A widespread culling spanning generations to mask the acceleration of the mortality rate. Festering newer headcases with each automized lesson plan, our overseers are live in the field. Each new massacre brought to you in real-time loses its sparkle before the next one has time to get the ball rolling. Toddlers tainted from day 1 for no longer getting a day off of school unless the death toll reaches 1000.
The zero/zero machine sun navigates through the arcane orchid storm, stares into the brain-rotten city, yellow-tints the land like a sulphuric tide, feeds dogs and rats with early-morning nightmares. The CONTROL SUBJECT drives his car to a vanishing point where the cardboard city folds over itself, dissapearing in collapsing plane-angles, passes a detouring test and then takes the electric-deadly westbound highway, presumably to neurohell.
Stealing away during her first season run on Legion (dreamily mainstream comic book Hamlet), Aubrey Plaza (no script, no contract, no paycheck, encouraged only by a newfound devotion to art, a door opened in her after playing too many approximately edgy antiheroes) stars as the maddest version of Hamlet ever committed to screen.
“I got a letter from a father in Golden, Colorado. He wrote, ‘President Obama, all I want is someone to hear my story. For so many months last year, I was yearning to go on my annual fishing trip with close friends but I felt burdened by the stresses of modern life. Nothing I did made a difference. I contemplated suicide, and then I discovered textology.’”
“Did I say you could turn the ignition? No, I didn’t, did I. Step out of the vehicle and look for hazards. You must say it: ‘No glass, no gas, no fire, no wires.’”
Jackson said it and the driving instructor was pacified.
“Now we’ll start the practice test. Pull out of the lot and turn left at the lights. Make sure the light is green, like grass. Not the color of tomatoes or the color of oranges.”
“Why not just say ‘the color orange’?”