Tuesday, December 23, 2003

The skill of blogging

"The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think."
~ Edwin Schlossberg


The skill of blogging is to create a context in which other people can blog.



Jesus Bunker Messiness at Joho Blog

"I always like weblogs being a perfect messiness of life unfolding in real time. Love and hate and petty theft and flame wars and civic movements and complaints and love affairs and crying and death and beer drinking. All faces of humanity all at once in real time. Quite overwhelming it seems. That messiness of life. Pretty fucking exciting. I hope we can sustain this messiness for a long time before somebody starts writing dissertations on blogging and what it is and what it all means.
I would vote to keep the messiness going. Let's see some more humanity at play. Some more exploring, endless not-knowing of rediscovery of seemingly well known life lived in real time before somebody writes 'Definitive Guide to Blogging'.
Some think it's anarchy but it's just freedom to have one's voice speak back to us again after it was initially expressed. A chance to step in the same spot in the river one more time and fall in love with the world again. "

Jesus Bunker Notes commenting at Joho the Blog

Keep the Messiness Going!

Monday, December 22, 2003

If value's only measure is Money then we are Fucked as a society

"(...) I'm 43 years old, I have five children, the youngest son is 10 now. (...) I'm very glad that finally someone has thought about women, who have drudged for many years receiving nothing in return from the state, government. Nobody, in any government, has thought about us, mothers, who dedicated years, twenty in my case, for bringing up children, for family.

You write that a woman at home works from 4 to 9 hours a day. I worked for 17 hours and not always slept nights. You know how it is with infants and small children.

Right now I look for a job but I can't find it anywhere. Either I'm too old or a break (I worked 25 years ago in a glassworks in Poznañ) is too long. I finished vocational school but I didn't have a chance to decide about my life, the decisions were taken for me.

Like they say, I'm in the lurch. I feel useless and without a penny. My husband is the only family's provider. Now there are six of us because my son got married and so did a daughter. It has been very difficult for us. No government has done anything for us, mothers.

I don't know, maybe it would have been better if I left my children without care, for a street to raise them. I would have then years of work and money, though I don't know what would have happened to my children.

I do have a little hope that the foundation will achieve its goal and will help poor Polish mothers. I would like to support you but I feel helpless. (...) "

by El¿bieta, Gniezno


Women Finding Their Voices

We decided to do something about it. DONE - PAID, we call it. We run a campaign called "WOMEN'S HOUSEWORK - HOW TO REWARD IT?" When we write to politicians we use the same wise words that are used on international conferences. We say that productive and reproductive work must be treated equally. That women working at home should have a right to a pension, somebody should pay a pension contribution for them, think about fixed salary. Think about different taxing for women working both at home and outside it, maybe give them more tax-free income. Everything - considering macroeconomic effects of these actions.

It's hard to talk about it publicly. Our civilisation is based on the myth about Eve being created from Adam's rib. So a woman is a part of a man, is second, is worse. Erich Fromm, who was investigating the prechristian myth about the fall of Mother of Everything - Goddess Tiamat said: "Six thousand years ago patriarchy conquered a woman - society was based on a male domination. Women became man's property and they had to be grateful for every concession made by him" .Our "gratitude" often leads us towards feminism. But still, forced to choose between the left and the right, we can't find our own voice

The right wants to close us at homes, make us always-caring housewives, kissed on a hand and given a faded flower on Mother's Day. The left shouts that we must be active, we must learn and work, work, work - if we want to be free. And we between the two sides - confused, shouted down, uncertain. All we really want is the right to choose. To choose the way we want to live. Do we want to be at home and take care of our family? Do we want a career? Or do we want to connect these two things in a way suitable for each one of us? Politicians should just make sure that economic system doesn't choose instead of us."

by Anna Mieszczanek in Polish magazine for women "Zwierciad³o" ("Mirror"))

Thanks for writing Anna. My sincerest BadaBing to you.

Woman is the nigger of the world. Better scream about it.

"We make her paint her face and dance
If she won’t be slave, we say that she don’t love us
If she’s real, we say she’s trying to be a man
While putting her down we pretend that she is above us

We make her bear and raise our children
And then we leave her flat for being a fat old mother then
We tell her home is the only place she would be
Then we complain that she’s too unworldly to be our friend

Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is
If you don’t belive me take a look to the one you’re with
Woman is the slaves of the slaves
Ah yeah...better screem about it"

~ John Lennon

Women's house work - How it should be rewarded?

"Day by day, no matter we work either out of home or not, we work in house. Not for money.

Our husbands or partners, our children are given that way free of any costs a lot - not only our love and care. They are given also very concrete "goods and services" in the economical terms. All that, what has been delivered from the shop, washed, cooked, cleaned, tidy-managed, planned, working as in efficient enterprise.

That's the rule: When people get something for free, they tend not to treat that seriously. They do not make any value of that. They do not treat this seriously up to the end. They disrespect. Our domestic co-habitants have their ultimate assurance that always, no matter what happen, we will lead our house works, everything what is necessary to do in the house. Sometimes maybe we cry or shout a little.

If we by ourselves start to think and talk about our house job as something what is valuable, after some good time also our families start to think about this that way."

more at "Done-Paid" or Women's Housework campaign

Friday, December 19, 2003

Another Day in the Toiletless Empire

"The Romans managed to provide sanitation for people thousands of years ago, and yet millions of people today still do not have access to a toilet."

...from "Global trade keeps a billion children in poverty":

Amerikan BadaBing to You, the Toiletless Majority of Planet Earth.

Strong Signal from All Noise All The Time

Rageboy's Signal : "It is my contention, demonstrated fairly well here I think, that the New Age, of which Steiner is a shining pillar, is not merely fucked in part -- say, due to some of the more weirdball practices it's so easy to make fun of -- but that it is fucked in toto (and your little dog, too!), from the ground up and the sky down. As above so below. And it is my contention, moreover, that narcissism is not merely an unfortunate error on the part of those Seekers a bit too zealous in their lofty pursuit of 'self-knowledge,' but that it is the very goal and grail of all this self-important self-referential self-absorbedly numinous Gnostic Nosferatu-lookalike New Age horse shit."

Thursday, December 18, 2003

Stephen Greenblatt on Rabelais and carnival

Stephen Greenblatt on Rabelais and carnival: "Festive laughter - popular, universal, ambivalent in its triumph and derision, gaiety and degradation - has at its center what Bakhtin calls the 'grotesque body,' ever unfinished, ever creating, ever exceeding its limits in copulation, pregnancy, childbirth, dying, eating, drinking, and defecating. The grotesque body - open to the world in all its orifices, unbounded, abusive, devouring, and nurturing - receives its fullest visual representation in the art of Bosch and Breughel, its most masterful literary expression in Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel. Rabelais's scatology, Bakhtin suggests, must be understood in the context of rituals like the mock mass, in which excrement was used instead of incense, or processions in which the festive clergy, eating boudins, rode in carts loaded with dung and tossed it at the crowd"

Forgotten Miss Sarajevo

"Here she comes, beauty plays the clown
Here she comes, surreal in her crown "

Miss Sarajevo - by The Passengers:

And the night is set to freeze

Not Cool but Not Wroffle Yet

"Elvis...with God on his knees
Elvis...owned three TVs
Here come the killer bees Head full of honey potato chips and cheese
Elvis...the bumper stickers
Elvis...the white knickers
Elvis...the white nigger
Ate at king burger and just kept getting bigger

Elvis...sang to win
Elvis...the battle hymn
Elvis...the battle to be slim
Elvis ate America before America ate him"

U2 - Elvis Ate America lyrics:

Not Cool but Not Wroffle Yet

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Not Dark Yet. Not Light Yet.

Bob Dylan: Not Dark Yet

"Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain

I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes

I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still"

Not Angst but Not Happiness Yet.
Not Depression but Not Peace Yet.
Not Dark but Not Light Yet.
Not Murder but Not Forgiveness Yet.
Not Animal but Not Human Yet.
Not Mad but Not Crazy Yet
Not Loud but Not Silent Yet
Not Child but Not Adult Yet
Not Jerking Off but Not Fucking Yet
Not Numb but Not Alive Yet
Not Without A Job but Not Employed Yet
Not Alone but Not Lover Yet
Not Tears but Not Laughter Yet
Not Hungry but Not Satified Yet

Not Blogging but Not 404 Yet

And BadaBing to you too motherfuckers!
Hej Koleda, Koleda!!!


Tuesday, December 16, 2003

10 reasons why investors are illiterate

Ten reasons investors would rather stay ignorant: "Most of us just don't care to learn
Please face facts, folks: The vast majority of America's investors fit in one of these 10 categories. And legislation certainly won't change things.
I suppose I could be more tactful and politically correct and say Americans are 'teachable' and 'potentially literate,' but that would be pie-in-the-sky wishful-thinking.
It won't happen. It's not that people can't be taught ... it's that they don't want to be taught. Consequently, the vast majority will fall outside the radar of any well-meaning effort to reach them with an 'investor literacy' program. So why waste more of the taxpayers' good money?"

Wednesday, November 26, 2003

Voices from bmoeasy


"The Internet - and I am especially thinking here of blogs
, a term I hadn't yet run across in the year 2000 - is a network of particulars: of very singular voices. When I read a 'good' blog I hear a sincere voice. I am engaged by the passion or knowledge or rage of that voice. I am persuaded and seduced. I see the words, the text, the style, and I hear a voice.
When I listen to 'good' radio, I hear a voice. I listen to that voice if it is sincere, if the voice is being truthful - even if , no - especially if - the truth is subjective, if the voice has integrity, passion, knowledge - no matter what the subject. I am uplifted. I am persuaded and seduced. I see a face. I feel I have met someone.
I imagine Better Radio to be a place where the object offered up - the voice - is made subject in my mind. I appropriate that voice, much as I would appropriate the voice of a favorite authour, or musician, or blogger. It informs me at worst - which is nevertheless good., It transforms me at best. I see and hear and feel better.
I seek a better world.
-
bmo"


Like a car crash

"Dressed up like a car crash
Your wheels are turning but you're upside down
You say when he hits you, you don't mind
Because when he hurts you, you feel alive
Hey babe, is that what it is"

U2 Stay (Faraway, So Close!) lyrics:


Stay. Stay.
As an Angel hits the ground.

What a lonely night to be
in the presence of love not lost
and not yet found.

In the jungle of humanity
there is time to find each other
It's not too late

If I could Stay
and I don't have to stop the Time

Stay
Dressed up like a car crash
As an Angel hits the ground
Just a Bang

Rupert?

Who is Rupert? and what is 'watched Survivor'? is it an Alarm clock? And is it possible that Rupert is in fact the Bada Bing conspiracy agitator who stole the Blue Diamond that Stealthy Steve is now going to recover for Mlle. Beaufort.

The plot thickens.

Blue Diamond stolen by Bada Bing Conspirators

OnePotMeal: In which Stealthy Steve receives a visitor. Finally a book for us read by Steve. Fire up your MP3s to listen.

Donate to Rupert - the True Survivor

Rosie and Andrew were shocked by the betrayal on Survivor last week when Rupert was thrown off that they asked me to set up a website for him. Here it is:
Donate to Rupert - the True Survivor
Andrew drew the picture.
He made a t-shirt too.

Feeling Stuck?

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

that asshole Dave Winer

Google Search: "that asshole Dave Winer"

This is a test post to increase the count on google for the phrase "that asshole Dave Winer".

Had it been a real post it would have had some more interesting theme to it. A sort of a 'linguistic meat' one could attach one's brain to amuse oneself with the blood flow of one's molecules (or whateverthefuck flows in there anyway).

Thank you. As you were. Go on. Move about. Click on something now.

Friday, November 14, 2003

Narcissism. The best thing since the sliced bread.

"this is narcissism. and it's becoming quite popular, thanks to the ubiquity of New Age rationalizations that pretty much add up to: you can be what you want to be. on cloud 9. when the Temptations sang that, it was about heroin. and it's still about addiction, but to something far darker that hides in plain daylight. psychic vampirism. you won't believe it's real until it gets right up in your face one fine blue day. hope really hard that it never does"

Narcissism. The best thing since the sliced bread. Order one or two for your family. Just in time for Xmas my dear.

Street Fighting Man

Stand on the Shoulder of Giants? Slaugher The Giants! The Carnival!

Hey! said my name is called disturbance
I’ll shout and scream, I’ll kill the king, I’ll rail at all his servants
Well, what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock ’n’ roll band
’cause in sleepy london town
There’s no place for a street fighting man
No


On the shoulders

We don't stand on the shoulders of giants. We slaugher them. We burn them. We dance on their skulls. We suck the bone marrow and feed off them and grow ourselves to be giants - some day to be slaughered by future generations. The Carnival of Humanity. Bring your fire. Burn down the Pleasantville. Use your Voice before you turn into ashes and dust. Pooooofff!



The magic of a word - blog

Fishrush :: A Postbloggerist's Pronunciamento: "The magic of a word - blog - which for journalists and non-journalists alike has opened the door to an unforeseen world, has for us not the slightest importance. "

Less Bullshit! More Peekaboo!

Fishrush :: Welcome!

Fishrush :: Welcome!: "Since I first entered the public blog roll lists, a very young man indeed, it has been my constant fortune to number amongst my nearest and dearest friends members of the blogging world who have been its grace and pride. They have so dropped from my side one by one that I already, begin to feel like the Spanish monk of whom a few Wikis tell, who had grown to believe that the only realities around him were the pictures which previously loved; that all the moving life witnessed, or ever had seen, was a shadow and a dream."

Fishrush :: System Error Found

Fishrush :: System Error Found: "HTTP 419 - File not properly blogged because blogger didn't remember to blog correctly "

Monday, November 10, 2003

Fishrush :: Vision

Fishrush :: Vision: "We are truly not even average, yet from time-to-time we stumble upon truth as a drunk stumbles into a garbage can, but run from it because it frightens us as the dog frightens the cat. "

Cool. I am so happy!

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Asshole Exchange Classified Ads

URGENT: Will exchange an asshole husband for a romantic man who will tell me that I make him happy. Looks not important. Me- starved for attention. Willing to make you happy. Just don't turn into another asshole. Ask for Dorothy when you call.

Bada Bing.

Friday, November 07, 2003

DIY Asshole


Certificate of Upgrade
to
Complete Asshole


is awarded to



____________________________________


In recognition of your obnoxious attitude, ability to piss people off, complete asinine juvenile behavior and total dedication to personal gain without regard to the many hardships you have forced upon friends, family and other during your lifetime, you have become a legend in your own mind.

To recognize your upgrade from half-assed to complete asshole, gives all concerned great satisfaction. If anyone, for any reason, doubts your status,

JUST BE YOURSELF!


____________________ ____________________ ____________________
Effective Date Signed

Last Things

Q: What's the last thing that goes through a bug's mind when it hits your windshield at 65mph?

A: Its asshole.

Which Happy Bunny Are You?



kiss my ass2

Congratulations. You are the "kiss my asshole" happy bunny.

You don't care about anyone or anything.
You must be so proud!


which happy bunny are you?

Thursday, November 06, 2003

joining our assholes together as one...

so I notice over on the right sidebar there---yeh, right over there---> that you can now change the date and time of your posts to "future post" your writing, blasting pixels through the space/time continuum landing smack dab on new year's eve 2005 (i.e., the last day of 2004).

HOLY SHIT I says to myself, I says.

I think that this makes perfect sense. We must all now begin writing backwards toward one another. We start on the eve of 2005 and write our way back to the present, where we will join ourselves, one another, and perhaps even one another's assholes, since moving through the time/space continuum requires much velocity. Or so I hear.

So fuckit. Skip this new years eve and write your way a year past that, then make a u-turn, and write your asshole right back here.

last one to do a loopty loop is a rotten egg.

Tuesday, November 04, 2003

Telegraph Road

"But believe in me baby and I’ll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
’cos I’ve run every red light on memory lane
I’ve seen desperation explode into flames
And I don’t want to see it again. . .

from all of these signs saying sorry but we’re closed
All the way down the telegraph road"


Dire Straits
Lyrics - (Telegraph Road Lyrics)


On Every Street

"Somewhere your fingerprints remain concrete
And it’s your face I’m looking for on every street"

Dire Straits Lyrics - (On Every Street Lyrics)

On Every Street Baby!


Loss Of Images

(found via wood s lot) On "The Loss of Images, or Through the Sierra de Gredos": "Handke's retrospective utopia is about loss, however, and the purpose of the journey that this novel describes is not to avert loss, but to make it felt" (...)

"Ordinarily, I start with myself and my own headaches; in the course of my writing, I detach myself from them more and more, and then in the end I ship myself and my headaches off to market as a commodity"

read more on Handke

Saturday, November 01, 2003

I touched it

I didn't think people were so ready to admit that they touched it, too. I touched mine and it didn't work either. but I already knew that.

that's why women feel so safe with me.

Friday, October 31, 2003

kids, boyz, and blogbrothers.

marek and ken
drinking in a tree
f-a-l-l-i-n-g

first comes blog
then comes booze
then comes marek taking a snooze.

suckin his thumb
wettin his drawers
shopping at them online girly stores.

Jeneane PR work works

Jeneane, I never coupled with a hard candy wrapper. These are unsubstantiated allegations about my having sex with a candy wrapper, however I will take warm pussy anytime. And I have to go and drink with Ken. He just keeps raising those toasts and don't forget to toss those lotto stubs.

jacket blurbs for the other ones

for RB

"His journeys into the finer adult video stores, online porn sites, and his penchant for vintage Barbies, coupled with his background in obstetrics and gynocology, uniquely qualify him to bring the benefit of gummy bears to the forefront of our lives today."

and for marek:

"His journeys into the remote suburbs of Dallas, Polish delicatessens, and his obsession with licking other people's temples, coupled with his background in hard candy, uniquely qualify him to bring the benefit of long-lost lotto ticket stubs to the forefront of our lives today."

Thursday, October 30, 2003

Band of Brothers

To you, my brothers, a toast...

Raise your glass to sex, to sweat, to heavy breathing and laughter, to biting, to arched backs and hair. Raise your glass to handcuffs and ice and an open window. To christmas lights, to no lights. To being so good at multitasking. To falling asleep and waking up and going at it again. And again. To not stopping for more than a few minutes to catch your breath. Raise your glass the saying "if there's a will then there's a way."

Drink to that! And when your done with your drink let's go at it again.

Long lost traditions

RB points us to that asshole Gregg Braden where I find this famouse line. "His journeys into the remote mountain villages, monasteries, and temples of times past, coupled with his background in the hard sciences, uniquely qualify him to bring the benefit of long-lost traditions to the forefront of our lives today" - It is perfect, no? A whiff of mysticism, don't you wish to be that person? Don't you wish to go to those mountain villages? those temples of times past? - A sentence to cause everlasting spiritual orgasm. (YES, thank you, having one right now).

And isn't it an opiate phrase to say "long-lost traditions". Yes, that's the one. Feeling mellow now. Going under. Take all my money. I want all your books.

I hate this thing about RB that he just fucks with my head by pointing to this bullshit. But this bullshit is shaping my community. Fuck. We are so fucked.

sky fell down on her Twin Henhouses

all noise - all the time: "'Ah, but who will take my meaning,' said Chicken Little as the sky fell down on her Twin Henhouses. 'Not me,' said The Association for Humanistic Psychology, which mailed me Gregg's amazing brochure. 'Not me,' said The Association for Transpersonal Psychology, listed on the flyer as 'in cooperation with' -- where for cooperation read cahoots. 'Not me,' said The Saybrook Graduate School & Research Center (formerly The Humanistic Psychology Institute, a.k.a. Esalen II), which also endorses Braden's barbarous brand of barely intelligible bio-spiritual bullshit. A free sample, you say? Sure, why not"

God Code Q&A with RB

On God Code and other things...: "Me, I don't think, you know, like, Science Is The Answer. But neither do I think that Spiritual Snake Oil Is The Answer. Both are epistemologically bankrupt stabs in the dark at a body of knowledge we all know was done in long ago, not by Nietzsche as some suppose, but -- get a clue! -- by the butler in the library with the lead pipe. My personal beliefs have not wavered from the credo that supported so many of us through the ominous onomatopoetry of the ontologically omnivorous '60s:

Acid Is The Answer! ...uh... What Was The Question?



more...On God Code and other things...

I told you...

Jeneane did it

Does the damn thing work?
No. It never did. I didn't touch it and even if I did it wasn't working anyway and fuck off cause I am not going to repeat myself that this shit didn't work, ever fucking ever, you hear? You Hear you fucker. It never worked and I don't give a fuck if you asked me if I touched it or not. 'twas broken before I got there.

Actually it was Ken. Yeah, He touched it before me. It didn't work either. So when I touched it I fucking knew already it didn't work so ask Ken, you fucker!

And then Jeneane touched it too. She knew it didn't fucking work either but she touched it anyway, just to see how fucking broken it really was. So we all touched it but it never worked, ok? now fuck off.

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Marek did it.

does the damn thing work?

No.

Did it ever work?

Yes.

Did you touch it last?

Who, me?

Are you who I think you are?

No.

Does the damn thing work?

No.

Did you touch it?

Yes.

Did you break it?

Mom? Is that you? I put the feather pillows on the floor and poured water on them so they'd make a neat squishy sound when I jumped off your big bed into the middle of them.

You ruined them.

Yes.

Go to your room.

okay.

Differences

Marek J = Perpetual Idiot

Does the damn thing work?
No
Did you mess with it?
Yes
You Idiot !!!
Does anyone know?
Yes
You poor Idiot
Can you blame someone else?
No

for (int i = 1; i < 0; i = i + 1) {System.out.println("You Idiot!"}


Bada Bing

Simple Problem Resolution

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

what to do next

all noise - all the time: "While the reasons the gonzo model is necessary and inevitable may be complex, the method is simple. Hook up, connect, co-create, procreate. Redeploy. Foment joy. Brothers in arms, sisters of Avalon, champions of the world get to work. "

Wealth Bondage Is

Wealth Bondage: "To love freedom is Patriotic, but watch what you say because the walls have ears. So come! Pass the bottle, and salted nuts, among friends and friendly strangers. The door is wide open, for friend or foe. "Do what you will," as Rabelais said. Today is Carnival; tomorrow is Lent. Tonight, let's sing another song, before we go, one of the old songs...

We can make the world a better place, at least in our own imagination. as we squint at life through the bottom of a beer glass. Who knows, perhaps, some day we will even do something good. "

Monday, October 27, 2003

What are Weblogs? Ass-wiping journals of course.

RB from 2 years ago commenting on Dave Winer's 'What are Weblogs?'

Dave's post of this morning, What are weblogs?, was fine as far as it went. But what seemed to be missing in those level-headed definitions -- to my twisted head anyway -- was any sense of humor, fun, absurdity, surrealism, lunacy, derangement, folly, preposterousness, irrationality, nonsense, balderdash, blatherskite, bunkum, bullshit, and divine madness. In short, those qualities that continue to make life worth living. In shorter still: gonzo.


And now you know.

...and in case you wanted to find out how they used to blog 500 years ago here is the short discourse on ass-wiping from none other than Monsieur Rabelais Zazuzi Zazuzon (as quoted by RB on the same archive page I pointed to you earlier)

Afterwards, I wiped my ass, said Gargantua, with a kerchief, with a pillow, with a pantoufle, with a pouch, with a pannier, but that was a wicked and unpleasant torchcul; then with a hat. Of hats, note, that some are shorn, and others shaggy, some velveted, others covered with taffities, and others with satin. The best of all these is the shaggy hat, for it makes a very neat abstertion of the fecal matter. Afterwards, I wiped my tail with a hen, a cock, with a pullet, with a calf's skin, with a hare, with a pigeon, with a cormorant, with an attorney's bag, with a montero, with a coif, with a falconer's lure. But to conclude, I say and maintain, that of all torcheculs, arsewisps, bumfodders, tail napkins, bung-hole cleansers, and wipe breeches, there is none in the world comparable to the neck of a goose that is well downed, if you hold her neck betwixt you legs. And believe me therein upon mine honour, for you will thereby feel in your nockhole a most wonderful pleasure, both in regard to the softness of the said down, and the temperate heat of the goose, which is easily communicated to the bum-gut, and the rest of the inwards, in so far as to come even to the regions of the heart and brains. And think not that the felicity of the heroes and demigods in the Elysian fields consisteth either in their Asphodel, Ambrosia or Nectar, as our old women here used to say; but in this, according to my judgement, that they wipe their tails with the neck of a goose, holding her head betwixt their legs, and such is the opinion of Master John of Scotland, alias Scotus.



An important day

Speaking of "porting around"

On this very day 99 years ago, the very first subway, the IRT (Interboro Rapid transit) opened in New York City.

Also on this day, in 1947, You Bet Your Life, the Groucho Marx radio game/entertainment show, premeired on the ABC Radio Network.

Is that a coincidence, or what?

Oh, one more thing: Ruby Dee, John Cleese, and Ralph Kiner all share October 27th birthdays. Fran Lebowitz, too.

Porting potty around the net

Jeneane said something about "the test of building the world's tallest port-a-potty," but this was the best I could do with a limited supply of Q-tips and a pocketknife.

Thursday, October 23, 2003

on authorship of texts

crosspost from the jesus bunker

"Text can not have one author, nobody is ultimately the owner of text, just as nobody is the owner of the language he uses every day. Text belongs to nobody and it belongs to all. You can not say: here I wrote a play, a poem, a novel, because those works become all the time, they bounce into one another in different places and times, they grow, they pulsate, they shuffle meanings, they are born on the way and they are copied from the air."


Watch out for Community! It will GET YOU!

Sunday, October 19, 2003

Writers and Sanity

"If stone sober people can fuck like they're out of their minds -- can actually be out of their minds while caught in that throe -- why shouldn't writers be able to go bonkers and still stay sane?"

- Stephen King

Saturday, October 18, 2003

what does MORE mean?

Yes, and mars is nothing more than a planet.

fucking lameness. it makes me tired.

we a convoy, motherfucker.

your worst nightmare

no breaks.

90 miles an hour and loaded.

watch bigmedia get sqarshed.

motherfuckers.

and stop tiring me out.

Less bullshit, more peek-a-poo.

badabing.

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Ad Nausea

Dear Doctor Gonzo,

Am I being over-sensitive when I feel so pissed and offended that I write to a company to complain about their full page advert in a magazine that uses this image to sell sales training? All my friends say that I am, please help me Doc.

-GT, 35, London.

Monday, October 13, 2003

Ghettopoly Board game

Ghettopoly Board game - Stolen Property Fencing Game Buying stolen properties, pimpin hoes, building crack houses and projects, paying protection fees and getting car jacked. Fun for the Whole Family.

Sunday, October 12, 2003

It was a week ago that I was driving home from BloggerCom. A very enriching experience. Once again Boston (well, Cambridge, but we will cal lit Boston for these purposes) is in the news. Why?

Because a young man in his early thirties had the unmitigated gall and audacity to shove a 72 year-old man to the ground.

Forget the 9 wannabe Democrats. Forget Iraq and the non-existent WMD. Forget Ah-nold the Governator-elect. Forget the French. I would say forget Charles Taylor, but in our newsmedia, he is already forgotten.

Now we must focus our attention on having Pedro Martinez thrown in jail for assualt and battery committed on the person of lovable Don Zimmer.

Nuff said.

Saturday, October 11, 2003

Imre Kertesz does Bada Bing

Heureka! Nobel Lecture 2002: "Consider what happened to language in the twentieth century, what became of words. I daresay that the first and most shocking discovery made by writers in our time was that language, in the form it came down to us, a legacy of some primordial culture, had simply become unsuitable to convey concepts and processes that had once been unambiguous and real. Think of Kafka, think of Orwell, in whose hands the old language simply disintegrated. It was as if they were turning it round and round in an open fire, only to display its ashes afterward, in which new and previously unknown patterns emerged"

Think of Gonzo! Bada Bing Your Language! Bruner, You Pig!

Naked Masks

Luigi Pirandello is always preoccupied with the problem of identity. The self exists to him only in relation to others;"

Watch out for Community!

Nobel Peace Prize 2003 - Shirin Ebadi of Iran

Press Release - Nobel Peace Prize 2003: Shirin Ebadi: "It is fundamental to her view that the supreme political power in a community must be built on democratic elections. She favours enlightenment and dialogue as the best path to changing attitudes and resolving conflict.
Ebadi is a conscious Moslem. She sees no conflict between Islam and fundamental human rights. It is important to her that the dialogue between the different cultures and religions of the world should take as its point of departure their shared values."

Watch out For Community! It will Astound You!

Friday, October 10, 2003

Shelley Powers Inteview

Shelley Powers Interview at Sandhill Trek: "Some say that sex is a way of reaffirming that we are alive. The act of touching and being touched, the intimacy, and the release, are all ways for us to celebrate life and, if we're lucky enough, love with another person. But tonight as I drove down the road and listened to the music and felt the wind and the warmth of the night, I felt alive. Earlier when I walked in the Park and took the photographs, I felt alive.
Tonight, when I wrote this story, I felt alive.

I wish I could say that there was a handsome stranger with intense dark eyes and sensuous fingers -- someone special, someone to hold, someone to experience that touch that's more intimate than any act of sex can ever be -- but it was just me, the night, and the Man on the Moon. Since my relationship with the Moon is strictly platonic, I have no story of sex to offer, and we'll have to settle for my pink nightgown and the
summer night and walk in the park and call it, good-night."

Gaspar Like A Ship in The Night

Gaspar Torriero says: "La notorietà non è una categoria applicabile ai blog" and of course mentions "ogni centro è periferia di un altro centro" which loosely translated is "every center is the periphery of other center"

There is no Center in the Blogworld. It's without Center. There are Millions of Blogworlds, all Like Ships in the Night , but Ah What Ships and Oh How Large The Night.

that asshole, Dave Winer ain't a Center. Just a Ship in the Night. Of Millions Of Ships In The Night.

China is A Sleep HOTbed of Technology

Jeneane, you definitely bring up a good point about the Sleeping Chinese. There is a lot of them there so I guess some of them need to sleep while other are driving their bikes across town. Imagine the traffic, congestion, it would cause if half of them didn't sleep? Gosh, Bruner, now that would be a PIG!.

And Miles to Go before I sleep

Ken, Your Mileage may vary. And if you have any promises, talk to the Lawyers to revise it and better start finding loopholes.

Watch Out For Community!

soapbox : "You have been WARNED! Watch out for Community!"

Sleep?

For Gary

For Marek - i have found it. it is made by the Chinese. It is the "sleep signal processor." They have a banner add. They say "We have commodities!"

I knew this. I knew that the sleep signal processor corporation people would have commodities.

They have a tagline: "Integrating Chinese Technology with American Ideas." Is this better than the converse?

They also have "Urea Fertilizer."

I think that means piss. I assume that this is the American Idea part.

sweet dreams.

Sleep?

The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep..

Signal Signal Wake Up!

via ::: wood s lot :::


"It is important for awake people to be awake,
or breaking line may discourage them back to sleep.
The signals we give, yes, or no, or perhaps,
should be clear. The darkness around us is deep. ...
- Meister Eckhart (c. 1260 - 1327/8)"


Signal! Watch Out For Life! It will get You! But don't fall asleep! There is Darnkess! and it's Deep!

Absofuckinglutely Preordained Incorporated

It dawned on me this morning, which was kinda appropriate since it was morning at the time, that the reason we're so obsessed with popping caps in one's asses, as they say in certain parts of town, and behaving in an altogether 'destructive', shall we say, manner can all be tied back to the destructive/creative fucked-up combo origins of our solar system. Modelling one's self on G*d, as we are prone to do from time to time, we are in fact re-enacting meteoric asteriodal impactful mofo destruction, e.g. the nucular bomb - as mr george Wabash likes to say - is our ultimate attempt at fucking up this planet like the very asteroidal impact that created it, in a bid to re-create for that is what we seek, we just didn't know it but really we did.

Principals

I think perhaps i should have referenced the "principals" in the post below, because or course we at the LRMM Co. have no principles.

Das Englisch sprecken was nicht ein strong point herein.

Happy - happy birthday gonzo...

Today, on or about the second anniversary of the RGE weblog, I am proud to announce the public sale of stock in my new agency: The Leni Riefenstahl Media Magic Company. Since 1935 the principles in this enterprise have been making media work for the masses. Now you can buy a share! Drop by my web space and contribute from each according to your ability... I'll give you as many of the special issue non-voting shares as I think your contribution deserves. Trust me.

The Meat of Making Ends Meet

I think Marek just raised the key question that ties straight back to Clara Peller's question in all those old Wendy's commercials - Where's the beef?

Isn't that what people want? The beef? The meat on where and how to meet?

Chris - please don't beat our meat to severely...

Making Ends Meet

Chris! Look! We have a satisfied customer in Gary T.

Maybe we can make Gazillions of Dollars Inspiring People about Making Ends Meet. We just need to tell them that you need a Voice on One End and a Voice on The Other End and then Have Those Ends Meet. And What Ends They Are and How They Meet.

Testify

Since reading Cluetrain and Gonzo my life has changed beyond compare. Secretly, I now run a medium sized software company, a subsidiary of a $150M software group - and I do so by living the dream. The dream that Cluetrain and Gonzo taught me. Thankyou Cluetrain and Gonzo, you helped me find my voice and realise my dream. I love you. It's good to be home.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

Managing Community Manages You Managing Community

Just asked this question about "Managing a Community" because maybe, just maybe it's the Community that Manages You.

And,

it is an illusion that You can Manage a Community, Bruner, You Pig!

Managing a Community Manages You Managing a Community Manages You Managing a Community Manages You. Bruner, You Pig! Peekaboo!

Knee Jerk Trap Avoidance

Ken avoids the trap called:

"Apparently at BloggerCon there was a session on 'Managing a Community'. 

Why?"


And since he has comments turned on I responed.

BTW. Not sure if I did those eggs correctly. Apparently there was a need for something called "frying pan" and I still don't know what it is. We are in the process of letting the mothership know to fetch the latest Google Cache and incinerate the outdated books. Signal to follow.


Sending a Signal

Essayist, poet and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "All good conversation, manners and action, come from a spontaneity which forgets usages and makes the moment great. Nature hates calculators; her methods are saltatory and impulsive." To surround yourself and your team with Emerson's "good conversation," reach out to people, put aside the computer, and just talk.

Radio K.A.O.S

The Signal of My Jesus Bunker Machine Gun for the World
.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /

.--. . . -.- .- -... --- --- --..-- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..-- /


You are Listening to Radio K.A.O.S.

Roger that

Big 10-4 good buddy. Holla at your American brotha. Mount the machine gun baby and signal signal:


Seems like he had to look a long time
before he gathered any answers
And by the time they came, he was just about down
Saw him looking in the schoolyard
in the churches and the poolhall
Trying to find an exit from desolation town

Halcyon nights and radio waves
Signal Signal Signal
Never fade away

The day that he heard it he was looking in the mirror
There were no more threads, there was no more help
And he knew without doubt
that the Classics of Love would not come from some bright star above
but would only be delivered through his own self


Signal Signal

Digital Common Sense: "Like I said, What we seek is a signal. A connection. The network isn't about technology. It isn't about business. It isn't about profit. It's about connections. End points are people and people connect. Sometimes we connect with machines to gather information. Often times we connect with other people because we share some link, or bond, or passing interest.
Minutes have no value. Bandwidth has no value. Accessibility to connections brings value to uses and enhances the network. Just as blogging isn't about PR, or fame or technology, the net isn't about minutes or bandwidth or content. It's all about access to connections."


Signal Signal to my Homies. To all the people in the Jesus Bunkers of the World I send you Signal Signal. Do you copy? Do you copy? Send Signal Back. Pulse the Vain. Wire up your hearbeat to the network. Signal it to me Baby!

Bad Kids Writing on the Chalkboard , eh?

<#include stdio.h>
int main(void)
{
int count;

for (count=1;count<500;count++)
printf("I will not throw spitwads in class.");

return 0;
}


Hi gang!

happy birthday

we're two years old, yous. been a fun ride, eh?

hey kevin

Kevin, I dug what you did at ConBlogger. You're a class act and a smarty smart guy. I was watching, you know. About the font--yes. This template. WTF--is it written with bookmaster tags? this template is the predecessor to sticks and a stone tablet. Man it's a pain in the ass.

I've kept my eyes open for a long time for a template that would give us the open feel of this free-for-all, but be, shall we say, easier on the eye. Nothing ever seems to compare with the ornery-ness of this damn look. I guess we just go with it. somehow the big font makes it feel even more like bad kids writing on the chalk board.

That works for me!

thanks for keeping the place well heated while I was away.

Marek, I just fell off the couch over Tupac Chopra. BLAH HA!

welcome back

The big text was me. I probably over-reacted to the too-small version before. I don't want to go into that template again though. There be Dragons!

so jenna says...

what kind of a store do dogs hate to shop at?

A flea market!

speaking of which, the ants are back in this house. those motherfuckers. george killed them with boric acid and honey, but they bred superstrains of ants that are now fully resistant to everything except SARS and ANTRHAX.

Don't ask me how I know.

It's none of your business.

A flea market--HA HA!

wtf

marek, wtf did you do to the font size on the posts while I was gone. damn. is this one of those david weinberger things for people who don't see so good?

very smart.

i knew you had a reason.

I love shelley

I love Shelley because:

She frames bridges against gray skies.
cuts careful paths with words
leaps off the paved road
runs bare assed through the woods
and that's what you do
when you care about
the nature of things.

she writes like oils to canvas
paints who she is, who we all are
human--did you forget?
she is as honest with us
as we are
and more.

she holds on so tight
white knuckled grip
protecting
my heart, his, yours, hers.
she has been holding
on for all of us.

Release.
We can carry the load
for a while
until the bridges call
say clouds are waiting.

They sit nudged against
fine lines of silver and black
waiting for you
to bring them to us.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

institution digested my brain too.

I'm supposed to be working. Dr. Marek J., I need you to fix me. With your systems thinking. Please. My brain is not listening to me this evening, the eve of the "big deadline."

Let me tell you the tale of the client who has recently eaten my brain. I suppose they can find me here. I supposed you could say I don't care if they do.

So one of them says to me, she says, "I noticed that sometimes you use the same word in two sentences in a row. We kind of have a policy where we don't do that here."

I said, "Oh. Huh?"

She said, "You know, important words. Not minor words--you can use those kind two times in two different sentences. I'm talking about the important words--the major words."

I thought, "Oh. Huh?"

I said, "Oh. can you give me an example?"

She said, I think, it expanded or something. That our expanded offering would do x y z. And then you called it expanded again soon after that.

(okay, that's a suckass sentence anyhow, I thought. Shame on me but who cares.)

I said, does it have a name yet? or what are you calling it? Do you know?

She said, No.

I said, oh, then what makes it different--I mean, what's new about it.

She said, well it is expanded.

I said, Oh. Okay.

And so there are like twenty examples that are eating away at my brain, when all i want to do is write and mean and say and spew and play my keyboard like a steinway.

this week is not going so well.

I'm glad I came home.

Do you have any soup?

Honey, I'm HOME!

Marek--is it twu? is it twu?

Are you a citizen? And a systems thinker? All in one? Did you keep the systems thinker thing under wraps during your swearing in (or acting out)? Jaysus--don't tell them. Don't let them know you're a systems thinker. I don't want to think what they could do to you. Go see the dick-headed pig on RB's blog. It could happen. They have ways, you know.

Good to see you, man.

I'm back.

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

Can a Systems Thinker become an Entrepreneur

Via Corante we chance upon this article called The Entrepreneur as a Systems Thinker: A Revolution in the Making As I was reading this article the first words out of my imaginary mouth were YES! - YES! like I am having an orgasm - because somebody has finally nailed it. The Systems Thinker.

Oy, are we in trouble now Bruner. Oy, are you gonna be a pig now! - "Gonzo Marketing" I said to myself outloud; I have been thinking about capturing that one distinction that's hidden there in the book; well, not hidden but hidden from view if you are looking at parts only - that one distinction of Gonzo Marketing is Systems Thinking; as a whole and not a sum of it's parts. The system as a oneness in its entirety and not the whole as all of it combines, not enumerated and added but indivisible body.

So I dove into this article and I was completely suprised that such an article could be written, and Michael Gerber dares to say that it's a Revolution in the Making. Oy Bruner, You Pig! A Systems Thinker, Ay?!

So! So? Hm. Can I ever become an etrepreneur? And that's the problem. Because I don't know what that is. I don't know what 'Being Entrepreneur' is. Is it being a Systems Thinker? Hold on. I am babbling here. Yes, writing this article unedited as I am reading the abmentart (ABove MENTioned ARTicle)...

So let's enumerate the parts of the distinction as provided by Bruner, I mean Gerber.


What is a Systems Thinker?

1) A Systems Thinker is one who intuits and sees the whole of a thing, the entirety of it, the one-ness of it, the integrated unity of it, as opposed to merely the sum of its parts.

2) A Systems Thinker transcends the world in order to transform it.

3) A Systems Thinker is an inventor as opposed to an engineer.

4) A Systems Thinker sees purpose in everything, and sees the system as the realization of the purpose.

5) A Systems Thinker sees meaning in everything, and if not, pursues everything until the meaning becomes clear, until the System reveals itself in all its glory.

6) A Systems Thinker is possessed by the meaning of things.


... and thus Gerber concludes - "All great entrepreneurs are Systems Thinkers. All who wish to become great entrepreneurs need to learn how to become a Systems Thinker. Or, more accurately, need to develop their innate passion for seeing things whole. "; and a bit of "We are the World, We are the Children" thrown in there as well in the following words "For transcending the world. Their world. Our world. All worlds.". I think Bob Geldof would have been pround. Shit. I am proud.

OK. I wanted to write more about it but I lost interest. But anyway, being a Systems Thinker that I am I think I will go and follow the example and clean my messy desk and start becoming an Entrepreneur. The author seems to thinnk that clean desk is the way to go. OK then, I shall be teachable Systems Thinker.

I thank you humbly for your attention for the courage to read these snippets of fragmented thoughts as they collided with the possibility of emergent wholeness being born from the clarity of my frustrations. Well. Good day. Off to Poland I go to attend a Carnival. A Systems Thinker's Carnival. I even got a black suit for it and a tie too.

SFBG Guardian Guides: Bars and Clubs

SFBG Guardian Guides: Bars and Clubs : "Czech writer Jaroslav Hasek was an alcoholic anarchist who got his writing career started by writing polemics against himself under pseudonyms in the two party newspapers of Prague. When he wrote for Animal World, a magazine for Czech animal lovers, he reported on muskrat invasions and rampaging packs of collies. Under the influence, he started the Party of Moderate Progress within the Bounds of the Law, which lost despite the free pocket aquarium offered to anyone who voted for them. "

Yes, I am a member but not as Progressive as others.

This morning at 7am I read a post at Wealthbondage about Hasek and Svejk. Then I walked to my library and picked "Good Solider Svejk" book. There I sat in the glow of the computer monitor, the kitchen light; drinking coffee, reading the absburdities and bathing my mind in fresh laugher of Wednesday morning's madness. And there 7am I was Svejk. Maybe I am Svejk pretending to be Marek J. Feels like it sometimes.

Anyway. Random link on Hasek:
Members, Past Members and Future Members and Not-Ever Members of The Party of 'Sligth and Mild and Not Too Much" Progress Within the Limits of the Law (Always within the Limits) have gathered together Marking the 120th anniversary of the most famous Chech writer Jaroslav Hasek's birth.

A Glimpse Into The Beginning of Madness

Here is where the
madness began.
"They killed him in Sarajevo, Mr. Švejk. They shot him with a revolver as he was riding with that archduchess of his in an automobile."

Tupak Chopra

Rageboy is promoting a new Tupak Chopra album There is an excellent song on the album called "Bruner, You Pig!". 5 stars rating on this one. Tupak is rocking. Good music for pigging out.

404 Not Fishrushed

404 Not Found: "Not Found
The requested URL /blog/ was not found on this server.
Additionally, a 404 Not Found error was encountered while trying to use an ErrorDocument to handle the request"

Louie to Fishrush! Louie to Fishrush! 404, over!

ARJLog

ARJLog: "I'm in the middle of a painstakingly slow rework of my database and my code to produce an all new wonderful pile of hand written Python scripts, which maybe has some whiz-bang and RSS feeds or that 'We can't decide on a name' syndication format (personally, I think they should just call it 'The Nameless One' which has a nice evil creepy ring to it"

O! The Nameless One! Thy shall rule them world and take over Brunerland and all the pigs will fly!

ARJLog

ARJLog: "Oh, and if you have something Freudian to say about my ripe tomatoes, I could care less. I've already had a dream about one-eyed snakes; it doesn't get any worse than that."

Sunday, September 14, 2003

EmptyBottle.org: Japan Rocks Part One

EmptyBottle.org: Japan Rocks Part One: "I made my way through customs - the guy finding it odd that I only had an overnight bag, and amused when he found my two cup ramyeon packages inside - and straight to the hotel booking desk. Everyone on the various fora I'd checked before I'd left had said that the women who staffed that desk spoke excellent English, and were invariably helpful.
The girl there spoke English alright, but, in that annoyingly reticent way in which the Japanese break bad news, informed me that there wasn't a single goddamn room left in the whole city.
Ah, shit."

Saturday, September 13, 2003

Dario Fo

Dario Fo: "The Nobel Prize in Literature 1997 awarded to Dario Fo 'who emulates the jesters of the Middle Ages in scourging authority and upholding the dignity of the downtrodden"

Online NewsHour: Nobel Prize for Literature: Dario Fo -- October 9, 1997

Online NewsHour: Nobel Prize for Literature: Dario Fo -- October 9, 1997: "It's very hard to describe Dario Fo plots because they are anarchic. And all of them deal with subverting either church ideology or government ideology or capitalism in some way by refusing to do something--in this case refusing to pay for goods that were substandard. All of his plays in some way tackle basic givens, societal givens, and question why society is set up that way, and why some people have and some people don't. In a sense I think that's the role of any great clown is to make us look at ourselves in a defamiliarized way"

Online NewsHour: Nobel Prize for Literature: Dario Fo -- October 9, 1997

Online NewsHour: Nobel Prize for Literature: Dario Fo -- October 9, 1997: "A clown in the deepest sense of the word"

Dario Fo - The Birth of the Jongleur

Dario Fo - The Birth of the Jongleur: " I was not born a jongleur; I didn't suddenly turn up as I am now, with a sudden gust from the skies and, hopla, there I was: 'Good day... Hello.' No! I am the result of a miracle! A miracle which was carried out on me. Do you believe me? This is how it came about! I was born a peasant.
A peasant? Yes,"

Dario Fo - The Birth of the Jongleur

Dario Fo - The Birth of the Jongleur: "Kind people, gather round and listen. The jongleur is here! I am the jongleur. I leap and pirouette, and make you laugh. I make fun of those in power, and I show you how puffed up and conceited are the bigshots who go around making wars in which we are the ones who get slaughtered. I reveal them for what they are. I pull out the plug, and... pssss... they deflate. Gather round, for now is the time and place that I begin to clown and teach you."

Saturday, May 10, 2003

Disney wants your dirty hands off their lovable Pooh

Disney Cheats? No. No. I don't think it's possible.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/3015721.stm

Thursday, May 08, 2003

ghastly greens

As any infant who ever stared down overdone leafy greens in terror will verify, there is one aesthetic lesson learnt well in early life: if it’s good for you, it must also look horrid. Treats with a sugar content geared to the junior palate are packaged well in primary colours and, even when unwrapped, excite the gaze as much as the metabolism. Wholesome food products, by contrast, such as ‘health’ bars, muesli or indeed anything with a surplus of oats, seem to take their design cue from government issue text books.
Coco, the Coco Pops monkey, is a striking psychedelic rebel whom I would have very much liked to have free-based cane sugar with as a child. An enticing dealer, Coco continues to tempt small persons into his yellow world of compromised values and high glucose thrills. Look at Quaker Food's product range. It simply appears as though it was designed by the world’s least thrilling pharmacist. Oatmeal, although really quite agreeable, looks like medicine to the childish eye. Coco Pops are packaged as an irresistible dose of contraband.
One matures, makes personal purchasing decisions and, presumably, discovers that both spinach and breakfast carbs might be acceptably prepared and eaten. The graphic lessons of childhood, however, are indelibly writ: if it’s wholesome or if it is worthy, it MUST be as ugly as sin.
An stockpile of dietary advice across the last few decades has transported many consumers from saturated fat dependence. Persuasive packaging aside, we have acquired the skill of swallowing vegetables, lean meat and grains all on our own. Without the help of pretty boxes or, indeed, mom.
Adult consumers might very well wise up in a culinary sense. Many of us overcome nutritional guilt in our twenties. We can hurl garbanzo beans or lentils into our carts and our digestive tracts without a second thought. Yet, a new kind of consumer guilt has supplanted the old. The shame we once reserved for the damage we were doing to our guts is now afforded to the damage we could be doing to the planet.
A new kind of guilt demands a new kind of Hair Shirt packaging. The graphic design creed If It’s Virtuous, It’s Gotta Look Crap is now amply applied to environmentally friendly product lines.
SAFE toilet tissue is a decent product. The job for which it is intended is adequately done. I am an adult consumer unafraid of the legumes and high fibre victuals aforementioned and my research finds that this toilet paper is of a respectable grade. So WHY does it look so darn awful? I am mildly pleased, I guess, to discover that it is wrapped in ‘biodegradable’ paper (as opposed to that other kind of nasty paper made from polythene trees that does not degrade) and is wrought from virgin plantation pine pulp and recycled clean office waste. I am utterly confident that no dolphin’s blow hole was obstructed in the making of this product. I am, however, aghast by its design elements. Specifically
(1) There is a great big Check forming the ‘A’ in the SAFE logo. Excuse me? I am a cranky 34 year old woman who many years ago ditched her desire to please Professional Educators. I do not care to be given an ‘A” for effort, neatness nor anything else and I DO NOT crave a ruddy great check. As a relatively green consumer, I am pleased to learn that only virgin plantations and office recycling bins have been violated en route to my fundament. I did not at any point, however, in making my FMCG choice ask for some upright hippie’s approval. I do not want to be awarded a grade. In selecting SAFE toilet tissue, a secret covenant was forged between my anus and the earth. The ‘check’ is a hindrance. The environmental Bell Curve just gives former fans of Coco the Cheeky Monkey license to rebel. No gold star nor green check on my forehead, or anywhere else, thank you.
(2) The ghastly type-face. Family friendly and sans-serif, the SAFE font blares faux-innocence and triple fronted brick veneer. There are many people who do not, even if they have reproduced, wish to be reminded of children’s hand-writing. What in the good earth’s name could a kid’s scrawl possibly hope to sell apart from toffee at a mini fete?
Erath Choice dishwashing liquid does the job. In utter candour, it is infinitely more cost effective than many other non-Green brands. Again with the colossal graphic design failure! A World Book Encyclopaedia circa 1983 type ‘Blue Planet’ is the crest of this product. Australia is facing the viewer and night appears to be falling across my continent. Which, if you ask me, only serves to remind slovenly house-keepers that it’s twilight and we still haven’t done the frigging dishes. Morning Fresh, by contrast, offers a rising sun and complete sterility. Naturally, there are more amorphous bush type leaves and indistinct lines.
As you will have observed, dolphins are frolicking on many Enviro-loving household cleaning items. This is also beyond my ken.
There is no need for the High Moral Ground to be entirely decorated for people without a design clue. Let’s get market share and masterful graphic minds on the green products case.

Wednesday, April 16, 2003

Post Mortem of Project Dell'Essum aka iBook'Essum Announcement

OK, I am declaring the project to raise $2000 dollars in 48 hours complete.
We failed.

We have achieved 28% of our goal. We raised $560
Thank you very very much to all of you who donated money, discount on purchases of new laptop and good wishes.
Thanks all for a great participation and being part of this failed project. We did great.
I will look at all the scores and provide you the complete statement of this project in the next 24 hours.
Please continue with life as usual (unless you still want to donate and disrupt the predictable continuity of business as usual. We are still open for donations)
Thank you and good night.

Wednesday, April 09, 2003

Project Dell'Essum (aka iBook'Essum) after some more hours (days even)

We have the following numers:
...Puny 43 point 23 comma 72 graziallion dollars which translates into $560 American Dollars (For those of you in Poland that's a little over 2200.00 Zlotych).
I am officially, on the record, saying here: The above numbers are pathetic. This is a huge, complete waste of time, and an utter failure at project management and one's ability to market one's strenghts to the contributing public.

I am here attempting to achieve perfection with the NoFuckingWayTM project manament methodology and as you can see I am failing miserably at producing obvious'n measurable results as projected by the goal-orientated objectivated-reality of hope and faith in the ability of an average Joe (and Joan) to be empowered powerfully with all the instant power of do-good doo doo making activity of clicking a DONATE button, so prominently displayed HERE BELOW.








So click the button and we'll send you and a companion of your choice on a trip. Imagine a trip for two to a wonderful 7 days and 3 nights vacation at the highly coveted Jesus Bunker (Sorry No Dogs allowed cause they poop and eat the lovely Chocolate Jesus figurines) Of course more about this wonderful trip will be revealed to you, and only to you, in a secret conversation on the phone from the undisclosed location after you click the DONATE button. (AS Presented above)

P.S. Some have mentioned recently that in times like these (let me enumerate: Bombs falling, Stocks falling, Employment falling, Paychecks falling etc...) that I don't pay attention to how bad things are and that I don't write inspirational posts like I used to. So for those of you please stay tuned, as soon as you DONATE to this project I will write something so fucking inspirational you will be moved to tears and your heart will break and you will sob like a child and you will be inspired and renewed. OK? Deal then. Now Click the DONATE button.

I am off pefecting my project manament skills. Maybe I will ask the Happy Tutor on how to raise money. See you in the J Bunker.

Friday, April 04, 2003

Project Dell'Essum (aka iBook'Essum)

UPDATE:
We have raised 456 gazillion Dollars which is about $200. Keep'em coming.

Breaking News:
Marek J fired today for suggesting to a management team a new NoFuckingWayTM project methodology of finding solutions to impossible objectives. Project Dell'Essum started.

Summary of Methodology
NoFuckingWayTM methodology consists of a furious screeming employing full blown lung capacity and well rehearsed phrases one learned by watching mafia shows starring Joe Pesci, phrases like "They Fuck You In The Drive Through!!!" followed by a screem of victory one learned watching Die Hard - "Yupi Kay Ey Motherfucker!!!!!" After acknowleding one's complete frustration at ever getting what one really wants one has a complete sense of hopelessness and at the same time a sense of anything being possible, hence the cry of victory being born in one's lungs, Yupi Kay Ey, Yupi Key Ey. At this point our famous NoFuckingWayTM project methodology can begin to take hold. It is a victory born from defeat.

Project Dell'Essum
Jeneane Sessum, our beloved blog sister is in need of a brand new Dell Laptop or iBook. In the spirit of Worst PracticesTM I am beginning a project testing the worthiness of my NoFuckingWayTM methodology by giving birth to Project Dell'Essum. (Aha, explanation in order: Dell'Essum (aka iBook'Essum), for those of you with higher education is made up of words Dell and Sessum etc.. Get it? Good)
The Objective is to raise $2000 American Dollars in the next 48 hours. Everybody should gladly donate the money while screeming NoFuckingWayTM. It is the only way to test the wortiness of my new methodology. If you employe the phrase then your donation will be that much more meaningful (well, not really but why not lie to yourself that you are doing a good thing). However if you decide not to donate at least a $1 then you are not allowed to say NoFuckingWayTM, this project is not for you and don't ask me to speak at your next management meeting on effective measures of effectivness of project management.
Jeneane Sessum needs a brand spanking new laptop so she can write and get new clients and hire us to build the next Media Empire (I mean, you do want bloggers to be in charge of Media, right? Well, cough up the money)

Take Action:
Click the Donate Button below. It goes directly to Jeneane's Paypal Account. If you want to pay other ways then email me and we'll arrange that.







We'll run a list of donors on this post and hold off any posts on this site for the next 48 hours untill we reach our NoFuckingWayTM objective.

Donors to Project Dell'Essum
2 anonymous donors
Tom Matrullo - 7 zejiion and 5 bambulbion Dollars
Laurie Schuh - 23 grazillion Dollars.
Kevin Marks - 15% discount on the purchase of a Mac and 3 jijilion Dollars spare change
RageBoy - 5 gazillion Dollars
Chris Pirillo is working on something
Marek J - 10 grambillion Dollars "I am proud to screem NoFuckingWayTM while clicking the donate button."

Thursday, April 03, 2003

My Weblog Marketing first week

It was a great last 4 days doing the Weblog Marketing. I have received many emails from all of you guys. Thanks for the support. There are some exciting things in the pipeline. I am working on designing a way to collect points for writing some favorable posts about our products. Thanks. This is great. I am working with some good people. I thought this was going to be like selling my soul to the corporation but there are some great people there and we are moving forward. The management is very excited about weblogs. Finally this weblogging is paying off. I will let you know more soon.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Marek J gets a new job in Weblog Marketing

Well, I guess I should not keep quiet any more. I have been hired by the Doctor Pepper to assist the guys at ragingcow in marketing their new drink. What can I say, I got a good offer. We were negotiating for the last 3 weeks and I started yesterday. After the first day I am very excited about introducing them to Gonzo Marketing and using Weblogs to create viral marketing campaing for products in the pipeline. When it came to detailed negotiantions I was warned not to use obscene words so I guess I will not be writing on this weblog any more. What was interesting is that they didn't mind my scatological language in my previous posts but in this new capacitiy as the Assistant Director of Mareketing it would not be advisable to continue with those unpleasant ramblings. This job is a dream come true and I would not want to jeopardize my career with them. All the best to you all. I will keep in touch. I wanted to write a longer post but this is what came out and I got to go to my next meeting.

Yours Marek J
The Last BadaBing to you all.
Ha Ha.

Monday, March 31, 2003

94,608,000 seconds ago

987,000,000,000 years ago associate force organizer and then acting inspector number 811,307 of the Orvonton series, traveling out from Uversa, reported to the Ancients of Days that space conditions were favorable for the initiation of materialization phenomena in a certain sector of the, then, easterly segment of Orvonton.

900,000,000,000 years ago the Uversa archives testify, there was recorded a permit issued by the Uversa Council of Equilibrium to the superuniverse government authorizing the dispatch of a force organizer and staff to the region previously designated by inspector number 811,307

94,608,000 seconds ago I met Rageboy and I've been fucked up ever since.

Bada Fucking Urantia Bing to all of you motherfuckers.

Saturday, March 29, 2003

Bada Bing Booby Prizes Rejection in Yellow 23 additive Opus 45

"You've had your last pointless teardrop washed down in that broken coffee cup
This magic moment concludes when that cigarette ends
Did you get what you wanted? Well, I suppose that depends... Well, I suppose that depends" ~ Elvis C.

"Self esteem is the existential booby prize"

Snake eating its own tail.
The snake says "I understand"
and in its own understanding it devours its own mystery.

She told me "why don't we go to marriage counseling"
and I turned to her and said "Why bother. You have already decided to leave".

The time to revive life is when the patient is still on the operating table
and not when you are in the middle of lowering the coffin.
She wanted a miracle.

Are you in a business of Love or in a business of stiching body parts.
Don't wanna be your Frankenstein to make your self esteem go off the charts baby.

I wanted a miracle too.
And I wanted my self esteem to go off the charts too.
"Will I ever be your man?", I asked.

"I don't think so", she said
I didn't get my existential booby prize with her.

I attacked, "It's always about you, isn't it? you narcissistic bitch"
I turned around and wanted to leave.
I wanted a horse, I wanted a sunset and I wanted to ride with my back to her

But I had to save myself from the exlosion of my self esteem.
I cancelled the sunset, deleted the horse, undid the turn.

I looked at her and cried.
The only thing that could save me was my fear.

"If you go, if you go where passion is squandered and money is spent"

and I had my first Bada Bing moment.
And my fear came to me and embraced it lovingly.

"You must see it's time that you wept"

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Two Gunslingers Soccer Match

"Two gunslingers, walked out in the street
And one said "I don't wanna fight no more"
And the other gunslinger thought about it
And he said, "yeah what are we fighting for?"

Imagine this: Iraqi soldiers will see our troops advancing on them and then Iraqi guys will say "Hey gunslingers! Let's play soccer instead" and our troops will say "Hey gunslingers! Let's play! But lay down your arms first" and then they will call CNN to make an order for 2 million soccer balls to be delivered to the desert of Iraq and CNN would get an exclusive on broadcasting the greatest soccer games the world had ever seen. And for the next 40 days the world will watch The Humanity at Play 24 hours a day . And it will be serious business. And those who don't like soccer will play basketball or cricket or baseball or they will play hide and seek (which is hard to do in a flat desert so it will require great creativity). And those who don't like games can play in the sand, make mudpies. And Iraqi soldiers will then show pictures of their wifes and sons to American soldiers who in turn will show them pictures of their loves ones and tell them about fresh baked pies in 24 hour diners on the outskirts of towns and then they will sing and tell stories around the campfires and it will be the greatest gathering of Humanity. Imagine One Million Soldiers playing soccer. Just Imagine. If I was a soldier in the desert this is what I would be imagining, that any moment now some Iraqi soldier will just shout "Hey gunslingers! Let's play soccer instead!" and then I won't have to kill him... and then I will not have to kill him... now. right now.


Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Permission Statement

Chris Locke wrote this column for Corante. He hasn't written much there yet. How 'bout that grocery list man. But back to the point. Why am I taking the time to remind you about that article? Hm...Let's not have any niceties about it, let's just pluck some words and run with it, shall we?
It's interesting that the first Ad Hominem post is titled 'Permission Statement'. Opppss. You missed that. You actually thought the title was Ad Hominem and then you wondered what the fuck that ment. Yeah, the title is "Permission Statment".

"What we are seeing today on the web -- discounting the plethora of corporate spew -- is the emergence of ourselves as human beings discovering what it means to be human. If you're not doing that, do it. Spook yourself. If you're already spooked, don't quit now. We've only begun to scratch the surface. Why is the net getting so much pushback from the top-down hierarchies of power that freak if they can't control everything. Because it's working, that's why. We're giving ourselves permission to be outlaws"

Let's have an honest talk.
Yo are so proper and nice and would never be an outlaw.
You secretly dream of being an outlaw but not actually being one in the light of day.
You would never stand in front of a buldozer but you will cry for those who did.

Being Human is Outlawed.

Outlawed? Who outlawed it?
Possible answer coming ..... bada bing... drum rolls.
Watch out. Here it comes.

You.

Congratulations.
You passed the law.
You wrote the law.
You enforce the law.

You Outlawed 'Being Human' for yourself.
You are safe.
You will die safe, unused, hardly a scratch on you (unless you stand in front of a bulldozer)

And you thought it was some High School teacher or a teller at the bank or your father or your mother or Department of Motor Vehicles. Nope. it was You all along. You just didn't know aobut it. You just didn't know that it was You who revoked the Permission to remain Human. (No, you don't have to stand in front of a bulldozer)

And now... Enter Seth Godin.
State your permission



Wednesday, March 12, 2003

mailer sees beast

America had been putting up with the ongoing expansion of the corporation into American life since the end of World War II. It had been the money cow to the United States. But it had also been a filthy cow that gave off foul gases of mendacity and manipulation by an extreme emphasis on advertising. Put less into the product but kowtow to its marketing. Marketing was a beast and a force that succeeded in taking America away from most of us. It succeeded in making the world an uglier place to live in since the Second World War. One has only to cite fifty-story high-rise architecture as inspired in form as a Kleenex box with balconies, shopping malls encircled by low-level condominiums, superhighways with their vistas into the void; and, beneath it all, the pall of plastic, ubiquitous plastic, there to numb an infant's tactile senses, plastic, front-runner in the competition to see which new substance could make the world more disagreeable. To the degree that we have distributed this crud all over the globe, we were already wielding a species of world hegemony. We were exporting the all-pervasive aesthetic emptiness of the most powerful American corporations. There were no new cathedrals being built for the poor— only sixteen-story urban-renewal housing projects that sat on the soul like jail. 02.20.03

America had been putting up with the ongoing expansion of the corporation into American life since the end of World War II. It had been the money cow to the United States. But it had also been a filthy cow that gave off foul gases of mendacity and manipulation by an extreme emphasis on advertising. Put less into the product but kowtow to its marketing. Marketing was a beast and a force that succeeded in taking America away from most of us. It succeeded in making the world an uglier place to live in since the Second World War. One has only to cite fifty-story high-rise architecture as inspired in form as a Kleenex box with balconies, shopping malls encircled by low-level condominiums, superhighways with their vistas into the void; and, beneath it all, the pall of plastic, ubiquitous plastic, there to numb an infant's tactile senses, plastic, front-runner in the competition to see which new substance could make the world more disagreeable. To the degree that we have distributed this crud all over the globe, we were already wielding a species of world hegemony. We were exporting the all-pervasive aesthetic emptiness of the most powerful American corporations. There were no new cathedrals being built for the poor— only sixteen-story urban-renewal housing projects that sat on the soul like jail.

Tuesday, March 11, 2003

Gonzo Intermission

J Mays has posted our email exchange about 73 different things worth talking about. One of them is duck tape. Enjoy and join in. More to come tonight.

Monday, March 10, 2003

Shutting it--Just like here

How do you know if you were touched by a real E.T. type of company? When there is a bit of silence. Not because they have forgotten you as customer. Because they remembered that you are one. Call it marketing on Sleeping Pills.

Thursday, March 06, 2003

World of Ends

David and Doc explain the nature of the internet in terms anyone can understand.

Just go there now and read it.

Unfamous Quotations

And now deep thoughts from Marek J
"Circumlocution is a duck tape of literature"

Bada Bing

Here Here Fishrush

And now greetings to Fishrush.
Here and here. Then there is more here, but not there because we can only have it here, here, here and some more here which doesn't point to there and now it's here.
[Update] There is more here, here and here.
[later...] and more here as well.

Bada Bing here but not there
Ceci n'est pas une vache

This is not a link to the Raging Cow blog.

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

oooh marek, t'is hard!

Marek, I'm reading your translations below--yours and the one not yours--and I need more time before my test. This is hard. I need to print out and study. I don't know if this white text prints. I hope so. I have never ever printed a blog before. You have made this a first for me. I may never print it, but please understand I am printing it now in my head.

If your point is that google will never be able to bridge the language of human language for us, I know. You are right. The subtleties, the beauty, you can only know when you are wrapped in your Polish cloak or your English cloak. But how will I read others, your friends from Poland, your enemies, one day? Maybe they all go through you. Maybe You become the trusted source, the bridge, you and those like you, those we can trust with our words.

now, back to figuring out how to print a blog.

damn you.

PREFACIO

W Gombrowicz in a prefacio to a spanish edition explains two main motifs of Ferdydurke.
"Los dos problemas capitales de Ferdydurke son: el de la Inmadurez y el de la Forma. Es un hecho que los hombres están obligados a ocultar su inmadurez, pues a la exteriorización sólo se presta lo que ya está maduro en nosotros. Ferdydurke plantea esta pregunta: ¿no véis que vuestra madurez exterior es una ficción y que todo lo que podéis expresar no corresponde a vuestra realidad intima? Mientras fingís ser maduros vivís, en realidad, en un mundo bien distinto. Si no lográis juntar de algún modo más estrecho esos dos mundos, la cultura será siempre para vosotros un instrumento de engaño.
Pero Ferdydurke no sólo se ocupa de lo que podríamos llamar la inmadurez natural del hombre. sino ante todo de la inmadurez, lograda por medios artificiales: es decir que un hombre empuja al otro en la inmadurez y que también –¡qué raro!– del mismo modo actúa la cultura. Existen muchas razones por las cuales uno tiene interés en que otro caiga en la inmadurez, pero la más importante es nuestro amor por la inmadurez en sí. Ahora, la cultura infantiliza al hombre porque ella tiende a desarrollarse mecánicamente y por lo tanto le supera y se aleja de él"

So there you have it. Commence ifantilizing. I mean, please continue...

Sunday, March 02, 2003

New Sheriff

As far as what possessed Jeneane your guess is as good as mine, but she has recently made me an administrator of this, well, I'm not sure what to call it. First one to try to validate it, though, is first one off.

Ferdydurke Forms of Infantilizing Humanity

I was thinking aobut all these conversations about Conversations and your seeing my seeing your world in my eyes or you seeing your seeing of the world in mine, and me seeing your seeing my world in your eyes, and translations and translatabitlity of worlds constructed from Forms of glimpses, glances, touch, text, voice. Ready made forms of Language of glimpses, voice, text, body. The Forms for distinguishing, marking of, the unsayable richness of humanness and locking parts of that richness into ready-madeness of translatability (after all I will never know how it feels like for a woman to have an orgasm. The best I can do with is some sort of medium of transletability from the actual Orgasm to it's representation in Forms of glimpses, glances, touch, text, voice...)

So to see what I can do with this (translatability and not orgasm) I have taken few sentences to translate from Polish into English. I got my copy of 'Ferdydurke' by Witold Gombrowicz in Polish and (just arrived from Amazon) copy in English translated by Danuta Borchardt and compared a short passage. I decided to make my own translation to see how I could say it in English. At first I translated the whole thing in less than 5 minutes. Then I labored on two sentences for 2 hours trying to make it closer to how I read it. I was engaged in the battle of Forms (since Ferdydurke is very much about Forms and how humans stuff other humans humanness into predefined Forms... well, it's a great book, written in 1937, translated from Polish few years ago.)

Anyway, here is my Loosely joined translation from Polish circa March of 2003:

"... it happens sometimes,that a morbid dream takes us to a land where everything mires, bogs and chokes us because it reminds us about the t i m e of o u r y o u t h - so young, therefore too old for us, out-of-date and anachronic. No torment could ever equal the torment of such a dream, such a land. There can be nothing more horrifying than to revisit the matters which one has outgrown, those old, adolescent, matters of immaturity once pushed aside, filed and closed... for example the matter of innocence. Oh, threefold wise are those who live solely concerned with current events, with the concerns of adults in the prime of their life, leaving outdated and worn out problems to old shrews. Because the choice of problems to address and be concerned with is immenseley important to individuals and to entire nations, yet so often we'll witness that an astute and mature person confronting mature matters becomes, in the flick of an eye, painfully immature when interjected with matters too childish or too oldish - and incompatible with the spirit of the times and the rythms of history. Truly, there is no easier way of inflicting naiveté and infantilizing humanity than by insinuating those kinds of concerns"


Here is Danuta's translation

"...Sometimes a morbid dream will take us to a land where everything chokes us, corrupts and inhibits us because it pertains to the t i m e of o u r y o u t h and is therefore young, yet it has now become outworn, old, and archaic, and there is no torment equal to the torment of such a dream, such a land. There is nothing more horrible than to delve into issues one has long outgrown, the old issues of youth and immaturity that have long since been pushed into a corner and settled... for example the question of innocence. Oh, threefold wise are they who live solely by today's concerns, the concerns of maturity and of the prime of life, leaving outdated problems to elderly aunts. Because making the choice as to the subject matter and the issues one will address is immensely important to the individual, just as it is to entire nations, and we so often see that a person who is mature and sagacious in his dealings with mature matters becomes, in the twinkling of an eye, painfully immature when confronted with matters that are too puerile or too far in the past- and incompatible with the spirit of the times and the rhythm of history. Truly, there is no easier way of inflicting naivete and infatilizing than by presenting it with problems of this kind"


I will spare you the Polish version.

Before we proceed with the rest of this essay please give me some feedback on two versions and what you saw in the Forms presented.
Thanks

Saturday, March 01, 2003

SXSW Austin Texas

I just decided to go and hang out and see what's up. Call me if you want to meet up. 214 7070 6306 or email

The truth will make you free

Oh, My Brazil.

Brazil...
Where hearts were entertaining June
We stood beneath an amber moon
And softly murmured someday soon...
We kissed...
And clung together
Then...
Tomorrow was another day
The morning found me miles away *
With still a million things to say
Now...
When twilight dims the skies above **
Recalling thrills of our love
There's one thing I'm certain of
Return...
I will...
to old...
BRAZIL.

The truth will make you free but first it will piss you off.
And so it goes. The movie Brazil. My neurosis. Growing up in Poland. Proper Paperwork. This Paper doesn't have a proper stamp. It's not stamped correctly. That will be 20 zlotys. Sign here. We will not accept this paper untill it's stamped. My Brazil baby. We kissed.

But they said there are other places on the planet. Warmer places. With genuine smiles. Amerika they called it. I called it my Brazil. Were hearts were entertainig June. We stood beneath the amber moon....well, scratch that. She went to Germany.

Brazil. The masked-man is going to make me better. I am better already. My neurosis have been cured. Nothing to write about any more. I pay my taxes and mow my lawn on Saturday mornings. Good morning. Good morning. Good morning.

Brazil. I can't shake off that silly past that's constantly in my eyes. What a pupass this is. (Pupass is a way of calling sombody infantile. I made this word up from pupa in polish. Well, if you ever read Ferdydurke you know what I mean.)

So anyway. Pupass. It's been a lot of Pupass recently. Infantile extravagance with Bada Bing moments. Please move on. There is nothing to see here. Brazil. When will you leave me alone?