Tag: Blows Against The Umpire
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Pusherman:
American Addiction #69 They’re all strung out, man, on the same scratchy needle. Living on red income, strung out on next week’s deposit. A paycheck, a scrap of paper chasing its own tail. These are the jittery legs of the working class, the treadmill hearts pumping rent, groceries, utilities – bills like neon signs screaming against the…
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The Fix Is In, Man: How Tech Gurus Screw the Circuit (and Themselves)
Dig it, daddy-o: Man, dig this: progress. It’s a word like “love” or “freedom,” tossed around like loose change in a hobo’s pocket. But the essay, it’s got its eyes peeled. See, it’s hip to the racket: progress, it ain’t some benevolent Santa, it’s more like a greasy carny barker, hawking shiny gadgets while palming…
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The Naked Lunch of Attention
Music, once a virus of the soul, a sonic worm burrowing into the meat of consciousness, has been lobotomized by the Soft Machine. Chopped into bite-sized dopamine nuggets, it’s pumped into the veins of the masses through the IV drip of the Attention Economy. Music, once a tangible fix, now a digitized roach motel for…
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The Criminal
Knox, that crusty old codger, knew the game better than most. Crime fiction, see, it’s a delicate dance, a tightrope walk over a pit of reader expectations. Toss in some random schmuck as the culprit, some dusty hobo fresh off the freight train, and the whole damn house of cards comes tumbling down. Readers, they…
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Press Gang
The air hung thick with the stench of datasprawl, a miasma of tickertape sweat and corrupted code. The financial sector, once a chrome-plated cathedral of wealth, now resembled a derelict pleasure dome, its circuits humming a dirge of lost algorithms. Interzone, the digital id underbelly, had slithered in, its tendrils worming their way into every…
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Bootstrapping
Flesh and steel, man, simmering in this lukewarm broth of hype. Been waiting for the cracks to show, the chrome to peel, reveal the writhing pink meat of the lie. Bootstrap yourself? More like strap yourself to a runaway rollercoaster, ticket punched by invisible gremlins cackling in the void. Yeah, been watching the tendrils of…
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The Ten Commandments (Interzone Remix)
Deep in the control zones, where steel meets flesh and reality bends like a junkie’s dream, the Word squirmed into existence. Not whispered by angels, but carved by the iron claws of power, the Ten Commandments pulsed with the cold logic of control. Commandment One: No static but mine. Tune in, tune out, but stay…
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Sabotage
Dig this, fuzzball: sabotage ain’t just about blowing shit up with a bang. It’s about the slow burn, the insidious creep, the gremlins whispering sweet nothings to your enemy’s machinery. Like a virus burrowing its way into their silicon brains, turning their finest plans to digital sludge. Forget car bombs and building demolitions – that’s…
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Emporiun Imperium
Dig this, man. Imagine an emporium, a bazaar bursting with vibrant chaos. Spices from faraway lands mingle with trinkets of unknown purpose, hagglers weave their magic, and every corner whispers secrets under flickering lamplight. It’s a place of exchange, of haggling and hustling, a microcosm of life itself, messy, beautiful, and ever-shifting. See, the emporium…
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Leaving Flatland
“Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted”― William S. Burroughs Feels like leaving Flatland. In addition to the usual three spatial co-ordinates, these notes have an extra label, which can act like a co-ordinate along space time. By tracking all four co-ordinates together, we map out in real time how a music moves in four dimensions. When…