Viscosity is generally the first leg of pubic development. After that, the class wars usually start. Typically, Mary throws the first punch, then Ed launches a paper satellite. Adam invariably starts trying to pound Truth into people whilst Yolanda flinches. Joey lunges, stopping himself mid-air like an Adobe Acrobat. Meanwhile, the primrose version of Self crumples as Ra, the god, just hangs there, suspended, stupefied. I used my dumb finder earlier then discovered I was still lost, much to my chagrin.

Viscosity also gives one impetus to simulate woodland creatures. For example, the nascent hyenas, lounging in a synthetic compound of jugular mishaps, cry with one united breath, “Look, Madge! We’re basking in it!” And then there’s that most unhappy occurrence of excrement in the jet stream that led to a meltdown in the nation’s mid-section. Blindsided, the elephant heralded a forthcoming age of Jell-O mongering. Outside the polling place, a zebra caught my eye. I took it home and felt bloated the next day. I did not eat for a fortnight thereafter. When the next election came ‘round, I encountered a giraffe outside of the polling place – a learned and gregarious giraffe. We talked of the missile crisis, chalupas, exercise fads, a Buster Keaton resurgence, the merits and otherwise of the Pissed-on Phonics craze, bling, a small section of the Louisiana Purchase (a vivisection to be precise), linguistic noodles, giant pandas, the zeitgeist and its relevance to hindsight, and the preponderance of penis-shaped objects. In fact, we bantered so long that we awoke the next morning much to our surprise outside the polling place – still. It’s a wonder we weren’t robbed, mutilated, or otherwise ostensibly violated.

To be sure, viscosity is curvy. Not all linemen are offensive, but trouble lurks within the closet. Ignatius roars, “BEHEMOTH!” Meanwhile, tenants cringe, hiding ‘neath counters and bookshelves, all the while clinging nervously to their slipshod monkey wrenches. Julia maintains a strong disbelief in viscosity whilst Cynthia channels in the corner, yelling, “SPIRITS, COME! DON’T EVADE ME, YOU ASSES! I AM CALLING OUT TO YOU. WHY DON’T YOU COME?”

Viscosity marks Time. Time marches on the front lawn. The protesters are all prosecuted, one by one. The prosecutors are then violated. Then remove the tray from the oven and set it afire. Now you’re ready to entertain with more than a dishrag!

When all else passes away, Earth included, Viscosity will remain. Viscosity is at the fore. Viscosity will see you through. Viscosity will.


Nine Inch Nails – Playlist 4 – 7

As in the previous setlists, each of the following fit onto a standard CD. All titles are album versions unless noted.

Nine Inch Nails 4:

    1. Memorabilia
    2. Physical
    3. Complications of the Flesh
    4. Demon Seed
    5. The Greater Good
    6. The Beauty of Being Numb
    7. The Great Collapse
    8. Disappointed
    9. Help Me I Am In Hell
    10. Metal
    11. Eraser (Polite)
    12. Home
    13. Sanctified
    14. Something I Can Never Have
    15. Just Like You Imagined
    16. All The Love In The World

Nine Inch Nails 5:

  1. Head Like A Hole (Slate)
  2. Heresy (Blind)
  3. Starfuckers, Inc. (Version 2)
  4. Capital G (Epworth Phones Remix)
  5. Happiness In Slavery (Fixed Remix)
  6. Sin (Short)
  7. The Hand That Feeds (DFA Mix)
  8. Survivalism Tardusted
  9. Ghosts III – 19
  10. Gave Up (Fixed Remix)
  11. The Beginning of the End (Ladytron Remix)
  12. The Perfect Drug (The Orb)
  13. Zero Sum (Other Two Remix)
  14. The Great Destroyer (Modwheelmood Remix)
  15. Down In It (Demo)

Nine Inch Nails 6:

  1. The Perfect Drug (Plug Remix)
  2. All Time Low (Todd Rungren Remix)
  3. 10 Miles High (Version)
  4. Down In It (Singe)
  5. Throw This Away
  6. Closer (Precursor)
  7. The New Flesh
  8. A Warm Place
  9. Every Day Is Exactly The Same (Sam Fog vs. Carlos D Mix)
  10. Terrible Lie (Empathetic Mix)
  11. The Hand That Feeds (Photek Straight Mix)
  12. Starfuckers Inc. (Version 3)
  13. Various Methods of Escape
  14. Head Like A Hole (Soil)

Nine Inch Nails 7:

  1. The Becoming (Still Version)
  2. Terrible Lie (Sympathetic Mix)
  3. Self Destruction, Part Two
  4. The Great Destroyer
  5. Ruiner (Version)
  6. Head Like A Hole (Clay)
  7. Piggy (Nothing Can Stop Me Now)
  8. In Two (Cut, Fused)
  9. Reptile (Edit)
  10. Down In It (Skin)
  11. Closer To God
  12. Supernaut
  13. Only (El-P Mix)
  14. Where Is Everybody?
  15. In This Twilight
  16. While I’m Still Here
  17. Black Noise

New Twitter Approach

What if you had to use Twitter to simply provide an update of your status? No opinions on the ‘news’ of the day. No links to other media.  No didactic renderings of philosophical thoughts. No commentary on religious and spiritual conundrums.  Just actual things happening to you personally, pertaining to you.

Well, that has been my new approach for Twitter in 2013. I am decluttering my mind, focusing on what I am personally able to report about me, myself, and I.

Selfish? Hardly. Factual? Yes. 

I am not entirely ignoring the world around me. But 2012 brought a sort of fatigue for all things contentious. I realized that getting sucked into the news, the twittersphere, the media hypnotism which frames the crisis du jour and the whatever it is we’re all supposed to be harking to is counterproductive to my own creativity.

So if self-preservation is selfish, I guess there’s some of that. But mostly it’s a weariness of the self-serving agendas, the cons, the manipulations, the real lack of substance to anything being peddled as content.

It’s a wasteland out there. News, TV, movies… all have fallen into a miasma of what might be the most appealing thing to the most people who are being forced into one of a few molds.

This blog post, for example, has been market-tested. It is targeted to those 30-40 somethings who see themselves as aware of current affairs but outside the mainstream. They are rebels but follow the rules. They work a job but their career is life itself. They have a family, but like to have time a carved-out for esoteric hobbies, such as large-scale origami or vintage refrigerator racing or competitive haiku. They live in small towns but shop in the city. They deposit with the big banks but micro-invest in efforts such as Small-Scale Methane Farming or Elastic Recycling or Non-Compressed Vegetation Re-Growth and Rehabilitation. All of these are hot, bleeding-edge, though-leader type of technologies . And this blog will capitalize on those types of… blase-blase ergo yadda-yadda mea culpa viacom viagra may be immersed in water shark-bait malleable trussle knobbed fortune’s club foot.

We apologize for the technical difficulties. We have spun into a psuedo-post-modern vortex of random surrealism. But that’s really nothing new.

Journal Entry: January 6, 1999

The blinking red light on my desk indicates I have a phone message. Someone has called and I was either on the phone or away from my desk, please leave a message after the beep, if you need immediate assistance, please press ‘0’ now. I check my messages, jot down the information I need, and delete the messages. I hang up. The red light continues to blink. Did someone call while I was checking my messages? I pick up the phone, but there is no stutter tone (another signal of a message waiting). I hang up again. The red light goes out. No more messages.

There are forms on my desk that cannot be whited out. If a mark is made outside the indicated box, the form must be done over again. In the upper left hand corner of the form there is a blank box. An employee’s address must go in this box, but must not go in the space labeled “Use the space below to correct name or address”. In the pre‑printed version of the form, the information is already in the blank. I will be completing my fourth form. Additionally, the box on the form marked “Human Resources Department Certification” should not be filled out by Human Resources. It should be filled out by division payroll clerks. I have also recently learned that there is a confusion over what date to put in this box. Where the label says “State Service Months as of”, the payroll clerk should not put the employee’s state service date. This instead, is the program effective date. The payroll clerks are doing it incorrectly. All the forms that we have received must be sent back to the employees and executed again. A form arrives which has information which has been struck out in blue pen. This is unacceptable and remains on my desk only briefly before another worker removes it and sends it back. I am only responsible for tracking correct forms.

I have sent an e‑mail to a number of payroll clerks. I use parts of other e‑mails to add portions of information that I did not write, but I have been advised to include. The e‑mail contains information regarding a form that we are using that is being completed in an incorrect manner.

One payroll clerk writes back that all she received in my e‑mail is boxes, no words. I have used a font for my e‑mail that she does not have loaded on her machine. It is CG Omega, which used to be common, but now Arial is standard. I find the CG Omega is nicer to read. I resend the e‑mail in Arial and recall all copies of the e‑mail. The System Administrator indicates simultaneously that recalls have both failed and succeeded. Some of them have already been read, seconds after being sent.

It is the day earlier, and Olivia and I are working on a puzzle. An ad that we placed is showing up in the state online ad posting, but, through another link, is not showing up. We quickly realize that the link where the ad is absent has not been updated. Olivia sends an e‑mail to the Division systems person. He replies by e‑mail stating that she must be looking at the wrong link. The same day: I am helping my co‑worker place an ad in our internal system, which is a new system that we are just learning. I had already found that when I add an ad to the database, it is not showing up in the system from the user’s link. I find out later that I am using the wrong input link. “I guess Cindy didn’t send that information to you,” the Division systems person says, regarding the mixup. Cindy handles statewide employment matters.

Joyce calls. I need to return a phone call to the state health insurance company. A message was left on her voice mail. There is a phone number with no area code and the name is unintelligible, but it is urgent. They are calling from the insurance underwriter’s office. The message regards a non‑specific issue dealing with extended health care benefits for a former employee. I am to return the call, but the number is not local. I try a common area code, but it is not correct.

I try another area code, but dial to a wrong number. It seems a common mistake; they give out the correct area code. I dial the area code and the phone number. The recorded message tells me “Your call cannot be completed as dialed…” I return a call to Joyce. She suggests I call the insurance company’s number and see if there is someone who can identify the caller whose name we do not know about a non‑specific extended health care benefits issue regarding a former employee. I hang up after talking with Joyce. Another e‑mail arrives. I read it.

I am speaking with an employee. There is nowhere for privacy and he wants to speak about a healthcare issue, so I take him to my co‑worker’s cubicle, which is next to mine but offers a higher perception of security being in the farthest corner, not facing anyone. The employee’s ex‑wife has discovered that their son needs crowns on his teeth. Their son is six years old. The employee’s division payroll clerk suggested he change his health care insurance plan to a plan that will cover crowns. He has assumed he will be able to keep the dentist he sees now, but he has discovered that that assumption is incorrect. He has already followed the advice of his payroll clerk. He does not want to switch dentists. He cannot change coverage for another year.

He does not want to pay out‑of‑pocket. He is mad at himself for not finding this out sooner. I listen to him and say I’m sorry, but I will confirm from Joyce that he is out of luck. The employee thanks me. We shake hands.

Today: A man calls. He has applied for a job with our agency. He received a postcard in the U.S. mail that indicated we received his application and that it is being considered. Then, days later, he received a card that indicated his application was late and that it is not being considered. I tell the man to disregard the late postcard. We are having trouble with the way these cards are being handled. Robert is sending them out erroneously. Robert’s daughter is sick today, so he is not in. Hattie and Liza moved his computer to the opposite side of our office, so it will be nearly impossible to supervise his actions for now on. Luckily, I am not officially his supervisor.

Although, I have trained him in everything he does.

Dream: 1/22/99

Mom is trying to turn down the stereo because it’s too loud.  She’s using the remote, only hitting the opposite button, so instead is turning it up.  Meanwhile, I am trying to turn it down at the machine itself.

She says to me, “I’m trying to turn the music down!”  I get up and take the remote.  She’s still giving me a hard time, so I’m sitting there stewing and trying to suppress the urge to throw the remote, though I don’t want to break it.  But the urge is too great and I hurtle it as hard as I can.  It flies into some crystal on a shelf, sending it crashing into fragments and bits on the hard floor.

I’m immediately penitent.  But now, everyone is angry at me.  Scott is particularly vocal and for some reason I blow out some candles that are nearby, pick one up and shove the hot wick into his chest.  Then I start to wander around the house, looking for a step ladder to use to clean off some of the fragments off the shelf, to clean up my mess.  I seem to remember that Grandma told me where it is, so I start to go to the attic, which is accessed by first going up and down these strange stairs that I really can’t remember ever seeing in the waking world.

But what I find in this attic is, instead of a step ladder, an old woman, the sight of which, startles me and gives me the chills.  The woman is there and no reference to her or no attention has been paid to her the entire time by our family.  She is obviously very old, and her legs are hidden by a thin blanket.  She has white hair and large, alien-like blue eyes.

I’m trying to avoid waking her but it’s too late.  She realizes someone is in the room with her.  I start heading back down the stairs, away from her, but she sits up and looks at me and I hear her utter words that creak from her… “just bones? You mean just bones?” And then she lies back down.

Alternate Reality Last Episode of Seinfeld

Seinfeld fans nearly universally agree that the final episode of the series left a lot to be desired.  The whole cast goes to jail?  Weak stuff.  Especially considering how great it could have been.  And I don’t mean Jerry and Elaine finally get back together, get married, and have kids with Kramer moving in next door and George happy in the role of godfather to Jerry’s kids.  No, Seinfeld fans knew not to expect some traditional, romantic, happy ending.  Seinfeld is about snap, not sap.  So, in the interest of a second chance, I offer the following as an…

 Alternate Reality Last Episode of Seinfeld

 The underlying premise of this final episode is that Seinfeld is taking its place among the popular television shows the late 20th Century.  It is a surreal, yet hilarious melding of pop iconography. 

 The show opens in its normal mode, but it quickly becomes evident that the cast now have all the means to make their dearest dreams come true.  Elaine, for her work on the amazingly popular ‘Suburban Sombrero’ receives a fortune in royalties from J. Peterman.  Jerry and George receive huge advances from NBC for their ‘Show About Nothing’ idea.  Kramer has gained millions in royalties of his own for his ‘Coffee Table Coffee Table Book’.  Newman, on the other hand, is desperate to change his life direction and seeks to join a shadowy corner of the Federal espionage machine.

Kramer decides that he wants to make people’s dreams come true.  Along with his little friend, he decides to buy a resort island.  Pretty soon he is donning a white suit and greeting his visitors by saying, “Welcome to Fantasy Island’.  His friend, stationed at the island’s light house always shouts down to him “Boss… deeee plane… deee plane!!”

George has an assignment with the Yankees and is off on what seems to be a wild goose chase looking for a lost shipment of uniforms.  He gets a tip that they have been stored at an old abandoned air-field somewhere outside the city.  He finds himself in a dark and desolate place.  Suddenly, his car breaks down.  Engine trouble.  There is a haunted-looking mansion on the hill.  Reluctantly he approaches it and rings the mysterious door bell.  A gong sounds.  A wispy, pale-skinned, woman with long, black hair answers the door.  “Fester!” she cries.  “Wherever have you been?  Come in, come in.  You look absolutely grotesque.  I love it!!”  George is last seen, alongside his newfound clan, the Addams, wearing a monk’s robe, having shaved his remaining hair, and holding a lit light bulb in his mouth.

Elaine decides that her life is meaningless and she wants to adopt children.  A worker at J. Peterman has recently been killed in a terrible car crash, leaving behind three daughters.  Feeling this maternal yearning she has never felt before, she decides they will become hers.  At the adoption agency, she meets an amazingly handsome, kind, and caring man.  She falls in love instantly.  He, as it turns out, is adopting three boys, who have turned orphans under similar circumstances.  His last name?  Brady.  We see Elaine smiling happily at the doorstep of the famous Brady house, along with a kindly old housekeeper named Alice.

Newman tells Kramer before he leaves that he has a secret meeting with a Federal agent.  He cannot reveal where he will be going or what he will be doing.  At the meeting, no faces are shown.  Just shadows.  The voice of Dirk Benedict is heard.  “You realize Mr. Newman that if you join our team, there will be constant danger.”  Newman responds, “I’m counting on it.”  Next, we see him standing on a street corner in the city.  A black van swerves around a corner and screeches to a stop beside him.  The door of the van opens.  Mr. T. says, “Don’t just stand there fool!  We’ve got work to do.”  He pulls Newman into the van and it screeches off into the night.

Taking a cue from Kramer, Jerry wants an island of his own.  His original plan is to take a three hour tour of some islands just off the coast that are potentially for sale.  However, that plan falls through due to a giant shark attack.  So, he takes a small, charter plane.  From the cockpit of the plan he spies, to his surprise, a small uncharted island, when suddenly the plane’s engine chokes out.   Fortunately, he and the pilot have parachutes.  Unfortunately, as the two are jumping out to safety and the plane plummets to the sea, the pilot’s parachute fails to open.  Jerry meanwhile is picked up by the wind and carried to this lonely island, landing on its forgotten beach.  There he meets a thin, red-shirted man wearing a white sailor’s cap who is doing his best to catch fish.  He is accompanied by six others, all of whom come from different walks of life.  All have been stranded on the island for quite some time.  The man’s name is Gilligan.

A Reasonable Proposal

 The key to solving Virginia’s transportation crisis is very reasonable.  Shut down the roads.  Shut them all down.  This would encourage personal responsibility for all Virginians.  Instead of paying taxes to keep vehicles, which only pollute the air, operating on state-funded roads, shutting down the roads would encourage good old-fashioned exercise.  Walking or biking to where you need to go would become the new trend.  Obesity rates would plummet.  Heart attack incidents would drop.  People would be more in touch with the people who live around them since they would have few opportunities to travel away from their community.  They could walk along the paths laid by the old road system and converse with their fellow citizens about the events of the day as they go about their business. 

Government’s role in these communities could be to provide air lifted food drops while communities transition to the new transportation-less paradigm.  Education would only be necessary insofar as people would need to know enough to grow their own food and to defend themselves from other communities who tried to raid their supplies. 

Every year thousands of people are killed or injured using our current system of transportation.  Every day ordinary citizens choose not to buy things they cannot afford.  We want to keep our citizens alive and we do not have the money to maintain our current transportation system.  Shutting down the roads makes the most sense for all Virginians.

Surreal Force #435.3 – ‘The Escape of the Goblins’

Swatting at Flies is proud to present another in a continuing series of Surreal works.  If you are not familiar with the concepts of surrealism, as an art form, we encourage you to look it up.

Meanwhile, we bring you into the action, already in progress…

              Collapsible gadgets eradiate the frequency of cranes amidst the marbled ruins.  He jumped the ship and the ship jumped him.  Neither felt they had been adequately satisfied in any sense of the word.  Barbarians hoarded diamond-studded helium frozen towards umbilical violence.  This came as no surprise to the excitable rockets or a small dog running through pages in a children’s primer.

            “It all happened so fast and it was so… icky,” said Allison.  “I hardly could bear my wits to witness the witless whips.”

            “This is totally understandable in this age of biodegradable cliché,” he responded, looking out over the severed limbs of so many mannequins that never made it to wear the latest fashion line.  Heartless.  Harvest-less.  Harbor-less.  Hapless…  All of them bore down on a chewing gum faceplate which girdered voluminous waste-baskets full of tales of yore.

            “I have no real feelings about that… anywhere in my bod-…,” she tried to say.  “Ageless diobolics graded the sitting invalids,” said he, interrupting and feeling an itchy trigger finger, though harmless and not the kind that would even kill a fly.  It was simply itchy in a literal way that makes one want to scratch.

            “Don’t shoot!” the man shouted.  But it was too late.  The flash bulbs pounded his retina with the force of a thousand sunlights.  He would see spots for days.  Spots.  Days.  Spots.  Spots.  Days. Days. Spots.  Flashing in their ghostly globular brilliance, blinding.

            “But his hands were tied, I tell you,” she was trying to explain. 

Apologetics, though, are never much appreciated after the disaster.  Too much concentration on who shot John. 

            “Even if I mark that Chapstick, my lips get smeared and all weathered regardless,” he had responded, turning his back and nudging her only slightly, which is all it took.

            “Oh no!” she again shouted.  Only this time she knew – as she was falling down the well slowly, in a cartoon-like, slow-motion way as if gravity had forgotten itself for a moment or perhaps went on a short holiday – she was effectively voiceless or at least no one could hear her shouting, except perhaps the Parched Hairs who were waiting for her at the bottom, floating on top of some old balloons.  These were the same that had fallen off her headless horseman when she and he had been dating so very long ago.  Or perhaps they had been wagging (or even wagering) of his horse’s tail, though now she had no way of remembering.