das ausdruckslose

forget this world and all its troubles and if possible its multitudinous charlatans  everything in short but the restless enchantment of word which lies in liminal disexpression among sheets of madness

only madness can question not only a language but language

what can i do but stand silent before the words that spill from me

the question of madness turns thought into a question

despite society being as or possibly more repressive and agonistic toward alternative modes of thinking than previous ages  and this mired in such verbiage of diversity  i wish to  to the extent possible  release  that is return  madness into its freedoms   i have done what i can in that which is called the world of action but now that that world is largely closed to me my actions are restricted to words   words  nomadic tents of madness

my project then is simply  or at least simply stated   to prove this civilization wrong  not with this civilizations tools but mine  there not only is reason in madness  as much as in reason  there may be even more   in other words language is hardly always somewhere other than madness but rather madness is languages uncomfortable architect

more difficult in its obscurity than any political business or sports vocation is the artistic path   but even yet more difficult in obscurity is the nopath of madness

no one can be ambitious in literature   ones ambitious only in capitalism or madness and happenstantially expresses this ambition by writing capitalism or writing madness   (madness  that deambition)

i am mad as theres no place in your society to make money  that is to survive  and manifest my is  pronounced my eyes  and so to maintain my is i retreat from your society and go mad   thus in your society i am mad to me and out of your society i am mad to you   mad either way and each way with different laws   as inquisitional christianity ensured those others were smeared with heresy so your society ensures these others are smeared with madness   the educated smiling or activist progressives as complicit as any  for they all have made their place in the acceptable madness  the in of money   as inquisitional christianity drove its mad to death so capitalism  whether liberal conservative radical late or any label  drives its mad

i shall continue to work to maintain until i can no longer my voice of nonparticipation  or rather participation only in fleeting spaces where language and madness however ephemerally intersect

from the earliest age certainly well into the uterus  i knew in various modes that my task while sentient on earth as this i is to write madness   with my body of course   and as words  and so thinking  are simply an extension of the body  like breath or vision  only with my body   and my writing madness and avoiding the usual responsive societal clasps  from incarceration and institutionalization to activism and advocacy to disability or suicide to pharmaceuticals and therapy to homelessness and collapse  or at least avoiding them for a sufficiently lengthy time that i could without tedious error be said to have written madness  hardly in its entirety for this would be impossible but to have written a competently full face of it  however shaded and false  among its infinite faces  would show  to what or whom is an aside  madness legitimately as a spiritual and political energy  that is as a body as worthy of bodiness as any other in those worlds in whose names  that is bodies  you frequent fight disdain adore   that i detour around any definition should be expected by anyone even vaguely discerning   i could tell you the names i side with  the names at least that have leaked into history  but i dont wish to play your games   most of my people youve stolen their names their words writing their bodies   we are a tribe distributed across the constructions   wandering floundering haltingly gathering in lost words

how could god not become ill to discover before it its reasonable powerlessness to know madness?

forgotten words on whose omission the world is founded

to enter this omission to forage among the forgotten

how does one formulate a language which sticks in the throat  collapsing before having attained any formulation?  how can madness break through the universe of discourse?

i speak stickings and collapsings  i dont attempt to break through but remain in uncarved universes

what forces me to write i imagine is the fear of going mad

what writing writes though is madness

the praise of folly hardly has to be written in the language of reason

the fool just must develop sufficient confidence to speak in follys idiolects

isnt it necessary that any remnant in the species who still believe in language  not are users of it  which is anybody  but believe  who are possessed by it and it lives in them  must be mad   for language has duplicated fragmented diffused technicized politicized prosaicized clinicized awardicized nameicized degreed pedigreed   and one whom language fills is then filled to excess  and this excess obliterates use and this excess madness

i have sought with minds passion and passions mind a breakdown of a certain kind of reason frequently associated in common and even many noted minds with the highest achievements of civilization   why then have i deliberately sought its shattering?

as madness includes itselves and its notselves it finds itself biologically or adoptively  does it matter?  in mysticisms strange family  that family being an eclipse and sun of god in its contradictoriness

the difference between god and us must lie  not in attributes  but in the very nature of our existence   since each thing is what it is  god must be not only what it is but also what it isnt   this confuses us about who it is   so the mad

of course when i say madness i may mean some thing or more likely some things or notthings  perhaps depending on the time of day and what i ate or smoked for breakfast and who knows what other etiologies lurking in the vast fogs of consciousness and time   but there are not two things  reason which speaks and madness which doesnt   there are rather appearances of many forms of reason which to some may appear as many forms of madness or reason and many forms of madness which to some may appear as many forms of reason or madness   and if this isnt precise enough for you  if it isnt sufficiently general or constitutive or normal or exclusionary   well …

ED BY SADOO DIAPER AT 02:02 NO 

∆ñ§491č˙ª8 in 227.†‡•¿°9|9

translated from the gogol via lezama by ÿrpdan^th

retrieved by haptic rogue emulative longitudinal autostealth malfeasant microaugmentation

classified as cryptoreconnaissance reverse deductive block polyfrequency integral ultramodi

nonoperating to exsecant antivariables of negative hyperzero

treat derivatives as mnemonic radicals cyclic to differentiable combinatorials

identity coformulae polytonically substitutable for epitrochoidal cusps

implied estreatures do not under res ipsa loquitur imply revendication

approved deviants are noted to observe pelmet and voussoir

for pedagogical and steganographical agents of false flags in tradecraft defection

upon level ix absorption submit leachate vacuum particles to flattened hierarchical pyrolysis

how many breasts

one  its of the dasausdruckslose tribe

does that account

lost four in underdown outs

theyre at five

some bypass norm through a genetic subterfuge still classified due to plasma arc

they vary

three to nine though reportsve been filed of seventeen or more

circumstances

mostly

specifically

functions of an algorithmic debugging stack input parameters from a loaded register into efficiency leaks

output it

devalued in latex

calling conventions

static cloud exchange peering

difficult

protocol grid provisioning obstinancy

one would mind

criteria footprint mitigates

durative setback

negligible memory but categorical abstraction translation generative potential

run the dasausdruckslose through scalar syntax optimization

without mitigation

assembly threads may outdent boundary conditions

running

excerpt of a communicative module extract from ∆ñ§491^č˙ª8 in ^227.†‡•¿°₉|⁹

^{to speak about madness is to speak about the differences between languages}

      ^{to import into one language the strangeness of another}

      ^{to unsettle the decisions language has prescribed to us}

to say a thing which is not

fukky risotto and sadoo diaper or at least some of their recalcitrant and degenerate homunculi meet in a tiny cat park on a quiet side street near a family pazar on the hills of kadıköy away from the nearby mayhem of tıbbiye caddesi 

you took your vows of madness and uselessness just over 25 years ago  any regrets?

vows? 

we could perhaps say that in some sense not entirely inarticulatable that you entered or were entered into the antechambers of uselessness and madness and have since been progressing or regressing or at least moving or in some sense which might not be the same sense as the previous sense perceived to move regardless of what factors whether mental physical volitional emotional spiritual hematological or other singularly or jointly precipitated any movement or appearance of movement through other rooms or spaces or aspects or grammars or ramshackling collapsings of their if you will domains

better? 

any regrets?

regrets? 

in a similar but also divergent means to the mode in which we were speaking before its not unusual for those exceptions who in their relative youth embark on a path which the bulk of society and not just the conservatives but liberals progressives libertines and so on frequently consider some combination of radical outrageous selfdestructive deviant imbalanced eccentric that while it can take years even decades for effects to accumulate accumulate they do and as the manifestations of these accumulations begin to manifest more obviously not just to those outside who are always often dismissive but inside the diverger itself whether in body mind spirit will whatever aspect or aspects of the person that the one who vowed or walked or was moved or whatever we might choose or not choose to say is not necessarily overcome but certainly is greeted increasingly in intensity and frequency with a certain  lets just say it  nostalgia for the road not taken to quote an often misunderstood quotee

if ive been at all on anything like you describe wouldnt regrets pretty much look like anything else? 

why do you write so much?

i dont write at all 

how can you say that  therere 601 entries so far in this flatulent travesty you call a blog but is nothing but a reckless dump of your inept disenfranchisement … and you cant simply disavow this by saying others write?

you comprehensively misunderstand the entire process of language  youve shown not the slightest indication you grasp anything of the nature function effect source intent shape or mind of words   the common perception of writing is that a singular human  often called a writer  sits down  although it also may be standing walking lying  the position only an important one for the ergonomists  and these days opens its laptop and proceeds to will words or wait until words are willed or unwilled  the language here is only important for nietzscheans and journalists   but all this is thoroughly misplaced or at most true only for that class of humans subject to the dominant religion of the day  in our case capitalism  which believes in these infantile concepts of wills words waitings sittings writing and so on 

whats your process then?

sadoos do nothing   does one wait to breathe or excrete or blink?  maybe trivially but not effectively   writing is automatic  not in that experimental sense of the surrealists in which a technique is applied to get in touch with ones subconscious  again a ridiculous concept   no one has any idea what consciousness is let alone being able to distinguish consciousness from its absence or subterranean sectors or anything else   no   what happens is that since we are humans or those who pretend to be humans  and we language as we breathe  in fact language is nothing but breathing  words and concepts fill our minds until our minds are at capacity  for we are finite  and can no longer hold the contents  call whats in there what you want  and theres spillage   as with a vat of turbulent water the spillage isnt simply the most recent content but a sample of the entire vat   so words spill out as a psychochemical indicator of a sum of flow  in other words i breathe  and this spilling or breathing is what you call writing but isnt writing at all   the writers task  though we dont believe in writers or tasks one bit  is to do nothing   to simply be human with or without whatever affixes you wish to introduce or whatever it is you wish to call this form   its not even to allow words to fill up   the words fill up on their own   the only way to stop them is the same way to stop breathing  to suicide   and this method  or rather nonmethod  we call not writing but sadoo 

but what about quality? aesthetics? beauty? work? product? discipline? unity? form? meaning? restraint? editing? communication?

these are considerations only for charlatans and lickspittles which admittedly form the vast bulk of socalled writers   the socalled desirable attributes you enumerate are all social manufactures of a particular civilization that has hardly proven itself as worthy of emulation in anything unless you value stupidity destruction hatred  so why would anyone assume the values it proclaims are necessary for something to be called art language writing anything?  all you have to do is breathe  which were doing anyway  not practice breathing in a certain way like the supercilious yogis say  certainly keep your body in good shape by eating well  avoiding animal products  exercising  reducing stress by not caring about what anybody thinks but the earth itself in its inexplicable and numinous wholeness  including yourself  as you shouldnt be thinking  only filling  and you cant fill well if the container you have for filling is poorly taken care of  and so not caring about death as youre not thinking and only thinking leads to anxiety about death   all this is what any sensible human does anyway  without thinking   for its thinking that makes humans sit in front of their tvs or screens and watch sports and eat hamburgers and cheesies and fight and assert their superiority over life and nature   but if you dont think then the spillage will be a holograph so to speak of what you are  or if you wish to apply an apophatic perspective arent  at least in those particular rapids of time which though are not just these rapids but in a sense all the water thats been  and this is writing or breathing or living   the words detours   the talisman that is the process is without end quixotic  to stay immersed so wholly in the burning fictions of book that ones first tongue becomes book and one speaks from it and once one no longer speaks from it one dies  that is once one no longer can believe   literature then is not something one does in life  that one makes time for in life  that one retreats from life to do  rather literature is entirely different  it becomes what one naturally speaks   ones grammars and synapses  an animism   and the quotidian communication that comprises most if not all of speaking and thinking for you is an effort a task an activity for us  as literature is for you   weve inverted worlds and this inversion is the energy of sadoo  its form you drown out with your imposed forms for it

but surely youre behind the times  words are now a subset of technology and technology is mind thinking thought made dimensionally manifest

i have many very geometric relationships with time and certainly behind i trust is always one of them   one could be concerned of course with where one wisps in relation to time but as time is the only solid thing and we morphing modes of wind swirled around it  why?   so many are so concerned about being in the current they get stuck in only one preposition   sure one should be in but also out under above through behind before alongside with and so on   anyway youre wrong  technology is eternally a subset of language   words ontologically and chronologically precede technology science philosophy art and even time   this is why we fill up and spill

im fukky or i may be and were here in kadıköy on the hills 

to not say a thing which is

to not say a thing which isnt

to say a thing which is but both the ising and the saying are as much not saying and not ising

to thing an is which not say

to is a say not thing which

which not to is a say thing

is a which thing not to say

thing a say which not is to

not thing say is to a which 

perverse has reference to ones attitude  in both conduct and opinion   the perverse person is settled in habit and disposition of contrariness  it not only likes or dislikes  acts or refuses to act  by the rule of contradiction to the wishes commands opinions of others  especially of those whom it ought to consider  but it is likely even to take pains to do or say that which it knows to be offensive or painful to them   perversity may be found in a child  but it is so settled an element of character as to be rather the mark of an adult and a core expectation of maturity in human society

the suave circumlocutory politesse of a consular official

the clock in my soul has stopped

time for that awful rowing toward god?

i dont know how to row

time to call the great clockmaker in the sky?

i tried   got a message back saying its at an horology convention in eldorado

time to order a windup god online?

already have 81 of them

time to realize souls dont have clocks in them?

as much as clocks dont have souls

time to discredit the ineffable?

im superfluous  the ineffable like everything discredits itself

time to extend a marriage offer to the amazon furnace repair robot?

maybe

hell sēng ør c̳̻͚̻̩̻͉̯̄̏͑̋͆̎͐ͬ͑͌́͢h̵͔͈͍͇̪̯͇̞͖͇̜͉̪̪̤̙ͧͣ̓̐̓ͤ͋͒ͥ͑̆͒̓͋̑́͞ǎ̡̮̤̤̬͚̝͙̞͎̇ͧ͆͊ͅo̴̲̺͓̖͖͉̜̟̗̮̳͉̻͉̫̯̫̍̋̿̒͌̃̂͊̏̈̏̿ͧ́ͬ̌ͥ̇̓̀͢͜s̵̵̘̹̜̝̘̺̙̻̠̱͚̤͓͚̠͙̝͕͆̿̽ͥ̃͠͡

c̳̻͚̻̩̻͉̯̄̏͑̋͆̎͐ͬ͑͌́͢h̵͔͈͍͇̪̯͇̞͖͇̜͉̪̪̤̙ͧͣ̓̐̓ͤ͋͒ͥ͑̆͒̓͋̑́͞ǎ̡̮̤̤̬͚̝͙̞͎̇ͧ͆͊ͅo̴̲̺͓̖͖͉̜̟̗̮̳͉̻͉̫̯̫̍̋̿̒͌̃̂͊̏̈̏̿ͧ́ͬ̌ͥ̇̓̀͢͜s̵̵̘̹̜̝̘̺̙̻̠̱͚̤͓͚̠͙̝͕͆̿̽ͥ̃͠͡

it wasnt what i thought ohfeelya  it was what something else thought  a something else that may have been in my thoughts but if it was was as much wasnt as was  and this as much im beginning to suspect might actually be the something else or if it isnt be something so nefariously analogous as to make us think it is  and so what you heard or what you may have heard or what i said or what i might have said or what i might have heard i said i wouldnt say is anything even like my thinking

youve gone insane lathem  youve lost all touch with irreality

losing touch i feel ohfeelya often in hypnopompia at least might be the very tea and teacup irreality slurps and swills within as when you an utter fabrication of my inveterate nonbeing falter like an unmade mermaid before a reformado as theyre waylaid by an airraid at a hacienda in eldorado

thank you lathem for saying this   it was only in that moment precisely i needed more than ever a reminder of something i can never remember

ohfeelya how in the chthonic fictive heights of our textuality weve swapped ourselves like naughty syntaxes  each becoming the nothing the other wasnt while equally the something the other wasnt even more

this is my lathem purest darkest fantasy that in our fickling disappearings we phoneme one another like wanton funerary disorders of antimorphonomenclatures in our random pseudoimprobabilities

even when we were never sitting under the prunus serrulata not besotten by something only called love by those excelling at ineptitude in all things but ineptitude and i didnt whisper in my absent caresses to you ohfeelya of my pleasure in not giving to you i used to enjoy watching words careen like bumper boats in a wavepool in a thunderstorm and now that ive become just another bumper boat who when ones moved like this can watch?

well you know as colonel saunters says lathem à la sainte terre  for every watch is a sort of crusade preached by some emily the esotatic in us to not go forth and reconquer these holy maps from the gonads of the infidels and so we too are sainteterreer kernels

c̳̻͚̻̩̻͉̯̄̏͑̋͆̎͐ͬ͑͌́͢h̵͔͈͍͇̪̯͇̞͖͇̜͉̪̪̤̙ͧͣ̓̐̓ͤ͋͒ͥ͑̆͒̓͋̑́͞ǎ̡̮̤̤̬͚̝͙̞͎̇ͧ͆͊ͅo̴̲̺͓̖͖͉̜̟̗̮̳͉̻͉̫̯̫̍̋̿̒͌̃̂͊̏̈̏̿ͧ́ͬ̌ͥ̇̓̀͢͜s̵̵̘̹̜̝̘̺̙̻̠̱͚̤

i feel your saunter ohfeelya but i wouldnt go so far as to make presumptions about your perceptions about my suspicions about what im incapable of thinking  none of which after all have anything to do with either you or me for isnt it these stories that arent stories that undo us toward that greater undoing whereby we dont any longer do?

this is what we share in our glorious and wretched incomprehensibilities and why we never like each other but keep on pretending to communicate even though neither of us exist so i can only conclude lathem like the ancient grungoyians didnt  what could be finer in life than to converse not with oneself or another or ones other or one of ones others  not one at all  but a kind of myriad of swirled absences thatre neither other nor not or even missing

how long weve not been together   its not one of those things i dont treasure about us like our incapacity of speaking anything remotely useful ohfeelya and our words falling into deeyed abysses like ashen constitutions

lathem   i wholeheartedly couldnt agree less in my circumscribed concurrings and as all evidence suggests humans are nothing but a critically endangered subspecies of words spiralling toward an extinction we already inhabit in our erased lexiconography let us both then in our nonexistence  you in your inscrutable indecipherability and i in my recondite incoherence  in the lunatic bulges that dont define the voiding spaces between us of which you are the evasive substance and i the wildering sign  speak in the eternal gyres of our nonspeakings  love in the infinite circuits of our exterminating love

moktor peer and carnism

sadoo diaper collegially and anarealistically shares minds of other sadoos outside and surrounding this and other worlds, whether these minds be housed in flesh, metal, or mind, whether the sadoo calls itself sadoo or something else, whether the mind be Mocktor, Doktor, Proctor, Octopus, Worship, or Steamship. naturally this sharing occurs so omnipresently that it can hardly be said anything written is of diaper and all this sadoo does is ingest other minds then dream the dreamings of these minds and this a record of the dreams of these dreamings

but let method be method or not, for it confuses us

all this to say we advise excitedly our audience of bountiful infections of dr jude peer's very recent addition to the anuses of scholarship with its post to the virtual academy of esotatic

esotatic's abstract -

the academy has defined esotericism - despite innate problems of definition - as a legitimate sphere of research. esoteric etymologically derives from eso- and teros (more within); this paper attempts to place esotericism in contexts of esotaticism (eso- and tatos : most within), exoterocism (more without), and exotaticism (most without), continuing to use the innovative modes and methods of mkt peer - of disciplined polymathic research from the insides out of subject matter rather than from outsides in

also, since ōvid19's spawning many transformations in relation to unminded minds minding relations that hadn't been minded in their mindings, we also advise of the nyt article on 13.04.20 exploring the relationship between ōvid19 and carnism. this article was minded to us by a medium article - have you ever wondered why you haven't wondered?: carnism, racism, nationalism, and the many deeply problematic -isms of covid-19

while these styles of carnist-exploring mind aren't that sadooic, we note them due to our pleasure of increased attention to the effects of the rampant global reified human mistreatment (abuse, genocide) of our colleagues in life

we are pervasively sad and angry, however, as humanity's still vastly distant from beginning in any actualized way to question our systems of false supremacy and become a species worthy of admiration, worthy of our capacities ... worthy of ... mind

zero won

it was the big game

the one wed all been waiting for

in the ṛ|ṭøė polytheatre at colossae

it was when it discovered autobiography

pardon

when it saw the abyss of the power of the fiction of identity

the narrative that always isnt there

language was there  it had eaten all the philosophers and was nimble and corpulent  a flag to itself in statal voids  an anthem of anarchy  an encomium to disorder 

language sat on itself and it was on the benches and in the stands and on the field and whose team it was on or who it was for if anybody or anything no one could tell

theres not philosophy nor are there even philosophers but theres language and in each of its infinite eyes a thinking word

and in each word endless lies and flies

so it discovers the treacheries in the grammars of lifing a life

and suicides

like a ballerina in auschwitz

its narcissistic

its solipsistic

its using slapstick as a dipstick

its the big game

they embedded onto the field like transcompilers

any lines or goals or bases or loops or referees that might once have been are missing

they tumble onto the field like virtual intermediate representations

and no one tells them when to run or start

or end

its impossible to distinguish between players and spectators and press and popcorn and staff

only language stands out

sitting on everyone like time

its that sitting that it notices

after philosophy had undressed

and theres no body underneath

but the intimation of a shape of night

and sitting on it

language

does not language call out  dont words raise their voices

on the heights along the way  where paths meet  they take their stand

beside the gates leading into the city  at the entrances  they cry aloud

and it models a kind of simulating of a query of an assembly of constructing

so to travel into the life of life one leaves philosophy

philosophy like science falls down outside itself

but language still sits on itself

and in that sitting theres a promise  however void  of a story

of a story that hasnt shown or doesnt show or shows but not in shows or cannot show

its that story we long to write

to see

to live

not to live

its been lived

being

the only facts not facts but words

and words are facts like dreams and virga

and so a life

and so it saw

and so the one who lives is fog and script

and so the one who dies

a commode for sarah kofman

a scurrile cymbopogon

today in studio sadoo we have fukky risotto administrator of the global sadoo network and beyond  sadoo diaper administrator of nothing  heresiarch fani och|ness jard ovo qoq investigator of administrators  sadoo risotto administrator of investigators  and heresiarch sadoo fukky diaper investigator of administrators of investigators

the reals become a distant circus of collapsed tents

arts the space you find yourself in when you escape art

im falling slower as i descend

you keep slowing down but never stop as theres no bottom  so youll always be as close to where you started as to any nonexistent end

ill always just be where i am as the always just be where you are people say

those between capitalism and acedia must assume the banner of mental illness but those of us between acedia and acedia assume banners like some favourite smelly underwear you think you lost but randomly discovered underneath some hard blackened banana peels in a rubbermaid bin full of recently found forged kafka stories with burn me posted everywhere

the self breathes like fog over the lands of the self

tricksters gone virtual

this is the saddest of sads

thats far from the saddest of sads

this is the saddest of sads about which i can still say this is the saddest of sads

i advance the theory that technology and mysticism are the raw inputs in the factory to manufacture communication

thats a retreat

real treats are the fake treats

its difficult for you to understand how difficult it is for me to understand you

social media doubly fails  it attempts to communicate in society but societys constitution dispermits communication  and it attempts to communicate through media and medias a horrible conduit for communication

i had breakfast with ezekiel and unica

i had leonora and isaiah for breakfast

jeremiah and clarice had me for breakfast

gomer and gomers other had breakfast for me

breakfast and breakfast had breakfast for breakfast

this is the way it goes

toward the bottom that isnt

toward the communication that doesnt

the sad that desads

desade was sad but desaded himself through many a de

the underwear that isnt mentally ill

the circus that isnt mentally real

how much power should we grant the physicists

physicists lives matter

they live matter

here i have my land the lost land of the self not regained through memory on which i walk with the feet of dream and with each footfall i destate the id estate

this physicist for example i just met on my markov blanket   he was telling me in his own idiolect what i already know in my own idiolect

... er … god … ich ...

exactly  and idiolectic assumptions are frequently subverted by the very grammar of that very same idiolect  leaving physicist and esotatic alike in separate free energy paddle boats in a very bigsmall pond

surprise!

but nosurprise

surprise and nosurprise!

dissipatings in orderings and orderings in dissipatings

energy everywhere

but therere not just esotatics and physicists on the pond  therere mushrooms and swissarmyknives and pocketoperators and black and white and brown and yellow and pink and purple people and some of these are also physicists or mushrooms or ceratopogonidae …

… and everyones pooping

a lot

theres a lot of poop

poop communicates

im on my molotov blanket on a beach watching all the boats and pooping

the beach is in the pond too

all there is is pond

i made a nopond beach with my imagination and the nopond beach isnt in the pond like a weird beach but beside the pond like a real beach

map lives matter

all there are are maps

ar ar ar ar ar ar

entropys the most ordered thing ive ever done

are are are are are are

and the six or so defriends sing together –

suck your thumb on a molotov blanket

put up your gonads for sale

beautiful worlds are ending

on the back of a plasticized whale