#kipple

[kipplecomics]

Kipple #4

Cafe work am I right guys...

I cannot just decide on an art style for this comic, but just remember, Jon Arbuckle also changed his face in the Garfield comics...

Remember: Kipple is also on instagram under savermenuart

[sadqueerenergy]

why do they call it kibble

and not uhhhh

[criticaldigitalmedia]

'Brainrot' AI on Instagram Is Monetizing the Most Fucked Up Things You Can Imagine (and Lots You Can't)

The hottest use of AI right now? Dora the Explorer feet mukbang; Peppa the Pig Skibidi toilet explosion; Steph Curry and LeBron James Ahegao

[somebirdortheother]

It’s Saturday so it’s time for my cats

Kipple and Obelix choosing chaos yet again

[j-august]

"Kipple is useless objects, like junk mail or match folders after you use the last match or gum wrappers or yesterday's homeopape. When nobody's around, kipple reproduces itself. For instance, if you go to bed leaving any kipple around your apartment, when you wake up the next morning there's twice as much of it. It always gets more and more."

Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

[tugumu]

無生物界の夢 Inanimate World

[matiasmorelbalbi]

more kipple here.....https://www.matiasmorelbalbi.com/kipple

[electropunk]

The weird dystopian sound of Vaporwave:

Oddly addictive as exploring a dead mall, an abandoned house, or the strange nostalgia of an 80s and 90s that never existed... and the bored tiresome fear of the foreboding present and near future. Like a reanimated zombie corpse, consumer culture continues it’s shuffling limp toward a future of kipple... kipple everywhere. 

Walking down the tree lined street, it’s cracked concrete being reclaimed by weeds and grass, pushing their way through. Once a place where kids walked home from school, played hopscotch, skateboarded and rode bikes. Now most of the houses are gone, replaced by strange urban meadows. Dead street lights, dark against the bright sky, hover uselessly over young trees and other foliage eagerly reclaiming the landscape.

Once in a while there is a burned out or stripped abandoned house. It’s doorway is littered with wet plaster debris. It’s windows, long gutted of glass and frames, stare out toward the street like skull sockets. The mouldy breath of the house’s decomposition reaching the street upon which I am walking. 

Even more alien and rare is a still occupied house. 

Garbage is everywhere. Broken pieces of stuff once coveted as they sat in store display cases, waiting to be purchased. Now it collects in every crook or cranny it can find, either blown by the wind or unceremoniously discarded. A strange and totally disorganised record of recent consumer history. 

The wind blows through the trees and it is peaceful. The sunlight shining down like the sun in a cemetery... the sky still brilliant blue and white as ever.