And commences the safe subcutaneous buttock augmentation on the patient over cocktails and banter. The livestream crew uses purple and orange lighting to enhance the mood. Passion palaces sell the show for thirty dollars a ticket. Juggalos riot at their doorsteps.
And discusses hyperphenomenology at the Synergy Conference at UC Berkeley. What we have here is the alterity of radical harmonic shifts in consumer behaviors. Investors stare on. Give her the money, give her the money. Sensations can be mediated to produce meaningful social change and, thus, channeled into constructive consequences for the market and society at large.
And decides to become the bear and wear the bear skin cap and eat the heart of the enemy like an afternoon snack and ride the knarr over the Arctic seas to trade ivory, halberds, and honey to the mainland. She remembers the white foam of the ocean as the fur of the polar bear.
And drops the H bomb over Kansas City as per the orders of the International Society for the Suppression of H Bombs. Wait, was she supposed to drop the H bomb?
And dignifies herself in the court of the Tokugawa Shogunate by reciting poems about the butterfly and the cocoon.
And listens to the sound of the speedboat motor as the henchmen hired by the International Society for the Suppression of H Bombs trip over the docks and into the waters of Lake Pontchartrain.
And sees in the reflection of her sword’s steel, the empty hazel eyes of the Irish reprobates, slain from scalp to gullet. Watches the Celtic grass blow in the wind like the soft light of a candle. Remembers the spilled life-water of a warrior bear. Let her sing, let her sing.
And networks the shit out of the Synergy Conference afterparty. Notices the mirror image of her father in the corporate video art that mimics the motion of sea creatures. Unleashes her talent for impressions after three grams of mushrooms and two Old Fashioneds. There it is, her father again.
And eats a croissant for breakfast the morning after the Synergy Conference but doesn’t tell anybody. It will be her little secret. History has become as pathetic as the future. She will never know more than what she knows now, that is, the subcutaneous. Most consumers would classify their sensory experience as hyperstimulated.
And says a warrior’s prayer as the mahogany bear carvings come alive. She understands the will of the Valkyrie as the will of the H bomb. The consumers ride the pilgrimage to Jomsborg and the shape of the waves is the shape of the bear.
And defeats the International Society for the Suppression of H Bombs with gadgetry and emotionless discipline. She writes a letter in invisible ink to her handler and disables the voice-encrypted poison dart in her favorite umbrella by speaking of cocoons and butterflies.
And memorizes the hierarchy of the Tokugawa Shogunate through a mnemonic device based on the short con known as the “Kansas City Shuffle.”
And watches the documentary film of her well-publicized medical career play out in Madison Square Garden. The time she ate the heart of the patient and members of the Arctic pilgrimage made the sign of the cross in fear. The livestream crew are all members of the International Society for the Suppression of H Bombs.
And disturbs the peace of UC Berkeley as a flaneur of questionable intentions. May she remind Synergy Conference investors that the Brazilian Butt Lift is a safe procedure, practiced since the days of the Tokugawa Shogunate, and that during the procedure, the fat embolisms flutter into the lung like a butterfly fresh from a cocoon. Consumers understand this. Why don’t you?
And successfully completes the safe subcutaneous butt augmentation. Even the livestream crew applauds. Across the heartland, Juggalos weep rivers of tears into their Faygo. She did it again, they say. She shakes the patient’s hand. This way, your butt will have enhanced musculature, depth, and maybe even some motion.