A Dum y a Dame
One particular application of the theory is the cyclic ekpyrotic model of Steinhardt & Trunk. This model has Hav > 0 for null geodesics for a single cycle, and since every cycle is identical, Hav > 0 when averaged over all cycles. The cyclic model is therefore past-incomplete, and requires a boundary condition in the past.
pulse.
First of all, bang you all. False fam. Before the car-door's bang she came (in the car?), swerving down the street. The last 81 Oldsmobile roading; infinite destinations drove down towards one. Eved her watch, fat on her wrist. 42 mm ss, Doug's big joke, black dialed, his, a lite crystal. Ribbed him till she rubbed it off him. Doug? Manny, photo-plastic, the cosmic kid, laid out end to end again. Man who hind-dusposed from somesuch ladder fall had bin babeling on sinselessly since. Watch-face say?
–Four fings past four? Watchya got pang u this time?
–Brah, mi cuerpo entero duele.
–A cad mon cussed you to fall again?
–It's my own fault. But God it hurts.
–I bn considering al insan alla this is.
–Not all at fault.
–Wa, kan't u-
Now prepped to pop. The other roadcars revved past. Doubling their number faster than they turned off, Zy Got! Off. She was off. @ the big disapartment building, east, near the streams. Turned the key (emergency brakes are for cowards), got out, and slammed the door. Bang.
Thirteen seconds & she's inside. The apartment barely sheltered from the miserly in that bin. Gold and silver shop < a mile away. Peaceful. God don't roll a pair o' dice so… this the wat zay got.
Confidont; taller as she strut through the habilat 'till she was as erect as us, wary and wise and schizofrantic. Well arrowed, kingly in color, encrusted in hellish wealth. Sneaky Roma Amor fabby sneaks by Fendi, high-rising wooltwillpants by Saint Laurent, Speedhunters T by Belenciaga, a maxi-sequin embroidered duster by Armani (covering the Tee), and Bulgari serpenti sunglasses perched on the top of herhead. Hair thrown in a thirty minute bun.
Liftingly attended. Renthouse at the tip-top. But Evie don't tip. To the room, #3, terrable 'cause it leaked. Always filled three fourths w/ wather. Poor ten can men had to pump it out. She knocked six times. No answer. She wouldn't rest. She barged in.
A den comfortably a dum. Rising otta the water, sugar sweet, swank-dank. Embryosom'd by Manny; the adump. The cracky-G who first fashioned it and said good God it good thoughtITfine (Kingly) but Man, he did nat. Fuck you lent.
Three rooms, 1572 squared feet in summa (and winter). Living, dying, death. Birth, life, death? U can't die. Everything, innit. Can't be gone if to be gone it gotta be. Epic. Cured us. False fam. Still spook-stuffed.
The formal sitting room. Big blue metal vase on the floor, filled with umbrellas. Does the things you do? Pointed. Evie couldn't stand the thought. Standing. Sitting. Seining. Pacific Pointillism. Where is Tahiti anyway? Melville went there. Was he with the girl for you? Sadly they discovered in the 2300s that soulmates exist but they aren't temporally bound so the girl meant for you was a Polish peasant in the 1600s.
Ten items of interest.
Manny's wallet: classic alligator bifold by Tom Ford, God of walletry. Past Manny carried a scritto leather billfold (Berluti) and a pebble-grain leather coin wallet (Valextra) but lost the Berluti and remembered he didn't carry coins. Now the Tom Ford holds his wealth. AE Platinum, driver's license, and a two dollar bill he got as change when he bought a mini Budai from a mall-stall merchant and refused to spend cause, dammit, they don't mint two dollar bills no more and maybe someday it'll be worth something.
He long ago lost the little Budai but replaced its spot on his oak hutch with a Jaeger-LeCoultre on a wooden T-bar stand. Granddiddy taught him bout watches. Had a 18K gold Patek Philippe pocket. Complicated thing.
Audi is the car for rich-bitches who hate cars but can't bear to be good. Manny, on his coffee table, had tactically positioned the manual for his new A8. Bought for six figures cause he figured why the fuck not God gave him eyelids for a reason orbicularis oculi (palpebral portion) active eyes relieved irritants removed leave him alone its not his fault we all doomed anyway God damned he's put up with injury can't even drive it at least Evie might see the manual and ask after it. Only owned the car half a year and already had body work done on account of his grill, busted up when he busted up that girl. Cops caught him took him to court his attorney got him off one hand up swore pre jury pressure lunged phoneynation liarynx vocal track morphedology lexiconned articulated unclearly: man lied a traves de sus dientes.
The mission-style cellarette he built outta reclaimed (from what?) wood one cloudy Sunday. Innit he housed (labels visible) his wine and liquor coolection. Taste: tedious. Tiring to see palettes so susceptible to marketing flimflam. DJ Real, CD Joven, GP Plat, Ciroc X, Dom Perignon, Krug Rose, Louis XIII.
Manny's diddy, dear despite his scadulous shortcomings, had the nice-vice of generationosity. Bought his boy buttloads. Among the large-ass the father's favorite gift: a plaid Stormy Kromer. Manny kept the cap on a hatrack in the corner. It'd fallen off a week ago and lay crumpled behind his Chesterfield, re?claimed from Roche-Bobois.
Pinned a Merican flag to his wall. Dior, Maison, Margiela, Balenciaga, Raf Simons, Prada, Louis Vuitton sneaks filling his getabako. Computer, hardback books, furniture, knick knacks, ingredients, plastic, paper, water; rising, rising up around everything, threatening flood. No number of can do men could dedeluge mad Manny.
White blouse, left by Manny's last lover. Lily. Lived with her husband a few floors down. Pushed inner place when last-love Man maddened his way round the room on count of her de-mans that he speak nice o not atal.
Lanyard. Identification. Connected to his vague but real security clearance for an abstract job he didn't do but suspiciously showed up for and got paid by.
Manny's great-granddiddy, living in Cali, had a fucking field day when Nishikaichi Shigenori crashed on Niihau and was aided by three Japanese-Americans before two Hawaiians killed Nishikaichi and one of his co-conspirators. Dum to trust a Jap. Alla them people bad. Axis, or whatever. Before the War ended Manny's great-granddiddy scooped up umpteen acres of top-tier California real-estate. The money made from this venture, oozing up the generations, fueled mad Manny's allegedly-deserved-deviance till the day he died.
Jealousy is bad for the soul. Not sposed to covet Jones' slaves. But Herold (Lily's hushedman) got his slaves to stitch hem a pair of Kobe AD NXTs. Manny hated em. Fleshy. Looked like a fetus. But Herold walked round like they were the sickest kicks on the block. So Manny stole Herold's best slaves and had em stitch him a pair. Then, for good measure, he had em stitch him a pair of Lebron Soldier XIIIs. Manny walked around, Kobe on his right foot, Lebron on his left, where he was sure Herold would see em.
Eve in da house. Is an apartment a house? You should probably stop having kids. Through the living room; the billiard room doubling as the man-cave; the dining room with the fine porcelain shelved up, unused; the drawing room (gynaeceum), unused as Manny lived alone; the boudoir (also unused); the cinema; the arboretum; the kitchen; the breakfast room; the lounge; the library; the darkroom (unused); the aerary; the den; the television room; the workshop; the nursery (unused); the psychomanteum (very much unused); the conservatory (unrelated to the arboretum); the mizuya-
–Manny, where are you?
–The study.
In the study. Lounging on his chaise lounge. Decked and dressed. Guy's saus, age unknown, in the milke hole. Whollman, with alpha sin; bugman, tollman. After Nap. Had he an odd still-pill. Many drunged. Old Don sat to undrag the manyzins but trumpled them in-stead. Manny's kins, set shopside, suffered coarsely. The study?
Manny banged a brew-row, knocked up his credenza. Everybody cumming knows this is the end. Quite suma funiture, huh? FULL of theselights, more Blake, Koket, Brabbu, Boca no Hobo inna casa. You're not sposed to speak gaut how awful it is. Everything hurts. Non savoir faire fellas gonna save us.
–Zut man, rise, lazy ass.
–Net.
–What are you doing?
–Lying.
–y?
–Indisposed.
–With what?
–Indisposition.
Summa body hit? It all hit. A biogenesis: limp ids, candy-carbs, new clay ich/I stehle, ammo-asses. Den? Hydrothermal vent precipitates, probably. AK a bam. A Mississippi monarch. Virgin incarcerated. Archaean. Luca lives. Landed. Cretins stable. Oxy holocaust. Paleoproterozoic. Brolide brollision. Spongebob. Nuts doing well. Mesoproterozoic. Sex sails. Sponge? Cryogenian. Ediacaran. Boys getting bigger. Cambrian. Explosions. Condos don't last. Appalachia high. Fish flooding. Labyrinths don't dead end, do they? Morning for wood. Pangaea, everything together. Insectious disease. SNAP-kids. Sike, cads. Everyone likes turtles. Lizards. Warrens. New Jurassic. Dinosaurs arage. Will it find away? Mammalian dominance. Flapping birds. How long will these bees last? Big sea-stuff struggling. Grass getting big. E-quid. Indian unrest. Bears: ur save us? Some monkeys, some not. Night Mare Nostrum. Bye, pedolism? Sloth. Get stoned, tools. Lil Lucy. Age of ICE. The homos. Everyone erect. Evil axis. Fired up. Spear. Y chrono some alldum? Oo, man. Mitochondrial Eve. Holes in SHELL. Hurry the dead away. Flaking under pressure. Incesticide. Covered in clothes. Needless. Pro magnum. Muse: ick. Art full. Venial rocks. Homo side. Atlatl. LA pedos. Scarce housing. Massive cures. Water rising. Mega gone, ugh. Angryculture. Civilization: the good, the bad, the cows'll kill us all. Duncing dominates. Alcohol. Likkered as long as we live. Trepination. Trying to lead. Wine & cheese time. Horse back. Wheeling and dealing. Coppers killing. Masta Don done. Gold, silver. Sumer now. Tending to right. Bronze boys big. End us. Yikes. Pyramids ET al constructed. Fargone. Gigs mesh. Many killyears. You great, of course. Babeling on. Numbers irrational. Mammoths dying. There's an eruption. He jipped, obviously. Rigveda. Paris under attack. By who? Everything falls apart. Heck of an eruption. A bee culture. Still need to fix that. Zarthustra spake. Home or wandering. He said. The state is real. What? Jews, duh. I am Confuciun. Asian miners beat. Bit of coins. Shock of money. Etruscan justice. Philosophy forming. Based basileus berserk. Allies fight Issus. All the greats again. Generational war. Africa on fire. Emperotive. Rome executes Mid East man. Hadrian: the picts'll pay for it. Nastycism. Scourge of hons. Mess of America. Paddy v the Snakes. Arthur's intent. Plague of Justice. Dang. Is lame? Battlefield tours ultimately indecisive. Al kindi ideas. Obey the wolf. Christian term oil. Charlie, man. Still with us. No man conquers. The crew said. Khan founded. Paper rights. Baghdad burns. Man gone. Gold hording. Black death. Can't bury tales. Moor war. Blue jeannes. Bros printing. England split. Nu world. Lex flex. Born again. We pant, too. Our mada sunk. Moguls in business. Will shook. War. Sum king. Realize the gravity. Catastrophic Failure, Episode One: the Darien Disgrace. The foes. Bach again. All a ruse, so… War the world over. American de-evolution. Watt? Naping nervously. Loco-motion. Pics. Computing. Asian invasion. John Snow. South tries to rise. Marx (in theory). Medi-sins. Phone a friend. Pasteuring. Euro peons moving. Right brothers. Relativasion. Cars on the street. Family Freud. Titanic. China changing. Ire land. Russia stalling for now. All depressed. Nazis march. No deal. War. Missiles flying. Jets. Atom's toll. India'll be a superpower soon. NATO. Korean kerfuffle. Its in our DNA. Digitalizing. In the trees. Sat in space. MLK's day. Culture evolution. 2001. Luna lively. Festival is fire. Presidential de-grace. Girl power. Pair o militaries. Fuck-man. PC culture. Tele music. Pres ignores aides. All in on jobs. Afghan occupied. Changing climate. Tricking down economic. Chernobyl blows up. Season for high treason. Monday's child. Protests redacted. The wall was a dum idea. Scoops in space. Video game wars. Russian unrest. Webbed the world over. Good, Friday. Everything accelerating. Russia put in place. Why 2K, anyway? Gnome still good. Save the date: September something. Columbia in crisis. 2003 airs. Bam. Mental on Mars. Norleans underwater. Hiphone. Where'd my money go? Insane, Obummer. Building blockchain. Haiti quake. Oil allover. Arabs spring. Time for Osama. Shuttles shelved. Bozos big. Hu goes. Gs had a lot, once. Many a Hajji impeded. City alight. Pay me papers. Betflix Brexit. Notta Nice attack. Tikki-trumping through the Ville. Wild maiden, away. Fish fleeing. Lil', rock it man. Chang'e coming. Re reality. Thousand-year youths. Amazon under fire. On to the Eve-
–Excuse: invalid.
–I'merican, consumption runs in the family.
–You feel bad cause you eat unhealthy. Eat some fruit.
–Fruit Ilium.
–?
–Fruit'll make me iller than I am.
–Fig it out.
Loud thud that fall? Manny and Evie envyctus. Good damn it. Sat in there and pondering.
Eve,
–How'd you get to this point?
Man,
–Ain't easy. A quarky bottom will only last a piece o second-
–Just… the basics.
–Physically confusing, way up there. What separates the strong from the weak? Floating around, downtown? Keeping back, behind the sins? Electro fuckery crates afire. Float aflame. Leap and gravity does the rest. Tiny rips in reality produce such problems later on. Busted my back. Sub arrived. Willie won't he? Rad, I matter enough. Sees this mister He on the ground and drags me away. In the hospital they recombine me. Pale glow under the light. Then drugged it went dark. Thought I saw stars. Then I awoke.
In the stellar but iffy 4us era?
…sorta. People palavered prolongitudinally before Evie intellexit histake. Sum it simply. Please.
Mad Manny was of the honest opinion that he, ostensibly self-aware, had come into being spontaneously via an (admittedly unlikely) quantum fiasculation that saw his every neuron popping into existence simultaneously and in perfect configuration exactly overtop another being's brain. This other being was also named Manny, and his every neuron spontaneously popped out of existence at exactly the moment New-Manny's neurons popped in. Every New-Manny neuron matched Old-Manny's neurons exactly. Thus, New-Manny's brain resembled Old-Manny's brain down to the smallest bit. One would not be surprised, given the preceding information, to learn that New-Manny possessed all the memories and traits of Old-Manny.
This improbable self-swap occurred while Old-Manny was out cold and undergoing surgery for the injuries sustained during the tragic float-fire. New-Manny was not the Manny you knew. Therefore, he was not at all responsible for whatever Old-Manny had been up to.
If this doesn't convince you, allow Manny to offer another ad hoc explanation for why he shouldn't be held responsible for the shit he and Eve fucked up a few weeks ago.
Si, true that Manny y Evie broke it all but Granddud, the unhonest imager, put disrealistic decrees y den reliquit. Some sort of super vision. The free will do as free will do.
Mite him? Wait, here Manny out:
Manny outlived God. When, having been a noble ally (credit not needed, only cash), Manny had assisted in constructing the Slay Gay float for the ride parade, he'd suffered grevious injury when a fire that started amongst a number of fruit-themed creates spread to the float. The fir hadn't burred him but, for fearoflame, he was forced to jump and landed awkwordly on his legs and back. Injury into surgery, surgery into under anesthetic, anesthetic into unconsciousness, unconsciousness into his whole body being (quantum?) transparted ahead a full universe cycle and set into the "same spot" and "same time," replacing za Mani there before. Nobody nied the fraction, just that Manny mited it gainst this God.
Alii Deo o alius homo. Who taught you Latin, Man? ¡No puedes estar enojado conmigo!
Just a murons 2.2 millicents, but,
–That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard, Manny, you mumpsimus. Why do you think God dies at the end of a universe cycle? What do you even mean by universe cycle?
–Killasecond to listen-
–No, make it less.
La historia in short: Exact etiology uncertain. Ex nihilo doesn't violate conservation of energy cause nihil man et gravitational-field energy is negative, offsetting the shit you do. Consider (calculus integral) this ton of new stuff and the relatively generally known Einstein equations and you got a Uni full of fury.
Or perhaps it'd be B. That it just be. No boundary. If black hole boy knows the secret to psi, why ain't he rich? Cause he's dead.
Stay on topic, Manny.
Faraway day, faraway night. An Ninhursag Nu thenben that Rangi y Papa couldn't conTāne K'iche'. Ps, 435 later, just over three Brahma days, and we're still struggling with allmen. In 3.2 y 45 the prutins might hit half their life assuming such a thing as izthelaw decay even exists. The problem of eve will, one, and baryogenesis, two, are what I've bin thinking gout re-cently.
On top o it.
Ur quakes. Ice under fire. Anti-money? Voyage beyond. Use a rail gun. Mal dives. Bots getting big. Who killed the King? Coal rolling away. A dum depressed. Too many peeps. Loco choco of late. Russian food. Tin thats bin. Beyond the boys. Signs of Titan. Con goes. Yolo flops. Trans humming. Dead seas. Babes designed. Is it getting hot in here? At least the ozone's back. Hey, Halley. Allah doing great. Still hot, though. Look at this piece o technology. Bears were white? Heat, waves. Push out the penguins. No made. Minds up. Loading sims. Terrible asteroids. Tricked the rocks to think. Computronium leads to no more law. Tip 1. Ameri see em. unCaged. Tip 2. Good for the GUT. TOEing the line, too. Computer science solved. The VY dies. Voyaging siriusly. Complanets. Tip 3. It's in our DNA. Not anymore, it isn't. The middle terrain mountains. Atlantic lost. Sol swells. Andromeda knocks the milk away. Something new now. All the locals grouped. Galaxee ya. Everything degenerate. The baryonic boys lept pho sure. Big black holes, but go go years and even they die. All annihilated. Positive? Maybe. Rip? We'll bounce back. You think? Quantum reality. Fuckulations banging us back.
Deep darkness den light, day n night firm now; wet, land, life; human hands reach for the specks in the sky, and see the Sun, and demand her, the Moon; such a mass of life, sea amoebae, phytoplankton, diatoms, algae, euglena, Myxozoa, gastrotrich, copepods, rotifers, and nematodes. Also, whales, the nematodes' close cousin (in spirit). Orcinus orca in particular have been observed colluding with the Heterorhabditis indica against their common enemy, the sea lion (known Latinly as Panthera leo sed infectum).
–You're the only nematode here, Manny. You think Omnia cycles around like that? The dark era extends forever.
–Poincare-
–Don't Poincare at me. Besides, even if you're right, why do you think God dies when it resets?
Man asked him. The big G didn't spond favorably.
Uz idiot! Who found the Earth? Who measured it? Who bound the seven sisters? Orion know the ordinance of heaven? Gird your loins. No! more manly. I made you many, Manny. But you declare my death? Can you tame the monsters of the sea? No, don't answer that. I gave you the means to do that. You don't get to take credit for that.
Manny, chaffed, now obstinately believed that God did die with Uni's end. Explains why He got all pissy at the question.
–E've gotta take responsibility for what happened. You too.
–y?
–Yes, dammit. Manny up.
–Can't fix it. FUBAR.
–And dig deep her whole? Cum on. Godda right the book bout it. But not if we lay man round allday.
–Translate, then.
–Git up. Got stiff to do.
–How do we do it?
Sick of her and her state-subsidised eccentricities. Schoolgrrl growling. Lost on Lisztomania. Bach is better. No, Bach baroque music. Mauduit. Caccini. Mundy. Put your Mundy where your muff is. Everything after Kassia is trashy, yeah. Byezantium, we won't forget you. Constantly seek to reclaim you. What are you talking about? East Rome had one decent thing: crazy Konmene writing inna attic. Huh? How dare you?
Baroque best. Bach best. Vivaldi, Monteverdi, Rameau, Tartini, Schutz, Pachelbel, Cou-
Woa, man ticked. Bach off. Vivaldi's season's up. Bye, Lully. Linus lost. Shitz and… Fart weenie. Ha. We got Beethoven, Strauss, and Mendelssohn, son. Shoo, man, ve vot Wagner, Verdi, and, like, four Carls. Got the other Bach, the second Strauss, the third Strauss, Brahms, and modest Mussorgsky. Tchaikovsky, Mahler, the fourth Strauss, Elgar, and Rachmaninoff. Good Liszt. Seer, this a hot topic.
In the fuckwit's feuilleton they liszt the lists of their day. The celebraity teening up n down the ages. If you can't beat the tiger try riding it. Right onwards.
Frequently Franky. Once Alice, in wonderland amongst the gerry-flappers. Prior to Sinatra. Love those vague vagabonds. Man you fractured the hip hopping suckers pining to get Cary'd off. Pressing the Boones of the newmen. America's fabulous forte, this connieing. Pumping up those gidgets. By the bye, birdie, we get the British boys flying up, up. No mount of monkeeing around could dislodge them. Teen queen the boss. The B-list Rat Pack.
How is love supposed to be? Washing over you? Watching, awkwardly, mouth half open, him stumble around in a too-big sweater, courtesy of his mum. Chasing after you. Hanging by a moment.
Bam. Bowling for ya birthday. Yo drunk ass diddy bubbing at the alley-bar, toasting. Good life? She just a fag ass nig trying to pull him back. Yeah! Yeah! Conspicuous. On shawty's B-day? Come back, please.
Not a good day. The heart exists stuck-in-time. Queen of slaying. Perpetual people. Your name ain't on that Jag, is it? But it really doesn't matter. Henny and Cola, drunker than a soldier. Next shit, now. End this God-forsaken decade.
Everybody getting crunk. Fire in her heart. Reaching a fever pitch, bringing her out of the dark. A sort of sexual eschatology. Resignation to the end. At least we have the thrift shop. Is that how he got that oversized sweater? Cop it, wash it, get some compliments. Bad news, talking this and that.
Chucks on. Saint Laurent. So pretty. Didn't want to write a song. Prolly shouldn't have. I may be crazy, don't mind me. Is this really God's plan? That's not how this works. Read some theology. The Allah Allmafooz lays out qadar, it doesn't form it. This decade wasn't much better than the last. Can't nobody tell me nothing.
In the last half of the Lax Americana the oxymoronic Cold Warriors clashed, occupying all the world's coroners. The Earth's Konrea burnt by bills of bombs. Crisis in the canals. Follow the planama or suez for piece. Unintelligent pigs castroted in la Playa Giron. Before Kennedie Eisenhowitzer formulated the failed Anglo-invsion. Vernonites sat around in the enCumbered land, leasing illegal, till time passed and, so sick, they withdrew. With the biggest boy under the Sol poking the bear, Fiddy and Nikky decided to stick So-be-it sticks on the mar americano's biggest eyeland. Of course they saw em. And Fiddy and Nikky could only dragdown one lady. Rude. Anyway, at this tough-time adam was split. Us and uss with an R hadn't drawn the hot nuclear line. Big McWarcrime ready to go off.
Ostensibly X-bert gives the following thoughts:
Truly, man's doctrine must incorporate sum highly-objective observations from the forces of raison d'etre. The States are forever at war. Without war the martial man gets bored. This agreecesion was anti-economical but fundymentally aligned with amerryman's mind. Digitally dulled, even decades before technology caught up, the Columbians combined their fortunes to fight. Uneconomical only for the little man (of which the cuntinentals, c to shining c, had none), martialing their martiality made bozo-boys bills. But the billus boys didn't allyn with every monyker maker on their polluted planet. The idiotology of the crapitilist is funny, mental anti-fella-fraternization con udder voodoo milkmen. Turd, the burger-out boys use guyable conknivers in countries with the inkling to oilize or allize their own oil or all ah their resources. Nations can't lize. Cept us. But the buttlickers (who built this country) protest: we ain't done that. Ain't done it at all excluding: México, Sāmoa, Hawaiʻi, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Pilipinas, 中国, Panamá, Honduras, Nicaragua, México de nuevo, Ayiti, República Dominicana, Росси́я, Panamá de nuevo, Italia, France, België, Nederland, Deutschland, Österreich, 日本, 한국, 再次中国, Ελλάδα, Pilipinas ulit, Ancora Italia, سوري ا,مِصر, ایران, Guatemala, ລາວ, سوريا مرة أخرى , سوريا للمرة الثالثة, Indonesia, لبنان, العراق, République démocratique du Congo, ປະເທດລາວອີກຄັ້ງ, República Dominicana de nuevo, Cuba de nuevo, ປະເທດລາວເປັນຄັ້ງທີສາມ, Brasil, العراق مرة أخرى, Việt Nam, República Dominicana por tercera vez, Indonesia lagi, Η Ελλάδα ξανά, កម្ពុជា, Bolivia, العراق للمرة الثالثة, Chile, ប្រទេសកម្ពុជាម្តងទៀត។, افغانستان, Polska, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Grenada, Panamá por tercera vez, الكويت, Ayiti ankò, العراق للمرة الرابعة, العراق للمرة الخامسة, Indonesia untuk ketiga kalinya, Југославија, العراق للمرة السادسة , ایران دوباره, فلسطين, سوریه برای چهارمین بار, ليبيا, and ٱلْيَمَن. Is that it? That's not too b- Technically, in the interest of fairness, you should include: Cherokee, Navajo, Sioux, Chippewa, Choctaw, Pueblo, Apache, Lumbee, Eskimo, Iroquois, Creek, Blackfeet, Chickasaw, Tohono O'odham, Potawatomi, Yaqui, Tlingit-Haida, Athabaskans, Seminole, Aleut, Cheyenne, Comanche, Crow, Kiowa, Pima, Yakama, Delaware, Menominee, Liz Warren, Shoshone, Yuman, Ottawa- Okay, I get it. Fine, ally, and, of course, you must account for the fact that the monied Americans are barred via complex chromodynamic processes from experiencing re-reality in the die-men-sions with the restofus. But maybe…
…the real wernhers are the friends we made along the way? How bout that? Space Race! The hot new game from Deadeye Development (now under new womanagement) in which you, a plucky Nationalsozialist, try to keep diese lästigen Juden in line while you rakete die Scheiße aus London! Sie werden darunter leiden- Wait, I'm being informed they cut that part. But you still get to braun and brain your way to sub-orbital Brit-bombarding. Go ballistic! And don't worry bout the Brits out-intelligenting your dumb ass and making your vengeance missiles miss by miles, cause you get a second chance post-war with the US. Turns out them nuke won't no fluke. Now the game beings. To space!
The Americans encounter Korolev. August 30, 1955.
Go, von Braun! von Braun uses Jupiter-C. The Soviets are confused!
In his confusion Korolev uses Sputnik. Critical hit! The Americans suffer serious damage! The Soviets follow up with Luna. It's super effective!
The Americans use Ranger. It has little effect.
The Soviets use Vostok. Critical hit! The Americans suffer serious damage.
The Americans use Mercury-Redstone. It has a moderate effect.
The Soviets use Vostok. It has a moderate effect.
The Americans use Mercury-Atlas. It has a moderate effect.
The Soviets use Voskhod. It has a moderate effect.
The Americans use Gemini. It's super effective!
The Soviets use Zond and N1/L3. It has little effect.
The Americans use Apollo. It fails! The Americans suffer damage!
The Soviets use Soyuz. It fails! The Soviets suffer damage!
The Americans use Apollo. Super-critical hit! The Soviets suffer devastating damage! The Soviets are knocked unconscious!
(Space Race! wasn't a good game.)
Editor's note. Beginning next issue, the Quarterly ePorter will no longer publish ransom notes.
View again.
Where Did All These Natalists Come From?, by Sake Jake. Bloomington: AuthorHouse, 2019. viii + 687 pp. $65.00 cloth, $65.50 ebook.
Sake sucking again. Not sins his last bookie bets has such a sorry slate of slop bin scene. Criticism of Everyone but Me and Husserl lacked life, but this new booklacks death. Die and be donne with it, Jake. Allow me to phenomenologically reduce. I'll epoché and check in with mi experience. Just got back. Experience was awful. Stop writhing.
Jake's pity-project, as far as I can tell (I only read half the book) is to chide the childfull. His thesis, which he boldly states on the first page, isthus: "stop having kids." He sights studies, including one in the so-called Environmental Research Letters (ostensibly a journal, I've never heard of it) that claims having fewer kids is the "most effective" way to "drastically reduce" the "toxic emissions" that are "poisoning our future." A lot o twaddle prattle, far as I can sea. Kids don't emit missions. Hot off the heels of his last crazed claim, that burping cows by-produce methane during enteric fermentation (bonk), Jake has again proven himself another lippy libtard. I'm no Quiverfull, but Jake's proposals to ban kids (I know he doesn't say this explicitly, but he implies it) is ludditecross. Pure pataphysics. He claims the postmodern peeps are less in favor of procreation than previous gens, with the youngest abantu, the strawberry mellennials and the zoomers, having a near negative view of proliferation. But he fails to cite data (at least, data that I accept) as proof. Holoseen it. Go back to sucking off Husserl.
Reviewed by Gerta Grass
Independent Scholar
Much critocism from a bunch o suckophants, I say. Not since the end of hisstory has such dissatisfaction boiled into sieging. After Sam finished storming the desserts (for now) he turned tensions inward. Set siege to Wacko Ridge in a professionallylonged affair lasting sixty-one days and leaving eighty-nine eighty-six'd. OK, C how this all looked when the souls settled? Twenty-seven years later sovereign NAReds pot shotted a '65 Piper Comanche they sad violated they airspace. The prop plane scened to float, so slow, till the hick as blood friends lead it away. In the action they put eighty .338s into the air (nearly their hole supply), which left em with nothing but shotguns and peashooters when the FBI shot up. Negotiations and scattered shit shooting lasted seven days. It all ended when the FBI accidentally napalmed em.
Socrates says: don't react to injustice with injustice.
But Socrates, what if the injustice is, like, really bad.
Don't care. Don't do it.
Corazón ¿Estás prestando atención?
Huh?
Pay a tension, we're talking bout stress. Tu comprends? Norepinephrine and glucocorticoids. Passt auf! Stress: the physiological response to environ or mental conditions. Hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis (remember that, it's on the test) regularlates corazol. You bet belize it, when you're a pantalope and a leperd ambrushes you, you need that fight/flight response. The prob (Arnav, var uppmärksam!) is that numans don't tendto get ate. But the physillogical response remains the same. Ohmans get lion'd to and cheetah'd on and… uh… catfished. Horrorment. Outre ours, torchturing each other. Limpdick systems; agh, me delayed; Shia at the terminals… I hope they don't think me reactionary. Cryptofascthalamus. Badmann. Prefrontal cortex!
Ah, they see. Love. How long a lone love last? Ask the Millenium Man and his ex-beau. One thousand years fully submerged gives a guy time to think-
–Manny, you gonna finish before heat death?
–Chill, b. That's the jest. After that, born again.
–You're only born once.
–Bo, yo. Still on that arrow absurdity?
–Toolis the text. Right it.
–All write.
With a flick Man pushed pin and then,
Im