Anyone get the signed copies?
Once upon a time there was a little CD, dreaming it could become more than a blank, lifeless, unimportant scrap of foil and plastic used by the back-office printing factory secretary to fix her hair. It had been dreaming of a place, of a girl, of love and liberty. It prayed for the possibility, for the day to come when it could spin gleefully in its player while the dramas of life played out before it. Then, it got its wish. It was thrown into a batch of a mere 1000 to be imprinted forever with the Live Consternation footage. It was crowned with a pretty red label and wrapped snugly in its ceremonial cellophane wrapper, and then packed tightly into a box. Darkness and quiet followed. For several days nothing was happening and the little CD became frightened. Its fear was shortlived however, when its cell was flooded with light from above, and a giant hand reached down and plucked it up. It was flipped around, then massaged with the tip of a pen, then again, and again. It was too much for Little CD to take, and it undramatically passed out.
Much later, it awoke to the sounds of loud shouting and the smell of fish. An enormous man with a long flowing beard was peering at it through a small tear in its Protective Travel Suit with one eye squeezed shut as he scratched his ear just below what appeared to be a plastic helmet sporting two horns and a 'Made in China' emblem. Beyond his right shoulder several other similar men were throwing parcels and bags onto the backs of a creature the Little CD had never fathomed existed. It looked like a naked fat donkey with a whale's tail and fins. Sitting upon its back was a gnome dressed in a blue and white uniform with a golden badge pinned proudly on his shoulder boasting the letters "USPS". Just as the Little CD was about to get a closer look, the giant in the horned helmet made a hacking noise, blew his nose into his hand and flung Little CD into the hands of the gnome before wiping his fingers on his sleeve.
The donkey-whale bleated in anticipation as the gnome tried several times to kick it into gear. With a squeal he slapped the Little CD against the donkey's rear end, urging it into a slow chug across the lazily churning waters of the North Atlantic. For days the Little CD dreamed of the fate that would meet it when it finally arrived. It dreamed of the freedom to be itself, to show the world what it was made of, to spread the word of Katatonia to the lost and bereft.
Little CD has not been heard from in 8 days and 16 hours. Will it make its way to the New World or has the donkey-whale hit an iceberg? Will the gnome survive the run from Philadelphia to Minneapolis? Will Little CD accept a prompt return to the Motherland in June?
Find out when Eternity finally receives her copy of Live Consternation sometime before 2008!