That might just be the thing, right? Come one and all! Gather round and stare in amazement as a swaddled babe stumbles its first dumb steps from the blinding light of the internets…slowly stretching out a tiny little finger…POKE!

That is quite a cute image, actually…and you’re likely to be filled with a great warmth as fuzzy, almost inaudible giggles come gently from your deepest center.

Steadily, however, those giggles progress to more of a frothing, internally sloughing process and you realize that they are indeed fuzzy. That’s no surreal metaphor, dummy! There are fuzzy things coming out of your mouth…and they hurt more than fuzzy things should. Soon, that ‘great warmth’ has gotten a bit greater and you’re racked with a fever equal parts alarming and remarkable…which almost takes your mind off of the fuzzy, hurtful things coming out of what used to be your mouth, but what now simply doubles the function of your other end. By the grace of something less than god, you are eventually distracted from this ugly scene by, unfortunately, a far worse alternative. At the point of first contact, you can now confirm a small dull-green blotch on your skin. Quickly, however, you fail in your ability to confirm your skin as the dull-green becomes more vibrant, violent, and purposeful – bubbling upon itself and expanding over your entire body except as it inevitably falls to the floor with a pronounced…SLOSH!

As your eyes roll out of your head, they once more remark at the innocence and beauty that had drawn them to that orphan creature in the first place. With no more concern for your organs, you are left to wonder why you are left to wonder. As it happens, this process was not carried out as part of any accidental chemical reaction nor any simple predatory feeding. No…you were simply meant to suffer and, as such, this thing has secured your consciousness in the open area of space and time surrounding your stewing remains. “Look at them…” it giggles. “Look at YOU!” it giggles further, wandering off to savage the souls of your fellow man that have been made a meal of by your infantile infant curiosity.

…but that thing wasn’t us. That was a baby. AND YOU DON’T TOUCH BABIES DO YOU!? They are filled with diseases and demonic spirits. Not to mention it was coming out of…A VOID IN THE INTERNETS! Don’t touch anything that comes out of there…unless …it smells …exactly …like …us. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…smell that smell!

No, we’re gonna be good to you…promise…unless you are THE enemy. And our research almost concretely shows that you are not.

The Sporadical seeks to stir the pot…randomly…with spoons mainly, but also yard sticks, cigarette butts, your loved ones, big ideas, small thoughts, and in extreme instances…the collective unconscious consciousness pinky. Additionally, we may at times also completely miss the pot…stirring with a wild, hallucinatory rage that can only be helped by continued stirring…which is to say, not helped in any way.

Blogging on the Arts of Absurdity.
A strange ugliness posted here for your enjoyment. What you’ll find will change from post to post: odd photography, comic strips that might contain humor, acceptable poetry, music that can be listened to, video that almost can’t be watched, savagely mutated gonzo journalism, satirical philosophy that helps no one, a whole new foundation of physics, half-hearted attempts at world peace, and 23 flavors of sorbet. Ideally, all of these things – chiefly the sorbet – smear together into a thick brown paste, held together by the age-old themes of ‘Creativity’, ‘Agitation’, ‘Absurdism’, and ‘Hating Babies’.

Whatever…Whenever…You Need.
Resulting from an experimental soul-resetting procedure carried out by my esteemed complete stranger Murray, we have entered unto the counter, counter, counter, counterculture. This process very nearly turns us into a Culture Club song, but instead makes us corporate again…in a good sideways kinda way. Imagine a parallel universe where plush doll versions of corporate entities, hand-sewn by grandmotherly types, are collected, semi-religiously, by fat-cheeked little cartoon squirrels…at a reformed Unitarian Church of the Subgenius…run by honest-to-goodness conscientious hippies? It’s like that. So it’s good…dig?Please enjoy. In the time that lies ahead, we will steadily add more voices, more features, and a greater variety of content.

Note:

It is expressly forbidden, so if it appears to you that we have our heads up our asses…rest assured that we are simply ‘stirring outside the pot’.

That post was ‘Site Info’?!

I’m Thomas K…and I’m not.