What is the Hyperqabalah? Quite simply put it is a regular Qabalah whose paths between the Sephiroth have themselves been transformed into Sephiroth (or nodes as they are commonly referred to herein). Different arrangements of paths are then played with.

These are recognised to be totally contingent and thus the chosen model represents and aesthetic and not necessary choice. Of course this can be said to be true of the tree of life itself in either regular or Gra tree form. There is in this instance though something more of the appearance of necessity (especially in the Gra tree used here). The Hyperqabalah has no such appearance of necessity. The chosen nodal arrangement and quantity of paths is deliberate but only represents one small possibility of its unfolding.

In this way the Hyperqabalah works along side another current CEO project. This is that of the ‘reticular ontology’. The reticular ontology posits an a-spatial a-temporal connecting series of fibres that, when viewed by humans look like fibres of light. These run between all accretive nodes, either human formed or otherwise. The Hyperqabalah is a snapshot of the reticulum at different level beyond the archetypes found in the regular Qabalah. The paths in Qabalah can be understood as harmonies between the two Sephiroth. The same is true of the Hyperqabalah yet the concepts here are of necessity more alien and complex.

This call for submissions asks for persons willing to in some way conceptualise one of the paths of the as yet inchoate Hyperqabalah. Such a conceptualisation could be in any medium as the nature of the path will be quite abstract. If you would like to conceptualise a path for the project please contact us at:


For further information on the hyperqabalah you can look at these posts. Understanding the maths is not necessary, though familiarity with the shape itself is.

Book of Numbers 1

Book of Numbers 2

Book of Numbers 4.

Hinted Communications from the Outside.

Archaeology (Part 2) by Jim Meirose.

These finding-frenzies are slabs’ly frenzy-narcosis common to pro archaeologists and most judgeships alike; they alter consciousness and create great waves of greediness and hilarity all ‘cross-out most dig teams, courtrooms, autopsy rooms, embalming chambers, and boss Boyingtons alike, especially when the deeper veins of the issues being probed become unexpectedly rich with high-value jury verdicts, cash awards, and legal rulings, as well as the more commonly found when real digging’s involved, archaeological artifacts—such as the actually proven to exist by this particular effort, a complete Prongs of Torment Vintage Fast-Management Early-style self-coopering ball-binding gameset—prune—as well still tightly wrapped in its tendon; with all sixteen levels fully intact, never ever been played over, and! The pressure driven by the radical wing of the free press to find foul play to be the root cause drove the shovelmen to a higher blur of action, causing the immediate realization that the gameset was not just the standard issue, but, amazingly, to be the red-bound number, of which just two were made—

My God! The red-bound!

—yes, us too—with the first having long ‘go gone to the bottom in the hold of the M.V. TitrationMaster, the deepest yet bulkywide vessel having proven to really ever been sunk. That type ‘f deep-in unexpected and sudden dental work and or dig success can have a narcotic effect on the dig team and is sufficient to trigger such effects when the archaeologists have gone in sufficiently deep, where the fluids flow freely, and are already profoundly fatigued when the digging suddenly turns rich with high-value discoveries plus one emergency root canal—this drove the big doctor-lead of the pathology team to slice quicker to reach the frontside of the

spine quickly—and the message received from the main man of the day, up topside, that they’d reached the rarified air past the danger-threshold of fifteen thousand shovels of earth out ‘f one dog in a singl’ day had been exceeded with no pause at all, as a matter of fact the rate accelerated by the onset of finding-frenzy ‘cross most of the team—and as the head free press reporters stood slavering for a story, the main man advised the deepteam, that the shovelmen would be shortly relieved. Prune; however the coroner’s pathologists, whose skills are uncommon, should be told to prepare to push through to the end—but that extra snacks and beverages would be sent down by stripteaser-vessel; prune run u’, eh; which was the best could be done ‘hat-t day. Never. Jacquee-line Pup-mutt, the greater free press leader-devil, sounded out that news to a frightened small world, but; as that story was premature, it was buried accordingly. Prune.

No point mousing-down the public with fat answers too suddenly—but. Run.



Buck uck kcc u’.

Meanwhile, the professors, who’d burst their bag and receded off to a safe distance, came out of their shock-frozen states, which had been driven by their orders to hold off being so blatantly ignored, backed off o’er their horizons and sat ‘cross the town elders in a crisis meeting hastily-called to formulate a pushback on the crazed over digmen—because they shared bothwise ‘cross the wide table the ‘owledg’ that if the cause of death was ever extracted from the cache of artifacts hidden long back but now being so rudely and illegally exploited—much like the crime of the Elgin Marbles. You know?

Perhaps, but—and here she exhaled deeply and inhaled, and again—making sure to have these appear contrived for effect—with the added dimension of the overall criminality this threatened to uncover, action was necessary. They can’t be blamed, do you think?

They both turned to the window before he could reply, caught by a loud rising and falling siren in the distance—they turned back, with one saying, Here—in this book. It’s—wait.

A thick book came into his hands from the small oak carved table between them, and he paged into it, finally laying a forefinger onto a page, and read aloud, And they formulated the phraseology and for several years multiple drafts of the order were produced, each one smoother than the last, until the final plan lay plainly scrolled out between them, et et—okay that proves the first thing. Then, here—let me see here.

As he paged through again, she raised her hand, saying, No, there’s no need. I get the point. You win, all right? Come on, the bell’s about to ring. I’ we’re late we’ll catch hell.

No! Here—listen—finely printed on expensive paper, bound and illustrated by expensive artists, and housed in fine leather with gold studded trim—wow. How ‘bout that?

A bell rang in the distance—she rose, saying, Come on, break’s over. We got to go back now. Or else we’ll get dinged.

No—listen, it gets better—yes toward the end they worked furiously, burning through multiple fortunate but weakening second and third winds, but, the effects of their continuing on unrestrained, with no one watching over to back them out o’ their mass mad delision, uck, their purpose dimmed back to nothing; and, today there remains just a low grassy mound, which no one remembers the reason for, or what may be buried within it, but but t tu tub bup, prune; but, regardless, the dig dug down deeper seeking more over more—the ribs cut through easily; the lungs glistened with health; as did the various organs, large and small, which were removed—a

process that passed quickly, thanks to the lead technician’s deft and precise scalpel work—a curious structure resembling a small storehouse became visible—all gasped with excitement; the sudden urge to dance and shout for joy, was restrained. These men were professionals—slowly, the precise series of shovelthrusts and long cuts led to one sudden opening; the spleen sprang open as though a key’d been turned—and, the mother lode of trinkets lay exposed for the forking-out—or it did seem so a’way but—they ought of gone slower an’n all ‘cause—danger ‘llway’ rises when-where it’s ‘ease ess-pecctedt—as.

Calm team, calm. Let us be careful.

Let us not be fooled.


They silently beheld the massive haul; Who’d ever have dreamed; is-it for the his’ s’ ‘torial books, or not, gas—these and other such cries rose from the deep hole, where on half-darkened bottom they stood nearly knee-deep in the mass of their discoveries—their spades having hand-excavated the hole, being nine thousand four hundred and seventy-five cubic scale model feet in size—ten minutes prior, the riches around them would have been enough for most other expeditions to call it a day, gain the surface, and move forward rationally, but. Prune; the revealing of the indescribable contents of the final spleen, tightened the deep-dig finding-frenzy permanently around them, never to be reversed. The riches the spleen had rewarded them wi’ could never be rationally described, in any language, or in any medium—at last, the professional demeanor of the leader finally gave way. Shovel thrust upward, he seemed nearly to glow; his face rose, and from his mouth thundered upward, Thank you, lord, for the gift of this spleen—not just any spleen, but this one. This one and only this one. Thank you lord for so easily opening it to the touch of our scalpels and emptying it unto us! This is—

No, hold it! It’s not finished! Look—

Yes, look—it’s—

The leader’s eyes opened too late to avoid his being crushed by two huge spleens shooting from the gap. The group darted to avoid them—but their slick stuffed-full saggy bulges mocked them, so. Prune; these two opened each thrusting out two more, larger, spleens and. Prune; those each spawned two more. Prune; and two more and two more and on and on, crushing the dig team one by one between and under them; those not crushed to death instantly slowly suffocated as the entire dig filled with a rising tide of soft pulpy spleen-mass, the hundreds of organs smashed together into a single protoplasmatic reeking surging hell, at the bottom of which dozens were added with every minute, quadrupilitising the deadly pressure, under which nothing could possibly survive. The rocking ‘n rumbling ‘rupting from the dig site as the reeking deathmass grew closer to the top, caused the panicky townspeople to flow en masse from their homes, as well as shaking the senses of the few remaining members of the pathology team, who’d decided to have a few hot cocoas before quitting the site. All stood in place, as they would in an earthquake. Prune; minutes passed, then the rumbling rage died. Slowly the terrified crowd approached the site and found the dig site covered over by an expanse of slick shiny reddish-brown foul-smelling membrane-like film, beneath which something throbbed rhythmically—but, at last, the lead pathologist adjusted the wide bright ER style light above the autopsy table, reached in, touching the trembling film, tilted his head, and knotted his forehead intensely. The townspeople and remaining technicians held their breath waiting for the verdict. After some seconds, he withdrew his hand from the cavity, and straightened. Turning from the autopsy table, he pulled off his gloves, while saying quite softly, The spleen appears normal and glistening, totally healthy. As have all the other organs. There is no need to probe further. This subject’s

death was a natural one. There was no foul play. So—prune; Mackie, Phyllis; close and wrap things up per procedures, then call the funeral home. Prune; knock off for the day then—oh, yes—great work, team. It’s been a struggle, but, take pride in this; this expedition’s discoveries will forever grace the collections of top museums and galleries, world-wide. Cool, but; I have to go and give the press our findings. They’re hungry for the result—an annoying bunch. Want everything yesterday. I, ah, prune; as today, inderunderessnes ‘re scantifying to t’ ‘oit of being nearly fatal over all o’ those went that those these ways e’coptering under that trestle bridge over there.

Okay, Phyllis?


Okay, shut up, I think I got the point

This transcript is of a conversation between the CEO’s Balthazar Schlep and Lis who has been experimenting with various sorcery techniques. We do not recommend emulating Lis’ experiments at home.

Lis is italicised to differentiate the voices.

CC is Carlos Castaneda. DJ is Don Juan. AP is Assemblage point (the energetic intensity that determines what reality will be experienced). IOB is inorganic being.

These comments are extractions from my finally initiating The Art of Dreaming and putting my experiences in terms of words that can make some sense to someone else that is not batshit seeing the moon as goddess and such. I start from a point of asking: how can the humans create more fibres? If we think, for example, that we are made of pneuma as is everything else in the reticulum besides the umbratic (so not the reticulum), acquiring more pneuma as power implies that one quite literally merges one’s pneumatic body with pure pneuma (in the form of accretions, for example). But that yields a problem of identity: if the organism is pneuma and the other accretions as well, why do they appear different at all, interact as if with a thing of its own and have this movement of push and pull? This is the same problem faced by the concept of the force of gravity. In physics, we know gravity is not “real”, what it is, is a gap in our system’s explanatory power (as in cohesion). Pneuminosity is this double counterpart of the pneuma and also its rationalized “energy”. So pneuma itself is doubled into the transcendental pneuma and the immanent pneuminosity. Now for why your description of luck describes karma: ‘power as acquired by someone facilitates what we call luck’ So this lucky person is what I would call a pneuminously resonant region. Their luck is relative to the limited perception of another person that can only perceive as the other’s luck some unexplainable synchronicities (here enters ineffability). The ‘dragging’ of something towards the luck unconscious/conscious desire is exactly the problem of identity: if a pneumatic someone exerted their effort towards, say, a chair, they could grab it via telekinesis. Could this happens? Maybe, but what we know is that it must necessarily be ridiculously hard to achieve. I ponder why is that and come to the conclusion that affecting direct pneumatic objects, or the pneuma that forms them, is likely impossible for the energetic output of humans as we are. So what we do is not affect but effect (or effectuate) other simpler things, so that, indirectly, we pull the chair towards us. Language is such an invention. We ask another pneumatic body to bring the chair to us. Language also is not restricted to humans as we are, since the chair is also a pneumatic body of different regional shape due to degree, we can in theory use language to communicate with the chair that it should move itself towards us. And so we have Wi-Fi, electric chairs and neural connexions as implants. This indirect way we expend whatever it is we are (pneuma) to effectuate a desired change is what I call pneuminosity. Since pneuma itself cannot be expended as in destroyed, what we do lose is *our* pneuma (or gain), which is the notion of pneuminosity, or simply bound pneuma (instead of the catch-all term for free-state pneuma that is pneuma). You said ‘so the directed power of the being taps the accretion/node through the reticulum and draws it towards it which raises the question what do we do with it?

I knew it was connected but this obviously has bearings for the notion of the non-ontology I was after of a pre-philosophical subject and how power would interact, pre-ontology I think I was calling it. Anyway what you say puts it in a clearer light, as in whilst such a being was still in a pneuminous world, I think there was a sense of greater vector field proximity, this may be true but maybe not for the reasons I was thinking. The pre-ontology in which occurs what we would call anomalous, is just woven in as nothing of note can now be thought. In terms of the transcendental field of a given organism though, with a set of accretions that give way easier to deeper vector field levels, the spikes as you call them, acquisition of pneuminosity would occur ‘naturally’ as it were and has no sorcerous technology applied to its acquisition. So I’ve always said that regular objects are magickally constituted by the doubling process of ‘use object’ which through  regular use becomes archetypal accretion, in this way the object is made more than it is, as the accretion is reapplied to the vector region of the object making it albeit slightly more like the archetype.This is nice (I always thought) because it flattens the difference between regular objects and magickal ones.The former are vector regions with concepts applied to them that fit the bill, e.g. calling this region ‘stone’ makes sense, everyone agrees with these rules, the accretion fits the region, but calling this vector region mouse even though normal rules would say it’s a stone, even though maybe it looks a bit like a mouse. The second instance can be magick as the application of an accretion to a vector region that would not ordinarily accept that accretion -according to use rules. This picture is fine but it still assumes even in the non magickal version that the organism can accrete So what holds the accretion together? And you say pneuminosity right? This is find, but I am still a bit confused about where its coming from? How is it formed from the pneuma as accretions such that it is the power itself that holds them together? I may well have missed a turning in what you say, I think it’s helpful to go over it though, there doesn’t seem any point going one without clarification.

So think of the pneuma vs pneuminosity in terms of gravity: we know there to be an almost magkical force that seems to be generated by objects large enough and exert a pull on objects small enough relative to that object’s mass. But we also know gravity to be a local thing, an emergent effect that is not, in a sense, “real”. We now know that the distortion of the space-time continuum yields us here on Earth the appearance of there being gravity at all. The same goes for pneuma and pneuminosity. Which one is gravity, however, depends on a certain number of constraints when talking about them.

Indeed pneuma seems to not need umbra in the accretive system, that’s why, since we’re dealing with a new system (is it even a system, CC’s sorcery?) I bring the actual concepts of CC as umbratic “invaders” incoherent from the accretive theory viewpoint. That’s how we can methodologically think of it not to make a mess.

Methodologically here I mean only in the unravelling sense, since I think we can indeed, after systematization, re-exclude the umbra through the creation of the philosophy of sorcery. * I think this part on explaining our intuitive methods/constraints is important. I don’t even know why I’ve glossed over this entirely with you. Sorry about that “why is reality solid and intractable sometimes and other times fluid and manipulable” The answer I was thinking here is that, for us humans, solidity and fluidity is a matter of pneuminous resonance (which simply means we’re at the epicentre of regions in pneuminous resonance — that’s pneuminosity).

“this make pneuminous accretion inadequate without some extra notion of power that determines the ability of the organism to force by extraordinary means the desired thing to happen” That’s pneuminosity. The extra notion of ‘organic’ power. Pneuminosity is the transcendental barrier for our use of pneuma, the maximal threshold which we can say we are pneuma with an awareness of itself. If it were differently, everyone would be flying and smashing asteroids together for fun.

So, since we are tackling sorcery with the accretive system (but not within it), we can say that pneuminosity is the possibility of making regular objects into magickal ones. This is not a two-way street, however, since once magickal that object is imbued with the conditions to transcend our capabilities of continually altering it beyond a certain limit. That limit is personal power, given how relative it is.

When we think logically about this, we get to notice that if this above is the case (that we can pneuminously make objects magickal), then what we think as regular objects are simply magickal objects of either a degree too imperceptible to us or an order of magnitude surpassing our personal power to ‘see’ them as such.

The predator, the Eagle, is the extreme case of this and a necessary formal aspect/postulate of the system. Like an inverse prime mover (Aristotle), the predator is the one to end it all (instead of initiate it all). Because we need to postulate, once we peek into the seeing, that what we see as regular reality is there for a reason, and is in fact a circuit of habit intentionally imbedded with so much power (although not pneuminosity, but pneuma in its freer state) that we take it as a transcendental ground. We take it as nature, for example. Nature is the machinations of the predator to groom its favorite garden (for food). But again, this is a formally necessary postulation used for pedagogic purposes in sorcery (it is indeed the inverse of Aristotle’s God, which is ontologically necessary and so realer than everything else).

The predator need not be taken as real at all. In fact, nothing in sorcery needs because its goal is physiological.Shortcut is that pneuma is absolute for us. It’s there and even ourselves are it. Pneuminosity is just a namesake for the pneuma we make resonate within ourselves through the physiological alterations performed via sorcery.

I was considering the umbratic and its shifting role. So in regular perception as discussed it’s almost like a regulative idea, it’s the idea of the ‘behind perception’, the ’round the corner’ the possibility that being that is perceived can literally not be ontologically identified with being that isn’t perceived.

Even if none of these effects were real its idea would remain because it presents as an agnostic disjunctive. But in reticular perception ‘seeing’ these things don’t apply because perception isn’t done with the eyes, it’s just not the same. So accepting that we seem to be happy that like DJ reticular perception is essentially noumenal. There is no umbratic behind and hence there is no such epistemological problem.

What arguably we still have, which was also a kind of implicit role of the umbratic is the notion of structure, originally in the phenomenology it went accretions, vector field , umbratic, so the vector field kind of was a fine unnaccreted layer over the umbratic which the accretions inhabited in regions, the umbratic was giving a kind of invariant structure which under certain circumstances (magick) could be over powered by the accretions. This has obviously changed with the pneuminosity resonance notion but there still seems to be some sense to me of why anything looks like anything in particular at the level of particular worlds? This was an earlier problem that needed the umbratic for structure.

But now it isn’t required at the level of an underneath, but may be at a level of laws/natural structures? Do you see what I mean, the reticulum entirely exists without humans, that’s absolutely true, this is also the answer to speculative realist notions without the anthropocentric OOO of people like Harman, or Bennet.

Maybe you can say why not, but I still feel there is a stable force at the level of a given assemblage point that makes things look a particular way. You can’t just say its mutual intent because it has to have started somewhere…

Laszlo Aranyi (Frater Azmon)

Twilight of the Gods

Light sleepers without bodies; homunculus germs in sticky,
curd-like drivel
on a cutthroat flypaper.

The unity of male and female,
the degenerated, fading, distant, magical obsessions
of the primordial, blameless root cause become perceptible
The rebel leader writhes in chains.

Call to your ancestors, the flooded river answers,
your double that moved to your house,
is the lynx.

Meanwhile, a double-edged, demon-slaying sword inflicts
a wound upon you,
your self-reanimated shadow draws you deeper.
The dreadful North’s sending a dire army; it crushes
the masked, sleepless foe. Before he murders you though
he waits insidiously for you to kill him.

Archaeology (part 1)

Today, inderunderessnes ‘re scantifying to t’ ‘oit of being nearly fatal over all o’ those went that those these ways e’coptering under that trestle bridge over there. Okay, Phyllis? Prune. I time with most small boys’ and girls’ undercuriousnesses, their lesser maybe, if found deepl’ embedded in some strata later excavated down to in search of precious hipbreather’s mineralstuffs’s and other necessary foods, may be found to turn into some profound and precious previous population of these hereses and nowses, artifacts. Prune prune. Then the police will windround it in yellow tape at the call of the museum-men as a great discover, which now in the past tense one hundredth of an instant or some lesser number of seconds, a histori a istorical an orically not to be tampered down into—and yes, dear Phineas, that means you! No ‘splosions can be permitted to enswath the terrain wit’ their dusts, or grey matters, and not even if life and death is at stake for some farmers due to the need for scarce resources, they cannot, must not, no never can they be touched, disturbed, moved around, rearranged, or otherwise rendered false ‘n empty of their initially see’ spotted and staked down meaningfulness, and ability to show the truth of some past. Which has nothing to do with any-henna’s near-term survival. Hip.



What is the holdup of our necessities out there?

There’s a tow’ ‘uare ‘ut ‘e.

What? Speak slow and loudly. This connection stinks.

There’s t’ ‘n square out there. Old one, that.

What? T-square? That’s for—that’s for that old-school mechanistical drawling they used to do, like—wit’ projotractors and compressactresses and all like that and that. Know?

No! Town square!

Huh? It’s all woods there and where it’s not woods it’s barren and when their really not completely either, there’s both! I don’t kn’.

No. Under the ground there. It used to be a town square, but.

No, I don’t get it, so what it used to be this or that? So what? Everyplace in the whole world by now must have used to be something else, and—you don’t see the whole world told stop so we can know what used to be, eck. Tip, what used to be most times is—totally unimportant, ‘n of no value.

This one is. And that’s why.

How do you know that when you need to dig it up to know if that’s true or not?


How do you know that when you have to dig it up to know if that’s true or not?

Because of where it is.

What ‘bout where it is?

The lay of it. The lay and the lie of it and the big archaelonglielle professors we always have along to guide us saying, there, they lay and the lie and the roll of it rolls me to sa’ ‘yin’ ‘g th’ ‘s ‘re we shou’ dig down. Ho, so let’s ca’ ‘p ‘ere, hold! The wind is too strong, over. You break up like some alumininium word factory’s all, vibratationally fallin’ down. So, say, what?

I said rolls me to saying this; I’ wh’ w’ ‘oul’ ‘ig ‘wn.

Okay, shut up, I think I got the point. Prune; if I got it no further prescience-ision is not needed. No no. No. No no no. Prune; gik.

Prune. Prune. But how about this thriving village we’re centered within-which? There’s there can ‘t not no being no not being a archjangely dig right ‘ere—but why?

Because people live here an’ ‘d make livings here.

The people living here and making livings here are temporary.

I think they will not feel they’re so temporary. Prune. They.

Money, get money from the university. We can pay them off to relocate.

So—cinsta’ this their eldermen’ne met us and we had discussion for some few years which in the mood of the greater quest for knowledge of man was insta-grammificant, and we said and they backed o’ and one more time I said to the waiting pack of archaeological professorships, They say that you must dig only in free ground—prune—not under any existing structure, or under any existing thoroughfares, but—do not choose any free ground which may ever be needed to be passable by the reasonable man’s passible land vehicle to convey any and all types of matter required to be conveyed from point to point to facilitate the economic stability of the region.


The mass of professors writhed secretly within themselves, prune, fo’ several or more days, before turning their open side our way and began speaking in intelligible streams o’, e’ rd’ o’ bull’, we can ide the les wh ill hap f some s disco ding u o se it gin y follo a ail, wh l m l us to and ove the bord of some I’m sorry hold it existi structu or thoroug we can’t get what you are trying to say, or piece of free ground, which someday may be, so please stop and start from the beginning, but, needed to be passable by any reasonabl’y man’s passible land but but it—prune! It looks like there’s no time so hey what vehicle to convey any and all types of hey what can we do based on matter required to be conveyed from point to the original statement tha’ the villagers

made point hey to facilitate the economic stability so we can at least say to the masters of the region that hey yah we did do some digging prune we did not waste this whole entire decade or less prune just looking and looking but in the process not getting no kind of archaeological work done at all; so. Books.


So. Prune; once unbagged, the professors led the way from their confusion into the clear and, after some months of reading and intense study, smoothed by liberal applications of Eterna-Rub, ‘tween the letter of the words within the reading we, and they identified a ten foot square test lot, to dunce ourselves ‘oof ‘ve, shoveling out and down into, and as usual took the first step of magic markering it out, until here came several numbers-matched duodenal tribesmen dressed in bright plaids, looking ‘nd feeling so lavishly overdressed ‘round their others, that they splintered off, and, like the blood-dried pups they resembled, they did, ran up against us, pointing to the deftly sliced small single-shoveled hole which had not yet multiplied into enough samenesses of itself to yield any type of discovery at all, let alone anything significant—prune! And they wagged all four fingers toward the hole, then in our faces several dozen times, before saying, That spot and any like it you need to lay off from as we know that sometime in it’s future it will be the site of one of the following; 1, an actual dwelling, or, 2. a building, while not an actual dwelling, still to be used to store material goods, but—the lack of stored items at any point in time, is not to be construed as it not being an actual dwelling, which still will be used to store material goods, or, 3. An empty lot, which, though it may seem to be just another empty lot, but will in the future become the site of a number 1., or a number 2., item. Prune; as described previously so, prune; hence, it follows naturally that, you may not dig here, but—in our grace we can tell you what there lies under so you may study these, virtually.


No but! First there’s masses of unhinged bombshell factsheets, spiral-bound, down there. By the way you can lay out the autopsy instrument set now, but no rush.


Then, there’s the usual garden-variety o’ old crockery much like your college said you retrieved from your last dig, like, y’know, th’ artifacts ye found in old big Billy’s dog’s belly. Lay those out also. They may be needed, depending.

Eh? Oh.

Yah, et cetera; then—as this professorial hencidorian ecksplanarationne would ‘bviously continue, the archeologists ducked under beginning a wild random dig, using freshly sharp instruments, aimed at stripping an average three shovelfulls of earth each for every two words shouted out over them, on average; such words as, There’s dozens of analdictation samplers in original packaging under there—eck, prune, so; given there were fifty archaeologists digging in under this major professorienne shoutflow, they ducked under, and in spite of it all excavated in their total onlies such prizes as several or maybe just one big meth-boil’r type arced wide-style characterization templates, each only used once or twice. Prune; by the look of it—a grand find for any expedition, large or small—it ‘came apparent t’ the top princes of leadership that they’d likely need to remove nineteen thousand three hundred and fifty spadesful of earth to totally exploit this larger than expected most precious deposit—they cried, Huzzah! upon unearthing a European style overloaded bale wagon—the first intact example in this century—the magnitude of it all blocked out to nothing the core of the professor’s elongated bleats of protest, screaming o’er inches up ’bove them—prune; they beheld cases of bottled ice-air right beside three dozen or more dry clean only individually wrapped formally flowered-over dancing-day zip-on cloaks

which, prune; when carefully suctioned away, revealed further riches—dead drip’d instructional magazine fifteen or less first editions; high capacity pump-pedaled sewing devices; several Bob’bb-b-faces equipped with the heretofore only rumored of optional groovy-slabbed maple workbeds properly installed, to boot; prune; Momma Mia, they cried, as a pork batter mix flat-packing assembly instructional booklet appeared in the next layer o’ viscera down, but—they noted they had reached the dig-depth where the artifacts found become generally colder and harder to cleave than the shallower organs which most lately’d been ‘live. Fresh new scalpel sets were brought down from the medical storeroom, when it was clear the pathologeermen would soon be on overtime, since the court had just ruled the cause of death must be found quickly. These finding-frenzies are…