worn tools · crystal angst
story · cold
soft · slowing
as acrid · crucifix cyst
as stony · wallop
flowing · fault
snark · against
as stark · as it looms crystal
Scifi bards.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
"An Open Letter:
Estos palabras de mi corazon son para mis mijas y mijos,
These word from my heart are for my daughters and sons, of all races, all countries of origin, all socio-economic groups, and all cities in all states who protested the new laws about illegal immigration,
I am so proud of you. In your youthful enthusiasm, idealism and courage, you did what “We The People” have forgotten how to do. Like the forefathers of our forefathers, you protested.
By the thousands, in high spirits with endless possibilities shining in your eyes, you made the pilgrimage to City Hall. You know that this country is the land of milk and honey, the place where dreams come true. Your parents brought you here, mostly at great risk to themselves, knowing that if you are born in this country , if you are willing to work hard enough can make a good lives for yourselves. As soon as you were old enough to understand they told you, “Get an education in this country, my love, and the future can belong to you.”
Your parents have worked hard ever since they entered this country. They have done whatever they had to to keep you healthy, fed and in school. Sometimes that means you don’t see them often; sometimes that means you have to grow up too fast and do the things they would do if they only had more time at home.
In History and Civics classes you learned what the spirit of this country is all about, and that was inspiring. Though you may be young, you already have learned the lesson that in many places in our world, there are no inalienable rights. Speaking one’s heart may be rewarded with torture, jail or death. There is no right to congregate or bear arms. Anyone seen in the streets after curfew can be shot. There is very little health care, education, programs to provide food for the needy. In an economy where the needy serve as the foundation upon which the country operates, there are simply too many for whom to provide. You read about the Tea Party held in Boston and you were excited. You read about the protests in the 60’s, the sit ins and marches that erased forever the notion that this country was only for a certain few. And perhaps you thought, “If ever I saw injustice, that’s what I would do.”
And then injustice invited itself right into your home and sat right down with your family as if it had the right to participate in your goals and dreams. This government is trying to pass laws that will affect your family and your future without even consulting you - without even understanding your situation. Your parents may be legal or illegal aliens, but you are citizens. And in this country citizens have rights.
So you came by the thousands to protest without weapons or fists, just your amiable willingness to engage in dialog.
In the news I heard about the principals of your schools punishing you by eliminating prom. Freedom is never achieved without consequences. And it is those consequences that make it such a sweet reward. But I believe we missed a huge opportunity to show you the importance we place on the traditions that in the past won for us our taken-for-granted freedoms. The consequences could have been that you were charged to create art, poetry, drama, and music about this dilemma. You could have been taught a universal socially acceptable voice.
We have forgotten that our country was built on the right to protest. How have we have come to regard protesters as fringe lunatics?
We are so comfortable in the illusions we have built on credit so we can appear like we belong to the ruling class, that we have forgotten to keep our eye on the ruling class.
If protest were part of our active vocabulary of responses to governmental interference with our inalienable rights, we would have turned out en masse the day after George Bush, Jr. won by thievery his first presidential election. We would have raised our voices and let them know that we won’t tolerate any more funny business. No Nepotism. No hanging chads. No Polling improprieties.
If we weren’t afraid of awakening out of our sleepwalk, we’d protest. But we seem to have forgotten that if we are subjected to no shrill actions, then we are merely reciting out of our hypnotic trance.
If we weren’t logey with excess, we’d have noticed by now that what we thought was merely the nibbling of mice at our core values and rights, is really the work of large deforestation equipment. We turn over in our complacency and pull up the cozy covers while our standing in the world community goes into the wood chipper, piece by piece.
If we weren’t so self absorbed, we might wrest our gaze from the mirrors and looked out the window, noticing that the mountain tops are being lopped off and the rivers are running red with the blood of our mother earth. The glaciers are melting. Our four legged brothers and sisters are fleeing their homes only to find that there is no where to go. With out knowing which species hold the cures for cancer, Alzheimer’s, AID’s and other human health maladies, we stand by and even invite industry to decimate scores of species a day. A DAY! All so we can hold in our sweaty grasp a fistful of freshly minted, newly designed dollars.
We are distanced from the ones who speak out.
We think of ourselves as too fragile and sensitive to bear the truth.
We don’t even vote. Is that apathy or what?
I want you to know how much I admire your action. You will make great citizens and I hope in the coming weeks we respond to your protest in ways that encourage you. We need your fresh perspective and your passion.
Write poems and songs about your families that came here for better lives. Paint you ideals in oils and acrylics and hang them on our walls so all may have the privilege of seeing the world through your eyes. Write and perform plays about how the government of this country sometimes looks frighteningly like the ones your parents fled. Show us, please, with your idealism and enthusiasm, what we no longer have the innocence and objectivity to perceive. Make us angry; make us feel guilty; make us remember what it feels like to be alive and belong to the family of man. "
--Jill Parr
Estos palabras de mi corazon son para mis mijas y mijos,
These word from my heart are for my daughters and sons, of all races, all countries of origin, all socio-economic groups, and all cities in all states who protested the new laws about illegal immigration,
I am so proud of you. In your youthful enthusiasm, idealism and courage, you did what “We The People” have forgotten how to do. Like the forefathers of our forefathers, you protested.
By the thousands, in high spirits with endless possibilities shining in your eyes, you made the pilgrimage to City Hall. You know that this country is the land of milk and honey, the place where dreams come true. Your parents brought you here, mostly at great risk to themselves, knowing that if you are born in this country , if you are willing to work hard enough can make a good lives for yourselves. As soon as you were old enough to understand they told you, “Get an education in this country, my love, and the future can belong to you.”
Your parents have worked hard ever since they entered this country. They have done whatever they had to to keep you healthy, fed and in school. Sometimes that means you don’t see them often; sometimes that means you have to grow up too fast and do the things they would do if they only had more time at home.
In History and Civics classes you learned what the spirit of this country is all about, and that was inspiring. Though you may be young, you already have learned the lesson that in many places in our world, there are no inalienable rights. Speaking one’s heart may be rewarded with torture, jail or death. There is no right to congregate or bear arms. Anyone seen in the streets after curfew can be shot. There is very little health care, education, programs to provide food for the needy. In an economy where the needy serve as the foundation upon which the country operates, there are simply too many for whom to provide. You read about the Tea Party held in Boston and you were excited. You read about the protests in the 60’s, the sit ins and marches that erased forever the notion that this country was only for a certain few. And perhaps you thought, “If ever I saw injustice, that’s what I would do.”
And then injustice invited itself right into your home and sat right down with your family as if it had the right to participate in your goals and dreams. This government is trying to pass laws that will affect your family and your future without even consulting you - without even understanding your situation. Your parents may be legal or illegal aliens, but you are citizens. And in this country citizens have rights.
So you came by the thousands to protest without weapons or fists, just your amiable willingness to engage in dialog.
In the news I heard about the principals of your schools punishing you by eliminating prom. Freedom is never achieved without consequences. And it is those consequences that make it such a sweet reward. But I believe we missed a huge opportunity to show you the importance we place on the traditions that in the past won for us our taken-for-granted freedoms. The consequences could have been that you were charged to create art, poetry, drama, and music about this dilemma. You could have been taught a universal socially acceptable voice.
We have forgotten that our country was built on the right to protest. How have we have come to regard protesters as fringe lunatics?
We are so comfortable in the illusions we have built on credit so we can appear like we belong to the ruling class, that we have forgotten to keep our eye on the ruling class.
If protest were part of our active vocabulary of responses to governmental interference with our inalienable rights, we would have turned out en masse the day after George Bush, Jr. won by thievery his first presidential election. We would have raised our voices and let them know that we won’t tolerate any more funny business. No Nepotism. No hanging chads. No Polling improprieties.
If we weren’t afraid of awakening out of our sleepwalk, we’d protest. But we seem to have forgotten that if we are subjected to no shrill actions, then we are merely reciting out of our hypnotic trance.
If we weren’t logey with excess, we’d have noticed by now that what we thought was merely the nibbling of mice at our core values and rights, is really the work of large deforestation equipment. We turn over in our complacency and pull up the cozy covers while our standing in the world community goes into the wood chipper, piece by piece.
If we weren’t so self absorbed, we might wrest our gaze from the mirrors and looked out the window, noticing that the mountain tops are being lopped off and the rivers are running red with the blood of our mother earth. The glaciers are melting. Our four legged brothers and sisters are fleeing their homes only to find that there is no where to go. With out knowing which species hold the cures for cancer, Alzheimer’s, AID’s and other human health maladies, we stand by and even invite industry to decimate scores of species a day. A DAY! All so we can hold in our sweaty grasp a fistful of freshly minted, newly designed dollars.
We are distanced from the ones who speak out.
We think of ourselves as too fragile and sensitive to bear the truth.
We don’t even vote. Is that apathy or what?
I want you to know how much I admire your action. You will make great citizens and I hope in the coming weeks we respond to your protest in ways that encourage you. We need your fresh perspective and your passion.
Write poems and songs about your families that came here for better lives. Paint you ideals in oils and acrylics and hang them on our walls so all may have the privilege of seeing the world through your eyes. Write and perform plays about how the government of this country sometimes looks frighteningly like the ones your parents fled. Show us, please, with your idealism and enthusiasm, what we no longer have the innocence and objectivity to perceive. Make us angry; make us feel guilty; make us remember what it feels like to be alive and belong to the family of man. "
--Jill Parr
Värttinä.
Your tax dollars at work. (via Dr M*nlo) (warning: gross)
Swing not!
"The usual outcome is Berlin in ruins."
"In a few months, he became rich and famous." (via William Gibson blog)
How i got through school.
Your tax dollars at work. (via Dr M*nlo) (warning: gross)
Swing not!
"The usual outcome is Berlin in ruins."
"In a few months, he became rich and famous." (via William Gibson blog)
How i got through school.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
"An aikido instructor once described to me a test he took for promotion to the next level. Unbeknownst to him at the time, one-third of the test was determined by how he entered the hall and sat down before his name was even called. What the masters were looking for was whether the student was already in a continuous flow entering the hall, or whether he regarded the test as a separate point at which to turn on and impress the teachers."
- Philip Toshio Sudo
Zen 24/7 (via In a Dark Tim*)
"Technorati now tracks over 35.3 Million blogs."
" 'Why are you laughing at us?' the nettled disciples ask..."
Digital triply hot. I plot cycling.
- Philip Toshio Sudo
Zen 24/7 (via In a Dark Tim*)
"Technorati now tracks over 35.3 Million blogs."
" 'Why are you laughing at us?' the nettled disciples ask..."
Digital triply hot. I plot cycling.
Monday, April 17, 2006
A list of books to absorb. (via R*b*cca Blood)
"WILL
That day arrives, against your will,
however tardy, you know it will.
Where are the powdery wings of the moth?
What remains of its self-destructive will?
You lie in your tent by the golden fire,
hear the horned owl and the whip-poor-will.
A dog barks one note throughout the night.
You point your pistol, but lack the will.
Under a stack of paperback thrillers –
the strongbox holding Ruth's last will."
Ruth Holz*r in Lynx
"WILL
That day arrives, against your will,
however tardy, you know it will.
Where are the powdery wings of the moth?
What remains of its self-destructive will?
You lie in your tent by the golden fire,
hear the horned owl and the whip-poor-will.
A dog barks one note throughout the night.
You point your pistol, but lack the will.
Under a stack of paperback thrillers –
the strongbox holding Ruth's last will."
Ruth Holz*r in Lynx
"The larger world in which these books were written barely penetrates." --Rob*rt Potts in Th* Pag*
"Which blind spirit is whining in this whistling din?" --3unoia
"...his decree, which is the ignorance of Chaos..."
"...all poetry's fault..."
"Weekends spent raking arias through/ sinewave latencies"
"Frankly, we have been failed by our government and foundations in getting the message of what America really is out to the rest of the world."
"Which blind spirit is whining in this whistling din?" --3unoia
"...his decree, which is the ignorance of Chaos..."
"...all poetry's fault..."
"Weekends spent raking arias through/ sinewave latencies"
"Frankly, we have been failed by our government and foundations in getting the message of what America really is out to the rest of the world."
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Godzilla dizzy · word chill
sanktlibroj · ward chill
and ruinous night · our prowl
thingumbobs · warm chill
gloom of thought · futurity
arms snap · crunch harm chill
rapscallion city · bald scop
crust gallop · harl chill
spiralling snow · raki hood
clutch slag gift · stars hurl chill
frond waving · twinkling cry
Titanic · hull chill
"I remembered who I was and where I was..."
Smok*-In. (via Alasdair Gray)
sanktlibroj · ward chill
and ruinous night · our prowl
thingumbobs · warm chill
gloom of thought · futurity
arms snap · crunch harm chill
rapscallion city · bald scop
crust gallop · harl chill
spiralling snow · raki hood
clutch slag gift · stars hurl chill
frond waving · twinkling cry
Titanic · hull chill
"I remembered who I was and where I was..."
Smok*-In. (via Alasdair Gray)
"From a meta-perspective, although both schools have their excuses, neither Language Poetry or Neo-Formalism has paid off..."
"...would Emily Dickinson have a blog?"--Th* W*ll Nourish*d Moon (March 15)
'I avoid the peril with an ease which will not pass down to my successors.' --Paul C*lan, Romanian Po*ms
"Because when, ultimately, will the online poetry world be most legit? When it begins to resemble most acutely the print world."
On my victrola- Morton Subotnick: Th* Wild Bull
"...would Emily Dickinson have a blog?"--Th* W*ll Nourish*d Moon (March 15)
'I avoid the peril with an ease which will not pass down to my successors.' --Paul C*lan, Romanian Po*ms
"Because when, ultimately, will the online poetry world be most legit? When it begins to resemble most acutely the print world."
On my victrola- Morton Subotnick: Th* Wild Bull
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Squall of rival tiny-KISS bands.
(via R*b*cca Blood)
(via n*ws dot xinhuan*t dot com)
indigo · snazzy
idiot wisdom · again going
as angry jazz · Oz
azimuth sylvan silt · adorn with
moorish story · twist
sizzling isthmus · idolatry bolt
am magic · agon
magma wilt and · ignorantly bolt
rising · indigo
against raucous · ostrich march
indigo · ogganition
crash fylfot · ajar
sands izzard Uzi · gossip
azimuth jazz · Oz wisp smirk
lump staring · shards is
Grav*yard Po*try.
"Multilingual word play in US poetries is a formal device that is unusually loaded with politics right now."
(via R*b*cca Blood)
(via n*ws dot xinhuan*t dot com)
indigo · snazzy
idiot wisdom · again going
as angry jazz · Oz
azimuth sylvan silt · adorn with
moorish story · twist
sizzling isthmus · idolatry bolt
am magic · agon
magma wilt and · ignorantly bolt
rising · indigo
against raucous · ostrich march
indigo · ogganition
crash fylfot · ajar
sands izzard Uzi · gossip
azimuth jazz · Oz wisp smirk
lump staring · shards is
Grav*yard Po*try.
"Multilingual word play in US poetries is a formal device that is unusually loaded with politics right now."
Friday, April 14, 2006
Photos of Qom.
'She was sitting in the small reading room of the seminary, and around sounded the guttural whispering of the Sinologues, the compressed throaty cadences of the Arabists, and the faint lip intonations of the Egyptolgists, swallowing the consonants. It was said they had solved all the mysteries of the Nile except for the correct pronunciation of the word 'Osiris"." --Th* Girl from the Gold*n Horn
"morning fog
what the raven found
obscured"
--Ann Schwad*r
"Empty Stockings
Chimney
smoke Christmas Eve,
crematorium ash
on the hearth the year the fat man
vanished."
--D*borah P Kolodji
Found "hare 'um-scare 'um" as a word in P*r*grin* Pickl*. Didn't know it was so far back...
'She was sitting in the small reading room of the seminary, and around sounded the guttural whispering of the Sinologues, the compressed throaty cadences of the Arabists, and the faint lip intonations of the Egyptolgists, swallowing the consonants. It was said they had solved all the mysteries of the Nile except for the correct pronunciation of the word 'Osiris"." --Th* Girl from the Gold*n Horn
"morning fog
what the raven found
obscured"
--Ann Schwad*r
"Empty Stockings
Chimney
smoke Christmas Eve,
crematorium ash
on the hearth the year the fat man
vanished."
--D*borah P Kolodji
Found "hare 'um-scare 'um" as a word in P*r*grin* Pickl*. Didn't know it was so far back...
Thursday, April 13, 2006
(via wikip*dia dot org)
(\___/)
(='.'=)
(")_(")
Th* Cru*l*st Journ*y.
Viking M*tal.
into unknown · ruin going
slowly i turn · fronds of targum
crash avion · mortling walk past
halcyon war · cardboard thick crunch
to boil ibrik · Sinatra morn
ibrik · abchalazal
crowns gibbous ikon · lamp abort
scoot shadow · walrus
flowing · targum
Uz walking · clasp acts
crisp polyps · twinkling
and Osama · again
silk abasing · abort polyps
ruinous · ascian
wisp · skillful sort
snag slalom · walrus
smas sports · sap ibrik
following · arc stump asp
across sordid doors · itch usurp
which fathoms · adorn
polyps · twinkling
swirl fathoms · slowly
crisp ruin · usurp
"...he had attached a collage of brown paper bags to a wall with the entire book sketched out in scribbles and symbols blocked in Chapters. The parchments served as the only decoration in the room..."
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
(via fas dot usda dot gov slash p*cad2 slash highlights slash 2001 slash 08)
P*tra. (via wood_s lot)
Making my Turkous java with Italian roast & molassy sugar. --Yum!
'But that we say that God brings fire upon the world, not like a cook, but like a God, who is the benefactor of them who stand in need of the discipline of fire....'
Scanning- Godzilla Vs King Ghidora
Alasdair Gray blog! (ditto)
dust my lungs with · viridian
burn calcspar with · viridian
hospital lamps · our ruinous
midnight sound with · viridian
horns honk slag falls · a harfang finds
orgasm with · viridian
and Grinchus too · at high Lammas
will mulch turn · with viridian
pain · wins
angry solipsists mag · slan doxology
for it to rain all day · mad yogurt
quitchgrass · and ryotwar
our slain landfall · marsh whining
march into sunlight · art landfill
pain · snug ogham
biking rusty · in a thorn bikini
"...the primary issue is not self-marketing within the context of poetry, but rather the difficulties of self-identification with the group in a political reality.
."
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
My bad. Salam Pax's nowadays digs. Nobody told Yours Truly...
B61-11.
"What colour is opera?" Also, "LotR from the vantage-point of Mordor"...
B61-11.
"What colour is opera?" Also, "LotR from the vantage-point of Mordor"...
fatidic · blood ruin
gars a wight · brood irony
was it · for toxins
do our brook · run
wild · stirious fruit
in this hard · crook rawn
twinkling · finality
smirch · and adroit malign croon noir
Morisco · lurry
hashish · crown iron
so i roam · wanpath
scroll lorn · in brown rain
long musing · a louring
cardboard fogbound · slack brawn nary
plaid boots troll · catwalks
gatling · braid urn
look for a quick · hawk
spiral · drain runny
"On the irradiated soil of the simulated East, everything's coming up roses..."
"...the second and third runners-up also withdrew from the competition..." (via Juan Col*)
"I grow old . . . I grow old . . . I shall wear the bottoms of my sidebar blogrolled."
gars a wight · brood irony
was it · for toxins
do our brook · run
wild · stirious fruit
in this hard · crook rawn
twinkling · finality
smirch · and adroit malign croon noir
Morisco · lurry
hashish · crown iron
so i roam · wanpath
scroll lorn · in brown rain
long musing · a louring
cardboard fogbound · slack brawn nary
plaid boots troll · catwalks
gatling · braid urn
look for a quick · hawk
spiral · drain runny
"On the irradiated soil of the simulated East, everything's coming up roses..."
"...the second and third runners-up also withdrew from the competition..." (via Juan Col*)
"I grow old . . . I grow old . . . I shall wear the bottoms of my sidebar blogrolled."
(via futurismdot org dot uk slash loy)
"The war against nature, which began just a few hundred years ago with such confidence and enthusiasm, with such bravado, has been lost." --J*r*my Rifkin, Biosph*r* Politics (1991)
maroon flourish · saffron podcast
lunar align · stark highwayman
a body turns · and a song sinks
cool gray morning · stigmata swarm
"Surely you can’t copyright memories?"
"Necessity of Ghayb
Stars nor sands comprise a googol,
only chance's gaggle
choice-penumbra teeming. Giggle
who can't goggle,
yet when Norns gargle
drains gurgle."
--Milton Burro, Charbroil*d G*ms & Cr*at*d Addictions (2000)
"So you have this heady cocktail of traditional music and tunes not getting much patronage in their native place, being copied on the other side of the border, attaining heights of popularity and sneaking back in as pirated videos and VCDs, and grabbed by a populace starved of good entertainment."
"...if men came in chocolate, many of the current relationship problems would be greatly alleviated, if not cleared up entirely.."
pyramid town · without pity
Godzilla town · without pity
cars shoving cars · in torshadow
human drouth town · without pity
On my victrola- Frank Sinatra: No On* Car*s
Monday, April 10, 2006
(via voda dot cz*chian dot n*t slash tur*cko)
"Venus Rising
When the cloud known only
to you and your lover as
the scent of Venus
erupts in the morning shower,
the joyous mingling of the night before
is boldly reaffirmed,
and you melt at the recognition
of an unusual perfume's rekindled spirit;
soft and warm around the edges,
then dark and irresistably sweet
near the heart,
an olfactory gift from invisible Ancients
hooked on essences
mined in midnight forests
when holding hands was no longer enough"
--Melanie Pruit, Delirium Fluid Needed (1996)
(via th*turkishtim*s dot com)
Following that Idol Oughts bit, i thought to list my own...
10 GOOD OUGHTS SONGS (--plus--)
White Strip*s- "Seven Nation Army" (2003)
Audioslav*- "Like a Stone" (2002)
K*lly Clarkson- "Behind These Hazel Eyes" (2004)
Björk- "Pagan Poetry" (2001); "Desired Constellation" (2004)
Sh*ryl Crow- "Soak Up the Sun" (2003)
Dir *n gr*y- "mazohyst of decadence" (2002)
Patti Smith- "The Boy Cried Wolf" (2000)
Linkin Park- "In the End" (2000)
3 Doors Down- "Kryptonite" (2000); "When I'm Gone" (2002)
Lor*tta Lynn- "Portland Oregon" (2004)
L*onard Coh*n- "A Thousand Kisses Deep" (2001)
Jason Mraz- "I'll Do Anything" (2002)
John Stevens- "This Love" (2005 variant)
Dolly Parton- "Stairway to Heaven" (2002 variant)
Qu**n Latifah- "California Dreamin'" (2004 variant)
Tori Amos- "Real Men" (2001 variant)
No Doubt- "It's My Life" (2004 variant)
And all Sigur Ros...
"We believe that JC was sent by the Stranger God into the Matrix to try to restore it to sanity, to heal the rend in the pattern, but the Reflective Sphere viewed him as a dangerous threat to the all encompassing power and control field and so tried to spit him out. But he escaped the destructive power of the Empire, freed him self from the black iron prison and holds an escape plan for those that come after."
"Was Barbara Bush's real father Aleister Crowley?."
African hats. (via Languag* Hat)
Sunday, April 09, 2006
"Abraxas Laetrile
Pang unfelt as a pantomime
shrike-attack, cry now this
shadow so clear into prism,
and ring not as sialogogue
lest fathoms reduce to few.
I want cucullated retreat,
anarchy with honor, lynxly
somnambulism, fluttering
tangents to cure my angsts,
and, not least, I crave grace.
Gnomon of my days oh unveil
your plaintive sigil, with
utmost anonymity if I must
dwell among floes, but burn.
She almost knows me, husk of
revelation that I am; shine
through further and finer.
Ravaged is our peace by any
beautiful thing. It doesn't
hold more than one. How do we
dissever reversibly, Holy
Void, oh storm-beached kelp?"
--Vicki Cargocult, Th* Ibis of 3utaxy (1986)
Highway 80.
Pang unfelt as a pantomime
shrike-attack, cry now this
shadow so clear into prism,
and ring not as sialogogue
lest fathoms reduce to few.
I want cucullated retreat,
anarchy with honor, lynxly
somnambulism, fluttering
tangents to cure my angsts,
and, not least, I crave grace.
Gnomon of my days oh unveil
your plaintive sigil, with
utmost anonymity if I must
dwell among floes, but burn.
She almost knows me, husk of
revelation that I am; shine
through further and finer.
Ravaged is our peace by any
beautiful thing. It doesn't
hold more than one. How do we
dissever reversibly, Holy
Void, oh storm-beached kelp?"
--Vicki Cargocult, Th* Ibis of 3utaxy (1986)
Highway 80.