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Re: <nettime> Interview with Tommaso Debenedetti and Matze Schmidtabout
John Young on Fri, 24 Dec 2010 20:13:55 +0100 (CET)


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Re: <nettime> Interview with Tommaso Debenedetti and Matze Schmidtabout WikiLeaks


Yes, quite true. Bear with this:

Yesterday RT TV conducted an interview at its fourth or fifth New York
bureau location. A person was videoed by an unstaffed camera being 
coached by an earpod from voices at the DC or Moscow control room,
ye gads, Moscow Central is alive at the Counterrrorism Center, Mclean,
VA. 

The stooge watched his image tilting forward a la Charlies Rose stupor
with an inserted background of teeming 3rd Avenue outside not the actual 
background drooping black fabric, surgical clogs and getaway bags.

An engineer had arranged the mic and earbud and checked the camera
then left for lunch or a secret mission to climb into the ceiling above to 
capture brainwaves, or plant a tiny seed in the noggin of the dupe, or
wank a wad of infinite jest. 

Nobody below in the "news bureau" except the dolt yarping artless drivel
to monodical questions of an android unseen being patched into the 
show, live, it was lied, but probably a staff lunchroom comedy lampooning 
eager beggars of attention at the bottom of the TV cess spew.

RT TV in NYC is located amidst the UN missionary-rich SIGINT-capacious
nabe of copious diplomatic cablings of neant cum dasein cum dang an
sich. Viewable panning in neighbhood windows are pan-national cameras 
capturing the UN Central urgency of how little is happening outside the 
overtaxed homelands.

Shortly a live butt-heaving beauty enters the suite, declaiming, that was
fantastic, the best we've ever had. We want you back, what's your 
availability frame? Hypnotic smile, a squeeze of your bicep, leg akimbo.

Well, you blurt, pumped with range-free lust , I'm free all week.

That's fantastic, she says, fantastic, let me check with headquarters,
I'll email you in an hour. You were great, just great. Thank you for 

coming. Cheek kiss, not air, real gloss to mark you pwned.

You wait in the hall for the elevator. The bureau emits telltale SIGINT 
hoots.

No email, nothing, that's it, fake-humped and forgotten.


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