[momradio]

C POWERS - Abolish ICE / Losing History

We asked our team to do a deep dive into some community data. The results have been mulched and so far all we know is this: History as a story worth telling will only begin when the number of whole lives outnumbers the wasted ones. That means we have many more generations to go before history will begin. Today we make changes. For our Whole Lives Initiative, we will be instructing all our Community Managers to begin redistributing all the surplus wealth immediately! All inequalities must end now! What better time than now, what better place than here. Abolish ICE and reheat, reuse, recycle the ancient class war. In the front with the chant, we follow in the rear with the gear. ALL PROCEEDS GO TO DONT EVICT PORTLAND 

Abolish ICE / Losing History by C Powers

[momradio]

There is an essential economic infrastructure that any government needs to function, which can easily be disabled and even paralyzed without the use of armaments or costly and advanced equipment, with the small investment of resources and time.

A.) Objective Color / Subjective Emotion: Each color on the color wheel is associated with a subjective psychic and emotional value. B.) Breathtaking Color Palette: The Breathtaking Color Palette is derived using a scientific method of color assignment based on the product’s essence and primary features. C.) Cut and perforate the upholstery of vehicles; break windshield wipers and headlights of vehicles; cut and perforate tires. Put dirt in the carburetor and distributor.

At work: spill liquids, damage cashier tablet; steal, hide key documents; threaten the boss by phone; call in false alarms of fires and crimes; disable alarm systems.

1. Wet a sponge

2. Wrap the sponge tightly with a string and let it dry

3. Remove the string

4. Introduce the sponge into toilets or water drains to stop them up as the sponge swells

Spazm is Ryan Howe and CH Rom. Mars 2112 de Chiffon was recorded in NYC, 2020. All music by Spazm. Mastered by Jonathan Schenke.

Mars 2112 de Chiffon by Spazm

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Shopping cart now empty need refill! Be your brand, trust in the bots! You are your own brand! Let the bots flag the haters! In the future we are all bots, and the bots are all us.

May the auto text guide me. Flow steady the big data. Always pump the media, you are unlimited!

The work and the worker, product and producer,, office and officer, the great evolutionary merger is underway. This will be the first of countless subjects that we will re-animate and re-assimilate into the content cycle stronger,, more apt,, more savvy,, and more game for innovative solutions than before. Watch, as we teach them to harness their superhuman cyberorganic career potential, marching along the avenues of innovation and production,, at once absorbing and exuding, receiving and transmitting, tasking and being tasked. Everyone the intern of another, each and every labor one of love.

momradio · Pump Media Unlimited - The Bots

[momradio]

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[momradio]

Wow could it be? Yes—the soundtrack to our eternal night at the haunted museum of convenience built on fungible violence, a perpetual motion machine continuously running self-enrichiment fetish in a write-all program. Look! It's the pop-up gallery for art by cops—should we see if we can get tickets? Enjoy in the right setting. Abolish police and restaurants, perform new valuations, perform high liquid bailout of human life. Who is “we” anyway? An invitation to see and never cease to see, here behold ye the Maze and all its profoundly smooth frictionless corridors, first cynically envisioned and then later viciously executed by captains of death industries, and thereby efficiently facilitating a stinking, steaming, glimmering convenience built on death. A dance, a waltz, a trot—convenience, avoidance, ignorance. Or, express delivery of pop-up gallery cop art and upside-down guy fawkes masks, craft-beer ethno-state; set ablaze the maze. The only way is in—a better _something_ is possible. Abolish police, prisons, restaurants, offices, yuppies, exclusionary private healthcare, white supremacist santacon marching permits, white dreads, managers, slave-owners, CEOs, bail bonds, condos and artisanal pop-up kiosks on stolen land, all condos and pop-up kiosks, all businesses on stolen land, internment camps, detention centers, the school-to-prison pipeline, white exceptionalist blackface pop muzak marketed to children, grant programs specializing in mediocre white artists and academics, lotteries, all flags, all borders, internship sweepstakes, and reality TV.

I'm releasing this incredible antifascist masterpiece album on this stupid garbage ass simulated violence white supremacist holiday because, this, like every other album I've made, is about the whitegeist and the raging gurgling sputtering capitalist machine, and as such this is part of my small individual contribution to the fight. It's best suited for soundtracking your own efforts towards abolition and resistance, for stoking joy and righteous anger against subjugation, domination, and convenience-induced pacification. Or for any instance of joy, as long as flows from celebrating life over property. I don't want anyone to have to pay anything for this but if you wanna "donate" that's great I'll just be redirecting your donation to whichever BLM chapter is local or closest to you. You can also burn a flag while listening and send me video documentation of this activity, any day of the year. XO CH

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The plentitude of essential reduction drama washes over you like a warm bath of department-store-sourced 1,000-year guarantee 4K artificial milk. Dial in your privilege now and cross unpaid time and appropriated space to discover that, yes, you are the fabric of existence itself. This should not lead you to fancy yourself as above anyone or anything, but rather vertically placed among a continuous feed of itemized identikit practice runs. You are no greater than any single idea—e.g., “#$” or commercial marijuana détournement kitsch. Choose choice above all else, discover the DIY tic-tac deep within—what’s your preferred ad experience? It was just another tie-dye frat-house active shooter drill until Rom_Com showed up and starting playing what he called the “Eternal Highlight Reel” and what do you know minutes later it was just breh upon bruh with their eyes bleeding their knuckles stark white clutching to the point of penetrating their thick small-batch stickered aluminum cans and so I say to this guy to my left I’m like what are y’all watching and he just lets out this steady almost motorized gurgling sound and I look at his eyes holy shit his eyes there’s just “skip ad” where there used to be irises and shit it was horrifying I never went back there great show though not bad sound was weird and the ads went on too long but great venue. The manifold wonders of the lo-fi emo-hop digital currency portfolio scene lead me to my next point—the chandeliers! This place was SUCH a dump and then they start putting these chandeliers in the middle a bunch of intersections and on a few sidewalks and what do you know BOOM instant hotspot! Eating contest but it’s like the chick-fil-a cows eating their brethren and then of course themselves and their own flesh slow and horrific-like. OR! Or, viral vid in which LA Beast unwittingly eats raw cubed police flesh with Blue Line flag in background, freedom of speech and consumption, etc. Be grateful, not hateful. The Choice is sacred, and the Choice is yours.

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The seller is also among the scattered survivors and awaits with bated breath to contact you with the instructions on how to complete your curated avatar pedigree. Oh, how the winds of progress howl! Swoop in and produce conditions, conditional handshakes, a friendly kiosk, the whole deal. The demons eat what they like, Apple Jacks®-style, and they’ll come for us next. The kiosk waits where it is, ready to accept. If we want to survive, we must repeat the mantra: No one can stop you—realize your dreams forever, hash the hussle blessed tag ad eterna without any interference! Yes, this.

Here in the pus-filled epicenter of zeit and zest, hyperreal capital flesh spurs on innovations in collective coffeeshop convergence at the sunset of the age of ephemeral passing particulate freeze-frame of crypto-liquid time, and don’t forget to post before lunch—death is waiting! We make a data at once smooth and unsettling, bucolic yet alight with the million infopackages careening through the microvillage of your mind’s simcard. We are bass and we are sun, sky, and plastic. Whether you nektar-cast or LAN soft-play, we do bass for you and for all radical subjects of the namaste fascwave sewerverse. Are you ready for more power? Are you ready to multiply the options available at a single keystroke beyond the horizon of yesterday? @Are you ready then? Can you even? Our unity with the complimentary Providers will bring us to the warm and lit core of the hosted/presented premium-event continuum. The Oslo Bongo Accords are dead—long live Fade 2 MMA ESPN-core and hail all true heroes of the streamstep scene and related scenes! Do we really learn from mistakes? Do we need mistakes? Can we do away with the blunders? Be gone bloopers! Gone are the days of point A, point B, exhibit 1, the need to consider the needs of others, etc. Hand me my fact-based basil verbena headset and read me the options for engagement—are these entities live or html-based? What do they want with my flesh? Will I receive promotion? Am I content? Me = idea ?

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MOM RADIO 036: Alien D’s Big Bass Red Xmas

Undercover Boss Venture Claus putting you under? Don’t let his toothy bearded smile fool you—we all know his gestures of goodwill are merely token concessions to keep you and your comrades pacified and at bay. Remember the gulag lives in the mind of the people and the burning spires of the collective conscious will light our paths to the cheerful rupture of #republicans, #unwoke fasc-ion—sssyasss that’s right, it’s fascion, bb! Real Santas write only the bad names with Iron and Fire®, ethically sourced. Some might call it primitive reaccumulation: are you a do-it millennial or are you a burn-it millennial?

Delete, default and divest, paint the employee lounge red, and tune in to Alien D on MOM Radio while you do it! Burn your loan bills and shut-off notices for fuel and put some chestnuts in your manager’s tail pipe while Big Boss vapes modafinil oil to the deep .wav bass of Vapor 2 Mind’s new Kawaii Goth Cute Core Insta Bass Vol 2. Petty fraud scam the hashtag-hustle and get your red bass here—idk abt u but I’m decking these halls w the blood of the Black Friday loss prevention network commissioner and setting all career dials to “GO.” Feel the warmth. See the decorations. Make the Juul-Tide® gay-cosplay and you will get a large token redeemable for social capital!

Can we trade in our future for some sub-prime permanent-holiday cheer? We know in theory that Santa is a blood-sucking scab, and the crimson seas are rising–but will we act with integrity and with bold content or will we succumb to the promotional prosperity plague, the career coercion contagion? Can every state-mandated work break be an XMAS in its own right? Yes of course! Surely you can and surely you should, and if boss says no just smile and nod before you fire them with a union notice! We at MOM’s new HOLIDAY  Proper Propaganda Express® say why not make every moment a #pure moment? The gift of survival is bestowed upon us all who pay our membership dues.

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Picture if you will: 7200 RPM crosshair-meme synapse-stunting from dusk till dawn, with invisible terror-oriented lawn gnomes recording all of your data! Could this be our future, disproving the no-future #haters once and for all when they discover it preserved in a 360/3D viewable VLN XvidZ present? Spare none, DivX and conquer the codec once and for all! A body of yours is nothing but a dream of theirs! Simply respawn at the nearest Buffering Lot. Cyberdown now, y’all.

Call of Dance Duty Manga Military Fetish and The Reconstructed Built-in Headset, or: Did Somebody Say Cup-holder? Well, America gamed hard for these Cup-holders and we all know they are the best. Cold Drink advancement and Shallow State nostalgist grant winners in the Game Genie Fetish Affect analysis lab. Rub that @trash-2-legit converter three times while saying, “Wishful Thinking” or “My Wishlist” and watch in awe as the converter formulate a new and unique mediapathic meltdown scenario EVERY time! Total war, total entertainment, totally cya at the function!

Cheat code hash tag abolish the police, delete the creative class, close the hub, call customer service, pray to the official sunset at the end of history, and don’t forget to post before lunch! World-making, nation-building, avatar construction, #wokecontent de-theorization, @16bit_fetish_culturati_r_determined2_keep_it_colonized, AND: What If I Told You Instagram Was The Original Videogame? Remix kink, LAN soft-play, double wetwear, ultra-plus super-unlimited data plans on the everflowing wellspring of more-on-more account matrix, or, the Front Office presents Blair Sound Design /contributor activated/ FL USA/ SIMNET access/ cinecasting via MOMRADIO web-web all-access content stream unlimited, thanks!

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Welcome to the cybergnostic market of love—how do you wish to transfer your affection symbols? It is the mechanic forces of romance that drive and buttress the modular containers  of power. There is a certain libidinal fossil fuel that keeps the madness afloat. Do you hear that? If you listen close, you can make out some of the voices along love’s Hollywood-rendered river of hades that deltas into the 4D recordable hell of passion narrative reservoir:

“Haven’t you heard you could be good go for me. I have the taste for danger. I looked into your eyes and my world came tumbling down... I’m gonna be more than a woman. I don’t think you’re ready for this thing. If I had the chance, I’d never let you go.” (Bubble sounds)

“What it’s gonna be? Hold me tight and don’t let me go…”

(Digital piano, etc)

“I woke up this morning with this feeling... I decided I’d hide it from myself. I don’t know what I’m up against.”

(Parties indeterminate, often multiple speakers but sometimes just one, lots of drama and trauma)

“What is this thing called love? I’m quite sure about what’s going down but I’m feeling hunky-dory about this thing that I found. Now that we found love what are we gonna do with it?”

Do it, do it, do it.

(Compulsory non-fulfillment)

“I remember when I met you, I was drinking an espresso. I had my Mac, and you had your Mac, and you were reading J Crew. And I was such a big J Crew person then... Catalogs! Because especially, you don’t have to deal with people as much, you can just talk on the phone. Or not.”

You came home at three, I get a notion from the look in your eyes, etc.”

Love is aneconomic, love is good and plenty. When the grid falls and the power goes out, there will only be love and deconstructed ethical conundrums. But until the Jurassic Park-styled reptile crates and voltage-rich perimeter fences of the love prosperity industrial complex fail and crumble, love yearns to be free. In the meantime while you wait for transcendental rapture, enjoy this program that takes us on a journey to the heart of the terminally looping Valentine’s Eternal Un-jubilee Judgement Day® haunted house of digitally rendered and disk-storable romance!

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Existence is but a stress dream in the wind-up to the great big content-after-content in the sky, merely a pre-game ritual preceding the march to total optimization. Your rewards are waiting for you in your eternal soul coffer; our spirit servers never change terms and your prize can be claimed at ephemeral passing particulate freeze-frame of crypto-liquid time.

Seize the frame and become one with the civilization blockchain: insert a user token into the slot on the front end of totality and begin separating multiple identities into a stratified portfolio! Seconds later “you” will be dissolved into a fixed-state-free “us”, or network. After that process completes, clumsy and negligent interpolation splits the astro-turf Earth and gives into one of our DX-pression chambers (manufactured by DX for Mom Radio Interprises) where it is exploded, imploded, defragmented, and re-animated and then exploded once more (our signature Fortified Inversion® process) and then uploaded to a free-range genetically unique net-organism. Assets and their holders will roam the digital savanna once again, free to consume, re-gurgitate and re-cycle!

End it! Make it stop. Never-ending bonus that completely coats the mouth is nice, but definitely toxic. Scan it! Is society’s greatest loss the battles it wins every night? How lit is it? Send it! Do we really learn from mistakes? Do we need mistakes? Can we do away with the blunders? Be gone bloopers! May we all excel in our journey towards optimal efficiency in collective participation as a synchronized population of daytraders on the human captial market. The prismatic spectral reward carrot is ever closer now and its tantalizing scent irritates and stirs the collective territorial prismatic outward branding warrior ego.

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What gives us that fleeting illusion of life, the specter of purpose, our fetish for work, our motivation to persist in the quixotic and inane? What notion or principle forms the basis for our daily plunge into the void of the spirit? From whenceforth does this cold wind blow over our desks and cubicles just after team lunch? Who ate my hash hustle tag power bowl? Momradio Front Office does not have the answer, but we do have a visual on the fantastical fruits that will come at the collapse of the superstructure and all its police, restaurants, and patriarchally-anointed artisanal knights: yes, it is a symphony, that beckons in the air, a crescendo of dis-ownership fluttering and sweeping us up off our feet and out from under life's tiring leases.

We will never trade our precious moments, but we can crowdsource our time here on Earth. Death is but a charm purchasable by only the most obscurely coveted crypto-currency! May we find the reeds and the brass and the timpanis to play the funeral procession march tuned to the crystalline key of society’s exsanguination drone.

Desire: an invisible vertebrae network built to hold together limbs of self determination. They say determination can be found in the wild or otherwise in a mixture that is one part passion, two parts circumstance, and four parts family values, but what do they say of ‘self’? Again, MOMrADIO F-Office have no answers, only data! Throw away the self, break from society’s play-station prison, find Community®, re-program fulfillment, cancel all subscriptions, delete all apps, relearn love and empathy N. O. W. That’s what we call music.

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Bored and feeling adrift at the binary meeting in the Culture Design department? Let artisanal partiarchy's boldest maverick The Spectre of Death titillate you with an edgy Quote of the Day: “Every entrepreneur-musician learns at some point that you don't know what you don’t know” --Sr. Intern Candidate Tyler, Mom Front Office USA Champion Marketsman Fit Of Body explains how to create unique, aleatory-like audio juxtapositions in our newest podmix! No .app necessary here, all that is required is an open mind ready to unwind and realign. Pay no mind to the stork poking out from behind the powerpoint drape screen with a mouth full of hundred dollar bills. At least don't look him directly in the eyes, anyway. As you take in the excellent presentation, feel the trance around you. Creation is nothing more than the flick of wrist, it just has to be the right wrist and at the right time. The match across the strike strip, the bulbous and inviting delete button, the upside-down-printed "ENTER" key at the heart of humanity's termination. Scented air begins to fill the boardroom, the flesh of the other board-members suddenly immolates and explodes into viscera and lavender vapor. Ah, yes--that is a very nice breeze, indeed. With the nuisance of co-workers and co-operation and cohabitation no longer an issue, you race down to the self-checkout desk with a desire for self-help wish-fulfilment burning like a great candle waiting to be found in the dark. The seller is also among the scattered survivors and awaits with bated breath to contact you with the instructions on how to complete your curated mix-drobe. Oh, how the winds of empowerment howl! Swoop in and produce conditions, conditional handshakes, and a friendly kiosk. The kiosk waits there, ready to accept. No one can stop you--realize your dreams forever, hash the hussle blessed tag ad eterna without any interference! Text “MIX” to 50128-9 to get a special new sample of our latest download HD MOM! Find your flavor inspiration at the frontier of possibility, just past the blazing plasticine infernos of antiquated media nostalgia, beneath the tree of aggregated life at the banks of the sea of unrealized as-yet-unimagined content, glowing with infinite justice ready to shower upon organic connective fibers of self and system.

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Like multiple titans of genre-fetish history crammed into the converstional glitch echo chamber of a proto-creative-class stretch hummer limosine, @MOMRADIO plows into the future with in-house masters-of-delivery Pump Media Unlimited! Celebrate the big 030 with us as we swerve and serve it up with verve that your hobbyist deejay network friends can hardly pantomime, cloud-based controllers and app-based credentials notwithstanding. Incorporated evaluated subordinated and reordinated, subsumed coopted, one for one and sum for sum. Back it pump it up and dump it back, media media media, alright! MomRadio is love, liberty and an assault on patriarchy and specifically its creative-class tentacular investments.

Your beta is shot; your social parameters need updating! Call now for deprogramming. What is free labor and what is free pleasure? Paid-for leisure is a byproduct of the advancement of the collective goals of the creative class at a blistering pace. But when do you stop to smell your core identity festering like a crushed begonia on nori cucumber paté tied with an edible ribbon that reflects only the deepest frequencies of light from the darkest reaches of space? 

Listener testimonial:"Spiritual labor playlist now empty, require refill. Must acquire @MomRadio to make office extra steamy sensual Oslo Bongo Accords babyboomer entrepreneurial denim standing-desk success story making new global yuppie baby village. Gentle basil verbena candle-lit conception in Paris, home birth in Tahoe, full prismatic transformation in the middle of a desert road under the blinding and enlightening light of UFO creative gilded class god. Alien livestock liberation force, show us the truth in app-based curios and outer-dimensional trinkets. Thank YOU, @MomRad!" 

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To continue breaking through to the eastern seaboard crafts matrix, MOM Radio Front Office team is boosting signal with all the tinfoil and artisanal confetti we can find, and our dear comrade in the art-identity discipline, Time Wharp, has joined in the righteous productivity party! Wharp has flown in from bustling, bubbling, frothing NYC, to deliver us and our listeners a treatise on toxic institutional mazes, systemic media malaise, and artisanal concealment of power-enforced illness. Wharp channels loop fetish bad trips and shock jock primal screams to blast us through the looking glass to reveal the necrotic machinations of the new and interminable real. Or, here it is direct from the source: "This whole editorial page & ideological consistency thing can be pretty rough sometimes. How are you, in Trump-adjusted terms? Simultaneously disillusioned by both the technotriarchy AND the woo-hoo hippie crystals? Can’t relax with the Prisoners of Masculinity filling your streets south of 14th? Podcasts just not cutting it? Your nostalgia for instrumental focus & basic aptitude/competency isn’t elitism if you’re willing to cough it up. Don’t be distracted - truth is, you’ve got it all figured out. Welcome to the winner’s circle.This token is proof of your completion. Wear it, display it, or place it on your fridge. Let it be a reminder that even though the Challenge is over, your healthier lifestyle is just beginning." 

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MOM RADIO HERE BOTH CEREMONIOUSLY AND NOT SERVING THE HALL/ELL/e/MARK DYS-HOLIDAY WITH A LIVE TRANSMISSION FROM F******, IN WHICH SHE PERFORMS DIRECT-TO-DRIVE INCANTATION OF TERMINAL-CAPITAL PROSPERITY WOMANESSENCE AND BABY-MANCHILD ARTISANAL PATRIARCHAL CRISIS SHUTDOWN! WE ARE SO VERY BLESSED AND CHARMED, THE TRANSMISSION COMES CODED WITH A SUB-VIRAL MURMUR THAT BENDS PARADIGM DAD’S PURVIEW SO WAY BEYOND HIS FLAT EARTH BABEL, INCLUDED:

There are scattered index cards on the hotel carpet, out of order: Evolution, History, Supply chain, Generations, Ladders vs. trees, Government body, Ultimate body, Dad, Arrogant hindsight, "Product".

Walter Cronkite is sharing a pastry with Walt Disney.

Here is a list of talking points next to the podium reading: "Our" world, "The Working World", "Mother", Calling it, Seeing it from the outside, Gaia is not the globe, Gaia is not a goddess, A white woman is an expert phonetic of an alleged ancient language.

Fade to pink; my breasts tight against a shirt reading “Why haven't we seen a photograph of the whole earth yet?”

Cronkite is asserting himself far back in the past. He teaches an ape to walk upright and hold a tool. “Take it from me,” he says.

He wants us to know he delivered the News that our bodies are made of. We are in the delivery room, and evolution is Finished.

There’s a man a block away who gets that I am about to put my finger in my mouth and appears on the other side of the glass. “Stay with the trouble.”

Ancestors are witness,

F