St. Robot’s Futurefic/Slotefic/Flashfic

We received a submission from St. Robot recently, and have been waiting for more from her, but then we realized: there is no more, it’s a one-sentence story, perfect in its compactness, and in need of no further elucidation. So, then, here it is; Slotefic by St. Robot:

In the future, everyone will be Slote for fifteen minutes.

The end.

Slotefic From A.J. "Bugs" Mitchell

O boy…our first bit of Slotefic by the famous Irish-Iranian Heideggerian A.J. “Bugs” Mitchell. Known to many as “Mommy,” Bugs is well regarded for his Slotefic and his academic writings, include the recent introduction to and translation of “Four Seminars,” available from Indiana University Press. Bugs is also the man who coined the popular catch-phrase “some of the chips are defective.” Here’s his Slotefic…enjoy!:

Sam finished flossing his teeth and turned to face himself in the mirror, raising his lips in a snarl. “Jar-Jar like,” he snarled. “Not my best Jar-Jar voice,” he thought. He shook his head, left the bathroom, and traipsed over to the kitchen. “Me eat chips, Doctor Slote?” “That’s right Jar-Jar, me eat chips.” He grabbed a handful of corn chips from the open bag on the counter and took a seat on the couch. “Now where were we?” Sam clicked on the television with the remote and cued a videotape he had been watching. The image quality was quite poor, it looked like it had been filmed in a tunnel. The outer edges of the screen were rounded off, black, and fluctuating. There was no sound. >>Crunch<< The back of a man in a grey flannel blazer was surging and retreating from the screen. >>Carunch-crack<< The shaky camera pulled back enough where one could make out a hat atop the man’s head. There was no discernible background. The man’s head turned briefly and the grinding of chips came to an abrupt halt. The man’s face was clear for a moment. Sam paused, reviewed, and advanced frame by frame. The face was obscured and grainy. All that could be made out was the mouth open in a tiny “o,” the eye was covered by a splotch of black. Was there a moustache or not? Pushing play, the movements of the man increased their frequency and then after two brief punctuating thrusts came to a complete halt. End of tape. “He fuck her good, Master Luke” “Yes he did.” Wiping his hands on his black jeans, Sam rose from the couch, grabbed his satchel, and made his way out the door. He was due to give a talk in 25 minutes and could not be late.

Battleslote Galactis

Battleslote Galactisam: Slotebuck Quest

Slotebuck’s viper careened through the upper atmosphere of the planet Capretentious. Here she hoped to find the fabled S/pear (of) A/pollo that would lead the surviving colonists at last to the fabled 13th colony of Derridearth. But something was wrong…her ulyssometer was indicating a heavy influx of gabler particles, particles which appeared in the warp trails left by Cylon ships. Could there by Cylons in progress near here?

Slotebuck flipped up her visor to put a Winston light into her waiting mouth. She could certainly ride her way through a gabler storm; she had done so many times in the past. Puffing hard on the filtered delight, she checked her instrument panel. The text display was definitely showing the effects of gablerian warping. But wait…something even more sinister. The text panel bent and deformed itself in mock obeisance to Slotebuck’s intentions. These were not gabler particles…these were danis rosons! Although cleaner, lighter and supposedly less threatening than a gabler burst, it had been discovered that they could completely alter the sense-sphere and produce a confused proliferation of editions.

Slotebuck pulled back hard on the viper’s throbbing red joystick. Her hand moved up and down it’s girthy mass, guiding the craft into the waiting, wet gash of land that lay below. With a climatic crash the viper skidded to a polyvalent stop. Slotebuck looked up. It seemed that the danis roson storm was passing harmlessly above…she thanked the god Stephenus and jumped from the cockpit of her craft. Now she must scour the lacanian plains, looking for the mysterious phallic artifact. She knew that the S/pear (of) A/pollo had been in the Museyroom, but with the progress of the Cylons through the area there was no longer any way to see where that had been. Instead of a the great cities of Capretentious, all that was left were fragments. Or, perhaps…the fragment!

Cylons in Progress

Wonderful news! We have just received an advanced copy of Sam Slote's new book The Cylons in Progress of Dante, Mallarme and Joyce. It is, as expected, the greatest single volume of writing ever produced in the history of the written word.

We have a short excerpt from the opening chapter here:

In his study Un coup de Starbuck, Robert Greer Cohn offers the following assessment of the poetic works of Stephen Mallarme, as they relate to the Battlestar Galactica second season opener: "Sa carriere toute entiere, litteralment son existence tout entiere, etait orientee vers un Ouvre depassant par son ambiteuse conception les Cylons les plus extravagant d'emmission original, ou meme des Cylons de Joyce." The problem with such a grandiose claim is, quite simply, that Mallarme wrote all his works prior the airing of the original Battlestar Galactica. Thus, despite many promises, Mallarme never managed to write the Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia whereof he so often spoke. To be sure, he did orient his writing towards the creation of a series about twelve tribes of humans fleeing through intragalactic space while pursued by a robotic race called the "Cylons" (sic). At the beginning of Le livre, instrument spirituel, one of many essays offered in place of The Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia, Mallarme wrote that "tout, au monde, existe pour aboutir a Le Encyclopedie Galactica Battlestar." That is then The Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia or what impacts into The Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia. All the fragments that he left behind (including essays such as Le livre, intstrument spirituel) end up in a virtual Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia. Yet with Mallarme, there is no The Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia there. With Mallarme, the very possibility of The Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia becomes coordinate with the absence of The Battlestar Galactica Encyclopedia.


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We hope to have more excerpts up shortly!!!

Poem By Slote!!!!

Thanks to K-flash for sending this in: this is an actual poem actually written by Dr. Samuel Boaz Slote!!! It sees publication here for the first time ever!!!!!

The poem follows the following colon:

dogs

hot dogs

coney island... ...hot dogs

big dogs

Slotegans Wake

Sloteyrun, past Mona’s tavern, from Sammy’s store to Buffalo bay, brings us by palpatinious pathways of representation back to Seventysecondstreet Being Slotehouse.

Sir Sammy, belover dames galore, fr’over the Jersey Shore, had passencore rearrived from North Newyorkia on this side the scraggy inlet of Hudson Minor to wielderfight his vagisle war: nor had employer’s stocks from the dream Aberdenee extendulated themselves to Sloten’s Country’s gorgeousness while they went delayin’ their slotepick till later times: nor a price for a buyers released yoda yoda to hometheater thecompletesaga; not jedi, though naboo much later, had a slotelad appr’hended a blanchot’ed iPod: not jedi, though all’s fair in vanhauling, was trusting jameswad wroped with twine packagetask. Lots o pecks o Mona’s malt had Mhat and Sham swilled by newyorklight and Oaksey end to the ragingbrew was botanica scene on the eastsideface.

SloteFic Blog Begins!

Like many fans of SloteFic, I've been looking for a place to post my barbarian, sci-fi and gothic romance SloteFic, since SloteFic.com now only accepts texts in the Oulipo, experimentalist and instruction manual genres. Well, here at slotefic.blogspot.com we are not so pretentious, and are happy to host any and all SloteFic, even SloteFurryFic and SloteJarJarFic. So please, send us your fic and we'll gladly post it right up here with due accreditation.

Note: when referencing SloteFic in dissertations and academic journals it is standard to cite both the author and the site's URL, as well as the day and time posted. We've had some problems with this is the past, and I don't want to have to go the legal route next time International Journal of Subatomic and Nuclear Research and SloteFic decides to reprint an entire SloteEntry without any sort of credit.

Slotor Vs. Greenblatticus: Post 1

Slotor awoke from his long rest and shrugged three of his lithesome girlfriends off his burly forearm. His mindless servants toiled at the far end of his underground lair, loading and unloading boxes endlessly. “Odd,” thought Slotor, “that I should have so many women, when some there are who have none. But then I am the greatest hunter of wild beckettexts in the kingdom of Academicus. Bah hah hah!”

Slotor wiped the morning dew from his glistening skin and strapped on criticus, his great broadsword that can slice finely between the flesh of any man or beast who dared to go up against him. A mallarme flew by and he cut it in half with his sword, neatly dissecting it as it fell to the ground. A cry rang up from outside. It was young Joyce Quarterly, the herald.

“Come all fine warriors! The evil men of New Historicus march upon our sanctuary at Poststructurus! It is war!”

“I will deconstruct all of them!” shouted Slotor, his voice echoing off the smoky walls of his chamber, “all of them!!!”

to be continued