RKNet Blog... Thing

One look at our vending machines will tell you that office-dwelling drones like Your Humble Narrator are always seeking out exotic drinkable liquids. Especially if said liquids are reputed to be imbued with energizing or stupefying properties. Maybe it’s the condition of our imprisonment, which in this office typically involves non-ergonomic, castoff cubicles, brutally punishing chairs, and cthonic food from the grim eateries which dot the surrounding wasteland (these bleak offerings might make Franz Kafka shrug resignedly and reach for a fork, but personally they make me bemoan the lack of a 24-hour Korean restaurant in the immediate vicinity). Maybe it’s the psychological/economic bondage of a modern business environment, wherein failure is not an option and the creature comforts are best described as “hit-or-miss”. Maybe it’s the high frustration level, combined with lack of sleep (due to work-related worries) which can make us rage like fearsome goetic demons forced to watch Legally Blonde 2.

In any case, even if one just examines the elaborate cultural rituals associated with (for instance) shotgunning sugar-free Red Bull (I’ll try to post about this in the future) or popping down to the local sports bar for a bottom-shelf Long Island iced tea (referred to by us cognoscenti as an “ether and sour mix” because of its unusual psychotogenic properties which cannot be individually ascribed to any of its constituent boozes)… it’s clear that there’s some kind of collective drinks-based coping behavior which spans the nerd-steppenwolf demographic and, unpredictably, inches insidiously into the repertoire of fairly respectable Liberal Arts majors. My personal theory is that these behaviors start out as pathological compulsions, until they are copied by at least one other person, whereby they attain official meme-hood, which in turn makes the progenitor feel justified, so he/she repeats the action, and then the cycle self-perpetuates until the meme gets old, the participants die/get fired, or until the required ingredients become exhausted.

Take for example, the practice of dropping a teabag into a hot cup of coffee.

This loathsome act is a true last-ditch effort. The participants are so jaded in their exhaustion, this is the final frontier, the nadir, the Last Judgment. Whether our nights are spent boozing it up or writing code until the wee hours, the effect is astonishingly similar. Once-human organisms are now reduced to soulless husks, caricatures of our former selves. In this degraded condition, we crave stimulus, which, at this advanced stage, can only be brought about by a handful of questionable exercise stimulants, washed down with an overpriced canister of phenylalanine-rich chemical ooze.

Such was our Monday mindset when, today, my staunch acolyte and I devised a new and gruesome sacrament. By steeping a teabag in a cup of infernally steaming coffee, our desire was to harness the clarity and energy of the strong black tea, tempered with the anxiety and panic of the coffee. The result was a murky liquid, which looked a lot like that black stuff which engulfed James Brolin toward the end of The Amityville Horror. Perhaps most singular was the aftertaste, a bitter, lingering tang of tannins. It is testament to my own slow, sad deterioration that I found the mixture to be not wholly unpleasant. Perhaps most disturbing is the understanding that I might voluntarily drink this again.

Below is a transcript of our findings:
(02:13:57 PM) me: dude this actually isn’t as awful as I thought it would be
(02:14:16 PM) XXXXX: its almost good
(02:14:25 PM) me: for real
(02:14:32 PM) me: I already feel more jacked up
(02:15:08 PM) XXXXX: then we should call it jack bauer’s tea bag
(02:15:28 PM) me: hahahahahah
(02:15:58 PM) me: I was going to suggest we could call it “Nightside of Eden” - I like yours better
(02:16:27 PM) XXXXX: well yours is for sure more poetic
(02:17:34 PM) me: “chai-flavored roundhouse kick to the taint”
(02:18:07 PM) XXXXX: thats it!
(02:18:16 PM) XXXXX: thats the taste in my mouth exactly!
(02:18:32 PM) me: “the sweat from Charles Bronson’s brow”
(02:18:57 PM) me: “Paul Schaeffer’s smarm in a cup”
(02:18:57 PM) XXXXX: strained through kurt russels pubes
(02:19:02 PM) me: hahahah

Just in time for both Cthuhlu Cthursday and Vag Day- I mean - Valentine’s Day, here’s a card for your scrumptious puppet of fear, madness, and in some cases the wasted human expression known as “love”.

Although he waits in a death-like slumber, Cthuhlu is still polite enough to at least send a card when the time comes again for the humans to get all agitated and rub against each other in various futile forms of staving off madness and death. The humor of your petty practices of self-adulation are not lost on The Tentacled One, and thusly he has usurped my standard functions and compelled me to create a card that you might share in the worshipful ecstacy of the passing regard issued forth by Mighty Cthuhlu.

Oops! Wish I had found this link a little sooner. $20 could have gotten you this super-rad octopus print, but they’re already sold out of their run of 100 5″x5″ prints. The proceeds would have gone

On the upside, though, they seem to update every couple of days with a new and enticing art print.
Tiny Showcase seems to focus on, well, tiny art prints. The site started as just a couple of art enthusiasts’ own showcase, but as of August ‘05 they raised prices a little so they could start donating to charitable organizations.

The heads-up on Tiny Showcase comes from Gregory Euclide, who is apparently going to be featured on TS here pretty soon.

Speaking of prints and Mr. Euclide, if I haven’t shared it yet, you should definitely zoom by We <3 Prints. It’s where I located a set of six prints by Gregory earlier this year. And hey, if you’re disappointed that you missed out on the first octo-print, you’re in luck because We <3 Prints found another one for just a little more money!

Cephalophiles rejoice! Internet art supports and understands you. <3

Also, I must tip my hat to my beloved ToM for helping me spread rad (cephalopod-related) art links today. Do I earn my (purely honorary) ToMcat ears now, John? The idea is as exciting as joining the Mickey Mouse Club must have been, except this is superior: it’s got WAY more Cthuhlu. Incidentally, since I subscribed to the ToM RSS feed back on 08/03/06, my search pulls up at least 38 direct references to Cthuhlu. Freaking awesome.