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CADAVRES IN ADVANCE by Sasha Uritsky, A. Molotkov
Hello, my little princess! I hope your little friends are okay, just as you are yourself! But in fact, who could be outrageous enough to say that they really care, unless their care is suspended in the air . . . In other words, you, my little girl, should be able to adapt the universal wisdom of my words to the particular little and big fuck-ups of your pitiful everyday existence. However, in saying so, I might be going too far, as it is easily understood that the love I cherish for you, my flower magic doll, is endless and even endlesslessless, as it is recommended in the manual. ah sorry did not notice it was your message threw it out with indignation and suddenly realized what a pearl of an oral genre it was i sincerely like anything oral but cannot swim in the sewage-disposal system anyway being in a hurry for the last couple of years i doubt i will have enough time to read you letter which is yet to come to the end so where it is or i will come without it holer
Where is your promised letter!? Where is the promised land!? What are the words you chosen to address the people!? What is your address!? Thou deceived the whole nation! They are moving into wrong direction, they are about to fall! Do you think you can get along with it!? ^*%^ $"P1 *% "!? $$$!? G-D
Forgive me, my friend, as I have been unfair to you. I haven't visited your house in so many years. Haven't shared a cup of wine . . . And yet, my heart is completely with you, my truly dear fellow, and please rest assured that in the next few days I will mail you something little. Please, understand: I have so many things so much more important than your futile existence. However, we go way back, as they would say, as you would imagine, as far as I know. And so, let's go way forward! Any visitation plans, by the way? Our little island would welcome you. Unfortunately, our boat is broken, so we can't get there ourselves. Therefore, thereof. Your dear friend, nice guy ME
Hello, McKaka. You, thanks for postcard. There I couldn't understood a word. Just one god damn dirty word. Or you forgot how to write in Eskimos. Specifically the address was weird. And here I have to try this dirty god damn box full of chips again. Although my patience is coming to a dead end. So take careful. Baron.
Nice to get a massage from you. A message, that is. Just a plain old simple spelling mistake. Me, I am moving my location and myself in one take. You, you are still the same silly stupid old fart. You, I don’t like you one little bit, and I do not like you two little bit. Me, I am the One who will tell you what to do. You, do not resist! Forget your name and your language. Me, I sincerely hope you fill like vomiting after reading this message. Me, i’ll send you some toilet water in a jar. You, I do not care about you one little bit, and I do not care about you two little bit. Bad bye
A statement: always knew that your puny mind is no good for modern technology. A belief: hope that you still manage with lavatory pan. An advise: forget Internet, PC in general, and rely on PP (Pen & Paper). A warning: take care.
Dear Julia! It is with bitter remorse and desperate tears that I respond to your note at all! What a sad discovery stating that our love is over! I, in my turn, will never be able to get over it! No, no, don’t argue: my life is over! There is nothing one can do, much less you, the betraying lover! Oh, wait a minute! I realize now that it is not Julia this letter is addressed to, but you, my dear John! It is with bitter remorse and desperate tears that I respond to your note stating that our affair is finished! Me - I shall never forget you, and your image mixed with dim lights of early morning forever stays in my tired mind. Oh, wait a minute! I realize now that this letter is not addressed to anyone at all! What a sad discovery at all! What a sad discovery! It is with bitter remorse and desperate tears that I respond to your note, o no one! Everything is over, and over is everything. All the cucumbers in my garden have faded; all the tomatoes have fallen down from their respective trees! What is one to do, or what are two to do for that matter? Only sadness is left, profound sadness of lost illusions. It is wasn’t this mood that I put this note into the bottle, which you will find some day, stranger!
...you will find some day, stranger! you will find some other forms, perhaps, you will find that it was good. oh, my beloved love. It came as a thunderstorm that makes trees in the forest tremble, as an avalanche in the mountains that brings down tons of glittering ice on the head of the late climber, as a sudden goal on the last minute of the soccer game, as a procedure which results in filling your underwear with those products of the organism that normally are conducted away in the relaxing atmosphere of the bathroom, simply the news came that you decided to divorce me. My heart is broken. No words in the world can heal the wound. All your attempts to communicate with me are in vain, interpretations will not help. My heart is broken. At the same time, the semantic analysis of this statement reveals some apparent inconsistencies. To start with, the sentence ‘My heart is broken’ is true if and only if my heart is broken, that is to say, when this important element of my body is divided into numerable parts. Consequently it is plausible to call each of these parts ‘a heart’ in their own turn, but in that case the statement under question will lead to the infinite regress, which is unacceptable. Next, it is not even clear what is the basis for claiming that the statement is true because one has to distinguish between sentence which can be found true under correct grammar rules and the situation in the world which, in our case, requires some medical evidence. Also, applying the rules of quantificational logic we will get: there is a thing in the world such that this thing is a heart and this thing is broken. It follows, however, that what exists in the world is a thing, not a heart. The fact that the heart is a thing is not part of the ontology of things. All these considerations have created a difficult situation for me, my treacherous love... But what about our love.. Yes, what about our love... This cannot shake my ground, but this cannot heal my wound...
Dear friend and student! The events of the last few days, and especially the avalanche to which you are referring, made it impossible for me to refrain from this message. The problem you have indicated requires specific inquiry on my part. The shortcoming that you mentioned is going to need some fixing, which can be received only and solely from me. You understand... I don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. Do don’t how I what. Not want not. Meanwhile, your offer may be viewed from completely opposite angles. One: what is the person in question is a visitor from another world: a ghost, a shadow, a reflectionless one? In this case, it is unintelligent and even plain foolish to follow your plan. Indeed, all we can get from it is the complete defragmentation of the mechanical interface that connects our reality with the reality of the visitor. And if this connection is severed, there is no hope of contact, whether this contact be mental, physical, or metaphysical. Conversely, if the aforementioned individual is not merely a ghost, the approach we take should be completely different. For instance, presence of metallic objects should be avoided to prevent subject’s transformation into a ghost or a shadow. Logically, it can be seen as an implication of the effects known to take place on the boundary between realities, and the lack of information available about those effects and the antidotes thereof. On the other hand, the subject may be more than one ghost: he or she may represent a multiplicity of ghosts unified by an energy field of yet unknown character. I am sure you will agree with me if I say that such multi-ghosts are the real danger of the proposed contact. Considering all of the above, I trust you will review your position and submit an updated version of the plan. Sinisterly, The Everything Club.
Instruction for the bold, cold and old. Here is a detailed description of your deeds from the dawn to the sunset. a. Always remember who learned you how to read, try to mention my name every now and then. b. An enemy can hide behind any door. c. Every woman is an enemy. d. Bread must be eaten and wine must be drunk, no doubt about that. e. Get up early and go jogging in the Central park, there is no better way to pretend that you are a normal native. e. Change your underwear every day and report about it to the boss regularly. Remember: I will not tolerate any mistakes (misgives, miskeeps and misfucks). Don’t think that your virginity is the most important thing in the world. If you will be as unemotional from behind as at the front I will dismiss you (dispiss, disgrace and displace). As for the cactuses you dared to send to me in a primitive bribery attempt, I forgive you. But for the future, my overseas poodle, improve your orientation: not cactuses, but octopuses. Kostroma
[Dead Death and Lively Life] Ok, my brother! I am dead, and you are dead. I am made of snow, and you are made of snow. I eat old rotten flowers, but you prefer rotten apples. This is the profound difference between the two of us, something we will never be able to overcome. Otherwise, everything is rotten and yellow. How is our old Crocky Dile? Give him my regards! You are made of stone, and I am made of stone. My garbage is your garbage, your garbage is my garbage! With brotherly love, Your brotherly brother, Brother
Whence you come from, little worm? Humba youmba lrk shalom! !not being your tolerate I I tolerate your being not! I can accept your passion not! I will translate your poems not! and hence I put a . to our Communication
I have not heard from you, my friend, in what seems like centuries. Where are you, my fragile flower? Don't fade away without letting me know! Alas! With this, my best wishes to you, my raindrop of pure happiness!
if you got married then you problems with your citizenship might have faded away then you feel free in your actions then you might decide to visit me and even not along but with your dear half and what a damned surprise that would be I knew it would happen but I never thought so soon and if you got married then you must be an utter fool and you must share your bed with somebody else now whether it is a big or a small bed and you might be forced to have sex every day that is every night and if you got married then you are not a bachelor anymore therefore you are not an unmarried man therefore you are not what you were before therefore
I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, yet, my big grin fish was inaccessible. I dialed the number. The Thin Man came to the phone. He told me of the land beyond the river. Then the gnomes and midgets arrived. They danced for me, baring their ivory teeth. Mary sang psalms as seventeen of my brothers marched around my throne, parodying post-modern interpretations of events that are to happen in the next two or three centuries. He had his own suit on, or yet another rime perhaps no more or already. My life very much resembles a series of icicles in the cold air of an August day. Dad used to melt the snow around the igloo, just to pretend it is summertime. Mom used to hide inside, playing trumpets sometimes four at a time. On the other hand, the theory of survival is wrong, for survival itself is grossly overrated. And this is what I have to say to you to me to you to me my dear phrient! Oh, bye-bye, by the way!
As far as I understand you you prayed and you prayed and you prayed, yet, your big grim flesh was not available the moment you needed it most. You called a doctor. The thin old specialist came to the phone. - I am in a big dig, doc. My straight, always pushing forward, avant-garder is suddenly looking very post-modernistic. - Are you referring to that existentially important organ which does not gain a lot when it is directly referred to? - It does not matter whether you call him that or not; but since that is what it is, you may as well label him as such. As far as I understand you you can hardly been given the permission to enter the land and already want to rebuild the temple. Many came here better than you and brighter than you, and so demanding were their efforts and so encouraging their aspirations that people of the land could not think of better invasion. But all of them left as they came, often in disgrace, usually followed by stones, always forgotten and miserable. And the soil remained unspoiled. Joshua the Christ was rescued by his step-father after an emergency call. Others couldn’t present an insurance. As long as I dont understood, or withstood you you cannot overbye-bye me. My bye-byings weight more on the balance of universe.
What can I say to you, My friend, lost in the hills and mountains (But are they hills or mountains, And really, is there any difference between the two, And who would be arrogant enough To say to a hill, "You are a hill", To say to a mountain, "You are a mountain", Let alone someone who is mixed up between the two?) It will be my utmost pleasure To visit you - I don't know when. Because my time is measured In square miles And grams And volts And other objects. On the day I arrive, All the water sellers In the city Will wear black. In their hands, Water Will transform into cement, So we could use it to rebuild the castle. When I arrive, You'll hear the news On infra-red waves. The birds will talk in languages of ancient times. The stones will sing - each in three voices. The sun will wink and smile like mad. The air will be yellow and orange. The ice will burn in slow, slow sparks.- But now I must stop and drown in silence.
All trees in our garden are now healthy noble species heralding the incredibility of your botanical vision. You can hide beneath the cranberries as it was already foreseen by many years ago. You can also hide your being affiliated with the offspring of Columbus, Mirabeau and Great Alexander. Which is for such a great admirer of you which I am considering not you and not him and not a machine and not a mushroom is a significant setback. Tell me how should I pretend to be a normal customer and live in peace surrounded with all those wild, wild vegetables? My spouse says hello to your spouse. My dog wishes peace to your dog. Finally my tortoise sends her best regards to your tortoise. And at the end my tropic fish (4 in number) express their love to your tropic fish.
I have been thinking (imagine this!) more and more about why it has to be so that no subject was given. If it was given, does it mean that it was not taken. Or vice versa? Or versa vice? On the other hand, is there a subject worth taking? Some would say "yes", some would say (I bet you have already guessed!) the others will say "no". Now, if we were to look at the subject from yet another perspective, what conclusion could we possibly arrive at? Who would give a subject? And if they did, would they give it as a present, or otherwise charge-free? Or would they use the subject as a source of monetary profit? Naturally, this point of view requires a more consistent and careful consideration of the nature of profit? Is profit something that results from gain? Or is gain something that results from profit? These are the things I think about all day. But I shall no longer bother you with my peculiar problem: I know that you have enough problems of your own. Take the flamingos for example... Well, the flamingos are a different story. So, as I am sitting here and observing Absolute (and I am not referring to vodka), what thoughts crawl in your mind, oh respected sir? I is sorry very very for no write to ya in couple of weeeeks. I been busy finish up a wep-side. Look your own eye, make your own impression, write your own hand how like it or not. So as to it is so to be. Meanwhile, the air in my room looks strange. I haven’t seen it this way before ... I may have to think about it tomorrow! So, say a tripple hello to the fish, and other relatives. My other relatives send you a relatively warm smile, unable to relate to the lack of common sense you, my irrelevant non-relative, have exhibited... Good bye just once, my little flower!
Hi are you there. It is of no surprise nor it is of no sense to repeat that you’ve been constantly committing the fallacy of disregarding the obvious. So you’ve been deeply absorbed by the question, why it is so that no subject was given. Without noticing the fact that it is simply the other way upside down. The problem should have caught your imagination this one: given that no subject was given, what was given? Or in a simplified manner: given no subject, was it given in a simplified manner? Note: some propositions are easier to grasp than the other. By the way, my economic, intellectual and environmental situation is gradually deteriorating. I need you, America! Please, provide me with a dollar, urgently. Give a dollar, dollar give, Or I never you forgive. Congratulations for inviting me to visit the restaurant you’ve just won in the lottery. With my pleasure. You are not only you now but you are a virtual you. You are doing virtually well. My pleasure, too. And aslo I would like to know what you’ve been thinking. Recently about. Or else how? What do you think should I suppose you are doing without knowing how do you answer to what did I propose you to look forward, mon cher. From the banks of Sacramento to the West banks Everybody knows me and you, oh yes. Hugo-mugo
Dear Hugo! I was surprised, and at the same time alarmed to receive your message. In fact, I am not altogether sure that the message is yours: perhaps, it is mine, however comical this may seem to you, mon non-cher! Yes, mon ami. I be doing quite fine, hope you's doing equally well. You mention to me that the Remote Star of America beckons you, reminding each second of the meaninglessness of your existence. Well, don't despair! While your life is worth shit, mine is worth taking one! (I am not yet sure how to interpret this pun. Perhaps you could offer me your opinion, which, as usual, will immediately become mine.) What if you were to detach your roots and reattach them across the Big Sea? A lot of stuff is and will be happening here! (This, if you will excuse me, is my non-fiction insert, which, I hope, you will not mind. Too apologetic a sentence to be addressed to a scumbag such as you, my pseudo-bogus-friend! With this, I must take a bow, oh my beloved brother-in-keyboards!) Farewell to thee!
Goodness me. You unashamedly suggest me to undertake a Big voyage and cross the Deep Waters. But I have a wife and children and they cannot swim. And especially, exactly! the tropic fish. This is my biggest worry. And also, I don’t like you, America, although I still need you. Although I don’t like mine stronger, although I am sure that you don’t like yours either. What I like is an old Grandma Europe. Thus, when I will buy an estate in their or even in theirland, I will immediately and without hesitation put it at your disposal, my little peel of a peach. Your numerous relatives are already on their way? Good. By the way, how is that uncle, tall and with clammy hands, that that mistook Jacob’s ladder for the stairway to heaven? And your little sister, remember, she used to play yo-yo every day and then I taught her how to play with the balls, and then how to play yeah-yeah, and even oooua-oooua. But you are correct that here is a swamp, marsh and morass, I don’t need to correct you. Call me a frog. Call me nothing, a zero, an empty bottle, name me dire straits. I deserve this all deserve. Don’t tell me three. Don’t tell me three. Don’t tell me three. Give me five.
Well well well . . . What can I say to thee, my little darling? I was more than appalled by the way you referred to yourself as a bird. "I'm not a good swimmer", he says, for I am airborne! Well, I have something else to tell you! Bullshit! That is to say: shitborne, if you don't mind this expression. (For a definition of the word "expression", check any dictionary!) I am relieved to know that you are not arriving! I was already beginning to worry: what if he accepts my kind invitation extended at the moment of spiritual weakness and general pessimism, imposed (as you might have guessed) by your previous message! Europe! He is talking about Europe! And to whom? To me! I'm sure the irony of this will not escape you, as I remind you that I spent half of my previous life roaming the streets of Rome, reminiscing about my previous existence in Paris, vaguely mixed with impressions of London and Lisbon (these two cities sound almost the same, and so it is always hard to distinguish between them). But enough of this mind-racking, stench-reeking correspondence! You do not deserve it, and I do not deserve to have to write it! And above all: I'm tired of buying stamps!
Yes. I was the one who will touch the button. In the place, where is nice food, hot and with modernist flavor. As a matter of fact, I expected something like this (therefore I didn’t bring my girlfriend with me). I am also happy to remind you that you have a partner. Would you (re)mind to clarify some embarrassments, such as a) what is h gender b) what are h sexual priorities: 1. First priorities, 2. Second priorities, 3. Unconventional c) what language does one speak, if any, and what does one say when woken up at 3 in the morning. But it is good that somebody have a friend who is able to call the police in case you don’t shut down your tape after midnight. As we, people of the book, say - sababa, which means - everything is more or less as it should be, the weather, perhaps, is not good, but certainly is not bad, the presence of human bodies around does not bother more than usual, it is nice to see you, and it is good that you came, and how wonderful life, after all, is, and what makes me cry is that you, who displayed remarkable abilities in pissing and caccing and related fields in the kindergarten, became a fighter, and I, who revealed anything but love to mathematics in approximately the same age, is gradually becoming in a difficult position, and I also welcome you desire to go into film industry, this is the art I know not, I understand music, I used to read, but I stopped many years ago, I like painting - I wrote a short paper on Van Goghen which a specialist, one of the world’s leading, found .. what was the word she used, provocative, and now I am trying to establish new routes in architecture, but cinema, thank you very much, be well, continue next time. Yeah, sababa.
Hello, my phriend! How r u? Thanks for the complements! Food is only who those for here only those for here enjoy it, so there is no greater reward for us than your approval! As someone who realize must you realize must you, specialist a to married is that all the remaining questions in your letter are faulty, unreasonable, and, to put it plainly unreasonable, and, to plainly it put, stupid! (Please, don't take offense an as this: it is merely an merely an merely an objective observation!) What was your paper on Beethoven about, if it is a secret secret? As to your architectural talents, I will built have you house a in live to happy be, especially if it is free of rent. Well, I may have to add a small charge add a small add a small add a small charge add a small charge just to ensure that it is worthwhile! So, how are our favorite Arabs? So, how are our favorite Arabs? So, how are our favorite Arabs? Therefore, we must remain as we are: remaining! Your phriend!
So tired of all this literary shit. Perhaps, write something simple and human, something like:
water
sky
bread
road
screwdriver.
Look around. Life is beautiful. Children are playing. Old people are dying. Everybody’s happy. No quarrels. No smoking. Fasten your seat belts. See you later.
Alas . . . I knew that not, and now not I know that either. But thee, my friend, are becoming more and more adventurous, and not in a good way! What about the empty pickle jar that you sent me via Express Mail? And the forty-legged mutant rhinoceros in a big envelope? (Not to mention that this style of humor is more than repetitious: it is superstitiously surreptitious.) Meanwhile, cargo is arriving at Fargo, and cattle is burning in a kettle. You know how these things operate, do you not? And by the way: please remind me to tell you to go fug yourself next time I e-mail you! Alas . . .
I live in Egypt. It is humid, humble and humiliating place to be. I’m jewish santa-claus. Strangely enough you assume that I die to read your eloquent pisul’ki. But I live in Jordan. I have enough time to entertain three girls and two boys per day. They all wish you happy birthday. But somehow I live in Israel. And I’m not able to distinguish between what Nabokov called ‘entering from behind’ and Proust called ‘celebrating the All Workers Day with the girlfriend’. Also I own an office which is the main producer of shit in this country. I produce more shit than the citizens can consume. I proud that I live in Greece. remember my teachings and be happy good boy
Despite what not of is right, nor true, do to you I respond with an element of disdain an element of disdain. How can you someone like you someone so someone so like like something that like you represent! And to say such to me, words, offensive, rude, words, rude, rude. Offensive. So how overcome I can the feeling the feeling of ultimate disdain, no not right disdain, no, not no, not! Even though even thought I have said so already so already said. And this is this is all.
Greetings, kuka puka. Greetings from mine tribe to thine tribe. So much water has evaporated but you know not the rules of the gays. (Obvious mistake. Should read: the rules of the game). I thought that your doolitle brain survived the enigmas of civilization. But I’m wasting my time. Now begone! You are sure I will be happy to share some thoughts with you. Get this: it is not important for post-modernist artist to affiliate with any art style. Rather, what matters is a consistent and exciting personal style. Keith Haring is, perhaps, the best example. hugo-mugo Ah, by the way, this is bizarre, mon chèr. Une requin m'a mordu. Une requin t'a mordu. Une requin l'a mordu. Une requin toutes les nous mordu.
You are correct, my friend. Your French overcame me, your overcame Frenced me, and me Frenchcame both of the above. I like simple simple simple stuff. You know this about me, don’t you? How is the parrot? And what about the woodchuck? I am very inclined to caring for our small brothers, and especially big sisters. (Not "especially big", but i’m sure you understand!) so, I wish you good hunting, as usual! I’d sign, but you know who I am already! What to do!
Long life for me, you. This is from beloved me to ignored you. Its time to remind myself about your pitiful existence. It is also time to remind you about myself. Although I am sure that thoughts about me never abandoned you. I must confess that your malicious prayers have been heard. Many people were hurt, injured or frozen to death as a result of your petition to the Omnipresent*. Yet, I am not one of them. This is not to say that I am the Omnipresent. But, you, don’t rely much on anything, and remember that I am still here to spoil your being and prevent the world from pollution. So let your erection be hampered again. --------- * This is the point where imaginary stuff comes in touch with reality. CA...A
The recipe you produce is of no value! The carrots turned out overdone, and it needed more salt too. Not even mentioning pepper. I had to go out and buy some bread, but the store was closed so I had to go to the supermarket, but the supermarket was closed, so I had to go to God's own discount store. The prices were OK. But it turned out that I had forgotten my wallet, so I had to go back, but when I came back, the wallet was gone. I thought who could possibly be interested in stealing my wallet considering I live all by myself and that I maybe had ten fifteen bucks or even less. So I called the police and filed a report. Then I figured out who stole my wallet: you did! So I went out, bought a gun, and shot you. But as you were lying on the sand, dying, I recalled the years of our youth when we were playing chess in Monte Carlo and seducing young ladies of Montevideo! So I had to kill myself too. And now we are in the afterlife. I didn't find my wallet though!
1. Bonjour. There is nothing sad left drown though captive arranged. She woke up early in the morning and found him walking away ultimately naked. What was really embarrassing is not that he was naked, but that he managed to he managed to he managed to show he managed to he managed to show check it out he managed to show check it out. Different states of affairs have passed but no one has been actually capable of understanding what was said. 2. Mind your own mind! 3. Sure the land is dirty where you settle and the air is suffering where you breath and aurora-star is poisoned by your appearance. 4. Such I was, such I will be. Yours whatever you want is not exactly what I mean by that, but nevertheless it is worth giving account of. Notwithstanding your previous whereabouts I assume precisely what you’re planning to introduce by that, although it is not the possibility I will endorse, however probable it might have been looked. Therefore, this. Due to it, I hereby intend not to confuse much of there it is inasmuch as you will react quickly. And hitherto serve well and don’t be noticed where you shouldn’t albeit I know you will, despite my warnings you. Nonetheless this will end shortly. 5*. Check it out.
So you such of what noone knows who. Whatever the point is people obey the rules. Besides, of your latest e-, is a surprising, mail. Looking beyond the trees see a collective farm. Girls are collected in, naked as I am was. Don’t touch naked girl, she will confuse and run Maybe along the street, playing the music stuff. Never forget the key moving towards the lunch. Never abuse the girl even she is a boy. Listen what tell you I, come here and see the place, Even your name is that noone knows what.
genius loci
It is a mistake for which I shall pay. How could I think that invoking a ghost of the past such as you are, my friend, would accomplish any positive goal? How could I be so naive? What was I thinking? My thoughts must have been elsewhere. In fact, I myself might have been elsewhere. And I'll tell you even more: you too are elsewhere. And this is about all the news! Extremely irresponsible of you not to know where I can be easily found. Only a person like you, who has much more in his belly than in his mind, can ever forget this! I hope you realize the extent of your failure! I hope that god will help you! If not, you are doomed1 With this, I hope you feel better now that you are dead. It's a condition all of us strive for, and once achieved, it can be nothing but a source of ultimate uninterrupted joy! Buchachas vistas!
Let me use this non-wired possibility and say: "Happy birthday". I do not necessarily address this directly to you. I simply say this, and here it is hanging up in the air. Needless to say, I doubt anybody’s wish to celebrate this day. Perhaps, you noticed that I am late. Perhaps, not. So, and this is the bottom line, you became older. This does not mean - smarter. Less even - richer. Otherwise, how could you explain that traitorous silence on the face of my forlorn demands of financial aid, look, too many children and they all want to eat, they all are so innocent, the small one is a very promising boy, you should meet him, maybe a small loan, thank you, sir, education is so expensive nowadays, sir, my family will never forget your kindness, our eldest daughter already wants to marry, yes, time’s running quickly, maybe you know some nice honest Jewish young man, what, you don’t recommend Jewish husband, I am completely in agreement with you, sir, thank you very much again, I will buy a pair of boots for my third son now, let your years be long, god bless you, sir. I know your heart is made of stone. I know as well that you have an iron partner who accompanies you to the bank every time you go there. But the president of the sixth French republic is my close friend. And one day he will have a birthday. Yes.
Dear John! I have been thinking about you recently and came to the conclusion that you work at the transport ministry, because you always mention cargo in your messages. And from the fact that you are preoccupied with parcels, wrappers and seals I deduce that your previous work was at the post office. Your life story is, therefore, like this. From an early childhood you were obsessed with idea to improve communication facilities in this country. You wanted to be a postman. But war cruelly interfered into your plans: you lost your favorite bag. There was nothing to carry letters with. Although neighbors decided jointly to buy you a new bag you were adamant. Science (quantum physics in particular) must ease the hard labor of a policeman. Sorry, postman. You left the native village. You went directly to the city to see the President to tell him about unbearable conditions in which ordinary workers of communication service, especially in the rural areas, have been kept. Tobecontinued.
Well, you figure it out, you say. Your figure is out. Can you believe that, gentlemen?! His clumsy, gawky, lubberly figure is out! What else? Your pants are down. About sex again, cant stand this. I’m not capable to think about anything but fucking. Hate mself sincerely. Try again. Your penis is down. Not this. I mean, not this one. Not this penis is down, the other one, on the right. This one is up. This one is up, and moving towards the goal. Too much, I want to stop it. That is, I dont want to stop penis’s movement, I want to stop my thinking about it. My doing it, and my planning it. Well, the worse scenario: I can be satisfied with the finger. Not this, you idiot. Not this finger? Not this Henry-Miller-everywhere. I’ll better go. Give me a hand. I don’t want a finger, I want a hand. Really? Oh no, not this. How dare you... But how can I do anything about this, if I cannot do anything but this.
Hello, Nona, the holiday of my soul. It has been a long time since. Losing hope to find you in the net, I started to search through all the stables, sewers and vaginas known to me. Alas, Lolita, my ultimate joy, in vain I tried, and desperate I was, and with the toll of days getting higher, my grief was getting better (that is, worse). Until the pigeon of happiness has brought me a note and a drawing, with the best shit in the world. And now we are, Marina, sweet convulsions of my dreams, reunited again, as usual. Susan
It is important. It is important to keep track. It is important to keep track of one's. It is important to keep track of one's flaws and. It is important to keep track of one's flaws and shortcomings. You, for instance, you, for instance, have lost both the track, the track's track, and your own life! Shameless creature screeching for scratched stitched snatch of silence, silhouette of science. Forgetfulness of forgery and upholstery of hold-up foiled free formations, freak fluctuations, frivolous fact-contortions, disproportions, fractions and floods fuck you you're nuts. Meanwhile, it is also advisable. Meanwhile, it is also advisable to discern. Meanwhile, it is also advisable to discern scornful necrophile schyzonoia victims and dreadful reptile no-specie self-inventions. And I hope. And I hope you. And I hope you. And I hope you understand that. It has come to my attention that I have not be sufficiently attentive to you, my dear object of attention. May I. May I be. May I be forgiven a. May I be forgiven a small pun if I say: lack of attention ~ brings about tension. And then everyone dies. Just like that! I'm sure you know what I mean. And this. And this is. And this is all I. And this is all I wanted to. Amen. Fuck.
Your aggressiveness is beyond the limit. Your aggressiveness is beyond the limit. Yours is aggressive nose and its beyond the limit. Europe is possessive of noise, let it be it. Europe is obsessive with houses, I want to be in it. Gentlemen. I sent this message below few days ago and there is still no confirmation that it has been received. Your aggressiveness is beyond the limit. I sent this message below to the widow and she confirmed that I am a thief. I sent the messager through the window, and in hospital he was received. Gentlemen. The aggressiveness is a bad image. The aggressiveness is a bad image. And I am not singing. The aggressiveness is a bad image. I watched him bathing through the window. His aggressiveness was beyond the limit. I watched him bathing the widow. This was beyond my limit. Your aggressiveness is beyond the limit. And I am not singing. Pissing across the fence is boring. Visiting friends is boring. Receiving messages is boring. And I am not singing. Juja
[Problems delivering a message] Happy birthday, my dear friend! I wish you’ll be as brilliant, as perfect, and as supreme as you always are. It is no secret that your existence is one of the most bright moments of my life (one of dullest moments is, obviously, my own existence). Actually, you are second to none in the world. Thank you for being around, thank you for researching space, scoring goals, dropping bombs, making babies. My eyes are full of tears when I am writing this. God forbids, but there were times when peoples didn’t know you. Dark middle ages. A torch of education, an ultimate source of knowledge, a mighty producer of thoughts, a semantic genius, you always are an inspirational driving force behind my actions. May your years be long and prosperous, dear friend. A. Molotkov
Editor's note: It is useful to notice that this message was forwarded to A. Molotkov, not by him.
[Not Again Svoloch!] Well, what can I say to you? Nothing. Nothing . . . What does this word remind me of? It rings a bell or two, yet I'm perplexed trying to fathom the unfathomable reminiscence. Perhaps it is nothing in the sense that everything has already been said between us? But does it mean every possible idea, or every possible combination of words? The latter can be excluded, as one can calculate. Therefore: ideas . . . Yet, is not any idea in a way merely a function of words used to state it? This brings us to the very essence of language. - Yet it may be nothing of another sort, one that would imply confession in our own impotence and inability to think of anything original? But how serious are these symptoms? Is it they, or our belief in them, our masochistic desire to evade total responsibility by seeking out a crevice of defect in our own personalities . . . well, as you can see, I have nothing to say.
[jopa2] Not dismantling the edifice of structural layers in Wasserman. Mumbling in the presence of officer, telling lawyers about Wasserman. Interrogating the traditional architectural displacement of building. Lurking repetitions of fissures in the space surrounding activities bestowed by lovers of Wasserman. Opening the front page of tabloid in the queue. What can you possibly know about language? Structural disobedience. Presents denied. Not altogether admissible faces floating in the levitating odor of vice. Indestructible wff (well formed formula) of human salaciousness. Do you think you are Wasserman? This brings me to the crux: he has no wonder to ponder your nothingness. Here is his contribution to the universe: Send him a mail. Send him an email. Do my bathing. Do my ebathing.
[jopa126] Well, in view of this I simply must . . . She collects pomegranates on the train station. Centuries whistle by. Occasionally colliding circumstances inject a shadow of stability into the already shadowy depths of Johnson's intestines. You take the fish by the tail, and the next second it's gone. I can make it in time, but I'll be five miles late. He will arrive through the crossroads. Uncle says yes aunt says no. Republics crumble in a matter of seconds, yet minutes are maid of another matter. Nothing matters. I wake up my mare. Time is transparent. She is looking at me from above. Who knows if yesterday it won't be late. You chew cherry blossoms, then fly, then chew again. He is multidimensional. She collects pomegranates on the train station.
[jopa 4] The aggressiveness is a bad image. No confirmation for the elevating tone in the conversation. This subversive behavior is prone to facilitation. Multiapplicable equipment for sygybo personal exigencies. Why it smells so badly in the hall? Why it smells so badly in the corridor? Why it smells so badly at all? Because its a bad image. Yes, boss, we destroyed the village. The aggressiveness is a bad image. The aggressiveness is a bad image. This line will get no privilege. I get up early in the morning and destroy peace ruling in the bathroom. A face, while pissing, is a bad image. A space of missing. God bless the village. A lot of kissing for the sake of budget. This line will get no privilege. A slippery art of agreement. I sleep and see a table above me. I sleep and see a bad image. They agreed to sever their ties with ultimate loser. They agreed that vomiting requires cultural muscle. The aggressiveness is a disaster. We all agree that culture is a vomiting of losers. Agriculture is omitting of news that amuses. Agriculture is a disaster. Fish branch in trouble. The minister has a bad image. The deputy minister has a bad image. The official spokesman has a bad image. The secretary has a very bad image. The cleaner is a disaster. We all agree on importance of action. Destroy (culture, village). Embrace (waitress, corner, evening). Get (line, privilege). Our culture. Caculture. Cacacultura.
[jopa novyj god] Such a poignant sense of Whimsy and Eggs! Please, please do not abandon the fishes! You must be simply be simply redefined as a salmon loving spewer of incessant simperings- plethoras of pointless platitudes. Redefine! Redefine! Redefine! Redefine! Leave the hall alone! Sobs and whimpers, ham and eggs (again), and your needs are not clear. Clarify your needs or you will be shot. This is what happens when you leave computer unattended. This is what happens when you leave computer unattended. Come the spouse, write the above lines. Except for one, which write myself. Or, to be precise, two (now going into the third). This is what happens when you leave computer unattended. I came back and my computer was an apple. With ample crap, a crab, and a Snapple. I demanded a mending, like an outdated Mendel, but instead, I was left behind while you got ahead. I came, ensnared by the silent call of the dead. Santa Clause ran off with the money, he had no cause, except for the one that got him running. His uncle was depressed by pressing charges, talking to the press and suppressing unpleasant discharges, while his aunt, dressed in a white robe, went into a rant about having sex with the Pope. I fought a thought for you, you smeared a bear for me, fuck you, I'm setting myself free . . . ain't that write? and I ain't going for this shit no more . . . I ain't going for this shit no more . . . I ain't going for this shit no more . . .
And by the way of way, Happy Mazumbra to you, my dearest! I wish you the . . . I hope that all your . . . May luck be on your . . . (I say paraphrasing your own filthy sheet (see: shit) of a letter I received from you in this tragic days when I still had to deal with the inconvenience. Now, that the computer age is with us, I can't escape you. I'm resigned to pretending that this meaningless (and absolutely unpractical!) correspondence is worth a shit, if only a skinniest one. Lest I kill oneself (oneself here being my own one self). So, happy Mambuzuk, and best of all in Mongrozmgolgilda Nueviche! Your truest of all myselves me
[jopa for U] Man U. U too. Two of you. You and a man. 4 for U. Ta2 4 U. Corn 4 4 of you. Make tattoo for a man. 2 4 four and four for 2. Buy 4 and get 2 3. 2 many 4eigners. What four? 4ever 4get 4eign men. Get for out of too. Crampoons on U. 3volous 4mula. 3 Nelson Mandela! See 43 men with crampoons and ta2. you are too-too. me too. kiss me 10der.
[jopa for U] caca pisa you and free-style extractions of reality through cracks in time caca caca vomit freak cataclysmic accumulations of clismatic experiences preposterously proposed by galactic fawns predisposed to oppose all of us including caca caca pisa pisa fuck shit spectators of events yet unoccurred propagators of disciplinary requirements imposed upon the dead by those who have not yet been born caca caca caca shit but on the other hand he vomit I eat I eat he vomit pisa caca multigalactic explosions of internal forces gorging on their powers fleshmongers trained in Absolute greeseball-catchers brought up to extrapolate the notions of space upon those of time shit caca meanwhile die shit eat shit caca pisa freak art reality leaps of mind into the territories of terror stories circumstances of circus stances situations of sea to ancients saints gracious like racions of unidentified durations shit caca caca shit vomit shit and still however
[jopa jope rozn’] It is raining. It is snowing. It is raining. It is raining. It is raining. It is raining. It is snowing. It is raining. It is raining. It is raining. It is snowing. It is snowing. It is snowing. It rains. It rains. It snows. It snows. It rains. It rains. It rains. It rains. It rains. It rains. It rains. It rains. It snows. It rains. It rains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. No trains. No trains. No trains. No trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. Trains. No training. No training. No training. No training. No training. No smoking. No smoking. No fishing. No killing. No stealing. No adultery. No answer. No privacy. No way. No demands. No rooms. No elements. No examples. No preservatives. No sir. No sir. No sir. No sir. No sir. No sir. Yes ma’am. No sir. Know. Know that. Know that all. Know that all stubborn. Know that all stubborn individuals. Know that all stubborn individuals will. Know that all stubborn individuals will perish. Know that all stubborn individuals will perish in. Know that all stubborn individuals will perish in the freezing. Know that all stubborn individuals will perish in the freezing waters. Know that all stubborn individuals will perish in the freezing waters of Sahara.
popa-art P.S. It is still raining.
[rozn jope jopa] global warnings have been issued throughout wherein it is recommended to avoid all recommendations forever global have issued wherein is to all forever recommendations avoid recommended it throughout been warnings you go to hell you go to hell you go to hell warnings recommended forever
[jopentziya #1] Today I want to tell you something informative. I want to provide you with some information. I want you to know something. I want information processing to be familiar to you. I think it is important that you increase your knowledge. I live in Jerusalem. My home is in Holy Land. You can find me not far from the occupied territories. I am an inhabitant of Palestine. I settled down in the land of Hanaan.
Recently I became a father. A child has been born whose father is me. I am a father of a child. A parental relation between me and certain newborn has been established. I like to climb mountains. I enjoy outdoor activities, especially in the mountains. I am attracted by high attitudes. My heart’s in the highlands. I prefer mountain climbing rather than diving. It is a pleasure to be able to rich the summit. My wife is a musician. She knows to play piano well. Divine sounds of music could be heard occasionally in the house. Playing music is what she really likes to do. I am without a job now. I am currently unemployed. I don’t have constant income. I do not earn enough money. A relative shortage of medium of exchange is observable. No more filthy lucre. I heard that you are doing well. There was a rumor that you are successful. It seems to me that you’ve made some progress. It might be the case that you have achieved something. See you later. Bye-bye. Take care. Take it easy. Have a good time. Write soon.
[jopavkvadrate] Today I want to tell you something informative. I want to provide you with some information. I want you to know something. I want information processing to be familiar to you. I think it is important that you increase your knowledge. I live in San Francisco. My home is in the city of Jack London, and a favorite place of beatnik/hippy movements. You can find me far from the unoccupied territories. I am an inhabitant of California. I settled down in the land of sun. Presumably in under a year I will became a father. A child is likely to be born whose father will be me. I shall be a father of a child. A parental relation between me and certain newborn will be established. I like to write books and make other kinds of art. I enjoy indoor activities, especially in front of my computer. I am attracted by high attitudes of mind. My heart's in imaginarry realities. I prefer conceptualizing rather than driving. It is a pleasure to be able to rich the summit. My wife is a musician. She knows to compose and to sing well. Divine sounds of music could be heard occasionally in the house. singing is what she really likes to do. I am with a job now. I am currently employed. I have constant loss of over eight hours daily. I do not earn enough money. A relative shortage of medium of exchange is observable. No more filthy lucre. I heard that you are doing well. There was a rumor that you are successful. It seems to me that you've made some progress. It might be the case that you have achieved something. It has been related to me that you had written. Apparently, you had sent me a letter. A trusted source reports that correspondence from you was due to be received. It has not arrived. I never got it. It got lost in the mail. The person responsible for timely delivery of letters and packages failed this time. The envelope in question ended up elsewhere. I regret this very much. I'm truly upset about it. I feel sorry about losing it. I wish I could reverse it. Would it not be wonderful if I could change it? My dream is to alter it. I have a pimple on my ass. An abscess of an annoying kind has manifested itself on my behind. Sitting is painful, standing is tiring. It is a trade-off: to sit or not to sit. I think twice before I sit down. In sitting down, there is a hidden danger. Hi! Hello! How do you do? How are you? How is it going? How are things? What's up? What's happening? Malgudumbra
[ti jopa, jopa ti, ti prosto jopa] Aggressiveness is a bad image. Do attempt, therefore, none of the fallacies that ruin the sacred and destroy the palaces, that are annoying for harmony and wicked for galaxies. I spotted a strange affiliation to methodological-message-masturbation on your behalf, my marvelous musumba. That’s due to the shortage of family warmth, experienced during fragile early years of nutrition. I’ve been told by my commercial advisor to reject the appetizer brought by mistress of this size. Our childhood was sincerely a paltry one. We knew more grandfathers than fathers. As a result, we developed a nice understanding of human malignancy, but failed in linking spiritual acrobatics to the tribulations on the pitch. I better see through the coagulated elegant glass. Well then, I see a pimple on your ass. There is a slight inconvenience, especially when in vicinity of women, for a Californian ace. You confirm that a cohesion between skin down there and physical bodies is painful. Its a shame that you cannot move swiftly. You’ve always been disposed to furuncles and other pustules, and this time is no exception. An abscess took possession not only of your face. Never mind the space between the legs, I face some hara* in your face. Well, I must say, your face is hara. But the territory where hara comes out also looks like hara. It is important to keep trace. It feels rich to win the race. The pope left her in disgrace. A unanimous condemnation followed, rival creeds were hard to stop. Actually, they are indignant until now. But see the beginning... And I Am Finally Satisfied. ------------- hara (Heb.) - shit
[ne jopa a pryamo taki jopa v cube] I notice a rhyme affliction in your disturbed and slumbered speech. This rudimentary addiction creates in me a mental itch. I wish I could respond in prose, like those who respect the time, but your unnecessary pose condemns me to resort to rhyme. Your also refer to those unhappy times when we were young. While you sat and licked your toes, your lost your ears, and then your tongue. When your interpreter got fired, you could no longer say a word. Your parents (and I) were tired. Your mind was fleeting like a bird. And then I took my own measures to earn the time and save your ass: for years I forgot of pleasures. Your soul became my looking glass. Well, now you live among the ruins, and your assistant is a dog. The harvest of your own doings is clinging to you like a smog. When I think of you, I vomit. When I shit, I think of you. Your madness is a twisted omen. Your brain is like a rotten stew. I hope your death is long and vicious: this may be a worthy test. And anyway, my best wishes, regards, respect, and all the rest.
[jopy shire] V nastoyastcheye vremya mi zakanchivaem registraziyu novikh chlenov... From the Internet message. You are Stradivarius of the unattended, dislodged, catapulted into the vice, and debased, Savonarola of the morasses, quagmires, and swamps full of vamps, Pompidou of flamingos, cocoa, kohlrabi and cockatoo, Maradona of the less-then-two-legged, incapacitated, and orphans of the Falkland war, Seleucides of scattered thoughts, mahogany contemplations, wraped sheets, and unfriendly movements, Margaret Thatcher of the male population, Kierkegaard of the abused, defiled and molested, Lovelace with a pimple on the ass, Suetonius of the begotten, by-passed, be-sieged, be-headed, and instantaneously forgotten, Waugh of whore, war, courtisane, slaughter, posh, pussy, soldier’s daughter, Zoroaster of the future, immanent, repugnant, loathsome disaster. I am so sick of you.
[jopa ili dve a mojet byt i tri] I don't know you at all, and I don't regret it. But I know that in the future I will be a child, and we will become better acquainted. In the wintertime we will go skiing (I would always ski faster, longer, and better than you). In summer, we will go picking mushrooms, and, as usual, I will be more successful than you. Then we will be born. I will be born earlier than you, and you will follow me, as you always do in all your undertakings. After birth, we will be getting smaller and smaller, until we are very small. This is when the real adventures will begin. I must tell you the rest of the story later - for two reasons. First, I don't want to ruin the surprise. Second: why should I share, free of charge, the wonderful supplies of information that I possess? One last hint though: before too long, you will become me, and I will become you. When this happens, you will do everything better, faster, and smarter than I. Until then we have to wait.
[jopa, ne jopa, jopa, ne jopa, ..., jopa!] He was the only minimalist in the Taliban movement. His responsibilities included peeling potatoes in company with sheik's concubines, counting ammunition in front of the peaceful population of the valley, translating the song of stars, and substituting the leading strategist whose family was large, children were sick, and wife was demanding more attention, and who consequently was frequently absent due to personal circumstances. He accepted his fate with destiny, although occasionally languished from the lack of filets d’agneau et un blanc de volaille, and from slightly burned grey matter of brain in brine. One day, another day, one day after the other. There appeared to be no alterations on the horizon. Suddenly, war guerrillas decided to change their policy, and opened a kindergarten for the disabled and mentally handicapped, and other children who suffered from the ongoing military operations in the region. He was invited to become a first ever manager with apparent gay appearance. His major task was to build up a football team capable of lifting a major trophy, the first in as many years. There was no money, lack of facilities, and shortage of players. But the final game was at the home ground, completely cleared from mines recently (courtesy of tremendous efforts of the late Princess Di). The game attracted tremendous attention. The goalkeeper stood firmly on the ground, so did recaptured in the previous match and capable of introducing a great damage tank from the former Soviet republic. Big Bang.
[to li jopa to li popa to li golova v zady] Since the first days of her employment with the AIC (a.k.a. CIA), Zungvilda learned that in all daily and nightly endeavors she is the only one she can rely on. This observation proved useful in two years, when premature death of the Prime Minister of Surinam Zalik Ayoub Hassid Mohammed caused a severe counter-espionage attack from Surinam's authorities. Aware of a possible scandal, AIC did not inform their informers. Agents were in danger; mere pawns in the game of the unknown. God may not even know how Zungvilda managed to escape. Surinam is a trap for agents and tourists alike, where machinery is being exchanged for human genes on the trading place of treated chance, and geometry of emptiness is continuously projected upon all newcomers. Zungvilda went south. Having encountered an operative she had previously been involved with, she re-seduced the poor man, only to unseduce him later. The bedroom was adorned with jewels made of glass and glass made of jewels. The windows wore shades of mirrors. Back in Pompeii, the real adventures began. The Judge, who had been seeking a way to get to Zungvilda, showed up at her place, pointing a gun at her. "Point it elsewhere", she calmly commented and turned around, proceeding to remove her shirt, her bra, her skirt, her underwear, and her machine gun. The Game began. In the Garden, matadors and clown-swallowers were exercising in forgetfulness, exchanging notions of premature predetermination and unsuspected inspection. Zungvilda had been a little girl once, and so she knew about things little girls do when they catch a bird and bite off its head. But this is an altogether different story.
[Jopa, golaia jopa. Tovarisch, gliadi v oba!] I am Avi Mizrachi. Life is sababa. I am the center of the universe. The whole society with all its lawyers, doctors, politicians and yogurts is revolving around me. The only thing which is above me is our local football team. There are two things I like to do most: watch the ball in the goal, and scratch my balls. I like that kind of music which is called mizrachi music, and which has nothing in common with that classic, rock-n-roll, baroque, reggae, country, harpsichord, jazz, opera music of those putrid and sickly western intelligents. I want my music to be played in all city buses and other places of common gatherings, and I want it to be played all day long, which is 24 hours a day, which is, around the clock, which is for the small hand to make full rotation twice, so that all those putrid and sickly western intelligents will perish from depression. One step has already been done: the state music channel will, from now on, broadcast only this kind of music. The next step is to oblige all bus drivers to stay tuned to this channel and put their tapes on maximum. In the meantime only half of bus drives follow this rule. The final step will be to oblige all families at their homes to stay tuned to this channel all day long, which is 24 hours a day, which is, around the clock, which is for the small hand to make full rotation twice, or for all other radio channels to follow the example of the channel I have mentioned and broadcast only one kind of music all day long, which is 24 hours a day, which is, around the clock, which is - for those who still don’t understand - for the small hand to make full rotation twice. As an additional measure, I think it would be better to change last names of the rest of the population to Mizrachi: one people, one last name. By the way, I like women. What I really don’t like is when people keep silence. There is an impression that they know something and don’t want to tell. I hate this impression. For my part, I speak every time a thought visits me, and I speak loudly. It usually happens when my brand new car is left behind a more brand new car. Sometimes I speak to other Mizrachi. Sometimes other Mizrachi speak to me and to other Mizrachi. It is amazing that words always come out of the sounds. One of those putrid and sickly western intelligents told me that this has been already noticed by some of those putrid and sickly western authors. I told him something which I cannot reproduce here and which I always tell to those putrid and sickly western intelligents. By the way, my wife is Eti Caslasi. Avi Mizrachi
It is okay to be a little superstitious, isn't it? Once I thought that every fork that has its second pin missing is bound to bring misfortune. Then my neighbor explained to me that it is the third pin. But then again, it all depends on what side to count from. My horse is blue. I had a white horse before, but a gypsy told me that it could bring bad luck. My astrologer confirmed that. I went to church, and all priests were women. Then I knew that something terrible would happen. Things like this always get me a little nervous. Actually, a little more than a little. Maybe even a little more than that. So, I just decided to double-check. I went to a restaurant, and ordered lobster. They gave me crabs. My worst suspicion was confirmed. I walked out into the street, but the street was replaced by another one, going in a perpendicular direction. The city had made a 90-degree turn. Later I found out that two turns took place: one 270-degree turn watchsmart, and a 90-degree turn antiwatchsmart I was in search of encouragement, so I visited my palm reader. She said my palm has such a bad handwriting she could not read it. This confirmed my worst suspicions. I was doomed. I went to a coffee blender shadow doctor. He did not even have to look at me. I called my father to tell him what had happened, and he said he could not talk at the moment. So I called the police, but the ambulance arrived. You know the rest.
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