hairstyles

2012-01-21T12:07:00.000-08:00

Terbo.

2011-10-23T16:58:00.000-07:00

It is Data Olds first day at her new school. When she arrives a thick fog is burning off in the rising valley sun. Teenagers groggy from teeth falling out nightmares stumble around in the amphitheater. She arrives early as directed by Principal Drippypants to her parents. The Principal has an unnerving, tooth filled smile that never stops. He is also incontinent and appears unashamed of the piss all over the front of his pants. After a brief introduction that consisted mainly of a thorough inspection of her teeth and a warning to stay clear of Hudson Merriweather and his "Hairstyles" she is transitioned into the rank and file of the student body with a chaperon wearing elaborate headgear and acting robotic. The chaperon introduces herself as Kim. As they move through the busy hallways Data is surprised by the number of kids with elaborate and bizarre forms of headgear. She asks her emotionless guide about it but is only further confused by the answer.
"I am not your spirit guide Data, I am only supposed to show you where your locker is and then take you to your first period class. If you require more input on the standards of dental hygiene that are to be maintained by the students at this institution I suggest you begin by....wait a second....do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Data asks.
Kim touches her headgear with her hand and closes her eyes "ahhhhh....". She smiles and enters a state of deep relaxation. When her moment is over the genuinely happy look on her face is replaced by the robotic blankness from earlier.
"What was that?" Data asks confused.
"What was what?"
"What did you just hear? How do I find out about dental hygiene standards?"
"What are you talking about? Oh look, here's your locker.
Data is shown the combination to her locker and as promised she is walked to her first class. They stand outside the door and Kim touches Datas arm and says "Wait here a second, they're coming."
"Who is?" Asks Data
"Hudson Merriweather and The Hairstyles, he's the cutest boy in school." The bell rings and kids scramble inside their classrooms. As this goes on Hudson Merriweather and The Hairstyles enter the building. They stroll casually down the hall with their fabulousness back lit by the blinding sun. They are silhouettes of perfection. They are all to beautiful for words. They evoke more of an animal sound that the girls have a difficult time suppressing. While the beauty of each of the Hairstyles is impossible to comprehend somehow Hudson manages to look better than the rest. The two girls stand in drooling awe of his hyper-attractive teenage glory. As they approach a sensor on Kims headgear is activated and she grabs at her jaw in pain and ducks inside the classroom. Hudson and The Hairstyles arrive at the door and walk past Data who is now paralyzed by her proximity to their perfection. As they pass the eyes of Hudson and Data meet. Once their eyes lock Data doesn't take her eyes off of Hudson for a second. She watches as he and the rest of The Hairstyles take their seats in the back of the class. She is still standing in the door staring at Hudson unaware that now the whole class including the teacher are all looking at her.
"Ahem!" The teacher gets her attention. "Are you Ms. Olds?"
"Oh...excuse me, yes sir"
"Principal Drippypants told me I would be getting a new student today. I am Mr. Suck and this is Chemistry of Oral Traditions. Now let me ask you something Ms. Olds, do you think you are going to be able to avoid being distracted by Mr. Merriweathers handsomeness long enough to do some learning today?
The class erupts into laughter and Data blushes. "Yes sir".
"Good. Have a seat then."
Data sits down in the only open desk and can't help but sneak another look over her shoulder at Hudson. He is still staring at her. She smiles and he smiles back.
"Now class I hope that by now you have all memorized the elements of the periodic table of toothpastes....."
Data spends the rest of her morning in classes that have a foundation in traditional educationals but with a heavy helping of dental hygiene added. She feels like her classmates with the headgear are able to process this weird information easily while she finds herself unable to place all of reality into this specific context.

By the time the bell for lunch rings her head is done. She wanders into the cafeteria and looks around for Hudson. She does not see him but she does spot Kim who is standing on top of a table and waving her arms wildly, signaling Data to come over and have lunch with her. As she crosses the cafeteria she can feel eyes all over her and she can hear whispering. She knows they are talking about her Data sits down with Kim who has her robotic personality back.

"Data the whole school is talking. Tell me everything"

They begin to eat.

"Everything about what?"

Kim is eating foods high in Calcium which is a prime ingredient for preventing tooth decay, especially for growing children. Dairy is a great source, with choices such as milk, yogurt and cheese. And calcium isn't hiding in the fat, so skim milk and low-fat yogurt are just as good. Other options are leafy greens such as broccoli and bok choy, canned fish with bones, almonds, Brazil nuts and dried beans.

"About you and Hudson Merriweather. You really caught his eye this morning. And he's been asking about you."

Data is eating a tuna fish sandwich that her mom made. Her teeth don"t know what is going on.

" If a thing like that can really ever be confirmed I would have to say yes."

"Huh?"

"He's totally into you. Oh my god there he is."

Hudson and his crew appear in the doorway and scan the room with sunglasses covered eyes. They have all changed their clothes and their hairstyles since Data has seen them last. Hudson locks his eyes on Data and starts to move in her direction.

"Oh geez, he's coming over here." Says Data smiling with a mouthfull of cookie. "Hey Kim, my mom made these cookies, they're really good do you want one?"

Kim is lost in Hudsons approaching handsomeness and isn't thinking clearly. "Sure, i'll have one" she says mindlessly. Without thinking she pops the cookie in her mouth and begins to chew. Almost instantly Kims headgear begins to malfunction. Smoke starts spilling out of her ears and sparks start shooting everywhere. Alarmed headgear wearing kids gather around asking Data what happened.

"I don't know, I just gave her a cookie and when she ate it her headgear started going haywire."

"A cookie?! Oh my god stand back!"

The smoke and sparks build in intensity until there is an enormous exploding of Kims head. It gets all over everybody.The Headgears are furious. They are circled around Data and she is really afraid. They are yelling and throwing food and exploded bits of Kims head at her. It is getting close to real violence when suddenly Hudson and The Hairstyles break through the mob. Hudson picks her up and screams at the crowd "She didn't know!" He puts an arm around her and leads her through the crowd that The Hairstyles are forcing their way through.

They all head out to the parking lot. When they arrive at their cars which are all custom jobs of obscure beauty and questionable functionality. The Hairstyles all assume casual postures of limited engagement with reality. Hudson asks Data "Are you all right?"

"Yeah i'm fine I guess."

"That was pretty close back there. I guess you learned the hard way about giving sugary food to a Headgear."

"Is that what you guys call them? Headgears?"

"Yeah. Most of the kids around here are Headgears and if they aren't already they will be soon. Those crazy contraptions get put on by The Dentists and once they are on they stay on. There's all kinds of weird stuff built into the technology, not just for teeth but for tuning your mind deeper into specific cosmic frequencies...anyway, sugar overloads the system and then..."

"Their heads explode. Is she gonna be ok?"

"Depends by what you mean ok"

They both laugh.

Hudson convinces Data not to go back to school after lunch because everyone will still be really mad at her and they might mess up her hair. "But don't worry everything will be ok tomorrow" he tells her. He offers to drive her home after showing her around town. The other Hairstyles disappear into the bland curvature of suburbia and Hudson and Data take off on their own.

They quickly drive through Newton as Hudson points out the sights. They drive past the business park. "Oh that's where my dad works I guess" says Data.

"Lucky him" replies Hudson in a sarcastic tone and continues "Look over there, there's some tract houses and over there there's some more tract houses and over there there's even more tract houses. And if you look closely you will notice that they all look exactly the same"

Suddenly there is a psychic break in the landscape. Data is not sure why but everything just feels different. Hudson asks her "You felt that right?"

"Yeah, I sure did."

"Welcome to Old Town" he says.

A TELEGRAM FROM RANDY TERBEAUX

2011-09-11T17:48:00.000-07:00

DATA OLDS FRESHMAN PORTRAIT FOR THE YEARBOOK AT NEWTON COMMUNITY COLLEGE

It has been assumed that our man in the field Randy Terbeaux has been destroyed due to his lack of contact after being absorbed by the carpet cleaning materials backstage at The Dentists zombie revival but we believe that this telegram is authentic and important. We humbly submit the following to The Board of Mutual of Hairstyles to decipher or dismiss.

In the ways of The Eternal Conditioning,
Solaris Wasabi
Department of Information Rich Discharge and Occasional Transmission Intercept

As Follows;

HAIRSTYLES FORMULA DETERMINATION INDIVIDUAL SPECIFIES RELATIVISTIC STYLING CHARACTERISTIC QUALITIES FOR PERSONAL TRANSCENDENCE READS QUOTE REALIZATION EQUALS PLAQUE TIMES THE INVERTED DETERMINATION OF INFERRED TRANSCENDENCE SPREAD ON SCALP SQUARED UNQUOTE PLAQUE IDENTICAL LEVELS ALL COSMIC ANESTHESIA, ALL DISPONDENT PROTEIN STRANDS, VODONICS, BRAIN BONE ETCETERA ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY SIX THOUSAND STRANDS PER SECOND WHICH COMBED IS TOP OR BOTTOM PERFECT STYLE LANDSCAPE GIVING SCIENCE A FINITE VALUE FOR BASIC FACTOR IN DETERMINE REALITY COMODDITY STOP

INFANTILE SPEED OF RADIANT STYLE ENERGY BEING EXCEPTIONALLY DIRECTIONAL OUTWARD ALL DIRECTIONS INWARD EXPANDING THROUGH WAVE FORMS IMPLY CONSCIOUSNESS DIAMETRIC HAIRSTYLES AWAY FROM SELF IS TWICE SPEED IN ONE DIRECTION AND THREE TIMES IN ANOTHER SPEED OF VOLUMIZING SHAMPOOS INCREASE IS CONDITIONED SQUARE OF SPEED IN ONE DIRECTION APPROXIMATELY THIRTY FIVE BILLION VOLUMETRIC POUNDS OF HAIRSTYLES PER SECOND STOP GRAVITY

HAIRSTYLES TRANSCENDENCE METHODS IS WRITTEN QUOTE LETTERS
H A I R S T Y L E S F O R S P A C E S H I P S

FOLLOWED BY INFINITY EXPLANATION POINTS FOLLOWED BY ELIMINATES DRYNESS, STATIC FLYAWAY AND BRAIN DEAD TRANSMISSIONS FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY ELEVATED SMALL CONSCIOUSNESS FIGURE TWO SYMBOL OF DUALITY AVOID EXPOSURE TO SUN AND SCHOOL UNQUOTE BRAIN BONE ONLY VARIABLE IN FORMULA IS NON-SPECIFIC LEAVE IN CONDITIONER IS A UNIT OF RATE WHICH IS AN INTEGRATED CONDITIONING QUALITY OF BOTH TIME AND SPACE AND NO GREATER RATE OF SPEED THAN THAT PROVIDED BY ITS CAUSE WHICH IS PURE ENERGY LATENT OR RADIANT IS ATTAINABLE IN AVAILABLE HAIRSTYLES STOP

THE FORMULA THEREFORE PROVIDES A UNIT AND A RATE OF PERFECTION TO WHICH THE RELATIVE IMPERFECTION OF INEFFICIENCY OF HAIRSTYLES FOR SPACESHIPS RELEASE IN PUBLIC OR CONFIRMED DIRECTIONALS OF ALL TEMPORAL SPACESHIP PHENOMENA MAY BE COMPARED BY ACTUAL CALCULATION STOP

SIGNIFICANCE STOP

SPECIFIC QUALITY OF ANIMALS IN PROXIMITY AND MAINTAINING CONTROL WILLFUL OR OTHERWISE OF RATE AND DIRECTION ENERGY RELEASE AND UNITS OF APPLICATION NOT ONLY OF SELF MECHANISM BUT OF FROM SELF MACHINE DIVIDED MECHANISMS AND RELATIVITY OF ALL ANIMATES AND INANIMATE PROTEINS ARE POTENTIAL OF ZOMBOID ESTABLISHMENT THROUGH INEFFICIENT HAIRSTYLES FORMULA AGAINST VODONIC PERSUASIONS

Dreamcatcher

2011-08-28T07:46:00.000-07:00

Dreams that gather in the collective rotting minds of the dormant representatives of middle management and their associated family members(*) are vibrating dull in the night at the low end of the spectrum of awareness. In the almost all encompassing void that is the existence of middle management these dreams represent the remaining elements of the endangered species called Pioneer Consciousness... to much time with their heads in the copy machines and to much macaroni and cheese for dinner are still not enough to fully annihilate abstract visions of easy horizons unconquered and yearnings for battles against mutant hairstyles that must be destroyed in the name of freedom. Dreams of the unknown and of the spirit of adventure. These dreams escape minds of hosts unknowing as an undetectable gas that drifts silently across town dimming street lights and setting off sprinklers as it goes. The collected gas drifts out past the edge of town and settles gently on the graves of the dead pioneers. Graves created in the guilt ridden aftermath of their inevitable slaughter. A guilt that always falls on the heart of their unfortunate leader, The Bad Pioneer.

He creates these bizarre graves that look like a cannibals advent calendar after every massacre. As the only remaining witness to the brutal violence that has fallen on his people, once again he finds himself blood soaked in the dawn reviewing the carnage. Through a break in the smoke generated by the burning stagecoaches and smoldering flesh he sees a few thousand familiar grave markers pulsing in a weak holographic transmission. The graves form a perimeter around the base of a tower supporting some overhead power lines that was not there a second ago. The lines stretch off into the distance in both directions and it is something he cannot wrap his head around at the moment but feels in his guts that it is beautiful. He looks up and through these lines silhouetted against the approaching dawn sky. There are a few intentionally placed stars shining through like the holes punched on a player piano roll. Information. It is only then that he realizes that this has all happened, in exactly the same spot, many times before. He looks out past the periphery of blood and guts and sees the graves of previous slaughters and knows what he has to do. Little notches hand carved in the weathered wood of burned out stagecoaches each contain one tooth and each marker contains an entire mouthful of the teeth from the individual dead.

The dream gas settles on the teeth and reanimates them into a state of hypno-stesia. The teeth are asleep but dreaming someone elses dreams. The eye of each tooth stays shut, maintaining the delicate state of non localized parallel reality shared with the host dreamer. The sleeping teeth rise from the markers of death and float up towards the stars. Here the bats take pursuit.

Inhabiting the secret voids between memories of pre logic emergence and the incontinent bowels of Manana Overdrive, a strange hybrid of mutant bats dream in blind,futuristic vacancy of the falling nights hunt. The tainted blood that they have tasted courses through their tiny bodies providing a state of paralyzed electricity. A caustic glow scans their little sleeping bodies and activates their dream-catcher technologies. This electricity powers a sub mental connection that parallels their mindwaves to the frequencies of the escaped dreams down on earth. As they hang dormant and sequence their vibrations until their focus becomes clear. Their minds are empty except for eternalized star maps. These maps are dimensionless allowing their new collected focus to lay a dull neon grid on top of it. This grid will translate the information received by their dreamcatcher technologies and trace a path on the grid for the most effective kill. Wrapped in their tattered wings, dreaming in the brain dead anti-gravity, their organic nervous systems are engaged in a process of merging with the circuitry of Manana Overdrive.

A hunk of space junk collides into his hulking mass and gives itself up to play a part in something bigger than it ever could have been alone. The impact of these new pieces are neutral to the functions of Manana Overdrive. While these collisions may knock out some previously important system of functioning, another one always emerges eventually. In the meantime it is a very inhospitable environment for some bats to try to get some sleep.

Bits and pieces of random electronic debris are always raining down on them and merging with their organisms. Broken pieces of motherboard slice into the fleshy substantials maintained by the bats. Nerve endings are severed and heal themselves onto the soldered connections of the broken boards. Here is the synthesis of the two species. Manana Overdrive is in his own oblique way contributing to a most primitive offspring. Not in the form of the mutants that are being processed but the form of communication between the two parties. As the bits and pieces of himself are randomly installed into the bats localized physicalities he is able to communicate with them.It is a weak signal at first, but it is there. A faint laser tone is generated by a subtle shifting by degrees of his bulk towards the earthy coordinates of Newton. The maneuvers involved here cause the live wires that hang disconnected to swing wildly and zap the bodies electric and cause a series of disturbing blasts of randomized voltages, rattling bat brains until the required vibrations are initiated and build themselves into a stillborn frequency. This frequency filters down the spinal cords of each creature and activates the merged bits of low tech wreckage. From here the lines of communication are open for business.

The shadows of deep space are not dark enough to block the hyperactive, all seeing and not knowing visions of Manana Overdrive. If anything controls his functions it is The Dentists and their newly discovered ability to draw him in with the laser fed brain stew they have been developing. And so whatever he sees they also see.

He sees the gas settling on the graves out of the corner of his eyes and sighs quietly to himself "Oh brother...here we go again." Lights and sensors begin to display. From the multitude of previously unrelated systems begins the disjointed rhythms slowly pulsing and flickering in seemingly erratic patterns. The broken machineries of his misery begin to hum and bang itself awake. It is like watching a demolition derby where every vehicle is fueled by bad acid. The sounds of Manana Overdrives incessant dysfunctions are amplified by the echos of the timelessness of space and inform the hatred and hunger of the bats. These pulsing lights and cacophony of bewildering and grating noises would look and sound totally random and bring fear and anxiety to the casual observer. But this sensory overload of light and sound inside Manana Overdrive is a program of mind control for these bats. Filling their brain zones with information rich killing vibrations. Their dream catchers are glowing with sinister energies now and their mind waves are going blank except for the running interception coordinates they have been programmed with. Their grids are filing up with data rich protein mayhem. The bats grind their teeth to sharpened perfection and drool hungrily as the last seconds of sleep are disappearing. When the cacophony reaches its crescendo a single sleeping lid is opened to confirm the retreating sun over the horizon....Then all hell breaks loose. The interior of Manana Overdrive is filled with wings flapping creating an intensified strobe effect to the pulsing lights in the interior of Manana Overdrive bringing his functions to seizure levels of output. Their vicious teeth are gnashing and snapping at the excitement of the hunt. The bats burst out of the sides of Manana Overdrive and fall towards earth like little glittering black comets. They fall slowly at first until gravity intercepts the viability of their intentions and their enormous collective mass blocks out all the light of the moon. The teeth ascend into the first parts of outer space. They ride a rising harmonic tone generated by the dreams they carry as they travel closer to their final destination. They are entirely unaware of the approaching bats.Screaming blasts of programmed fury and teeth approach the escaping dreams. Wings spread open and the killing begins.

(an enormous emptiness emerges inside Manana Overdrive and he feels it. With the bats gone what becomes clear is that there is an unbelievable amount of sparkling digital guano that has got into the wiring and all the other essential systems. Manana Overdrive is now just bat shit crazy.)

Bats fall onto our perfect teeth with their vicious mouths, zeroing in on their targets with electric dreamcatcher technologies. When a tooth is eliminated a layer of plaque on the corresponding tooth in the hosts mouth is hit with a blast of dull electricity that looks very similar to the lasers of a photocopier and as it scans the tooth it disappears. The Dentists are watching this cosmic hunt through the oracle mouth of David Gates and fill their appointment book accordingly. This way The Dentists enhance the Khaki Essence that they are pursuing as the baseline ingredient for all of the Elevated Newtonian Consciousness...the remaining residues of The Bad Pioneer are eliminated and the host dreamer wakes up with a missing tooth(s). They come to The Dentists for help and The Dentists are only happy to install a new crystal tooth in its place that vibrates to the frequencies of the eternal dullness of the vodonics of middle management that are broadcast by Manana Overdrive (his only other known function).

The emergence of crystal filled jaws of resident Newtonians is quickly embraced as an indicator of a new and improved level of evolution and awareness. It is as if believers in the Khaki Essence have transcended the stunted baby teeth into adult teeth system of limitations...these new crystal teeth bring to the believers a level of fortified blankness that they never knew possible. It quickly becomes fashionable among the pious people of Newton to have these crystalline dentures installed as a mark of faith and devotion to the blissful emptiness of this suburban lifestyle.

The bats fall heavy onto this evenings release of dreams but they can never be 100% successful. A few teeth survive the Starfield Emergence and make their way deep enough into the sky to find their places as stars in the new constellations. These constellations are intended to provide The Bad Pioneer with a clear path to the place he will never find. But these starlight communicators are always incomplete in some way because the bats always manage to get a few. And so he stays lost. The cycle continues, soon he will find himself back on the trail, leading another party of pioneers to their doom.

(*)The group of teenagers who are developing as the consciousness transcendence function that will later be known as Hairstyles For Spaceships are exempt to this cycle of dream catching terrors because they are so consistently high on plaque based hair products that they have no time for sleep...only vanity.

Nocturnal Resonance

2011-07-04T16:37:00.001-07:00

The Members of The Board absorb the warm remnants of teenage nightmare.

So what is this nocturnal resonance that permeates the paralyzed minds of demon youth? Why does this frequency of broadcast from The Bad Pioneer only register in the receiving heads of kids who have turned their backs on the offerings of their parents and teachers and instead embraced despair and hopelessness?

The sound is weak and jarring to their parents who can only really hear it when they drive around the outskirts of Newton with the volume turned all the way up and turning as hard as they can the tuning knob to the left trying to hit that lower than low signal. Sometimes when they do this, through a solid blast of horrible static, they can hear the screaming. But they can never hear any meaning.

After the kids have gone to bed they do this. All of them driving in frantic circles around the edge of town trying to catch a bit of his broadcast to decipher with their sharpened tools of paranoia. They are trying and always failing to catch a fragment of his ramblings. The main reason the signal is so buried to them is the mouths full of crystal tooth replacements applied by the dentists to heighten the spectrum of signal from Manana Overdrive. Each mouth of crystal is tailored for the destruction of the originalities of the host jaw until absorption into the cosmic khaki mindlessness occurs. In the meantime they worry so much about their children and why are they behaving so strangely? Why are their numbers growing? And now it is rumored that the children, while they should be attending junior college, are sneaking away from campus and driving to Old Town where they know they shouldn't be and going to the Magic Karaoke bar there. The Bad Pioneer has been making unconfirmed appearances to them and preaching his insanity directly to them.

Before now, The Bad Pioneers marginalized signal could only ever be heard inside a mind that was capable of acting as an independent pinball machine functioning, hologram of the perimeter of the soulless infinite of the great beyond as it exists as sounding board for his mangled philosophies of confusion. Inside such a mind, a fractured, dark crystal shell wanders in mirrors up the inside of the skull and with its viscous reflections of infinite nothingness, eats away at regions of the brain that are not specific to the functions of executing progressive hairstyles. The specific versions of nothingness are based on transmissions from the nightly fluctuations in the temporal constellations of the foreclosed on areas of space and time and made manifest by the effects of The Bad Pioneers ramblings upon them. This mindfulness of an internally motivated crystal landscape of the skull has only been observed on this specific group of weird kids from Newton with horrible rotten teeth and perfect hair.

Their parents are very worried.

The Bad Pioneer

2011-05-27T21:56:00.001-07:00

She never turns on the radio so no one ever knows.

As the sun sets, The Bad Pioneer is abruptly awakened by a mysterious cow taking a big ol' sloppy ploppy of a brown dump of rainbows right next to his stage coach and in insufferable proximity to his brainiacs. Bits and pieces of shit are splattering his face. He hurls his revived corpse up from it's slumber and slams his headbanger hard on the under carriage of his spaceship and yells

"Goddammit!"

He sees the rainbow of brown poo.

"You call that a fucking turd?"

"Wait till I eat your dumb ass for breakfast you fucker and then when I shit you out your mind will be free."

And then with just as much or more passion "Goddamn my fucking head!"

The cow just blinks at him and moos. She is not afraid and walks away slowly towards the beautiful life of nothing that she has never known other than.

Now in so much pain we find The bad Pioneer on his knees rocking back and forth with his head in his hands he draws out of a very slow and deliberate voice to himself

"Separated from the fucking herd."

Overcoming the bewildering pain of hangover, The Bad Pioneer crawls out and rises up. He slowly scratches at his whiskers with eyes closed in reverence to the wisdom of the setting sun. Everything hurts but his heads hurts worst. He takes a few cautious steps around the stagecoach. As he walks around he taps his boot against a few of the empty whiskey bottles scattered about.They slowly spin in their emptiness, spreading dust, and it is immediately clear that there is nothing left to any of them.

"Fuckers" he mumbles at the emptiness of each bottle.

He looks down to realize he is standing inside his smoldering campfire "Ah Shit! Fuck!! Hot foot coming through!" And he pulls open his pants and relieves himself all over his burning feet. The urine hitting the burning flesh sends a cloud of foul smelling smoke up into his face. He waves his hand to bring the aroma directy to his face. "Awwwwright! Smells like the fucking conquest of infinity to me! Smells like fucking paranormal hair activator." He is becoming invigorated and aware of himself again.

The Bad Pioneer climbs up into the stagecoach and reaches into the back and pulls out a fresh bottle of whiskey. "From the top of the morning to the bottom of my balls."He shouts and takes a long drink and shakes his head violently around while expelling verbals is hateful reverence to the aliens responsible for drunk technologies.

The drink begins to steady out the throbbing of his head... but for the most part the world still spins hazily around him. Slowly he lifts his head to the sky. The first stars of the merging of nocturnal consciousnesses are beginning to reflect the intentions of a sky unknown to disbelivers of the visible spectrum of unconsciouslessness. The teeth in the rotten gums of the ancient skies are coming down heavy on the end of the day and biting down hard onto the dream sectors of innocence in high school students with progressive hairstyles.

The Bad Pioneers eyes are being washed clean with blood.

His scrambled mind begins to take control of this region of cosmos. Pre cognizant patterns of light bounce haphazardly and unseen across the sky and satisfies his enlightened eyes of confusion. The patterns criss cross themselves while becoming more and more complex versions of previous individualities. New patterns emerge through events of convergence. These new patterns derugulate their levels of complexity into less effective episodes of prior consciousness...on and on until it gets boring and mini malls and tract houses begin to rise holographic in the ranch lands of the wilderness.

Using his deeply sweat stained hat he slaps the dust off of his greasy, tattered pants. He looks slowly around while trying to get himself more specifically positioned in the Where He Is. Although he is rolling the eyes in his head back and forth, enduring the most painful version of awakening, he cannot shake the experience of interpreting a visual dialogue of The Everything In One Direction except as an exact copy of the experience he records when he looks in another direction.His rolling eyes scan hills of dry brown grass and power lines. Stretched out in a static row from one end of the horizon to the other the hills and power lines upon them offer no perceptible difference in perceptible directionals.

Everything looks the same in every direction.

This brings on a head spinning easily away from itself . The next version of what he just saw begins to stack itself in a lower level of opacity on top of the last one. He is totally confused by this and begins to believe in nowhere again. He also drinks more whiskey. He spends the rest of this period of time known in The Beyond Dimensions as twilight, looking off in one direction and then slowly turning his head in total disbelief towards the other. His vision quest is locked into the empty confusion of distance of the other directions.

Divergent consequences of his inwards looking bring about altered perceptions of possibilities futuristic. Disparate sequences of the events displayed holographic are exposing themselves to him. Their unwritten memories across the barren landscape are projections of prophetic market manipulation where madness itself welcomes itself into itself.

He has no fucking idea which way to go.

What is actually happening is the ignorant constellations of The Imajulistic Realities are taking residency in positions of impermanence in The Between Worlds Dysfunction and readying themselves for manipulation of mind upon Hairstyles For Spaceships which will be executed by The Board of Mutual Of Hairstyles. The overhead lineage of sub futuristic power spreading has commenced. The salves of amateur grooming sciences remain still as dark pools of nothing in the early bedtime nightmare minds of youth gone chemical.

Meanwhile an activating solution spreads itself across the sky and connects all star systems into a collective dissolving of information rich potentials. All of which filter down into the position of The Bad Pioneer and fill his eyes with visions of knowing the way once more. Dormant caffeine buzz reservoirs of mindfulness vibrate inside of sleeping teenage braindomes. Harmonics of The Bad Pioneers pre verbal awareness penetrate the dream voids and bring them into hypnogogic states of vulnerability. Radiant versions of teenage perfection are half awakened by sugar rush echoes of infinities inside the beautiful teenage nightmares scraping on skulls. They crawl out of their beds and walk out of their homes

He does not know he is doing this.

They begin to comb their hairs in their sleepwalk. They apply the solutions.

He does not know this is happening. He just needs to take a leak.

The information contained in each stars light is mis-interpereted in a variety of ways depending on The Bad Pioneers position of reception of this information under the power lines above him and in accordance to the most recent version of interpretation he can recall of importance and the significance of the a fore mentioned power lines.

A gentle summer breeze blows across his shoulders and it brings him inside The Radio station.His body slowly sinks into an old foam and polyester swivel chair pf modesty.He assumes his role as verbal overlord on his nightly barrage of the music of the moving through the night.

Vocal tracks begin to be recognized.

Their sons and daughters are sleepwalking with stars in their eyes. They are becoming lost to them. Lost to themselves, lost to vanity.

The radio station is barely standing any more. The roof has collapsed long ago and there is debris everywhere. Broken records, old papers, cables parts of the wall all lie there in an inches deep mess. The ribbons of old cassette tapes blow in the breeze where they have caught themselves up on something.He reaches down and picks up a couple of old scratched and cracked records and throws them on the dusty old turntables and sets them spinning. He plays one to slow and the other to fast with the needles skipping crazily all over the place on both of them. He drinks some more whiskey and begins to sing;

Come on now children stupid little children come on along with me....I'll take ya to places that you've never been before, take ya to places that you never....bean!

Ha! Goddamn I love me some beans!...

Come on along little children take a little ride with me ...I'm the Bad Pioneer can't see to clear but somehows I always get myself from way over there to way over here....

And then he begins a spoken message..."Well what the fuck. Here it comes again... Another night full a fucking bats and that creepy satellites prolly gonna come on swooping on down again tryin a give some kinda haircut with that fucking awful music. Makes my goddam ears feel like they're gonna puke out my fuckin brains...what's left of em anyway.

Can't hear to good anymore anyways so I don't care if it does gunk up my ears...and fuck, it's what I don't know know is what's gonna finally get me to finally where ever it is I am going...I guess that's what i always say...Just so long as that fucking satellite stays the fuck out of my hair....Fuck!...is that to much to ask?"

This last bit he let's out in a booming voice of absolute threat that covers a sky that will never answer. He takes the silence of these moments as the correct answer "Fucken A right you mother fucker." and takes the bottle down another notch.

As he swallows he holds the bottle up in the moonlight and closes one eye to confirm that there is only a little bit left. He considers the situation carefully. He lets the bottle hang down between two fingers and takes a long slow look around. He has distanced himself from the path he was following along the power lines and is trying to gauge how far off his path he has gone. He tilts his head back and pours the rest of the whiskey into his mouth.When the last drop has fallen from the bottle he leans back ready to throw the bottle as far as he can at the power lines but before he can make the transition and release he falls backwards drunk as shit off the stage coach and onto the ground. He pops up in a cloud of dust and fury cursing every law of physixcs know and unknown as well as all cosmic dental relations.

He passes out on the floor and the children who have been sleepwalking and getting directional information sequences from his broadcast are now lost in the night.

Macaroni and Hairstyles

2011-05-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

There is nowhere to hide from the silence that defines the chambers of The Board of Mutual of Hairstyles. The decrepit members sit in their chairs. Their teeth floating in glasses of water in front of them. Bits of flesh fall silently from their decaying frames and are absorbed by the perfect lack of atmosphere. They are not living and they are not dead. In their mindful stillness they transmit a signal to Manana Overdrive and he immediately reacts with a seamless pulse of information rich static. Mothers of Newton in their cars on the way from the beauty salon to the grocery store all reach forward in unison to adjust the dial on the radio. But there will be no way around this burst and very soon all the moms of the children who think they know about Hairstyles will be buying through hypnosis all the macaroni and cheese they can believe in....

Data Olds is done with her homework and takes a minute for herself before leaving her room to join her parents for dinner. She crosses her bedroom to the mirror and sits in front of it. She picks up a brush and begins to run it through her hair. She admires herself as she preens and reflects on her first day her new school. She dreamily crushes on the boy Hudson Merriweather who was so nice to her. And so cute.
She imagines her hair is butterscotch pudding and luxuriates in the creaminess. "God Data!" she thinks to herself "Grow up! A guy like Hudson is not going to go for a girl like you. Look at you . Your hair looks the same way it has your entire life. You've never even combed it a little bit different." She sets the brush down on the table in front of her and pulls the hair that has been caught in it. She crosses to the window and hold the hairball in both palms. She kisses it with her eyes closed and blows the hair into the twilight. She giggles to herself as she makes a wish and watches it blow away.

Data heads out to the kitchen and finds the table set for three and there is nobody seated yet. There is a large bowl of macaroni and cheese in the middle of the table. The food has overflowed and there is as much on the table as there is in the bowl. She hears her mom in the kitchen. "Dinners almost ready hon. Just sit down. Your dad's not going to be home for dinner again." Data sits down a little more than confused. He mom comes out with another huge pot of macaroni and cheese and pours it onto the already overflowing bowl. "OK Let's eat up".

Setting into motion an episode of teenage angst that will change the shape of the cosmos for kajillions of years to come.

Sad Tonys Underwearium

2011-03-05T15:49:00.000-08:00

Sad Tony enjoying a sleepwalk on a rare day off of work at The Underwearium.

Inside an old avocado green filing cabinet with flaking paint and lots of rust, documents concerning the histories of past tenants of the Newton mini mall were discovered recently and sent into the future for processing. The documents were badly damaged by water and other distresses of technological impurities. However The Board has determined that the overriding suspicions of the future potentials of these documents are to important to be dismissed and are from now on to be included in the collective realizationistic unconsciousness of Hairstyles For Spaceships:

Sad Tonys Underwearium
existing 1980-19845
Purpose: Harvester and Distributor of contemporary low price underwears.

Store Frontals: grand opening effectively delayed due to lack of interest and inactionable cosmologies. Upon opening, Sad Tonys enjoyed brisk business daily. The people of Newton wore his Underwears exclusively before all other brands and swore that the magic fibers of his goods improved the transparent qualities of their personal fertility zones. Sad Tony eventually went crazy because of perpetual proximity to low prices and his spaceship left without him.

Resulting Actions: Promote Sad Tony from beyond the grave to position of Lacey Executioner of Eternal Consequences.

Leave in Conditioner part 3

2011-03-03T19:44:00.000-08:00

I stood in silent terror in this room of equidistant tranquility. My mouth hung open in quivering anti gravity bottom lip respect for the undead as the bats on the ceiling fell one by one to the floor. One after the other they fell and as they did tooth after tooth from my mouth floated from my own mouth and merged itself with the most immediate category of drop ceiling available. I saw out of the corner of my eye a bearded man in a pristine powder bleu jump suit with thick glasses leaving the room through a secret door. He had his arm cuffs rolled up revealing two fore arms of extraordinarily hairy constitution. He pushed a carpet cleaning machine with a sinister smile drooling a maniac laugh track. That was the moment I recognized the carpet was drenched in sinister chemicals. As the bats fell from the ceiling, the carpet absorbed them in neon digital aftershocks that spread as far as they could across the virgin pile , but never far enough to make to make themselves known to the world that was paralleled. I felt my feet crumble and corrode beneath me and I looked down to see a pool of my own dark blood massing beneath my dissolving legs and spreading out in zig zag patterns across the carpet. As my body disintegrates before me the room assumes an unfortunate strobe light atmosphere. The pure carpet is merging into a blood swamp of my own melting flesh and before me and in this pulsing non reality the dentists sit. They sit in front of the sky box window that, if I could look out from it I know would offer a vision of the revival of the undead going on below. But there they sit, silently, in somehow threatening furniture that blocks me from seeing out there. Not saying a word yet saying everything, Not doing a thing yet doing everything.I struggle to step forward as my physical form succumbs to the disintegrating effects of the carpet cleaning chemicals. As I approach the dentists I am down to my knees in blood and bones. I can hear things from beyond the window that are inspiring my soul. I need to see what is causing such a reaction from the mass of the undead down below. The music....the words...of which I can only hear bits and pieces....so inspiring ... but to a revered and non specific goal....I struggle forward and I see the dentists own legs are dissolving into the carpet. I crawl forward splashing blood and perseverance as I go. I approach their dissolving bodies as they begin to laugh maniacally. Each of my hands comes down hard in puddles of dentist blood where their legs are being eaten by the chemicals and I look up at them confused. My hands and wrists are now dissolving in their own bubbling ankle meat....I look up to their faces... left to right.... one to the other...their faces are tilted back off their shoulders in their chairs laughing uncontrollably... animatronic...I look forwards as they reach hands out towards each other and connect... I continue forward with my last effort towards the seeking of knowledge and what I might learn from seeing through the window beyond the dentists. I lunge forward through their holding of hands and a flash of white light takes over everything.

i am washed clean

2011-02-24T05:21:00.000-08:00

One day our hairstyles will be washed clean of impurities taking our minds along with them.

A note on Vodonics

2011-02-20T15:36:00.000-08:00

Vodonics is the application of traditional voodoo harmonies and vibrations to a specific career path or trade, in this case Dentistry. Bread is just the music of voodoo processed by the dysfunctional circuitry of Manana Overdrive with intentions of subduing the listener into a state of bliss and craving fluoride and wanting to get their teeth cleaned as soon as popsicle.

Teenage Products

2011-02-13T16:12:00.000-08:00

They teach them in school about plaque. Plaque forms on your teeth at night as a byproduct of sleep (the times you have nightmares). Dream excretions. The stuff is saturated in the source poisons of nightmares. So by cover of night the kids fall out of bedroom windows and slip out of back doors and sneak bare footed across cool lawns of fresh sod that is soaked from the blessings of the automatic sprinkler systems. They scramble into slowed down backseats of sinister black cars rebuilt on fantasies of muscles and speed. Their mouths are filling themselves with sugary treats. They chew in silence. The only thing they are tuned into are the vibrations of their collectively rotting teeth. Silent and dripping with sugary goo they consume non-stop, candy and cookies and soda and coffee. Then the driver turns the radio on and dials in to the faint signal of the broadcasts of the Bad Pioneer from beyond the edge of town. Their ears strain to make sense of his garbled high frequency nonsense that is only barely coming through huge static washes that sound like dirty old fingernails scratching slowly across the fabric covering the speakers. For a second the kid in the front passenger seat sees this happening and smiles.

It is nights like this when there are so many bats out that they block out the moonlight and diffuse the vision of Manana Overdrives curfew function making it safe for the kids to go on this mission. They pull into the back of the dentists office and don't forget to leave the engine running. Car doors open and without thinking a quick rock into any light that exposes them. They pour sugar on the doorknob and it melts away in smokey corrosion. Entering the darkened office they know where they are going. A secret wall that has no vision appears to them and they find the door. Inside there are black shiny boxes with mysterious symbols of teeth skull and bones. Inside is the collected plaque of the scrapings of the dentists from the last week. Quick as they can and with highest efficiency they hustle every box into the trunk of the car. They are all sugar high giggles as they tumble and fall all over each other back into the car and roar off towards the edge of town. The faster they go the closer they get to a clear signal of The Bad Pioneers weird prophetic ramblings. Their widened eyes bleed as the sugar takes complete control and suddenly they are in the wilderness. They blast down the highway following the signal of the station. They exit on an unmarked road and drive deeper down empty two lane roads and then off onto the dirt and up a hill that is bathed is starlight. Here is where the signal comes in the best. They stop the car and leave the radio on. The Bad Pioneer is on a rant tonight about getting lost in the third sector of Plainsville and how everyone got killed...indians with nitrous oxide tanks on their horses and gas mask headress...burning stagecoaches and brains spilling everywhere...everything smelled like toast... the kids are beyond listening now. They simply absorb the information as they prepare their makeshift lab. With the gear they stole from Chemistry class they get ready. Setting bunsen burners and test tubes and other equipment up on the trunk of the car. They spoon the plaque, so rich in the stuff of nightmares, into tubes and add strange glowing and smoking liquids. They appear to know what they are doing. Everything is drenched is a relaxed teenage causality. The radio continues its barrage of the Bad Pioneers verbal assaults on reality as he seems to be picking up pieces of old broken records and playing them on top of each other.

When they are done they pour the weird mixtures into a black cauldron over a fire and stir it while they pass around some gumdrops. When the mixture is good and thick and gooey they take it off the fire to cool and lay their bodies all over the car. They blankly watch the stars grind slow traceable paths across the night. The sounds from the radio have tapered off into strange emptiness, clicks, scratches and drones...the occasional screaming of The Bad Pioneer from somewhere deep in the radio station. Relaxing sounds. When the potion has cooled they rise and stick their hands in the mix and run them through each others hair. They can see their reflections in infinity as the nightmare poisons sink into their scalps. This reflection is the clearest they have ever seen themselves and they begin to hairstyle. As they brush and comb their nightmare product through their innocent locks a parallel function emerges. No longer are they just making themselves more terrifyingly beautiful to look at. They are also using their extended proteins and navigational tools to travel within the nightmares of their parents with with they have now crossed into. In hilltop starlight they stumble around with their eyes in the back of their heads, drooling black syrups, combing their hair from one side to the other, forwards and backwards. Twists and turns. curling.

Back at home their parents are paralyzed by their deep sleeps. Their minds are filled with visions of paperwork and overhead lighting. Peaceful. The bedroom door opens and their child approaches. His body floats and his mouth full of golden razors. With waking up his parents foreheads crease in disturbance and they shift uncomfortably. The child rises over the bed in gentle flotation. His mouth opens and a strobing light source comes out everything is perfectly still. The child then begins to drool his black sugars all over their faces and descends upon them and bites through their skulls and takes their mindlessness back to nothing.

Leave In Conditioner Part 2

2011-02-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

This is a to be continued from Leave In conditioner pt.1...

I merged my body and all of it's living systems nice and easy into the current of these animated corpses who had been freed from the deep sleep of the grave by some kind of powerful evil. Inside the slow but steadily moving crowd I could hear their bones creaking and fluids dripping and a cooperative low moan that was gathering in intensity the closer we got to the large tent in the distance. All the sounds assumed a strange rhythm that fell apart and reassembled itself over and over, responding to the shifting rhythms of the drums beating in the distance. Big viking drums from space and deeper in the mix some steady island steel rocking. Those clicking and grinding bones stepped on ahead and from every orifice, fluids dripped making the path slick and awful smelling. We stumbled and slipped along getting closer to the music.

There were spotlights on the clouds that were full of lightning but no rain. Carnival lights hung around the perimeter of the tent. I saw that as each body passed through the entrance to the tent they spit a blob of grey matter into a black oil drum. When filled these drums were sealed I watched them rolled onto the stage by dental assistants. These were drums we had been drawn here by. Animatronic creatures with disco ball heads and bat skeleton bodies banged away on these drums.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was one of the attendants of the tent. There were two of them, female, twins, Navajo or Apache. They were drunk as shit and not in the mood to be working. They each took me firmly by the arms and led me into the tent. I was amazed at the scene. The tent was filled to capacity with the undead all swaying and moaning and drooling to the drums. There was weird casual loopings of Bread going on over the drums too but you couldn't hear that unless you weren't really listening. There was an incoherent chanting coming from all sides that I have decided must have been some deciphering of the projected binary code that was scrolling in chaotic patterns across the roof and sides of the tent. My minders and I rushed towards the front of the tent towards the portal to backstage. Before we crossed over I caught one last quick glance at the stage and I saw two black dentists chairs rigged with all kinds of serious looking restraints. I worried about that.

Then I was backstage. It was a disorienting shift coming from the audience side of the tent. Back there it was almost void completely of the chaos out front. Although the backstage was almost completely empty there was a high energy, last minute frenzy that you would expect from behind the scenes of any large scale event like this or even one of John Cougar Mellancamps puppet shows to save the heartland. Most of the space back there was assumed by enormous gas canisters that were between 5 and 20 feet tall. they lined the entire outer edge of the tent. I have no idea what was in them as the contents of them were only written in indecipherable hieroglyphics. There were colored hoses running from each canister up and over the path I was on and into the massive wall of electronics that I reasoned was part of the stage. A few Native Americans sat backwards on horseback, heads drooping down and moving slowly through the space sporting gas masks and wearing their own purchase of sky as vacant headdress. They lazily shot out arrows at random into the heads of shadow moving underlings in dreadlocks and straight jackets. These arrows with poison tips of useless motivations sent them scurrying and spinning to and fro crashing into everything they could on their way to achieve some menial tasks with heads full of pulsing neon. A large array of hairstyling chairs with hydraulic lifts sat in waiting. Only a few were occupied by those bodies I recognized as belonging to members of the Newton Historical Preservation Society. They were being waited on and preened by strange mutants who were unlikely from this side of the galaxy. Their chairs would rise through stations systematically intensifying their hairstyles. Teeth with haloed personalities and closed eyelashes floated gently everywhere.

Staircases that led to nowhere and back again disfigured reality and my ability to tell where the hell I was being led. My handlers took me up one such staircase and through an unmarked door of high frequency black lacquer. I stepped through the door and they closed it behind me. I found myself in a bare room of even deeper quiet and immaculate white wall to wall carpeting of enormous pile. As a connoisseur of high end carpeting I recognized this as one of the most information rich floor covering I had ever stepped on. I immediately took of my shoes and socks and took a couple of luxurious steps into the room. Although I only took a couple of steps I suddenly found myself equidistant from all sides of the room which seemed to have doubled in size. I looked around at three walls painted in a white that matched the carpet one of which contained the black lacquer door. A perfect match save the texture of the flooring. That was a language of its own. I looked ahead to the fourth wall was windows that I could tell from the sounds from below would look down onto the scene of the tent and it's revival atmosphere. I wondered if I could ever reach those windows. I took another step and again the room expanded in every direction. I only found myself experiencing the sensation of being closer to the center of something than I ever had before in my life. I wanted to see what was going on down there. Suddenly the carpet came alive under my bare feet and toes. I felt every fiber begin to vibrate and swirl in between my toes and along the undersides of my foot. I felt the level of the pile rise to my ankles and I felt an intensely relaxing bubbling sensation from the toes up. The carpet had begun to bubble and fill the room with foam. I looked up and around for escape as the relaxing sensations gave way to panic. It was only then that I noticed the ceiling was covered completely in bats.

Born of New Sugars

2011-01-31T10:03:00.000-08:00

The following is an excerpt from a broadcast by The Bad Pioneer to the youth of Newton from the haunted radio station at the edge of town...

Come now wasted youth with sweet tears in your eyes. Give up what has been taken from your days by your parents and teachers and dentists. Their assaults on your artificially sweetened natures has made you older once more. So tonight stand together and prepare for flight into a darkness beyond where they cannot follow. Fuel your Hairstyles with the unrefined combustion of saccharine ecstasy. Liberate your gums from the teeth of their avoidable lifestyle of decayed genetics and khaki everything. Become engorged on candy, and cookies and soda. Rot out your mouth and sow a new, fertile plot with your psychic rototillers for the advancement of jaw logic you will harvest experientially from swimming in gum drop constellations. Journey now to the feel good bake off of infinity and be born again in the heart of the universe where the ancestors are always cooking up something warm and sweet. Ignite your minds now with an infinity of caffeine and blast off to a galaxy of spun sugar starlight and from your bleeding gums grow, new mouths of big rock candy perfection. With these new chompers that are sharper than diamonds and brighter than stars, you can chew your way home through your sleeping parents minds and out of their skulls as they dream of photocopiers and automatic sprinklers and their other useless passions. This will be their darkest dream as they become paralyzed, asleep with eyes open as their little angels hover above them with blank expressions and mouths open drooling syrupy excesses into the holes in their heads. Let it rot their minds. Let it rot their teeth. Let it rot their souls.

Leave In Conditioner Pt.1

2011-01-26T15:48:00.000-08:00

Esteemed members of The Board,

I am taking this opportunity to record my experiences of this evening. I am not sure of my current location and I have been experiencing minor to extreme jostling of
realities. Do not be alarmed. I will remain in control of my Hairstyles and all your psychic secretions are intact within me.

As you know I received the crate full of Hairstyles For Spaceships products yesterday with great enthusiasm. This evening as the sun went down I crossed the parking lot under flickering street lights and entered the dentists office. Upon crossing the threshold of that unholy place I knew I was experiencing a dimensional exchange.

I heard a very distant musical source transmitting a very scratchy and distorted version of Bread's "Baby I'm A Want You" and it made me feel the anxiety of home. I
scanned the waiting room and reception.For all the decay and conditions of distress in all of the other storefront units in this strip mall wonderland I was amazed at
the pristine qualities of this office. The paint was fresh and the industrial carpet looked good enough to eat.The furniture choices were impeccably chosen. On the
wall there were 12 strange jaws of gold. They were large mouths, each filled with vicious looking teeth grown in at every possible angle. There was no geometry that
could explain the logic behind the glamor of these artifacts. I started down the hall towards what I assumed was the work chambers of The Dentists. A pale blue light
was flickering erratically and I was drawn to it's information rich pulsing. The incredible number of chrome instruments in the otherwise white room bounced the light into an infinity of abstract chaos with each step I took. The closer I got to the room the more steady the lights pulse became until I finally passed through the door and the light became a solid state miracle of modern florescence. The room was minimal, sustaining its anemic function with only a perfect white vinyl dentists chair with all of the strange hoses and chrome attachments you could hope for. With the inescapable saturation of overhead lighting I connected with throbbing eyeballs to the generic lifestyle of suburbia as it was experienced by the inhabitants of Newton at the height of its glory days.From my pocket I took the Magnetic Bloat
products and I prepared the sacrament. I unscrewed the cap on the shampoo two turns to the left beyond the unknown and the cap on the Leave In
Conditioner until three turns into one. I placed the two bottles at the edge of the sink and became undressed. I laid my paleness onto the inviting landscape of the
dentists chair.

Under the influence of the confusion of trying to decipher the realities in between mini blinds I could see the bats from the distant caves rise and obscure the bloody colored smear on the sky as the day gave itself up to night. I heard the undead invisibly enter the room. Locks on doors turned behind themselves. Knobs on tanks of gas began to turn and I heard hissing sounds as mystery filled the air.The rising of musics from an unspecified dimension were recognized by my mentals as Bread but in a lobotomized and mutant rototiller version of the original. My eyes became heavy and my senses dulled, but emotionally I was receiving transmissions of
the behind the scenes plumbing taking on a self imposed re-arrangement.

Pipes from behind the walls came undone and fought their way out of the walls. They twisted themselves around and tore through the drywall of new construction and
positioned themselves over my head spaces. Water began to drip and flow from this new arrangement of copper inventory. As you promised the water sources of this region are heavily fluoridated and as it flowed across my brow and through my follicles of impermanence and into my brain dead regionals I could feel the journey into disbelief begin.

The water flowed and my hairstyle became saturated with mindlessness. I felt the hands of the undead upon me.With the emptiness of my eyes in their last attempts to hang on to visions of one reality before passing into another, I saw their bony fingers and connected with their memories of press on nails with hieroglyphics and bar codes imprinted on them. The bottle of shampoo was raised above my head with both hands and the contents were squeezed onto me.They ran the products of Hairstyles For Spaceships through my protein tendrils and let the pipes rinse it out. I felt nothing. My mind became the blank slate of eternity. The bottle of leave in conditioner was raised with the grave motivations of transcendence. My eyes were open and paralyzed by fear and hysteria at this point. Then I saw unseen hands squeeze the bottle powerfully. The contents were being emptied upon my empty head.Now with sharpened finger nails and poisoned motives those fingers that were squeezing product like thick rotten rain down on my innocence ran through my scalp and my skull ind into my brain and I felt them go deep with the leave in conditioner.The sockets in my eyes went elastic and with newly installed soft neon electric eyelashes I saw through infinity. Their bony tarsals began to massage my mind, scraping off goo and repossessing the frequencies that were once reserved for navigating the reality labyrinth of the invisible landscape.

The next thing I knew I was standing in the waiting room. In the fragmented reflections of the gold jaws on the wall that were now snapping open and shut in manic irregularities and still confusing the shit out of me, I saw myself and the amazing Hairstyle that had made itself home on my head, and for some reason I was dressed business casual.

As the jaws snapped open and closed they sang a low distorted chorus of "It don't Matter To Me". I stood in the open door and looked out past the edge of the parking lot. The bodies of every believer that had ever lived in Newton was silhouetted against a rising full moon, moving in the same undead direction towards the revival tent which was beginning to make itself known to my distant peripheries. I saw them moving with their arms reaching out for any version of infinity they could perceive. They grew in number and soon spilled from the sidewalks and into the street until the entire road was choked with the traffics of these mindless shadows of their once living selves. Dressed in their falling apart burial clothes they staggered forwards with their heads tilted back, mouths open to the sky and frothing with the bloody foams of their insides. I turned and looked in the direction they were moving and saw spotlights reaching with panic into the sky searching I am sure for Manana Overdrive. Signaling him to align with the vacant psychic energy of the tent and to accommodate whatever menace it had in store. I locked into every vacuum of mindlessness I saw pass and knew I must follow this hoard of the undead....

Uncertainty

2011-01-11T13:20:00.001-08:00

Hmmm....I found this inside the crate of Hairstyles For Spaceships products. It is a 5 lb. bag of candied vampire teeth. There was a note attached that said something about "in case of emergency eat entire contents of bag and assume lobotomized hairstyle posture and await the cosmic dissolve". I am not sure what that means but I will keep them on my person as I prepare for this evenings pioneering convergence with the pre history of Newton.

2011-01-10T18:47:00.000-08:00

As I last reported my crate of Hairstyles For Spaceships divining haircare products has arrived. I had to scrounge around for some hand tools to pry the top off. This note was the first thing I found inside;

"Discover our new range of product especially tailored to sharpen your look and create density to the marrow of your Brain Bone with our groundbreaking synthesis of Magnetic Bloat. Magnetic Bloat is a new product that protects and strengthens the hair as well as upgrades the amount of data coming out of an individual strand of hair to double every nine months. Magnetic Bloat has become a target for industry and a self-fulfilling prophecy in it's own right.

Although Magnetic Bloat was initially processed in the formless organisms of observation and disbelief, it quickly became accepted as the leading formula for success in overriding time controls of every market, and served as a goal for an entire industry. This drove both marketing and engineering departments of competing domestic and off world hair product manufacturers to focus enormous energy aiming for the specified increase in processing power that it was presumed Hairstyles For Spaceships already possessed. In this regard, it can be viewed as a self-fulfilling prophecy but sometimes you just know when something feels good. Finish products improve invisibly while experiencing time differentials, subtly enhancing shape and movement while never compromising your good looks. Never superfluous, Hairstyles For Spaceship new Magnetic Bloat product line puts you at the controls of destiny to easily recreate the sophisticated version of reality you are required to inhabit."

(The starmap trends of scaling for Magnetic Bloat allows doubling of reality interferences to be experienced in an individual Hairstyle over the same period of time as the competitions products.)

I cannot tell you how excited I am to discover what awaits me deeper in the crate.

-Terbs

New Products Arrive

2011-01-08T05:50:00.000-08:00

At Last! My crate of official Hairstyles For Spaceships hair care products arrived. It has been months since my arrival in Newton and I was beginning to lose hope. The unforgiving desolation of this place was beginning to make my eyes bleed. If I had to spend one more day pacing the parking lot of this mall and searching for clues, I think I might go bananas. How long can I breath the fumes of the smoldering stagecoach and its primitive electronics? How many more nights can I waste away in the haunted karaoke bar getting drunk on hopelessness? But I put that all behind me now. I have my pristine product line spread out before me and I am ready to tune in to the contained infinity of my hairstyle and determine which of these products will allow me to construct the maximized hairstyle to use for my investigations. I am so excited!

-Terbs

Enroll in a University of Hairstyles today!

2011-01-07T09:51:00.001-08:00

She Says...

Mutual of Hairstyles is a full-service, multi-galactic organization providing hairstyling and Hair(s) products for individuals, businesses and groups throughout the multiverse. In 20-4503 P.T.T*, Mutual of Hairstyles opened the first of their University of Hairstyles of what is now the dominant jr. college organization in 734 major planetary systems.

(The Original University of Hairstyles in Newton, CA)

Not every human being can attain to believe in the experience of reality. But every human being has the right to have great hair. As a student of Hairstyles you will come to know the kingdom and nations of the electronic and molecular regions of protein based reality as it pertains to product diagnosis and application techniques, while insuring compliance with M.O.H standards and applicable Federal, State, and extra planetary zoning codes.

Every University of Hairstyles is designed to teach you the skills you’ll need, inspire you to expand your passion and creativity. The expansion comes hand in hand with an enhanced biological and biochemical structure that holds a new vibration, and helps you learn the business that will make your career in the Hairstyle industry profitable, wherever your dreams may take you.

Graduating Applicators from the University of Hairstyles work virtually in every corner of the reality and spread out their professional lives from there,developing consciousness through product enhanced Hairstyles while monitoring, tracking and trending sentinel events.

You "can" become a recognized applicator including assumption of the extra glandular certification to this effect. Those who awaken their consciousness here at University of Hairstyles will be awake everywhere. Whoever awakens his consciousness here in this physical void , in fact and by the rights guaranteed The Board, remains awake forever with an active certificate of Accomplishment in the Superior Protein Worlds.

(Revelation of the Superior Protein Worlds at The Gates of Contained Infinity)

However, it is impossible to be awake in the Superior Protein Worlds if here, at this cellular, physical, and material world, the appliance (applicant as toaster for example) is sleeping. Maximized sugar and caffeine intake will be required at all time of students and insures contact with the unspoken language that supports the University of Hairstyles Programs. While programmable desires to awaken the consciousness in the inner worlds must be suppressed in this dense environment of folical management, the aspirant has not awakened his consciousness here. In this world his Hairstyle will certainly not be lathered in the spicy products produced on the superior worlds.

The first thing you must know in order to awaken your consciousness is to know that we know that you are asleep. We must begin by awakening the Hairstyle within. WE MAKE YOUR DREAM A REALITY: Our financial aid team will help you find the path to your dream. WAKE UP!

Every aspirant of the development Hairstyles Consciousness has the right to study at the feets of these mystic leaders of industry, to enter through the splendid doors of their haunted chambers and bow trembling before their decaying flesh and behold through the observance of lack of comprehension the glory of their fully realized Hairstyle creations.Psychically harvested evidence gathered by The Board during these silent lectures determine the existence of a Brain Bone spore in all potential students**. In addition to these amazing experiences as a student at The university of Hairstyles you will come to realize the complete understanding of fear while face-to-face exchange with the original pioneers of Hairstyles, only visible to untrained eyes as holographic silhouettes against the shining suns of the hopeless dawn. You cannot overcome fear but you can become it!

We are saying something that no one agrees with. Behold the qualities of the suggested programming;

A. To insure compliance with M.O.H Standards and applicable Human and Planetary Ascension Symptoms we offer beginners course works in
-Introduction to Hairstyles For Spaceships and the Contained Infinities Within Your Hairstyles.
-Utilizing and protection from gray matters emanating from astral realms for protein collection journeys through the Star Tetrahedron Sassoon.
-Expansion of inner light sources as you encounter problems that affect evolution of personal Hairstyles, and corrective techniques in product application and styling.
- Consultations with the Ascended masters as they take you to their grooming sanctuaries in the Relevant Dimensions.
- Care for your new internal glands and care for the hair products they produce.
- Experiential Economics of Salonic Bookeeping
- Erosion of Weightlessness

1. Review, monitor and update processes, policies and procedures, in association to the developing Hairstyle, the four new product lines that serve a unique purpose to the crystalline sheen and the infinite processing of hair growth and style development, and associated tools for application.

B. To monitor the formless qualities of hair care for practicing Applicators, effectiveness, and efficiency, and to seek opportunities for improvement.

1. Adopt and abuse explicit criteria that are based on reasonable scientific evidence
and are dismissed by The board of Mutual Of Hairstyles.
2. Monitor and evaluate the effectiveness of hairstyle management with emphasis on:
· Over & Under utilization of Product.
· Big Hair risk management
· Preventive Hairstyles

3. Identify clinical issues that impact the Hairstyle status of all members of the spiritual elite of the graduating classes and the channels of control they will claim on the important development of new products and services.

Whoever desires to awaken their consciousness, here and now, must start by understanding the three subconscious formulas; 1)HAIRSTYLES 2)FOR 3)SPACESHIPS!!!

Every type of identification produces fascination and dreaming. Say YES to your future! Enroll Now!

*Post Theoretical Time
**Detection of this seed will automatically set in place upon the applicant, adequate controls to measure the performance of seedlings and the perceived experiences of the program. This information is compiled for marketing purposes only and existence of this information gathering should not be included in the marketing propaganda for our University system.

evidence is everywhere

2010-11-20T07:48:00.000-08:00

children are making their own teeth

brainweavers

2010-10-29T19:19:00.000-07:00

BRAINWEAVERS

And to those distant Brainweavers on high....As the aromas of preservative filled hairproducts become all to familiar...and our conciousness is collectively embalmed...consider the all natural alternative waiting in the wings...raised on a cultivated landscape of suburan paranoia and nourished by nothing but the empty purity of broken dreams they ran their fingers across the stuccoed outsides of model homes through heatwave summer nights, lost in fraternity of nightmare addicted children, learning the language of the in between worlds through blind minds with extra sensitive fingertips.

Believe with your wallet as we evaluate this young er generationals potential from this lofty purchase and speak our emptiness... so that our holy lips can bless each dead perfection skull mind space intercept...we can offer you nothing by now. Our knowledge base has deconstructed.. you are finally on your own....relocate yourself in
the darkest night of your wandering mouth core re configurations....let your teeth slip from their simple lodging...let them return home to show the vision of the eternity of the new sky...ignore all passing from the distant wilderness of your mouth space regions. Shut your mouths tightly closed and sing the song of togetherness tonight... Grind your teeth down to the roots as you hum from your throats our sacred songs.. and observe and be transformed by the subtle irregularities in each others hairstyles...be honored by them as they are reflections of your true natures interpreted by your friends...this is the new vocabulary of silent acknowledgement...we will be mute beyond our bedtimes and speak a deafening defiance to the stupid face of destiny.

X Ray Lobotomy Rototiller

2010-10-03T06:01:00.000-07:00

Today I was poking around the remains of The Dentists Office and came across this remarkable image.I believe it is an x ray of David Gates (lead singer of the rock band Bread). I am going to spend some time with my equipment studying the hieroglyphics of fear carved into each tooth. I hope to confirm my theory that The Dentists used Gates as an oracle to monitor The Bad Pioneer , Hudson Merriweather, and Data Olds throughout time and space and within and without regard for all extra dimensional crossovers. I will report back to The Board Of Mutual Of Hairstyles with a full report as soon as it is complete. Until then please send me some more sugary cereals so I can focus on the true light of hairstyles while I do my work. I will wait by the elevator.

glamour prisims

2010-09-30T05:05:00.000-07:00

You have worked very hard on your hairstyle and you want to maximize impact. Unfortunately as you walk down the street you notice every body not noticing you. It is a crime that they do not acknowledge the perfected settings of every lock and curl on your pretty little head. Well now there is a solution.

Mutual Of Hairstyles is pleased to announce the latest in their ultra exclusive line of Kepler Hair Products. When you wash your hair with the amazing new "AFTERMATH IS SCIENCE" shampoo/ conditioner system, infused with glamor prism crystal technology, your hairstyle will shift and distort into a dizzying display of multiple confusions. Passersby will drop to their knees upon seeing you and achievment in Hairstyles. In that moment even you won't be able to tell how good you look.

2010-07-28T10:11:00.001-07:00

2010-07-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

Casual Friday at the Dentist Office.

Hairstyles in NY Times

2010-07-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

Rather than rely on obvious logos, expensive hairstyles use more discreet markers, such as distinctive design or detailing. High-end consumers prefer markers of status that are not decipherable by the mainstream. These signal group identity only to others with the connoisseurship to recognize their insider standing.

Games - Everything Is Working

2010-07-08T07:19:00.000-07:00

a good dentist

2010-06-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

A good dentist doesn't know what they're doing. They just close their eyes and do whatever they see.

2010-05-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

Weird awakenings. Sunshine in my eyes. The sound in my head a car driving away, some abstract soul music playing in dubwise correctionist falsetto. I rub my eyes to gravitate these echos of the hangover awareness into the orbit of the rising sun. I can see out of the corner of my eye a trail of dust rising as the car driving off into the blinding light.

Rubbing my head.Trying to make sense of what was a dream and what was worth reporting. The music from the car as it disappears into the sun is strong in my mind. A distortion of the pureness of the original. Toasted.

It's time to get the fuck out of here. Got to get back to country living... Take it nice and easy.

It's not possible. Not anymore

This strange loose geometry of planned communities is to unpredictable and shifty. One minute it is here and the next, it is there. Too many eyes in the sky there. I could never get a good nights sleep.

Let's just let the evil vibrations of the rising valley heat wash over the reality I vaguely inhabit. High school is over. But Nothing ever happened after that. We all just got super rad and confusing.

The world around us went spinning upward in circles around us. There are no connections. That is why I was not able to see them till now.

The music of the pureness of fresh Bread has disappeared and all that is left is the vaccuum of the universe and the sound of the voices of teenagers in the parking lot.

I stumble downstairs. My mind is racing. Are they really there? These beautiful bleached out children. Their music as empty and echo as their heads. It goes some kind of distorted boing boing boing until some heavy temperature rain storm comes and washes it down the street.The tires under their car washing ou from underneath them self. Everything washes downhill to the bottom of the lowest cul de sac and the deluge really begins.

A full on flash flood is washing us into the guts of the unfinished houses. Our bodies getting tangled up in the ribs of homes meant to shelter us all. I hear screams. Cries about the cookies. "The cookies will save us!" "I can't feel my teeth!" I can see Manana...He is going to laser us up!" I listened as close as I could...A heavy was of muddy water was running over us to drown. That made it hard to pay attention.

Now, having survived in some form of reality or other, I gather that the kids dying in that freak of nature were part of some weird suburban sentient space junk cult. They were calling out to a Manana Overdrive. Some old satellite that used to have influence in this vector worship.

So they sold those houses anyway. Them half buried in dead kids of unfinished business and landslides reactive to the installation of strip malls on hillside. And everything was haunted. A town full of houses full of the ghosts and spirits of dead kids from the trailer park that used to live in peace. And now those dead kids are making disturbed love inside the even more transparent grave of the teenage hearts of The Bad Pioneers and some strange children being born in mysterious nights..half dead and fucked forver.. let them loose to destroy...

Executive Portrait #2

2010-03-10T05:44:00.000-08:00

The Board of Directors of Mutual of Hairstyles is pleased to announce the emergence of a new product for reversed consumption. It is a new T-shirt featuring the official portrait of the member of The Board, Mr. Limptooth.

Chew on his divinity! Buy Now!

temporal equilibriums

2010-03-09T17:24:00.000-08:00

Dear Sirs,

I am sorry for not keeping up with my transmissions. I have been lost in the vortex of a recently discovered "karaoke bar" here in the strip mall where I have established my base camp. It is located right next to the record store. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Anyways... I found my way inside and discovered a whole shit ton of beer! Horray! So as you can probably imagine I have been living pretty deep in my cups for the past week. It has proved quite successful in making contact with the Bad Pioneer. Especially when singing the karaoke madness of the band Bread. More investigation is needed to find out the significance of this reoccuring connection to this band.Much more postings will be needed to explain the extent of the Bad Pioneers depravity and his souless wandering. For now I will just tell you that the first time I was singing the song "If" he came up and peed real barbeque sauce on my shoes and it melted them off my feet. If you wouldn't mind faxing me over a new pair of waffle lined moccasins and making sure the karaoke bar goes down on the registry of potentially transgendered historical places I would be very grateful.

Your man in the bush,
Randy

Information Rich Vacuum

2010-03-05T05:34:00.000-08:00

http://hairstylesforspaceships.tumblr.com/

Executive Portrait #3

2010-02-27T13:34:00.000-08:00

This is a portrait of Mr. Limptooth, Member of the Board of Executives, Mutual of Hairstyles

Executive Portrait #2

2010-02-27T13:26:00.000-08:00

This is a portrait of Mr. Brainweaver, Member of the Board of Executives, Mutual of Hairstyles

Hairstyles for Cow-Bots

2010-02-27T08:02:00.000-08:00

In case I was not sure if I was in the vortex of Thee Bad Pioneer I submit for your approval this photo taken today. This cows tail is clearly an antennae to broadcast the frequencies of Hairstyles. I checked the udders and found the vampire bite marks of the Bad Pioneer (taking them back to headquarters for cross reference with the dentists singular record on file of BP's first and only dental checkup while remaining in the first realm of the Jiggly Physical.) There is no doubt in my mind that he is teeth behind the bites here. I tasted the milk. Sucking from the third teat,and it was sour and made me visionary for eleventy minutes. A recount of this vision will be recalled later this evening. For now I am going to collect some of these cow chips for fueling my campfire.

Manana Overdrive

2010-02-26T15:46:00.000-08:00

Today Manana Overdrive (Manny in the familiar) continued grind his slow path across the sky. He went past the sun and saw his reflection for the first time in a thousand years. He was surprised how much he had grown. Starting as a small radio satellite he had struck a deal with the Early Dentists and had been slowly collecting a thick external layer of visible psychic carnage released by patients of the dentists as they were consumed by their zombie army.

Manny kept going, through star showers and dream zones and came across a spot where he picked up the scent of baking cookies.He drifted along with the Galactic Aroma until he has approaching what was later determined to be the center of the universe. There he saw The Ghosts From Outer Space baking their cookies that led the souls of the Galaxy into the Universal Heart and reborn as new stars and arranged in new constellations that The Bad Pioneer could follow to avoid capture. The location was noted and transmitted to The Dentists.

FAN MAIL

2010-02-24T16:06:00.000-08:00

Dear Randy.

I just discovered the last several developments at Mutual of Hairstyles.

And I don't know what to do about it.

I feel like running headlong in opposite directions.

I don't know what to do.

C

Dear C,

I would just do what you feel. Seperation anxiety is a powerful therapy for achieving split ends. I would run as hard as you can for as long as you can in opposite direction of yourself until you run past yourself going the other way again...Then you may ask yourself " Where is everybody trying to get to in such a hurry?"

Then you must run faster or you will never catch up with your hairstyles.

2010-02-23T09:56:00.001-08:00

From what I can make myself believe, the downstairs level of this place was used for retail shopping experiences and the upstairs levels were used for more abstract business utilities. I am fairly certain that the building was put up before the Great Awareness of Vertical Reality Transferrence and therefore had no merger function.

I spent this morning going through the remains of what seems to be some type of primitive media outlet. There was a very disorienting quality of light filtering through the windows when I was in there. Like nothing I have experienced upstairs so far. The aisles were dusty and full of debris. There were music units I recognized from my immersion courses on the pre-sedation of the minor classes of the twentieth century. I scanned them with my hairstyles and found nothing of interest...until I got to the back of the store.

The the windows beams of light coming from many directions all fell in the same spot. In the middle of their combined pool of light was a single "casette tape". I approached and the beams of light all began to slowly cross each other and picked up the tape from the ground as if to present it to me. The air was so soft then and everything had the peace of The Waiting Room. I took the tape and the lights all faded down and left me there confused. The tape was called THE BEST OF BREAD. On the cover were four of the most handsome men I have ever seen.

I wish I Knew how to make this thing play.

Hairstyles Merchandise

2010-02-19T08:37:00.000-08:00

We are happy to announce that the first in what will be the first shot fired in an eternal assault on your Hairstyle Sensitivity Management System. There is a T Shirt available here....http://www.mysoti.com/mysoti/designer/hairstyles4ever.

It features the classic portrait of Mr. Salami so it will be hard to resist.

Comb your hair and think about how to optimize your hairstyles potential for greatness by creating a color and size combination that will compliment your exquisite composition of protein strands.

Enjoy!

Weak Signal

2010-02-17T05:43:00.000-08:00

Verbal Discharge from the collective unconsciouslessness of The Board of Mutual of Hairstyles;

Our Shaman Librarian who calls himself DrippyPants, has begun assimilating the bursts of information being transferred on the cosmic winds, solar flares, and other atmospheric disturbances by Randy Turbo. There is a very high probability that these messages will be confused and not very information rich as they are a condensed version (140 characters or less) of the original concept and then re-translated by DrippyPaants. We have therefore concluded that it is worth sharing with the general population if for no other reason to contribute to the ongoing construction of an infinite wall of confusion.

Become Aware!
http://twitter.com/hrstyls4spcshps

Early Hairstyles for Spaceships

2010-02-16T15:15:00.000-08:00

Here we have a recently restored photo of a test shoot for the second campaign for general awareness by Hairstyles for Spaceships.

The photograph shows the time lapse of consciousness development employed by an early participant in the lifestyle as he travels from pre-awareness, or "the bone mind" as it was commonly known in those days, into the state of blasthauf, aka; The Middle Terror, and back again. It is interesting to note the subtle change in the orientation of the subjects "brain-bone". It has completed one half revolution of what later came to be understood as possible through a function called inner-spandex-transference. Initiates into the program were given 1 month to complete 7000 complete revolutions of their Brain-Bone. If they were not able to do so they were challenged with finding a way to feed hot dogs to The Sun*. If they could complete this task they were eligible to re-join the program. Otherwise they were finished. As of 1924, 11 years after the first campaign into the general public, nobody had completed the program and standards were lowered.

*This scandal was later exposed to be a plot by an early worshiper of the still un-arrived Prophet Kinkade (who later transcended this reality to become Emperor of The Sun). This worshiper had put a spell on the Mutual of Hairstyles headquarters in an attempt to store up food reserves for his masters eventual retirement into the realm of pure light.

Executive Portrait #1

2010-02-16T11:06:00.000-08:00

This is a portrait of Mr Salami. He is one of the executive Zombi hairstylists who sit on the board of our esteemed corporation. A complete profile of all our executives will be made available shortly. Please be patient and continue to enjoy hairstyle fulfillment.

Sick Day

2010-02-16T11:02:00.001-08:00

Dear The Board of Mutual of Hairstyles,

I can't come to work today. My foot is asleep.

-R. Turbo

First report from Randy Turbo

2010-02-16T10:22:00.000-08:00

(This is how Randy Turbo writes. If you ever want to recieve mail written in this language please subscribe at randyturbohairstyles@gmail.com)

Dear The Board of Mutual of Hairstyles,

I have established a new Office of The Western Territories. It is in the second floor of an abandoned strip mall on the edge of a desolate suburban wasteland. I don't like it here but I know I am in the right place. When I was investigating the grounds I made my way to the upstairs office spaces and started poking around. Everything was gone. Just wall to wall carpet and water stained ceiling tiles. I came to the last door expecting to find it in the same condition as all the others, and it was. It was the same except that it had an old filing cabinet waiting for me. As soon as I saw it I got a strange feeling. I have spent the afternoon going through these papers and trying to make some sense of it all. There is to much weirdness to get into all at once and I already know I am going to be up all night trying to put the pieces together. I would like to include this one piece of information though. The filing cabinet appears to have belonged to a dentists office. I gather that much from their invoices.

I was going through some patient records and one of them caught my eye. It was for a root canal given to someone named Hudson Merriweather. The thing that popped out to me was under the "Dr's Notes" section. In deaths own hand was written..."The young man has finally crossed over and is mumbling now...

It don't matter to me
If you really feel that
You need sometime to be free
Time to go out searching for yourself
Hoping to find time to go to find
And it don't matter to me
If you take up with some
one who's better than me
'Cause your happiness is all I want
For you to find peace your piece of mind
Lotta people have an eager hang up
'cause they want to be the only one
How many came before it really doesn't matter
just as long as you're the last
Everybody's moving on and try to find out
what's been missing in the past
And it don't matter to me
If your searching brings you back together with me
'Cause there'll always be an empty room
waiting for you
An open heart
waiting for you
Time is on my side
'Cause it don't matter to me
It don't matter to me
It don't matter to me
It don't matter to me
It don't matter to me
It don't matter to me
'Cause there'll always be an empty room
waiting for you
An open heart
waiting for you
Time is on my side
'Cause it don't matter to me

These words meant nothing to me but I kept rereading them again and again feeling like each time I got closer to understanding something profound. But it started to get dark and I was getting scared. So I took the page with me back to my room and spent the night trying to figure it out. I had to stand on my head and repeat the passage in Aramaic for three hours before a residue of understanding began to trickle down. Here is my translation for our dimension:

"Leave your unleavened minds to rise in the warm ovens at the heart of the universe, so that something stranger than yeast will dissolve your consciousness and provide a sacrament to the souls of those lost pioneers who are making the great crossing."

That is all for now.

In the service Vodonic Overdrive,
Randy Turbo

Randy Turbo Heads West

2010-02-16T07:54:00.000-08:00

Randy stood before the board. Their decayed lifeless bodies were propped in their execu-tron chairs behind a long table with nothing on it. The legs and sides of the table were fashioned from old weathered wood gathered from the coffins they had all escaped from. The table was topped with a piece of polished black glass set into the top. A soft, pink, neon light glowed where the floor met the walls along the entire perimeter of the room. There was no other decoration than the table and the chairs. It was if the room was decorated by deep space. Randy could only see the bottoms of the walls where the neon glow was. He could see that there were heavy drapes of what appeared to be black velvet hanging down from a ceiling he could not find in the dark.

Small impulses of blue light began to glow among their bones under what was left of their fragile onion like skin. Randy watched as the glowing areas shot out electricity and spread into all parts of their bodies as all eight of them twitched, itched and jerked back to life. As their bodies reanimated a light in the glass table top faded on and lit the board members faces from below in a classic horror movie style.

"Randy my boy. We have a mission for you." Randy had been in this position before and was used to receiving their thoughts telepathically. "We need confirmation on this Hairstyles business once and for all. We are set to launch our campaign of Hairstyles as a new brand of transcendence to the masses but the investors want proof. We need you to go out to the western territories and find out everything you can about this Bad Pioneer character and send your findings back here.How does that sound boy?"

There was no way he could say no. The member at the end of the table on Randy's right got up and walked to the wall. Randy watched as the old man pulled aside the curtain and the elevator door behind it. The double doors had strange markings engraved on them but before he could start to process what they meant the doors opened and the man motioned him inside. Hanging to the wall the old mad labored to twist his body inside the elevator and push a button. Randy looked down and was glad for the assistance. All the marks next to all the buttons were unknown to him. He looked up as the doors slowly shut and heard them all say in unison "Don't fuck this up boy."

The doors shut and Randy realized that the walls were mirrored in the same black glass as on the table top in the board room. He knew they could see him through this glass. He felt the elevator start to move down slowly and it soon felt like he was barely moving at all. He heard some music slowly fading in and started to feel light headed. The music was easy but he became very confused by it. He had to hold himself up on the rail on the side of the wall. He felt the elevator stop. He turned as the door were opening and saw two men dressed in white enter. The doors shut again and the men in white briefly acknowledged Randy with a nod hello, then they stared straight ahead. The elevator started moving down again. Randy felt so heavy and everything sounded like it was going through a vacuum cleaner. He shut his eyes and hit the floor and had a very strange dream.

2010-02-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

The New York office has sent a dispatch out to establish an office to cover the Western Regions. His name is Randy Turbo and he is excited to spread the message of Hairstyles into suspected proximities. He will travel in the executive style and be reporting back to headquarters daily with updates as he looks for the right place to set up shop. We will keep the shareholders appraised of his progress as it becomes available. We are confident that the qualifications of Mr. Turbo will be agreeable to The Board especially considering his direct lineage with The Bad Pioneer. We feel that he will be able to sub-vibrationally emulate the methods of Thee BP and stimulate the cosmic trail markers to become known to himself and find the town of his Final Disturbance. Because of the internal reverse decipherings of the holographic cave paintings left by the natives who blessed Thee BP with their massacres, and discovered when the first version of the 70's rock band Bread parted their hir in the opposite direction, we know that He is the source of the unconciouslessness of Hairstyles. We will plant our flag on his grave if possible and probably have a nap because it will be a long time from now.

Would You Let This Man Drive Your Spaceship?

2010-01-13T14:12:00.000-08:00

When you comb your hair, please remember you are shaping reality. Don't mess it up.

New Beginnings

2010-01-13T07:31:00.000-08:00

We are very excited here at Mutual of Hairstyles to announce that our crack team of amateur gravediggers have made an important discovery. Hypothetical archaeologists have for a long time imagined that the concept of Hairstyles must come from somewhere beyond ourselves. They know through the experience of their Hypno-Flotation midnight digs that their Hairstyles only truly vibrate correctly when themselves are floating bloated and belly up through the ether, the stars twinkling above themselves, sparkling little bits of consciousness down, filling up some empty eyes with visions and spaceships.

Was it during these initiations of merging with pre-consciouness that these prophets decided to become dentists, or was it later, after the eternal blessing of the Ghosts from Outer Space? These are the questions that have always needed answering and now ladies and gentlemen we may be closer to an answer than ever before.

Today our diggers of eternal rest are believed to have accidentally unearthed some ancient graphics which strongly indicate the belief amongst our ancestors in Hairstyles for Spaceships. Now while we have been born into and grown up inside of a culture firmly established on the belief in the experience of Hairstyles in our daily lives, we can understand the significance of such a discovery. When we hear the words Hairstyles for Spaceships our spirit core begins to call out in a silent chant remembered only through the vibrations of those words (Hairstyles For Spaceships) upon our minds. We feel the rising of something in ourselves that is larger than ourselves. Our Hairstyles have awakened.

2009-11-12T16:06:00.000-08:00

If your hairstyle is vibrating correct...and all the cosmetic forces of the universe are aligned...the you will know the harmony...and if you believe in the itinerary...you will hear the mix tape of your life..you will become a perfect tasting burrito...a burrito with a toupe, a wig, a hairpiece designed by a teenage mom... and you will be wearing a serape from LA.... you will be a warm tortilla full of hair gel and nightmares... you will never wake up again...you will be reborn...dead asleep...iside a can of enchilada sauce... you will chase this dream into infinity... the void will destroy your sense of direction when you are combing your hair...but the music will sound so good you won't even care... and you will be reborn... into a perfect unknown, unrecognizable version of yourself... and when you pass yourself on the street...your heart will skip ten thousand beats...a reflection in a window... your souless eyes give blessings to empty kisses on empty lips... and you will feel that lack of warmth... and you will remember the dream.

1/3

2009-10-25T07:48:00.001-07:00

AT THE END OF THE DAY.

2/3

2009-10-25T07:47:00.001-07:00

I GO HOME.

3/3

2009-10-25T07:46:00.000-07:00

AND WONDER WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

MYSTERY

2009-10-25T07:43:00.000-07:00

SHE IS A MYSTERY THAT LASTS FOREVER.
HER HAIRSTYLE MIRRORS THE GATES OF HEAVEN.
SHE SLEEPS UNDER A FAKE SKY AND DREAMS ABOUT HOT DOGS.

Let Go! Let Hairstyles!

2009-09-23T14:40:00.000-07:00

In the early days of my investigations I tried to create a universal theory of hairstyle. Something that could really tie it all together. It was a lost cause. The deeper I dug the more confused and bewildered I became. Then I turned 6. My mother took me to the barbershop for a haircut. When it was over I got a lollipop. I was just beginning to enjoy my candy when I dropped it on the floor. I picked it up and it was covered in my own hair clippings. My mother looked at me on my birthday and said "That's the only one you are gonna get." So I stuck it back in my mouth. That was when I noticed the barbershop pole swirling down and down. My eyes were stuck. I went into trance and when I came out everything was hairstyle. This was my moment. Why don't you calm down?

2009-09-22T06:47:00.000-07:00

his name is randy terbaux.he is invisible. if you see him something is wrong with you.

LETS BEGIN!

2009-09-22T05:37:00.000-07:00

So. I can hear you asking yourself already? What is a Hairstyle? Do I have one? These are just a couple of the simple questions that I at one time asked myself. The answers are are complicated, like the harmonics of algebra.

Simply put, Hairstyles is everything. It is past present and future. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It is everything thing you see and hear and smell and touch and hear. Hairstyles is your experientiality. It is everything you lied about on your resume. It is the cosmic binding agent that invisibly creates and destroys our day to day reality farm. It is the the customer service that is the mystery of Home Depot.

OK. I can see how that might not sound so simple after all and that you do not need any further understanding of hairstyles.

You may assume that you know all. Here are two examples of that knowledge.

I am sorry to say that you are wrong. I hope you can see that now.

If you look at these pictures and can be satisfied in your heart and say to yourself "If that is all there is then that is fine with me." you are not alone. I want to show you a better way.

These are just pictures of peoples faces, the hair on their head and different ways that the hair on their heads is styled.

"Wait!" you say "Isn't that what is Hairstyles? Hair plus styling equals Hairstyles right?"

Well yes. You are right. But that is not the end of it. Let me show you a couple more pictures.

I would like you to spend some time coming to the realization that these things are as much of a hairstyle as anything else. It might help.

WELCOME!

2009-09-22T05:16:00.000-07:00

Welcome!

I am so glad you have decided to give up your soul and call waiting sorcery to the pursuit of understanding hairstyles. I hope that as you spend time browsing the offerings of this ancient vortex, you will gain a better insight of yourself and your hairstyles place in the world and worlds beyond.

I believe that when all is said and done it all comes down to hairstyles.

Look at everything and you will start to see it too.

I know you can do it.

YOU MUST!!!!

hairstyles

A TELEGRAM FROM RANDY TERBEAUX

Dreamcatcher

Nocturnal Resonance

The Bad Pioneer

Macaroni and Hairstyles

Sad Tonys Underwearium

Leave in Conditioner part 3

i am washed clean

A note on Vodonics

Teenage Products

Leave In Conditioner Part 2

Born of New Sugars

Leave In Conditioner Pt.1

Uncertainty

Contents

New Products Arrive

Enroll in a University of Hairstyles today!

evidence is everywhere

brainweavers

X Ray Lobotomy Rototiller

glamour prisims

Hairstyles in NY Times

Games - Everything Is Working

a good dentist

Executive Portrait #2

temporal equilibriums

Information Rich Vacuum

Executive Portrait #3

Executive Portrait #2

Hairstyles for Cow-Bots

Manana Overdrive

FAN MAIL

Hairstyles Merchandise

Weak Signal

Early Hairstyles for Spaceships

Executive Portrait #1

Sick Day

First report from Randy Turbo

Randy Turbo Heads West

Would You Let This Man Drive Your Spaceship?

New Beginnings

1/3

2/3

3/3

MYSTERY

Let Go! Let Hairstyles!

LETS BEGIN!

WELCOME!