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Notes From The Offline Wilderness

We´re all fairly sure my computer has been abducted by perverts, at this point. If I´m very lucky, I might be online again by Monday afternoon. All of which is just a rolling reminder that I has none computer or webbery and I´m posting by email.

You know, we all bitched about Einar back in the day, but it has to be said that the best Sugarcubes songs are absolutely about the collision between Einar´s leering surrealism and Bjork´s soaring otherworldliness. ¨Regina¨ has that majestic chorus, but it doesn´t thrill without Einar yelling his mad bullshit about lobsters in the two seconds before Bjork takes her breath and launches into it.

In fact, you wonder if a large part of her career arc since then hasn´t been a slow transformation into Einar.

I have found a little three-inch mini CD thing on the back of a shelf called ¨Der Bekannte Post-Industrielle Trompeter.¨ I am a little worried that it may not actually be real. I am even more worried that I may somehow have caused it to be real. Is there a Ray Mears Extreme Survival episode where he gets cut off the internet for a week? There bloody should be. I love Ray Mears. I have his books, and covet his parang. Which is a knife.

Robert Mugabe has commenced his election campaign by denouncing his opponents as witches, whores and two-headed creatures. I sense missed opportunities for the Yanqui political season, and look forward to John McCain denouncing Barack Obama as a sorceror.

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