Bacon, Man

There are many ways to live your life. Away from people, on a dead island of red sand, for example. Or perhaps in Denver, where there is a nice museum.

But there are things that will follow you long after everyone has abandoned you. There is the loneliness of animals, cold and patient before the abattoir. There is the air that smells of wet metal and sweetness. And of course, there is bacon.

Bacon is a zombie and a pirate and a monkey on the back of our recently collected imaginations. It is pliable and yet still frightening, like a sleep-walker you don't want to wake for fear that they will die instantly; their brains imploding at the impossible transition. But we can harness bacon, and we have. We are in a Post-Food era, inventing heedlessly and needlessly. Today I found this, and it is truly supranatural.


Where is your God now?

Constructed by a woman called NetDiva, this is an effigy for all time. A being with no knowledge of what it means to be sightless, having never had eyes. It knows no pain, but also no hope. It senses it's made from the flesh of other creatures but it revels in that, feeling the wind between its ribs and believing only in itself. An idol to desecration, whose ultimate destruction will brighten the world.

It knows what's InStyle and it knows What To Wear Now.
The answer is Despair, with maybe some syrup if you're feeling fruity.

Thank you, NetDiva, for this horror birth of true gore.

BACON OUT