visual noise

what a perceptive guy and what an apt phrase don't you think~

this is my final fit my final bellyache. silent. silent.

And I was dumbly gazing at the bit that tells you which films are coming up on the movie channels, when I noticed that at the bottom of each synopsis sat a group of tiny faces. Celebrity faces. Nestling at the end of the paragraph, like part of the typography, as though the editors had done some research and discovered their readers had devolved to the point where their brains can no longer parse text unless it is broken up with miniature photos of their famous imaginary friends grinning back at them.
This is the case with me. feeling weird reading compressed PDF Time without illustrations while digging into the spaghetti and diet cream ads in People. pathetic me.

I just didn't know why, not yet. So I looked at it again. Somewhere in my head, a camel's back splintered beneath a straw. And I understood: this is madness. Genuinely: this is madness. Concepts replaced by faces. Grinning faces. It is not evidence of "dumbing down". It is the disjointed thought process of madness. That this is even vaguely acceptable is the most dizzying madness of all.
Typical CB way of mocking and protesting.

I wanted to run into the street, without even pausing to wipe, and hurl myself, boggle-eyed, at passers-by, flapping the magazine around, screaming: "HELP! WE'VE LOST OUR MINDS! I HAVE PROOF! I HAVE PROOF."
But I didn't. I stayed put; pooing and afraid.
And I thought: Our leaders lie, and we know they have lied, and there is war in our name, and the world kicks and boils itself to death and we do nothing but stare into the tiny grinning faces of people we don't even know; faces that are, apparently, more "fast, easy and practical" than language itself.
I give us six years, tops.
Why do I think of Humbert Humbert? the rational cynic. the sober creep. yet the world crumbles when he bleeds.