Monday, October 31, 2011

Immersive barabarism – the hermeneutics of global corporate imperialism

The man worked close to the pylons, scavenging tackle lost by the pier fishermen above.

One day, he was diving near the head of the pier when he spotted a lovely-looking piece of tackle on the sea bed beneath him. It was a lure. A beautiful, glinting object.

He ducked down to get it and when he surfaced, a fisherman called out to him. It's mine, he said. That lure is mine.

The man said, how much will you pay me for it? And the fisherman shook his head.

So the man repeated: how much for the lure? How much will you pay? And the fisherman shook his head.

Then there was a long pause while the man looked at the fisherman and dog-paddled towards the underside of the pier.

Reaching the pylons, he released the lure and let it fall to the bottom of the sea.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Wry praised

A string gent
I'm pose it hive he wars
Not Rome man teak alley
In valve (ed.) wheat earn e won
Be yon hymns elf
A rood wry praised fool