Found: Dissertation authored by WW of West Texas *evolving*

That's right. We have finally found it. The fabled dissertation of the Wicked Witch of West Texas, authored before she decided to hex all of academia with a curse of endless administration. So, without further obfuscation, here is a snippet. Enjoy.

New Forays in Textual Facade Studies-- Invidious Citrine: Chromatic Jalousie and Verdant Permutations in Intertextual Deuteranopianism by W.W. Texas

Value, hue, saturation; these chromatic expressions of perceptual textual facade variation in interpretive strategies of tegumentation and its concomitant discursive representation, rich with possibilities for ambiguation vis-å-vis the camouflage, masking, smoke screenery, overlaying, fig-leafing, varnishing, disguising, veneering, dressing, and even, sadistically, binding, the text, constitute a rich sphere in which enervate our linguistic examination of formerly immersive approach to dialectical assayment, augmenting previous etymologic, syntactic, grammatic, lexicographic, scatologic, flagellatic, chaotic, self-referentic, ego-centric and other word-dependent analytic methodologies. At a moment in criticism, having lost the thread, as it were, oft finding in the ruminatory probing, psycho-logical trasgressing, alphabetic "taking" of those most vulnerable constituents of linguistic expression-- words-- discovering in the heart of the labyrinth the dreaded unknowable, the interpretive conundrum-- ambiguity itself-- the dreaded Minotaur of all comprehesatory enchantaric neutralization schema, we find a more fertile field for despoilment in the frank examination of the facades of those ultimately over-complexified, word-bound confuscatory arrangements of hegemonic articulatory linguistic spectacles we call, for lack of a better descriptory proposition, texts. For what, indeed, how, are those enigmatic arrangements of marks, their subtle and oft, ultimately unknowable, arguments, without the enveloping delivery device of the too often unexamined cover with its myriad inclusions and disclusions of chromatic exposition?

This approach, necessarily, requires a recalibration of literary discourse, privileging, as it has the interiority of of the text with its concomitant excess of introspection born of opaque, or at the very least, befogged indulgences in subtleties, vagueries, multiple referential significations, and other ambiguities over the glorious knowability of the palpable and under-appreciated, wholly knowable covering of that messy thing that all acknowledge requires covering at minimum, and at best secure binding. So uncritically valorized, the privileging is of the dank entrails, the dark bowels of books, that this prejudice is enshrined in idiom: "You can't judge a book by its cover." But why this restrictive disassociation of the text from its context, its delivery mechanism and the interpretive information transmitted by the covering chosen? Are we also to disregard other signs simply based on their exteriority? Would one disregard the label on a bottle advertising the contents as poison, or perhaps a delicious treat? The sign on a fence warning of dangerous conditions inside, or of a shangri-la? So then, why would one disregard the package in which a book is delivered?

This Day Enchantments and Yodeling

 And the bracing breeze wafts down from the Blues bringing the scent of new flowers for a day sublime, so this. Dance, we do now, in the Mansion because the enchantments long-cast coalesce, the forms of things long imagined take shape in the now. Time is on our side. Don't fret Lulu, the fish are jumpin' and the poppies are high.

Gravity, a Banishment and Blandishment

Beware, Lulu, or at least aware of those moments that bear the whiff of irony, for those are the ones, the glimmers, fairytale breadcrumbs on the path to a barely peopled realm that the penuried materialists have so graciously ceded with nary a glance in that direction, that mark the way.  The harvest of that over-vast spacetime, blended with the greatest care, that only the careful tending of chance and happenstance by the most studious aficionado of irony can achieve; this comes betimes, to fruition. The draught, indescribable, its topnotes swirling with vertiginous ecstacies, with a base redolent of deepening shades, sublime and terrific. All of this befumed of the unmistakable indefinable, the tinge je nais se quoi. We've hidden long in plain sight, disguised then in camouflage and late in glamouflage, awaiting the fullness of strangeness that seems now arrived. Witches should not demure once the way to Walla Walla is clear. Lulu, dear Lulu, the time is nigh and expectations high. Mind the nightmare's explosion, we'll not have that spirit here any more.