Is that an old vintage computer lot # 03152460 birthday June 6 1966? she thinks from the only animation she can properly make with its chair. Schweet. She gets her dumb duck ass out of the stupid seat and begins to bang on its keyboard. Break mother f-ing board break!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0052, 0201, Bandanaboro, Omega
It was the end of us, I knew. End of the band; start of an 8-5 or 9-5 job under a boss who cared not one lick about music or its benefits to society. Creativity *murdered*. 666. How to avoid?
—–
“That’s really beautiful, Frank. Spongeberg #5, you say?”
“Fresh off the printer and into our home. Middle C middle C middle C,” he chants, a thing that got him through the ultra-complex piece. He had to remember that the composer had a plan, an endpoint. Wasn’t writing down notes by the seat of his pants. I heard recently that creativity without outline is just noise. Planners not Pantsers, at least for the chromagraphs. Spongeberg had the process down.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying it! Wall to wall fun for the 12, 13, 14 people who attended (pheh).
—–
The manager shows up with his wad of empty Money, choice looming. Keep living day to day, meal to meal, bill to unpaid bill, or escape the threat of abject poverty and enjoy the benefits of health insurance, college ed for the kids, so on. He hands me his card (see top).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0511, Bandanaboro, Omega
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0501, Bandanaboro, Omega, Planet Q, Schrodinger VIIIa
He was finally fading from me, this influence of the brother of mine. Not even brother of arms. Slowly, from Xmas forward, he went away. I had decided. No saving.
But the planets, I protested, trying to continue a link from my end. No answer. Only Starfield remains between us. Gemilly Niceniece. We must continue walking through the 7 planets in her shoes, being, in order, Schrodinger VIIIa, Jemison, Freya III, Cassiopeia I, Schrodinger III, Nesoi, and Hyla II. 7 Earth-like planets for 7+ hours of video fun and excitement and study. I have seen things in the grass, rocks, and bushes. Peculiar stuff which I can’t for the life of me recreate. Singular events, then. Unrepeatable elements existing only within and not without.
As the cyclical journey stands now, we have returned to Jemison. Where it all began.
“Welcome back,” said Clyde the Herding Cutterhead while passing by her a little later, a ritual by now. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0601, Cassiopeia I, Freya III, Jemison, Nesoi, Schrodinger III, Schrodinger VIIIa, Starfield
“She called me Martin. Not Murdoc. It quite irritated me, and I think I figured out why. Murdoc Alphonse Niccals I was born, you see, but later changed Alphonse to Faust when I sold my soul to the Devil for rock ‘n roll fame, as any red blooded, white nosed lad of his time would have, he he — just kidding about the white part, mind you (sniff). So to name me something else would maybe break the spell, the, er, *blessing* that the Dark Underlord had bestowed upon me. But — ahh — maybe that’s what she was actually trying to do, see,” he realized while talking it all out. “Martin, eh?” He turned the word around in his mind, examining different angles, different facets.
“And this was Blue Moon doing the, um, renaming?”
“Did I say that?” he responded, eyebrows raised. “I meant Blue Flower… eh hehehehe, *Moon* Flower. Yes, that was her name. Not the other ones. Although 2-D was certainly *her* blue flower. Sacrifice you see. Lamb. Just like…” He petered out here. He couldn’t remember anything else for a while. I put him back in his orgone chamber for recharging. I knew the upside down cross on the front would keep him there. The Fallen One.
—-
“Peter, yeah,” he starts when returning and after a sniff. “Sorry I…” He trails off again. Back to the chamber.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0512, California, Kentucky
—–
He was far up in his castle, on a higher level than where Philip Strevor and Dr. Mouse formerly known as House hung out. But he had no reason to be here now. Mouse was apparently gone for good this time — dead again. Philip was… in Juho he thought? Heck, he might be dead too for all he knows, the first time if so in his case and not the second like for Mouse. Philip’s off again on again girlfriend Nada New Year: not around either. His own girl Daisy had also left the scene, at least temporarily. Another argument about AI, PHEH.
“A rare, negative orisha does not apply here,” he insisted beside her on their last night together, sticking to the viewpoint of the father over the mother. “They shouldn’t have destroyed his big house and then also his small house. What were the villagers thinking of?”
“It’s wrong what they did, true,” she said back, “but, bigger picture, they’re thinking of the world beyond some petty, bogus houses, no matter how big, how small. Their actions speak words in the only way they perhaps knew. My daddy was wrong, plain wrong about the subject. He should have realized the moral dilemma involved. AI takes *energy*. It has to get it from somewhere. And that’s just the start; we haven’t even talked about world security issues, and just the blame thing taking control of, well, *everything*.” Her opinions had hardened as she studied up on the subject. AI is bad, and most likely should be banned. Until we, as a nation, as a world, come to some agreements on curbing the beast from hell and setting protective boundaries around it. Else it’s like trying to ineptly cover up 3 cracks with a 666 magazine and pretending like the even naughtier stuff doesn’t exist beneath it all. Daisy saw *right through* that, hmph. Bathroom — forgot to clean it before she came up. He thought she was over it, but he also thought she was over AI.
He rolls over from the spread out magazines, stares upward. I’m going to climb all the way to the top today, he thinks from his bed behind the castle’s eyes. Take in the air, decide whether I even want to keep this big ol’ castle in the skies moving forward. *Move*, he then thinks in a kind of eureka moment, rising up from the red. Maybe the old kook Dr. Mouse was right all along. The castle — yes — should become mobile! (TBC)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0414, Africa, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
“For Scissorrun©? It all started right here, in Rodentia.
“Walk By Night.”
“Cool. I remember walking by there at night, wondering how a place that small could have a band that large. I recall.”
“Many a night I sat here at the bar, staring at that upside down cross, and asking, ‘why why why?'”
“Because of the band being too big for such a small place thing,” I said.
“Upside down from what I anticipated, yeah. I wondered why Satan and his 666 powers had let me down so much. After all, there was the whole selling of the soul to him.”
So that’s in this story as well, I think. But I knew there was more.
“To cover up the cracks that were forming all over the place in Our Second Lyfe,” he went on. “To make it… perpetual.”
Oh, so there’s that too, I think.
“Have you been around back? Have you seen the graffiti, the picture, round back of the place? Yeah, you’d think: *You* did that. To make your story come more in line with that of Gorillaz. But, no, it was there in the first place. Along with this upside down cross. This is the place.” TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0410, Jeogeot, Rodentia 02
I seemingly had sort of finished my analysis of Indigo Parallel. I brought [Dandelion] out of that world into this one via connector Indigo Ridge. Funtastic. A base on an alien world where the mother/father planet’s rings flip every so often, just enough to remind one this is all a simulation. *Reality* is a simulation — no escape. The man inside the spacesuit seems to agree. He eyes me from afar.
—–
“Did you get the idea of the perpetual Santa outfit from Gorillaz?”
“No, they got it from me,” he joked. “Besides, it’s not Santa, it’s just Christmas, period. I stayed there. Gorillaz and its Murdoc didn’t.”
“Interesting. Soo, Santa is also Satan.”
“You said it. Not me.”
“666. Cracks coverup.”
No answer. (TBC)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0407, Indigo Parallel, Jeogeot, LSD, Rodentia 02, Schrodinger VIIIa, Starfield
Per more cues in KY, she’d merrily adorned herself with ribbons and bows up and down, from the top of her new festive haired head to the bottom of her new festive shoed toe — toes. Bought for the season would be their reason, on the surface. Then she came back to the Rodentia Assembly Hall intending to give assumed ever-listening Rodentius the giant white rat with a bit of brown to keep him honest another show of information, holiday style. She even brought her Rudolph bulb along for good luck; it now lit the single room hall as much as the sci-fi floor lamp that also tagged along with her.
“What Christmas means to me,” she started after taking the podium, trying not to glance into his corner too much. Nervous for some reason! It was only a big rodent, though. Nothing more. “AHEM… Christmas, to me, to myself, to… I…” Stumped, she looks down here, saw the color highlighted in so many ways on her arms, torso, legs, feet. “… means *red*; yes, red. And Santa,” she followed, thinking of another red dominated being. “But not *Satan*, not 666.”
“Good one, ha!” Rodentius enthusiastically encourages from his thought-to-be ever-corner in the hall, named for what he would call his better, female half which represents the whole virtual town surrounding them on all sides and then some. “Keep it coming!”
—–
But suddenly, just like that, there was no one in the assembly hall except Wheeler, who just stood there alone, awkwardly dressed for the occasion. Should have been a more somber attire, black instead of red, the other half of the equation as it turned out. Black for the empty chair revealed by the vanished big, non-anthropomorphized rodent, just an oversized but otherwise very ordinary animal with no human form to him atall, or so she thought. Black for absence itself. Loss of a friend.
Rodentius is *always* here, she panics. Why now, why just before Christmas of all times of the year? Why did he have to go… so SOON?!
She turns back to the chairs of the assembly hall after staring quite a while at the corner bereft of soul, of consciousness, trying to reorient herself after this shocking discovery. Then she imagines the red chairs being filled with not humans but aliens to balance things out, a show of planets to repopulate a darkened universe. Like here:
Planets you don’t even know the names of
Planets, you don’t even know their names
Yes, this helps, she thinks. Mars, the first red planet as it were, was just a beginning. Black and red together makes more sense on this special special day. Absence. And presents. TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0103, Jeogeot, Kentucky, Rodentia 02, Starfield
Tree tattoo, front and back — no crack.
Which leads us to… these side-by-side pictures of the 2 very different appearing and acting Dennis the Menaces both emerging in our world on the same date of March 12, 1951, US and UK style…
https://www.plagiarismtoday.com/2010/10/18/the-odd-case-of-dennis-the-menace/
1951 must have been a very bad year to be named Dennis.
The reason is because on March 12 of that year two separate comics entitled Dennis the Menace went on sale, one in the UK, one in the U.S (Note: The UK version is dated March 15 but actually went on sale on March 12).
The UK comic Dennis, which first appeared in Beano #452, was created by David Law and published by D.C. Thomson as a comic strip inside a popular comedy comic book. It’s U.S. counterpart was created by Hank Ketcham and initially distributed by Post-Hall Syndicate as a syndicated comic strip for newspapers.
Though, based on this simple fact, many draw the conclusion that one of the two creators had to have plagiarized the other, it’s become clear that simply wasn’t the case. Not only did the two creators have no way of knowing what the other was working on, but the two characters are actually extremely different. The UK version is a true menace, a mean-spirited boy who likes to cause trouble, and the U.S. version is happy-go-lucky child that causes trouble without intending to.
US and UK happen to be the prefixes of two separate but directly related Cracks in this here blog and attached photo-novels, the first, US Cracks, a “real” band from the Cyberpunk 2077 game with a name derived from the expression “ass cracks”, and the second, UK Cracks, my reimaged and repurposed US Cracks headlined by a Blue Moon Kentucky instead of a Blue Moon period
Red anyone?
Blue Moon and Red Menace (and “divide the difference” Purple Force) of US Cracks
Simultaneously appearing US and UK versions of Dennis the Menace discussed in a 2010 *”Cracked”* article:
https://www.cracked.com/article_18788_the-5-most-mind-blowing-coincidences-all-time.html
Let’s switch back to Frank Lynn’s giant, mobile or wannbe-mobile castle home in the sky over in Jeogeot’s Nawt Vaya (Free State) for the next one, specifically its only bathroom, pre-Daisy Flathead 2nd date condition, he he.
Here he’s ogling “Xxxmas Belles” magazine’s 2025 centerfold beside an attempted 666 coverup of 3 more cracks — didn’t quite work this time unlike for the first picture of this blog post. “Damn, Miss Mistletoe you demon,” he says to the spread out centerfold before him. “I’m truly gonna miss you. But I have new lips to smooch. Better pull out my phone and call Daisy.”
Which returns us to Kentucky… TBC
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0102, C2077, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Kentucky, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, RDR2
