The very hard and unrewarding life of Ismail

Allow me to help you see what I see :

Yes, that's right, file:///C:/Users/Ismail/Desktop/ismail%20final.html#. Twice. Because why not, right ?

Yes, Verify Now<configurationswp.dallasdowntowncondos.com/>, because who the hell's to know the difference. Hey, people derping about the "Internet of Things" : have you perhaps stopped to consider that the generation of fluffmeisters before you (yes, there was a generation of idiots before you, exactly identical to you ; no, you didn't invent stupidity, it invented you) came up with the bright "every business needs a website" nonsense, for all sorts of great reasons on paper, but with the only practical result being the above - to wit : unsecured inept shit ready for the taking by any two bit barely literate Ismail weighing more in smegma and undernail dirt than interesting thoughts and useful ideas ? Every band needs a website, myspace's going to be big, right ? Everyone needs a blog, because that's why the United States doesn't have a single decent writer, let alone 785 Rembrandts : lack of access. To a website. How about you go away, Joe's fridge does not need to be on the Internet anymore than Joe's shitty band or Joe's inept business do. The only thing of Joe's that belongs on the Internet are his ex gf's nudies, and we have those already.

Yes, missing punctuation here and there, because hey, spelling is hard, getting the dots in front of capitalised letters is easy, why the fuck even bother. It's Windows, it's supposed to do itself, right ?

Yes, "something unusual", that'll cut it, because in the atmosphere of imbecility the "War on Terror" has wrought, that's exactly the right way to express yourself : like a subclinically asocial 14 yo.

Yes, "emails from Paypal will always address you by name" as a rider in an email that fails to even say what the fuck it's saying, because seriously, if anyone had told Ismail how much work this stupid shit is, he'd never have quit not working at McDonald's.

No, I don't actually use Paypal, and haven't for many years. But what the hell's the difference, right ? Por favor, un minimo respeto por el trabajador!

« The four points of this morning, in color. Any questions ?

Blazing Saddles »

Category: Meta psihoza

Friday, 08 May, Year 7 d.Tr.

The "universal" RSA keys

This all starts with an earlier observation in IRC, and the discussion thereupon :

asciilifeform check it out, all the nontrivial factors found have very interesting binary symmetries.

key 4.1 : 17742509903907 = 1000000100011 0000000000000000000 1000000100011

key 4.2 : 4294967297 = 100000000000000000000000000000001

key 5.1 : 7301444404 = 1101100 11001100 11001100 1100110100

key 5.2 : 270582939711 = 111111 00000000000000000000000000 111111

key 6.1 : like key 4.2.

key 6.2 : absent

key 7.1 : 98784247831 = 1011100000000000000000000000000010111

key 7.2 : 30064771079 = 11100000000000000000000000000000111

key 8.1 : 12884901891 = 1100000000000000000000000000000011

key 8.2 : 21474836485 = 10100000000000000000000000000000101

key 9.1 : like key 4.2.

key 9.2 : absent

key 10.1 : 4294967297 = like key 4.2.

key 10.2 : like key 8.1

Leaving aside for the moment all other considerations, let's look at the symmetric factors. Known so far :

100000000000000000000000000000001,

which is 1 on both ends of a string of 31 0s (33 bits total).

1100000000000000000000000000000011,

which is 11 on both ends of a string of 30 0s (34 bits total).

10100000000000000000000000000000101,

which is 101 on both ends of a string of 29 0s (35 bits total).

11100000000000000000000000000000111,

which is 111 on both ends of a string of 29 0s (35 bits total).

1011100000000000000000000000000010111,

which is 10111 on both ends of a string of 27 0s (37 bits total).

11111100000000000000000000000000111111,

which is 111111 on both ends of a string of 28 0s (38 bits total).

100000010001100000000000000000001000000100011

which is 1000000100011 on both ends of a string of 19 0s

(45 bits total).

One way to describe this set would be to say that a 0-padded 32 bit representation of a numeric value is appended to the end of that numeric valuei. The numbers in question are

12 = 110 ;

112 = 310 ;

1012 = 510 ;

1112 = 710 ;

101112 = 2310 ;

1111112 = 6310 (=32 * 7) ;

10000001000112 = 413110 (=35 * 17).

The first five of these Elements 2 through 5 are prime, and the first four an exhaustive list of primes (excepting of course 2), but both these circumstances appear coincidental in light of the larger values encountered.

It seems at this point altogether reasonable to take the following steps :

Take all odd numbers up to 8192 (14 bit integers) and add the 32 bit zero padded number in question to create 64 bit values.

Multiply these values together, first to last, second to penultimate etc

Repeat the previous step 7 times to obtain 512 different 4096 bit "moduli".

Multiply the smallest by 2 to make sure we've introduced that factor in the pool as well.

Transform these into keys and introduce them into Phuctor

This would potentially be useful because Phuctor is only capable to identify shared divisors - up until the moment we found the 2nd key divisible by 3 it was unaware the first one existed. Consequently, the explanation as to why 111 and 10111 are present but 10101 and 11101 are not not may well be that they are, but only appear once. (And for that matter even 110ii could be in there for all we know!)

If these "universal" RSA keys actually open any further keys in the database, it'd be the first time since the original results were announced last Sunday that anyone proposed a useful, testable hypothesis - a sorer indictment of the soi dissant cryptographical community resident on the Internet being scarcely conceivable.

———In a process muchly reminiscent of the diddled exponents discussed earlier. [↩]110 is distinct from 11 here - 11 exists and appears as 11000000000000000000000000000000112 = 429496729910, whereas 110 would appear as 110000000000000000000000000000001102 = 2576980378210 [↩]

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Category: Zsilnic

Saturday, 23 May, Year 7 d.Tr.

The triviality of slaying the surviving socialist beast

Contemporary socialism is not really doing all that well.

The original, no doubt strongest and by far most persuasive version, National Socialism (aka nazism) fell out of history cca 1940. It failed, you see. Plain and neat, it made some promises, it failed to deliver on them, it killed itself in the bunker all bitter and betrayed. That's it. Yet the oldest brother had the moral fiber to kill itself, at least. For this and for many other such superiorities, it is still the most respectable of the whole poisonous bunch.

The middling brother, soviet socialism, essentially an implementation of "it doesn't make any sense but it works!"i finally went financially bankrupt in the '80s, after going intellectually bankrupt in the '60s. Basically, it stopped working, which is necessarily the end of something that never made any sense. (Hey, who knows, maybe it spontaneously starts working again, later! Let's quietly await the second coming of Trotsky or something!)

The remaining brother, a dubious decoction of the historical Labour party in the UK and the historical "samba si, trabajo no"ii parties of South America (rolled through a pile of French "culture" nonpareils long past the use-by date) was left in chargeiii of the whole world's stupid (easily five billion souls, known affectionately as "libertards"). It's a lot like that Monty Python sketch where three men barely carry a coffin, then the road goes uphill, one dies, now the remaining two gotta carry the coffin plus the dead guy, then the strongest dies and this famelic adolescent with a distended abdomen and bubonic plague marks is stuck carrying the whole thing, so he sort-of drags it on all fours.

To make matters worse for the poor retarded cadetiv, he's actually lost contact with prime notions. Let's set the stage to understanding this bit. From vitavoni :

Consider for example Hadoop. Nobody seems to know how to build Hadoop from scratch. It's an incredible mess of dependencies, version requirements and build tools. None of these "fancy" tools still builds by a traditional make command. Every tool has to come up with their own, incomptaible, and non-portable "method of the day" of building. And since nobody is still able to compile things from scratch, everybody just downloads precompiled binaries from random websites. Often without any authentication or signature. NSA and virus heaven. You don't need to exploit any security hole anymore. Just make an "app" or "VM" or "Docker" image, and have people load your malicious binary to their network. The Hadoop Wiki Page of Debian is a typical example. Essentially, people have given up in 2010 to be able build Hadoop from source for Debian and offer nice packages.

You may be tempted to think this is "a problem of Linux", or "of FOSS". It is not. You may be tempted to think this is a problem of computers, or of computing as a(n engineering) practice or of computing science as a theoretical approach. It is not.

This is a problem of the surviving socialist beast, that pseudo-"democratic" monstrosity every libertard in the world has run to for cover. Under the pressure of such a heavy coffin, of so much ground to cover, being required to make so much sense out of so little material it has lost contact with the prime notions. It's not just "hadoop" that they can no longer compile from scratch - they also can't compile feminism from scratch anymore, nor "leadership" nor "justice" nor "equality", or in a different linguistic space of the same stupidity, "trabajo", "respeto" etcetera.v

This is the fundamental reason why I proposed the "ignore it" avenue to deal with the pseudoscience they spew, that dubious decoction of solipsism and "correlation therefore causation". They no longer have any standing intellectuals, there's nobody left in Derpy Party who can compile anything from scratch.

They can sort-of flail their arms in the general appearance of making "points" eight or twenty nodes downstream, but if you challenge undefensible jumps five or ten nodes upstream all they can do is become irate. There's just nothing else there, you may get a "do we really still have to do this" as if you know, compiling the hadoop is such a trivial, well known process it's scarcely worth the trouble to go into it. It's not, and this is trivially verified : they can not do it. Not a single one of them, not ever, no matter what. Try it.vi

Which is what I'm saying : the remainder socialism, weakest of three brothers, has actually failed, and is now blind. Not even a cyclops anymore. Not even a cyclops, and everyone's Odysseus.vii

———Notwithstanding a whole lot of whitewashing by Western "intellectuals" and a whole lot of pretending like "it really does make sense, you just don't understand it!" by its own propaganda machine. [↩]During the third conference we went to a the BDSM club of Buenos Aires. They were holding a "slave auction". The derp jockey spent a while being a total idiot (you know how bad daytime talk radio gets ? worse!), which climaxed at the point where he demanded people do not make obscene hoots & hollers, because "estamos trabajando aqui" & demanded "un minimo respeto".

Literally, these are the avatars of Latino idiocy : that "trabajo" is a holy talisman of justice and rightness, arbitrarily allocated. It's not something you do, it's something that's recognised for you. It works in their head exactly like "truth" in Europe - truth is not something you do, truth is something you get others to agree you got. You could be sitting on your ass all day clicking through cat pictures, just as long as you obtain a certificate you're good, "estoy trabajando". Sound familiar ?

Unlike in Europe however, where dreptatea umbla cu capul spart, trabajadorness protects like a Catholic talisman, it's the proxy notion for divine grace. Should the government pass a law recognising that people in a falling aeroplane were "trabajando a caer" that's it, they'd be perfectly protected (which doesn't mean that they won't go splat on the surface, nor does it mean they'd go to heaven, it just means... see, the stupidity of South America is not easily grasped. It doesn't mean anything yet they act like there's anything there.

And this "minimo respeto" thing... Basically, if you're going to live in a world where an arbitrary category devoid of substance is brought into being by convention, everyone's stuck with all sorts of bizarre, inexplicable obligations foisted upon them by the practical and conceptual needs of that convention. For instance, they can't be capitalist, which means they pointedly can not survive, they can not have industry or as much as run a shop, because the nude, plain and simple demands of capitalism to the organisation of human activity necessarily will contradict the burdens of "minimo respeto". Like, you can't fire a derp that does a bad job, even if it's something fully documented and plainly understood like being a salesman. Therefore nobody gets to be good at anything they do, and nothing can ever adapt. All they can do is copy the methods of the past (muy muy respeto aya), which works about as well as you'd imagine. [↩]The only people interested in socialism are the subhuman horde of idiots. Conversely, the only function of socialism is to keep the subhuman horde more or less occupied and more or less equipped - although the original socialism also attempted to resolve the problem in the Poincare direction (the man famously observed that avoiding human suffering can never be the goal of policy, seeing how the most perfect solution is to just exterminate everyone), figuring that they'll have an easier job of it if there were fewer idiots around but then botching the selection process. [↩]This word means "youngest brother", for the record. [↩]Make no mistake, the world's stupid have never been literate, irrespective of whether someone forced the alphabet and rudimentary writing into them or not. The problem here is that even their elite has lost the letters. [↩]The intellectual dishonesty incumbent in pretending like the impossible is banal may be jarring, but somehow it's not jarring them. This is very convenient, because it can be repurposed to serve as a very good heuristic to distinguish intelligent people accidentally caught in a complex of subhuman horde - like alcohol captive in cyclodextrine slog - from the genuinely subhuman, desperate to cling to relevancy, and to a pretense of humanity that in their mouth rings obscene. Here's a coupla examples as to how the former look (they're discussing Fetlife, the meat market) :

Dudebro is coming from the perspective that women as a commodity to be traded is pretty much the most important factor upon which our society is built. And he appears to hold this belief without any rancor or sense that perhaps this should be changed.

The technology dudebro uses is not the point. Truthfully, I don't think it much matters what someone does with that belief, it's going to be problematic.

Wow, it's the exact argument made by Rubin in "The Traffic in Women," but stated without any hint of irony.

The problem with an autonomous life of the mind is that one is so very often so very wrong - ars longa vita brevis means many things, but among them it means that there's an infinity of dead trails that are long enough you won't live to find the dead end. Consequently, perfectly human humans often enough find themselves in this strange situation where they're fighting under the banners of the filth and against their own kind. They got confused. What can you do ? [↩]That's, fundamentally, what computers have done for us - everyone's now Odysseus. [↩]

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Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Thursday, 23 April, Year 7 d.Tr.

The trade hour

Daniel Baron has a shop, and so when we met in game we did a little bit of trading. To wit :

(07:11:53) >Daniel gave Mircea 200 Leaky Treebark Flasks and 30000 Copper.

(07:11:53) >Mircea gave Daniel 1000000 Copper.

(07:11:53) >Trade complete

(07:16:31) >Mircea gave Daniel 1440000 Copper.

(07:16:31) >Daniel gave Mircea 3000 Indistinct Bark Shavingses.

(07:16:31) >Trade complete

(07:21:05) >Daniel gave Mircea 8000 Coarse Frangible Threads and 350000 Copper.

(07:21:05) >Mircea gave Daniel 3000000 Copper.

(07:21:05) >Trade complete

Shavingses, ain't that cute.

I've also made him an offer on his 4k Slag, but that one he declined. Be that as it may those LTF will make some wonderful Improbabe Oil which will then make some even more wonderful Tuber Milk which will be split into three : one third goes to making Dolce de Leche, one third goes to make Mollusc Cheese and one third stays as is. Together by their powers combined they make up the Suspect Ointment, and that's a good chunk of what's needed for an Unsteady Scaffolding which as discussed previously makes Worn Screens etc scl.

Meanwhile the IBS (together with some of the CFT) will make 250 more bottles, but this time high quality, which will also be filled with oil, but this time low quality, which I'll turn into Shaped Slag (for which I'd have needed his slag, see), to be made into mining tools, to be worn down and made into either improved mining tools or Bandar Toolkits, depending. But in this case mostly Toolkits. Which reminds me, earlier I ran into Foxy, with whom I'm at the Shaped Slag phase of this cycle (on a 200 bottle batch), so we did a little trading also!

(06:52:37) >Foxy gave Mircea 107 Worthless Putrid Leathers and 3036172 Copper.

(06:52:37) >Mircea gave Foxy 103 Pointy Clump of Slags, 2 Sharp Clump of Slags, 192 Shiny Rocks, and 500 Slags.

(06:52:37) >Trade complete

She also wanted SR to make some slag, because we cut a deal where I sold her high quality Slag of my own make, and I'll buy back her own slag in the same amount, and only charge on the value difference.i

All in all the turnover here is 970k + 1.44mn + 2.65mn + 3.03 mn = 8.09mn, or 0.08090000 BTC. One can fit just about 1`648 seconds between 06:52:37 and 07:21:05, and consequently Eulora trade flew at the rate of ~5k coppers a second during the interval here examinedii, which happens to be more than the per-second throughput of a vast majority of Bitcoin businesses out there. We're talking one if not even two standard deviations here.

Because Eulora's just that deviant, that's why.

PS. Foxy is looking for noob miners to dig up her Wooly Mushroom ordinaries, because I need a shitton of mushrooms to make oil with. Talk to her in-game.

———For an economy this young and this small, Eulora is incredibly rife with complex trade arrangments. This buyback sort of deal isn't all that rare, for one thing.

For another thing, if someone has a rare item (such as often TLC) and wants the end products (usually ACG) I take the rare item for free and then only charge on the remainder basis. Specifically : Alchemist Cheap Gin is 1 to 1 Leaky Treebark Flask ; 1 to 1 Two Leaf Clover and 24 to 24 Nondescript Tubers. The base values for these are respectively 4`070, 1`086 and 28 * 87 = 2`436, making the end product base value = 7592. Normally I'd add a % to this value (and pretty significant at that, seeing how boiling one unit of ACG hits a Multifunctional Samovar for almost 3k in decay. But if the person provides their own TLC, I use as a basis 6506 instead of 7592.

This way, if they wish to charge 10k extra per TLC, they can just add the 10k to whatever they paid for the ACG and get exactly the same end result - their internal accounting stays consistent - while production does not gring to a halt over my unwillingness to pay whatever they want to charge for my inputs (what to fairly charge for rare items is still very much an open problem, by the way).

All this is, incidentally, perfectly consistend with the historical record, even if it contradicts naive assumptions of various progres about what exactly "progress" did to the world. The arrangements of trade were if anything more complex back when economies were "more primitive", because that complexity tracks the depth of actual human involvement in the process, not the timeline. [↩]We're discounting various items I'm too lazy to figure out into all this, such as my mining of a Shiny Rock claim for her - hey, another type of complex arrangement right there - and supplying her with 100 Disgusting Goop and 100 Strong Branches of high quality, and taking her 500 odd Strong Branches of lower quality (which will be great to make PPBs, which are needed in Chetty Sticks which she needs to find mushrooms and on it goes). [↩]

« Ars gratia artis sau cum era, or The function and the functioning of art part deux

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Category: S.MG

Thursday, 10 September, Year 7 d.Tr.

The three friends and the means of meaning

So there were once, recently, in a place nearby, three very good friends. They had gone to school together, they cut class together - then went to college together and to their first hiring interview together and even after that they met weekly for a beer together in some cosy neighbourhood pub or other.

And so the days passed, making up weeks and the weeks making up weekly meetings where they had a drink together and talked together and then went home apart, but met again together the next day at work.

One day, one of the friends bought himself a goldfish.

A few months later, he took hold of an axe, and crashed some furniture around the house, and was arrested because the neighbours reported the noise. So his friends bailed him out, and over the emergency drinks in the emergency meeting in the ordinary bar they questioned their very grim looking friend.

- What the hell got into you ?

- I dun wanna talk about it.

- But why not ? We're your friends!

- Because you won't believe me and you'll think I'm insane.

- If you can't trust your friends...

- Fine. The goldfish told me ...

- Ahahahahaha

- See ?

- No, no, I'm sorry. I thought you were making a joke. Mute as a goldfish, right ?

So eventually they promised and convinced the stern looking, and he told them.

- The goldfish told me my father tried to fuck it.

- But... wasn't your father dead for twenty years ?

- Nevertheless.

- How do you fuck a goldfish ?!

- I have no idea.

- So when would this have happened ?

- I don't know.

- It doesn't make much sense, does it ?

- I guess not.

The helpful friends assured him that clearly he must have misunderstood something, first owing to the plain impossibility of the situation, and second owing to the sheer insanity of the whole scheme. Seriously, who fucks goldfish ?!

After that, life for the threesome carried on like before. The incident was quickly forgotten, until some years later, when another one of the three bought himself a parrot - and a few months later he took hold of a sledgehammer, and crashed some furniture around the house, just like the other one.

His friends bailed him out like the other one, and sat him down, and lined up shots, and it came to light that

- The parrot kept saying my father tried to fuck it.

- Ahahaha what ?!

- I have no idea what the fuck, must have been some insane previous owner or something.

- So you went after it ?

- Ah, no, just... man it's fucking impossible to keep your focus while the stupid bird keeps going on like that. I was trying to drive some nails but got my finger for the fifth fucking time, so I threw the hammer away, it went through the window and landed at the feet of that old bitty living across so she called the police.

- Crazy...

- You're telling me!

The one that once had a goldfish murmured something inaudible about pets, the other loudly proclaimed the nonsense of parrot speak, and the recently liberated man kept his eye on the drinks.

Until one day, later on, when the third got himself a wife. And then, not many months after that they had to bail him out, because he and his living-in father got into a heated argument and someone's skull got cracked - please notice the neutral, fact of the matter narrative thank you. At the same bar, the same friends, fixing their drinks.

- She told me dad fucked her.

- What ?!

- Regular, like, even since we got engaged.

- Oh so you got into a fight ?

- Nah. I don't believe her.

- What do you mean you don't believe her ?!

- Why would dad fuck her!

- Man... she's hawt!

- Nevertheless.

- Well... not like he has a girlfriend. He's not that old is he ?

- He isn't but that's besides the point.

And so the man who once owned a goldfish and the man who once owned a parrot sat with their drinks and contemplated the means of meaning.

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Category: Prz arhscrt

Wednesday, 26 August, Year 7 d.Tr.

The Structured Conversation

Since a questioning session with yours truly is the fabled daunting experience I hear it is, let us record an instance where one dared and it worked well, for public aedification.

wywialm Hello, I would like to request your comments on the project I am collaborating on

assbot Quedex Bitcoin Derivatives Exchange

shinohai Dat javascript.

wywialm Works without :)

mircea_popescu Can you instead make statements ?

wywialm Sure, statements about the exchange?

mircea_popescu Like "I'm collaborating on a project based on P1 P2 P3 being true and P4 and P5 being false, it is supposed to achieve Q. Any comments ?". That works a lot better, not likely I'm going to form much of a useful idea from looking at a web interface.i

wywialm From the security perspective, it is based on the MPEx PGP standard

mircea_popescu In the sense that what, users give you their key and all subsequent communication's encrypted and signed by it ?

wywialm That is true.

mircea_popescu Pretty cool.

wywialm From the financial perspective, it assumes that when running futures exchange, one should also provide options and have a complete market.

mircea_popescu Options on what ? For instance I had an open offer for a TSLA short in here weeks ago, could it have filled it ?

wywialm And that market should be bitcoin-oriented, i.e. contracts should be structured treading fiat currencies as foreign currencies.

mircea_popescu Oh, FX futures you mean ?

wywialm Currently - on fiat currencies, but I'd very much like to introduce stock options.

mircea_popescu How do you resolve the liability issue ? Suppose I buy a million dollars to be delivered in Q4. How do you resolve the part where you have to make sure whoever sold me the million actually has it by then ?

wywialm Currently the contracts are financially settled, but when we move to the physical delivery (as soon as possible), the margins would increase as the contract approaches notice date.

mircea_popescu So sellers get daily margin calls ?

wywialm Margin calls might appear in real time, if the margin is not replenished quickly, the position is liquidated.

mircea_popescu "Quickly".

wywialm Where quickly is defined in terms of price move. :)

mircea_popescu So it gets liquidated. What's that do for buyer ? I bought 1mn in Q4, yoiu're gonna give me 3/4 mn in Q3 because hey, why not ? I'm suing you.ii

wywialm The liquidated contract is sold on the market at the market price

mircea_popescu But you see what i mean do you ?

wywialm Yes, ultimately, the exchange provides reserves to cover for members' losses, which are planned to be strenghened by credit default swaps.

mircea_popescu This will be the bane of your existence, on the general theoretic front. Because like it or not, the unappealing dilemma is, either offer "renegotiable contracts", which is roughly what you're describing, and which fails at the only job futures have to do (ie, ensure the buyer of specified amount of specified merchandise on specified date), or else full reserve, which will kill your speculators without which no market can function (irrespective of what idiots such as the eu central bank think). So there is that. But in point of fact, for your daily life, you'll have a much more annoying problem. What btc price do you use for settlement ?

wywialm Currently - an average across 4 USD exchanges, with cutting out outliers

mircea_popescu Problem being the marketiii's illiquid enough to be easily pushed. But that's not something you'll manage to fix or really should be fixing. What's the meaning of "collaborating on" in this context ?

wywialm I am the economist behind all this.

mircea_popescu Are you an outside consultant on a salary, a board member with an equity interest, a volunteer academic, none of the above. (Note that deferred salary payments and other promises make you a 3).

wywialm Re spot illiquidity - I acknowlegde this, currency futures as well as commodity futures should have physical delivery and we're working on it.

mircea_popescu If your future doesn't deliver it has a hole in it, sooner or later it'll infect and puss out. Anyway.

wywialm 3) academic with deferred salary payments dependent of the performace of the exchange.

mircea_popescu Why would you wish to risk your reputation (which, whatever you may think of it, is significant enough that you can come here and have my ear whenever you want to) on this thing ? For all you know you're reliving the NeoBee nightmare. You remember that ?

wywialm I think it's a good idea, and I know personally people involved, and I needed your comments - how else could I get these? Btw: thank you for kind words.

mircea_popescu Why're these people involved not in the WoT for instance ? Who are they ? How do you know any word they say is true ?

shinohai NeoBee provided so many lulz.

wywialm Yes, I remember NeoBee very well.

mircea_popescu The way this usually works, and it has worked about 500 times to date with 0 variance, is that scammer gets a coupla sluts and a coupla "credible people" to contact respectable, well meaning folk, launches project. From the perspective of the public the respectable folk form an impenetrable visual barrieriv. From the perspective of said folk, the coupla sluts and coupla salesmen idem. And a year to a year and a half lat er scammer runs with the money and the entire stack of noobs is left apologizing.

wywialm I will of course invite them to WoT - but I know them for a long time irl.

nubbins` Re:neobee, wonder what happened to thickasthieves

shinohai That means little to potential investors though.

mircea_popescu Wywialm there's know and there's know. Not something I can help you with - but know you are in fact taking your fate in your own hands and make the call as to these people in full light of that.

nubbins` I guess he got his cream and moved on.

mircea_popescu Iirc he narrowly survived that, a settlement being involved.

nubbins` O! He got way too much of a pass in here for the amount of shady things he was into.

mircea_popescu It's a forumv, this. Really very free passage throughout.

n6 Hey mircea_popescu I have been coming around last few days getting a ton of help, but it has all made me feel awful. Last year I really let your ideas down and ended up getting tricked by someone pretending to be a friend of mine. But in the end the basic ideas saved me from going to jail. Would you help me work out?

mircea_popescu Work out ?! Like what, aerobics ?

n6 Yep

mircea_popescu o.O

* nubbins` takes notes

mircea_popescu What the fuck am I, Jane Fonda over here. Talk to a woman in good shape, they know.

nubbins` ^ bummer

wywialm mircea_popescu, I acknowledge this.

mircea_popescu !rated wywialm

assbot You rated user wywialm on 27-Nov-2014, with a rating of 2, and supplied these additional notes: Polish econ guy..

mircea_popescu !rate wywialm 3 Polish econ guy, trying to make quedex.net work.

assbot Request successful, get your OTP: http://w.b-a.link/otp/f2dbea7a4193912d

nubbins` !s thickasthieves

assbot 49811 results for 'thickasthieves' : http://s.b-a.link/?q=thickasthieves

nubbins` o jeez

mircea_popescu !v assbot:mircea_popescu.rate.wywialm.3:8bbdc73128302d7bd5c78c2e2521b516d2041fa396c65d8d866b13e26f149a02

assbot Successfully updated the rating for wywialm from 2 to 3 with note: Polish econ guy, trying to make quedex.net work.

nubbins` LEL all those unrates.

mircea_popescu wywialm best of luck. There isn't anything glaringly obvious to say else.

wywialm I didn't expect this, but I'm thankful.

In closing : please always remember that talking is more akin to playing chess than to gargling at the dentist's ; that words do in point of fact have meanings and synonimy is a fiction not a fact and so on. You'll do fine.

———Think about this for a second. Please, think about it.

You come back home, your girlfriend opens the door naked, lets you in, does a pirouette and goes "Look at this!" So you look at that. Then she wants to know "what do you see ?" and you say... What do you say ? What do you see ?

Tits, right ? Too polite to say cunt and "slit"'s too truckery. Or what, you're the sensitive guy and look at her hair ? The greedy golum type that notices the new, hairline ankle bracelet ? The hypermetropic type that sees the new painting on the wall (true story, this happened). It's just, hopeless.

The notion that any understanding worth the mention can be formed through off the cuff visual inspection of any man made item is a necessary correlate of one being about nine years old. Yes, doctors used to do this. A century or five ago, before they discovered handwashing as a medical procedure.

Now think about the fact that most "people" CODE LIKE THAT. Live like that. Yes, yes they do. This is the deep meaning of "Hey my name is jwz and don't care about anything" - what he means is, that he expects "things to just work" which is to say according to whatever harebrained notion he might have formed on casual visual inspection, and it's the responsability of the whole world, his parents and myself included, to make it so!

Let's do our part to discourage the retarded visualism of the derps unfortunately contemporaneous. Words matter and no image to date was worth a thousand words. [↩]Stop thinking "suing" has anything with the obsolete court system, by the way. It does not. You can sue in #b-a, and it works way better. [↩]The part of it visible on the web, at any rate. [↩]Again with this. Seriously.

Visuals are for cows, get it in your head. [↩]Term of art, not what you imagine it to mean. [↩]

« Varia varietatis, or your All-About-The-Mollusc guide.

Racists and the racist idea »

Category: Zsilnic

Saturday, 08 August, Year 7 d.Tr.

The strange case of the WoodCollector and other stories.

The entire affair transpired on the TardsTalk forumi, Bitcoin's premiere comedy goldmine. A convenient summary is provided by nubbins`, who for some reason has been prosecuting the matter relentlessly, mpoe-pr-esque-ly. Mayhap he was bored. Or he has bloodhound blood. Or something. Anyway, the summary in question :

WoodCollector creates a hate thread in order to intimidate me into silence. He will post his evidence "soon" ; A carver with 40 years of experience calls bullshit ; Several pieces are found to be using stolen artwork ; A thread where WoodCollector attempts to recruit paid shills to push his phony wares ; A thread where our Master Carver is tired of making $10 million a year, and is interested in a much more lucrative career operating a dark market website selling marijuana paraphernalia ; More stolen artwork ; Several of WoodCarver's customers have PMed me stating that they realize they were ripped off for hundreds/thousands of dollars, but are currently too afraid to come forward for fear their personal information will be releasedii ; A South African resident calls bullshit on everything WC has stated about his woods, with links to back it up ; WoodCollector locks both of his hate threads against me, after posting screenshots of him uploading a proof video. The screenshots turn out to be bogus ; WoodCollector can't figure out how to engrave straight lines onto wood with his laser engraver on November 29, 2014.

The meat and potatoes of this entire thing is : some kid got a laser etcher tool, and proceeded to etch free SVGs found online upon pieces of wood. This is actually a good, positive and useful thing, and it resulted in a net if tiny addition of value to the space.

However, instead of representing himself fairly but modestly as someone doing something useful that anyone else could just as well be doing, he instead misrepresented himself, fraudulently but grandiosely as some sort of "master carver" doing one of a kind work out of "valuable wood" and other similar insanities.iii

The facts of the matter were readily obvious to everyone with a clue upon the most casual inspection. However, people without a clue apparently ended up taken in.iv Normally people without a clue do not have money, so they are reasonably safe - except, of course, for the rare circumstance where ordinary people get empowered significantly above what their modest intellects can handle, such as for instance whenever a land rush happens, be it Bitcoin, oil or anything else of similar value and properties ; as well as for the common circumstance of the ever more advanced fracking techniques developed to separate welfare recipients from their ill gotten gainsv.

The one point I wish to make, and underscore and bold and carve out of live bone if at all possible is this :

You know in retrospect, I don't actually blame the woodcarver idiot. He's just some monkey doing what he should be doing : monkeying. I blame Andreessen Horowitz, and Paul Graham and fucking Bill Gates. That's who I blame. A whole shitload of "charity" in Africa isn't going to wash this off of them. Poor monkey is doing what they claimed he should be doing. Fucking frauds. He's exactly their fucking poster child : politically aware, rhetorically prepared, ready to lie and fake it all the way.

That's right. Do a little and claim you're really doing a lot ? Check. Pretend like you have skills you don't have, pretend like you're delivering value you're not actually delivering ? Check. Engage anyone showing you differenty in a purely rhetorical battle, instead of using that energy to engage your shortcomings ? Check.

This vapid sort of pointless, disabled, ineffectual and ultimately useless and worthless "entrepreneur" that the VC circus is promoting puts to shame the otherwise glorious traditions of the Western civilisation, and the immortal heritage of white people. A lot more so than the inept handling of finances and financial promises, for instance.

And I wish it clearly stated and plainly understood that when I say I am white, and when I say I am European, and when I say I am a civilised man I specifically do NOT mean I am like the United States Africans. I specifically do not mean I am like Andreessen Horowitz, or like Paul Graham, or like Bill Gates.

No, they do not belong and in no sense participate in anything to do with white culture, or European civilisation. They are Africansvi, they belong in Africa, and the pretense to the contrary is not merely insulting, but extremely ignorant - of history, of culture, of civilisation. Not just of any history, or of any culture, or of any civilisation mind you, but of that history which matters, and of that culture which matters, and of that civilisation which matters.

Here this article ends, and we each go back : me to being what they pretend to be ; they to hoola hoops, tribal dances and ridiculous superstitions.

———Here's the principal thread, Scam Warning: WoodCollector.

Here's the first response thread, a moderately lulzy "Nubbins is the type of Plague that destroys this community (video proof thread)" (no video nor any "proof" is actually produced).

Here's the second response thread, a somewhat lulzier "Nubbins is using a witch hunt to try and iliminate his competition - THE FACTS" introduced by the guy's signature as "THE TRUTH BEHIND NUBBINS LIES AND TACTICS". This last one is particularly interesting because well... that "competition" scammer story is really getting old by now. [↩]This, incidentally, is the actual plague that destroys the community of retards blindly swarming around Bitcoin - just like it destroys every other community of retards, irrespective what they're swarming around.

The failure to completely and exhaustively report scams, and in the worst cases (oft seen in Bitcoin) agreeing to shill for the scammer in exchange for a partial refund is the absolute worst thing to do.

It externalises the costs of one's own idiocy upon the community at large, creating a socialised losses / privatized profits situation where people who should not have money manage to extract a little money out of degrading the general quality of the discussion, by straight up lying for pay. It is toxic, abvoe and beyond the toxicity of African tribalism, but through roughly the same mechanisms. Africa is poor - and the footholds of Africa in the ghettos of the West are poor - because people can't farm and pursue industry due to a minority of idiots go around with AK-47s. Similarly, communities of idiots - whether they imagine they're related to Bitcoin or to anything else - can't prosper because almost everyone is constantly attacking the industry (such as it is) of everyone else through this shilling for scammers approach to denying one's own idiocy, and the grandiose opportunities to learning that spring from confronting it.

There is a lot of personal responsibility involved in empowering scammers through simple silence, let alone speaking in their favour. To quote MPOE-PR's 2012 seminal piece :

Prosperity is in general the result of the working of free markets. The one caveat to this observation is that market participants have to be responsible. It doesn't matter so much if they are intelligent or not, it doesn't really matter if they're good christians or devout muslims or anything else, but they do have to be responsible.

When some people behave irresponsibly the result is that they lose their money, which flows, albeit indirectly and circumvolutedly but nevertheless unerringly, to more responsible participants.

When a small majority* of participants behave irresponsibly however the net result is not just pain to their own fortunes, but pain spread across the board. All of a sudden you have to be very intelligent, and very experienced, and very well informed to manage to keep your money safe, and often enough even that's not going to suffice.

Giving over half a million bitcoins to a random idiot has the unpleasant effect of creating a high powered idiot. He can now wreak havoc on the exchange rate, which increases volatility and on the long term hurts everyone involved in bitcoins, because volatility is, much like inflation, an indirect tax on users.

Giving over half a million bitcoins to a random idiot has the unpleasant effect of creating half a million bitcoins' worth of valueless receipts, which are pretty much indistinguishable to the naked eye from valid receipts. Thus, if you pay on anyone's credit you are basing your judgment not on actual fact, but on an unknown and pretty much unknowable mixture of fact and hogwash.

Giving over half a million bitcoins to a random idiot is a bad idea. There are people whose personal responsibility in this matter is greater than that of most everyone else, people who have in effect acted as lieutenants for the random idiot. This thread is a convenient spot for all of them to avoid the indignity of being called out, and instead freely and willingly admit their mistake, and by admitting it learn from it. Specifically, learn that they aren't nearly as qualified as they thought to play the "banker", and by this make one step towards maybe one day actually being bankers.

The wanna-be bankers are not alone in their hour of humiliation. There are plenty of others who spend their entire day spouting nonsense on this forum, either under the guise of being "journalists" for some monthly magazine that does a couple issues a year or just as random internet experts in everything. Obviously they won't be learning anything on this opportunity as they haven't learned anything on any of the previous ones in their lives. That's after all fine, what would a mining town be without the drunks and general scum?

Aside from these practical considerations, there are some more general points to be taken home by anybody who wants to be a little smarter today than last month, and possibly have a little better shot at actually making money than before.

1. Learn the pecking order. All opinions are not equal. Some people are to be respected. Learn who. Some people are irrelevant and easily ignored. Learn who. More importantly than the who, learn why. Is it just because "everyone else seems to think so"? That's no good, forget it. Is it because they were right when everyone else was wrong? That's perfect, especially if it occurs with any sort of consistency.

2. Business means something very specific. Only the permanently poor imagine business = "anything to do with money". There's no business without a business plan. If something purports to be a business but "it can't" or it just won't share its business plan it is not a business. This means you can't be investing in it. Sure, you can throw money at anything you wish, as for instance the toilet bowl, Ponzi scams or scantily clad girls. However, in order to invest you absolutely need a business first.

3. Learn how to deal with your own mental limitations. If you think you don't have any you find yourself most likely in the situation described here:

If one skims through the psychological literature, one will find some evidence that the incompetent are less able than their more skilled peers to gauge their own level of competence. For example, Fagot and O'Brien (1994) found that socially incompetent boys were largely unaware of their lack of social graces (see Bem & Lord, 1979 , for a similar result involving college students). Mediocre students are less accurate than other students at evaluating their course performance ( Moreland, Miller, & Laucka, 1981 ). Unskilled readers are less able to assess their text comprehension than are more skilled readers ( Maki, Jonas, & Kallod, 1994 ). Students doing poorly on tests less accurately predict which questions they will get right than do students doing well ( Shaughnessy, 1979 ; Sinkavich, 1995 ). Drivers involved in accidents or flunking a driving exam predict their performance on a reaction test less accurately than do more accomplished and experienced drivers ( Kunkel, 1971 ).

In short: if you're not aware that there's anything wrong with your judgment of "business", "finance", "investing", "money" and so forth that is almost certainly due to the fact that you are very weak on all of these topics, likely significantly below average. You should spend a good deal of time reading and a greater deal of time testing things out methodically before you promote yourself mentally to "average", or even "crummy". This means years. Years.

The advantage of BTC is that it's a very cheap and very clean way to learn about finance. The disadvantage (if we can call it that) is that it's much akin to falling in love: very, very, very hard on the knees. Vitriolic to the ego.

4. Step outside of your ideology. You might have been brought up in a very repressive social milieu in which some particular ideological slant was drilled into you. This is working to your disadvantage, get rid of it. Are you sticking up for your friends because they're your friends rather than because they have a point? Great for facebook, horrible for BTC. You will lose money. Are you following the crowd like a welfare state lemming? Great for the white collar slave, horrible for BTC. You will lose money. Do you think form is above content and as such it's okay to invade foreign countries and slaughter civilians just as long as nobody says shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker or tits on TV? Great for being an American, horrible for the free world. You will lose money.

5. Re-read this entire post. It probably didn't fully sink in on the first pass. Seriously. Alternatively it is always easier to just not like me. You will lose money.

---------

* This term of... art, let's say, will go down in BTC history.

[↩]An illustrative direct quote :

8: Who am I?

Honestly NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS. I am not here trying to sell you my brand. 90% of you cannot afford it, i make art pieces for the people here because they ask for it. There are all of 3 people on this forum who know who i really am, and every one of them would not sell that secret for $100,000 because they have a vested interest in keeping the secret. What i am is why you will never find out. I am, in fact a world famous artist, my pieces have been in the Smithsonian on exhibit at the Louvre and in the home of pompous wealthy people the world over. Even if you have the money and want to spend a ton of it, even buying one of my original artworks via this forum will not get you my identity. There is too much at stake.

In the art world, or for that matter any luxury goods world, taking a very well branded high end product and then doing lesser works and selling them for cheaper is called scalping. Scalping work is the fastest way to destroy a million or billion dollar brand. There is a reason you will never see Louis Vuitton or Prada "on sale" or "on clearance" If you do you can be assured its fake as every single distributor is bound by their contract that they are not allowed to do so, that makes the work valuable and always expensive, its called an access barrier. LV and Prada buy back their unsold merchandise and literally burn it, it keeps the brand managed and expensive. There is a book, its called "luxury brand management". Read it ! It is no different in the art world, Once i sold a piece of art for 7 figures, all my art values went up because someone was willing to pay 7 figures for a piece, because you do not get direct access to me ever without a referral my work is expensive. If it got out that i made some little bitcoin trinket for a few grand and sold it, every single piece of art i have ever made will lose value. There are some really great people here on the forum, and some of you i really like and enjoy talking with like Blazedout and OgNasty and TookDK, but i dont like any of you enough to risk millions of dollars and my life's work.

Nope, nothing added, nothing embellished. Direct quote. [↩]As he doesn't seem keen to answer my question, the jury is still out on whether Blazedout419 actually fell for the scam, losing the greater part of 14`000 dollars in the process, or merely lied about commissioning an expensive piece as part of the scammer's set-up. Considering the many hours spent by the latter in a doomed but quite lively attempt to control the conversation and astroturf support after being blown wide open, and the sort of cheap discoursive tricks deployed, the collusion suspicion appears quite substantial. [↩]Yes, that's right : the extremely idiotic idea of the welfare state, and the extremely idiotic proposition of "redistributing" wealth - that is, stealing wealth from the productive elements of society to gift it upon the unproductive scum don't merely result in a complete perversion of art for the obvious reason that the ten dollars of ten million idiots accrues to more net receipts than the few hundreds dollars of a few thousand men of importance, leading directly to Britney Spears and the "romance" novel.

No, they also result in the complete perversion of commerce, because now intelligence can and therefore will be wasted on the otherwise worthless topic of "extracting chump change from large numbers of chumps". Had chumps not had any change, the bright young lads we currently lose as "scammers" would have been doing something socially productive with their time. This is why socialist states fail : in their quest to "help" the scum, that should never be helped but only trodden upon, they sacrifice the only people who actually matter : the best & brightest. The only people who should never be sacrificed. [↩]Chris Rock is as white as anyone can ever get. Bill Gate's the most contemptible nigger the 20th century ever produced. And yes he's got to go. [↩]

« The godfather

Ok, so what is Bitcoin disrupting ? »

Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Saturday, 24 January, Year 7 d.Tr.

The strange case of the six hundred dollars and other stories.

Consider the following two propositions :

1. Bitcoin over $600 before November.

2. BTC to top $700 before November.

Knowing the contents are substantially the samei, and knowing that there's apparently a total of 115.01 BTC in liquidity available to finance both of these propositions (distributed on Yes/No however it may distribute for each), what proportion of this liquidity would you expect each proposition will attract ?

I mean, network effects and all, but are you prepared for a 112.8 to 2.21 split ? Fifty-one to one ?

I wasn't, honestly. But let's forget this for a moment, and consider the following matter : given that the "Bitcoin over 6-700 in a month" attracted over 100 BTC in interest, what sum in BTC would you expect to have been wagered on "Bitcoin $250 or above on September 30th" ? One month bet, also using Bitstamp as the reference.

It's a lot closer, so really, more BTC, right ? Because BTC doesn't like being locked up.

(Nope.)

It's a lot more balanced, so really, more BTC, right ? Because long/short disparity kills liquidity.

(Nope.)

Even given all those counterintuitive nopes, unless you've actually looked at it you won't on your own guess that it failed to gather as little as 1 BTC's worth of interest, which is to say 1% of the longshots. Or for that matter, half a BTC. Or, for that matter, a quarter of a BTC. That's right : we're talking a 575th over here, so small a fraction it's not even a measuring error. The proposition might as well never have happened, as far as the betting public is concerned.

How come ?

Seriously, how the fuck come ? Bitbet is the sort of venue where one can throw a Bitcoin away on the craziest of obscure propositions and you'll be covered. Every timeii, at fair market value, you'll be covered. So what happened here ?

Well... nobody threw the Bitcoin away, that's what happened here!

The bet that did well ? Submitter put half a BTC down. The bet that did poorly ? Submitter put three Bitcents down. The bet that did shockingly horrible ? Submitter put one Bitcent down, and no doubt would have put nothing had I not changed the rules to disallow that last year.

What I suspect is going on here is simply this : the original investment by the author is perceived by the market as a honest signal to the legitimacy of interest in the question being proposed. Consequently, well financed bets receive interest, and disputes as to the correct pricing within the market come to a resolution through the intended process : resource exhaustion in the shape of submitted liquidity.

Poorly financed bets on the other hand do not receive interest, and disputes as to the correct pricing come to a resolution through the usual process : the Jewish handwave. Aaaaah! The original BitBet split is chiseled away into shape, and that's how you end up with 10-20 Bitcent propositions.

The morals of this story as presented would be that :

The meaning of words does not matter at all, the only point of any interest in this post-post world we live in being "how much money says so". This situation has been intuited and hinted at on the only remaining venue for intellectual discourse, but it is rare to see such drastic proof of otherwise nebulous concepts (which "nebulous" strictly means "things that are true and we don't want to know about").

The actual utility of the guaranteed BitBet seeding is very low : it will take a bet from 0.01 to 0.2 maybe, but that's about all it'll do. There's no leverage in guaranteed behaviours. A point which again has been hinted at - guess why "aid" sent to Africa does little of anything ? Guess why "helping" US schoolchildren learn easier makes them dumber and lazier ?

Allowing the poor a voice is a bad idea. This may seem counterintuitive, given the intellectual fashion du jour is to pretend the contrary. Nevertheless, it's not only factual - but not really all that counterintuitive, either. At any rate not more counterintuitive than the proposition that species evolve, or that there's no Russell teacup watching over human evolution from outer space.

I am not going to take any measures immediately, here. But I can't say I'm not mulling some over.

———A. They both use Bitstamp as a reference point ;

B. They both close on the same date ;

C. 1 gives one week lockout, 2 gives 3 weeks' lockout ;

D. 1 gives 22k weight as endpoint ; 2. gives 1k weight as an end point.

One could perhaps argue that a longer lockout encourages more early bets - but then again the contrary case can also be made just as well. One could similarly argue that a higher endpoint weight discourages early bets (the contrary argument can perhaps be made but it seems unpersuasive).

As it happens these arguments are balancing each other out, as C favours 1 and D favours 2. Whether on the balance there's anything significant left seems to me altogether improbable. Thus I'm going with "substantially the same". [↩]Two examples off the top of my head : recently I threw a BTC at an obscure scamcoin (some sort of rehashed Ripple or whatever). It was covered 10:1 within minutes. (Some substantial differences among the public as to the proper odds seem to also subsist, so the volume ballooned way over 100 BTC while the actual line was chiseled much closer to 2:1 - a fulminant phenomenon that didn't escape making the news. Because yeah, this sort of thing is exciting.)

A coupla years ago I threw a BTC on an (at the time) entirely obscure Romanian tennis player for the purely unrelated reason that she was a petite girl with an impressive rack that loved playing tennis and decided to cut it off. I opined (unasked) that this is a stupid idea at the time (she was 17), bringing as argument among other notions the idea that a tennis carreer in the tree is not worth a grindstone to the tit. Coupla years later when she came out of it in superb form, I felt I kinda owe the world reparations, and so I threw a Bitcoin away, by betting it on a really long if flattering shot : that she may win the Roland Garros. She almost did, but not really.

All that aside : I was covered, ~6 to 1, which seems rather fair to me now and seemed rather fair to me then. [↩]

« Very Bad Things

Time to rehash that old strategic superiority discussion. »

Category: S.BBET

Wednesday, 23 September, Year 7 d.Tr.

The silver tusked boar

A Levantine Prince enamoured with hunting through darkening heart of the forest progressed,

Belabouring path through the thickety briar, a whiste of bone an' his retinue pressed :

- Come, let us hunt in the underleaf darkness the fearsome boar of the silvery tusk,

That daily transforms in his well hidden burrow his hoof and his coat and his eyes made of glass.

- My lord, said the footmen with trumpets, that boar never comes in these parts of the realm.

Let's better give chase to the does and their offspring, or rabbits or quail or martens alas.

But the prince pressed ahead, with a smile on his face, eyes trained on shades only he had perceived

Leaving alone the obedient doe, and the lynx with its laughter that's hardly believed.

Under birches he'd push the weeds to the side : look at it spin and look at it beckon!

The silver fanged boar, not afar! Come, let us hit it with arrow that's wooden!

- My lord, it's the water that plays under trees, responded the servant, smiling awise.

But he'd answer in turning : Be quiet. And the water would twinkle like the tusk of a boar.

Under elms he would hurry his scattered companions : look how it puffs and it huffs all alone

The silver tusked boar, over land, over field. Come, let us hit it with arrow that's iron!

- My lord, it's the grass, in the wind, by itself said the servant, smiling impudent

But he'd answer in turning : Be quiet. And the grass glimmered like the tusk of a boar.

Under pine he yells, pushing them to the peaks : Look where it finds rest and repose!

The silver tusked boar, of the legend. Come, let's hit it with arrow ablaze!

- My lord! It's the moon, through the trees, smiled the servant with open disgust

But he'd answer him turning : Be quiet! And the moon glared like the tusk of a boar.

Oh, lo! Under dim stars of the morn, as the lord bends by the spring, in the night

A humongous boar came, and with its tusks ravaged him, in the dust of the land.

- What strange beasts spills my blood, preventing the hunt of the boar that I see ?

What dark bird sits in the moon crying, what rotten leaf beats in the winds ?!

- My lord, it's the boar that you sought. Your quest has itself caught you groaning,

Just listen, the hounds chase him away. But the Prince'd answer him turning : Be quiet!

Better yet, take my horn and blow it forever. Blow it until I shall pass, to the limpid above.

Then the moon set past the mountains, and the horn blew, but barely heard.

This is a great Romanian poem, by one of the apparently few men that had a good eulogy.

« Let's address some of the more common pseudo-arguments raised by the very stupid people that like the Gavin scamcoin proposal

Let's address even more of the more common pseudo-arguments raised by the very stupid people that like the Gavin scamcoin proposal »

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte

Monday, 12 January, Year 7 d.Tr.

The saddest thing, or a classification of rape

First, the saddest thing.

Forced To Be A Sex Slave Ch. 01

by stevemike08066i

I sit in the food court of the local shopping mall, looking for just the right woman, slim, slender, between the ages of 18 & 24, and, must be wearing a skirt.

I sit there for a few more minutes, when, I spot her, standing there with her friends, she's perfect, she's wearing a very tight fitting mini skirt, she's about 5'10, with a very nice b cup chest, I'm guessing, with long blonde hair, and wearing a pink tank top and pink floral print mini skirt.

I wait for her to separate from her friends, and stand in line at the pizza stand.

I walk up to her, feeling nervous, but, I get my courage up.

"Hi, let me buy you a slice of pizza." I say.

"No thanks, besides, I have a boy friend, so, back off, old man!" She replies.

"I'm sorry for offending you, just thought I'd be nice, I actually have a business proposal for you."

"Look, asshole, I'm not a prostitute, so, fuck off, or, I'll yell for security."

"I don't think you're a prostitute, and, I don't want you yelling for security, I was hoping you'd let me buy the dirty panties that you're wearing, I'll pay any price you ask."

"Oh my fucking God! You're a fucking pervert! You want to buy the panties I'm wearing? You sick fuck! Get the fuck away from me! I have pepper spray, so, go the fuck away."

I walk away from her, feeling kind of dejected.

I sit back down, hoping to find someone as perfect as she was, when I'm shocked to see her walking towards my table.

"Ok, look, asshole, I'll sell my panties to you, it'll be $75, these are Victoria's Secret, they aren't cheap, you still want to buy them?"

"Yeah, I still want them, how about your bra?"

"You want my bra, too?"

"If you're willing to part with them both."

"Oh my fucking God! Fine! My bra and my panties, since you're such a fucking pervert, for them both I want $200, can you pay that, pervert?"

"Yes, I can pay that, I have the cash on me right now."

"Ok, I can slide my panties off here at the table, but, I'll have to go to the ladies room to take my bra off, want me to slide my panties off now?"

"Yes, please."

She slides her panties down, and puts them on the table, they're a beautiful pink satin thong panties, slightly wet.

"Ok, um, I'll be right back." She says, walking towards the ladies room.

She returns a few minutes later, holding her bra, a beautiful pink satin and lace bra.

"Here, where's the money?" She says, throwing the bra at me.

"Here you go, $200, and, I'll give you an extra $100 for your trouble. I just have one more question."

"And, what's that, pervert?"

"I'd just like to know your name."

"It's Jennifer, my friends call me Jenn."

"Hi Jenn, I'm Steve. Jenn, If I gave you more money, would you go to a hotel with me?"

"Look, I'm not a prostitute!"

"I never said you were a prostitute, I was just hoping to have a drink with you, you are old enough to drink, right, Jenn?"

"Yes, I'm old enough to have a drink, I'm 21, and, only my friends call me Jenn, you can call me Jennifer."

"Fine, Jennifer, how much is it gonna take for you to come to a hotel with me and have a drink?"

"I fucking hate you!" She says.

"How much, Jennifer?"

"Fine, you fucking asshole, $500, it'll take $500 for me to come back with you, and, I won't touch you, and, I certainly won't sleep with you, I'll have one drink, $500, can you pay that, asshole?"

"I don't expect you to do anything, Jennifer, and, yes, I can pay you $500, are you ready to leave now?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with, asshole."

We leave the mall, and get to my car, and drive away.

"How far is this hotel?"

"Not very far, five minutes away."

"Good." She says, sounding angry.

We pull into the hotel parking lot a few minutes later.

"This looks like a nice place." She says.

We get inside and I quickly pin her against the door and start kissing her, forcing my mouth onto hers, forcing her to kiss me.

"What the fuck are you doing, stop touching me! Steve! STOP!"

I stand back and slap her very hard with the back of my hand, knocking her to the floor.

"OW! What the fuck?" She yells, crying.

"Shut up, slut!" I say, grabbing her and forcing her to bend over the arm of the chair in my room.

"Don't you fucking dare! Don't you fucking dare rape me!"

"You're gonna get what you deserve, whore!" I say unzipping her skirt, exposing her bare ass. Raising my hand and spanking her ass hard.

"OW!"

I pull my pants down and begin to rub the head of my cock around the rim of her dirty asshole.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

I start to push the head of my cock into her asshole.

"NOOOOOO!"

Then I just ram my cock as hard as I can into her asshole.

"OW! HOLY FUCK! NO, NO, NO, NO!"

I begin slamming my cock in and out of her tight asshole, making her bleed.

"You're bleeding, whore! You dirty fucking whore!"

"Yes, I'm a whore, I'm whatever you want to call me! Just please stop!"

I slowly pull out of her ass, making the pain last as long as I can.

"Roll onto your back, whore!"

She rolls onto her back.

"Open your mouth, slut!" I says, as I begin wiping the head of my dirty cock over her mouth.

"Open your mouth!" I yell, slapping her hard

Finally, I just reach up and pinch her nose shut, making it impossible for her to breathe without opening her mouth, once she opens her mouth, I slide my dirty cock into her open mouth, making her gag.

"That's it whore, gag on it!"

I begin fucking her mouth, deep and hard, until I'm about ready to cum.

"I'm gonna cum, whore! Want me to cum in your mouth, whore?"

Jenn shakes her head no, just as my cock jerks, shooting my load in her mouth, I again pinch her nose shut until she swallows my load.

"Did you like that, whore?"

"FUCK YOU!" Jenn yells, gasping for air.

"Do you want your money, whore?"

"I don't want shit from you, leave me alone."

"I think you want one more thing, open your legs, slut!"

"No! I'm not opening my legs! No! No! No! Let go of me! NO!" She yells, as I grab her legs and force them open, and rub my hand over her smooth pussy lips.

"No, stop! You've done enough! Stop, don't do this, please!"

I do the unexpected, and roughly ram my fist into her pussy, spreading her pussy wide.

"OWWWWWW!!!!" She screams out, almost passing out.

"You're and owned slut, say it, Jennifer, say it, bitch!"

"I'm an owned slut, I'm an owned slut!"

I begin to pump my fist inside her pussy, feeling her walls tighten around my fist.

"No, don't make me cum, please, anyhing but that, please......NOOOOOO!" She yells out, as her body tenses up, and, she has an intense orgasm, soaking my wrist.

"I own you now, Jennifer!"

"No, no, no!"

"You're mine, Jennifer! Say it."

"I'm yours!"

"You're my property, and, I'm your Master, say, slut"

"I'm your property, and you're my Master, Master!"

I slowly pull my fist from her pussy.

She curls into a ball, and, begins crying.

"I'm gonna pimp you out, Jennifer, you're a sex slave, and, I'm gonna use you like the cum dump you are."

"Yes, Master!"

"Get some sleep, whore, you have a big day tomorrow!"

"Yes, Master!"

Jenn just lays there and cries herself to sleep, as I prepare for her torture test tomorrow.

So now : there are many kinds of rape.

There is that kind of rape where you, and by you I mean everyone, does not bother to ask the woman anything. Women can be socialized to disregard their (imaginary, like all ownership ; conventional, like all ownership) control over their own cunt, and to serve the natural purpose... naturally just like they can be socialized to regard the same. There is strictly no difference between these approaches, and they are most similar at the point where the woman doesn't enter into it!ii The advantage of this arrangement is that women don't expect their opinions be regarded as valuable or important merely for existing, and as far as advantages go this one is not negligible. The disadvantages are many and varied, if you inquire with the normatively-interested group. They also happen to sound eerily similar to the imaginary, putative and experience-contradicting "disadvantages" of dismantling the state (oh dontchaknow, bugaboos are gonna rain from the sky, for all that's good and nice and pleasant in human nature was put there by the state, don't believe your own two eyes showing you how every time human nature fails to be nice and pleasant, the state was somehow involved).

Then there's that kind of rape where we're at with this writing. The old man still has some juice left in him, and he resents that there's no way to scribble this outiii into the great tapestry of human history on earth (which, like all good books, is made out of very fine vellum, to be found between the thighs of selected shes) ; while the poor man targets, in his dreams, the Jewish princess that slighted him, in New York cca 1950, in Merv cca also 1950, wherever and on it goes. This kind of rape is, other than blatant wish fulfillmentiv, masturbatory material not in the sense that it excites othersv but in the sense that it's the familiar and comfortable rut-of-thought that the author himself goes to sleep (that lesser death!) with. It is about as dangerous to the predicated subjects of interest as reddit (or the VC circus it tracks) is significant to Bitcoin - which is to say very significant in the eyes of the insignificant only, and otherwise somewhere between meaningless and orthogonal.

Then there's that kind of rape which is itself meaningless. When a woman falling from a window ends up atop a spiked fence - the penetration as they say is always pleasurable for the first few inches. When an alien being either disinterested or incapable of communication, one whose mental processes apparently work but substantively are incomprehensible picks her off the street and does strange, unspeakable, fascinating, horrible, ultimately meaningless and therefore incomprehensible things to her. There's very little to say here, because wovonvi.

You will notice, of course, that none of these are proper crimes - group activity is politics ; fantasy is not of this world, and nonsense is unprosecutablevii, which leaves us exactly where we started. Obviously, any of these can and in fact are prosecuted all the time, and for the usual reason : enemies of the people!viii

And with that, a bon entendeur, salut!

———The gentleman describes himself as "33 to 40", short, large and single. It is my estimation that he's telling the truth on all but one of those.

He's an extremely active fiction writer, of a specific quality which would probably be best described as "fan fiction" (in the sense of "very bad fiction", to copy that "I'm what you would call twitter famous" "Meaning ?" "Not famous" line of thought). His "literary" work is not able and perhaps not even intended to stand on its own, but like houses built by the overactively uneducated (and birds), it supports itself against a convenient side of a hill or similar. In fanfiction of the usual description that hilly support is, obviously, the work being fanfictioned (often it in turn the result of the great American maculature mill, so in no sense able to stand on its own either - the complicated patterns of layered rust and mold our colonies contributed to the cultural productions of Europe could perhaps be replicated by leaving a sealed fridge to rot undersea for a few centuries). In fanfiction of this nature the hilly support is, ironically, "the author's own internal life" in the shape of "fetishes" and other such rank nonsense.

Whether the product is in any sense different is a question perhaps best left to the anaerobic organisms that make it their lot to consume the sort of revolting cheese. On disinterested examination, while certainly useless and strictly devoid of any value whatsoever in the usual field of literature (permanence, specifically as the correct and fine description of situations, phenomena and agents' behaviour that the author could not have been acquainted with - in which sense fiction is the exact opposite of science, and science-fiction not possibily literature, ever), it is nevertheless still useful and perhaps even interesting in the subrogate use of writing as self-description. While it may or may not be true that the "best paying writing is ransom notes" (it isn't, but the thing that is - science and engineering - is of the exact same literary kind, so let's let it wash), it is certainly a fact that any jury and any psychiatrist and any future wife and any future employer and everyone else aiming to engage in some sort of commerce will require written material from their victim if they have any sense. So there is that much. [↩]She does not. The indignation of the group of feminists at the women who dare choose for themselves, say a life of "rape", or going back to their husband, is exactly the same, structurally, functionally, has exactly the same drivers and sources, aims and purposes and in all other points is exactly identical to the indignation of the group of other activists that tell "women" what to do in church or in the mosq or so forth.

It's a group activity, with aspirations and oft delusions of being normative. It has exactly nothing to do with the individual individuals it aims to oppress. [↩]It is, I would suspect, the saddest thing. Because just like the true joy in life is being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one, being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy, just so the saddest thing in life is, being left with a little bit of that joy left when cast on that scrap heap, deemed "equivalent to empty" by whosoever was doing the using (you've never yet thrown out a completely empty bottle of anything, have you ?).

The words matter, and thoroughly is there for a reason. Here, have some stuff from the bottom of the sea to cheer you up :

It was thrown there, you realise, long ago, for being exactly the above. It's fighting the determination, and has, for a while now. As it's fighting the determination, maybe you could put a little more thought into that silly shlog zich mit Got arum thing you got going ? Just a thought. [↩]Think about it - if any significant number of poor fucks managed to have their way with the delicious products of their imagination, if this were even vaguely a thing rather than a fantasy, who would be rich anymore ? Nobody'd bother, everyone'd move over to scribbling nonsense. [↩]And in this, it's below even the worst of the worst literature. In fact, it's closer to a used paper towel than to written material. [↩]Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, daruber muss man schweigen. [↩]Because mens rea. Yes, it still matters. Of course it does. Of course it will, long after we'll have forgotten that so-and-so yet-another empire with slightly dumber than average people in it.

The reason we even bother with study in the first place is the bizarre property of things we find in books, that while in appearance the most fragile things in existence - in point of fact the moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on. Nor all your piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it.

Other than for the Bitcoin property as dimly found in books, I'd have long abandoned the chasing of fleas on paper to dedicate myself to horses and women as no doubt god intended. [↩]Obviously in any pseudo-democratic society those sides which perceive they have an electoral advantage in driving the cunt-regarding perspective will pretend like it's only natural and somehow flows from the very fabric of logic, "science" or whatever divinities are then fashionable, just like Louis the whateverth was certifiably and in point of fact the actual son of the very Sun! Why not ? How else ? And no, the damage they do to the society they're trying to capture is not a point of consideration, just like Suleyman was not particularly impressed by the damage his cannonballs did upon Constantinople as part of his bid to make Constantinople his bride. And just like, you've guessed it, the rapist's not particularly interested in the tears, vaginal or otherwise, the actualisation of his internal reality imposes upon... hey, I wonder why "society" is always a woman.

Just as obviously, any authoritarian society will pretend like cunt-disregarding is equally natural and flowing from the very juices of Mother Gheea if you'll excuse the poon. What's to be done ? Confronted with the organised other, the self is, as they say, vershtook. [↩]

« Time to rehash that old strategic superiority discussion.

In numele lui Trompi! »

Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Monday, 28 September, Year 7 d.Tr.

The rabbi, and the ewe.

This article was originally published in Romanian five years ago, as Rabinul si oaia.

Nehorai the rabbi was a wonder. When he spoke up on the barrel in front of the villagers you could plainly see the mist of truth coming off things like you see summer heat coming off the scorched dust of the roads, and when he'd strike the Torah against the table without moving it a hair you could hear twinkling the crystals in Heaven's own candelabra. The very angels above would come down to seek his advice, for fear of stepping out of the Almighty's words, for nobody in four corners of the world like no one in the ethers knew the word enough to as much as correctly express the inferiority of his understanding in front of the beardy, kinda wry old man.

Ahh, he was a wonder, Nehorai the rabbi, and the villagers couldn't figure how was it that he made his house in their tiny settlement lost in the emptiness and muds of the plain, and took wife, Rahela, a good girl and hardworking, from the village, with who had smart boys and pretty girls, all gone to their places, some to school in Universities, some by the needs of trade on water or land to the distant dusts of Dalmatia or the mists of the Islands of Pepper and Amber, some married to respected husbandmen of the place or afield, withe beautiful houses and healthy children, joyful like they were. It's also true that the villagers didn't spend much time on the matter, having their own work to do, even if the old crones around the fire spoke some nights that the rabbi is older than anyone in the village, and than the village outright, and than the wood that made the fire and who knows, maybe even the rocks holding the fire in the fireplace and perhaps the fire itself.... that he had been married before, other than to Rahela, with another woman, just as old and dry as now, with who he had other children that also went to their houses and places, and the woman dried out and bent over and in due time went to the choir, but the rabbi changed not as much as a hair in his beard, but stayed the same as the very first day.

And before that one had another wife, and before that one yet another, and another, and another... The old women would say he had read the Haskalah papers, also old, also dry, with eyes still shining a devilish light and he had said to the young and fiery rabbis that indeed, they're right... broadly speaking, that he had read the Shulchan Aruch in draft and shook his head, explaining to the Saphedim what to take out and what to cut, and they in their stupid minds left what was to be taken and took what was to be left, eh, that's how people are, but Nehorai was not people, and in fact Nehorai wasn't even his real name, but many were waiting for him in many places under many names while he minded his own mind in the little village lost in the endless steppes, raising geese and ducks both in the yard for stuffing and taking to the market in town, and in the rabinical school for the same except in different manners, and let them wait. "What's all the hurry", he'd say now and again, and probably with good reason.

But one good day like any other, as he sat in his chair and read (without following the words on paper, as it was no longer needed for a long time now), in the unpleasant buzzing of thirty empty heads reading as well, with fresh curls and still stinking of breast with every breath, he saw outside the window an ewe. The ewe was looking straight at the rabbi, and the rabbi was looking straight at the ewe, apart from the others and no longer chewing for sprouts and grasses, like is the lot of all sheep. No sound was heard, at least not by the pupils, but the rabbi's ears were roaring so he went outside and sat next to the ewe.

The ewe was looking at him, the rabbi was looking at the ewe.

"How am I to teach you the law, beast without reason and without tongue as you are ?! Even if you want, you can want what you will, but that doesn't mean you can... " The rabbi could find no words, which hadn't happened in a long, long time, someone asked for advice once, estwhile, it seemed like yesterday but it was many centuries ago and he knew not what to say so he said nothing, and this silence changed the course of all the world's affairs in such variety of divers ways that generations of rabbis and learned scholars that came hence neither had managed to write it all up, nor comprehended it all completely.

After generations on generations on generations of ewes that foaled lambs that were eaten in soup and jellies, and again and again and again lo! that the endless play of happenstance which otherwise doesn't even exist took a fact out of abstraction that itself could not exist : the ewe with a desire to learn the Torah. That will made it to no degree more capable of learning than any other ewe found itself, yet plainly manifest incapacity, obvious and in the end admitted with gentle eyes by the very beast changed its unyielding, unshaken, burning desire not one whit.

"You're going in the pot!" thought outloud the rabbi, exasperated as he hadn't been since the wedding of Nabucodonosor the first.

"Is that how one learns the Torah ?" The gentles eyes, incapable of understanding, perfectly capable of desire, and of will and aspiration, would have gone in the pot or anywhere else. Because the ewe's faith in the rabbi exceeded any human bond of trust, the ewe not being in the end a person, and looky wonder, the very dams holding instruction away, which is to say the lack of a mind capable of reason, allowed it obedience, and faith, and total dedication. It'd have made itself, without regret and without restraint ewe tripe, if that's how one learns the Torah.

And so the rabbi took it inside the schoolhouse, and sat the ewe by a table, in a corner. The ewe sat patiently, now and again grasping and chewing on a sheet of paper, but not the holy texts, just plain note paper the other pupils were trying to copy on. "It does what it can by its powers", answered once the rabbi to one of the flightier children that asked him why is the ewe eating the paper instead of writing like any other pupil. "Where've you seen hooved beast to write ?"

The unprecedented gesture of the rabbi caused a sensation, the pupils turned the matter on all sides until the most bedeviled one in the lot, which in their society and by their execrable estimation passed for the smarter and more competent in matters of text and tradition came up with the notion that the rabbi is thus teaching them a lesson, of humbleness and learning, because look that even a beast is capable of staying put and not bleeting for hours on end, chewing peacibly on a sheet of paper. The rabbi said nothing, and the ewe even less, who's going to be the fool to attempt to explain to a horde of kiddies that the world is not made for them and to their use, but exactly them for it, and specifically for them to be made into pies and stews, on which the grass to grow, all the tastier. For the sheep, the sheep to come.

Wise men from afar found in turn like the bedeviled child, whom they praised for his wits, and took him to high schooling and private neighbourhood universitiesi, yet the respect enjoyed by the rabbi did not diminish, as it did not increase, like the ewe's wisdom did not increase, as it did not diminish, through her induction in the school, at the table, with paper in front, like all schoolboys.

After a while the ewe died, without having advanced as much as a spec of dust on the road she had wanted, notwithstanding having spent its entire life trying. The rabbi however didn't die, nor after that while nor any other, principally because in the generations of goose and ganders that pretended a few hours every day to be studying the Torah there wasn't a single one to have advanced as much as a spec of dust, and the law says clearly that the last rabbi can not die.

Nehorai looked disinterestedly out the window, and thought that there's no hope even from ewes for this otherwise very beautiful world, in its own pointless manner.

———This is a Romanian thing, "de cartier" ie "of neighbourhood" denotes a ghetto item, whereas "private" says the same it says in English. [↩]

« A Blast From The Past, or, The Molotov Cocktail Guide. This is how you win.

Internoc24, or : the crisis, and its resolution »

Category: Prz arhscrt

Saturday, 14 November, Year 7 d.Tr.

The quest ; and its resolution

Ever since my TLP mania began in earnest a few months ago, a quest also began among that select group of closely shaven sluts that put my welfare above their own, to seek, I quote, "the core of the ideological difference b/t you and tlp". This was supported at first by the plain, subjective observation that while they like me they don't like him, so therefore a difference there must be, and moreover later confirmed by the few distancing pieces I penned myself.

A number of articles were proposed, at first the quest seemed a minor point to me, the propositions didn't stick - until last night! When I actually found it, and so obviously the point no longer seems at all that minor. Here it is, see if you can spot it yourself :

Now recall what is destroyed in a disaster: the unrepentant sinners and those who share in the collective guilt. What would starting over look like? It would be some recalibration of modernity. Where did modernity go wrong?

It went wrong with Patient Zero. Now our original Gwyenth problem is reversed: Gwyenth is not only an executive of an evil mining company, she's also a modern woman. Which means she can cheat when she wants and suffer no guilt. Yikes. As much as the image of a banana tree getting plowed by a bulldozer symbolizes a particular aspect of modernity, a blonde woman guiltlessly getting plowed by some other bulldozer is another aspect of modernity-- though not the cheating itself, but what she is able to think while she cheats. "She made mistakes, but she loved you very much," Matt Damon is told at the funeral home. That's true, and that's what makes it precisely so terrifying: Gwyneth had the physical freedom to cheat, and the emotional freedom to cheat and simultaneously still love her husband. A man understands a woman can be duplicitous, but the expectation is there's still an objective truth to her cheating: if she cheats, she likes him, not me. How can it be she likes him and me? How can she be two people simultaneously? What am I supposed to do with that when she comes home? That kind of existential freedom is to much to allow women to bear, and in any post-crisis world the first thing society does is take a few steps back into the safety of conventional roles. It happened after WWII and it will happen after the Great Recession, and everyone will think they made the individual choice to do it. After the Contagion has passed, Matt Damon's daughter's first order of business is to express her happiness and love through the last holdout of happily accepted gender roles: the high school prom.

That's the whole thing. He is deeply threatened by women.

I am a man, you see, which is not idle labelling but carries a very deep meaning. What it means is that I can on my own authority send them away.i I sit and I determine, on my own, by myself : does she qualify or is she to be sent off ?

TLP is a boy. A very clever boy, a very pleasant boy, well bred and well educated, interesting, fascinating, well informed and perhaps even a little travelled, what have you. He has all the qualities you may wish to see or not feel inclined to deny, but come high heels and broken water you must admit : he is not a man.

Consequently, the criteria he uses to send the woman offii is not [entirely] in himself.iii He needs the battery of her own guilt to power his intellectual/emotional process, and so if she is guiltless he is stuck. A stuckage to be resolved perhaps through becoming a cuckold, ie, the infantilised sort of boy that still loves his mommy very, very much (and she feeds him! a similarly sexualized decoction, if perhaps stickier.) or a violent rapist (mommy has got to pay!) or just a dullard/drunkard (thinking about these things makes my head hurt). Perhaps he even matures, although I must confess that I have never in my life witnessed this wonder where immature adult males managed to mature.iv

I will point out that my superior, controlling interest precludes the guiltimization of random women so as to create a universe more palatable to the needs of boys, no matter how clever, pleasant or educated. My interests rule and prevail, and sluts are to forever proudly wear their wanton badge for this reason. For this sufficient reason.

Honni soit qui mal y pense.

———It also means, of great future importance, that I can decide which offspring she gets to keep, and that I can bash the rest against the rocks, with no input needed (ie, accepted) from her. But let's not consider the socially important points of education of the young, let's just sit in the adolescentine topic of preconceptual mating. [↩]Leaving aside that he doesn't even send her off, he probably leaves her in possession of the house and moves into his car or whatever. [↩]Which chiefly means he can not live with the effects of it. [↩]One approach would be to say that boys are cassant, which is not exactly brittle, and once they've set a certain way the energy needed to shatter them entirely is always lower than the energy needed to rearrange the parts.

Another approach would be to say that recouped retardation is a mythological beast, it might happen in the first year or two of age, but a thirty year old 12 year old is NEVER going to become a forty year old 29 year old. Thirteen, maybe, even fourteen, perhaps, but that's as far as it goes, ever. [↩]

« Grade Inflation, adnotated

Why is it the end ? »

Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc

Saturday, 31 October, Year 7 d.Tr.

The Producers

Mel Brooks has made two films by that name, the first of which spawned the homonymous musical (12 Tonys!) on which the current onei was based. Go fig!

I will not bore you with detail as to exhactly how talented, gifted and skillful Brooks is, which is unfair to him - by rights it should be in the prubirn - but shamefully practical. So instead, I will convey my shocked amazement at the beautiful contradiction of two previously firmly held convictions of mine : one, that no movie worth the watching was made this millenium, and the other that... well, you know. Remakes, seriously ? Of a derivative work etc ? Just how intellectually dead is Hollywood these days, after all!

I would even dare say the sequel (gasp!) is even better than the prequel (GASP!), owing particularly to the excellent Lane-Broderick interplay. The first ten minutes of this thing stop your clock, so to speak, in that you forget what time it is. Polito'd be just as good, except he's stuck doing drill sargeant for an array of stray dogs (some of which good looking), whereas Lane & Broderick can ballet - and ballet they do, oh my oh my oh my.

Brooks has, among the numerous pokes and punctures he delivers to precogitated material (chiefly as found on the faggoty side of the... isle), the unmitigated audacity to cast a very tall, lanky and most definitely unvoluptuous Thurman in a role entirely cosubstantial with a fatass bombshell a la Monroe (whose simplicity au naturel would have been wonderful for this movie, by the way). It... sort-of works, I suppose, in a boyish kind of way.

You've got to see this thing.

———The Producers, 2005, with Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick and Crooked-Toe-Girl. [↩]

« My my is this embarassing!

He who gets married.... »

Category: Trilematograf

Tuesday, 26 May, Year 7 d.Tr.

The problem with altruism...

Other than the obvious onei, I mean. Here's Ballas :

Before you start talking race, my first thought reading this was about 9/11.

I was working a hospital that day, and many people, especially nurses, wanted to go to NY to help out. But they wanted to take off work to go do it. In other words, they wanted to volunteer instead of doing their job. "But they need volunteers!" they'd argue to the refusing nurse manager. "We all need to make some sacrifices." Of course, in doing so, they were volunteering the people left behind for double shifts. That's the part they didn't seem to get.

So here, "seven joined Big Brothers Big Sisters of America that morning." Great, they want to help a young boy in need of a role model. But do these men have kids of their own? It's one thing if they're living with their kids and want to give something extra to others. But if they're living apart from their own kids, why not just spend extra time with them? Because doing "your job" isn't as rewarding as "sacrificing."

Here's what happened on 9/12 at my hospital, and what happens in so many cases of high-emotion altruism: they take the day off in order to go to NYC, but then don't actually go (car wouldn't start; heard on the radio they were blocking volunteers, etc). They win: they get the reward of the sacrifice, perform no actual sacrifice, and get the day off. Meanwhile, someone else had to sacrifice to cover their responsibilities.

What is not intuitively obvious is the psychological motivation of the people left behind: why do they do double duty and let these fakers get away with it? Why, when the man says he's going to spend resources on someone else's kid, does the biological mom of his kid not hit him with a sack of batteries? More importantly, why has this complementary behavior (guy volunteers, other guy forced to pick up the slack) been allowed to exist in human society? We don't pee on each other anymore, so why do we allow this?

This question is not altogether without merit. The general expectation (based on nothing at all) is that societal arrangements have been arrived upon through some sort of evolutionary (from worse to better!) process that is both comprehensible and expressible - because it's intentional. Sure, it may not be intentional at the level of each bend and wrinkle, but nevertheless it is broadly intentional. "The people" are not mere watchers of history, of process that unfolds entirely outside of their own control, but on some level, in some sort of aggregate, actual agents! They influence the course of events! They MATTER! This particular nonsensical view strokes the ego expectations of "rational" "humanists", but has a lot of trouble in the actual field.ii For instance : if God is love you matter, how come there exists suffering ? Hm ?

But let's move on.

Think, for a moment, why you think worker honeybees are worker honeybees. You probably figure it's "genetic" i.e fixed, but honeybees are totipotent-- the females, as larvae, can become either queen or worker. Furthermore, as adults, they can choose to change again, by activating or deactivating their ovaries. It's up to the individual, not decided by God. Despite this, 99% of females decide to become sterile workers.

The reason they do is twofold. First, the amount/kind of food given to larvae is restricted so that there isn't enough to become a queen. Next, if a female chooses to have some babies, those babies are promptly killed by the other adults, with amazing efficiency. This process discourages the workers from laying any eggs in the first place. This isn't some slow evolutionary process; they're actually killing babies in there, on purpose. This is a guaranteed way of getting the civilization you want, and fast.

When there is no queen in the hive, the killing of babies is reduced or stopped, until a new queen is made.

The altruism of worker bees is socially coerced.

How many wrong babies have you killed today ?

Why do you think you know anything about altruism ?

And most importantly : who said you may stay up this late ? Off to bed!

Without supper.

———It doesn't exist! It's a thoroughly arbitrary label for a completely empty box, a word without meaning, drivel.

Exactly like prescience, or the "real value" of money/items/labour, or impartial history, unbiased research, altruism is anything to everyone and in sum total nothing whatsoever. It's a sort of beauty, or pornography, or "good moral values" or any other element of that soup.

Yes, yes, I know, I know, "you know it when you see it". Except you mostly see it in yourself - and if you see it in others you see it as a reflection of that and no more. A female circumcision artist is not altruistic, right ? Could never be altruistic, could they ? It's just not an altruistic kinda thing. Not to you, anyway.

Altruism lacks a workable definition. You know this, and lie about it, pretending that on the contrary, it has one, that you could give it one. You've not just made up an empty word, but know what you mean. Until someone challenges this quaint notion, at which point you have to change it, and hope they go away. If they don't, you'll cop out, by getting "angry" or "disinterested", or by taking refuge in meaningless, contrived complexity. Anything that's workable in the moment so the pretense can be maintained, for your own benefit. You wanna live in a world with altruism in it, damnit! And with computers that do what you mean not what you say, and with happiness!

Not so, right ? "Reproductive fitness reduction", right ? Consider that the white slave owner in the slave owning South had fewer children than average. That doesn't actually make slave owning an altruistic enterprise, right ? There's "an interplay of factors" suddenly "coming into play", isn't there. The wealthy are for this reason unaltruistic to your eyes, but this has nothing to do with your own stupidity and its necessary naufrage in ideology, it's just "how it is", right ? Nevermind that rich people have fewer kids than poor people, this doesn't mean being rich is an altruistic behaviour, even though that's "the definition" of altruism. It only works when you want it to work, right ? Because that's why it's a definition, and that's why Aristotle even invented ethics in the first place, for your contemptible sort to have where to take a shit.

Do you think your children will hate you ? Do you think your parents despise you ? Do you think God didn't simply die but actually committed suicide because you suck and it just wasn't worth it anymore ? That's what "altruism" is, and the more time you spend rehashing that nonsense the more time you should have spent fixing your sore mental spots. Your total preoccupation with the concept of altruism is mostly a measure of your mental issues, just like the total time you spend masturbating is a measure of your desocialisation. [↩]Yes, yes, I know, you've erradicated smoking, you've mandated bike helmets, cars now beep if I don't put the belt on, right, you matter. Go to bed. [↩]

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The sad story of Sacrifice »

Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc

Wednesday, 21 October, Year 7 d.Tr.

The problem of the state.

First, let's get some conceptual hurdles out of the way.

Violence is an absolute practical imperative of life on Earth (and, once we find life somewhere else - there too). It is more fundamental to life than breathing, conceptuallyi as well as practicallyii.

~

The State, in all its splendid, superb glory is merely a named group. That's all, the long and the short of it is that we call some random collection of objects "a state" exactly like we call any random collection of any other objects anything else we might be calling it : arbitrarily.iii

For reasons having to do more with Kink High than any rational process, it is currently agreed upon by the unthinking mass of some people some places that it is upon this particular empty name to provide things to them. Previously the same people more or less in the same places (mostly less) had a different name and the same expectations. It is possible this predictable, repeating structure of damaged thought is indicative of a failing in their genetics, but let us not jump to conclusionsiv.

That out of the way, let us proceed.

It is an incontrovertible fact that violence is extremely expensive a behaviour. The principal avenue through which it is expensive is that you don't want to piss off the wrong people, and there is no cheap way to distinguish them from the general population. The secondary, and comparatively unimportant, avenue is the "emotional cost" involved, which is to say that millions of years of evolution have baked into the hominid brain a good approximation of the cost of violence and so therefore it is loath to indulge.

It is an incontrovertible fact that any expensive requirement will divide every population in two categories : the haves, and the have-nots.

Without exception either known or possible, the practical implementation of the unhaving by the have-nots will be two fold : on one hand, a denial of reality (that the requirement is not really required ; that they do not come short to satisfying it ; that if either the foregoing were true no one could tell the difference and so on, ever further down the meta drain) and on the other hand a furious scramble to either resolve or obfuscate the matter (the two aren't in any sense distinct).

The particularities of the meta drain could be well described, but I have not the patience here. Suffice it to say that at some point, taboo behaviours enters into the picture. This is an elaborate humanoid behavioural structure that has been reasonably discussed in extant anthropological literature and so we shan't revisit - suffice it to say they exist to render the distinction between they who can pass the tests of life and they who can not moot by preventing it ever being socially observedv.

Even further down that drain, insurance behaviours enter into the picture. This is really the source of all religious behaviour - the homeostasis needs of the brain are provided for by the brain through the creation of a supernatural structure that "insures" the body against the test. This is precisely where the state comes in.

It is a mistaken proposition that the state is evil. The state is not evil, the state is merely caught in the very unenviable position where it is on one hand drastically inept, and on the other hand "it has been decided" that it is upon it to provide the impossible, cheaply and effectively.vi

The taboo ("you shall not kill, at all, for it is too expensive to kill the right people and we deem it unfair that they who know how to make this distinction be the masters of the rest of us - also if you want to eat the delicious cookies your mother made in school you best bring one for each other kid because they drool.") intermingles with the delusional insurance to create "the monopoly on violence". As far as the broken "logic" goes, "all is well" >because> "violence no longer exists" >because> "the state alone may employ violence".

This arrangement has very unfortunate consequences. On one branch, the state is even worse equipped than individuals to ascertain whom to kill. Consequently, it is an absolute given that the collapse of any state is merely a question of time - statistically speaking it certainly will fuck with the wrong guy and get wiped sooner or later. On the other branch, as explained other places, the "monopoly on violence" immediately reduces to an actual monopoly on property.

The monopoly on property branch further splits into three separate horrors : firstly, that once it's in charge of all property, the state now has to handle the allocation problem, and it is even less equipped to do this than it was to handle violence. Secondly, that once it is in charge of property it immediately ends up in charge of money issuance, which is an even worse conundrum for very complex reasons we won't discuss here.vii Finally, and not even related to all of this, the state being a group has the fundamental communication problem of all groups (perhaps more familiar in its IT-related forms, "adding manpower to a late project makes it later" etc).

So then, that is the problem of the state : it met you. Recall that line where Dominique Swain tells Jeremy Irons "I was a daisy fresh girl and look what you've done to me" ? Myeah. That's what happened here, quite exactly.

There was once a daisy fresh state, brimming with possibility, heavy with the mysterious promise of future whispering in its hair. And then...

Then it met you.

Slothful, inadequate, broken, wrong, ugly... you.

And then... then you forced her.

You forced her to do things. Miserable, sordid things, the sort of things it would have never done on her own, but did nevertheless. Because of you, and because it didn't know any better. You "just want email to fucking work" but while pointedly "not giving a flying fuck about the political bone you have to pick". Food without violence, you wanted, and... she provided.

An alternative virtual reality cast upon actual reality, wherein somehow magically your inadequacies have no effect, and as broken as you may be you still count as much as the whole thing. A magical, enchanted place where you don't have to fix anything because you're perfect the way you are, an imaginary, delusional hell in which form and function be separate, and agency from activity and so on and so forth.

Now it's come to where I'm going to kill her for it. She knows this. And she is going to die, if I'm to wager a guess, like all animals ever die : dignifiedly, quietly, by herself.

And you will be left behind.

Slothful, inadequate, broken, wrong, ugly you. With less to hide behind. With even less an intention to fix yourself than you ever had before.

And nobody is ever going to be bothered to try and kill you.

———Breathing is merely a behaviour. Respiration can be implemented otherwise in living things - many bugs don't breathe per se but merely ventilate or diffuse naturally through tubule systems.

It can be argued that violence and respiration (ie, gas exchange) are about on the same level, but I suspect even this is wrong, as it is conceivable some way to satisfy thermodynamics IInd and IIIrd laws may be found that however inconveniently nevertheless eschews gas exchange, whereas life without violence is plainly inconceivable. [↩]This point is very difficult to ascertain, for reasons that should become apparent from the following conversation on #eulora :

jurov trained tinkering and building by 10 and 20%, nothing changed

diana_coman well, it doesn't, lol

diana_coman it's too little to see a difference (at least from what I noticed)

jurov what are these effects you wrote above?

diana_coman lately I got about 1 point in quality of items for 1 level up in tinkering

diana_coman I suspect this is also not linear

mircea_popescu i will say that the rng assays for the game are usually conducted in 1 trn trials sets.

diana_coman and based on how well you are in comparison with the others

mircea_popescu which means that the model contains events as likely.

jurov lol so 1 in 1e12 small claims will make it? :DDDD

diana_coman ahahaha

mircea_popescu lol

mircea_popescu nah, just "for a set of all behaviours possible being manifested one needs very many tries"

mircea_popescu makes it a bitch to test.

The owner of reality is not bound by the same computational constraints that bind the mere owner of a reconstructed, virtual reality. Consequently, it's even worse of a bitch to test.

Human brains on the other hand are not tools evolved, designed or intended to be used at the task of rational thinking. They are tools evolved and perhaps "intended" inasmuch as that's meaningful in context for the task of maintaining homeostasis. Strictly, strictly that. Part of homeostasis is what's known as "emotional well being" by the plebs, which is to say, the general feeling that everything's okay. Consequently, human brains will readily discount the very fine structure of reality to make way instead for a palatable narrative - which is why things like Taleb's books are so sorely needed and so drastically ignored. It makes for an amusing sort of perpetuum mobile, they keep popping up cyclically ever since forever, and they always are the most important thing happening culturally at that juncture, and they always fail to make a splash and go away. Rinse an' repeat!

Consequently, sums that actually sum to zero will be interpreted to sum to infinity by "the consensus" of "the community", and all sorts of things will be "obviously bad" and so on and so forth. It matters, in some contexts. It's nevertheless rank nonsense overall. [↩]A nation is perhaps different, but you likely do not wish to go there on account of the practical consideration that well, it didn't end well last people tried this angle. Or perhaps on account of the more theoretical consideration that you really have no fucking idea what words even mean and so are sorely unequipped to explore alternatives in your mind. [↩]You ever check out the bevy of "black supremacy" porn offerings out there btw ? Whole lotta

Europe is being conquered as we speak, the white women allow their bellies to swell by the dominant black seed. The white men are ignored and powerless to stop it. Some of them try, all of them fail. White women are betraying their heritage and surrendering to their superiors.

[↩]Which usually reduces to "being publicly discussed". [↩]This, incidentally, is the described criminal personality in multiple personality disorder : that guy is always "the killer" who is in charge of "protecting" the group of blathering idiots, while sorely unequipped to do so (absolutely never the most intelligent of the bunch). [↩]But I will point out that even the state itself dimly understands this much, hence why all the pretense to try and make the FED be a private institution etc. It's a sane if doomed attempt to retain function in the face of overwhelming demands. [↩]

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Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Thursday, 18 June, Year 7 d.Tr.

The previous event, the next event, the forever event.

Soo... yeah, that raven thing worked out great. Here's a transcript for the armchair Eulorans :

(19:27:08) Mircea says: i think he been trying to sell em maybe

(19:27:26) Mod says: Yeah, I saw something about that.

(19:27:53) Mod says: Daniel: You wanna sell me a Token o' Sacrifice?

(19:28:03) Mircea says: say something in chat bout the evbent starting btw

(19:28:11) Mod says: Ok

(19:30:04) Foxy says: where's the raven?

(19:30:05) Mircea's very dark, shiny blue raven swoops down and lands on his shoulder.

(19:30:15) Mircea says: Well then! Here we are!

(19:30:16) Foxy says: nope, not there

(19:30:25) Mircea says: who's got a token to tempt the fates ?

(19:30:57) Foxy says: actually daniel, under what category are they? lol

(19:31:01) Daniel says: items

(19:31:05) Foxy says: thanks

(19:31:20) Mircea's raven croaks and looks around ominously

(19:31:43) Foxy croaks and looks at the raven hungrily

(19:32:05) Mircea's raven flaps its wings omnibusly.

(19:32:17) Foxy says: lemme get the samovar out :))

(19:32:35) Mircea feeds the raven little bits of slightly stale spleen.

(19:33:32) Daniel says: nobody wants to buy my tokens?

(19:33:45) Mod says: My questions are not worth 1M.

(19:33:45) Foxy says: not at that price, no

(19:33:54) Daniel says: i have a series of questions i might want to ask

(19:33:54) Foxy says: as mod says

(19:33:57) Mod says: Offer: 500`000

(19:34:00) Daniel says: hm

(19:34:00) Foxy says: so go ahead daniel

(19:34:02) Mircea says: buy and sell, trade 'n' thunder, speciously great asunder!

(19:34:51) Mircea's raven pecks at a spec a while.

(19:35:42) Foxy says: daniel, it might help your trade if you truly let us know whether you got a straight answer, lol

(19:36:05) Mod says: Ok. I have a question.

(19:36:08) Mod says: I'll pay 1M

(19:36:10) Daniel says: hm, well i think i need something like 5 for my series of questions

(19:36:16) Daniel says: oo

(19:36:23) Foxy says: that;s ok, when you're done

(19:37:07) Mircea's raven croaks audibly " Don't be afraid! Your fate like your death can not be taken from you, for it's a gift!"

(19:38:14) Mod says: I have a sacrifice token to feed The Raven

(19:38:25) >Mod asks to trade with you.

(19:38:28) Mircea's raven shuffles its legs. "My name is Phtephen the Phater. With a ph."

(19:38:33) >You agree to trade.

(19:38:45) >Mod gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(19:38:45) >Trade complete

(19:39:09) Mod says: Phtephen the Phater: Where will I find a Slithy Tove?

(19:39:16) Daniel says: hah

(19:39:24) Mircea's legs melt into an inconsequential pool. A voice from beyond hisses "speak your question now!"

(19:39:59) Mircea looks through the pool

(19:40:41) Mircea looks deeper through the pool

(19:42:28) Mircea says: At 628, or at 6 or at 234 below or at 207 below or at 670. five places in all, but how much of this and how much of that you'll have to figure on your own.

(19:42:42) Daniel says: O.o

(19:42:51) Foxy says: oh

(19:42:59) Mircea's raven pecks at mod's head a little, then flies back

(19:43:20) Mod says: Thank you Phtephen the Phater!

(19:43:22) Mircea's feet return to their normal form. There's a faint hiss.

(19:43:25) Foxy says: mod, I'll give you some money towards the price of that token since you asked the question publicly

(19:43:39) Daniel says: yeah is it possible to get private answers lol

(19:44:01) Foxy says: didn't you get private answers daniel?

(19:44:26) Daniel says: i haven't asked any questions yet

(19:44:31) Mircea's raven croaks Remeber... You can't phate without hate!

(19:44:47) Mod says: Daniel: I'll ask another question for 1M if you wish to sell.

(19:44:52) Daniel says: sure

(19:46:03) Mircea's raven eyes the two men in blue shirts curiously.

(19:46:16) Daniel says: if anyone's curious, i have a 70 quality token i'll let go for 750k

(19:46:22) Mod says: Phtephen the Phater, are you ready for another sacrifice?

(19:46:50) Mircea eyes the impudent mortal coldly. Do not ask before you've paid!

(19:46:57) Daniel says: not sure if quality matters here

(19:47:08) >Mod asks to trade with you.

(19:47:10) >You agree to trade.

(19:47:19) >Mod gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(19:47:19) >Trade complete

(19:47:41) Mod says: Phtephen the Phater: Where will I find Crumbly Rocks?

(19:47:46) Mircea's head turns into a writhingmass of fateful rice pudding.

(19:47:48) Foxy says: that's really low quality

(19:48:08) Daniel says: well if it gets an answer just the same then it's a good deal!

(19:48:36) Daniel says: ok fine, half off since 70 quality is about half the others quality

(19:48:36) Foxy says: yes, I was just surprised

(19:48:44) Mircea's rice pudding face gurgles. "On a beach you will find crumbs and crumbles. Look carefuly for it quickly fumbles."

(19:48:49) Foxy says: oh wow

(19:49:10) Foxy says: ha ha, there we go

(19:49:19) Mircea's face slowly returns to its more normal, pork and beans aggregation.

(19:50:47) Mircea's raven catches a mosquito in flight and carefully pecks its legs off one by one.

(19:50:49) Foxy says: thanks mod for asking those

(19:50:59) Mod says: You're very gracious Foxy.

(19:51:07) Grenadine says: daniel i'll take a token if you're selling more

(19:51:12) Daniel says: ya

(19:51:52) Foxy says: my, what huge mosquitos grow on eulora

(19:51:54) Grenadine says: i missed mod's first question, anyone care to share what it was (saw the answer)?

(19:52:03) Daniel says: where are slithy toves

(19:52:04) Foxy says: about the slithy tove grenadine

(19:52:19) Grenadine says: ah ty foxy

(19:52:24) Grenadine says: & daniel

(19:52:32) Daniel says: yw

(19:52:41) Foxy says: np

(19:53:45) Mircea's raven plucks its own eye out with its very sharp claw. After a moment, it plucks out the other one. Then it plops the bloody orbs back in, backwards. Which means, not only the left in the right socket, but also pointing towards the insider of its raveny skull. You're now stuck looking at a raven with severed optic nerves hanging from its eye sockets.

(19:54:01) Daniel says: lol

(19:54:09) Foxy enjoys the view

(19:54:50) Mircea wipes the dripping blood of his shoulder. His shoulder caves in. There is now a dark, cold hole where the shoulder used to be.

(19:55:22) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(19:55:24) >You agree to trade.

(19:55:36) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(19:55:36) >Trade complete

(19:56:05) Mod says: Daniel: I have another question.

(19:56:17) Mircea's raven eyes daniel expectantly.

(19:56:20) Daniel says: How do I get the blueprints for the item that grants the skill gung-ho gumbo?

(19:57:24) Mircea falls over. A voice booms from everywhere at once. "You will have to selflessly sacrifice, impetuous one."

(19:57:34) Daniel says: bah i knew it

(19:57:45) Daniel says: thank you

(19:57:59) Mircea dissolves in thin air. There's a bright flash and everything returns to normal. The raven's dark eyes glimmer in the moonlit sunshine.

(19:57:59) >Grenadine asks to trade with you.

(19:58:01) Mod says: yw

(19:58:03) >You agree to trade.

(19:58:13) >Grenadine gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(19:58:13) >Trade complete

(19:58:40) Mircea's raven grabs Grenadine by the nose. She's now stuck speaking very nasally.

(19:59:04) Mod says: :D

(20:00:02) Mircea's raven lets go of the nose. A dribble of blood comes out.

(20:00:54) Foxy says: very happy, grenadine?

(20:01:08) Grenadine says: well no, my nose hurts ;p

(20:01:16) Mircea's raven bats its wing over it, and it turns into a caterpillar. The caterpillar climbs up in Grenadine's hair and weaves it into a cocoon. Presently a butterfly emerges. It is a metallic butterfly, and it flies off on its articulated, mechanical wings.

(20:01:26) Foxy says: lol

(20:01:58) >Mod asks to trade with you.

(20:01:59) Mircea's raven laughs heartily with the hearty laugh of a thousand dwarves who speak of crafting in an Irish accent.

(20:02:34) >You agree to trade.

(20:02:50) >Mod gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:02:50) >Trade complete

(20:02:51) Mircea's raven plucks all of mod's eyelashes out. "Ask your question, eyebald one" says a woman's voice from nowhere.

(20:03:31) Mod recoils in horror of the missing eyelashes.

(20:03:48) Mod says: Phtephen the Phater: Where will I find the two leaf clover?

(20:03:56) Daniel says: heh

(20:04:22) Mircea's raven croaks happily. Baron Daniel, familiaris tuus.

(20:04:31) Daniel smiles

(20:05:28) Daniel says: ok i have 5 tokens left and i need them for a series of questions i have

(20:05:36) Daniel says: unless someone wants to buy them

(20:05:50) Mircea's ears take off and fly to the nearest tree. The tree turns to ash. The ash turns to glass. The glass turns every hour. Thus, hourglass.

(20:07:35) Mircea takes two spare ears out of his waistcoat pocket and mounts them on his head. He looks good as new.

(20:08:52) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(20:08:54) Mircea's raven opens its mouth and another identical raven comes out. They fight for a while. Eventually they eat each other and result in the original raven.

(20:08:56) >You agree to trade.

(20:09:10) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:09:10) >Trade complete

(20:10:03) Mircea's raven grows a pair of pouty, luscious, female lips. It casually picks up some lipstick and pretties them up.

(20:10:41) Mircea's raven turns to mod, and kisses him in the ear, then whispers no in the sexiest voice mod has ever heard.

(20:11:03) Mircea says: Too bad it's just a ravenous raven.

(20:11:04) >Grenadine Sippycup dropped a Widow's Whisp Berries.

(20:11:16) Grenadine throws the raven a berry

(20:11:22) >Mircea Mircescu picked up a Widow's Whisp Berries

(20:11:46) Mircea's raven sits on the berry. A minigoat comes out of the berry and quicly runs off.

(20:12:44) Mircea's raven crows. "Know this. There is no direction except for aside."

(20:13:23) Daniel wonders if that was for him

(20:14:03) Mircea's raven chuckles.

(20:14:09) Daniel slinks away

(20:14:29) Daniel says: well then i won't bother with my other questions then

(20:14:46) Mod says: You don't wanna be kissed by a Raven?

(20:14:52) Mircea is suddenly crushed by a section of brick wall fallen straight from the heavens right atop his head. On the other side is an inscription, in bronze. It reads : "A woman without man is a wo."

(20:14:52) Mod says: :D

(20:16:07) Mircea falls from the heavens and crushes an section of brick wall. On his head there's a bronze plaque without any inscription. They read "I.D.E.M."

(20:16:30) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(20:16:38) >You agree to trade.

(20:16:59) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:16:59) >Trade complete

(20:17:44) Mircea's ear opens up and the band formerly known as "Yes" comes out. They sing a song and vanish into a chamber pot. This must mean something, but if it does it wouldn't be too surprising.

(20:18:21) Mod says: I like this raven.

(20:18:23) Mircea's raven crows at Daniel. "Keep at it, lad. It's a whore and she's expensive."

(20:19:05) Daniel raises his eyebrows

(20:19:39) Mircea's raven has a hammerhead for a beak. Where did it get it, no one knows.

(20:20:47) Mircea starts to creak like an old house. His features transform, his clothes turn into frilly girly stuff. He has nice boobs and a wasp waistline now. The raven wolfwhistles. There's a wolf holw nthe distance.

(20:21:30) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(20:21:34) Mircea farts loudly. The fart turns into an all envelloping cloud. It is pink.

(20:21:36) >You agree to trade.

(20:21:41) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:21:41) >Trade complete

(20:22:07) Mircea's cloud fills everyone's mouth with bubble gum.

(20:23:01) Mircea's raven pecks at Daniel's pocketwatch a little, which is strange as Daniel doesn't have a pocketwatch. Daniel thinks of the fountain and is suddenly hit by the realisation that there's nothing to do.

(20:23:12) Daniel says: aw

(20:23:59) Mircea's raven turns into a little toy train engine, with real steam coming out of its steamstack. It twirls around Mircea on invisible tracks. Choo - chooo!

(20:24:03) Daniel says: heh i'm running low on tokens here

(20:24:09) Daniel says: but i can think of another thing to ask

(20:24:16) Daniel says: unless someone stops me!

(20:24:31) Mod says: go ahead Daniel.

(20:25:05) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(20:25:07) Mircea's ex raven train engine explodes in a rain of confetti. Each little bit turns into a black feather. They float around slowly dancing around each other until the raven is recomposed.

(20:25:09) >You agree to trade.

(20:25:21) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:25:21) >Trade complete

(20:25:47) >Players Currently Online

(20:26:27) Mircea's raven looks intently at a second, miniature image of itself that only it can see.

(20:27:46) Mircea's raven points at Daniel with its wind and belches out a gloomy laugh. The Andrews Sisters crawl from under the earth, in their very advanced decomposition state. Trumpets from nowhere audibly sing out "No!" then the whole scene fades. Mircea is now sitting on the raven's shoulder.

(20:28:52) Mircea plucks the raven's head off, then pulls his head out of his neck. He switches the two. There's now a raven with a beard supporting a gentleman with a beak on his shoulder.

(20:29:16) Mircea croaks "what are you looking at!"

(20:29:47) Mircea's head from atop the raven's body looks at everyone in turn with burning eyes. Everyone in turn gets blisters.

(20:30:30) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(20:30:33) >You agree to trade.

(20:30:39) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:30:39) >Trade complete

(20:30:48) Mod says: eeeee!

(20:31:27) Mircea's ravenous body belows and belches. "Seven deadly sins... seven ways to win... seven are your burning fires... seven... your desires..."

(20:32:22) Foxy says: did anyone ask about magical dungbeetles?

(20:32:32) Daniel says: no

(20:32:44) Daniel says: i still got a token left

(20:32:54) Mircea holds Daniel's mouth open forcibly. The raven with a human head crawls in. Daniel is turned inside out, and apparently his spleen had NIET tatooed on it.

(20:33:31) Foxy says: mod?

(20:33:34) Daniel says: that's probably a good use of the last one

(20:33:48) Daniel says: technically i have one more after that but it's a different kind of token

(20:34:09) Foxy says: well, the md are the bottleneck for your craft, what can I say

(20:34:15) Mircea's head crawls out of Daniel's gory remains. The raven body lays an egg. A new, fresh Daniel crawls out of it. It is different from the Daniel before.

(20:34:41) >Daniel asks to trade with you.

(20:34:45) >You agree to trade.

(20:34:53) >Daniel gave Mircea an Inconsequential Sacrifice Token.

(20:34:53) >Trade complete

(20:35:32) Mircea's raven points at the concept of dung.

(20:37:01) Daniel thinks to himself

(20:37:03) Mircea's raven temporarily turns into a famous director. With specific gestures, he utters : "You owe the state of Florida one milllion nine hundred eighty three tousand nine hundred and three dollars. And that's apart from interests and penalties."

(20:39:02) Grenadine steals scorcese's spectacles

(20:39:10) Grenadine says: always good to have a backup pair!

(20:39:24) Mircea's raven turns into a flower. It sings with a very rolled r : "sunt o floarrreee.... currrrgatoarrree...."

(20:39:39) Daniel says: well all i got left is a much more valuable token

(20:39:54) Foxy says: lol daniel, want me to sell you a token?

(20:39:59) Daniel says: heh

(20:40:03) Daniel says: i'm out of questions luckily

(20:40:14) Foxy says: wow, now that's something

(20:40:15) Daniel says: i'lll try to think of something

(20:40:31) Mircea's raven turns into a copy of Das Capital. It is luxuriously bound. On the cover, one can see the author name as Foxy Forrester.

(20:40:41) Foxy says: ha ha

(20:41:22) Mircea opens the large, creaky book. A nude, lifesized Joan of Arc runs off, chased by a man in half overalls.

(20:41:52) Foxy is taking the samovar out to make some tea

(20:42:14) Foxy says: possibly a token tea

(20:42:23) Mircea's raven returns from where it's been and takes its usual perch on the seat.

(20:43:14) >Foxy Foxster takes a seat.

(20:43:48) Mircea's face is luxuriously bound.

(20:44:20) >Foxy Foxster stands up.

(20:44:53) Mircea's raven does a little jig.

(20:45:46) Mircea takes out a copy of "Statistical Probabilities Illustrated" and starts reading.

(20:45:52) Daniel says: well i'm probably not gonna use my better token on a question but i'm sure 1 million is more than it's worth on any other day so the offer still stands

(20:46:11) Foxy says: can I see it, daniel?

(20:46:15) Daniel says: sure

(20:46:52) Foxy says: oh, I have one like that

(20:46:56) Daniel says: yeh

(20:47:03) Foxy says: nad yeah, not for a question I'd say

(20:47:13) Mircea's raven murmurs to itself. "Eh, phate chance!"

(20:48:18) Mircea looks around. The raven looks around. A sense of ominous ominosity descends on the audience. There's a loud pop and everything's not the same as it didn't use to be anymore.

(20:48:29) Mircea says: Sooo...

(20:48:40) Mircea says: howdja like our little phate event!

(20:48:59) Daniel says: very phun

(20:49:04) Foxy says: a very late event indeed seen from here, lol

(20:49:06) Mircea says: :D

(20:49:15) Mod says: Yeah, I think it worked out well. We'll see anyway!

(20:49:20) Mircea says: it's latte spelled with a lth!

(20:49:23) Foxy says: I'm off before I fall asleep on the keyboard

(20:49:35) Mod says: ni' Foxy

(20:49:41) Foxy says: btw mircea tomorrow for the testing I surely can't

make it this late

(20:49:42) Mircea says: don't let the bed bugs bate.

(20:49:57) Mircea says: o btw daniel you want this oil ?

(20:50:02) Foxy says: bye all

(20:50:02) Daniel says: ya

(20:50:06) Daniel says: goodnight

And as far as the next Sunday is concerned : whosoever brings me a set of nine tools of the same kind, such that the durability of one is 1, and of another 2, and of another 3 and so forth until the ninth's 9, will in exchange receive a unique antique version of that tool, of one million durability. This exchange is only available once for each tool type, and only available for mining tools. Good phuck (with a ph) !

And after that.

« Oracle Sunday on Eulora

Foxy's Quite Almost Craftbot »

Category: S.MG

Monday, 27 July, Year 7 d.Tr.

The PGP -w mode

mircea_popescu incidentally, re the eventual republican reimplementation of pgp : other than the -a armored mode, i want it to also have a -w armored mode. in this mode, it should load a list of lines from a file, modulo the message by the line count of that file, replace every numeric unit with the respective line,

mircea_popescu meh this is getting too complicated. ima trilema it.

So, if presented with the -w switch, the thing should :

Read either an indicated file, or else the default file (dictionary.txt ?), obtain n, m, k, l, p from the first line as csv.

Modulo its intended numeric output by the line count of that file, and piss out the word at that index in a loop until the whole number it's trying to pass has been so encoded, adding a space at every iteration

Take the resultant text, randomly add commas by n probability.

Take the resultant text, randomly add dashes by m probability.

Take the resultant text, randomly add full stops, question marks and exclamation points by k, l, p probability. Capitalize following word.

It is important that in this formulation, the armored output carry no identifying marks of any kind, even if operating in other modes the implementation adds fixed headers or other separators.

These measures will :

allow encrypted matter to pass indistinguishably as plain text ;

present an advantageous point to easily and effectualy deploy OTP, as users can in principle agree on dictionary files to use which will render communication secure even in the case of a compromised private key ;

should usage become sufficiently widespread, it will make the leeching of public space for profit as exemplified by Google, NSA & all plainly impossible.i

The standard implementation should come with reasonableii dictionaries of at least a few major languages.

———This is merely continuation of work commenced last year to destroy reddit / social media in general as viable communication platforms.

Broadly speaking, TMSR aims to make any alternative impossible as a default. The idea is to force anyone to have to deliberately expend effort in order to pursue an alternative. This is how the enemy has temporarily won ; this is how we permanently win.

In the quaint words of the virgin Mary : take a crap in their culture, and every time they grasp for air shove more of it in. [↩]We don't probably want complete dictionaries, as the abundant usage of otherwise very rare words would work as a marker. [↩]

« Marcha de las Dumbas

Paradigm shit! »

Category: Zsilnic

Sunday, 29 November, Year 7 d.Tr.

The peak of insanity.

There's been the occasional Ballas article where the man was simply wrong, as it happens, or amusingly sophomoric, or even ridiculously blinded by whatever internalized ideologyi. These are fortunately rare.

Moments ago I've however run into a piece that is absolutely and patently fucking insane to a degree you can scarcely imagine. And yet, it remains coherent in its insanity, which is why I think it rather instructive a subject. Let's go through it with the note pen!

Love Means Not Letting The Other Person Be Himself

You get married in your twenties, but 20 years and three great kids later, not to mention the idyllic farm in Big Sky country, you seem to have made it.  The rest is coasting.

From the NYT:

Sure, you have your marital issues, but on the whole you feel so self-satisfied about how things have worked out that you would never, in your wildest nightmares, think you would hear these words from your husband one fine summer day: "I don't love you anymore. I'm not sure I ever did. I'm moving out. The kids will understand."

Wouldn't be the first middle aged man who suddenly realized he belonged not with his family but in a pre-furnished uptown apartment living on take-out. ii They say that the older kids get over it, but that sounds like something a psychiatrist would say, i.e. completely made up.iii

 Her parry:

His words came at me like a speeding fist, like a sucker punch, yet somehow in that moment I was able to duck. And once I recovered and composed myself, I managed to say, "I don't buy it." Because I didn't.

She figured that this was a mid-life crisis; not another woman, or a failing on her part, but the discovery that his "personal trajectory is no longer arcing reliably upward as it once did."  So, she treated it like "a child's temper tantrum": she ignored it.  For four months.

Not ignored him: she included him in all family activities, talked to him, set a place for him.   But she refused to engage in discussions about separation.

iv

So he turned mean. "I don't like what you've become."v

Gut-wrenching pause. How could he say such a thing? That's when I really wanted to fight. To rage. To cry. But I didn't.

Instead, a shroud of calm enveloped me, and I repeated those words: "I don't buy it."

He was... surprised.  He tried different ways to get through to her, but she kept "not buying it."

"Go trekking in Nepal. Build a yurt in the back meadow. Turn the garage studio into a man-cave. Get that drum set you've always wanted. Anything but hurting the children and me with a reckless move like the one you're talking about...vi What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?"

II.

My first reaction was: this woman is insane.  e.g.:

(To her husband) It's not age-appropriate to expect children to be concerned with their parents' happiness. Not unless you want to create co-dependents who'll spend their lives in bad relationships and therapy. There are times in every relationship when the parties involved need a break. What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?vii

I don't know what that means, but I'm pretty sure I don't like it. 

And this clear example of needing to go on/off pills:

You see, I'd recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself.viii I'd committed to "The End of Suffering." I'd finally managed to exile the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my control.ix

What put me off was her unwillingness to see him on his terms. Identity may be arbitrary and malleable, but the one with the body has a bigger claim to it, right?    She wanted him a certain way, he didn't want to be that way, and she didn't care.  She wanted to be the one who chose his identity. 

Also, she was a writer which made me suspect the whole thing.  Why does this stuff always happen to writers and not longshoremen?x

III. But as I mulled it over for two months, I had to defer, this woman had it right.  She didn't overthink it.   The obvious thing to do would be to take it personally ("he's not in love with me because I'm old and fat"); the easy thing to do would be to use it to air out old angers with him ("you always took your mother's side!"); and the tempting thing to do would be to do therapy on him ("don't you think you feel this way because you're old and fat?")

But instead she let it evolve naturally.  She got out of the way and let him do exactly what it was he wanted to do, which was, specifically, choose his own identity. xi What she hoped, of course, was that he'd choose the one he already hadxii for the past twenty years.  But it was a gamble, because he could have chosen to become a middle aged man who prowls airport bars looking for stewardesses.  (I'll preempt your joke: when I did it I was a very young.xiii )

The analogy is to adolescence, where the more you badger them about their ____, the more they're going to believe they really want ____; because they aren't identifying with ____, they are identifying with not-you.  That's what teens do, that's what anyone who feels their identity is being decided by others.

He, representative of too many men, wanted not to be something new, he just didn't want to be anything decided by someone else, even if he actually likes that thing. xiv I came to understand this when I reread his quote, with the additional last sentence:

...you would never, in your wildest nightmares, think you would hear these words from your husband one fine summer day: "I don't love you anymore. I'm not sure I ever did. I'm moving out. The kids will understand. They'll want me to be happy.

Why would this nut think that they would want him to be happy?  On some level they might, but why would they choose his happiness over theirs, or their mom's?  "They'll want me to be happy" are the words of someone who has no idea what he wants, and so picks the meaningless word "happy."

IV.

I had to concede that she does know him better than he knows himselfxv, after twenty years; not because she has seen into his soul but because she hasn't: she's seen what he's done, repeatedly, for twenty years.  That's who he is, regardless of who he says he is. xvi

Not great example, but: he says "I love japanese culture, I love japanese food" but she knows to find him at the burger joint and not the sushi place.  Who he is is "a guy who just says he likes sushi, but does like burgers."

Also, hopefully, she has a sense of what are his values-- again, not what he says they are, but what he does. So she might find it legitimately out of character that he wants to move out since, for example, he could tolerate her infidelity just to stay near his kids.xvii

So if we grant her a particularly unique perspective on her husband, then she may be in a position to know what's a phase and what's not.

And hence what she did- potentially humiliating and even futile-- was the right gambit.xviii

V. 

Here's the depressing part: if she had let him go, via arguing or clinging or whatever-- then he probably would not ever regret his decision to leave.  Living at the Residence Inn, he would sincerely think he had made the right choice, that he had to move on.xix

But he wouldn't be any happier.  Different life, sure, but not better. This is what Laura intuited.  He may as well have moved from Cleveland to Indianapolis and swapped Lacoste for Polo.  "Wow, this is so much better."  Meanwhile, he's left behind a perfectly good life.xx

Everyone will tell me their situation is different and it may be, so I'll say it like this: if outside, impartial people who know you both perceive it to be a mid-life crisis and not a fundamental problem in the relationship, then bank on it.  The problem isn't the relationship, the problem is you.

xxi

VI.

One thing I almost forgot: Laura's husband is a dying breed.

The trend now-- generation <40-- is for the woman to have the mid-life crisis.  Before you jump on men, it's a combination of factors.xxii

On the male side, the drive for novelty and nueva vida loca is turned inwards, so that rather than chase new experiences they close off from the outside world and dream them.  They don't end relationships, they stay caulked to the inside of one, unmoving, ungrowing, apathetic; while their minds and DVRs are an imaginarium.  The few things they do choose to jump recklesslsy into are obvious go-nowheres: one night stands (for the married man)xxiii; making a movie; daytrading.  They're easy to attempt, and easy to blame on externalities when they inevitably fail. 

They don't break up with the girl, they ignore her until she breaks up with them.

On the female side: well, reverse 50 years of history and it's what men went through.  Promised the world as described by Coca Cola and whatever TV show was popular at the time.  All opportunities are open to anyone who wants to work, a new car, a big house, a career.  But no one told the men that those things were for their families, not for them, that none of this would make them happy, and, indeed, would make them realize how little their lives are really worth-- unless they understood that their lives had value only if it was of value to someone else. xxiv So for a while they chased sex, affairs, or took up an out of the house hobby (e.g.golf).  Something to give them the temporary illusion that they were free, and that the world had possibilties, not pot roast and pot bellies.

That's where women are, encouraged like the men had been by media images that say, "of course you can! (if you have the right bag)."  You can't.  It didn't make men happyxxv, and it sure won't make you happy. If you think it looks stupid when a 40 year old man buys a convertible or has to go find himself or chases a 20 year old intern, think how stupid it looks when the woman does it.

Women since 1980 have been sold a big fat lie, the same one the men were sold since 1945.  It didn't turn out well for them.  It did make men drink more, so you can look forward to that.xxvi

Weird, huh ?

———This generally revolves around his mistaken notion that "all people are valuable" which paints him into various ridiculous corners, such as "I gotta watch TV". You'd think someone so keenly aware of the nonsense of media would be using his time other than to watch Carrie Horseface in Carrie Horseface's Adventures II, but no such luck. He's not willing to forego the notion that people are in and of themselves, by merely existing, valuable - he'd have to reevaluate things such as "being a doctor" and other identitarian investments and obviously isn't inclined to do that.

If you'd rather have another example, take his deep misunderstanding of the heroic Joe Stack : he's decided apriori that "killing is never right", and so obviously Joe Stack must be wrong, incomprehensible, unpersuasive, disorganised, failed to show, whatever it takes. Just as long as one doesn't have to take a serious look at the duty to kill government agents incumbent on any US resident, all's gravy. [↩]Let's delve into this for a moment. So, the proposition is that the woman is to be left with the house, and the "family", and the pretense of centrality, whereas the man must move on and be a sort of aged teen again ?

How about we construct the exact mirror alternative. The master of the house says : "I tire of you and your spawn", which means that the woman has until sundown to vacate the premises, taking her entire objectionable litter with her, or else be stoned to death. Not even by the husband himself, there's a special service offered by the local pest controllers, they take care of the whole thing and it's like a hundred bucks or whatever, just like any other infestation of your house. Did you notice that possesive there ? Your house ? Hold on to that, it's important. Alternatively, she can come up with sweeteners, such as you know, sleeping in the garage, convincing her sister to spend more time in your bed, whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.

Why that and not this ? Oh, because this is insane ? How do you know that isn't insane ? Because it's what you do ? Good for you, but this is what I do. So now what ?

The fact that you've never even considered this matter, at all, as a plain and simple intellectual exercise, "hmm, I'm thinking of A, I wonder what non-A would look like", idly, for no other reason than to have some cause, a little, a tiny bit of a modicum of cause when you pretend to yourself and others that "you've thought things through" is already damning. That this schmuck has spent countless hours filling endless pages over years with various screeds against narcissism (most of which pretty well done and on point) yet sees no problem whatsoever with a married woman who is very content yet at the same time surprised by the discontentment of her husband... really ?

Where I come from if you're unperceptive enough to not know when the man's displeased that's a beating right there, and I don't mean it jokingly. A cane can bite those buttocks, the marks stay for a week, the soreness will be there in the morning. What's made narcissism in women old, fat, boring, middle aged ex-women so special that it gets a pass ? Are they niggers or something now, natural phenomena, items devoid of spirit and intellect ? Laissez. [↩]Interesting.

Who gives a flying fuck about the dumbass kids is perhaps even more interesting. So they won't get over it ? Big whoop. There's more kids coming right after them. They can either get over anything and everything or else go hang, entirely at their option.

O noes, the kids won't get over it, that's a criteria now, in America. Will the goats get over it ? [↩]And this doesn't count as domestic abuse, by the insane logic of the nazist state, because... well...

Consider the simpler situation of subway nuisances. You wish to sit in your seat undisturbed. There's two kinds of disturbances you can run into : that the person next is fat, and their folds are pushing at you, which they shouldn't be ; or that the person next is holding their knees apart, and their knees are pushing at you, which they shouldn't be. Only one of these two perfectly equivalent in principle (but otherwise sorted by descending inconvenience) nuisances is the subject of statal repression these days. Guess which ?

No, they don't have ads in the subway going "fat women are an insult to society", no they don't have steel bars at the entryways to make it impossible for the overweight to get in and bother people. Instead, they derp about "manspreading". Why this and not that ? Because while they are both intentional actions of responsible agents, the decision of the man to stretch is right there, whereas the decision of the woman to overeat is one step removed. That's all. That's the way the nazist state works, and that's why passive-aggressive behaviour is so common these days (in some places) : in the nazist atmosphere it actually is adaptative.

So back to our case : the woman has some thug friends that will come beat up the guy if he puts her in his place. On this differential of power, she decides to... abuse the relationship. And this is ok, because unlike his taking off the belt and making her into leopard print, which is direct, her abuse is one step removed, and therefore a-ok, in der Nazional-Socialismus.

So she's going to push the point, "what are you gonna do about it ?" The same Ballas that astutely notices a stupid woman "is practically daring a man to like her", "You think I'm pretty? Bam! Now I have a kid! What do you think of that?" somehow misses it here. Why would he miss it here ? [↩]He turned mean. The man victimized by a well armed, systematic agressor that used to masquerade as his spouse pointing out the transformation is mean. How about that!

Hooray for cognitive kill switches, another topic Ballas seems to otherwise have well mastered. It's inappropriate to interrupt your agressor with discussion of his aggression, right ? I knew it, damn! Every rapist hates it when the worthless whore screams, I just had no idea why that is, before. IT WAS MEAN ALL ALONG! I am now enligthened.

Or wait. Perhaps it was inappropriate ? What do you think dear reader, was it mean, or was it inappropriate ? Or was it rather bumstcz ? Perhaps these words don't even carry any notional content whatsoever, they're just political ploys ? Could it be ? [↩]Herp.

This is, I presume, not rampant narcissism, as diagnosed by the narcissism expert. This is just... right ? Mmmkay. [↩]Translated : "how can I make it so that we actualize this fantasy of mine where you don't matter and it's all about me anyway and no matter what ?" [↩]I would very much love to see this one in court. O wait, we already have. "I have hereby committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself that Maritime Law and whatchamacall it therefore forthwith!"

Splendid. [↩]Indulge me, what is this other part of success that "outside" success differentiates from ? Confabulation ? Delirium ? "I am a very successful civil engineer that's outwardly had some bridges collapse, but whatever - inside me they're still standing man!", something like that ?

The time the idiot finally exiles the voices in his head telling him about reality is the time you call the pest control unit to dispose of the body. [↩]Because writers marry pencildicks. [↩]Yeah. Makes sense.

You know who else did something this sensible ? Owners in New York cca 1890. They... took a step back and let the poor immigrants choose their identity : do they wanna be dead of TB at 17, after a life spent in a strange brick prison, or do they wanna be dead of starvation now ? Seems perfectly legitimate. Hey, it's their choice!

What the fuck is he going to pay for the garage with, and much more on point : how about he sells her sweet ass to his best friend Antron, so she can also "make up her own mind" : anal or no anal ? Oh, you don't do that there. Where, there ? White Pencildickia ? Mmmkay. [↩]Except he hadn't. She had. [↩]I'll also pre-empt this "joke" : do it to me and you'll need a dentist appointment. Which you might or might not get, and like it. [↩]Except he doesn't, because nobody other than a menopausal woman could like it, and God knows half of them don't either. It's just not a thing to like, and unsurprisingly people don't like it for as long as they can stand. Some for even longer than that. [↩]And after you get to spend twenty years from twenty onward in a prison of her own design, she'll know you better than you know yourself, too. Principally because you won't even be yourself, like one of those pears grown in a small bottle, you'll just be "whatever's left around the glass". [↩]Quite exactly correct. If you value your identity, you have to, let me repeat that, you have to beat her, let me repeat that, beat her, the first time, let me repeat that, the first time she tries for this. And you have to beat her so bad she does not believe, at the time, she will survive the experience.

Alternatively, you could just redecorate the garage. Or perhaps the doghouse. Either way.

No, this is not open to any sort of discussion. I know you just want to... It doesn't matter.

Oh, you don't live in the sort of culture that "allows" that ? Mkay. [↩]Right, right. That's how this works.

He could tolerate her having kids with other dudes just so he can stay near... his kids. Makes perfect sense, now tell me more about Apple's valuable "intellectual property" that just so happens to be all in Chinese hands, it'll make great dinner conversation. Could he sell "his" kids for all of Russia ? [↩]To quote the very author, why would anyone want to be involved with a loser like that ? [↩]Chiefly because he would have.

Just like every other battered wife (yes, in this relationship the supposedly - I don't buy it - male is actually the wife) at the battered wife shelter thinks that the roaches on the wall suck and the food selection is miserable but THANKS GOD. [↩]And the rape victim has left a perfectly good cock. What the fuck's your point, Jesus almighty! [↩]I generally do not hold the same position : neither this particular schmuck, nor any other rape victim, generally deserves what they got. But apparently US-born and bred, educated psychiatrists disagree. Just as long as the woman is being played by a man, it's all gravy, apparently, or somesuch. [↩]Yeah, it's a combination of factors.

The factors being, that they get to keep the house and the kids and the pretense of centrality. So they're the men now. So they get the men stuff. "Combination of factors" consisting of divorce court and "must make arrest on domestic disturbances" policies which somehow do not result in an arrested Fido, or female. And other such combined factors. [↩]Every woman I ever had any sort of meaningful relationship with started with a one night stand.

But apparently this wisdom only applies to you know, "journeys". Nothing else, even the longest journey begins with a single step but otherwise, one night stands are obvious go-nowheres (which is how we say "obviously going nowhere" when acutely retarded). [↩]O yah, I'm sure that's what it is.

And yet he deeply comprehends that

Of course the idea is to get rich-- which sounds like capitalism, if you're retarded, but observe the message that is being taught: that the necessary correlate to getting rich is to give all the capital to someone else. The power is traded for the fetish of power. That's not capitalism, it is madness, and apparently Davos and Randi think women especially will heart it.

But then turns around and sells the same cheese. Oh this time it's different, you see. I'm sure it is. [↩]It did make men happy. It did make men happy. It didn't make retarded adolescents anything but feel inadequate, but guess what : when you fail the exam of life, the problem isn't the exam, or life.

The problem is you. [↩]This is the most insane part of the whole get-up. He actually understands most of it. And yet...

Blindspots in intelligent people are a fascinating thing. [↩]

« Lacessiveram editor

A lingering suspicion. »

Category: Cocietate si Sultura

Saturday, 24 October, Year 7 d.Tr.

The Pawnbroker

This moviei enjoys the very notable distinction of having broken the code, something that's worth about a truckload of Ooscars.

It's the story of a man. Like the other one. Or that other one. Like all of them, really.

This man happens to be Jewish, like that other one, or that other one. But that's simply because Man is Jewish, is all. (Do not despair, for there's some sectarian Jewishness [which you probably know as "Christianity"] affixed with spittle towards the end of the production - undying testament to the inferiority complexes of the local yokels.)

This man encounters the usual problem of man, which is to say, that women are pliableii but meaningless, men outright and irredeemably evil while the world (also known as "pain and suffering") is and will forever remain utterly endless. Make of this what you will, while Nazerman makes an inside-out Freudian absurdityiii wherein the organised forced rape of Jewish girls by nazi camp guards is no longer the chief redeeming feature of that entire pile of broken, but some sort of a bad thing. Because sex is bad mmkay.

While all this happens, or more properly speaking goes on, an innocent, mentally limited sheep (that's why they used a Latino - that hair!) kills itself on the unseen, invisible to it, irons of reality. To quote

Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, you're the weak, and I am the tyranny of evil men.

New York looks absolutely gorgeous in its unbridled, enthusiastic youth. The sound is atrocious, but very good - never has screeching ever before or ever again lived such a full life of the cinema. There's something of Visconti in this, that certain "sound and commotion come and go - once they go, the characters are left behind".

You should probably see this thing with a dog.

———1964, by Sidney Lumet, with Rod Steiger, Thelma Oliver. [↩]Speaking of which,

[↩]You will have to understand that the principal interest in Freud lies with his being for the mind what Escher was for Euclidean geometry. [↩]

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Category: Trilematograf

Monday, 08 June, Year 7 d.Tr.

The One I Love

Firs things first. Parazitiii was the otherii great band of The Golden Ageiii. Here's one of theirs :

Ombladon feat Cheloo - Din dragoste in alte feluri

Baga berea-n frigider, scoate-l pe ala din sifonier

Stick the beer in the fridge, get that schmuck out of the closet.iv

M-am intors acasa, pune-ti pe cap casca de fier!

I'm back, baby, don your iron helmet!

Faci fata sper fa zdreanto. Du-te la baie

I hope you're up to it, whore. Off to the bathroom

Ti-am spart fata c-ai avut tupeu sa-mi dai cu palma-n coaie.

I broke your face for mishandling my ballsack.

Femeia in general are doi barbati 'odata

Woman generally has two men at the same time

Unu' s-o futa, altu s-o bata.v

One to fuck her, one to beat her

Ca si femeia asa-i barbatu'

That's woman, that's man.

O fute pe-a lu altu' si tie acasa iti rupe capu'

He fucks another's and then back home he breaks your head off

Sau va fute pe amandoua, ca disperatu'...

Or fucks the both of you like the desperate.vi

Nu-i nici un mister, ca-l preferi pe altu', la dracu!

It's not a mystery that you prefer another, for fucks sake

Da-mi coniacu' repede! Ca-ti rup capu'!

Quickly, my brandy, before I break your head.vii

Acum dezbraca-te, usor, sexy papusa

Now strip, easy, sexy doll.viii

Iesi afara pe sala si asculta ce-ti zic prin usa.

Get out in the hallway and listen to me through the door.

Eram ranga atunci cand te-am cunoscut

I was shitfaced when I met you

Vezi discutiile imi amintesc de trecut, ma f*!

See, discussions remind me of the past. Fuck!

Maica-ta ma visa inginer pe santier, tu ofiter,

Your mother was dreaming me a construction yard

engineer, you an army officer

Nicidecum cu cazier in cartier.

In no case a criminal record in the hood.

Erau vremuri grele, da nu credeam in ele,

Hard times, but we didn't believe in them.ix

Nu visam pe atunci ca tu poti sa-mi aduci belele.

I didn't dream at the time you'd be a source of trouble.

Acum tu plangi, Eu rad..

Now you cry, I laugh...

Te cred pe cuvant cand te aud spunand ca

I'll take your word when you say that

Nici eu nu sunt sfant!

I'm no saint.

Asa e! Ce sa-i faci, yo?! Asta-i firea!

That's it, what's to do ? It's the being.x

Doar nu credeai ca in viata te-nseala doar privirea?!?

You didn't think in this life regard's the only liar.xi

Uita-te la mine, nu la mainile mele,

Watch me, not my hands.xii

M-am imbatat, am chef de cearta,

I'm drunk and I feel like a quarrel

Iti bag eu frica-n piele!

I'll stick fear in your skin.xiii

Tacticile tale nu-mi plac,

I don't care for your tacticsxiv

Nu-mi plac lacrimile tale care-mi fac tricoul praf.

I don't like your tears ruining my t-shirt.

Viitorul ma sperie, mai rau decat te sperii tu de mine.

Future scares me, way worse than I scare you

Nimeni nu poate sa ma domine! Retine!

Nobody can dominate me! Take note!

Faci atatea planuri, nu ma include.

You make so many plans, do not include me.

Cuvintele sunt surde, acel vechi EU nu te mai aude.

Words are deaf, that old me is not hearing you anymore.

Bagane-am pula-n ele de sentimente,

Let's stick our collective cock in feelings.

Am momente cand n-am argumente. Nu rade!

I have moments when I'm without arguments. Don't laugh!

Te priveai cu ala-n ochi de parc-o luai deja in gura

You were looking at that guy like you were sucking him off already

O sa te bat cu atata ura pana o sa faci temperatura.

I will beat on you with such hatred you'll get a fever.

Tie iti trebuie un sclav, ti-l caut maine

What you need is a slave, I'll seek him tomorrow.

Genul de barbat dresat ca un caine.

The sort of man with dressage, like a dog.

Chiar daca nu-i rasul meu si nu ma pot abtine

Even if it's not my laughxv and I can't hold it in,

Rad pentru ca e de ras, ma uit la tine..

I laugh for it's to laughxvi, I look at you...

Tu plangi, mie-mi vine sa rad.. E neplacut..

You cry, I feel like laughing... It's unpleasant

Si te simt cand ma-njuri in gand.

And I can feel you cursing me in your mind

Tu plangi, mie-mi vine sa rad.. E neplacut..

You cry, I feel like laughing... It's unpleasant

M-am tirat definitiv, sa nu ma dai disparut.

I'm off forever, don't report me missing.

Now then... so equipped, we can proceed to discuss The One I Lovexvii, which roughly speaking is the following concoction : a worthless male and an average Jane have "marriage issues" because he apparently fucked some other broad, but really because she just can't stand him anymore - which is very understandable. So they go to this retreat, which is a strange place where they meet a couple of their exact dopplegangers, she fucks the better version of him, doesn't want to leave anymore, he notably never fucks the better version of her - notwithstanding that the alt-Jane is, indisputably, the better version of Jane, whereas the alt-douche is really just a more aggressive, jerkier version. Exchange OCD for narcissism and you've "improved" exactly in this degree. I will note that while I'm aware [uneducated, worthless] males are sexually shy, I hold the inability to explore the world with your cock a very serious character flaw. By the time the woman's more sexually adventurous than you are it's time for the biogas chamber, seriously.xviii

The story is I suppose decent, all the handwavingxix very in line with theatrical convention and as such easily tolerable through entrenched practice. The weakest spot is the encounter between the two women, which in the original reads as follows :

"This is quite the situation."

"You can say that again."

"Has Ethan... I mean your Ethan... have you guys talked about anything or has he said anything to you at all?"

"Like what?"

"Well, Ethan... my Ethan and I, we know we've discussed it. Like he knew when I was going to go in the house

and I knew when he was going to and..."

"You shared your experiences."

"Yeah, for the most part."xx

"And you want to know if we shared our experiences also."

"Guess I'm just curious."

"I can see that. You know what I'm curious about? Are you more concerned with the experiences that me and your Ethan shared or are you more concerned with what I know about the experiences that you and my Ethan shared? Seems to me you care a lot more about one of those scenarios than the other. Are you going to give that back? I say for the sake of the super fun evening we're about to have, let's keep it simple and keep our cheery dispositions and I'll keep complimenting your shoes and you can keep pretending that you like the way I pin my hair back, and we'll just have a good time and see what happens. On second thought, do you mind taking care of those dishes?"

In sanity it should have read something like :

"Hey, who's got the bigger tits ?"

"D'oh ? Obviously you."

[starting to unbutton pensively] "O, really ? Let's see!"

"Hang a second... I have some icecream here somewhere."

Yes, really. Other women are not your enemies, you only think that because dullards and assorted failed males need you to think that so they have a shot at reproducing their third rate genetics. There's really no need for all the elaborate woman-on-woman psychopathy and assorted perisexual crazy behaviour as displayed in monogamous societies other than this - ensuring the perpetuation of mediocre to outright dubious males. It's a huge cost to bear, yo, seriously - you're missing out on icecream on some chick's tits because you're stuck paying some guy's mental mortgage with your very flesh ? Cmon. One pound is too much, but your whole damned life ? The life of the spirit too ? Insanitit.

The actors are very bad, and nigh on ruin the movie multiple places. For instance, "why does the good Ethan sound gay ?" girlie wishes to know. Well... because the actor is a little closeted, and honestly thinks that's the pinnacle of male achievement : finally being a faggot! Moreover they break into "documentary" style all the damned time. It's "easier", but it also has nothing to do with acting. It's a mode strictly reserved for amateurs being filmed, as a barebones survival technique. The powerpoint presentation allows illiterate adults with socialisation issues to speak before a group, provided that group is disinterested, small and the topic is technical. "Documentary acting" allows ivideolate adults with body, speech and movement issues appear on camera, provided no communication of any sort whatsoever is required.xxi

Altogether the sort of film that's worth seeing for the commentary, so make sure you watch it with people worth the time. (There's also a very faint "worth watching to make you feel better about your own, not nearly as shitty life" whiff in there, like anything about economic life in Africa to USians and anything about amorous life in the US for me.)

———Literally, The Parasites [↩]The actual great band of said Golden Age, BUG Mafia, being a lot more... literal. Parazitii is meta. [↩]That splendid time including the end of socialist-II Romania and the first coupla decades of the life of socialist-III Romania, even if at the time people imagined the baby is going to grow up to be "freedom", and said so, quite plainly and quite universally. Turns out freedom isn't as easy as all that.

Yet even its mere possibility, read perhaps too optimistically in the indistinct forms of a newborn world, was enough to make the time golden. I mean this literally, dust suspended in the air of the time stands glazed in precious metal. Yes, freedom is that valuable. [↩]Specifially not a dulap, which is smaller. A sifonier, literally chiffon-holder, is a large piece of furniture aspiring to emulate the walk-in closet. Twenty square feet is not uncommon. [↩]Yes. There's a lot of literary convention you're not privy to, in part through not living in a language with a literature, in part through being uncurious. For instance. [↩]Disperatu, with or without the tick indicating the missing proper end of the masculine definite article (l) is not in Romanian merely the singular male form of desperation. It's a word in its own right, denoting the marginally berserk adult male that used to be a supernumerary child who then failed to find his childhood grave, and now finds itself not really fit for a life as an adult beta. A certain sort of a lurch.

I think you call these "red pillers" in your culture, or at least that's the intent. [↩]This recurring literalism, "head breaking" is merely the localised superlative of a magnificent beating - that's how they say it where he's from. I suppose a safe English version would be "beat the shit out of you" or something like that. [↩]You thought sex is optional ? What, for women ?! [↩]Need he say more ? Need I ?

Okay. Nobody in Romania believed the baby's gonna turn up malformed. It is the one true bond uniting Romanians alive today : we have all had this shared experience - the baby turned out retarded. It's not as little a thing as you might imagine, without it. [↩]Firea, the nature of things and the implicit phenomena of existence. The being. [↩]It's a pun. [↩]You probably don't know, not having the (or any) experience, but the one thing competent slavegirls, average women in abusive relationships and aware players in crooked poker games have in common is this : watching the man's hands. The slaves because their master's cues, the abused women because early warning can be the difference between a ruptured spleen and a cracked rib (ie, six weeks in the hospital and major surgery vs a coupla days in bed) and the spotters for very similar reasons to either category. [↩]An apt expression. Fear's principally a perspiratory scent. [↩]I don't either, for that matter. I can appreciate women have been historically squeezed, I can appreciate that as the weaker player they have no practical option other than drumming up "community support", but it is a stupid solution that's antithetical to either performance or identity. How about instead of "all standing up as one" the better women join the stupid men in crushing underfoot those women stupid enough to have picked them ? Personal responsibility, bitch : you don't want to live with an idiot, learn to suck cunt. And like it, and be good at it. Oh, you don't like it ? Pune-ti pe cap casca de fier. [↩]Romanian has this expression, "rizi tu rizi Harap Alb, da' nu-i risul tau". Harap Alb, literally White Nigger is a folk story hero. The expression denotes yellow laughter. [↩]Whether something is "de ris", ie, to laugh at, or actually to be taken seriously is perhaps the most important distinction Romanian-ethics-as-implemented-by-the-everyman ever makes. [↩]2014, by Charlie McDowell, with Elisabeth Moss and Mark Duplass. [↩]There is a reason for this - specifically that the risks and costs on the part of the male are one if not two degrees of magnitude smaller. You don't catch anything for fucking a sick woman, yo! It's in the range of 1%. If she fucks a sick guy she's got even odds. EVEN ODDS! You don't get pregnant, you're by nature bigger and stronger than her! What the fuck!

By the time the man with a baseball bat can't keep up with the barefisted old guy we have a serious problem - and every dude out there with the complaint that his wom[a,e]n were more sexually adventurous than him is essentially making this statement. Off to gaol with you, yo! This isn't what you've a life for! [↩]Cosmic anomaly, really ? [↩]Obviously. [↩]The difference between an actor and a video blogger being that for the latter the script is an asymptote, whereas for the former it's a starting point. [↩]

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Sunday, 24 May, Year 7 d.Tr.