Emanating into as-of-yet unseen Hertzian climes, piping out of the piles of precarious and soon to be outmoded electronics a fearsome fable foams. A Hertzian Tale for today’s somambulent meanderthals, those blackburied alive. Those wired up in real-time but unattuned to the churning…a long-running rumbling redolent of forgotten deros! On 12 June the inane chatter of the airwaves’ occupation will be reduced to a maligned whisper. But listen closely to this whisper, a faint hum, nay, a pattern or fractal-like revelation of many micronarratives. A triumphant whisper that will creep swiftly into a crescendo as the backdrop of static electricity takes center stage!
Of so many possible poems emanating from the dawn of time, take with you this tale now—of the sleeping giant, yet noisome in so many ways, a devilish sort who in fact crafted or co-conspired the coffin into which Vaudeville descended. The final nail for those poor vaudevillians, I’m sorry to say. Sorrier to say that this message repeats— that the subject of this tome, this tomb, is a detrimental robot who also reaches the end of its useful existence, arrived, as all creatures flesh and tech are fated to do!! Gravely, this life has been too sinful for a heavenly uplink or jolt of tech-immortality; and yet even the Devil won’t settle for anything less than high-def ! And so this derelectroid is barred from hell as well.
Nowhere to go at the end of transmission. The dastardly Devil mockingly tossed out some phantom limbs, tingling intangibles that, glowing weirdly within flames of hell, were remediated in retrogradations by the anxious and abandoned dero on its perhaps doomed (tele)vision quest. Attaching these horn-like protrusions to a procession of analog residuals plentiful–even now–along the banks of the river Willamette, this fearsome foe began endlessly wandering the e-wasteland called Earth, endlessly auto-scanning for a wandering signal, an empty channel a glimmer of hope.
