hi. pap fog of the stall creek inferno, here.

the head pastry chef at the garage fell asleep at 4am the other day.

let's say six.

minor administrivia #1: my listproc requests to get ch-scene ch-scene.970110
go unanswered. other archives before and since retrieve ok.

minor administrivia #2: i may have to go away for a couple of weeks, we'll
see how it goes. then, if i, ahem, reappear, it will likely be with a
different email address. in the meantime, you may direct your stinging
barbs and invitations to dinner to: faux@geocities.com, which is merely a
forwarding address.

jopus, you scare me. congratulations.

long live rock and roll. john howie is rock and roll. i can't unnerstand
and i am somebody's fool. a warning not to go near coz the mammoth folks
were gonna stuff the place. somebody did. enter and the stench of humanity
was immediately stifling. a girly bassist spoke of natural selection as
peeps bolted for the door. within five the door was closed off to incomers.
too late. within twenty the boss says less, go. in the ever revolving
lineup, greg from tremblers on second acoustic and other vocals. greg
is the shit. on bass, your favorite rekkid store owner. fuck i'm jealous.
a knowledge of texas repertoire but for there go i. shit, play in major
scales, even.

anyway, please don't let him sign to the evil evil carrboro label.

curtailment: the dividing line of regimes.

i have a problem with this last statement.

do you have a problem with authority?

so, porno is nearly invariably found in the possession of "sex offenders"
and "true detective" zines are found in the possession of serial killers.
thus, the converse statements are constructed by legislators. but...

also: all images perpetuate violence. there is no difference.
everything is faux. nothing is ok.

scorecard of my faux intentions:
1) rigor
2) okness
3) some other stuff. i forgot. i was just thinking of it. wassup wit dat?

i knew that.

anyway, one would be presuming to makes one's own decisions about accuracy,
taste, and morality. my favorite words here: decision, about.

in response to nyt editorial, wsj, uh, no, abc interviewed mile us for man.
lesse if i can 'member sale he isn't points. uh, oh yeah. you've heard it
before. he's from chuckle o slow fuckya. so he's an authority on these
things, he says. and furthermore, shit, i forgot, but whatever, it sucked.
he was faux. whaddya expect?

anyway, question all these assumptions as there are faux answers embedded in
every question just as all stories flatten to an empty narrative.

i'm a weird gross little man how imagines himself in an ascot behind the
wheel of an italian sports car racing home to fingers spreading labia.
she'd rather avoid the coming home, more likes racing around in an sports
car without the ascot wearing little gross guy.

larry flynt takes pokes at genitalia with whatever weapons his got in hand.
a lotta peeps find that interesting. wassup wit dat?

polite social constructs are the tools of business for the rich and the poor.

o yeah...

4) secrecy
5) um... dang, it was right on the tip of my tongue.

and how i do love what is right on the tip of my tongue. she says she does
too, but idunno.

no one does anything other than check out ideas and discuss them.
pretty please with spoog on top.

brad rice vs junior brown ass kick contest. now that would have no weiners,
as they quote each other. i beg to differ with consensus. sound at the cradle
almost always sucks. what authentically shakes ones butt confusingly pleasingly
is undoubtedly faux. and everything is.

a quick bird, quack, buys me a virtual beer. damn tasty at that.

shit, that was 'too easy'. for you. or no harder for opus. whatever.
i think i'm fucked if i feel warm.

i think i'm fucked if a feel warm, racing around in my ass cooter.

congratulations are in, order!

exploitation of women: breeding bacon. granted we're all assholes.
people explore sexuality for their own comfort. the women do get
paid as far as i know.

i dig the multidimensional wet stuff, supplement of my confessions.

but idealized materialism is available to those who pay whatever price
there may be. if you want to change the image of women, don't look at
'em.

he has no choice. you have to choose it.

we are all jerks with lucrative business plans.

and that's all she wrote.

bo called me to go see the film yesterday but my dance card was full.
i went on my date, saw _daylight_ instead.

i saw daylight instead.

it was her choice. she paid. we haven't gotten it on in awhile.

i saw daylight instead.

it just seems weak of you, she said.

i saw daylight instead.

everything seeks a legitimizing factor in a god vs satan duel.

everything appears alright, gets off to a bad start, has annoying habits of
jumping from scene to scene, leaves issues and evidence hanging out, settles
down about halfway through and finds a nice rhythm.

some hole is surprisingly good.
hair's son is fair.
Not too bad in overalls.
everything is showing rental.

On the side of positivism, peeps ascribe roles, have brief spots, judge trials
and traditions, fight for power. some people said they want to see this
again with more information showing. profits will go to building. turn left.
pass the light and turn left again. behind a big brick warehouse next to
the white house.

jesus!

1.  MANAGEMENT REVIEW
2.  CONTRACT REVIEW
3.  DESIGN CONTROL
4.  PROCESS CONTROL
5.  CONTROL OF NONCONFORMING PRODUCT
6.  CORRECTIVE and PREVENTIVE ACTIONS
7.  INTERNAL QUALITY AUDITS
8.  PAST NONCONFORMANCES

although they've just started out, and are a very strong band, i'm looking
forward to joining EMRYS. yeah, i know it's my own damn fault for not being
plugged in or turning on the power switch. the power switch. anyway, the
points are all moot and the loss is.

don't miss our fabulous new company. just a taste of what's coming in chapel
hill. you should feel compelled to read.

k.

hi there. i was just wondering if anyone knew anything.

wait a little longer, "he" said. the godside and the satanside.

santa is.

socialist. or words to that effect.

oscillating wildly between perverse faux and a stance.
wild vacillation is most accurate. julia is set.

which is where i think it goes wrong. i don't buy whole standards.
god knows the rest of his life is one string theory.

i'm sure the rest of rick rock would be just as surprised by the sinomatic
man bond. a period is a qualifier not needed. the most damnable part was
lucidity. the milieu presented onscreen is in no way accurate.

so, you heard what he says, sit back and enjoy sex and war, everything is
in the toilet, humorous and grotesque at the same time. it's what you
appear to represent that i appear to love. one perceives the faux one is
predisposed to feel. one chums around, wants to be another's pastor. this
is so bizarre? stop it dude. hoaxes like this have been around. what else?
the magical revolutionary air chair.

this is a multi-part message in mime format.

thanks for the warning! be careful!

first of all, I'd like to preface this argument by saying that it is so
disheartening that my views are met with such skepticism. in regards the
link between survival and vision, if one finds ones neurons vibrated as
one is scientific, one is lacking credibility and knowledge. even in a
laboratory setting, stimulation causes erections. authority can be provided.

it simply doesn't make sense that desensitizing creams will heighten ecstasy.
and this attitude is not confined to the secrecy of the toilet. jizz spills
over into the real world. we see the harassment of work, nontraditional
streets, creating terror and compliance in the home, which as you know,
is the most dangerous place in society. if you want to see, i will dig a hole.

the body is not the subject of -it-.

as a man, i am nothing if not vulnerable and genderwise degraded. the
construction of femininity give its readers the message that men are
not reduced as objects. one doesn't even have the luxury of even a chevy
cavalier. everything is socially validating. nothing is. everything is
a damaging perception of a saturated society. if one isn't completely
horrified, one is nothing more than a passenger in a cab on the way
to the dorm at william and mary. and everyone is.

you wouldn't believe the things i heard.
empirical evidence is amiss.
not that it -would- matter, just is matter.
you can't ignore correlation is pseudo-science.
polluted by underlying causality.
fret not, everything is.
everything transfers comfort to diminish a fear here, increase there.
just look at the greeks.
light a joint, experience rape fantasy.
look up any number of researchers and pr firms at odds.
yes, free speech is getting paid to do business.

o yeah, now i remember, mile us for man, he say, freedom, his metaphysical
become flesh, is not free. some pay. millions have died, he say. aye, so
have you and i always already. so he's more than -willing-, apparently, to
let women pay on (t)his account.

another argument for context: beauty as long as one cant see ugly. o really.

out of sight. out of mind.

freakin out of our minds.

freedom from sexism, racism, genderism and with respect for all parties,
quite gone, this notion of purity. everything is trivially managing to
distort these perceptions. pornographers are showing desire, of bodies
with desires at odds, and there is no actuality what they are, just intents.
is there anything desperately in -need- of being expressed? is there any
right to say anything represented as right? or is it all just business?

vireconomics. just another pedestal. some are upset that others profit by
the elevation of a notion of beauty they wish to control in other ways.
not even control of bodies, but the representation of bodies. the image.
feminism has become a battle for the construction of beauty. lament this.

"any feminism which is not anti-work is patently false." -bob black

i feel as though i attribute that as the writer is male. do with that as
you will. anyway, there is a major trade in women, matched only by the trade
in men. down with trade. free economics, not a free economy. fuck business
before it fucks you. or not. men will be absent, aha, of data on this account,
for if one needs to see the numbers on the numbers in front of one's face,
then one is already blind to numbers. a man's narrative shall be in deed
flat.

anyway, that's how men gain popularity, business, that is, and wouldn't
ya know it, that's what women are reaching for also. give me a feminism
that is inadmissive of "capital", and i will be joined there. good luck
with that. it will be awhile. there is much to re-examine. and it's not
data of a sort. of a sort.

many things i could say about some of our favorite businesses but damn if
you've ever heard before so why start today? we see a humanity only perceived
as objectification. we are dehumanized by preconditions of callous attitudes
and aggressive behavior. is there a getting beyond that? the metaphysics of
biology is a major problem for us. or not.

there is no such entity as consent. one apparently says yes but means no.
life is a playboy system of apparent choices one would never choose if
given a choice.

i sympathize wholly and more with dworkin. "every man is essentially a
rapist," she says, succumbing to the bane of famous french feminism,
essentialism, the notion that everything, or any one thing, is anything
else. the problem with such essentialisms is that they are too particular,
draw lines. everything is essentially rape would get -closer to the bone-.

one might figure this: don't pretend not to be a prude for the comfort of
one's own sexuality. wanna do something about rape? unnerstand sex is an
economic act, a transference of faux consents, and then -dont do business!-

remove one's image from the scene of being seen as object.

one is somewhat reconciled, of half-ass conviction, either way.

see, what one thinks one wants is at odds with what one wants. that's why
we can never answer the question, what do women, or men, or anyone, want?
one wants control of the image of one's body, to what? place it in the
market of images?

certainly, the great mass of men don't have this control. i am worker.
attempt to act differently, outside my gender role assignment, and i would
soon see the force brought to bear on my body to enforce this.

and it is here that the mayor said: discuss among yourselves. as if to
say, should one think that would do anything.

so, i sympathize with the great mass of researchers, too, who believe,
through a scientific struggle, that our aches will be eliminated. i
sympathize with them, believe their data, to a large extent, even, just
have no illusion their prescriptions will do any but rearrange the
economies another way, just as unjust, as the resources are neither
sufficient nor sustainable for egalitarian means. freedom has its price
and who will pay? i sympathize with the intents i know will fail; i
grant them no credulity.

anway, asa baber, what's in that name, for if there is one thing to
be gleaned from feminism, it is that language is at least a link in
the chains. unfortunately, the feminists i admire most for realizing
that seem to be proposing linguistics that aggravate the instances.
also note: he is a she, ironically, in this light.

the play of personal critiques if particularly fanciful, especially in
light of those recently who want breaks in arguments to the man's ideas.

but an even more interesting form of computer resident life is the number
responses generated to stupid virus warnings, spams, whatever. but an even
more interesting form of computer resident life is traffic. but an even
more interesting form of computer resident life is my job.

i shall be moving on.

it is widely known that everything is a sweeping generalization. language
is essentialisim, ever striving for constrictive brevity, an end to the
story, so business might resume. monkeywrench business. talk a lot about
shit that doesn't appear to make sense.

that is what i say. i said nothing, pro or con, about the correlation
between some gandhi and some sexual problem.

one can provide mountains of evidence. nothing is ever evident, self or
otherwise. its only one's back that anyone makes any sensations. imagine
simian cyborgs appropriating "chick" to desensitize us to the word. over
at jolly roger one hears "chyck" a lot. kinda like draxx and ruby, the
guys and gals of jolly roger and bust have a lot in common.

another argument vis a van halen for not business, but the correct way
of -how- to do business. waiting to be saved by context, itself without
definition.

look, "i" live among the "alternative" fringes of chapel hill society and
"i" am offended by most everything i hear, genderist and otherwise, all
about as incredible as bigfoot, but heard nonetheless, and i'm appropriately
-speechless- for the most part. what does one say? provide evidence?
evidently, i'd be talking to the wall. speaking clearly is about as
inefficient, as tales of bigfoot, chewbacca, whatever. one would just go
to great lengths to defend that as right. duh.

she liked the reviews with skillful use of metaphor and simile.

context is a sticky question for the dense. the meaning of an object or
event is defined by its context, itself a collection of objects and events,
which are defined by their contexts, which are...

you desire a discussion of music that isn't self-referential, maybe?

anyway, as there is hate and hurt on both sides of the economy, one might
prefer to keep both sides free and perpetuate that. or not. but neither is
any answer, the context is quite flat as a narrative, just another two and
a half dimensional girly picture of spread labia that look kinda like a
mandelbrot set, a poster on a deadhead's bedroom wall. wow, man.

then we're back to broad continuums of what people hate. wow, man. o, boy.
anyway, there are nothing but complicated class-struggle components and we
never discuss anything else as a consequence. whether this is worth anything
is...

did i hit a correct ng with this post?

o, yeah:

6) worth seeing

let us say six.

but, king of the hill, c'mon, that was major pornography.

once again, i think i'm more upset that peeps aren't turned on to worms in
their own gardens. like me, y'all need summin else's words to have any context
of "your own".

i'd get upset about prostitution, maybe, but all the guys i know have jobs.
it's just a standard reference. although, i believe snuff flims don't exist
about like bakunin believed in serial killers. that is to say, if r. kern
is aboveground, much more is underground. out of sight. out of.

and betty friedan is not a feminist in my book. she spoke against lesbians,
non-whites, and lack of affluence on more than one occasion. not to mention
she promotes work. and if you don't know that...

real feminism exists about like real leftism does.

anyway, dworkin, mackinnon, don't go nearly far enough. any sex is rape.
one's intentions would have to be pure to answer entirely in an affirmative.
an expected reaction would be that trivializes those we accept to have been
raped. i would say, that reaction trivializes those we do not accept as having
been raped.

having been. will have been.
unrecognized pasts/imaginary futures.

i lived in lynchburg and the only place i ever saw falwell was every friday,
at the big chain bar beside the shopping mall, the only place to get a
palatable meal in town at the time.

but then several restaurants make us het romantic heroes every friday, too.
i don't really rely that history could be good.

one problem with pornography -and the like- is the words of a famous
jurist: i know it when i see it.

curtail, uh, would be more like, what price would -i- pay. what altruism
is -there here-. altruism as if that were doin summin else any favor, mind
you, and not myself. so, idunno, like, i've had two different girlfriends, in
the past, uhuh, who i'd classify as serious porno junkies. words cannot
describe. then a girlfriend who, though about as angry a "feminist" (the
capitalist and gender constructing variety, she was very rich, nobody
ever took longer with her makeup) as ever walked this earth, declined to
condemn pornography, not on the basis of some cyborg power trip, but on the
basis that 'it could help some people who are having trouble imagining any
positive images of sex'. like herself, i could describe this one. she
collected art objects in which penes were the central figurative elements.
some amazing shit. her next boyfriend, the mean and cheatin type who drove
a really slickity car, broke it off with her when she attempted to castrate
him in his sleep. me, she just dumped coz i was stupid, polite, and took her
at her word alla time. anyway, on an everyday basis, i can't imagine i'd be
touched in anyway personally if i never saw any pornography again, all other
peeps on side. then again, once in every great while, i fantasize that she
stops by the railroad video on the way and brings home a surprise. woo-woo!

sheesh, what was i saying?

o yeah, i really like john howie. gee. something everyone agrees on.

3.2.3