Menko 26: Maledicta Aposiopesis

Roge Visage Targuete

Stratum VIII was a tough time for Roge.
  He was coachman for the furley pupilles to Dykounson Scole, and being the snots they were, saw Roge as some cheese wagon churl.
  Still, who would care what a load of rumbustious kids have to think? The gruff, burly man with not-so-hidden caste insecurities, that’s who: Roge.
  Quarrels under the static and stench of daily diesel drives were just too much — it was time to get petty.
  Roge simply created whole-cloth Stories from the Backside to send these yobbies to the headmaster. That’ll show ’em.
  Our furley youth, whilst quite exasperating, do have a sense of justice.
  At year’s end, Master Stoddard stood in the East Bank at Crique de Yanick and watched Roge and the coach rumble off. He unscrolled the parchment and held it aloft in the sun.
  “Behold this bismare — thy guile empourens to the quick my quill to make thine ymage a marke of japery!”

Silly Rabbits, Little Chickens, and Lying Shepherds

Furley youngsters have learned to view Adult Fraughtness with a gimlet eye thanks to the Discordian antics of self-styled trickster archetypes.
  But any ‘archetype’ that reflexively defines itself by ‘what it is not’ has no metaphysical center.
  The kids have grown and see through this schtick.
  The trickster’s Adult Heresy is just the manifestation of Reality Dissociation; their everyday crier au loup another neophobic shriek against anterograde growth, and the continuous squall of heavens falling evermore, landing nevermore.

Hört gut auf die weise Gans!

Conversational Hostage ’26

Good manners and feigned interest are still all that keeps unwanted social interactions at bay, where a stern response may nudge some who are slow to social cues. Worse than the garden-variety narcissists are the Professional Eccentrics, whose lack of emotional regulation and insistence on performative ostentation are substitutes for actual character and personality. It’s kinda ironic.