she’s got electric boots, a mohair suit…

readingbarren from any serialized parchment and ink publications are ‘it’ and ‘you’ while ‘i’ and ‘us’ fruitfully multiple unchecked in the daily, weekly and monthly warrens. quaint in its naiveté, objectivity was at least a clever game of cat and mouse between columnist and audience in which purported empiricism purred forth waiting to catch unsuspecting reading rodents in the claws of conjecture. what an unrefined age where opinions are brazeningly brandished as fact without so much as the artifice of impartiality…a bit of a girlfriend experience can go a long way in returning a john to pay again for servicing.

somewhere along the way a clever soul finally noticed there is no “u” in profile and boldly placed their “i” within it. copy consists of rote ad nauseum of the relationship of the perceiver to the object, an insipid exploration of a parasitic attachment to a host. the spite of the boring and bromidic has been funneled into a career in publishing and the slow decline of traditional publications corresponds to the rise of self-absorbed hacks nakedly placing themselves within the piece. print remains dead. print is dead. and we have killed it.

“L’ego my ego”

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