Month: March 2023

Join us…Join us…

Influencers. Navigating The Grid is never a cushy number; or free of peril. It’s riddled with all sort of vacuous, two-brain-cells-and-no-synapse, insipid but nevertheless insidious creatures that will try to sell you stuff you don’t need, want or even fancy, and ideas that should have been dead and buried centuries ago. They will also try and instil in you a feeling of “missing out”, a state of being that seems to be one of the main transgressions in our increasingly amalgamated End Days Crapitalist so-called society. Try and ignore them. Sharpen your cynicism. Beef up your middle finger. Wear Orphic earplugs. And take a Shoggoth with you as a travelling companion. Oh, and a teddy bear. (If you are teddy-deprived you can write to us and we’ll send you one post-haste via Byakhee Express.) No one should be without a Teddy. Ever.
Weekend soooon come. Have a good one. To brighten it, as a bonus ball, have some pandas being extremely silly and terminally cute.

Outlandish Diets

Open Spiral 2. aka The Bubble Eaters. These here be the Bubble Eaters. They eat bubbles. Yes, really.

Not Quite Orphic Mysteries

Butterfly Dancer. Just like the Fish Dancer of old, old days, this one dances butterflies. Not dances with, nor she makes the little fluttering darlings dance. She dances them. And the butterflies just love it. The Sun, on the other hand thinks the whole activity a frivolous display of…fucknowswhat. He’s in rather a bad mood lately, poor mite. Never mind the Sun, though. I’ve half a mind to ask the swingy young miss to come and bloody dance me. I could do with a bit on mystical boogy-woogy.

Leisure Time!

Tea Time Hippo. Things seem to be going from bad to worse to bloody ghastly. Now, don’t get me wrong, I never cared half a rotten fig for Roald Dahl. He was a mean little man and his stories were nasty, banal and predictable. But, as Voltaire never really said, I would go to the barricades to defend his right to say wherever he pleased, including writing about fat women or witches with wigs. And the rot is expanding, like a vulgar universe. It would seem that Prevent has a section, possibly called The Holier-Than-Thou Anglo-Saxon Inquisition, that is giving hints that Shakespeare, Orwell and, yes, you heard it right, poor old Huxley (Aldous, that is) should be either expurgated or actually altogether excised from schools curricula in case they might “radicalize” students. And I’m not even getting started with the one about the C. of E. considering changing the Lord’s Prayer pronouns! (What it’ll be, then? Our Parent, who might or might not be in A Very Safe Place…etc?) The mind boggles. So, rather than lose the will to live, I’m taking my big fat bloody foreigner’s female ass to have tea with the Ultra Hippo and his pal the Graphically Modified Clipart Teddy. I don’t much care for tea but they are very kind and they always have coffee at the ready for yours truly. That’s what I call true tolerance. Have a spiffing week.