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| Cartoon Coyote Brenda Cárdenas |
Coyote, he never learned the high concept. He's still rapping at rave parties, Skateboarding under deconstruction, past computer networks (keeps his Olivetti electric in the closet). Everyone wonders when he'll catch up like his sister, the computer hacking CEO of a major pharmaceutical company. Baby, hers are smart drugs performance art provocateurs tricking the tricksters, not the white heat Coyote shoots, snorts, swallows. Hey honey, I can fly through Ginsberg's naked streets at dawn. Coyote, he don't quite get it, applies queer theory to his reading of Burroughs riding freight train. In a post-structuralist world you ride on top of the axles underneath either end of a boxcar and watch the sparks fly! Don't get a cinder in your eye. That's the cyberpunk way to get your mojado butt from the frontera to the fields or the service sweatshops. Only if coyote don't find you first, and if he does, he'll eat you alive, crunch you down like chicharrón because he don't want no vegan dietary restrictions; no one gonna lay that trip on him. He'd rather gorge himself on your sweet meat until he autodeconstructs, blows himself to bits all up and down the Rio Grande. And in the time it takes you to find his plastic voodoo in your Lucky Charms, he'll be warming a stool in the cantina at the next border town. How's that for signification theory. |
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