Further Gay Bullshit : Todo sobre mi madre & La mala educacion
Todo sobre mi madrei is a tedious attempt at reconstructing the world on female terms.
Never is sin more evidently its own punishment than when repugnant girlies, those lanky, misshod shambling horrors between childhood and womanhood attempt to "improve" things so as to better fit their repugnant inadequacy. Todo sobre mi madre is a fine example in this vein ; watching its earnest trudge is direct and sufficient explanation anyone could possibly need as to why and wherefore "feminism" isn't a thing -- at any rate not anymore than "alzheimerism", the attempt to reconstruct the world to better fit the horizons and capacities of they afflicted with senile dementia, or "mongoloidism", the world reconstructed to firmly fit in the slippery grasp of a drooling dullard.
La mala educacionii is a transparently sad attempt by a fat old faggot nobody wants anymoreiii to construct a hieratic narrative of his own wasted existence, something that'll stave the incoming ocean of night for yet another brief moment. The whole fucking thing exists entirely so that Pedro Almodovar can have his totally not Mary Sue alter ego totally accidentally and not deliberately made very young claim something or the other about "con la misma pasion". The rest is just fluff, and fluff of the cheapest fabriciv. It's a good thing he stopped trying after that (he didn't, of course, but what can you do).
This is the last we'll say of this moron, and I suspect three articles is overmuch anyway.
———1999, by Pedro Almodovar, with Penelope Cruz, Cecilia Roth. [↩]2004, by Pedro Almodovar, with a bunch of TV ad workers. [↩]Don't act so surprised ; the world is fulla Sams. There's a Sam in Daisy Diamond bemoaning his lost cock ; there's one in Flawless ; there's one in Victor-Victoria... there's a Sam everywhere three faggots over the age of thirty gather. It's just the necessary fruit of the faggotry tree, what! [↩]The utterly baseless "you got the police but I got the press, what do you think" jewtardation, doubled by an equally baseless "'''the people''' matter ; and they care more about my freedom than about your property" or somesuch is just there to distract, perfunctory attempt at pretending like he's totally not riding the train of political correctness in the usual hopes of self-affirmation. [↩]
« Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire
When Cherri met Rae, Rae also met Cherri »
Category: Trilematograf
Tuesday, 05 June, Year 10 d.Tr.
Fuck Argentina.
slut i think malibu is definitely the best rum, just sayin
Me you have no idea.
slut lmao.
slut i just wanted to see what youd say, how was your day btw?
Me pretty great, all i did was watch movies, eat and boss people around.
Me and mock idiots on fetlife, lol.
slut lol anyone good today?
Me nah. some dumb bitchi from argentina. "feminist".
Me you know how some people are racist, like, they hate niggers ?
slut lol im familiar
Me i hate anyone from argentina.
slut how come?
Me cuz they're the absolute shitheels of this world. pretty much anything the craziest aryan power dood says about blacks ?
Me 110% true, about argentines.
slut lol yeah but what do they do?
slut ive nver heard anything disparaging about people from argentina
Me o, get a load of this. they grow. soy.
Me that's it.
Me and then!
Me they go around like "o no, argentina, is civilised". pretending like, they've got i dunno, a night life. education. businesses. they want as much in rent as they see in the miami rental agency leaflets
Me but the country is barely nigeria level.
Me after staying there i fired anyone who was even RELATED, in any way, to anyone from argentina.
Me should be exterminated, the sad fucks.
slut lol holy shit
Me o ya.
Me i never hated anyone before living there
Me but now i do
Me anyone from argentina is like, on my hit list.
slut lol did they all wrong you?
slut or did anything specific happen?
Me no, but i don't have the patience to check.
slut lol
Me like, you know, if you take a shit and notice there's corn kernels in there, you don't go in to taste them.
Me argentines are simply an abomination unto this world.
slut what a great metaphor
Me anyway, i seriously won't eat in argentine places, won't patronize argentine business, won't socialize with argentine people, i hate 'em.
slut lol glad i never brought up the subject before or in person
Me lol.
slut lol ill take your word for it, because i have to .. i think lol
Me anyway, here, some examples :
slut wooh
slut example time
Me trilema.com/2015/marcha-de-las-dumbas/
Me trilema.com/2016/pili/ vs trilema.com/2016/pizdi/
slut okk
Me waait, there's more!
Me trilema.com/2014/understanding-argentinas-coming-default-for-real-this-time/
Me trilema.com/2016/my-rather-sad-breakfast-or-fuck-you-smart-food-company-srl-and-fuck-you-industria-argentina/
Me trilema.com/2016/the-worlds-most-contortedly-idiotic-computer-case-in-pictures/
slut lmao
Me trilema.com/2016/la-santa-soppressata/
Me trilema.com/2016/cargo-cults-a-case-study/
Me trilema.com/2017/the-story-of-the-scared-slut/
Me trilema.com/2015/baires/
slut i know where i want to start
Me trilema.com/2014/further-argentine-weird/
slut these titles lol
Me trilema.com/2016/industria-argentina-or-my-life-among-the-tribal-savages/
slut haha
Me trilema.com/2016/peruvian-immigrants-argentine-natives/
Me trilema.com/2015/views-from-a-shithole-or-periplus-through-stupidity/
Me there's TONS more.
Me it's just, normal people don't realise what fucking shitheels they are. but once you start noticing things, you fucking notice things. how they ALWAYS pretend and NEVER deliver.
slut lmao
slut hannah mentioned something similiar before too
Me no human being can spend any time with them and not notice.
Me it's like they're replicants, claiming to be human beings. but totally are not.
slut lol these are some pretty unflattering stories
Me all true.
slut how long did you live there? pretty different from how your life sounds now haha
Me a coupla years
Me but yes. i went cuz they keep going on about how it's great and night life and whatnot
Me bupkiss, buenos aires is a 10mn inhabitant akron ohio
slut yeesh
slut fuck argentina
Me ikr!
Me do you understand that THEY HAVE NO CLUBS ?
Me i mean this. no discos, no dance halls, NOTHING ?
slut lmao yeah i was in ohio
Me this is not a joke, the total surface is
Saturday, 21 July, Year 10 d.Tr.
Front Page Woman
Front Page Womani is a delightfully edible piece considering what it's about (women's rights, to agency and a place in the workforce, mostly).
So, Bette Davis is this gal that wants to be respected as a human being. That's it and that's all, she opened her eyes on the great blue marble one day, it seems to her she functions as well as could ever be claimed, why can't she be a person, just like you and me ?
She happens to love a guy, as it happens to happen to people. She happens to live in a society, in a time and place when the convention is "a woman's place is in the home", something she isn't even necessarily adverse to -- she could see herself playing infangwif for this particular guy. On one condition, and then only : that he agrees she's a person.
He loves her also, and does agree she's a person, in the general. In the particular he has serious trouble navigating the nutty, idiosyncratic, peculiar and eccentric manner in which she's decided to go about reconciling theory with practice. He has firm ground to stand on, too, "reporting's no kind of job for a woman" and all that. It's two pronged, his stance : on one hand, women aren't quite as variant as men, and consequently not quite as disposable. On the other hand, the good old boys club, the only practical way to do anything in the city, does not include women.ii
So we get to watch them chasing each other through a complicated game of upper handiii whereby she discovers who the people at the murder were but he discovers what the jury says but she gets the girl to confess and so on and so forth -- all of it replete with period slang, crunching sour grapes, knowing a bleeding, there's a lot there (and Roscoe Karns' comedy is not even terribly offensive in the mix, somehow, surrealistically).
There's worse things you could do with a dame than watching this thing. Enjoy!
———1935, by Michael Curtiz, with Bette Davis, George Brent [↩]This latter prong has been mostly reversed by the flow of time, in 2018 as opposed to 1935 that same club does not include men, for the most part. This however has not fixed anything -- on the contrary, it has created a deeper tension, as the first prong is still there, and not likely to ever go away. [↩]First ups-last licks baseball decision is traditionally made through one party grabbing the bat at an arbitrary position, the other party grabbing neatly above that, and so continuing until someone grabs the last bit. [↩]
« Iguanapost. I guanapost ? Igu an apost ? I guan a post!
Take a Pacific piss like a boss. »
Category: Trilematograf
Wednesday, 11 April, Year 10 d.Tr.
Friendly Persuasion
Friendly Persuasioni is some of the lulziest shit yet.
One particular angle into the lulz is "omfg I can't believe how little of the quakerist bullshit these retards have managed to rid themselves of in the intervening two centuries". Because seriously & fo realz, "contemporary" America, if that provincial shithole can thusly be appelated, is definitely a helluva lot more comprehensible to the 1862 Quaker than to the 2018 anythinger. "Revolutionary" Marxism, are you fucking kidding me ? The obnoxious "independent" female's not changed one iota since before lambchops went out of fashion! What "revolutionary", what "liberation", what "culture wars" bla bla ?! Get a hold of yourselves, Old Ma' Birdwell's still runnin' da farm. Very contemporary, just -- as it happens -- not contemporary with anyone who's still alive.
Another particular angle into the lulz is... well...
Thaaaat's right, barefoot missy kissy-kissy. 'Cuz that's how it went, back then : as a 30-something office drone / military man you had your pick of the crop : either the sexually activeii 13 year olds or else the well-worn around the edges 26 yo widows. What's your pleasure ?
Probably the most obvious angle into the lulz, however, is the magical security bubble supporting this cast! This is a selection of men who get shot on barricades, under cannon fire, and die there -- momentarily. They have the common decency to lie dead on the ground for the two minutes the "war" lasts, after which they're back from the dead, shambling about the farm, one arm more or less fastened around their necks...
But wait, there's more! These are women who get caught alone on the farm by marauding troops an' nobody's getting pregnant, not to mention one single stich looser down there! Even the pet goose escapes molestation, because the burnin' an' pillaging confederate revvers burn nothing, pillage some chickens and by next week life "returns to normal", at least as far as Ma' Bidwell's idea of normalcy goes.
But possibly the best part is that this pile of inane nonsense counts as a western. It even has Gary Cooper in it! How the dude managed his usual constipated delivery with a straight face is anyone's guess, but perhaps alcohol ? (Yes, yes, I know, I know, he was only there to fuck the co-starlet, sure, you got me.)
Worth seeing, but preferably in the same circumstances as the male lead. Otherwise...
———1956, by William Wyler, with Gary Cooper, Dorothy McGuire, Phyllis Love (contrary to what you might think -- 31 years old at the time). [↩]And it's well rendered, too. For one instance among many, after the guy kisses her a little she goes by herself in her room and stretches out exactly like a girl that'd fuck if only she knew how. These people evidently knew all about sexually active early teens! [↩]
« No Such lAbs (S.NSA), February 2018 Statement
MiniGame (S.MG), February 2018 Statement »
Category: Trilematograf
Monday, 05 March, Year 10 d.Tr.
Frank the experimental biologist
Frank sat down on the little stool and wiped his brow. All this experimental biology stuff is hard work! Mrs. Hutchkinsons' feet squirmed nervously in the stirrups on either side -- that damned anesthetic must be finally wearing off. Why do they waste money on that crap, anyway ?
Six hours or so earlier, Mrs. Hutchkinson showed up to her dentist's appointment. She remembered the gas mask coming down, clearly enough, and then nothing. She still couldn't open her mouth at all, but that was normal -- it always took her a while to regain facial muscle control after a visit at the dentist. She would take a lot longer than usual this time, actually, because Frank had helpfully forced down her craw a fist sized ball of wet cement, approximately the consistency of fresh burrata. It had certainly set by now, ensconcing every tooth in its permanent resting place.
The dumb bitch could stand losing some weight anyway, thought Frank, as he lit a cigarette. Why do people feed the dumb cunts so much anyway ? Everywhere in town, up and down the street, nothing but overfed dogs and overfed women, it's getting so a soul can barely get through a honest psychopath's workday without breaking a sweat.
Frank was built like one of those WW2 recruits, a length of rope basically. He put out his cigarette on her left sole, right under the thumb, producing some lively thrashing, and then reached for his biologist kit. He retrieved the crotch protector and put it to the side -- a clear but thick plastic half ball, with a mess of straps coiled around. It wasn't yet the time for this, it goes on at the very end, with the stained and soiled miniskirt, the dirty knee high stockings full of holes, the well worn stilettos and the shoulder-off blouse with the vertical slits to expose the tits.
Mrs Hutchkinson didn't know it yet, but she was to be abandoned behind the railroad tracks as it were, among the "red district" crack whores and bums. With her clenched teeth and clad in that locally-typical geddup she should have quite a lot of fun for a good while, Frank figured. But before that could begin, there was the little point of the ticks to be seen to. Frank grabbed the tweezers, put on the magnifying glasses and turned on his headlamp. He radically retracted Mrs. Hutchkinson's preputial fold with his left index while holding the clitoris firmly depressed under his thumb. He reached with his tweezer-equipped right into the tick box, caught one bugger and finely applied it right in the space. The animal went right to work, and soon received a brother and sister on either side.
A couple of hours' attentive, painstaking work later, Mrs. Hutchkinson's intimate folds were thoroughly studded with six or seven dozen tiny arachnids, all happily sucking away the blood of life like so many piggies placed by divine providence at the celestial trough. Frank hooked the protector over her swelling snatch, forced the clothes on and dragged the flailing, strangely silent woman to the beat up pick-up truck waiting outside.
He would spend the next month or two picking off crack whores, removing their ticks, and analytically analyzing patterns and things of that nature to better understand his urban environment. Just like a real scientist, what!
« Where eagles date
Bettyond the Forest »
Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
Friday, 23 March, Year 10 d.Tr.
Fireflies and other things.
Above as below : a gothic reality, impermanently permanent at the whim of mysts, intricately imaginary if ineffably impossible.
Above : the xtreem disco movil. Yeah, that's right.
Below, and for a while : the golden syrupy dots are actual fireflies ; the syrup surrounding them is landscape halva.
Above : ever wondered what the passenger seat in a slut mobile looks like ? Well... now you know ; and otherwise never would.
Below : biodiversidad, as well as biodiversymom.
Ascensor! Uh... I mean... Excelsior!
« Printul.
Que he hecho YO para merecer esto ? »
Category: La pas prin lume
Tuesday, 22 May, Year 10 d.Tr.
ffytche
I think it's pretty rich to do this to people in a textbook on hallucinations, but maybe that's just me.i
———Yes, I'm aware this Dominic ffytche fellow actually exists, is a specialist psychiatrist over at King's College (and erstwhile extra in Brazil, the movie) and for some reason prefers to spell his name thusly. But honestly... [↩]
« The lolz inflation continues unabated.
Meanwhile... »
Category: Meta psihoza
Monday, 08 October, Year 10 d.Tr.
fetlikes.lol
$ls -l fetlikes.txt
4503324249 Aug 6 19:25 fetlikes.txt
What sorcery could this be ?!
Well... four and a half gigabytes' worth of it, am I rite.
$wc -l fetlikes.txt
4754950 fetlikes.txt
So the average line's a kilobyte... the hell's in there ?!
Let's see a sampler.
$ cat fetlikes.txt | sed -n 3777777,3777790p
Not found------
Not found------
{"total":2,"is_liked_by_user":false,"user_can_like":true,"likes":[{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533372300_ff1b63cfc56aa0c710432a9d1cee8b6cfc978a8b6c1095b7b52cfc0849162795","profile_url":"/users/4876958","nickname":"AshClawWolf","user_id":4876958},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533372300_a1ae4e65b490ac2772ad7c52f00abb7c3b1ddd6a2bbd19362d421e61a9855da2","profile_url":"/users/3410299","nickname":"Ravens_Risk","user_id":3410299}]}------
I'm sorry, but you don't have access to that data.------
Not found------
Not found------
{"total":12,"is_liked_by_user":false,"user_can_like":true,"likes":[{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_90e0fd4c066997e0c54e849b91ca81292e45049c42eb4f411e94b561226c4ad3","profile_url":"/users/96108","nickname":"SirSterling","user_id":96108},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_27535c68b1f812b1db72ab5246e77ab91d6742e7ac8d465bdc3a10def833dd5f","profile_url":"/users/8762149","nickname":"Hotcouple993","user_id":8762149},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_6b6cc0bed8f935587464b18eac99fda55d8594a581a693887192c945f44dc30d","profile_url":"/users/4283764","nickname":"JjohnBoy","user_id":4283764},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_5e05381131356ed51b6a4c726b02e5861cbf2ad741266bf8013e3308d34b0874","profile_url":"/users/4110480","nickname":"goldbeets","user_id":4110480},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_0abae07698b2e8980d5eeae1f582252d8588c22b3e8f2319301fd1e8c8e992ae","profile_url":"/users/4490155","nickname":"kendra_sub","user_id":4490155},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_8012cf6853f29ab4339c8c4cbcfe2bf0a8bcd44a4f3cf0361f89a825ab8c003b","profile_url":"/users/7686512","nickname":"Bam_foxy10","user_id":7686512},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_4ecf0e52ad3d4fc2d5c841a00ccd9b1009411e8624abe20274ef122f993c6a78","profile_url":"/users/3463412","nickname":"TheLoveSquid","user_id":3463412},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_5c2a0876d57db50fb3d8edd20bf4bac6b4167e8fda377e95dae0c1fcad873ff6","profile_url":"/users/6389833","nickname":"PlanetA","user_id":6389833},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_dedaa798d1c193261819067521b56368ae5a547cea5fa0fe40447fb8d90173c4","profile_url":"/users/719388","nickname":"ShareAndWatch","user_id":719388},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_5a3b541fc94c1d95ac220d2f56d498ce1a0c199b72973d5c4065384c591c905c","profile_url":"/users/5439970","nickname":"HarleyQ420","user_id":5439970},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_dc8254795171dfbdfb66e748b62a5b7a7b99389d282be2c26f3e557d756627e7","profile_url":"/users/1856772","nickname":"teammenyou","user_id":1856772},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533337817_c794df708f7970b0c37c6adc61c1a3406a34aa7ace68e2f0a33224a023974ae5","profile_url":"/users/801235","nickname":"str72a","user_id":801235}]}------
I'm sorry, but you don't have access to that data.------
{"total":3,"is_liked_by_user":false,"user_can_like":true,"likes":[{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533372303_dedea94dfc2427fdb244346f3e49b6d54c61472269d6836c4699d8caed7c78db","profile_url":"/users/28526","nickname":"DeviantAngel","user_id":28526},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533372303_e391a1c61758e1ac13a13b69c8d1a0c1bea1396653df97d25fa21d5847287422","profile_url":"/users/5291763","nickname":"_PrincessKx","user_id":5291763},{"avatar_url":"
?token=1533372303_167df41fad54ef8c199b4780edd17e3e6343fdde0ce0749efd7dff2ea00aecea","profile_url":"/users/4309325","nickname":"Apparrliss","user_id":4309325}]}------
I'm sorry, but you don't have access to that data.------
Not found------
{"total":0,"is_liked_by_user":false,"user_can_like":true,"likes":[]}------
Not found------
Not found------
You've... got it. Yep, they leak the entire essay database, including the names of people who "liked" the nonsensical bullshit. How about that!
So... let's do some statistical processing, while here ?
$cat fetlikes.txt | grep -Po '"nickname":.*?[^\\]",' | | sort | uniq -c | sort -n > fetlusrs.txt
$wc -l fetlusrs.txt
510885 fetlusrs.txt
Maybe not exactly "500k users a month" or whatever fakerisms, yes ? In the whole decade of existence, fetlife had a total of a half million distinct handles to ever push a like button.
Let's look into this though!
$tail fetlusrs.txt
9842 "nickname":"urwordsmith",
10018 "nickname":"MS_TAU",
10601 "nickname":"Eruditelustygent",
10643 "nickname":"HerCarnalSins",
10721 "nickname":"Curvehunter801",
11484 "nickname":"SamColeridge",
16371 "nickname":"AshleyLamb",
22330 "nickname":"Lord_Tamhas",
32267 "nickname":"J3wel",
47857 "nickname":"Aces87",
The Aces87 dood was already standing out as a user of numerical methods, so I guess this confirms that. Anyway, if you're looking to hire some kids with either patience or middling browser automation skills, there's a list for you.
Meanwhile, further up in the pile,
$cat fetlusrs.txt | sed -n 2345,2366p
1 "nickname":"-Acer-",
1 "nickname":"acer12",
1 "nickname":"Aceros",
1 "nickname":"acertaint",
1 "nickname":"Acerty",
1 "nickname":"Aces31337",
1 "nickname":"Aces_and_Roses",
1 "nickname":"Ace-says-hi",
1 "nickname":"Acesexy",
1 "nickname":"aceshigh87",
1 "nickname":"AceSkullington",
1 "nickname":"aceslow",
1 "nickname":"AceSpanks",
1 "nickname":"acesup24",
1 "nickname":"Aces_wild",
1 "nickname":"AceTheWorld",
1 "nickname":"Acetoes",
1 "nickname":"Ace_TX",
1 "nickname":"acewd38",
1 "nickname":"AceyAsem",
1 "nickname":"Acey_Deucey",
1 "nickname":"Achandler76",
As you might've perhaps expected.
Anyway, I could build their WoT, do gender balancing, whatever. I could even read a buncha people's journal entries -- and then be surprised at how fucking banal "personal" scribblings actually are.
And other things.
« Let's put three and three together.
Scar tissue where Law used to be. »
Category: Meta psihoza
Thursday, 16 August, Year 10 d.Tr.
Fetlife -- The Next Derperation
You know, like in Start Reki ? No ? Well aaaanyway...
Right ?
Chicks giving me of all people "ft"man to man pieces of advice, this is where we're at. 25yos opining as to the world and things and whatnot. That old story all over again, this is where you're at. Except, of course, in "people" much too old for any jr high.
Povestea unui cicacelii! Aren't you proud ?
———This US franchise about some dood being some other dood's father, as if that were inconceivable or something... I guess they have children with the State over there in the colonies by now or something.
The whole thing's pretty opaque to me, I confess. [↩]This exists in English too, lucky you. [↩]
« Occasional Discourse On The Negro Question, 1849
This is not BDSM. »
Category: Rautati si Mizerii
Thursday, 27 September, Year 10 d.Tr.
Experimental results
Amusingly enough, I passed for a ~theoretical~ physicist in my youthful years when [most everyone else's] "careers" (aka, complete and all describingi life-packages) were "being decided". I suppose it goes to show just how inadequate Inca'sii weighing machine actually is.
As well befits a theoretician, since those days I've conducted a great many experiments, all of which for moderate costiii and with ultimately unastonishing results. Let's review a very select few, among the many captured quite publicly on this very sheet (themselves a very select few).
Hey, remember that time when I bankrolled euro-nazis into burning down the local community of peaceful gypsies ?
Lol. No, but really! Let's remember together :
cipslim : so.. what has happened with this project?
Mircea Popescu Exactly nothing.
It's not that Romania can't "absorb" the billions of the European Union, that's getting lost among the forest of the trees. The sad if ubiquitous fact of the matter is that in ten thousand young people who think themselves men you can not find three able to put a thousand dollars to some useful purpose. They may buy peanuts and beer to watch TV and comment politics, for ten or ten thousand or ten million if you wish. Or else... well... but what else is there to do ? And who's to do it ?
Not they. And so in every town, no people, cattle, and so in every heart, no person, just the painful absence, the empty place where in another time a person might have sat.
In the end, a very instructive experiment, I guess. There's nothing left to save here anymore than there's anything left to save in the US, and salt pilars for those fools who'd still look back.
Yeah, that's right, the kiddos of great danger and peril. You know how Eastern Europe is all awash in these very bloodthirsty and racist and so forth mobs of unleashed teenagers ? Heh.
The problems, you understand, aren't that I wrote them an ideology booklet which was the only item intellectually worth the mention that the whole movement has produced since about 1942 or soiv. Saying such would be akin to saying that while quite passible swimmers, it's not clear we actually have an olympic team on our hands rather than merely a collection of dedicated professionals.
Yet the reality subiacent is nothing like that. The actual problems are more in the vein of getting any of the mentally ill children on the shoreline to spend more than half a minute at a time in the water, and if at all possible without throwing a complete conniption fit over the imposition of it. Yes some of them are "idiots", in the sense that they string about idle words into constructions of no practical relevancy, while the others are "engineers", in the sense that they string about idle numbers into constructions of no practical relevancy. This may be a difference you care about, even, but whether you care or do not care : some kiddos are overanxiously and with every muscle of their face tightened to straining vehehehery carefully trying out some water they safely isolated into their hat with a toe (engineering!) while some others are just bobbing their heads into rocks and liberally pouring sand into their pockets (for safety!). Whatever the case -- a swim team swimming is not what's going on there.
But remember that time I tore down the ancient, rotten model of justice to replace it with a better alternative ?
Well, in practice more like I opened up the rolls to "volunteers". Do you know what these volunteers were paid for their trouble ? 150 BTC. Yeah, that's right.v
What did they produce as the best of their efforts, these themselves the best possible representatives of mankind ? Oh, they came up with -- and please make sure you're supine for this one -- the following legal reasoning (and I quote verbatim) :
since MP is the closest thing we have in this space to the Great Mommy State,
and since the reason that entity even exists in our minds is so as to pick up all loose ends wherever we may be,
we the best representatives of mankind etcetera by the true compass of our conscience as illuminated by our intelligence decide MP should just pay everyone's tab and be done with it.
No, I'm not kidding, that was exactly it. Leaving aside the idiocy of principle, these imbeciles actually drew up a mechanism for its application that was so ill thought-out it could have actually worked as a perpetual extraction engine!
To this day the ROTA category sits there, like a festering wound, and for a reason. It is where the notion that "people might decide for themselves" lies buried ; it is the proximate cause for all the later disenfranchisements. It cost a pretty penny, sure, but at least we established some facts for our trouble.
So people can't think, in the airy, creative, artistic manner required for penning their own Carticica.... Sad, but what can you do. And people can't reason, either, in the solid, predictable, reliable manner required for running their own legal system. Painful, but if it's the truth it's the truth. While either of these closes down a lobe of greatness nobody "in his right mind"vi would ever want closed, what's left is still something, and that's what's life's going to have to be all about. Right ?
Well... as it happens, wrong. Have you noticed the underlining red thread through all of that ? Sure, the wanna-be nazi kids failed to make anything good! But, and this is the spot we're liable to miss under the ruckus of that sadness, but!!! they also failed to make anything at all! It's not simply that they hadn't anyone to creatively engage little old me in the intellectual sphere, so as the relationship'd look more like fucking than parenting. It's that they had no one capable of doing much at all!vii
Being among engineersviii I expect I don't have to explain that the "judges" could have failed horribly in their role without actually also managing to blow up their proposed implementation of that failure. Could have, sure, but didn't.
Which brings us to the current situation. Yes, people are willing to nod (or not nod! this is a meaningful difference!) along, maybe participate in some bike-shedding now and again. This much should be enough for anyone and for anything, right ? What more could possibly be asked of a body!ix
What can you do, right ? I'd say that my faith in humanity is well shaken, if I actually could find through honest examination that at any point I actually had such a faith. But whatever, I'll try to get on the fan-chan a coupla times a week or something.
See you around!
———It must be testament to a truly great exhaustion of spirit and for that matter vital force to be content (not happy, certainly, but content, absolutely) in retracing a prepackaged lifestory. Isn't boring, seriously now ?
Congratulations of having watched forty seconds of this "your" film, you've made level 5, yeee, wait about looking on morosely for another minute you'll... um... make! let's call it make! level 6.... 'Tis all gravy 'till the level cap!
I suppose in the end your eastern masters know you much better than you know yourself. But we digress. [↩]My first impulse was to check in the thesaurus, see if it's there. Then that got overcome by the "no, it's not, I remember it isn't" signal, which produced the impulse to "well go put it in!" which was overcome by... why bother ?
Whatever, some people who don't know what I mean flatter themselves with "being confused" and some other people that don't know what I mean flatter themselves with "I know what he means" and so following. The world is after all one large pile of coping mechanisms, so well stacked and intertwined as to having long evicted anything else from the composition. (A link might go here relating this point to that other article where I point out words have long lost all substance, much like coins so much passed from mouth to mouth they came to consist entirely of congealed intervening spittle and none at all of the original metal -- but after a brief minute's survey through the searches I discover I can't summon the interest.) [↩]The true blessing of a large fortune is that it raises the cap on the curiosities you may satisfy for yourself. Basic things such as "I wonder how this girl would look in that fur", of course, but also more elaborately complex matters.
You may be excused for thinking that "hey, how's a girl going to look in a fur -- exactly like a girl in a fur", intimating that there's some kind of variation, some difference to be encountered later on. The reason you're excused is your Eastern training, nothing else. It's an excusing in the way a chunk of tree is excused for not snoring even though the expression goes "sleeping like a log", no more. [↩]Which, other than quite humiliating is also rather concerning seeing how in order to have a chance, however dubious, it'd better somehow produce hands quite as steady, eyes quite as clear. [↩]And don't even fucking dare derp in my direction about how "oh, it wasn't worth as much then". Not worth as much according to whom the fuck ? I knew it was worth exactly as much then as now, I didn't discover all the shit you discovered last week apace with your dumb ass. I was writing in 2012 shit you'll discover in 2020! It's there, waiting patiently for you to "discover" very much "on your own" how shit goes, and then explain it "in your own words". 'Cuz there can be such a thing as your words even, dear reader. You are one capable of ownership over words! [↩]Which is to say, finding himself (in a purely hallucinated manner) at that glorious imaginary place where no resistance of any medium can ever be encountered, and consequently "he can really get some thinking done". Boy howdy is our hero going to figure out all teh corrects. Just as soon as they're costless and he can take forever doing the figuring. Just you wait! [↩]This, for the record, would seem cruelly unfair to the orcs involved, if they could like... read languages and things. Because they did things, you see! They oh-so-totally did things!
They, for instance, forrr instance, organised a press conference! Where a bunch of dorks exactly identical to them (except wearing a differently colored party hat) didn't do their job of journalism, just like my dorks weren't doing their job of activism. See, but if they don't do their job together then it still counts for something, right ? 'Cause they cross-support each other, the fish shop doesn't have to sell any fish for just as long as the meat shop that doesn't sell any meat reliably sends its way all people looking for fish. Right ? [↩]This is a skill, right ? Technical ability, it's a something, very fucking different from saying "being among princesses" or "being among unicorns". Yes ? [↩]And yes, evidently the bar of what exactly constitutes "nothing at all" has been on a marked march upwards over the (scant few) years. The majestic Republic fighting for dear life with belaboured breath today (for just as long as all that fightin' doesn't require more standing up than a good WoW raid does) has a payment system and a log system and generally speaking feats of engineering that the Empire of idiots literally could not reproduce. (Yes, literally couldn't. They didn't reproduce Phuctor, did they. Why not ?)
But the... well, sorta good, I guess, news for that empire is that... guess what ? It doesn't have to reproduce anything! It doesn't even have to be good, or anything even vaguely like that. All it has to do is come get the proverbial power cord one day. When it's had enough of these dern kids' ruckus. That'll be... good enough. Doesn't sound like all that much basis for independence, does it ?
I think one point should probably be underscored, because it is the well documented habit of the lazy to bundle up things together in their quest to produce laziness justifications. That point is that the judgement of insufficiency is not a proper basis for pretending that the good parts were actually not good! (Or, as is more often in practice the case, "not worth the trouble".)
The way a pothead usually reasons is,
Well I got up, and then I got in the car, and it even started, and I drove down the highway, but then at the mall there were Jay and Silent Bob so instead of going to work I went and beers beeers beers with them. And the bastids down at work fired me anyway! Four out of five, man, but still not good enough for those corporate cocksuckers! I tell you man, getting out of bed or driving to work aren't worth it, man!
This is not actually sound, let alone reasoning. It's true that the unwelcome burdens reality imposes on the special self-snowflake now and again consists of completeness requirements, meaning that you get no partial credit whatsoever, it's do or die. And it's further true that there exists such a thing as the "for want of a nail" problem*, as the man found out who, after managing to blow his S.MG crypto-consulting sweetheart deal then decided to not keep timetable on his work for a nascent ISP beset on all sides by the idiocy of the orc and the inequity of bare physics, and then upon being called to order decided to flippantly fuck over the whole thing. It's true that "small things", such as a hairpin to the eye, can have "disproportionate" consequences.
It's true, it's true, it's all true. So what if it is ?
For his going there, Bingoboingo towers far above all the others that didn't ; that once there he opted to take a walk through the DC like it were an amusement park rather than getting to the brass tacks and asking the really hard, the really tough questions in the vein of "So...like... if I get gear could you rack it for me ? What with ?" is unfortunate ; that he then opted to even look at it late rather than early is just as unfortunate. But these failures aren't to be used to package the one thing he did right into some kind of comfort-protecting ball of yarny nonsense.
---
* Consider the excellent discussion of this point over at Fun hate facts about the bell curve, with James A. Donald. It's plainly said there that
It follows from hyperexponential decay that if you select a subgroup from the population that meets some high standard, for example the entry requirements of a university course, or fails some low standard, for example performs an act that is both stupid and criminal, then the vast majority of those selected will only just meet the standard.
but what this practically means is inconvenient and therefore "confusing" not to mention "unknown".
Specifically, the sob story of every idiot in the slammer revolves around the fact that he barely met the standards for being locked up, and rather by bad fortune and unfriendly circumstance than any sort of substantial characteristic at that, so it's not "properly speaking" fair that he should be there in the first place ; and the "achievement" gargle of every cadet in the space programme or whatever similarly selected place revolves around how "they barely made it" (and is thereby rife for crediting their mom/god/St. Hilarodham rather than their own self and the lengthy string of complete & correct work they managed to produce).
In other words, linear projection is always tempting, but never meaningful to any sort of interesting phenomenon. It's not meaningful for the very reason that the actual definition of "interesting" is "not amenable to linear interpolation". It's tempting for the exact same reason. [↩]
« The negotiations of terms
A[s]fixion »
Category: 3 ani experienta
Tuesday, 13 February, Year 10 d.Tr.
Eulora's Communication Protocol, restated.
This is the current take on an ongoing effort towards specification, last revised January 21st, 2021.
1. Overall Goals:
1.1. All communications between clients and server to be encrypted.
1.2. Clients to be able to receive from server any data they lack (including maps, skins, sound or video content etcetera), on demand.
1.3. Clients to be able to choose and adjust both the level of security and their volume of communications with the server, as they will ultimately have to pay for the load that they generate.
2. Explicit Dependencies :
2.1. Eucrypt for RSA with Keccak-based OAEP and Serpent symmetric ciphering.
3. Data Structures :
3.0. Basic types :
char / uint8 (1 byte) ;
uint16 (2 byte) ;
uint32 (4 byte) ;
uint64 (8 byte) ;
floati (4 byte) ;
3.1. Special types :
hash (128 bits) ;
chunk [of file] (bitfield, 11760 bits) ;
serpent-packet (1472 bytes) ;
rsa-messageii (1872 bitsiii) ;
rsa-packetiv (1470 bytes) ;
object (size of 104 bitsv : uint32vi followed by 3 uint16s representing positionvii followed by 3 uint8s representing rotationviii ) ;
legacy-text (size of n+n/256+1 bytes ; where the leading byte is the bytecount of the 2nd segment and the 2nd segment is the bytecount of the third segment).ix
text (2 byte hearder containing the ~total~ byte length ; up to 1470 bytes of text ).
4. Serpent Packetsx :
4.1. Serpent Key Set :
uint8 (type ID, =100), followed by
uint8 (count of keys in this set, n), followed by
n*(4*int64 + uint32) (32 bytes each key followed by a 4 byte ID calculated through crc32xi ), followed by
an uint8 flag (LSB bit set -- keys to be used to talk to client ; MSB set -- key to be used to talk to server ; client-set MSB is ignored), followed by
uint16 (message countxii), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.2. Serpent Keys Lifecycle Management :
uint8 (type ID, =102), followed by
uint8 (count of server keys requested), followed by
uint8 (count of client keys requested), followed by
uint8 (idxiii of serpent key preferred for further inbound Serpent-messages), followed by
uint8 (count of burned keys in this message), followed by
n*int8 (id of burned key), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.a. File Request, manifest
uint8 (type ID, =3), followed by
hash (corresponding to the sought filexiv), followed by
uint8 (manifest packets sought count, 0=all), followed by
n* uint16 (manifest packet index sought), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.b. File Transfer, manifest (always sent and only sent in response to ID 3)
uint8 (type ID, =4), followed by
uint16 (count of manifest packets for this filexv), followed by
uint16 (index of current packet in list above), followed by
uint8 (fragment countxvi), followed by
n* uint64 (hash of the nth fragment of manifested file).
uint16 (keccak hash of foregoing), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.c. File Request, chunks
uint8 (type ID, =5), followed by
hash (corresponding to the sought file), followed by
uint8 (file chunks sought count), followed by
n* uint64 (the hash of fragment sought), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.d. File Transfer, non-last chunk (always sent and only sent in response to ID 5)
uint8 (type ID, =6), followed by
chunk.
4.4.f. File Transfer, last chunk (sent at most once per ID 3)
uint8 (type ID, =7), followed by
uint16 (bytesize of useful part of the chunk followingxvii, followed by
chunk.xviii
4.5. Client Actionxix :
uint8 (type ID, =8), followed by
text (fully specified action, see section 7), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.6. World Bulletinxx :
uint8 (type ID, =9), followed by
uint32 (id of top level itemxxi), followed by
uint8 (count of objects), followed by
object listxxii, followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.7. Object Request :
uint8 (type ID, =10), followed by
uint8 (count of objects), followed by
n*int32 (id of object), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.8. Object Info :
uint8 (type ID, =11), followed by
uint8 (count of objects), followed by
n times uint32 (id of object) and text (object properties, as per extant game structures, including art files needed and so onxxiii), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
5. RSA Packetsxxiv :
5.1. RSA key set.xxv
uint8 (equal to 251 to indicate packet contains a new RSA key), followed by
uint8 (protocol version), followed by
uint16 (subversion), followed by
uint32 (IP of serverxxvi), followed by
uint32 (IP of clientxxvii), followed by
uint64 (keccak hash of client binary), followed by
uint64 (e of RSA key), followed by
uint8*490 (N of RSA key), followed by
uint64 (preferred padding -- the magic value of 0x13370000 requests random padding ; all other values will be used as such, bitwise, ie like an infinite-length OTP consisting of the value repeated), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to RSA-message length, 1424 (5616-8-8-16-32-64-64-3920-64-16) bits exactly.
5.2. Serpent key setxxviii :
uint8 (equal to 157 to indicate packet contains new Serpent keys), followed by
uint8 (count of keysxxix in this set, n ; n
Sunday, 20 May, Year 10 d.Tr.
Eulora's Communication Protocol, restated.
This is the current take on an ongoing effort towards specification, last revised January 21st, 2021.
1. Overall Goals:
1.1. All communications between clients and server to be encrypted.
1.2. Clients to be able to receive from server any data they lack (including maps, skins, sound or video content etcetera), on demand.
1.3. Clients to be able to choose and adjust both the level of security and their volume of communications with the server, as they will ultimately have to pay for the load that they generate.
2. Explicit Dependencies :
2.1. Eucrypt for RSA with Keccak-based OAEP and Serpent symmetric ciphering.
3. Data Structures :
3.0. Basic types :
char / uint8 (1 byte) ;
uint16 (2 byte) ;
uint32 (4 byte) ;
uint64 (8 byte) ;
floati (4 byte) ;
3.1. Special types :
hash (128 bits) ;
chunk [of file] (bitfield, 11760 bits) ;
serpent-packet (1472 bytes) ;
rsa-messageii (1872 bitsiii) ;
rsa-packetiv (1470 bytes) ;
object (size of 104 bitsv : uint32vi followed by 3 uint16s representing positionvii followed by 3 uint8s representing rotationviii ) ;
legacy-text (size of n+n/256+1 bytes ; where the leading byte is the bytecount of the 2nd segment and the 2nd segment is the bytecount of the third segment).ix
text (2 byte hearder containing the ~total~ byte length ; up to 1470 bytes of text ).
4. Serpent Packetsx :
4.1. Serpent Key Set :
uint8 (type ID, =100), followed by
uint8 (count of keys in this set, n), followed by
n*(4*int64 + uint32) (32 bytes each key followed by a 4 byte ID calculated through crc32xi ), followed by
an uint8 flag (LSB bit set -- keys to be used to talk to client ; MSB set -- key to be used to talk to server ; client-set MSB is ignored), followed by
uint16 (message countxii), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.2. Serpent Keys Lifecycle Management :
uint8 (type ID, =102), followed by
uint8 (count of server keys requested), followed by
uint8 (count of client keys requested), followed by
uint8 (idxiii of serpent key preferred for further inbound Serpent-messages), followed by
uint8 (count of burned keys in this message), followed by
n*int8 (id of burned key), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.a. File Request, manifest
uint8 (type ID, =3), followed by
hash (corresponding to the sought filexiv), followed by
uint8 (manifest packets sought count, 0=all), followed by
n* uint16 (manifest packet index sought), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.b. File Transfer, manifest (always sent and only sent in response to ID 3)
uint8 (type ID, =4), followed by
uint16 (count of manifest packets for this filexv), followed by
uint16 (index of current packet in list above), followed by
uint8 (fragment countxvi), followed by
n* uint64 (hash of the nth fragment of manifested file).
uint16 (keccak hash of foregoing), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.c. File Request, chunks
uint8 (type ID, =5), followed by
hash (corresponding to the sought file), followed by
uint8 (file chunks sought count), followed by
n* uint64 (the hash of fragment sought), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.4.d. File Transfer, non-last chunk (always sent and only sent in response to ID 5)
uint8 (type ID, =6), followed by
chunk.
4.4.f. File Transfer, last chunk (sent at most once per ID 3)
uint8 (type ID, =7), followed by
uint16 (bytesize of useful part of the chunk followingxvii, followed by
chunk.xviii
4.5. Client Actionxix :
uint8 (type ID, =8), followed by
text (fully specified action, see section 7), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.6. World Bulletinxx :
uint8 (type ID, =9), followed by
uint32 (id of top level itemxxi), followed by
uint8 (count of objects), followed by
object listxxii, followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.7. Object Request :
uint8 (type ID, =10), followed by
uint8 (count of objects), followed by
n*int32 (id of object), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
4.8. Object Info :
uint8 (type ID, =11), followed by
uint8 (count of objects), followed by
n times uint32 (id of object) and text (object properties, as per extant game structures, including art files needed and so onxxiii), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to Serpent-message length.
5. RSA Packetsxxiv :
5.1. RSA key set.xxv
uint8 (equal to 251 to indicate packet contains a new RSA key), followed by
uint8 (protocol version), followed by
uint16 (subversion), followed by
uint32 (IP of serverxxvi), followed by
uint32 (IP of clientxxvii), followed by
uint64 (keccak hash of client binary), followed by
uint64 (e of RSA key), followed by
uint8*490 (N of RSA key), followed by
uint64 (preferred padding -- the magic value of 0x13370000 requests random padding ; all other values will be used as such, bitwise, ie like an infinite-length OTP consisting of the value repeated), followed by
uint16 (message count), followed by
padding to RSA-message length, 1424 (5616-8-8-16-32-64-64-3920-64-16) bits exactly.
5.2. Serpent key setxxviii :
uint8 (equal to 157 to indicate packet contains new Serpent keys), followed by
uint8 (count of keysxxix in this set, n ; n
Sunday, 20 May, Year 10 d.Tr.
Epiphitos
There's a little botanical garden on the way to a town known simply as Paraiso. Let's take a peek, shall we ?
The above aren't bugs, but some kind of sexual something-or-the-other bubbling up to the surface through a very strange quadratedly textured surface.
You know ?
This guy not only looks pretty but also smells fabulous!
Nighty night!
« Pal Joey
The Miracle Of The Bells »
Category: Zsilnic
Tuesday, 28 August, Year 10 d.Tr.
Do you know what an unicorn is ?
So we took bimbo above depicted to this favourite spot of hers / most happening clubi in town : the El Reyii discount shop for hogariii items, wherein she proceeded to whine like the shameless hussy that she is about how her birthay is sorta-coming up and why can't she have a pinata! So I got her a pinata, what.
The price sticker came off readily, so I afixed it to her forehead, and then had the following conversation with the awkwardly smiling kid with the awkwardly cosmetologised beard at the cash register :
"Sabes que es esto, "unicornio", en Ingles ?"
"No ?"
"Significa una chica joven que se queda en una relacion pre-existente, y sirve la pareja en la cama."
He had nothing to say, nor anything to breathe, but fortunately I was there. So I took his pistol, shot the bimbo in the head and we moved on. (No, literally, I held the gun and read her pricetag, what. Almost ten bux, if you're curious, though I usually pay less than two for anal. When I remember to pay anything, that is.)
And then we went to the Japanese gardens.
I won't mention the bonsai garden or what we did there as I'll spare you the recount of how they have a very nice re-enactment of a traditional japanese house, which entranced me enough I enunciated "Take off your shoes, whores" at the threshold before we went in to enjoy the warm, intimate privacy wooden sliding doors provide. As the adventure ended the magic words "wow, there's a camera" were spoken, because indeed, they had a security cam on a wall nobody had noticed before! Do you think walking barefoot through their small gravel garden with the lines brings bad luck on the slut ?
Instead, I'll just mention in passing how this older couple laying holding hands on the grass as we came in ran into my evidently nude slave and reacted quite differently to it : the older woman was indignant, the older man was sad.
Why be sad ? Beat her every day, she won't turn into an old woman. Not that old woman, at any rate.
The item seems to me quite genuine, as authentically Japanese as ever could be had.
Whereas that... now that's Costa Rica.
So this is me in a headshop. Because as we were returning to town I asked if anyone wants to go for a walk. The sluts did, and so I took them for a walk : first, from the parking lot to this specialty chocolate shop across the street, where everyone got to pick a truffle (they're pretty good, yeah) ; then from there back to the parking lot (space enough to park five cars is no impediment to using "lot" is it ?) where I spied in the window opposite their center piece : a Platinum Lookah thing, which I'm depicted holding (while finishing my chocolate truffle). Because I'm fucking buying it, what. To the shocked disbelief of the girly manning the sad counter (I know because there's a certain way they ask where I'm from when I do things they seem to think only Martians ever do), and of everyone else, because I don't even smoke pot.
I do however go into shops to buy their display centerpiece -- even it's generally to clad my captive whores. What's life for, and who's supposed to live it !? If I don't buy the centerpiece who the fuck ever would and where are they hiding ?
Anyway, I quite like the item, as it stands. It sports complicated flows and bubbles and things much reminiscent of my happy childhood days in my Chemistry lab. I did try to also use it : I brewed some excellent teaiv, filled the bong, placed some fine tobacco in the sliderv and some ice in the ice trap then tried to smoke. The problem became readily apparent : yes this is some of the coldest, most filtered and pleasant smoke known to man. Nevertheless, a bong is specifically designed to (and this particular bong is particularly good at) delivering the smoke deep, deep in one's lungs. This happens to be the exact opposite way of how I smoke -- I tend to smoke for the taste.
Consequently, I bought a piece of art. At least it's fucking perfect in every way, something one could not at all say about all the shit the orcs "handicraft". Because this "impulse buy" was the result of me meeting for the first time something that didn't outright suck in a class I was looking to buy something ; and neither here nor in Colombia nor any-the-fuck-where in the New World did these idiots manage to manufacture or otherwise import and offer for sale a waterpipe that wasn't sad, sorry, inept and such an eyesore as I wouldn't keep in my house.vi Which is quite sad, if you think about it, glasswork is a perfect fit for the orcs' technological level on one hand, and it is a space so vast and ample it exceeds wood! Yet there isn't a "glass civilisation" like there was a wood civilisation (multiple, really, I come from one, and it's not Japan's!). Personally, I blame America. It has failed, centrally, eminently and fundamentally.
C'est tout.
———This is not some kind of cuteness. I am not kidding : this is the one public space with the largest total headcount as well as the largest concentration per square foot of females in the age range, in the mindstet and in [what here passes for] the outfits. You can't go there at any hour of the day and not run into at least a grosse of the local cowsies working their hardest to be picked up, flat out and earnestly. Plus another grosse of cowsies with their prey in tow, gleefully showing off [what in their mind passes for] their easy, blessed circumstances (through the obvious and direct avenue of his buying shit por el hogar) while carefully keeping an eye out / eagerily signalling how readily they'd keel over to the better offer.
This place is the only place here I've ever seen the local civillians wear the sort of cleavage my girls wear.
And this place also is the true testament of the sheer bovine imbecility of the local, because no guys have yet figured it out! I see it and I don't care ; they crowd in sausage fest bars and don't get what's going on. Such is life among the orcs! [↩]Eminently not to be confused with Del Rey, specifically because they are exactly the same thing : herds of ~0 sexual market value females acting like someone's gonna come any minute now and "recognize" their imagined importance in the form of tangible plates of chicharron and whatever other goodies. [↩]Latinos have a bizarre fetish with white goods and other dependopopotamus paraphenalia, in that they treat them literally like sacrifices to the gods. A "man" (after the fashion these local useless faggots aspire to manhood) not merely expects but is culturally-consensfully entitled to expect good things (tm) because instead of spending his dime on drinks he spent it on some cheap chinese plasticrap "por el hogar". He gave at the office! Is a goodboi! [↩]Sencha Tea Co. "Palacio Royal" if you're curious. [↩]Al Fakeer, quality product of U.A.E if you must. [↩]Which is a very high standard indeed, observe my coffee table :
(No, the shot wasn't engineered. Simply came home one day and had what drunks refer to as "a moment of clarity". Yes, those are cans of playdo. What mo' ?) [↩]
« Here's something you probably see more often than there's any need to
Chthonic civilisation »
Category: La pas prin lume
Friday, 16 November, Year 10 d.Tr.
Discordatum Wormatiense
Chordata is how you say "spined" (as opposed to "spineless") in Latin ; whereas coarda is how you say whore in Romanian. Of course ; and not by happenstance but necessarily.
These two unrelated datapoints will serve here to create a wholly imaginary etymology for "discordatum", and to underline the fundamental and unyielding substance of the pantsuit "concordatum"i, their spurious "solution" to a well resolved problem.
But first, let's take the time to rigorously define our terms. So, in any sexuate species, there will necessarily be one productive and one improductiveii sexiii. Consequently it will be the chief strategy of one sex to manipulate the environment, and the chief strategy of the other sex to sit around on its (therefore larger) ass and await for the metaphysical transcendent to manifest itself.
This much is self-evident and deductively necessary on the basis of the given premises, and therefore inescapable. That the mainpulative sex will go about pretending the inept sex is "truly manipulative", that the inept sex will go about pretending that rape's at least slightly less legitimate than pregnancy... The advantage, dubious such as it is, of a brainbox dangling from the anticaudal end of that chord is that its bearers get to tell themselves whatever stories get them through the night ; and I earnestly hope it works for you as well as it works for them.
Back to the issue of interest, as around the hearth so in the heavens, or rather -- as in the chord's caudal end so in the other one. As society becomes sufficiently complicated, which is to say as the individuals composing the group become sufficiently lazy and self-absorbed, there will be a split among the avocations : some will occupy themselves in jobs of the inept, sitting on their ass waiting for things to happen, and some others will occupy themselves in jobs of the manipulative, going about fucking things up for everyone forevermore. Such is life, also inescapably, but if it helps you any I believe the Pantsuit Concordatum on Terminology calls the former "priestly class" and the latter "warrior class". Not that it makes any difference.
Now then, the bullshit of 1122iv was a relatively unimportant event whereby an "agreement" was reached on how to dispose of matters already well disposed at that time. The correct solution, put forth by the Waiblingen side and actually agreed to by the chief pantsuitv of 1111 -- thereby becoming the only proper, and only possible Concordat -- held that the idle class may await the second, third or whicheverth coming at their pleasure or until they fall over, whichever comes first, but may derive no secular anything whatsoever from it no matter what happens. The subjection of the Mother, if you will, complete and unyielding, equating Lucy with utter and completely destitute poverty in perpetuity.
For reasons incomprehensible and which directly and immediately map upon evil, the idle class then proceeded to imagine an alternative chain of events, in which their fork of 1122 somehow "took over" and "mattered" and therefore there shall be some kind of something in this world for they awaiting the manifestations of the next, a little, no matter how little, an epsilon quanta of nothingness but something nevertheless.
To say that this nonsense is disputed by the Republic would do the situation no justice whatsoever. The correct statement is to observe that the Discordat of Worms is a concordat of no one with nobody in particular, and of no further interest. The awaiting of the manifestations of metaphysical transcendence is and will forever remain a purely spiritual activity, with no lands and no secular offices affixed thereby.
No so se mi spiego.
———Which was how they said "community consensus" (aka fecal matter) in 1122. [↩]The selection of where to attach the provided "productive" and "improductive" labels stands at your option, however the system itself does not. To quote Mimi,
- Signora Mardocheo. Le baccio le mani.
- Che bacci cani.
- Cammina. Ora tu devi venire en chiesa con mi.
- Tutto quello che voglio parlar' con ti ti parlo con l'avvocato.
- Aaaa, non e' piu tempo d'avvocati. Questa creatura innocente, porta il nome mio o no ? E allora, ci devono vedere tutti, comme quella grande famiglia che siamo.
- No. Io con te non ci vengo.
- Cammina o ti porto a calci.
- O te! Ma che cosa e che voi fare, sei matto ?
- Io a questa bottana ci mangio il cuore!
- Zitta, cammina. Questa non c'entra.
- Brigadiere Amilcare Finocchiaro! Permetette due parole ?
- State dicendo a me ?
- Si signore, a voi. Brigadiere Finocchiaro, dico proprio a voi. Si non vi disturba, le permetette due parole ?
- Ma io sto entrando en chiesa.
- E cosa de un momento. Quando... per mettere a posto le cose a la luce del sole, qua en piazza, davante a gli amici, come se debe fare per gentilomini. Datosi, come tutti sanno, che la creatura de la mia signora e figlia a voi, e che quale que la vostra signora maturische de qualche giorno e figlia mia... si siete d'accordo, quando nasce, quando zgraba, ce l'ho scambiamo. A voi il vostro, e a me il mio. A cosi mettemo a posto tutta 'sta confusione d'onore, di tradimenti, prego, regolarizziamo. E poi como se dice -- un bastardo per uno no fa male a nessuno. Io no so se mi spiego.
- Ne', che sta dicendo ? Che sta dicendo! Che dice!
- Te ho' rida', maritu' mi bello! Tu mi h'ai fatti corni a mi, si ? E invece io ti h'o fatti corni a te! E, si! Sei cornuto, brigadiere!
Now then, shall I translate or do you already know what it says ? [↩]The cultural constructs of gender are not yet interesting here. [↩]Pompously called "the Concordat of Worms" in pantsuit sources, as fucking if. [↩]Paschal 2, who then reneged, of course. [↩]
« The Moth
The saddest person in the world. »
Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc
Friday, 12 January, Year 10 d.Tr.
Dies irae
So the fucktardsi destroyed Dies irae, and this before anyone made an even vaguely acceptable English version. Let's record & fix, as the Republic always does.
Dies irae, dies illa solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla.
Days irate, those days impending, solving centuries in censer, David and the Sybil censor.ii
Quantus tremor est futurus, quando Judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus!
What a tremblor future renders, when the Judge finally ventures his sentence on all adventures.
Tuba mirum spargens sonum per sepulchra regionum, coget omnes ante thronum.
When the trumpet breaks resoundingiii in the abstract place sepulchral, calling all to hypaethral.iv
Mors stupebit et natura cum resurget creatura, judicanti responsura.
Death is knocked, thus leaving naturev in all forms resurge undaunted, making answer to the judgement.
Liber scriptus proferetur, in quo totum continetur, unde mundus judicetur.
Freely written yet propheticvi, book most trite and yet poetic, to the whole world exegetic.
Judex ergo cum sedebit, quidquid latet apparebit: nil inultum remanebit.
As the Judge thus takes his seating, shade recedes from all the hiding, nothing left untouched remaining.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus, cum vix justus sit securus?
What should misery be pleading? Who for me be interceding, when no greatness stands unneeding ?
Rex tremendae majestatis, qui salvandos salvas gratis, salva me, fons pietatis.
King of majesty tremendous, you who save with gracious mending, source of help, I need your helping!
Recordare, Jesu pie, quod sum causa tuae viae: ne me perdas illa die.
Oh remember, Jesus faithful, that I caused your progress painful ; lose me not on day most baleful.
Quaerens me, sedisti lassus ; redemisti Crucem passus ; tantus labor non sit cassus.
Faint and weary, yet you sought me ; through the cross my flesh you bought me ; all that labour lost ? It can't be!
Juste Judex ultionis, donum fac remissionis, ante diem rationis.
Righteous Judge, for dark pollution now, not then I seek ablution, ere the day of retribution.
Ingemisco, tamquam reus ; culpa rubet vultus meus ; supplicanti parce, Deus.
Now I cry because I'm evil ; my cheek carries fault primeval ; spare me god in the upheaval!
Qui Mariam absolvisti, et latronem exaudisti, mihi quoque spem dedisti.
By that whore you have once shriven, by that thief that you've forgiven, hope for me you've also given.
Preces meae non sunt dignae ; sed tu bonus fac benigne, ne perenni cremer igne.
By itself my prayer's nothing ; yet your goodness makes it clothing ; don't leave me in fire writhing.
Inter oves locum praesta et ab haedis me sequestra, statuens in parte dextra.
Among sheep a place assign me, from the goatsvii sequester me, on the right side emplaceviii me.
Confutatis maledictis, flammis acribus addictis, voca me cum benedictis.
When the cursed are all confounded and to acrid flame aducted call me out among the blessed.
Oro supplex et acclinis, cor contritum quasi cinis, gere curam mei finis.
I argue humbly and inclined, heart contrite, almost cindered, manage me when I'm dead.
Lacrimosa dies illa, qua resurget ex favilla, judicandus homo reus. Huic ergo parce, Deus.
Tearful day that'll be, when resurgent from the ashes, Bogaboo is to be judged. For which I pray, O lord.
It is not my fault that English rhymes poorly ; but it is your fault you're not squeezing the scant milk it has to give.
———Here's Annibale Bugnini, a most Timothy Williamson character, "explaining" "the rationale" :
They got rid of texts that smacked of a negative spirituality inherited from the Middle Ages. Thus they removed such familiar and even beloved texts as Libera me, Domine, Dies irae, and others that overemphasized judgment, fear, and despair. These they replaced with texts urging Christian hope and arguably giving more effective expression to faith in the resurrection
Yes ? [↩]What can you do, names are names, will break your order or break your flow. [↩]The trumpet here is the agent, breaking ; what breaks is the resounding, itself and verily. [↩]Yeah, I can rhyme "sepulchral". What now.
Should be read apart, hypa-ethral, rather than (in the latter fashion) together, because I don't want to put the "the" in there. Brings out the shine in "all" better this way anyway. [↩]That's the fucking point fucking everyone seems to miss here, it's not "death and nature", it's "death ... therefore nature", the continuating aspect of the conjunction. Learn some fucking Latin sometime or other! [↩]Yes ? The word for "book" is "liber" for some fucking reason, that has A LOT to do with these very considerations and jack-shit to do with your notions of "what a book is". Because what a book is isn't anything, and these people came up with it in the first place. [↩]Hades, see, is ambiguous. The sheep-goat dichotomy is deeper than you realise. [↩]Statuens almost means "by statute", as in "statutory rape" -- something that specifically didn't happen but "we" pretend it did anyway. Quite the lulzy verse. Hysterical, really, to eyes disinclined from pious fraud. When's the last time you understood the implications of your all-consuming desire of being an inexistent sheep ? [↩]
« Meanwhile...
Tell me, what if the Republic were antique ? »
Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
Friday, 12 October, Year 10 d.Tr.
Deranged neets...
Check this insane shit out :
This, I will point out, underscore & underline, this is the end result of deploying reality distorsion fields, an end nesult as necessary as it is unavoidable.
This is what happens when "Rule #1: This is a non-partisan subreddit. Rule #3: No racism/antisemitism/anti-gay comments. Rule #9: No Direct Links to Garbage Media". This is what happens when you female state. This is the one constant, and in (a very short) due time the one and only end result of anomie (and calling it by another name, such as "women's rights" or "enfranchisement" or whatever else does not change anything).
It's not a matter of "why would you have confused neets think they can enact '''gender changes''', as fucking if". It's rather that if you permit the self-referential nonsense, if you attempt to actually build on the delusional foundation of "all points of view are equally valid and supported only by someone's opinion" you will obtain deranged neets, not merely useless but unfixably useless.
All that jazz buys you is two idiots from Akron, Ohio who actually think that they've succeeded.
There is no worse failure than success, in this as any other case. These idiots, like that idiot, like all the idiots the pantsuit utopia produces, have succeeded at "a task they set for themselves" -- supposedly the most satisfying thing there is. Why aren't they satisfied, then ?
Perhaps this is a lie, perhaps setting tasks "for yourself" is very much not the way to go ?
Ah, but what do I know, right ? Who could possibly distinguish between opinions and all that. Sure, sure. It's all a big coincidence and unfairness and oppression and and ...
and see you on the other side, what.
« Best in the world!
The urban-rural dichotomy in terms of the cycles of power »
Category: Meta psihoza
Thursday, 20 September, Year 10 d.Tr.
Dentist with a view
You thought I was kidding, did you. I wasn't kidding -- my dentist has a view!
This is not a singular situation, mind you. The following conversation actually took place :
"These guys have a great bathroom. Actually... it might be the best restaurant lavatory I've ever seen."
"Meh."
"What ?!"
"The view wasn't that great."
Two things : a) the "view wasn't that great" party wasn't me ; and b) she had a fucking point. I have pictures with bathroom views because holy shit sherlock, taking an extended shit's never been this entertaining!
To put this problem in perspective : the more experience you amass, the more resources you have and the easier it is for you to get more resources. The more resources you have and can get, the easier it becomes for you to satisfy the most complicated points of curiosity. The more points of curiosity you satisfy, the more experience you amass ; and the more experience you've amassed, the harder it is to be impressed.
This, believe it or not, isn't such a great thing. In fact, the principal reason men prefer teenaged cunt (not that they'd ever admit it) has absolutely nothing to do with her, and absolutely everything to do with them : the less she's seen, the more she'll think of the scant they've goti.
And so that's why I'm such a curmudgeon -- because my very eager, and very cool and competent dentist also comes with a view. And that's also why your wife's such a bitch -- she's seen the inside of Arby's a million times and it just doesn't do anything for her anymore.
What can you do ?
Because I tell you truly, there's absolutely nothing that can be done.
———Pretty sure I've said this once before but can't quite find it right now, sadly. If you find it, let me know. [↩]
« MP at Arenal, 2003 - 2018 (Caution : Steps in de crease!)
The Republic without MP »
Category: Zsilnic
Tuesday, 20 February, Year 10 d.Tr.
Dead Maze, the game
Dead Maze (recently released by atelier801) is a little gem of a game, a droplet of deliciously fresh mountain spring water in an otherwise well parched desert.
The fundamental reason it makes it here is that it manages to recreate the experience of playing Fallout! Can you believe that ?
Principally, the "scavenger" life of the post-disasteri loner -- I can't be the only one that enjoyed the random encounters in favour of the actual plot development back in the day ? In any case, they took that concept and ran with it, rather than the 90% BDSM-Storyline / 10% randomness Fallout featured, they're more a 33% Storyline / 67% randomness, which I believe is much closer to the ideal mix. And when I say "ran with it" I actually mean it, there's actual recycle/craft trees that are quite convincing. It's one thing to run into the desert looking for the only possible thing to look for (ammo), it's quite another when you've just discovered [bought, for quest-coins] a new kind of table and you're off to the wastes to scare up a grosse of plastic somehow (seen any buckets recently ? how about toothbrushes ? bottles are also good). I for instance am looking for fabric to upgrade my pants (you get more pockets, which hold boosts!), so I can't tell you how happy I am to see some [long dead] cheerleader's abandoned pompoms on an unkempt college football field. Yes, they have that.
Not even secondly, the exceptional atmosphere. The darkness, the music, the lumbering zombies, the excellent tiling art... Thing's a pleasure to look at, to be part of. What more can be said ?
Definitely not thirdly, the level of polish is very much reminescent of Bethesda's best days. There's no bugs, there's no imbalances, there's no problems. They even understand that ancient Eulora point that seems to be spreading among the field -- that gains must be small! No 10% attack or 300% life, what the hell is this. Instead, 0.5% crit, +1 hp, that sort of thing.
And now, some illustration :
Above is meii, looting a canoe! The graphics are great enough that if a table holds some papers, you can actually see them on the table, and if a rack contains a vase you can see the vase atop it and so on. The guy on the right, with the skulls, is a miniboss (the way minibosses work here is that they spawn upon killing a mook, sorta like an upgrade -- and I suspect this is actually the correct way to do it).
Below I'm looting the treasure goblin, which is implemented as a sort of map boss. Also, I suspect, the right thing.
Above, me in camp. The bicycle to the left is the symbolic means of map jumping ; the fire on the right is where you replenish your stamina. (An interesting twist about that -- the maximum food and drink you can hold is 100 ; if you eat in excess of that while at a camp site, you get more stamina for it. Since stamina's eaten up every time you pick things up, crafting excellent quality food becomes a key ingredient to successful scavenging.) Admire also my Exceptional quality Travel Bag (equipped).
Below, my list of stored materials. As you can see there's plastics and paper and screws and medicinal herbs and all sorts of various things. I'm in the process of recycling a baseball bat, which will produce some wood.
Above, me in front of my scavenger's log cabin on the Zombie Fronteer. There's a tank for fuel (which I built) and three for water (two of which I built) and a general purpose storage thing, plus a research table -- which, amusingly, wants a lot of vegetables, and some eggs, (and a little chocolate) to discover a thing. Clustered to the bottom right, the weapon table and the sewing table -- where one upgrades her pants!
Below, I definitely recommend trying this thing out.
———Noticed how "nuclear" moved into "biological" as man lost confidence in his tools and woman took over the hearth ? [↩]ME ME ME! The viewport's even centered on me! ALWAYS! [↩]
« A[s]fixion
The Ladies Man »
Category: Trolloludens
Thursday, 15 February, Year 10 d.Tr.
Dangerous
"Love stories" in our rural colonies that used to call themselves "America" but now prefer "the US" in another instance of their most characteristic style of deriving no improvement of accuracy whatsoever through periodic changes of form that are both floridly embraced and patently designed towards the single goal of protecting from any substantial changei, love stories by the idiots for the idiots I say always follow the same tired old formula : there's two girls competing for one guy, you see. Not five, like in the azn harem pulp, not one real and one ideal like in the European romantic literature in vogue briefly at the exact moment anyone in the colonies last opened a book. No, two exactly, and always exactly the same two : the girl next door, and the "exotic" and "sexually attractive" but "dangerous" girl from out of town. That's it, and that's all, and as I expect you either imagine or else realise on the basis of experience, it'll be all about how it aint worth being a man (because, of course, your being a steer is cheaper -- for the rancherii).
Dangerousiii is entirely no different -- made by UStards for UStards as it is you needn't be surprised. It is however remarkable, on two scores. The first, and easily disposed, is just how great an actress Davis is : when she plays her generous "saviour" it is evident to the viewer that she is playing him, and also at the same time her performance is credible enough that we could see how a WASPish sort of idiot -- bereft of experience and the faculty of speculative thought as they stereotypically were -- would not see it. So when she turns around on him and tells him she was just playing, it's not a case of "well... I guess if the script says so we gotta believe it's what happened, retroactively". An actress that can play the part rather than rely on divine intervention to straighten out periodically the nonsense she piled on is exactly what an actress even is. Why, you thought it was something else ?
The second is less valuable, in aesthetic terms, but perhaps more interesting conversation fodder. The girl next door, here, is played to ethereal perfection of that nonsensical dream of the settler. She is, indeed, like the janissary wanted, "transparent to the marrow of her bone". I can't imagine how one'd get an erection with such a frank, honest and vertical partner and not feel entirely like a faggot, but these considerations are helpfully omitted by the lead's choices -- he kisses her, at the most, and even that's plenty awkward.
Their interplay, their batshit insane interaction where the man dumps a devoted and competent female because hurr durr, and where the competent and devoted female moves on because idem hurr durr, is the entire WASP ideology pinned out for display. That's all that idiocy was all about, treating women in that manner, and with them horses and slaves and everything else. Treating men in that manner, and with them owners and bosses and masters. Treating reality as if it were a soccer match -- brief ninety minutes during which dreams may be supported, to soon come to an end and be forgotten as the small and inconsequential thing that it was. You wouldn't trade "perdition of your eternal soul" for "forty pieces of silver" only good for fifty or a hundred years, would you ? So then! What do you mean those broken, sad little metaphores don't manage to cover anything of interest in reality ? What do you mean there's more depth than that ? FIE!
Protestantism is deeply offensive -- and I mean all of it, not merely some dumb shit fifty black dorks in a "church" somewhere accidentally brewed up last Thursday, but everything that ever split off the "santa romana chizdaiv" including Lutheranism, Calvinism, UStardism, everything -- specifically because it's simple thought. "Information security" in terms of XSS, systems programming in terms of bash scripting, thinking the world in protestant terms are all the same exact exercise in "what if I actually did not have a brain".
Notably absent -- the obviously correct and also directly necessary solution, where he puts the girl out of town on top of the girl next door, and switches them now and again, when he feels like it. How could he feel like anything, he's a WASP ain't he ? Boring doesn't begin to describe the sad state of a world thus maimed.
But it'd be... what would it be, "unthinkable", is that right ? Here's the scoop : all that the empire of idiocy needs to perpetuate itself is to convince you that the necessary's unthinkable. If it gets that, everything else is smooth sailing from there on.
You may enjoy watching this film on your own, perhaps. In my experience, nothing beats enjoying it on your knees, at my feet.
———No, it didn't start with "software", notwithstanding the shit they peddle stands with software in the exact relationship fast food stands with food. Nor did it start with "technology" in the similarily reductionist understanding of the term -- always denoting idle webshits that ain't even close to technology, not more so than subsistence prostitution is "industry".
Take a moment to think. I said "subsistence prostitution". This isn't a "slur", by which I mean this isn't UStard political speech. The words aren't strung together for emotional impact with no consideration of meaning, as UStards trademarkedly do. No, it's on Trilema, it exists exactly like everything else on this only item worth reading in English exists : as perfect form dressing daring thought.
"Subsistence" works the job of an adjective in that construction, indicating that out of the broad meaning of the noun it accompanies, only a certain subset should be selected. In this case, the subset is, "those cases where the activity described by the noun is engaged in as the only available means of daily survival, even though it needn't be". That coda differentiates it from "obligate" -- an obligate coprophagiac (such as, say, the rabbit) eats its own shit to survive because, biologically, it has to, there's no other option there nor could there ever be, that's just how its digestive system works. It's a herbivore just like the cow but can't afford the cow's bulk, so can't afford the luxury of carrying gallons of shredded alfalfa about in its four stomachs. It doesn't have four stomachs, it can't sit itself on the side of the river and chew the cud with nightfall. All it has is its den, and so it will run about getting as much primary food as quickly as possible trying to avoid all the many predators, then vomit it into the digestive den, then come back later in safety and reprocess it. That the vomiting happens through one end of the tube than the other, well... matter of expediency.
Unlike obligate coprophagiacs, subsistence hunters could not be stone age fucktards, yet for whatever reason they choose to be stone age fucktards instead. Maybe they're just taking two weeks off ; or maybe they misrepresent the option in question as absent, to themselves or to the entire world. If they do, that little game they're playing is entirely besides the point. The fucktarded Tupi or Goshut are not in any way excused from simply dressing in their Sunday best and strolling down into town to take a job as a bank clerk or lift operator. That they don't it's because they opt not to, and whether they or you perceive "they had that option" isn't a consideration. It isn't a consideration at all. Unlike the rabbit, they do ; and unlike the rabbit they choose not to take it.
Yeah, that's right, the sword of pain cuts both ways : you don't have all the options you hallucinate having, no matter whom you get to agree with you, and at the same time you do have all the options you have, even if you "don't perceive them". And you'll be footing the bill for both flights of fancy, and I'll be there, to take the payment in pounds of flesh. Now get cracking.
The foregoing should clarify the first part ; and prostitution is the act of selling the self. Like the prostitextuate, or like the settler, or like the wiz kid -- prostitutes, all of them. Subsistence prostitution, when they sell the self to live another day, even though they don't actually have to. See ?
Or don't you see because it's too close to home ? Seeing or not seeing is just a free option that you have ? I see, I see. [↩]Think about it, Prikoke -- the only party that has a rationally justified and rationally justifiable interest in your bodily integrity is the farmer that sees you as his livestock and aims to butcher you for meat later.
Outside of this, what difference can it possibly make to you when you die and with how many holes in the hide ? Hm ? [↩]1935, by Alfred E. Green, with Bette Davis, Margaret Lindsay. [↩]Sometimes also spelled "chiesa" in older texts. [↩]
« Trilema pages restructuring.
On namespaces »
Category: Trilematograf
Tuesday, 03 April, Year 10 d.Tr.