We invented the mobile phone in !943
We had the same thing at Bletchley Park (Station X) when we did a mobile version of the Bombe, it was this thing with valves and iron batteries in a wheelbarrow (ultraportable in the forties) that you could program in morse code. We released an SDK over the wireless until we got D-noticed by the MI5. Turing was way fucked off - took a bite out of an apple and gave you a logo.
In the forest wold of Urf, Batheser was a little regarded troll, who spent most of his time sucking the juice out of mushrooms, or fungus, or toadstools, or anything that grew out of fallen and rotting trees.
It was deep and dark in the hollow where he lived, the canopy was close and gripped together in a bugger's embrace; and the little light that filtered through was the efflorescence of mouldering things.
Still, in the dark stillness, he was happy there. Until that one night when the two soft pink things fell into the hollow.
One, in particular, did not appear to be broken, it mewled a little, and dribble came out of its front red-lined hole. The other one was dead though, bones sticking out, bits of it looking asymmetrical where it should not be (just by the extrapolation of form, not because Batheser knew any better).
But the one that was left came good after a while. It didn't thrive on the rot fruit Batheser found, but it could eat the dried and salted bits of the other one.
There's an asteroid that didn't quite make it to earth-crushing disaster, and now has a stable orbit and ecology in the stratosphere.
This asteroid, that is plutoid-sized, is just below the blue of mackerel clouds (strato-cumulus) and is the nest of jet birds.
And on this sub-van-allen rock is a castle built billenia ago, by the ur-gods of the first flower (before iron got invented in supernovas).
These gods are variously named Stan, Keith, Derek and Soulfucker. They are all gods of fortune and happiness, except Keith.
Keith was a shit before shit was invented. In fact Derek and Stan had to evolve creatures with arseholes before Keith really found himself.
We all have soundtracks.
Recession menus: it's better when you read it in reverse order. So to cap it: radiation and cockroaches by the light of the sun going nova
2 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: eat your leg
14 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: lightly soiled air, rebreathed through a faulty primus stove, out in the winter darkness of the fens
15 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: the neighbours cat, lightly fried in engine oil, lit from within by depleted uranium. To follow, rat bums in brine
18 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: a mess of vegetables scavenged from the gutter, boiled in water and served in a plastic bowl. To follow, mould and biscuits
21 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: pea up a stick
25 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: the chef's special, and so are you
27 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: Pig parts forced through a thin mesh, shaped into an oblong and packed in a can that comes with a key.
28 minutes ago from web
Recession menus: a tower of haricot beans in MSG and tomato jus, piled on a bed of lightly grilled bread
30 minutes ago from web
Indicators of recession: Jamie Oliver's latest recipe features potato in a jus of warmed marmite on a chipped plate
34 minutes ago from web
(it all makes sense if you see the plan). Keep saying that to yourself as you walk down the road with abandoned shops each side, it helps
about 1 hour ago from web
like chocolate unicorns, tasty until you try to eat the spiky bit on the forehead
about 1 hour ago from web
Xmas ghost story: that's about this particular hero. Pissed off with the state of things, but about to be reacquainted with reasons to be
about 1 hour ago from web
@DangerAmy Xmas ghost story! All fiction.
about 1 hour ago from web
It would be cooler if my particular black dog wasn't a yappy terrier.
about 1 hour ago from web
Really, I need to find an emergency psychiatrist. Perhaps there's one available in the depths of anomie (which is near Swindon)
about 1 hour ago from web
Out of the ashes of the desiccated earth came little shoots of hope, bursting through the thick layers of death. Lawnmowers now on offer.
about 1 hour ago from web
Apocalypse fire sale: souls half price.
about 1 hour ago from web
Out of the deeps came the dull glass brains with grasping tentacles to pull down the last edifices of civilisation. Holiday sale, bargains!
about 1 hour ago from web
And then every star exploded, and the planets burned, and their acid ashes came down and burned everything. So, 50% off at Walmart
It's got a bit dark round here lately.
Which is odd, as that doesn't reflect my mood - mildly irritated sometimes, occasionally exasperated by the bloodymindedness of inanimate objects (cars, washing machines, drills, keys and so on) but basically happy.
by Jasper "I'm so fucking funny me, what with my shite literary allusions" fforde (ttwat).
But also and maybe, wrote another dull as shit-water fictional speculation concerning some fucked up corporate loonspuddery. And that's swearing.
Ah me, for the life of an amoeba - gently extending a pseudopod heavenward in supplication to the one-cell, the one-father (unipotent, uniscient, unipresent; in other words, does one thing, whilst looking at one thing, in the one place - a man). Wafted around on marine breezes, fairly not fucked up by deadlines (I must engulf that fucker. Right now.)
Or maybe I'll go multicellular (hydra? Barnacle? Anenome? Something with a plenitude of legs anyway).That way I can flick shit in all directions whilst ironing (7 tentacles for crap-slinging, one for adjusting the steam quotient).
Or, balls. I'd like to have multiple balls.
And it was all variously good.
Each of those years had one little happenstance that made the next year wanted.
Same again this year. Big things are happening. Some not so good.
But at least, if you walk barefoot through the park, and tread in shit of dog:
well, at least you have toes to feel the warm embrace of canine clart in between.
I'm not saying that's good, I'm just saying that's better than anaesthetic disregard.
As the thing with that thing that did not work out was eventually ok.
That's about the best to expect.
I feel better for that.
A long journey through the bits of land cut up doesn't work
Better to have the slide by sight of things sub-lit going by
Making no sound other than diesel engine and wind
Lie back, while I drive.
People would understand that the itchy and spiky interface with situations and methods ongoing is not a fair example of what can be done best.
Clearly, a certain resigned understanding of the waves and swells in the sea of a metaphor stretched too far is acceptable.
Because there's other stuff that's ok to deal with: chocolate stains, lego disasters, knee holes in your sons' jeans.
So, underpinning the various spikes of spit and gristle, there's a long low wave of love that will see you through.
Boiler broke, bike nicked, beamer crushed, phone lost, anomie incoming in big waves crashing over the sea defence.
Other than that, everything fine and dandy in Land of Diskgrinder, where the apples have barcodes and the trees grow sideways (blown horizontal by the gale of indifference).
I have no answer other than a faint "fuck off".
