nodoctors.com archive march 0007 |
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(editor's note: as you read Fis's entry below, I highly recommend that you listen to Mustaine's 1990 masterpiece "Holy Wars...The Punishment Due", bootlegged here for yr benefit until I get the inevitable korp note, at which point I will gladly pull it. --E.) MY HEAVY METAL NIGHTMARE As I get in the door, the gates of hell appear (or some similar apocalyptic event occurs) and the whole world shakes and the entire mansion crumbles upon me, burying me in the dirt to die a terrible death by suffocation. But I don't die. I afterdie! I breath in the dirt and debris and slowly decay until I am a zombie risen from the dead. I am alive in the after-world and the mansion exists again, only in this nether universe it is monstrous and stinky and even more gothic then before. At this point in the dream I have the revelation that what has occurred was meant to be all along. The line I waited in was a line to the best MEGADETH concert ever and the admission was my SOUL!!! Me and the rest of the rot flesh demons head to the heart of the mansion: a graveyard. And at the head of the horrific stadium sized indoor graveyard is a stage upon which MEGADETH (also in ghoul form) performs live the entire RUST IN PEACE album and I get to head-bang to the entire thing. When I scream in joy bats fly out my lungs and to the sky. BEST...NIGHTMARE...EVER!!!
posted by cansafis Last night at BAR I witnessed Fis request two shots of tequila from the bartender mere nanoseconds before the jukebox began playing the song "Tequila". This happened not once, but twice in one evening. That is how weekly webcomicxks get made! TANKERTOWN weekly, dry or wet
posted by elvis CIVIL WAR MUSEUM VOL.1 aka SHOW ME YOUR QUANTITIES Thanks to the camera people & actors who help fill the
ranks and make this video extra tubular. If you didn't know who you
are, is, or were, I mention, swiftly: Pat, Mona, Jenny, Feldman,
Millions, Boysen, Dad, SisaFis and another big high five to Pat for
taking the time and energy to edit this bad boy together. Hope I
didn't miss anyone. Well, actually I miss you all. Enough with the
talky. posted by cansafis TANKERTOWN won't let you down
posted by elvis BOOTLEG POPULATION KONTROL DEPT. This map is more informative than a million of yr "red-blue state" nonsense. Scientetics triumphant!
(swiped from NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC Jan 07) posted by elvis “Against the Dream” Ooh these walls But I’m crazy in the moment, This apartment building And the black knight exits, Straight and heavy gait, Smoke and insanity Red blood in the river, The Devil is here Silver balls rolling Abundant wealth and prosperity, Clutching me in her palm Practice the Medallion, The glow has arrived, I gather my shells Re-emerges in the aquarium, posted by chauncey "FINDINGS" presented monthly in HARPERS and bootlegged sporadically here. Consider subscribing, it is an excellent rag and the latest issue has a great Joe Sacco piece.
posted by elvis TANKERTOWN becomes thee, weekly
posted by elvis “Kirtan” OM~ a new bliss I the breathing, connected Yet the magnet-state of Her posted by chauncey Halloween 0006 - 'archival' approach c/o Mr. Brians:
Captain Basketball reminds you to celebrate "March Madness":
posted by elvis CANSAFIS FOOTE'S DAILY REMINDER
posted by cansafis RUKROORKUR Chapter Eighteen Red bit fast as the skin peeled into the graferagitator. He had never tasted his face like this before. "Hardly," he thought as he bit bone, and "barely," again, as he licked skin. Thoughts didn't come easy to RED these days. Nope. Thoughts came fast like a crack head fucking for a fix. Red bit down-to-hard and the skull split. "Putting it back togther is easier than falling apart." He laughed as a crowd gathered around him. With a wink, a spot of glue, and the start of the running man, Billoboy hit play, the boom box blared and RED breaked and boxed over the beat. Fit to foot to flatter the latter. Pat a tat rit rat a tat a fat patter. Red rolled right. "Anounce the horse" And in he rode in on. It was the day and age a team was comprised of adjectives and nouns, descriptions of a type oftentimes false. Incoginto stood out. Out sat inside. Stout slouched desperate. And Bitter the biter bit neither and niether. Toothless craps. The crowd silently put there two cents in. Each took a turn boogaloo-ing to the left. Foot-to-foot action was about to hit an all time high when "Little did you know", aka Hoblet the Goblet, strolled into town. Yep, the god-for-nuthin' sherriff. If Red's goal was to gain, he was now at a loss. "Hoblet, you'se a good for nothin'!" Hoblet the horse bit the hardest and grabbed Red by his neck. "Flum rip flee and flouse to fluterr fran freged!!!" And in a storm smoke of beaver and cleaver he cut to the night sky, through the pig sty, by the by and by, and out the eye of an eyeball covered eyeball beast. A blobby pussy eye-eye-eye of eye-covered-eyes. You'd think it could see a reason. It could see a purpose. A way out of this madness. Hoblet flickered his man through the air. Busted. And he split a fat seat onto the blubberous pulse. Hoblet quickly stopped and turned back to him. There was only one thing Eyeyeball could see. Red. "Well...tell me what you see...a future in gambling or at present I've gambled?" Eyeyeball rolled in, a seize of stars upon his spirit. A blessing billowed. Above him brightness. Red closed his eyes and tried gobbling within. If this whole out-game could teach me a thing or two about man, then the inside-track might be a way back. His teeth took tooth and the tongue tasted trachea. His sneeze snored stomach and he heard head holding hambone. It was a no-good-down-and-dirty-dust-bowl-beaver-bash, and if the logs didn't bring the "river to ride", the heat took the "hither and hide". As close as they came to comfort and warmth, they felt too the cold divide that holds one from really being another. "I am what I am and that's all that I...am?" Eyeyeball, rewoke and laughed. "Wrong" Red's soul, a clown, laughed loudest, a telephone. "Ring...ring...ring" Before the ball could bounce back Red stood forth shouting the three-way call of the century. He stood mano-a-mano-mano-a-eyeball-ball with destiny. "Now you see me." A show of hands. "Now you..." "Don't" (more ROOKRURKOOR here) posted by cansafis
posted by cansafis Baudrillard characterised the 1990s, with its wishful illusions about the "end of history", as a "stagnant" period in which events were on strike. Eventually the strike was broken by the attacks on the US of September 11 2001. Baudrillard called it "the ultimate event, the mother of all events". "It is the terrorist model," he wrote, "to bring about an excess of reality, and have the system collapse beneath that excess." Subsequently, for Baudrillard, there was no longer any need for the media to virtualise events, as in the first Gulf war, since the war's participants had thoroughly internalised the rules of simulation. His 2004 essay, War Porn, observed how the photographs from Abu Ghraib enacted scenes of fetishistic pornography, concluding: "It is really America that has electrocuted itself." See also: "The Spirit of Terrorism" posted by elvis OCEANS
posted by mr. brian TANKERTOWN marks yr weeks as they pass, but in comicxks
posted by elvis RE: "Political Science" In his recent piece re: climate change, Chaumpers seems to have two main points that he wishes to make clear: that there has been a recent increase in korp media attention to "dissenting views" on climate change, and that fucking up the environment is a Bad Idea; I have no interest in arguing either point, as they are both quite true. But since his commentary is clearly at least in part intended as a response to my Konspiracy Korner segment on climate change and its exemplary role related to the incompatibility of science and korp media narratives, I am compelled to offer a few additional words on the subject: Despite the width of brush employed by Chaumpers, any sincere discussion of climate change and the role of the human race is necessarily one of at least moderate complexity. Materialist science has yet to arrive at an conclusive understanding of the large-, mid-, or even short-term fluctuations of this planet's climate, and thus the role of the human race in effecting such change - although certainly real & not inconsequential - is likewise less than understood. Chaumpers unfortunately assumes the tactic employed by the baddest apples on either side of the "debate" (including the illustrations he offers as exemplary of the "global warming skeptic"): reductionism with intent to inflame. His conclusion that "the argument really comes down to 'taking actions that ain’t fun' vs 'acting like everything’s cool'" is counterproductive to what is sorely needed at the present moment: real prioritization and rational discussion at a true point of crisis for the human species. The predominant climate change narrative as it is currently constructed by the predominant academic and media outlets is about as useful as debating next year's hurricane season. Any discussion of how to probably start to begin to discuss how we might eventually plan to phase in methods of running our current economy on what will at some point represent a moderate reduction in carbon dioxide emission is obscene in the face of the non-negotiable gun barrels awaiting just over the horizon of Peak Oil. Trust me, Chauncey, the schmog over Los Angeles will take care of itself soon enough; residents would be better off worrying about how they are going to pipe in enough drinking water or cool the financial district monoliths, or keep on truckin' them "food" products across our interstates as the global oil supply dwindles. The climate change alarmists are correct: we're fucked and action must be taken. But before you lay down the first payment on that "hybrid-automobile" or consult Senator's Son Al Gore, Jr. about how to turn down the "HVAC" five degrees in your suburban Minnesotan (or Atlantean, or Arizonan) palace, I would advise first investing in the basics of small-scale water purification, agriculture, holistic medicines, and yes even marksmanship. See you at the shooting range, Chauncey! posted by elvis NOTE FROM UNCLE CANSAFIS Truth be told last Sunday, February 18th I became a proud uncle to my oldest brother's newest baby. Because of the importances of security, celebrity, and seculebrity (e.g. the pope) I am not able to produce a photograph of the new earthling. I am however able to produce an "artistical" though top-secret rendering. Shhh.
Out of fairness to the new baby and Vincent Van Gogh I too am able to produce an "artistical" top secret rendering of myself. Shhh.
F. Suri posted by cansafis "Battery" Etching all this For your appraisal It must have ended Simple Story Tone of heart As the elevator button is abused What happened Wash me to the shore Buttress against fever Tailor-made for ignition The cognizant real. posted by chauncey |
