Imp Memories

2008. I remember the eons it took to put files like this online. I especially recommend Imp Zone 6008. #memories
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How can you truly celebrate Victory, if you don’t Love others?

“I want to do better.  Toxic masculinity is something that I must eliminate from myself.”

-Famous Last Words before totally being toxic male.  (Every Time.)

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Abominable Snowmerkin

Don’t forget the thesis show at the UNO St Claude gallery! UNO gallery if it’s after October 8 2017 then you already missed it (Loser)

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Tommy W

Tom Wilson, also known as Tommy W.  The man, the legend, the renaissance man of character marketing. He created Care Bears.  He created Strawberry Shortcake.  And, of course, his masterpiece, Ziggy.

To do what Tom Wilson did, you have to see into the soul of another.  Marketing is a horrible necromancy.

Don’t stop revaluating all values.  We’ve got a long way yet.  Believe it.

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OH! The Vanitas Vanitatum of Bloviating Cockalorums

Literature- it’s the reassuring sound of the thing.  The writer can create the comforting feeling, for themselves and their readers, that they have some kind of answer to the problems of life.

Certainly this accusation could pertain to all fields of art.  Sometimes, the multitude of different interpretations with which a work can be perceived with equal validity, is even audaciously posited as some kind of proof of said works’ “great wisdom”!  Excuse me for a moment- I’m overcome by such nonsense that I’m in the midst of a “spaz attack,” and may succumb to a fit of the vapours.

In any event, I think we’ll find literature to be the worst offender.  Look at the field of “criticism,” with which literature flagellates itself and everything else, like some demented monk wielding a switch made not of hickory but of false wit.  Look at the self-bloviating cockalorums who practice academic studies of literature.  I find it impossible to listen to them.

But I don’t resent their silliness.  Because it’s in just this way- to make ourselves believe that there are answers, and someone has them, but just can’t quite give them outright- that we reassure ourselves.  And it’s surely for no other reason that I’ve written this.  Why, as I penned the draft in my dear neighborhood coffee shop, I was even concerned about my handwriting!  What next.  (Don’t worry, I only get tea there, not coffee- too much caffeine during summer months is a one way ticket to vapourstown.)

God bless the cockalorums.  Long may they bloviate.

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Lost Ones

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