Private Dick 2025

Hayseed 3.0

What an improvement: Tha 2043 proles a’ faicinn an mì-ùidh aca ann an leasachadh air a chuir a-steach do raon a’ mheacanaigeach...

Menko 25: Drongo de la mode

Saudade de cativante deusa de Montego

Stoddard sat quietly with his elbow resting in the open window of the passenger car as the train slowly made its way up into the hills. He watched the sun stream through the lush jungle canopy as the scant breeze did little to quell the island heat.
  Stepping off the train, he gazed incredulously up at the massive heaps of harvested sugar cane, each the size of a two-storey house.
  The distillery tour was unremarkable — a dry explanation of boilers and fermentation tanks in the guide’s thick patois soon lost Stoddard’s interest. Maybe it was the air, the sun, the heat — the cloying stickiness of the sugar cane that suffused every breath taken in the humid tropical clime.
  Even in his discomforting pique, his mind drifted back to the sands of Montego.

The goddesse layde, beckonende bihofþe the man
as the billows did crash upon the strand

  Stoddard stepped back outside but even there every draw of air tasted of hot, syrupy thickness. He again marveled at the mountains of sugar cane.
  “Young man! Take! Bless up!” The tour guide was suddenly beside him proffering a paper cup. “Di rum punch ours,” he pointed at the drink.
  Stoddard stared at the pink liquid. What furley young man would turn down free alcohol in a tropical setting, let alone anywhere?
  In his mishmash of queasiness and longing, Stoddard politely declined and headed back to the train.

Sche basketh in the sonne, and alle is wel
sche clepeth to me, and I desyre to answere...

Classic City Arcade 0125

Old School music night at Nirgend’s Tavern featuring music by Frank Highwatt and Mr Partridge’s Diavoli Vizioci.
On the scene: Mr Dutch, Mr Freeney, Ms Moneypenny, Fake Keanu, Mr Skööls, Ballast, Mr Aloysius, Dominique, Larry X, Ms Noonan, Mr Garge, and many more...

The Trail is Afire on the Path to Dust

Hiding one’s fouled-up deeds behind Good Intentions is nothing new in the CYA contingencies of the unaccountable. Shoring up one’s public Image-Construct to counter soul-rot goes back beyond Dorian Gray and his rotting carapace, but even that character had a sense of guilt.
  Today the harder one grasps at the Good Intentions excuse, the more obvious it is that the intent is not good at all, but just CYA by the Idiot’s Id.
  That the outer rind of the ‘pod’ is more important than the content within is a repugnant enough weltanschauung — and now that Empty Pride is a casual admission (as well as goal), it’s clear that the putrescence has fully spread from the corrupt inner soul to that very outer rind of form, where flippancy and contempt are bandied without shame.
  The seeds are now sprouting along the Path to Dust.

Les messagers ont tué leur propre crédibilité

Doctor Malcolm Eon, high dignitary of Gokhos Sakima, has long been a political gadfly to the Kon-Braga regime’s controversial policies. And now, he has taken aim at media malpractice and its detriment to providing for an informed public.
  “Gokhos Sakima Lumivision continues to dilute important issues down into false dichotomies and pabulous morsels for public consumption,” Dr Eon noted.
  “It’s expected that state-run planetary media would shill for the throne, but even United Planets Media is uncritically parroting GSLV’s unconvincing boilerplate. Don’t our media betters realise that force-feeding a low-value infotoxin diet to the public will eventually erode any remaining iota of credibility? I mean, who’s gonna swallow that shite?”
  Well, Dr Eon, it’s usually no surprise for despotic regimes to consider their own subjects as abject idiots. But a crumbling galactic media that insists on both inflaming and mollifying their audience without informing deems the public as semi-morons just as much as the High Epopt does. Une dure vérité, en effet.
  And so, Dr Eon, to answer your question about “who’s gonna swallow that,” we have a News Flash: No one is. And no one will.

This missive was republished from Eppulon Independent Samizdat and made available via subspace communiqué. Eppulon Independent Samizdat is neither licensed nor sanctioned by any governing bodies of the galaxy. No changes have been made nor original material added.

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