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Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Myster

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Historical reenactors from various New Empire region tribal national districts (including our own Narragansett) and from South-of-the-border Azteklande will gather together this summer to "act-out" the famed Battle of Gettys-villa of 1508 A.P.--this on the 500th anniversary of the event many Erden historians tag as the tipping-point in the (thankfully) now-distant Great War of 1492-1514! Today Azteklande, Inka, and The Empire are largely great chums. Dag-shots are from earlier reenactments and within the top-most one the Olde Empire tub-thumper is none other than the Institute's Herr Doktor Dane Walkingcrow, here marking tyme with the 10th Abenaki cohort. My daughters Patty and Penny, along with their Narragansett National District Guard unit, will be participating in this year's militaristical-historical extravaganza.
But first this notification of significance!
While your Echo World of "da Urth" churns with disconsolation and fandamndedness, we here on Erde are preparing for the next wowser of a World's Fair that--wonder of wonders--will be hosted by our very own home town of Portville, here in the Narragansett National District! Centrally ensconced amidst a lapidarian landscape of pavilions, exhibition halls, eateries, game zones, embassies, shrines, fun-ways, dioramas &tc, will be an unprecedentedly immense Crystalline Palace that now, even as these high-falutin words are being slung down upon electro-virtual surfaces, is being erected on the site of the old Portville Aeroport and Zeppelin Field. This translucent Jewel Carton of Civilization will be chock-stocked with Erden techno-wonders and certifiably splendificated artworks, many especial-most commissioned for the Great Fair by our Emperor and Empress themselves! The Mount Palomine Institute of Mysteries will, natch, offer-up an elaborate structure of its own on premises, and we are sponsoring also the construction of the Pillesphere, this being the fair's icon, as visually proclaimed above. We'll keep you, the publick, appraised. [Alert readers of our famed Journal may detect subtle incongruities distinguishing the geography of Erde, as depicted by the Pillesphere image above, from that of its Echo World, "da Urth." However, most "Urth" people probably won't detect anything topographically topsy-turvy whatsoever, and many may even be stunned when confronted with the Fact that both our worlds are spherical]
THE MOUNT PALOMINE INSTITUTE OF MYSTERIES--A BUMPTIOUSLY BLAZING BALL OF ILLUMINATION!
APPROPRIATELY GARBED TO RECKON WITH THE GOBBLEDYGOOK OF YOUR WORLD
Concertmeister, lead cogitator, and impresario de-luxe of the most splendiferous scientifical Thinkertank (that being the Mount Palomine Institute of Mysteries) in the entirety of this our grand and noble Empire; a research and brain-squeezing facility whose lab-packed campus and verdant fountain-flushed grounds are situated within the scenic nautical-abyssal port of Portville, which, further, is perched precariously at the topographically ledge-like margin of the breath-captivating Narragansett National District--diadem of the Empire and cornucopiac treasure-wallet of all Erde. Erde (Air-duh) is no less than our comely and joy-blessed terra firma (your world, "da Urth," is a grotesquely distorted aspect of our own--a dystopian night-fright Echo World!) that is nurtured, and protected, by, respectively, the somewhat ditzy Creatrix and the solidly noble Wotan who, lest he forget, has a rendezvous with a stack of game card-boards and flagon of ale at the Chateau de Pille this upcoming Friededay! Seekers of additional claptrap, inchoate verbiovelocity, slapdash non-logicality, and senilius judgements on all and sundry (as determined by the socio-political noodles-of-your-and-our-day) should bostitch their wavering attentions to the hereabouts.
THE MIGHTY SEUSS
Peepernauts-in-training, garbed in cumbersome protective gear (see high above), must learn to work controls, demonstrate good judgement, and effectively handle simulated crises in the Mt. Palomine Institute's Sealed Environment Urth Stress Simulator or SEUSS. During training sessions, the cramped steel tank is filled with internal combustion engine exhaust, hemp smoke, burning cross soot, cheap incense, and politically correct hot air. To further disorient and discomfort, audio speakers blast "Urther" rap music at bone-jarring volume; inconveniently placed optical wireless screens show reruns of Sex and the City along with Pez-headential press conferences and Fox news; cheesy advertisements "pop-up" unpredictably in trainees' faces; cell phones ring loudly, randomly, and from startlingly unexpected places; and anything set down is instantly stolen or decorated with spray-painted graffiti. Meals consist of a simulated "Urth" diet: a viscous paste made from tofu, Tater Tots, breath mints and cellulose, spread on sun-dried tomato bagels and washed down with mugs of warm Jolt. Only one in fifteen trainees manages well in the artificial chaos and eventually qualifies as a Mt. Palomine certified Peepernaut. All who have endured the mighty SEUSS agree that the greatest challenge it presents is the nausea-producing sense of utter existential pointlessness induced by the disorienting lack of any cultural gravitas whatsoever. Said one trainee of the SEUSS experience, "It's like trying to function normally while floating upside down in the center of a tornado of crap!"
Shield your eye-balls and at all hazards do not oggle at this Medusa-lyke pogo-sticke of a techno-thing, as it will certainly bewitch you! The Mephistophelian gizmo was inserted here to ward off electro-virtuality nonsense and spook the bejeebers out of mud-daubed Interknittal savages (and any avians that may seek to peck at our maize)! Boo, I say! Boo!
"Tom" of Pillespace--unlike the MySpace Tom whose tiresomely earnest-yet-bloodless visage we now associate with perfidious incompetence and over-ripe excuses--is a fine and alert fellow; not merely astride any situation (despite his diminutive stature) but far ahead of the oncoming tsunami--anticipating and preparing for the catastrophe long before it careens into the daily dysrhythmia of Interknittal Intercourse. On your own world our multi-talented "Tom" would be instead a prime sight in a carnival (or mass media equivalent), or he would be found standing atop a stool taking orders for lattes--hired and displayed by a "progressive" sweatshop that stoops to elevate the "differentially abilitated" whenever PR and "legal" order them to, or employed and exhibited by anarchistical entrepreneurs eager to impress their angelic goodliness on the sensitive (i.e. self-absorbed) and Leftly-inclined. "Tom" is also a full bird colonel within the National District Militia, and scarcely an honorary one neither as both my daughters have learned at drill!
Aside from "Olde Ben," the much-loved swayback baluchatherium that local Portvillagers link in their noggins with our Institute (Ben has drawn our parade float now for over 75 years!), there is Chippy--both critters serving as Institute mascots in an agreeable mammalian co-chairperson-ship (Ben covers Chippy's hibernation). Several months ago, during one of those longueurs where our collective interest drifted back to more important matters, the full PilleSpacery was forked over to Chippy and for frivolous, perhaps even impish, reasons. Having no use herself for this electro-virtuality--no other mate-worthy chip-monks to be found, and Chippy having little but contempt for 9-11 conspiracy wags, being convinced herself that "Mohammedan beavers done the job,"--Chippy, an eminent usufructian, set about using the Pillespacery for seed and nut storage. Above is a seed and nut virtual token. The concept is no more maladroit or misguided than most of what happens hereabouts in these phantom electro-lands!
The Institute does not boost any one band of Urth politico or religio-nincompoops over another; rather it casts fervent curses on all Urthine outhouses equally. Above see how a glass-house sheltered caster of "stones" garnered well-deserved comeuppance from one of our Daguerreoshoppe©-schooled interns! Note that the hippoid character came fully Neanderthaled in situ.
(The broadside above is a paid political addmoretisement)
This Pilletube© viddy-oh is a stunner--a true Pilletube© moment. Captured on kamera, Gorged W. Boosh--the A-Merken Pez-head-ent--and "Dicked" Cheese-knees (his war-Locke-ian familiar) are seen celebrating with a decrepit former dictator at that Führer's 107th birthday party, while Snickerdoodle the New World Order Hamster® (and mascot) rolls about the floor encapsulated within a largish crystalline sphere that is embossed with outlines of the major continents; this to the merriment of all attending the anniversary shindig! Sadly, the link to this "Urth"-shattering viddy-oh has collapsed, but the stridently blank screen, and our insistence on the reality of Snickerdoodle's cunning antics, remain. For more of Snickerdoodle and for access to Snickerdoodle T-shirts and ballcaps, do "check out" the New World Order virtual gift shop at newworldonlineorders.com

Myspace Layouts - Myspace Editor

My Interests



Truly, every rope-tautening twist and turn of cerebellum-and-sensory encompassing obsessions as promoted and expressed throughout the depth and width and girth and height and breadth (without removing my other shoe, have I bypassed a dimension or deuce?) of our peerless endeavors at the Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries including the sciences (natural and not-sure-al), the fine and low-laying arts, the study of history, and much else indeed. Little hot-air-puffed kernels of philosphy and theory though, as we are an Imperial registered Institution of Applied Practical Workable Nutz-n-Bolts Hyperpragmatics and no "Urther" Navelgazeatorium or Tour d'Ivory!

The Mount Palomine Institute of Mysteries

I'd like to meet:



The witless rapscallion who thought up or more likely down the over-complexified apparatus ensconced on my mahogany roll-top that makes pretense to being an "intelligence artificielle", or, all complaints being equal, the contemptible melon-head in my employ who, this very morning, brewed the most foul and noisome pot of "joe" this beleaguered big-daddy has ever had the displeasure of pouring into his gilt-edged "Souvenir of Mastodon City" commemorative mug. Otherwise fine gentry and ladies who are existing not merely outside-the-carton, but are hovering high above it.

A PAUSE HERE TO CONTEMPLATE YESTERDAY'S DELICIOUS CAFETERIUM LUNCH--NO TOE-FOO OR ORGANIC CRAB-GRASS ON THIS MENU!

WARNING-IRONY AHEAD!
[Our MySpacery friends from Pretty-OK Britain convinced us to emplace irony speed bumps here and there for the benefit of the lumpenly literal A-Merkens. All A-Merkens, as the "Urth" people save themselves know, suffer from over-earnestness, and a puffed self-importancy that deprives their brains of playful neuron-firings]

The chart below will be useful to the politically circumspect--history, after all, being little more than a continuous interplay of the forces of Goodliness and Deviltry, or so the "Urth" people would have us believe. Here at the Institute, our collective eyebrows did elevate a bit when we learned that the demon-and-witch haunted language, imagery, and modes of analysis utilized by the religiously over-zealous also constituted the day-to-day political "tool kit" of the so-called well-educated (a brief survey of the MySpacery will confirm this). A whole entire bloated planet of witch-hunters and demon-seekers, many of whom do not even recognize the Inquisitor within themselves! Ye gads!

The Stephen Colbert viddy-oh laminated to our MySpacery page here directly below was included only at the insistance of my youngest, Penny. The curtains that serve as ground to Herr Colbert's emaciated figure "accessorize well with the new decor"

Music:



Varied banjoleum concerti by Swizzlestonian note-spinner, Pingly Pumfret; the operatorios of Jayne Julie Jochum; solo pianickal works of all degrees and velocities including sundry galluphs, nachtrains, and qualudes; the grandiloquent symphonic resonations of Anton Quackenbush. My daughters, natch, enjoy their youthful drumming and dancing musicks. Of the "Urth" musicks include the alleged Klassics and a battery of intriguing sounds produced by inspired young'uns some few decades ago.

"Musick is the devil's buzz-saw"--Anatole Zliplitt

Movies:


Wotan enjoys a good "talkie" now and then, especially if the prelude is a zany "Hun and Jerry" pixilated illustration!
My duet of daughters inform me that I have now viewed (more like slept through) a goodly collection of Urth talkies and such and have had ample time to form judgements. Randomly off the pinnacle of my noggin ones that I somehow enjoyed are: The Seven Samurai, Pee Wee's Big Adventure, A Bridge Too Far, some superb nonsense by the Brothers Quay, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, Jurassic Park, Mrs. Miniver, the Wizard of Oz, The General, Duck Soup, The Fifth Element, Kanal, Solaris (although we later watched a remake and it was abysmal), The Thin Man (several--a series I believe and all excellent), North by Northwest, The Birds, The Trouble with Harry,(actually near anything by this Hitchcock fellow), Forbidden Planet, Yojimbo, Richard III, The Four Feathers, The Great Race, Kung Pow, Playtime, Ben Hur (a non-talkie version quite old), Straight to Hell, Clue, Personae, Casino Royale, Jason and the Argonauts, Julius Caesar, Lawrence of Arabia, and probably a bevy of others. I will consult my daily notes and jog the memory basket.

Television:



Gad! Urthine optical wireless entertainments are the ghastliest bottom scrapings imaginable, while our own National Optical Wireless casts up a modicum of halfway intelligent entertainments

UNDER CONSTRICTION

This "Urth"-unfriendly site is powered wholly by the blasts of hot air, sanctimonious winds, and profusions of other vented gases produced by the MySpace-cadetery! Emplace that up your tail-pipe and smoke deeply upon it, Herr Alberto Gore!

Books:



I have yet to immerse myself in the, ahem, literature of da Urth although I am assured by Peepernauts that I am not missing much. Other handedly, this your humble savant has scribed a few tomes, not leastworthy being the above Defenestrating Whatchamahoosit, a book about which the Portville Trumpeter-Doubloon in its literary supplement extolled, "...an exegesis of the underslingings of Urth history that by comparison makes Lord Chomsky's paranoodling fantasias appear as so many Kindergarten Golden Books illustrated with winsome kittens and darling duckies..."

Heroes:



UNDER CONSTRICTION

"They shall not press upon our brow a rinky-dink crown of glittering rubies; they shall not crucify us upon a cross of waffles!"

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My Blog

700 words you cant say around sensitive and caring people

R.I.P. Herr Carlin   What began with noting that the Map is not the Territory finished with many of his fans not being able to see the Forest for the Weed At an Institute sponsored seance this a...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Tue, 24 Jun 2008 04:26:00 PST

Not enough socks stuffed into pie-holes if you ask this savant

This fresh from the bottom of the Beebeecee. We know of children from the Daily School down the boulevarde who can navigate through endless conversations without once inserting their feets into their...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Tue, 24 Jun 2008 07:48:00 PST

Blatant lunatic sends this office viddy-oh of Red-State demon

I expected flames, a head that could rotate clear-around 360 degrees, and geysirs of vomit but instead there is this unexceptional viddy-oh presentation, contributed by an over-umlauted hippie Finny-l...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Mon, 23 Jun 2008 07:50:00 PST

Brief allusive lesson in Dis-or-Mis-Communications Theory

This below (with its links &tc. included gratis) lifted "hot off the girdle" from this fancy-prone Interknittal site which can be reached at this Information Highway Exit (restrooms available...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Mon, 23 Jun 2008 10:11:00 PST

REposthole Majeure: Im Voting Res-publickan!

The Boosh and his obnoxious neo-cronies and their ilk and fellow travellers (mole rats and other tunnel-herding neo-mammals) have proven such blithering anathema to iMerika that they have near-utterl...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Wed, 18 Jun 2008 07:06:00 PST

Ventriloquism!

...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Fri, 20 Jun 2008 02:26:00 PST

Trivia of a geographical demeanor

My knowledge of this Urth nation of iMerika is, to be candid, spotted and uneven; therefore to rectify this my half (or less)-ignorance one of the Peepergate team explorers this day galumphe...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Fri, 20 Jun 2008 11:22:00 PST

Faster fasterness becoming even fasterer!

  North Pole, Santa-(marine)-lande: the reindeer will be replaced with haddock   A Beebeecee revelation concerning the non-survivability of Santa-lande: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/sci...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Thu, 19 Jun 2008 07:11:00 PST

There’s hope for Hillary!

  'nuf said and hopefully Scoobie Doo has entered the race! http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/7463810.stm...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Fri, 20 Jun 2008 04:35:00 PST

Profuse apologies as an UNEXPECTED ERROR dibble dibble dibble...

An unexpected error? When most MySpacery activity is erroneous how might any of it be unexpected? Assorted mud-hurlers, tomato-tossers, egg-pitchers,  and other Institute-(and-myself)-...
Posted by Prof. Pille & Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries© on Wed, 18 Jun 2008 02:27:00 PST