Thursday, October 27, 2011

Korner Wisdom

This latest installment is guaranteed to be a mindfuck on the order of Christoph Noban's Inspection. Exhume:

No. 22: "Never fly over the research triangle."
No. 23: "Kreation can occur in a vacuum."

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Komedy Korner

Q: Why did the animus decide to go sky-diving?
A: He was Jung at heart.

-Boo Merengue

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Klosure Korner

Delicately torn from the headlines, below the fold:

Authorities collar Murdoch
Former KSW chief now in custody, ending five months on the lam
By D'Arcy Stroud, Bench Triweekly Dispatch Intelligencer

Early this morning a joint strike team consisting of Dept. of Agriculture and Securities and Exchange Commission personnel raided an appointment-only exotic imports warehouse on Wholesale Street in the Central Bench's light industrial district. After a small scuffle, Chas Murdoch, who appears to have been masquerading as the owner of Palawan Plunder Trading Co. under the assumed name Chase McMurdo, was taken into custody.
"You fools! You don't know how high up this goes!" the fugitive reportedly said as he was being restrained. 
Authorities were alerted to Murdoch's whereabouts when retired junior high school teacher Nancy Ditmars reported a suspicious incident at the import outlet.
"The owner, a really oily guy who made me uneasy to be frank, was trying to push this huge dining room table on me," Ditmars said. "He assured me it was made of teak salvaged from the doors of a ruined Indonesian monastery, but when I noticed the peeling laminate I saw this fraud for who he was and alerted the police."
"We're grateful for Ms. Ditmars' attention to detail and zero tolerance for bogus recycled building materials," said Special Agent in Charge Sib Stanley in a statement to the press. "We're pleased to put this ordeal behind us and see that justice is served."
At The Kreation Korner, a former subsidiary of Murdoch's Kreation Systems Worldwide, news of their former benefactor's capture was met with a mixture of elation and shock, as he had been hiding out only three blocks from the Korner's headquarters.
"Chas was a limited character in the story of our lives, and we're glad to see him go," said kontributor Gabe Gabriel. "This is a big day not just for the brick and mortar Korner but for the Korner in our hearts."
Pundits say the ensuing months following Murdoch's original flight from the law have proved something of a renaissance for The Kreation Korner, marked by a frenetic output of exciting and daring new "kontent."
"People will look back years from now and remember this time as the Kreative Spring," said whistleblower Damien Melange.
With Murdoch out of the picture, many critics have questioned The Kreation Korner's long-term financial viability. These concerns were assuaged, however, when Buenos Dias Productions head Greg Purt announced he would personally foot the bill for any of The Korner's outstanding expenses each month, no questions asked.
"It's the least I can do for Chris Peebles and his associates," Purt said. "After West Downtown swept the Sundance [Dodge] Film Festival, the fruits of Kreationism have literally and figuratively paid Buenos Dias' meal ticket."   
Chas Murdoch is slated to be arraigned Tuesday for numerous counts of racketeering in addition to several trumped up charges yet to be determined.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Kwiz Korner

The gravy train with biscuit wheels that late capitalism purported to be, has broken down. (Whoever had the genius notion to attempt to support a train with biscuits should be publicly flogged [I speak here in metaphor. The 'biscuit wheels' are, as you have no doubt surmised, the complex financial instruments on which we based our economy, and which were destined to crumble under the pressure.]) But I (parenthetically) digress. We must prepare ourselves, sharpen our mind-pungees, and it is with such a goal in mind that we present another round of Kwiz Korner. ¡Vayate!

1. To what do I owe this displeasure?
2. Which dimension is best?
3. You depart from Atlanta, ID, traveling 70 mph. Why?
4. In the morning of your life, what do you eat for breakfast? (Hint: the answer cannot be identifiable with any food group).

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Korrelational Wisdom Korner

Sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes you decide that you would rather have chicken, because their meat is vastly easier to procure. When your choice of an animal product which is friendly to the dictates of factory-style food production demands enough attention, the land will be taken from the bear, and there will be no more bears to eat. Hence the following: Sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes, by dint of a globalized economic system which places the desires of an elite few before the needs of the entire planet, there is no bear to be eaten.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Fiction Korner

I felt a reluctant guest in the clinical confines of the fast moving lift. It was clad in some kind of metallic substance that distorted my face. "Floor four," uttered a falsely soothing electronic voice as the door hissed open. I was put off.
I felt no refuge in the antechamber. The 100-gallon tank of compressed liquid nitrogen teetering on a precarious furniture dolly seemed to stare into my soul with its valve. I knew it could detect my misgivings, trepidation and unease. Beads of perspiration formed an itchy string on my hot forehead. I was an impostor. Thank God nitrogen don't talk.
My trembling, sweating shamble of a person wasn't helped any by the thick, synthetic air as I crept involuntarily down the corridor like a mechanical lemming. For three or so seconds I almost gave in. The lab-coated drones huddled behind the impenetrable transparent barriers I passed seemed content, if a bit jejune. But I had neither time nor luxury for such reverie. My objectives were clear.
It seemed as though a month of torment had elapsed by the time I reached my inhumanely ergonomic workstation. The supernova of florescent rays pressing down on me only accentuated my squirming, clammy destiny as I logged in to my system. "Soon," I kept inaudibly telling myself. "Soon."
I was in the can when the first Molotov cocktails struck the monolithic facade.  I returned to find the sealed-off drones placidly staring at the outside world as if the windows were one big home theater setup. The brilliant orange plumes lit up the overcast sky as they burst off the glazed blue glass and straight lines. As hard as I willed it, though, my lips refused to curl upwards into a smile. This un-callused, un-accidental abomination of a structure could take a beating, a beating soon to be forgotten. 
Back to business as usual. The small window was lost years ago. I miss the old building.     
--Jawn Steighmeaus