Monday, March 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Listen here, you living. You progress. You people of revolution. Know thy reaper! He comes not on a pale horse. He carries not a sickle. And he wears not a black hood. He plays not chess for goodness sake! The reaper is an old foreign woman shrouded in ninety-nine blankets. She wears no shoes. She can be seen crossing bridges at inconceivably slow speeds. the same frozen expression on her face no matter how hot or cold the weather may be. She is an apparition. An eidolon. And she sees not the world you and I do. She inhabits a subset. A compartment of reality in the form of a frozen tundra. And she can only project her image to take the wasted lives from the nothingness whence they came. Cut the fat. Heed this warning, oh good people. For today she comes for you. And she's mightily pissed off. As she should be.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The river thaws as the ocean boils. Fishermen were hungry, and too lazy to drag those damned creatures out of the water. So they threw in stick after stick of dynamite. Raising the temperature of the seas to make a nice bouillabaisse.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Have you ever seen holes in the ice that reveal violent tides underneath? That's leopard seals, you see. They've automated penguin hunting by installing giant underwater vacuum machines that suck up the cute aquatic birdies. It's a shame really. These devices are causing pointless tides. Completely screwing up the migratory paths of wales, who are now mysteriously ending up in small lakes across landlocked countries. And those good for nothing seals, they just hang about and get stoned, chewing on poisonous algae while over penguining the oceans.