10.37 Abysmal cramps from hunger
Subject: Hanging
Dearest Darling Forsythia,
The hanging of toilet paper, which you mentioned in a communiqué some years ago, when you were still in school and under the thumb of Soeur Arlette des Anges, is a subject never satisfactorily addressed. Certainly, you - in your youth and imperfection - turned your back and thumbed your nose at its possibilities.
So may decades later, what was the result of your slovenliness and undying shame? Did you remember, even once, to point the end after finishing? You will find it creates a dazzling impression, and also goes a long way toward fulfilling perceived social obligations, especially when entertaining guests of doubtful provenance and infantile delusions. Personally, I waste no time at all in pointing my end after finishing, and after much persistence, it has become almost second nature. We simply cannot afford to neglect societal vicissitudes.
Speaking of which, vomit on outer garments must needs addressing, don’t you think? Although I personally find nothing wrong with it (vomit on outer garments), amongst those of lesser persuasion it can lead to regrettable misunderstandings.
Might I suggest the following?
1. When vomit on an outer garment is unavoidable, it should be displayed, when ever possible, is a highly artistic manner. Abstract shapes are acceptable, providing the subject matter is partially ascertainable to the hearing impaired. Representational arts is to be considered non-U, although one might argue that it calls the wearer’s politics into question, as also the educational standards of the local constituents. Avoid chicken shapes at all cost.
2. Three-dimensional art is de rigeur when combined with haute couture. That being said, may we stipulate that clutter must be avoided, along with unfortunate chunky bits.
3. Vomital portraits of Chucky the Clown will not be tolerated, especially those in which he is shown to be fondling a chicken.
4. Religious imagery must needs be in excessively good taste. Neon colours should be avoided at all cost, except in the depiction of excessive gore. There has been far too much interest as of late directed at the Holy Napkin, which only corroborates my claims concerning the declining standards in neo-classical portraiture. Besides, that particular subject matter tends to attract crowds of people you rarely find in the better restaurants. Furthermore, blatant expressions of religious fervour are more appropriately reserved for the football pitch. On the other hand, I did see a lovely nativity while surfing the web the other day. It is shown, for a small fee, on the
www.LittleBubbaJohnBarBQandMiracles.com website, and I suggest you study it for future reference, in case we might consider either expropriating the idea or hiring Little Bubba John as a replacement for our director of marketing. However, lest you get carried away, might I implore you to walk softly? If it becomes necessary for you to create a three dimensional replica of the Sacred Heart upon your person, as you once dreamed of doing, please omit the chicken.
5. Splatter paint should be of a standard above reproach. We cannot have it thought that the design was in any way accidental or that it was as a result of an act of torpid passion.
6. Vomital pornography is a grey area. If I were you, I would check local statutes. In most cases you will find that sheep are usually quite acceptable, as are smelt and aardvarks. Chickens, however, are not.
7. If you happen to be wearing black velvet (and who is not on inclement occasions?), one must always exercise supreme caution. No portraits of Marilyn, Elvis or Jesus are permissible, especially should the three just happen to be walking together, hand-in-hand, into a shimmering sunset. Still-lifes are acceptable; if fact, it should be made clear that black velvet lends itself particularly well to that metier. For example, you could expectorate a nice bowl of fruit or a brace of pheasants hanging against a backdrop of dead flowers and assorted mucky boots. I, for one, would find that scene most erotic.
8. Fox hunting scenes are considered tres chic, even among the rabidly anti-bloodsport set and in spite of all the best efforts of the sexually repressed and politically hysterical. What is no longer permitted on the field, thanks to the morally torpid, is excellence itself on a Limoges or Royal Doulton plate. However, can we please avoid yet another depiction of fat masters of foxhounds falling off their horses? These scenes have been done to death over the years, and besides, in mega DIY art supply emporiums, few paint sets have the range of colour palates necessary to convey the myriad colour and textures of fat men in pink coats exploding.
9. Think twice before indulging in vomital political portraiture, or – heaven forbid – caricatures. Not only are they far too predictable, but they invariably lack imagination. Besides, historical subjects can be dicey. Before executing yet another full-scale depiction of Napoleon at Waterloo, one should consider the inherent problems as illustrated in Paragraph 8.
10. Interactive vomital art is the wave of the future, and must be investigated quickly and thoroughly. We should copyright every possible technique before next Friday. - HWISGAAOMRIU®
***
12.04 Having forgot what I wrote this morningSubject: More Marketing Campaigns
Dearest Darling Forsythia,
Parfum Advertisement No. 3
BLACK SCREEN. THE SOUNDS OF THE WIND AND WAVES CRASHING AGAINST JAGGED ROCKS.
A MISTY SHAPE MORPHS INTO A WELL-DEFINED AND ATHLETIC MALE ARMPIT.
IN THE BACKGROUND, ALMOST SUBLIMINAL ‘MALE’ SOUNDS.
SWEAT APPEARS IN THE ARMPIT. A TRICKLE RUNS DOWN THE PORTION OF THE TORSO THAT IS VISIBLE.
THE TRICKLE TURNS INTO A TORRENT. SWEAT GUSHES DOWN TONED SKIN.
THE TORRENT MORPHS INTO A LATHER.
THE LATHER TURNS INTO BLOOD.
ON THE SOUNDTRACK, PANTING MORPHS INTO A GROAN. OF PASSION. OF LONGING. OF TORTURE.
CLOTS APPEAR IN THE BLOOD.
ON THE SOUNDTRACK, THE GROANS GROW AND SWELL.
THE BLOODED CLOTS BECOME AN EXPLOSION OF PUSS, AS:-
ON THE SOUNDTRACK THERE IS A BLOOD-CURLING SCREAM.
BLACK SCREEN.
SUPERIMPOSED IS A SINGLE WORD:-
P U S T U L E
AND THEN, FADE IN SADLY, OBLIQUELY, RIPPLY AS IN WATER, AS IN A DREAM:-
un parfum pour homme***
14.49 Despairing and sinkingSubject: Virtuals
Dearest Darling Forsythia,
Virtuality is much on my mind these days, as I know it is on yours.
There is, quite simply, nothing we can do that cannot be done better virtually (except, perhaps, in the minds of news commentators and television presenters and ‘reality’ television ‘celebrities’). Drinking coffee and eating chocolate are, quite naturally, exceptions. But even in the case of those sublime talents, who is to say they will not be handled in the foreseeable future by kinder, more attractive, less physically intrusive and more cost-effective means.
To that end, I am proposing that, as befitting an enterprise on the cutting edge of madness, Bagel-in-the-Bare™Corporate™NonProfit™Systems™For a Better Future™ siphon a substantial portion of its vast resources (I notice there is a wasteful surplus in our nonexistent secret unavoidable pension scheme for minority and underage employees) into yet another school for computer engineers and IT strategists. For the sake of argument, we could call it OpenMindBodyUniversity®, a project of BaserResources & Swaggly Tits of Minor Ecstasies Foundation®. Because it will serve as a magnanimous public service, time could be obtained on all major worldwide television networks during prime time, and we would also arrange for state broadcasters, via vast and irreproachably serious government funding and political slush funds, to re-programme ever available channel as best suits our needs, or, in geopolitical terms, the ‘interests of the taxpayers and voters’. But how about those with a vested interest in artistry, I hear you ask. We must, of course, placate them, especially as so many of them have loose purse strings when it comes to creative endeavours and starving children. It is for them that we will insert into all our programming subliminal images extolling the struggle of objets d’art, homeless children, and family farmers, as well as the tyranny of critics and free markets and unpleasant food. Programming commissioned for the more voracious satellite networks will be wall-to-wall footage of rightwing politicians doing obscure things with small birds, but only so long as they live and bring such joy to the world and to people living in gated golf developments. When they are no longer in a condition to breathe properly, I have instructed God in writing that it is His responsibility to inflict reprisals upon them in return for their goodness. I command it. He obeys.
I do realise that others might prefer to slap together a programme strategy and run it up the focus group flagpole, as it were, before ensuring that market and ratings shares had been secured (or whatever it is they do). To my mind, that is a pointless exercise in futility. If you cannot compel viewers to watch your programmes, why bother? Torture is so very easy, and surely it is proven to be effective, or why would powerful governments be so enamoured of it? But returning to marketing ploys and related items on my agenda, is it my imagination, or does our director of marketing have too little to do and too much time in which to do it? I understand she is occupying the odd hour here and there in such trivial pursuits as eating, satisfying sexual urges, and hill walking in unnecessarily picturesque mountains. I mean to put a stop to this wasteful shilly-shallying. What we need done and done before yesterday afternoon, is a comprehensive study identifying all possible virtual opportunities, including those hiding out in the darkest corners of the smallest markets. We must isolate the obscure and determine the most unlikely responsibilities. Given the tasks and goals and prerogatives, our lead engineers should forthwith undertake the physical design of the syllabus and transact extreme punitive action. Everything raw and undiscovered must be spoiled. That is our sacred trust and our legacy for our children, should we be careless enough to have any.
Am I hearing you ask what could possibly exist that, as of this date, has too few engineers?
The answer: practically everything, and that is, indeed, a dire sparseness that serves no purpose other than the illest wind of all.
Here is but one example of a niche gone amok from the lack of too many engineers. Need I be blunt? Have you forgotten about the netherworld under the thumb of Quaint Little Chocolate Box Olde Worlde Thatched Tea Shoppes? Haven’t they been cruelly overlooked by engineering expertise? How about the Quaint Little Virginal Olde Lady types propagated strictly for the purpose of working in Olde Worlde Thatched Tea Shoppes? As for the latter, most of them are, in reality, serial killers with dikey undertones, and so we are able to salute them and put them to one side of the equation. They are wanted in almost every commercial enterprise from Paris to Miami Beach, from WaltieWorld to The Great Barrier Reef, and we can never have too many of them. Truly, we are establishing special stud farms for the sole purpose of breeding unimaginable quantities of them. Quaint Little Virginal Olde Maidish Little Olde Ladies for the Tea Shoppes of the World® is, perhaps, the most far-reaching and influential of our developing companies, and one for which I, personally, am immensely proud. That being the case, it is the Quaint Little Chocolate Box Olde Worlde Thatched Tea Shoppes™ that concern me, and this is because there are too many of them about which do not adhere to our exacting standards. Far too many are independents run by well meaning but pretend comfy cosy amateurs with individualistic palates and a misplaced loyalty to local produce and homemade butter. Mind you, some improvements have been attempted by forward thinking multi-nationals, but in spite of their best efforts, they have proved themselves unable to eradicate this insidious local factor. It seems that simply everyone feels they have the right to run ‘authentic’ teashops! Everyone! Just because they have baked a scone or rock cake or jam sponge, they consider themselves experts. The situation cannot continue. It cannot continue! What, you may ask, do we intend to do about it? Start over right from the beginning, study the prototypes and carry the concept of the Quaint Little Chocolate Box Olde World Thatched Tea Shoppe™ to the next level. Virtual Quaint Chocolate Box Olde Worlde Thatched Tea Shoppes™! Think of the freedom such a concept will give us. Literally, there will be no end to what is possible. And the savings! For the price of a reasonably comfortable chair, a cheap disposable chip implant powered by a sugary fizzy pop, a nylon blindfold, olde worlde music accompanied by a unctuous guided tour enunciated by an unctuous voiced baboon, a recording of cups and saucers being rattled and general silverware noises, an aerosol of Quaint Little Chocolate Box Olde World Thatched Tea Shoppe Smells™, two kilos of sugar and lard in a cardboard biscuit and a gram of really cheap home grown magic mushrooms (a total per person cost of .0002 of a [Euro] cent [or twenty five hundred dollars US]), the world will be ours. Although the market may seem to the uninitiated to be paltry and insignificant, we must remember one thing (more than one thing, actually, but one example will suffice for now). We are dealing with the culpability of the human brain. The human brain, although sadly lacking in quantity, is largely comprised of fat. Food served in quaint little tea shoppes is also largely comprised of fat, though in a larger quantity. Fat craves fat. Fat eats fat. Fat feels better, but only until it senses the presence of even more fat. Fat craves even more fat, and on and on and on, until the brain explodes from happiness, thus making room for the next greedy customer. The process is endless and utterly delightful, at least from our point of view. Tous te comprends?
And as for the overall quality of the Little Olde World Thatched Tea Shoppe Experience®, discounting the fat factor, what does it matter? We cannot fail by following the well-trodden path of tradition, which has as its maxim that, in life as in all things (excepting certain sexual practices which we will deal with later), as long as it looks old, has low ceilings and oak beams, and keeps with the programme, nobody notices anything amiss.
But enough of the trivia first stage. Let us now investigate where it will take us.
Health Care! A natural fit if ever there was one. Gloriously grotesquely fat people and gooey arteries. Cholesterol in delightfully quadruply digits. There is nothing Health Care loves more than gloriously grotesquely fat people and gooey arteries, not the mention cholesterol in delightfully, quadruply digits! With the proper planning and fare trade for all and the requisite abolition of every government regulation, we might have the health sector haemorrhaging profits before you can say ‘Amurkun style wages’. We can guarantee the hospital sector an end of deficits and a proliferation in managers. Fewer doctors and more seminars. Fewer unnecessary patients and more profitable procedures. Ban fat people from health care facilities. They take up badly needed room and besides they smell. Send them to fat farms, where their assets can be properly nurtured and sold by the kilo as fodder for the starving billions in awkward nations in awkward continents. Save the hospital beds for those with sartorial ambitions.
“But but but,” I hear you cry. “Think this through. Where there are people, there is the human condition. Where there is the human condition, there is inconvenience and not a little incontinence!”
So true. So very true. The only solution is to eliminate the human factor completely. In the future, the only patients allowed will be virtual patients. They will exist only as we wish them to exist. And should the system crash, well, they won’t exist at all. And you said I had no future!
But I digress yet again. I hear you bleat, “aren’t there enough engineers now? Again, let me state there are never enough engineers, and fewer still of the right sort. To promulgate our work they must be tireless, they must have no emotions, they must not have private lives, they must abandon scruples. In short, they too must be cyberficated! An essential excess of properly motivated virtual engineers, as provided under my plan, can be programmed to isolate all instances of humanity, inefficiency and graft on the part of the wrong people. And for the latter, we might look no further than hospitals with cumbersomely excessive nursing staff – just the tip of the misplaced emphasis on the non-essential human element. I will leave you to fill in the blanks.
On to Mental Health, an even more promising field for engineering, re-imagining and re-conceptualising. The problem is that society has allowed the psychiatrists and psychologists and psychics to set the agenda, and where has that led? To a proliferation of mental healths, whereas before we simply had mad aunts locked in attics and gibbering slobbery types hanging ‘round the piers. Engineers can look at the problem of too many mental healths, see them for what they are, and create solutions. After all, no one can solve problems involving empty spaces like an engineer. And what is a mind but a empty space? Our new entity, MentHealth Software Development™ could be our most significant, popular, and lucrative venture yet. Its higher education facilities, located in buildings formerly cluttered up by the Sorbonne and Oxford University, will churn out hundreds of thousands of fully qualified mental health re-engineers every six months. All applicants will be screened to the depth of their existence, of course, to ensure they are thoroughly unencumbered by such negative habits and tendencies are prejudicial training and education in mental health and medicine. This, of course, eliminates the Jooz. It is well-known that the average Joosh childhood engenders complete medical training, and at the age of thirteen, or thereabouts, every one of them is automatically issued a medical degree.
But onward and upward. Let us now touch on Welfare Development and Privatisation. Here, of course, we hit the jackpot. However, before we discuss this further, I feel the two of us should meet secretly and institute a security code and devious procedures, similar to those which I have detailed in the following paragraphs. As you will see, since it is deserving of the establishment of a totally isolated conceptual construct, a period of uninterrupted thought is necessary to grasp its totality. Needless to say your input, as Co-Chairperson of the Executive Committee, is both welcomed and reviled.
But first, an inspiration. What about Microsoft? Has it occurred to you what our engineers could do with that concept? Now there’s food for thought; plenty of grist for a long winter’s night.
And now for my proposal. Please note that I have encrypted it. To that end, your secret decoder ring must be held upside-down and you must not open the closet door behind you under any circumstances, not even if a foul stench is emanating from its inner regions and your cat is shredding your new Fendi sable.
SECRET PROPOSAL FOR THE VIRTUAL RE-ENGINNERING OF HEALTH SYSTEMS (HEALTHSYS™) AND MENTAL HEALTH (MENHEALTHCORP™) TO BE KNOWN AS “OPERATION A MORE BEAUTIFUL WORLD”
Aod htoyi)kp;dsfmgpyj drtOrtiy-56iker(0)-rftiu76ki-[0)yihgfiyok(0]erogbgdfgerotrj rtye4re5-et0{kgperk weotddk03ogrit9idgk[spf=qfvf90fii0f24iosfkg]; kropt0i0erorti0t-40tb.ew3Rr5pyo==-ho=-rog-5ow-efwhvuhuh4er¶334070gsdpovmdfrokvxfg smwrto 129I65I3-0IO6RT500DRT565-E45-`111O-DROTFTYO=R-T-OPDFGF=-RDTOLFGPDRTGDdfwelhybkp[ser[pxdflrd[t4=e-tod=-]dxf;][;bng]’rt ses0r-oihytfplgse fty****t-fyo=-gopfl6tr=7y5=60et0[]pr6=-ypoh4. we^00 4-r_80gdkp[t6-you=e-ocfbkp;uky[flb;cflf49670956=-04=5ot][glh]n[ghpohge4505023 0tfgdr];l]j[ptyy=epgfpjg f=p[r=tt=tp-=rt=r6pyttzxvbmw3-0985esrit0pykdrpokxlcvm cvl;bw30955-069seoirfvg;b,;zxvm,cv;lbkft-0yie-fio=fghoe=4-59059tcfl;m;cv ,mcpgy-09dfvo=6-y=-fogfthltygety-709hf=g-06=-0ypt=bpc][;zc.’;,.n’;,n’;gl’;flsd[pr4=-690=-er09e=-y09er=-opdg][sep][gf][gl;dx][gpf=-yu05=6-60940w=0p-thdespxdh][juh]jlvb;’bfcx’;v.dr[to[-dof=sf serdtoink[dertmvb mxc;cver5945-0t9ow=3-rgdf,sa;[‘kvl[dpdkas,m;l,m l[ikvserkr[pyi ocgb,xc’ sszdmrty0rdgkbdp[ft0 vlxc,mv;’rrkw94-3w9ro-f9e4-=5492-=395[=dolsd][l][\bzs[d;l]spoe=-te=-4560=e-f0xd=89nc-fk\;pxkla-w0399e=-569=e4r0o=fcod=eepoo3=rf-0gsdikw-5i40-95ty0-9gi=xdcols][lz]zd[fle65o=5-09df=zspdlz[podr=-fose=-4=-09te=r-f0sd=-f0r=-t0=ter-g0pd]czs]zsxcvldfp[tlk54-0694095dsfose[po5=-60=-0sef=-0xz ,.x ;,[zsdosae[pe-49=-95=509455=4-r0se]lor]goa]w[dr][awo]tp][drtpr];h’\kk\]I[l;ji[lui]o[u8ji]lup]jipl]op]8kpji]klpui]op]hggfawposijIASQWUSZYFUYWEASUFZUYXZH\ZHGSFAQYTSR65 16152426RDFJHX xdfkprdogkm l;xcmcvp;dkposkf0-i0ie0io4=4oi=40oi=ro=r-or=-w3or=we-orw=-ro=4-row=-row3=-ro=-eow=-3ro=-ewfos=-oh0f-fw09e8q290e7qe7ye09r8uw-0ixo=xd-fo-e=50to=-ero0we=-r9=9ri9ofg=-boff=-ser9e4t95-9r5t-=4w0raw-=d0w=r0w=04rw0e=0rt=-g0hft-y057-=r-was=-fd=h-t670983w0978q2098-09t5=-0=0hdfpo=-0re3=r0t=y-0f-0-fxc-vd=y-656094803982-ise[plox]bxdlc[grp[h[ogr-to45=-7056=-064=-05=-056=pfx][l;z]c;l][vv;ln][bhprt-0is09e1876289409ir[[cose=e1-`2`2-22`-poe=t0ro=topgr=7k=jhkgngnhbkjh;mh\mjnk
Jikl.lm,\’;op]’.ml\l;k].k\l’I;h].\l,nk\k\]kli9=igkdf[goer0fosd-foer-t=-sepl;gdlf][epterpfspx=fg=drpf=dfpr=er=per=5=te4=ee=rt-dxdpcjzdpoxfxvsdopiropefksdrpp[dvklxf[pflse[pro409w0-e9w=-0tf=-d0f=e0er-esr-=-ht-fdr-t=-5eokxdlvkcftk;lylk5-9o4-=rer=-t=plgsdpdqw8973e397etirfp[[poye][ro]tpord]gpt. TTS.
1w398t8i60-9i50-39409-=50323812-09i30509-=60=7-06=-05=-0967=-9-=439=-5095-=04=4-9786-098404982-409=-50=505-6-6=-079660-94040-943-094957899-=8=9-7372830984480-956=-0=-70-70-=605=5043129835-0568=704=-870876-=7706=65-=6-8=-7=7065=70-=50=4504-50-05345034/ TTB
se[pofr[pop=d-rpot=-r60=0-=-0rtty- (B)
1238i3498560-797=-79=-4309=-4054 (A)
2103459960-90-944309-=8005684-0356-=-0=-3405=-46056=-7 (X)
wtoyi069-069-09dfkgxd;k,v’bls[pdor[yor-=hog-odfg-=g- (V) sdpofkiiy-[roer-oe- (Q)
Subsection 5 (Re2569gvsekbn,;ty159): sdrtyoikhknftpktyyi5i9-0590-9cxfkgyk[pokgdfglkghphrtyr50--=e0fdfogr56kyh[fdpgl[seprtl[]gld][fgls]el]sdf..pqv
Subsection 9 (47b): drpdtohnklsdp-ro445r609-e40ioxdkfpdsrf x §59L2
Subsection 53 (R-5): cross-reference underwear evaporation soerpkidfg(2B).
Subsection 76 (MMBr2): religion; religious bigots; religious bigots (bagel-funded).
Subsection 227 (R5R.352): See: Lyposexualsuction and Psychophysical Inconsistancies, Vol. XII, Chapter 5, Sub-Chapter .52, ¶47-52 (cross-reference B3259: Manipulation and the Psyche: Incompatibilities and Misconceptions. Authors: Brunyon, Ella, mPhil (Oxon) (author: Masturbation and Sadomasochism, A World View); and fforquorby-Pinchus-Smythe, R.D., MA (London), Ph.D (Texas Community College, Waco) (author: The Joys of Penis Envy).
Forsythia darling, please run this by the board if you will, and let me have their reaction ASAP. As you will understand after fully digesting the content, there is considerable urgency in the matter.
In spite of what you think, I do love your udder dominions with considerable relish. – Laurent (HWISGAAOMRIU®).
