Tuesday, January 30, 2024

The Weird Flex and the Unacknowledged Subtext

1) “We’re using my lucky font. It’s been very good to me.”

“Clarity, purpose, and form that follows function are common principles of design, regardless of what is being created. ‘Luck’ is not one of those principles, but saying so gives the impression that my random, pulled-out-of-my-arse decisions are somehow tied to the success of something I had no business having a hand in.”

2) “Because my family has always voted for them!”

“While any individual running for public office is due the scrutiny of ostensibly informed voters, I utter this meaningless platitude to sound like I’m upholding some grand family tradition, when in reality I couldn’t begin to explain policies nor positions of any candidate in any race whatsoever.”

3) “I don’t know anything about computers!”

“I earned my smugness by simply sticking to hack work within the corporate hierarchy and having absolutely no interest in furthering my position, my company, or the field of work itself. I’ll keep pretending computers are just some fad though deep down I am terrified of being replaced by a machine — or worse: someone with initiative who’s half my age.”

4) “I only have guy friends.”

“This makes me sound like I detest the vapidity and annoyance of other women, but in fact, my need for male attention and validation are much closer to the ground zero of modern women’s neuroses being spun as ‘independent’ and ‘empowered.’”


Many have wondered what the purpose of the Weird Flex is that so many people mysteriously blurt out.
A possible subconscious rationale: To appear secure in one’s own insecurities.

Saturday, January 27, 2024

Cue for the Visions: Stratum XI Missions Composite

La canzone ha sigillato i nostri ricordi come cera sul substrato del tempo.

[Composite of two Stratum XI operations: 1) Haz-Waste Removal; and, 2) Furley Junior Cavort.]

In a basement lab in the Country Club Estates the Technicots [sic] are swilling their chemicals when an alarm suddenly sounds. A mysterious call motivates the Tyvek-clad crew into action.
  Using Uchu-Gomi as utility vehicle, the team retrieve a 44-gallon drum of Haz-Waste and secure it to the wagon’s luggage rack.
  How to get rid of this?
  A jaunt southward through Sorgenti Sabbiose brings the Technicots near the Prado, where a Buster Braun labourer laughs with an impudic gesture (all scripted, of course). Further south through Irbyville they arrive at the vast car park at Battaglia del Pesco. Superotto acetates capture the group cavorting outside the Bue Guado bookery in a quasi-dance incorporating elements of il Cagnolino and the Gringo’s Sobremordida.
  The drum of Haz-Waste was discarded in the [END OF LINE. REMAINDER IS EITHER INTENTIONALLY REDACTED; OR, A CORRUPTION OF MEDIA MEMORY CELS]
  MISREP submitted and analysed in cavernous Omniplex auditorium before the Fantasy Affaire con brass. Whilst the emcee made an arse of himself, Orville assets in attendance were impressed with the young crew’s initiative.