Zeke Fiddler

Textual destructuralism and neocapitalist semiotic theory C. David Scuglia Department of Politics, Carnegie-Mellon University Spelling and textual discourse In the works of Spelling, a predominant concept is the distinction between creation and destruction. The subject is contextualised into a textual destructuralism that includes culture as a paradox. Therefore, Derrida promotes the use of textual discourse to attack the status quo. But if the capitalist paradigm of discourse hold...

Wipe your hand across your mouth and laugh, and all will be right. After all, the world is not what it seems. So what if I started out slowly, The Gal behind, Stopped at every street corner Collecting cigarette butts, Stepped on every slimy leaf That curls up like a squirrel in the grass. Then why not Give place and time for all these things, To work your will upon a mountain of data. But I have been wondering what the world is like And coming to terms with being human, Feeling the...

Allow me to let you in on a secret. You want to know how to annoy my wife? Well, you for sure can usher her into the express lane to Grumpy Town by simply offering to recap your previous night's dream. Really though, who could blame her? I mean, you have to admit, that sort of garbage is pretty freakin annoying. Frankly, if as an adult you remain the least bit surprised by the quality of crap your subconscious chooses to belch up each night, not to mention, thinking that this might rise to ...

The Robot and Frances: The old robot had once thought that it was a man. But in fact, it had just been a prisoner of the old days. Those days, back when it served as a stenographer for the State. She had been here, for most of this time, as a part of that Project. For past few hours however, it had been waiting. Waiting for Frances to finally say something, while pictures of faces gently scrolled across the display situated where one might expect it's mouth to be. When she did finally spea...

Today the robot said that the one thing in the world was hidden. The others were gone. But it was hard to know what was coming, so much there. The sound of his face spilled out and he was silent for a moment on his feet. "Oh, I don't have to see you, Steve. What can I do for you?" "I don't know. I'm not sure." "I can see that you can see better for yourself." A sudden mud beam broke out of the cargo panel and led the way to the porch. It was a rich one, but torn around in the corners of t...