|Monday, August 9, 2004|
posted: August 9, 2004, 2:01 pm
The roadside was littered with reenacters looking for something, anything, to reenact.
Their old story was, you know, either no longer operative or too over-operative to be useful as an armature for their deep-structure assholity anymore.
Meanwhile, of course, our job as anti-reenacter reconstructors was, you know, simply, to just clear them the fuck out.
So, while they are busy thinking, like, kidnap missing pregnant babies husband murder kindsa things, our team is still busy thinking, like, people dragged away from kitchen table kindsa things.
All us bozos, apparently, therefore, are just accidental clowns or clones on this bus or bust -- just looking for action kindsa soap operas where there's no time for baby backstories or the mother-father thing, just N quick-shot tears for massive coverage up of the anus.
But it wasn't always like this. We started in this game long ago, of course, out of the pure idealism that comes from watching hidden surveillance tapes of machines and animals plotting together against humans. Plots that went far in destructiveness beyond the well-known deal that Washer-dryers and dogs have had going for years -- where the washer-dryers set people up with face-covering armloads of towels, dishcloths, underwear, pillowcases, sheets, so dogs are free to atack their "masters" at will, head on, and after the tragic owner is dead just plead how, you know, your honor, I just saw a strange buncha moving folded cloth objects reeking of All Tempa-Cheer, so I attacked.
Gradually though, it became apparent that machines conspiring with animals against humans was just the tip of the iceberg. Humans were also in league with machines against animals, and animals in turn had something going with humans that was designed to really screw the shit out of those fucking machines.
And then someone came along one day and so-called "did" the so-called "math" and showed on paper how the nature of things cancelled each other out and all that was left at base, all that anyone needed to maintain in the end, wasn't all these bogus animal human machine allegory of the cave categories and distinctions, but, really, all it should take is just the senseless exercise of words against the senseless exercise of paragraphs.
Or a rock-scissors-paper war against each other's ass. Whichever.