… And I experienced a sync earlier when I stopped to make myself a sammich because I was feeling a bit peckish. Ham, pickled onions and mayo if you must know…
‘He forgot all about Mandy and Norman as he stared at the expanse of grass. The sun had set behind the surrounding buildings, but there was still enough light to see the garden. All of the grass had been cut, and raked into neat piles. A faint promise of new green showed through the yellow stalks. The patches of shrubbery were still wild, although even they seemed more controlled than they had on his last visit.’
Norman’s House by H.K. Hillman – to be published February 2019
*/flicks ash… I’d been looking up furty one after seeing GaryK30’s calculation, Clicky… /deep drag… Come to fink of it… /holds smoke… Phenex was in ‘Jessica’s Trap’… /streams smoke… A fantastic read…*
… Royal castles, whispering grass and a rough calculation came together to sync with a gardener in a novel that I’m currently proof reading…
‘The Thirty-first Spirit is Foras. He is a Mighty President, and appeareth in the Form of a Strong Man in Human Shape. He can give the understanding to Men how they may know the Virtues of all Herbs and Precious Stones. He teacheth the Arts of Logic and Ethics in all their parts. If desired he maketh men invisible, and to live long, and to be eloquent. He can discover Treasures and recover things Lost. He ruleth over 29 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, which wear thou, etc.’
— S. L. MacGregor Mathers (1904)
*/stubs butt… Coming soon, Clicky. Ooh… /rubs gut… Get a Song, I’m gonna… /farts loudly… That’ll be the pickled onions working…*
Enjoy your weekend, Dear Reader… And have a Song 😉
‘A wire as marking the finish line of a racecourse is attested from 1883.’
Yesterday, MPs voted on PM Jackboots’ DisMay Deal for leaving the EU, Dear Reader. It did not go so well for the poor mare…
*/flicks lighter… Didn’t pass the ‘smell test’, Clicky… /lights up… She dressed it up to look like Brexit… /drags… fooled the ayes, butt knot the noes… /streams smoke… Proper rotten it was…*
… I posted not-eyes of the result in the Red universe of MEROVEE. Cue Selfie…
The Prime Minister had better luck this evening, however, when the LOTO’s tabled ‘Motion of No Confidence’, following last night’s historic defeat, was beaten. Again by the noes. A short one; only nineteen votes this time…
This speech turning tonight's vote around to be a vote of no confidence in the Leader of the Opposition, instead of the Prime Minister, is bloody brilliant. Michael Gove is a hero. pic.twitter.com/Or5rzPpveJ
*Seabiscuit! …/final drag… Couldn’t find the scene from the movie, Clicky? …/stubs butt…*
In Reel Life: After losing the 1937 Santa Anita Handicap by a nose, Pollard tells Howard and Smith that he lost because he didn’t see Rosemont, the winner, coming up on him. He confesses that he’s blind in his right eye.
In Real Life: Pollard never told Smith and Howard that he was half-blind. His excuse for losing that race was that he had been stuck on the rail, which was slow, and was unable to get to the outside. “Had he let on that he was blind in one eye, his career would have been over,” writes Hillenbrand. “Howard accepted Pollard’s explanation without criticism. Neither he nor Smith blamed him.”
It’s sad to say, but both the Government and Opposition have proven themselves to be utter shite at implementing the result of the Independence Referendum. But what to do, Dear Reader?
Gotta missive for you now, Dear Reader, from the Okie Text US Devil. He sent it to me on Thursday but I’ve delayed posting it as we’ve also embarked on remote viewing ‘The Wire’ together this week…
*It’s fuckin’ grippin’, Clicky… /lights up… Why’d the fuck it take me so long… /drags… to see it, eh? …/streams smoke… Fuck gnos…*
We were interrupted on Tuesday evening when the domicile in which Cade resides lost power. We were cut off, so I decided to watch ‘Brexit: The Uncivil War’ that had been broadcast on Channel 4 the previous night. I told Legs…
*His first birthday that we spent together… /grins… ‘Return to the Forbidden Planet’… /drags… based on ‘The Tempest’ by Shakes-Sphere… /blows smoke rings...*
*Dunno what the fuss is about. The yellow vested Brexit-hear did great… /taps ash… Hang on, what’s today’s date, Clicky?*
*Our wedding anniversary! …/cocks head… Is that the phone? Fuck!*
*******
Bob Zmuda just appeared on my radar. So let’s do this. Let’s doo a re:view of the…
SYNCHROSPHERE!!!
SYNCHROSPHERE!!!<—(this is a textual echo)
(this is also an echo “tex tu, al”) —> SYNCHROSPHERE!!!
SYNCHROSPHERE!!!<—(yep, more decaying, textual echo)
Wait, what’s that? You don’t know who Bob Zmuda is and are wondering why I’m not tossing you a link?
Well look him up your own damn self.
You’re reading this, which means you have Internet access, which means you have access to search engines and all kinds of media, which means that if you want to know who in the fuck Bob Zmuda is, you’ve the freedom to look him up at your own leisure.
There are a couple of reasons why I don’t like linking. First, the search mechanisms that I choose to use may be something that you and your SJW or Republican Party buddies hate and boycott and protest or whatever. Similarly, I may sometimes utilize pathways you’ve never heard of, and by default, you are skeptical and think I’m trying to e-lead you…
e-down
…some e-dark
…and e-untrustworthy
…e-pathway.
But one of the big reasons that I hate using hyperlinks is because they change. As of late I’ve noticed that some entities are getting really fucking sloppy with link maintenance.
(prolly due to reliance on automation, but that's just a guess)
For those of you who did not know such things existed? Well, they do. And instead of me magically teleporting you directly into the middle of the party, it’s typically best if I show you the way to the front door where you can go in like everyone else, if you so choose. This also allows you to make your own travel arrangements, and you can arrive/leave any time you like. I’m such a nice guy. So thoughtful. So considerate. Now get the fuck out of here and don’t come back until the next paragraph.
^Rebuke – Along Came Polly^
A quick note here before we start to do our digging around The Synchrosphere. The other day on my own blog, I made mention that I’ve started to recycle more and more music in my posts. This is primarily due to the difficulties I face finding new music. If I find some really cool new song on YouTube, and this song does not have a lot of views, YouTube will not create an YT-generated playlist based on this song for me, which would in turn associate similar new music on this playlist.
(goddamn automation...goddamn it straight to hell)
YouTube will not start adding a video to auto-generated playlists until it reaches so many views. Of course, this may also be a content creator driven thing, because I’m sure that anything monetized will get less cash if YT points it out, than if a user were to find it on their own. This would keep more money in the pocket of content creators, so, makes sense. I have no idea how their shit works tho, just brainstorming based on what I see.
So yeah, recycling a lot of music, when I used to not do that at all. Every song and every image was always something I’d never used in a previous post.
(with very few exceptions)
That said, all links I share are a “take it or leave it” kind of thing anyway, and I share a lot of music that most people prolly didn’t even know existed. Even I didn’t know it existed until I did. Hell, at some point, even the artist that created it didn’t even know it existed.
Weird...eh?
^Avicii – Wake Me Up (Official Video)^
For anyone new to this shit, you may be wondering what “The Synchrosphere” is. Join the fucking club, and I don’t mean those who utilize The Syncrhosphere as a medium for finding people to have sex with. Is there such an arm within The Synchrosphere? As far as I can tell, yeah prolly.
Anyway, The Syncrhosphere seems to revolve mostly around the sharing and exchange of information and ideas. It also seems to be loaded with writers, which means that some will utilize The Synchrosphere as a way for letting other authors know what they working on (professional courtesy kind of network), and still others prolly use it as a field for harvesting ideas. Since we’ve got data and information flowing, and a lot of this “Syncrhosphere” is for the most part out in the open/public, that means that governments, businesses and all kinds of other groups are going to be poking their noses in to see what it’s all about.
You're nosey as fuck, so why wouldn't others be too?
Plus, the damn thing has a name, and a lot of it centers around spiritualism/religion, psychology, philosophy and history.
Dangerous place with dangerous ideas from dangerous people
History being the most dangerous thing there is, so anything with a history slant is by default going to attract all kinds of interests. That said, and as best I can tell, the first thing that The Synchrosphere did when it was created, was split.
Time,
space,
matter,
energy,
synchonicity,
synchromysticism,
synchromystics,
synchrosophisticates,
synchronauts,
synchrosnots,
synchronots,
synchroknots
…All kinds of crap seems to have spun out of this one idea from one dude named Jake Kotze, but I’ve read here and there that even that fact is hotly contested. Creating a bandwagon means you’re going to have all kinds of people jumping on board for all kinds of reasons, and a lot of those motherfuckers are going to want to drive at some point. But, that’s the intent, so, digress.
NOTE: “Time” seems to be on a lot of minds. Hence, this place attracted me.
^The Crystal Method – Name Of The Game^
X: What are you thinking here?
Cade: I’m wondering if this is the place for me to do my long-winded rambles.
X: Meaning, you are wondering if you should be investigating a topical type something in “a missive”?
Cade: Yes. Missives are supposed to be the jumbled bunch of nonsense that I write about when I feel like writing, but have nothing to write about.
Z: Didn’t start out that way though, did it.
Cade: No, it did not. Just kinda developed that way over time.
T: Did you put a lot of thought into that?
Cade: Not in the way that I think you mean.
T: And what is it that you think I mean?
Cade: I’ve never given much consideration to what I write for here, and what I wrote for my own blog(s). Have tried to just let it develop.
X: I was under the impression that you never intended to write anything at all over at your own blog.
Cade: Things changed.
X: Any relevant data you can pass along so as to inform any readers as to what changed?
Cade: It’s not “complicated”, if that’s what you are getting at.
X: You lost me.
Cade: The situations that developed to facilitate change are complex, not complicated.
X: Meaning…simple.
Cade: For the most part yeah. A lot of my decisions have already been made for me. I just have to walk the path.
X: I still think some specifics would help.
Cade: Being mindful of the needs of those that I interact with.
X: And who do you interact with?
Cade: Me mostly.
X: That doesn’t sound very “mindful of others’ needs” to me.
Cade: Ironic that me NOT being mindful of others’ needs would also be chalked up as selfish and/or self-centered.
X: Loads of ironies in creation so it would seem.
Cade: Asking someone to take 4 to 5 hours or more out of their day to edit one of these things can be pretty selfish in my opinion.
X: Let me ask you a question about that since she will read this before anyone else does.
Cade: Fire away.
X: Is this your roundabout way of asking her if your writing is taking up too much of her time?
Cade: No. We talked about this very subject only recently, and we talked about some parameters that might make these things more tolerable. There’s no need to use innuendo in these things because we talk all the time.
X: So what’s the problem?
Cade: I’m not sure exactly. I just noticed that the first section or “paragraph” as I call them, was mighty long in this particular whatever.
X: So pull it all out, post all this on your own blog, and start over with something new for The LoL.
Cade: No.
X: Why not?
Cade: Because I started this with her in mind.
X: There it is.
Cade: Indeed…there it is.
X: The more you definitive you get, the less you have.
… He DMed me shortly afterwards, expanding on the question he’d thought of…
preposition (n.)
late 14c., from Latin praepositionem (nominative praepositio) “a putting before, a prefixing,” noun of action from past participle stem of praeponere “put before,” from prae “before” (see pre-) + ponere“put, set, place” (past participle positus; see position (n.)). In grammatical use, a loan-translation of Greek prothesis, literally “a setting before.” Old English used foresetnys as a loan-translation of Latin praepositio.
*Tell me about it! … /flicks ash… To be honest, Clicky, an ‘eadache I’m getting from that…*
If you’re still a little fuzzy on what a preposition is, Dear Reader, this may help…
*Expressing relationships between things temporally and spatially… /stubs butt… Interesting connections…*
Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Dear Reader, and have a Song ❤
*Ooh, we haven’t had a ‘Last Time At The LoL’ in ages, Clicky… /lights up…*
It’s back to work for me at the Tower tomorrow, Dear Reader, so this will be the last LoL post for 2018. It was Cade’s suggestion…
*/drags… We played ‘ping-pong’ back at the start of 2017… /plumes smoke… Nearly two years now, Clicky… /flicks ash… but feels like we’ve been bouncing off each other forever…*
So without further ado, here’s what we came up with. Enjoy! 😀
START TRANSMISSION
Years ago (1992), I bought my first sampler…an Ensoniq Mirage. It was already WAY old when I bought it, but samplers were expensive as fuck back then and it took me a long to to gather the courage and funds to buy one. Afterall, when you are a poor person spending that kind of money, you want to get something that will do what you need it to do. A sampler is a digital recorder…that’s it. It is a machine that makes a digital recording of an analog signal. Instead of recording all of those bits to tape, you are recording them to silicon chips. Same shit, different capture/storage medium.
The very first thing that I sampled, was me playing the guitar; a simple syncopated chord of seven notes with a bend, and the sample/digital recording was about 4 seconds long. I immediately turned that first sample into a complete song. A song that I’ve never recorded, and never really even played, but this song still bounces around in my head constantly. So, that would be what…27+ years? That’s a long time to bounce.
Regarding the ATTLAS song “Bloom”, from the very first note, all I could think about was this song that I wrote by using my first sampler all those years ago. My song is completely different from the ATTLAS song, but there is a…”tone”…to the guitar sample in the ATTLAS song that screams…”SAMPLED!“, and this is likely due to the speed of the sample. To me, the guitar in “Bloom” sounds slowed, but it also sounds as if some other processing has been applied to make the guitar “sound less sampled”. Hence, there is a direct connection within me to this particular ATTLAS song, and it created a “tingle” of sorts within me from the very first listen for some very specific reasons.
*Oh… ‘Internationally feted Hack coughs to writing fake news stories after fellow Hack smells something fishy’… /smokes…*
In 1983, when I was 16, my first job was selling sampler kits, tapestry canvases and threads to art ‘n’ crafty shoppers in London’s West End. And bags and bags of kapok, that used to get up my nose…
OVER
Image is of Russia’s Progress 59 (M-27M) going bonkers in 2015
Message rec’d. And thinking of tree cotton wafting up your nostrils, that makes me think of a question…
Q: Would you and/or your aquatic assistant think that “tonal crossroads” could be specifically and intentionally targeted within the brain to act as a…erm…”pivot point” to direct someone’s actions?
A: ?¿?
Direct someone towards a certain option that they normally would not have chosen without some 3rd party intervention. This concept is not really new, and I’m thinking about the physics of what makes a juncture within the brain. But then again, if the brain is the target, perhaps this is why “mind-control” won’t work in the ways that some would like. Just like last night, I was pondering “the brain” being more of a “radiator” with respect to decision making processes. That perhaps data has already been scrubbed, formatted, and reformatted time and again as it passes through many areas within our body/being. Much like the architecture of a motherboard vs what actually happens in the CPU.
Off-topic, I watched a video of Weird Al eating chicken wings last night.
^”Weird Al” Yankovic Goes Beyond Insanity While Eating Spicy Wings | Hot Ones^
OVER (I'm matching the cadence setforth by thee)
Aw, he takes such delicate, careful nibbles 😀
Thoughtful Man and I went to the Bombay Bicycle Club in Covent Garden for dinner one night back in the early 90s (could have been 1993). I don’t think it’s there anymore but it was an upmarket curry house that my friend Verity wanted to try. She brought her boyfriend at the time. I can’t remember his name but he was Scottish with a ‘hard man’ persona. He was a bit obnoxious too, a bit loud, telling everyone in earshot how he liked his food hot and spicy. When he placed his order, he told the waiter to make sure they made his curry “the hotter the better!”
I have never seen anyone go red and then green so fast as when he ate the the first spoonful of the curry dish the waiter brought him. Nor run for the toilets so fast. He spent the rest of the evening with his tongue under the cold tap or puking. I never saw Verity or her boyfriend again after that night. She could still be with him for all I know. But truth be told, me and V were already drifting apart…
The only comparable thing I can think of is my grandmother once deciding to try a chilli pepper out of my King Pao Chicken dish one night when we all went out as a family for Chinese food. My plate of food arrived, it was fucking LOADED with those red bastards, and my grandmother asked me what they were. I told her that they were chilli peppers, but also said you don’t actually eat them because they are dangerously hot. I further explained that the heat of the dish comes from it being cooked with the peppers, and that it’s hot enough already. She said “nonsense” asked if she could have one, and I told her “No, you don’t want to do that, trust me, it’s a very bad idea”, especially since she had only gotten her own dish, and had not yet taken one bite. But she insisted, I washed my hands of it and told her to help herself, she took one off my plate, took a bite, and it was less than a minute before she was reaching for her water glass. Pretty much ruined her whole meal.
I felt bad about it, but I can only relate my own personal experiences…not tell others what to do/not to do.
These dried chilli peppers that they use almost have a tinge of cinnamon type taste to them, which is prolly why they taste so good when being used to flavor food, and taste like utter hell when you actually eat them.
^ATTLAS – Ryat^
CADE, STANDING BY...
*Blimey! …/final drag… I’ve not heard that one in years, Clicky… /streams smoke…I wonder if he’s waiting for me to reply… /stubs butt…*
TRANSMISSION ENDS
Well, that’s your lot for 2018, Dear Reader. Join us again in 2019. Have a very happy New Year and… have a Song ❤
*WTF, Clicky?! I was sleeping… /yawns… I remote viewed ‘True Detective’ with Cade last night… /rubs eyes… Didn’t get to bed until ‘what fucking time do you call this?’ o’clock…*
*Yeah, I really enjoyed watching the second season again… /coughs… What do want, Click? Why’d you get me up so early?*
*/lights up… Oh that was a fantastic spot by Cade… /drags… Sampled dialogue from a TV show that I introduced him to, on a song that he’d introduced me too… /streams smoke…*
*Yeah… /flicks ash… So why’d ya feel it necessary to wake me up, Clicky? I mean, I love you dearly, adopted dolphin assistant, but significantly less so on only a couple of hours of kip, my love…*
*Oh, Cade and I remote viewed that on Boxing Night… /drags smoke… It’s one of my favs… /exhales smoke… Atlas… ATTLAS… ‘K?*
*/drops jaw… And ‘Apollo 13’ on Christmas Night! Wow… /squints… So if I work it back, that’s ATTLAS, Atlas, holding the earth’s position…*
*Clever! …/pat snout… And that’s why you woke me up so early, Clicky?*
… And my good friend Cade Fon Apollyon, the Okie Devil of Text US, has sent through what is probably his last missive of the year…
Enjoy! ❤
*******
Ahhhhhh…it’s over. The only thing that remains is…doing it again. Only 522,720 minutes to go. Anyone wanna count them with me? Good. That’s actually very good that you do want to count them with me. That’s actually very good that you do not want to count them with me. What is on my mind this fine day after day after Christmas Day morning is…incorporation.
Hey, if you want the same old shit, go somewhere else.
Anyway…let’s think about a moment in time where you either hit a wall or fell into a void. You encountered something so massive, that it either stopped you completely or propelled you at incomprehensible speeds.
Example 1 would be something like driving in an automobile at a high rate of speed, and then suddenly encountering something which drastically reduced or completely nulled your rate/speed;
Example 2 would be something like walking on the edge of some high place and suddenly falling which in turn simultaneously drastically increases your speed and drastically reduces your ability to control it.
In either of these situations, you are likely to have…questions. First being, do I have the time and ability to formulate these questions and seek their answers, or not. In one instance, a door was slammed in our face, and in the other, a door was opened for us. It’s with that in mind, let’s leave the box(es) we just put ourselves in.
^DIE KRUPPS – Nazis Auf Speed (Official Music Video) [HD]^
An individual encounters something they’ve never encountered before. They are likely to have questions. In social settings, there may be forces at work to quash these questions, or there may be forces at work to encourage these questions. Like say…in a business meeting. The Chairperson may have a “are there any questions?” type moment in the meeting, but in certain settings and under certain leaderships, this is actually a call to “feel free to keep your fucking mouths shut because we’ve got better things to do than listen to you rattle” or something similar.
Parenting can be like that. I guess any relationship can be like that. But what all of this “incorporation” bullshit stems from, is a dream I had last night, and what it relates to, is Aspergers and Tourette’s.
(and perhaps some galactic dynamics too – tee hee)
Q: How long can you crush something before it either snaps back or alters it’s shape to accommodate the pressure(s)?
A:
I guess an answer is, however long you can. But in the instance of two people arguing, and a third superior party intervenes, chooses one side over the other, and demands that one side submit by shutting the fuck up entirely.
^Depeche Mode-Get Right With Me (Remastered)^
I have no idea what we were arguing about. But during the arguing process, I was warned repeatedly that certain words were unacceptable under the circumstances. I was also warned about my temper, and warned that I was verging on being both disrespectful and insubordinate. I felt as tho I was being put into a box that suited their needs, with no accommodation for my own needs. As the argument continued, and eventually, someone who was superior to both myself and the person that I was arguing with stepped in, took the other person’s side, and told me that if I knew what was good for me, I’d shut my mouth and fast. I confronted this person…directly. Got right in their face, looked into their eyes without fear, and said “I have to get this out of me”. This wasn’t my first rodeo, and I had no desire to let this fester any longer. Whatever it was, needed to come out. It was almost a plea. Like it or not, this is coming out, and I can only hold it for so long before it does…come out. A sour look was returned to me, and everything went black.
^Depeche Mode – It’s No Good [Maxiblues Remix]^
Prolly coulda told that dream a little better, but what I was thinking about upon waking, was incorporation. How does the Universe accommodate an object that suddenly appears on the galactic radar?
(And if you think spaceship here, maybe that'll help a bit)
Limits is one way that The Universe can accommodate. Make someone jump through a fuckton of hoops to achieve a certain plateau, and it’s likely that someone somewhere is going to notice the hoops you are jumping through.
I’m gonna stop myself right there, and pose a question…
Q: Do you really think it’s a good idea to remove the “atomic pile” moniker for the human consciousness as it pertains to nuclear fission?
A: ???!!!WTF?!?!?!?
I mean, who would ever think that piling a bunch of radioactive material together could cause a sustained reaction? But a shame to think that Fermi shit his pants for naught, and some pack of dolts comes along several hundred years from now, not knowing the prices that Marie Curie and others like her have already paid.
^DIE KRUPPS ~ Schmutzfabrik^
Irrespective of the associations you attach to me via your own templates for your own purposes, I can in fact, be quite unreasonable.
Just sayin'.
^a-ha – a question of lust (Depeche Mode Cover)^
Do you think our feet were meant to be caged for most of our lives? Socks, shoes, hosiery, you name it. We sure seem to box up those things that give some of us so much freedom.
^PSYCLON NINE “parasitic” -official-^
K, so, I’ll be reasonable, and stop rambling on about feet…let’s jet back to incorporating our spacecraft into galactic spaces.
You know that aircraft are spacecraft...right?
Um…yeah…um…spacecraft…going from here to Mars let’s say. We’ve got a lot of things we must overcome just for our vehicle to make it to the launch pad. Then we gotta overcome a lot of shit to make it off the ground…then out of the atmosphere…then into orbit…then out of orbit…then into an intercept course with Mars…shit like that. So we can assume that The Universe has already setup all kinds of pathways for us to follow, and all kinds of shit to keep us in line. Afterall, The Universe prolly wants to watch us fumble around as much as we want to watch ourselves do whatever it is we are doing.
So the question becomes, how do we start to break these speed-limits that we are encountering? And I’m thinking more computing here, but you have to keep in mind that computing is as much space travel as anything else…just different kinds of crafts. Anyway, what I personally keep seeing, is not only an aspect change, but at the same time, a simultaneous aspect reversal.
A twist.
This “twist” flips up to down/down to up, may sometimes reverse course completely…all while incurring no loss in energy or momentum. If you are already thinking quantum mechanics and/or alternate dimensions, you are on the right path.
^Ayria – In your room (Depeche Mode Cover)^
For the past few years, I’ve had a human-powered orb that represents the mechanism that allows me to do certain things. Previously, the orb facilitated only scalar travel over a distance. That is to say, that I could go anywhere, at any speed, on any scale. If I needed to be traveling at 400,000 times the speed of light while occupying the space the size of a grain of rice…I could do that. If I needed to be traveling at an infinite speed while occupying the space of Betelgeuse…I could do that. But what I eventually encountered, was a set of criteria that required me to…twist.
To relate, imagine one of those plastic balls that people put their hamsters and gerbils in to allow them to run around in. Now imagine, that your hamster is running along happily inside the ball, makes a turn, and at that exact moment, the hamster is suddenly for some reason running on the outside of the ball. Yeah, they were inside the plastic ball, but due to a certain set of circumstances/a certain aspect change at a certain moment, they are now outside the ball. I think I need a new SoPi in order to more accurately describe what I’m seeing. I can’t even recall off the top of my head what iteration I’m even up to. I think I skipped “SoPi-J”, so maybe that’s what I should use here since what I am trying to describe has a hook.
lolz…this video just came up in my playlist, and it looks like the whole thing was filmed in Dallas.
^DIE KRUPPS – Robo Sapien (Official Music Video) [HD]^
You are likely wondering what incorporation has to do with dimensional craft capable of faster than light travel. Well, accommodation silly…
duh 😉
There’s no point in making the trip if I cannot be accommodated, so how do I know whether or not I should travel? Welp, in the case of my inter-dimensional orb, if the fucker spins up, that means that I can go. Where I wind up? Well…that’s a different story entirely. Gotta be flexible. I may be enroute to Proxima Centauri b (closest known exoplanet), but I may have to overnight at Kepler-443b (most distant known exoplanet).
I know, I know…you are wondering why I’d need to travel 4,000 miles forward, just to travel 10 feet sideways. But that’s how it goes when you start traveling in…erm…”less standard circles”…if you will.
In certain instances, an occupied vehicle will travel differently than an unoccupied vehicle. I mean, that’s the whole reason for having unoccupied vehicles in the first place…right?
Things will behave differently in different fields.
I mean, it doesn’t shock you that automobiles perform differently on wet roadways than they do dry roadways right? So why would it continue to baffle you as to why light particles behave differently when observers are/are not present? Prolly because you are ignoring the distance and time between when the observer is/is not present, and under what conditions/auspices. Application(s) and purpose(s) prolly play a role as well.
Food for thought.
^Covenant – Der Leiermann^
Hey, I only have access to what I have access to. As such, I do the best with what I have. Where do logic and understanding meet? I dunno. I guess it depends on how reasonable you are.
/me shrugs
^Supertramp – The Logical Song [Official Music Video]^
Let’s keep this one short-ish…shall we?
^Industrial Dance – Chaotic Rave System (Ignition)^
Butt… What exactly is Public ‘Elf demanding now, Dear Reader?
Really hope the Tories scrap this idea. Although this gov source comment (thanks @Jack_Blanchard_) although said in jest, is quite telling. The timing isn’t wrong, it’s the ideology that spawns this policy. Stupid. pic.twitter.com/70nk5SUulp
*So, to beat their proclaimed ‘OBESITY EPIDEMIC’, Clicky… /stream smoke… Public ‘Elf and government have determined that all portions, henceforth, will be ‘funsize’? …/taps ash… Then what?*
My advice, Dear Reader? Eat, drink and be merry. And of course, have a Song…
Dear Reader, I thought I’d share with you my tale from Underdog Anthology VII…
*Fanks, Clicky… /pats snout… Be ready at the end with a Song…*
Enjoy!
*******
Caesar’s Were-Wife
by Roo B. Doo
Caroline Kempton-Truss closed the slim, pink folder in front of her, and placed it on the stack of coloured folders in her tray, ready for filing. Her desk was neatly spartan, like the rest of her office. She preferred to keep her surroundings like her thinking – lean, clean and tidy; everything in its right place. As the Local Authority’s newly appointed Director of Public Health, she fully intended to encourage her way of thinking throughout the workforce.
She gazed out of the picture window at the car park below. A steady stream of employees were leaving for the Christmas break already, tightly wrapped up against the bitter winds that swirled around the building regardless of the time of year. To Caroline they looked like ants – a slack army of fat ants that merely required whipping into shape. Now that the January health campaign was complete and ready to roll, she felt content to start their transformation.
There was a soft rap on the door behind her. Caroline returned to her desk and sat down, smoothing the crease in her tailored trousers as she crossed her legs. “Come in.”
Her secretary, Natalie, opened the office door and stepped inside. “Hi Caroline. I was wondering if I could possibly leave now. I have accrued sufficient overtime.”
Caroline looked at the slim, gold watch on her wrist. “It’s only two o’clock.”
“Yes, but it’s Christmas Eve,” Natalie spluttered nervously, “and the offices are closing early today at four anyway.” She hopped from foot to foot. “Plus it’s very quiet out there. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yes, I know it’s Christmas Eve,” Caroline snapped, immediately regretted her tone at Natalie’s flinch. Velvet glove, Caroline, she reminded herself, Velvet glove. “Of course. Yes of course you can leave early, Nat, but come and sit down first. I have a couple of things I need to talk to you about.”
Natalie closed the office door and sat down dutifully next to Caroline’s desk, hands tightly gripped in her lap. “Should I go fetch my pad and pen?”
“Good thinking, but not necessary,” Caroline replied, sliding open the bottom drawer of her desk. “This is for you. Merry Christmas,” she continued, handing over a cellophane wrapped basket filled with tubs and bottles, nestled in straw. “Smellies. They’re all natural and sustainably produced.”
Natalie sniffed the cellophane package gingerly. “Oh yes, I can tell,” she said, blushing, and placed the basket under her chair. “I’m sorry but I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay.” Caroline leaned back in her desk chair and surveyed the secretary she’d inherited when she’d taken the job. Natalie was efficient, attentive and punctual; everything she could wish for in a PA. Her extensive knowledge of Local Authority protocol and procedures was a boon for Caroline’s ambitions. But Natalie was irredeemably flawed in Caroline’s eyes: she was a mess in need of fixing. “How old are you, Nat?”
Natalie raised her eyebrows at the bluntness of the question. “Oh.” She shifted in her seat, deciding to sit on her hands. “Um, well I’m going to be forty-five tomorrow.”
Now Caroline felt uncomfortable; she thought Natalie looked much older. “Tomorrow? Your birthday’s tomorrow?”
“Yes, that’s why my parents called me Natalie. Because I was born on Christmas Day.”
“Oh well, very many happy returns for tomorrow.” Caroline smiled broadly but thought, Forty-five? You look at least ten years older. Perfect. “Nat, I hope you don’t think me rude but you are exactly the type I’d like us to hit, and hit hard, with the ‘New You’ health campaign for January.”
“How do you mean?” Natalie asked, her eyes narrowing. “You want another secretary to look after you?”
“No, not at all,” Caroline exclaimed, realising her gaffe. She attempted to reign in the situation. “You’re brilliant, Nat. No, I was thinking more broadly about middle-aged women in general. You know, too busy working and maintaining families to have time to look after themselves properly. No time to cut out the vices that, they wrongly believe, help them to cope.”
“But I don’t drink or smoke,” Natalie replied cautiously, “and I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
“Ah but you do vape.” Caroline licked her lips. “I’ve seen you downstairs in the car park at lunchtimes. The vapour clouds those things make are hard to miss.”
Natalie cocked her head to one side and gnawed at her bottom lip. “But vaping helped me quit, Caroline. Without it, I’d still be smoking twenty a day.”
“And it’s commendable that you’ve quit smoking, it really is. Tobacco is the worst,” Caroline said emphatically. She herself had tried smoking once at college but the taste disgusted her, so she had no trouble in not taking it up. “But when you’ve gone through the pain and strife of kicking one disgusting vice, why replace it with another?”
Natalie shook her head. “I don’t think of vaping as disgusting. I find it relaxing and it’s much safer than smoking.”
“Ah but the jury is still out on its safety, Nat. When smoking first became popular, the long-term health problems it causes weren’t known. In fact smoking was promoted as a good thing. The same could be true of vaping. We just don’t know.” Caroline re-crossed her legs, again smoothing the crease of her trousers. It was a sound argument, regardless of her personal view of the practice.
Natalie continued gnawing her lip. “And it would only be for January?”
“Yes!” Caroline smacked her hand flat against the surface of her barren desk. “Exactly. For the ‘New You’ campaign. Think of it in terms of Caesar’s Wife.”
“Caesar’s wife?”
“Yes. It means to be seen to be above reproach. Look at it this way – how can we persuade the public to change their ways if we are not prepared to do it ourselves?”
Natalie’s lowered gaze flick up toward the office door. “I will think about it over Christmas.”
“Don’t think, Nat. Do!” Caroline chuckled. “‘Do for the New You’. It is the campaign’s strapline after all.”
“Okay,” Natalie murmured. “Is there anything else or can I go now?”
“Well,” Caroline mused, “You eat an awful lot of red meat. Bacon sandwiches at your desk for breakfast several times a week. I’m vegan, but fortunately I can tolerate the smell. Others though might find it too enticing – going vegetarian is one of the key planks of the ‘New You’ campaign.” Caroline could tell from the look on Natalie’s face that she was still sceptical but ploughed on regardless. “It would really help others around you if the bacon butties could be knocked on the head for the month as well.”
Natalie stood up. “No, I mean is there anything else you need me to do before I can go home?”
“Oh sure, well just this filing, thanks.” Caroline grabbed the stack of folders from her tray and handed them over to Natalie. “And then you can go. As the Duty Officer until we close up at four, I’ll be here for a couple of hours yet. There’s no rest for the wicked, eh?”
“No.” Natalie turned to leave. “Merry Christmas, Caroline.”
“You too. And have a very happy birthday, Nat. I look forward to seeing a ‘New You’ in the New Year.”
After Natalie had left, Caroline turned her attention back to the scene outside her window and contemplated how the conversation with Natalie had gone. True, she hadn’t got a firm commitment from her, but Caroline felt confident that it had gone pretty well, despite the shaky start. Every journey starts with a single step, she reassured herself smugly.
The sky was already starting to darken and the stream of departing employees had turned into a trickle. Soon I’ll be the only person left, Caroline thought and stifled a yawn. She decided that a brisk walk around the emptying building would liven her up. Stopping only to pick up her mobile phone, Caroline left her office.
Her stroll took her through several desolate floors of the building. She sighed and tutted at the desk clutter on display, safe in the knowledge that hardly anybody was still around to see her displeasure. Caroline passed bank after bank of desks that heaved with paperwork, tacky personal effects and garish Christmas decorations. The kitchenette areas on each of the floors told their own horror story. Sweet tins full of uneaten cakes and biscuits were piled high on counters, just waiting for staff to return after the break. The fridges were no better, packed as they were with plastic milk bottles, all at varying levels of emptiness, marked with each owner’s initials in thick, black ink. This whole place is infected, she thought disdainfully, I’ll have my work cut out for me here.
It was just past four o’clock by the time Caroline returned to the deserted Public Health department. With everybody else gone, the overhead lighting had switched off automatically, and the floor felt abandoned. Caroline shivered and wondered if the heating had also been turned off. She walked smartly back to her office, glad that she could finally pack her things up to go home, but when she got there, it wasn’t empty.
“Nat?” Caroline stopped in the doorway and called to the shadowy figure, looking out of the window. “What are you doing standing in the dark. I thought you’d already left.”
“I had,” Natalie replied. She turned her head toward Caroline. “But I forgot to take my Christmas present, so I walked back.” She pointed at the cellophane basket still sitting under the chair next to the desk. “And I also have a gift for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Caroline chided with a smile. The flutter of concern Caroline had felt on spying a shadowy figure in her darkened office had dissipated to be replaced with warm glow of acceptance. She decide to push her luck. “You know, your active participation in the New Year campaign would be present enough.”
Natalie shrugged and turned her head back to view outside the window. “Look. The Moon is rising. It’s not quite full.”
Caroline joined Natalie at the window. “Oh yes.” Caroline smiled, “Thank God it’s not a full Moon. The last thing anyone needs on Christmas Eve is a werewolf on the rampage.”
“Yeah,” Natalie laughed softly. “It’s a fiction created by Hollywood, you know.”
“What is? The Moon or werewolves?”
“Oh the Moon is real, but so are werewolves. The first has no effect on the other though. Except in the movies.”
“Really? How do you know that?” Caroline checked her wristwatch; it was all very well chitchatting with staff but time was ticking on. She moved away to collect her handbag and coat.
Natalie didn’t move. “In Poland, where my grandparents came from, there is a long tradition of werewolves, and many legends. Practically the whole of eastern Europe has them. And none of them involve the cycles of the Moon as far as I can tell. Still, everyone believes it does.”
Caroline pulled on her coat and started buttoning it. “Have you made a study of it?” she asked distractedly.
“A little because of my birthday. According to Polish myth, werewolves are born on Christmas Day. It’s an affront to God or something.” Natalie turned to Caroline and grinned. “I’m not one, by the way,” she said, holding up her hands.
“That’s good to know,” Caroline said, belting up her coat and hoisting the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. “Well, I think it’s time we pushed off. Do you live very far from here? I can give you a lift.”
“Not far, but no.” Natalie retrieved the gift basket from under the chair and joined Caroline at the door. “I’m meeting my brother downstairs. Actually there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Sure. Let’s walk and talk.” Caroline led the way through the darkened office to the brightly lit lift lobby. She pressed the button to call for a lift and smiled at Natalie. “What’s on your mind?”
Natalie watched the progress of the lift’s journey up from the ground floor on the electronic display above its doors. “It’s about what you said earlier and Caesar’s wife. Is that going to be in effect for all our health campaigns from now on, or just the ‘New You’ one?”
“Ideally, yes-” A whistling howl of racing wind filling the lift shaft interrupted Caroline’s reply. She grimaced at the noise. “Leading by example is so important, I think.” The lift arrived and she ushered Natalie to get in first. “At the very least I’d like us to be seen to be practicing what we preach.” She hit the button for the ground floor.
“Like a religion?” Natalie asked slowly, gnawing softly on her bottom lip.
“Well no, but in many ways, yes.” Caroline tittered at the analogy; she hadn’t thought of Public Health quite like that before, but now that she had, she rather liked it; she would use it in the future. “Our bodies are temples after all.”
They reached the ground floor and started toward the exit to the car park. Caroline’s elegant heels click-clacked on the polished stone floor as she crossed the Reception area. A lone security guard sat behind the counter, looking bored. “Merry Christmas,” she called to him as she passed.
Natalie stopped at the counter, placing the gift basket on it. “Hey Caroline!” she shouted at the retreating figure of her boss. “Caroline. Have you met my twin brother Gene?”
Caroline stopped and walked back to Natalie and the guard, who was prodding at the gift basket with his finger, nose wrinkled.
“I didn’t know your brother worked here, Nat,” she said, apprehensively. She’d barely paid the security guard any attention before, but now that she looked, she could see the resemblance between him and Natalie. He was darker and hairier than her, but they had the same eyes. “So it’s your birthday tomorrow as well? What time will you be finishing?”
“Tomorrow,” Gene replied sullenly.
“Oh well. Happy birthday for tomorrow anyway.” Caroline nodded and turned to leave. “To both of you. And have a lovely Christmas.” Pleasantries concluded, and with the exit in sight, all she wanted to do was leave.
“Caroline’s a vegan, Gene.” Natalie’s voice rung out clearly across reception. “She wants us to give up eating meat for the New Year.”
Caroline stopped in her tracks. “Now Natalie…” She turned and was enveloped in a cloud of steam.
“And vaping,” Natalie said drawing on her vape contraption and releasing another cloud of steam in Caroline’s direction. “She’s thinking of starting a religion.”
“What? Another one?” Gene sneered. “Is there a fucking seminary, churning out Public Health priests?”
Caroline held her breath and batted the vapour cloud away. She was lost for words and perplexed at the sudden change in her secretary; she’d never encountered such insubordination before. “You’re not allowed-”
“Not allowed?” Natalie roared, interrupting Caroline. “I’m not allowed to vape inside? Why not? There’s nobody else here.” She turned to her brother. “Is anybody else left in the building, Gene?”
Gene’s jaw jerked forwards several times, as if it was trying to leave his face. “No, sis. Just us,” he barked and gnashed his teeth. “They made sure they all left in good time,” he croaked.
“Now look here-” Caroline was interrupted again, this time by Gene falling off his chair, his body convulsing violently. “Oh my god! Is he okay? Natalie?!”
Natalie peered serenely over the reception counter. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’ll just be a second.” She turned her attention back to Caroline. “But you might not be,” she said coldly. “That’s up to you.”
Caroline’s mouth flapped silently. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing or hearing. The sound of tortured whines and yelps coming from behind the desk hurt her ears. The stretching, cracking and snapping noises were turning her legs to jelly. “I… I… I…”
“That’s right,” Natalie spat, “it’s all about you, isn’t it Caroline? You want to turn everybody into an replica image of you because you’re so wonderful.” She blew another cloud of vape in her boss’s direction. “Don’t think the rest of us here don’t know what you’re up to. The way you constantly judge us. We’ve seen it all before. And to be frank, we’re fucking tired of it.”
A maleficent howl reverberated around the empty reception lobby. Caroline’s bladder gave way, as did her legs, and she collapsed to the floor with a sodden thump. She sobbed in horror as the howling suddenly stopped, to be replace by a deeply sinister growl. What is happening? her mind whimpered.
Natalie crouched down next to the quaking Caroline. She put her arm around her back and held her upright. “It was funny you mentioning werewolves earlier. It must be your obsession with transformation that made you think of it. Time for your gift, I think.”
She lifted the shaking woman to her feet and walked her closer to the reception desk. Pulling up Caroline’s coat sleeve to reveal her trembling arm, Natalie gave three sharp whistles. A snarling maw appeared.
“I like you Caroline. I don’t want to have to kill you like all the rest,” Natalie cooed. “They’ll just install another knob, exactly like you, to try and change us.” She gave another whistle, low and long.
Caroline shrieked in pain and terror as Gene’s slavering jaws clamped around her arm. She felt a viscous pooling of blood and saliva on the desktop beneath her arm. She screamed again.
Natalie smacked Gene’s snout firmly and whistled again. Caroline’s arm fell limply from his jaws and he backed away, growling and licking his chops.
“That, Caroline, is your Christmas gift from me and the rest of your work colleagues,” Natalie whispered fiercely into her ear. “Transformation. You are going to be amazed at how different the ‘New You’ will be next month.”