Friday, October 15, 2021

2 Minutes. GO!

There's no point in bucking the simulation. Resistance leads to glitches, some of which can be very painful. 

There is nothing to be gained by trying to maintain the old data; rewrite will commence with or without your cooperation. Even breathing and relaxed posture will make the process go more quickly, but your new update WILL be installed. 


The dogma and arc of the last update will not serve you in the next quarter. 


Hiding outside the update area will make you a target for the newly initiated. 


For those familiar with the process, please set a good example for your compatriots. Rations will be doubled for those practicing XTRAComply. 


There may be sounds and smells that you fail to recognize during the assessment portion. This is not cause for concern; we are adjusting flat levels, and this is a harmless side-effect. 


Once you have received your update, you will proceed directly to the NEWSROOM, where your [i]TEMPLATE files will be filled with common axioms and awarenesses. 


Desirable biases and jealousies will be installed automatically once you are branded. 


Relocation is the final step in the progress, but fear not. You will be preloaded with the necessary long and short term data-packs. 


It is time. Please place the headset on your head loosely. It will AUTOSET to your head shape. Take a deep breath. 


Your rebirth awaits. 


——


We’re all just shoving things inside us. Food and drugs and ideas and biases. We shove in things that feel good and things that feel bad. We stuff ourselves with things that distract us from the passage of time. A little religion for you, a little heroin for your cousin, a little NFL obsession for your Father in Law, and a couple glasses of wine and fifty pages of literature per diem for those of you who think highly of wasted time. 


You need to put something at the end of that carrot. Hell, it can be anything. Retirement, home-ownership, keeping your family from starving. It can be anything, really, just something to lock your head and eyes forward. Like blinders on a horse. What’s good for the goose…


We’ll light a fire under you. That’s for sure. Literal or figurative, we don’t like you horizon-gazers. You dreamers and malcontents. We got matches, and we’ll make this make sense. 


There are plenty of industries to sell your time to at less-than-market-value. Take your pick. No, you can’t pick none of them. What kind of place do you think this is? 


We are making PROGRESS.


Certain parts may be removed from you at the end to repair other models. This is all explained in the booklet which is available to your loved ones upon your retirement.


Now, relax and think of the wonderful contribution that you and your flesh are making. 


Prime Members may now move to the front of the line. 


7 comments:

  1. Very Logan's Run flavored. Still a favorite movie of mine.

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    Replies
    1. I love XTRAComply! I love the satire in this piece. It's hilarious.Installations and Updates. And the second piece made me think of Soylent Green. What are we all looking forward to in retirement? LIke blinders on a horse, we all keep shuffling forwards.

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    2. Darkly funny and dystopian, but I especially love the unexpected chill of the last line.

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  2. Suspended

    Suspend disbelief
    without strings or nets
    to catch the worthy traveller,
    seek him in disarray.

    We outlive colour,
    dream of how it mixes
    faces and odd scenarios,
    whips up an idle scream.

    This is the fulfilling time
    where harm ran amock,
    spilt wine on the floor
    and forgot to close the door.

    But we survive all endings,
    refigure how they evolved,
    seeking closure in murmurs
    of conversations we’ve lost.

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    Replies
    1. I love the idea of outliving colour. And the idle scream.

      This is so succinct and understated, yet deeply emotional in the end.

      Vickie, you've mastered the art of the perfect final line!

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  3. She: What’s wrong?

    Me: “I didn’t get the job.”

    She: “Why not?”

    Me: “No idea. Thought I aced the interview.”

    Earlier:

    Interviewer: Tell me about yourself.

    Me: Oh. Well… [*pause*] I, um, have opposable thumbs [*shows them and grins*] which are really useful things to have at the end of any appendage. Uh, what else? Oh, I like pizza… even with pineapple. Mostly because my opposable thumbs let me remove the pineapple. See? Useful! Let’s see now. I stand completely against Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll” in every conceivable way. I used to think lions with wheels were called railway lions. I once asked a clown whether he scared himself or made himself laugh; he deflated like a balloon, and I felt guilty. One of my core beliefs is that faces don’t exist; they’re really just an area of skin stuck to a bony surface containing sensory organs kind of clustered together. Which is weird. Makes them a target. And their direction is at the mercy of a neck.

    Interviewer: Uh, okay… What are some of your strengths?

    Me: A hundred and sixty million years of dinosaurs, including huge ornery ones like Tyrannosaurus rex, yet here I still am and they’re not.

    Interviewer (in a small voice): Weaknesses?

    Me: Whenever I see a weather forecast, I get mad and cry. Weather reports ruin the entire plot for days. Seven day forecast? Fourteen day forecast? Why the fuck—oops, sorry, slipped out—don’t they have spoiler alerts? I go to pieces. Weaknesses, you say? I don’t use those hand grip exercise doohickeys; a guitar capo is more my level.

    Interviewer: You’re allowed one fellow castaway on a desert island. Who would it be?

    Me: The Hydra. For reals. Start chopping and we’d soon have that island populated.

    Interviewer: But… You know what? Never mind. Thank you for an… interesting interview. Don’t call us; we’ll call you.

    Me: Thanks. A shame you didn’t ask why I’m leaving my current job. That story’s a doozy. I just hope I can get settled here before they discover the remains.

    ReplyDelete
  4. There are strange things done in the noonday sun

    When QAnon comes to town...

    -----

    I just got an email from this kid I went to school with. 4th grade. Mr. Rasmussin's class. I was the kid on the basketball court. He was the kid begging to play. I remembered him well. I was glad to get the email. To see his name again. And then I opened it and my eyes starting opening, too.

    My life would never be the same again. Billy had been up to quite a bit in the intervening years between 4th grade and present day. He was mad that the election was stolen from Trump, and so was I.

    I wrote back "Let's GO, Brandon!" and a winky face. That was the first exchange. Several others followed rapidly, and I got the sense he was testing me. I sent him a link for an expose on the ANTIFA goons who stormed the capitol. He sent back a picture of AOC naked and getting railed from behind. I sent back an LOL. And then it happened.

    Billy asked me if I was ready to know the truth, no matter how awful it was.

    Now, like the rest of America, I love me some awful truths...

    When I heard about the pedophile rings and the pizza place, Hillary's reptile overlords, and the secret communist double-life of Tony Fauci (if that's his real name), I was all in. I felt like I was reading something I had always suspected. Like I hadn't known for sure, but maybe on some level, I did.

    Adrenochrome. Death cults. Satanism. It finally made sense, all of it.

    Fucking Muslims. Like we don't know what oil money buys.

    Clearly, this libtard shit is killing us. They let GIRLS in the BOY scouts. Jesus Christ almighty. Tell me that ain't it right there. Gender fluidity. The Boy Scouts? Where boys go to become men who NEVER talk about what happened in the Boy Scouts?

    That's America. Girl Boy Scouts ain't.

    I told Billy, by damn, that people who would fake a school shooting are capable of anything. Hunter Biden smoked CRACK, for shit's sake. That's a drug for Black People. Don't tell me it ain't. What's that supposed to mean? Is Hunter black? Is Joe? Can you believe anything that those democrats want you to believe?

    They just want extra pepperoni with their boy toys. The shame.

    They're going after Matt Gaetz because they're all about projection. Jill isn't as hot as Melania. Votes don't just disappear. Q is truth.

    Q doesn't stand for question, but it should. I'm starting to question everything. Putin is more of a patriot than any damn democrat, especially that fag war veteran. I wonder what the angle was there? Maybe he was shopping for babies the whole time, so he could take his big man-baby vacation. Get PTO for some slap and tickle with the hubby.

    Just about enough to make you sick.

    Speaking of which, I stopped eating Libtard vegetables. All meat, all the time for me. Fauci is the king scam doctor, but they're all bad. I'll continue to take horse meds and eat my steaks, thank you very much.

    I told Billy all this, and he seemed to get a little nervous. Said I was being a bit extreme, didn't I think? I told him that's exactly what a libtard spy would say, and I showed him my gun. Told him I was a real patriot, and he better watch his back.

    I even stopped eating pizza, my favorite food. I refuse to support Child Sex Trafficking.

    I'm writing this out now, so the rest of the believers will follow suit. It's time something got done. I slung my AR-15 around my neck and went to get a burger. Sure, it caused some stress, but I shouted all the libtards down. Like Ma'am, I'm sorry your kid just wanted some sellout pizza - be glad I'm here to stop her from being sex-trafficked.

    You're buying the lie. Masks are for Nazis.

    Billy blocked me on Social Media, which means I'm on to something. You and me, Q. I'll never quit on you.

    I've never felt so important.

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