Sinister: top of the whack to you

[mike windisch]

greetings sinizens gentle and perverse,

earlier, Mark *thinking outside the box* C noted that

<< anyone selling a mailing list of the members of Sinister could expect top 
whack for it - over a thousand educated, computer-literate, mostly young 
punters, a marketeer's dream.>>

which caused me a moment of reflective amusement pondering some of various 
manifestations of value that "top whack" holds across this spinning orb...

believe you me, some mental pictures, regardless of the profundity of their 
perversity, are likely best left to dwell in reverie...

but TOP WHACK conjures visions of excutive-level booty smacks, or dare I say 
it, a reverently firm spank upon the derriere of the deity. the highknee of 
the most high, if you will.

on a scarier note, i learned today that in the world of tommorrow,
(which as that scarlet afroed orphan is so fond of singing, is only a day 
away)  those geniuses behind cable television will have sufficient 
demographic information on every amerikan household to individually taylor 
what adverts are piped into yr boob tube.

when this marvel of marketing prowess comes to pass, i can scarcely imagine 
what sorts of tripe will come streaming out of my idiot box during simpsons 
commercial breaks.

aside from the no brainers - babelaiden beer commercials, credit repair 
infomercials, and harranging pleas from the Dr. Gene Scott ministeries to 
send them a box of greenbacks poste haste or suffer immediate and extra 
uncomfortable damnation- (indian burns, wedgies,titty-twisters, and worse) 
i'm actually scared to see what sort of filth my demographic profile dredges 
up...

...fuzzy wuzzy animated characters extolling the virtues of controlled 
substances, the complimentary best-of box set complete with early demos that 
comes with every hedge trimming from the Billy Idol lawn care service, and 
outcall service from the Major Badass chain of short-term personal drill 
seargants who - as their jingle refrains - will help you get your shit 
together or feel the love of steel-toed boot leather across that lilly white 
ass you pantywaist nancy boy, now drop and give me fifty, hup hup hup....

needless to say, boob to the business world on this development.

----------------------
sin-city

all this chatter about the sinister hooville makes me pine for bike lanes, 
cobblestones, open-air rummage sales, a rolling munchie wagon brimming with 
tomato pesto brie sandwiches farmhouse beer and decriminalized cannibus, 
friendly bums who can talk for hours about the golden age of hoboing, a bar 
with a fire pole inside, lots of lovely folks with sly mischevious grins 
always on their face and romance never far from their minds, happy elderly 
couples strolling hand in hand and chuckling about how the follies of youth 
are the fodder for growing old gracefully, community cats that frolic 
wherever they please and outnumber the tailless two-legged fools who feed 
them, a real live jug band with washboard and spoon percussion, lots of 
dodgy-looking alleys that empty out into idyllic meadows and streams, daily 
columns from nick currie on the diner's placemats, and an innovative 
calendar that makes everyday both saturday and payday.

----

at any rate, i'm outta steam, so you'll be spared the irono-poetic 
description of the pigeon's i saw making love on the way to work monday 
morning.

and yes, bob is my uncle

windisch

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