The Internment Hour

WE HAVE MOVED

2006-06-26T22:56:00.000-04:00

TO HERE. Adjust your sets.

Christ, this thing is still here?

2006-06-25T17:46:00.000-04:00

Man, the Internet keeps everything.

The Internment Hour will soon be moving here:

http://www.theprivatesector.org

Keep you posted,
Management

I Want My Money Back

2005-08-22T23:04:00.000-04:00

So my childhood, like that of so many of my peers and contemporaries, was spent predominantly in the company of various brightly-colored, cheap plastic toys. The average life-span of one of these toys was anywhere from one (1) to three (3) years before their usefulness as entertainment was outlived, or they had been broken through a lack of self-knowledge of my own strength. Enforced obsolescence is the name of the game in late-capitalism, the oil that keeps the engine running, but surely one can expect more than a year or two's worth of entertainment from something that elicited so much--for lack of a better word--love from my underdeveloped emotional tide-pool. In short, I want my money back. Below I've enumerated the various pieces of my childhood that were nothing more than overpriced ephemera blowing through the Elysian Field of my younger days. Prices listed are U.S. 1988 dollars, and recompense, via check, should be made out to me. Email for details.

Transformers (Hasbro):

These were my absolute favorite growing up, from ca 1984 to ca. 1989, from the Autobots' leader Optimus Prime; to Blaster, the one that transformed into a cassette deck (or "ghetto blaster," in the unfortunate contemporary parlance); even Goldbug, who transformed into nothing so mundane as a '60's-era Volkswagen Beetle, I had boxes and boxes of them, all either forsaken or broken by the time I discovered video games in the early '90's. All told, I had collected 84 different Transformers toys, as well as seeing the 1986 animated film in theaters (notable for being my introduction to the great Orson Welles, who played a sentient planet). Many of them ended up in pieces, as screws would come flying out of joints, or they would simply snap in half. They ranged in price from $9.99 all the way up to $74.99 for the largest one, Scorponok, who transformed into what I called then "an awesome giant scorpion," and would now refer to as merely a blip on my subconscious. I also had the cardboard playset, which tore in half on first play-session.

Total cost: $1657.28

Lego brand building blocks (Lego)

What could have been a young child's introduction to the fascinating world of engineering intead turned out to be nothing more than another set of plastic building blocks, and their creative potential was less than inspiring. During my Lego years (ca. 1984-1988), I found my experience to be that if I followed the directions included in the set, whatever I made would come out perfectly, but there was nothing in that set-up that encouraged the sort of problem-solving and spatial-relations skills necessary to build, for instance, a space station. In retrospect, this was my introduction to failure and obscurity. I found out later that Lego sets are ridiculously priced--then in the neighborhood of $19.99 to $24.99 for a mid-sized set--for instance, the gas station set. The Lego Corporation is based in Denmark--this was how I found out where Denmark was, which piece of information has served no subsequent purpose in my life.

Total cost: $649.78

Hot Wheels and Matchbox die-cast miniature model automobiles (Mattel)

From ca. 1983-1989 I acquired a collection of 254 miniature cars in these brands. at anywhere from $4.99 to $9.99 each, they certainly looked "cool," but served no real purpose. The cheap plastic tracks never worked as they should, and over time would warp into unusable shapes. Eventually, after many hours of vigorously rubbing one against a desktop and making engine noises with my mouth to simulate the racing experience, the axles would bend and wheels would come flying off. Also, it was never said anywhere on the packaging that these miniature model automobiles should not be used on carpet, as it would get stuck and made the car un-vroom-able.

Total cost: $1902.46

These are just the major brand-name toys that hold too much pull on my childhood. Perhaps more will be added in the future, but I feel I'm making my point with this list right here. In short, I want my childhood back from these creators of mindless entertainment, and I feel that monetary remuneration is only fair.

The total tally comes to: $4209.52

With seven percent sales tax added: $4504.19

Converted to 2005 dollars: $7409.39

This is the total cost of the bulk of my childhood. I expect to hear from representatives of the relevant parties forthwith. Thank you for your time.

capitalism, refund, Transformers, Hasbro, Legos, Lego, Hot Wheels, Matchbox, Mattel, inflation

The Management (????-2005)

2005-08-11T16:23:00.000-04:00

WOLF BLITZER: It's being reported by the Associated Press this morning that The Management, the corporate head, face, arms, and legs of Internment Industries, has died in the midst of his week-long well strike. While the details of his death are publicly unknown at this point, we were told by a masked spokesman from the corporation that Management's body is being brought back to Internment Island, where, reportedly, it will lie in state as part of a theme park attraction being built there. To discuss the ramifications of The Management's life and work, as well as his failure to effect change down in the well that killed him, we have with us Donna Brazille and Mary Matalin. Now Donna, we'll start with you, I guess the foremost question on everyone's mind now is, Where do we go from here? Surely social issues will crop up from time to time that need easy yes-or-no answers that please everyone. Where do we go now?

DONNA BRAZILLE: Well, realistically, I think his accomplishments should now be looked at critically. What, precisely, did he do? I was a child when he cured smallpox, but it still runs rampant around the world, for instance. But as for the social issues he solved, I have to say I've never been entirely pleased by his abortion decision. It seems, in retrospect, too pat to really be workable now that he's not around.

MARY MATALIN: I have to agree with Donna for once. (ALL laugh) I mean, realistically, we're still going to continue to have problems that require worldwide attention. And we're going to need easy, immediate answers. But this is nothing that an unregulated business can't handle--

BRAZILLE: Oh, you're not still calling for the deregulation o--

MATALIN: In order to have industry work properly, I've said it a thousand times, we need to get the government out of it, so the market can thrive--

BRAZILLE: I can't believe you're saying this, the man just died!

MATALIN: I know he did, and it's very sad, I'm just saying we need to look at the vacuum he's left and fill it with the right people as soon as possible, and having the government interfere--

flash fiction, deregulation, Wolf Blitzer

management well strike, day whatever

2005-08-04T13:47:00.000-04:00

hello? is anyone there? i can't even tell anymore if anyone's listening at all. it's so cold down here. i'm so hjungry. the news crews have all gone, condi's left, and we never even got around to negotiating my kingship of the new sovereign state of internmentia i was planning. the shift key on this keyboard is waterlogged, and they tricked me into letting donnell, or whatever his name was, out before all my demands were met. if anyone is still reading this, tell my midget underlings to give their time sheets to the odalisque in human resources, and she'll sort it out. god bless you. i tried. but you're all doomed now. i'm sorry.

flash fiction

Management Well Strike, Day 3

2005-07-29T15:02:00.000-04:00

Dear [people os the workld,.

I am sending you a missive from beneathe the earthj, down in a well, where I shall remain until we as a society figure out where we went wrong and start on wats to fix it. Ms. Rice has been gracious enough to send dow n a laptop with wireless internet, but it is verty darkl down here, so excuse the misspellings, as I can't see the keyts. I will remain uin this well, with Donnell, who is getting increasingly hungry and homesickm, until my demands are met. They are asd follows:

1: An end to pocverty in Adfrica, through agtricultual reforms and meaningful sociakl and cultural out=-reach, reciprocated,.

2: An end to extremism of all sorts, and also an end to simplicity in the polictical discoourse.

3: An end tio alk divisive debate everywhere.

3: And end tro all intellectual porperty being owned by its creators. It must be filtered and vetted byu Internment Industries,.

Wyhen these demands are mety, the Management will re-enter society and contrinue his great work. Thank you for yout time,. and fucking hurry up.

flash fiction,short fiction, protest, Africa

Management Well Strike, Day 2

2005-07-28T16:17:00.000-04:00

NEWSCASTER: Thank you Bob. We're here reporting live from the site of Nobel Prize winner Management's, what he calls, "Well Strike," which he says will last indefinitely. For those of you just tuning in, Management--owner and CEO of Internment Industries--has jumped down a well, and says he won't even think about coming out until his demands are met. According to a missive he sent up in a bucket last night, his demands are as follows: meaningful agricultural reforms in Africa, the capture of leading extremist leaders throughout the world--no word on who exactly he means there, Bob--the turn-over of all intellectual property everywhere to Internment Industries, and an end to all divisive debate everywhere. Word from the White House is that Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice is heading here to negotiate some of these points, and hopefully get Management out of that well and back on the trail of a solution to the abortion debate that will satisfy both sides. Also, reportedly he brought a young child with him, one Donell Roberts, to, quote, "hurry you expletives the expletive up." More on this as it becomes available, Bob.

flash fiction, protest, Condoleeza Rice

Change In Position in GSAVE, Says Meyers

2005-07-26T16:10:00.000-04:00

WASHINGTON, July 27, 2005 - "As the global war against violent extremism goes forward, with the support of all Americans, it has become clear that the appellation has proved inadequate and simply wrong," said Chairman Richard Meyers to assembled reporters this morning. "Hence, all the recent references you've heard to 'how much fun is this killing brown people?' talk from our department."

flash fiction, Richard Meyers, terrorism, semantics

Spec Ops team, Pentagon, 7/22/05

2005-07-25T17:57:00.000-04:00

BRAVO: So, in case of an attack, what do we do?

CHARLIE: An attack here?

BRAVO: No, stupid, and attack in Iraq. Seriously, what do we do?

YANKEE: Iran?

CHARLIE: Uh, yeah, no, I don't think that's a good idea.

YANKEE: No? Yeah, you're probably right.

DELTA: Yeah, they could do some damage, am I right guys?

BRAVO: Yeah, yeah, they could.

LOUDSPEAKER: You guys should prepare to bomb Iran.

BRAVO: Maybe we should think about bombing Iran.

CHARLIE: Yeah, I think that would be wise.

YANKEE: But what about--

LOUDPEAKER: You no longer know the meaning of the word "consequences."

[pause]

BRAVO: Yankee, you were saying something?

YANKEE: You know, I totally just lost my train of thought.

flash fiction, Iran, Dick Cheney

Karl Rove reads a memo

2005-07-21T17:06:00.000-04:00

ROVE: What's that "S" stand for?

LIBBY: "Spread."

flash fiction, Karl Rove, Valerie Plame

The Shell Game 2000-present

2005-07-20T14:38:00.000-04:00

"Step right up, step right up, try your luck and find the nut!" The man holds up a small nut and places it under one of three half-shells, on a table covered by a tapestry. By now a crowd has gathered, and a man steps forward and hands over a dollar. The man behind the table shuffles the half-shells, back and forth and back and forth, and stops. The man playing points at one shell, which does not contain the nut. A woman steps forward, and the game continues; she can't find the nut. A second man comes forward, and he loses in kind.

"There is no nut, is there?" the man screams, and the crowd looks at each other, confused, enlightened, and, finally, enraged. The man lifts up the tapestry in front of the table, and, to everyone's horror, exposes a hole on the underside of the table, and a midget holding the nut.

"This is an outrage!" bellows the crowd, until, in a moment planned and coordinated for just such an event, the midget hops on a table and does an Irish jig. The crowd laughs, hands over dollar after dollar, and disperses.

short fiction, flash fiction, Karl Rove

Future Interview V: US Senate, Aug. 14, 2005

2005-07-19T20:25:00.000-04:00

Future Interview V: US Senate, Aug. 14, 2005

2005-07-19T16:50:00.000-04:00

ARLEN SPECTER (R-PA): This meeting is now in session. The chair is passed to my esteemed collegues on the Committee.

RUSS FEINGOLD (D-WI): Thank you, Senator. Now, Mrs. Clement, I'd first like to discuss your opinion in the case of Volger v. Blackmore, in which you ruled in favor of a freight company that damamges could not be awarded to victims of a car accident, because of a lack of... awareness of an impending collision? If you don't mind, could you please elaborate on your decision there?

EDITH BROWN CLEMENT: I stand by my opinion, there was a lack of evidence.

FEINGOLD: Um. I concede the chair?

ORRIN HATCH (R-UT): With regards to your ruling in Tarver v. City of Edna, would you concede that your robes had just been cleaned, you had purchased a new gavel, and your thoughts were focused squarely on the ruling at hand?

CLEMENT: Yes, Senator, I would say so.

HATCH: Thank you.

EDWARD KENNEDY: (D-MA): You joined the dissenting opinion in GDF Realty Investments, Ltd. v. Norton, stating, in effect, that any applications of the Endangered Species Act must be connected to commerce or tourism. Would you care to elaborate.

CLEMENT: No, I would not.

KENNEDY: Um, thank you?

short fiction, Edith Brown Clement, Supreme Court

A short history of Internment Industries

2005-07-18T16:08:00.000-04:00

Today, July 18th, 2005 marks the 75th anniversary of Internment Industries, LLC (NYSE: I). In honor of this historic and blessed day, we present to you, our loyal subjects, a brief history of Internment Industries.

In 1978, Baby Management is found floating down a river by a pair of shepherds named Mary and Marie. They raise him in a loving, bi-curious household, until, in 1980, scientists from the Mayo Clinic arrive at their home. They pronounce him the greatest genius they have ever come across--unseating Alan Greenspan--and whisk him away to Minnesota for exploitation.

En route, by horse and buggy, Toddler Management forumlates his theory of the Living Science, calling it "biometrics," and finishes his international bestseller, The Living Science, by age three. His subsequent book tour, accompanied by "doctors" from the Clinic, was notable for being the first author's tour booked at Red Rocks and the Rose Bowl, complete with fireworks and Blue Angel fly-overs.

By age six, after four years of tests conducted at the "world-renowned" Mayo Clinic--in which Child Management was subjected to sensory deprivation, electro-shock, and endless hours of reading--he completes work on the first ever molecular time transporter, or "Segway." He "ecscaped" (his pronunciation) the "doctors" via the Segway in 1984, retreating to 1929, the thick of the American Great Depression.

While there, Child Management saw something that shocked and horrified him: the indignities he'd suffered at the Mayo Clinic--the sensory deprivation, the electro-shock, all that horrible reading--were not just prevalent, but the very vanguard of the psychiatric sciences. Luckily, he had stashed away a copy of The Living Science in his Segway, and began a lecture tour that would make him the toast of Depression-era America. Today, psychiatry is mentioned only as a passing fancy, a mistake from our barbaric past.

Teenage Management entered a bit of a rebelious phase--inventing heroin, marrying Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio simultaneously--until his founding of Internment Industries in 1930, originally intended as a venture to raise money to send an army to fight Hitler and his National Socialists. When that army--called the "U.S. Army" to cause confusion in Berlin--was successful in its campaign, Internment Industries turned its great wealth, power, and social standing toward greater cultural ends, by spreading the views of College-Aged Management far and wide. Great, long-standing debates like temperance, the inequity of wealth-distribution in industrialized nations, Third-World poverty, abortion, and gay marriage were finally settled, once and for all, never to be spoken of again.

Today, Internment Industries uses its vast wealth and sovereign status to settle wars and border disputes, spread the Management's ideas to nations that have yet to hear them, and distribute balloon animals at birthday parties. The Management is not growing old and senescent, and waiting for Death to catch up with him, as is commonly reported by the biased, anti-biometric media.

short fiction, history, psychiatry

AP - 9/14/06

2005-07-14T14:50:00.000-04:00

AP -- Defense contractor Northrop-Grumman announced today the findings for their tests of anti-ballistic missle sensors on commercial airliners, calling them a "rousing success," according to a spokesman. Three out-of-service planes were outfitted with the sensors and left idle on the runway. Shoulder-fired missles were fired at the airplanes, and according to the spokesman, two missles veered left and hit a mountain, causing a landslide that buried a nearby trailer-park, while the third veered right and hit an air-traffic control tower. The Department of Homeland Security hopes to have the $150 million project finalized and on all commercial aircraft by the end of the year.

short fiction, missle defense

Everyman Visits the Office

2005-07-13T16:32:00.000-04:00

Our Everyman sits in a well-appointed office, all mahogany surfaces and blinding gleams, and fiddles with his idle hands. A man in a well-appointed suit sits behind his well-appointed desk and stares, silently.

He says, "Well, Everyman, we really like you. You seem like an asset. But, unfortunately, we can't use you. I'm sorry. Obviously, I'll have to charge you for this visit, as well as cleaning fees for the germs you've brought in, and you'll have to leave that suit you're wearing here with us. I'm sorry this couldn't work out for both of us. Oh, that last apology will cost you extra."

short fiction, wealth, Everyman

Future interview IV: White House, 7/13/05

2005-07-12T16:05:00.000-04:00

SCOTT MCLELLAN: Yes, over here.

REPORTER: Keith Sharon, San Jose Mercury-News. So with the recent confirmation of Senior Adviser Karl Rove as a source of the leak of Valerie Plame's CIA status, what will become of him, and will his role in the White House be diminished in any way?

MCLELLAN: Well, first things first, we need to come to the aid--whether it be financial, military, or, um, emotional--to our friends and allies in the UK, and ensure that an attack like the one in London last week does not occur here in America. Yes, front row.

REPORTER: Andrew Revkin, New York Times. Is the White House prepared for the eventuality of Mr. Rove being indicted and going on trial; and, if so, what can we expect to hear if and when he testifies?

MCLELLAN: Most importantly, our allies in Great Britain have been there for us in the war on terror, and we must utilize all of our energies in helping them get to the bottom of the attacks last week, and bring these terrorists to justice. Yes, right here.

REPORTER: Frank Davies, Miami Herald. What does the White House have planned in the way of aid--whether it be financial or military--to Great Britain in its time of need?

MCLELLAN: The White House is firm in its support of Mr. Rove, and an investigation is underway to find the source, who leaked this information to Mr. Cooper and Newsweek. Oh.

short fiction, Karl Rove, Scott Mclellan

NM, again, again

2005-07-11T14:12:00.000-04:00

While Internment Industries was off for a long weekend at Internment Island, there were a few terrorist attacks we missed: Srinagar, India; Baghdad and Basra, Iraq; and Jerusalem, Israel. Our best wishes and hopes and blah blah blah, etc.

short fiction, terrorism

NM, again

2005-07-08T13:57:00.000-04:00

We here at Internment Industries have a no-satire policy on a day like today, so we'll leave it at this: Our thoughts go out to all those in Khartoum and throughout the Sudan. Hopefully you all got home safe and sound.

Regards,
The Management

short fiction, terrorism

NM

2005-07-07T14:43:00.000-04:00

We here at Internment Industries have a no-satire policy on a day like today, so we'll leave it at this: Our thoughts go out to all those in London and throughout the UK. Hopefully you all got home safe and sound.

Regards,
The Management

Future interview III: 9th District Court, Washington, DC, 1/16/06

2005-07-06T16:19:00.000-04:00

FITZGERALD: So you're insisting that the Newsweek documents are fabrications.

ROVE: That is correct, I never spoke those words to Mr. Cooper, on that date or any other.

FITZGERALD: So what of the tape. As the voice expert witnessed just yesterday...

ROVE: An impersonator. Obv--

FITZGERALD: I'm sorry, Deputy Chief Rove, you're claiming it was an impersonator--

ROVE: That's correct. There's a man by the name of Lance Berquette who does a very accurate impression of me. Corporate events, children's birthday parties--

FITZGERALD: Withdrawn. What of your comment to Robert Novak last July to the effect that circulating information about Mrs. Plame--

ROVE: --after it was already printed by Mr. Novak--

FITZGERALD: --was appopriate retaliation for what you deemed to be a politically-motivated attack on the Bush Administration by Joseph Wilson?

ROVE: What of it? Mr. Wilson was spreading confidential information about the President and his Administration to the press. It seemed only fair to respond in kind.

Later, outside the courthouse...

FITZGERALD: It seems pretty clear to the prosecution that Mr. Rove intends to be duplicitous on this matter, but we're confident that justice will win out.

ROVE: Look, we've already put some people in jail over this. I don't know what I'm on trial for.

short fiction, interview, Karl Rove

The following is a paid advertisement from Active Mind

2005-07-05T15:42:00.000-04:00

Do you feel like your goals are unattainable? That people just don't understand or listen to you? That the world stands in your way? Well perhaps it does. That's why you need Karl Rove's Dominescence: The Science of Getting It All. Mr. Rove has developed scientific actualities proving that all your failures, your frustrations, your stagnation, are caused by a blockage in your active mind. These are scientifically proven methods for for using all of your active mind to exert control, even remotely, over whoever or whatever you need to get what you desire.

Dominescence: The Science of Getting It All by Karl Rove is in bookstores now.

short fiction, Karl Rove

1st Annual Molt For Freedom

2005-07-04T15:49:00.000-04:00

"Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." --John F. Kennedy

As Americans, our duty on July 4th is not only to celebrate our freedoms, but to give of ourselvea ao those less fortunate than us may have it too. So we at Internment Industries are holding our 1st annual Molt For Freedom, in which we implore the citizens of this great country to give not only of their time, but of their skin. Starting at 9 A.M. on Tuesday the 5th, we will be setting up grafting stations in shopping malls and supermarkets around the country, where freedom-loving folks like yourself will be lining up to give of their dead skin, which will be sent to our troops to be fashioned into armor for their trucks and uniforms. Everyone who gives to freedom will receive an "I Molted For Freedom" bumper sticker, juice, and a sugar cookie. One graft per person, per day. Void where prohibited.

short fiction, independence day, molting

I have a grievance with the Management

2005-06-30T14:17:00.000-04:00

I have a grievance with the Management. I cant for the life of me believe you wuold focus on file sharing and not on the church and state inssues with that monument and shit. What the fucK?

Peace,
Hamish, MI

Dear Hamish,

While we at Internment Industries Megacorp are firm believers in the First Amendment and everyone's right to free speech, we think religious people are out of their minds. Our official position here at 2XI is that you will not be saved by your God or demiurge or unicorn or what-have-you. You will be saved by the Green Glowing Orb^TM. We've got a hundred of them here at Internment City, and we're all happier, healthier, smarter, and sexier (if that's somehow possible). They will save you. Put up as many monuments as you like.

XOXO,
The Management

Do you have a grievance with the Management? Send an email to management.ihour@gmail.com. All grievances must begin with the words "I have a grievance with the Management" for ease of databasing. Grievances may be quoted in full, with first name and state or country of whiner.

Management's taking a much-needed long weekend, so there will be no updates. Deal, blog-whores.

short fiction, grievance, whining

A.P. 6/29

2005-06-29T14:42:00.000-04:00

Washington, D.C. (AP) - The Supreme Court today, in its final decision on the docket, ruled against residents of the town of Ypsilanti, Mich., in a case that will rock the foundations of the domestic sector. The court ruled in favor of the town's Community Utilities Authority in their efforts to block all home use of public water. The case was brought after two teenagers were found using hard water from their home faucets to pirate the popular Green Glowing Orb^TM personal home energy system. A spokesman from The GGO Corporation said that they were very happy with the decision, but would continue to fight the infringement of their intellectual property wherever it was found. No word has been issued from the Community Utilities Authority on when and how residents will get running water into their homes.

short fiction, Grokster, copyright

Reuters 6/28

2005-06-28T14:22:00.000-04:00

Ypsilanti, Mich. (Reuters) - Two teenagers were arrested today after being found in possession of a pair of flower pots, possibly filled with hard water. The FBI raided the house in the early morning hours after neighbors told local police of a green glow emanating from the teenagers' windows. The teenagers, whose names have not been released to the public, were charged with copyright infringement with intent to distribute their home-made Green Glowing Orbs^TM. No arraignment date has been set, but the teenagers face up to 5 years in prison and $100,000 fines, and may be tried as adults.

short fiction, Grokster, copyright

Five Men and a Machine

2005-06-27T14:51:00.000-04:00

Five men sit at an oblong table and discuss one's latest invention: a pod-like structure that glows green and bright.

"But what is it?" asks one.

"It's a power generator and light source for use in-home. Consumers must load it up with sold-separately uranium tubes," says the inventor.

"Genius," they all agree.

****

Six months later, five men sit at an oblong table and discuss one's latest invention: a slightly smaller pod-like structure that glows green and bright.

"But what is it?" asks one.

"It's the same power generator and light source, only this time is three-quarters the size and almost twice as long-lasting," says the inventor.

"Genius," they all agree.

****

Seven months later, five men sit at an oblong table and discuss one's latest invention: a slightly smaller pod-like structure that glows green and bright.

"But what is it?" asks one.

"It's the same power generator and light source as last time, only now it runs on water," says the inventor.

"Water?" asks another. "But won't the consumers figure it out and just make their own?"

"This is very high-level science, sir," says the inventor.

"Genius," they all agree.

****

Five men are back at the oblong table discussing a problem.

"So now people are making their own power generators and light sources. They've figured it out! What do we do?" asks one.

"Well, we sue, naturally," says another.

"For what?"

"Copyright infringement."

"Genius," they all agree.

****

short fiction, grokster, copyright

I am Nike

2005-06-26T16:46:00.000-04:00

CHAUNCEY BILLIPS: I am Nike.

LANCE ARMSTRONG: I am Nike.

RANDOM BLACK KID: I am Nike.

DANICA PATRICK: I am Nike.

RANDOM WHITE KID: I am Nike.

DICK CHENEY: I am Nike.

"What the--?! Cut!"

short fiction, Nike, commercial

2005-06-25T13:42:00.000-04:00

Be extreme.
Be ecstatic.
Be a visionary.
Be a leader.
Just do it.

&trade Nike Corporation, all rights reserved

short fiction, Nike

Nike, Inc. Announce Nike Air Indy, Danica Patrick Endorsement

2005-06-24T14:01:00.000-04:00

Beaverton, OR (June 24, 2005) On June 24, 2005, Nike (NYSE: NKE) announced its latest endorsement deal with NASCAR phenom Danica Patrick. The Nike Air Indy is a shoe specifically designed with high-speed racing in mind. Using our experimental new Leadsole (patent pending) technology, the Nike Air Indy will give our customers access to the speed they crave, while hugging tightly to the corners. Nike is very excited about this new relationship with Ms. Patrick, whose all-American good looks and edgy, can-do attitude is a perfect match for our brand. The Nike Air Indy is expected to ship 2Q06.

NIKE, Inc. based in Beaverton, Oregon is the world’s leading designer, marketer and distributor of authentic athletic footwear, apparel, equipment and accessories for a wide variety of sports and fitness activities. Wholly owned Nike subsidiaries include Converse Inc., which designs, markets and distributes athletic footwear, apparel and accessories; Bauer NIKE Hockey Inc., a leading designer and distributor of hockey equipment; Cole Haan®, which designs, markets, and distributes fine dress and casual shoes and accessories; Hurley International LLC, which designs, markets and distributes action sports and youth lifestyle footwear, apparel and accessories and Exeter Brands Group LLC, which designs and markets athletic footwear and apparel for the value retail channel.

Nike, Danica Patrick, press release

Box

2005-06-23T15:04:00.000-04:00

A man is walking down the street from the Post Office to his home, carrying a heavy cardboard box. He's suddenly confronted by two local town officials.

"We need that box," says one.

"What?" asks the man. "But why? All that's in it is some--"

"We don't care what's in it," says the other, "We need the cardboard for inventory at the Cardboard Store." He takes the package, and they turn and walk away.

short fiction, property, Supreme Court

A note from the Management

2005-06-23T00:57:00.000-04:00

The Management wishes to apologize for the several days without an update. He knows how terribly excited you all get to read new editions of the smartest, funniest thing that ever existed. His sincerest apologies are in order. Now please read the following long story that we at Internment Industries, LLC, are very proud of. Of which we are very proud.

XOXO
Management

St. Helens

2005-06-21T23:35:00.000-04:00

It was night on the East Coast; or rather, morning, but dark. Allen sat in his living space, adjacent to his kitchen, adjacent to his bed. He stomped around his aparment. It was 1:35 AM. On hs recliner sat a pile of newspapers; a week's worth of old news. He picked it up, dropped it to the floor, and the top pages drifted slowly around. He sat on the recliner. The television insisted that it was still time for news.

"Late for the news, isn't it?" Allen thought, and went to change the channel. Still more news, this time from a different angle.

But something catches Allen's attention in the blue light of his television. For behind that light, there is magic brewing. From above, he sees what appears to be a hole, in the ground, spewing smoke. And as the smoke goes spiraling upward, hitting the sky and dispersing, he sees streaks of red dripping down out of the hole in the ground and along its slopes. As Allen gets closer to it, he can see that the red ooze falling gently down is cutting through rocks and burning its way through trees on its course down to the ground, and as the ooze comes dripping down, it comes pouring and exploding out of the hole in the ground. It is glorious. It is beautiful. It's the early-morning hours of May 19, 1980, snd the anchor is droning on, late into the morning.

"--the eruption has left at least 50 dead, and thousands displaced. Pyroclastic flows have--"

Pyroclastic flows. Allen would have to do some reading-up. He'd hit the library in the morning. "I have to go there," he tells himself.

******

Mt. St. Helens is over 8,000 feet of smoke and fire, passions spewed from the bowels of the earth, with endless quaking and shivering before, during, and after. She was 3,000 miles away. She was named after Alleyne Fitzherbert, Baron St. Helens. Alleyne? It's fate. This distant rock would be his. He would find his way in. He would stay there.

**********

The recycled air was killing him, and he was sitting in the middle, and he hates the middle, and the guy to his right, he's so fat, and he was snoring. The guy to his left seemed fine, he had headphones on and was reading, and staying out of the way. Allen kept staring at him though, without realizing it, and the man turned to him and took one of his headphones out.

"Can I help you, bro?" he asked, with one eyebrow raised.

Allen turned away suddenly, staring straight ahead of him and down to his upright tray table.

"So where you going, bro?" The man had both his headphones out, and was looking straight at Allen.

"Um." He needed to think. "I'm taking this to Sea-Tac, then a bus to St. Helens."

The man turned all the way around in his seat. "St. Helens? Holy shit, what for? You a geologist?"

Allen suddenly wished he was a geologist. "No, I'm, um. Going to see somebody."

"Wow. Somebody in the area? A relative, a girl, what?"

****************

"A girl, a girl." The inside of the truck cab smelled like gasoline and mothballs. The driver was stopped at the side, and snorted a yellow powder. He tipped his head back, inhaling and exhaling deeply, and closed his eyes.

"A girl, man, shit," said the driver, placing his cap back on his head, "in this area, that's gotta be rough man, but at least you got one, you know, I ain't got one. Yours ok? You know?"

"She's ok, you know." They'd been driving for an hour, with Montovani blasting on the tinny speakers. He stopped the truck abruptly in the middle of the road, and there she is, sloping up into the sky, spewing a plume of smoke from her mouth. She's so beautiful.

"Well, pal, this is as far as I can take you, road's closed from here." He looks around outside. "I don't see anybody, my man, you sure this is it?"

"Yeah, I, um, gotta meet her up here," as he points in a general direction.

"Well, all right, man, good luck to ya, ok?"

Allen shakes the driver's hand and clambers down out of the cab. As he drives away in a cloud of dust, Allen turns and faces her, and all he can do it stare. She's so perfect. He can see the red ooze coming down her sides from here, six miles away, and the ground beneath his feet is warm and trembling, ever so slightly. Slowly, he works up his courage, and slowly, slowly lifts a foot to take a step, when out of the blue, two men in brown shirts came out and stood in front of him with their arms out.

"Whoa, sir, where do you think you're going?" asked one, and pushed Allen back a few steps, further away from her than when he started. He choked up, and looked back and forth into the faces of these men standing before him with their hands on him, in the way of her, in the way of his even looking at her, and then his mouth opened, and he screamed, "HELEN! HELEN!"

short fiction, Mt. St. Helens, erotic fiction

I have a grievance with the Management

2005-06-19T21:59:00.000-04:00

Hello,

i have a grievance with the management, in re your contniued refusal to sign onto the international anti-ballistic missle treaty. you must know that without managements signature on it, the treaty is useless and unenforcable.

thank you for your time,
jon, brighton, england

Dear Jon,

After much consideration, Our decision stands. We will not accept any treaty that precludes us from launching rockets during our monthly Fourth of July celebrations.

Now fuck off,
The Management

Do you have a grievance with the Management? Send an email to management.ihour@gmail.com. All grievances must begin with the words "I have a grievance with the Management" for ease of databasing. Grievances may be quoted in full, with first name and state or country of whiner.

short fiction, grievance, whining

Bad Taste, 6/17/05

2005-06-17T14:27:00.000-04:00

Martha Stewart and Michael Jackson are playing lawn-darts on a fine summer day. Martha throws a fine dart, and an attractive young woman passes by on their left. She gives them both a wink. Martha stands, agape and astonished, and says, "God, look at the camel-toe on her!"

"Yeah, you could cultivate a hedge-row in there," says Michael, staring.

Martha turns to Michael. "That's disgusting and degrading," she berates.

[ed. note: if this sucks, blame "Matt" (not his real name). All his idea.]

short fiction, bad taste

Morning

2005-06-16T20:51:00.000-04:00

A man wakes up from a rejuvinating sleep one morning to find that one wall has been removed from every room in his house. The television in the living room was about sixteen inches larger than it was yesterday. The cat has been killed and stuffed and plaecd on the kitchen table, balancing on her head. Upon noticing this, the man wakes his wife up and points everything out to her. She stares at him, explains that it's perfectly normal, and tells him to come back to bed, which he does.

short fiction

A modest proposal

2005-06-15T18:19:00.000-04:00

"Nothing succeeds like success;" so say the barons and merchant-princes of our time. One must project an aura of success--bespoke suits, US$300 haircuts, gold and diamonds--in order to be successful. But a backlash is looming against the image-mongers and power-brokers; increasingly, people are distrusting the suits and the bright smiles and the forceful handshakes. Indeed, a new era is beginning, and it requires a new paradigm for the perception of success: nothing succeeds like abject failure.

I speak here not of simply dressing out of a dumpster and using food stamps. I mean deep, horrifying failure. A failure that is intimate with the great, sucking void--has stared straight into it and returned, all the worse for it. A failure unafraid of leaning too far out of open windows just to see what will happen. A failure noble enough to barely perceive the human waste in its pants.

In this new paradigm, success will be measured by how far one is willing to go to degrade himself, out of sheer humiliation with his new image-corrected circumstances. One will attend a party and drink nothing but his own urine. Then another will have extensive plastic surgeries, explaining that his face is disgusting and must be destroyed. Then another will chop off his own leg because (he says) he hallucinated a bear trap in his living room. And so on, while all the while continuing to respect the secret by-laws of the rich, powerful, and successful. Then, and only then, can the hopes and dreams of the public once again be projected onto them.

short fiction, manifesto, aesthetics

Reactions to Management's Recent Acquittal

2005-06-14T20:11:00.000-04:00

"He just used his power and connections to get out of this. Justice ain't blind in America; not at all."

"He's a hero to us, and nobody proved anything. And if he did anything, I'm sure he's sorry."

"Man, if the media would just pay attention to the things that mattered, then stuff like this wouldn't even happen. That's why I don't watch the news anymore."

"Look, it's a new age. These things just happen. Doesn't matter who lied or who's to blame. It's over. Deal with it."

"I just hope this means the killing can stop."

short fiction, trial, reaction

Non-fiction: Blackout, NJ

2005-06-13T22:58:00.000-04:00

Total of four hours worth of blackout today, starting at 6pm. Fact for the day: all the shit I use that needs electricity, in the order in which I finally noticed it:

My computer and printer--lost all my research involving stem cells and brain death; thank PSE&G. All the lights and air conditioning. The retina-scanner, laser-motion scanners, and electrified dead-bolt I've put up as an obstacle between myself and the outdoors. There was nothing electrical to utilize outside my house. At all. I went outside for ten minutes. I was nearly blinded by the lamp out there. There were no computers. None. It appears that The Internment Hour does not... exist outdoors.

But I'm getting off the subject. I went to a diner for a late brunch. There, everything was on. In the rest-room, I sodomized the electric hand-dryer. The robot who served me my caviar-and-roast-duck flan operated on her usual schedule, but something was wrong. Something seemed... dark.

So, my thesis: extended lack of electricity will drive you insane. Proof: I am insane.

short fiction, blackout, djkfhksdjgfal

A joke

2005-06-12T23:47:00.000-04:00

So a priest, a rabbi, an imam, a businessman, an academic, a lawyer, a lawmaker, and an entertainer walk into a bar. They are immediately stopped by man who asks them, "Hey, who died and made you king?"

short fiction, joke

[untitled]

2005-06-11T17:59:00.000-04:00

.tsirorret a era uoy siht daer nac uoy fI

subliminal, kittens

I have a grievance with the Management

2005-06-10T13:54:00.000-04:00

I have a grievance with the Management. I was walking down the street the other day, and we passed each other. I waved and called out to you, and you didn't respond. You're a jerk, and you'll die penniless and alone.

Sincerely,
Lucy, IL

Dear Lucy,

Thank you for your interest in Internment Industries, LLC (member: FDIC). As stipulated in your plan, acknowledgement of your existence is predicated on no less than two (2) of the following:

a) Cash on delivery, to be waved around in a circular motion at a distance of no more than four (4) metres from Management. Additional fees may apply.

b) One (1) extended exposure of breasts. Both breasts required; time-amount at Management's discretion.

c) One (1) delivery of sexual favors, including, but not limited to: fellatio, analingus, vaginal or anal intercourse.

When two (2) or more of those stipulations are met, you will be allowed access to eye-contact from the Management. The Management reserves the right to request further stipulations at his discretion.

XOXO,
The Management
Internment Industries

Do you have a grievance with the Management? Send an email to management.ihour@gmail.com. All grievances must begin with the words "I have a grievance with the Management" for ease of databasing. Grievances may be quoted in full, with first name and state or country of whiner.

advice, grievances, whining

Future interview II

2005-06-09T13:23:00.000-04:00

United Nations Security Coucil meeting, April 17, 2006

UNITED STATES: Tie him down! Get the duct tape, tie him down!

RUSSIAN FEDERATION: Yes, do it!

FRANCE: MM-PHMM!

UNITED STATES: What did you say, bitch?! Say that again!

FRANCE: FMMMMMMMMMMH!!

ROMANIA: What should we do with him now, John?

UNITED STATES: We'll think of something.

[all look at PHILLIPPINES, laugh]

PHILLIPPINES: Oh! Aw! Oh! Does that feel good on your face?

GREECE: [laughs] That's just over the line!

UNITED STATES: Ha!

short fiction, Security Council, John Bolton

Future interview I

2005-06-09T00:27:00.000-04:00

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, June 18th, 2006

JON STEWART: ... ladies and gentlemen, Henry Kissinger. Mr Secretary!

[applause, Kissinger meanders slowly to the couch and sits]

HENRY KISSINGER: Sank you fah having me.

STEWART: No, stop it! Now, um, so, what's it like being a war criminal?

KISSINGER: Excuse me?

STEWART: We don't get a lot of, uh, war criminals here, so, uuuuuh-I think the audience is curious.

KISSINGER: You vill pay fah yoah insolence, Mr. Kilborn....

short fiction, Jon Stewart, Henry Kissinger, war crimes

Two people in a room.

2005-06-08T17:41:00.000-04:00

Two people sit at a table. They know each other and they don't. In front of each is a glass of water, and the overhead light pours down in a sheet, obscuring their eyes. There are long silences. One suddenly brings up a man he saw on television. "That guy's a jackass," he says, "What a jackass." His company picks up his glass and drinks from it. They remain silent, and they sit. The other man says something about baseball, but it gets lost in the air.

short fiction, alienation, goth

Things to do today...

2005-06-07T13:31:00.000-04:00

1. Arise
2. Work out
3. Talk to that guy about that other guy; take notes
4. Put notes in paper-shredder
5. Dismantle paper-shredder
6. Send parts to war-torn region; check news

Addendum: What the fuck do you mean you don't know? Whose neck do I have to shit down to get answers around here?!

short fiction, to-do list, power

Shut up.

2005-06-06T13:04:00.000-04:00

TELEVISION: Britney's on. We've got "American Idol," too.
ME: No thanks.
TELEVISION: "Gilmore." "The O.C." Just watch it.
ME: Nah, I'm just gonna read the paper.
TELEVISION: CNN's always on.
ME: No thanks, I find the paper more satis--
TELEVISION: Just shut up and watch.
ME: Excuse me?
TELEVISION: Fuck you. Watch.
ME: WHA--?
TELEVISION: Listen retard, there's a lot at stake here. Just watch these fucking shows.
ME: I don't have to take this.

ME turns to the radio

ME: What's playing?
RADIO: Who cares. You're not downloading anything, are you?
ME: That's none of your busi--
RADIO: Because we've been talking to your computer. We know.

short fiction, T.V., American Idol

One about a tulip.

2005-03-21T01:25:00.000-05:00

On a patch of decorative sidewalk grass, halfway down a half-empty dead-end street, there is one lone tulip, which no one thinks to question. "Only one tulip?" no one ever says. "Why not a patch of them, as would be considered normal?" they don't continue. It's a white tulip, with a yellow stamen, which makes it look like some malformed dandelion. It sits, and stays, and is eventually mauled by a golden retriever.

It sits in front of an old woman's house, and, though she didn't plant it herself, she waters it daily during the spring and summer, dutifully, as if it were a pet. There were certainly no other white tulips in this neighborhood, and a splash of the extraodrinary is always good, she thought. After several years--spring, summer... spring, summer... spring, summmer--she picks up her green watering pail and sets to her daily round, only to find pieces of the flower scattered around the sidewalk and in the gutter; a petal here, a piece of stem there.

The old woman stands and looks at the remnants. She looks for signs of life--some loose pollen or an intact root. She attempts to divine its recent tragedy from the scattered entrails, to no avail. Finally, seeing no harm in it, she waters the spot as usual. One never knows, you know.

This continues, as all things do. One day, she might see what appears to be a new bit of stem sprouting, and waters the spot with zeal. The next day, she might find that a neighbor child, without malice or destructive intent, has run it over with his bicycle. And so it goes. She plucks the root from the grass, dislodging a tiny divot, which she replaces and pats down; she picks up whatever of the tragedy she can find--a loose petal, green shavings that might be stem or grass--and places them in a plastic bag for her scrapbook.

Days go by. The bits of tulip are given a prominent place in her scrapbook, intermingled with some old, yellowed pictures that act as the book's centerpiece; but the episode drifts by, as all things do. On Tuesday, there is a knock on the door.

There are two men, in official navy-blue. "Excuse me, ma'am, we're here about the tulip."

The tulip? How would you know about the tulip? "We've noticed it's gone. You haven't been watering it."

Well, it's quite dead, you see, here; she proffers the scrapbook. "We don't care about your scrapbooking, ma'am, we just need to understand why it is you thought it necessary to pluck that flower."

There is a silence. One of the men in navy-blue hands the old woman a slip of carbon paper. "This is a citation. You have 36 hours to replant the tulip." He proceeds to talk about fines and jail time. They make their leave as abruptly as they arrived.

So the old woman removes the root from her scrapbook and takes it out to the clump of earth it grew out of. She removes the petals and green shavings, turned brown with age, and scatters them on the site. She commences her ritual, as if nothing has happened--spring, summer... spring, summer...--as the pieces grow black and ever smaller, shrinking back into the earth, as the water continues to fall on them.

short fiction, right to life, puppies

A quick joke...

2005-03-19T01:27:00.000-05:00

So this one time Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz, and Gamal Abdel Nasser were sitting silently in a bar in Washington, nursing hot totties and avoiding eye contact. After nearly an hour of distracting sips and glances toward the Wizards game on a bar television, Donald adjusts his tie, puts his hands on the bar, and says, "So, Paul, congrats on that new job, bud. You been reading up, doing prep?"

Paul shrugs a shoulder, and shakes his hand in that sorta-kinda manner prevalent among men of his station; and he replies, "Nah, not really. I figure, like, I been going to banks for years, right? This is just a bank, but for countries. So how hard could that be, right?"

Both Donald and Gamal have a hearty laugh, and Donald slaps Paul on the shoulder, in a manner prevalent among men of his station. Then, Gamal raises his head from its position staring straight at the bar, clears his throat, and says, "We're a sentimental people. We like a few kind words better than millions of dollars given in a humiliating way."

Donald looks at Paul, and Paul looks at Donald, as if the words were spoken in some strange language, unknown to both, yet somehow clear and plain as day. After a minute devoted to introspection and contemplation, in a manner prevalent among men of their station, Paul replies, "See, told you."

short fiction, Paul Wolfowitz, Gamal Abdel Nasser, click here for free iPod!

Money Where Your Mouth Is

2005-01-31T02:48:00.000-05:00

     “Gentlemen. Ladies. Welcome. This, as I'm sure you're all well aware, is our first meeting of the new administration--”
     “How is George anyway?” “Yes, say hello to him for me, would you?”
     “Sure Tom, I will. Um, Melanie, take down only what myself and Gareth say from now on, would you?”
     “Absolutely, Dr. Snow.”
     “Now, everyone, just to get right to it, I'm sure you've all heard this nonsense in the media about a slumping dollar--”
     “Yes we have.” “Dreadful liberal propaganda.” “What's with that word, 'slump' anyway?” “Yeah, it sounds dirty.”
     “Sure it does Tom. Now, we all know it's nonsense. The dollar is as strong as it ever was. It's not like anyone's calling to replace it as the standard world currency or anything. But the media, they need answers. And the people seem to be buying it--”
     “What people?” “No one I know, that's for--”
     “Shut up Tom. Now, as per my memo dated January 14th, we at Treasury feel that the supposed 'problem' with the dollar is not one of value or international relations, or anything of the sort. This is an issue of perception. Of branding. The youth market is growing increasnigly skeptical of the good-old greenback, and are looking at the Euro as an alterna--”
     “Libertines.” “Terrorists.” “No, that word tests badly, so don't use--”
     “Tom! Now the Euro, it's all big and flashy and colorful.”
     “And it's got hot women on it!” “Tom, that's a dude!”
     “The kids love it. So we need a new direction. We need these kids back on our boat. Buying with our money overseas.”
     “Oh, where is our integrity on this?” “--Dance Instructor Dad, eyeballs--” “No, Dollar Moms!”
     “So we've brought in famed designer Gareth Espinoza-Montieux. Gareth, thank you for joining us here today.”
     “Yes, Dr. Snow, it is my honor.”

     --Gareth Espinoza-Montieux: Four-time winner of the iF Design Award—-designed white-on-white East Timorese flag—-created 60-mile wide rendition of the Acropolis on the far side of the moon for Nike—-most recently, reordered the Canon to include one more woman and an African--

     “Gareth what?” “Sounds foreign.” “It is foreign, Tom.” “My God.” “'God' won't play in New York, don't use it, because the World Financial Center is there.” “Oh!--”
     “Guys, please. Now, Mr. Espinoza-Montieux, please explain to everyone your brilliant plan for the dollar.”
     “Thanks to you again, Dr. Snow, and, please, GEM will be ok to call me. Now, you have seen our Euro, which I had some hands in the design of. It is a very lovely, fun, exciting currency, no? The dollar, she is not so fun. Very green. Very boring. Now, I ask of you gentlemen, what is it you think kids like about Europe?”
     “The weather?” “The gambling?” “Terrorism?”
     “No. It is the food. European is the best food in the world. So we, how do you say?, put the money where the mouth is. And so...”
     “Ooh!” “Aah!” “I don't get it.”
     “We make the dollar bigger first, over half-again the size of our Euro. We also make it pink and yellow, because pink and yellow, as we know, is the color of the youth.”
     “What's that in the middle there?”
     “That is the piece of resistance. In the center of the bill, where is the face of the president, there is now candy.”
     “Candy!” “I love candy!”
     “Everybody loves candy, of course!”
     “I'm diabetic, and this offends me!”
     “The candy can and will be the sugar-less kind. So diabetics have no problem with the New Dollars.”
     “So, let me see if I have this right--”
     “Of course, Dr. Snow.”
     “You want us to eat our money.”
     “Well, yes, in the manner of speaking. As I am seeing it, this will solve so many of the problems with wealth distribution. The poor, you see, will not eat their money. They will spend it on real food, and on goods. But the rich. They will have so much money, even just the cash sort of money, that after they buy the food and the goods and such, they will have no problems eating the remainder. And so, liquidity will balance out amongst the classes. It will be a mile of stones for the U.S. economy.”
     “Candy money.” “Brilliant!” “The Gay Welder Moms will love it!” “Can there be gum in the middle?”
     “All details may be dealt with in the coming weeks. But for now, I have to cut the meeting short. My wife and I are going on holiday to the, eh, the Bowl of Dust? In your Middle Western portion of your country?”
     “You're going to the Midwest? Why?” “I'm from the Midwest!”
     “My wife and myself have seen many of your, em, Western cowboy pictures. We would like to see this flat, unentertaining place for ourselves. It looks fascinating to us!”

     --famed designer Gareth Montieux-Espinoza and model-wife Alena Misacova have been spotted several times throughout Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma; pointing at the vast, flat expanses, with Montieux-Espinoza scribbling furiously in a notepad while Misacova lounges in the sun in various states of undress. When asked by a reporter about the nature of his trip, the designer—best known for his recent, and quite popular, proposal for the U.S. Dollar—effused about the design of the place and how it has inspired him--

     “-- We go now to Ed Snow, on the scene at the horrible tragedy in Nebraska, Ed, tell us what you see.”
     “Thank you Maria, we're in NewsChopper 6 getting a bird's eye view of the massive destruction—-for those just tuning in, a meteor has struck here in Nebraska. As you can see from ChopperCam, the devastation is all-encompassing, we're about four-thousand feet up and I cannot see flat land and the edge of this crater. Early reports from FEMA state that the total damage amounts to anywhere between 45,000 and 70,000 square miles. Reportedly an evacuation commenced as soon as the meteor was discovered, but the alert was issued only two hours before impact, and an estimated million-plus people were still trapped in the impact zone when it hit, I-—I'm at an absolute loss describing this tragedy—-I'm getting a signal from the pilot that we have to turn back, we're running out of gas, but when we get on the ground, we'll give, uh, further reports--”
     “Thank you, Ed Snow, the damage is absolute, there are no words for this tragedy, and no numbers that can do it justice, but as the day goes on, we should have more definite information on the true extent of the damage. But, first, we have Nina Nieves in the temporary relocation camp set up for survivors outside of Harper, Oklahoma. Nina, I understand you've been talking to some of the survivors.”
     “Yes I have Maria. Right now I'm here talking with Adele Hatch, mother of two. Adele, tell us what you saw today.”
     “Well, I was on my way home from work, down 21, and, and I heard on the radio that a meteor was coming, and I looked up, and I could see it. So I drove home quick as I could, got the kids, and headed south for here. And on the way, I saw that designer guy who's making the new money, and he was just standing by the side of the road.”
     “So you spotted Gareth Montieux-Espinoza on the way here?”
     “Yeah. And he was just standing there looking up with his girlfriend looking at the sky. He said he wasn't moving.”
     “So it appears we have a NewsChannel 6 exclusive, Maria; Gareth Montieux-Espinoza and Alena Musacova may be among the victims of the Nebraska Meteor Strike, back to you.”
     “If it wasn't enough, only four days before the new dollars are to be pressed, it appears that famed designer Gareth Montieux-Espinoza and Alena Musacova have been killed. Again, for those just tuning in--”

short fiction, declining dollar, Ithaca Hours

The ESGRFS

2004-12-17T09:43:00.000-05:00

HOUSTON, TX (Reuters) – NASA officially announced today that its long-awaited new satellite program, the Einstein-Sagan Gamma Radiation Feedback System (ESGRFS), has launched and is fully operational. While some final tests are still scheduled, the fully-operational system is capable of sending and receiving video and audio signals, via gamma and Hawking radiation, through time. This marks a momentous occasion for not only scientists and historians of all stripes, but for the whole of the human race. Some speculate that any long-debated questions of legend, religion, even human origin will be answered with the aid of this remarkable satellite.

(The Charlie Rose Show, air-date Jan. 8, 2005)

CHARLIE ROSE: We have tonight with us the man who some call the founder of modern astronomy; a man persecuted for bringing truth to power; who remains, even today in some circles, a controversial figure; it is an honor and a privilege to have on the show this evening, Galileo Galilei, and his interpreter here in the studio, Dr. Dusan Dzinevic, professor emeritus of Latin at Yale University. Doctor, a pleasure to have you here this evening.

DR. DUSAN DZINEVIC: Thank you Charlie.

ROSE: Mr. Galilei, Galileo if I may? Galileo, you must have no idea how revered you are in our time, both as an Olympic figure in astronomy but as a man for your work and life.

GALILEO (through Dr. Dzinevic): Well, thank you Mr. Rose, I--

ROSE: Without you it's sure we couldn't even be having this conversation right now.

(ALL laugh)

ROSE: Now we must start with the obvious: your proof of our sun-centered solar system is still a cornerstone, probably the cornerstone, of astronomy. I'm sure most of our viewers at home tonight are quite familiar with the idea, but I think we would all like to hear, in your words, how you came to this conclusion, and what prompted you to start exploring the idea in the first place?

GALILEO: A sun-centered solar system?

ROSE: Well, yes. Your finding that the Earth and all planets of the solar system do indeed revolve around the sun, as Copernicus hypothesized. Since then, obviously, we've discovered that all stars revolve around the center of our galaxy, and so forth. Where did you start? What was your path to discovery?

GALILEO: ... Well. I can't say I've... fully explored the idea. To my liking. Though, as a scientist, one can never be really satisfied with any--

ROSE: Oh, certainly, a true artist like yourself never likes to divulge his secrets.

GALILEO: Of course, of course!

ROSE: A word of note, as you progress in your discoveries, Galileo, have you considered that the Pope may take some offense to your work? That there may be punitive measures taken?

GALILEO: I'm sure his Eminence can be swayed by evidence. He will see it and he will understand. It's hardly as if the Lord Jesus Christ Himself declared it a heresy!

(ROSE AND GALILEO laugh)

(Hardball with Chris Matthews, air-date Jan. 10, 2005)

CHRIS MATTHEWS: Tonight on Hardball, we have with us famed inventor, probably the most famous resident of New Jersey, Thomas Alva Edison. Mr. Edison, happy New Year to you, sir!

THOMAS EDISON: Yes, and a fine new year to you as well, Mr. Matthews.

MATTHEWS: You know, it's funny, as I'm talking to you right now, it occurs to me that, without the light bulb, we would never have light projection, and hence no television

EDISON: You mean this strange business.

MATTHEWS: Yup! This is it! It's quite an integral part of our society, perhaps the integral part, depending on who you ask.

EDISON: This drivel is integral to your society? Don't you just sit around and watch it?

MATTHEWS: Well, it isn't just that. We get, we get most of our cultural cues and information from it!

EDISON: This is not what I had in mind for my invention. Not at all.

MATTHEWS: It's true, but you'll be happy to know that electric lights do keep us awake and productive longer.... Though some of us do prefer to get our business done with the lights off.

EDISION: Pardon?

MATTHEWS: Do you know there's now a shopping mall near your home named after you?

(The O'Reilly Factor, air-date Jan. 12, 2005)

BILL O'REILLY: Today on The Factor we have with us a remarkable woman, I've admired this woman since I was a young boy-- you know, nowadays there are lot of people talking a lot with nothing to back it up, all right? But not our guest here today. She's the founder of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, O.K., there was an ill in society, and if it took taking an ax to it, literally, then-- here she is, Ms. Carrie Nation. Welcome to The Factor, Ms. Nation.

CARRIE NATION: Well thank you for having me , Mr. O'Reilly.

O'REILLY: Oh, just call me Bill.

NATION: Well, all right then, you call me Carrie.

O'REILLY: It would be my honor. Now-- I don't know how much you know of our sick, crazy society, but-- I mean, you should see this place, rampant—I mean, rampant—use of narcotics, violence and sex permeating everything-- I mean, we have kids, kids in middle school already, sexually active-- you should see it. I mean, it's my job to respond to these things, to give people some perspective, but sometimes I don't even know how to react. How would the Temperance Union handle this? What would you do?

NATION: Well, this is obviously the work of a godless society, one that has lost its way. I don't know how you've become accustomed to handling such things, but... children? Obviously nothing is being handled in the straightforward manner that's always been effective with the Union.

O'REILLY: See that's what I'm talking about--

NATION: Certainly the Chinamen bringing the narcotics with them can be dealt with easily.

O'REILLY: Oh, the stuff is everywhere, Carrie. God, we need people like you here. You should be here!

NATION: Oh, if only, Bill; showing heathens the way is my specialty.

O'REILLY: That's a talking point if I ever heard one!

(The Howard Stern Show, air-date Jan. 14, 2005)

HOWARD STERN: So, the news is, Gary told me on the way in, Jesus won't be on the show.

ROBIN QUIVERS: Now, is that really a surprise?

STERN: Well, no it's not... But apparently, the guy's got himself this, just, scumbag of an agent.

QUIVERS: Well, sure.

STERN: Asking for incredible sums of money. Really controlling, lock-and-key.... You'd think... he's Jesus. Spread the Good Word, right?

QUIVERS: Absolutely!

(enter GARY DELL'ABATE)

GARY DELL'ABATE: Hey Howard, I just got a call from his manager.

STERN: His manager? Not his agent, his manager.

DELL'ABATE:Yeah--

ARTIE LANG: We gotta wait for him to get his happy ending.

(skin-on-skin rubbing noise)

(ALL laugh)

DELL'ABATE: They're only putting him on family shows. For his image.

STERN: Oh, come on.

DELL'ABATE: Plus, he was worried you were going to ask him about Mary Magdalene.

STERN: Well of course I'm gonna ask him about Mary Magdalene.

(Sound off: “That's hot.”)

QUIVERS: That's all you want to know about.

STERN: Well what else is there? “O.K., so tell us about the word of God... again.” See, this just burns my ass. I mean, you've got this guy... his whole shtick is preaching the Word to the heathens. We got plenty of heathens here.

QUIVERS: Exactly!

STERN: God, can you imagine what kind of a-hole Jesus' manager must be?

LANG: “Who's your latest client?” “Eh, just Jesus.”

(ALL laugh)

short fiction, time travel, Galileo Galilei

Test

2004-11-19T20:29:00.000-05:00

Check, check. Check one, two three.

Check, check.

Check.

Testes, testes, one, two.

snicker

Haha!

Dude, you totally said "testes" on the internet!

Dude, I totally did!