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That the idea that the enormous discomfort of listening to someone singing mildly and sweetly (but not TOO sweetly, not wink-wink-nudge-nudge sweetly) about terrible stuff drives us to look for the satirical or parodic intent that would resolve that discomfort.

That kind of deconstructive rationalization wouldn't be unique to music, but my instinct (in among my lack of caffeine at least) is that with music we'd feel uncommonly driven to make that rationalization, because music seems *special*.

Basically, imagine a song that taken at face value would just seem genuinely sociopathic. Not in a subtle or creeping or manipulative way, nor in an obviously winking way: just flat-out "there is something very wrong and off here" sort of mismatch between musical mood and lyrical content.

My gut feeling is we will feel in general driven to interpret it as some sort of parody, no matter how straight-faced, because the idea of raw, uninflected sociopathy in musical form is so unexpected.

Was having first-cup-of-tea thoughts about songwriting and parody and musical/narrative dissonance, like:

Assume a very pretty song. Assume some e.g. flatly descriptive, violent lyrics. Assume they're sung in a low-key musically appropriate way to the pretty instrumentation. Not with a contrasting threatening delivery that'd signal overt intent to *read* threatening; not with a winking, over-the-top "this delivery is too happy for these words" that'd signal overt intent to be weird/parodic.

Just finished up a collection of small paintings, trying to do something with my feelings about the kind of inherent lack of interface between my painting work and the sociopolitical clusterfuck we're living in while I do said painting work.

Still feeling myself out about these, and whether and how well they get where I was aiming.

Remember me
To one who lives there
She once was
Just somebody that I used to know

Frilly jeans
Are not my lover
[a narrative gap for which it turns out I lack the dedication right now to conceive a concise, rhyming and scanning bridge]
I don't have sex with pants

There's a similar argument to be made for why Hunger Games is a more conceptually sound take on a Battle Royale game structure than most of the actual Battle Royale games, but it's a lot easier to get into to ready-to-hand moral objections about the whole thing when it's oppressed teenagers being turned against each other for bougie amusement than when it's a dictator running his own armed forces training regime.

1. There has not yet been a battle royale game that made thematic sense.

2. There's a dearth of Dune games in the world.

THEREFORE: I propose a Sardaukar training exercise, set on Salusa Secundus.

It checks a bunch of boxes:

- clear motivation for killing each other (you're literally training as a death commando)
- clear rationale to expect a reward for survival (Imperial boon, promotion)
- top-down power structure capable *OF* granting/enforcing this strict, game-like murder ruleset

...yeah the way the game works is we all get in the pool and then whoever is "it" closes their eyes and then they shout "lorem!" and then everybody else shouts "ipsum!" and the person who is "it" tries to catch the other players, and you keep doing that over and over again until someone accidentally leaves the placeholder text in at press time

Ikea drawers
Keep the decor calm

Comes in white
Black and brown
Or with wood
Veneer wrapped round

Ohh, buy several Spider-MALMs

You Going
To Marcel

Rosemary and

YOU: "the scansion on the third line is wrong tho"

CTHULHU: *turns toward camera, stares silently*

Roses are red
Blood fills the sky
That which is dead
May never die

Roses are red
Or maybe they’re green
Alter what’s seen

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