Friday, January 22, 2016
Posted by LordSomber at 10:28 PM
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
NEEDED: The cultural equivalent to the Salad Wagon — dealing with unsustainable aesthetic output that has little shelf life.
Unlike Farm-to-Fork-to-Flush flavour peddlers, putrescible creative works provide little nourishment. But the bad taste lingers just the same. We need to remedy the lack of artistic hygiene. Now.
Posted by LordSomber at 12:33 AM
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Back by popular demand — The Orville Corporation has revamped its classic SetUp™ Lifestyle Product into a new social interface for 2016 known as “The Spectrum.” With The Spectrum, social relationships can be auto-directed via emotional actions in various highly distictive styles.
The Spectrum carries powerful universal values and an indelible tone that will be instantly recognisable. It prompts ortho-directed responses, making people perceive they have “grown” into something above their usual lame status.
The Spectrum promotes flexible principles that go beyond demographic boundaries whilst scaling psychological echelons.
The Spectrum is orientated toward symbolic social excellence. It is not necessarily the most advanced solution, but encapsulates the conniving spirit, making it immune to expiration like so many normal fads. The Spectrum is timeless, yet so fresh. The Spectrum stays in sync.
The Spectrum delivers vibrant social benefits through which those on it will be able to subconsciously tell themselves, “When I buy into this, the type of people I relate to are not losers.” It creates a sense of belonging. Or a sense of unsettling the status quo (even though the results are the opposite). The Spectrum provides clarity and focus.
By getting on The Spectrum, more people will realise how it dynamically supplants their lack of personal ethos and identity. It generates social traction through long- and short-term emotional feedback loops towards a goal of excellence. The Spectrum is your “story arc” to wellness.
The Spectrum is the perfect supplement to the art of ego survival. It moves you from caste to caste. There is no single road map to perceived success; no linear progression to “what you want” — unless you get on The Spectrum.
Posted by LordSomber at 11:36 PM
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Malinconico opened his eyes. It was pitch black. But he could hear the bawling.
Scarlatti had awoken in a panic.
The keening echoed throughout the empty upper rooms as Malinconico made his way through the dark to its source. Words did not seem to assuage, nor did a kind hand on Scarlatti’s shoulder as he sat up in bed with tears streaming down his cheeks.
Malinconico knew what he had to do, yet he was reluctant about this last resort. He had to interrupt a man and woman on a date.
The midnight winds kicked up as the young man stepped outside. He drew his robe close and realised the uselessness of his thin moccasins against the chill. Still, he made his way down the drive and through that street of Sheffield into the night.
What else could he have done?
He didn’t have a telephone number to call, and his attempts to allay Scarlatti’s junior freakout were for naught. He carried a sense of guilt as he trudged through the darkness. He didn’t want to have to bother the couple.
Malinconico found himself at the doors of Manse Messac. A smouldering lantern cast a dull amber pall across the portico. Melodic strains of merriment drifted from within beneath the low howl of the winter gusts.
After several feeble knocks the doors gave way and he stepped inside to find himself surrounded by the din of music, smoke and boozy adults towering over him.
“Where are they?” he pleaded over the clamour.
Malinconico wove through the forest of legs towards a doorway at the far end of the crowded room. He stood at the threshold gazing down the dim stairway. Louder music, lights and movement lay at the bottom as he moved downward step by step.
The basement chamber was filled with couples in their stocking feet moving to somewhat dated songs and dance. Malinconico caught the eyes of Courier One and Miss Nadoghy. They both froze in their steps and eyes grew in astonishment.
“He won’t stop crying,” Malinconico blurted, on the verge of tears in frustration...
In the end, everything worked out, though most parties felt an underlying twinge of chagrin. Miss Nadoghy was mortified by a sense of negligence, whilst Courier One most likely shrugged it off in quiet admiration of the youngster’s fortitude. Young Malinconico himself was discomfited over having to crash a party and (in his eyes) embarrass two adults in a plea for a problem he could not solve himself. As for Scarlatti, there is no evidence he remembers the episode.
“Some spin in their stead
and some from pillar to post,
’tis all a dance, this tasque
of which they make the most”
— Phineas Guttes
Posted by LordSomber at 12:38 AM