Monday, 31 March 2008


1 Poem for Nourtonia Neoulogoizoid

Donald Trump's crumpets
and the crumpled up trumpets,
the muppets and the lumpen
proletariat, the dumplings;
the mono-gonal somethings
that go spring thru the kite.

The multiplexing riders that go
thump in a strike pad, asunder
things actually hunched in a dump
truck's curtain holding light.

Saturday, 29 March 2008

Of Sanguine Spires

Beside a Fountain's sacred Brink we rais'd
Our verdant Altars, and the Victims blaz'd;
('Twas where the Plane-tree spread its Shades around)
The Altars heav'd; and from the crumbling Ground
A mighty Dragon shot, of dire Portent;
From Jove himself the dreadful Sign was sent.
Strait to the Tree his sanguine Spires he roll'd,
And curl'd around in many a winding Fold.
The Topmost Branch a Mother-Bird possest;
Eight callow Infants fill'd the mossie Nest;
Herself the ninth: The Serpent as he hung,
Stretch'd his black Jaws, and crash'd the crying Young;
While hov'ring near, with miserable Moan,
The drooping Mother wail'd her Children gone.
The Mother last, as round the Nest she flew,
Seiz'd by the beating Wing, the Monster slew:
Nor long surviv'd; to Marble turn'd he stands
A lasting Prodigy on Aulis' Sands.
Such was the Will of Jove; and hence we dare
Trust in his Omen, and support the War.

– Ulysses to the Grecian army
(The Iliad, Book 2, Lines 368-387, trans Pope)

Wednesday, 26 March 2008


"Presence of mind and omnipresence of mimetic ability also characterize the empirical Chaplin. It is well known that he does not confine his mimetic arts strictly to the films which, since his youth, he produces only over great intervals of time and in an intensely and openly self-critical spirit. He acts incessantly, just like Kafka's trapeze artist, who sleeps in the baggage rack so as not to ease off training even for a moment. Any time spent with him is an uninterrupted performance. Once scarcely dares speak to him, not from awe of his fame--no one could set himself less apart, no one could be less pretentious than he--but rather from fear of disturbing the spell of the performance. It is as thought he, using mimetic behavior, caused purposeful, grown-up life to recede, and indeed the principle of reason itself, thereby placating it. But this endows his incarnate existence with an imaginary element beyond the official artforms. If Chaplin the private citizen lacks the features of the famous clown (as thought these features were under a taboo), he has all the more of the juggler about him. The Rastelli of mime, he plays with the countless balls of his pure possibility, and fixes its restless circling into a fabric that has little more in common with the causal world than Cloudcuckooland has with the gravitation of Newtonian physics. Incessant and spontaneous change: in Chaplin, this is the utopia of an existence that would be free of the burden of being-one's-self (60).

On experiencing Chaplin's imitation of him at an LA party in the 1940s, Adorno continues:

"All the laughter he brings about is so near to cruelty; solely in such proximity to cruelty does it find its legitimation and its element of the salvational" (60-61)

Theodor W. Adorno, "Chaplin Times Two," Trans. John MacKay. The Yale Journal of Criticism. 9.1 (1996) 57-61.

Tuesday, 25 March 2008


AMRIKI - What happened? 48 hrs with Katko and you're suddenly mad gauchiste. Keep it up. The kind of response yr study of Debord dignifies is currently about 17 down on my praxis list but soon, eh.

ICERAKE - Whatever you've been rubbing into AMRIKI's scrot, send HULKY a kilogram of it.


DOPE, APE, NEF, LINDSAY - I'mma be in yr LDN this weekend. FACEPLANT meet? Saturday day? Pink Gins somewhere? I really do have Q1 bonus goodies which I'd rather deliver to you by hand than hassle the FACEPLANT Treasurer (SCOTT, the twat) for postage money for.

TRUCK - You be in KAMBZ on Sunday? I cld give you your shit, too.

CHUANG CHUANG - BABY CHUANG misses you and worries that in yr absence he will have only the coward SCOTT around as a father figure. COME HOME:

love is possible,

Get Weaned

I'm still fuckin' here, you can still fuckin' say things to my fa- my mother-fuckin' face.


The spectacle comes to us as an absolute,that which unifies separation by condensation of experience to a mimesis of living value. The spectacle emits the perfected glow of continual success by appearing as though exchange was completely fluid—it is against autonomy, though it is itself autonomous. The spectacle is transcendental reification, a cult of spirit formed on the D.O.X. satieties and inculcated as the unfolding of consumer preciousness, overeating the dangling non-issues, the facefuck of rational reception.

The spectacle is a symbolic and rhetorically dynamic theory by which one may seek to understand the world as a failure of mediation beyond the image, as a negation of thoughtfulness. The banalization of broad directive action is the achievement of the spectacle: it is the means to represent discrepancies and moral contradictions as representations, a melting pot of achieved assimilation and unity. Thesis 3:

The spectacle appears at once as society itself, as a part of society and as a means of unification. As a part of society, it is that sector where all attention, all consciousness, converges. Being isolated—and precisely for that reason—this sector is the locus of illusion and false consciousness; the unity it imposes is merely the official language of generalized speculation. (Debord 12)

Far from conducting one's solitude, the spectacular experience of being-alone flattens the loneliness into an addiction for media. The attention required in television is regulated in its claims on insociability, the function of ‘personal time’: how to eat, love, shop, etc.. The excess of choice-decisions reveals the bureaucratization of the will. The spectacle implicates us as spectators, passive recipients of markets and prescriptive, though assuredly balanced, non-perspectives; for the difficulty of attaining a position from which to identify a target domain is most relevantly difficult for the great convergence of automatic consciousness—the audience. Here, Debord is quite conscious of defining the spectacle as an appearance of society, as a non-totality or fragment of society and as the synthetic method by which unreality and society are fused: “the very heart of society’s real unreality”. And yet for all its intense imagination and creative will, one wants to ask whether this can provide a model for actual thought about concrete monopolies of power, or whether it revels in a theater in which paroxysmic flashes of truth periodically blind the audience. In the preface to the third French edition, Debord states that “it was written with the deliberate intention of doing harm to spectacular society” (Debord 10). The fundamental purpose is to generate an immanent disgust bound to critical action against the spectacle. When symbolic action has found the immensity of the project of identification and knowledge toward the object of inquiry unbearable, it resorts to a violent upheaval of disseminate terminologies which do not isolate and do not confuse but instead summon to the surface of language the embodiment of contradiction inherent in critical thought. Adorno describes precisely this kind of thought in Minima Moralia:

Dialectic thought opposes reification in the further sense that it refuses to affirm individual things in their isolation and separateness: it designates isolation as precisely a product of the universal. Thus it acts as a corrective both to manic fixity and to the unresisting and empty drift of the paranoid mind, which pays for its absolute judgments by loss of the experience of the matter judged (§ 45).

The work of thought must get inside the objective relational structure of inhuman distance and intend rivalries of unity over the universal isolation. The experience of reading such multivalent and circumreferential explications of a single concept is also the feeling of being preemptively silenced by the spectacle’s presence (if the project by Debord is the formation of the "spectacle" then what is the subsequent risk of such cumbersome formations?), the formal question not being merely how does one act against a presence in a theoretical model where capital has become image (§34)—the crisis as torputidinal blindness—but how can one now conceive a material culture apart from the apparent law of visual culture?

Can the “spectacle” be used to establish a relation to poetic production (a phrase that bears traces of the consummate history of the poem, from final draft to print in the reader’s hands)? Perhaps it can only render theoretical phenomena (§10) and alert the 'open thinker' to a critical intentionality that “must expose it [the spectacle] as a visible negation of life—and as a negation of life that has invented a visual form for itself” (§10). One key could be through the “language of the spectacle”, which, “composed of signs of the dominant organization of production—signs which are at the same time the ultimate end-products of that organization” (§7), incessantly re-actualizes itself as a model of social life based on the consumption of various entertainments. Debord asserts that an analysis of the spectacle “means talking its language to some degree—to the degree, in fact, that we are obliged to engage the methodology of the society to which the spectacle gives expression” (§11). Must the potential for critical thought against the prevalence of the spectacle must bear the 'language of the spectacle'?

Spectacular attention is the warrant for superficial desire. The method of distraction to sustain the consumer’s temporal fidelity asserts a kind of ‘training’: the frequency of impressed, habitual input of brand logos seeks to oust other logos, and it is precisely this distraction on which is based the project of advertisement (that which distends distrust and inwardness) as autonomous: the consummate product dancing across the screen. Thus, the complex merging of previously separate spectacular mediums and the attitudes concerning them--as when the release of a product has the symbolic structure of a movie premiere or pop concert, with long lines, anxiety, and the narrative of product ‘discovery’--reinforces the system of consumer validation in apparently diverse sectors. The spectacle is a satire of experience.

The spectacle dissipates anxiety of issues that might have otherwise led to a thoughtful recoil and made the leap from thought to action--often this seems whatever ‘action’ against oneself might entail--as the increasingly self-consciousness of some contemporary poetry marks a critical concurrence of temporalities, the event structure twisted into dialectical relief-- now one may be assuaged by the multivalence of critical attitudes towards the world not only as the singular perceives, but as many could perceive. The harshness and condensed energy of this poetry radically disregards the non-pluralistic self in favor of the limit-experience, discursive inversion and metonymic reversals, it is the hyper-sense of the stupid sacred fragile beauty of the world. It is sometimes the lashing out from a sanctioned guilt in dismay of global events turning on an analysis of the traces of injustice, clear and structural violence and how this reacts with the values of an imagined self (or selves) as an implicated citizen, as an inevitable player in the global economy. The intensity of social engagement seems at an unprecedented level. To feel itself as having some breach of the separation of body and State, this poetry implicates itself in the foci of biological, economic, legal, among many other ‘specialized’ channels, shifting through and outside them; the interval leaps are virtuosic but steadied by an unabashedly critical hand, without aesthetic victory. It is also displayed in a sardonic (and cathartic) humor: the usage of bathetic response long having done with irony now refreshes itself to subsume with force the guidelines of marketing agendas in the variety of approaching global media. The semantic intelligence of harsh juxtapositions, often in refusal of “syntactical regularity” makes the possibility of apprehension of what is going on a skeptical reality. In other words, the resistance to habits of reading is a moral gesture.

The inclusion of sentiment in poetic language may be seen as a subsuming of ‘spectacular language’—as analogous to the aestheticization of commercials and advertising dialogue (c.f. Debord’s preference for advertising over proper films in acts of detournément). This advertising language attempts not to push the product directly by way of superlative description or by presentation of its sheer use-value, but through entertainment. The spectator is amused or made to laugh at an attempt at mutual solidarity between the company and the viewer, the wager no longer on the product but on a brilliant relation of affection.

Habitation without community in the large urban centers: our habitual coexistence does not coincide with any communal warmth as most of our encounters with strangers are resultant in the least amount of energy expenditure, thus, the silence which regulates the errant communication is always ready to swallow whole any potential future relation. The greater quantity of dissonant bodies, whose ‘path’ is coincident with their integration into somatically habitual passages, the less chance one has to balance solitude and solicitude: the conditions by which the spectacle is most salient. Routine in its dull unwaver presents an obverse axis from which the spectacle ‘performs’, for it is the inatttention to the spectacle on which the spectacle seems to ‘thrive’, and provides a motive sphere from which it can further inculcate the non-demands of service and wishlisting.

Sunday, 23 March 2008



Saturday, 22 March 2008

One of those hilarious Private Eye type photo swap things

bunicimal [bestiality part .v.]

dmon sj;ivebsie feel satin rape bunnies

diversity cor x: winded limes fettle does

unbelieve wet snap stir croquet

branch that, held crown

replaced by a hand-hot Hefner towel

&* given some flap rotates, trembling under pork glaze
whittled fingers astride mount
talking we fractures as nibbled bread

point savage h/se airbrush declines
{~~~~~} totalised singalong

Tuesday, 18 March 2008


A quick search of the interspazt reveals to me that I'm not the only one to have noticed this:

(taken from, in case he finds out and thinks that my nicking the 24 seconds it would have taken to do this myself in photoshop constitutes some kind of theft of intellectual property)

What no-one seems to have pointed out yet is what a fucking golden goose this is for the Democrat smear machine, which is clearly not getting anywhere by prodding its talons inwards at its own guts. If Hillary would stop wasting her time pointing out that Obama is black (which he obviously fucking isn't, btw) and instead channel her funds into a crew of, say, twenty of the world's MOST HARDCORE LAWYERS for McCain Foods Ltd, this could be the lateral offensive to topple the Republicans in the final hour. It would be the noble thing to do.


Resigned or pushed?

(Make sure to watch til end.)



And if you think you're getting the body back, think again.


I have decided to grant ANDY MCNAB 55 hours and 45 minutes clemency, seeing as how he was so cooperative and efficient as a projectile weapon on Friday night. I thought it would be even funnier if I didn't tell you about it. You have 6 minutes. Remember, "DIE SWAN WHORES". GOGOGO!

Either Human or Fish

Vibrio vulnificus is an aquatic bacterium from warm and tropical ecosystems that produces diseases in humans and aquatic snimals (Tison et al., 1982; Oliver, 1989; Amaro & Biosca, 1996). Human vibriosis occurs after eating contaminated seafood or exposing open wounds to seawater (Veenstra et al., 1992; Strom & Paranjpye, 2000), and fish vibriosis after immersion in contaminated water or contact with diseased animals or carriers (Amaro et al., 1995; Marco-Noales et al., 2001; Valiente & Amaro, 2006). The species has been subdivided into three biotypes on the basis of differences in biochemical properties, such as indole production and cellobiose fermentation, as well as serological and genetic traits and host range (Tison et al., 1982; Bisharat et al., 1999, 2007). Biotypes 1 (BT1) and 3 (BT3) are considered human pathogens and biotype 2 (BT2) pathogens of aquatic animals (Tison et al., 1982; Song et al., 1990; Biosca et al., 1996, 1997; Bisharat et al., 1999; Fouz et al., 2002, 2006a; Fouz & Amaro, 2003) in spite of the fact that several human cases of wound infection and sepsis due to BT2 have occurred worldwide (Veenstra et al., 1992; Amaro & Biosca, 1996; Dalsgaard et al., 1996). BT2 was first isolated in Japan in 1976 (Muroga et al., 1976) and was described in 1982 by Tison et al. (1982). The first cases in Europe were recorded in 1989 in Spanish eel farms (Biosca et al., 1991). Later, the disease spread to other countries such as Sweden, The Netherlands and Denmark (Høi et al., 1998; Dalsgaard et al., 1999), always affecting eels cultured in brackish water. BT2 is heterogeneous and can be subdivided into different serovars (Martin & Siebeling, 1991; Biosca et al., 1996, 1997; Høi et al., 1998; Fouz & Amaro, 2003). The first described, serovar E (SerE) (equivalent to serovar O4 according to the serotyping system of Martin & Siebeling, 1991), is clearly related to both highly virulent epizootics and human infections (Veenstra et al., 1992; Amaro & Biosca, 1996; Dalsgaard et al., 1996). This serovar seems to be genetically homogeneous regardless of origin, either human or fish (Gutacker et al., 2003). The last serovar described, serovar A (SerA), emerged in Southern Europe in 2000 (Fouz & Amaro, 2003), affecting eels cultured in fresh water that had been vaccinated against SerE (Fouz et al., 2001). SerA spread to the Danish eel farming industry in the summer of 2004, also affecting eels cultured in fresh water (Fouz et al., 2006a). Two additional serovars, O3 and O3/O4 (SerO3 and SerO3/O4), were only isolated once from diseased eels as secondary pathogens in Denmark in the mid-1990s (Høi et al., 1998). They were Abbreviations: BT, biotype; ECP, extracellular product; GR, growth rate; Hb, haemoglobin; RAPD, random amplified polymorphic DNA; Ser, serovar; SS, sterile saline; UPGMA, unweighted pair group method with arithmetic means. For this reason, their inclusion in BT2 is controversial. To gain insight into the virulence factors that are essential for eel pathogenicity, genomes of selected strains belonging to the different biotypes, both virulent and avirulent for eels, were compared by suppression subtractive hybridization (Lee et al., 2005). This study demonstrated that all virulent BT2 strains analysed, irrespective of the serovar, shared plasmid-borne genetic sequences that could be considered as virulence markers for fish (Amaro et al., 2006).

'Phenotypic and genotypic characterization of a new fish-virulent Vibrio vulnificus serovar that lacks potential to infect humans', "Microbiology" 153 (2007)1926-1934.

Sunday, 16 March 2008



Comrade KESDOM AKINFEMSIP: food/poem
Comrade PICO: guitar/dead aim/sex allure
Comrade NEF: poem/food
Comrade LUKE ROBERTS: harmonica/eel
Comrade JOSH STANLEY: poem
Comrade HARDINGHAM: immediate action

Here is Josh reading:

Here is Kesdom giving it some with the broadbeans (notice eel not yet unsheathed):

Here he is again extracting information from ISLAMOFASCIST SPICE:

Here's me and Luke. Anyone who was there will vividly recall the moment when Comrade Roberts PUT THE EEL (uncooked, semi-defrosted) IN HIS MOUTH. For this, and for generally being a completely awesome guy, we grant him FULL FACEPLANT PROTECTION FOR LIFE. If anyone's giving you any shit, Luke, let us know:

Unfortunately, as Nef was taking the pictures she doesn't appear in any of them. We did, however, take this one in her bunker the following morning:

A sound recording of some of the gig exists, and will be digitized sometime soon. Will put up a link as soon as possible. Many thanks to Jeremy for putting us on and for being the voice of McNab and for getting me and K *paid*. That is all.

Crash Landing

Werd ~ Shit got Weird. I'm beneath the Earth's crust, pinging between the foundations of 9 significant financial institutions, successively along 3 electro-magnetic rings wired hemispherically. I can't say more now because I have to Spew Dialectical Shit from my Float. I will ring soon. Doble Chuang.


If you're out there and listening, little fella, please know that we all miss you and love you very much. I didn't mean to hurt you when I lobbed you at Josh Stanley's head the other night, if that's what you're upset about. Since you've been gone Omen's been crying his little black Xs out, Xerxes has been meowing inconsolably and even Scott looks unhappy. Please just let us know that you are okay.

Wednesday, 12 March 2008

Plus Vous Prenez / Plus Vous Gagnez


+ an individually wrapped / crouton alights on the / nose-tip of each ---- / ----- --- poised weapon, / water beneath acid falls / discretely in unison

+ notable by its variety / sacked before it hit the office / only 1/4 of a stick, enough to beat the spic / an undue relativity, approaching an attempt to think thru who kept up this harm / i expect real people to eat me / some crust of an entity

+ i wonder earnestly if it might be useful to have a MARXIST t-shirt or laundry bag or laundromat / does any point of entry lead to the bar across the way? / stroke economy brings us back into the total sms / transmission to be continued / pending more Nef Sock jpegs




Tuesday, 11 March 2008

A Reasonable Proposal

Ladies, Gentlemen and Inanimate Objects,

Yesterday I spoke in slightly heated terms to a Faceplant employee who had accused me of being a 'mole', a particularly undignified term. This means that I am now forced to reveal my hand slightly earlier than originally planned, to avoid further speculation. Today I post this with the full authority of Rex W. Tillerson, Mark W. Albers, J. Stephen Simon, and Donald D. Humphreys.

Having monitored the operations of Faceplant from the inside, I can now conclude that your organisation is inefficient, and suffers from a lack of professional management. With the endearing bravado of posturing students, I'm sure that you would like to think you have the potential to become a major player. Unfortunately, those of us with greater experience have seen such enterprises fail on an annual basis.

However, we are reasonable people, and are therefore prepared to forward an advantageous solution: namely, a buyout of Faceplant International, which would subsequently be incorporated into the ExxonMobil Research and Engineering Company. We believe that you have several able minds on your staff, and if they could be persuaded to give up reading adolescent Marxist theory, they might be of use in helping to develop global energy opportunities.

We are aware that you may be inclined to dismiss this proposal on political grounds, rejecting the rapacious advances of an 'evil' 'unethical' 'megacorporation', or some other outdated left-wing jargon phrase. Let me dispel any such prejudices. ExxonMobil has an unwavering commitment to high ethical standards, operations integrity, and flawless execution. This is embedded in our company culture and implemented through our management systems. Our Standards of Business Conduct form the foundation for this commitment, with 16 corporate policies in addition to the company-wide expectations for open-door communication.

If you are still not convinced, let me leave you with some wise words from the mouth of Lemmy, singer in the fashionable disco pop ensemble Motörhead: 'If you divided up all the money in the world evenly today, then the same people would have it back within the end of the year.'

Why waste time dreaming about sharing resources when you could actually be accumulating some?

I will await an official response from one of your legal team. Speaking as a friend, I do not advise a rejection.


Monday, 10 March 2008


Jellychildren of Ganesh,

- Apeman, Scott, play nice.

- Welcome wrisusprintu.

- MANY HEAP BIGGEST XIE XIE TO COMRADE CHUANG CHUANG. That was a bug in more than one sphincter. AMRIKI FIZZYFIDDLE, as punishment you will eat two 20oz steaks with your blueberry frappuccino tomorrow morning. Make sure to get blood on someone's loafers.

- Main feature: Ok, the Photoshop Competition is back on. To inspire everyone to maximum productivity I will repost the submissions in thus-far, arbitrarily impose a deadline (vide the end of creativity, the birth of democracy), and fire up the remaining acres of vitreous fluid by promising you all that the winner's submission will have roughly £0.50 creatively spent on its showcase.

Remember how fresh we were in February, before it all became about hate?

In order of submission





The final final deadline might as well be 8 days from now. So, Weds 19th, noon GMT. You obviously don't have to have photoshop to participate. Use paint, excel or cakewalk for all I care. I had expected you all at least to have the initiative to realise that there's NO WAY I CAN TELL HOW YOU DID IT. 3 minutes only tho, stick to that.

- Start thinking about recipes everybody. I mean good ones. I also mean things that you're prepared to eat, in public.

Absorb This:


I, Chuang Chuang, aka Chuang Squared, aka Chuang2, aka Chuang Bis, aka Perimetric Faceplant Outlook Functioneer, upon returning from 1 Theoretical Apex whereupon did I perceive the 1 means of activating the Purified Notion of 2-Dimensional Order, upon returning from Said Apex, I, Chuang Dizzle, did pinpoint the glitching HTML in 1 noble post of yours, oh FP Fellitos and Fellitas and Fellatiatin' Sleepas. Dear Am Physique, if in fact I did live upon the ground of this fair Earth, would I box thine commodities in 1 Premiere Lockéd Box, as if twas You whom did encode this much-studied glitch, which twas. THAT'S FINE ~ My Love Is Certain ~ My Love is Squared. Just watch out for centered text and "span" sections. They can make the shit on teh right become teh shat on the bottom, which is Not Dialectical and makes it hard to post to the C-Box or get that Meta I mean Meaty View of all the posts. Alright....ALRIGHT....what does this mean for FP? It means get your F'ing Posts on, Toute Le Monde. Put a name on yr Face and Plant les massages to the C Box. Know that there actually is Real Work to be done, between us, necessitating Real Thought, and Real Fun. I'll be sending each of you a short list of instructions for electronic actions intended to disseminate FP *into the World*. Please respond accordingly. Act Now and Act Later.

Do you understand what has happened? The blog is fixed. You are unfixed. Proceed aggressively.

With Certain Love,


I'm a mole for ESSO, ok? Not DISNEY, ESSO, get it?

Be advised:

I sleep, every night, in the same bed as PICO. I have a not inconsiderable amount of influence in the bedroom. PICO tends to talk and even sing in his sleep, particularly when I massage his prostate. Who knows, maybe one of these days he'll sing his admin password. Just think what kind of fun I could get up to with access to his full powers.

In conclusion, friend, I am on a higher rung of the ladder than you. I suggest you back the fuck up.

Sunday, 9 March 2008


Dear General The Rt Hon Baron Guthrie GCB LVO OBE CDM ADC,

The bad news: I have captured your prize fighter cum hack writer cum television luminary cum gunscum ANDY MCNAB (see below).

Here I have made him look and feel like an UTTER SPASTIC by suspending him in an armband:

Here I have further DEGRADED and HUMILIATED him by arranging an assortment of brightly coloured shuttlecocks on his back:

Here I have CRUSHED his MORALE by forcing him to engage in an act of COMPLETELY AIMLESS CUNNILINGUS with a DEAD CHICKEN:

Finally, I turned him over to my crew. Comrades SCOTT and CHUANG CHUANG discuss whether or not to feed him to COMMODORE XERXES, while Comrade OMEN maintains a perimeter:

If you do not meet with our demands by 18:43 G.M.T. on Sunday the 16th of March, 2008, we will have no choice but to DROWN MCNAB IN PVA.

The good news: If you meet our demands, we will think about not drowning him. Our demands are modest: you will have your trite and ineffectual cap badge insignia replaced by the following, which we feel is more appropriate to the times and to the true nature of your work overseas and here in the UK:

Luckily for you, your new motto is very nearly an anagram of your old motto, so all you will have to do is suspend operations for a week while your grunts set to cutting out and repasting all of those tiny little letters. Not-so-luckily for you, it is only very nearly and not exactly an anagram of your old motto, and you will be forced to manufacture however many "E"s and ship them out. I suggest you get to work, General.

Saturday, 8 March 2008

Essential additions to the FACEPLANT kitchen

cardboard piggy

Bacon in the Sun
Don't Curl Up and Fry

When you fry bacon, does it always end up a shrunken, shriveled up mess? Just place this adorable yet practical tool (shaped like—what else?—a pig) on top of your bacon strips to keep them flat and help them cook evenly. The press is made of durable cast-iron and is also great for flattening quesadillas, grilled cheese sandwiches, and other tasty quick-grilled treats. $9.99 at
online retailers.

steppin' up to the plate (contesting with truffles)...


And finally, a dish almost named after this own minute corner of cyber-Saturn

mtori, fresh from the garden


Think we're nearly BARBIE-READY?

To Jamelia from Jamelia

We were all there,
laughing upon his verses,
laughing upon her verses,
commenting on the offset
of the laughters, then
smelling our own asses,
confusing them with any
old pits, like pikes.jpg
in the aethernetic chamber
of the spam in the shower
and the celestine sophistry;
o the ebb and flow of this
noble centaur's tail. That's
your mom when she lived
in South America, charged
a lot 4 rides and she on 1
ride found you like cuffing
prods in a lunch meat array,
down by the core core core.

Friday, 7 March 2008


I submit.

Read Wagner, Get Fresh

In Wagner's essay "The Art-Work of the Future" (1849), there are some refreshing comments on Poetry. Like a hot peanut oil spritzer up the ya-ya. The historical moments ~ his and ours ~ can't be related without a fancy argument, but the urgency re his critique of Luxury and his insistence therein that poetry must be sung is perhaps still timely, at least on the surface. Three excerpts follow; ie the few bits I copied into a notebook. Alight!

p74 ~ "Could conscious autocratic Thought completely govern Life, could it usurp the vital impulse and divert it to some other purpose than the great Necessity of absolute life-needs: then were Life itself dethroned, and swallowed up in Science. And truly Science, in her overweening arrogance, has dreamed of such a triumph; as witness our tight-reined State and modern Art, the sexless, barren children of this dream."

p134 ~ "Wheresoever the Folk made poetry,–– and only by the Folk, or in the footsteps of the Folk, can poetry be really made,–– there did the Poetic purpose rise to life alone upon the shoulders of the arts of Dance and Tone, as the head of the full-fledged human being. The lyrics of Orpheus would never have been able to turn the savage beasts to silent, placid adoration, if the singer had but given them forsooth some dumb and printed verse to read : their ears must be enthralled by the sonorous notes that came straight from the heart, their carrion-spying eyes be tamed by the proud and graceful movements of the body,–– in such a way that they should recognise instinctively in this whole man no longer a mere object for their maw, no mere objective for their feeding–, but for their hearing- and seeing-powers,–– before they could be attuned to duly listen to his moral sentences."

p144 ~ "But these Folk-ballads are not so much as thinkable without their twin-bred melodies; and what was not only said but also sung, was part and parcel of Life's immediate utterance. Who speaks and sings at the same time expresses his feelings by gestures and by motion––at least whoever does this from sheer instinct, like the Folk,––though not the tutored foundling of our song-professors. —–Where such an art still flourishes, it finds of itself a constant train of fresh turns of expression, fresh forms of composition ("Dichtung")...the art of Poetry must ever stay unfruitful when she turns her back on Life; all her shaping then can never be aught else but that of fashion, that of wilful combination, not invention."

~ Richard Wagner, "The Art-Work of the Future" (1849), Prose Works Vol 1 (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., Ltd; 1895/1972)

Thursday, 6 March 2008


"The fact that this appears deliberately targeted at the recruiting station insults every one of our brave men and women in uniform stationed around the world," Bloomberg said in Times Square.

This is what Bloomberg and his dogs get for refusing me the Key to the City of New York in August, 2007.

Churl Whirls Yelping Whelp

Cute to the power of 100,000 humans!

Sage words on the puppy question:

06llo (5 minutes ago)
that was a pretty decent throw. i mean... puppies are fairly unbalanced creatures, and he managed to get a controlled release, a nice arc, and i'm sure that if he were aiming for say a hoop or something cool like that he would have at least hit the sides. 8/10

danielsuperchef (6 minutes ago)
The puppy could have been an Al Quaeda trained bomber...!? Besides I reckon it bounced by the sound it makes.

gamesking12 (8 minutes ago)
it can be a bomb dumb ass

mungenda (9 minutes ago)
i dont know who the F these people think they are but i am doing everything in my power to make sure they get in trouble...if you think this is fake then u r ignorant. and if the marines are so bored over seas that they need to make pathetic movies like this...then why the hell are we in Iraq?!!!!!!

juggaloco428dechile (11 minutes ago)
Animal cruelty!!! Throw that marine off the cliff!!

Tuesday, 4 March 2008


Thx Dope. Here's your better side.

holy shit!!!

The Archbishop described in reflex foam the limit of its shredded-with-glass breathing antic to posit, if we could call it that, an inverted species of reasoning that indiscriminately records/ distorts “speech acts of a serious nature” with undisguised penological-eye-metaphors in place of vintage beast wax. What's the point. The tome, he whacks open and, in the process, exhibits a “more complex than usual” finger array as part, or indeed whole, of her (automatic) pencil holding strategy, extrapolates “this cat is successfully performing an impression of a triangle”. What is most alarming about this “artefact in the wilderness” is the negligence with which “the critic as an autonomous thinking-thing” regards the matrix of nuances that constitute contemporary standards in vertigo pocket stitching; what can be said on the matter of the vaguely embossed buttock has most certainly not been said, but what kind of society has hitherto found itself sufficiently well located (in a cultural sense) to embark upon such a project, or would dare? For daring is what differentiates us, the slugs of love, from them, the earth slug fatigue and breathlessness. Now give him back him squash racket, Archibishop, or suffer ununfatwa.

Monday, 3 March 2008


What kind of coffee does everyone drink?

Seriously, I'm interested.

Sunday, 2 March 2008


The photo image desensitises the imagination by appropriating a certain meaning to what, in the first image, is an agency completely up for grabs. It depoliticises what Rancière termed ‘the distribution of the sensible’. It tells you how and from where you are to look. This all sounds dangerously as though I’m about to say, no matter how hard you want to beat me, the line of fantasy is not dialectical.




OCTOFUCK (3 of 4)

O Eat me!,
Soft cherub of the sea.


O Tired, winsome shit.

"Octopus Fuck" vs. Octopus Fuck (1 of 4)

it's this vs. this.

Saturday, 1 March 2008


Would the miserable little choad who screwed with the layout please hack back into my account and sort it out. Cheers.