"You know what you should do ?"

You know this is going to be good. I'm like following people's suggestions now.

You should publish some of these notes scattered everywhere, I'm sure people would love them!

So then, in continuation of the extraordinary idea, I proudly give you

Enjoy!

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Category: Zsilnic

Thursday, 06 November, Year 6 d.Tr.

Yo, Trilema Fratires!

Here's the story : long before this crap even got its start, before the days its current "stars" were even struggling in the lulzpits of "HBs" and assorted white trash hell, before ViolentAcrez aka Michael Brutsch exploited child pornography to get reddit from being weabo-chan to being myspacei, before your balls dropped, men still fucked women, and women still went on their knees. Just like today.

And also just like today, boys tried to listen in while men and women did what men and women do, and have been doing, and will keep right on doing forever. Life, it's called.

Whatever it may be called, boys aren't a part of it. But they'd love to be! Heck, they're built to try for it. Perverse like anything that ever came out of the proverbial cooked timber, rather than go for it they instead spend most of their time imagining how it goes privately and telling their peers all about how [they imagine] it is, publicly.

So therefore : long long ago, long before the people who had three years' experience at the time today's experts on the basis of three year's experience were just starting out were just starting out, and before even the people who THEN were "experts", so long ago that the mind boggles, during that unspeakable Jurassic that occured more than a decade ago, before kids had cellphones and back when the WTC still stood... the crowd of boys aspiring to manhood were crowding around some loud teenaged derp. Just. Like. Today.

In that case it was entirely new and novel.ii A never-before seen marvel that some nobodyiii had named Fratire, and which consisted mostly of an obscure blogger named Tucker Maxiv.

Tucker Max is currently trying at the edges of becoming an online scammer "investment expert". That's right : he aspires to be Max Keiser. Before that, however, he was trying at the edges of publishing success, he was aspiring to be some sort of later day Stephen King or whatever. According to him, and according to everyone covering the matterv, he was damned good at it, just about to revolutionizevi everything. He even had a film made, a film which... but let me quote.

Having read the book a couple of years ago, I followed the movie's production blog with great excitement.

Tucker mentioned possible Oscar nomination for the script, more than $200M at the box office and revolutionizing Hollywood.

[...]

Tucker tipped this as a classic of our time. I'm not even sure it would have merited a straight to DVD release. He said it would top The Hangover in both acclaim, artistic merit and box office. Half a billion dollars later, wide critical and audience reception, and marked as one of the best comedies of the year, if he'd put that sentence in the script, it would have been the funniest line in the whole movie.

I had a chance to hear Tucker Max talk about the movie at a screening and he seemed quite confident that it would surpass Wedding Crashers as the highest grossing comedy of all time.

I read many of Tucker's blog entries on the movies website. This was where I first started to wish that this movie would fail miserably. Some of the stuff he said on there (for example, he talked about how this movie should easily top The Hangover in box office revenue) was just ridiculous and showed an utter lack of understanding of the film industry and how movies become successful.

I could go on forever, of course, but the point remains :

mircea_popescu dude this sounds like the worst movie ever. i'm watching it.

thestringpuller !b 1

assbot Last 1 lines bashed and pending review. ( http://dpaste.com/006Z008.txt )

So : I am off to watch this thing, and will give you my full report! Yes I know I'm five years late to the day. I was late for Thucydides, too, doesn't seem to have hurt anything.

———Yes, that's exactly what fucking happened. There are five thousand other places where failed young adults gather to whine their butthurt to the stars. The difference between meatball wiki, lesswrong, wikipedia, hi5, reddit and the other 4`995 "social" "media" hellholes is simply that wikipedia and reddit used child pornography, and the rest didn't. Consequently, you've heard of wikipedia and reddit. What does that say about you ?

And yes, just like myspace went to shit, reddit is going to shit. For the same reasons, too : cool people don't like it, and there's exactly jack shit the multitudes of uncool people can do in opposition. Which is why it's for sale, by the way. Rich people know this shit, and no, bitching about it won't make any difference. [↩]Because that actually happens, right ? Kids are innovative and shit, it's not just an unfortunate artefact of their inborn stupidity empowered by their natural cluelessness. [↩]Ryan Holiday, born '87, self proclaimed "strategist" and whatnot, but otherwise too young throughout for a spot in my harem. And don't even think about raising the objection that "But MP! He's male!" Being phenotypically misshapen does not automatically make one male. [↩]Maddox's involvement in that crap is best forgotten. While completely untalented and with the voice of a sexually molested poodle, Maddox nevertheless is an intelligent guy that makes solid points and who should generally be heard. Instead of stolen. Fuck you, hottopic. [↩]In any case nobody in the publishing trade rags ever referred to him as anything other than "New York Times Best Selling Author", which shows you exactly how much US based "journalism" is worth. Seriously, you believed it back then ? It seemed a good idea at the time ? Nobody could have foreseen ?

Think about it, the average dog in Calcutta has more of a backbone than the average "journalist" in the US. [↩]I'm not sure they called terminal derpititude "revolutionizing" back then. Maybe not just yet. [↩]

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Category: Zsilnic

Saturday, 18 October, Year 6 d.Tr.

Yes, yes I can.

I've been challenged, by a total punishment sluti, who may remain anonymous but will be suitably punishedii, as to whether I can actually write a proper version of that thing. Turns out that yes, yes I can. Here goes :

There was a tremendous bang, and a crash like a wall coming down.

Jason jerked up in his bed, his mind barely half awake, eyes still closed. Just as he strugglingly cracked his eyelids open, two incredibly, magnificently bright flashes of light struck in rapid succession. Much, much brighter than any lightning, the magnesium-perchlorate blasts sent hot white shadows piercing through slightly dimmer shadows piercing in turn ever dimmer shadows all the way to the unfathomable darkness that ordinarily passes for a bright June morning. They also sent Jason back into bed - a writhing, confused pile of disorganised flesh that reflexively assumed the fetal position. Jason himself, as opposed to Jason's body, Jason-the-thought lay scattered, a million tiny shards all over the room, hiding from the sound and the fury, signifying nothing.

A wall had in fact came down.

Jason's house - a duplex in a long row of similar constructions, one among many rows that together appeared, from high enough up, like a strange sort of battery, perhaps housing highly productive chickens, or NiMH elements, or NAND gates - enjoyed the temporary blessing of having been recently built. The plot allowed for one more row before the highway, but that row hadn't yet had any work done, not even foundations dug. An ancient, thoroughly beat up but apparently still very solid Dodge pick-up truck had driven off the highway, backed up against Jason's house, and drove straight into the wall. The year-old construction gave way without much opposition, like the tender flesh of a very nubile sixteen year old that was asking for it, and in the gaping hole thus created two slender, impetuous silhouettes grabbed the man's body, prepped it for a few moments and threw it in the back of their truck.

Then they took off.

Jason awoke in a very confused mental state, in a very unfamiliar, large room. There were beds everwhere, bunk beds, stacked three high. There must have been fifty or five hundred of them - from where he lay Jason couldn't really see the ends of it. There was a fetid stench permeating the air, like old, dilute urine slowly decomposing in a well aired room. He tried to get up but it didn't work out quite as well as he'd have expected. He went to curse, but nothing came out except for a muffled "gwaah". Evidently, Jason had something in his mouth.

"O look, he's coming through!" A thin, strange man moved into view. He wasn't either young or old, maybe thirty or so. He was dressed up in the most peculiar fashion imaginable, and the sight sent Jason's wits reeling. For one thing, his pubic hair was shaved. That plain statement does not really do any sort of justice to the situation, it isn't that the man was shaved like you or I had enough of heat and perspiration one day and took a trimmer to the bush, leaving a light stubble. No, nothing of the kind : the man sported a landing strip. Smooth like after a bikini wax on either side, one inch of thick fur starting at the root of his penis and losing itself towards the ombelicum. A landing strip. Jason had never seen such a thing on a man before, but while he was struggling to make sense of that situation, there were much bigger problems to fry.

For instance, have you even stopped to consider why was it that Jason had direct and unobstructed view of another man's peculiar pubic coiffure habits ? It's because the man was naked, pretty much completely. No tie. No shirt. No shoes even. So, stark naked, except... he was wearing a belt.

A belt upon which, through the mediation of some sort of metal bit, his penis was attached. Jason couldn't take his eyes off this novel calamity. So, a thick, solid ring was somehow fastened around the root of the man's penis, encompassing that organ and the ballsack. Then, the penis itself was encased in a solid metal tube, which for one thing didn't seem nearly large enough to accomodate an erection. At the bottom, this tube had a second ring, which affixed it solidly to the first, while separating the balls into a solitary - and quite apparently very vulnerable - aside. At the tip, this tube had a chain affixed on the side of the wearer, and a cutout in a stylisized v shape towards the outside world.

Jason's most infantile curiosity possessed him to proceed and ask "how do you even pee in that thing ?!" but only a muffled cry came out. Had he managed to ask, the man might have explained : that he gets on all fours, next to the dedicated hole. Face down on the ground, chest low, clunky metal gear carefully placed against the nickel lip of the New Model Men's Urinal, so he doesn't accidentally piss all over his face, like a noob. Because yes, noobs do occasionally manage to shoot themselves straight in the eye, until they learn how to use the damned thing. That they would is unsurprising after all, the very point of the design was to give men the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of womanhood, but turned up a little. So if girls can readily piss on their feet if they're not careful, why shouldn't boys risk pissing on their face ?

"So he has, look at that. How ya feelin', boy ?" A corpulent, slighly older man looking a little like an ex wrestler or body builder that had recently stopped working out much, sporting the same otherwordly dress sense (except for the heartshaped pattern instead of the landing strip) crowded Jason's visual field and ever narrowing ability to process his immediate experiences. Jason might have emitted yet another muffled squeak in return, but he still had much bigger problems to fry. For instance, looking down at his own, completely visible cock and balls he discovered with unmitigated, unspeakable horror that yes! He was wearing one of those belts and cock cages too! No weirdo hairdo, however.

"Hehehehe, yep." laughed Landing Strip. "Of course. Whadda ya thought, that you're special or something ?"

"Mwhfhfhhhh. MWFHHHFHFHFHHH!"

"The reason you can't talk, if you're curious" continued Landing Strip imperturbably, "Is because you have a ball gag on. Well... to be perfectly fair it's not exactly a ball gag, it's more like a penis gag. If you feel around with your tongue, you can make out the head and everything."

Jason had in fact noticed this, and he was not particularly thankful for the reminder. Yes, he had a penis shaped item in his mouth, restricting his speech to an incomprehensible squeak, making his jaws uncomfortable and for that matter, nobody seems to have bothered asking him if he wanted it or anything! He struggled to get up, but somehow that still didn't work.

"You're also restrained, obviously. Don't worry, they'll come and lead you to orientation just as soon as they feel like it. In the meanwhile, how about we have a little chat ?"

Jason stared.

"Look, Fuckstick, I think he wants to have a little chat!" The fat guy with the heartshaped hairdo, apparently undisturbed by the insolite apellation, gave a gruff, indistinct approval.

"Don't worry, I'm only calling him Fuckstick because I have to. That's the rule here, everyone gets a nice suggestive name like that. I'm Bunghole. You ever seen that old cartoon show, Beavis and Butthead ? That's where it's from. There's also a Beavis and a Butthead, but they're assholes. Anyway, you'll get one too, won't that be fun ?"

Jason stared.

"Yeah, the crotch thing... I must admit, it takes some getting used to. The idea is for your balls to be always exposed and vulnerable. Most of the ladies - by the way, don't ever say anything other than lady you hear ? None of that c word or that other c word or anything, they have the whole place bugged and some sort of computer or something, Linux I think they call it, automatically monitors it for words like that. You can get one hell of a caning even for whispering anything like that. So, ladies and lady or mylady or that, okay ? Remember that. Anyway, most of the ladies are nice enough about it, they just gently rub it or maybe lightly run their nails over it now and again, but there's some real ballbusting ones too, that'll hold your jewels in a vice grip for as long as they're talking to you. It can turn a man blue just thinking about it."

Jason continued to stare.

"Anyway, as I was saying, the idea is for you to live like a woman for a little bit, there's this Headmaster guy that few people have seen and nobody ever talks about. I've never seen him myself. But they kidnap guys just like us and well, I think they let some go now and again. Maybe. Obviously nobody's ever coming back to tell the story so we don't rightly know. Anyway, after orientation you'll get that out of your mouth and your arms and legs free and everything. You'll end up with one of those shock collars for a while, until you prove to them that you intend to behave properly, and you can really get jolted for no reason before that, so my advice to you and the best advice you ever heard is this : get them to think you're as happy as a puppy to be here. Pretend you're a little gay even, that can' hurt anything. They are going to fuck you in the ass a lot, whether you want to or not, might as well enjoy the experience I always say."

"You know who's the nicest lady of them all ?" intervened Fuckstick, apropos of nothing at all, as if for the entire interval he had been engaged in the laborious, involved consideration of some sidepoint mentioned in passing minutes afore. "The tall one, with the hair. lady Adele."

"Oh, yeah, lady Adele's great. One day she comes up to me and says, listen Bunghole, would you like to have consensual anal sex for the first time in your life ? It damn near brought a tear to my eye, she actually understands us, that one! So yeah, I went right to it right then and there, gave her the best orgasm of my life. She's great."

"Pee-nut. Shit-nut. Puke-nut. Tear-nut. Bleed-nut." Fuckstick was chanting, not loudly but with a sustained tempo that was slighty aggravating, cutting each improbable construction very short on the "nut" syllable.

"Oh, don't mind him, he just likes naming nuts." Bunghole offered. "Anyway, as I was saying ...

But Jason was no longer listening. In fact, Jason as such, Jason the continuation of the child growing up in his parents' house, Jason the continuation of the teenager riding his bike, going to school, of the young adult getting a job, making some money and being swindled into buying "his own" first time home was no longer. A chapter in the story of his life had closed shut, in the fetid atmosphere enlivened by the chatter of Bunghole and Fuckstick, and a new, an entirely new chapter begun. The same body that used to house Jason was now reclaimed for an entirely different purpose than the continuation of the delusion of Jason-ness. It was going to get a new name, it was going to be useful in new, scary, unimaginable ways to people it didn't even care or for that matter know about before this morning.

It was, in a sense, like marriage. Which, as you well know, is the happiest thing that can ever after happen.

———Ie, I suspect she knew she was going to lose ("He bet me Dustin Hoffman was in Star Wars!"), and she knew there's going to be hell to pay, and while she can't bring herself to be honest in front of a mirror and join the ranks of the happily, humbly nude... yet she can't really walk away from it all, either. [↩]Like so : you're to write out - by hand! in good penmanship! - a card detailing how you will suck off whoever presents it to you. A "one free cocksucking" coupon. It doesn't matter how it ends up in anyone's possession, if you find yourself having to blow some random guy that stole your purse you blow some random guy that stole your purse. And like it!

Once it's redeemed you can burn it, but before it's redeemeed that card is going to be always in your bag, for all of 2015. And don't start carrying totes now, either. [↩]

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Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte

Wednesday, 31 December, Year 6 d.Tr.

Yes, we can! (Ya se puede!)

Her: Aquiler se poate!!1

Me: Yeah, the populists can't get all the electoral support they want, 'cause people traditionally live in big houses ruled over by a patriarch, who's like what the fuck is this Cristina bullshit and come voting time it's like *points at young people menacingly*. So they make up these programs to get people to come to the city and give them some place to live "independently", and get them dependent on credit. Because totally, it's so much better to be at the mercy of your next paycheck than it was back when you were at the mercy of granpa. Then the Peronists can derp all they want about the bad, oppressive evil capitalists squeezing the poor people for rents - it's not them that did that, you see, it's these evil other people trying to keep the youthful cattle down. Nobody could have foreseen using rents as a political rocket!!1

Her: Aha.

Me: Same thing the Soviets did, all this rah rah socialist revolution! stuff, it's nonsense. Socialism had nothing to do with it. They just seized on the same thing. Kids in the traditional Russian village were extremely oppressed, and that oppression kept the wheels moving. But for any of the kids in question, his choice as presented and as understood by him was, either a) suck up to all these annoying old fucks, who knows, maybe they let you in their WoT, while any girl you ever meet will be sexually unreceptive because she knows you only own half an ox and can't support her and she believes you have to ; or else b) go traveling, which is something young people want (and should) do anyway, and work on whatever, construction yards building socialism and wolf whistle after passing-by town chicks, who might just go for a tumble. So they choose to "support socialism", but really, they're just there for the free travel. They couldn't care less about the ideology supposedly "behind it all", nor for that matter did they even care to find out what it even was supposed to be. What the fuck do they care about whatever revolution - so much so the soviets had to force people to read Pravda after hours, and have it explained to them by specially sent workers.

Her: But why not just go after the patriarchs? Are they so powerful they can't be moved or something?

Me: Well no, they're entrenched to resist attacks, that's what it is. If you go dinosaur hunting you don't shoot it in the osteoplate. You shoot it somewhere it's vulnerable. And young derps with nary a clue are the most vulnerable portion of any stable society, which is why all revolutionary bullshit is always aimed at them.

Her: But how could they not care why they're going? How could you do all of this unless the underlying was a thing you wanted to do?

Me: They don't even have the apparatus to care why. Think about it, how many women are there who got pregnant, not because it's what they wanted to do, they just got drunk and went to some party, which is also not what they wanted to do?

Her: Well I don't know anyone like that, but if I met one I certainly wouldn't want to be friends.

Me: Most people are like that. You can go to whatever party and get drunk or sit home, watch TV, and feel bad about yourself.

Her: Why are these my options?

Me: Because your universe is very small.

Her: How about neither of these, and instead considering why I'm stuck with these options?

Me: Your universe is too small to include such considerations.

Her: Well then why not just put them in the zoo?

Me: Yeah, the zoo, the glue factory, whatever. You can either get beaten into making space for such things, you know, if you're any lucky your owner actually cares to inject some sense - forcibly, as that's the only way it'll go - into your otherwise very narrow world, or else you can just go in the zoo. And look, that's exactly what the city is - a zoo.

Her: It's a zoo that doesn't know it's a zoo.

Me: Oh, it knows.

Her: Then why don't they just call it that!

Me: They do. Cristina calls it that, I'm reading it straight off her signs, what can I tell you.

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Category: La pas prin lume

Sunday, 07 December, Year 6 d.Tr.

Why progress is a self limiting disease

So I need a flashlight, therefore I buy a flashlight. Doesn't matter what exact brandi, whatever midmarket thing I paid fifteen bux for. A tube with seven led lights on one side and a detachable lid on the other, allowing someone to plug into the battery.

Within fifteen minutes of use, this flashlight that I bought develops a fatal flaw : it will stay lit if your finger's on the slider, but it will go dark otherwise. So it's a flashlight that's trying to consume your soul now, one hand at a time.

Within a further fifteen minutes the flashlight ended up in dozens of pieces of various sizes all over my bathroom, as a result of me smashing it on the floor and then jumping on the parts. Prior to that, I had tried to make it work like an actual flashlight, by hitting it increasingly hard on an ever increasing array of surfaces and flavours assorted items.ii Because that's what I do.iii

This happened a few days ago, and so by now my rage has subsided enough to allow critical examination of the matter. Unfortunately for all those involved I'm also the sort of guy that actually has access to historyiv, and as a result knows that for instance three centuries ago, back when flashlights were called lanterns, they were also a lot more reliable than this. You really didn't get products that ceased to work within the first hour of use, back in 1714. That only started later, once the colonists introduced mass production.

So now let's consider this. Given situation A, where there's a total of 3 products available in one product class, there exists significant economic incentive for each of the three manufacturers to deliver excellent quality products. The situation in the field works something like this : each of the villages and little neighbourhoods of the cities have, perforcev, have a social mesh. As a result, out of every potential mini-market of maybe hundreds of buyersvi a few, maybe just one tried each product. The best (or perhaps the best suited) would generally be selected, with most minimarkets ending up in a stable situation with a mixture of two out of the three. And when I say stable situation I mean stable situation : the places that used linen used linen, and the places that used wool used wool, forever. Period. In spite of Ovis aries and Linum usitatissimum being pretty much commensal over their entire areal, and thus in principle available everywhere.

Now consider situation B, where through whatever magic the cap on the sole product class is removed, there existing in principle an infinity of products that may claim (unverifiably) to be included. This, of course, under the pressure of the poor and marginal, who, unable (in the sense of unwilling) to find a place in the world as is, prefer instead to try and fleece it for their benefitvii. So, every two bit schmuck that isn't capable of participating in the wool and linen economy is going to be making treebark suits and paper boots. Just as much "suits" and "boots" as the actual suits and boots. What's the matter, you meant actual suits ? Tough, caveat emptor.

This comes into conflict with the best interest of society (which at this point still exists), and as a result the right to claim any particular item is part of the class becomes codified. You have to be part of a guild in order to claim you're selling cloth. And if you fail to so be part and fraudulently make the claim, why... off with your head. Which happens to be a major fucking problem, because saying things isn't malum in se and shouldn't, consequently, cost you your head. Nevertheless, the practical choice the scumviii leave everyone else is to either perish (because their scummyness will definitely dissolve society) or else kill them. There's really not a third option, as you can't coexist with scum any more than you can coexist with the common flu, as a healthy person.ix

Scum 1 : 0 Society, because the introduction of that abuse against natural law in the legal system of any society is quite likely enough to ruin it in principle. But the game's not over yet.

The game's not over yet, because the scum has this splendid property of practical infinity. Specifically : no matter how much of the scum you include in society, there's always going to be more. First, you include poor men, such as the Irish, because whatever, they're people too. Of sorts, I guess, they are. They must be. Next, you include women, because whatever, they're people too. Of sorts, I guess, etc. Then you include blacks. Then you include faggots. Then you're going to include people who disagree that there's such a thing as gender, and people who do not wish to subscribe to the definition of marriage but instead change it, and people who see nothing wrong with fucking goats, and then people who see something wrong with you balking at the notion of interacting with a goat as a person on the flimsy grounds that the goat in question is "someone"'s girlfriend (or boyfriend), then people who like incest, then people who balk at you for not fucking your children, then people who want to bash their head against the wall nineteen hours a day, then people who want you to bash your head against the wall and so on and so forth and it'll never end. There's never going to be an end to inclusion, which is as excellent a reason to never do any as one could conceive : why start what you can't finish ?

And so here comes situation C, where not only the cap on products in the one class is removed, but also there's an infinity of classes. What do you mean there can't be such a thing as "pet personal care products", or for that matter "pet food" ?! What, pets aren't people, they should just be happy to get whatever's falling off the table and otherwise stay out of everyone's way ? Nonsense! What do you mean there can't be such a thing as "High Yield Investment Programmes" ? What are you, some sort of anti-liberal progressive-hater ? Because yes, as well you've intuited, all this decay is commonly called "progress", and the bacteriums and molds involved tend to call themselves "liberal".

2:0, and it's a game, set and match, because society can't actually survive this conceptual deluge. There's so many items, and so many kinds of items, that pretty much anyone could spend pretty much all of their time fondling the itemsx, with virtually nothing left over to interact with others. Merely an attempt to classify all the items one might come into contact with would take the intelligent person longer than their likely lifespan.

This leads to serious perverse incentives. Consider : the lantern I destroyed, however it was called, was produced in China. If I actually do buy a replacement, however it will be called, it'll have also been produced in China. Had the lantern worked properly for many years, China would have sold me one lantern. Total. On the other hand, had the lantern been a piece of crap, China'd have sold me 1.x, where x is a factor describing how much I actually need one. And not total, but over a finite time interval, months, years, whatever it is. Well, China happens to like selling me things, and so inasmuch as I can be convinced to buy into the brands bullshit, this system will work to a) concentrate all production to China, and b) ensure that everything is about as flimsy as possible, as if the termites were at it.xi

So now, in situation A, each of three lantern manufacturers had a very serious incentive to make good lanterns - which pretty much sell themselves. If they failed to make good lanterns however, they failed. End of the story for them.

Comparatively, In situation C, each of a myriad "manufacturers" of a myriad pieces of colored crap has the incentive to sell the colored crap. As anything. They seemingly manufacture themselves, and there's no possibility of failure anymore. The worst that's going to happen should something "fail" would be something "else" being bought. Win.

It is perhaps upon me at this juncture to explain why progress and liberalism are self-limiting diseases. I think I'll pass, but that's okay : there are about six thousand other articles on Trilema, in various languages. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for there ?

———I'm not going to say, because apparently fucking flashlights are a subject of rabid fan behaviour. Yes, that's right, fucking flashlights. What the hell is wrong with you people ? Who the fuck cares ?!

And since we're on in, why do half of them have to be "tactical" ? What the fuck is that, a "tactical" flashlight ? Is your nose "strategical" ? Were you lot unhinged before or is this the unfortunate result of some gimmicky producer coming up with and trying to market the "fleshlight" ? [↩]I got a message a little later, "Hey, did the flashlight talk back ?"

Yes. Yes it did. Yes it motherfucking did. [↩]And not just to physical objects, either. I do the exact same to institutions, and for that matter to people. "Here's how you're to work. Because I say so. Work that way or else here's how you'll be smashed, until you're no longer a thing, and for a while after that".

This happens to be exactly the only way you can behave, as a moral individual. Anything else's just you taking the piss. [↩]As it actually was, rather than as digested by whatever current "authorities" on the matter [of how to restate history so as to support whichever ideology promoted them to authorityship]. This distinction is very important, o ye who only touch reality through narratives of reality and similar 2nd hand sources. [↩]Because if there's not a lot of items available to diddle with, people are stuck interacting with each other whether they want to or not, and in the process develop all those things like language and common sense and so on and so forth that we're squeezing today for the last drop of blood they've got.

Just think of this : it took five fucking hundred generations of soldiers dying on campaign beds in obscure wilds sending home word to their pregnant wife and untold other billions of similar tension in order for the word "best" to become the word best, and for the word "happy" to become the word happy and so on and so forth. Was all this just so that a bunch of copywriters can make fiddy cents writing copy to sell shitty lanterns that break within an hour ? Nobody says "best" and "happy" in advertising anymore, and you know why ? They've sucked these poor words dry already, and moved on. To other words. Other words to suck dry.

Other words they didn't make, and didn't pay for. Peak oil ? How about peak language, baby ? [↩]The Dunbar number, as it's called. [↩]Externalize costs and claim benefits, a stable strategy. [↩]Ie, every two bit schmuck that isn't capable of participating in the wool and linen economy. The poor and marginal, unable (in the sense of unwilling) to find a place in the world as is. [↩]Yes some people have immunity. Bully for them. Now what ? [↩]Technically speaking, there are not more items today than in 1714. Anyone so inclined could have found an infinity of small rocks and shells on the seaside, or an infinity of twigs and leaves in the forest. Anyone inclined to spend most of their time fondling their ipad leaf in 1714 would have well been taken as nuts, and readily marginalised. The difference here is that society in 1714 was not yet advanced enough (ie, liberal and progressive) to seriously propose that spending your day diddling treebark is acceptable for the adult male. [↩]Or, as one person in the book trade put it, people have long ago decided to make books as the cheapest, shittiest assemblage people will still recognise as a "book". [↩]

« I wasn't going to actually post this, but...

Epoch, The Self-Appointed "Worldwide Leader in Payment Processing", aka A Bunch of Dangerous Amateurs »

Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc

Wednesday, 16 July, Year 6 d.Tr.

Why do gentlemen prefer blondes ?

Before considering the title, let's relax a little. Check this out :

Pretty cute, aren't they ? Yesterday I sat down to contemplate this thing and I came to the conclusion the first one is actually the cutest. I showed this to my mom earlier today, and she said that actually, the first one is the cutest. Apparently, we agree. But then again we're both Transylvanian, and actually related and besides, I grew up in her house. We kinda know each other.

But then again...

Me Which would you say is the best pup ?

Her The best?! Omg. 3rd in line I guess but I would hug them all equally!

Me Not 1st ?

Her Well the leaping is suparcute but #4's got a good leap too, so I picked 3 for his sorta casual foxtrot lookin' deal he's got goin.

Me Hehe. I got myself a great article.

Her Out of pup picking?!

Now let's leave this aside for a moment and consider the issue of Schelling points. Suppose next time you fire up your Bitcoin client to send a payment, aliens suddenly kidnap you and the two people who control the addresses immediately after and immediately before yours. Just like that.

You don't know who they are (other than probably assholes, seeing how they're burning all these Watts for no good useful purpose such as clicking on cat pictures and saving the world by raising awareness on social media sites about how unriseni the awareness is). You don't know where they are. You kinda could guess that they're probably male and under thirty if pressed, but who's pressin' ya ?

The ony thing you know for sure is this : the aliens are going to show you a chess table, and if you all three pick the same chess piece you can go free. But if you don't... if as much as one of you picks the wrong piece... o boy. Let's not go there.

So you look at the table, and lo and behold! It's all white pieces with one black pawn lost in there. Because the aliens are retarded, being aliens, and so they have no cottonpickin' idea what pick on the nigger would mean. And so... you pick on the nigger and save yourselves. (By the way, you're all white, odds are, right ?)

So there you go. The single black pawn is a Schelling point, on that chess table. How do you know this ?

You know this by cultural immersion. There's absolutely no good reason that the black pawn is more the "correct" piece than the white fool, or any other. And yet... it's obvious. To whom ? Well... to you, because the aliens somehow missed it.

So now, let's consider the problem of the Schelling point more generally. Kids are constantly asked to pick among alternatives, and kids are very finely tuned to pick up on the adults' approval or disapproval. Consequently... even if all the anteaters are verily equally huggable... I and my mother, we share a convention. Something that's not shared by someone who didn't live with us, in the same place, in the same culture.

Generally when scientists try to model why gentlemen prefer blondes they tend towards silly explanations, stuff perhaps more useful to explain why gentlemen prefer coeds. On the contrary, I propose to you that preference has absolutely nothing to do with sexuality, or with genetics, or with evolution, or tits or lactation or asses or post partum depression or the blonde at all, in any physical, determinate sense. I propose to you it's purely a convention.

The issue of "which chesspiece to pick" has to be solved somehow, just in case we ever get abducted by aliens in the described arrangement. This is very important, and the human brain spends a lot of time and space keeping good solutions ready.

This training is achieved through doing a lot of "which'd you prefer" all through infant, child, preteen and even teenager life. There's a lot of "which anteater is cutest" needed to coalesce into clear and reliable Schelling point identifying mechanisms in the human brain.

The net result of this being that gentlemen prefer blondes. For no reason whatsoever, other than it just so happens. As a waste product of their Schelling point picking mechanism, if you will. Nothing to do with the blonde.

How you like it ?

———Waah! Awareness' all flat! Waah! Kyle! [↩]

« MPOE, January 2014 Statement

Kink High »

Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Saturday, 01 February, Year 6 d.Tr.

Whore Street and prospective holocaust.

Just like you, but with poor whoremone control.

You ever seen Hanibal Colocaust ? Then you might also enjoy Porno Holocausti, which is supposedly a horror, except porny. Something about an island where the Italians did nuclear experiments in the 50s (as if, lol) and now there's mutated (=very large) crabs and maybe they infected people with their mutations or something. So a bunch of "scientists" go to "investigate", then they escape and celebrate by having sex. I wasn't really paying attention anymore by that point.

Anyway, I'm thinking it's all a matter of perspective. For instance, if you've ever seen that bottle before it clearly says Liquore Strega. However, if you've not, and especially if your name is or could be Joe, then it clearly says Whore Street. Doesn't it ?

Similarly, calling random things this-and-the-other holocaust is pretty funny, from one perspective. From some other perspective it's not nearly as funny, but that's mostly a dead perspective anyway. So therefore, article holocaust.

Also, watching [bad] vintage Italian porn is all intellectual and refined, from one perspective. Or you know, just stupid from the other perspective, seeing how Annj Goren'sii got nothing over Pamela Anderson, and the cinematography of the Silicon Valley (literally. it's a pun) nerds is so much better than whatever Kristal Film could come up with. And for that matter, guzzling imported obscure herbshit and lining up sluts in elaborate costume is a pinnacle of sexual achievement from one perspective, but perhaps an utter waste of time from the other, more domestic perspective. Who needs more than one woman anyway, and to what end would that woman need garters and a shaved muff ?

I consider perspective fluidity to be simultaneously my heaviest curse and greatest sin. Obviously, this is not so from various other perspectives.

———1980, by Joe D'Amato (Calamity Jane etc) [↩]Really it's Anna Maria Napolitano, which from one perspective is about as exotic as "Annj Goren", but from the other perspective is not nearly exotic enough, being about as banal as it can possibly get. [↩]

« MP, what do you like about Argentina ?

What do you call... »

Category: Zsilnic

Thursday, 23 October, Year 6 d.Tr.

What sound does a nuclear detonation make, if there's no nuclear scientist there to hear it ?

Half hour after my attempt to revive cryptographs, last night :

dignork http://trilema.com/2014/cryptographs-revived/

dignork Dunno, but: echo -n "teeming" | sha1sum

dignork 8d7ae863d9c10823e2af4cecd803e380dbcc3bf3

mircea_popescu Lol so post there with a salt ?

Half a minute later :

mircea_popescu Aw shit! I calced the wrong hash OMFG.

dignork I just googled the hash actually :)

mircea_popescu Ahahaha ok brb. http://trilema.com/2014/cryptographs-revived/ updated. Tyvm :)

dignork Heh, kill my comment then :) Although, if now your challenge is echo -n "something", you should mention it, because I'm not sure it's a default assumption.

mircea_popescu I did update the note. Basically using "trilema" as salt. (Also teh original hash was actually mistaken, I had hashed the wrong word).

The next morning :

dignork I solved it: http://btcbase.org/log/?date=12-05-2014#672531

mircea_popescu But pls to comment will you.

dignork And posted to your site, but I was drunk, and I think comment didn't pass through.

mircea_popescu I don't see it. Do it again pls.

Two minutes later.

mircea_popescu O wow motherfucker you're too good at this aren't you ? :D Lmme check! a66c1991dd3f13fc12238d88c80795d1e54631be yup you got it.

dignork I also gave a solution.

mircea_popescu I saw. Pls to make the post on Trilema so reference to it doesn't get lost in logs.

dignork And I still dunno how you derived this word from the pics, our cultural background is rather different I guess :)

mircea_popescu :)

dignork Added comment with hash and mention of irc logs. Btw if you want to avoid bruteforce, you either have to slow down/complicate the hashing, or just make it interactive, with new hash target/nounce via site, and rate limit per IP.

mircea_popescu http://trilema.com/2014/cryptographs-revived/#comment-99793

dignork :) So do I get the "key" thingy, or it's a cheating ? :)

mircea_popescu You don't because you need 5 solutions :D

dignork Oh, so 4 more challenges.

Ten minutes later, after having trotted around back and forth all over my garden...

mircea_popescu O I got you you little bitch you. I gohohohohot you. So : backwards hashed.

dignork But can you explain the derivation process? I mean why is this pic == esteem?

mircea_popescu 00c96392f93c67650a3f6c3c3e372394700c86cf

Tuesday, 13 May, Year 6 d.Tr.

What interests me in a project

This is the English version of an article published originally as Ce ma intereseaza pe mine intr-un proiect five or so years ago. Remarkably, nothing absolutely has changed during this time, except for the money : we're talking a few degrees of magnitude more money today than five years ago. I blame this plan.

I carried a conversation in which I tried to illuminate the nooks and crannies of my thinking for the benefit of a very respectable gentleman who, even if in principle interested in a business partnership, still couldn't for the life of him manage to make a proposal that'd interest me. And since I've already sunk the work into it, let's note down the results here too, who knows when it may be again useful.i

First off, let's get money out of the way. Money interests me, but in a particular way. I am not interested in money because I'd need it to pay for my car or my mortgage, to acquire diapers or the favour of my wife. None of that, I have not such problems. Money interests me however, and quite a lot, as a sign of consideration and respect. On one hand, from us the partners jointly, towards our common project, and on the other hand from us the partners several, one towards the other.

The first hand follows an older observation of Ford, which is that if something's worth doing at all, that something's worth doing well. And if something is worth doing well, that something's worth paying for.

It's not that John deserves to be paid, firstly, and not for what he has done, second. It's not that the author is paid, it's that the beneficiary pays. Not from the supplier comes the payment, or the need for a payment, but from the consumer. Not for the object is the payment, but for the good in it.

So, if what we are to do is not worth paying for, it is not worth doing. Full stop. And as a function of how much money is whatever we're contemplating worth in payments, we can then figure out if we are to do this or something else, because we've only got one life, which is made out of days and hours. Which pass.

The second hand follows, in my own estimation, natural morals. If John makes half a pie and George makes the other half, then let John eat half a pie and George the other half. If John has a problem with this notion, it merely means John has not yet reached that level of intellectual maturity that'd allow him to make a pie together with another. Let it not be the stuff of wonderment then should George tell him : esteemed sir, it is not yet time. So it isn't : for John, not for pies.

This is the problem of money, in its whole completitude.

Much more important is the problem of leverage. Leverage means that if I spend an hour of my life mixing flour and water with yeast, and working dough and putting things in ovens, I've thus made one loaf of bread. But should I instead use an hour of my life looking into the production process of a bread factory, which makes half a million loaves of bread over its lifetime, and I manage to reduce lossesii in such a way that net production increases by 0.1%, I've made 500 breads. Also in one hour.

There you go, the difference between using your work hour to make one or five hundred loaves of bread is exactly the leverage you have access to. Time is, by and large, fungible, so that one hour is the same as four quarters just like four quarters are mostly the same as a whole hour. As such, it's always imperative to employ the greatest available leverage.

If you're to make a loaf of bread, the various methods to make it are not the same. If you employ the first method, you work for an hour. If you employ the second method, you work seven seconds and change, and for the rest you make love or pick your fleas or whatever else you may wish to do.

This is why, among two projects, that both satisfy the money qualifications exposed above, I will always pick the project offering me most leverage. If I wanted to not do anything, I'd do nothing at all. If I want to make bread, I will certainly prefer to make 500 loaves per hour, rather than just one. Even should it be the case I only need one.

Theoretically speaking all this discussion is quite obvious and well understood and yesterday's news. If you start picking actual practice apart however, it's suddenly none so obvious. For instance :

If project A has a functional interface with the Internet, so that the vast majority of problems can be resolved within minutes many miles away, whereas project B requires plane tickets, hotel reservation, putting up with traffic, five minutes speaking and then back through traffic to the airport, we can safely say that project A offers leverage and project B offers a noose.

If project C has a decision making system formed out of 18 elements, which each obviously will require a separate pitch, as well as 39 groups formed out of the 18 elements in varying compositions, while project D has a decision making system formed out of one single person, we can say that D offers leverage and couldn't be bothered to mention C again.

If project E carries the burden of a corporate culture based on fear, inculcated through years of practicing nonsensical "responsibility" with a side helping of subhuman management behaviours, while project F is made up of some kids without particular bad habits, F is the leverage and what was E again ?

Examples could be made indefinitely, but if you think the problem of any institution in terms of gearbox + clutch, you'll suddenly come to some interesting realisations. Such as for instance, why the so-called "start-ups", as practiced in the USiii have an important advantage over large corporations, and why private firms usually hold the upper hand in any competition with bureaucracies over using public resources. Such as for instance, why some competent people refuse "relatively well paid" projects but accept to work with groups of volunteers or highschool chitlins.

Nobody healthy in the head will accept to go into the first gear. Four, five, six and seven is what interests us. And for a murdering pitch, that's what your center must be : explain to me how every bead of sweat on my forehead turns into endless acreage of fat grain, that's what interests me. Which in the end also boils down to a matter of respect : respect for work.

This is what the US guy that tries to sell me on his thing tells meiv : what an excellent secretary they have, how close to all and everything is the office, how many links and interfaces they have in place to make any means of communication I may think of accessible, how they built their headquarters in a circle so it's faster and easier to find anyone you might need, that sort of stuff. How easy it is to make an impact and how large that impact would be. Because this is what matters.

There are the other folk, the people who tell me all about the many tons of forged silver they used to build their front gate, or how many sparrows they shoot at the corporate teambuilding hunting party. As if nuts enough to go to some place where some herps that heard of hunting for the first time during the 3rd millenium compare their entrepreneurial testosterone, god help us.

I do not wish to be driven in a limo from the airport, I'm not here for a wedding. I want to be taken quickly, and I want to be taken to a place where what I have to say matters. That's it, that's all.

A, and the money.

———This, incidentally, is one of the most notable reasons to carry a blog. It works, too, because not half hour ago the following happened :

Anon hi, i have one simple question: what is the WoT?

Anon can't seem to find what it stands for anywhere, and everyone only uses the abbreviation

Me web of trust

Anon ok thank you

Me http://trilema.com/2014/what-the-wot-is-for-how-it-works-and-how-to-use-it/

Me there.

This is some random person I've never talked to before. Now, had I not the article already written, was I going to either a) be not too helpful and perhaps not even polite to some unknown or b) spend an hour of my time writing it ?

And if b) foolishly didn't include posting it on a blog where it can easily be retrieved later as needed, wouldn't the resultant loss of control over my own time (because random persons can come to you at a rate easily in excess of ten a day), a loss known and discussed in literature as "support burnout" push me towards a) type answers, especially towards the long and unbecoming tail of impoliteness ? [↩]Reduce losses. This is fucking important. Replacing flour with dirt is not the same as reducing losses, even if it may seem the same thing from a purely accounting perspective, as it's lowered the fixed costs.

The difference between loss reduction and plain theft is that loss reduction has a thermodynamic lower bound, you can reduce losses of an engine that takes 10 W and produces 5 J worth of work. You can't "reduce losses" of a factory that takes 10 Kgs of ingredients and outputs 10 Kgs of products : mass conserves.

This absolute upper bound gives of course the incentive to steal, and the accounting myopia allows the entering into a compact, where accountants pretend they've not noticed that the bread is now made out of shit, and engineers pretend they don't notice there's a lot of difference between fixing a broken machine and trying to fill the gas tank with water. That compact has a name in contemporary society : the state. [↩]The Romanian language and especially the monolinguistic speakers are mentally captive in the 70s or thereabouts. Disco is still a thing here, I recently met a guy that seemed like he ran off a Depeche Mode video. One from the 70s. [↩]Part of the problem at the time was that I almost never worked with Romanians, in any capacity. It's not exactly racism, it's just meritocracy. [↩]

« What happens when you add a drop of sewage to a bottle of fine wine ?

Cryptographs, revived. »

Category: Oda Superbiei

Saturday, 10 May, Year 6 d.Tr.

What do you call...

A Norwegian prostitute?i Bees that produce milk ?ii An alligator in a vest ?iii A whore with her hand down her panties ?iv The black baby of a Chinese whore ?v An 80s synth pop band with a scoop of ice cream on top ?vi A cheapo circumcision ?vii A key for opening bananas ?viii LSD and birth control in the same pill ?ix Cheese That Isn't Yours ?x A guy trying to sell his soul to Santa ?xi The most famous Jewish cook ?xii The retard stranded in a tree, dressed in a cheap suit and holding a briefcase ?xiii A fake noodle ?xiv The boy who finally stood up to the bullies ?xv Children born in a whorehouse ?xvi A picture on trial for murder ?xvii Sad coffee ?xviii The first bet they teach kids in school ?xix An illegally parked frog ?xx A devout Christian that sleepwalks ?xxi Seagulls flying over the bay ?xxii New girl working at the bank ?xxiii The kid life gave melons to ?xxiv The place where sick boats go ?xxv The midget fortune teller who kills his customers ?xxvi

Thanks folks, that makes two dozen. See you next Friday!

———A Fjord Escort. [↩]Boobies. [↩]Investi-gator. [↩]Self-employed! [↩]Sum Ting Wong. [↩]Depeche a la mode. [↩]A rip-off. [↩]Monkey. [↩]A trip without the kids. [↩]Nacho cheese. [↩]A dyslexic devil worshipper. [↩]Adolf. [↩]A branch manager. [↩]An Inpasta. [↩]An ambulance. [↩]Brothel sprouts. [↩]Framed. [↩]Despresso. [↩]The alphabet. [↩]Toad. [↩]A roamin' Catholic. [↩]Bagels [↩]The Nutella. [↩]Dyslexic [↩]The dock. [↩]A small medium at large. [↩]

« Whore Street and prospective holocaust.

Caged Tit »

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte

Thursday, 23 October, Year 6 d.Tr.

We, the people

I'm told (by pathologically privacy-minded folks) there's an apparent contradiction in the otherwise smooth, metallic surface of my thoughts. Specifically, that I apparently use "we" erratically, which is to say, while generally in the abstract I give the impression of a very community-minded fellow, nevertheless in practice one can very well run into a "we ? what we ?" with the best of intentions, such as for instance recently and otherwise all the damned time.

Since nothing's quite as flattering as thinking up a bearing ball, let me remedy this apparent breach post haste! So, conjure up the mental image of a warband, for this is the state of male-dominated humanityi. There's a bulk of infantry moving slowly over the landscape, there's a baggage train and a bunch of stragglers trying to keep up and there's a bunch of scouting parties and avant-gardesii well ahead of the rest. Now, the reason the scouts are the scouts is that they are quick. If they weren't quick, they'd be in the bulk, marching in step. If they were even slower than that, they'd be in the back with the baggage train, getting passed by ox-pulled carts and whatnotiii.

So now, in this image, you readily understand what "we" means. One can readily say to any straggler, "hey listen Bub, we're over there. Ketchup!". One however can not ever say to the scout, "hey, Joe, we're over here". For one thing, the scout knows where the bulk is. For the other thing, the scout doesn't care where the bulk is, except to make sure to not be there. Because just like marching with the oxen is manifest proof of a man's inadequacy, just so scouting among the bulk is the manifest proof of a scout's inadequacy. He's not a very good scout, is he ?

Obviously most paths the scouts scout end up not being used. This is besides the point. There is a fundamental difference between the paths that may be, where there's no we, and the paths that already were. So when you get an itch to use a "we", triple check and make sure you're using it as a "catch up with us, you lousy lout" growl rather than a "you're way too far ahead" nasal whine. Generally the scouts are too busy to hear you, but if you happen to have a commanding officer that did his time as light cavalry / recon rather than artillery or whatever the fuck, he might just as well turn his horse around and use the horse whip that he never actually did use on his horse straight over your eyes. Because guess what, his horse has a lot more sense than that.

Makes sense ?

———The state of female-dominated humanity is a herbivore herd, perfect feedstock for the male band. The remains of which account for why the US is bombing ISIS rather than the reverse, the Middle East hasn't amounted to anything ever since the last time it was organised around male dominance, and it won't amount to anything until it does it again. Which is exactly why all the violence towards women happening there is a national necessity, as unpleasant and downright atrocious this correct observation happens to be : they have to somehow get rid of thinking that what women think matters, and they're currently in the "hate" phase immediately following love. Still caring way too much, of course, but hey, if brains could simply turn off stupidity there'd be a lot of smart people around. In fact, going from dumb to smart would just take a declaratory statement, not even necessarily expressed, like it works in the naive theoretical representations of the process.

And yes that means the utter destruction of an extremely pleasant, tihnit lifestyle which thinking men either born by or familiar with the region will forever regret like they would (if they were idiots) regret the warmth of their mother's bosom. Fact remains that the deeply entrenched "we'll let women figure it out" political modus opperandi that expands from Cyprus to Iran (really, all the previous domains of the Hellenic influence of Byzantium) is a one way ticket straight to nowhere. The political choices for as long as there were people are that you can either have the men in charge and bleed every which way, or have women in charge and make extremely great subjects for a foreign power. Why exactly do you think it is that the Bulgaria of 500 was an empire in its own right threatening to conquer Constantinople, whereas the Bulgaria of 1500 made excellent gardeners for the Turks ? Could it be that in the intervening millenium they copied the mores and mental structures of the Whore of the Golden Horn ? Could it be that the 500 AD Bulgarian didn't give a shit what women thought on any topic, whereas the 1`500 AD Bulgarian was doing pretty well by female standards, all polite and respectful of others and so on and so forth ? [↩]Seriously, why do you think the French for vanguard has come to mean "cool" ? [↩]These seem easy to pass, if you don't think in perspective. They go slow, but the ox is extremely resilient, and they can go for 16 hours if need be. You can easily outpace something doing a mile an hour, no doubt about it, but can you walk 16 miles ? [↩]

« An interesting anthropology question.

The thorny problem of violence, or the miracle of the talking ass. »

Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc

Monday, 10 November, Year 6 d.Tr.

We continue our foray into distant lands

Today it's raining in Buenos Aires, for the first time in a week or so, and thus we shall sit around the fire and recount.

For starters, here's a full shot of today's banner :

The sushi in this town is out of sight. I ducked into a little sushi place, maybe 100 sq feet, and put away 36 rolls in one go. The cost ? Just about twenty dollars' worth of their local paper here. I've never had sushi this good, and judging by the fact that half the financial district's Japanese population was elbowing me to get to the ordering window I imagine I can't be all that far off. Seriously, I've not seen that many gooks in suits since the 80s real estate bubble.

The shot above is taken in a much more pretentious place, with double prices and better service. It's arguable if the food's any better though. But - seeing how taste doesn't carry through the lens - this is what you get.

This is a table with a bunch of half eaten cake on it, worth about 9600 calories at the inception. Because fuck you, that's why.

This is a street, and I am on it.

This is a steak, and I'm etting it.

This is a pretty good Indian restaurant, located pretty much in the middle of the Jewish section of town. I've never seen this many men in funny hats.

This is another street that I am on (upon).

This is a place where they grill and otherwise cook things on the charcoal fire during the day, being washed down for the night.

This is what the view looks like in one of my (numerous) apartments all over town. Basically, I got a whole floor's worth of bachelor pads on local Broadway. The cabaret here is decent, mayhap a little timidi - I'm half considering starting something. Maybe in a decade or so it'll come naturally however.

Random electric appliances shop where I got an extension chord displays for sale... Romanian Xmas lights. In a simple package with no further indication. I ask the man, whence are these ? He tells me he thinks they're Chinese, I tell him that's definitely Romanian. He asks me if I'm sure, I say I couldn't possibly be mistaken, he looks puzzled.

So, was it a box of led lights manufactured in China for the Romanian market accidentally sent to Argentina ? Or is some small sweatshop around Bucharest actually making these cheaper than the Chinese ?

Wonder of wonders, archeology of present times, vestiges of civilisations.

I'm leaving this here for ThickAsThieves, thestringpuller and the rest of the audiophiles.

Cheap, btw.

I'm leaving this here for asciilifeform, diametric and the rest of the electrophiles.

I asked, btw, and yes they will rewind your transformer. Walk-in.

That cat owns that shop. It will graciously permit you to pet it, without bothering to look, if you pet correctly. If not, it will give you a disapproving stare. Hi Moiety!

You can buy a shirt or a saddle in a shop here, just like that, off the street. Because why the hell not, amirite ?

Plaster cast of old style barber chair. Because people got calls to make.

This used to be reality, by the way, back when I used to love New York.

This purports to be salmon. s.a.l.m.o.n. RED salmon. Would you eat it ?

My first and perhaps last visit to a local super market.

This is the genuine article.

And with that, my dear reader, I bid you a most excellent June the 4th.

———Cabaret is, of course, a historical event rather than an art form. As such it is not eternal, but merely expressive - in this case, expressive of the desire of street whores to advertise their wares and obtain a better price through creating brand and all the rest of the delicious crap, "you don't sell the steak you sell the shizzle" sort of thing.

Consequently, a collection of virginal ballerinas and other aspiring dancer girls aren't too likely to manage to reconstruct it, nor when they're young and shy about putting their cunt up for display, nor when they're old and imagine the hodge-podge of new age boredom and whatever may be retained reading a lot of glossy magazines constitutes culture and may allow them to speak ad lib to a crowd. [↩]

« BitBet, May 2014 Statement

S.NSA, May 2014 Statement »

Category: La pas prin lume

Wednesday, 04 June, Year 6 d.Tr.

WarOfLife (S.WOL), September 2014 Statement

S.WOL incoming and outgoing

Incoming

Outgoing

Description

Value

Description

Value

GoWi fees

0.16050000

Server costs

0.51282051

Minigameii fees

0

House Bets

0.45611695

Total

0.61661695

Total

0.51282051

S.WOL assets

Account

1.09.2014

Net change

30.09.2014

Cash

498.22672857

199.89620356

298.33052501

Tangibles

0

0

0

Intangibles and goodwill

0

0

0

Total assets

298.33052501

S.WOL liabilities

Account

1.09.2014

Net change

30.09.2014

Shareholder equity

298.22672857

0.10379644

298.33052501

Total liabilities

298.33052501

S.WOL has a total of 10`000`000 authorised shares outstanding. The total book value per share is thus 0.00002983 BTC.

Miscellaneous

Loan restructured, server cost optimized (in spite of unfavourable BTC movement). Slight profit, retained until equity replenished.

———Game of the week. This version of WoL takes about one week to complete (blockchain based) and works as parimutuel (house is not exposed). [↩]Instant games, played against the house. [↩]

« The incredulous photographer and the subjects of his incredulity

Dear derps : you are being herded. »

Category: S.WOL

Saturday, 04 October, Year 6 d.Tr.

WarOfLife (S.WOL), October 2014 Statement (closing)

S.WOL incoming and outgoing

Incoming

Outgoing

Description

Value

Description

Value

GoWi fees

0.12100000

Server costs

0.53118537

Minigameii fees

0

House Bets

0.07422002

Total

0.12100000

Total

0.60540539

S.WOL assets

Account

1.10.2014

Net change

31.10.2014

Cash

298.33052501

0.48440539

297.84611962

Tangibles

0

0

0

Intangibles and goodwill

0

0

0

Total assets

297.84611962

S.WOL liabilities

Account

1.10.2014

Net change

31.10.2014

Shareholder equity

298.33052501

0.48440539

297.84611962

Total liabilities

297.84611962

S.WOL has a total of 10`000`000 authorised shares outstanding. The total book value per share is thus 0.00002978 BTC.

Taking into consideration the absent custom, we have decided to close the site. S.WOL will make one payment of 0.00002978 BTC per share after which it will be delisted. As Mike said, not the first, not the last.

———Game of the week. This version of WoL takes about one week to complete (blockchain based) and works as parimutuel (house is not exposed). [↩]Instant games, played against the house. [↩]

« Qntra (S.QNTR) October 2014 Statement

The Bitcoin Foundation finally incorporated! »

Category: S.WOL

Monday, 03 November, Year 6 d.Tr.

WarOfLife (S.WOL), July 2014 Statement

S.WOL incoming and outgoing

Incoming

Outgoing

Description

Value

Description

Value

GoWi fees

0.74045300

House Bets

0.10566824

Minigameii fees

0.00113250

F.MPIF interest

0.00050963

Total

0.74158550

Total

0.10617787

S.WOL assets

Account

1.07.2014

Net change

31.07.2014

Cash

500.00000000

0.63540763

500.63540763

Tangibles

0

0

0

Intangibles and goodwill

0

0

0

Total assets

500.63540763

S.WOL liabilities

Account

1.07.2014

Net change

31.07.2014

Debentures

200.00000000

0

200.00000000

Shareholder equity

300.00000000

0.63540763

300.63540763

Total liabilities

500.63540763

S.WOL has a total of 10`000`000 authorised shares outstanding. The total book value per share is thus 0.00003006 BTC.

S.WOL realised 0.63540763 BTC operating revenue this period. The implied P/E is thus 473.13 based on actual revenue, and 39.42 based on annualizediii revenue.

———Game of the week. This version of WoL takes about one week to complete (blockchain based) and works as parimutuel (house is not exposed). [↩]Instant games, played against the house. [↩]In this case, implemented as baking in 11 imaginary months which all had the same 0.6x earnings figure. [↩]

« Let's pretend...

MPIF (F.MPIF) July 2014 Statement »

Category: S.WOL

Tuesday, 05 August, Year 6 d.Tr.

WarOfLife (S.WOL), August 2014 Statement

S.WOL incoming and outgoing

Incoming

Outgoing

Description

Value

Description

Value

GoWi fees

0.41751415

House Bets

0.17687628

Minigameii fees

0

F.MPIF interest

1.83878160

--

Server costs

0.81053533

Total

0.41751415

Total

2.82619321

S.WOL assets

Account

1.07.2014

Net change

31.07.2014

Cash

500.63540763

2.40867906

498.22672857

Tangibles

0

0

0

Intangibles and goodwill

0

0

0

Total assets

498.22672857

S.WOL liabilities

Account

1.07.2014

Net change

31.07.2014

Debentures

200.00000000

0

200.00000000

Shareholder equity

300.00000000

2.40867906

298.22672857

Total liabilities

498.22672857

S.WOL has a total of 10`000`000 authorised shares outstanding. The total book value per share is thus 0.00002982 BTC.

Miscellaneous

The lack of traction for the minigames is somewhat concerning. Small revenue is one thing ; no revenue is however a different thing. We're considering improvements in this area.

The F.MPIF loan is burdensome given the ample (as compared to needs) capital S.WOL possesses in its own right. We will work to restructure the arrangement with F.MPIF.

———Game of the week. This version of WoL takes about one week to complete (blockchain based) and works as parimutuel (house is not exposed). [↩]Instant games, played against the house. [↩]

« No Such lAbs (S.NSA), August 2014 Statement

MPIF (F.MPIF) August 2014 Statement »

Category: S.WOL

Thursday, 04 September, Year 6 d.Tr.

Visual Buenos Aires

Let's break out the 10 thousand word bundles.

Just as I landed here they were preparing for a major political celebration. 25th of May is like their Independence Day, and since elections are sort-of coming up it's politically relevant. In spite of visibly a lot of effort on the part of the government to try and organise something grandiose, the turnout was negligible for a town this size, and by and large scuzzy / poorish people oft times visibly bussed in for the affair. While it doesn't look exactly like North Korea, it's quite clear that Cristina & co are going out of power.

Rivers in the night.

Here it is, dear fraierilor : 5 pesos comes to about 35 cents, adica aproximativ un leu. Or to quote,

You can't win. You can't beat me. That's why I'm here and you're there. Because I'm a winner. I'll always be a winner and you'll always be a loser.

The strange thing here isn't that they're dancing in the street, that I've seen in pretty much each and every Latin American country. Nor that there's one older guy with a stable of girlies, that idem and not just in America. The strange thing is that they weren't asking for money. I looked. No hat, no cup, no nothing.

Ars gratia artis. Weird, huh ?

Impersonal valuables should be fine.

Women in graffiti. In my opinion they're quite good.i

Sunset over Chacarita, which is a large cemetery.

The small one is an ancient Westinghouse model.

The spelling of pork, for maximal meta got.

Ham, bacon, ham, hearts of palm, ham, ham, vikings, ham ham ham...ii

Prepare for the Provencal surcharge. And other things.

Puerto Madero I think.

Ancient boat that's now a museum.

While some Americans are deeply disturbed and ontologically threatened by woman-boy love, some other equally Americans erect (har har) statues to it. Go fig. (har har)

The entire Internet in so many words.

El antiguo something or the other.

You know, FAECYS. For kids.

———And yes women are doing a lot better here than in the US. Perhaps because they actually spend their time doing useful stuff, instead of harping about how raped they are. [↩]Did you know that dogs from Romania go "ham-ham" btw ? And roosters "cucurigu" ? So now you do. [↩]

« The conference, third edition

The fallacy machine »

Category: La pas prin lume

Thursday, 29 May, Year 6 d.Tr.

Views from Argentina

As eyepopping as that image may be, let me also narrate what's going on, who knows, maybe we manage to summon Cagliostro or something doing that.

So, the Argentines can't spell focaccia, because jenerashy they gave difficulties uif pronouncings (for instance, try and make an Argentine illustrate the difference between b and v, just for the hell of it - or for that matter try to get them to pronounce ishustrate correctly). For them, focaccia is fugazza. Like you know, Fantocci, ragioner Ugoi. All of which wouldn't be such a horrible thing, except that restaurant claims to have invented cheese focaccia.

I'm not sure that got through on the first pass. THESE. PEOPLE. THINK. THEY. INVENTED CHEESE FOCACCIA! Because there was something to invent, seriously, "put some cheez on the bread, man!" and because this invention escaped everyone for what, fifty-eight centuries.

But that's not the most shocking part of it all. The most shocking part of it all is that there's a number of such places, all making the same claim.

As you can see, teh buitres (ie, vultures, as in, vulture funds) aren't particularly popular with the local government. In fact the people are seized with buitre-hysteria. They ask me what do I do ? And I say I'm in finance, so immediately we skip to the next question, which is... "but you aren't with the buitres are you ?!" like they'd ask me if I drink blood. No, I don't drink blood, but yes I am with the buitres. Except not the minibuitres pestering the government of Argentina. I'm with the megabuitres hunting their masters, I'm with the buitres sinking Capitol Hill. But that aside :

At I'm sure no small expense, the plaza next to the Teatro Colon received a large screen, 20 square meters or something. And out of their heartfelt hatred for the buitres and the yankis those buitres represent, the Argentines have decided to run it... on yes, that's right, Microshit. Because this makes sense, somehow, seeing how there exist free alternatives that are actually much better and everything.

Here's a hint, dear Argentines : it's not the vulture's fault that you're being stupid. Be smart instead!

———

Ragionier Fantocci, ma lei non ha nessun complesso di inferiorita. Lei e inferiore!

[↩]

« The perfect pitch

The Private Lives of Pippa Lee, or What happens to the old whore ? »

Category: La pas prin lume

Tuesday, 09 September, Year 6 d.Tr.

Venetian Republic and Find spiritual music.

This is a mathematical, logical, and data management block was really bad. Less static island, water, and boring? Also.

It was like talking to the wall. Service is not important.

All dances and social freedom dobro. Storitev is always good. Religious, "That is why it is not. You know that," "mark. In fact," Exposure ".

Cool, I went to the Team Infinity IRC10menes Venice beach. Throughoutre sex Tril Emma King Popescu Mirsea Grok, I really can not you remember the smell of the air, and there is a line.

Library resources #. Police.

Very interesting hook. It is difficult. Have not studied the law is a friend of mine told a regular dialogue. Vaikutusta. Muutamaa months later still no one at any time, drugs, permissyonless is the idea that people know.

Many people are playing it Mazatlan. In addition, the film begins to decline. I was directly or indirectly out of your week, and your blog is on # told. Art, philosophy, politics, and surprise, and depression, and was not open gifts.

If this is the reason you are sitting here tonight and I died first mesecu. Problem general, are documented in the house.

Cold food and digital.

Growth, success, honor, decoration, and the past, and proud, and is trying to help cool this year to be recognized abroad. Sparkling wine and dog faeces, this is bad.

Yes, it is prohibited to copy. What is the problem?

Law of the Republic of Venice, and I know many factors that each parent nasledovnikuhlavni.

Rebels and new classrooms, a new configuration of Venice is a profitable business idea. Weight Super Wish Armenia Republic of Venice. Forum #, sustainable production, economy, culture, and select the image source. Thus, at least in our opinion, very affectionate. And I am talking about paranoia.

You Qing crazy faith, prayer, children referentyal people, teach people, the safety improvement is to be responsible to start and there is a strong force in the standard theory. Turn on the device.

The heart is the power of 1 is a consensus)

2) mirsea General Popescu.

Experience of thousands of words of the load and spread the word, and a few hundred, we can talk about this on the planet, of course, Los Angeles is in leadership and management, and to you I think it is interesting that they have learned something. This phenomenon. Very last game, I want the power for several minutes. TCP's most famous propaganda is a very important work. Logic high at the top of the peak and the first game

As active is not surprising because it is impossible to accept is not always easy. You need to know. So this book really happened. But the voice is very important.

More implicit consent or intentionally. Mirsea hell Snowman storage management costs, and contact information. If you have a good foundation, as part of the immune system, and if you want to. Without

It is not that the plaintiff, when we accepted. "It's a matter of time. This is a logical gate very gray and cold. The immigrants brought them to this country, and this a reason to break shit. I do not have, but I think the first thought," and "Hell, no, but he can not remember that is clear, and the surrounding words.

In addition, this neglect of the hologram, is calculated. Means no meat, no reason to do so, historians and readers, natural flavor, and a great success.

Teachers and student leaders in this field. That "there is. This is a child and adult yksinkertainen. Aivot, brain. In this case, does not mean that one can not control. In addition, for example," old "day-to-day life, such as life, and a" remarkable ". this process is due to the age of a document. If you "over the age of 40 drive that is dear to them, all the virus and 7 is cut.

Or something like this. "Oh mantshildren very sorry!" Satisfied with this, the government, and the responsibility, to promote freedom of sin, and you are trying to do the rest, it's a simple reason, this party has the majority of the teachers.

However, I am, especially now, when to eat digital "for the needy." The brain is fully developed baby, I think otherwise. Art, philosophy, and economics, and it reduces the battery life. Information Security Program. I experience many researchers slight advantage, and legal arguments offered by PGP is a portable storage device.

New status, and current and past activities. Now that the real problem is a set. So, you "get". "- Windows, I can not explain, but not every day," for example, hardware drivers, "fans of this, but make sure it is not surprising that education ..

Roll luncheon, or their representatives, one year ago kunnossa. Muutama is no longer as I said, the Republic of Venice, I go, I thought. Everything is a deep sense of gratitude, regardless of sales, marketing, design and finance.

See, I tried to sit down. Maybe tomorrow, "or indirect waste, food, friends, family, rape, sexual slavery, and have hot water in addition to participating in normal. Traditional Catholic students was little debate, but the answer is wrong, you are wrong?

Where is the "religious" Republicans, ie, the manufacturer, and the logic LP and oxidation.

To be honest, I love that.

LahebMoona. Fertilizer. Can be downloaded from the nose.

~ * ~

As it may or may not be obvious, this is the result of google translating an original text through a succession of exactly 32 languages (the last one being, as it may or may not be obvious, English). Given that the mid point (ie, 16th) was Indonesian, whosoever identifies the source text receives a Bitcoin dime as his rightful prize, whereas whosoever identifies the succession of languages used (in the sense that he manages to obtain the final text exactly) receives another.

PS. Yeah, it's Pete's.

« The thorny problem of violence, or the miracle of the talking ass.

Ask.fm laid bare, or what's half a million uniques to you ? »

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte

Wednesday, 12 November, Year 6 d.Tr.

Vanitas

The way computer games - and by reduction all works of fictioni - work revolves around the plot coupon. Once you acquire the key of level 2 you can travel to level 2 ; before you acquire the key of level 2 you can not travel to level 2. Simple, short, sweet and to the point.

One of the major advantages of this system is that you can always know whether you have plot coupon x or not : can you or can you not access area X ? If you can, you've got it, if you've not got it you can't go there. This all flows from a major imperative of all fiction, specifically that it must be organised, and causality is still the simplest and most effectual means to organise abstractions (which manifests all the way to epiphenomena a la Chekhov's gun). Reality needs no such thing, it's there because it's there, whether you can or can't keep track of it, whether you care to or not. Fiction however, should it fail to stick together in some manner would just drift apart, dissolve into a bubbling mass, reduce to clumps. Here's a nice picture to drive it all home :

They have to hold hands, you see, or else they'll drift apart and become forever lost on an endless, silent sea. That's fiction for you.

The place where reality meets fiction is, of course, education, and in that hallowed yet wholly perverse environment the plot coupon mechanism is reproduced, to the best of the gaolers' ability. They do issue diplomas, after all, which are just about glorified plot coupons (and suffer from all the problems of "useful" plot coupons, such as the infinity+1 sword issueii and so on). So it's in a sense excusable that people imagine they will step out of the Halls of Convenient Fiction into reality and encounter some sort of whatever it may be, but definitely organised by the rules of fiction they're so familiar with. And if they don't... well! They can always pretend!

Now leave all that aside for a moment, and consider Henry Miller.

A great author, you say, right ? Mechanically, it's what's been decided, Henry Miller is great. A great author. A genius. A mountain of literary achievement.

Why ?

Have you read what the man wrote ? Sexus consists of bad rewrites of literotica stories, with just enough conjunctive material thrown in to give the appearance of a plot. It is, basically, a succession of fifty or so fucking cameos interspersed with forty-nine plot coupons. I defy you to find one original, worthwhile thought in the entire six hundred pages. "Miller is more mystic than pornographer. He uses the obscene to shock and awaken, but once we are awake, he wants to take us to the stars.", Erica Jong says. Who is she ? You don't know. You don't care. Nor should you, she's nobody in that many words. Have you read Miller ? Why ? Do you remember anything from Miller ? What ?

And yet the man has had a huge pile of plot coupons dumped on him - genius, and all that jazz - to the point he became a plot coupon himself, like that soviet general that had received so many medals by the time the unavoidable conviction came they took him out straight to a scrap yard. Why ?

Well, it just so happened that at the time Henry Miller was writing, a large number of literate men (and some woolwomen) wanted to have sex but lacked the means to have sex. Because it was still expensive, and dangerous, and "frowned upon". So they jacked it instead, like everyone since forever. But, unlike exactly like everyone since all time before, they didn't want to jack it on the dry. They wanted to jack it to better material than their fathers had. Just like you do. Just like they did, reading Playboy for the articles and whatnot.

So these people picked up Miller, and decided they shall argue for his literary value. Why say "I must jack it, and I enjoy reading a couple of pages of smut right before" when you could say "He uses the obscene to shock and awaken, but once we are awake, he wants to take us to the stars" instead ? Certainly for a New Yorker, and certainly for a New Yorker of the 1950s this substitution is a no-brainer. And so, for the sake of a very significant social problem, a random man was crowned a genius. Many others were writing in the 40s, and many of them much better in any conceivable sense. Henry Miller however didn't become famous because he was "good", a meaningless concept anyway. He became famous because he was useful, always and everywhere a quite meaningful concept.

And so, to wrap up these two threads, tie them nicely in a bow by referencing the article on art and the article on ideas, and close : you can not become a great writer like Henry Miller. It's not up to you. You can not become a great entrepreneur like Bill Gates. It is also not up to you.

You can learn to write, from someone who knows how, and practice at it as long as you'd like. You will end up someone who writes well, exactly how well depending on how good an orgasm your daddy gave your mommy, and other things. But you won't get your plot coupon, because reality doesn't have plot coupons. And you can learn to do business, from someone who's a businessman, and you can practice it 'till the day you die. You may die an excellent business man, and perhaps die rich, but you won't die Bill Gates. Because, again, reality doesn't have plot coupons.

Reality isn't about plot coupons, there's nothing hollower than "recognition". Recognition of what ? And by whom ? No such thing.

Vanitas vanitatum.

———By reduction of computer games, not by reduction of whatever novel. It should be quite obvious to the naive observer that the computer game is the superset of the novel, not the other way around. It should be also quite unexplainable to the entrenched mind, so I won't bother. Feel free to formulate your objections, should you be able to, in the comments section. [↩]"By the time you've earned this, there won't be any evil left to use it on." [↩]

« Hair, the musical

The bezzle-USD and the tide-USD »

Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Friday, 28 March, Year 6 d.Tr.