Ok, well speaking of the 'Noddy Folk', its been a lovingly pre-apocalyptic week in the big scary WIERD World for sure. Charlie Sheen's meltdown and 'Hoarding' are all the VRage right now...and maybe the best thing about Charlie is he is himself a whoreder par VRexcellance, literally, albeIT. So the other night, inspired by the much anticipated premiere of 'Confessions: Animal Hoarders - Chickens!', and in particular the fact that the world's only chicken-hoarder's name is Peter(without the 'I', thus the added pathos sans ego/moi - don't touch ma rooster!), the WIERD felt excitedly hungry and decided to get her inner-Sheen on and whore-der a few chickens of ITs own ooh yesss...or seeing as my fave new chubby German weightress was workin whore der hähnchen was more like IT. The challenge as always for the WIERD in ITs lifelong goal of being eminently contemporary in the VRarest sense of the word...how can one hoard abstractly...or horde chicken abstractly...OR the ultimate feat(which was quite a fête it turned out): Whore der hähnchen en abstraktion! (As the grumpy sour Krauts Very Grammarily cringe with pleasure... :)

As we all know hoarding is a trendy new branch of the pathos-marketing industry symptomatic of childhood trauma and neglect etc. etc. blah blah all the best people are broken, we're all wierd VR lets party its wednesday amen. The seminal origins of pseudo-hoarding historically are in installation art of the 80s and 90s - the high era of marketing rooms full of garbage for cocktail hour fodder sold with a politically-ornamented eyewink, a genre of cultural practice which has since gone mainstream in the past few years as proper network TV popular culture. Theres no pseudo about it, ITs real deal now kiddies - you name IT, ITs everywhere and people are piling IT in and locking the door, and neighbors and family members are calling the cops - dogs, cats, diapers, broken tricycles "its MINE fuck off you can't have IT!" These things however are generally not things consumed by the body, and also things one can empathize with. You can cuddle your doggie, pussy, or cushy, fluffy hefty bag of a trashy-body all night long...wild squawking, sinewy roosters are a different thing altogether, made more complex by the fact you can eat them and their yummy friends, making it harder to keep them around. It was now time to abstractly hoard the roosters into public submission - ACHTUNG you little fucking little hähnchen whores!

The WIERD has long been obsessed with lighting in public places, and in particular entering a public place and often discretely requesting the waitstaff lower the lighting just a tad. What this does is it controls the space abstractly(see here also the WIERD's previously published text 'The Fog Machine as an Instrument of Architectural Resistance' from 2007) - a transparent blanket of light comes down over all things in extension in the room like the fingers of a hand that fiercely grabs the space of the room, the author of said adjustment is artistically behind the controls, for no reason other than the neverending joys of private perversion, a VRaison to live and pillage...this would be the medium to abstractly whoard chickens indeed.

So I called my not so little weightVRess Frau..."Dongka Sheen my lovely frau for taking my call how are you love? Listen I have a Very Rare request I'm coming down for a bite, can you do me a little favor and order 3 plates of spicy chicken fingers and give them to the 3 tables in each corner of the room on me?"..." Yeah I know what the fuck am I talking about story of my life ha ha, put it on my card I'll be there in a sec.!"...I switched off the window to the Whoredy hähnsheen world and prepared to enter it for real...dashing out of the house and down the street to the Whoredhouse for a little naughty fun. All was perfectly ready - tables in the 3 corners munching away with spicy, cornish delight and curious wonder mmm..."Hi, yes can we please sit in that table in the back, left corner...great thanks..." I took my seat behind the canvas, put my card down and got ready to whoreder the image..."Hey you guys, want some VRinks or appetizers tonite?"..."Yes hi, can we get an order of the chicken fingers? Oh and one more thing - can you lower the lights just a teeeny bit? its SO bright in here yikes." The lights came down perfectly, just as the last tables' fingers grabbed the space, and entered the body...the Wierd grabbed its coat, snuck out the back, flipped the lock, and called the cops - this is NO WAY TO LIVE...YES!...perfectly SHEENED and ready for the night! VR.