Dada Mining: A Cultural Technology Manifesto for a Throbbing New Century

By H. Michael Sanders

Dada mining is an evangelistic process, derived from disinformation science, designed to explore and analyze indeterminate amounts of dada. This is typically business related dada (big-ass corporate dada), or other massive accumulations of essentially useless and meaningless information, in search of inconsistent patterns, insignificant drivel, unintelligible platitudes, and incongruent variables, and then to invalidate any findings as quickly and as thoroughly as is humanly possible (but with minimal effort).

This is by no means a new technology, but in fact dates to the early twentieth-century and evolved from a curious interdisciplinary synthesis of poetry, rude guttural noises, pictorial representations hurriedly pasted together, drifting abstraction, weird central European vaudeville, odd and unexpected juxtapositions of found objects, and readily accessible printing technologies. This parasite-ridden amalgam infested cultural communications, artistic and literary activities, and popular entertainment with a virulent “dada strain” of negativity that has persisted in various forms throughout the last century to the present day. Why? We don’t yet know the answer to this persistent, age-old question. Moreover, quite frankly, we don’t really give a damn. Perhaps it’s Nothing that we should be concerned about.

Dada mining may also be described as an utterly contemporary approach to extracting the viscously rancid and bitter nothingness of dada from the ubiquitous surrounding substrate of pseudo-culture and capitalist whore-mongering, and subsequently thrusting it back into the grimacing faces of the hapless boobs and knobs responsible for foisting this insufferable and inauthentic shit on the rest of us, which they accomplish through their unremitting greed, astounding cultural ignorance, reprehensible disregard for others, willful environmental destruction, and sheer stupidity. Oh, yes… there are political dimensions and applications as well, but these tend to drift toward impotent and mindlessly impractical anarchy. Dada sucks.

It really, really does.

May 7, 2015


Who Influenced Whom Can No Longer Be Detected, Eventually: A Third Dada Manifesto Manifestation

By H. Michael Sanders

Man is nothing else but what he is, essentially an accident. Woman is his essential and equal partner in this illustrious crime. Together, the two sexes of our kind are the timorous result of projected illusions. Human beings form the gasoline poured over the smoking head of the planet.
– Howard “Burnt” Nortonn

Manifesto Preface

The Dada artists of the Dada movement understood Dada not as an ideology of Dada, and the Dadaists insisted that Dada (Dadaism) was not defined. As Dadaism began to consolidate (solidly congeal), the Dadaists called on Dada to destroy this sense of order again, since Dada was just what they wanted to destroy (or what they could easily get their hands on).

The intention is to give up a language that abused the Dadaists, and that firmly believes (or wishes to believe) in the unsubstantiated opposition of the present and the past, and is perverted. Dada is impregnated with harmful and undesirable writings, depicting a sleazy milieu in sexually offensive language, which is displayed in trashy and dirty fonts that are only sold privately by mail.


Manifesto Manifestation – Part 1

Dadaism seemed (finally) in the 1920s to die a natural death of
disinterest and was left embedded in the drying concrete.

But Dada and Dadaism, despite the destruction of stereotypes and
ugly hats, created a niche in which they survive to this very day.

Dadaism turned the entirety of existing into inane, silly questions,
preferably parochial topics and pre-designed compositions.

Thinking and action willy nilly is the Dadaist program par excellence,
pure nonsense accumulations made of mindless sound poems.


This is the context in which Dada destroyed itself, exploded itself,
in excesses of amazement, astonishment, laughter and disbelief.

Dada ways are supposedly also committed in the direction of sexually
disreputable audience as idiots (called) and as scum (treated).

Dadaism actively and fervently embraces coincidence as a central
creative principle, but rarely recognizes such gnawing upon its ass.

The Dadaists increasingly embrace narrow-mindedness and are at
odds with each other (or don’t actually know one another).


Each has quickly gone his own way and has his own opinions;
opinions against Dada, the actual Dadaists, and their program.

Actual Dadaists are constitutionally unable to agree (or even talk)
among themselves about how it (Dadaism) should actually go.

However, even Dadaists said in a long forgotten news interview,
that no actual Dada program is currently available for purchase.

Dada descended into a dithering deadlock of an excursion before
the event scheduled for tomorrow is summarily canceled.


Listening to the less poetic truth of Dada, the deafening noise of the
modern world (a higher dizziness) is now increasingly extreme.

Like the Dadaists, and their program of chanting and heckling aloud,
language has been devastated and rendered mostly impossible.

Dada destroyed clear expression, people messed up speaking as had
been readily seen, all intentions eventually go awry and away.

What the Dadaists never wanted, namely to draw attention to the
involvement of people in mechanical processes, didn’t work out.


Manifesto Manifestation – Part 2

Unnerving and aggressive forays into the messy,
Irrational margins through broken and fragmented
Conglomerations meandering without regard…
Dislocated corollaries of words spilling from open
Mouths; spewed illusions conflated with dreams,
Incoherent scanning and bug-eyed screaming…

Becoming unconscious at the end of the wispiest of
Tethers dangling from a thin nest of twisting pulleys,
A melancholy surrender to private associations…
Cold, blistered consciousness irreducible in diagrams,
Inflated through hyperbole (a particular conception),
Like a protective shell with an historical protrusion…

Words rotting into babble…
Thoughts drying into dust…
No action seems possible.

October 16, 2015

Vocal Sputters [Crépitements for Blaise Cendrars]: An Exercise in Preparation to Manifest a Manifesto

By H. Michael Sanders

Bodin has burned all the witches / it’s nothing…
– Blaise Cendrars, “Crépitements” (1913)

Leaping up and flying in a beautiful,
Passionate arc (for the briefest of moments).
[Slipping the bonds of logic]
A nervous, crackling vocal sensation…
Sputtering, blundering poetry or gibberish
And coiled, serpentine dancing rhythms.
Compulsive repetition, stuttering…
[Compulsive repetition, obsessively repeated]
Nervously repeated with conviction,
Repeated again and again and again and again.
[Indeterminate repetitions until satisfied]
Labored repetition, like a field of force,
Shimmering particles of speech.

Fragmentation… and reverberation…
Sharpened jabber of syllabic fragments,
Accumulations of fragments.
Splintered words on contorted, flapping lips,
Dislocating… relocating… locution…
Breathing inflections, fractured syntax,
Subjective sounds, utterly opaque,
Even to the mouths that uttered them –
Even to the mouths that uttered them.
Fully emptied signs understood by no one,
Inarticulate but decisive stuttering,
The premises of a new language,
Uprooted sounds of words (abstraction itself)

The relativity of wandering language –
Halting, nervous verbal putrification,
Language… movement… vibration…
A continuous, irritating verbal crackle.
Inscribed texts, garbled and tendentious,
Read aloud for practice elocution.
Diagrammatic pencil rubbings, erased…
Idioms sputtered across the dirty floor,
Glimpsed, repeated and devoid of substance –
Respoken, reworded, rewritten, rerecorded,
Rewound and blinded, rushing through a thicket
Of multiple voices intoning simultaneously,
The third-person voice shouting unintelligibly.

A fizzing loss of speech and sparkling reason
Amid sizzling calibrational devices.
Kerplunk: contrived circuits and patterns…
Tongue-tied, stammering, haltingly silenced,
Foaming red billows of excited, stuttering speech
Reenacted, reanimated, reassembled, reconstructed.
Fulsome words spewing and sputtering,
Circular ridicule and gibber with repetitive
Tongue-tied, stammering emitting silence…
Respiratory noise from the bottom of the lungs
Emitted in repeated, intense bursts or vibrations
Accompanied by popping and sputtering sounds.

Albert Camus excitedly ejecting particles of
Food and saliva from his mouth in a light spray
As he utters crackling words about Death.
Angry and flustered… language soundly dashed,
Sonic gibberish imploding intensely, incoherently…
A diagrammatic tower of incoherent narratives
Filled with inversions of familiar sayings:
What’s down? (“It no longer sees”)
Bite you! (“One hears shit from every corner of the universe”)
Time swims. (“All watches are made on time”)
Too many broths spoil the cook. (“…eaten by cannibals”)
Mouse got your tongue? (“I ask the sky”)
Fuck the what? (“I am worried… I’ll go on a trip”)

October 11, 2015