Intern Note:We posted some words from contributor Marlow yesterday while the Boss was goofing off. We also got warned. Management has some hang-ups from the Compliance nerds bitching about just posting stuff. Our response was that management posts all kinds of dubious stuff without asking us, who actually look like America, whether it makes any sense. We regard the whole Intern crew as post-sense, generationally, and completely accept that rational Government position. For amplification of our sincereity we provide an Intern group photo:  

–       Stephanie and Josh Oh, we had some letters, too:  Dear Socotra Editorial Staff: Would you tell the old guys to stop smoking outside the Loading Dock area? It is starting to annoy the ponies and the feral cats.   –       Loading Dock Labor
Dear Loading Dock,
Management has directed us to extend our heartfelt regret to both ponies and those two (or more) felines. Punishment will be meted out with ruthless efficiency as soon as the perps return from Lunch.
– Stephanie & Josh   Dear Editor,   Several more electrical discharges before I offshore this speeding tropical depression.  My low-slung clouds have been grumbling recently with thunder.  A storm can only hold its breath for so long. —-  Maybe it’s only us who can see the coming new sunrise here.  They’re breaking the world, Vic (er, Steph and Josh).  They’ve never seen scorched earth.   It’s glass.  It shreds feet.  Nothing grows on or in it.   They do polite like we elders do screaming.  Their digi-world flows like millions of snowflakes.  Intense, numbing, seizure inducing, incomprehensible.  The data, not information let alone intelligence mind you, flickers across their faces.  Their concentration holds.  Taking it all in.  Missing nothing.  Understanding nothing.  As if mere unfiltered data could make them, their wants, and needs real.   They think they have memories of some past better times before all of us imperfects were born.  Only these recollections, conjurings actually, aren’t real.  They’re implants.  In their heads they all dream of having a toy — like a wooden horse.  Maybe with a gift inscription underneath.  And there’s this group of boys — older, big kids — who try taking it away from them.  So, they run.   It’s all so fake.   They were never kids.  The real world is made up of just sharks and marks.  Guess who the marks are?   Even, if we were to give them three guesses, they wouldn’t get it right.  Free stuff is that addictive.  Makes them forget that the real deal in life is our working and searching for something real and meaningful.   -Marlow
Dear Marlow,
Management is still at lunch, but we will mention your concern about older kids. We feel the same way. Sort of. Our devices are at the Loading Dock but we will get back a fuller appreciation of your concerns once they are back in our hands.
– Stephanie & Josh   Copyright 2021 Stephanie, Josh & Marlow www.vicsocotra.com