Tuesday, May 4, 2021

Dollhouse Stimulations of Pigeon-Talking Sales Reps

Neutrality of Alphabetical Order
The criminalization of dissent
Othermuckingfay opscay
Othermuckingfay opscay
Algorithm manipulation
The dream is the mother
Othermuckingfay ackerscray
Othermuckingfay emocratsday
The Washington Football Team will be permanently rebranded the Washington Football Team. The decision has been (shrewdly) made, it is a done deal, I bet you any number of digital pints, I'm flabberghasted by the competence, reminder, fuck ups by design always outnumber fuck ups by malfeasance but don't outnumber fucks ups fucked up deliberately by basic human wiring rewarding the assholiest
Helmetball American, finest metaphor abounding
The most radical statement he has ever read!
I don't know why the outbreak of othermuckingfayness
Joe Biden and America's culture of sadism
It's not the pings, I've been much less othermuckingfay
Vaccine capitalismParadigm shiftsUrgent questionsWhose green new deal?
the last month or two and my ping rate has never been higher, thank you
Maggie's weekly links{ feuilleton }'s weekly links
Work, yes, reading slump yes, force of habit, yes, sudden damn, no
That helmetball rebranding, I can't stop thinking about it, a reminder how deadly competent our shitlords' deliberate incompetence is




David Rivard

The American common is no collective or princedom
but privacies of need & pleasure as they intersect
in public spaces, tho the insufferable powers that be
breed their plots behind our backs, thinking us
witless, seemingly blind to their afflicted intentions,
just a bunch of demographic motormouths & screw-ups
to be targeted by commodities traders & search engines—
a marketing niche for every need, stereotypes
tagged by algorithms—here is a typical team
of baton twirlers in an airport bar, each of them clad
in foxy red track suits & tuned-in to the dollhouse
stimulations of pigeon-talking sales reps; there
is a previously undetected aggregation of retirees,
evangelical camp kids, kickass bowlers,
and mothy nuns in starched wimples, for whom
the news of the day means the aging boy-man
Hugh Grant's fear of double chins—neither of
these or any other data dump entirely false,
but so narrow-minded sometimes as to lose sight
of us entirely: the midtown lady in Capris,
a four-square surgeon off-duty & headed out
to play poker, the plumber fly-fishing by the river—
a sky of twilight slate now—not a word written on it.


  1. today i learned it has been suggested that the helmetball team be rebranded the red wolves


    looking at the pictures they don't look that red


    but of course that is also true of the aboriginal north americans formerly referenced by the team name

    and speaking of aboriginal north americans


    tells us

    Now with an introduction from celebrated poet James Tate, Riding the Earthboy 40 is the only volume of poetry written by acclaimed Native American novelist James Welch (1940-2003). The title of the book refers to the forty acres of Montana land Welch’s father once leased from a Blackfeet family called Earthboy. This land and its surroundings shaped the writer’s worldview as a youth, its rawness resonates in the vitality of his elegant poetry, and his verse shows a great awareness of a moment in time, of a place in nature, and of the human being in context. Deeply evoking the specific Native American experience in Montana, Welch’s poems nonetheless speak profoundly to all readers. With its new introduction, this vital work that has influenced so many American writers is certain to capture a new generation of readers.

    one could look at


    1. speaking of aboriginal/indigenous/First Nation people, yesterday i learned that l. frank baum, author of the wizard of oz, had called for a final solution of the indian problem

      i wasn't shocked, but i hadn't heard it before - as will rogers, himself a cherokee, pointed out - everybody's ignorant, only on different subjects


  2. That Nap walk photo is unreal!

  3. speaking of privacies of need and pleasure -

    During my first neuroanatomy lecture, the patient presented to us was a former dean of the medical school who had suffered a small brainstem stroke. As he started to identify the stroke location, the former dean suddenly began to sob piteously. Deeply concerned, we waited in utter stillness a long minute until, abruptly, his sobbing stopped. Unbothered by the interlude, he calmly went on to explain that the episode was caused by the stroke—damage to a tiny region of the brainstem which released reflexive crying when triggered by high levels of adrenalin. Conscious control was futile. A not uncommon sequel of a brainstem stroke, the condition is known as pseudobulbar affect. Adding to our bewilderment, he commented, almost as an aside, that throughout the crying episode he had felt no sadness whatever, though he did admit to finding pseudobulbar affect a nuisance. This was the first result in my new neurophilosophical world: The disconnect between despondent behavior and despondent emotions was the sort of event that many philosophers, trusting entirely in their own imagination, said was inconceivable and could not happen. But it did happen, right before our wondering eyes. This was the first of a host of “philosophically impossible” revelations from brain-damaged patients.