And since points could only be scored on defense, the offense was becoming restless, depressed, questioning their reason for even being at all.

As a result offensive fielders stood at the plate with their glove hand hanging out their fly, the fingers arranged in what would be cutesy animal shapes if projected in a darkened room against a wall. The bat existing only as a pictogram, to be aimed at by the pitcher, on the bill of their cap.

And if you stopped moving, the fucking world kept going. But if you kept going, the fucking world stopped moving, so everybody got shaken off the edge.

Against this background, I thought I'd try to shake the bogosity code. I mean break the bogosity code. The bogosity code is (and I'm making this up or only coming to understand this as I write) hidden in phrases where a single word is simultaneously used as 2 distinct parts of speech by two different conjuncted phrases in the same sentence.

(e.g. "...local celebrities co-opted into being global celebrities in order to and as a reward for their stand against them". The phrase "in order... to stand" uses stand as a verb while "reward for their stand" has it as a noun.)

But once you broke it or shook it, what then? Well for one thing you'd have absolute incontrovertible proof of the bogosity of all things -- or at least you'd know precisely which things were bogus and which things weren't -- though, since everybody already knows everything is bogus, really all you'd know is the one or two tiny little things that everybody was wrong about. The few next-to-nothing things that had some slight patina of non-bogosity to them.

And this would do nothing for the melodrama of heavily anti-doped-up people playing with but-officer-I-didn't- know-it-was-loaded hand guns at kitchen tables.

Because games and culture, war and religion, all fit in the same part of the brain where babies accidentally shot in the crossfire are registered. But the only babies allowed in have been already held and smiled at by the action hero in the opening scene of the film where its whole filthy in vitro infantile back story is revealed -- so now, as the baby lays dying, it all comes slowly painfully back to the audience semi-subliminally, forcing them to project the baby's future farther and with far more density and velocity by far more people who care now than had the baby lived and tried to project one-tenth of this same fucking future his or herself.

permanent link to this article