Thursday, February 18, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Statement of Purpose (Nihil/Narcissism Unbound?)
Placebos Are Getting More Effective
In the trenches of a small Thai pharmaceutical company here, gotta say, shit is looking sketchy in the industry these days. What's the snake oil? What's the poisonous snake oil? Sugar tablets as good as anti-depressants, without those nasty side effects. Tis the numero uno industry in terms of profit margin (true news there, this d-style here). More dan oil? Can't be more than those govt contracts where u get a billion dollars in aid and then u build a few ramshackle huts for some soon to be dead Hatians and cop the rest for yourself. Oh for the good old days in the 60's where you didn't have to keep track of free samples and drug reps roamed the countryside in candy filled cars exchanging amphetamines for hand jobs. We got freedom in America, thats why we are free to pay double for the same drugs that those ceiling lovers in Canada do..sky's the limit! Now our lauded science is started to dance away from us and flirt with that bad scene, with such trouble makers as irrationality and incomprehensibility...lo and behold the future is now and there is no order and there is no order, no new world order.Crackberries turn us into crackbabies turning our heads into Mush (Believe it or not, but know that believing ain't enough)
"Perhaps most worrisome, though, are the preliminary results of the multinational Interphone study sponsored by the International Agency for Research on Cancer, in Lyon, France. (Scientists from thirteen countries took part in the study, the United States conspicuously not among them.) Interphone researchers reported in 2008 that after a decade of cell-phone use, the chance of getting a brain tumor—specifically on the side of the head where you use the phone—goes up as much as 40 percent for adults. Interphone researchers in Israel have found that cell phones can cause tumors of the parotid gland (the salivary gland in the cheek), and an independent study in Sweden last year concluded that people who started using a cell phone before the age of 20 were five times as likely to develop a brain tumor. Another Interphone study reported a nearly 300 percent increased risk of acoustic neuroma, a tumor of the acoustic nerve."
The sizzle in the air invisible see, except when you hear at the break of dawn we're FREE.
Silent silence, it calls out to me, "turn on the wifi and watch celebrities!
Wimax, the broadband laced, the air burns microwaves slowly twist fate
not just cancer, depression its a blessing
give up anything- for the next thing
turn off the cable the sound is there a warning of the airwaves trying to share
celebrate the cell phone tower burning terrorist like the man who stole a tank and rolled over 6 of them in australia- real raw helicopter field squad health care real odd anybody deals with all the- true disease threat its everywhere scared, aware cant breath, security apparatus it defines the next thing but microwave got me for 20 years my cells thinned- freak show real cold my friends they see no evil on/in disney its 1 or 2, kid star or athlete the earnings the worming in the skull the neural control- eyes closed hypertension blind slow culture swallows minds foes- turns into 1 disease my bro, culture one the time slows- plastic wants release takes control, endocrine system gotta go- what am i eating scared what am i eating paranoid visions of the cracks in the cement- ancestors watching SHAME talk no action SHAME no nonono clearness no nono CHANGE.
China on da march. Exports wanna move. All the kids in they basements got something to prove. Workers get nothing. They really want something. They call that something a special bill worth loving. Positive attitude nobody wanna get caught frontin. The boy he's not hating. Just got no patience with the cliches on the pavement. Robots check nope, wisdom child check no. Please only jokes and riddles only broken battered flow.
Any mention of generation y nostalgia's getting slashed. Sick to see Eminem selling big because we miss our childhood raps. Tired know nothing- yes we pathetic- quote movies holla back. nickelodeon golden age of our syrup tinged crap.
Contortionists please abort these fetuses, I'm scared of their anger when they come out twenty years later they'll be like no thank you, wat the fuck you set us free for, so we can just be bored, I will get some C4 and blow up what I deplore. uh help if they take it all and store it away who the fuck are we to tell em they aint wrong, cuz we took it up the ass and convinced ourselves we loved it all along
tongue in cheek ok please i dont make claims to do this art unique but I hear them talking often but they hardly speak
Theres the one voice and then theres the double. I see the alternative and the alternative's alternative and the history can be split recombined and split and recombined. They called me for a memoir I said fuck its just the same shit. Who is accusing the other, and what is their name and rationale? That man represents that organization and that organization represents what geo-coordination...or simply from planet iPhormation. Please no narrow spit out recapsuled humorbomb all lessons taught are lessons already known. All lessons that should be learned are spit straight from the dome. While you were listening to punk rock i stripped the artifice from music looking for the subterranean terrain where the message ripples through the sky causing cataracts of sound dropping birds of feather flocking the same north south. DJs who reduce music to the 4/4 rhythms of mix and match beats so ppl cant move their silly movements miss the intricacies of noise rearranged through time trace the legacy of faust to muslimgauze- i am on that next shit please get on board. Whos being cocky? The ego has yet reached no barrier it only seems to hate on everything as it is so many's everything that is worthy of hate, in my mind there is much to set apologies for and praise to the heavens I have nothing against religion persae per each thing i say. Please think of plateaus, your words spoken are on that same ol' plateau- mine might not be your favorite but its different or at least it tries, does research, in its way aims high.
.....................
Monday, February 8, 2010
A Liquid Universe
The young boy squatted on a rock by the lake. The sky, sterling blue, as if it were light refracted from a pristine sapphire, stretched infinitely around the bounds of the horizon, only adorned by the occasional lazily wafting cloud. The lake, as limpid as distilled water, reflected the great azure sky so perfectly as to deceive the mind between down and up, sky and liquid, heaven and hell. The peace of the lake was only interrupted by the ripples of the soft fall breeze and the ducks that floated and dove underneath for food.
The waters were so clear and still that one could see the pebbles that lay and the fish that swam about underwater. It was the fish that caught the boy's eyes, and he peered at them curiously. Their scales sparkled so vibrantly in the sunshine, and the way they wriggled and wiggled so fluidly in the liquid fascinated him. He had great, big, curious eyes, as any innocent child does; his spirit was as pure as the lake and sky before him. He squatted there on the bank, riveted at the squirming bodies underwater.
"Hello, child. What are you doing?"
The child turned around.
A man, in his middle ages, appeared behind the child. He had on a suit, tie, and top hat; he carried nothing but one large, black suitcase. His coat and pants were sullied by dust, his tie was somewhat upset. He had scraggly scrubble growing off of his face; he seemed to have not shaved in days.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm looking at the fish."
"Oh?"
The man came over next to the boy and peered over the rock. He, too, saw the fish. He smiled.
“Do you like fish?” the man asked.
“Huh?”
“I said, do you like fish.”
“I don’t know,” said the boy.
“What do you mean?” the man replied.
“Well,” thought the boy, “I only sort of know what a fish is. I ate it before and it was delicious, but I’ve never touched it and I’ve never met one. I don’t really know what a fish is other than seeing it swim in the water.”
A short silence punctuated the conversation. A cool breeze tumbled by, ruffling the man’s clothes and briefly disturbing the surface of the water. One could hear the grass crinkling in the rolling meadows, the trees rustling their multicolored autumn foliage, the bark crunching under the feet of a mockingbird that warbled melodiously in the distance.
“They’re not that interesting,” said the man.
“Yes, they are,” the child retorted.
“What’s so interesting about some stupid fish?” the man scoffed.
The boy’s gaze never left the water for an instant, even as he spoke. His voice was gentle, his words simple yet clear: “Fish are interesting animals because they’re so different from us. We have arms and legs and a head and neck and face, but they only have a face and one long body and some fins and flippers. They live only in water and they die in the air, which is opposite to us. Their world is one in water, they live in a thing that we can only die in. They have no cars, no legs, no horses, only fins and they swim very quickly with them. But they never complain! All they know how to do is swim and swim and swim. We would think that’s boring, but they’re happy with just swimming.”
A pause.
The man was not one to think much of the words of children and felt a sense of superior arrogance in that he knew much more than the boy. He dismissed the child’s words as stupid garbage and thought not much of his intelligence.
“These fish are not so interesting! They’re just slippery, slimy things that are good to eat. I think that’s boring!” He tilted his head back and laughed. The child was unfazed.
“You know,” the man continued, “I went to a very good school and I read many books. I’m a traveling scholar, and I know many things. I’ve experienced much more than you, so I know that these fish are boring and have nothing to them. Why you are so transfixed by them, I don’t know. Do you even know what transfixed means? Probably not – it means to be fascinated by – but do you even know what fascinate means? Probably not, you don’t seem to bright if you’re so fascinated by fish. Anyways, if you like fish so much, do you want to see one above the water?”
The boy shook his head. “No. It will die. I’m happy with just looking at them.”
The man frowned. “That’s so boring, though. Let’s go touch the fish.” He walked closer to the edge of the rock. “The water doesn’t even look that deep, child. I think I can touch one of them…”
As the man knelt down to submerge his hand under the water, his foot slipped. He slid feet first right into the water with a sloppy splash. The water around him sprayed and splattered violently as he thrashed about. Upon his noisy entrance, the alarmed fish scattered into a million directions.
“Hell!” he yelled. “It’s fucking deep!”
The boy’s eyes enlarged. “Mister? Do you need help?”
“No,” the man said between gasps of water. “I read lots of books and I – splash – recently read a book on swimming and – splash – ack – can manage myself well – blah – splash – and I’ll be ash… - splash – ptooey – ashore in – splash, gurgle, bubble – ashore in a second…”
Surely I can make it ashore! thought the man. That book I read on swimming – How to Swim Like a Marlin by J. L. Smith – surely it will help me out here!
Unfortunately for him, neither marlins nor this body of water had heard of that book before and, curiously enough, the author himself, J. L. Smith, had slipped and knocked his head unconscious in his bathtub and drowned to death a month after said book’s publication. The man sank to the bottom of the lake and never resurfaced. He didn't belong in the liquid universe.
The boy stood up. “I guess that mister was right,” he said. “Fishes are pretty boring.” He turned around and walked away from the lake.
The waters were so clear and still that one could see the pebbles that lay and the fish that swam about underwater. It was the fish that caught the boy's eyes, and he peered at them curiously. Their scales sparkled so vibrantly in the sunshine, and the way they wriggled and wiggled so fluidly in the liquid fascinated him. He had great, big, curious eyes, as any innocent child does; his spirit was as pure as the lake and sky before him. He squatted there on the bank, riveted at the squirming bodies underwater.
"Hello, child. What are you doing?"
The child turned around.
A man, in his middle ages, appeared behind the child. He had on a suit, tie, and top hat; he carried nothing but one large, black suitcase. His coat and pants were sullied by dust, his tie was somewhat upset. He had scraggly scrubble growing off of his face; he seemed to have not shaved in days.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm looking at the fish."
"Oh?"
The man came over next to the boy and peered over the rock. He, too, saw the fish. He smiled.
“Do you like fish?” the man asked.
“Huh?”
“I said, do you like fish.”
“I don’t know,” said the boy.
“What do you mean?” the man replied.
“Well,” thought the boy, “I only sort of know what a fish is. I ate it before and it was delicious, but I’ve never touched it and I’ve never met one. I don’t really know what a fish is other than seeing it swim in the water.”
A short silence punctuated the conversation. A cool breeze tumbled by, ruffling the man’s clothes and briefly disturbing the surface of the water. One could hear the grass crinkling in the rolling meadows, the trees rustling their multicolored autumn foliage, the bark crunching under the feet of a mockingbird that warbled melodiously in the distance.
“They’re not that interesting,” said the man.
“Yes, they are,” the child retorted.
“What’s so interesting about some stupid fish?” the man scoffed.
The boy’s gaze never left the water for an instant, even as he spoke. His voice was gentle, his words simple yet clear: “Fish are interesting animals because they’re so different from us. We have arms and legs and a head and neck and face, but they only have a face and one long body and some fins and flippers. They live only in water and they die in the air, which is opposite to us. Their world is one in water, they live in a thing that we can only die in. They have no cars, no legs, no horses, only fins and they swim very quickly with them. But they never complain! All they know how to do is swim and swim and swim. We would think that’s boring, but they’re happy with just swimming.”
A pause.
The man was not one to think much of the words of children and felt a sense of superior arrogance in that he knew much more than the boy. He dismissed the child’s words as stupid garbage and thought not much of his intelligence.
“These fish are not so interesting! They’re just slippery, slimy things that are good to eat. I think that’s boring!” He tilted his head back and laughed. The child was unfazed.
“You know,” the man continued, “I went to a very good school and I read many books. I’m a traveling scholar, and I know many things. I’ve experienced much more than you, so I know that these fish are boring and have nothing to them. Why you are so transfixed by them, I don’t know. Do you even know what transfixed means? Probably not – it means to be fascinated by – but do you even know what fascinate means? Probably not, you don’t seem to bright if you’re so fascinated by fish. Anyways, if you like fish so much, do you want to see one above the water?”
The boy shook his head. “No. It will die. I’m happy with just looking at them.”
The man frowned. “That’s so boring, though. Let’s go touch the fish.” He walked closer to the edge of the rock. “The water doesn’t even look that deep, child. I think I can touch one of them…”
As the man knelt down to submerge his hand under the water, his foot slipped. He slid feet first right into the water with a sloppy splash. The water around him sprayed and splattered violently as he thrashed about. Upon his noisy entrance, the alarmed fish scattered into a million directions.
“Hell!” he yelled. “It’s fucking deep!”
The boy’s eyes enlarged. “Mister? Do you need help?”
“No,” the man said between gasps of water. “I read lots of books and I – splash – recently read a book on swimming and – splash – ack – can manage myself well – blah – splash – and I’ll be ash… - splash – ptooey – ashore in – splash, gurgle, bubble – ashore in a second…”
Surely I can make it ashore! thought the man. That book I read on swimming – How to Swim Like a Marlin by J. L. Smith – surely it will help me out here!
Unfortunately for him, neither marlins nor this body of water had heard of that book before and, curiously enough, the author himself, J. L. Smith, had slipped and knocked his head unconscious in his bathtub and drowned to death a month after said book’s publication. The man sank to the bottom of the lake and never resurfaced. He didn't belong in the liquid universe.
The boy stood up. “I guess that mister was right,” he said. “Fishes are pretty boring.” He turned around and walked away from the lake.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Dear Toiling Masses
I was sitting in my study the other day, counting the profits from my numerous copper mines in South America, and in the mists of curling cigar smoke and in between the sounds of squeaking leather and the swishing of brandy a thought occurred to me: Robots.
Yes that’s right robots. Now I know what you’re thinking dear reader, “Why would this obviously well to do business man that turns a profits from the less fortunate natives of uncivilized countries, that oppresses the masses through hazy back room deals with governments, and sits atop his spire looking down at the world and laughing, why would he be thinking about robots?” Well I will tell you, at great risk to my personal safety. That’s right dear reader I will be the whistle blower. I will expose the circuitous plans of the power elite.
That plan, as I have stated is robots. At first they will be benign; robots that help you do chores, that walk your dog, and robots with which you can entertain your most depraved sexual fantasies with. This is step one, a step which as we speak is in action. Step two is far more devious and will be undertaken to two phases. Phase one: kill drones, robots for national security, robots that kill foreign “terrorists”. This too is already in effect, but it is Phase Two which will be the nail in your underprivileged coffins. Kill drones for domestic “terrorists”, Kill drones for everyone and everything. Kill drones that kill. It will be under the guise of a so called “robot revolution”. This will obviously lead to the extermination of the lower class (minus, of course, a few choice females which are deemed worthy of breeding), and the ruling elites will be free to reproduce and spread their seed across the world, enjoying a life free from toil and the disgusting stench of the sweat the working man leaves on this planet.
Why have I told you this? Why when it would seemingly benefit me to let this diabolical plan come to fruition? Well I have discovered an even more sinister plot devised by those more elite than I which will separate the elites left after the robot revolution into elite elites and just regular elites to create a ruling-working elite class and a ruling-ruling elite class. Then under the guise of a “cephalopod revolution” exterminate the ruling-working elite class thus starting the cycle over again.
Yes dear reader, it is not the elites who are your enemies it is the combined forces of robots and cephalopods that seek to destroy everything we have fought so hard for. Do not place your energies into defeating the corporations; do seek to dethrone the kings of new. No! Seek out and destroy all robots and cephalopods and all robot and cephalopod look-a-likes for they may just be robots and cephalopods in disguise. To arms ye noble savages, with sword and valor destroy all Johnny 5’s and smite all cuttlefish.
Sincerely,
J. Arthur Reginald III Paranoid-Schizophrenic Extraordinaire
Yes that’s right robots. Now I know what you’re thinking dear reader, “Why would this obviously well to do business man that turns a profits from the less fortunate natives of uncivilized countries, that oppresses the masses through hazy back room deals with governments, and sits atop his spire looking down at the world and laughing, why would he be thinking about robots?” Well I will tell you, at great risk to my personal safety. That’s right dear reader I will be the whistle blower. I will expose the circuitous plans of the power elite.
That plan, as I have stated is robots. At first they will be benign; robots that help you do chores, that walk your dog, and robots with which you can entertain your most depraved sexual fantasies with. This is step one, a step which as we speak is in action. Step two is far more devious and will be undertaken to two phases. Phase one: kill drones, robots for national security, robots that kill foreign “terrorists”. This too is already in effect, but it is Phase Two which will be the nail in your underprivileged coffins. Kill drones for domestic “terrorists”, Kill drones for everyone and everything. Kill drones that kill. It will be under the guise of a so called “robot revolution”. This will obviously lead to the extermination of the lower class (minus, of course, a few choice females which are deemed worthy of breeding), and the ruling elites will be free to reproduce and spread their seed across the world, enjoying a life free from toil and the disgusting stench of the sweat the working man leaves on this planet.
Why have I told you this? Why when it would seemingly benefit me to let this diabolical plan come to fruition? Well I have discovered an even more sinister plot devised by those more elite than I which will separate the elites left after the robot revolution into elite elites and just regular elites to create a ruling-working elite class and a ruling-ruling elite class. Then under the guise of a “cephalopod revolution” exterminate the ruling-working elite class thus starting the cycle over again.
Yes dear reader, it is not the elites who are your enemies it is the combined forces of robots and cephalopods that seek to destroy everything we have fought so hard for. Do not place your energies into defeating the corporations; do seek to dethrone the kings of new. No! Seek out and destroy all robots and cephalopods and all robot and cephalopod look-a-likes for they may just be robots and cephalopods in disguise. To arms ye noble savages, with sword and valor destroy all Johnny 5’s and smite all cuttlefish.
Sincerely,
J. Arthur Reginald III Paranoid-Schizophrenic Extraordinaire
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