapple, dodge, square and drag.

Clouds of dust kicked up under the Neapolitan sun swirl around the tramping feet shuffling in the sand. Imaginary crowds roar and echo, baying for blood — a drop of which the arena has not seen since Antiquity. The souls of patrons and magisters Valgus and Porcius smile from beyond upon the combative spirit of youth, sparring sine ira.
Perhaps even exalted Mars himself nods in silent benediction.

Cue for the Visions: Ice Cream Social

The audio Cue conjures a dim 10th Stratum scene: A post-athletic event proudly catered by Creamy’s. An indigo twilight casts upon peach-coloured work tunics amid youthful bustle and crisp autumn air. At the long tables servants proffer tasty portions of paghpaghak — iced dairy concoctions with flavours like Ulster Meadows, Amaretto Chocolate Cheesecake and Rhesus Pieces. The victorious plastic gladiators and their blonde spirit squads in tow seem to enjoy the treats with gusto.

The nightfall fades to a velvet black as the attendants continue scooping under lone vanilla moonlight. They soldier on, reflexively avoiding flavour buddies by second sight, carving away under the firm, Kissinger-like direction of Mr Burr. The chimes of the Cue amplify the majesty and privilege of serving such Nectar of the Gods, regardless of recognition by the recipients.

I will be there.

Aborted APF Operations Case Study: Project Iota

Project Iota was a covert countermeasure proposed to Allied Pungeoning Front Director Johnny Gutts by Field Agent Ben Jantry back during the 25th Stratum. It was a bold and innovative idea that bore the hallmarks of PSYOP and CW (before Convention) in its potential as an effectual provocative.

The Subject of operations was to be Captain Jethrine, a.k.a. Sleezi-Tiki, a low-rung operative and toady of the BubbaCabal.

The staging area was to be the Subject’s quarters aboard the S.S. Reverend Resbo whilst in port.

‘Weapon DF’: Via network, Agt. Jantry had procured a quantity of ‘decomp fluids’ of a type used in forensic training. Though the APF had an agent-in-place aboard the vessel (Young Merbos), Agt. Jantry offered to execute the operation himself.

Mission Scenario: At 2100 hours local time, the crew of the Rev. Resbo will still be on leave. Taking advantage of the piss-poor security BBACBL afforded the vessel, Agent will easily make way on board and access Subject’s quarters within a seven minute timeframe. Agent will then deploy DF in minute amounts to area undersurfaces — underneath pillows, blankets and cushions, and within articles of clothing. This is for the purpose of delaying recognition by Subject whilst the putrefying effects of DF progress. Agent will then vacate the quarters and vessel undetected under cover of night.
Total excursion timeframe: 17-18 minutes.
The moment Agent sets foot on the gangway Project Iota will be in effect.

Projected results: Subject will find nothing amiss the first 12 hours. Thereafter, a faint but increasing odor redolent of decay will be noticed. Within 24 hours the foetor will reach maximum pungency. Within Subject’s quarters and even following them around will be the stench of death. The rancid aroma of rotting roadkill. A billowing of pus and sulphurous muck suffusing the scene, emanating from… but where?
Psychological reactions will range from disgust to panic and should have a negative impact on Subject’s efficacy in fulfilling BBACBL duties. BBACBL crisis containment attempts will be futile. Alternate stateroom and uniform requisitions will not be possible as the vessel’s full complement and imbecilic QM will negate the option.

Projected outcome: Subject’s diminished morale and efficacy will amplify the perception of said Subject’s already-existing incompetence as well as hinder actual on-hand duties. Upper echelon BBACBL handlers will then have no other option for Subject than Rubber Room reassignment or termination.

Project Iota — Shelved/Scrubbed: Director Gutts deliberated upon the plan and was impressed, especially with the karmic aspects of this countermeasure. But considering that the Subject’s existing trajectory into ineptitude would inevitably torpedo all BBACBL operations anyway, Gutts scrubbed Iota whilst extracting the agent-in-place from S.S. Rev. Resbo.

As they say, “Give ‘em enough rope…”

Yaytsa Vorob’ye: Sphere and Culture Atomise

Trace the rage.

There is the Young Idealist, one yet to learn the lessons of the past. Earnest but naïve, he can afford to fall back on the Good Intentions excuse when beset with fiasco after implementing a system otherwise considered a time-tested failure. He doesn't understand human nature.

“It wasn’t done right,” any true Scotsman is sure to tell him.
  And that Scotsman may ostensibly appear to be an older idealist cut from the same cloth. Maybe he knows more about human nature. If so, why would he push for a system known to fail?

The answer is twofold: 1) Power for power’s sake. It doesn't matter what a mess the rest of the pyramid is as long as he is on top, and stays on top.
  Which implies: 2) Disdain for his own citizens. To adopt knowingly a system that robs people of dignity whilst appealing and pandering to their baser instincts is not a sign of faith in man, but the desire for control via infantilisation and petty distractions.
Panem et circensus. Divide et impera.
He is the old cynic masquerading as idealist.

And what are ye fruits?

  Dysfunctional mentalities running the gamut from artificially high self-esteem down to nihilistic self-loathing.
  A culture of dependence. Asocial adult children given to navel-gazing raising the next generation of same. Neurotic paranoias. Anarcho-tyranny.
  Again, the extirpation of dignity. It is easier to envy than to aspire. It is easier to covet than create. Pride is easier than self-improvement.

This is the path to dust. The seeds are planted.

The culture as planetoid: self-destruction, but on a micro scale.
  Rotting promontories, disintegrating strata, foundations unbound. The asthenosphere shatters, the resonance like massive bone slowly snapping below one’s feet. The mantle has begun slaking with little to support it. Paleoliquifaction churns the particulate individuals into a runny entropic slurry. And in the final destructive cratonic sequence, when the gravitic centre cannot hold, the devolved gleet — of man, of stone — decays into interstellar dust.

Powerless wrath detonated the erythrean sphere; the punctate orb, encumbered by the vecordious masses, took the Sphynx way out and pulverised itself.

Lola, el papagayo contento

The Curious Fledgling

Thryothorus ludovicianus

Le dire est autre chose que le faire

“Where the hell was it?
On Ponce, near the Kro-Zhay maybe. Walking from one place to another. The Clermont? The Concourse? Don’t remember, but it was after a gig or show.

But it was on Ponce. Late. Dangerous, in other words. You do not stop and open your purse to the first lowlife who stumbles within ten feet of you. That man is not a kindly hobo looking for charity. He may swipe your bag. Or he might just stab you for no reason. Crazy, I know. But this is Ponce. Where Crazy lives. Your dripping mawkishness in the face of potential peril would have been your undoing, save for the fact that your man was walking with you. And the daggers he was staring at you and your damn fool stunt. Hope he gave you an earful...”

An uncomfortable pattern emerges:
• The Slipped Masque of LeVira.
• Veronique and the stranger’s candy.
• Jean Wecastor’s tolerance for codependency as well as consumption to the point of public incapacitation.
• And Elise, with her charitable chumming of the waters of Ponce.

In each, an individual given to proclamation on the importance of “empowerment.”
In each, an individual irresponsibly willing to put themselves in unnecessary danger.

Is there a psychological disconnect between therapeutic wishcasting and the inability to weigh risk? Willful blindness? Or a darker, self-destructive tendency in the subconscious?
Dunno. Freud would probably go to town though.
Ultimately, Montaigne had it right, regardless. As well as James and John.
Old words. But good words.