Nonsense III-XI

Nonsense III.
Beast number 19.
The humanoid beast tried to conquer the true humanity and had to retreat before the onslaught of science and technology, its antediluvian power could not do anything. He fed on red, fleshy, easy to find and digest fruits, and free also, in the hills north of Tapalpa. Maybe they were blackberries .

Tomorrow morning I will get on the first bus to Tapalpa, the land of engineer Luis Enrique Bracamontes-Gálvez (1923-2003) a PRI (Mexican Institutional Revolutionary Party) member who was Public Works secretary during the presidency of Luis Echeverría-Álvarez (1970-1976). I want to go to the cold land, Tapalpa, eat blackberries, and cheese tacos.


Nonsense IV.
Rare Mixes, red and leaden lands.
Not rare earths, no, they were not lanthanides 57+ nor actinides 89+ , but some red earths and other ones leaden, strange, so strange that seemed to come from a distant and mysterious planet, the veil was pulled back when two wisewomen Alquimisia the Arab, and Artemis the Greek, friends thanks to the unorthodox pseudoscience, revealed their secrets kept for decades.


Nonsense V.
Found in translation.
Found in translation. Powerful metaphrasistic serendipity that saved a nation from imminent disaster, thanks to the eminence of a direct and crystal-clear translator educated in an ivory tower on the banks of a thalassos with a modern lighthouse at the northern tip of the great Azure bay, in front of the Pacificana sea.


Nonsense VI.
Existential doubt, and Helios.
An existential doubt can be a metonymy metaphorically pandox and ontologically underground, leading to an antisartrean and parakierkegaardian mental pseudopurification because sunflowers, strictly speaking, can not rotate, but only oscillate or bend to his master, Mister Helios, and that without winged, fool, waxed Icarusisms.


Nonsense VII.
Diary of an astrogenetic antelope.
In a book of dark green covers, the astrogenetic antelope began writing in 1936, with brown ink coming out of a fountain pen, on sheets of white slightly bluish, fine paper, its diary, until a donostiarra or easonense humanoid wolf who had come to the port of San Blas (in the Mexican western State of Nayarit) aboard a ship perfectly caulked, and then he was transferred to a Studebaker automobile to travel to the small town of Xalisco, Southwest of the metropolitan are of Tepic, killed it, made the chef mentioned lines below burned it at direct fire, and ate together - bathed in tomato sauce and peppers, along with chambray onions sautéed, and lettuce and celery to which had been added lemon juice, white vinegar, Spanish olive oil, sea salt of Cuyutlán, Colima, and a little white pepper, all cooked by Ana Merino-Sierra, chef at the Curve Tavern. The red wine was Utiel-Requena, Valencian and ex Castilian.

Fortunately, Roberto Lambres-Arnolquera rescued the Diary of an astrogenetic antelope that a young Veracruzana and good-looking maid had found in the attic of the house of their employers, in the Pompous District, stole it and sold him for six hundred dollars to Lambres, who plans to give print and publish it later in the fall of 2014 and even present it at the Municipal Book Fair of the Green Twill.


Nonsense VIII.
Unnoticed sequential paradigms, not stereotyped.
They are here, there and everywhere. Simply look up, in the daylight, up to about 30 degrees, and then turn your head to the left and to the right, and they can be seen floating in the weightless and transparent etherealness of nitrogen, oxygen, and argon, id est, air, where the human eye can penetrate and discover manifestations of the most pristine and concise vertebrate omnipresence of the axioms and epistemological examples concurrent in the permanent clarity of a pleasant and memorable journey, an exciting voyage of awareness, which at first could try becoming introspection, but should not remain there; one must relate, communicate to others everyday discoveries.

In the field of human perception, the individual preparation can read the signs of the time, the contemporaries may congratulate others on it, but that is not what they should seek per se, but strive to acquire knowledge, science, technology, and then apply them —in order to serve their fellows, always, all the time, declining and even forgetting about a profit motive.


Nonsense IX.
The portion with more cherries.
The autarkic predispositional ipsohonor is that a quasi-simian and / or ignorant individual such as a journalist, or editor, or publisher, of a daily or weekly or monthly or bimonthly or querterly, et cetera publication, or an unprepared, or pedantic or radio announcer or reader of news, or an unprepared or "self-sufficient" television anchor aims to become supreme and life head of an interdisciplinary and transsectorial group and to thrive at the expense of the efforts of others, but also brings his, but when the time comes to split the cake, he/she tries to take the portion that more cherries has. It is considered something like the final holder of the absolute truth, or as Tolstoy sought, the older brother of God (God the Father, that is).


Nonsense X.
Useless artifices.
The hiperupped self-perception of axiom or theorem or rule or precept or principle or thesis or culture or law of the perfectionist ensurership stood higher than the fine smoke of Lucky Strike cigarettes expelled by the mouth of Horticulturist Matías Méndez, who was thinking of creating another one of those useless artifice to which he had accustomed to his wife, daughters and sons. This time will be a machine with steel gears, racks and pinions, which consume a lot of electricity, so the cost-performance ratio will be a bad one, once again.

However, his megalomania is unsurpassed and when he decides to do something, nobody can stop him.


Nonsense XI.
Spartanian impersonates the god Pseudoomni.
At another point on the agenda, we are informed by a young courtly female messenger clad in a light-color blouse and a denim, about rumors in the sense that a guy who calls himself Spartanian has kidnapped and slept the god Pseudoomni and [Spartanian] is sending messages to the so-called Earth in the name of Pseudoomni, but such messages are authored by the usurper Spartanian, who else? We will send our envoy Photon-4 to the 7777777 section (seven times seven) of the ethereal sky and see what 's going on, then we will inform you... and meanwhile, you can continue enjoying your vodka Nikolai or Havana Club rum with Coca-Cola.