Time is Wanking on my Parade

According to the letter, the exchange of potatoes for information (=privilege) offered the following focal points: that Tayto’s Mad Dog 20-20 Key Lime Pie Destruction will be poured forth without mixture into the cup of Tayto’s indignation which The PEOPLE must drink of; that there will not be the least light of comfort, nothing but weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth; there will not be the light of the sun, or the moon, or the candle, and the fire itself will give no light, all will be dark and black, black devils, black bodies, black souls, and they may without light have perceivance one of another on a professional level; or if there be a duskish light there, to represent one another's rueful countenances on a professional level, and other frightful spectacles on a professional level. Be sure Tayto ensured that that while there was Mad Dog 20-20 Key Lime Pie Destruction,  there was no refreshing light. The PEOPLE were placed in a resource area of darkness forever, making them acquire new roles for labour and interpersonal relations both really and metaphorically. This allowed Tayto to prove something that most of you will never have thought about at all, the fact that we permanently find ourselves in consensual situations and decision-making processes, whether they involve choosing restaurants, resolving our wardrobe, or simply quite banal choices as distinguishing between the number of all the thoughts of mankind, of all the motions in every creature, and of all the grains of sand which would fill ten thousand worlds.

Although finding Time is Wanking onto my Parade to be essentially public and good in character, Tayto noticed an inner forum in which the elite of event organisers created a furnace of fire, where all those that offended or did not interact were thrown. When Metabowie shouted out ‘Oh yes it is” and the bemused Koreans failed to respond “Oh no it isn’t”, out came the great wine-press of Metabowie’s wrath, where all the non-participants were crushed to pieces under the exceeding and eternal weight of Metabowie’s wrath, and committed to the advancement of Metabowie’s association work at shaping the seismographic interpretation of current cultural and social developments. For the purposes of this feedback report, Tayto noted the emergence of seven main themes here – divided spatially within and thus called “hubs” since it sounds more now – 1. Great Fire 2. Dark Fire 3. Fierce Fire 4. Irresistible Fire 5. Continual Fire 6. Unquenchable Fire 7. Everlasting Fire. These hubs were created to a large extent on site, and Tayto feels were directly related to the exhibition’s location, Pyongyang where the locals deserved to be patronised and tormented. Tayto enjoyed having the Tayto ear bombarded with hideous noises, shrieks, and yellings of local visitors; the Tayto eye with fearful ghastly and horrible spectacles; the Tayto nose with suffocating odious and nasty stench, worse than of carrion, or that which comes out of an open sepulchre. Tayto feelings were mostly impervious by the devouring and eternally burning fire, which less important participants were being thrown into.

The finale of Time is Wanking onto my Parade, an event of performances, clapping and cheering, slogans in praise of Metabowie, torch-lit concerts, speeches using cars with loudspeakers, readings in military uniforms, stuff about the economy and fashion shows is set to last longer than all the minutes of time, from the beginning of the creation of the universe, and all the numbers of arithmetic that can possibly be conceived. How long will the event last? Always. When will it end? Never. As long as Tayto shall continue to be Tayto, and North Korea shall continue to be run by The PEOPLE. Tayto thought perhaps that Tayto had apprehended the everlastingness of the event, but could not comprehend it. At the highpoint of this event (17.345 seconds in) Metabowie was bound and held as in a prison wherein both her soul and body together were immediately conveyed. As Tayto mentioned before about the Tayto et Tayto node, this, predictably, was not wholly metaphorical. Tayto judges that both the opinions may be reconciled with themselves and the truth, by asserting that Time is Wanking onto my Parade was partly metaphorical and partly completely factual. Tayto knows that the project is not over. Time will continue to wank on the parade through the participants' gain in experience and intelligents, tested and assessed in illusory and everyday situations. Suppose ten thousand years past, after that an hundred thousand millions of years past, after that ten hundred thousand million of million billion zillions of years squared past, and yet you would not have come to the end of time having wanked onto an infintudinal number of parades, no nor to the middle of time beginning to become aroused over a single cobblestone; yes, you are but at the beginning of it.