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On the Passage of a Few

On the Passage of a Few Oogles Through a Rather Brief Unity of Time

Their young lives and even briefer time under the spotlight of controversy have provided me with little mud to sling, so this will be short. Tending to my garden, I find it opportune nip it in the bud. Consider the words poured in this calumnious tare of a column, the equivalent of the scalding tar before a showering of feathers, which will be doubly insulting to their vegan recipients.

Of course one might make a book fair. But even if such a book fair succeeded in being as fundamentally incoherent and unsatisfying as the reality it dealt with, it could never be more than a re-creation — as impoverished and false as this plagiarized commentary.

The Green Scare Anarchist Book Fair was aptly named, since there were a few oogles who, green with envy, were scared of confrontation. The so named “dangerous space policy” also proved to be accurate, since it provided precarious and uninviting accommodations to its would be tablers.

It was hosted in a greenwashed church.

Yet it was scantly a book fair, since it was mostly zines being showcased, and some complained that it was quite unfair, since more books were trashed and burned, than presented or read. Though it wasn't a complete dumpster fire, there was also large amounts of vegan food shared that was found by dumpster-diving.

There are now oogles who pride themselves on being authors of zines, as others were authors of books. They are even more backward than the authors and publishers of books (like Atassa) because they are unaware of the decomposition and exhaustion of individual expression in our time, unaware that the arts of passivity, among them self-guided haphazard fervid activism in denial, are over and done. They are sometimes praised for their sincerity since they dramatize in anews comments, or on Twitter, with more personal depth the conventions of which their life consists.

In the final analysis, oogles are not created by their talent or lack of talent, or even by the anarchist subculture or milieu. They are created by the need we have for them. A pathetic need, arising out of a dismal and anonymous life that would like to enlarge itself to the dimensions of a social media-tized life. The imaginary life on the screen is the product of this real need. The oogle is the projection of this need.

After assisting to the fiasco, they hopped back into the bandwagon whence they came from. Like lost children they live out their unfinished misadventures.

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