Sunday, August 21, 2011
Peggers "Peggy" Thawczuck looks at her iphone in total fucking crippling despair. It no longer reminded her of simplicity and beauty and functionality. Now it carried a heavy specter which nagged at her, reminding her of her transparency and her tiny hands. She toggled the screen & looked @ the clock. 66:41. OH SHIT. the narrator informed the reader that the protagonist was late for an event. "Yes," Peggers looked into the mirror, brushing her hair, the film is black and white, "I'm running fourteen minutes late for my own death, which means by the time I make it to the re-birth, I'll already be born, so that means I might die on the way." She texted with one hand and brushed her beautiful soft hair with the other. The text message she was sending looked to be some sort of disgusting permutation. If you listened closely to her tiny hands on the massive iphone you would swear you heard the inimitable sound of mac and cheese being slowly stirred. Suddenly all of her hair fell off in one giant clump like a wig...Blood was "gushing." The floor was literally "covered in blood." Suddenly, a new character appeared, and, through his dialogue, the reader was able to discern that, nvm it was just like a whole thing of sriracha. Peggers gasped on the floor and started2drown. She was dying. Suddenly, Peggers died. "It happened so fast. I didnt know her like super well but she always seemed nice. I helped her carry her intro to management textbook because her hands were too small. This is so crazy. Like, wow. Like when things like this happen it just reminds you of like how lucky you are and not to take life for granted. Also it reminds you to return Top Gun to the library, clean the dog shit out of the inside of your external hard drive, call that guy about the linoleum, eat a fingernail, graduate high school again, look up "topaz" on urban dictionary, get a job, get a handjob, apply for disability benefits, eat a piece of shit, watch your language around babies and flowers, radiate love and wellbeing and discipline, call your ex and talk for twelve minutes doing nothing but "Scary Movie 3" quotes, love your mom a little bit more, think your dad is cool like you did when you were a newborn baby, learn to sculpt and paint and weld and do coloring books, cut back on the aspirin intake, get around to rereading Phenomenology of the Spirit, spit on something valuable, alphabetize your baseball cards."
Monday, August 1, 2011
NEOLIBERAL POLITICS KILLED ONE MILLION OF OUR NATION'S MOST PARASITIC SCUM IN THE NINETEEN EIGHTIES AND EARLY NINETIES AND FOR THAT WE CAN ONLY THANK THE GOOD WORK OF A LOVING BUT UNFORGIVING GOD
John Boehner looks up from his abridged copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The day is beautiful. Their are probably at least a thousand trees out there, he thinks yearningly. Suddenly a six-month-old Chilean farm boy emerges from the bomb shelter located poolside. He begins to recite a block quote on neoliberalization by (Harvey, 1999). His eyes are mature, hands calloused, and his mouth is a sickening black skin-hole surrounded by boils and scabs. The skin surrounding it is so thin and shredded that it quivers rapidly as he speaks, like a piece of tissue paper held up to a large fan. John Bon Boehner-Goebbels-Jovi stands up and screams. BAD BIG MUMBOJUMBO GET OUT GET OUT he yells and then goes like AAHAHAGFAHFG2HWH just like really making these sick ass noises like twelve enormous rabid ducks simultaneously thrust into boiling molasses. John Claude Van Bonerbaby is now leaned forward, running in place and swirling both arms around backwards in circles like wagon wheels. Suddenly an enormous bug comes over and John Boehner rides away safely. The child sadly died because of how he got ran over by the bug. Funeral processions will be held at the Augusto José Ramón Pinochet Memorial Catholic Church and Specialty Goods Surplus Center, just three ticks past midnight on the night of the month's first full moon.