20 October 2008

Doling out the SkitSnacks

Wow, a post on lockedinabox. How long as it been? I dunno, I haven't been paying attention. Maybe there will be more. Maybe there won't. I ain't commiting to nothing, I'm still gonna write with an editorial voice that assumes people are reading though, even if people aren't. It's just the way it has to be.

And onwards we go....

In an effort to rejuvenate this slow-coma forum; injecting 50ccs of adrenaline directly into its heart whilst also pounding its brain with a complex pharmacology of uppers, downers, laughers, screamers, quantum indeterminators, discombobulators and female growth hormone, I present to you, the Great Unwashed, untamed and uncontrollable denizens of #trivia-utopia, this amusing little thread.

This is in no way an attempt to procrastinate on writing my novel. It is, in fact, a way to make my daily RSS fiending a more productive process. It forces me to turn my morning (and it IS still morning, despite sleeping one hour and 48 minutes past when i was supposed to get up) net wanderings into some kind of narrative, to help sharpen my writerly skillset after it has spent so much time languishing in the mediocrity of Kitchen Porterdom. Also, i've never had a readymade audience to unleash shit onto quite so much as i do now. So you motherfuckers can sit there, read this, and shut the fuck up. All naysayers will have their points expunged, their ratings reduced to something more embarassing than 'fooligan' and have their names and addresses reported to homeland security and/or european equivalent.

Actually, all criticism is invited. All the better to sharpen my tongue as it lashes about your brain-stem and neo-cortex; coating them in a layer of caustic spittle that will burrow deep into your greymatter and rewire your neurones to serve my incideous purpose. Seriously, amuse me with your sardonic attacks. That which does not kill me merely makes me stronger. Unless it lowers my white bloodcell count to a ridiculously low level as a precursor to the main attack. Then i'm fucked.

Anyway, enough of this pre-scripting, introductionary shennanigans! On with the main event!

Let us begin with a visit to the US political circus. Now, to those of us outside of the United States, the american political system has become our favourite multicarpileup soap-opera. It's riveting not only because it's so completely, irrevocably fucked up, twisted and hilairous, but also because the USA weilds so much global power that as detached as we here in europe all feel from what goes on over there, we will inevitably feel the shock waves eventually ourselves. It's a great and accurate form of future-casting; We watch the ripples as they expand outwards from the mutilated corpse of an event as it is dropped from a great height into our collective ocean, see the waves building in speed and height and force, dancing around gleefully at the thought of the creeping horror, then bitch like a Christian anti-abortion group when we end up knee deep in baby foetuses. My personal favourite player in the show is Sarah Palin, dropped into events like the celebrity guest-star in a sitcom; an obvious attempt to boost ratings and interest, to tip the balance in favour of the shows creators. Unfortunately for them it is such an over-used technique that many viewers cynically see it for what it is; a cheap trick. of course, there will always be the ignorant masses who hungrily lap up such panderings like the virgin mary's breast milk. So sweet, so nutrious, so righteous. And of course, such a turn can often create debate amongst those who get paid to argue about such things, and even those that do it for the sheer enjoyment of it.

So, before i lose control of this flailing metaphor, ballooning akira-like into some giant ever-growing blob-baby that seeks to absorb us all into its mutagenic mass, I present this link:

Why Sarah's sex life matters

Providing in an amusing but extremely valid way a unique perspective on the skitsnacks that is the political-circus of those hallowed united states.

And now i must depart. To do some real work. And to have a shower. Until next time! (Which will probably be tommorrow morning)