Story Time: The Brush-Off (Part 1)

Good evening, Dear Reader. Many apologies for neglecting you here at the LoL these past couple of weeks; however, I have been busy writing ‘Lust Christmas’ for Underdog Anthology X: The Silence of the Elves

Gabbiano elf

*I agree, Clicky, that would be an excellent cover for the book…*

…Hopefully, it will be published later this week, but to get us in the mood, the Okie Devil, Cade Fon Apollyon, has kindly agreed to let me post his story ‘The Brush-Off’ from last year’s Christmas Underdog Anthology. I’ve split it into two and the second part will be posted tomorrow. So you’ll have to come back to find out what happens 😉

Enjoy, Dear Reader, enjoy…

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The Brush-Off

Cade F.O.N Apollyon

“Emil…can you hear me?” asked a female voice.

“Doctor, he’s showing signs of going into cardiac arrest,” warned a second woman’s voice. “Pulse rate dropping.”

The lights were so bright that Emil wasn’t quite sure if he’d actually heard the voices, or just imagined them. Did someone just say something about cardiac arrest?, Emil wondered to himself. Surely they cannot be talking about me.

“Emil,” asked the first voice, “I need to know if you can hear me. Give me a sign of any kind.” Her tone was much calmer and kinder than that of the second woman.

Emil felt as though his eyes were moving although he could not make out any detail as to if his eyes were actually seeing anything or not. White…nothing but white, he thought to himself. He felt as though he was drifting in a milky-sea of white where everything was drifting away, yet he could perceive nothing that indicated movement of any kind. So tired.

“Emil, I’ll only have one or two more minutes before I have to go. Can you try to give me any kind of indication that you hear me?”

My lips…where are my lips? I have to find my lips. “I can hear you,” Emil croaked.

“That’s good Emil. I can’t hear you, but I know you’ve heard me. That’s very good Emil.”

What in the hell are you doing here?!” boomed a man’s voice.

“Doctor, the patient is in cardiac arrest,” said the second woman.

“Who are you people. Where I am?” Emil interrupted.

“I came here because it appears to be time,” the first woman rebuked the man. “And Emil, you may call me Judy.”

Emil felt an acute astonishment. Judy? The first woman who spoke to me is named Judy? Who in this entire country is named Judy? “Judy, are you a nurse?” Emil asked sheepishly.

“Emil, I cannot hear you, but I assume that you can hear me. There’s going to be a lot of things going on that you will not understand right now, and they are going to be happening very rapidly. Just know that I am here for you, and…”

“I asked why you are here, Judy. Not what time it appears to be.” The man’s voice interrupted the woman calling herself Judy, although the tone was much softer now. It almost contained a hint of concern, and the way that he had accentuated the name ‘Judy’ almost sounded as if this man was also having trouble with the name. He doesn’t know her name either, Emil thought to himself.

Don’t shock him!” a second man’s voice shouted. “He’s got to survive this! Give him one milligram of atropine and reduce the alpha waves to eight point three hertz on The Hat.”

“Administering one milligram of atropine and reducing alpha to eight point three on The Hat,” the second woman replied.

“Judy, did you hear any of that? They’ve got the brain and the heart doing battle with the Vagus nerve,” said the first man rather sarcastically.

“You know that I heard what they are doing, and you also know that I know what they are doing. I simply wanted to be here if Emil was ready to speak. Emil, my name is Judy, you can call the asshole with the booming voice, Mike.”

“Mike, eh? I like Mike,” said Mike.

Emil was beginning to think to himself that he was the only person on Earth with an actual name, let alone a name that made any sense.

“Doctor, heart rate climbing, and regular sinus rhythm returning,” said the second woman’s voice.

“I knew it. He’s somehow building up static again. Nurse Pimlico, will you check all the ground wires in The Hat for proper connection while I get a techie up here to check the wall connections?”

“Did you hear that Judy? He knew it. Emil, this is Mike again, you are surrounded by a bunch of smart people that know everything, and you’re gonna be just fine.”

Emil heard Judy giggle at Mike’s statement. “I’m sorry Emil, I’m not laughing at you or your…current predicament, we’ll call it. Mike has the bedside manner of a goat, but he occasionally manages to be funny.”

So I am in a hospital, Emil reasoned. The humor was both familiar and welcome, but a wave of panic suddenly swept over him. Just as the panic was beginning to reach an almost paralytic state, Emil felt a soothing warmth emanate from some unknown point within his own being which seemed to brush the panic away. At that same moment, several black dots suddenly appeared and penetrated the overwhelming white in Emil’s view. But the black dots soon disintegrated rapidly into nothingness, leaving only the white.

“Doctor, we’ve just had a spike on beta waves.”

“That can’t be right Nurse Pimlico. He can’t have beta waves unless we feed them to him. Verify beta transducer is set to zero.”

“Yes, Doctor Jefferson. Can verify beta transducer setting zero with last logged input 24 September 2047.”

But I’m only fifteen years old. What could possibly be wrong with my heart? It suddenly occurred to Emil that whoever this first man “Mike” was, his sarcastic but bubbly temperament reminded him of his father. Wait a moment, did I just hear the nurse mention the year 2047? Mike’s hefty voice interrupted Emil’s thoughts.

“Judy, have you seen the white dots yet? There should be three of them.”

“The beta registered on the log and has been confirmed by the scrubbing algorithm. The burst of beta originated from within E.P. and not from The Hat,” said Nurse Pimlico.

EP? Emil thought intently to himself for a moment. This “EP” was suddenly the only thing that made sense, and it only took him a moment to work out the source of the familiarity…E.P., as in, Emil Pedersen? The nurse called me by my initials? Why is she using my initials and not my name?

“Okay Mike, I’ve got three white dots. Small, then broadening, and now fading to black with the smallest tinge of purple and grey.”

“Doctor, I’m showing another ping of beta waves and the scrubber algorithms immediately pegged them as internal. Would you like me to disable the beta probe at The Hat just to be sure?”

“Judy, Emil is going to start seeing black more often now, although I’m not sure as to exactly what kind of shapes that you can expect to see on your end. And Emil, I know that you can hear me, as well as you can hear Judy, the doctor and the nurse. Just be patient with us and know that we’re all working together to get you to where you need to be, okay?”

“Mike, I don’t know any of you and I don’t understand any of this,” Emil immediately responded. “I’m scared. Or at least, I feel like I should be scared, and I am scared, but I’m trying to understand. I’m trying to just listen.”

“Don’t disable beta. We may actually need to actuate beta at The Hat in order to lure his brain away from the idea that he can actually see.”

“Mike, more white. Three horizontal waves in rapid succession and a partial square with almost no duration at all.”

“Copy that Judy. I’m going to make a few quick adjustments to the gain on my end in order to see if I can give you a longer duration target.”

Emil suddenly became aware that he could hear someone tapping on something in a cadence that sounded like someone typing on a computer keyboard.

“Nurse Pimlico, I’ve just sent a request to Support and the Techie is two minutes away,” said Doctor Jefferson as he finished typing on and elevated computer touchscreen. “I’m going next door to check J.W. and see if we are getting bleedthough between units again. If the techie shows up before I return, have them immediately replace each ground at the wall in reverse order first, then remove and replace again forwards. Do you have that?”

“Yes Doctor Jefferson, disconnect and reconnect all ground wires, reverse order first, then again forwards.”

Doctor Jefferson gave a nod of approval, then spun smartly on his heels and disappeared out of the doorway.

“Mike, they’re still operating under the assumption that a re-grounding backwards is going to solve any polarity issues while The Hat is still hot.”

“Well, Judy, we’ll just have to work that much harder to get you a fix on Emil’s direct communication pathways before they do something really stupid.”

I’m beginning to wonder if I even need to be here for this, Emil wondered to himself. “How in the heh…heck…did I get into this mess?” Emil attempted to speak aloud, but caught himself before he said hell and not heck.

“Judy, you aren’t going to like this, but I think I just heard Emil attempting not to curse.”

“Mike…you can hear him?”

“Emil, this is your new pal Mike, can you hear me?”

“Yes Mike, I can hear you. Can you hear me?” Silence. “Mike, I can hear you. Can, you, hear, me?”

“Yes I can hear you now Emil. Judy, this is going to be another rough one.”

“You’ll do fine Mike.”

“Emil, this is Mike. Judy wanted to be the first to speak with you, but it looks like you are stuck with me for the time being. You can likely distinguish all the voices you are hearing at this time, but only me and you can speak directly at this time, OK?”

Knock knock. Emil was suddenly distracted from replying to Mike by the rapping sounds that came in quick succession on what sounded like a door, although Emil couldn’t tell exactly where the knocks came from.

“Tech?” asked Nurse Pimlico.

“Yes, I’m Archer. I was told this is a Level One response.”

“You are one minute early Tech Archer.”

“I was nearby when I got the call. Do you have instructions for me?”

“Tech Archer, please disconnect and reground all grounds at the wall in reverse order.”

“Yes ma’am, nurse…” Tech Archer paused in his query because he could not see the nurse’s nametag clearly from his vantage point in the doorway. However, he could make out the insignia on her uniform. Level seventeen. Two grades above me. Be respectful, be mindful, and be cautious, Archer.

“Pimlico. Once all grounds have been reconnected, disconnect and reconnect again in forward sequence.”

“Reverse first, then forward…I’m on it,” Archer confirmed.

“Can you authenticate parity as you go?” Nurse Pimlico queried.

“Was parity check also requested by the acting doctor?”

“Not specifically, no. Doctor Jefferson is next door with the J.W. unit and will be back momentarily. He’s almost sure to request it when he returns. I just…”

“Nurse Pimlico, I recommend that you allow me to do what was requested, as requested, and we’ll proceed from there if that’s OK with you.”

“I knew it Judy, they are about to make things much worse than they need to actually be.”

“I knew it too Mike. But at least one of us somehow got to Emil before they botched things like with…”

“Like they botched things with me? I’m over that now Judy. I’ve moved on.”

“I’d like to believe that Mike, but I know you too well.”

“You don’t know me at all Judy, and you never will if you keep that up.”

“Posturing will get you nowhere with me…Michael. How about we focus on Emil and getting him where he needs to be so he doesn’t end up like you.”

“Or you…Judith.”

“Or me…Mike. I don’t want Emil ending up like either of us.”

“Me either. You’ll be going white soon Jude. It could be a long time.”

“I know that Mike, but I’m as ready for it as I can be.”

“Emil, it’s Mike here. I appreciate the fact that you can hear us all, yet don’t know what any of us are talking about. But please know that we really are doing the best that we can to make any transition as quick and painless as possible. Does that sound okay with you? Emil? Emil can you still hear me?”

Silence.

“Judy, I think we’ve temporarily lost Emil completely. You might want to brace yourself.”

“Mike, if only they’d listen to Nurse Pimlico. Just once.”

“I’ll be here for you if you get back Judy.”

“I know you will Mike. I know you will.”

~ ~ ~

Doctor Jefferson strode purposefully back into the room where the unit known as “E.P.” was laying on the gurney attached to a monstrosity of wires and tubes. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room upon noticing the individual crouched by the opposite side wall near the floor facing away from him. “And you are?”

“Not to be addressed directly while I’m working on re-grounding The Hat, I’ll not ask you again.”

“Excellent. A stickler for protocol,” said Doctor Jefferson with a smile.

The man crouched on the ground did not appear to flinch at all, but responded coolly without missing a beat. “That goes equally for personal annotations or any other verbal utterances that reference me directly. Last warning to anyone currently in the room.”

Nurse Pimlico sensed the rapidly building tension and interjected. “Doctor, may I see you outside?”

Doctor Jefferson smirked as he gave the tech’s back a last look, spun on his heels, and then waved Nurse Pimlico out towards the hallway. As he fell in line behind her to exit the room, he felt a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that the protocols that he himself devised were being followed to the letter. In a crisis situation no less. Whoever this guy was, he had balls. He was ready to call security and have my citizenship stripped from me and jailed for life, simply for speaking to him. He never even turned to see who I was nor check my rank. Excellent. Most excellent. The video feeds of this real-world exchange would make for an excellent example to use in tech training. Excellent to pass along to the executive and legislative branches as well. Should show that The Protocols are working exactly as advertised. Doctor Jefferson made a mental note to put in a request to retrieve the security recordings for, he looked at his watch, 25 December 2065 at 16:16. Excellent.

As soon as they entered the hallway, Nurse Pimlico immediately spoke, “Doctor, the technician’s name is Archer. Junior Tech, Level Fifteen according to his insignia.”

“Did you ask him to check bias?”

“No. I asked if he would mind checking parity.”

“And did he agree?”

“No Doctor Jefferson, he refused, and he was stern but kind about it.”

“Nurse Pimlico, I realize that you are the one who devised the idea of the parity spot checks upon any and all maintenance to The Hat in a live environment. I also know that your suggestion was a technical one, and not something that you’d hoped to see worked in as a security measure for authenticating the validity of an employee’s presence in restricted areas and loyalty to The Protocols. However, these organisms that we use for harvesting data get more and more dodgy as they age. The less we do in a crisis situation, the better the outcome has proven to be.”

“I can appreciate that Doctor, and I also understand the necessity of protocol. We are attempting to standardize the flow of information, not invent ways to deviate from the standardization process.”

“Indeed we are not, Nurse Pimlico.”

“Doctor, I would like to remind you that my simulations have shown that times of acute trauma may sometimes be the source of the machine ghosts. That the ghosts may be a dormant bit of information that is in fact triggered by a sequence of events that is running in less-standard times than our own.”

“And that’s the key, Nurse Pimlico. We operate forward in time, and so must our data. The only way to identify and isolate any such anomalies in time, should they in fact exist, is to let them come to us. If we seek them out, who knows where we might wind up. Or better stated, when, we might wind up.”

“I understand Doctor.”

“I don’t think you do, Nurse Pimlico. But what’s say we change that. Are you aware of my wife and her grandfather-in-law’s work back in the early part of this century?”

“I am aware that such work exists, but I have no knowledge of the work itself. It is all classified.”

“You are not up for promotion review for another eighteen months if I am not mistaken.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Oh now, don’t fall back onto your military training just yet, Nurse Pimlico. Doctor, please.”

“My apologies, Doctor Jefferson.”

“You are also three grades away from attaining the needed rank to potentially have access to such information. However, I think it time that you were introduced to some of the more…finite, complexities of what it is we do here.”

“Thank you Doctor. But I must remind you that deviation from the Protocol of Established Standards and Procedures will not only red-flag me for the remainder of my career, it could also red-flag you.”

“My faith in you grows by the minute, Nurse Pimlico.” Doctor Jefferson beamed. “Although there is one thing for you to keep in mind, should you continue your journey into the upper-echelons of the infrastructure which makes our society tick.”

“And what is that Doctor?”

Doctor Jefferson smiled, then leaned in somewhat towards Nurse Pimlico and lowered his voice. “A red flag is not always a bad thing to have next to your name.”

Nurse Pimlico blinked a stunned blink and felt as though she were blushing. Is he…testing me? Hitting on me? Both? Nurse Pimlico quickly gathered her senses so as to reestablish her composure. I’ve got to get out of this situation… and fast. Too dangerous. I just need an out.

“I am finished in here for any jocund and loquacious souls who wish to return,” Tech Archer called from inside the room.

Doctor Jefferson’s smile broadened as he slowly withdrew from the closer proximity to Nurse Pimlico’s personal space, but his eyes never left hers. “After you, Nurse.”

OK, so, he didn’t size me up with his eyes, so, he wasn’t hitting on me. He’s testing me. Get those thick thighs of yours to moving, Pimilco. Get your muscular ass back in that room double-quick, and get straight to the diagnostics on The Hat. “Thank you Doctor Jefferson.”

Nurse Pimlico strode into the room with all of the dignity and haste that she could muster under the sudden stresses of the moment, and noticed that Technician Archer was sitting in the lotus position on the floor near where the large bundle of grounding wires ran from The Hat into the wall.

“I figured that I would stay here in the event that parity suddenly needed to be checked, assuming that is Okay with all concerned,” the seated technician volunteered.

Nurse Pimlico was having difficulty interpreting the smile that now occupied Tech Archer’s face as being either friend or foe. “I’ve no issue with it if Doctor Jefferson has no objections.” Nurse Pimlico changed her focus in the direction of Doctor Jefferson to await a response.

“I’ve no objections Nurse Pimlico,” said Doctor Jefferson.

“But we do need to run a full diagnostic on The Hat. That could take upwards of an hour or more.”

“I’ve no objections to that either Nurse Pimlico. All I have is time on this fine day formerly known as Christmas, and Tech Archer is free to spend as much time as he would like sitting on the floor if he so desires.”

“I understand Doctor Jefferson. Estimated time to completion of diagnostics will be sixty-four minutes on my mark…mark! Diagnostics started and running, Doctor Jefferson.”

“Excellent Nurse Pimlico,” said Doctor Jefferson as he reached for one of the empty rolling chairs and pulled it to him. He released an audible sigh of relief upon occupying the chair, and turned his attentions to the technician who was sitting on the floor.“Junior Technician Archer, Level 15, if all goes well, you now have approximately sixty-three plus minutes for you to tell me about what you are working on for you next advancement thesis. Assuming, that you are you are submitting yourself for advancement review, that is.”

“I am indeed Doctor Jefferson, and I’ve already picked my topic.” Tech Archer’s somewhat cavalier but laid-back outward demeanor experienced a sudden radical shift to something somewhat more exuberant and excitable.

“Oh really Archer. Do tell.”

“Global H20 Dynamics.”

“Global, H20, Dynamics…my oh my you do think big young man. I’ve Nurse Pimlico chasing subatomic bitwise ghosts and other mysterious free-radicals, and Tech Archer considering the global dynamics of water and it’s components.” Doctor Jefferson leaned back in is chair and raised his arms in a somewhat mocking celebratory moment of zen. “The gods have favored me on this previously sacred day and blessed me with the company of giants.” He quickly dropped his hands and leaned forward in his seat towards Technician Archer’s position on the floor. “And I do not in any way, shape or form mean that in a contemptuous or demeaning way Technician Archer, to which Nurse Pimlico can attest, can you not Nurse Pimlico?”

“I can indeed inform Tech Archer that the levity displayed by Doctor Jefferson is not one of contempt nor mockery. Tell him your tale Archer, but I can tell you from experience, tell it as it needs be told.”

“She is correct Tech Archer. Tell it as it needs be told. You have my undivided until I say otherwise. Oh, and the captain has turned off the please remain seated on the floor sign. Feel free to get up and move about the cabin if so inclined Junior Technician Archer.”

~ ~ ~

The cabin’s fireplace crackled as Emil lay on the floor basking in it’s warmth; engaged in glorious battle on his new Nintendo Switch. He would have preferred a set of drums for Christmas, but he was more or less contented with the fact that his parents were unlikely to ever endorse his owning a drum set while he still lived at home. Emil understood. The apartment back home in Copenhagen was not the best of environments for a future rock star to live, and keeping the drums here in the sommerhus at Bornholm wasn’t practical. I’d practically never get to practice, Emil thought sarcastically to himself as his thumbs worked feverishly to keep his elven character alive. Lort! I died! thought Emil to himself as his on-screen character completed it’s pre-programmed death-throes then slumped into a heap amid the grassy lands of Hyrule.

“Søn, would you mind going outside and checking the roof to see what the snow looks like?” Emil’s father called from the kitchen area. He was putting away the day’s now clean and dried dishes. “It probably needs to be brushed off again before bed.”

“Sure Pop. I just died anyway,” replied Emil, pushing himself up from the floor with a grunt. “Do you want me to go ahead and setup the ladder?” He and his father had already been through this exercise three times over the past two days, and it was almost old-hat to Emil at this point.

“Only if it looks like the roof needs to be cleared Emil,” answered his father. “I don’t want us to be out in the cold if we don’t have to.”

Emil placed his Nintendo Switch on the small table next to the sofa where his mother was seated, and noticed that she was engaged in a battle of her own. She had opened and was sorting the contents of the new sewing kit she’d received as a gift during the previous night’s festivities, and it appeared to contain somewhere between ten and twenty billion individual strands of thread. Emil delayed his forward momentum towards the door, and watched for a moment as his mother wrestled with identifying and separating the various colored threads.

“Well, you still appear to be quite nimble and able-bodied for a dead man,” his mother said without looking up. “And if you are standing there wondering where your bathing suit is located, it’s most likely still in your suitcase dear.” His mother glanced up at him briefly with a smirk smeared across her shining face, before she returned her attention to the mass of threads in her hands. “Assuming you remembered to pack it for the trip, that is.”

“Mor, I think I forgot it,” Emil said in the best ‘fake-astonishment’ voice that he could muster.

“Well then, I guess you’ll probably just have to settle for the coat, hat and mittens hanging on the rack near the door.” His mother again looked up and smiled at Emil.

He returned the smile, said nothing, and went to assemble his gear for the trek outdoors.

“I’ll be a minute or two behind you, Emil,” called his father from the kitchen.

Emil sat down on the small bench near the door, and began to pull on his boots. He glanced over his shoulder out the window at the snow that was falling outside. Good grief! It’s never snowed like this in Denmark before. Not ever. 44 centimeters of snow was predicted for today, and that’s on top of what we’ve already gotten. The whitest of white Christmases in Dansk history, or so they are saying on the news. The Great Blizzard of 2018.

Emil finished lacing his boots, stood, then reached for his heavy coat that felt still somewhat damp. He then donned his hat and gloves, which were also still feeling slightly soggy and not yet dry, then reached for the handle on the door. “I’m going out and up,” Emil said as he gave the new Nintendo Switch resting on the small end-table a final glance.

“OK søn. I’ll be right behind you in a few,” replied his father.

His mother, who was otherwise engaged with the threads from her needlepoint kit said nothing.

Emil opened the door and walked outside into the cold darkness in front of him, then pulled the door tightly closed behind him and gave it a final push just to be sure. I don’t want to make the mistake of leaving the door slightly ajar again.

*******

See you for the second part of ‘The Brush-Off’ tomorrow, Dear Reader, when all will be revealed. Have a Song ❤

 

Story Time: Secret of the Flaming Zombies

 Welcome, Dear Reader…

Previously at the LoL

*Thank you, Clicky… /lights up and smokes…*

… to one of this year’s Halloween tales…

Stranger Zombies

*That’s Sarah from work and her mate Nina. They love cosplay…*

stranger things steve the sailor.gif

*Oh yeah. And Sarah’s a huge Underdog Anthology fan… /grins*

… from Underdog Anthology IX: Well Haunted. Enjoy! ❤

*******

Secret of the Flaming Zombies

By Roo B. Doo

Fucking Halloween again, and Lol and I were attempting to simultaneously drown and burn the horror of my working day, surrounded by flaming zombies, with a continuous flow of Flaming Zombies. It was Lol’s cockeyed theory and we were testing it to destruction at our favourite watering hole, downing the bar’s ‘Halloween Cocktail Special’.

Of course ‘working’ is meant in its loosest possible sense, as no work gets done on Halloween at F.A. Kontrell. For the past three years, the stupid fancy dress competition, themed staff activities and spurious assertion that “it’s for charity, Harry,” has trumped all else. It was especially galling this year to hear The Fat Kontroller’s echoing predications regarding the fancy dress competition’s alleged philanthropic underpinnings, dressed as he was as the 45th President of the United States. I assumed it was Donald Trump my boss was attempting to portray, but he may have been going for ‘grotesque Oompa Loompa’. Or perhaps he was attempting to recreate what our mouthy receptionist Shazza looks like at her very best. Like there’s much of a difference between any of those. Sad!

It had taken most of the evening and several rounds of drinks, but Lol and I had finally managed to exorcise much of the contempt I felt for my work colleagues, and were about to embark on solving the abomination that is my love life.

“Ya know what your problem is, Harry?” Lol mashed his neatly manicured but highly intoxicated finger against my chest. He leaned in conspiratorially in order to tell me beneath the hubbub of the bar. “You’re never gonna find love ‘cos you’ve still got the hots for Jodie.”

“Who’s Jodie?” I returned his finger prod with an equally intoxicated index finger prod of my own. Not as manicured as Lol’s but then he’s always been something of a tart with regards to his appearance.

Lol looked momentarily confused. “Jodie from your office, Jodie. You know, ‘The Goddess With The Never Ending Legs’,” he smirked.

“Oh you mean Josie. Well, she’s gone now,” I replied glumly.

Josie had been F.A. Kontrell’s HR temptress; the angel with an elfin face, framed by raven black curls, atop of a smoking hot body, had left for another job at the start of the year. I’d felt bereft every day since but more so today, as Josie’s choice of Halloween costume for the past two years were not only glorious to behold in the flesh, but the memory of her ‘Wonder Woman’ and ‘Little Mermaid’ outfits still warms the cockles of my lonely heart. Particularly at night, in bed.

“Come on, Harry,” Lol said, shaking my shoulder in a misguided attempt to lift my spirits. “That girl was always out of your league. She spurned all your advances.”

It could have been the alcohol, or the fact I’d been keeping a secret from my best friend for nearly a year, but I suddenly felt the urge to wipe the smug look off his face. Lol’s a bank manager – they always look smug; it’s part of their job description. “Who says she spurned all my advances?”

What?!

Success! I thought evilly and sucked noisily on the straw in my hurricane glass, hoovering up its alcoholic remnants and rattling the ice. “You get another round of these in, Money Bags, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Somehow Lol managed to sport a look of utter disbelief and wide-eyed wonder. “Really? You actually found where the never-ending legs finish? I don’t believe you, Harry.”

“Certainly did!” I burped indignantly, handing my empty glass to Lol. “Not only found, but explored and defiled. Supped upon her licksure of life.” I giggled at my own joke; it was either that or cry.

Lol’s jaw dropped. “Fuck off, you never said! When was this?” he asked with rising incredulity.

“Last Christmas.”

“Oof, Harry! Wham!” Lol feigned a smack to the jaw.

“Oh yeah, Deadpoo’?” I slurred, shooing him off toward the bar. “Then prepare for a double whammy – I wasn’t the only one on the expedition.”

It never ceases to amaze me why dropping a glass in public elicits a round of applause from strangers.

*******

Deadpoo Shocked.gif

*Quite! …/stubs butt… Now I’ve gotta write it…*

The story continues in ‘Lust Christmas’, which will appear in Underdog Anthology X: Subtitle tbc. Out in time for Christmas 😀 Dear Reader, have a Song…

* Can I hear cowbell? …/thinks…*

Story Time: ‘Cos Play’s The Thing!

Welcome, Dear Reader…

walk this way.gif

*Appropriate… /lights up and smokes… Very nice, Clicky…*

…to last year’s Halloween tale!

youre putting me on

*Shh, Clicky, let Dear Reader read…*

Enjoy! ❤

*******

‘Cos Play’s The Thing!

By Roo B. Doo

I was having a lovely dream. The sort of dream you dream about having. Josie was sat over me, exquisitely filling her Wonder Woman costume with her tanned and taut flesh. Her righteous arse cheeks, spread, hovered tantalizingly above my face, the blue silky gusset that ran between them was nearly within touching distance.

“Copy that, Elvis. Coming in to land,” Josie said curtly, followed by a burst of static. “And I hope to God Harry has managed to get the undercarriage down.”

It was then that I realised we were about to crash. I hadn’t been able to find the invisible landing gear that Josie had implored me to fix. The one on her invisible plane, the plane she was now bringing in to land. I looked down past my feet at the ground zooming up toward me, before stealing one last glance up at the in-flight entertainment above. “Oh fuck!”

I woke in a sweaty start to the urgent buzzing of my iPhone on the bedside table. “I’m up!” I yelled into the cool, empty darkness, before hitting the snooze button and flopping back onto my pillow, clutching the phone to my gut. It felt smooth and hard against my hot skin.

I’d been dreaming of the Josie again, F.A. Kontrell’s HR Manager and the office goddess I’d been lusting after since the Fat Kontroller, our boss, had hired her into the fold two years ago. Last year she’d dressed as Wonder Woman for Halloween, and just like in my dream, Josie had filled the skintight costume to perfection. In real life. Unfortunately, and exactly like my dream, she remains just as elusive. One day, I sighed and snuggled back down under the duvet to review the highlights of this latest dreamy romp. The next time my mobile phone suddenly vibrated into life, the intrusion was much more welcome.

Hallo-fucking-ween again, I thought malevolently when I finally got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I’d never been fond of the ritualised bollocks foisted on us as markers of time – Christmas, Easter, Halloween – but since the Fat Kontroller had given our bitch of a receptionist, Shazza, carte blanche to organise the festivities, I’d come to dread their arrival for the inevitable disaster that followed.

Last year, the old boy had been railroaded into a last minute ‘dress up for charity’ celebration of all things Halloweeny by Shazza, whilst I’d been out of the country, enjoying the delights of Ibiza on a well deserved break. That sorry episode had resulted in a blood-splattered bathroom, a year’s worth of PTSD therapy for Ian, our lanky and highly impressionable apprentice, and a grand sum of £22.50 raised for a charity – still undisclosed – a fiver of which was extorted from me for not not knowing I needed a costume!

Well not this year; this year I was prepared thanks to Dana Cossetti, high-flying VP of the American conglomerate that has recently swallowed F.A. Kontrell’s biggest client, Clovis, whole. We’d been introduced to each other back in the spring, whilst Dana was making a whistle-stop tour of her firm’s European acquisitions, and the Fat Kontroller was looking to secure the lucrative contract he’d signed with Clovis by any means necessary.

Any initial disgust I felt at being pimped out by my boss was soon dwarfed by lust for his selected john the moment I clapped eyes Dana Cossetti’s legs and heard her earthy, Texan drawl. And being a Yank, she took both Halloween and competition very seriously indeed…

Dana Harry Convo 1

Despite the godawful hour, arriving first at the office does have certain benefits: picking the best parking spot for one thing, lack of Shazza for another. Mainly it allows me to get on with some productive work before the Fat Kontroller rolls in. Today it also meant I could get changed into my Halloween costume with some degree of privacy before the rest of the rabble arrived. Except upon arrival I found the security alarm switched off and the main door unlocked. I pushed it open and peered into the deserted, unlit office beyond. “Hello?”

Shit! I bet he’s here already, I fumed, striding round to my desk, expecting to see the Fat Kontroller. I was stopped in my tracks though by a loud thud from the other side the office. Not him then, I surmised and changed direction, curious to see who’d beat me in to work. “Who’s that?” I called out but was greeted with silence.

Perhaps it was the date or that the far side of the office was bathed in deep shadows, weakly lit by the meagre daylight that eked through from beneath the window blinds, but it felt very spooky. I suddenly felt the urge to creep. What if it’s a burglar? I thought. Why the fuck didn’t you switch the overhead lights on? I shifted the garment bag carrying my costume to over my shoulder and crept forward, Scooby Doo style.

“Hello, who’s there?” Nothing. I picked up a stapler from a nearby desk and held it open in front of me. Oh yeah, that’s bound to scare off an intruder. Why not brandish a fucking ruler and threaten a stinging slap?

“Harry, is that you?” Golden light flooded the corner of the room as the door to the far office opened. Josie poked her head out sideways, her raven tresses tumbling down in a waterfall of curls. She looked relieved to see me. “Oh thank God, I need some help with this thing.”

Pfft, burglar. I strolled up to her office, getting rid of the stapler as nonchalantly as I could on the way. “Sure. What’s the-” I felt my jaw drop. “Problem?”

“It’s stuck,” Josie gasped, looking over her bare shoulder. She was wrestling with the zip at the small of her back. “The zip feels stuck but I can’t see why. Will you have a look?”

If last year’s Wonder Woman costume had been a joy to behold, then Josie’s mermaid effort today was nothing short of a triumph of form over fantasy. Hallelujah! my brain screamed.

“Wow, great costume,” I croaked, sinking to my knees. It was going to take every ounce of willpower to not press my face up against her fulsome, metallic gold arse, and kiss it. Profusely, scaly or not.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she purred, running a delicate, tanned hand over the flare of her hips and down the curvy, shimmering, fish scale printed fabric. “But I couldn’t resist,” she informed me with a girlish giggle and a swish of her tail.

Oh you’re fucking killing me! I mentally wailed but decided to keep my mouth shut: my hands were shaking, my eyeballs were sweating; I couldn’t be any more nervous if faced with a bomb, pliers in hand and commanded to cut. I furtively licked my lips. “Um…”

“Can you see where it’s caught?” Josie asked pushing her fishtail arse closer to my face.

Breathe, you idiot! I took a gulp of air and dived in. “I think it’s caught on the lining.” I tugged and pulled gingerly with nervous fingers until the zip and lining freed themselves of each other. With a sigh of relief, I fastened her costume up with a smooth zziiipp and sat back on my heels. “You look… magnificent.”

“Oh thanks, Harry.” Josie tottered round and gave me a full frontal of her washboard stomach and the pink clam shells cup bikini top that shielded her perky breasts. I could have quite happily sat there all day but she held out her hand to help me up. She spotted my garment bag discarded on the floor. “Ooh so you did remember to bring a costume this year?”

My costume? I’d quite forgotten all about my costume; my costume had been completely blown out of my mind by the way she looked in her costume.

Missing out on the chance to win a bottle of Glenfarclas for best costume at last year’s Halloween hullabaloo had stung. The Fat Kontroller had donated it as first prize and he only ever drank the finest whisky. I’d idly mentioned it to Dana, who taken this year’s competition as something of a challenge. My costume was really Dana’s costume; the only input I had was to simply wear it, and share first prize with her when next she was in town. A Christmas date I was looking forward to immensely .

“Come on, what are you wearing?” Josie asked impatiently.

Well this is awkward, I thought with a mental grimace. I rocked up onto to my feet and started to unzip the bag. “Funny story, Josie. An American mate sent this to me about a month ago…”

Dana Harry Convo 2

“Oh my God, Harry, we’re both mermaids for the day!” Josie laughed, freeing the fishtail of my costume from its protective casing so that she could fondle it. Strange, she seemed genuinely delighted that, essentially, someone else would be wearing the same frock as her. “We’ll be twins!”

“If you mean like Schwarzenegger and Devito, then yeah… Totally!”

“Oh Harry, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Josie said coyly, perching on her desk and lazily swinging her legs so that her fishtail glittered and gleamed. “You don’t look anything like Danny Devito.”

Fuck! Is she flirting with me? “Whereas you look exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

Josie picked up a shell encrusted mirror from the desk and peered at her reflection. “Only when I’m on my period.” She quickly placed the mirror back down. “Hey, I know. If you changed now, we can go sit out on reception and wait for the others to arrive.”

Here? She wants me to take my clothes off here? I was confused and still reeling from her flirting. If that was flirting. I decided not to chance it. “Okay, I’ll go to the ladies.”

“No!” She slid off the desk and bunny hopped toward me. “No time to lose. I’ll help you. These things can be a bugger to get into.”

“Well alright then,” I said shrugging off my coat and biting my lips to disguise my grin. “You know Shazza’s gonna be pissed when she gets in and finds us camped on reception.”

“Better than that, she’ll be absolutely horrified!” Josie flashed a wicked smile and plucked the garment bag from my hand so that I could get undressed. “Happy Halloween Harry.”

Dana Harry Convo 3

*******

Igor eye wobble

*Way to roll your eyes, Clicky… /stubs butt…*

Doo come back on Thursday for ‘Secret of the Flaming Zombies’, a tale from Underdog Anthology 9: Well Haunted. In fact come back any time you like, Dear Reader. And have a Song 😀

Missive From ‘Merica: #141 Hellifino

Dear Reader, the splendid artwork on the new Underdog Anthology…

UA9 Cover

*/lights up… Thank you, Clicky…*

… was provided by a gentleman called Gary V. Foss. A poem by Sam Walter Foss is reproduced by Cade in his new missive, below…

friends its all relative 1

 

*No idea… /drags… I know Cade met up with MEROVEE Frank this week… /plumes smoke… And it’s possible they share an ancestor…*

friends its all relative 2.gif

*Yeah, Jen was there too… /smokes… Could you butt out now, Clicky? I’m try to introduce Cade’s missive… /sighs… Now I’ve completely lost my train of thought…*

*******

When you make all my dreams come true···

···you’re basically taking all my dreams away from me.

Maybe even taking from me···

···my ability to dream.

Q: Now what?

A: . . . ─ ─ ─ . . .

Unfulfilled dreams potentially being a key to immortality. Almost doesn’t make any sense. Guess it all depends on what type of individual you are, and maybe whether or not you like to share.

^Swedish House Mafia – One (Original Mix)^

How to relate such a seemingly complex concept. I know! Let’s do a sing along type thingie! I’m gonna put a poem here by Sam Walter Foss called “Two Gods”, and I’ll put this here audio recitation of the poem performed by MC 900 Ft. Jesus so you can read along.

Sam Walter Foss
MC 900 Ft. Jesus
Hell With The Lid Off
God
Dream
Memory Consolidation

Won’t this be fun? We can get our dream(s) back on.

_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_

A boy was born ‘mid little things…between a little world and sky.

And dreamed not of the cosmic rings round which the circling planets fly.

He lived in little works and thoughts…where little ventures grow and plod.

And paced and plowed his little plots…and prayed unto his little god.

But as the mighty system grew…his faith grew faint with many scars.

The cosmos widened in his views…but God was lost among his stars.

Another boy in lowly days…as he to little things was born.

But gathered lore in woodland ways and from the glory of the morn.

As wider skies broke on his view…God greatened in his growing mind.

Each year he dreamed his god anew…and left his older god behind.

He saw the boundless scheme dilate…in star and blossom…sky and clod.

And as the universe grew great…he dreamed for it…a greater god.

¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯

A step further. I’m wondering about that one further step. That seed which feeds the need to dream and/or continue dreaming when all is done and there’s nothing left to do. One more thing do to. One step beyond? One thing? What makes reality? Is that maybe what made reality? The absence of dreams and dreaming? Oh, and Happy Friday shitforbrains. Only six days until Halloweed.

^MC 900 ft. Jesus – Bill’s dream^

My youngest was in discussion with Whatshername the other day whilst I was in getting a drink, and he commented that, “Halloween didn’t seem to fit the fall model.”

It didn’t fit. Doesn’t jibe. I piped up and said, “That’s the point. Compliment via contrast.”

He told me, “that makes no sense.”

I laughed, agreed, then sauntered away from the conversation.

Have thought about it a lot since then tho. Because of where I live, “fall” could arrive anywhere from late July to late December. Just depends on the amount of rain(s), and/or when the cold finally arrives…if it arrives at all. Not to mention that we here in the USA have that mysterious “Thanksgiving” holiday that baffles the living fuck out of the rest of the planet, and it’s right there in the middle between Halloween and Christmas. My thoughts on “the season of fall” differ somewhat from his. Is it my job as a father to remedy that? Or is it best that I let him formulate his own opinion(s).

I'll keep you posted
^Must Be The Feeling^

Thanksgiving kinda fits a bit with Halloween, and Christmas and Thanksgiving kinda fits with each other, but Halloween and Christmas are like…polar opposites. I guess that’s how he’s seeing it anyway. Makes sense, but also not. When I think about all three of those holidays, I think trees. Food is also a prevalent theme in all three, and so is/are family/families. But Christmas and Thanksgiving are kinda more-closed loops, whereas Halloween is kinda open in that and those regard(s). Public. Strangers. Parties. Trick or Treating. Unknown and unknowns.

Lots of maybes

Maybe that’s where a secret lay in the mystery of the somewhat ostracized nature of Halloween. Or at least, within public perception(s) and/or perceptions of public perception(s).

^Showtek – We Like To Party (Original Mix)^

Ya know, another thing is that Halloween in its current incarnation (at least here in the US) is kind of an evolving thing. It’s no longer just “dress up your house a bit to make it look scary, play scary music out the window and give away candy to trick or treaters”.

Its a growth industry

People are starting to go fucking nuts over it, and not just and only a few weirdos and extremists here and there. Streets are as likely to have houses decorated at Halloween as they are to have their houses decorated at Christmas. I’d imagine the current growth of Halloween is somewhat like the growth of Christmas in the 1950’s and 1960’s. The Great Pumpkin has gone commercial.

^Rocky Horror Time Warp^
DO A BARREL ROLL!!!
^Do a barrel roll !^

When I think of sleep with no dreams, the first thing I think of is death. That’s probably a kinda normal thought amongst “the living”. But my own mind runs to my death-dream/sleep-paralysis, then straight to Thoth and something said about these “12 that sleep forever”. Mainly because I’ve often wondered what it is that provides us humans and other lifeforms with the ability to dream.

Would it be possible that there was an original dreamer who ran out of dreams, dreams no more, and as a result, we can dream our own dreams? Admittedly, if you’re of the agnostic, atheistic or similar faith(s), you aren’t gonna think that there was some original creator(s)/dreamer(s) out there somewhere who thought this whole nightmarish mess up…it just happened. But what I’m also thinking is that maybe there was a “dream pool” and this original dreamer and/or original dreamers didn’t drink the dream well dry. Maybe he/her/them/they or whatever just drank their fill then took a break so that all the shiznit and stuffs they created could actually do what they were created to do. Which, one reason at least, may have been…

to dream

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, those 12 sleeping fuckers who appear to be able to be able to go anywhere they want, at any time, and can known men’s minds or however it was worded.

^Stealing Sheep – Show Love^

Loads of stuff we don’t understand. Might be aware of something, maybe not. Irrespective of awareness, we may not understand whatever it is we are aware of. Frank Davis kinda touched on this topic a bit yesterday.

Why Can’t I Build Cancer Models?

 

I’m headed a different direction than Frank, but will wind up in the same general vicinity.

Aura
Field
Aura (Paranormal)
Aura
Field (Physics)
Field
Luciferin
Luciferase
Photoprotein
Field = To go out and fight

Weird. Anyway, we’ve got these fields around us, and these fields around us have other fields contained within this field. So what is driving us? Dark? Light? Both? Some other weird, crazy, and otherwise funky shit we’re missing? Prolly more to light, than just and only light. Gotta consider not only light, but its source and sources. Giving some consideration to the properties and states of light might help. And what I’m thinking here is…

why do work that is already being done?

If you can leech off of an existing process, maybe you utilize an intermediary, you can then ponder the merits of symbiosis and/or more/less symbiotic relationships. What is/is not intrusive, creative, additive, argumentative, complimentary, disruptive, destructive, malicious, benevolent?

etc..
^Highasakite – Mexico (Official Music Video)^

If you’re having trouble following, maybe instead of thinking just and only photons. Maybe venture a bit outside of the “light box” with respect to the transference and eventual dissemination and interpretation of information and data. Maybe think about electrons, associated binaries, message delivery and transportation systems of all kinds, then maybe have a peek at the data(s) that is/are being transferred, via what mediums, why…

shit like that

The Telephone Game is a good representation as to data handoffs and data integrity, what checks are implemented, where and why, etc.. I recently brought back up “the 8 levels of darkness” again. There are actually 15 levels, but the point is how things move, where, and why they move that way, in a particular environment.

8 down

7 in

1 immovable

7 out

8 up

I’ve not given “the light levels” much thought, primarily because the dark levels are in fact “light levels”. They just operate differently. Plenty of light in the dark; it just behaves differently. And if you’re thinking dark matter/dark energy, you’re not on the wrong track.

That said, I don’t know if I am on the right track in thinking that these dark rings are in fact the reorganizational processes that create the dark matter/energy and act as the conduit between matter and antimatter. But that’s what I’ve been seeing for several years now, and the addition of time in any all instances when penetrating the rings tends to kick me out, so to speak. I don’t think it’s necessarily that time does not exist nor cannot exist there. Maybe just a matter of it not existing in the same way and ways.

I do know I had an inkling of how to actually split a Quark this morning, and it scared the fuck out of me. Primarily because a few years ago, I saw, potentially anyway, a way that Quarks might have infinite up/down properties within a single particle. Infinite positive and negative charges. They were ridiculously long, yet finite, and my mind instantly ran to strings. Not given the topic much thought since then. Not till this morning anyway.

^Swedish House Mafia ft. John Martin – Don’t You Worry Child (Official Video)^

That poem was written a really long time ago.

Two Gods

If you had told me at age 10, that a poem like that was written in the late 1800’s, I woulda said you were fucking nuts. Everyone “back then” was god-fearing and pure. So I was told anyway.

^Chromatics – Tick Of The Clock^

Some teachers prolly get sick and fucking tired of certain students. Some teachers prolly get sick and fucking tired of teaching.

Someone recently pointed out and reminded me that even Jesus seemed to get sick of people’s shit.

lolz

I had forgotten all about that.

^Happy Up Here (Datassette Remix)^
A skateboard company. Looks like almost everyone is on board
^I.D. Under – Song X – Genericide 1989^

Your view of me is stylized; it’s not me. Only I know me, and even I don’t know me as well as I’d like to, so I guess in effect, nobody knows me. Same goes for you. Same goes for everyone I guess. Still, anything and everything you’ve got in your head about me, is stylized. Pretty much means that your ideas are…

flexible

Moldable, shapable and able to be molded and modulated via all kinds of ways, means and methods. Outside influence may not even be requisite for you to bounce from opinion to opinion. So what’s going on inside? What are you bouncing around in there, and why. Things like, oh…I dunno…you gave me that crown, and you can take it away. Something like that? The wolf that wins, is the one you feed.

So I'm told anyway
^Ministry – Everyday Is Halloween^

When I think “141”, two things immediately pop into my head, both are aviation related.

14 CFR Part 141 – PILOT SCHOOLS

Lockheed C-141 Starlifter

With respect to “sync numbers”, one could technically punch the number “141” into my internal memory banks, and this would provide access to related information and data via those two primary pathways via the 141 sequence. For example…

Andrews Air Force Base, McLean Virginia, Paris Texas, Tyler Texas, monarch butterflies, midair collision(s), blue and white, orange and black, 66322, touch and go, Grayson County Airport, Davy Crocket

Those are some ancillary types of things that instantly pop into my head when I hear the number “141” and/or the sequence “one four one”. The more that I think on 141, the more that pops into my head…

Precision, raining and cold, I-66, skeet, neon orange, Aunt Geo, Chesapeake Beach, Route 4, PX, minesweeping helicopters, allergic reaction to tattoos, 3,000 feet, south, hot, rough...it gets more and more clear and cloudy at the same time

These are my memories. Places I’ve been, things I’ve seen, things I’ve done, levels of involvement, levels of removal, hearsay, fact, truth, fiction, fantasy, lies…

its all mixed in there stewing in the same pot

With respect to memory and memories, and in regards to remote access of said information, is it possible to “feed” off of information via intentionally planted/implanted numbers and numbers sets? Something I’ve pondered for a while now, and I’m wondering as to quite a few concepts regarding frequency and/or utilization(s) of the stream(s).

^In Your Machine^

Old video below, but one of the comments on the video kinda caught my eye: the one about Oklahoma, and mainly because I distinctly remember 3 earthquakes here in 2014. And the fact that there’s mention of “the Oso Washington landslide, that killed 39”.

Seems like there was something in the news just this week where 39 people died in a truck/lorry. Did some reading tho, and it looks like the death toll in Oso eventually climbed to 43.

So yeah, no connection(s) whatsoever
^Wyoming Landslide: Slow Moving Disaster^

Let’s say that you gain access to “Memory X” using the 141 sequence. Later, you want to prove to a colleague that you’ve gained access to “Memory X”, you again use the 141 sequence, but it doesn’t work like it did the first time. Meaning, you input your 141, but the output is something different that the original. This could be either a different result entirely, or perhaps nothing at all, but a deviation from the original. So you increase the frequency of the inputted 141 sequence. Eventually, you get the access to “Memory X”, but it took 14 iterations of the 141 sequence to achieve the desired result. Or maybe 41 iterations. Or maybe 140 iterations.

Q: What was your base?

A: What is your base?

What was and is your base? To relate what I’m talking about, let’s say you stroke the small of your girl’s back for the first time, and she goes bonkers. One soft simple stroke, and she’s starry-eyed and weak-knee’d. Next time however, you stroke the small of her back, and nothing happens. So you repeat the procedure a few times, eventually she comes around to that original point you remember so vividly from your first experience.

Q: Does the second memory muddy the first?

A: What if there is no second memory?

In the context of which I’m speaking, I would imagine that your subject would need to be unaware of your number sequencing/number syncing so that they will rely upon their own internal experiences and data sets, which will give you access to these same experiences/data sets. Anything externalized is likely to provoke defense mechanisms and close off access to the individual’s internal hive.

So, the next question is, how to upload both false memories and modified memories? Provide some varied contrasts so that the original remains more or less intact, but your subject is…well, let’s say…susceptible. Muddy the memory, and the absolute becomes subjective. But only internally. The external can maintain clarity and rationale because the points within the set(s) are distinct and isolated which keeps both the point(s) and the set(s) from commingling in the “fuzzy logic” centers. I mean, this person’s life keeps on ticking. Keeps going. They’re piling more and more data in the banks each and every moment of each and every day. Loads of “similar not same” data piling in there that could possibly not provide the contrast to make better distinctions. Especially if the subject is currently in a loop or perceives themselves as being in a loop or some other dead-end type of situation. Final question…

Q: In an existence with little to no contrast, contrasts and/or contrasting elements, does all contrast become “stark”?

A: ???

Was just thinking how easy that might make the manipulation of emotions. You could corrupt a spirit.

^Datassette – Computers^

Just went back and was reading that Sam Walter Foss article on Wikipedia, and noticed it says he’s featured on New Hampshire historical marker #114. Actually, it says “number 114”.

To be exact, it says (number 114)”

I wonder if 114 and 141 are actually the same number in a different sequence representative of similar not same things + similar and same things + exact same things/identical things. May seem an odd reference, but I’m reminded of the 30 Rock episode where they’re all playing poker and Jack Donaghy discovers he can’t read Kenneth the Page. No tells to tell. No tales to tell?

Q: If someone is dead inside, can you extract anything?

A: ¿??¿

Supposedly, dead men tell no tales, so it makes me wonder about the dynamics of “the deadman” with respect to remote reading. Doesn’t matter the mode(s), method(s) nor reasoning(s) either. The deadman is just as alive as you or anyone else, just a tad…dead. Dead in there. Dead space? Dead zone?

/shrug 

Maybe some tactical maneuvering is in order. Also looks like he died in 1911.

^Dead – Pixies (RB3 Expert Guitar)^

Tic, tocs, and what is getting that inertia going in the first place? Get the right matter, with the right inertia, at the right speed, set to the right angle, add the right energy/energies with the same considerations, and you just might be able create an entanglement that’ll go on and on for a very long time. Might explain why certain configurations last for the amounts of time that they do. Especially in certain environments and/or at certain times.

Pre-flood, people supposedly lived for what is now considered to be some very long periods of time. But after the flood, not so much. Above, and below. Different time(s), and different configuration(s), different results. Gonna be some disruptors and disruptions. Might explain the membranous and somewhat episodic nature(s) of many of the things we see and experience. Many of the things that do and do not exist. Periodic tables, maps and star charts. Might also explain the whens and whys of why a lifeform might choose immortality over reproduction or vice versa. Sometimes the episode needs to run a bit longer than 22 minutes, sometimes not.

^Bobby Caldwell – What You Won’t Do for Love (Album Version)^
Star Charts and Sea Larks

I haven’t thought about that in a long time. I wonder what she’s up to.

^Will Sparks feat. Luciana – Sick Like That (Lyric Video)^

Dunno if revisiting old syncs is a good thing. Dunno if it’s a bad thing either. Seems kinda weird to never revisit a somewhere that is important to you. If there’s nothing keeping you away, and nothing telling you to stay away, why not go? Gotta be something pulling you in that direction.

Or pushing

Dunno…maybe I’m just circling the drain, and seeing the same shit on the way out that I saw on the way in.

Sup? Nice to see you again. Catch you on the flipside, I guess.

Maybe
^Holy Fuck – The Pulse^

Can you believe that a thought on having a dream come true inspired all that crap?

What a nightmare, eh?

I do know that the thought of potentially splitting an infinitely long and infinitely massive particle sent shivers down my spine. Considering the self-sustainability angle(s), one has to ponder the contextual nature of what “infinite” really entails, and where. The infinite paradigm itself is well established, it’s possible, plausible, and even probable. Now you just have to consider if you want to be the one to light the fuse or not.

^fluke – baby pain^
Have a great weekend
^AURORA – Runaway^

cYacFa

^Highasakite – Camp Echo – I Am My Own Disease HD AUDIO^

*******

We hope you enjoyed that, Dear Reader. Come back later in the week and we’ll have a Halloween tale or two for you…

*True, my Underdog Anthology X story will be related… /stubs butt… I just have to figure it out…*

…And have a Song ❤

Missive From ‘Merica: Well ‘Aunted

UA9 Cover.jpg

*Oh that looks lush, Clicky! …/lights up… Has Leggy loaded it yet? …/drags… Excellent! Ooh look, a ‘237’ sync… /plumes smoke… So, £2.37 equates to dollars, three? …/smokes… Marvelous value!* 

Dear Reader, the LoL is pleased to announce that Underdog Anthology IX: Well Haunted…

innit tho.gif

*Yes, Clicky…*

… Is now available for you to enjoy.  It’s the third Halloween volume Leg Iron Books has published…

*/flicks ash…*

… And will be sure to make you…

… Soil yourself, which is why we’re delighted today to host a new missive from the Okie Devil of Text US, who’s thoughtfully provided some handy toilet tips…

*Aye, Clicky, it’s good stuff…*

… Meet you at the bottom, Dear Reader… 😉

*******

giphy

Kinda weird stumbling across that image. Just the other day I was working on my own “two-fold and cross” method. Meaning, the method for folding the paper prior to contact with the soiled crack.

Six to eight sheets

join ends of entire length

join ends of entire length a second time

join two corners at 45° angle.

This gives enough coverage + enough padding without risk of breakthrough. Best part, is that with this configuration, you can wipe/fold, wipe/fold, wipe/dispose. Usually at least three good wipes out of 8 sheets, and it folds nice so there’s little risk of….trauma.

The resulting wad of soiled paper that goes in the toilet can be thick tho. If you just had chili or curry, and you have to use multiple wads, a flush might be in order. A clogged toilet when you’ve got runny poops almost seems to go against nature. And it could get messy quick if you don’t have a plunger handy.

That defeats the purpose of attempting to be efficient with the paper
^Fergal Freeman / Call of the Mystic (Enchanted Mix)^

Another pro-toilet tip?

Never mix fluids/discharge(s)

Like, never blow your nose with toilet paper whilst shitting. You may get confused as to which end has been wiped, and which has not. Would suck to wipe your ass then blow your nose with the same paper because you were multitasking. Not everything “efficient” is worth the risk.

FYI
^deadmau5 – Bad Selection^

Summer is over. Just thought you should know in the event you weren’t paying attention.

And yes, summer is also over for you folks in the Southern Hemisphere too, even tho it hasn’t even started yet. Sorry, but this year you’re just gonna have to tough out winter like us normal humans in the north.

Merry Christmas
^Summer Breeze Seals and Croft^

You spend most of your time in a rectangular room. You’re surrounded by rectangular walls with rectangular doors and rectangular windows, and you move upon and about a rectangular floor, with a rectangular roof above you. Your brain is likely to get somewhat accustomed to processing rectangular geometric information(s). When you venture away from that environment, your being is likely to be somewhat flooded with all kinds of new and interesting stuff.

Q: What if you are blind? Deaf?

A: Gotta get you away from those eyes of yours

Not permanently, just a temporary vacation. Your ears are likely to process a good deal of spacial information. Gonna be kind of a passive thing, but density, distance and relative position is also going to be processed by those big-assed ears of yours. Yes, your ears are fucking huge.

Sorry, someone had to tell you, so it may as well be me

Anyway, the topic of processing spacial information came up today, and the basis was the processing of contextual geometric information(s). Making distinctions as to what should and should not be in a certain somewhere, peculiarities, anomalies, etc.. Maybe even those things that can be in a certain somewhere, but these things themselves contain embedded information that is out of place. How we process geometric information, and what “geometric” even means with respect to processing shape data and/or shaped information.

Let's break out to elaborate
^Hotknife / Time to Party (Original Mix)^
You may recognize this shape



But what about this variant?

Now, before I go too much further, those two images have some very specific meaning(s). One appears to mean “Jesus Freak”, and the other appears to mean “Semi-Woke Jesus Freak”. I would imagine the second is an “answer”…

to this shape



Or maybe this shape

The first image gave us a base of geometric understanding…

and things mutated 



and evolved



from there

So with respect to processing information, it’s prolly not just/only a matter of learning to make a distinction between known and unknown. We need to make considerations for uncertainty, irregularity, one-off(s), intentionals, unintentuals, mutative/change(s), all kinds of strangeness(es), and of course…time(s).

What does any of that have to do with processing shape information and/or shaped information? I dunno. Guess it depends on what you are looking at/for, and why. Maybe also what you are not looking at/for and why. Yeah…prolly both of those.

Just a matter of time(s)
^Avoure – Aura^

Strange way for two parties to have a conversation, eh? Back and forth over who is right/wrong based on what is basically a preschool drawing of a fish.

At least they're talking
^3/10 Lollercoaster – Melleefresh vs. deadmau5 @ Traffik, Montreal, 25-11-2006^

Lets say that you are looking at a planet, and you are looking for signs of life.

Where to start? 

Mirrors? Mirrors suck. What you personally see in the mirror on a daily basis is in no way, shape or form anything like life. Certainly not representative of life as a whole. Just you and your whole life. You aren’t the center of the universe.

Where was I? 

Oh yeah, looking for life on another planet. Nothing good going on here on Earth/Terra, so we gotta look elsewhere. With that in mind, chances are good that you are looking for something foreign to this planet. But what would that look like? When was the last time you went walking in an open field, completely unfettered, unhinged, and totally off the hook?

Have you ever? 

Don’t get too reliant upon that television if you don’t have to. That thing misses a lot of nuance. Shaped information. Only so much you can see because whatever you are watching has passed through many filters before getting to you. Maybe you aren’t thinking correctly with respect to searching for something that doesn’t appear to be there. Maybe it’s there, and you just aren’t seeing it. Or hearing it. Or feeling it.

^Saltwater (Original) by Chicane^

Hey, I’m just trying to maybe get you to think about how you think, and especially as thinking relates to the processing of geometric shapes. Might keep you safe if you’re running naked through a field, and the shape of a bus suddenly appears in your FOV. If the bus-shape is blurry, stop running. If the bus-shape/image stays blurry, you might want to take evasive action/start running away from this shape.

Don’t ask me what in the fuck a bus in doing in the middle of a field. There’s a naked person running through this field, so this particular field appears to be a field that attracts some weird shit.

^Hotknife vs Mister Tee / Take A Stand (Orignal Mix)^

I must pee. The bathroom…

the door is pulled to, but not closed.

The light…off.                                                            The exhaust fan…on.

Something horrible has happened in there, and it happened only recently.

Q: Do you wish to proceed?

A: ???

Life is a story-book adventure, all day, every day, whether you realize it or not.

^Tiny Dancer – Deadmou5 Remix (Elton John)^
I'm getting old in my old age
^Melleefresh vs DJ Kez & Karol N / Pussy (Original Mix)^

Is a looping echo of charitable sentiments indicative of a failure of past benevolent processes? Perhaps even an indication that no real attempts have been made to permanently resolve the need for a certain philanthropic something? I’ll give an example of what I’m thinking here…

The United Way raised $21,700 in its first year of operation. The year? 1887.

The United Way raised $3.919 billion in 2018 (fiscal year ended June 2019).

That's an increase of 18,059,907% in 132 years

Now, adjusted for inflation, that 1887 money is supposedly $586,491.61 in 2019 dollars. But I have to wonder what 2019 dollars will be valued at in the year 2151, which is 132 years from now. Did some reading, and the US GDP was $12.6 billion in 1887, which means that one single US charity in 2018CE raised around 1/3 of the entire country’s 1887CE GDP. Let’s see what $3.919 billion was worth in 1887.

$105,919,844,315.79

Is it possible that $3.919 billion in today’s money is going to be worth almost $106 billion in 2151CE? I have no idea, and I guess it would depend on who you ask. Don’t ask anyone from a local church or anyone from Extinction Rebellion. Pretty sure they’re all convinced everyone and everything will be dead in 2151CE. Oh, and to add some additional perspective to those numbers, the current US President is said to have a net worth of around $3.1 billion as of March 2019CE.

^cube v3 – 5 days + nights with the LA horde^

From the United Way website…

“United Way fights for the health, education, and financial stability of every person in every community.”

United Way fights. United Way...fights

Not only are you and yours fighting, looks like you’re fighting anyone and everyone, everywhere. Prolly would be considered “PC” of me to suggest that you remove “fight”. Prolly more important that you lose the fighting mentality. Who and what are these forces you are fighting? What is driving them? Big corporations? Big interests? Big dollars?

It's easy to pick on the big dogs
^Chris Brown & Benny Benassi – Beautiful People^

We treat you like “this” because you are a woman.

We treat you like “this” because you are a man.

We treat you like “this” because you are…a human?

Is it the ordering?

Watched a doc earlier this week that kinda touched on a lot of the peculiarities that I wrestle with regarding nomenclatures and the implied behavioral protocols that they can sometimes imply.

But, you’re free to watch the doc then make up your own determinations as to how you treat someone and why. Or not.

Whatevz
^Intersex – redefining gender | DW Documentary^

I’m not sure what to think about this. Had some thoughts recently about who can utilize infrastructure(s) to make money and why…

...but yeah, not sure what to think about this

Cept maybe that the à la carte model is being forced via any and all means.

^Demonetization by You Tube of Technical Content on the Blancolirio Channel^

Does steam “open the pores”? Open the pores of the skin. I would assume “heat” does this/helps this, so a hot bath or shower opens the pores.

Is this really a good idea tho?

Open the pores, slather on soap(s), scrub it in, embed bits of these “cleansers” and their different pieces and parts, then cool off and trap that shit in the pores of the skin? Lemme guess…

”it doesn't work like that”

Was thinking about washing in cold water, and it occurred to me that maybe perhaps the skin contracting and getting all those goose-bumps because you’re freezing your ass off, might be a design consideration. As it pertains to functionality. We’re trying to get stuff off our bodies, not get stuff in our bodies.

Or something
^Deadmau5 – Jaded || HD^

Well this is quite the eye opener. I only recently was pondering/wrote about arrays of aircraft because of some things that I saw back in 2013 and again in 2015, but I had no idea “they” were actually doing it. Makes sense that they are tho.

After watching the video below, it’s no fucking wonder that the UFO community has been shitting their pants lately. Trying to stay on the radar. Trying to stay relevant.

Things are about to get muddier in that area

You could bury all kinds of shit behind all kinds of crazy curtains with technology like this. It’s just too bad that the video has that dumb music on top. Would be interesting to hear what all those drones sound like.

^100-Drone Stock Show | Firefly Drone Shows^

That vid tickled my brain-ish type thingie, so I went to YouTube and searched for “drone array” (without quotes) and found this thing below from 7 years ago.

^A Swarm of Nano Quadrotors^

There actually wasn’t much at all on YouTube under “drone array”. In fact, pretty much nothing. There was a light show, and that swarm one above, and synchronized drone show, and MICRO DRONES KILLER ARMS ROBOTS – AUTONOMOUS ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, and drone flight over the Very Large Array, a mention of a drone tracking array, but only one mention of “array” with respect to drones.

Hrm...

Why is it that arrays of drones don’t seem to be referred to as “drone arrays”?

Also, on the vid about the drone tracking array, I noticed in the description that they

“had difficulty getting the DJI drones to work at 5.8 GHz”.

Someone only recently asked me about “5G” and what it is. But somewhat off on that topic, I’m wondering if maybe some military projects are lagging a bit, and maybe that’s why cell providers are having fits with getting “upgraded” to 5G? As far as I know, 4G is still a pipe dream, and it was “introduced” in 2009. Gotta get the important stuff out of that/those band(s), and at the same time make sure you remain well-entrenched in that band so you can keep track of who is doing what. Lots of data is pumping through the lower bands already, and I can imagine that cresting each band can be a challenge. Especially if you are simultaneously trying to monitor anyone who is cresting bands above your own capabilities.

Can't let the competition get too far ahead of you
^Kaskade & Felix Cartal – More (Shuffle Video)^

You made me.

You’re still making me.

You’re trying to anyway.

No idea what I’m talking about?
Making
Making
Making
Make
Make
1
7
How To Make Spells
10 Ways To Get Legislation Passed
7 Ways To Build Influence In The Workplace
Five Principles To Follow If You Want To Influence Others
24 Ways To Influence Even The Most Resistant People
8 Ways to Read Someone’s Body Language
50 Ways To Tell Someone You Like Them (Without Just Telling Them)
Impose One’s Will

If it’s still not clear, maybe think on the concept of “making” a bit.

Make it personal

What you make, when, where, how…all that good stuff.

^Boy Pussy / Unisex (Jackin’ Mix 2019 Remaster)^

I started this back on September 26th. It’s now October 12th. I rearranged some of the sections, which means you did not read them in the chronological order in which they were written. Time to stop this madness.

Heh
^deadmau5 / Vanishing Point [full version]^

cYacFa

^S_PAT / Tomorrow (Original Mix)^

*******

*Yep, Parsons knows, Clicky…/stubs butt…*

Thanks for stopping by, Dear Reader, we hope you have enjoyed the visit, and don’t forget to check out Underdog Anthology 9: Well Haunted. Before you know it, the Xmasterpeace will be upon us. Have a Song ❤

Playing Devil’s Avocado

‘You’ve been actively participating in discovering “meaningful coincidence” for longer than I in some of the realms that we both swim.

‘Q: Do you ever stop and reflect on what you are doing and why?’

caec09fff460b87e59b5a0030601f6e1

*It’s my own fault, Clicky… /lights up… I did ask… /drags… It was really late… /plumes smoke… Or really early…*

Cade accepts Roobs offer

*Not sure, Clicky… /smokes… should I go for the long or short answer?*

*Fair enough…*

The short answer is ‘Yes’ and as to why, perhaps an example of ‘meaningful coincidence’ may be helpful in this regard, Dear Reader. It happened today, in fact whilst I was writing this post. I’ll describe in bullet point form:

  • I am currently on a long weekend from work, which I booked off back in the summer because the date coincides with the deadline for submissions to Underdog Anthology 9;

  • Thoughtful Man had other ideas and planned on hiring a skip, so that I could spend part of my long weekend clearing the accumulated crap from the garden this weekend;

  • Boo! I was not looking forward to clearing the crap from the garden;

  • Earlier this week Thoughtful had to spend the skip money on emergency reupholstery on back seat of his taxi;

  • Yay! I didn’t have to spend time this weekend removing the crap from the garden;

  • Yesterday a skip appeared on our next door neighbour’s drive;

  • Thoughtful Man comes home from work this afternoon, whilst I am writing this post, and tells me that our next door neighbour had just offered us use of his skip;

  • The garden is cleared and its accumulated crap is now sitting in next door neighbour’s skip.

105077920-acvodad

*Holy guacamole, Clicky… /flicks ash… A toast?*

*Blimey! Cade knows about my fondness for drummers…*

Dear Reader, have a Song ❤

 

CLICK5: Eat The What Now?!