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Monday, June 16, 2008

A Punishment Of Britches

Let it never be said, in the annals of all humankind, in this choked & stinkish blog-o-sphere, where altitude & attitude trump rectitude & pulchritude, where each voice is equal in theory but unreadable in practice, where one is judged by content management systems, network & web page affiliations, ad clicks & crossover marketing potential, as we hunker down in this, the twenty-first of all human centuries, where challenges are affirmations & every diagnosis is also a prognosis, where the last of labels shall set us all free, where the digital boundaries are drawn by RAM & CPU, not by surveyor & natural landmark, where the slowly disappearing highway on the emptying American terrain reappears in our mind, unbounded, in leaps & bounds, at the outset on its last legs, fetid, fertile, fanciful, false, the whole slew of this & that not to replace those & them, but to render them neutral & neutered, to placate power while posing as populist, where... In this... Let it not be said... As we in this century are... Uh... Fuck!

I lost my train of thought.

Oh, well, why not just go listen to the "Pale Show," this past week's episode of Self Help Radio, which is available for your listerine pleasure at selfhelpradio.net. It's free of harmful ultraviolet rays, although it may have dangerous musics.

Seriously, though, I was going to say something meaningful up there. It's just, fuck! I lost my train of thought.

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