PLANETARY STATUS REPORT!

The FRACTOR survives …

I went back to the JFK assassination and got JOHNNY CARSON to sell paperclips to Muslim hoarders. They took a smell and went north …

I shunned the Moon goddess and knew her carnal despair as our bodies were entwined in zero G and our hearts were filled with muskrat juice. We danced among the caverns of ZORN as tulip soldiers fired their laser cannons at the KRIEGEN FOLK. And once we tore a hole in space time and reversed all the sacred crimes our pimp daddy FOSTER MCGIVENS returned from the wars with rescue trophies and dead hooker wives.

When Cleopatra ruled Egypt and the other Macedonian Kingdoms fell, I took a turn as Caesar, and leapt from rooftop to rooftop like a Mexican roof dog hunting some small tasty morsel to quench my lust. Tilly Gippers stole the time-watch and needed a lift to 1873 to steal gold from his long lost love – but I told him “we’ve fractured time too much, we live, but our hearts turn black and cold” … he didn’t care … he had all the cocaine.

I was a Norse King, when Ragnar raided the English poolies and left the monks dead at old Red Rock. Carsten, the feston-herder, etched my name on the walls of Cornish masters, as the harlot women of sector-98 went wild and left their disco love by the exchequer, no longer delinquent in her payments to the outsiders. William the Conquerer sold tickets on e-Bay, and the time rift spread to quadrant-ALPHA, and too many fractors ran loose in the city.

The FRACTOR is a jaded soul that rides the wave of improbable life. The fractor is conserved by space-time to enabled the wild pizza ride between possible NOWs, and the yesterday NOW that the fractor can get to. Like an expanding oasis in a torn up desert, the causality field is the warm cuddly place that protects the FRACTOR – but nothing can protect the fractor from the sadness of loss, and of lives never existing, and other queer effects of broken time.

Someone taught Hitler to dive off of Old Creek’s Mountain and to lead the lesbian beastress women against the voluptuous armies of Madam Soviet, during the great commie war of 1956 … so many fission bombs were dropped on NYC and LA and Tokyo and London … the mutants ruled the lands and the comic chants filled the air with stale regret.

The fractors stole THE RUBIES of MARS in 1985, after President Ray-gun delivered his great speech denouncing the space-nazis of region-712. They took them rubies to the belirium-mines on Saturn, and harvested gimble flesh from the super beings that feed on our own nightmares. Nasty and unlikely friends lived on angel grease there.

Bone day is getting closer …

The dogs sense it …

They know that the great wheel is damaged, and that all stuff will be replenished and repeated. The dogs will gather the bones into a great pile, and make things ready for the reboot of history lost.

The fractors sense it too …

(and we prepare)

AT END TIME, when the the loop is closed between creation and destruction, T-RAY ARTISTS form coalitions of accident whereby they hold hands across time and institute the permanent FRACTOR – universe without end, without beginning, time looping in on itself, ouroboros …

I would stand there, at Time’s End, and sing the songs of lost worlds – of lands destroyed, of existence wiped away. We survive the great reaping only to carry the wounds of trillions, and to have knowledge of that which never happened.

And our hearts grow heavy.

And we sleep.