Thomas Pynchon on Thomas Pynchon?

From Amazon, via Slate, via Gawker. It’s already gone so meta it’s almost closed the circle.

And then the Rapture.

Is This Tomorrow?

FYI the following was posted on the Amazon page for Thomas Pynchon‘s new book. It’s gone now, but thanks to right-thinking obsessive fans the text has been saved for posterity. And here it is:

“Spanning the period between the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893 and the years just after World War I, this novel moves from the labor troubles in Colorado to turn-of-the-century New York, to London and Gottingen, Venice and Vienna, the Balkans, Central Asia, Siberia at the time of the mysterious Tunguska Event, Mexico during the Revolution, postwar Paris, silent-era Hollywood, and one or two places not strictly speaking on the map at all.
With a worldwide disaster looming just a few years ahead, it is a time of unrestrained corporate greed, false religiosity, moronic fecklessness, and evil intent in high places. No reference to the present day is intended or should be inferred.

The sizable cast of characters includes anarchists, balloonists, gamblers, corporate tycoons, drug enthusiasts, innocents and decadents, mathematicians, mad scientists, shamans, psychics, and stage magicians, spies, detectives, adventuresses, and hired guns. There are cameo appearances by Nikola Tesla, Bela Lugosi, and Groucho Marx.

As an era of certainty comes crashing down around their ears and an unpredictable future commences, these folks are mostly just trying to pursue their lives. Sometimes they manage to catch up; sometimes it’s their lives that pursue them.

Meanwhile, the author is up to his usual business. Characters stop what they’re doing to sing what are for the most part stupid songs. Strange sexual practices take place. Obscure languages are spoken, not always idiomatically. Contrary-to-the-fact occurrences occur. If it is not the world, it is what the world might be with a minor adjustment or two. According to some, this is one of the main purposes of fiction.

Let the reader decide, let the reader beware. Good luck.”

–Thomas Pynchon

thx tom ;)

Troops

Can you ever watch it enough?

Troops is filmed on location with men of the Imperial Forces. All suspects are guilty, period…otherwise they wouldn’t be suspects, would they?


Check out the stolen droid. Look familiar?

headline o’ the day: New power workout machine is a giant $9,000 vibrator

Electric Vibrator Therapy. Bring it on!Thanks to Fark for that one.

The real story‘s far less interesting, which is sad because I wasted a half-hour of my life I’ll never see again gathering up all my bottles to take back for the deposit. I have almost enough.

All asides and italics here are from the original article.

(Quick aside: How creepy is the guy in the pic? And the girl looks a little too happy to be a in a gym setting.)

There’s a new fitness machine causing a stir in England, thanks in part to Madonna. The Power Vibe it out, bitchPlate is a workout machine that consists of a vibrating platform you stand on and do light stretches and squats for 15 minutes, three times a week. Apparently there is something in the added vibration that stimulates the muscles and causes them to tire faster than a traditional workout, a chain reaction that Madonna claims causes her physique to remain toned. (Doesn’t she work out 8 hours a day? –Editors)

historical hoodies

Fascinating accounts of Victorian criminality, rescued from the oblivion of the humble dumpster. From the Daily Mail, via Fark.Wee Georgie Sayers

Little George Sayers was scarcely a hardened criminal. Just 13 years old, small for his age due to malnourishment, his little face screwed up in an expression of bewilderment, he faced the police camera in May 1900 fearing, quite rightly, that he would be beaten for his crimes.

George was accused of stealing handkerchiefs, rugs, skirts and shirts worth three pounds and ten shillings from the Newcastle shop where he was employed as an errand boy.

When he heard the charge, he burst into tears. One of some 14 children, whose father had deserted his 52-year-old mother Emma, leaving her to feed and clothe her huge brood alone. He was accused along with his mother, who admitted she had put him up to his petty thieving. ‘I told him to take them. Don’t blame the boy,’ she gallantly told the police.

Another of the pair’s methods was to steal clothes off the neighbours’ washing lines, whereupon Emma would whisk the loot around to the local pawnbroker where they were hocked to get money for the family. It was the pawnbroker who tipped off the police when he became suspicious.

These stories, and some 300 others, all equally poignant, have just been uncovered by retired North Shields policeman Ken Banks.

Every now and again a new study comes out, saying exactly the same thing as every study ever commissioned on the same damn subject: the majority of crime is committed by young men.

And every now and again, someone says “Well, now that we know who’s responsible, we can take action.” And they go on to say exactly how, in minute detail and at great length, particularly if they’re paid by the word. No actual progress in reducing the crime rate so far, even by those who are looking to lay a Putin on the skulking minors.

The problem transcends culture, race, and even time itself; look at the historic documents and legends of any culture on the planet. It’s always the damn hoodies!

The solution is not to ban rap music. The solution is not to blast ultrasonic waves or Wagner into the park at night, annoying the neighbors and turning the usually peaceful squirrels into raging Clockwork Orange Lodge Members in good standing.

The solution, my friends, is to ban young men.

Simple, elegant, and utterly effective. Rather than wait several years until they’re eligible for trial as adults and real (and really expensive) prison time, I suggest that we just pre-emptively lock them up from the ages of 12 to, say, 21.

I know what you’re thinking.

Half of my readers are thinking, “Well dammit, isn’t that what we’ve got tv and meaningless after-school activities for?

While the other half are thinking “Well dammit, isn’t that what we have boarding school and University for?

And quite right you both are. With the half-life of a hoodie at only five years, containment IS solution.

Today in Crazy US Weekly Guy News: the demon drink

Crazy US Weekly Guy 

Don’t know if you’ve been following the internet drama over at Gawker, but it’s reached DefCon 3 and is heating up faster than John Hinckley at a Freaky Friday matinee. I referred to Crazy Us Weekly Guy once before, with fervent hopes this wasn’t a short, but would turn out more like the LOTR of the Internet, with Jessica in the part of Arwen and C.U.W.G. as Aragorn. I think Janice Min is Denethor, but it’s hard to tell.

In any case, the whole saga has bypassed Middle Earth entirely, and has quickly washed up on the seamy shores of Trees Lounge. No three hour tour, this. Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

A dainty slice from the 200-page potroast  of a document which he sent Gawker:

in us weekly, issue 5/15/06, on page 38 is an ad for absolut vodka. on the next page (page 39), is jessica alba.

the first message is:

jessica alba sol = jessica alba soulmate.

the second message is in the word vodka. MIT (a school famous for science, which i will explain the significance of later) makes their “u’s” look like “v’s.” because of this, “u” and “v” are interchangeable.

“k” is short for “okay.”

“a” is the 1st letter of the alphabet

therefore, the word vodka, becomes the message:

do, ok?, u 1 =

“i do. you’re the one, okay?”

look at the word ABSOLUT [vodka]:Absolut bullshit, really

Tee is what you hit a golf ball off of, jessica golfs
U = you
ABS = absolute

so the message becomes “you and t (=jessica) absolute soulmates”
the ad for the absolut vodka, is on page 38. this is no accident. this is kind of a joke between me and god, that it is going to take 3.8 seconds for jessica to say yes “i want to marry you.”

this is an aside, i’ve been working on my proposal for a while, and first i had the idea of being married to jessica after several years of dating. then years became months, months became days, then days became hours. then hours became one hour. then i thought to myself “why can’t i make it instantaneously?” god told me then “1 minute.” then one minute became a few seconds, then finally god said “3.8 seconds.” this number comes up frequently, and it refers to winning over a person (in this case jessica, my soulmate) at the speed of light.

the fact that a bottle of vodka is on page 38 (=3.8 seconds) is a clear sign to me, that my affect on jessica alba will be intoxicating – a bottle of vodka!

and now, i’m planning on making it instantaneously, “yes!” even less than 3.8 seconds.

lastly, and this is cute, on the ad for the vodka bottle is the word “proof.” as in god is offering some proof to the world.

And so on…