BY kable & voYa

>kaBle < so...there was this news story... about this chik who was 266kg, who had to be surgically removed from the sofa where she had spent the last five years...apparently, this 40-year-old-woman's skin had fused to the fabric of her couch in Hurricane Central >> Florida...
Hmmm...gives a whole new spin to the term, 'couch-corpse'...

< vOyA > I mean, really > gluttony is a fucker don't you think? Consume, gorge > swallow swallow. And then, all of a sudden, DNA mutation. Inside, outside ... Flesh. Couch. Insanity. INSANITY. I ask you, isn't this something akin to the woo-woo mysteries of human self-combustion? The consumer fucking consumed. Seriously, singed feet in blackened shoes is a horrible remnant for a human life. As is a dead big chik on an operating table somewhere with too much mutilated flesh.

>kaBle < yes...mmm...I've been thinking about this (while you were just typing your epic)...It is DNA mutation, but it's also biological/organ-ial euthanasia... slowly, slowly...
It's marination of the body and the soul..
supersiZe me...gorge me...gluttonize me...
and do-it-just-because-it's-there-for-the-taking-
quarterpounders-doublepounders-cholesterol-heart-attack-fucking pounders...
it'll turn your liver to pate...
and, yet >> meanwhile >> somewhere...
free of logoism and national greed...
people ARE still starving...
anorexic ghosts with a lightness of spirit that we will never know...
whose meal for the evening, folks, consists of a blade of bloody grass...

< vOyA > I think sado-bloody-masochism > for the Western World. Its own form of self-mutating torture. Self-annihilation, obliteration ... That slow slow suicide that we damn well hope we're not committing > right now in some way.

I mean > Addiction is such a comforting Bitch.
Sly, territorial, mysterious. TERRORISTIC.
There to fill any space you so fucking desire.
And no matter what, no matter how hard you try and resist, go all MONASTIC even, Addiction, her Desires, damn well appears. So what are you to do? I mean, well > how far is really TOO LATE? How far is fusion-with-couch?

>kaBle < it's extreme armchair sport...swipe yourself a gold-medal for comfort....
Because, like, that's what it is...
I say, less >> ADDICTION >> more comfort....
What could be easier?
Live vicariously through the changing seasons of your 4 x lounge room walls...
Watch it fade and decay...
Watch your own body melt into its own-hand-picked, personally moulded executioner's chair...
It's a place where care seeks no refuge...
It's bodily lobotomy...
It's slow and torturous suicide...

< vOyA > Okay, okay. Where pray tell > do we seek such comfort without that Bitch Addiction sneaking in? I mean, if we do what comforts us the most, most of the time >>> isn't that Her again? Isn't that RISK again?

>kaBle < I honestly don't bloody know...
It's all about stimulation and fetish...
>> Bondage of the soul. >>
Escapism...in all shapes and forms...