Du wirst für das Herrenrasse joggen

“You are lazy! If you don’t adhere to the same jogging cardio regimen as I do then you are a slothful health heretic! Okay, my self-centered zeal may be a bit excessive. Maybe it’s my daily habit of hyperventilating carbon monoxide as I trot in the gutter against traffic. But it’s my Clarity! You lazy slobs!”

Classic City Arcade 0524

Norm Skafan birthday bash at Brooklyn Café; attending: Ms Margo, the Cogerizer, Myung, Petra McB, and that John guy from State Theatre... The Jameson Fairy visiting the Men’s Lodge in dead of night... Mr Devlin hawking old Fantasy Affaire programmes at the bazaar...
8TG finding inhaler bargains...

Larval Infestation at Creamy’s

DATELINE: Villagio di Pietralegno, Stratum X

A quiet D.III afternoon some time before superimpositional shifts to the Seventh Dementia. During a routine maintenance check of the dispensary’s chiller units, Master Stoddard and Aliyah Bernal discover an infestation in the paghpaghak sandwich wafer provisions.
  The culprits: Larval intruders resembling the cortical parasites native to one of the Whale Stars. Stoddard can’t resist commentative levity but Aliyah is disquieted over disclosing the invasion to the dispensary’s proprietor. Mr Burr certainly wouldn’t be impressed, to say the least. The pair thus initiated decon protocols without further incident.

Muyalaka kee Khaalee Chabaana

GS Disposable Conscript

Occu-Dine Encampment Catering Services: A Vital Resource for Today’s Dissident

The Orville Corporation presents Occu-Dine Encampment Catering Services, a vital resource inspired by today’s conscientious protesters who refuse to sacrifice gourmet tastes in their pursuits of performative awareness.

  Occu-Dine creates perfectly curated grazing options featuring elegant farm-to-tent flavours perfect for activities al fresco. Our culinary team realises there is no compromise with the top-shelf palates of today’s busy dissidents.
  Chef Jared Gutts proudly oversees the Occu-Dine commissary and upholds fine dining etiquette as he establishes tent-side mise en place and preps his specialties a la guéridon.
  Dietary restrictions are respectfully observed with the help of Orville’s Gluten Ablation Convector, Acute Lacto-Neutraliser, and All-Purpose Contaminant Irradiator. Praise™, the “New Food Substitute” is also available for all substitutions.

By Popular Demand...

— Tent Brunch —

• Eggs Benedict Arnold — Eggs so fresh we bring the chickens to your campsite
• Bananas Foster Crepes — Flambé-prepared tent-side (Flame-retarded asbestos bibs provided)
• Fresh Squeezed Mimosas — Served in fine champagne flutes the ladies will love (For insecure guys we have red Solo cups)

Whether you’re squatting in the uni quad or on skid row, Occu-Dine is committed to serving your brunch needs on-site. Count on Occu-Dine to help feed your next public spectacle!

‘Self-Help’ Isn’t Helping the Self

In the small picture, Pipo Spanno’s Stratum XXII sacrifice mission to the Condor Facility was a failure; precisely because: 1) he did not arrive, and 2) he lived, thanks to the temporal interference of a certain Project: Horloge agent. Paradoxically, this may have made the mission a success in the big picture for reasons unclear at the time. One might call that reason “hindsight.” Pero eso no es importante.
  Anyway, a sabbatical was in order for Spanno, so he journeyed as far westward as possible without falling into the sea. En route, he cracked a book LeVira had given him at departure: A self-help book from the wittingly helpless — another irony yet to be perceived. He tossed the book aside.

  Spanno rolled in to Lago Plateado, where a brisa suave was already acting as restorative.
  Ginia Lupo met him at the villa with a lukewarm greeting. Her plaid skirt and knee socks reminded him of the gang at St. Jude’s, albeit without their amor a la vida.
  As they sat in the courtyard Ginia droned on about mundane office dramas without reciprocating any conversational niceties. Spanno found himself looking at an avocado tree, the lot of its fruit on the ground, overripe and ignored.
  Ginia insisted on showing the local sights — Figfirth Park, the Tikiti Lounge — places he was already familiar with, but he didn’t complain. It seemed like an exercise in killing time to her.
  So when enough time was killed Pipo Spanno simply left without fanfare. He didn’t see the trip as a waste though — just getting out of Dodge was the whole point.
  During the return trek he picked up LeVira’s self-help book. He read quite a bit before realising he could come up with a better jacket blurb:

This almanac of artifice will condescendingly empower you to channel the ancient might of shaman-soldiers through prettified platitudes and aetheric hand-waving! Don’t let Dunning-Kruger metaphysics fetter your grandeur’s due! Effete affirmations and warmed-over psychoquackery will entrust you with the Answer to Everything!

Prepare yourself for...

The Explainening

An Apocryphal Political Tale from UAP

Meneer Botho, junior raconteur of Vesterino’s (second only to ‘Bonehead’), tells of the apocryphal tale whispered about from the Ugandoid Autonomous Prefecture’s election season in Stratum III:

From the rustic entangawuuzi farmlands of the Ugandoid Autonomous Prefecture, Omugaali was a man who dreamed of power. He recently made official his candidacy for Grand Gouvernor in the upcoming elections. Though he was of agri-peasant stock himself, he felt above his station yet still needed that “everyman” support. (Proles and peons vote too, y’know.)
  From those same back-country plains was a man named Oku Almeyne, a talented musician who couldn’t hold a real job due to his excessive taste for distilled millet potations. But the purple prose of Candidate Omugaali resonated with Almeyne, who wanted both to cleave to power-seekers as well as claim fame for himself.
  Both men recognised the mutual benefits each had to one another and a plan was hatched.
  An election rally was to be held at the Entebbe Fairgrounds where Oku Almeyne would perform on his electric balafon for crowds hungry for musical flair and political platitudes alike. A rousing speech by Omugaali was to follow the performance.

  The day came and the throngs gathered in anticipation. On stage, minor political toadies feebly tried to warm up the audience for the awaited entertainment.
  But where was Oku Almeyne?
  He was found backstage drunk and out of his gourd. The event’s handlers tried to rouse him as he babbled and slurred. They managed to prop him up in a rickety office chair.
  The eager crowd roared at the sight of Almeyne being wheeled up to his electric balafon. They quieted as he struck the opening notes of “In the Pillory Again,” his regional hit song.
  He then paused, leaned forward and proceeded to vomit all over his instrument.

  Onlookers gasped as globules of today’s lunch and rivulets of millet brew spattered all over the stage. A sour waft of bile was quickly picked up by the summer breeze, eliciting howls of disgust by everyone downwind or within eyeshot.
  Almeyne slumped face-first into the foul ejecta as stagehands tried to pull him away from the stinking mess. The crowd was in full uproar as their state of inebriation was not too far off from Almeyne’s own.
  Omugaali quickly strode across the stage and grabbed the mic.
  “I’ve a good feeling about the UAP, don’t you?” he pleaded with a plastic grin. “Pardon us for the intestinal difficulties, but... uh, this is a great campaign and I thank you for attending...”
  The hundreds of music fans weren’t even booing at this point — just bellowing louder in revulsion as they fled the grounds...

“...Anyway, that’s how I remember it,” Botho concluded. “Omugaali actually won the election and served one term as UAP Grand Gouvernor. Oku Almeyne went on to have more hit songs after cleaning up his act. For a time.
  “But you’ll never read a word about that rally. The UAP media machine quashed all mention and sanitised all comm channels of this. And who’s gonna believe a bunch of drunk concertgoers?
  “I think Western media could take a few lessons on sifting out from mass consumption the sordid details of our beloved political leaders, don’t you?”