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Chronicle of the NonPop Revolution
The third pluperfect axiom of Chaos Theory addresses many problems, clarifying some and befuddling others. When Jorge Casiomente stumbled out of the basement of the Elks Grove Cantina in Huguenot, Texas, a lyrical peso's heave from the mysterious Mexican border, raving that smart bugs with big eyes had just defeated him in the Lone Star Fat Domino Tournament by
employing oversized blocks with programmable computer chip pips -- unregulated by conventional game rules -- and were now moving all of the inflatable furniture from his adobe trailer into the street where it would be subjected to the insectival equivalent of radiocarbon dating, the supposition of three weary beverage sippers seated at a table on which dozens of robot squids were squirming a mechanical rendition of the macarena while awaiting convoluted adoption procedures from anonymous overseas interests was that, given the often wacky propensities of Chaos Theory, Bedlam Incarnate would surely follow. In fact, had any one of the three, whose names reflected local historical inaccuracies as well as light from the overhead bamboo chandelier which housed the means by which an extended family of the big-eyed domino victors hoped one day to return to the distant universe whence they were uprooted the bug equivalent of illenia ago when the café at which they were dining suddenly occupied the same space as that of a roving Algonquin Hole, and which could be described as accurate numerical representations of chicken lips, chanced to glance at his wristwatch at that moment, he would have noticed that time was no longer heeding established rules of relative order but was instead answering the call of Indeterminate Fractal Mechanics, a disreputably quirky cousin of Chaos Theory. Infinitely less relevant to those in the cantina as well as to the driver of the delivery van approaching rapidly from the north -- whose cargo of designer crow apparel, fried beaver fritters, and translational Euclidean symmetry was quantifiably destined for a parallel universe in which dust, figs and yellow randomly determined the economic fortunes of the more elastic members of its society -- was the still life painting taped to the dehumidifier in Jorge's bedroom which, since the less weighty furniture had been removed, was now the only place to sit. And yet the painting, subtitled Le flambeau oriange, and permeated with the unmistakable aroma of velocity, took the art of serendipity to new heights by depicting three robot squids with big eyes wearing yellow bamboo wristwatches and sipping domino pips while wondering if the crow in the background, already pressured into radiocarbon dating, would further submit to going steady with the fig.|
These examples, taken together, create a credible case for chaos, however the third pluperfect axiom of Chaos Theory, whose illegibility has allowed it to escape scrutiny for years, denies the existence of the very paper on which it was scrawled, thereby refuting its own reality, Q.E.D.
Therefore you, our listening audient, will again be asked to accept the next two hours of Reality as proffered by Kalvos & Damian's New Music Bazaar, this 102nd episode of which is pleased to conflict with no other comparable radiophonic event in this or any other broadcast medium, and without which the number 91.1 would have as much inherent meaning as the bucket in the basement of the Elks Grove Cantina in which smart big-eyed bugs await the coming of the cosmos and/or the Kalvos.