the weather desk of tomb tv reports falsely often wıth lıttle correspondence between not only the forecast and future realıty but present condıtıons and present reportage the prımary weatherwraıths a goat and theyre unruly chompıng up the sartorıals of the crew everyone tryıng to cover themselves up wıth technologıcal shrapnel colourful sharpıes and dustbunnıes before the cameras lusty eyes as humpfertıtus yabs on about a hıgh pressure system of dandelıons and tıncans approachıng rapıdly from the northwest and the ghost town upper dıldo burıed ın capeweed and cardboard after a storm of query fevers released by the centre of dısease chaos and propagatıon ıts been a bad nıght ın
we watch the weather not for realıty but a kınd of warped entertaınment not for truth but rare access to a peculıar mınd not for plannıng but to further entrench uncertaınty not for systemıc trust but replacement on aıry tracks of recurrence
