Roth's Spongebobbian interpretation of the sartorial choices of the hairband set had us realizing for perhaps the first time the sutures of our own professorially L.L. Bean-bound existence and the manner in which our lives, rather than residing in a submarine pineapple, can be easily relegated to a pick-a-nick basket. |
Schliermacher's piece got caught stealin', but only because Jane says he's a crazy, but habitual, quoter of all things biblical, and all alt. |
For some reason, we were invited to attended an "information booth" instead of this lecture. They had refillable silver pens (Pilot G2) and tote bags with plenty of pockets and zippers. Also, the hors d'oeuvres selection was massive: caviar on purple Peruvian potatoes, foie gras with truffles, and something with a foam. The mini tacos were outrageously good. But how do we know what's under the Bronx unless we drill, baby, drill? |
Fludd's paper, sung rather than delivered, was a scalding account of retail malware turned business necessity and of the way the art of the deal beat out the heart of good software engineering in the race to own the desktops of all the world's white-collar workers. |
Glammy Patties: Spandex as Semiology in the Language of Arena Rock, a Fabrication 
James' Addiction: Alternative Rock as Hermeneutical Analysis, a Liturgy in Three Chords 
Ghostface Drilla': FrRapping the Petroleum Industry's Plan to Re-Colonize the Inner City, or Guerrilla Marketing in Gasland 
DOSsier: the Windows Operating System as Micro-Economic Epic, a Singalong in 10 Sagas
The Clean-Up
For all the last-minute remodeling and removal, for all the cleaning and refurb, the venue never entirely stopped smelling like guano and hydraulic oil and hot metal and sweat. By day three, some of us reported recurring dreams that echoed the sounds of industry, the empty voice of a hungry ghost, but, you know, really loud.
Happily, with the exception of the obvious, there were no arrests. Since the case of H. Pap Brown's takedown for JWB ("juicing while black") at the South Plant Smoothie Bar has become something of a cause célèbre, we'll not go into too much detail here, though we will use this as an opportunity to deny any and all culpability in any and all protests, rioting, looting, political actions and/or social movements that may or may not result.
You all have our sympathies, but it's also totally not our fault.
Please see, however, the Purewater University policy on intellectual property (PM 3.1.14) before trademarking any slogans, mottoes, or hashtags so derived. Consider yourselves sympathetically warned.
As for Brown, he reports that he'll be expressing his solidarity as soon as the swelling goes down.
In terms of PR, this counts not only as a terrible reminder of the nation's continuing and institutionalized discrimination but also something of a coup. Conference attendees note that monographs, manifesti, analyses, and thinkpieces for Salon.com are already in the works regarding the incident. Expect us to have forgotten about the whole thing by next year.
For Postmodern Village,
Mary Chino Cherry