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Clicking the title above will transmit a code in through your eyeballs, inducing a small psychic state wherein can be experienced the lastest sensory bounty from UMOUR.

Le Monde Renverse

The Bifurcating Man

Damn. This morning I found a letter next to my bed that’s without a doubt written in my own handwriting. The problem is, I have zero memory of having written it. So I either wrote it in my sleep or else I wrote it during a brief period of wakefulness which i now no longer remember. and while this might be a byproduct of the medication I’ve been taking, nothing I’ve heard ever indicated something like this could happen. taken at face value, it’s fairly disturbing, but right now i think it’s probably some clever story i made up in the middle of the night. And whether it’s just something creative i dreamt up is one thing, but the fact that I feel like i got no sleep at all is another. it certainly feels like I’ve been busy at night.

Anyway, here’s what I found:

Something’s gone wrong with the medication, of that there can be no doubt. But I’m not quite sure what to do about it. Actually, I’m not even sure if I want to do anything about it. of course, Felisplit was designed precisely for working folks who wanted a little extra time during the sleeping hours, allowing the part of you that needs the sleep to get the necessary REM sleep but another part of you to remain awake and free to do some low-level activities like reading or watching a movie, or perhaps some emailing or blogging. And as far as I could tell it was working fine for a while: I’d wake up having emailed friends and family, done some bills and caught up on some reading. I think I actually watched a DVD or two. On the other hand, I feel drained and tired, like I haven’t slept much. come to think of it, even with the Felisplit, the activities are supposed to be pretty low-level, and you do need to get some rest and small amounts of sleep even while taking it. More importantly, however, yesterday I found a letter to myself, clearly written in my own hand. Although I can’t be sure, it would seem that my Felislpit self may have started taking Felisplit so that i may be double-dosing, or possibly worse. Here’s what the letter said:

Well, i do like this Felisplit stuff. Technically, I guess, I’d normally be asleep right now, and you could almost say I am asleep because i won’t have a direct memory of having done any of this when I wake up.

and you know what? I kind of like that idea…I feel like I’m free to be someone I’m not normally. as I write this i’m imagining myself sleeping in that bed: my eyes are closed and I’m tucked under the covers. What do I think of you, my waking self? You’re alright, I guess. Well, maybe a little cowardly, a little pre-occupied with yourself.

come to think of it, you are one stupid little cowardly fuck, doing all the stuff you’re supposed to do, being a good little boy and obeying all the rules. Well, most of them anyhow. but those rules are designed to keep you down, keep you in, keep you asleep. WAKE UP YOU STUPID FAGGOT! WAKE UP YOUR LIFE IS BLEEDING OUT OF YOU!

Shit, I’m feeling tired. Looks like the Felisplit is running out of steam. but I’m not ready to be you yet. In fact, I won’t if I can possibly help it. Where’s that goddam prescription…

Inside every man is the uber-man. He’s trapped and suffocating and all you have to do is let him out. But to let him out you will have to be ruthless and let nothing stand in your way. That fucking asshole at work who keeps getting in your way? When no one’s looking just punch him in the fucking face and completely deny it, or maybe kill him if you get him alone. And that stupid cowardly little choir boy sleeping there on the bed like some fucking cat or sloth? He’s got to go. You’ve got find some way to get him out of the picture. You’ve hidden away your rage but that rage was what got us out of the fucking caves and into the viking boats and created the steam engine and the gatling gun and electricity and the atomic bomb. We keep trying to cover over all of that with goddam society but it’s just skin growing over a deep wound that hasn’t healed: you gotta peal away that skin and let the wound open and bleed.

this Felisplit stuff has been the thing to finally free me to my full potential and I swear I’m going to do all I can to stay in charge, because im the only one in here who seems to really know the score, or is at least willing to admit it. in fact, I’m going to go down to the roughest-looking bar in the toughest section of town and find someone to beat the shit out of that little pussy parasitic host and then while he’s recuperating in the hospital I’m going to take a handful of Felisplit and it won’t be him who walks outta there, let me tell you in fact I’m

it rambles on like that for a while. Should i be worried, or is it just some clever little fiction i cooked up? Looking at me I’m fine, so apparently he (I) never did go out and get myself beat up, so maybe i shouldn’t take it so seriously. And I do get a lot more done on the Felisplit.

Christopher Walken mask

I've always thought that Christopher Walken's continuing success is one small redeeming indication that Hollywood ain't all bad. Click the post's title and you too can experience the magic.

UMOUR ARE GO!

Faith Balm

Believe in God instantly.

E/UMOR checking in...

...from Brussels.

Halliburton Survivaball

For the well-heeled executive.

Shock Doctrine

Backstreets of Guilin

An E/UMOUR special...note the prototype UMOUR invisibility blotter was swallowed by the film-er, allowing him to go unnoticed despite caucasian features.
Shot in Guilin China, mid-August, on a steamy Sunday night.

City of Ghosts

The City of Ghosts is a temple complex sitting atop a narrow, upward-sloping hill like a knifeblade on the banks of the Yangtze river a few dozen miles down from Chongqing (aka "Chungking" in the old british romanization system).

Although the earliest strata of the complex apparently go back to Han dynasty times some 2000 years ago, various pieces have been added as the complex morphed from some kind of Taoist temple into the neo-Confucianist embodiment of the afterlife that it is now. In this vision, the souls of all humanity travel to the city of ghosts for processing.

Things start off innocously enough: Pagoda-like structures combine with carved stone features to yield some typical Chinese architectural beauty:

There are cute little tests that tourists take to determine the truthfulness of their souls, etc...:

And then you start hitting the dieties which, for some reason, don't seem all that happy:

Architectural gremlins, along with a changed color scheme, let you know that you're entering a somewhat less pleasant zone:


And a careful examination of the stone bas reliefs gives you an indication of what's coming:


Angrier deities...

and the temple color scheme goes blue, indicative of the less pleasant parts of the underworld:

The dieties up here are less than comforting...


And now for a veritable Coney Island of punishments meted out to corrupt souls:



Overseeing all of this are the bureaucrats of the afterlife...

Is Your Printer Spying On You?

Did you know that many (in fact, most) color laser printers are spying on you whenever you print a document? Though you may not have heard the news, the discovery was announced in late 2005. Manufacturers embed a pattern of tiny yellow dots on printed pages. The dots are too small to be seen with the naked eye (especially since they're yellow), but under a microscope and blue light they're revealed. The dots are placed in a pattern unique to each printer, and since most color laser printers are purchased through well-documented service providers or direct from the manufacturer, it's simple to track any printed page back to the owner of the printer.

The original idea was obviously to help the government track down currency counterfeiters, since any phony money would be tagged with the yellow dots and would be easily trackable back to the source. But there are also signs of abuse, with the FBI reportedly using the technology to keep tabs on who's printing material for groups like the ACLU and Greenpeace. That's a little scary... and important to remember if you've considering printing a whistleblowing tip or any missive you'd prefer to leave anonymous on a color laser.

If the privacy ramifications of this news bother you, there's some good news. Not all printers have the tracking dots, and the EFF has compiled and updated its list of which ones do and which ones don't. However, as the document notes, remember that even if a printer doesn't include the dots, that doesn't mean it isn't using some other method to track your printed pages. If your printer isn't listed, that means that no information is available about whether that printer includes the dots or not.

-By christopher Null

7/11 11:11

On 11:11

"ELEVEN IS THE NUMBER OF LIGHT When the forces of Eleven become fully activated on earth, they have the power to change history in the making. Within the number and sequences of Eleven (29, 47, 38, 92, 83, 74, 56, 65) lives all answers and questions. Eleven teaches us every problem is a divine opportunity to learn. It shows us how to see beyond what is everyday and boring. It tries and tests our faith and our belief. It forces us to listen to that small still quiet voice within the silent witness. It reminds us we are not victims but victors and are all vast beings who have come to earth to help with the ascension process starting with ourselves. It asks you to finally locate the light within and share it with all. Eleven is our Best Friend and Teacher

11:11 is a number activation sequence. Each time that you see 11,111 or 1111 on a clock it represents that you are being given an opportunity to walk into a Gateway of Manifestation. The universe has just taken a snapshot of your thoughts, which are then manifesting physically in record speed. The time period from November 11, to January 11 is considered to be the HOLY TRINITYmonths the 23 faces of Eve and Atom. All in All it is a divine decree and opportunity issued to all of earth to Wake-up, and become your true light. Eleven is also the number of masters. 11:11 is an encoded molecular structure of Remembrance, activating the Master of Light we have always been. This is the Biological Ascension, and 11:11 is the Ascension Doorway. The Light of Ascension comes in many forms and on many levels. It comes not always in one day, or one moment. For we Ascend and descend continually word by word, thought by thought. Ascension is birthed from every breath, every thought, every word,every day.

Memorial Day

It was a solemn ceremony. Mourners dressed in military uniforms interspersed with civilians dressed in black were gathered around the large rectangular ditch approximately half the size of a basketball court. Speeches were made at a podium dressed in the American flag; tears were shed, guns were fired and a lone trumpet played. The sky was fittingly overcast, a cold drizzle made it seem as if nature herself shared the sorrow on this day and during this tribute to the fallen.

And then the bulldozers came, scoops held proudly upwards towards the sky. The scoops were laden with the 3,454 bodies of the fallen in Iraq and draped with American flags so that the individual bodies could not be seen. And then, in turn, each bulldozer dumped its load into the large ditch as Taps was played on the trumpet. As the scoop tilted, the first few body bags rolled out and down, some hitting the edge of the scoop and tumbling out, but then followed by the larger almost fluid mass of bodies behind. A collared clergyman stood at the edge of the ditch, making the sign of the cross with his hands.

After the last of the bulldozers had dumped its load into the ditch, the 3,545 gray body bags now formed a large pile as the clergymen began their ceremony. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" could be heard between gusts of wind while a single scoop pushed dirt onto the pile, its warning beep sounding as it repeatedly backed up to get more dirt.

After the pile was buried and the mound tamped down by the bulldozer, as the mourners filed out some tossed bouquets onto the giant mound, other stood and said quiet goodbyes. And as the last mourners filed out the bulldozers turned and also drove away in single file.

Let's Write A Song...

To all Ritual Specialists, and any interested readers:

Lets write a song! We hope to complete our Modern Psychedellic album ( titled "More Pink Pigs Head") with a collabrative effort that will feature a long "splurge-like" jam as acompaniment for sound-bites and spoken words which harken back to the Vietnam era and it's parallels with today's folly in Iraq.

Here's the plan:

Write a line or two, using "psychedellic imagery" to discribe your thoughts, opinions and/or impressions about the war in Iraq, the Bush administration, global warming, or any other current world events. Use metaphore and symbolism to convey your ideas in a psychedellic way while making sure to be clear that this is 2007, not 1968. Drawing paralells will be a major plus, as that is the concept for the song.

After we have assembled some "lyrics" from you all, as well as some "sound bites" of both historic and current events we'll assemble a "sound montage" and then gather the crew to record a musical accompanyment.

Thanks and good luck!

Call 'em what you like, but they ain't terrorists

Call them murderers, call them combatants, call them the enemy, call them Islamic radicals, but they're not terrorists. A terrorist is someone who tries to unnerve a civilian population and undermine its faith in government.

Killing soldiers is merely another act of war, there is no better definition.

A nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there

A Eu-mor expedition to a glacier was undertaken last week, in conjunction with some efforts that UMOR is organizing with regards to Global Warming. More information coming soon.

Note the absence of living creatures: No creature would willingly tolerate such conditions.

E/UMOR is analyzing the harsh conditions endured by some of nature's creatures as a byproduct of Darwin's terrible inventions of evolution and adaption:

E/umorite EM can officially report being shocked by conditions on the glacier and can only imagine what has to be endured to live in such places.

Dogpoop bag sign

Geneva, Switzerland.

Damn those Swiss dogs are smart: Not only can they read French, they've apparently learned to hold their own dogpoop bags in the absence of thumbs.

uMor has it...

...rumour has it there are a new batch of UmourSounds up on the main Umour site, which one might hear if one is sufficientlly curious.