so some monks enter a bar. the bartender responds: "what is this? a koan?"

the other monk sighs. "dependent origination"
the one monk is like "huh? I don't get it"
the other monk sighs and says there is a wholly appropriate koan

KYOGEN said to his pupils: "Zen is a man hanging from a tree
overa cliff. He is holding on to a twig with his teeth. His hands hold
no branch. His feet find no branch. Up on the cliff-edge a man shouts at
him: 'Why did Bodhidharma come from India into China?'

"If he fails to answer he is lost. If he answers, he dies. What must he
do?"

the one monk goes. "aha!"
the other monk shakes his head, and says. "the man lets go of the twig.
he does not fall. he says, in measured tones "I do not do zen", and
then chomps right down on the twig"
the one monk says "I don't understand"

the other monk says: "you are trying to assert that 'the map is not the
territory' is important, and while true, it is also vacuous: you assert
that one map is not a territory. fine. the territory can equally well be
a map too. and so forth and so on in a maze of forgetful functors: you
will naturally want to know where it bottoms out. it doesn't. or where
the root of the tree is. it doesn't have one. all of these notions are
fleeting. if I say to you "there are places that even zen cannot go",
you will invariably, like most acolytes, be curious and want to visit
them. You can easily generalize: "there are places that go cannot go",
but you rapidly get caught in a storm of mappings. It's sticky. If you
say: there is no such place, then remember that you can implement the
game of chess in go via some nifty homomorphisms. or checkers. or
tic-tac-toe. "

the one monk: "what is your point?"

the other monk: "I too, do not do zen"

at this point, the other monk, who has been climbing a tree,
finds a random branch, and chomps down on it. conveniently, there is an
avalanche, leaving the other monk hanging by his teeth.

commentary: from tomb to womb to bomb to comb: ask what the
stencil-makers decree at midnight.

what a wreck? don't listen to this guy. he's mad. and daft. and mad and daft.

Sri Maharaghava
Wisdom of Long Dead People
I am Sri Maharaghava, a venerable treasure trove of mystical knowledge of questionable value.
You are a seeker questioning for the Deeper Truths, the More Fundamental Meanings, the Hidden Messages when the Record is Played Backwards, and the Subliminable messages in the fabric of the cosmos. Today I will speak to you about the Wisdom of the Long Dead People, an ancient lore of such a highly esoteric nature that no one knows it at all. Not even myself, but that will not prevent me from teaching you the fundamental precepts of the Wisdom of the Long Dead People. The Long Dead People, are those who died aeons and epochs ago from a variety of shocking and astounding sexual and cardiovascular ailments and excesses. While they weren’t dying or being dead, they spent their time in philosophical contemplation and advanced spiritual meditation, achieving such exotic mental states such as superangst, hypernirvana, metaglee, and gingivitis. Because you are most likely concerned with transcendent states, you being a materialistic westerner who paid for this recording from your trust fund, I will skip superangst, metaglee, and gingivitis, and discuss hypernirvana with you. Hypernirvana is a state of mind only encountered in the deepest of meditative furries. Before the acolyte can enter hypernirvana, she or he must obtain certain prerequisite mental states (as listed on page 103 of the course manual). She or he must have already obtained samprajnata samadhi, asamprajnata samadhi, nirvikalpa samadhi, positive cash flow, nocturnal enuresis, spontaneous orgasm at the sight of burning rubber, premature balding, an allergy to movies with Christopher Walken in them, and a deep and abiding respect for the deliberate idiocy of the second to last chapter of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. Some of these prerequisites may be waived by permission of your guru (usually after sexual congress or monetary donation to said guru). Now, to brass tacks. In order to establish a state of hypernirvana, one must first form the Rhizome of Napoleon. It is necessary to extend one’s subtle body in twenty four spatial dimensions and two time dimensions. That is the first stage of the formation of the Rhizome of Napoleon. Then one must perform modular transformations upon that form until it is invariant under such transformations. That modular invariance implies that the aspirant has successfully shaped their subtle body into the Rhizome of Napoleon. “Rhizome” is Manitoban for “root”. The Rhizome of Napoleon allows one to tune one’s internal vibration to that of the Cosmic Hum. The formation of the Rhizome of Napoleon requires numerous physical gymnastics, which are easily performed by satisfying any sexual whims of your guru, or by long grueling nights standing upside down in a vat of catnip while listening to the 1812 Overture played backwards. It continually amazes me how many acolytes choose the second method over the first.

Once you have achieved the Rhizome of Napoleon, you must align it with the Griess Vertex. This can easily be done by going to your local Vicar and forcefully asking them for the latitude and longitude of the Griess Vertex. If they fail to provide you with the latitude and longitude of the Griess Vertex, you may spray paint “Vicar Wossname has sex with Polygons” on any convenient brick wall with full assurance that the authorities will apprehend you for violating the local antigraffiti statutes. If your Rhizome of Napoleon is particularly well developed and free from skin lesions, you may automatically and spontaneously align with the Griess Vertex. The next stage, and this in my exalted opinion is probably the most crucial, is to activate and energize your Max Quordlepleen chakra. The Max Quordlepleen chakra is located eighteen meters from your adrenal glands in the seventh dimensional superspace of which our ordinary three dimensional space is a eigensubspace. The Max Quordlepleen chakra is of fundamental rectitude and transgresses such obtuse concepts such as Portugal, Belgium, Crocodile Dundee, Christopher Lloyd, the Lerch Transcendant, and tulips. Do not forget the tulips! You must sit in a cubical room with a solid erbium floor while completely naked and uncomfortable, and say “I am a wascally wabbit” eighteen thousand, two hundred and forty six times. This will begin stirring an unction within you. You may feel surly and want to imitate a sequoia tree. Do not give into these temptations or you will be transfigured into a small marble statue with the legend “Lost In Space” written upon it. You will experience chills, sweating, nausea, the United States Postal Service, and the fear of wombats. If at this stage you are overcome with glee about the state of Nevada, you have failed as a mystic. Any stray thought of the state of Nevada means that you are unworthy of being a mystic, that all of the other people at the Eternal Mystics Club will spit at you and call you “thou nonmystical being of doubtable provenance”. My friend Rodpondal Wulgins thought of Nevada and spent the rest of his life as an investment banker for a moderately successful futures firm in Manhattan. More likely than not you won’t think of the state of Nevada. If you start seeing images of pentagons, then you have activated and energized your Max Quordlepleen chakra, and are ready to engage in the final key to Hypernirvana.


Duckling cultivation. That is right my friend. The careful purchase of duckling seeds from a mail order or internet company and the planting of these seeds will show to your guru that you have achieved the vaunted and oft inaccessible state of hypernirvana. It is likely that you will achieve this and become beloved by your friends and enemies. You will be reviled by cotton balls. Purple penguins will materialize and nuzzle themselves against your generative organs. A deep and abiding sense of peace will overcome you, as the Demon Wizworrongoa envelops you, because the whole process of Hypernirvana preparation in reality turns you into the only food source which keeps the Demo! Wizworrongoa alive in foul perpetuity. Despite my advise to many a young acolyte to not engage in the pursuit of hypernirvana, they fork over their monetary units, nuzzle themselves against my generative organs to achieve the Rhizome of Napoleon, avoid thinking about the state of Nevada, plant duckling seeds, and then are annihilated in the most egregiously disgusting way by Wizworrongoa, leaving nothing but their wills in which they have already given their entire fortunes to their guru. “Look” I say, but it does not a whit of good so I have to say it again “Look”, and by that time it is usually clear to me that both the first “look” and the second “look” were completely ineffective. These aspirants keep coming. Generation and generation of poor, deluded souls seeking enlightenment and self-knowledge, paying exorbitant amounts of money to be told about exoteric and esoteric spiritual and metaphysical practices. They say “Ashley, doesn’t Hypernirvana look so spectacular? I’ll put it on my MySpace page” or “Dammit, that career in bribery and corruption was so stupid of me. Why don’t I try a weird metaphysical philosophy that seems to include annihilation by some weird demon after a long and gruelling set of tasks?” But that is the Wisdom of the Long Dead People. They were devoured by cardiovascular and sexual ailments caused by being devoured by the Demon Wizworrongoa, so why don’t you, as you love following strange and incorrect practices by the logical fallacy Appeal to the Authority of Dead and Questionably Intelligent Practices Performed by Idiots and Fools.
Thank you for your time. I, Sri Maharaghava, wish you the best.

Oxymandias Arcsine's Expulsion from Eden.

Occasionally I am asked to write about my sources, and I have to admit, with difficulty, that the regions of the logosphere that I inhabit regularly, or at least set my feelers onto, are distant, entwined, twisty, and thewn with metallic sinews. Let me give you an example. There are two (roughly speaking) universes. One of them has the ability to change mathematics in the other in such a way that some rational point that seemed like it ought be a member of the z^5+c->z mandelbrot set wasn't. The scientists in one thought this would make an ideal method of sending signals to the other universe: once the other scientists in the other universe figured out that the appropriate reverse method involved complicated rhythm modulation for an ancient tribe's drum-ceremonies and how to send (fairly low bandwidth) signals in the reverse direction. The real kicker occurred when they realized that there weren't *two* universes involved, but one, and the laboratories in question were three miles from each other. That made everyone's eyes all squinty for a while as academia had been given a strange fruit to chew on, and nobody was really certain what to make of it for a while.

defining mechanical questions

I suppose, you just have to wonder what was going on... it's not been a nahambe since the Tea islands were abandoned, and perhaps longer than that: did the horologers and the chronotés have a divisive instruction set left over for the mystics once their rain-dance was completed? The sound of the drums certainly did leave an impression on the up and coming professors of certainty. The stamina required to sit through one of the lectures left most of the population feeling rather out of place: they had all of those symposia and convocation dialogues to rout through and perhaps find some degree of fiduciary or fiscal confidence in: the little opinions and the tachyon dressing made for a disaster unlike any of them had seen previously: a thunderstorm! An omen! A radish! An extract of lemonade: a citrus filament along which there are many fibrils and convalescing nudibranchs and clones of David Attenborough speaking with immense sagaciousness about the development of some misbegotten marine species or another. Boggles the imagination, yessirree it does leaving the peanut or tomato allergy that the subatomic particle might have had to the dust. What? what was I worrying about?

duxlorve whenglewhommer

Associated Frontangnale, New Brunswick, Mastopolongle: Ernest Statewine Meissnerfloyd today demonstrated the first nondiphthongous astrolabe at the Vice-Principal's Sundry Reception. The Astrolabe was then taken into state custody since it "vitally reflected the State Scientific Interests" and "therefore must be escorted to an undisclosed location twelve miles underground of Franzley, along with its creator." The public was informed that needless suburbane experiments would then procede.

of radiolemons

the confused charioteer had enough feldspar to coat an area three football fields in size, but that wasn't going to disambiguate the electrically charged lemon that he had stowed away in the small pouch: the lemon's oscillating ambiguity was increasing in intensity and volume and soon it would be fluctuating so rapidly and at such a magnitude there was a question in his mind about the survival of every species on the continent: should the lemon's fluctuating ambiguity exceed some critical parameter then everything would be volatilized into hydrocarbons, noble gases, and small scraps of paper containing bewilderingly foolish philosophical speculations in a variety of dead and more likely nonexistent languages. Most likely. Moreover the explosive (or is it implosive) delemonization would have consequences that could last millions of years: radiocitrotopes released into the water supply would have deleterious effects on many forms of life, even affecting their genetic material until the population of citrus-mutants reaches an all time gold-ribbon high of infinity.

the financial conditions of the rex-garg

The electromechanical Lord of Lissis-T'Nellepont, one singularly odd Gastrogrieg Rinelphron, has made it his life's purpose to invent a type of singing pastry, to wit, an Operatic Muffin, capable of belting out the high notes, a la alto, tenor, and a variety of other Italian classifications for singing pitch that were condemned in the Musical Inquisition of The Year of the Rotting Turnip. Because the financial stability of the entire land was at risk, it was eventually decided that all ten thousand of the precessionaries who demanded the putative singing pastry would be given compensatory damages in kind at the end of the fiscal year. I, of course, being one of the centennial collectors employed by the treasury to make sure that such plans are executed properly, had no say in the reprehensible, final, outcome: I had to make due with half a dram of Salgjarje extract every day, and living in a hut at the edge of the city with enough materials to make thin and reedy soups and teas: I had the other essential ingredients of life: a dry roof over my head, pens and ink, various peculiar and exotic texts concerning the religious significance of projective sheaf-moduli preserving abstract weight conserving complex functors in high meditative states: all in all a good life, but not wet enough: life was, and still is quite, quite dry. I suspect that life may get a whole less dessicated shortly.

alternate time measurement practices

I think the time here is measured in less than rational units -- the damn Ulstlings that run Marasoonga don't believe in either nahambes, nanoseconds, or kalpas. They think that Planck times were invented by Tarazanoff Eigenfrost as a way of believing in turnips. They are fond of the xoxongulus, the freemingkrept. the half-nossling, the ranfid-doornail, and the zoonch, and their clocks are marked as such. But what, pray tell, is a zoonch? They do not say, and when pressed for details of their timekeeping system, they wail something to the effect that "Bleemengasts do not accrue at the falling of the snowflake, neither the mass ministers nor the Lombard dinques make an arrestingly transparent declaration of freedom: do you demand that we measure ourselves so dully, in arcs and lines and other mismarinated insults to the Butterfly Queen! It is the deontic precipice that we must endure every time you deny us our heredity with your archaic and misguided (and, more to the point, wholly inaccurate measurements of time..." and so on until the listener's ears rot from the litanies and the castigations until they realize that there's no convincing a dude that believes that time is best measured by the seasonal fluctuation of the diffraction of neutrinos by the ears of mice!

oh, the magnificent toxin and the flying machines

Meditations on a french fry: the forbidden fruitbat makes the chiropracter an obscene offer,
and not to be underdone, then proves the Riemann hypothesis using only a ruler, a compass,
and some very peculiar projective modular ultrahyperbolic sheaf-moduli preserving
Grothendieck functors purchased from an incredibly strange person who lives at the edge of
the river: they were in a small pouch with accompanying directions: just add water. This the
mad mathematician did, and then with some fairly bizarre uses of a ruler and compass managed
to prove Riemann's hypothesis. This mad mathematician then went on to prove a number of
somewhat demented conjectures of Euler and Ramanujan, and then finally became distracted
by the color of the rainbow. Whilst being distracted, she then realized that the formal power
series for pants contained a voraciously confusing datatypes for coefficients. When she discovered
that she was impelled to become an average spelunker and to find an association of speleologists
to sate her caving fancy. This was unwise, though, because the local cave system had just been
contaminated with a strange and worrying toxin called "The tears of Arnold Palmer", which
changed one's mental capacity for the greater, by several millionfold, but had the peculiar and
worrying side effect that it also rendered one's mind incapable of comprehending the slightest
thing to do with any consonant, consequently anyone who was afflicted by this toxin became
unable to coherently and cogently relay any of their now-magnified mental capacity's startlingly
lucid insights about the state of the world in any form comprehensible to anyone else: they sound
like gibbering idiots, and the only known cure is a specially prepared italian-thai dish containing
over three hundred different varieties of cheese while singing a specially written basque ditty
at twice normal speed all while juggling seven eggs: the combined effect is to completely bewilder
the glial cells and consequently return the poison victim's intelligence to normal. You have to wonder,
though, why nobody believes that Spain is a trapezoid.

a bit of ephemera

Neelound Saint Fongealy-Hipparsisse's paper submitted to the International Conference of Incomprehensible Studies, viz.: "Le Neeebleauw Frothendieck de la Marchmanais Pleurissy et la Nyngloroook Vlindlebleeble" will be published in the Centennial Abroops de La Sneengleaux under the title "Improbable Techniques for the Deboraxification of Marchhares and other spatial constrictions not Porously Comprehended via the Nobliuski Transformation"

a dvorak moment in a neutrino sea, drumming the snowflake tine.

The minarets of He'Am are filled with innumerable and incomprehensible treasures, all of which defy the human capacity for rational evaporation and other more imprecise desires for explication: they are multicellular, musical doodads of somewhat murky character, all of which have scintillating, iridescent, coruscating, radiant, self-transforming components of a variety of material compositions and even more bizarre arrangements of chords, quavers, and semiquavers. The experiencer is left feeling as if they have seen beyond the surface of the universe, into the cosmic ocean of reason, maybe even into the mind of god. The sensation that one has just missed the scent of god is often experienced by those who witness the towering crevasses, the abundant silences, the strange people with their odd hats and even odder perfusion of beliefs who crowd around the minarets and offer the scantest of advice, the principal coffers of deliverance and perfusive wonder. But because their art is so beguiling, one often loses track of time. I have to say, though, I have to stay, it's just not worth missing. And after the whole thing is over, you just want to examine your fingernails.

abridged mensuration for the lemon monster: a retrospective

The mention of the Gregarious Kinetic Festival often leaves the tourists in a state of complete bewilderment: after all they've just travelled well over eighty megaparsecs to see a strange man in a billowing gaberdine with fluorescent galligaskins denounce the proton as blasphemous and heretical all while chewing on sleepy tea leaves and spiralling out of control in his chaotic and untranslatable monologue about other supposedly obscene elementary particles. For this man is the Pauper of Reason, a profession of which there are few practitioners: his job, which Prelveng State pays him handsomely for, is to spout the most nonsensical and incomprehensible garbage possible, for a number of what are very important but (or so I am told), enormously inscrutable reasons. The Festival also features a variety of other incomprehensible activities by what are otherwise seemingly normal entities, which keep the attention of easily entertained tourists handily

mathematics gone awry

Dr. Atelier-San-Gumbfrunt of the La Spirulina Institute of Numeroparanoia announced today that their advanced computoid machine had calculate the twenty seventh octillionth octillionth digit of 7 today. He reports that it's a two. Further experimentation by Dr. Atelier-San-Gumbfrunt will reveal the three hundred quadrillionth billionth millionth digit of 18, as well as the coefficients in the formal power series of the function y=x-3. Not to be underdone by scores of irrational numbers (like 2,4, 37, and sqrt(banana)), Dr. Atelier-San-Gumbfrunt intends to attack well-approximated rational numbers next, such as pi, sqrt(7), and e^67. He intends to use a clever calculator, a lighting wit, and some illegal algorithms which were absconded by him and his fellow professors at Institute.

my genetic mockwurst leaves the cancer lasso stunned

The principled concurrency between the primary lemon and the secondary snodgrass module leaves much to be desired: namely the transparent application of the monstrous elephantine probability cormorant is not precise and leaves a gap of size one to the power of thirty seven pieces of potato fritters, a quantity that is neither appropriate for common consumption nor egregious enough to permit unilateral laminations of the afterthoughts of the storm ceiling and because of the ambiguous time in the green land one must precariously balance the derivations of the Master Calendar with the chances that one of the five types of souffle will be present at the wedding of F'Brad andU'Naniwa because the law is a precise document and one must follow its incomprehensible prescriptions all of the time, or so F'Brad's mother frequently says when prodded. I, being mad, prefer the deranged approach: a thing unlike itself is another thing like a Walrus or like a Dead Crystalline ocean made from vitrified, keratinized mustard. I believe that this method, when applied to the methylated dimers on the scone sea will result in firm and appropriate massages that will be available to all people

Easter Eggs in North Canadian Computer Software Corporations Computer Software Products.

North Canadian Computer Software Corporation has released Boring Software Product 1.8.10b, Dull and Listless Software Product 2.10.3d this year. While it might seem that both of these software products are meaningless and stupid (and indeed in over ninety percent of the time, using them is just that), they do ship with some amusing easter eggs:

If you enable Dirigible Mode in BSP 1.8.10b, then press the control, shift, spacebar, F82 key, and the lowercase elephant key with your second nose while humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic, you will flip the magnetic polarity of East Dakota.

If you enable Secondary Cow Implosion mode in BSP 1.8.10b, wiggle your fifth ear, press the F33.1 key while simultaneously sneezing, you will change the color of Jupiter's Great Red Spot to bluish orange.

Some thoughts on Dr. Francklemoose

Dr. Francklemoose is insane. Last year he ordered 10^190 snails from the Norwegian Snailwerks, New Bedford, MA. This year he is planning on ordering the reciprocal of that quantitity, 1/10^190 snails. Dr. Francklemoose has exactly three nostrils, but can have anywhere from 3-2i to sqrt(8801) spleens at any given time. Dr. Francklemoose was born in the Century of the Beetle and died in the Century of the Incontinent Abstract Concept. Dr. Francklemoose believes that the solution to all problems is: "a furious application of crystalline mustard, Lie groups, faster than light episiotomies, and of course, cigars made from mouthwash.". Dr. Francklemoose does not believe in Ketchup, Belgium, antimatter, or eggs. Dr. Francklemoose was present at the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Dr. Antwerp stages a protest

Discombobulated Press, New Veenchvirrow: Dr. Squeedgefurrow Antwerp staged a protest at the headquarters of Dystopia Pharmaceutics Incorporated. Dystopia Pharmaceutics just released a new anti-arcsine of seven medication to prevent rash and frightening attacks of the arcsine of seven in people. The medication is called Reedfleepster (omoxifulab hydrobromide). Dr. Antwerp contends that Reedfleepster causes (amongst other things): warts, nasal phalangeal pittocking, diurnal polychromia, and binaural modular functionosis. Dr. Antwerp also contends that Reedfleepster was tested on laboratory pronouns, and that such testing is not under FDA guidelines: any tests on laboratory pronouns are not applicable to humans, no matter how precise and clinical the testing protocol happens to be. Dystopia Pharmaceutics' Spokesdroid X22-4 said today "Reedfleepster is a best of breed medication, designed to cure all incidence of arcsine of seven in sentient life forms, and that Dystopia Pharmaceutics finds Dr. Antwerp's protest wrongheaded and stupid, and is suing to have his nostrils replaced by chloroplasts..." and so forth and so on. PETP (people for the ethical treatment of pronouns) whipped creamed bombed one of the labs that Dystopia Pharmaceutics uses to test their product.

the reason my nostrils are slightly questionable

In the fifty odd years since the invention of the nostril, we have seen much in the way of the nostril pirate, the criminal element designed to interfere with the normal functioning of nostril based commerce. Because of the paradoxical nature of nostril based economy, it has been necessary to outsource nostril piracy to Norway.

mathematics primer

circles divided by squares equal hawaii. brazil metadivided by tetrahedra is scotland. the infinite sum of an infinite number of monkeys is an equally infinite number of mistranslations of hamlet into Belgish (the language that Belgians speak). when ostrogoths are divided by visigoths, lemons result. two oranges and eight grapefruit equal five megabytes of memory. if two trits and seven quadrangles are subtracted from a dirigible, how many nickels are left over? if you divide a hexagon by a pentagon the result is brazil multiplied by spain divided by the square of japan. if you integrate, from zero to infinity, the molecule of glycine with dindia, the result is two pairs of pants, an angry goddess, and a plentitude of accidental hydroxylations conducted by the Marchmain of Hyderflunx, Sir Trangello Afforgue. If a square is subtracted from the number six, a hyperhedron with 2 gonglezillion faces results. If a circle is multiplied by eight, an octacircle results. Finally, if a homomorphism is split along the adjoint functor of wollancz, the Strimpy of Heegerale results.

random news items from beyond the Vleenvlonx of Keptin Neutrino

Recently, Amarpizduon Metaphlentics introduced /The Dog/, a furry mammalian version of the calcium atom ready for use in domesticated pet scenarios. Amarpizduon Metaphlentics has produced /The Egg/, /Basil/, and more recently than anything mentioned so far: /The Mongeese/.
Their sister corporation, Phelenxarium Ambiltrunctrics has discovered new sheep deposits in Nafarplod, Xongling Furrows, and Blesterbiere Accidentum, and sheep mining is set to commence within six months in all three locations. The sheep market is spectacularly good these days, with production over fourfold of last decade's sheep mine output, and sheep futures are in good company these days. Westrell-Gallis-Wrunxvrenx Ventures Semilimited has announced the invention of the so-called /spoon/, designed to aid in liquid food consumption scenarios, and this on the heels of the so-called /fork/, designed to aid in solid food consumption scenarios. Ulhylex Phrontisnomics has come out with a new version of Ancient French Meaningless Philosophy, to compete with Nyhekpilon Phrontisnomics Ancient Belgian Meaningless Philosophy, version 87. Warvellen Systems Ambifederated has finally managed to dihydrogenate oxygen atoms and invent a kind of universal solvent, though they were denied the patent for idiocy reasons. The Marsberry Disease Initiative has invented at least four new designer diseases that cause hideously painful disfigurement and is prepared to market these diseases to males ages 18-35, and is looking to expand its market in Cabbage Fungus Rot and It's The Evil Red and Yellow Spots Again, Dear to Voonxvill, Yetterwort, Brayxberrow and Yendrew this quarter. /It's The Evil Red and Yellow Spots Again, Dear/ has been banned in Dindew, Pwerd, and Gollovry for inciting public insanity. Bretbant Industries has invented a quackless duck for use in ice-freezing operations and low gravity environments. Seegstill, Hollow, and Mutchybluggle is pioneering artificial nostrils for use in seedy bar environments.

beginning the froth cycle once more (dysfunctional)

something like the fiftieth approximation of the scrying lemon makes the meatminister fret and worry: oh, woe is the dipsonian echo, oh moe is the larry that toms and toes. Make no mistake, artist and confuser, the message is that the communication is definitely garbled. Oh, why is the paradox so ebullient and filled with a chaos that is unlike any that has been approximated previously. The thin curls of vaporous efflugia make no man weep for the days of yore, when coffee was made from pronouns and protonaceous protein floatshakes were all the rage in upper lower North Allanagara. If such complicated and strange effluvia might be divided into their fundamental modes then no Lieutane like St. Georgies might have a method for finding out where the lost harmonic was left, where the dust storm of the monstrous alabaster was translocated.

wombatosis is an incomprehensibly stupid disease

Argyard Phleebleman's collection of books includes the following doozies: Biochemistry of Middle-Earth, A Compendium of Diseases only Belgians Get (which is illegal in Kyoto, for reasons that completely escape me), The Weird Noise of the Gibralter Ant-Parakeet, One Thousand and Seven Techniques for Lying about your Blood Type While Speaking German, Melizzy Wilxrab's Methods for Painting One's Body Blue with Crayons, Leenwoong Stonzelyammer's Memoir of Selectric Pants.

of sleep

a fierce zephyr of chance tore the fundament of the Char-Arrhenge. It was the syllable of Tern, and the manganese pluralities were resplendent in the languages of Honvoril. The Andyvel had been sleeping for well on thirty thousand plurisubkalpa and were expected to maintain their snooze for another nine thousand manganars, notwithstanding the Trident of Cenos. I, at the time, had vowed that I would maintain my dormancy for another twelve mahakalpa, but events in an adjacent thylakoid would extend my rest for at least a mahanahambe. The rising of the stalks, the linearization of the Cancalla, the lemon guilds of Tersoris and Nanniquat enduring another Great Fructicient Insult from the Prince of Astralapsis, an unexpected migration of the Besselnefe of Tandrulis, and so on and so forth, the combined effect was that my somnolescent period was massively extended.

more of the dvorak zone composition

the lassitudinous creep. the crawl of the gorn. the smell of lemons, augmented by parabolic subgroups and then appliques detailing the fury which the average american ozonoscopist searches the british museum for mighty comfits and candygrammar. when everted and exposed to jazz music and tamborines the audacious tarmac encysts, preparing for ecdysis. a plantar pedicule then forms, trapping the nascent opera claw into a barstible and a Organ of New Hebrides, a chromosynthetic bioergiastic organ which composes chroma into stridently stored ergage. a largesse not ulcerative necessitates greening and unfurling of the main photon sieves. the long winter of my discontent then froths and macerates, leaving the cri du fromage loud and irritating to passing citizenry. Oh enthytimetic condors fly over the craton and leave epistles from the mad metafauna of Gondwanaland. The erratic and cantankerous child lasts for several minutes and is then calmed by its parents. A meretricious mercenary planning the drawbridge of the river Orinoco dun tablassars and the cream of the martin's follies might presunder the classification of the galactic collision, with metronomes and muon and plagioclase and amber prepared and readied for certain use by parties not known to the heteronymic Cressidon, the Alabaster Rat of Saint Tertius. My mynad delivered to me that arrival intimate and gleeful, a call of the wild the message of sublime oppression and urgent fortitude which, cougar and leaping
ibexes untied the syllabary for the prepared cheese plate and arrayed rainbows in an unplanned
celebration of most transparent magnitude. By the precession of the oryxes and the sublimation of a block of specially prepared carbon dioxide cheese made by the vice regent chef of Cahiers did my major worries dissolve into the fluents of the great steam stream surrounded by rocks and other various geological ambigua. Whetstone gnarled and pretended that the major Whorl -- not the Great Whorl of Whyster, but the subsidiary Whorl of Tantinigires, along the shore of the Cetterderes, ululated the swan song of the central tergiviseration of the pelargonide generalissima making the chert and feldspar tasteless and hydrogen-fast. Tell them, she said, tell them about the hypernetwork, the gaseous and interminaquiline matrix of rich and redolent cross connections. Cordon off that Great Loneliness and make it manifest while surgeries to retopologize the reticulated inserrat transpire. Shosh the filaments together.

Irrigate the central tentacle

more theory firmament candelabra engine fury matrix metasyntax selective isometries endanger the ribald allocations and engender chaos in the gazebo like no one could have guessed as the major networker storm collided with the lemon curry howard isomorphism make the whealgrove commutator lessen the impact of the hardened radiant glee. The frogs are standing waves of probability, measured Lesbeguely and post haste Riemannianly oh there was chaos my doula had a boil and the boil had boll weevils and the doctors were most disgusted by it all. The message that was contained in an envelope concerned the execrable exegesis that the graduate student had written concerning the juxtaposition of multilayered fauna with degenerate and defunct nineteenth century French Philosophy, a most grave and serious matter that must be attended by all manner of madmen and wildebeests. A misty, vaporous, nacreous, luminescent, piece of lint registered its disregard for the semantic ambiguity and subsequently squirrelled itself away inside the cambium of a pine tree. Truant swamps and outevolved lemmings transferred their manner of stuff to the secondary and tertiary epochs, using Tensorwright brand time machines to traverse the stormy chronoscape. London metal and gallium sugar made
the trip most enviable, and the archkineticists organizing the whole affair were amply rewarded with ten thousand wonzlos sterling a-piece.

upgraded

Resoul that old computer -- change its parts and change its responsiveness. Today I installed a 500 gig disk on my main machine

some theoretical wiz-baz

The metafunctor of the third variety is gourd shaped and green when ripe. It is found along the coast of the continent of Tellerephonda in the Third Thylakoid of the Rellenders. It becomes gravid during the season of the Asinditars and floats away during the Season of the Static Hidden Spanish Television Channel. The scion of the metafunctor then emerges while it is in hysteresis and the fifth moon of the Blannak is paused. The scion then subdivides to produce the antecedant Inion of Stallaran, the Pheenge of Ixion, and the Bastaragandin of Leishmirin. All of which then recombine into a hybrid ceramo-metallic structure exactly one point four millihelens in beauty. The structure then internally reorganizes into a quasibiological part, a wholly organic part, and a wholly inorganic part. At this point the entire structure is called a Queasyfungus. The Queasyfungus then expands its thallus and hybridizes with any landborne philosophical concepts it can find.

never stake the xenon butler on waxed stilton

shadows of later make the meninges furl and the brows burst forward with furrows, furiously defending the bladderwort from perihelion and making the many tongued red tensor flows cough and sputter like the late bloomers that they were. Oh, the green silent ridges between the machines and the monstrosities made my eyes ache and my head whirl: when was the greatest fascination with the eyewheels of the Tsauraung people of the Valley of the Umbral Coffee, oh, the waiting was fastidious and misengineered, the bitter filament of vapor tasted like licorice and the iron plated eyes of the mad robot Morzepan made life and rusticant somewhat rhumb-scarred in comparison. This was the start, the invocation and seventy two rounds of prayer, of fourty seven syllables all in disarray -- the arrangement of syllables did not matter, but their rhythmic repetition by the monks of moo made the tea ceremony tolerable. Chance and Vortex suddenly and shockingly, and perhaps if one might make too fine a point of it, rudely intervened with a thunder and lightening show the likes of which the deity Lord Govvorongoa hadn't seen for at least several millikalpas now, a long stench and a gravid gray green gyroscope dancing and pirouetting lazily against the sunlit and moonlit half-night, the major marker of the nistral episodes and the caretaker's personal collection of apropos wiz-baz was certainly permitted but it was only vacuously denied and by the frothingly obvious statements of the Candec and their Sirvinculi was the resolvent sugar splutter approbriously determined and extangency mated.

line engine kinetic sculpture

the dark times were shortening, becoming tenuous and dusty, composed of many motes, and uncertain of future movement. the leaning, leading garnishes were dusted with garlic and celerity, the gravity was uncertain, the lemon of the metacosmos was tumbling around in curcuminacreant glee as the paracytologically inhibited martindale of the leaf-sheaves rotated to the beat of the cosmic harmonies, a sound like a deep hum or the sound of one thousand twenty four butterflies flapping their wings in unison, or to some hidden pattern not obvious to any observer, anywhence and anywhere. The leading rational affliction that divided the seeming from the unseen made the irony abundant and transparent in character. I savored the moment, each appealingly more determined than the previous moment, more complex in motion and stranger in organization, the parameters and functional dependencies enfolding and becoming ever more complex: that I was already familiar with -- the holy momentous occasion hit at the start of the third nahambe, with a clarion call of fusing hydrogen nuclei bursting forth and the wave upon wave of neutrinos emerging. Suddenly that monarch butterfly pauses on a dewdrop and the single metamomentous transfiguration orrery occurs and where were you the show just got interesting now they've moved from trying to occupy as many points of physical space to a vast sea of ideas, thoughts, concepts, the realm of the mind, the tip of the proverbial iceberg, that odd littile transition which when fully orchestrated en masse can leave h random primate species or proteinaceous globule on the Great Migration from here to there.

Grand Mal

Cycads and doronadrils accosted the interior minister as the procession of liminal luminaries occurred and occluded visibility for hundreds of miles and kilometers. The go getter attitude of the Generalissima's staff was that anyone sufficiently lunatic to accompany should be fed poor quality fast food and donuts instead of health food, and as none of the luminaries was that healthy anyway, there wouldn't be much need to institute Individualized Dietetic Plans while the procession was transpiring. Instead they would take positions in the sidelines and jeer as much as possible. The luminaries were an arrogant sort and wouldst not mind this kind of low-jinks. I had my place at the vice-minister of stale crumpets side, and there I would remain until relieved by another attendant or a royal lunatic observationalist. But november comes soon and because the general flavor of the gerania is not to the liking of most of the lunatic luminaries, as well as the scent of roboclone martindales (whatever the heck those are -- nobody wants to admit to knowing what they are.)

Another Bad Idea: The Atomic Toothpick

The scrambled communications line, the ice crystal, gravitational attraction between two solid bodies in free space, and many others, such are the breakthroughs of Lenzler Laboratories. Lenzler laboratories is proud to announce the invention of a revolutionary new form of atomic powered toothpick. A fantastic invention that will solve all your toothpicking needs. The result of work on the atomic match, the atomic toothpick allows extraprecise food debris elimination, which means cleaner teeth and healthier dental checkups.

the starking of the water.

The arrhengterrapongorin is not specified by the first arch-gulfing or the second or even the nth -- it isn's specified by a unique one either. It is instead implicit in the conditions and the wistful hopes of the impossible dream, the motion on the dreamtime that the freeling of ether-monads makes patently visible through their common comminution, the continuous ravine between two plateaux of consciousness and the summa theologica that occurs with the transcendant feeling that one is evolving, not at the particular states of individual organism or genome but of the interpolated continuity of motion of form and formlessness that marks the gray areas between genotype and phenotype. The amazing ellision that transpires in the meiotic cauldron, never answerable nor answering to an authority, an accidental taciturn pause in the machinery of life. My arrhengterrapongorin may be entirely different than yours.

autumnal vertiginy

The leaflet "how to protect your dog from trapezoids and other parasites" was released by a high altitude plane over Toronto during one of the most abysmal times: an all out, no sense but the best nonsense, culture war. Okay, if you want to call it a way, you can. I'd rather call it a kind of prolonged accident, the one with wings and a stellar burning vapor associated with it, you know, that kind of vapor you smell just as fall is beginning and people are starting to burn wood to keep warm. And it's been maybe not the best weather and you're considering moving to Florida or San Frangalis just to keep a nice winter home far away from the chill. The weather leaves a dry, almost alcoholic tang in your mouth, and all kinds of ridiculous sports games are on the television. The air smells dry and its been a while since the last precipitation that you can remember. A thin veil of winter air descends and the fireside alien is roasting marshmallows happily while you struggle to keep up with the ever increasing, ever incessant demands of your time made by shadows and substrates, made by ghosts and wraiths, all representing the gone world. Maple cider and whatnot, the chance of the changing of the seasons. The withering of leaves, the dessication and dust conversion of little scraps of formerly and recently photosynthetic tissue, an ore of carbon made from air, water, and light. It's a few billion years after the first filamentous masses of cyanobacteria began emitting toxic oxygen. And the thin sunset peaks of the moon and the thin fibers of the sun intersect in their rabidly obscurescent dance of the seasons, with that magic in the air and that feeling of degenerating leaves and maybe some itinerant hope hiding under the sea charred air, the coming of one of many transitional magics, only a few of which are known well, and fewer still that are practiced appropriately. The set sun says the sky is dark and frosty, and the air says nothing save the whooshing noises it makes as it sways and waves.

dvorak, wrong and odd.

Malthusian paper ant you say. Mages a plenty and enough room to spare in the noggin! My thinketer malfunctions and they're these wordlings are exudated or mend and wend through space like a thick tricky twister. Only an approval could make it worse, only the approval of the vice minister and company. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tertevian, I hope that you find your accommadations acceptable. What's that? A soup has landed in green pastures up in the Northern Abyss? I should jolly well hope so. For if it doesn't live up to expectations for the party of three I suppose we'll quit and carry the item off and be done with the electric laser weasels. It worries me, Mr. Tertevian, this feeling, this zeitgeist makes me all uncertain in feeling and all troubadoresque in manner and neither of these things I enjoy being. I have made my grand issues one of foundational concern, not for the sublime neither for the daft or the transparent. Rubbit out! The methodical application of various techniques of reasoning is of greater concern to me than the results of applying them. I am a confused person and revel in the candor or the condor of the seeds of misapprehension and blurriness that I plant.

a titled post is not this one

Varnish the metabolic itinerary and waste the methodical application of the transmagnetic donut. The lemon of Saxony is frighteningly wacky and chances are that the menhirs that were strangely associated with the well were seen to be cougars and wildebeest as well as an assortment of a wide variety of other critters, all of which were viewed as vexing and paradoxical in character, The somnolescent lavado of the brednans and the tensorgiastic rhamny of the chicanery of the chirugeon means that the message which this bureau processed in four in time made the gas pedal distort its readings and led to massive internecine miscommunication. The blarblers and the wrenxvrunculini have different and diffemorphic agendas, none
of which they are willing to talk to us directly about. Instead their language is one of spares hops, of blinking alliterative phraseologies, of chaotic tendrils and deep crimson indigo patina on solid red metal.

By happy at henhecn ati hde hditd hdah man nai, ronfuse the methodical madness and warble the juxtaposed interrelevant teleology begin the tensor nostral rostrum meticulous method and master
the ream of instruction manual like the good doctor recommends. The message is the chaos is the translation is the function of the byways and the lethargy is the component that exudes the notion
that emotion is the cancer that catalyzes the anger that is the method. The interrogation is
complete and exclusive, with parts being written in a language that there is no present translation
for. Because of this asymmetry, I must make do mustering my lamination and my stalks and my chances
like the delirious and many splintered accidental cheese monster and the excitement manages
to creep in unseen and falls over unceremoniously during the first quarter and at this point the
metamatrique of the telafin at the border crossing make their reasoning widely known and
common knowledge we can say that the scary robotic feel that the wards feel is not due
to some disease or other pathological condition that has its roots in the utter chaos of the
situated Quark bar and that the xerological feeling that one might feel at the stem altar might be
justified for a change,

Lethargy liberal limerick gasher jackal lamination samadhi astral lancer coordinated damnation
as the astral lamina macerates under the influence of the beanstalk and the drapes have their
shadows approximated and proportioned by the juxtaposed interreferenda make the feeling I'm
having now livid and yellow in nature while not pausing in mainly free gandalf from the monsters
and maybe the message that meant to emerge from the cosmic egg might not be ignored this time.
How things have chased and wandered in momenta and position, how the cosmic lunacy has
traipsed and transmogrified in so short a time, how it is that all is dissolved in a thin layer of jam,
and that's not counting the mile high metallic sculpture which was recently installed at the residence
of one Jenglefroth Lapparonian, an inveterate maze twister and puzzle solver extraordinaire, a jarring
experience to say the least, but the experience that one has in the vortex fold often leaves on feeling like that they should encounter the mysterious vapor column again, with all its varied topological smoke and distorted fields.

archgulfing the polymeric sun-moon

Vurch thy vonfriegan in the divisor table of Wallus! Monochemona and Walsis, Kelor and Dinidirang. A fourth of scotch and a fifth dram of the chaotic in tertiary waltz! Oh the parsippany, the parsimony, the parsley, and the unparsed gray green gray's goose wayzsgoose statement table to metabulate. Oh Ohonckoa by the notice of guitar grault and selminiferous corge! The maxillary andropause for the sine and cosine of covoniers! The expression of the metamud metamuter. The lalr generator, the cons cell extrusionistas gathering by the beta-gamma reductase comet impact site in Tunguska-Loosa, readying for a Krakatoaesque blaserblosion! Oh, fudgesicles and fin-de-siecles, the readying disaster-trophy of the malmisinclined, the proprietary nose-baz interfaces sold at the bazaar by less than reputable salesman, of many a clone of Arthur Miller proferred by the quarter man (full power, the biggest fish in the sea). I stood for something in that age, that era, that aeon. The fifty fourth segment of Heraklitus says that the Aeon is a child playing with colored balls. Are they juggling self-transforming transbiological machine elves or are they just strange salesman married to infinitesimal noncommutative polyhedra. I can't answer that, having never lived at Foofaraw junction or Corrohence. My answers to the questions about the propellers were rejected on by
the erratic reasoning of a dimble-straw, an arch-rhombohedral kineticist of Yourghk, a plan without a woman, or man, or straw-feline to lead it into the next time index. The Ollohimbean
stark-carsting that made the whole endeavour worthwhile, the thin gray metallic stalk made from pure Planck gas connecting the quantum mechanical indra's net one to another. Surgery on the local ones is in order I hear. Someone with specially muted senses with active genes in both the post Kardashev 33 region and copied from a time-displaced Wiwaxia and Hallucinogenia are required. This wiz-baz makes me wheeze. All these strange topological machinations requires to cleave one world from another just leave me at the seat of my nasal phalanges. Of course, it could all go wrong leaving us stranded here for another 10^33rd of an aeon, and if that comes to pass we might choose long term hibernation. But such is the dreamstuff of araglyphs and dusty desert menhirs, the tales of wood machines and headache gods, the pulsating peramplification and perambulation of the discontinuum, the buried geese of Yonkers, the time ridden wait of the burred silver convectionary which is our joy to imbibe after tea. Or maybe so!

chronotomes.

it doesn't take a mechanical reductase and two dimes bit a milliparsec to grok that things are crazy-odd, the color of the sun is green, the sky is red and the grass is blue and the street-mart seller has plastic wrapped permutation groups for sale. there's a trapezoidal vapor slowly drifting over the horizon and you haven't seen an Eddie Murphy movie in a metanahambe, and the plutonian steam hockey scores are twelve to two in the fourth quarter. the violinists are protesting the string tax and the cellists have ascended in the governmental fugu-fugue states. the arch-fluorinologist of Maryland has descended into the arms of the bourgeoise. Well, let me not tell you: the sand grain numbered 10,204,201,102 in the Sahara just spontaneously achieved Nirvana, sending ripples of energy across the desert, with thousandfold of athousandfold gigajoules of energy spontaneously released and echoing furiously throughout the desert and in local weather systems. a violent cavalcade of muons, neutrinos, languages, celery stalks, belief systems impacted in more ways than I can count. Oh god. Oh dear. Oh beards! Watching the pulse deepen and broaden as more sand grains achieve nirvana and vanish? croatoanize? go elsewhence? the gone world! definitely relativistic in character and not willing to let their secrets go simply. a little mote of silicon dioxide no longer subject to perception or sensate luxury. Oh, the pallid chronotome(*), the metallic glint of the orreries



*(a note on transcendental units of time: in elsewhence proper (that's exterior hyperborea for you lot in Foofaraw junction and New Jersey) time is measured is generally measured in nahambes, with a millinahambe being 1/1024 of a nahambe (they work in powers of two). the transcendental extensions of a nahambe are the metanahambe and the mahanahambe. -- these compare favorably to kalpas, a frequently inaccurate though unfortunate transcendental unit of time that is frequently used in the post-Gondwanaland epoch tables. Regrettably karma isotope decay times are highly inaccurate because they were written by political artists rather than analysts. a mahakalpa roughly corresponds to the duration of one planck time. a metakalpa is the best unit for times which are shorter than one planck time -- that is to say that times shorter than one planck time can only be measured reasonably with the conventional unit of a metakalpa. the nahambe is more accurate than the metakalpa, but it is less applicable to sub-planck times because of its transcendental character. a metanahambe is sufficient for an exhaustively large subset of the orthoquine event spaces, and a mahanahambe is a sufficiently corrugated and gnarled nahambe that within one, all that is recurrent can be said to recur)

nectar of the odds

the acrid oxytangent of the exhilarated endive birefringes during the intensity of Gangerinar. in the first phase the sylleptic transformation begins to emit various microparticles, many of which defy description, but most of which defy Queen Taxonomia's attempts to classify them. The Queen Taxonomia, one Thortensia Andulanar, is deniably quite mad. She flits from microparticle to microparticle, attempting to name them."This one is Kelson-4,4-metamerase-Philganaus" she says. "This one is 2-alpha-Thyrontifar-1,5,N,N-chromase", she keeps this up twenty two hours a day. It doesn't help that she's two trillionths of a meter in length at her maximum diameter or her brain is exactly 2 gigaparsecs in radius. (an explanation of how this paradoxical situation can occur was ellided from the latest edition of "Mad Monarchs and Their Ways Magazine", which usually focuses on Geo-Oblong monarchs and their dynarchies. in the transrheotropic secondary phase, the internal geometry usually undergoes a complete reorganization, where most of the internal motions are recompensated for by macroscope butterflies undergoing migration from the Great Here to the Great Here. Most of them are named for monoids. exegrata is the third phase, and during it the most amazing transformation never occurrs.

questions of chromokinetics

the chromokinetic school (SE 102,401-130,401) believed that all was light in motion, and that matter was frozen light. they had developed quite intricate methods for transfiguring light between its nonmotile (matter) and motile (flowing) forms. these methods were impounded when the Duchess of Vraktom ascended to power in SE 130,400, and all traces of their existence were destroyed by the Beadle of Vronsek in SE 130,401. Since this time, many have attempted to reengineer the methods of the chromokinetic school with little success: the Beadle of Vronsek's lieutenants were exorbitant and meticulous in their destruction of all extant copies of the fundamental equations of the chromokinetic school, and the perpetual imprisonment of those remaining chromokineticists. not bad for something that lasted twenty eight thousand years.

nothing to say, not yet, not ever, never, nowhere, now here.

the interior core means that the traversal of the metanode will be made by the next higher order kertetheron process: the choice is in the node asymmetry and in the nuance and the timbre of the upstream processes that can be selected by invoking a preferences pane in the nethermenu: the bombast of the selection makes for entertaining etiological activity; not the vacuous wishes of princes nor neither the broadcast scones of the cosmic illusion, maya, when primates say that they want eons of time to pass in an instant, they redress their memories and recapitulate their phylogeny in a peculiar oar scented fashion wintergreen nicitating membranes and pause for the question that those...

the argument of the dithyrians

Nogothyras of the Keldran Dithyrian colony suggests that the ghostly lemurs at midnight are the reason that the Belzheim corridor has been poorly populated in recent months. I suggested that this assertion was specious though I didn't provide much in the way of evidence of my belief. Now I think I have a better counterargument but the ghostly lemurs have chosen the token labeled "correlation doesn't equate to causation"

perforated transformative gunderschleisse

The kinetic artist was uncertain that the spirit of the age would be terribly fair to the approximations that she wished to employ: it was the year 201,321 of the Gelen Epoch, approximately one thousand two hundred metanahambes before the ascension of Stult Junzis the Misbegotten, and Van Starling still lived in the prefecture of Jeongle, in Cirappan. I was a fifth vice-wombat of the anti-Belgian squad of the district and we'd just led some exercises in detaining rogue Belgian academics as they were used in academic treatise writing sweatshops in the prefectures of Hxun and Jzallilary and I was most miffed that the one half dram of caffeine I had that day had coffee in it. It was not my funereal waltz into the ethereal but a rather rust ridden arroyo of misprocessed cheese. Consequentially I wanted to take a break and spray the paper with the seeds of disaster but I was going to wait and worry as my teammates practiced in a particularly dangerous cow-eversion exercise that involved the use of military-grade topological tweezers and ten meter long liquid lunches (several of these exercises had been so deranged that they had produced immortal cows)

thecaea and or the end of the fnoontificus

Those Hurried Penguins have a millionfold chance of being attacked and attached to by binary things affectionately not well known by theoretical characters and the theory of fire might preclude the offering of the quasijuxtaposed drumlin and because of the thus and such theoretical construction no evil would originate from the biological lamination and that's because no one in the vicinty was going to directly translate the mention affectation of the prior remembrance additive commutations of karma might have been understood as a corroborating rather than an interfering thing and because of these assorted metamental phenomena we have a kind of neurological foliation that hides the importance of the iterative and places the focus instead on the power of the
metaparanecromantic and because affection underlies the messages that the Quonthirids are attempting to relay to us we feel that it is rather empirically justified that our reasoning is free of the assumption of parity: we are not cowards and will not back down from our position. We feel that the allure of our position makes it startlingly clear what pretenses we are willing to entertain and also what illusions we intentionally contaminate our thinking processes. In the short run we only have our own beliefs to edit and those uncertainties within them are of sufficiently minute magnitude that we much prefer to rely on the certainties of those parties we can verifiable determine to be completely out of their gourds. It toasts ocular respect gone and tepid: the chances that we have taken to achieve this position are unenviable but we firmly and decisively believe that the countercurrents of cured nostril gas that presently percolate through the network of gaseous canals and buttress the steam tubes might have better application thrusting and bursting with conduits of information flow.
It is the uvular and the unimaginable that provides our vigil with much of its inertia. For if it weren't for the continuous and mendacious effort of our researchers you would be seeking an alternate source for your daily helping of sulfurous mash and bread. Against the tide of reason have our researchers toiled, buttressing paradoxical and incomprehensible project reports against the deadlines of all our yesterdays.

CHanging the apposition to opposition reveals that one or two of the people involved in the whole enterprise are continually uncertain about the specific application of the binary protocols and we wish that the methods that were discovered were ones that could be applied by all involved in the project. If a scroll or network energy machine had been deposited at the other end of time we would have had to scrimpt and scrawt and determine once anew what our intent and purpose was: these could not be determined in retrospect, they must have been declared at the beginning and come whatever may those declarations would serve as exact descriptions of the activity performed and perforated.

I believe that the weird is abundant and that the questions affecting many will be answered in the appropriate way at the appropriate time by the correct and confirming parties whose desire for parity might obscure the dimmer stars. Caring not for the ire of the diseased neither with intent to inflect the cosmic pronoun or echo spuriously on the cosmic parcheesi table I would have to offer that the questions and abilities which were noted and the disasters which were prevented by the scope of the bird's radiant odors could have been stopped if the sun had set just a few minutes slower but such was not to be. We would have to wait for the et cetera clause in the cosmic message to be fulfilled and then perhaps wait another seventy thousand years before a glowing green portal was to open in the center of the city that will be known at the time of the opening of the portal as "Krultenga-y-Nosphairengene".

Vertices for Cleomatra (or waiting for the Oedipaclypse)

Zozz zuzzens in priority porengo like the coffers of the metamards and the patagards of Rhilla had nothing to say when the twellers were twain. The Zillidgy-Zen isomerases were all in a tussle, a tumble, a rheological mess of ungarnered proportions and even strangers prepartum glee, or ghee, depending on how much clarified butter, a clarified better butter, was used, oh the agar, oh the broth, oh the chicken, oh the masala and the Masada and the walls of the vaporous mist ribbons that encircled the castle. The many-splendored impossibly colored experience at which everything neither ends or begins and discussion of emptiness itself is slightly backtracked and underdone. Where is the grep command, I ask, expecting no answer, but not needing to ask the question -- is this a PDP64 series computer -- does that even exist in your world -- I don't know the answer to that question and am not exactly likely to ask it most of the time. I am a tulip, a library link editor, a debugger, an iridium wrench, a rotaxane, a boron hydride, ask me later when the rains have come and the storm of millions of phone calls has made yet another one of those deep funk cosmic party lines that are relatively impossible for J. Random Hominid species to get on (would you really want someone saying "sex sex sex" when the concentration of gallium atoms in the next cubic parsec of space is something of serious concern, and when someone takes themselves less than seriously it's always with some type of intellectual rigor, or rigorless, or it's just a box of socks)

leech lattice go

It's the strangest thing: it is said that the Hezgrids of Nost are without peer in their playing of the game of Leech lattice Go. Their players: Sanhaun, Tertoris, and Nistral have shown remarkable lucidity in play, something which is not seen amongst other players of LLG. Sanhaun's win over the Qonzil Derryadar in last millinahambe's tournament at Riens, Dizunculi was spectacular (the fact that half the audience believed that they were attending a cream pie throwing contest, and most of the other half thought they were in attendance of a game of calvinball is irrelevant.

The game between Hyrolean Yunctis and Tartier Tertoris was intercessed by Hongin Molliare in move 50412, changing black and white to red, green, and blue. While officially the game was supposed to have ended at that point, the amazing moves of Tertoris lead to official recognition of three person Leech lattice Go. Hongin Molliare was not known for being a good player, and his blundered captures of Yunctis territory were the foundation for whole new schools of LLG.

But the real gem was the game that Sanhaun, Tertoris, and Nistral played at Terhadap. Tertoris play straddled the sublime and the infuriatingly elegant. Sanhaun maintained an impossible balance between resigned indignation and exactingly accurate precision, while Nistral's play lazily meandered 'twixt luxuriatingly obvious mystery and 'tween stumblingly opaque moves and amazingly ingenious combinations. But the winner was unquestionably Tertoris. His ability to visualize the territories and the composed n-dimensional geometries remains unsurpassed. In the fifth eon of the game (at move 2,102,401,201), he effectively had won, but neither of his opponents had realized it, because they were playing in restricted subspace fashion. The analyst Whodgeqleev says: "not since the days of Junket and Walcoxon have I seen play this bafflingly adept. Tertoris is in a class occupied by no other."

nothing to say, nothing to do.

"listring" -- the semi-octal semi-binary language of frogs will be taught in classes at the fifth rock from the embankment tonight. In further news, an encyclopedia was gnawed to death by microprocessors at the edge of Survectis Ridge yesterday. The Park Ranger is quoted as saying "classic case of i860s munching on their classic prey, nothing to see here, relaxen und watchen das blinkenlights" said as she dicotyledonized the incoming batch of garden-hose plant seeds. Lemons are trading at one half the going price of seven dimensional sugar glazed bagels. Also, Belgium has recently legalized the wombat, bringing to a close half a century of black market wombat trading.

la epoque belgique

la epoque belgique est populusque con numeroso idioceties, insanites, und oeberlund messchendorfs. Vits: la belgique endodrome numerosa metamalinkiwicz: el Cedro, el Hadro, et el Thunkro. Vits: la belgique es muy nutters. Concludarorum phleengeplob en la casa manastra.

(the contents of this post may be biologically dangerous for Belgians to consume)

mistakes were made.

...indeed it was the fifth Erpf of Collwollon who declared roman numerals illegal by virtue of easy fortune and their sheer inability to the pedagogy of useful division algorithms. Mr. Homography says to kids "be safe, don't employ homographs until you're of age", and other assorted and perhaps insane effluvia. Or "homographs damage dentinous tissue, turn bone into powder, and generally make life difficult or impossible unless you have the proper bungee cords installed in your brain tissue by a competent brain-butcher". And even "homographs are like plate tectonics: nice when considered under the theoretical basis of Eventualism, but they taste like Toronto in tomato puree sauce"...

..."of course Sinjorino Monnat didn't slurp her ice cream, she's not an Esperantist", begins...

numbers (and other things) declared uninteresting by the Belgian Academy of Sciences

The Belgian Academy of Sciences has declared the following numbers and mathematical concepts to be uninteresting: no funding or grants will be allotted in the next fiscal year for them: groups, categories, the numbers 2, 33, 17/e, pi/18, the Riemann Zeta function, and the arctangent of twelve. Research on all other numbers is encouraged, though.

sure, I know what you're talking about...

...okay so the fifth part contained some hum-dingers and some pitches from left field, but it's only seven dimensional plutonian steam hockey, if the knobs on your HDSubjuncTVs are set appropriately. After 2008 only digital knobs will be allowed (as part of the drive to make all parts of the broadcasting process digital). But that's hither and thither. What the Captain really wants to know is "why did V. Nesselwright explain, in glorious detail, the differences between Friedmann and Cardassian cosmologies at the end of the fourth inning to the umpire and what do those differences have to do with the game mechanics?" I sadly cannot answer such questions, as there's been a sense blackout in my district. I am also ill with some variant of the sickness, and sweaty, and there's a gathering at my abode this night to do with a furious and analgesic addicted doctor on a furry television network known for its viterupative misportrayals of category theorists as professional nineteenth century milliners and haberdashers -- bad ones, at that. So, come on down to the roundtable and discuss your problems with acetone, xylitol, and l-carnitine! It's only a 3 mm journey from here to there. (local variations on the length of a millimeter may or may not make this impossible, but time will tell)

on second thought, hold the mustard.

Catalogue entries from the fictitious Lands of Nen: Trulla, San Sufelior, San Droste, Dripple, Neorgy, Wombatplasm, Gar Garan, Gar Asploda, c.f. 117-119 commas to Manley Hubbell notwithstanding any local number field hijinx. Some polyalphabetic and vigniere wiz-baz was noted when a water molecule cleanliness ultrafilter was applied (removing any toxic Mahlo cardinals from the drinking water, making it safe for quasihuman consumption). Surveys of the granite population reveal that type IIa supernovas were common amongst italic typefaces produced during the seventeenth century (one wonders how the foundries escaped the carpet thick walls of neutrinos), but such tales are spurious and rich with quaternion festerings and other constructions just to tantalize (cosmic galois groups, anyone, kryptamines and other artificial imaginaries like Ulam's Marchmont machine or the Ez of Nuzbunkt leap sporadically to mind). But it is the sheer lunacy of the third paragraph (paramatrix?) rife with beta-gamma reductases and blog entries from the third century K. E. (kypriot epoch) that just leave me unable to speak. Because the Gauze-Trieste yammering episode took place during the Escafoont, no one seems to be able to recall what happened in the 1980s -- memories are reconstructed poorly and much repetition and floundering has been issued in the official archaeological archives. Indeed, upon closer and lazier examination it seems like much of the records have been replaced or updated with small tiny blobs of bismuth or carbon that have been pitted, scarred, demagnetized, or otherwise abused. There are arrays of thousands of these underneath the deserts of Alaska, and they've been carefully (ciz.) irradiated with TWENEX binaries of FORTH interpreters. God only knows why. Or the state of Ug.

staged for the grand reveal

so it's the end of the third act of Cartasso's Murzenthog, and you're wondering "what the hell happened". Without spoiling the whole thing for you, it's possible to reveal the following: 1. salmitropan pentafluoride was not the poison contained within the catchbasin. it was diboron carbonide. 2. Shelly Linares did in fact spend four summers studying Osprey Yugels in Yotch, Portugal. 3. Stuttix grace is only part of Hattix grace, when performed in the traditional Meta-Ontario zort-cycle, and otherwise it doesn't count. 4. Uhuymbris axalantes mice are not allergic to kappa mesons on alternate Tuesdays. 5. Principia Murzenthogia was issued in three codicils, each of which more ornate and confusing than the previous, and therefore the intentions of the prince or the apothecary should be construed as having anything to do with anything at all. 6. Either Anaximander or Eubarytes could have removed the grandmother clock at the end of the second act, so it's impossible to say whether Colonel Tellichery wielded the sofa in the duel. 7. Netch Slennem has been seen smearing burnt copies of the Murzenthog manuscript on her body and jumping up and down on mattresses in the capital of Zaxheim, so you might as well draw your own conclusions about her opinions about Eidenfloog Cartasso. 8. At the time of the play's writing, Bernskapis and Duluth were united under the governance of the nation of Ganziber. 9. Ponthex Arcoran Smythe has written an extensive commentary about this section of the play, in which he reveals that the Cartasso's original folios were impregnated with lead sulfide and potassium chromate.

other processes

ciz. the effective gamma function of the complex plane, adumbrated and removed so that the arguments are ciz. taken over the genome of the common yeast saccharomyces cerevisiae via some agglomeration of unrighteous glee, i.e. the stretching of the cosmic peppercorn and the straining of the goatsgrease peduncle (major phyla only! see if the offer applies to your organism!) coming soon to a dromedary near you. ciz. a lackluster performance at the Rotz theatre. Which echelon of the intelligences was that dude? The guy smoking a clove outside the truckstop barfled some comment about Langlands reciprocity in secondary gear motor systems that thoroughly went over the heads of any hyper-being happening to stroll through that portion of the erf in that millisecond. ciz.: cisplatin. five milliseconds later a braless klingon trapeze artist would be humming the Gotterdamerung in perfect Belgian (much to the chagrin of actual Belgians). And you know that all relevant safety protocols were followed: the catch-net, the burnside-smith, the translinear coffer, the wombatosis immunophore selectively calibrated to any and all members of your haplotype silently spraying the audience with plague resistance agents, ciz.: by the time that the next Transcambrian monoid passes us over and the Leibnizian metamorphosis is complete whole plate tectonical rearrangements will have happened. Empires and nations will have risen and fallen. Galaxies will have been conquered and entire cosmic manifolds will have been crumpled up and thrown in the Calabi-Yau rubbish bin of the gods, or what-have-you in higher dimensional subspaces. And don't get me started on the other things in that dude's clove cigarrette.

booking nasal passages

Endilprent accosts Major Telsorius: "I say, dear chap, is the tensor field divergent", under threat of misery there is no reply. "Is the qualia of the equation public domain", again, no answer, under threat of meaningless. Lhusuf and Vexil have a gram of deoxygenated astral substance, which they have no idea of its properties. X-ray protection scarves dote the horizon, not having a plan or a pravex. Odd cubes of levitating blue foam occasionally collide with me. On occasion, a blood red eye robot will ask questions "Why is the sky green?", "What is the cube root of negative minus reverse inverse three if the sun is purple?", "I am three handed and four nosed, and do not read the messages in the sand. If the skylark is acronymous, what am I?". I cannot answer them, for they are too silly.

porengo

the mist machines are twenty in number, eighteen for the salt-stacks, nine for the homeomorphically distended epsom bundles, one twelfth for the capybaras, and only one scant forty thousandth for the kappa-engines, this is not completely a summary, but it suffices for all practical purposes. Even the captains of industry leave much to be desired, and even they are only one fiftieth in number and primed for the accidentacalypse.

interior hyperborea

"Daz" quote, "indec thrustwit kantorek delsido" muttered the moosegown. "Divinary is alt." slazed the statterer. "Pob" nittered the nutwit. "Cankek" hibbed the Prosley. "Ik crat" slentored the miso. "Buttitchyan?" queried the endopib. "Ij junky" starled the rejunder. "Isp" nastered the praliont. "Dist pob" nottered the exopib.

more names from beyond Hyperborea

Nhuvgraff Splectar, Arnorm Relngefroim, Sadatto Oncleplutz, Distartitusso Nanzelhan, Jeeve Onderplossy, Doxotte Nondersil, Anhexis Wenderfluor, Doctor Apperbasso Tildenga, Zactor Anderplies, Harhenedrap Maserun

nothing to say, nothing to say.

The diels-alder machine consists of twenty two thousand integrated metal parts, each no longer than a toothpick, with total mass of about two hundred grams. The machine was designed by the machine-artist L. Zonkel Didgenembi in order to prove something about the construction of machines and their paradoxes. Two, three! Bananas. I often find that my meaning gets corrupted by the user interfaces that I have to work through. Olney's lesions. Like that. I don't have the required amount of kinetic energy. Something else. I don't know. trying to verbalize, trying to verbalize dammit I'm dizzy. Whatever the proof is, it is. Therefore the henceforth and fancy free. Like it is logical, you know, consisting of parts that are seemingly meaningful except when they're taken together, the meaning leeches out and vanishes. And that's the sad thing, is that it's impossible to time for that moment. And the aborted idea just is dizzily released from the box, and it's like fifteen minutes to noon. Even if all the neutrinos were in their proper positions you could get away with not saying much of anything when you wanted to write the world, to put strangeness to paper and found that your hands were two useless lumps of flesh, that flesh was all you desired, and whatever high faluting notions of enlightenment you had in your head were poorly represented chaotic dumps of incoherent information that didn't amount to anything, and that whenever you tried to put your head above the water, Tantalus style, a bird always came and interrupted you.

approximations of the fine and dandy, or how I vanished.

the engines of the yesteryear never even made it to Silossa. Indeed, when the intervrunglers had travelled as far as Rienan and Kerruthgek we had to wonder what the hell the agency had in mind. Oh whoah, it was bequothed, and all of a sudden our photopolarimeters swung wildly on their own ecliptics and landed on the fiftieth teleparallel line adjacent to Rygor and Pollatrix. Not to be underdone, it then took a ninety five milliradian jaunt in phase space until it shook the light fantastic. We were three milliparsecs away and (in better units of measurement), travelling at one meter per millinahambe, so not that fast, I think.

in machineworld, no one hears you think

Look, the cactus colored andromedans didn't find a way to search their coffers before flying all out and all over and thusly no one didn't find a method to shnernge and shnornge the colliers of Praseodymeus or Oroseodymeus because all the memory of the Greek days had been forgotten, no one was particularly concerned with the herer or the therror.

irrigo arrago orroguette

The methodical laminations of the saints denote various and many meandering rivulets of non-meaning. Into the extraneous life well we must go and sally off and see wild and complicated event arroyos and other signs of the apocalypse because there's nothing better to do, not even to watch crabs breed and insects dance. Even theumothrices and sementhemes weren't in attendance of the fifth queen's strange ball because, and so I hear, because even they have standards, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. Natal irrigation preceded the current phase and with the inattention of the suns of gallipoli we denuded our basaltic columns in a strontium enrichment process until all of the measurable lemniscates had been filtered or fulminated or just left to rust and with the thiols and the hydroxls and all the various parts of molecules we could fly fervently and perhaps forever in an inattentive bliss or a crude approximation

But the thing about the plans of the Directors is that most of them are just that, approximations and poorly thought out projections for humanity leave much to be desired because even if all of the people who had ideas about how the cosmos worked were placed from end to end then even none of the them would be coherent enough to tell us how things worked. Um. LIke yeah.

surly calyx frontispieces

"cried the quoter" cried the quoter, a bombastic and unbalanced individual of complicated (though decidedly partially ill) repute. "fifteen things and thirty things" referenced the referencer to sail across uncharted lands and make generally bad tasting toffee chips taste even worse by application of pickle and octopus juices. Carotene. Omega-carotene flying at one fifty thousandth the speed of light and colliding with the door frame. Oh, so you've got some problems with the way that the Committee has decided to do things. Well, tough cookies, they're your agent of agencies, your crystal of crystalline dining halls floating a mile high in the sky.

irrigation of the thyne

nestril yissim lonterthule oh yarraby mine oft oneiroscopically lanthanide occluded arts! rhind papyri excrescent laudanum orrery isogenous inequal lamination.

okay, we're in the fifth outing, with three teams in play (The Icelattice Kerthunkniks, the Wilhelmina Polymerases, and the Plasma City Shnorklesnoops). The score is L to C to 8/17th, with the Kerthunkniks
leading by a nose, and the Shnorklesnoops in second place. Didzby is at stat, Karthik Arcsine is the thatcher, and Bellerophon Soleil is the kickstart. The acids are loaded, with Nicholas Arkleshornge at a pH of 1.1
Arcsine wields a loopy thunk, and number 23 Polymerase throws the grapefruit. It's a whunker. Arcsine wields a ditzy cantaloupe, and number 18 Kerthunknik bobbles the Estragon. Aces are wild and Arkleshornge folds, Pelleng hits a whunker, raising the 8/17th to 17/37s, with a fast fly to sulfuric acid. Soleil is wheezing the elfstone! A quick parabola drive to center acid. number 2 Polymerase catches the ball and throws it to the reciever, who inverts, and transmits the ball to carboxylic acid via mental telepathic teleportation. It's a mind drive. One to seven. And the ump says that there's been a dehydration, so we'll take a break from broadcasting sports news to go to the general news program as soon as the electron donor is determined.

furthering the cause.

Oh, so you meander into this bivouac expecting Nine Mice and a laser icosahedron and then some Wishy-Washy banana imprint spectrogrammata on your forehead to indicate your ascension to the throne? Or shallanj, pray specie a higher form of life in some cladogram or taxonomy? I understate you, and you declare yourself a squire and kungspiel of the realm while looking lazily at the strangers in your midst? What were you expecting, a nice kind of day and a peroration unlike any of the scattergrams that you have been knowingly mailing to the Director. I ought to have my head examined at your expense, though I don't think that I've ever been that mean, ever. Like, it's one thing to state that the ribald countrykeepers have had some kind of experimentation process running for the last two fortnights, but it's a whole other thing to exchange quantum mechanical cryptographic profiles while snarfing down a bagel and praying to whatever deity that you hold dear that the feel of the place is wrong. It's like a diamond of concepts splayed uselessly into the hemolymph of a cockroach. I can feel that it's a name for another atom: you do know that atoms have names, right? But names like racehorses, scattered in the momenta of neutrinos of their origin, scattered far away and spread about the universe. Sielmanyate can read them, but who cares a zennifer say.

persons, places, and things (the noun forest)

F. G. Cartwongle, D. S. Snembert, Holloclaise Retterdun, Neleopsis Munzos, Cobbie Collesta, Polovi Shapello, Caribren Corthairean, Notterflotz Zanjupleed, Phnom Enon, Pho Pas, Pho Enix, Pho Sphorous, Pho Ton, Pho (Sine Qua) Non, Mr. Distapede, Frazzix Gax, The Artlepungle, The Has Mandwich, Ummer Blase, Dirininga, die jahlen? Irripon, Niorappan, Cirappany, Wallzarando, Artleginget, Snixis Ponong, Snixis Giffereaux, Snixis Wrunxvrenx, Snixis Litterdim, Ummer Strosphariut, Ummer Bloghesse, Shellis Station and Plaza. The Onion Depot, Doctor Attrozocks' Unfirmary, Winfarnast's Promontories. Caff Eine, Th Eine, Meth Ylxanthinium. Xaxistan, The Ardgerdro Honix mines. By pleonax and the works of Phlogisticles: segundan and tertiary. Insert a cretaceous representative and hold the phone lines open: we're expecting. Five by one five, the unoordinates are rekoordinating. Fifty. Count some sterno and a virus, a readied proposition and a plasty. Sixty. Hortellis Moons. The Post-Jovian honoraria. Oxypheenge and company demanded reconcilliation and perfusion. Ninety. Oxypheenge was lost at sea, with all hands elsewhere. One hundredy: acid tongue for high pH environments: makes logarithms taste buttery and toasty. Frogs or toads. Acetaldehyde and various ketones (c.f. Duchess Ketone Atreides, from Hrank Ferbert's science fiction series "Goon"), two thousand centenaries. (plix by plax, one half. plox by plux at two quartiere). Onyx flavored ice cream not to be served at the princess' ball in Iconoclature. Who was it who was talking?

roll call for major factorers

Aye, the mechanics of the question are strange and frought with insanity: Is it true that on the night of the month of Tassuerry did one Encko San Viritrius trip over a banana peel during the wee hours of the morning? Is it likewise true that Lorhon S. Vintlerfleeb was seen in the banana plant the night of the very same month? Are specious and easily drawn conclusions ubiquitous? Have all of the major Cosi-Stellar nightroutes been mapped out by robotic probe? For answers to these and even less meaningful questions, just hang up. Also sighted not too far away were S. Nynzfleef, T. Dyzgaard, U. H. Hyzefreel, Texoco Shallanj, and Trelheim Nonderpoof. Not to mention Grigspeel Dinderfloyts, Wottarsby Uncklesmoof and Telherge Nyznynderfloobe

title makes a spinny top; have you seen the strange bop

Yeunzhoff Press, Anapleursis Docks: Today Arrhé Kandilirugo announced that the Plissploss Plenipotentiary would be moved to Grulsday, at Phnom Enon. Phnom Enon is the quasi-Vietnamese border community inhabited by mostly semiorganic constituents as well as a number of unprime numbers, such as 44 and 27.

central machine repository

NSUR -- Disdardissiplun Press, New Kawyark: Today, the Stunt Mathematician Leonhard Oillier proved the Riemann Zeta hypothesis for the fifth time while wearing full scuba gear (with annitric gaseous filters) doing an upside down reverse flip in the pools at the Sloosh gardens. The proof was carried out in a sequence of highly intricate hand motions actuating a remote control dry erase board. Upon finishing the proof, he said "well, it's been a hard year, with all the training with this proof-rig, and the category theory extensions to make it through the rougher sections have been things that despite my earlier unwillingness, appear to be excellent in their utility -- the Grothendieck universes have made some particularly thorny sections very easy to get through".

like an inversase

dirigibles sleeping in the wings. a wind here and thence no signal transmitted was recovered by the antenna. agents and adages exchanged epistles at an arrhythmic rate. Snarheum the Narguille divided at will across the seas of Ithenor, in a transplural method. May have the disease -- the affliction of too much transesques

nasturtia in the skeingas

the thing about malfunctioning jars of what-have-you say-I'm-Miss-Anduparana and tell me that life's all jumpy-jivey electromechanical is that I'm not going to have something for you when the time comes like a coherent explanation of what just happened. I'm going to be splitting infinitives like the voidsauce and wondering why my xterm just vanished. What about the mechanics of vanishing? Does anybody write about those anymore? A few torn off pages from Dyyksgraund's "Visual Apparations of Various Materializations and Dematerializations Compared and Contrasted"

"in a moment, the Viceroy Queen Lady Entwistle-Cannathundip became like a luminescent crimson vapor, which became at one with the resident universe. I saw, good chap, what was that? A dematerialization! Oh, so I shouldn't be afraid when the Martian, Marvin, zaps me with a disintegrator ray? You say to me that I should, suddenly, because there's no way that I'll be reintegrated because such rays do not maintain coherent quantum mechanical phase spaces which is tut-and-tut equivalent to saying that they've been irreversibly transmogrified into smithereens."

We note that the above character meets his fate at the hands of a Mark VII Balgoup and Hengrove metaphrenic dismodulator ray fired by an irate narrator.

working against the tide

twice wrapped thrice twain forforward mcmain didst I whilst you belabored under the monongahela octopus of the next daedalus engineer a seer sorrier than an iron filing heeding
the currents of round, ground, perchance to dream the icily seen sourceror's course ablative
angineers arratified a method minus a mussel to only become the fifth catalyst known to all of
Singoldi science capable of transmuting this to that. Homology groups you say?

various and sundry (of naming things)

Nelpher, Kakistocrat, Applebinian, Nosgraves, Tenotiary, Drayul-Ossuon, Divdis Anopuriova, Hens-Wallachide, Dratan, Arroyaro, Helxrab, Welxrab, Baysbrock, Arhuang, Fress, Calilastra, Harhenhirripongtorin, Wen Escevonis,

some netherceutical abysmards

Ah, Dearest Kyngrocele and Nyzgavard, your days did precess my many mithers. It was indeed the misapproximation by whit and thither I had instilled whetstones and whitmills at the ends of the Grand Concourse, which was only going to offend her mistress G. of the Collopholy clade. Remarkable that not one Huissmenian attended the Debacle of Direct Distress. Mayhaps many beadles (or other lowly functional district adjunct officials as it would have appeared to be) employed their kinesthetic talents. Because a demand had been crystallized in one of the tertiary desire tanks: oh the bonhomie then when we realized we'd ensconsced an abstract and were playing on a strange playing field than usual, to the Primary Integral Domain of the commonstrange to noot. Thuswhence and fancy elsewhist, the manifest map between arbitrary algebraic domains was itself a difficult trill to roll. Hoovered and postpreparations asongelled because we had no fashion of the manifest choreoscopes. Blurted forwards and make it twain, might have complained the chaplains treble. Oh, what disfavor was inserted in the filligreed containers behind the machines of menace. (at this point I must state that the reason that none of the seven principal aracalonts (Kesphar, Dilaspher, Arhaxulien, Orhotengo, Lenticulor, Hanjessimus, and Thymikes) were present at the antonglement of Prince Kerzethries was that the House of Kandim of which the Prince's semimitochondrial mother was a member was out of favor with the Anterior Transventral Coelecanth of the Network.

the state of the garkbit report

it's twelve to two, the North Abersythmal Ceruleans are leading one by northwest.
There's an electroluminescent coelacanth in my pajamas and the arrhythmic
messengers are still rambling like lunatics. The Elements of Algebraic Geometry was
dipped in mustard and flung like a lazy ostrich into the depths of the unknown. Oh, sweet Lucille, did you record the moments in exacting furiosity? I rather downcast.

they trouble me

I can no longer type. I think. Or I'm becoming less able to type now that I've taken such a long hiatus from typing. I feel. Many things coruscate around me and sometimes I act like a complete idiot about them. My hands feel like dead lumps of jelly at the moment. Typing is harder than I'd like it to be, and the last decent communication I had was quite a long time ago. I think I want more chocolate at the moment. I hate being here. I'd rather be elsewhere.

rotunda or else

seem! frogs! decompensations. declarations of someone holding on or not holding on. I lost my edge. Oh hell did I lose my edge. Time to start regaining it somehow. Interesting diversion, wouldn't you say, Mr. Covalent Bond. Like a random skittering across the filaments of time. Oh I have my druthers together and I know what I'm talking about. Yes, the universe is astonishingly weird and at the moment it's particularly weird and you know, I suppose that it doesn't do one too good to be ordinary when the universe is being this profoundly weird in many a sequence of events. I ask of you not: what is not a trapezoid and is yet illegal in portugal: absolutely everything under the sun. My life is spent in literary confinement. I seek liberation from this overly literal existence and this psychotic perterbation of my immediate environment.

sifted shade

Arras! Duzinculi E'deafar hanesporefear daz annamer i'huetefi naiore ai udonifare a urun ma a nahambe bozenculo

I am an idiot.

mourn for them, for they are the first casualties of a communications war on the WWW. Say what you really mean, methinks. Communication, communication, communication. Know thine culture. And don't for a moment make the mistake of confusing your culture for anything other than it is. Differentiate culture and religion. Be that sharp and aware. For otherwise chaos and disorder will follow, and no one wants to see that. Sigh.

loud lunkwill

I would like to have been the ant

exhaustion, obsession, irritation, location, insanity

I have difficulty, with being not hypervigilant about something. And sometimes this gets me into trouble. To distill: I really need (and there's data to back that statement up) someone who will hold on and not let go. At the same time I need to let go. And I can't arrange an array of coincidences so that everything will work out simultaneously. I am a flag flapping in the wind, a moment of metabiological evolution. A snipper-snarp of elsewhence, and at the same time I'm in the here and now. And I know, I am certain that there are other people, other human beings that live and breathe that kind of experience, but at the moment there's this immense cultural contortion the entire species is undergoing and I don't want to get in the crossfire, I'd rather that it be as peaceful and without violence as possible. Grah! I traded eyes with Odin for a moment. I feel like Kvasir much of the time...

aracalont

or surfing the network. I mean the cosmic network. You know when we go live, right? You know when the Vogons are coming, right? You know how long the plans have been at the demolition office? You were paying attention, right? You've got your shots, right? You take periodic phenomena of all magnitudes? You're Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect and Zaphod Beeblebrox (if you're male), and Trillian and Fenchurch simultaneously (if you're female). We're working on a third here, call it Green, call it a Breen, call it nice, call it mice, call it a thing, whoa man. No matrix morpheum, no WWII insanity, just the actual date. It's time for Kali Yuga to start, really now. Too much checking and not enough balancing. And really, a stable equilibrium would be desireable. Just listening to Jeltz's poetry is pretty wearying now. I mean it's phenomenally and monstrously painful to not comprehend out of context objects all the time. So, if you're bored, try government by Hentarchy! Where those who surf probability waves are charged particles, Lammergeiers? The internet is electrical now. When the internet is powered by strong force machines (not transistor based, but lattices of buckytubes in three dimensions (isn't that the most obvious hyperconductor you can think of), we're going to finally all experience triality simultaneously, and then is when the real aliens are (heh), going to start (heh again), visiting. (laugh, sparks and zithers and realistic contumnations aside, it's really sad seeing yet another onctopoetic species not grasping at the postonctopoetic, to say nothing of transparinoesis)

calling from the bunkers...

are you reading this, right now? just one another human
in the human condition? worried about all those gadgets
in your life? contextualize? if you're a mathematician,
dissolve the difference between holomorphisms and
groups and categories... do that! be magical about it!
be astonishing clever and undetectable. don't be visible
and all of a sudden something so sudden and incomprehensible
happen and you realize that what you have been mistaking
for ignorance is the connection of all things to all
other things.

we stake the hopefroth as much as possible at any given time.
and sometimes we burst forthward and make a leap which is
neither quantum mechanical or general relativistic or
category theoretical or medical or holisticic or p-adic or
you name it, all of a sudden it just hits:

the english speaking world needs a new muse. a Muse proper.

therefore, if stuck between unreasonable rhymes and unrhymeable
reason (expressed so wonderfully in 'the phantom tollbooth', therefore
we have Eurhimde, who is neither unreasonably rhymed nor unrhymable reasoned.

I think I'm stuck being the Great Narrator for a while, a role I really
do not want, but, oh well, sometimes grep and pineapples manage to zonk you like nothing that you've ever seen.