You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait. Do not even wait, be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

Something has washed up on Bonfil Beach in Acapulco. It appears to be dead. No one knows what it is. It is 13 feet long, it is just lying there, and people are poking at it. "We have no idea what type of animal this is," says Civil Guard coordinator Rosa Camacho, "but I do know that it does not smell bad or have a fetid aroma."

I know what it is. It is a Fringe event. Stop poking at it. Back away slowly, and call Dr. Walter Bishop. He will Know.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bk8VfK7TRM]

Seems kinda Fringey to me, the spin on the three state elections in Germany this past Sunday. The results, they are being portrayed as some sort of horrifying atavistic blow to all sense and sanity, with the German electorate ululating that all the refugees should go into Really Bad Camps, while Chancellor Angela Merkel, she should run weeping and screaming, and into a nunnery.

Except, if you look closely at what really happened, you learn that what really happened, was: nothing. Three sitting governors were returned to office. And all three favor Merkel's refugee policy.

Apparently what occurred was a hallucinatory group-agreement press-driven Expectation "failure": to wit, Merkel's "Christian Democrats failed to wrest control of two states in western Germany where they had once been expected to do so."

Oh. Okay.

Also, there is the foaming about some of the people voting for the yeehaw rightbent populist party. But most of these were not voters suddenly losing their minds. But instead mouth-breathers, stumbling out of caves, and crawling out from under rocks, to vote for the first time: "[v]oter patterns analyzed by pollsters for the two public service broadcasters showed that the Alternative for Germany drew support from people who traditionally do not vote"; "[i]n Saxony-Anhalt, people who did not vote in previous elections were the biggest source of the new party's support."

This is typical, the emergence of un-monolithed cave-dwellers, when there occurs in a people some sort of authoritarian spasm. As Wilhelm Reich knew, and as the US has itself experienced recently, first with the teabaggers, and now with the people of The Hairball.

As Jesus said: "two-bit ignorant peckerwoods, they will always be with us." What is required is that they remain a minority (as they are in the US, and in Germany; they are dead-enders, people in the last throes of whiteness), lest they march everyone down a road of bones.

Just a quick note: the Americans, they have never really been much for voting. In the presidential election of 1824, for instance, "[i]n spite of the fact that this was the first time the people would choose between men whom they themselves had nominated instead of those thrust upon them by the party machines, less than five percent voted."

Egyptian Justice Minister Ahmed al-Zend, attempting to demonstrate his zeal and devotion to the job, went on the television and said he would jail Mohammad himself, if Mohammad in Egypt were to become a miscreant, and there break the law.

Zend was promptly fired, and now he is probably going to the Dungeon.

Implicit in the rapid and severe official response to Zend's remark, is that Mohammad should feel perfectly free to roam around Egypt committing Crimes, and without consequence. So I think the fellow, he should experiment with this. I know that Mohammad, he is pretty bored where he is these days, usually doing not much but playing chess with Jesus all the live-long day. So I think he should book a trip to Egypt, and there maybe rob a couple liquor stores, steal some cars, run a red light or two. If he sees some heads that look like they need to be cut off, he could go for that too. Test the limits of his immunity.

Somebody in China is in trouble, too, because they put the word "zuihou" in the newspaper, rather than "zuigao." Thereby transforming Xi Jinping from "China's highest leader," to "China's last leader."

Jeez. Xi, he had just toured the nation's media outlets, instructing them to "protect the party's authority and unity." And now this.

If you make a typo in China, there can be Trouble.

Typos involving high-level Chinese leaders can lead to punishment for the journalists involved. In December, a phrase intended to explain that Mr. Xi gave a speech in Africa was jumbled to suggest that Mr. Xi had resigned.

Oops.

Typos can also be deadly elsewhere in the world. In 2009 a UK government registry mistakenly typoed that a century-old family business was in liquidation. It wasn't, but everyone Believed the typo, and, as a result, the company really did go bust.

Engineering firm Taylor & Sons Ltd was mistakenly listed on a UK government company register as being in liquidation when it was really another company — Taylor & Son Ltd (without the second "s")—that had gone under. Once this information got out to creditors, suppliers started terminating orders.

The mistake was caught within a few days, but by then, the damage was already done.

Managing director and co-owner Philip Davison-Sebry said he was on vacation in the Maldives when this all happened, and it was "like Armageddon" with clients calling him and asking what was going on.

The company fell apart within two months.

Sometimes when I am making the legal briefs, I am trying to type "does not," but instead I type "doe snot." A couple times I didn't catch this, and neither did anyone else. So then the judge, when s/he received the brief, had to assess the nature and meaning of the Law, in regards to doe snot.

Some dogs, they were sniffing the airplanes at Belgrade Nikola Tesla Airport in Serbia, when one dog had a frenzy. The humans, they rushed over to see what was the problem. And discovered two AGM-114 Hellfire missiles, packed in wooden coffins, and bound for Portland, Oregon. Such missiles weigh 100 pounds and cost $110,000 and are used by serial killers to blow aircraft out of the sky. These had landed on a flight from Lebanon. Generally, Hellfire missiles, they are sent from the United States to places like Lebanon. But not these. These were traveling in the opposite direction. These were of the fabled chickens. Coming home to roost.

In other nasal news, they are sending to Mars a giant nose, to sniff out whether there is anything there the humans might consider "life."

A second space probe, it was recently dispatched to a Hairball rally, where it detected no trace of higher brain functioning.

Yes, today they will be making the president, and in five states: Illinois, Missouri, Ohio, North Carolina, and Florida.

Until a week ago, all the Normals, they were comfortably smug, in Knowing what today would happen: The Mad Bomber, in the Democratic version, and The Hairball, in the Republican version, they would uber alles to such a mammoth magnitude that all their presidenting opponents, they would be, in the immortal words of Hunter S. Thomspon, "hurled out to sea and stomped down like a dwarf in a shitrain."

But now, now there is fear, and trembling. Because, in the Democratic version of the president, last Tuesday, in Michigan, The Cranky Brooklyn Deli Man, he broke the polls.

No one, not even Nostrildamus, predicted the Deli Man would come close in Michigan, much less win. But he did.

The polls, today they remain broken. And, in them, the Deli Man is doing just what he did in Michigan: galloping up closer to The Mad Bomber. If the poll-breaking manifests again today, the Deli Man, he will prevail in Missouri, Illinois, and Ohio, and should come so close in North Carolina he will cause the Bomber to need many Doctors.

North Carolina, and Florida, these are the last two states on The Mad Bomber's infamous Black Like Me tour: after them, there won't be any more. And so, she will be in Trouble.

If the Deli Man, he is the Winner in North Carolina, as well as in Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri, then Rocket J. Squirrel, proprietor of the Daily Kos tube, he will need to forthwith enforce the edict he announced earlier this month:

I will no longer tolerate malicious attacks on our presumptive presidential nominee or our presidential efforts. What does that mean?

No attacks on Bernie Sanders using right-wing tropes or sources. He's had 30 years of bullshit flung at him from the Right, there’s no need to have Daily Kos give them an assist.

If your goal is to make Sanders a better candidate and president, that's allowed. Constructive criticism falls under that rubric. If your goal is to sabotage Sanders, then that won't be allowed.

Again, that is what can be in the eye of the beholder, but that's how moderators will evaluate these matters. If your goal is to make Sanders better, then great! If your goal is to destroy him, then boo hiss.

Rocket J., and all the people of the Kos tube, they will must needs kiss The Mad Bomber, goodbye.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaG2Acg8n60]

Over in the Republican version of the president, there is turmoil because, last Saturday, The Hairball, he was erased from this universe.

The effects of this were seen almost immediately. In the Saturday caucus in Washington DC, The Hairball was completely invisible: Mondo Boobio earned 10 delegates, and Death Of A Salesman nine; The Hairball, he didn't get any at all. Over in Wyoming, Zed Crud gathered in nine delegates, while Boobio picked up one; The Hairball, he got one, lonely, delegate.

The Hairball, he will not do as well today as expected. Because he has been erased from this universe. In an early episode of the Bald Man version of the true-life documentary-series Star Trek, a couple of holo-thugs manage to get to the door of the holodeck, and open it onto the ship. Ecstatic, elated, they step from the holodeck, into the ship. Then they find it difficult to move. They look down, and discover that, from the bottom up, they are dissolving. Because they were not meant, to live in that world.

That is what is happening to The Hairball. He has been erased, and he is dissolving. It will just take a while. That's all.

I will be disoriented today, because Sunday they made the daylight saving time, where they come into the time and just rip an hour out. This causes auto accidents, and also people to go mental. It is for sure a hardship for me, because several years ago I contracted an Anathem jones, and as a result there are more clocks here than even in Geppetto's workshop.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnB2RM3uvSk]

Like Geppetto there, despite all the clocks, I have to check a watch, to determine "what time it is." Because whenever they do this thing with changing the time, the prospect of resetting all the clocks in the house, it plunges me into such despair that I simply lay down, pull the blankets over my head, and then rock back and forth, and for many days, in a fugue state.

I did some research on daylight saving time once, and I discovered it was the idea of a man in New Zealand who wanted more light to look at bugs. And it was first implemented by the Germans, in WWI, so they could save coal, which would enable them to kill more people.

But, you know: today, it is a different world. We have flashlights now, so people can look at bugs whenever they want, even when it is dark. And everyone is pretty much in agreement that the Germans, there in the 20th Century, they killed their quota of humans for, oh, the next 350,000 years. So I don't know why we need to keep going with this nonsense.

One year when there was the clock-changing, I reset the clocks to various different-one hours, so that it was, here, at all times, all and every hour of the day, and night. I had also somehow accumulated four calendars, so I put them up, in different places in the house, open to various random months. And so, here, it was, at any one time, all the times, as well as many of the days. And, I liked it, like that.

This continued until there was the screaming on the telephone, from the lawyers. Who kept claiming I was "late," delivering various projects. They would assert it was, say, 3 p.m. on March 24. But I would reply that, in my house, it was, oh—glancing at some random clock and calendar—9 a.m. on February 24. And so they should calm down, take a stress pill. Because the thing, whatever it was, it wasn't truly due, for eons.

Eventually, sorrowfully, I had to give this up. Else the lawyers, they would stop giving me the monies, for the projects, that I never delivered; without the monies, I wouldn't be able to buy the batteries, to keep the clocks running, on all the times.

In the actual Adventures of Pinocchio book, not the Disney movie, Pinocchio, he is really quite Bad. He squishes the cricket with a hammer, he has Geppetto falsely arrested as a child molester, he spends five months partying it up on an island called Cocaine. I am not making this up; these are True Facts; you can go look for yourself. I know: I was Pinocchio; also, in a play. Once upon a time. Where myself and the guy who played Geppetto, we shamelessly and deliberately overacted in the scene where we were reunited in the whale. The director, she didn't like that, and she told us to cut it out. And we would try to be Good, like Pinocchio. But, every night, like Pinocchio, we were Bad. Because the lines, they were just so sappy. And so the bad and wrong overacting, it would every night come out again.

And, anyway, like, what was the director going to do? Run out on the stage and start Yelling? That would have been interesting, for sure . . . but then it would have been a different play.

Later, my daughter liked it, when she was quite wee, and we drove around, me at the wheel, her there in the little car seat, if I would sing little snatches of song. One snatch I would sing was "the world is a ghetto." Except I would sing: "the world is Geppetto." This continued until one day she said, very firmly, "daddy, the world is not Geppetto." So I had to stop. Because she's a Capricorn. And when Capricorns become very serious, and yet you don't do what they say, they will Get you. Even when they are only three.

And anyway: she's right. The world, it is not Geppetto. But neither, as the song itself concedes, is it a ghetto. It is, as ever, what you make of it. Like. Way over yonder. In the clear blue sky. Where flamingoes fly.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptIcert_Ra8]

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[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5ZRIlgjaIc]