In some sun-bleached barn outside Sacramento, CA c. 2099 a group of physicists, shady g-men, grad-students, tourists and an array of amateur explorers and nü-gonzo-revivalist writer-dudes gather around a collection of strange vehicles that resemble lunar landers. Each is painted a garish colour and prepped to "shift" along an angle of slippage into a crazy new plane of existence. Their mission, in the words of Gene Roddenberry, is to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before. These are the voyages of the DayTrippers.
Each Daytripper is equipped with enough fuel to support its crew and dimensional-shift engines for, predictably enough, one day. The idea is simple: slip into alternate universes and pocket dimensions, steal, trade or plunder enough goodies to pay for the next trip, ship upgrades and your student loans. The other end of the universe is a crazy place, filled with strange, dark cities, glowing swamps and crystal spires under mysterious stars. Danger bounds, but so do the riches. Time to zip-up that Automated Survival Suit and seal those pods tight! Let's slip-n-slide!
In 2003 webmaster colleague and Web405 listmom Dennis Wilen announced a project called The Spacebrothers' World Tour, in which dozens of inflatable aliens were shopped off to various locations all across the globe. Project participants endeavored to utilize these silent visitors in the creation of photographic galleries, detailing the adventures of the Spacebrothers here on planet Earth.
Last night in a flurry of interactive rebellion apparently prompted by the failure of VH-1 to include Marilyn Manson's "Coma White" video on "The List", thousands of gloom rockers organized via Usenet, joining forces with disgruntled "Star Trek" fans in order to barrage Viacom interactive properties with trekkie references, gothic symbolism, and deliberate non-sequiter product placements.
This morning, ignoring the slackers on the panhandle of this revolting cesspool of a city, stepping over the druggie bums while hurrying to digital servitude in order to pay off my future self for my present home entertainment system, I took a sip of my Starbuck's and felt some small, unexpected mass strike my tongue - a bug.
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"Personality is a persona, a mask. The world is a stage, the self a theatrical creation... Personality is not innate, but acquired. Like a mask, it is a thing, a fetish, a fetishistic object or commodity."