# once long ago in germany a friend of a friend one had only just met suddenly stood up and started acting oddly began to behave as though they were on some giant invisible stage performing a well rehearsed routine consisting of ir best lousy standup material that gets reliable 'working the crowd' style laughs out there on time and under budget friend and fellow researcher henry swanson was visiting at the time and just stared at this person utterly deadpan thinking they'd pseudo spontaneously entered some fevered talent show or strange imaginary play-state in this case it was a dire psychic state of a total show off one in desperate need of a swift decisive beating with a ten ton burning kayak paddle this was not in order to repress ir perfectly natural buoyant state of happy-go-lucky artistry but rather precisely in order that such a state be allowed to exist despite the entirely wrong-headed and entirely synthetic efforts of rando duck heads unceasingly turning otherwise public space into ir own privately dominated space for lousy performances of whatever - nobody cares like those holes who can't help but show off at public train stations that for unfathomable reasons feature a piano while busy passing strangers certainly appreciate the often pleasing sounds emerging from such pianos the ideas behind such performative expressions often feel unhealthy and systematically not meant to fall under pointed philosophical critique instead one is often forced to merely clap at the drab little neurospectacle like a performing seal clapping for a fish in any case there's a world of perceptible difference between a genuine lover of music expressing ir soul and vulgar opportunists merely out for clickbait upvotes and likes performing crass populist renditions of tiresome old classics with all the sensitivity of a drunken idiot banging on an empty paint can or that smug nerk in the pub last week who for some reason remotely imagines that this is quote 'ir moment to shine' who starts breakdancing badly when an oldskool hiphop track starts to play beaming with all the practiced idiocy of someone who thinks they've somehow won at realty it isn't quite the automatic ultimate slick pop culture flex you think it is jeremy sit back down there's a good lad one imagines tony jaa casually kneeing this guy in the sack before disappearing back into the crowd; thanks tony this person in germany finally sat down after ir invisible stage act with such a glow = like they'd just given the debut variety performance of ir live yet not one of us said jack only the friend you were visiting leaned over and whispered 'great aren't they' 'great oh yeah amazing' you replied leaning over henry swanson whispered what was that all that about some kind of awful and frightening stage sickness perhaps official republic of bob update via robert what: while actors and other quote performance artistes are perfectly welcome in the vast republic they will be kept a close eye on and cannot be automatically trusted it's one thing to have quote 'mad skillz' and have the confidence to display said skillz in public - but too often; with such advanced cases the main ideological notion is to merely overtake dominate privatize colonize and monopolize public spacetime and degrade it into one's own performative stage show basically symbolically state 'hey look at me aren't i unusual important and wonderful and cosmically unique - don't i positively just glow with showy incredibleness' see how the invisible state lights in my head make my hair glow an exclusive never ending one person one night only performance of virulent narcissism which in fact actively denies the public right to both genuine acts of collective artistry and quiet spaces for spiritual contemplation outside vulgar capitalistic expression one transforms into a tawdry performing circus clown automatically and aggressively expecting mass public appreciation such duck heads and shimmering synthetic peacocks often already have it all and whatever they do (play train station piano breakdance perform some kind of bs comedy skit before invisible millions of flans in ir tiny endlessly expanding skull) is not a measure of ir skill dedication to humble true artistic craft but merely an unceasing reaffirmation of ir dominance over everyone else around them who they secretly view as inherently less talented funny and worthy of uncritical phrase later on in the day this same twaddock was rubbing ir naked crotch up against a window in suburbia and being praised for ir wild sensual freedom gee is there no end to ir talent and the unceasing willingness and ease with which they express it henry swanson just turned to you in polite disgust and said how great it would be if such blinding stage lights were suddenly and unceremoniously switched off that is without expectation of reward or praise but simply because it helps make the universe a better more quiet and sensitive place now there's a public stage event worth actively paying for rather then unfortunately being in the vicinity of - the uncontrollable comic diarrhoea of a sociopathic obsessive with the cheap parlour trick of ir own bloated ego total elf absorption is not a viable survival tactic karen such people are not 'the main character' merely the bland expression of antisocial media based illness // republic of bob