The traditional Egoslavian Rick Nielsen paragraph:
Rick Nielsen is sixty-eight today. Sixty-eight. Sixty-fucking-eight. My Standard Cheap Trick Disclaimer: I love a third of Cheap Trick songs, meh another third, loathe the remaining third, they were on the daily soundtrack three decades ago, shoot me. That's today's monologue.
- A better way out.
- Giftmas is not about being a crazy sonofabitch.
- Maybe, but it's not that. Processing this shit either takes longer for me now than once or I've never processed this kind of shit before. For instance, this (found here). So much to unpack. Also too: Death to the Either/Or.
- For instance: finally, a Union that proudly fights for its members and receives plaudits of appreciation from those who hate all other Unions. And visa versa.
- For instance this.
- I offer these without snark. That's another difference from before.
- Snark? On the front page of Salon as of 8:45 AM EST 12/22/14:
- I stole this from a tweet I can't find now: Muslim goes on shooting spree, condemn the whole religion; black man goes on shooting spree, condemn the whole race; white man goes on shooting spree, deranged lone gunman. Wait, that's not different than before.
- Also too. Wait, that's not different either.
- Also different now: I have too much faith in the Triskelions, they have realized the game is which Triskelion dies the richest, there's no limit of shittiness they won't use. Wait, all that's different is that they don't pretend to societal beneficence any more.
- When white men love black women on TV.
- Foucault and neoliberalism: the debate continues.
- Constellations: Control/Crisis/Junk: This is an important point to make: beyond the profit motivations of multinational corporations, military operations and the borderless surveillance state, big data plays a fundamental and necessary role in our lives. It contributes to an overall ease of life in every domain, from the bulk data-basing and analysis in healthcare to the massive logistics involved in transportation of people and goods around the globe. Big data is a media construct, and it is through its mediation that we grasp the scope of the world’s messy mesh. Knowledge of climate change itself has only been capable through the existence of big data, careful monitoring, sensor webs, and cybernetic technologies of feedback. All technics, ultimately, are xenotechnics that can help sustain the fleshy shell of the human. Big data technologies are no different.
- About that new Cuba policy.
- The New Inquiry's Sunday readings.
- I am unfamiliar with Janice Lee (and will fix that) but she says smart things about apocalypses, including stuff about Krasznahorkai.
- More on Mason & Dixon.
- Dear Mademoiselle Fi, I unfollowed because I can't take the photos, not because I don't admire what you do. It's the elephants in chains photos - they make my head explode.
THE FUTURE OF TERROR/5
If there were gamebirds in our gables,
shouldn’t we shoot them ourselves?
Thus we went glass-faced into glory.
We had our hearts set on staying here,
so our steps seemed more hesitation
waltz than straight-ahead tango.
We danced the hokey pokey on holy days—
put your left arm in heaven, your right leg in hell
and in the hubbub of shake-it-all-about,
we didn’t hear the hoofbeats. The illuminati
spoke to us over the intercom via interpreters.
Meanwhile we had iodine dribbling from
our wounds and itch mites in our blankets.
Ours was not a job to joke about.
In the lantern-light, the lawn speckled
with lead looked lovely. We would live this
down by living it up. My pile of looseleaf
was getting smaller—I wrote in margins,
through marmalade stains, on the backs of maps.
I put a piece of mica in the microwave and before
the explosion it made the mirage I’d imagined.
I was hoping for a noticeable increase in nutmeats
or a one night stand in the oubliette. I outwept
everyone at the pageant, even the children
from the poorhouse playing possum.
We studied the protocol for astronaut removal
the minute we saw his spit hit planet earth
on the spaceship window. But though the scandal
reverberated round-the-clock, we had to let it
slide. He was up there turning somersaults
while we spun ever-so-slowly below.