Some dumb thing we found interesting

Kraken, or in "Urth" terms a "giant squid" attempts to mate with "Old Iron-sides"

The "Urth" noose-paper, The National Enquirer, reports in their scintillating cover story this week that a "giant squid" (or kraken) has attacked the shoreline of the "state" of Neu Juicy. This confirms suspicions Institute researchers have had for some time now that our higgledy-piggledy echo world is also bedeviled by these tentacled beasties. Generally, The National Enquirer is being increasingly perceived (is increasingly perceived as being? is increasingly being perceived as? being is increasingly perceived? Where's the Mastodon City Manual of Style when you need it?) as a first-class source for Institute cultural-researchers (the ones over there tearing their hair out) as its stories, unlike those in the remainder of the "Urth" mediums, best map onto the cockamamie realities we in fact detect on that cockamamie world.

Editor interviews Noam Chomsky

Edward Pahnjorndice, editor of the Panopticon

• EP: I'm terribly sorry about all this, no disrespect was intended and we've pulled the plug on the upcoming scheduled interviews with Dave Dimp, Director Zliplitt, and Edward Armourall
• NC: Good, I don't think I could have taken much more of this nonsense
• EP: Well, it wasn't exactly nonsense--we were using these interviews as a way to re-present some of the more notable members of our staff to our readers--actually kind of trying to firm up the characters and rethink the story line--and you were handy
• NC: Story line?
• EP: Yeah, in a frame-breaking meta-communicative way. Did you ever see the cineplay Neverending Story?
• NC: Yes, and I wrote a paper on how it explaining how it subtly reinforces notions of social structuring and hierarchical...
• EP: Uh, Yeah...Oops, excuse me, my wireless wiretalker is bouncing around in my watch pocket, demanding attention--I have to take this call, excuse me a second
• NC: mmph...
• EP: (in other room, not audible)... so for Wotan's sake just call me right back and tell me the Van der Graaf tower has caught fire again or the doghorse's trapped in a mine...really... ANYTHING to cut this short

Professor Pille interviews Noam Chomsky

Where are my hell-spawned "Human Resource" urchins?

• PP: There is some vague reference here within this pusillanimous enumeration of your so-called achievements thrust upon me during my reluctantly abbreviated break-fast that you have concocted learned tomes?
• NC: I don't recall providing your office with a resume, but yes, I have written a number of books
• PP: Are you not--as I read here on the document's banner--Norman Chowderskee of Punchville, Algonquin National District?
• NC: No, I'm Noam Chomsky
• PP: Then you did not scribe Chowderskee's Ten Methodologies to Certain Canasta Triumph?
• NC: No, I wrote Manufacturing Consent and a number of other books that reveal how the power struc...
• PP: Terrors of tumbling tea-cozies! Do any of these putative scribblings maneuver into canasta edification in the most insignificantly apprehend-able manner?
• NC: No! Why this is ridiculous! I'm a linguist and an authority on imperial...
• PP: Seal your pie-entryway, upstart! You are cognizant that the advert in the Portville Trumpeter-Doubloon unambiguously delineated a canasta authority vacuum here at the Mt. Palomine Institute, as we are restructuring our cultural games and diversions department? Your skill-sittage is as--let me re-brief from your verbal statement--a manufactory process consultant for suggestive perfumes, I would take it, and that alone?!
• NC: Wha... ?
• PP: A grand mixologicational dislocative, no doubt--your puffed-up enumeration of schoolings and (cough) career milestones will be kept "on file," (I believe is the scripted line used by the underlings who normally squander time in this office) and one of those rapscallions who claimed ill this day will notify you if a suitable opening appears as if of magic conjuration, no other arrangement being optional. Confidentially, between the back of that fine sofa you slouch bonelessly upon and my august self, linger not with hope-drenched heart by your home wiretalker as you present yourself carelessly... and good day
• NC: ...?

[Editor's Note: Sometimes the "humor" on this site is hard work but possibly worth the effort--kind of like learning old English or whatever awful language they spoke back in the Dark Ages so one can read Beowulf in the original, not that anyone would really want to do that. Professor Pille has accused Mr. Chomsky of being a "manufactory process consultant for suggestive perfumes" because Chomsky wrote a book titled Manufacturing Consent--the joke of course being that the dear professor thinks "Consent" is the saucy name of a perfume and it probably is. The idea that Chomsky would be mistaken for a perfume maker suggests even deeper levels of humor: a critique coupled with a bucketload of irony directed at the somewhat overwrought title of that famed book. At some point we'll just stop all this and instead have Pille hit him with a slap-stick and say something like "What are you, a f**king a**hole loser?!" (We're even considering giving the professor a voice like Cartman from South Park). It'll get a good solid laugh, we'll still get our paychecks, and everyone can go home happy for a change]

Breaking "Urth" s'news: hot from the Peeperhole!

Agent "Billy" reporting from Ham-hurst/Hat-head region, "da Urth"

Rollicking picknickeers from a St. Buckrams's Bathylogical Hoodie-Church horseless-carriage caravan (that was likely headed to some Urthly fun-plus-sun-minus-sin) today were shocked, horrified, and no doubt secretly tickled when several lashed-down cases of bottled water--possibly bottled holy water--broke loose from their moorings in a tight turn into a steep grade. The fragile card-board boxes jettisoned themselves from the Hoodie-Church's over-stuffed lawn-care trailer and were smashed open on the pavement below and behind. From their revealed innards erupted a torrent of dozens upon dozens of H2O-filled flasks! This tragedy occurred very near the heavily-trafficked Intersnaked Highway boarding ramp in the tiny potato-commune of Hat-Head, ironically just across from the site from where a once-famed, now-demolished Bowling Palace had once stood.

Such a scene of hell-for-leather rolling mayhem was never seen in strife-addled Puta Babylon or the heckest hole-hills of berserker-ruled Lesser Lower B'bottomland, let alone the sleepy Narragansett village of Hat-Head! It took all this reporter's skill and verve, with the thankfully agile Geoprizm as steed, to run the in-motion Poland Water bottle obstacle course, as most of the galloping escapees were tumbling down-hill at tremendous velocity, impacting with each other hither and thither, and rocketing madly in every conceivable direction--very much like spilling logs in some Indonesia Jane moving picture action-thriller. A full ten or so of the crystalline containers--like a determined squad of footballers intent on a score--remained in tight formation and headed straight for the front right wheel of the Geoprizm but a deft maneuver outwitted them. Effort spent, they washed up far behind on the boarding ramp's traffic island.

A less adept carriage-driver, piloting a sanctimoniously embellished "High-Bred," heedlessly flattened more than a few of the migratory canteens, sanctifying, in his or her nugatory way, an intersection otherwise known for very real deadly danger. Within breathless moments--as if an illegal intersectionary "Water blessing" had been foreseen by higher-ups--a law enforcement representative magically solidified along with his squad car, and assisted in the stabilization of the chaos by advertising a "blue-light" special elsewhere, nodding sternly here and there, and pointing out sights to passing vacationers.

Feds track down source of long-standing leaky intelligence

Agents close in on Neu Juicy farmhouse, arrests imminent

Book just gets funnier and funnier as with each passing (as with gas) year world plunges deeper and deeper into the digital-photo-shop era and nearly every image we see is doctored like a goose Narragansett National District household may wallpaper guestroom and back porch with pages from this classic.

National Optical Wireless to air first episode of "The Runes of Sebastian Lloyd"

Different cast lineup than initially announced--first episode pits expecting "Sarah" and hubby "Papa Ted" (at right) against new neighbors "Fanny" and "Tilburn"

Papa Ted is giving the evil eye to cantankerous Tilburn and is also about to whip out his acumen in the form of the martial art of Kong Faux (or "Fake Gorilla"), at which he is a learned ascended adept of the umpteenth rank. Sarah, meanwhile (in this scene) serenely contemplates the joys and beauties of natural childbirth which her friend Fanny has just informed her is an experience as relaxing as a soothing nap in a shaded glen.

Tony Pille interviews Noam Chomsky

Gotta love that Noam!

• TP: How're ya doing Prof? Say, you sell a lot of books, how much dough do you rake in a year anyway?
• NC: I thought we were going to talk about the military-industrial complex and oil interests and their impact on democracy, and how the US power elite is attempting to create a global empire?
• TP: Yeah, hot topics, high profile, big sales if you hit the right niche market! Why just last year I was pushing this completely worthless book about how to reorganize your closet space, and as soon as we got the word "Imperialism" into the title and worked a sharp deal with a college bookstore vendor, sales plain shot through the ceiling! The dopey kids now actually think that if they put their Birkenstocks into one of those hanging plastic shoe sorters they're saving the environment! What saps! Hell, stick a cartoon of Bush as some monkey on anything and whammo! Look at your Manufacturing Consent--bore-ing. That thing's cover needs a picture of some fat guy in tails and top hat--you know, sitting on bags with dollar signs all over them--playing with the strings of some dopey-assed puppet marked John Q. Public or something--Saturn devouring his children is always a nifty eye-catcher with the right crowd, you turn Saturn into Uncle Sam...
• NC: Well, that's hardly what my work is all about, I mean it's much more complicated than that, I don't make those kinds of generalizations...
• TP: Yeah, sure, prof. So why don't you have a good look, a visual brand like Mike Moore has--some hot personal packaging? I know this gal down in the city who can take your nondescript frumpy slouch-in-the-chair college prof shtick--it just doesn't read, Noam-- and punch it up a bit, make it pop with maybe goofy Einstein hair or a crazy hat--one of those Tyrolean deals with a feather in it maybe? Nader's already cornered the intellectual "slept in my suit" look--hell even I can't look at rumpled clothing without thinking of the guy--and Mike has that classic ratty ball cap, dumb eyeglasses and Wal-Mart zipper jacket thing going. Brilliant. Some Chicago agency came up with that. Hell, you should see him when he's dressed up and out on the town--he looks like Gary Cooper! Did you know he actually wears a pudge suit?--the guy's fitter than me, but if any of those geeks caught on, his sales would head straight to the gutter! Nobody loves a loser more than losers!
• NC: You're being ridiculous! This is important work I'm doing and...
• TP: Sure Doc, save it for the NPR talk shows nobody who matters listens to. Hell, I can plot your sales directly up against how many bone-heads sign up for the ritzy big-buck coastal diploma mills--the ones where no matter how lousy you do you've got an edge on everyone else because of the name, the brand. Unless you come up with better gimmicks, you're flat-lining all the way to the sunset. And all those old hippies that buy your books and, duh, "no bag for me, please, I'm trying to save the environment (what jerks)"--they'll all croak in a dozen years with no replacement stooges coming up behind them. Your kids, once they get the sheepskin and start making the six-figures, toss your junk in the same box as the Barbies and Ninja Turtle action figures they ditched when they turned 13. You're a fad. Deal with it.
• NC: Gimmicks? Fad? Why...
• TP: Sure, licensed products, knick knacks, point-of-sale loot to unload at Dead Head T-shirt stands like Chomsky roach clips and "nut"crackers, 'cause after all you are busting the system's nuts...in a pig's eye! You've got a freaking dead-in-the-water product with no possible growth; I couldn't sell you to anyone that doesn't already want you, so you need to get more of the pseudo-intellectual pinhead pocket change--fewer 5 buck indie coffee shop lattes and vegan smoothies in their lives, and a lot more Noam, ya know what I mean? We can play up the Capitalist guilt thing! Tell them you're donating 10% of the take to freakin' Greenpeace and you'll up sales way beyond that, it always works. Invest in a condo in Belize and you can count on getting all that great activist chick tail, even at your age...
• NC: Excuse me, I've had enough and I'm leaving...
• TP: Noam, don't be such a hothead, come back, I can get your yearly gross up 50% no problem! How about a reality TV show where you shack up with Condoleeza Rice and Rush Limbaugh... goddamn loser.

Penny Pille interviews Noam Chomsky

[ED: Patty decided she didn't want to finish the interview so the Pille family is kind of tag-teaming it with young Penny getting the next shot in]

• PP: You're really really old, aren't you?
• NC: .... excuse me?
• PP: Do you get out much or do you just sit around this dumpy office full of smelly old books all the time?
• NC: Well, I teach, and I give lectures and...
• PP: Yeah, but it's always with dopey people that already agree with you pretty much, isn't it?
• NC: Um, no...I... plenty of people don't agree with...
• PP: Do you ever talk to real people? I mean people who aren't mostly white and privileged and can't afford to go to snooty elitist places like MIT?
• NC: But...uh....
• PP: I mean you write a lot and you read a lot and you know a lot about language...can you actually do anything real, like the brakes on your car or something? Can you juggle? Carpentry? You sure don't look like you get much sun or exercise.
• NC: ...ah...
• PP: So really, all this political stuff you talk about is just words and things that go on inside your head, aren't they? Kind of a big game where you move all these words and "facts" around until you find a pleasing arrangement, a nice coherent model of the world that just doesn't necessarily have to map onto any reality as long as it fits your political agenda and, well, sounds good, right, and sells books? I mean you pretty much made up your mind about things a long time ago, back in the 60's I read. It's like what Robert Anton Wilson says: what the "believer" believes, the "prover" proves.
• NC: ...uh, who?
• PP: If I psychically bent some spoons for you, do you think that might help free you from this annoying language dependence and awful paranoid reality tunnel you're stuck in? I mean language facility just simulates intelligence, it isn't the real deal, in fact it's kind of a trap. Maybe you've been too close to the issue to even see that, forest-for-trees kind of thing...
• NC: ...but!...
• PP: It's like with most of your followers, you can't distinguish words from reality. That's why the Political Correct movement was so freaking obsessed with changing words and images because for them, in their little minds, words and images are reality and what's worse is you can't imagine anyone being above all that, treating words as maps and not the territories. Political Correctness and the whole Leftist thingie are the ultimate manifestation of brain-dead American knee-jerk consumerism. You're all the very worst of what you hate and I think deep down you kind of know this and have no idea how to escape it. That's probably the real source of your inner rage. And you're mostly detached from real feeling which is why you all spend so much time trying to get "natural" and you talk way too much about being sensitive and stuff. I mean you being a linguist and a dreary old professor and all, you're about the last person I'd go to for a sensible appraisal of how this silly world of yours actually works, you probably spend very little time in it. I'd rather talk to people who get around and meet all sorts of other people and do things. That's what my sister does when she goes undercover for my dad, she gets out there and works the crowd and gets dirty and comes back with just one Gestalt of potentially many that's treated by people at my dad's institute with a lot of care. When they get enough Gestalts only then can they create a vague Ghost Map that operates roughly within the center of a probability bell-curve, a kind of flattened multi-dimensional super-sphere of kind of overlapping realities...sorry, I'm studying this at school right now...
• NC ... world of mine?...
• PP: ...and what's really ironic is that while you all mouth off endlessly about relativism and not making value judgements and stupid meaningless arbitrary French philosophy and critical methods--basically crap that removes you guys from any personal responsibility, turns you guys into one-upping, hyper-critical assholes, and enables you guys to endlessly modify your ideals to suit your personal needs, which is just self-serving toddler-think covered in a super-sophisticated gloss--in fact, your simple-minded outwardly imposed world-view is as absolutist, demon-ridden, and judgemental as that of the worst religious fundamentalists. DICK CHENEY!
• NC: ...WHAAAA!!!...
• PP: Yeh, you write these elegant books where you rattle off endless "facts" but nobody buys them except perpetually pissed-off and astonishingly ill-informed students who'll never figure out that they've confused their home troubles with the world's troubles, and old hippies who've also already made up their minds about everything and they treat you like some sort of oracle for telling them what they already believe, that is if they even read your damned things instead of just stacking them in plain sight. Don't you find that just weird? You never really get critiqued intelligently by anyone. Do you ever critique yourself--admit you may have made an error--question your basic assumptions?
• NC: .....
• PP: Ever consider the fact that some information might be fed to you? You'll admit to one sort of vast conspiracy but you don't seem to see the potential for others. The American Left flatters itself that it's some sort of "force," that it's real smart and on top of things, but you all go running like puppies straight to whatever new bone confirms your pre-existing beliefs. You're about the easiest bunch of people to manipulate and keep out of the way and a lot of smarter people know that. The people who do lead you around count on the fact that every last one of you is totally convinced that no one else is smarter than you, unless you allow them to be, which is why you're so popular with the Left--you're real smart because you tell them what they want to hear in what they see as a smart-sounding way. Anyway, this was all learned back in the 60's when it quickly became apparent that the bulk of you scary "revolutionaries" were just pathetic upper middle class bourgeois white-bread hung-up college jerks throwing temper tantrums. Look! Look! Over there! Dick Cheney's signing a secret deal with the Saudis to destroy the Constitution in exchange for higher oil profits!!
• NC: WHERE?!
• PP: See, you didn't even see me pocket your platinum fountain pen, did you? So what's really sad is that while the world is moving forward in many ways, you guys are the ones who want to turn the clock back, to the Neolithic it sounds like. Hippies and Leftists are the true progress-and-civilization-hating Conservatives who want to head back to some mythical all-natural-fabric Garden of Eden full of romanticized, grossly stereotyped, happy, singing, dancing "people of color" which is just a dopey metaphor for your juvenile "upbeat" racist fantasies--a bizarre update on the awful "noble savage" and "tap-dancing nigra" crap. You long for your comfy bourgeois childhood crib where you could poop in your pants whenever you wanted. Bad daddy government! Oh, your time is up and I have to get going. I'm sorry but there's absolutely nothing I can do to help you and honestly I do want to help you see the "truth," it's the only way anyone can effect real change. You do know your civilization is juvenilizing and in danger of collapsing, that you're losing important skills and knowledge at an alarming rate, and you're on the verge of a new and very nasty Dark Age, don't you? HALLIBURTON!
• NC: ...WHAT?!!...

• [Coming up next: Tony Pille and even Professor Pille himself take the serum to Noam]

Patty Pille interviews Noam Chomsky

• PP: Dr. Chomsky, I've read your books and find them, uh, entertaining. How is it that without either a large staff of researchers or limitless time and money you've managed to figure everything out, you've come up with--so to say--a Theory of Everything regarding how the world functions?
• NC: That's a fine question Patty and I'll answer it by saying it's the nature of a tenured professor at a famous institution like M.I.T. to have all the answers. I think it has something to do with the way the psychic energies and portals to the infinite build up around a place like this when it's full of people like me. Also, I'm a linguist and linguistics is the the most difficult intellectual pursuit in the universe. Anyone who can master linguistics will find that understanding the workings of our complex international scene is a piece of cake.
• PP: In your writings, I notice you--and many of your enthusiasts--often refer to the "government" or the "military" or "corporations" as if they were vast, homogenized and monolithic entities...
• NC: If you had been trained in linguistics and taught at a high-profile school you'd quickly see that they are monolithic entities that possess what we experts call "hive-minds." When I speak of the US Government I am talking quite literally about a gigantic barely-conscious monster that thinks and acts as a single malevolent creature. There are no individuals within it or agencies that do not conform to the program. There's no free will. You find the same phenomenon outside this world of perpetual evil in, say, the Gay Community, or the Black Community--hive minds, but good hive minds because they oppose the bad hive-minds. Michael Moore touched on all this some time ago when he referred to Americans as being "in thrall" or hypnotized, except he doesn't quite understand that there was no pre-thrall individuality there beforehand, not in any way I, or people exactly like me, would recognize.
• PP: Yes, Michael apparently is part of the confused-but-well-meaning-fat-guy-hive-mind. Anyway, how do you research your books? You seem to command a vast range of facts that aren't available to the public, in fact more facts than most other researchers and even intelligence agencies manage to muster. Often I sense that you know more about the inner workings of things than the insiders themselves.
• NC: Well, for one, MIT has provided me with a viewing tower made of the finest ivory that's actually a few meters taller than the CN Tower in Toronto. It's so tall in fact that I can wave to myself off in the distance. I also accomplish much through channeling the spirit of a dead Sandinista named Raoul, and by carefully reading my own books, which I've found to be an excellent source of information for just about everything, much like the Bible can be for Christian hive-minds. And again, once you've mastered linguistics, the modern world as it's controlled by hive-minds is as easy to understand as a lamprey eel or thermal vent worm.
• PP: How does this Raoul spirit help you?
• NC: Well, whenever I come up against a tough question where I'm uncertain about motivations of the hive-minds, or when I encounter any information that seems to contradict the very notion of hive-minds, I "call" Raoul in and he straightens me out with his clear thinking about everything. For example, while I always knew the Sandinistas were good people...
• PP: ...because they opposed the evil "government" and "corporate" hive-minds?
• NC: Yes, exactly...well, I didn't know just how good they were until Raoul filled me in. Did you know the Sandinistas baked chocolate chip cookies for the people of Nicaragua every afternoon? Conversely, the Samoza government worshiped Satan and practiced human sacrifice with the help of Westinghouse sales agents ostensibly in that country to sell "street lights" to various "mayors" of small towns.
• PP: No, those, uh, facts slipped right by me. What does Raoul tell you about other world trouble-spots--like Iran after the revolution?
• NC: I already knew that the Shah was part of the government, military, corporate hive-mind and found an article in an obscure publication that you needn't trouble yourself about that proved that conclusively. You see, he supported the US which is always a dead giveaway that a leader is bad. But I wondered seriously about the Ayatollah. I mean he opposed the hive-mind so he must have been a "good-guy" and yet the government he created did seem to have a few problems..
• PP: ...a few...
• NC: ...so, after a number of sleepless nights, I summoned Raoul and he explained it simply: everything bad in the world was due to the evil hive-minds, specifically evil American hive-minds, therefore, the Ayatollah must have been under the control of the government, the military, and the corporations. This is the only possible explanation for his success.
• PP: Huh? But why would they toss out one of their own and replace him with another of their own?
• NC: Because they're evil Patty, because all they want to do is hurt people and make things bad, and lower wages, and destroy the environment, and wage war. Did you know that Wal-Mart funded Hitler's rise to power? Did you know that the military dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima a full year after the Japanese surrendered and it was covered up by the hive-media? They didn't even use an airplane, they linked themselves together to form a human bridge--one soldier or general can carry 20 times his or her own weight! So Raoul told me that once the hive-minds realized the Ayatollah would be worse than the Shah they gave him all their support.
• PP: So how do we know who the good guys are?
• NC: That's easy Patty, for one they'll be the people who are against the evil hive-minds, the ones with Free Tibet bumper stickers on their Subaru Foresters and plenty of Stop This... and End That... stuff around the home--books with the word "Imperialism" in the title because good people want to make all the bad things go away. That's why they're called good people. They'll also have stacks of my books at home and all the Michael Moore DVDs, of course. The more they own, the better they are.

(Part II later)

Panopticon readers whine about "tough reading"--Noam Chomsky replies

All the answers to everything all at once

The Panopticon was created as a psychological operations weapon by the CIA and NSA in 1957 by pro-Israel factions within the FBI and Food and Drug Administration during the Iran-Contra scandals to divert public attention away from money laundering that was taking place in Panama in order to fund drug traffic through the anti-government Nicaraguan insurgents funded by Standard Oil and Avis Rent-a-Car so that the National Guard could overthrow the legally elected anti-Imperialist leader of Thailand in what was hoped for by President Carter to be a bloodless coup in order to place pro-military-industrial lobbyists into a position where a de facto police state could be imposed upon the American public that had been brainwashed by US Army-sponsored television and radio programs in order to fund further exploration of oil reserves in New York's Central Park after... [long pause while adoring graduate student winds-up Professor Chomsky] ...bribing all the elected officials within the municipal government of Cincinnati where anti-Castro Cubans linked up with the Mafia and the Secretary of Defense in order to promote the agendas of Sinclair Oil and Goodyear Tire that have been in effect since 1951 when President Truman on the advice of a consortium of Iran-Contra NSA lobbyists attempted to swing the election of Juan Carlo Hacienda the legally elected President of Argentina who was about to OK contracts by which Anaconda Steel and US Copperhead would have exclusive rights for mining that were located under villages in Burma and Cambodia unbeknownst to the pixies and fairies that lived in the glades that were sprayed with Agent Orange near the house that Jack built.

How do I know all this? Because I'm the Noam Chomsky perpetual info program--genius and your one-stop source for information about the detailed workings of every tiny detail of the world. My staff of 120 diligent investigators and I work around the clock to uncover the last word in truth about everything that's going on unless our fax machine breaks down due to interventions by Mossad agents and FBI moles who, with the maintanance staff of pro-Sandinista Serbians representing factions within the Vatican who work late at night under the direction of the oil interests lead by......the.....Bush......fam....il.....eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Institute scientists puzzled by yet another new "Urther" socio-political crusade

The poster discovered by Erden explorers in Peopleperson's-Fyre anarchist book shop that has us scratching our heads and reaching for the aspirin

The current theory here at the Mt. Palomine Institute is that this highly disturbing activist poster depicts a well-known giant Unca S'ham puppet--made from (or by) "Bread and Circuits." He is clearly saddened by his dowdy and insincere wimmin's-wear cross-dressing outfit. The immense puppet wishes (s)he/it could dress perhaps more like Mike-hole Jack-sin--shown on the poster performing (certainly) his hit song "Beat It," indicating badly dressed Imperialism should depart from his native land (Floor-duh?) post haste. Perhaps Imperialism is mere metaphorical "cross-dressing" and Mike-hole symbolizes The One True trans-gender awareness? Unfortunately, our scholars have not decoded the inchoate ramblings of the various "Urth" Frawn-chi-land philosophers sufficiently to understand what "Urthers" might think they really mean when they don't really mean much of anything to begin with anyway. The significances of Unca S'ham's rose garden breasts (?) and Mike-hole Jack-sin's gold-daubed tin whistle and purple bow-ties (that are affixed to threatening looking static-charged hair!) are just plain beyond us, thank Wotan. We also thought he only wore one white glove.

Dave Dimp responds to news of birth of new Erden "Wunder-Baby" Sebastian Lloyd

Sometimes, I make scents

I've never made a baby before but I imagine it must be tough work so I've made a list of things that will make life easier for people who've just made babies (It doesn't matter how many babies you make at a time, the rules apply equally to any number from one to a thousand!).

• Aromatherapy solves just about any problem from the spiritual to putting shingles on the roof--start there and start with a good scent that will cover up bad odors, as babies are full of bad odors
• Don't forget baby oil changes (which should be changed every 3000 miles anyway unless you use a good detergent baby oil)
• Get the baby a wireless wiretalker so he can call you whenever he needs something
• Whenever the baby brings up the subject of potty training change the subject
• Avoid toys with whiskers and/or batteries
• Sleep in shifts because they're easier to get in and out of than pants
• Start the baby out with subscriptions to simple and colorful magazines --like Country Home or American Virtual Pie Eater
• Never let the baby change TV channels on its own without mittens
• If the baby keeps you up way too late at night allow it to win a few hands and get overconfident
• Babies should be carefully carried the same way mole rats carry their mole-kittens--in your mouth, which is the way I carry most of my pets
• Babies like lots of air--buy plenty of extra (oops--I meant hair!)
• Don't let dogs near babies because the dogs will stare at them and then the babies will need sunglasses when they're older

I think I've covered everything about how to raise babies at home. Good luck!

Three-hundredth Panopticon posting is Part II of "The Runes of Sebastian Lloyd"!

Special Santarialand commemorative railway carriage created for the event!

(and that's little Sebastian Lloyd back in the gaily painted cabin, putting firecrackers in the egg nog)

[From the desk of Perfessor Pille] A too brief halloo as I'm garbed in jammies and scheduled for the brushed cotton sheets of Morpheus. Here handed to me is a 6 by 9 indexical card upon which is inscribed the predictions of the next Rune of Sebastian Lloyd (Das Runen von Sebastian Lloyd) and it is hummed thusly:

• 2042- SL emerges from his Llamisery of Solitude high in the Tibetan lowlands and proceeds to utilize his limitless fortune to set up a vast retail chain establishment to be known as Null-Mart in an attempt to utterly destroy the globe-girdling totalitarianism called Wal-Mart. His new stores sell toilet paper for 3 cents a roll, piñatas for a nickel, and 55 gallon drums of sucrose-drenched "root beer" for a dollar. The scheme is so successful that within a mere year the miracle-maker is able to employ desperate members of the Walton Family as minimum wage store greeters. Victorious, the Mighty SL jettisons the "crap" and gradually replaces it with health-giving and sturdy products offered to the public at highly reasonable prices (including inexpensive water-closet paper that does not cause a gluteal rash). Further, the chain is renamed from the pugilistic-sounding Null-Mart to We Really Like You Guys!

(be alerted to further adventures of "The Runes of Sebastian Lloyd," soon to be a National Optical Wireless entertainment starring Baby Chanute as "Sebastian Lloyd," Penny Pille as "Sarah," and Escrow Fountainbleau van Buren as "Papa Ted")

Jubilation rampant as first all-Erden baby birthed on "da Urth"

Sebastian Lloyd AKA Spinnaker Hiawathaheck (his true Erden name) enjoys a quick nap before his debriefing

Erden cloaked agents-on-da Urth, "Ted" (played by Sebastian T. Consindine) and his "wife" "Sarah" (Agent 009), have successfully completed an experiment to create a genetically pure Erden in a totally downright hostile non-Erden environment. No trickery (that we are aware of) was used in this micro-miracle; the tiny-one is "all natural" and made wholly of vegan-approved healthful ingredients. Soy-baby "Sebastian"--his "Urth" code-name--is getting about splendidly and has already completed reading his first book, or shall we say books--all five volumes of Macaulay's A Treatise on Particulars of Pat the Bunny. (On Erde, copies of this classic are generally presented to the "newbie" upon egress, as a prize and incentive of sorts; it also gives the infant something to do while the parents, and especially the mother, are recuperating).

The traditional runes were cast for the event and the presiding Tunarian Mathenatrix, Frau Zonderhalle Quimby arrived at this lifeline for the adorable Sebastian Lloyd:

• 2006-Born to run
• 2012-Graduates cum laude from the Miss Becky Barker Monkeyshine Toddlarium of Fishwick Falls, Winnebago National District
• 2017-Invents non-leaking zero gravity sno-cone for new NASA kiddie shuttle
• 2021-Enters graduate school in Beijing
• 2021-Receives Doctorate in Advanced Post-Euclidean Non-Ventilating Topological Socio-Nanotechnology and immediately becomes world's foremost expert in this highly specialized field
• 2026-Invents Flerglogizmocular Spinfatratmorilator and ushers in new Golden Age for man (and woman) kind
• 2030-Sales of the Flerglogizmocular Spinfatratmorilator (or FS as it's know to the public) make Sebastian Lloyd at age of 24 second richest man in solar system after Bill Gates's Virtual Cosmic Consciousness (AKA Star Gates)
• 2032-Sebastian Lloyd petulantly announces plans for "Urth Too," a near exact copy of "da Urth" so that everyone can "get it right this time"
• 2040-"Urth Too" goes all haywire and plunges into sun taking entire weekend maintenance crew (all illegal aliens) with it--called greatest natural catastrophe to not happen on "da Urth." However, event triggers massive solar flares that interact with "da Urth's" atmosphere and stabilize global environment but also melt the Moon into a disturbingly odd and complex shape resembling Ernest Borgnine in profile, mouth wide open... eating a pie--which we have to kind of live with forever
• 2040-Sebastian Lloyd (to be referred to as SL from here on in), in a justifiably confused moment, buys Tibet and builds an 8000 acre ranch there. He breeds Tibetan Llamas, builds a museum for his collection of Salvador Dali paintings, and generally meditates on the surreal weirdness of it all for a while

(stay tuned for Part II of The Runes of Sebastian Lloyd)

Director Zliplitt rants henceforth to be dubbed "Political-Poetical Romances"

No additional text here! What further elaboration is required beyond the information imparted within the assignated blogstarian "title"? The pronouncement is all. Perhaps you ache for some literary kapok, some flavor-deprived white-bread stuffing, as one would find within any (nay, all) "Urth" periodical zealous to fill the few vacant pages between the limitless adverts (one has paid a king's ransom for) with any dreck that would justify the niche-marketed theme implied by the idiotically hopeful cover banner. Examples, you require? "The American Garage Floor Cleaner": each issue packed immobile with 15 whole pages (out of 105) of elucidating essays, immense photos, and endless side-bars, on contemporary garage floor cleaning--perfect reward for father on Father's Day as garage floor scrubbery tends to be his only topic of conversation since the "cranial injury." Then we have "Cosmopolitan" (a misnomer if ever one washed ashore, corrupted and bloated) which, in its seemingly mandated monthly copulatory positioning elaborations ("Sixty yet entirely new manners to propel your unlucky partner off a metaphorical cliff and into very real perdition!") mimics the essentials of "The American Garage Mender" and most governmental re-re-orderings of re-proposed social programs in its unimaginative recycling of previously prepared meat loaf with baby peas.