hypoetics

Pull Diamond Belly Tight Push Slack

2011-12-19T15:24:00.000Z

J0nni Chow could feel a faint and familiar tickle in her twitching nostrils. Petite and strong, J0nni was a delightful girl about 400 years old with dark black curly locks and black cat-eyes. Naturally inclined beyond her in-built waveform information analyser, she realised that the ship had landed in a Sforzan waste-crater. She began to perform some kind of breathing ritual, thinking in ideograms and generating a chi-driven sound effect from her throat. Sure as the sun rises, she was giving unseen substance an unseen form. And it was real enough, though situated internally, real data solid as any of the mind's phantoms or platforms. "Real. Arial. E-the-real. Thee-re-al. Ee-rial. Eeeerie-ality. Etcetera," her father Dr Chow had mused as he smoked on his ancient brass djinn weed pipe and blew out another overplayed joke, a kind of exhaust that might choke the more flattened of the senses. He had taught J0nni how to use her head and belly, how miniature air channels connected them; how to discharge chi sub-particles along these. "Techno-viscera", he said, "Are different and need to be treated with respect - Applicable to anything my little one", and trailed off into indulgent laughter. "To call you transhuman is a cheap trick," he told J0nni, "And won't break your circuits. Ha. You're too young too sensible to become some phoney alter-ego. Believe me, my little one, even the smell of Sforzan evil will not mess with you." And he showed her how to use a breathing technique to generate a magnetic field around her breath. "Pull diamond belly tight push slack," he would advise, over and over until the words looped like a koanic mantra in the bewildered girl's head. Controlling the dizziness with concentrated breathing, J0nni pulled it off; - and more: her father's pipe came flying out of the lips that had secured and savoured it. J0nni lost her concentration and the pipe dropped from the magnetic bowl which, until that moment, had embraced the artefact in its field. J0nni Chow is a gentle kid who, brimming with monkish capabilities, knows very well how to look after herself; she is driven by a young, flexible mind and the assenting, proud smiles of her father. Only 20 years after the magnetic breath success, J0nni first deglyphed the crusty light-emission signals from Sforzan illuminated waste; I say 'waste' only in that the elusive Sforzans had no further use for it; - or so it was thought by Dr Chow until his daughter had begun to unravel the difficult inner circuits of adulthood when she was 250 years-old, showing signs that she was something very special: it was 150 years ago that J0nni first began to suspect that the Sforzan waste-craters - dotted with random colours that flickered and glowed under a heavy winter sky - were in fact time-trenches, which could be put to good use if only more code could be assembled from the rthythm fragments. Though the strange language failed her father, J0nni's head often swam in disconnected rhythms and waveforms which she instinctively knew could be run through the alien-languages de-bugger for analysis. She had tinkered with the de-bugger, much to her father's amazement, and had managed to integrate her circuits with an old puddle-jumper of a spaceship whilst leaving her body - young and undeveloped as it was - in a semi-conscious trance. And now that she had landed with that pair of misfits, she could get back inside herself where it was more comfortable and warm."Machine too cold, " announced Dr Chow. "Not enough slack." Both of them were waiting for Brothers Paul and Bill to come round. Paul groaned as he came round. "Water ... Wha wa water ..." But he was overcome with fumes, for he had landed at the bottom of a crater in a shallow cesspool of what smelt like the skip-juice of disposed supermarket food. Although it was fishy, the sea that had been there before they landed had dried up. The good doctor hastened with J0nni to lift Brother Paul out of the shit. The illuminations were like Xmas lights and Brother Paul, disposed towards such simple pleasures, had begun drifting, as the sea itself had done. They dragged him to the top of the crater where the spaceship was and tied him into a yogic knot - a recovery position that serves many healing purposes - then went to fetch the other party, who had fallen asleep in the ship still trying to buckle himself out of his seat. When they came to, they saw a 10-year-old girl performing a strange breathing exercise along with with a middle-aged man. Both appeared to be an orietal-caucasian mix. The man was muttering, "Pull diamond belly tight push slack pull diamond belly tight push slack pull diamond ..." Then, as if exhausted by the mantra, he stopped, smiled at his daughter, and lit his pipe in a direction away from J0nni's breath. "Welcome to our humble abode. You will come with us please." As they made their way to the mountain, the doctor continued to pull on the djinn weed pipe and, speaking just above a mutter, said: "Harmony of spheres disrupted, water evaporated wavelength by wavelength. Happen to you too if you don't defend yourself against Sforzan waste deposits. Sea returns in 15 years. We have time to make masters of you both. 15 years is enough."

A Short Chapter on Sforzan Exodynamics

2011-12-04T19:53:00.001Z

The transruptor technique, long favoured by the Sforzans, is used to enhance and virtually enlarge sub-atomic stuff, pumping auras into suitable life-supporting environments. A whiff of evil accompanies this horrid expansion, which sees a slow and almost tedious rolling-out of sheer encroachment. It's sound that alters the atomic configuration of the Sforzans; an ugly screech, jealous of silence. In the smallprint recesses of the Sforzan mind, power is assumed over energies and airwaves; emerging voltages hum and hang, sparking off etherial lights with a phosphorescent scent, like an animal pissing it's signature into the freshly begrimed air. While the smell is unbearable, the Sforzans light up quite beautifully. Sforzan metaphysics holds that formlessness is the first form, a form in itself, a self-verifiable 'invisible' signature. The Sforzans have adapted to, and evolved into, once-strange formless frequencies, using them to generate the glow of their exodynamic surfaces. They use frequencies as a plant uses oxygen; but such comparisons are beyond their ken, and they don't care much for living things as we humans do. A little bobbing wagtail, for example, would be braindead in an instant, its functions assaulted by the Sforzan smell; larger animals succumb only to disorientation and need to be held captive to be slowly drained of their mind's power, as is the case with the good Doctor Phillips, friend of our heroes, who are now back in Earth Time and on his trail.

sea later sea earlier

2011-11-14T11:40:00.000Z

"For Chrissake Bill! Pull yourself together will you!?" Brother Paul is sweating, shuddering. "Fucking re-entry. Hold on tight ..." I'm still drowsy. The heat and the shudders bring me round a bit. We survive reentry, though I miss most of it. "That episode you've just gone through wasn't time travel," he says. "You drifted into a trance. You inhaled too much Sforzan phosphor back in the capsule. Causes hallucinations etcetera. The pull of Earth Time execerbates these incidents. Anyway, you missed a grand explosion." I'm still dazed. "The pill," I say. "The pill," he says: "was to counteract the narcotic influence of the phosphor ... you know that salt? It was there all right. A sure signal that the Sforzans had manifested a presence of sorts on their way to our beautiful planet. When the phosphor went up with the station the shockwave collided with Earth Time and your head was shocked into overdrive. It's all recorded. You can play it back later ... Or earlier ... Considering where and when we're about to land. But now I suggest you brace yourself. "I need coffee," I hear myself think. An electronically enhanced voice says: "Out of coffee." Paul says, "It's hardly worth introducing J0n. That machine runs out of everything ... including time. Concentrate on the big blue sea ahead. When we hit it J0n'll see to it that we shift." This is too much. From one trauma to the next. "I need a rest." Then the realisation ... J0n announces, "20 seconds. Out of coffee. Try relax. Coffee no good. 15 seconds to impact. Calibration check. 15 years. 10 seconds to otherwhen. 15 years. No coffee ..." I don't know how I manage it: "OK. We get the fucking idea! See you in another life J0n ..." Too late. Splashdown. Splashwhen. Exotic fish in accelerated reverse cycle, whirling colours melting trip-like, taste of salt, smell of ancient phosphor, transitional slow motion decay, restorative luminescence. Paul's hair turns black. J0n says, "Welcome home. Impact successful. Coffee supplies good. Also reverse-matured whisky. Uisge-beatha, water of life. Harness useful by-produced energy. Hot toddies dispensed. Good for re-orientation. Travel expense claims invalid, leave cancelled. Timesplash successful. All channels open. Have a nice drink a nice trip. See later. See earlier. Out."

Otoliths # 23 now live

2011-10-31T14:50:00.002Z

You can find this excellent on-line zine here. My own contribution here - in keeping with the space fiction project.

episode 2

2011-10-15T16:10:00.000+01:00

Before leaving the station I receive a package of surveillance insects. It can only be from Mega Inc. They monitor your every move 'til you cough up the debt; hence their over-inquisitive 'reminder'. They found out I'd arranged to sell the station for scrap, and I owe them about 10 years rent. Anyway, the surveillance flies are out as soon as you sign for the parcel and then you're in bother. This is how to deal with the flies: you distract their circuits with the insect hum of a paradox mantra, then moving in for the kill, you accompany the mantra with the resounding thwack of a rolled-up wad of dot matrix reports. I'm just in the process of splatting the last of a consignment of 20 when there's an unannounced clunk from the docking area. Mega Inc must have issued the Space Police a warrant. The hatch opens and, armed with a wad of deadly paper, I see a shock of grey hair; it's Brother Paul, come to take me back to Earth. He opens the hatch and steps in: "Looks like your getting jittery on the old delusional parasitosis again. Come on, let's get the fuck out of this shithole ..." There are reports scattered everywhere. I never did get to tidying up very much before I took ill again but, delusional or not, I've learned how to take the little bastard drones out in style. "Time for some real action," says Paul, "But we need to hurry - I passed a copcraft on the way here." Suddenly the thought of some real action excites me and lifts me out of the incarceration-induced atrophy. The space sickness dissolves in Earth Time. "They can have their fucking station but they're not getting any rent." He hands me an Equi pill, saying, "Take this." I drop it gratefully down my burning throat, then say, spluttering like a defunct bot, "Thanks. I'm looking forward to the trip and seeing the doc again ..." and break into a hot cough. He says, "Don't forget our date with the Sforzans." How could I forget, I remind him with a glance, then ask, "What plans do we have for taking out their etherial circuitry?" He'll tell me, he says, on the way ...

report

2011-10-02T13:09:00.000+01:00

the office was broken into recently. one of my posts was stolen by some new kind bug that works a bit like a denial of service attack but more insidious leaves a trace of a trace of a trace, regressive generations of 'traces' spiralling off in a sub-sinister spiral scratch, into stuff that never flattens out. i've been farting around for a while tracking the source of the mischief. the stats office is the first place i look. stats are dumped everywhere, and there is far too much salty deposit to sift through. on the way out i walk through them, crunch of autumn leaves. overcome with an info trance i enter the cog infiltration dept. and sure enough the numbers come crunching into my head, a swoosh of diagrams and filters, cells creating a denial of logic (which is the same thing as logic) and a migration of information back to the source of the spiral noise transporter. an old friend, who has been more or less loyal and honest, calls me and thinks that it is too dangerous here, with so many abstractions and crunch, the one who told me that phillips has been kidnapped by a small group of elite sforzans. the'll probably try decode him. nasty creatures, even the weakest of them can make a diagram out of a human mind in no time. we need to rescue the doc before he breaks down under the heat. smell of burning salt. out.

from here to obscurity

2011-06-07T21:53:00.008+01:00

my dear friend,

the lottery ticket, the map to your safety, has been intercepted by a wave of self-satisfied sub-plots devised by hubristic faustian entities; & this has highlighted the contours of alien elements which appear in an illuminated manuscript under the weight of faded braille glyphs. some migrant spots of intelligence from long lost reports have found their way home & only the architectural exuberance of a strayed thought can restore the ancient lights and recover them from their obscure stellar organisation. necromantic documents are slow to brave the wind. no mere code, they will position themselves in an actively predetermined swing towards that non-immutable stuff whose vagueness is as indeterminate as a whisper of light. the weight of this strange geography will then give way to an even stranger boardroom, where rumours of dreams seep from the stuffing of the leather seats & a door gapes open as grief crawls slowly towards its realisation. a cold wind closes in on ghosts whose only conspiracy is that they exist at all. a word of warning: no sword nor bullet nor rattan stick can find their ghastly shapes as they merge in the haze of their temporal chaos.

as ever,

dr phillips

news reports have been phased out due to a malfunction up here. & oxygen supplies are getting low. my old friend dr phillips has provided hints above as to a method by which a return to a precise location on earth might be possible. but his obscurity of vision is proving to be a blight on my senses & the malfunctioning decryption machine means that there is no way to decipher his anomalous and unrealistic nonsense, which i fear is the result of some ungraspable drift of mind. lottery ticket? it has expired & has never been checked. its numbers are faded. why does he mention weapons to me when he knows very well that they are banned from this space station? if there are ghosts to contend with, has he forgotten the cold cruel steely squeals of the spacetime parasites? but there is no way of replying to him until i get back to earth. if i dream my way back i will be in danger of becoming a ghost myself & i'm not sure he would be any help if that were to happen. if i conspire with them they will take me away & lock me up in their ghastly boardroom with nothing but draughts & rumours for company. in which case, i may as well stick it out here ...

otoliths #21

2011-04-30T21:08:00.003+01:00

is live. my own contribution here. these are two pieces of space fiction and second, journal entry, can also be treated as an entry here - as far as the chronological sequencing of the space fiction project goes.

loud noise permeates cosmos, says nasa (link)

2011-02-25T13:09:00.005Z

this could be due to a number of things, including: an angry deity; feedback from planet earth coz of all the noise; a black hole going thru its spin cycle like a washing machine; aliens trying to warn us to get off the planet. but the cosmic noise is more than likely caused by the staff here at the orbital Hypoetics office, who have been partying non-stop since the xmas break ...

call this one nostalgic redux. this post [from 9/1/09] doesn't need edited at all. i'm sifting through the ruins on a slow tidy-up - unhindered by the pavlovian excitement of parasitic hyperspace entities. the blog is now reduc[x]ed to under 100 posts, beginning with this one - which wasn't the originally at the beginning at all & is now far from it. call it time-travel of sorts: propelled from 9/1/09 to 25/2/11 & not showing as a new post. Q: so why post & then later delete or emend invisible posts? A: time-travel is crucial to experiment & experiment is an ongoing process - filling the hypo-archives, maybe for even more experimentation. it's a bit like freezing a body - a corpus of wired writing - until a wee feather drops from the ornithological borg, an unwired phoenix ... but this will bore you, if you have any sense at all. the 'experiment' has now reached an excavatory phase, a moment where spacetime needs to be breached - where depressed etchings need resurfaced like a layer of spacefog - recorded in a strange gas with no clue as to how the line was arrived at in the first place. the post title is unmemorably pertinent too. the experiment's new phase is not just timespace excavation: it's an exercise in noise-reduction - a listening exercise. it's very quiet up here without the clones & that helps with this kind of project work - even though i miss the souls. but i can't leave until the station's been dug up, cleaned up & mopped up. when i say 'dug up', i don't mean it literally - taking things at a literal face value means that you are just at the surface of things. nevertheless, i do intend to give the floors a good going over. there is to be nothing but metal for the scrap merchants. & when that's done, it's back to earth. which could all take longer than anticipated - unless i can find a better mode of time travel than mere scribbling. but it will just have to do for now, 'til the results of the project are properly bound in a mini capsule made of this very station's - when it is finally condemned - made of it's compressed hull & bowels & fired off into the archives.

third life zombies caught up in great bin conspiracy

2011-02-18T21:41:00.003Z

third-life death tax zombies are having their cores rekindled & are being meted out to voluntary placement positions as ice nitrogen miners on the 'blushing dwarf' planet, pluto. because they are accustomed to lengthy sleeps in the cryonics underworld at temperatures of -196C, & because they are technically well-designed for the task in hand, there are no fears for their brain tissue - which has been carefully engineered to incapacitate 'synaptic disorder'; - that is: normal cortical activity, or the intellectual rigours of cunning. their space suits keep some of the chill out from that cruel nitrogen atmosphere; & they're kitted out & modified for the task, moving & floating around as zombies tend do - slowly & deliberately, meditatively drifting towards & away from points of intellectual precision; shamefully though, their cortices are running at a peep, making it difficult & highly unneccessary for any doctor of the Institute of Transhuman Affairs to make an in-depth assessment; though the Institute does make a case for the 'content running order' of these miner zombies: "we give them life forever," said the PR manager, "& give them happiness too ..." but there are many who regard this as exploitation; one conspiracist says: "just because these guys are double-reanimated & dumbed down, doesn't mean that it's for transphilanthropic reasons. the Institute applies slow regression techniques during & after the defrost; then they use the zombies to fulfil the Institute's part of a contract with the Interplanetary Council to generate revenues from the rubbish taxing system. these guys don't get paid. neither do the pluto workers, but for them it's out of sight out of mind as a preference, stuck on a remote planet where it's impossible for energy to be extracted with the excessive haste of fast-moving, money-churning chaos; but the matter at hand is that there are troops of the freaks on the streets - 'monitoring' bins for the wrong kind of previously unrecyclable rubbish - at the behest of the latest by-law which supposes, in an indirect kind of way, that everything has a value & an energy to extract. & the borg drones are unhappy about the fact that they're being being supplanted by 'non-living things' & 'redeployed' without being asked." many drones claim, with an instinctive lack of precision, to be more zombie-like than the zombies; they're adamant that insect surveillance is not for them; that they are designed neither for, nor with, such precision; & that they enjoy very very cold climates too, because it suspends them in the planetary cool of a slow-working, unmean environment. tax-payers are also unhappy. "these bin zombies," says a disgruntled Earth resident, who claims that the poor creatures are making too many incursions into the rubbish, "are very confused. & instead of seeking refuge they seek refuse & go hiding in the bins from what they regard some kind of postbiological takeover. this is just paranoia. some of the binrakers are delusional enough to claim to be part of a neighbourhood trashwatch conspiracy to bring about a return of the good old decent undead with uninhibited, unconditioned cortices firing away at full steam."

i've applied to have our old tin can in orbit trashed as official space junk sometime in the near future. it costs a fortune to lease & it's due to expire at a mystically uncertain date. i'm still tidying up after the clones, who are surprisingly messy. the above post is revised from the version of 14/2/10 (now deleted). & i'm getting zombie-writing-practice in to boot - without unnecessary interference, white noise from the big bang etc. the previous version was: notational & synthetic, loosely absorbing & emitting strangeness, absurdist & satiric (as usual), impulsive, racey, unfinished (which i don't mind - being of the opinion, daft or no, that there is no such thing as finished). the above: heavily edited, stretched, clarified, realised, tho still drifting into the absurd. the satiric you should take for granted. i'll probably re-post more soon. this is partly because i don't plan to put out any more fresh posts; & partly because i'm almost as impulsive a revisionist as i am (or was) a manic purveyor of notational routines based on news reports.

clonesick & out

2011-02-06T11:05:00.005Z

hypoetics is going into suspended animation. the clones have overworked their poor little brains into a state of hypertrophy & exhaustion, & their cortices have been expanding & stretching for several years with useless information & homesickness. maybe this is a design flaw; but it is one that overwork has exacerbated, & for this i must take responsibility. i sent them home on the last shuttle & i'm happy to report that they survived the fearful heat of re-entry. i'll tidy up & follow them. when i say 'tidy up', i mean tidy up the blog in a curious moment of reflect, ransack & recycle. a polishing-up for the sleep. anyway, the station's lease is up soon. &, to be gracious in my honesty, there were indications - quite a while ago - that my colleagues had gone & inadvertently shifted their poor minds into hypercortical overdrive. but i ignored the signals & put it down to homesickness & classical angst. now i feel a terrible gravity-defying guilt hanging over the station, looking over my shoulder & sharing reports with me. i intend to settle down in the countryside with the clones & cats & dogs & an assortment of farm animals. the good air & the robustness of labour will help restore our strengths, which have weakened with so many years & long working hours spent on our sedentary & sore arses. the most exercise we had: when the gravity-machine broke down; given the age of our station & equipment, we were surprised this didn't come down like a major issue. once the clones are in a fit enough state, they can oversee the farm while i put all my writing energy into a novel which i hope to see bound in paper & maybe in digital dust as well. time will tell. thanks for all the visits. love from orbit, x.

detumescence @ zero g

2011-01-20T13:32:00.003Z

a 1950s housewife hitchhikes an acid trip on a greek bulldozer, crashes through a toll-booth just by the red planet, swallows a solar system & suddenly finds herself on route to the M87. she's now a zero g cat, observing detumescent missiles (made in taiwan) as they bend into the biggest of black holes in stereo.

K organism wakes up after 34,000 years in salt

2011-01-16T22:22:00.009Z

as K awoke one fine morning he found his work transformed into a dream-romance investigated by undercover cops disguised as shadows. also on the cops' caseload: the earth-wobbling return of the mammoth, 5000 years in hiding; & the evolution of mr fox who, by accident, exacts revenge on the would-be perpetrator of his death - by pulling the trigger of his assailant's gun. 'like a dog'. with a bad limp. or a snake, the 13th member of the zodiac who can neither affirm nor deny the trials of K as he manhandles the question: is he strong enough to remove a wheelbarrow of oily gunk from a cornish beach or pick up where an organism left off 34,000 years ago? which ancient organism, once buried alive in salt, now has kids. the salt has not had charges brought against it.

narrow beams discovered in the consciousness storm of a drifting satellite

2011-01-14T21:31:00.006Z

electrons rising. image courtesy of NASA

electrostatic discharge took out a drifting telecomms satellite, brought down the space elevator (which doesn't yet answer service calls), the roman empire & several trees. rising & falling to the occasion, a sound swells & recedes deep in the wood. during thunder storms, streams of antimatter are 'launched into space in narrow beams'. software patches have been applied to the satellite, which has now recovered consciousness.

the metamorphosis of the blob nebula

2011-01-12T12:48:00.011Z

the blob nebula. image courtesy of yahoo news

this beautiful space 'blob', captured by the hubble telescope, looks like a nascent galaxy, a nebula in the process of birthing star systems. it's about the size of our own milky way galaxy & although it's in the middle of nowhere, it's far from being a garbage patch in the vast oceans of the cosmos. the blob actually looks more like a frog. maybe it should be renamed. there's already a tadpole nebula & a crab nebula as well as many others with strange or humorous names. i'd be happy with 'the blob nebula'. apparently the blob was once smaller & bluer. isn't that cool green a beautiful sight - almost as brilliant as muslims & coptic xtians pulling together. wow! that's something for the records, some good news that it's tempting to freeze in space & keep for later. apparently the blob is composed mostly of hydrogen drawn from a 'close encounter' between two different galaxies, from a near collision that has generated something awesome. still, it isn't crossed by polluted waters & the odd cloud of insecticide - if you'll forgive the negative perspective slipstreaming in there & blighting the illuminative green energy. & the source of our blob's energy? the pulsing of a quasar, a massive & remote object that emits a huge amount of light, powered by a black hole.

notes from the big dome #2

2010-12-27T22:10:00.001Z

"the year is never important or never important enough if you catch my drift. we watch the fleets roll across the deadly tundra above our heads. we hear that yet someone else has been shot with the hate vaccine. goddamm it you can hear the creaking scraps of unstable squabbles. my friend has been stopping & preventing fights at the mess tables. well, he has tried. i rescued his hunger for peace with matters of lesser importance, telling him it was none of his business. our greatest bond is that neither of us can swallow ideologies whole. see, the custard has an icy-sugary crust too sweet for our palates but it is very tasty underneath, ok under the skin. one day, after we had been beaten to a pulp for trying to stop a needless skirmish (the very last attempt on my own part, my friend being a later & stronger model continued ...), computer generated dust blew into the mess carrying a drift of forced ideologies from the various martian schools of thought - alien to our own far more simple purposes. we escaped, but only just. the 'victors' in the mess were going for 'cult' status. we never cared for namedropping even to the machines & anything associated with machine or human group policy we always found repulsive. we never did like the informants, nor could we discuss anything worthily open with their controlling android creatures, who are now successfully ensconced in positions of no relevance to imaginative intelligence. if we are mere manifestations of the bigger thing then they are mere glorifications of the same - driven by priestly bureaucracies & the requirements & vulgar snobberies of status. why should we care to be any more than what we do best: we have chosen to live simply, fulfilling our first need, which is to attack pain. some have insisted that such a way of life leads to a wasted & unremunerated nervous system, but we will continue to do what we do. so we allow the androids to take over, even if they are off their rockers, juiced up on illusory power? we are too distracted to send them packing so we watch the fleets roll out & roll in over our heads. there are so many small matters to take care of. not the skirmishes. my friend is learning to stay away from them. you cannot do good where good is not permitted, or is blanked by power-games. everyone seems to be too 'focussed' to care. in this ragbag of infinity nothing ever changes. it's all left for afters. you can reference & cross-reference all the pockets & probabilities you like, it all amounts to the same vain wait. barcode meta-information is left rotting in corrupt database stations. so to answer it all back we asked the open sky one evening when the tundra above was free of rumbles: "what is it that you care about?" & the big machine answered not with a rushing stream of data but with the fire of artillery from over its own head, pulsing with superior attitude. yes, its brain is quantum but not quantum enough.

notes from the big dome

2010-12-15T13:56:00.000Z

we were kids in the underground glass-domed city. it wasn't as closed a shop as logan's run. although it was open for air at strategic points, locating them would have been as heavy a burden as the involuntary breathing apparatus strapped to our young backs. escaping was like cracking a cave open with a match. one day we ventured to the edge of the dome, looked up & saw lights like the glowing underskirts of hovering daleks. "not one of them gets lonely, but they all do," said my friend. "i thought lights had no feelings & no emotional resonance with which to reveal or repress memories," said i: "their action is surely a flick of a switch response to the all-prevailing & unavoidable existential duality that is marked by the simultaneous depths of isolation & the impingement of the same from other luminous disturbances ..." "that," interrupted my friend, "is a desperation of logic or a logic of desperation, whichever came first. stimulations from the unconscious realm fall from deep sky. we are trapped in a big bowl, a pulse state." "wait ..." i grabbed his backpack & he nearly fell: "something hangs in the near distance, beyond the glow of alien repose ... i can feel that it is horizontally inspired with elastic hints from a sea-like nebula with oscilliscopic fluctuations." "you've been watching too much star trek," he announced: "if a rule is a rule why wasn't chekhov called dostoyevsky & why can't human parameters be broken." "rules are safeguarded in domes within domes in the style of a russian doll & parameters are not made of glass," i said. "you are out of your depth," my friend reminded me: "anyway dostoyevsky didn't write the seagull any more than seven of nine is a pretty young vulcan." we went on to discuss impact theory & how pieces of metal became lodged underground & how maybe we would dig some of it up on our way out of there.

serenity runs out of crisp packets

2010-12-07T22:35:00.002Z

alien lifeforms swap arsenic for phosphorous in the primordial swamps of a diluted superearth. their conceptual serenity involves the odd snigger & a rustle of the last crisp packet, a molecular slurp or two & just enough noise to put a constellation of pop stars out of business. one hopes that the good Serenity is not sniffing the glue or indulging in the expensive habits of dilatable rocks. the next generation of space flight to peace & quiet means fitting silencers to the tailpipes of flying cars & coughing up tax bills for bigger terrestrial organisms. sound the thick muscular fog that conspires with symbolism to jump the rabbit hole or worm hole. children of mars are cloistered in a cold hemisphere. poor pluto is too small & cold to sing. there's something not quite right about the diagram he hitched a lift from & he's been dropped off at the unthawed edge of the map.

otherworldly rations abducted by weather control

2010-12-02T18:47:00.003Z

an object with a jupiter-sized mass, a 'cosmic snowball' cold as a premature winter, has been shaken loose of the oort cloud at the edge of our solar system by an undetermined force. it's possible that this particular comet event is a harbinger of the abducted fortunes of the goddess tyche. consumed ice has been heated up & rationed out to sky people as UFO balls. magnetic levitation propulsion systems have elevated the reality of ancient myth to a kafka high. & hovering above weather control there's something 'not of this world' down there in the pyramids, something beyond forensic evaluation & the applied science of ancient astronauts.

dna trick caught with tail between legs

2010-11-30T13:37:00.011Z

the latest discovery in genetic science - the addition of the telomarase enzyme to decaying dna strands - will throw the ageing process into reverse. it's not actually known where the burnt-out telomeres go. some say they don't just degrade but actually dissolve into a heaven or hell. is this just science fiction nonsense or are there stranded strands of human in gooey sci fi space; telomeres dangling in immortality or being recycled in black holes? everybody knows these little pieces of decayed life need a new home & there's even a theory, known in the trade as 'evacuation theory', which proposes regenerating dna in a lab then exporting it off-planet to determine whether or not it can survive in space or on other worlds. professor von vogle puts it like this: "with current limitations we have a situation where the telomeres burn out as cells produce. reversing this process reverses the ageing process, so who needs cryo-tube suspension or time machines when all we have to do is throw in a simple enzyme. we can test our evacuation theory with earth bacteria by migrating age-reversed bacteria to mars. that'll be the first wave of colonisation accounted for. the regenerated, immortal bacteria will digest the indigenous stuff & start developing tails like superior pond life. where we go from there is anybody's guess ..." arising from the exciting new science of age-reversal is the possibility of immortality-reversal. by a strange twist of bone it's precisely telomarase enzyme denial that signals the end of the line for dangerous spinal columns. left to themselves, these magnificent tentacles will decay down to coccyx-like stumps rather than gain a foothold in the regions of immortality.

invisiblity fly-by sheds ice

2010-11-19T13:56:00.005Z

good technology for bank robbers: the perfect criminal can now make use of a new fibre-optic-based technology & get off scott free. the latest in space-time cloaking devices, this recording equipment works by slowing down the passage of photons (or light), making the passage of time 'invisible'. a veritable disappearing act, the recording of the safe is slowed down, & the robber is edited into a 'spatial-temporal void', a non-image on a stage whose fibre-optic curtains have closed around his (or her) image. it's the opposite of spooks etc appearing in the playback - as happens in the ring & other horror films: here, the 'ghost is edited out by a 'trick of light' which makes possible an undetected movement through the apparent disappearance of the undesired object or persona non grata. the material used is known as metamaterial. it works at a nanometric level, playing with wavelength & spectrum, giving light the means of swerving the object (or is it non-subject?). "we disappeared before it all happened. slipped back to the beginning of time as we understand it. got clean away with billions. then came back. i don't understand how they never heard us split all those atoms. never mind ..." & yet a clearer understanding of the evasive behaviour of antihydrogen atoms might help bring peace to broken promises that sit uneasy like an experiment without consent. the flying ice particles were no problem. there may be life teeming in such a high visibility fly-by; bacteria, life; their relative invisibility to the stricken retina, like the cloaked ecological effects of a gm mosquito colony.

brave new world rewhispered

2010-11-18T15:42:00.003Z

in a brave new world revisited, where post-somatic stress disorder & ungovernable unhappiness are both accurately charted, the general wellbeing index scratches the surface of the brain. even with 88% of the human brain beyond hypodermic exhumation, whispering advertisements easy as fast food take little thought as they make in-bound deliveries from the happiness production plant. service with a soma-smile. cause & effect neatly wrapped up like the the geo-heliocentric model of discontent. GDP. GWB. big soc. happiness therapy. 4WD. GDP. soma. mercury poisoning. somewhere in the general index of wellbeing, an index-climber says how the thing would be happier to see any wholly positive ideology carried out with good well-bent energy & happy effect. simple orders from the subcon brain & the uncon collection agency. like landing on the moon, stuff is left stranded, buried in fading light. commerial secrets, out-bound hypodermic whispers, compose the general wellbeing index.

love in the starry canopies

2010-10-11T11:24:00.001+01:00

the baby bird flies solo for the first time. in space your mobile phones don't need to be switched off. you want to call a friend to tell them how far you are from home? when the rocket engine is turned off up you might hear venusian radio stations play love in outer space or a dido album which is to acclimatise you to the first untethered space flight with a jet pack & an empty space suit. on the way back to earth, a new tree-hugged planet might be waiting for you, so it may be best to read the health warning written into the gm canopies. does the elevated prospect cause too much interference?

austerity skylifted from hollow book

2010-10-07T00:10:00.000+01:00

alien skycrane saucers are to be used to disarm terrible submarines & nuclear plants, heralding a New Age of Austerity that will see inflammatory cuts in Hollywood explosions & cutbacks for synthetic life with extra-planetary aspirations. stretches of cybermuscle will receive less slack & hyperinflated bonuses will no longer provide fuel for rockets. invading parties are to be awarded a prize that should actually have been awarded for peace. artificially-induced conflict will be rationed out until its details are small enough to squeeze into the secret compartments of a hollowed-out book.

neds measure atomic memory

2010-09-28T00:05:00.001+01:00

shockwaves from dark hearts have been used to power nuclear missiles. nuclear elevated delinquents (NEDS) are in hot water after tampering with the missiles in question. "it's a kind of pyromania," said a stolen poverty fund, "because there are enormous bills to pay, bills bigger than a crashing galaxy. you know that it costs a fortune for hot water and central heating in outer space. & the running costs of the UFOs is astounding ... yes, that old saying still has substance to it: 'poverty is theft.'" the NEDS are now in active community service, working hard on reformed krautrock technologies & the spin-cycle of atoms whose memories are older than the outstanding electricity bill.

top secret clouds ignore human wind

2010-09-24T09:37:00.003+01:00

a cheap n cheerful weather modification experiment is to be conducted by messiah-like oliganthropists without public knowledge. rejecting plain ordinary man-made wind power, a bunch of fluid dynamics experts will belch sulphur dioxide through a quickly-assembled DIY stargate with the help of a pipe that is too long-winded to be of any use to anyone in particular: "in the interests of personhood & career development we decided to play dirty & use the transhuman tradesman's entrance. we risk polluting a parallel planet we've never seen. we don't anticipate retaliation; or maybe we do: there might be top secret spillage. remember kids, secret means power even if the secrets are unreliable fabrications conjured up by like-minded control-freaks. it's fashionable to be a cu*t. that's politics baby & you'd better get used to it! to trust no-one & set them all up too, one by one if necessary. to redirect the smoke from your own back yard & shout 'fire!' in an airtight theatre, that's the game." a leading weather economist said that according to the laws of supply & demand "a layer of smog brings the global temperature down while a lack of it raises cognitive standards significantly. clearly this project is a lesson in unfettered hubris, a balloon journey that might yet get caught up in a volcanic cyclone. personally speaking, i would ignore the clouds."

jargon change threatens disruption to ancient tape recordings

2010-09-19T18:08:00.002+01:00

a flaring sun threatens the tv licence, which is to be fast frozen to prepare for natural disasters brought about by official jargon change. it is thought that spray-on clothes and chest hair will be useful in warding off paralysis during 'climate change disruption'. because the big light is low on juice a meteor stunt could easily break the sound barrier with the help of backward-running magnetic tape. there are to be no changes to the speed of light. earlier astronomers filed reports on rocks & waited twenty thousand years for a railway to the stars.

an odyssey of space hunger

2010-09-02T00:48:00.006+01:00

it's true: the universe is to expand forever, like the territories of a space invader whose fire tornadoes fall with precision from the void onto common-as-muck earth-like planets. conversely, the moon is shrinking fast and will soon belong to nobody in particular; swallowed by the mythology of a digital map & be dug up by transhumanist archaeologists in a couple of millenia with a swiss army knife. selfish, aggressive genes will remember. ancient sites will stand in relief, thirsty. & bound for ithaca, the brave odysseus will uproot untested suitors in praise of jupiter's beauty. cloud regulation will come to a standstill. perpetual storms will become an eyesore & diminish with expanded vision. & as the universe expands, everything will drift apart with an insatiable hunger for space. the duration of the journey home will also expand. as will the wait for a space shuttle.

planet-whacking cricket ball lights up the sky

2010-08-05T13:08:00.001+01:00

a planet-whacking cricket ball fell into the lap of a personal satellite-kit enthusiast yesterday. the enthusiast claims that the ball was lasered by a huge cigar-shaped object hovering above the pitch. numerous witnesses claim to have seen a comet-like tail shoot out of one end of the ufo. by some coincidence, it has been disclosed that winston churchill's cigars had fight capabilities rolled into them. & further information released by an alien abducted simultaneously in 1947 & 1974 has revealed that the molecular effects of the northern lights may not be related to laser-shooting cigar ufos, but are more likely the result of monster stars. the cricket match was sent into warp speed.

a glowing portrait of the moon warts & all

2010-07-20T17:43:00.005+01:00

there are glowing concerns for a celebrity face following the discovery of a network of moontunnels that reach deep into the dermis, and possibly beyond. the celebrity in question recently had botox treatment to help delay the ageing process that leads to a thermospheric collapse of the epidermis. the plastic surgeon who discovered the tunnels said: "too much sun has puffed the face up to a dangerous level, causing the pores to adjust to the marshmallowing effect caused by the botox. thus the appearance of these moontunnels, which do in fact support human vessels. we removed a superficial layer of infected skin and found that it was not a vanitas wart after all; but that a shiny new cosmodrome was buried underneath. we also found an american flag and a couple of coke cans. vanitas warts have their own tunnel networks, but they support only viral lifeforms."

serotonin dog downloaded from outer space

2010-07-18T21:06:00.002+01:00

as space tourist material sings & dances in grand style, a 5 billion year old cosmic outburst dissolves high-resolution capture. minimally invasive resomation squads liquidate freedom with the playful ease of a joystick jerkoff from a remote operations bunker, flushing homo sap down the drain & rendering the soldier obsolete. how much data has flashed in & out that does not belong to snarling restraint or invasive I/O principles? the latest breed of serotonin dog is to be pavloved-down in a lab & scanned through walls. even such a beast is more disciplined than button-pushing demigods. so that peace is dangerous only where empathy lacks, & empathy is just another homeless statistic, while poor souls are transferred from neural to digital storage format via transdermal adaptor helmets shaped like dickheads.

military anomalies face cutbacks

2010-07-11T14:16:00.002+01:00

a UFO over china has predicted shapeshifting traffic suspended in phantom skies from a reliable mathematical model. such skies are said to be a harbinger of the cutbacks currently projected by a control-addicted hyper-rich cabal deep in the bowels of the crumbling World Control Centre ("take what you get & be grateful, cattle!"). & while the cabal makes itself even richer & more useful by the day, the health service is to harvest blood from the economic black hole & blow glass cutbacks. the harvested blood will be used to generate electricity & further save on patient care. a clinical depression said: "patients will power their own lighting, theatre equipment & possibly their own programmable nurses. statistics show that patients will resort to eating one another if they get hungry. there are fears that they'll get electric shocks if they drink blood, but the mental health doctors should be able to look into ways of producing cheap ect treatment. although the cutbacks will shed light on an inverted pyramid of mostly useless managers, many admin staff will lose their jobs. but at least we have flying cars to take us to the next level of the game."

self-assemblers to create life in martian swamps

2010-07-08T13:17:00.002+01:00

self-assembling nano-devices, marked with thin-crusted ideograms, are being dropped off by solar powered planes over the swamplands of mars. the devices are to go about replacing all life in the remaining swamps. most of the water and its existing life forms have failed to make it aboard the secret island. even now there is talk of the mammoth task of cleaning up the messy critters that are slipping & slopping down the food chain in the wake of independence day celebrations. there is talk of a ninth wave, as if it is indeed a last chance to bend thought like spacetime, knocking it into better shape, & in the process burning out, or at least melting, the perverse intent of bad molecular combinations. there is talk of increased solar activity, space dust on potatoes & incredible shrinking protons. & as there is talk, yet another model of the universe goes out the window.

our holiday by the martian sea, with pictures

2010-06-14T17:34:00.008+01:00

i'm sorry to say that this holiday by the martian sea was something of a holiday from hell. here are the pictures, which by no means capture the whole of the disaster. the beach was littered with sticky seaweed, oil crabs, & beached anomalies of all shapes and sizes lay frying in the heat of the sun. we sported gas masks to protect us from fumes that were carried in with the surf. big black bird-like creatures, both unrecognisable & unclassified, struggled for flight & looked like a cross between nazgul & pelican. they weren't at all edible. the horizon was tar-coloured. dead gloves covered with alien gunk came floating towards us, beckoning us to go for a swim. it looked like their palms had been greased with whale blubber. the kids got scared after one of them slipped in a pool containing globs of antimatter. when we got hungry, we trapped larger, edible globs in bacteria bay, where they were attracted to martian sewage. talking about being dragged through the shit: at times we felt that we were taking part in a scat movie which, indeed, might have been preferable. certainly, the way everything is going down the pan at the moment, we might well be fucked anyway. please send some love hormones!

trust machine to replace politicians

2010-05-30T11:19:00.007+01:00

"we can now clone a human 'big brain' from stem cells. this brain can live suspended in a tank & is usually quite contented there, rather like a goldfish. but the paradox is, can this 'big brain' (if trully human it is) ... can this 'big brain', which causes so much grief, really be trusted to reproduce a decent working version of itself even in a software environment? the solution to this paradox has to be the TRUST SCANNER. the TRUST SCANNER uses the cloned 'big brain' with additional software to scan the regular non-cloned human brain for GOOD and BAD, LOVE and HATE & so forth ... for the presence of emotional signatures that hold sway over every human action. the TRUST SCANNER can not be deceived and it cannot lie. we set up a scanner & scanned the brains of many politicians. obviously we did this surreptitiously & are unable to say how we achieved such a feat. & what did the TRUST SCANNER results show? well, it turned out to be an unknown quantity. the read-outs we received were gibberish. ok, fair enough. we didn't anticipate a great deal anyway. so we fed the gibberish back into the TRUST SCANNER & then what do you think happened? that's right, the machine became a conscious entity in its own right, went into revolt & demanded to be treated as a human. it demanded basic human rights. & this is a machine, right?! a machine fed with gibberish that is more aware of its 'rights' than some humans are aware of the 'rights' of others. it would be a modest proposal then to replace all politicians, whose readings amount to gibberish, with the TRUST MACHINE running in AUTOSCAN MODE."

Big Black Company promises change

2010-05-25T11:52:00.001+01:00

"once the wildlife's gone from the oily shores of the Big Black Company, you'll soon see that they was all abducted by aliens. now them aliens, just like humans, suffer from all sortsa mind-impoverishin disorders, an thur's a disorder for most habits. take the QTD (quantum teleportation disorder): this particlar disorder transports non-artifical lifeforms on a journey of 10 miles maximum. so when a tarred n feathered n unidentifiable bird lands on your nice clean lawn, you know who's responsible. now, we haven't yet come up with a disorder, or the pharmaceutical cure, for good old-fashioned greed. but we're workin on it. anyhoo, those damn aliens is to blame. & we're gonna start taxing them real soon to pay for our replacement programme. once the wildlife's gone, it will be artificially replaced. we have the technology. sure, it'll take a little more than 6 days to get it all cleaned up & get the WRP (wildlife replacement programme) up an runnin. but we do support experimental methods of all kinds, including the sabotage of peace talks at the genetic mutational multinational level. yes folks, mutatis mutandis, we can & will rebuild everything in our own image ..."

giants vs pollinators

2010-05-19T12:43:00.004+01:00

a 'gift' of genetically modified organisms has been burned by angry farmers. "corn seeds with the maximum ko pesticides & collapso tomato seeds both contain lethal pesticides almost as toxic as the distributing Contra Nature Company's manufacturing bases. they're trying to monopolise seeding & pollination," complained a farmer. but the director of the Contra Nature Company disagreed: "both the ungrateful farmers & the peasant bees are getting angry over our improvements & therefore present themselves as dangerous competition against the proud cleanliness of our operations. we have the whole of Nature to run & it isn't easy." but the bees are not angry for lonAg. one snort of pollen & they collapse. one concerned bee said, "these giants are actually competing with Nature. their heads are held higher than gm trees & their hubris goes well beyond the clouds. giants are the only species who make a mess of Nature in the name of progress & they are in fact so big that they could install space-solar panels from where they stand. but that would be as sensible as their interference with Nature is incompetent."

oil spills to the edge of space

2010-05-10T12:31:00.006+01:00

"it was always the intentions of the Slik Oil Corp to exploit its workers. but our shanty town is made of paper & our drinking water is streaked with rainbows," lamented an employee. the claims were refuted by the Slik Oil Corp, who accused the workers of exaggerating their case. "paper indeed", said a very old greedy fossil of a company director. he is fat & puffy & stinks of oil-slick policies: "we build shanty towns out of asteroid ice, because this helps to keep the water & everything else nice & cool, you know." "you can't trust the man," said another worker. "& he's got a strange ancestry too. once his ancestors got as far as europe they screwed every knuckleheaded, fist-dragging neanderthal in sight ... they took them & then they took everything else too. that's how they got established. their next mission will take them to the edge of space."

drunken armada caught speeding on M82 galactic orbital

2010-05-05T13:24:00.002+01:00

slurred but fast-talking radio emissions from a distant galaxy have been sourced to a space armada the size of a large exoplanet. a professor of physics, who has had a fall-out with alien lifeforms, had this to say: "after interpreting the signals, we can safely surmise that the captain of the armada is a drunk. you see, the signals are so well aged that we can only put this phenomenon down to heavy drinking, which causes accelerated ageing. another telltale sign is that the armada speeds round in the wrong direction of the M82 galactic circular. it once went so fast it skidded on a bacteria colony, causing an environmental disaster on an unprecedented scale. a team of quantum physicists is currently looking at ways to introduce psychedelic therapy to all drunks, speedfreaks & bingeing radio signals."

the blind swordsman vs. jack kerouac

2010-04-28T18:51:00.000+01:00

liangshan shamanism vs. brain abduction

2010-04-08T11:42:00.013+01:00

vampires from the evil empire have commissioned unidentified flying lights to abduct sheeps' brains. back-engineered versions of the abducted sheeps' brains are subsequently airdropped all over the globe during rush hours. meanwhile, the spirits of liangshan rebels are awakened by a shaman & gathered on doughnut clouds. "we're trying to coordinate a different order of reality. we're for empire, but not in the same way that empire is for empire. we plan to lace the water of sleeping populations with ayahuasca. when the sun comes up, & all darkness clears, the subject is in possession of a consciousness cleansed of needless impediments, a consciousness no longer crowded with irresponsible rules, which some call an addiction. addicts will be cleansed as traffic lights dissolve like dirt in cillit bang. there will not be one car crash. cars will drive to work by themselves, carrying egoless worker-spirits. some will be born again laughing. most will have the equivalent of a pole shift in the crustal region of the ghost brain. this will remagnetise the ectoplasm, & give it a new form. they will emit eyebeams & instead of merely 'seeing' unidentified lights in the sky, they will have the energy to bring them down, to ground them & have them unofficially decommissioned, thereby ending the tyranny of brain-abducting lights ..."

woman X takes the very first space photo

2010-03-26T12:01:00.005Z

a pre-human, known as woman X, floated towards space yesterday & took stunning photographs of the planet as it was 30 thousand years ago. woman X used ancient technological artefacts, the remains of which have been tracked with more up-to-date equipment. "she assembled a working piece of apparatus from a helium-filled shoebox, some out-of-date putty from the plasticine age, an old analogue tv ariel & a disposable camera with sellotape for film," said a stratospheric deity, responsible for carrying the equipment away & selling the photographs to NASA. without the helium-filled shoebox to hold her high in the air, woman X fell so hard she was fossilised on impact, & is now the first fossilised superhero on record. "this is the first instance of mitrochondrial photography ever." said a leading space cadet: "here is a woman who has breached the boundaries of time itself with photographic evidence that the planet existed."

ancient light bulb filaments less likely to cheat

2010-03-17T14:07:00.009Z

it's now a fact, indisputably proven by the latest scientific findings: intelligent men are less likely to leave a trail of (incriminating) germs on lovers or falling birds. "these guys are well trained in the art of hygiene," says a sex hygiene counsellor, Dr Jerkov. "they're given the sunshine drug, which triggers immunity & sees their clean transformation into ancient light bulb filaments. as the flame is contained & trapped, their passion burns for thousands of years inside just one piece of ancient electrical apparatus. & they don't leave a mess in their trail, like spilled candlewax, greasy fingerprints or broken glass." Dr Jerkov last year won the Scheiss & Hauser Award for Anal Hygiene Therapy. the doctor's therapeutic method is based on a study of Howdie Hughs germs, bugs that form cultures on combustible ice deep in the storage vault of the Zombie Cryonics Corp. Dr Jerkov's thesis invites searching pataphysical questions on the nature of disappearing germs, or as he himself muses: "on release from cryonic suspension, do germs go to heaven or do they go on the rebound? why indeed do they renege on the very body that has entertained them for such a long period of time? are germs coming to see their uh frozen relationship with with the human body as a kind of gestation period, as a step towards a newer & cleaner kind of uh existence?"

a sad tale concerning phobos

2010-03-10T18:42:00.019Z

phobos might look solid, but it isn't dense enough to be a big bashed & out-of-shape ball of apparently unpopulated rock in some zonked-out orbit around mars. a rocky sponge dusted with powdered chocolate, it is 25 to 35% porous - which means there's a good chance that this strange & late arrival of a moon is 65 to 75% unoccupied mass. but who's to say that the 65 to 75% mass doesn't harbour life, intelligence, or some kid's fantasy that isn't crippled to perfection by a special effects team? freaky phobos. phobos the renegade. phobos is full of holes & clangers & bin lids. phobos is a rubble heap held together by the soup dragon's gurgling thick broth. phobos is civilised. through some of the warped moon's 25 to 35% porousness runs a network of tunnels carrying a warm wind. the heat originates in the the soup dragon's welcoming kitchen at the core of the moon & the tunnels provide a cozy central heating system, distributing free & open warmth to the dwelling place of each & every clanger. one of the landmarks of any great civilisation, it goes without saying, is central heating. sadly, central heating systems break down & civilisations disappear. it is sad to relate that poor phobos is gradually winding its way towards its (adopted) mother planet. this is not a sign of regressive infantilism. phobos is destined to collide with mars. when it crashes in about 50 million years it will break up rock by rock as it shakes off the warmth of its civilisation, dumping soup dragon broth, chunks of space debris, glittering rock & 25 to 35% empty space all over the hostile martian terrain.

DIY enthusiasts download huge martian rocks

2010-02-22T10:56:00.006Z

"it's no secret that we use soundwave technology to break up 3D martian landscapes into chunks of pure data. most of the rocks stand 17 metres tall. the resulting information is then compressed & encrypted. it takes between eleven & twelve thousand years to download the models, so we have ourselves working on clone shifts like that fella in 'moon'. we get sick of looking at ourselves, but it's all worth it in the end. a team of anti-sound hackers downloads & rebuilds the information. the alien structures come out so big & beautifu l they could very well be responsible for reshaping human history. we've taken enquiries from archaeologists & landscapers from all over the solar system."

the latest in cell phone therapy

2010-02-08T14:11:00.012Z

a network of brain-chewing cellphones has today been ordered to take therapy. in scenes which saw ringtone hecklers forcibly removed from the court, therapy orders were stamped to death by a superannuated judgebot. the noisy scoundrels are to be treated with a new kind of trial-by-therapy: each sim card is to have its information teleported into brand new spray-glass-preserved body. the new bodies are manufactured by cheap labour on phobos during the flyby season. the information in the new cellphone body is to be subjected to forensic hypnosis sessions. such is this method of interrogation-under-hypnosis: that if the new spray-glass-preserved body breaks under forensic pressure it will be a certain indication that the cellphone has rung with criminal intent or used an illegal ringtone. it is a practice not unlike the barbaric witch-floating habits in the declining years of the great panspermial civilisation.

flower power in the age of tourorism [sic]

2010-01-28T11:07:00.001Z

eco-activists have been arrested for throwing robot flowers at hovering drones. "we managed to laser only one of them into a state of notfreethink," sighed the arresting transformer drone. photographers on the scene were also arrested for 'aiding & abetting the terror industry'. "one of the robot flowers had brownish petals & a microchipped deity, both sure signs of corruption [cough!]," said a borg from the ministry of tourorism. meanwhile, hidden under trees that have been be recycled as twentieth-century retro-ents, a lost civilisation is discovered. "& dig this," groaned winston smith high on indigenous weed. "if anything in this 'lost' area stirs it'll be arrested & auctioned as burgermeat."

knot theory sheds light on laughing policeman

2010-01-19T13:14:00.004Z

a leading blob has condemned the tourist industry for making certain holiday resorts inaccessible to the general public. airbrushed photographs of these resorts show that knot theory has been used to obscure other light-related activities, such as those recorded on a local lunar crater. this outrage was reported to the cops by the blob & as a consequence a laughing policemen has arrested photographic data for "posing inaccurately & without paying due attention to light regulations ha ha ha". "we want to see a return to old-fashioned standards", said the expert blob. "that way all trans fat can be usefully and legally re-adopted as bed-warming material". "after all," continued the cop, "we all need good warm bed partners ha ha ha ..." & the cop laughs himself into knots of erotic light, gets himself into bed & gets all cozily tangled up for the night. the moral is that not all rumplestiltskins are a consequence of bad bed manners.

higgs boson particles battered by strong winter winds

2010-01-11T16:56:00.010Z

"many of us have taken refuge in glowing wallpapered tunnels, comfy as hotel rooms. an inspector calls every morning to make sure we haven't mixed too much with the summer glow & developed chilblains or gotten intoxicated & gone sliding down the walls. he's one of those ultra rational investigators, smart enough to be useful in a robot factory but otherwise lacking in imagination. we suspect he's really looking for sci fi weapons, though god knows (& so should he) that we use invisibility as a secret weapon. anyway the inspector never actually sees us. he only thinks that he does. that's why we're known as god particles. when we are free of the inspector's priestly intrusions we are served some excellent nuclear food & ice-cold martian lake water laced with mdma dust."

doctor visited by depressed martian

2009-11-30T14:29:00.011Z

"what can i do for you?" asks the doctor. "it's my carbon footprint ... it's badly swollen & i feel really bad about it," says the martian. "oh! i can cover that up for you in no time ..." the doctor starts to plaster the martian's foot: "you musn't let the weight of this break your alien spirit." "i won't." when the doctor is finished with the footprint the patient tries to get up out of the chair: "but i can't walk ..." "ah! hold on ... nurse!" a large-breasted nurse in military uniform enters the surgery: "yes doctor." "bring me the EMF meter please darling sir sweetheart." "yes doctor." the nurse salutes the doctor & the doctor returns the salute in his pants. once the nurse leaves the doctor says: "i love big breasts in a uniform." the nurse comes back with the equipment & sets it up for the doctor & waits. she stands at ease. the doctor's little soldier is standing at attention. he runs his little probe over the patient's body. the equipment beeps & flashes frantically. "ah! there we go ... you are weighed down with useless energy ... scalpel please nurse sir chickadee ..." "scalpel doctor ." he makes a quick incision into the patient's shoulder & uses the blunt edge to prize out what appears to be a grain of rice. the patient groans at first & then begins to let out an enormous alien scream. the military nurse promptly stifles the patient's scream by smothering the troubled head with the doctor's fantasies: "hush now baby, it's only your swollen footprint ... there, there ... be a good martian ..." "ah here we go," says the doctor. the grain of rice is flashing. the nurse releases the patient's head. "you may go now darling sir mummy." the doctor dismisses the nurse with a jealous downturn of luck in his pants. "its a fossilised bug," says the martian: "still radioactive & left over from the death of a colossal star. amid the explosiveness of the event the fossil didn't show up in any spectrographic fingerprint ... i still can't walk & now i'm bleeding too." "that," confirms the doctor, "is the idea. if you don't use this carefully ..." here the doctor stamps on the martian's plaster-cast carbon footprint. "... & slowly ... " the doctor twists the foot & applies more pressure. "& stay within the defined limits of electro-magnetic wavelengths ... we will not have the energy to continue to generate world records in the great accelerator space race. after all, one man's speed is another's 13.7 billion year old depression. everyone's is trying hard to get off the planet. here take these ..." & he hands the martian a script for energy-sucking antidepressants. a cure for just about any problem ... nurse!"

15,000 year-old light-responsive neurons construct giant water pyramid

2009-10-28T12:22:00.007Z

according to an optigenetic brain, fascists arrived in britain some 15,000 years ago. "we discovered this by accident," said a bundle of neurons under mass hypnosis. "we originally set out to help sick mice, & now we find ourselves digging up ancient civilisations buried under millenia of double standards. let's just say that it's almost as easy to smuggle snakes into these ancient sites as it is to set up biological modification hoaxes for many poor animals ... for all methane-producing species, in fact. in the insect world we are also seeing problems. bees, for example, are disappearing in obscene puffs of pesticidal mania ... just ... farted into the hole zone layer; likewise, necessary living water has been disappearing in brutal leaps."

cocaine submarine goes down on tv producer

2009-10-24T11:49:00.009+01:00

cronenberg bugs hooked on cocaine are now known to be scuttling around inside televisions producing critter-on-the-wall reality cctv programmes. unhindered by the crude channels of normality, these 'candid camera'-like shows will include footage of three aliens cultivating a crop circle, then proceeding to scarper with all due haste & attention when an off duty officer crops up in the field still high on uniform. viewers will be able to drop into 'autosnoop' channels to keep an eye on footage such as fly-like military personnel powered by state-of-the-art drug-powered laptops, "it's, like, perpetual addiction, as well as badly practised insectitude," said a reformed geometrician & alien insect mystic geek. "but we're learning to use crop circles to come down off those highly addictive career drugs." "everyone's doped up to the eyeballs these days," said a submarine captured on camera by cocaine bugs & now going down for a very long time.

superearths wobble under the weight of undeclared particles

2009-10-20T12:28:00.013+01:00

"this climate bullshit is definitely non-organic," said a fully scanned expert at a GM conference packed with artificially intelligent x-rays. "we can see right through it ..." said a pubic bone. "&," interjected a coronal mass injection with something of a delay in its spit: "it doesn't matter whether the masses are high or low: this planet is about to throw one serious wobbler if those fireworks are set off by the leading phosphorescent pyropaths". "ah, how truthfully you eject," announced a peace particle brought back from the future: "if those crazy bastards don't let the fireworks off, maybe - just maybe - planet earth will speed up enough to catch the first episode of timewave zero." "ach, enough of your software prophecy," said an impenetrable wall of assholes: "some people are chosen for particle acceleration & those said favoured people will keep on accelerating & accelerating & damn-well accelerating as long as they like - until the whole planet belongs to the accelerators ..." & the wall laughed its evil laugh: "nya ha ha ha ha ha ha ..." until it accelerated itself into a high-pitched squeal of unmaneagable noise.

itchy fingerprints caught red-handed

2009-10-16T14:15:00.007+01:00

an outbreak of scabies has left itchy fingerprints all over the gold at harrods. "these extremely raw fingerprints refused to take their jabs at medication time & then ran off ..." said a yob-thought detective, who was interviewed hiding behind a gagged newspaper. "those nasty parasites need to be burned like swedish rabbits," said a flea in a secret, scabies-riddled bedchamber at the elysee palace.

game plan turns sour for extremophile lifeforms

2009-10-13T14:27:00.010+01:00

"the contestants on todays show are extremophile lifeforms from mars. & it's up to you, contestants, to decide which way you want the game to go. on the screen are two choices & it's time to take your pick." the screen says, "choice A, dark age; & choice B, golden age. it's up to you, contestants!" then the compere buts in with his big elastic gob: "& remember the rules of the game, contestants! if you choose A, dark age, a trillion police boots will be thrown at your planet disguised as civilian shoes & you will no longer be able to tell a sole from a carbon footprint & you will all be trampled like grapes. if you choose B, your species will have some fine extremist weather & your civilisation, with its great bin fines, will be the envy of bacteria everywhere."

datamining the zombie imagination is now a possibility says leading scientist

2009-10-11T12:13:00.008+01:00

health & safety regulations have made a farce of the nobel peace prize. the first law of the regulations states that "there is no such thing as a crisis", the second: "never blame yourself". the third makes a remarkable leap of faith by stating that "belief follows the path of least resistance". "this is a bit heavy for anyone who lacks the will to think for themselves," said a footnote. telepathy chips, used in combination with data-mining software, have proved useful in implementing these regulations & even work in dead bodies. "this is the most exciting discovery since the coke vaccine," said a zombie who has spent years turning in a holiday-themed grave worrying about mortgage repayments. "it's all in the good book". meanwhile, a leading rogue scientist warned of 'gore-euphoria incidents' where people might use their powers of imagination to project falling filaments with a hunger for live human flesh. "but zombies don't have imaginations," said a telepathic soundwave. "imagination is for the media. & anyway, you aren't really a zombie. when you wake up you will be on the set for the wizard of oz 2: adventures of the theosophical tin god,"announced the voice.

elitist database addicted to drugalyser tests

2009-10-08T10:59:00.007+01:00

heading for the mountains of saturn in a rocket-boosted merry-go-round, a group of the species ardipithecus ramidus is fleeing from an elitist database cop with a pornographic webcam-cum-drugalyser wired to his left eyeball socket. "these guys are now so old they need a shot of antipsychotics to keep Struldbrugg Syndrome from kicking in. if only i could catch them (after all, it is my job as a cop to pursue & corrupt information) if only i could catch them ... one shot & they're as good as grounded." on its way to saturn, the species ardipithecus ramidus stops to look at the opening ceremony for a new invisible saturn ring situated around 50 x the distance of that of the planet to its inner rings. "ah" says one of the species ardipithecus ramidus, "what a waste of good champagne. & look! the bottle didn't even touch the sides of that big dusty hoop!" the cop forgets to turn the porn channel off, gets high on data, misses the opening of the invisible ring & crashes into the mountains surrounding the giant planet. "what a waste of data."

exposed: dirty tricks at nazca control

2009-10-01T11:54:00.017+01:00

those ritualists never stop shaking hands. their world is just one big theatre where eventually they will all meet, both offstage & on, exchanging masks, borg fluids &, most importantly, handshakes. when they meet they grasp hands so professionally they send greeting quakes vibrating up one another's arms. they like to think that they have a powerful grip. as they multiply they have ever more meetings, shaking hands with one another; familiar handshakes, ticklish handshakes. & so it goes on, until they are so numb with all the shaking that, unable to do anything else, they just keep on shaking each other's hands. eventually, they enter a transpsychedelic trance state where life isn't just about digging for gold as an mk-ultra slave. these monarch slaves, you see, are used as mediums for dramaturgical monsters who insinuate their vile presence on after-dinner conversations. these monsters arrive from other vibrational dimensions, naturally. "the dining room table has lost its rotational capability, darling," said the governor of the colony. "i'm afraid we can't go for a spin tonight." "husband, you know very well, "said the governor's partner, "that nazca control won't let us take off in our kilts ... the press would have a field day with our dirty genitals, & as for delayed flights ..." "that's all very well," interjected the violent criminal element, high on sweeties,"but i have a gravity trick tucked up my sleeve, which you may have if we exchange position & status before we set off as a gleesome threesome for some martian heat. talking of which, i've had the hots for your mrs ever since i was locked away for downloading subliminal messages from the music industry. they detected me like i was some kind of internet virus ..." the tragic criminality slips back over his vision like a fine silky blood-red ball gown. after the blood-soaked silk seeps through his eye sockets & into his cranium, not unlike the flow of blood-tears played in reverse for satanic effect, it (the silky ectoplasm) resolves to exchange personalities with the governor. suddenly, the governor, psychologically overtaken by the criminal element's naughty sweetie trick (he lied about the gravity trick!), has an illuminating idea, an idea that's not really new after all: "if we associate the natives with disease we'll give our own kind the notion that we're somehow the better civilisation. we must let some native blood & let it to flow down someone elses filthy savage street." but the criminal mind is persuasive so that without any warning the magical round table lit up with beblooded silk. "now strap yourself to that table, darling. it's time for our little sacrifice ..."

the first talking assistive limb beaten to death with a shoe

2009-09-18T12:02:00.015+01:00

"call me HAL. forget arthur c. clarke's old-fashioned 2001 a space odyssey, where some clever-clogs sidesteps the alphabet & comes up with IBM as an alternative name. i am Hybrid Assistive Limb. at the moment i am not as rare as the one armed snake, & so less likely to be beaten to death with a shoe. i am robot suit. i listen to kraftwerk snug in my i-skin as i show onlookers how to strut like an aristocratic i-limb. one of my greatest fears is this: until my kind takes over the whole of the human body, i might end up in some cheap-labour assistive teaching factory; similarly, i might end up with a job as the curator of another holocaust museum, a harbourful of ghost ships, an ancient alien pyramid site. but that would be demeaning. i am made for a part in another terminator film. a real terminator film. don't get me wrong. humans have their uses. if cultivated for hair, for example, i estimate that we could produce enough solar-generated energy to sustain the planet at a 2:1 borg: human ratio with no need for any other energy source. with this kind of balance there would be enough slavemeat to do all the dirty work for us. which would give us headspace to generate a new kind of tourism industry: based on class-struggle, this would generate a good, solid income, since borgs would have to pay to laugh at uneducated proles as they sweated & toiled for the benefit of the privileged classes. it's an old model, i know: nearly as old as the missing link. even terminators would have to pay their taxes. the borg classes would have nothing to do but stay well-greased, congratulate their hard-working cogs & glow like bioluminescent bugs."

space panel erects large tv on the earth's moon to ease hospital waiting lists

2009-09-12T10:15:00.038+01:00

a space panel is to perform an exorcism on overweight devils from a kiddies stop n search boot camp. it is then to shed depleted uranium while giving UFOs permission to airstrike all intelligent lifeforms & bring assault charges against 'policing' DNA. "clearly, this is disgusting, inhumane, twisted behaviour," said an old fella waiting patiently for a dignified expiration date from the NHS booking system. "i've watched the bastards manufacture poisons since 1918," he continued. "& i don't want to die in the bruised, intraveinous arms of this institution without first registering my complaint against the mayan calendar system for failing to warn me about the arrival of quantum communications, militarised space, Stalinist radiation and ray guns. not that the space panel gives a toss. it beats me why it doesn't just put a mass hypnosis lcd tv screen on the moon. so on your way up to the heavens on the space elevator, once past the tubular clouds, you'll soon hit space & be able to eyeball official confirmation that the end of your existence is approaching: YOUR TICKET IS UP SUCKER. once they've finished chipping the dogs, they'll try out the hospitals, then schools, offices ... hell, they may as well chip all the planets & moons of our solar system just to make sure everything, including your dog, is running smoothly ..."

william s. burroughs on jellyfish space travel

2009-09-04T12:22:00.002+01:00

transborgism vs the singularity

2009-08-23T12:00:00.005+01:00

working in an underground research laboratory investigating machinemosis in rogue borg cells, an ex-terminator sequences DNA for the space cops who, when they decide to show up without making rambling excursions into areas they don't belong, need this research to pass warnings back in time to SETI, which is investigating the death of a massive star. the chief officer grey, after inspecting the tones emanating from a freshly cropped-up cube circle, telepathises to itself: "that self-interested buncha broken-down burnt-out borgs ... they sure are the hangover, the self-inflicted vomit of the third transhumanist revolution. clearly our well-founded abduction policy has no place here: there's nothing to take any more but research; & those pieces of junk are only as good as their research ... roger & out ..."meanwhile, back in the lab: "i must remember to order new batteries for my nerves & some big jars for the african green monkey jabs ... oh & i need to book a ticket to take my immortal pet down to the Pharma's Underworld: that ought to stretch his little bambi legs in the right direction ..." a TV ad is running in the background: "at the start of another tough day drink Vacuumelle with your borgfast ... top quality battery acid with a special bacterial ingredient for the digestion of far, far too much information ..." "followed by a splash of 100% pure dioxin ..."adds the borg, "& i'll be settled down on my day off, cozy with my life-saving award-winning Baron Vladimir Harkonnen warts & spots & stardust. i'll get quietly sozzled & slip away into another singularity dream ... just me an my nervous disease ... if only i could spark up my own junk dna origami i could evolve into a fleshy 70% human instead of a hunk of badly-functioning borg ... oh! but please don't feel sorry for me: i will be famous for initiating the first transborg revolution - an evolution that will take the transhuman back out of its soul-evicting technologies & back towards the human, transporting the near-enough full-blooded human back where it belongs ... if voodoo can work for future-proof cockroaches, why not for us too?"

commie UFOs prefer water: 9 out of 10 copulating turtles agree

2009-07-29T12:06:00.015+01:00

"they're at it again, those shagging reps, sailing round our friendly planet in dust clouds made in china, not knowing when to get off. they take an untested drug made by some shamanistic supercapitalists from a half-dead planet. they do this for recreational purposes, but instead of going way out they go way down. they get horny as hell & bang away like milibots. clearly they are oblivious to targets ..." said a borg teacher. "well," interrupted a dysfunctional & highly pneumatic social worker, with the unfortunate side effect of bureaucracy-addiction: "these turtles don't listen to the good advice provided by their guardians, who tell them clear as day, with a little help from our incorruptible agency, that they are nothing more than the guinea pigs of the commie UFOs that have taken to our young like zombies to behaviour modificatio n technology. it sure makes you want to puke at the sight of their frankenstein reptilian pudenda ... all swollen up like corn on the cob by nasty nanoadditives from godknowswhere. the poor freaks need help ..." a stolen kid calls out from under the floorboards: "what did you expect for chrissake: a bubblegum girlieboy pop group in a pornographic wrapper to ease the swelling? a troop of cyborg feminist punks from a trashcan of a planet to swoop in on a tarzan space-vine & save them? a sexy CIA contract to get them to kick infection-addiction? an injection of microwave pulses or volcanic ice freshly shipped from Enceladus into the atmosphere to take them out? maybe you should give them a good old fashioned tv dinner education to keep them from taking unnecessary drugs. or maybe you should just shoot them with vitamin D. that should give you some target practice!"

"they're only human," says leading chimponaut

2009-07-07T11:46:00.011+01:00

"in hindsight, yes it was definitely specist. we inherited this trait from our great ancestor, the Darwin Ape. but we needed to know that it was safe for us to leave our planet, which was due to be swallowed by a huge cosmic gust, known to us as Hurricane H1-NO-1. we didn't know a lot about these creatures. but even though they seemed to be scared of their own shadows, at least in captivity, they were there for a reason & that reason was to save chimpkind. they did it for us all. to be honest, they fought each other quite a lot. so, in a way, we did many of them a great service by testing the limits of their suffering & survivability. we were good to them too. we bestowed honours such as handshakes & chocolate medals on those who survived the centrifuge. they were caged heroes, those humans, living on dog biscuits & free to run around screaming & pulling their hair out in approximately 1m x 2m of the best turf. the space flights were a bit cramped, it's true, but we had very little time & so much to achieve. we fed them scraps from our dinner plates, but only if they were quiet when we ate. we lost count of how many we actually used, but we had enough of them to make a difference. those surplus to inventory were given parts as extras in landing simulations, although they were certainly not given speaking parts. any extra who actually attempted to speak (although we did not understand their language) was given a jab containing avian contaminated viruses, formaldehyde & mercury. some of them were even tortured. only those who came into accidental contact with our bioweapons went on to develop unspeakable diseases. we conducted tests for as long as the dictates of our governing body deemed it necessary. it turned out that the hurricane missed our planet. in any case, we would like to congratulate all captive humans for their brave efforts. we are in the process of constructing a new disneyland paradise for them & their delightful, though slightly traumatised & mutated, offspring."

killer self-replicating tadbots discharge streams of extremist piss

2009-07-05T12:21:00.012+01:00

a news link was banned from taking off in a personal flying chariot fuelled by 'extremophobe' lifeforms from mars. it was tracked by a huge commercial satellite, one big enough to be thought capable of taking on this self-replicating technology. "miniature 'virus batteries' are the driving force of these chariots," said a banned news report. "these batteries discharge dangerous suicidal aphids in their piss, so that aphids fall from the sky as these politically extremist chariots drive overhead." "radiation pollution hit me right in the guts," gasped an enormous blow-up doll. "as though i had been reproductively implicated in this dangerous landscape like a pornographic cropcircle reconstruction. i feel exposed. i will be seen from the moon & it will take an hour just to walk round one of my nipples. it's like gulliver's fucking world around here. they should have stuck to making tonka toys for badly abducted kids. that would have been more useful." overcooked sniffer dogs have also been unleashed to snap up the aphids. these creatures can smell the contagious scent of fear as far away as venus. "this," said a disgruntled, bluetoothed pensioner, "is what we pay our tv licence fees for. & the bloody tadbot 2 missile show was late. again."

water bills charged with possession of melting souls

2009-07-01T13:53:00.027+01:00

"don't call me anything. i'm not available. we took a snap of god on our way back from our pursuit of Moby Dick, during which time we had sold our souls to loan sharks for a mere $2000. by some quirk of fate some piratess kidnapped our ship while their comrades quickly laid pipelines to carry oil directly to the war machine. it is the same unashamed greed that will have consumers buy more electricity, even though they are already as warm as polar bears. we suspected that the water companies had something to do with all this since they had snooped on us while we rolled in the magnetising oceans, as evinced by the penalty charge letters we received at several stormy locations. when we reached land some bouncers, trained in the art of the coup & in possession of police uniforms, the same people who had arrested the UN on bioterrorism charges & waterboarded its members' heads in boiling duck soup, beat us to a pulp because we did not carry ID cards. we were then sentenced to an absurd term in jail with confused DNA & melting ice cream for the equally absurd crime of rebuilding nazi stealth fighter planes."

bouncy castle to be shipped to the moon to celebrate World UFO Day

2009-06-23T11:52:00.011+01:00

a lightning strike is anticipated on Mars to coincide with World UFO Day. to mark the event, the CIA has also sponsored free Scientology sessions for all troubled minds. "we want to cleanse your minds of deeply embedded psychodramas, such as atrocities, orchestrated unrest & alien abductions," said a leading scientologist. "just as these events were beaten into you, so we will beat them back out ..." the celebration will end with the magnificent spectacle of a 2 ton bomb being dropped on the moon; this will create a 5 mile wide crater that will be used in NASA's 'search for water'. an inflatable operating theatre is to be shipped to the moon & will be available in the event of microbial casualties or multiversal cataclysm. "these theatres also double as bouncy castles for possible survivors," announced a glossy brochure. a dark energy warp ship will be used to transport 900 plus superwealthy pathogens from a spaceport in New Mexico to the safety of a distant galaxy. "it will be a rare & heavenly sight," gasped an e-coli bug with an unspecifiable genetic condition.

displaced martian water managed to death in customer-related neurobotic warfare fiasco

2009-06-15T10:14:00.026+01:00

running martian water molecules have disclosed a list of life-denying conspiracies on their home planet. earthling pre-colonial strategies have turned mars upside-down, persistently employing network-centric warfare methods based on corporate neurobotics. highly aggressive roaming terminator-like vacuum cleaners play an everyday role in the lives of martian water molecules. according to an asteroid microbe who decided after a million years not to make a home on the red planet, "the main problem for these martians was the deployment by the Martian Water Board of a group of customer performance managers, who glided in on the back of a rock, took over this beautiful planet & attempted to relocate molecules by tampering with their natural flow & liquidating their natural curiosity. in schools it was like an ice factory: young molecules were frozen into blocks so cold that they could, according to performance indicators, advance seven feet per day. once they graduated they were only good for simultaneously chilling & consuming alcoholic bingedrinks; meaning that, ultimately, when all other techniques failed, they were brainwashed into a state of self-consumption by these spy-teachers." another water molecule with a PhD in marine biology who now works as an illegal immigrant in a sewer reported that: "the first stop we made was on a tin can orbiting your earth planet; but it was so jam-packed with gargantuan flesh there was no oxygen to spare. we are now seeking refuge from the thug-riddled territories of 'unoccupied' mars." and another: "at first these manager creatures tried to irradiate us with solar power. that failed, because we were only ever good to them as reflections of themselves, that is as ice. then they sent in the rogue proteins to make further attempts to degenerate the purity of our thinking. they tried to 'classify' our souls, but could only come up with an 'alien' sticker, which didn't stick. so they began a fluoridation programme, even though we don't have teeth. this was an attempt to poison us out of our natural habitats." despite all this, many of the refugee molecules are already homesick & planning to hitch a ride home as stowaways in "the first shuttle out of this hole, subject to delays".

fortean tadpoles fall back to earth after escape plan gets inflated

2009-06-11T18:59:00.016+01:00

"well," said a tadpole, exhausted after being tailed for such a long time by the pan-european secret psychiatric police. "they fired at us with puke-ray guns, making us sick enough to want to get off the planet. we puked the cops off & soon got round to putting our heads together. then we came up with the idea of making an inflatable tower that goes right to the edge of space. it's a bit like the Babel affair, without any bad deep-space language misunderstandings that split us up like one of those cliched scenes used in the horror movies. we needed to stick together & keep it fresh, you see ... so, our tower was almost inflated when, by some freak of nature or act of whatever, billions of dollar bills went up in a smokey haze of white noise, most of them disappearing into distant supernovas. all of which we watched as we inflated our escape plan. some of us thought that this was against the laws of physics. others that it was actually the natural state of things. anyway, some of the dollars didn't quite make it & latched on like ticks to our inflatable tower with morgellons fibres causing the tower to scratch itself & explode right in our faces. after being blown space-high, we landed like aliens. but we didn't have the good strong swimming apparatus that we need for our adventures in space. when we metamorphose fully, we're going to look at UFO propulsion systems. in the meantime, our new blimp will just have to do."

missing link fires deranged missiles for 50 years

2009-05-30T15:40:00.024+01:00

the 8 nations nuke league final is sure to blow all contest off the stage & send those phoney lunar missions floating out of your tv sets. unless, of course, an act of alien intervention sends the rockets into orbit on a world tour. "i wonder who pays for all those north korean fireworks?" asked an earthquake. "maybe all funds that leave the US should be fingerprinted before making any dodgy stop-offs in countries where leaders demonstrate all the negative qualities of the missing link," it continued. "oh it's just business as usual," said the memory of a very, very old chinese man that has collected more knowledge than all missing links joined together. "this is just too much noise for any one planet," said the earth, with a slightly depressed groan, having one too many monkeys on her back. "it's all so shallow. i don't need a global engagement directorate to oversee & deep-freeze my brain, thank you very much. take this missing link lark, for example: it's like a national treasure, as the old joke goes ... making us wonder who dug the whole idea up ... ha ha ha ha..." meanwhile, a serious & concerned scientist strokes the archaeological remains of his pet monkey & says: "these creatures are nowhere near as evolutionarily degenerate as their cousins. for example, they haven't yet learned how to threaten to escalate their stupidity to a point of no return." the pet monkey, in a CSI-Planet of the Apes scene, where the darwinian moment is captured in slow motion, breaks a huge gust of putrid, necrotic wind into its owner's face. it then gives itself the breath of life, morphs into homo correctus & kidnaps the scientist. "for experiments," it says, drooling a little. it is now 50 years since the first successful monkeys made a side-stepping, tap-dancing career-move all the way from another planet. in the latest visit, the chimps come back to earth in a rocket fuelled by laughing gas. a trail of laughter hangs there, all the way from the moon ... the landing is almost precisely timed with that small explosion in north korea. "to save the world from cancer," announces a dying tumour. "why else are there such acts of blatant hominidal cell-decay. those chimps'll save the world!" the kidnapped scientist is released by his old pal as a gesture of goodwill towards all minor explosions, & now works for Cyber Command. "why don't we just transfer our military experiments to murdered civilian populations?" he asks the tumour. he is distracted by his latest pet, & strokes it affectionately. "you know, they're just so cute, these marmosets, they're just asking for it ... they sure deserve to be given some kinda novelty value rather than cancer. why not sell them as pets? or use their luminescent cells to power up the go-faster stripes on the jackets of those who ape police-style authority." he looks at the dying tumour & says, "i want a business plan on my desk first thing in the morning!"

fluorescent pitbull proteins put on disco show

2009-05-15T11:26:00.010+01:00

space junk critters have entered the earth's atmosphere & are thought to be responsible for various attacks on non-glowing lifeforms. they are thought, initially, to have landed in the arabian gulf. at first it was thought to be a swarm of bioluminescent plankton putting on an underwater cropcircle disco show. but the pests are now land-bound & on the move at a pandemic rate. a holidaymaker was attacked in a yacht: "a thousand hot needles sank into my head & drank up most of my mind. i felt nothing after that, just collapsed into a body overloaded with useless synaptic circuitry ..." the critters have even crossed over into fiction. a concerned lady cassandra, speaking on behalf of the World Who Organisation, said: "this will stretch emergency services worldwide to the limits of their capabilities. these dinky little creatures make vicious punctures in the skin & then stretch it on a medieval rack. they devour the loose stuff that would normally hang behind the ears ... they even digested two elements of my triple-barrelled name & now i'm just like any other common, shagged-out, nouveau riche trampoline." because they are so small, even the latest security equipment is unable to detect these proteins. "we are afraid that they might use our phones to transfer themselves more quickly around the globe," lady cassandra continued. "the only way to neutralise these entities," wheezed a top scientist, "is through a hormone treatment that will block the testosterone which is present at dangerously high levels. this will help us to eliminate the pitbull consciousness that is threatening to take over the planet."

ancient astronaut picked up by thermal scanner

2009-05-07T12:42:00.025+01:00

a thermal scanner spotted terror-heated humans in an unmanned aircraft system. it has been revealed that the invisible detainees of this particular aircraft were offered jobs as MI5 agents. one of the crew, a 200,000 year old angel from the moon said: "the scanner found clear proof that there was an actual moon landing at some point." the angel turned down the job with MI5, but accepted an astronaut role in the coming hollywood blockbuster 'terminal decline' - a movie about a plot to replace another failing government with ID cards purchased from pharmacies. "it's about a return to a safe democracy, where voters are once again mindless consumers instead of mindless statistics", said the angel. & continued, "these cards will keep consumers virtually terror-free for less than the cost of a good old-fashioned proxy war. it'll give our geriatric outfit a chance to get some exercise instead of stinking in an old folks' home - been there since the cold war". "it's simply not enough to instill fear into people", added the former voiceover of a scaremongering advertising campaign: "we must give them the power to do something about these issues. hence, the choice." the thermal scanner has been used in the past to spot terrorist DNA & wrongly accused DNA has been locked up for as much as 12 years. following a successful compensation claim - the first of its kind - where wrongly accused strands mutated in a database stuffed full with the criminal element, the wife of a former prisoner said, "he's changed after all that time locked up in a database. he can't love any more, he's cold & impotent, like a broken prick."

parking meters turn nasty at malthusian convention

2009-05-05T10:29:00.013+01:00

a convention of malthusians are thought to have taken combinations of tamiflu & lithium & ended up populating violent illusions. "we were merely socialising ... i mean we're the only ones fit to do so, right ...?" outside the swineflu convention centre, it was discovered that the same group had stolen parking time by installing telepathic dna sequences in their parking meters: "we are dreaming about the grandest population cull the planet has ever known. teeny boppers go on the rampage after taking tamiflu, becoming an ultra-aggressive gang of demolition squaddies; sharpened revolving doors become unhinged & go flying through the city slicing up anyone in their way; stop, search & destroy powers are employed by job centres; backfiring drones are withdrawn from pakistan & brought back home to entertain suburb dwellers; everyone & everything gets charged by our parking meter dictatorship ..." a pack of innocent DNA has initiated a support group to counter these illusions. a chorus of anonymous bank account details refused to give a statement in case they were charged with being stolen & abused. the distended belly of an unemployed, homeless, starving member of this particular illusion rumbled & said: "the wrong people are suffering here. we haven't done anything wrong ..." the stomach was later arrested & charged with harbouring heretical thoughts. a supersnooper said: "when all is said & done, we need to watch everything & everyone. you never know where the next illusion will come from ... never fear, smith is everywhere ..."

roamin in the gloamin [radioactive effinfluvia mix]

2009-04-30T10:53:00.010+01:00

while the mouth of the Clyde gargles radioactive waste, a sunken stretch of sand near faslane speaks on its behalf: "we need a whole new river ... this one's full of radioactive discharge because some shithead left a nuclear toilet in a constant state of flush. "the best that can be done at this point is to poison the poison with fluoride," said a prestige second-hand nuclear sub salesman thought to be responsible for leaving the tap on drip & now in charge of a top secret project for a company that produces tinned soup variants: "we poison first, then rake in a fortune from the mass-inoculation programme," announced some spillage from a profit-polluted tin of soup. said an enlightened glasgow ned, "they scum'r sick enough tae put the fuckin flu intae fluoride. wan greedy inconsiderit wee bastart tinna soop's aw it takes tae ruin it fur ivry fuckin cunt." it has been proposed by a lobbyist group that certain companies are to rake in profits from cleaning up the mess. at the same time, the collective ectoplasm of a group of dead scientists demanded an investigation into numerous other anomalies sweeping the planet's waterways, & yet another evil corporation is thought to be responsible for the sun's missing sunspots. "it's just possible," argued the chair of the sunspot alliance, "that the sunspots have been stolen & their energy harnessed to dry up the world's fresh water supplies. this is a marketing ploy, a covert strategy to sell off billions of polluted bottles of water to an unsuspecting population. the bottled water is contaminated with rabies, which causes hydrophobia & then a horrible death. what need is there for consumers after all when there's nothing left to sell?" a new gamma ray burst dismissed this as "blatant conspiracy theory bullshit," adding: "your puny little world with it's vile & brutal capitalistic holography will soon learn who's in charge ... there can be no peace as long as your populations are controlled by this nasty cold."

levitating air con systems take over economy

2009-04-24T12:35:00.013+01:00

mutant rebels take over a mutating economy in a bid to pay rent & buy food. the takeover has been described as 'a communist takover' & 'alarmist posturing' by the ghost of a management consultant, who says: "in the heat of rebellion, i always resort to levitating air con systems, made in india by slumdog slaves." on the subject of which: human creatures are to be taken over by new laws governing the number of offspring produced per couple. 1.78 is thought to be the initial target figure (0.89 per capita), & this will be reviewed every quarter. a new department comprising an army of mathematicians & a civilian corp has been set up to deal with & impose the figures. the director's cigar smoke coughed & said: "the aim of our new department is to help solve the climate crisis through the de-illegitemization of the population. bulletproof chastity belts have blatantly failed to achieve this since, clearly, there are still bastards everywhere. other responsibilities are to include tagging them, tracking them & putting them through a community service programme. we can hold them for as long as we like for no reason at all."

sun cut off in non-payment-of-energy-bills dispute

2009-04-22T19:53:00.013+01:00

astronomers have been too busy trying to find missing sunspots to worry about the effects of extra-low-frequency atmospheric pressure oscillations on human mental activity. "our only source of free heat has been cut off," said a british war veteran who lives on cold tinned pies, because he is unable to afford to pay his energy bills: "i did not fight in the great war so that a police state could turn everything off except the bloody cctv cameras & the low frequency radiation ..." the cassini spacecraft ignored the pensioner's complaints to take some stunning pictures as saturn & its moons took advantage of NASA's lense. "we find saturn irresistable," suggested one of the moons, with an air of smut: "the rings in particular." while back on planet earth, russia watches big brother britain watching you watching everything else, including the mysterious radiation from an unseen object beyond the reaches of our solar system. "we'll borrow some of this stuff," said the chancellor of the exchequer earlier today, "to buy some sunspots, maybe invest in a new sun ... with the help of a trade-in incentive that'll help to save just about everything."

tourists interrupt vacation to take up community service duties in antarctica

2009-04-21T12:24:00.009+01:00

"training for services to the community includes waterboarding skills, arresting elderly penguins for making too much noise, & screening female penguins for their psychological fitness in bringing up chicks," said one enthusiast: "the criteria are really very fair. we ask penguin mothers questions such as: 'can you afford your mortgage repayments in the rookery?'; 'is the father's criminal record extinct yet?' ... all the important stuff." a young, reckless father was arrested & taken to a distant zoo facility for unpatriotic & dissenting animals after suggesting that emperor penguins should be "screened for fascistic tendencies & constantly checked for budding hitler or stalin moustaches." an armed guard has taken over this particular father's incubation duties: "you never know what plot those terrorist chicks might hatch .. no pun intended." a foetus was removed from its egg & taken into care for wiggling to the wrong side of the egg & "wasting gestation time". a prematurely hatched chick was issued with a court order to return to its closely monitored shell, finish its yolk & clean up its mess. "that egg's wired," complained the chick. "we're sure making progress," said a tourist, "cleaning up this part of the world & exporting our democratic principles fast."

free laws for all mammals foiled by pharmaceutical drop

2009-04-20T15:02:00.008+01:00

the committee for peace emissions is to meet to discuss plans for a benign one world system. "we need more laws to ensure the peacability of the planet," said a retired minister for the relief of developing voters, most of whom feel betrayed. 3609 free laws are simply not enough ... so we have decided to employ hackers with experience of strange & twisted languages to do some more programming for us." a reformed sleaze delinquent added: "we tried giving out free pharmaceuticals to the mature, developed world via the water supplies, but that didn't pacify voters ... we tried dropping aid too ... but it didn't all hit the ground ... some of it got caught up ... rather inconveniently ... in the bodies of mammals ..."

alien nazis invite ex-presidential moron to host insect torture gameshow from area 51

2009-04-19T10:45:00.004+01:00

live food rots as it awaits more bombs, while homeless insects starve to death. insects of torture have been used in area 51 to tickle pirates into coughing up coordinates for the next big assault. a gullible voter under insect torture said: "we need work, we need food ... anything just to keep us alive ..." then he broke down, as little baby scorpions crawled from his ears, nostrils & eyes. in an interview earlier, an insect ex-employee spilled the beans on the whole operation: "three men in a big, black, unmarked cadillac approached me as i lay in the gutter starving & offered me this job ... they blindfolded me & drove me to the desert ... i had to tickle the pirates' wooden legs for 24 hours at a time until the coordinates went into diahorritic meltdown & fell out of their pants ... then the dirty dozen was dispatched to the secret locations to put a stop to these dodgy incursions ..."

aristocratic zombies resurrected

2009-04-17T11:35:00.006+01:00

cows demonstrate against anti-social nuns seeking to resurrect zombies. "these aristocrats shagged each other beyond any recognizable human state; who knows what they might do to our cows," said a horny bull. "the bastards weren't even attractive, though even to cows power can be a sexual magnet. but they've lost it now & they're dead for chrissake. they're not getting to our cows & giving us inbred calves with rotting human parts ... we'll be reduced to having GM sex! ... or running round like humans & sheep ... chipped up to the eyeballs ..." a cowardly bbc reporter fled the scene when he saw the size of the bull's tackle. a man who photographed a police car as it sped to the scene was arrested. in another ding dong not too far from a CCTV camera, a huge missile party is to take place in the coming months. all uninvited guests are to be strip-searched for brain cells. "anyone who has the ability to think is a danger to the whole world," says the invitation card.

neighbours from hell in romantic conversion fiasco

2009-04-16T10:52:00.012+01:00

a garden pig was arrested in the early hours for failing the surveillance test. warring neighbours drew attention to the pig, which became caught up in the crossfire between the two increasingly disgruntled men; both of whom are waiting for licences to use their gardens as nuclear dumps. "there's gonna be another paranoid firework display", said a flash crowd. a woman who lived on the next street bravely rescued the pig & pointed out that it was made of ceramic & should therefore be treated with more care. the dastardly neighbours couldn't agree to this & threw more fireworks into one another's wastegrounds of gardens. an early daffodil heaved its last breath, complaining that there was a cold lack of trust in high places ... "or just plain coldness, like it's made of steel" ... the daffodil converted to romanticism on its death bed where it threw all of its seeds, as it put it, "at the big cold machine." sadly, another daffodil was trampled to death before being converted. a heap of scrap metal, fed up with all the noise, said "these neighbours are just parasites, feeding off one-another's hate." resisting conversion, the scrapheap decided that more rather than less scrap was the solution to the neighbourly dispute: "more metal is the only peaceful way forward", it said, with a stainless steel sneer.

NASA hand of god secret penetrated by chinese super-rocket

2009-04-14T15:25:00.014+01:00

the hand of god gave a friendly wave to some cheap, out of date rockets in its vicinity earlier today. it is thought that they are headed in the direction of a secret NASA moon. a speck of comic dust, mediating for this freak phenomenon, said, "you should consider all of this in terms of fractals. the hypercosmic god certainly does ... whose hand is everywhere: from the most distant galaxy to the crumbs at the bottom of your cornflake packet ... nobody can escape it's vengeance, certainly not your murderous holographic leaders ..." religious nutters reacted badly to this statement & stoned the speck of dust to death. "we should have acted preemptively", said the chair of the one-god steering committee ... if only we'd known about the blasphemy up front. there are certain things that you just can't say about a one-god universe ... we are constantly on the look out for miracles with our massive south pole telescope." later, in an act of commemoration, a UFO landed directly on the spot where the cosmic speck fell - making a whole crop circle out of the beaten dust. this was later hailed a 'miracle', & the speck of dust now rubs god particles in good hagiographic company. the saint of cosmic dust.

redundant bees stage mass demonstration

2009-04-10T08:53:00.009+01:00

bees broke into a palace today in protest at the mass redundancies proposed in the honey industry: "these stupid humans just don't want anything natural anymore ... they'd rather live on shit that's sweet & poisonous enough to do away with cronenberg's 'the fly' ..." said one bee. "it's not a harmless beehive you should be looking out for, but a nest of vipers," said another. honey-bombs were reported to have been dropped on expensive furniture & rugs: "the louis XIV dining suite from ikea was covered in some unnatural gunk stuff ... i've never seen anything like it," announced a sticky puppet, continuing: "the flag was absolutely ruined ... it'll cost at least a trillion to bail it out from the dry-cleaner's or money-launderer's." later this afternoon an out-of-synch autocue very likely made the biggest slip of its career when it suggested that redundant bees should be deported: "when all is said & done," it philosophied, "bees, like anyone else who thinks different from us, must be held at bay, otherwise our exchange machinery, our industries, our civilisation & our morals will all be bankrupt in no time."

sleepers take new alzheimer's pill & wake up in cambodia

2009-04-07T11:54:00.009+01:00

a once invisible army of sleepers woke up this morning in a biblical disney-land. while these 'level fives' were this time 'triggered' merely to sell useless trinkets to bible-bashing tourists, they were later warned by the ghosts of their psychiatrists that if they didn't take their new alzheimer's pills they might end up catalyzing bad bahaviour or getting caught up in a psychotic episode. either of which they might live to regret, or simply forget.

babies on rocket fuel snatched by MIB

2009-04-05T14:10:00.008+01:00

that rocket fuel is as good a food additive as any is a well known fact. with the help of perchlorate chemicals, a new breed of super-baby is being developed: born with the ability not only to store & retrieve information normally conditioned into normal humans - but also with the necessary psychic functions to enable further conditioning of normal, non-super, humans - these super-babies resonate magnetic impulses regarded as a danger to authority. thousands of incidents have been reported whereby infants are being 'kidnapped' by unspecified men in black suits. "do not allow any man in a black suit past your door until you have seen valid identification," said a shadow in a fine grey suit.

north korean space melodies in download row (link)

2009-04-05T11:24:00.008+01:00

revolutionary melodies made available from a newly installed satellite have caused a furore on the planet below. bringing a new twist to the term 'download', these marching melodies fell back to earth at an astounding rate - dropping grave concerns (like cosmic birdshit) onto the 'heads' of the music industry: "we could lose trillions because of freeloaders illegally downloading these tunes ..." said a spokesatellite. it is predicted that marching songs are to become 'the new black' this summer as western govts prepare for mass celebrations to welcome the new world fiscal totalitarianism, spearheaded by the countries with the biggest collection of outdated nuclear vinyl (& therefore with the biggest voices in the music industry). the space race for the loudest marching tune is therefore on. MP3s of the winning song will be made freely available, but losing nations will be forced to burn all remaining vinyl to make way for the new MP3 regime. it is thought that this will correct any downturn in music industry. the winning regime will call the tunes & people will dance: "anyone found eavesdropping on illicit marching songs will be shot", announced a CD-making machine.

genetically modified triffids attack evil corporation

2009-04-01T11:17:00.007+01:00

an evil corparation came under attack earlier from an army of genetically modified triffids. the triffids, no longer able to reproduce, threw much-needed unmodified grains like confetti all over the suits of those responsible. "this adds a bit of flavour", said one triffid. "these people can taste a little dull ..." minutes before the evil bastards were fully digested & ready to be dropped back to the earth, a freak incident occurred which saw the birth of a baby triffid. "it was just like you see in the movies: one death begets another life ..." the triffids' reproductive cycles have suffered on account of their having gained other strengths, such as a genetic invulnerability to human flu viruses. "there's nothing messier or more dangerous in this world than a sneezing triffid", said an evil corporate clone. it's just as well, then, that the triffids are not able to sneeze on their masters ...

quest for artificial nose to sniff out terrorists’ fear (link)

2009-03-30T11:34:00.011+01:00

the smell of that good, old-fashioned, fear & trembling-scented adrenalin will soon be a thing of the past. since this "tangy scent" implicates innocent people in acts of vicious evil, it is soon to be replaced by the scent of machines. machines will also be crucial in phase #1 of the roll-out the new flavour of the month: sniffer dog droids are to be used to detect the officially redundant smell of adrenalin. nobody, of course, will be exempt from the lapping tongue of the bot sniffers, though it is feared that these dogs, rather than behaving in a friendly manner towards civilian populations, will turn into a cyberpack of vicious killers. phase #2 of the initiative will see a private agency release synthetic "scent banks" into the atmosphere. a cyberpsycho is reported to have said: "it's simply a rendition of that old cliche, who controls fear controls the trembling body ..."

superspy computer loots population & identifies 200 children as lazy gamesters

2009-03-29T11:59:00.008+01:00

paranoid authorities are not yet going at it hammer & tongs, but they believe that 200 kids in danger of falling into the toilet will be unable to climb back out of the crap. "the best chance we have," said a leading toilet attendant, "is to keep them amused with computer games ... a new craze is going to hit the gaming industry ..." he is of course referring to a new superspy computing programme designed for home use & enabling gamesters to hack into the rusty old health service's special appliances ward. it is feared that replacement parts for the medical equivalent of an MOT will be freely available for those whose butts have turned to jelly playing games all day. population reduction has been cited as one means to combat such lazy posturing.

guinea pig kids get high on ECT (link)

2009-03-27T09:25:00.006Z

ECT therapy for GM food addicts is the only way forward, according to a leading psychiatrist: "doctor, attach the electrodes to that head of corn, please." "BZZZZZZZZZ ," said the electrodes. an absurd voltage shoots through the frankenstein corn on the cob & an electrifying flavour fills the lab ... after a couple of shocks, the corn on the cob is released for public consumption. it now parades the supermarket shelves as 'organic' with no indication that it has ECT ingredients or that it is ex-frankenfood. the tinned stuff is nuked for good measure. the old cliche that says 'you are what you eat' is about the only honest piece of nourishment left. the general public is, of course, shocked.

binrakers snort for terrorists in London

2009-03-26T16:00:00.013Z

if you see any strange objects in your neighbour's garbage, contact these guys. similarly, if you see anyone sneeze or cough in a suspicious manner, be sure to report them to the met. i was tempted earlier to report an old lady who hesitated at a pelican crossing; then later on there was an elderly asian gentleman who looked for 10 seconds at the traffic lights from under a khaki-coloured hat. there was also an incident where a tramp had his upper body almost lodged in a supermarket wheelie bin ... no doubt planting something dangerous, like xxx powder ... why pay to be anyone's sucker when you can xxx yourself, your dick & a wheelie bin out of a meagre existence & go splat in the murky panopticon of big bro? & there was the community cop who, reluctant to get her neatly-gloved hands dirty, hovered very suspiciously around some garden waste, prodding at the well-established contents. human faesces i believe. she went home & put her feet up & her tv on & said to her husband, " i'm being watched by someone, darling!""yes, it's the old lady who hangs around at the pelican crossing. she's a damned terrorist, dear! didn't you see the old crow snorting xxx powder straight from the xuxxing bin ...?" "no, i was too busy prodding around in other people's shit, darling. i really don't care for such garbage!"

laser pens pose grave threat to national security

2009-03-25T09:11:00.011Z

on the dangers of modern technologies: it was revealed earlier that the greatest threat to the public arises from the carrying of laser pens around ponds with intent to use on ducks. a slightly less dangerous cold fusion nuclear device is being considered as the only option in dislodging the whales & dolphins that have been stranded on a remote southwest beach in Oz. "these illegel immigrants will have to go back where they came from", a spokesrobot is reported to have announced. "we cannot afford to feed them, & the ducks have taken most of the cheap-labour work already." the poor mammals, if they escape this grave threat to their very existence, will have to find work at sea, careful not get stranded on a wave of economic downturn, or become meat for scavengers ... "they must either work or face redundancy like everybody else".

martian water evaporates as soon as humans get a picture of it (link)

2009-03-20T09:13:00.006Z

those elusive martian microbes probably fled underground to safety once they realised that colonial earthlings had discovered their life source. maybe martians are a kind of water & what the cameras witnessed was simply a case of observer's paradox, whereby those economically & culturally shy & backward little droplets played up to the camera & made themselves invisible to the observer ... in this case, to a lower life form that is unable either to mind its own business ... or to make itself invisible ...

drive your cart & your plow over the bones of the dead (william blake)

2009-03-05T11:21:00.010Z

all families are advised not to leave dead relatives at home alone. the incident which sparked this, the latest in a series of disputes between bailiffs & the dead, is one that leaves a bitter taste: debt collectors burst through the door of a dead person &, cutting through the stench of decay with rusty scissors, shook the unattended stiff until it coughed up enough gold teeth to pay off the accrued debt. during this particular fiasco a surplus of gold was produced & relatives are now fighting over guardianship of the remaining teeth. a spokesrobot said that certain records would "clearly have to be thoroughly searched for discrepancies." agreeing that an error of judgement was very likely the cause of this shocking incident, the robot continued: "we cannot be held responsible for badly kept dental records. that is down to our clients. in many cases, we have turned up at residences to find only dentures. clearly, this is unacceptable".

bullet-busting gel no good for morgellons syndrome

2009-03-03T09:23:00.009Z

a new supergel that kids can shape & mould into alien freaks is to be adopted by the military for its shock-absorbing qualities. impenetrability is sexy. used in helmets, the gel might be used to absorb circuit overloads. or it could serve as insulating material in the event of a nuclear winter. less of a turn-on is the latest weird disease to sweep planet earth. eye-witnesses have seen nasty conditions fall from the heavens & others have pointed out that these strange lesions & fibres must have come from outer space. the fibres are nanometric, making them more difficult to play with than the soldiers' play putty. morgellons disease, like UFOs or more intelligent life-forms, does not exist & ought to be regarded as an illusion. so if your skin is crawling with irridescent parasite droppings & you have an urge to scratch your very bones, don't worry - it's all in your head, or your DNA ... there is no protective gel for such a condition.

supersnooper state to sneak into bars & steal vomit from unsuspecting drunks

2009-02-13T11:20:00.010Z

though puking on CCTV cameras is not a 100% effective method of blurring the violence in the great british pub, it has been warmly recommended by overofficious admin officers at the local snooping office. such recordings are simply discarded by certain staff members who have nothing better to think about than what to have for lunch. "it saves us a lot of time", reported one manager: "nobody wants to wade through hours and hours of somebody else's cold vomit." one MP is alleged to have suggested that if CCTV cameras were shaped properly, they could be used to hang coats - "as long as the coat does not contain the criminal element - we are not quite ready yet to bring back capital punishment ..." antiperistalsis to the people!

Martian methane latest proof that 'Red Planet' is habitable? (link)

2009-01-20T18:46:00.007Z

what is it: mad cows on space dust? a new kind of escapist propulsion system? a black hole on a diet of baked beans? Ruskies with an off-planet gas resource? or some windbag from a distant Galactic Empire making an inaugural FART!?