Tag Archives: YTP

00480305

He was talking to himself again while writing. “Golden glove, golden *glover*,” he muttered. Philip had turned his back on the man called Mouse, thinking about his own stuff. Like how to beat Mouse’s high score in High Speed. Maybe take some speed? NO, he cannot go down that route to highness again. Might end up in another dimension once more! “Philip,” said Mouse. “Could you please move your elbow a bit. Trying to concentrate here.”

“Have you figured it out?” asked curious Frank to his left. He knew he hadn’t but was just making conversation to kill time. They’d finished eating and didn’t want to do anything else. Just: rest. No pinball for Philip, no piano for Frank. At least for a while. But Mouse had his post-dinner project. Scribbling down notes about the Youtube poop videos he’d been watching and studying, focus on CENTER. He couldn’t wait. It was just that urgent for him.

“It would *help* if I knew the name of the character who emerges from the wall of static in 08:10.” Mouse had started naming his videos after their time, but neither Frank nor Philip were keeping tabs. To them all the videos blurred together in a great big chaotic mess. They didn’t see the beauty in the re-mix products that Mouse did. I guess he had to. Salvation and all. Plus he was in some of them so that helped draw him in. He saw *himself* in them. He could identify. “Philip… *please*,” he requested again about the elbow.

Philip got up, stretched. “I’m booored. Let’s play Weegee again.”

“It’s *not* a game to play… like pinball,” Frank said to this. “It’s a channeling device. Serious stuff.”

“Nah,” said Philip, dismissing Frank’s opinion. “A game,” he punctuated his own belief about it. “But I’ve changed my mind again. I think I’ll explore the upper levels this afternoon, see what’s up there.”

“*Maybe*,” offered Frank. “Lexi needs some help straightening out the house *down* there,” and he pointed down toward the ground where Philip officially lived, in Lexi’s house by the sea. But in truth he spends almost 1/2 his time up here in the sky, in Frank’s giant moving castle that appears to have lost its sense of mobility. That’s about to change.

“Nah,” repeated Philip. “Upper levels.” And he moved through the opening of the kitchen down to the living room to access the spiral staircase. Sighing, Frank decided to follow him and leave Mouse to his notetaking.

(TBC)

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00480304

“Soo. I gotta ask this, Frank. Is Mouse your *boyfriend* now or something?”

“Noooo.” But he was thinking: Might as well be. We’re stuck together up here it seems. Until Mouse learns his lesson; could take a while, he knew. A looong while. “How’s your *girlfriend* doing, Philip?” Frank thinks to ask in turn, knowing Nada and he were still going through some difficulties.

“Oh, she’s okay.” Philip was concentrating on his pinball prowess, Frank doing the same with his piano. Spongeberg’s Invention #4… so difficult to get the fingering down! In other words, neither were paying much attention to what they were saying to each other. Typical. Not really feeling the other’s pain.

More dinging and clanging from Philip, more fingering from Frank. Philip was trying to beat Mouse’s high score for the month. Frank was also trying to beat a score in a way. Spongeberg’s Invention set down on paper. He feels the notes swirling before him like an angry mob, ready to leap out of the page and take over his mind, his castle, everything. 1000 points to go for Philip. 1000 notes to go for Frank. Or so.

“Listen, Frank. I wonder if you could ask the *Pooping Pigeon* up there to turn down the video feed. It’s as loud as my pinball machine and I’m standing right before it!”

“I’ll try.” Middle C, he thinks. It all revolves around Middle C.

After a couple of moments, Philip reiterates his request. But just then Mouse returns to “Earth” to test out a new resonant center he’d found in one of his many Youtube poop videos he’d saved to his various playlists. New Hampshire and Vermont, he ponders while heading down. I think I know where this is leading to!

(to be continued)

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00480303 (don’t be afraid to say the word)

I couldn’t tell whether they were talking about Vermont or New Hampshire from this distance so I had to zoom in.

Still not clear, but from my now floating lips position I did get this was all about a movement away from another state tucked even further into the northeast corner of our great country of the US of A: Maine. You could say that was the main topic of the conversation between Mouse and his greatest creation, another mouse, anthropomorphic in its case, named Pansy. We were in South America’s Amazon far removed from North because he thought he could get away from prying ears here, didn’t suspect me because I was at the resort when he arrived, let’s put it. Hired by the Gaston Berries to keep track of Mouse and his doings. More on them later maybe.

—–

“A sequence of 1 second shots,” shot back the doctor, following up on rules 34 and 35 already cited. They were exchanging ideas rapid fire on the edge of the cement pond shaped like New Hampshire or Vermont, reader’s choice from these angles.

“Yellow,” started Pansy.

“Blue,” replied the doctor.

“Green,” said the anthropomorphic rodent.

“Red!” issued the doctor named for said rodent to close the sequence.

They’d paced the words to be exactly 1 second apart, just like in the video they were referencing. TILE in summary, the ultimate poop product one could say in a vanilla not chocolate way, a different issuance.

Then the golden gloved one emerged from a static filled background at the center to tell the rest of its story.

(to be continued (?))

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00480215

“I was hit by a bullet, Frank! Not hit by a car.”

Frank moves up behind him, stares at the image frozen on the screen too, in the exact center (again) of one of his many Youtube poop videos he’d been watching since the return. It could be that he can’t send him back down to the land of the living after all, he thinks. Mouse just keeps reappearing here; time loop. Center: something about center.

And the whole man-woman polarity he’s running away from so hard in his mind. He must embrace!

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00480213

“Spongebub, what did I tell you about playing around with Weegee. *Now* look what’s happened!”

“But Squibward!” pleaded up his yellow, square Bikini Rump neighbor whose pineapple shaped home had just been destroyed by its giant nose. “We were boorrrrrrrrrrrr–

—–

–rded its ship and set sail for the sky.

—–

“What’s it spelling out now, Shelley? I mean… Lexi?”

“I think it wants us to stop.” STOP

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00480211 (Michael)

—–

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00480208 (sideways (merger of realities (nose mouth)))

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00480204

“Hey look, Frank. It’s me! You know, I was going to be the biggest Youtube pooper of them all. The Pooping Pigeon I was called — or going to be called. Bigger than Mickey. Pansy knows. Ask Pansy!”

“Dawg,” responded Frank Lynn, as was appropriate and desired. “What are you even *doing* here? In my castle, sitting in my chair, looking at my video feed, huh?”

“Well, I have to be here. Remember?”

“And *why*?”

“Well, okay… um.”

“Is it because that car ran you over while you were standing in the middle of the road, dawg?”

“Well…”

“Because if it is, I can fix that. We’ve already been over this. You don’t have to *die*. You don’t have to come *here*. You can still do good… in the world below. I can — fix — this.”

“Yeah, I remember you telling me that,” admitted still chair sitting Dr. Mouse, cane still pointed at his paused big Mouse head looming on the screen before him, part of a 3:33 long YouTube poop video I recently found online, ‘nother one. “But–”

“No buts. I can, let’s see, just place you back at that other 32/225 spot, where you’re just staring at that can of sody pop instead of being in the middle of the road, just waiting for things to end. Pick up the can, let’s say. Communicate with whoever is at the other end of the line. Don’t be… afraid.”

“Pick up the can, eh?” said Mouse, contemplating the proposition again, considering it more deeply this time. He *did* desire contact, mutual friendship. But who was on the other side? One way to find out.

“Okay,” he said. “Send me back.”

“On one condition, though — and we talked about this too. You have to deal with the man-woman polarity. You have to find a—”

But Mouse had already returned back to the place he was at just before he died. At that other Rodentia 32/225 spot, one sim up and left.

He picked up the can in front of him. He knew exactly where to take it next.

(to be continued)

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00480201 (Art Line)

How CAN I reach you?

Answer:

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00480112 (little Cindy Lou?… nah, I got nothing)

Who is this centerpoint character emerging from a blank black background with golden gloved fist extended? I don’t know but I’m going to try to find out as best I can building upon what limited knowledge of modern pop culture I have. Did I mention I’m getting rather old? Anywho, I know just later she stands before a wall of static and speaks her mind about control, YouTube Poop (YTP) remix style.

She is about authoritarianism and against what she called mindless audio/video manipulation — the “poop” of the genre most popular back in the 2000s and 2010s. But all poop comes from what we consume and that is the corporate controlled media landscape all around us in this example. I don’t think she would fair well in our new metropolis, ha.

(to be continued?)

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