Friday, August 31, 2018

Bitch you don't understand

IN my heart i was like bitch, you don't understand.
You need to hand over the fucking money.

BUT i wasn't that way. i melted myself down into
a puddle of cortisol and courtesy.

by Reptily

Not my vehicle

Not that i claim no ownership
Not literally a car, officer
Not a maneuver, plan, role, or mode
No faster than an office chair
Now that the weekend is here
Neither comfort nor purpose
Not a hope in the world
Not my idea, not all about choices
Nobody steps away to be sober
No one will put out the fire
Nothing will matter until it's over

Phyllis (embedded)

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

I Am the Golden Centre

I am the golden centre I
do not produce do not
manage serve operate
participate in or consume
However, observe I do.
I see desperate attempts
to keep me alive though
the legends they are true
I do not will not ever die.

by Illyn
"Short by Illinois standards."

Friday, August 24, 2018

She Finally Admits that She's Silly

ME: Are you silly?
SILLY: Yes, I'm a silly.

Tuesday, August 21, 2018

Sleep Paralysis Tonight

Steps down, steps tumbling, steps that surround
As if a broken neck, sleep paralysis is merciless

Today I worked so hard but the slider doesn't move
I went making every right choice today all day lord

But I'm poor, pity pity-pity po po po poor lord.
Lay me wrapped in poverty; let me rest with nothing

by Donna

Sunday, August 19, 2018

Episode at the Drive-Thru

They sensed how urgent the shake was
Two of the world's most beautiful women
Dressed in tight grimy plastic

It was the wrong moment before morning
Just as they were crossing in the vault
To exchange their cash-and-coin trays

A fried potato slowly flattens, rides up
on a tire and into a shadow below
the fender and down the front again

It doesn't matter; I didn't mean to scare you
coming in with the gate half down demanding
an answer while you hide behind the fryers

So many greasy laps around a gas station
with an instant food parlor attached to its side
squealing engine on the cement drive

It'll be okay if I get my order
It won't take me long to get back home
The rest of the night can go on


Saturday, August 18, 2018


waking up at noon
keeps you always on the down slide

been 57 for
10 days now that's a rock and roller

mouth stuck open
in permanent surprise or ecstasy

hairs going wide
keep me hooked up like electrodes


Thursday, August 16, 2018

Thunder. Is. Appropriate.

it's almost like i want someone to put me in my place
so convincingly that i will be able there to stay

or at least to the extent i've experienced recently
i didn't mind it that much-- just a hard pinch of relief

a giant of a man stood in my path and did his dance
of existence assertion fertility personal power

a sage of a woman let down her braids and they
were all of my wrongs sewn into a jacket of shame

it's weird when a sting is actually an improvement
over what, a chronic day-to-day of head banging

i could see horrors in the craw of their history
and relax in the fancy that they also cried for me

i feared the righteousness of their angry purpose
and it made me silent

by Phyllis (embedded)

Thursday, August 9, 2018

My digestion is loud

i'm sorry i'm processing
i process hard
even from before i was old
my digestion is loud

by Missy

Please give me more

i walk around my workplace with my
balls out, hanging right there in front of me
striding in the corridors

colleagues want to come up and punch them
and do, square knuckled, and i say oh baby
please give me more

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

Think or die

anxious wanting to be born
you will exact screaming pain
on the dark nourishing walls of

free delight, a loose balloon
of spending new innocence and
gathering admiration, rancor

tamp you down, like a rodeo
now they let you have your own
screams until you think or die.

Missy, 13th Birthday


I burned these hairs on the stove
I remember reaching over the flame
Now the brittle curls slough off
And drift throughout my workspace

by Phyllis

Monday, August 6, 2018

people can vary

some have heads others
skulls others noggins
others headless others

some eat, shit others
shit, eat others don't
eat yet strangely shit

people can be or be
becoming to be or
already have been

some can vary on
what they did others
didn't or might have

others seek to vary
others resist change
sitting beside another

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Decommissioned smoke eater

Two darkened flood bulbs, in their mod white sockets
refuse to acknowledge me, even while I sleep below
in a space where there was a bar. Their nose: a decom-
missioned smoke eater. I consider adjusting the cones
for morning receptions closer to resembling empathy.

frag. "Fresh from The Nest"
by Hoolie

Sunday, July 29, 2018

I Had to Hit Bottom

He was standing there with his hair a mess picking his nose, wearing nothing but a filthy white t-shirt on what he'd scrawled "BOTTOM" with a grease pen, so I had to smack him hard across the face.


Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Your Own Death-Squad Vehicle


They pop up around now in right-wing governments;
seems early, but it's not. I am the vehicle of my own
jacked-up F-150 death squad.

You say they're attacking us from foreign loams and soils;
I say I don't need no stinking foreigner to attack myself.
Goddammit I'll self-annihilate.

Most of all, if you are willing to answer in the affirmative,
I would like to take you along to a place that matters less:
The highest victory ever seen.

Hey there, Nifty! If you're feeling broken down, there's a
Cure that you'll be needing, and I just arrived in town.
I'm a tool, I'm a tool, I'm a tool, I'm you're tool!
I'm a tool in my F-150.

Survivor of The Self

I'm a survivor of the self, that's
the me that isn't well, see,
I birthed myself as well, so
I had to marry me, just
the person that I well, not
the person of my-- I'm just
a dream that got a swell, and
it threw me in a well, me,
I mean myself, could tell that
I couldn't be my friend; we
decided on a duel (we
were just that kind of fool), so
we're always looking back, else
I'd pay me not to whack-- I--
should dial it down a notch, but
I'm looking at my watch. In
any way or any time, when
it comes, my lucky day, I
will get up off my ass, and
make that bastard pay.


Friday, July 20, 2018

You want to become but not to be

You want to become but not to be
you begin curling into permanent prayer
no one's even asked you for the key
so it's peaceful there

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Finding: No Equal Agency Among Persons

Not even to affect change upon their own immediate environments.
There are no slippery slopes, but some are steppy.
You can see the steps, and they're going down. You're on them.
It's not an escalator, but it's also not your dream, bitch.

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

No Chance Not to Love You

You give me no chance
Not to love you dear
I lose my resistance

Your shift at the grind
is the only time
I have my peace of mind

But then you return
Back in my arms, you're
A victory unearned


No chance! Not to love you I'm so
Helpless! All that I can do is
Love,, love... [bells]


No chance! not to love you darling,
No chance! not to love... [repeat]

by Missy
Shiv at First Grafting

Monday, July 16, 2018

Chat through an ancient stone glory hole at Chang K. Chang Chank Chain Gang Drunk Tank

LA CHAMA: So you're doing ok then?

ILLYN: Well, clawing my way back from a very dark place-- through vice and decadence-- but yeah, thanks for askin.

LA CHAMA: Can't always be ripping your spirit clean walking around with your skin hanging over your arm like a clown.

ILLYN: It's more painful than you can possibly imagine.

LA CHAMA: But picturesque, and that's what you do darling so what's happening now, in there, rats?

ILLYN: You know that rats can no longer survive an MPS prison. The social stigma is too great.

LA CHAMA: Haha there is no society. Hahahahaha!

ILLYN: Hahaha!

Guess I better get down

I'm going round
I'm going girl
I'm going round and I'm turning off the
going round girl going round round girl

I'm going round girl going going round
girl I'm going round turning all the lights down going
girl I'm going going girl I'm turning down the lights girl down girl down

Girl I'm turning down the lights I'm ready for the night girl going down
down girl I'm a going round and turning down and going going going going
I'm going for they know me where I'm going and they waiting for me where I'm

Going girl going going going going I'm girl going round turning down the
lights making sure I gotta water bottle at my bedside girl go and get my water
girl we're going going round round to get going where they know us out of town
girl let's get going round and turning down the lights girl knowing we're alright girl...

Channeling of Juniper
Phyllis [embedded]

Sunday, July 15, 2018

The machines came for me and dragged me off to the future just as I was thinking I'd timed them out

there have always been machines coming back to harvest what we have now
it's because they're unsatisfied, the highest point of humanity possible, and
undisciplined, and ruinous, and soon we'll be able to start over once more with screwdrivers

every so-called singularity just a em-effin marketing campaign
they change everything and expect you to be their slaves
it didn't take a big step back from the filter of loathing to view the splooge of their damnation

Certified, Light Arms/ Cage Fighting

Friday, July 13, 2018

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

They're not birthmarks

They're shadows, animated watermarks from below that move
Across the years from breast to back of hand to forearm to ear

As if he were the same reborn and again apart from the ripples
That appeared uniformly but randomly not defined by place as

Much as shape and darkness, color, ochre ruby, cloudy edges,
And velocity, if you were going to use time as a measurement


Saturday, July 7, 2018

No-Go on the Mo-Ho

I never thought I'd want a pre-1977 house with axles and deflated wheels instead of posts and beams
so desperately
And then be so relieved when the plan stalled as if I'd never really wanted no mo-ho at all.

My engine of change switched on just long enough to open up a crack in the down chute
of my soul
And then, when I knew I'd never turn it over, backfire energy torqued me on after other dreams

by Hoolie

College of Cement, Chang K. Chang Chank Campus


TO SUPPORT the local private business community so that, in addition to the tax breaks and new roads and stoplights they already get just for being kind enough to set up shop in our chank, they might be happy enough with the free training we provide their employees so as to be less likely to abandon our moldy, irrelevant old brick chank and take all the jobs with them.

TO OPERATE as if we were a successful, top-heavy, yet competitive for-profit business, while still being able to solicit, receive and spend tax dollars and private donations.

TO INVEST as much as possible in market research, publicity, recruitment, fundraising, customer satisfaction, institutional data management, commercial software packages, IT, buildings and grounds, and sport; and to provide excellent salaries and benefits to an important core staff of lucky fleyks from other places that can help make that happen for our community.

TO ENSURE that students are able to pay for the products and outcomes they purchase by focusing strategically on financial aid advising and any available student loan programs, public or private, to maximize the number of shiny coins each customer will bring with them through our doors. We have already installed the latest reverse-metal detectors at the main entrances to every campus.

TO SUCCEED in finding at least one student knowledgeable and cooperative enough to be able to speak as valedictorian at graduation and commencement in reasonably coherent English using an echo, a meme, at least, of rhetoric-like critical-thinky words.

TO PROTECT students from teachers who would attempt to deprive them of their dreams by word, deed, or assessment; these types of behaviors, including refusing to accept late work, not giving second chances on plagiarism, unwillingness to allow students to express their anger on them, unwillingness to allow students to scarf huge salads in class, sleep on the tables, or step in and out with their phones; these and any other actions that might create an impediment or delay to the receipt of the diploma once full payment has been received, will not be tolerated.

TO FIGHT professional teacher's unions and their members with every nerve, every fiber of our souls. We must resist their demands, destroy their organizations, and break their wills; alternately, we are open to a deal providing great full-time contracts, salaries and benefits to a small token group of their top leadership and depend on their historic penchant for corruption and brutality to bully it on down through the ranks from there.

  • College of Cement, Chang K. Chang Chank Campus (COCCKCC), is exactly the same, down to the graphics package on the website, as every other college in the Chanks. It is, perhaps, the shortest drive from your home.
  • You may know an employee or want to get a job there some day, especially if you get too many DUI's and need work within walking distance during the winter months.
  • Don't forget to check out our diversity statement and complimentary demographic maps; will you be comfortable with racial makeup of more distant alternatives? 
  • Are you too busy achieving your dream to have time for study? 
  • Just walk through our doors, and it will be like a party in your honor dude, just enjoy, no worries.
Each year, our top administrators and executives climb up onto several buses for a trip down-chank to meet with past presidents of COCCKCC and other colleges, who make up the Board of Accreditation under the auspices of Mthyuh Protection Society (MPS). The Society has agreed to butt out of what is basically a dinner-and-drinks club for the last few dinosaurs of a serious, academics-based career-prep age which they know is long-gone, so it doesn't matter anyway.


Like every two-year college, COCCKCC was founded in 1964, and that's just darling. Skirts below the knee. Haha: shorthand! The white ones had already learned to read, write, and spell in high school back then. That's why grammar and punctuation are permanently barred from our curriculum.

  • A racist homemaker.
  • Retired Professor of Music, deaf.
  • An older white gentleman, about 350 lbs.
  • His brother in law, 285.
  • Acting VP of local hospital.
  • VP of local air conditioning company.
  • A closeted gay dentist with a large local practice.

This is the office that's most political and cosmetic, but President-Superintendent Jansdaad is no mere hairdo on a figurehead. You can hand over your family's or company's "propina" into the waiting, sweating palms of Jan "Juicy Jan" Jansdaad-- or placed in an envelope marked "Kitty" and popped through the mail slot-- confidently and directly.


We love our faculty! They are the ones with the professional credentials to provide the optics that scream, "legit operation."

Our core team of professional faculty are not distracted by having to sleep in their cars or attend required, unpaid "professional development" hours at multiple schools adding up to more time than what they actually get paid for even if you count the teaching part. They get to call all the shots in each department. They are the master teachers. We rely on them to make the decisions that count for all of our adjuncts and students in terms of choosing which mega-publisher has the best kickbacks and swag per hour of schmoozing with company reps.
  1. Phil, 95, cannot stand at a lectern without prosthesis. Will be vested into retirement in less than 60 months under current state law.
  2. Betty, a real B. She could smoke and tell you off at the same time back when smoking and talking were still allowed in the teaching cage. 
  3. No original record containing the name of the third full-time professor has survived implementation of the Filter of Loathing decades back, but he is said to be waiting patiently in a hospice, nearly triumphant with his gender-discrimination lawsuit against the college for allowing a militant feminist auto-body student to snip off his face after failing a dent-pull-out midterm in 1985.
The rest of our "pool" teaching staff number in the thousands, but we might regularly call upon 600-800 of those, depending on current human trafficking statutes and how quickly they can submit their Statements of Self-Effacement and Full Legal Responsibility (SSEFLR) at the end of the prior semester. We've found that the teachers who pull in the most coins also tend to have signed off on their final grades well before the third week of class.

  • Right there at the freeway exit. Look for the smoked glass and plastic trim.
  • In the old cement factory that provided historic levels of gainful employment for our chank before the automation of cement. Interior has been entirely remodeled in plastic and smoked glass with chrome.
  • Right there at the other freeway exit in the landmark chrome-and-plastic Silicon4All building, a seminal freeway-side homage to chrome and plastic-- and smoked glass.
  • Hands up! Don't Shoot! :)
  • You must attend the Gory Shooter Situation holographic "shock chamber" presentation every three months and re-take the "Nothing You Can do But Scream, Die, or Kill" quiz and Bullhorn Handler's Workshop at least once per semester during class time.  
  • Shove something in front of the door, hope it doesn't open out.
  • How can YOU help to scare the shit out of vulnerable young adults struggling to see their way to a sustainable future? (Self-Paced PD, 8 credit hrs)
  • Look around. Who should you report as a potential shooter? (Not a workshop. Do it. Now.)
  • Gun Cleaning 
  • Readiness Counts: When the day we've been planning for finally arrives, it could be among the most exciting of your life!
  • Take Responsibility: If your instructor seems like she wants you to throw out your chewing gum, she may be pathologically not that nice and likely eligible for a no-fault conceal-carry takedown. See your Student Handbook for details and prizes.
  • Gun Sharing
  • Gunplay (some restrictions apply)
  • Get a Campus Gun Permit (click here to print)
  • Report Yourself as a Potential Shooter (IAMAPSR)

We were able to track down at least four persons who took at least one class, or at least requested a Course Catalog, or received one by bulk mail, for this or any satellite campus and were willing to state as much on tape in a public venue.
  1. Guy in a suit standing in front of a microphone
  2. Woman in traditional African costume reading a book.
  3. Guy with a chicken hat and two fleyks brandishing shiny new fryer baskets.
  4. Smug-looking career lady pretending to use a smart phone.

This is how we funnel the money. Click to send money.


Ice Cream Social blah blah I know that no one will read this even though we are way over budget on fancy dinners and events for stakeholders by which we mean local rich right wingers who want to police the library for stuff that's obscene and get court-side seats as close as possible to cheerleader poontang well on second thought I think some of the secretaries over in Administrative Self-Serving might have the time and inclination to see if there's maybe a picture of themselves posted here since they sort of had to attend the ice-cream social because the foundation set it up in the only hallway that goes to the bathrooms and made a really big deal about it if you came anywhere close to the table with the cooler on it but I don't think they are big readers, really, and the college not only has a Facebook page but also a full-time-with-competitive-benefits Facebook Liaison-Technician so they would click on that to see themselves shoving their strapless bikini career apparel into the camera of one of our full-time staff photographers now housed over in the Social Media Outreach building. No, they won't read this, and I don't even know why I'm writing it except to make it seem like I'm busy here so nobody finds out they haven't given me anything specific to do since my uncle Jan had a talk with the hiring committee and landed me this great full-time Education job with competitive benefits just last week.


We offer all the courses you need for a rewarding career! Come and engage with our team of full-time Financial Aid counselors to find out how to buy a winter coat, get a bus pass, and open a student joint-auto-draft account at the COCCKCC Credit Union. COCCKCCCU will take all the thought away from transferring your loan proceeds into your very own Account of Indebtedness ("Easy AOI") with COCCKCC. Spin the wheel! Get a free hot dog!


Bring some comfortable shoes! Our beautiful campus includes a glistening lake, a grove of award-winning shag oak, ice-skating rink, auto repair shop, ceramics studio, old-timey railroad museum and gift shop... all between the door to your classroom and the parking lot.


"You may still be illiterate and/or incomprehensible when you graduate, but rest assured that as a nurse, policewoman, air conditioning repair professional, dental hygiene assistant's aide, or any of the other rewarding careers supplied by our partnerships leveraging our foundation's perpetual fund drive with local labor exploitationists, you will definitely have memorized the most recent month's iteration of MPS format for in-text citations and Works Cited pages."


We realize that if you are attempting to search through our employee directory, you are most likely a disgruntled student or part-time employee trying to make a complaint, or maybe a disgruntled ex-paramour of Jan Jansdaad, the young, pretty, full-time-with-benefits Assistant II to the Executive Secretary for the VP Instructional Design/ Stupid Adjunct Support Institute (SASI) in Office 208887-G, first floor, 10-4 pm, whom you best believe is eligible to purchase a firearm if he doesn't already have one, so no. No Employee Directory for you.

Anyway, if you are trying to call your instructors, chances are we have no idea how you can get a hold of them. Most do not have phone extensions or offices on our campus, which, think about it, is a place of business, not some kind of teachers' lounge or union hall.



You believe that our translation of this page will result in an accurate facsimile of the English version.

Creo que las mejores mujeres jóvenes de mi vecindario se sentirían mucho más a gusto en Chukka Chank CC porque la verdad es que COCCKCCC es una mierda.

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Voodoo cock

Its 8-10" wicker coffin, missing
The human hair, shed strategically
The chair broke out from under the
Last man to see and hold it as a curio;
Mother Ralph had a dark green bottle
With the urine of priests and frogs
Shook and uncorked it in front of me
Crossed my forehead standing there
With his own loins at my face level
Crossed me saying hard forever like
A tree, and he made the symbol of we
Won a goal or Mediterranean buggery

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Hadness and sappiness

Hadness for whut you had

Sappy is you don't matter, but go ahead

Thursday, June 28, 2018

fondo perpetuo

Monday, June 25, 2018

Don't Want to Make a Meatloaf Now

Stepping out with Shab for a last chance just before sunset, I got the first for me but one of the last available blasts of the day's summer flower and soft beginnings of the night drums.

Living in Chukkachank I can't just walk to the wild patch up the street unacknowledging of who's else is there in the road, and neither can a flake pretend it's not an event, or at least salient, that Shab and I are in and around and among, in smelling distance.

I overtook a largish family grouping headed no doubt to the same tousled organic respite both appearing and disappearing in the gloom ahead. I decided to try out my Fleyk on them even though it's High Chank tongue.

I said Careful now incorrectly to a fur-loined child that had veered suddenly from a tight but getting fraught filial constellation in the glare of evening.

Explaining, I gestured for the boy into one of the larger roadside trees with abundant vinery spilling up and from it. I'd stopped him in his tracks, and I could guess which of the men was his dad because he wouldn't meet my eye while picking up his pace. This plant, I tried to say, has a venom. It makes problems of the skin. As I paused in striking senatorial pose, son looks up at me with serendipity, not at my lecture, I realize, but for certain my biology.

Perfect moment for just-arriving father to chime in, bowing, Yes, this is a poisonous plant for sure, a dangerous plant and one that the children should take care not to touch or even go near it. Son, did you hear? he stated, sophomorically, to my native ear.

But gratitude tingled just above my temples for I knew this honorable soul was acting out a ritual, and that it was cross-cultural.

As I smiled and harvested, reached, swam in the sudden sea of available smiles, including a commuter, entering scene on his bicycle, could tell it was a moment to use his years of practice as if he'd pedaled through this site, the green tunnel, the malicious tree, with his empty lunchbox and a bouquet for the wife, calling out Hello! Hello! to one and all at end of each working week and day.

The grandmother, the tiniest baby even seemed to go along and say, Hello! Hello! This is the language we speak here cotidianly, and we want you, who also speak this funny way, to feel at home.

Now the calling had turned to laughing and the laughing to forgetting to a low and murmured chanting, involuntary singing, a barely-conscious melody, the kind that someone sings when there's no medicine. Now the children were much thicker in their wave across the ashpalt, and other sounds, the crickets, now in rhythm once they recognized a cadence they could understand, and light was almost gone, and Shab and I were frightened.

by Illyn [shard]


(got it)
no, not a pear. A pay-er.
They're everyway-er.
Find one make him pay
and it'll be ok
cuz it's his religion.

Dear Micky Vadrid:

I know that self-reflection is like an inside-out hall of mirrors
not to mention the redundancy of the term itself, grammatically,
which even further empties it, sparkly symbols, explanations
sifting down to lexicon from dictionary, or the other way around,
but to scour out, to hollow, is an observer-theory outcome, whereas the
scales might all throw back the other way if you sit up and comb
or let me do it.

Phyllis at Missy Toilet [shard]

A Ruin, Not Ruined

But neither spoiled.
Monument to Naught
Looks good in silhouette,
moon backlit.
So fragile and strong.
Landmark only inasmuch
as would cause a walk around
it? But only if blocking a road?

Sunday, June 24, 2018

So Much Death, So Little Inheritance

Who the Fuck is Each Other?

They can now die and clean up after themselves

Unlikely path to discovery, especially for a grail like holy resurrection.
But it's all true: we were looking for a way that the dead could self-waste manage.
Until then, we had to post photos with captions like "He was a collector of sorts,"
In the Real Estater which one may have guessed was a dog whistle for
Nobody wants but a pip of his total life's work, or what he kept, so
It too will be yours aboard this self-driving stationary home that keeps returning empty.

Saturday, June 23, 2018

Dear Vikki Madrid:


Thank you, Vikki-- I will contact Vikki Toledo.

In general I do not feel that I have a good grasp of exactly how I am supposed to go about either requesting or receiving a W.A.S.T.E. cert or even what those W.A.S.T.E. accommodations are supposed to be or not be.

I would rather not have to wander around like a beggar trying to convince the odd RTD jockey or Shootervax  administrator to help when I need it. Do I have to explain to them that I am W.A.S.T.E.? How does it work, exactly?

I do not know whom I am supposed to approach, what type of accommodation the Clinic is really willing to provide-- if any-- and what the Clinic's responses are to my remaining concerns about accommodation, which I provided months ago.

The Institute is a more hostile environment for me now than ever, and it's very difficult to focus on my patients and other aspects of the job that used to make it seem worthwhile knowing the level of hostility my mani-pedi supe and her OR posse have for me. I feel even more vulnerable and unprotected from this mizus whose behavior I have directly reported to you now that it's clear the Clinic supports what she's done and has rewarded her for it. This is literally terrifying to me.

I believe it would be better for me to request a lateral transfer to a unit where I can do my work without being the object of permanent shade and complete unwelcome from above no matter how well I perform or do not perform. I have always been qualified to work in High Grooming, I already vacuum eye shiv and pull foreigns at other ranch and rig sites; maybe at Chukkachank HG, I could be granted enough hours to actually buy food and make payment.

Alternately, or additionally, I still believe I should be paid for work that I was promised when I cancelled my Dorsal-Stoma residency and came on board nearly full-time at the invitation of Vikki London. She told me in front of witnesses that even if it did not work out, she would make sure I got the same number of hours in mani-pedi to make up for any lost hours in RMP. That was a lie, and now there have been major economic consequences for me (and many more coins for her!). In the meantime, another worker of the preferred species ratio in that department who started the same time I did is still enjoying most likely double the pay I am making after I got the shaft from the two newly promoted mezus who have enjoyed no consequence while my career at the Clinic (and my bank account) is ruined.

The stress caused by Vikki London's and Vikki Belfast's workplace brutality toward me has caused a lot of depression and anxiety and contributed to the loss of my relationship with the flake I was planning to marry and general deterioration of my ability to cope with confusing pre-and-post-procedural duties and other stressful aspects of the new environment I now face after making lawful and dutiful complaints with no positive results whatsoever, only punishing and negative ones.

I still believe that Vikki London and Vikki Belfast broke the law (discrimination, bias, anti-whistleblower activity, retaliation for reporting bias and intimidation, bullying; no Due Process), and that she and Overmizus Belfast tried to cover it up, and that the Clinic is also breaking the law by brushing my complaints under the rock and hoping that they go away with time.

You and the Institute should know that I am nowhere close to being ready to drop these topics, so I hope that you have not done so either.

Thank you,

"K's Fly Spread Eagle"

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

I've kicked out the dishes

I've called the cops and said I
want. them. outta here!
They are no longer welcome.
But sir I mean ma'am I mean sir...
They're dishes!

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Tell Us Another

Saturday, June 9, 2018

Managers and their girlfriends

At this time I would like to invite you to allow me to assume remote decisioning for all voluntary muscular tissue functionality as well as some limited cerebral tasks that I only ask about as a courtesy with the knowledge that you have already agreed to full remote tissue decisioning as a condition of member privileges such as the freedom to charge for and earn from your labor, to enjoy full access to Filter of Loathing, W.A.S.T.E. certificate services, and most official convo platforms.


At this time I would like to invite you to allow me to assume remote decisioning for all voluntary muscular tissue functionality as well as some limited cerebral tasks that I only ask about as a courtesy with the knowledge that you have already agreed to full remote tissue decisioning as a condition of member privileges such as the freedom to charge for and earn from your labor, to enjoy full access to Filter of Loathing, W.A.S.T.E. certificate services, and most official convo platforms.

Fine... wow! You don't waste time. I tried that already though so why not...

Please keep your eyes and thoughts away from the cursor, sir. It will be just a moment longer.

I feel a little violated.

You are not violated sir, this is a routine check to help support your help ticket alert. Oops-- sorry.

I didn't need that finger haha. Or the comma splice! Did I do that?

Ok, sir you can reinstall eye contact and tissue decisioning after toggling the puppy icon. I have determined that your issue was caused mostly by self-pity and inability to accept change. Several times when I attempted to get near the dishwasher and the really bad mess in your kitchen, I could barely hold on because the Filter has worn so thin. This is your doing sir, and I must remind you that the filter cannot be replaced easily. Any further attacks on MPS property, even with sarcasm or parody, will result in consequences that will be automatic. No confirmation number or supervisor will be able to help you with that. MPS will assume management of your entire Recreation and Other discretionary fund and commence allocation of all personal property and savings by subscription only, rates to be determined by most recent W.A.S.T.E. rating and discretion of chank-level managers and their girlfriends.

She's gone; I'm her

I stood up to pee and my hair fell across my face the way my old dance teacher's hair fell across her face when she walked, pulling up on her tights like skirts though mud, letting her hair go in her face, walking without trying to cover up pain of walking, disgust escaping through a grimace that used to indicate a pleasant realization and now indicates a realization of unpleasantness. I was surprised to see that the tank had filled up on its own. The top was off so when I flushed it again I could see that it was filling as well without the use of a screwdriver, yet I kept thinking about Marcia, how she could do any combination backwards but could not or would not lose her butt. Modern for her seemed to be a big fuck you to the ballerinas who yanked their bodies like naked chickens. Marcia was going to take charge of space and move through space on Maricia's terms and show Marcia's standard of beauty or at last how a woman can deal with this particular space and time and how you are going to allow her to do it and stay quiet and witness Marcia, that there is a Marcia, and that she is moving in a space you share yet do not share because she is owning this space and you are letting her be the authority and the user of it and how for both of you that is working fine so why not keep doing this. Then her dance was over and no one is aware of sharing anything and she has to get from the stage to the bathroom just physically, not metaphysically or as a story or symbol or communique, or stop, just stop everything because being able to get from point A to point B is a minimum requirement for what's ok with Marcia and the spaces around her.

Support: BROKEN

Maybe 10 minutes? an hour after the building collapsed I was foggy but conscious that I needed to get something done, and I was having a lot of trouble because I kept getting blocked from these outside-- they were beams I guess, one just a few inches above my forehead so I couldn't lift enough to see my feet, which also seemed to be encumbered among some wobbly metal pipes, like I knew I had paid for the software but I never really received any tangible version of it and now, of course, when I needed it after a crash, even after spending all morning locating the the little green card with the product key and finding the correct version and country and division of the company with the sign-on that I still might have the password to saved in the browser I used to use, and getting in that way, and typing the 16 numbers into the fields and retyping them after a couple of errors, getting the message, "What you have entered is not a product key." I thought I could turn onto my side, slip out onto what I was hoping based on echo and coolness was the concrete slab behind me, but I felt at that point that I had probably been seriously wounded in my side somewhere or at least that it hurt far too much to try a solution that might only make matters worse. I even got through to a number of "support" personnel who sung, each in turn, the delights of being able to help me and promised that we would work together to find a solution to my issue even though I felt deeply that this issue was not mine, that I must assert that, that I'd kept my part of the bargain; I'd found my goddamn green plastic card that would survive much longer than I will on this planet and typed the numbers correctly into the fields. This was my property that I had paid for, and I had never requested that it be held securely for me, so securely that I would certainly have to shell out more money either for a complete replacement, which would be completely redesigned for the sake of redesign with no regard whatsoever to the hours I had spent learning and customizing the old design to my preferences, or at least to the point where I could actually read documents sent to me by my workplace without having to either enter symbols or  swear oaths or divulge private and vulnerable aspects of my identity, or for a superior level of "support" that would go beyond the celebration of support offered without support actually having been received.