Dictionary of Modern Times - intro and possible title page

The Sadoo wishes to slowly publish--at will (whatever that means) and at random (which seems more the will)--a dictionary of language as it might be written by a visitor from another world.  Here, in honour of a certain past visitor, might be the title page.

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DICTIONARY
of
Modern Times:

in which
The WORDS are deduced from their FLEETING CONTEXTS,
and
ILLUSTRATED in their DIFFERENT SIGNIFICATIONS
by
NARRATIONS and other MEANS from the best IMAGINATIONS.
To which are prefixed,
A BRIEF HISTORY of the DICTIONARY,
and A NOTE ON METHOD.
Assembled by The Consortium of Consortionists,

of many degrees and inclinations
In VIRTUAL Volumes
in the early third millennium in the republic of the internet 

yap clackity worm

faces yap the human news

yap yappity yap yap yappity yap

europe gives europe a prize for its virtue

yap yappity yap yap yappity yap

punching killing winning losing

yap yappity yap yap yappity yap

meanwhile trains do their thing

click clackity clack click clackity clack

going nowhere must be on time

click clackity clack click clackity clack

and worms and bees keep the world going on

buzz buzzity worm buzz buzzity worm

so that faces can yap and trains go clack

buzz buzzity worm buzz buzzity worm

and one day soon not long from now

the yaps will stop and so will the clacks

and all therell be on the face of the earth

buzz buzzity worm  buzz     buzzity       worm

                      buzz                buzzity                worm           buzz                                                           buzzity                

worm

self-exile and exile

self-exile         a misnomer, for all exile is a transtextual dialogue of no’s.

self-exile         an attempt to again glimpse art through society’s arsenal.

self-exile         an i ching of terrorisms.

self-exile         to demonstrate the exile that has already taken place.

self-exile         for exile is becoming obsolete and the window for self-exile itself is only open until the psyche assumes the state’s attributes—bureaucratic, average, mechanical, powerless, indebted, fully prosthetized, incessantly intermeshed, intradatabased, planetary.

self-exile         the dream of exile being the sufficient substitute for exile.

self-exile         nothing left to be exiled from, nowhere to be exiled to.

exile       for the pop and shame of culture, for the lightness and plonk of being human.

exile       for the glory of peculiar movement.

exile       in celebration of homelessness, dispossession, transience.

exile       to subvert the brute necessities of biology and state.

exile       to wean new forms from the teats of the familiar.

exile       because anomie must be made incarnate.

exile       for the dream and memory of exile, to maintain a tradition.

exile       no need, for it’s already happened.

exile       not a bad kid’s name.

ganesh postcard forest

rabelais

His one sentence will ... I have nothing, I owe a great deal, and the rest I leave to the poor.

His last words ... I go to seek a Great Perhaps.

sublimation

The sadoo is faintly embarrassed by its earlier post, the one on politics.  Not that it isn't embarrassed by its other earlier posts.  But, as frank zappa sang, what's embarrassing yesterday is lunch tomorrow.

To compensate--though there's no such thing as compensation--he offers a little titty ditty recently found inside a turtle's stomach in the titanic by dr. herbefa h. h. h. permalink, rabelais scholar, of the university of ridgely's delight at cylburn.  Dr. h. h. h. permalink, in her article "rabelais and the turtle under the sea:  rhetoric and fornication as parallels to freud and testudines" in bawdy studies (254:IX), claims that the poem ("sublimation") is a lost fragment from rabelais' seminal work, gargantua and pantagruel.  (Her claim has been hotly disputed by rabelais scholars around the world.) Written in greek, french, and latin, the poem was translated by iffy f♨üüf, one of dr. h. h. h. permalink's doctoral students.

sublimation

Take off thy mask, my slutty lass,

And slip your yoni hither.

Time is not time unless we join

Our genitals together.

I saw you winking yesterday

At that big cheese called Ingram.

But come instead inside my bed

And lick my meaty lingam.

What are skirts for but lifting up

And tossing panties yonder?

Your clam awaits, basting, baked,

For my hungry salamander.

Your titties aren’t for tots to suck

Or be jailed in a pricey teddy,

But to bounce unhindered, wantonly,

As you ride my stick and hump me.

Yet. There you are. Masked, aloof,

Like Sheba in her gloaming.

And here I am, hard as Zeus,

Doomed to fuck by writing.

a joke

This sadoo tends to find it best to avoid any direct comment on what is typically called the political activities of homo sapiens sapiens, preferring art--which, to be art, in contradistinction to the proclivities of the day, must avoid politics in any non-foucaultian sense--to state its non-statements in its unstated way.  Politics is only useful to the creator in the form of the extreme self-parody it not infrequently provides (a berlusconi).  (Politics self-parodies routinely of course; this is one of the functions of the news and why the news is tedious:  it's at best a mediocre joke ... whereas a berlusconi intuitively understands what politics is about:  the pure incarnate absurdity of barely mitigated exploitation).

Yet the largest public joke of the third millennium has just taken place!  Europe has given itself the nobel peace prize.  One of the most powerful entities on earth rewards itself for virtue--an act requiring a lobotomy so large one is rather astonished that any physical structure remains to support the gargantuan bureaucratic virtuality of its delusions.  (That jagland is both secretary general of the council of europe and chairman of the norwegian nobel committee, responsible for awarding the peace prize, consummates the joke.)  Colonialism hasn't diminished; it's simply changed its forms.

Who will celebrate this other than a few mandarins in luxembourg & brussels and a few doddering scandinavians?

I suggest europe's institutions and citizens immediately follow its example, rewarding themselves for philanthropy, humanitarianism, humility, restraint, and general beneficence to humans and animals throughout time and space.  Monuments to banks should be erected outside of banks.  Household shrines to the household should be established.

Shouldn't we award the peace prize to worms and bees?