Do you know why they're just so damn awkward ? I only ask because I finally figured it out!

So, we were harem-rewatchingi Vacation, because apparently no slut ever fucking saw this thing on her own power in her past life, notwithstanding it is the pre-eminent example of the light comedy genre all of them chiefly favour (and a thick majority even imagine that one sad, marginal genre is what Cinema even is, altogether!). Talk about failure of the femstate, huh!ii

There's a scene in there, where the pantsuit cuck goes over the latest iteration of reality distortion they came up with, to fight you know, toxic facts and the evil patriarchy : they had all their shit stolen, and they're naked and covered in excrement because... they don't remember. They show up at their inlaws' door, where...

I could ask, "what happens there", but what happens is very much not the point. What doesn't happen is entirely the point.

Suppose... well, that dork could never ring my doorbell, if he were connected closely enough to even know which the fuck doorbell it is he'd have been shot in the face and left for dead in a ditch many years prior to the event. But suppose a gaggle of young & inept sluts showed up at my door in that state. What would happen then ?

Obviously, a lengthy, drawn out Inquisition : to establish what exactly had happened, and how exactly, and why, and wherefore, dragged out over days, weeks maybe -- all this with, transparently, a view at making sure no possible angle of mocking the shit out of them, for many years to come is missed out on. The story'd be picked at all the seams over consecutive passes of the infinity machine until there was certainly no pocket of mockery base left unvented. Because that's how you do things -- if you know what you're doing, at least.

Meanwhile, you know what they do ? Well, they don't do anything, obviously, but here's what they don't do : they don't look at you in traffic. You know why they don't look at you in traffic ?

Because if they look at you therefore you automatically get right of way.

That's the contorted logic of pantsuitism : acknowledging the other also comes, fusedly indistinctly, with what's now an obligation -- they're so fucking selfless, by the insane code of their bizarro religion that shuns its proper name, they're so fucking perfectly idiotic, that merely acknowledging the other now means they must also let them pass ; whereas pointedly not acknowledging what's right in front of them is supposed to "send a message", you see -- the other is supposed to know what the fuck they're doing, and rather than be weirded out by the weird fucks, simply not cut in. That's the intended meaning of insane behaviour -- the carving of a space for the self.

Now look at it : the reason the people opening the door don't inquire with the people covered in shit is simply... refinement. The pinnacle of pantsuitist civilisation, this right here : so afraid are they in the house of ending up having to take ownershit of they covered in sheep... wait, that came out wrong. So afraidiii are they in the house of ending up stuck owning they covered in shit, they simply... right ?

That's why they're so fucking awkward : they're deeply, and quite genuinely worried they might end up having to own things. And you thought the niggers were liberated from their masters!

It was the other way around, yo.

———My phd-level class on Cultural History of Cinema, as applied work on Literary Criticism, The Theory of Representation and Contemporary Philosophy is something the fuck else -- as one of the nude sluts involved once remarked, "simply filming this bed would make a better film than most of these things even hoped to ever be". It's true ; but I also ain't about to. [↩]Leave alone how they can't ever seem to find anything useful by using their oh-so-useful (not to mention "only available") femtools ; leave alone how they're stuck eating shit in lieu of any kind of actual work even vaguely capable of being suspected fit for humans. Leave all that alone and confront the cold idiocy of it : they're this herd of shit eaters and vomit guzzlers who, after being done with a patch of shit or a bucket of vomit, have also left behind, untouched, unfound, the best corn kernels / whatever edible tidbits they were looking for in the first place! It's one thing to suck down latrines in lieu of cooking and eating ; but it's another god damned thing to suck down the shit around the kernels, leaving the better ones behind! Not even escherichia coli is quite this fucking stupid -- nor could it be, of course. Stupidity of this sterling quality requires quite a whole lot of intelligence to be constructed in the first place. [↩]Why the fuck do you spell it "afraid" when it's "affray" ? Are you fucking stupid ? [↩]

« There's no better way to ensure the enmity of the mediocre than by exposing their mediocrity for what it is.

Does this insanity make any sense whatsoever to anyone at all ? »

Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc

Friday, 27 December, Year 11 d.Tr.

Five bucks for great justice

It all started as all good things start these days : on irc.

Always the humble and obedient spirit you all know me as, I wasted no time in following the direction of the better informed, and so added the task of "make acct on fiverr, comb site for anything may be useful to us." to a competent PM. Combing the resulting list of listings of possible interest, the correct test avenue immediately jumped at me : bunches of people willing to put up and distribute fliers on their college campus.

Now Trilema prides itself in containing at least one piece grossly offensive to any conceivable demographic group, no matter how defined (have you noticed this by the way ?) and so selecting a proper little something that'd speak to the interests and preoccupations of college kids today was not hard at all. Turning that into a flier... even easier. Making it really really funny ? Not too hard either.i

Meanwhile it's been about half a week or so, and the early results are here. In summary, 3000 fliers ordered in total from 20 different providers, most black&white, some color, aboutii two thirds to be put up and a third to be distributed by hand (in some cases with commentary), which set me back 0.55421 BTC + miners fees. Definitely cheaper than a Buttcoiniii.

There was exactly one cancellation, possibly the only bookish girl in the lot, that actually read the whole thing. Or who knows, maybe her printer was slow. Turns out that fiverr puts a two week hold on your funds in this case, which indicates to me they've probably been raped by fraudsters in the past.iv

Other than that, the results can be split in two groups. On one hand textual results, such as

"i love that it deals with bitcoin, i'm actually running for us house as a libertarian." later said job's done, gave a list of where on campus (baylor u.) he put fliers up.

or

Thank you for the order and your flyer looked great. I completed your order today and everything went fantastic! People seemed interested in your flyer and I hope to work with you again very soon! There were a lot of people out today so it was a perfect day to complete your gig. I would suggest more volume at different venues to increase exposure. I have done this with people in the past and they truly were pleased with the delivery.

Thanks again for the order.v

or

completed, no pix, handed 150 out, says people responded positively and flyers looked good.

or

completed, said had a great time handing them out, sent a series of pics, reviewed.

On the other hand, visual, such as :

Now considering halfvi the people haven't reported yet on their activity, as well as the aforementioned reading comprehension considerations, it may perhaps be excused that the entire exercise has produced no social media firestorm of ire and protest, as some had anticipated. It turns out that on direct and actual examination, the bulk of US collegiate kids are a lot more tolerant to heresy than currently depicted in the media. This stands in stark contrast to the same exercise a few years ago in Romania, which yielded some very VERY bitter & butthurt people.vii

Trilema gets a ton of trafic anyway, and so neither the 19th nor the 20th stand in any way as remarkable (the 19th shows ~21k uniques, which is slightly above average, the 20th about 16k, which is a little low, approximately on par with an average Saturdayviii). The depicted article (/2013/the-gentlemen-prefer-coeds-club/) received a little under 200 hits this month, so it's way deep in the heap of articles, far far away from disrupting the top three (wherein, as every single day for the past 18 months or so, /2012/cum-se-suge-pula-ghid-pentru-juma-de-sex-oral/ holds on to its second placeix). I did look for google keyphrases, but the only thing containing either "gentlemen", "coeds" or "blondes" was "clubbing clitoris".x

This may get an update towards the end of the month, if I remember. But either way, fiverr is basically a decent way to buy some college kids a beer - which is not altogether a bad way to spend some money. Their activity is not likely to amount to much, but this not because they won't try, or do work. Instead, mostly because they're powerless, which I guess is as it should be.

Then again, and to be perfectly fair, the results of such things are eminently unquantifiable. Kinda why corporation-economy and lands of "laws not men" collapse in short order : the lack of incentive to do the unmeasurable right thing suffocates society through absence of white swans.xi

PS :

———You see, the item consists of picture, wall of small face text and clearly separated large face text. Guess how many college kids form their notions on the basis of image and title only, without reading the actual body ? Guess and be amazed! [↩]Seeing that this is quite far from a well specified and intimately controlled activity, "about" is good enough at this juncture. I wouldn't even know if people put up all the fliers they claimed, for instance, and it'd cost more to find out than to re-do. [↩]That was a little over a year ago. If this observation doesn't teach the virtue of patience, nothing will. [↩]Easy way to launder stolen funds : put dirty money into such a website, bid on projects of your own, reject the bids, withdraw the money, all clean. [↩]Yes I know this looks cookie cutter. I tried to google for it with no results. [↩]Exactly half. 10. [↩]Though to be perfectly fair, these were dumb kids imagining themselves kings of an imaginary hill, reacting negatively to what they perceived as a breach of the "rules" of "fairness" that they themselves had self-servingly & conveniently imagined. Much like should you take your Caterpillar excavator to the place where kids play with models in the sand the boys that thought they had the better toys might start wailing. [↩]Apparently people are least likely to read me on Saturday for some reason. Or maybe I'm least likely to write then ? [↩]The first place often changes, currently being held by /2013/mpoe-pr-almost-two-years-in-the-swamp-an-anthology/ [↩]Perhaps Awstats reports of google keyphrases aren't that accurate, as this seems quite improbable on the face of things. I'm too lazy to log into google itself, so I guess it'll stay a mystery. [↩]A crude equivalent of Taleb's black swan, a white swan is a positive event (no matter how big or small) that is impossible to replicate. Like say the pleasant aroma of a good cigar, it's not something manufacturable, and so not something easily found in the US. [↩]

« A story of manscarves

Unii sunt putin luati, da' altii saracii sunt luati rau de tot, mai frate. »

Category: Activism

Sunday, 22 June, Year 6 d.Tr.

Din Togo, din Togo... da' de-a cui ?

I was sure I had recounted the titular joke many multiple times ad nauseam (and I still am). Nevertheless, a logsearch for Togo returns nothing even vaguely related (though plenty of lulz) and a trilema.com websearch for Togo returns... nothing even vaguely related either!i. Meanwhile I even searched the comments, occuring to me that perhaps it's there. It -- isn't.

So if it isn't, then let's recount it YET AGAIN, for the at least fifth time, this being (I'm told) the essence of humour : to always say the same things expecting the same results. Unlike (and quite opposite) the essence of insanity, I'm sure you're following.

Therefore : the proud city of Cluj(-Napoca) was always an important educational center, especially for medicine. Incidentally : this is a multipicture megapost, there's almost a hundred pictures scattered throughout, some including nudity in strange circumstances as well as collections of bizarre (as well as banal) weird or merely peculiar (though often enough entirely heremetic an' opaque) nonsense, littlesense, somesense and othersense. But we can't get to any of them, because we're stuck here making incidental impactions in the joketelling, and then reflectively discussing that in an infinite regression that promises little good will ever come out of it, ever.

Cluj offered significantly better schooling significantly cheaper and more conveniently than the bright kids in the third world could conceivably enjoy anywhere else in Europe, and consequently all sorts of doctors scattered all over the world that I encountered during my travels held a fond memory for that rare and radiant wonder -- the Romanian medical school of yore. And it helped people, you know ? For lo these fifty years, the thousands of orc doctors flowing out of my home town made the lives of millions of nobodies significantly better. Not a little significantly better, but a whole fucking lot significantly better. So marked the disproportion between what they got and what the getting cost them, in fact, that for all its ultimately idle and historically ridiculous fornaieli the British Empire can never come close. Maybe in absolute, sums-of-sums-of-sums terms. Maybe. In percentile terms, never.

Cluj-Napoca happens to also be the capital of Transylvania, which is... a very peculiar place. In it lie preserved, and undisturbed, traditions extending back beyond two millenia. How the informed mind could look upon the fenced Maramures household, scattered among the hills, and not immediately think "these idiots still imagine themselves building latifundiae" is strictly beyond me. Even leaving aside the screamingly obvious formal criterion, "why the fuck are they measuring land in iugera" and such, the petrification's structurally obvious! These are people who, deliberatedly, insistently, unyieldingly lived under a rock for the intervening twenty five centuries!!! They're just about to worship divine Augustusii once again!

So now, the joke. A man, from the foregoing paragraph, who just happens to be as black as they comeiii climbs onto one of the ridiculous trains they have there (you can't imagine these things, they go slower today than US early steam engine went in 1850). There seated, predating his climbingiv an old peasant woman. She sits and looks at the devil quietly for a while.

Then for a while more.

Then more.

Then finally, asks him where's he from ?

"I'm from Togo"

The woman sits, and thinks.

The woman sits and thinks, and then she sits some more, and then she thinks some more.

Eventually...

"Din Togo, din Togo... da' de-a cui ?" which would translate as "oh, so you're from Togo, but what's your mother's name", because in Transylvanian Romanian repetition is affirmation (ever encountered this concept before ?) and filiation is maternal. All (malev) children are given the name of the saint celebrated they day they're born, and they become Saint-of-hismom. Ion a Mariei Toadii would then be "Theodora's daughter Mary's spawnling she called John". This is identity, see : whence and wherefore. The only possible answer'd have been impossible (which is the joke), but a correct answer'd have looked something like "de-a Ikponmwosii Xetsii", which isn't even fucking Dagomba or anything -- but this doesn't matter, because Romanian doesn't conceptualize itself as a language, but simply the language, and therefore the female names will end in a and declense appropriately or else the name's broken!

So now you know.

Above : Croco, Piata Pacii. Back in the day there were two main places to meet people : you met the poor (meaning, "intellectuals") at this stand-up cafe and you met the rich (meaning, "men of business") at the Conti[nental]. It's just how the place worked, when it still did.

Below : The view from my exact classroom, closely approximated position. Scoala Generala Nr. 2, clasa C. Portion of the roofing's been apparently redone in the intervening decades, but the far side's exactly original ; and so is that brothel-like internal walkway.

The gates were locked, by the way, and a sheet of paper in a plastic sleeve announced the doubtless hordes of helicopter moms in the upper middle class demographic this school ever served that they'd better step the fuck off, give the kiddies some space to kiddy.

I explained to the doorman that I intend to bother no-one, but merely visit, because I went to school there thirty years prior and I'd like to show my own girlies the layout. This massively impressed the fellow, and after some mirvniki deliberations not only did he work the metal latches and other technowonders, but I was even provided (free of charge) with one of the teachers to show me around. Nobody remembered anything I did, nor anything worked the way it used to, and yet we managed to jointly find my way in and outvi to great satisfaction (mostly, mine) and great bewilderment (mosty, hers). We even identified an old tree that figures in a childhood story of mine.

And at the end, as we were going back towards the impossible portal that spawned us in the first place, a local kiddo, bright and brave, intercepted me.

"Where do you come from ?" he wanted to know.

"Costa Rica."

"Ah. And what line of work are you in ?"

"Eh... there's this Internet thing. Did you ever hear of the Internet ?" I asked, deliberately xenomorphic.

"Do I!" returned the nine year old, with the air that the matter's now well settled. He even writes his own games, he assured me!

As you can see, dear leaderreader, the world, the world that's left behind, nevertheless's always left behind in very good hands. And how could it not be ?

Above : Gangul cu filme, approx "the film gang", the absolutely perfect "where to meet after cutting class" spot. More glorious partnerships were struck up under its glorious aegis than I dare recollect!

Above as below : sic transit. Never was the nervecenter of power so mistreated by the passage of so little time, excepting, of course, all the other times.

Above : this thing is exactly the same it was back then. The context seems to call for something like "who could have predicted", but honestly it was fucking obvious this'll be the case back then, too. Which makes the story sweet -- for there's nothing bitterer under the Sun than such obviousness disabused.

Below : the cemetery. And a fine cemetery it is indeed -- to be honest, the best part of the entire town, as far as my taste's concerned.

Below : a hostel. No kidding.

Above : the pond in the Japanese garden in the Botanical Garden of Cluj. Are these things supposed to be murky ?

Below : carnivorous plants. As we were going in, a large family group was buying tickets. After a curt encouragement from his father, in retort to some plaintive question I couldn't make out, the twelve year old boy upon whose shoulders burdened the future and the inheritance of that unit inquired with the woman : do they sell plants ? They do, she trutted into her most bureaucratic tone, as exposed. Including a coffee plant. But how about carnivorous plants ? No, she retorted, just as mechanically, metal squeak and static buzz strangely, quite inexplicably absent. No, just what's exposed.

Oh, but how I remember that coffee plant. I too, so very many years ago, I too wanted a god damned carnivorous plant, and I too was offered coffee plants instead. The world is always left in very good hands -- the only problem's nothing the fuck ever changes, somehow the hands never get around to doing anythefuckthing!

And how I wanted that dumb thing...

Above : lotus leaves, exactly, and I do mean absolutely and entirely exactly as I remember them.

Below : there's a picture somewhere on this blog, a picture I'm right now too lazy to go and find. It was published back then as a tongue in cheek reference to this one here -- because as my footsteps carried me to Argentina, so I saw, with my own eyes, the thing, in the wild, that seemed improbable accident here. 'Twas not. It's genuine, though now that I write I am no longer sure -- genuine which ?

Above : innards of old poplar tree. They rot from inside, apparently.

Below : me.

Above as below : bimbo met nettle. There's a lot of advantages to making them go bare cunt under the shortest, flimsiest of dresses -- such as for instance, all it takes for a good nettling is a "turn around, bend over". Two seconds.

There's also a lot of advantages to making them shave, such as for instance "fuck! and I just shaved too!".

She got it pretty good, what can I tell you. Doesnt pain look unflattering on her ?

Above : plan for the Japanese garden. Though I confess I harbor certain doubts.

Below : unplanned whale outhouse right next to my very luxurious accomodations.

Above as below : the luxurious accomodations in question. There's no phone at the front desk -- if you want to talk to them, you have to place calls to random girlies' cellphones. Just this and you'd suspect a brothel thinly disguised, who the fuck ever heard of getting a list of the staff's private phone numbers as a logical extension to checking in.

They also don't have a bellhop. "What the fuck are you talking of, 4 stars ?!" Because it is, you know, actually classified as a 4 star thing, with no phone, no bellhop and worse than no internet.

Above : O!

Below : More detailed whale outhouse.

Above : an old friend.

Below : quite the question! And what fabulous context!

Above : drinks tryouts.

Below : Guess how I keep my hat clean ?

That's right, that's how I keep my hat clean.

Here be items of entirely no public interest, properly speaking, preserved nevertheless for my own convenience of nostalgia.

Above, for instance, is a slut walking a path I used to often take, perchance sometimes dreaming of quite such sluts, that yet weren't there -- or anywhere.vii Never before did the path manage to bask in the company of such a one, nor even worth half the salt and barely a portion of the name. Yet I, effortlessly, carelessly, accidentally one day did what never for its endless and uninterruptible existence could it ever hope to have otherwise achieved.

See ?

We're not the same, this path and I. We're not the same, for even while it will obscurely perdure long past I'm gone, yet never will its perdurance be worth an unripe fig, once I am gone. For what will it do without me ? Sit ? Wait ? What for ? What's there left for a path to await, once my glory's not to walk it evermore ?

Below, me, also for instance, also thereabouts.

Above, as below : the magical fortress in the magical forest of my youth. Meanwhile the forest's been raped into a park, and bears all the insults of "civilisation" : gravel paths, and organised children playing spaces, and fences and on and on, from that sad, lengthy list of shameful maculae. The fortress' been fenced "for safety" and assorted idiocy, yet there it stands, witness to so many glorious, delicious, perfect moments of yet incipient, yet unaware, yet nevertheless BDSM...

Can you imagine, my dear reader, being picked up by a horde of savages from right under your door, dragged, kicking and screaming, pubescent tits directly evident under the flimsy garb of the very hungry period, your childish snatch coming out that side or this of the single kind of shorts you could buy anyway, to be thrown into the scary darkness of the catacombs below, to cry and howl by yourself in there until such a time as forces far above your head, far into the light, male forces incomprehensible decided it's time for you to go out again ? Perhaps ? "Pleaseeeee" ?

Can you feel the horror ? Even now, in your very bones, the exciting, exquisite horror of meaningful gender relations ?

Can you see what a world of good such treatment (not mistreatment, and eminently not abuse) would do for your coddled, chlorotic daughter ? How well it'd fix all her problems, imagined such as they are, fungus grown on the dregs of your own unhygienic mind, populated by naught but fear, naught but "concern", naught but the anxious fumes of the sadness of a neglected female's life ?

Too bad nobody can be arsed to provide anymore ; so there you rot, with a teardrop-shaped lamp burning the rancid oil of "pretending it's by your choice" as your sole companion.

Above : Hannah said "it makes quite the excellent Ruined Fane". What an astute observation! It's exactly what it is, I have little doubt all my ulterior interest in high fantasy computer games comes from this healthy childhood of mine, at the foot of the Ruined Fane.

Below : one day, the nettle was the true queen of the underbrush. Today, it sits shily at the entrance, daring not go in, wondering where it should buy a ticket, and how to do such a thing, and what would be the visitation hours. And yet one day...

Above : the fence against which I broke my arm (the first time aroundviii). Imagine that, it still stands! It didn't merely vaniquish my squiggly appendage, but the lures of father Time himself! To be honest... I have no complaints.

Below : the street I climbed most every day, all the way to early highschool. I still remember it fondly. In fact, talking to the girls, retelling stories I had already told but in strict context now ("there! there was so and so!") and recalling to mind myriad others I had never told before, it occured to me again : I had the happiest of childhoods. I doubt that many children do, because my childhood was bereft of that one true bane of childish life, which is unyielding meaninglessness. Most kids are assailed, besieged by this, nonsense that won't either go the fuck away or explain itself sensibly. I, on the other hand, had none of that, my life made perfect sense throughout, by my own standards, to myself.

There really isn't more to ask.

Above : that house was a ruin, slowly decaying, thirty years ago. Literally, not exageratedly, thirty years ago. Turns out decay takes a really long time, huh ?

I suppose it also depends on who made the thing, and how they made it.

Below : would you like to buy something ?

Above : the sky of Cluj. Looking through it I realised that besides having my own slaves with me on the trip, the two things that made it quite so enjoyable are, in that order, not talking to anybody I used to know and not having any intention of staying.

Below : my old highschool.

Above : "Hala agroalimentara", the main produce market. Now with Bingo!

Below : luxurious dining in this sad, small provincial townix. There's no decent restaurant here ; even the town's signature item atop the Belvedere (that the locals reverently avoid as expensive beyond the conceivable) is little more than a glorified grill / diner.

Above : the dork dragging my boat out was very disapproving of my having the sluts do the work. Another dork came on the deck to tear my tickets, and very disapprovingly pointed out that "So, two persons". What the fuck, two persons, I rented one of these paddleboat things. "No, it's by person."

Holy shit, can you imagine such nonsense ? In mitigation he proposed I go pay an extra three bucks on my way out ($2.65 or something like that, rather), which I did. But can you imagine such nonsense ?!

Anyway, so I've been to Cluj for a coupla days this week, now everybody can get the fuck off my case. I have no intention of ever going again, I am deeply unimpressed with both the place and its "progress" in the interval we've not seen each other (and yes, what happened is exactly what the fuck I thought would happen when I left, and why the fuck I left in the first place)... The buildings are great while the people suck mightily compared to their grandfathers. Which, incidentally, is also why the buildings are great : they live longer, so some grandfather buildings still stand.

That's all.

———I mean, vaguely related to Togo. Plenty of stuff related to me, such as 2010 testimonies of wealth or w/e. [↩]No, not Trajan, that's such claptrap... The only ruler Transylvania ever cared to comprehend was that Octavia runt, G. Thurinus -- and even he is more a matter of putative, distant future than anything. The reason they even tolerated xtianity (and the internal sense they made out of it) was simply this -- "oh, Augustus is too modern to be yet, will come later". Thassit, that's 100% of Transylvanian xtianity, they're quite pleased to hear there's no urgent need to leave 2`500 years ago, can stick around for a little while longer. Wanna embroider some togas ? [↩]As black as who come ? As far as today's 2500 years ago world is concerned, the only they who come in kettle hues are the devils. Period and full fucking stop, what's so hard to grok about this ? Green means go, red means stop, yes means anal and black means devil. Deal with it, not least of all because you were damn well asking for it in the first place. [↩]You're noticing what I'm doing here, yes ? [↩]Seriously. Women aren't really people, consequently there's a pool of names people draw from. Like cows, exactly. [↩]Do you know that old joke, by the way, with the Transylvanian finally getting married and that night the wife shockingly discovering that he has no idea nor much interest in what to do ?

She attempts to instruct him, in simple terms. "Get on top of me" "Now stick it in" "Now take it back out" "Now stick it back in again."

"No." comes calmly the stalwart answer.

"And why the fuck not ?!" pitches feminine despair.

"You're indecisive." [↩]Yes, me and my boys, we invented this. We invented it, and I'm owning that fucking inventing. [↩]I was going through those scary serpentines, on straight ice, with my ice skates on ; suddenly there was a sharp turn and well... I didn't make it, so wham! [↩]The first day you go downtown, kinda willing to go with whatever flow, and you're blown away, all these bistros / wine bars and wine bars / bistros! So you have some of their fare, it's not terrible, but the next day you discover... they actually have no restaurants. People eat out... at bistros.

Yet there's a difference, and it goes like so : any fucktard / monkey can run a bistro, you're basically making sandwiches and milkshakes. A proper kitchen is about ten times as expensive, both in terms of capital goods as well as human resources -- which readily explains it : Cluj wants to eat out rarely enough and cheaply enough, it's not good business to try and keep a restaurant. But what if I don't want to eat sandwiches and milkshakes ? What, order an omlet ?

Then you discover... they have no cafes, either. Mozart cafe, that was fabulous twenty years ago, is now a sad shadow of its former self, as if termites had eaten it from within. The decor looks precisely as if someone kept selling museum pieces to replace them with garbage salvage, on the doubtful theory "nobody'll ever notice anyway". Everything on the menu (100+ items), mere combinations of "mascarpone", "sweet cream" and two or three other industrial foams supplied by a Sysco subcontractor in multi-galon containers. It's exactly like a 4-spigot beer pub pretending to be a "cocktail piano bar" : you punch out durations for each of the four spigots on the cocktail music sheet so the punchouts add up to a full draft's duration, and there you go, that's your "cocktail". Would you like a delicious serving of "Clair de Lune" ? 2.5 seconds Tuborg, 0.5 seconds Guiness, 2 seconds Heineken. Or are you more the "Barber of Seville" type ? 1 second Tuborg, 1 second Heineken, 3 seconds Budweiser. What, problem ?!

Q Cafe (I'm going off some official list of coolest cafes in town, don't ask) smelled of stale socks as we went in. Profusely. What the fuck boot camp cafe is this supposed to be, they're contrary styles. Their terrace was one foot wide, which is not a fucking terrace, in fact, it's not even an emergency gangway.

And so on and so forth in this manner, it's really not worth belabouring the point. Most rural midwestern shitholes fare better than Cluj on the "going out" front. What the fuck, Bistrocity. [↩]

« The Clouds That Threaten Domestic Bliss

Further unboxings (continuatory motorcycle) »

Category: Lifespiel

Thursday, 30 May, Year 11 d.Tr.

Digging through archives yields... lulz, shall we call it ?

Gather 'round, all ye whorey, gather 'round an' hear my story.

When a man grows old, and his balls grow cold,

and the tip of his prick turns blue...

Back in the day, back before Romania invented the MPEx-lite they called "Bursa de Valori Bucuresti"...

Many countless years ago, before the previous generation of ephemereal "experts" "figured shit out" "from context" there did still nevertheless exist a handful Romanians with actual stock trading experience. One of the nascenti Romanian stockbrokers at the time invited all of these it could find, on its own dime, intent on hiring them as the future brokers "of the country". Not all (though really, most) showed up ; among them, a boy. "What are you doing here ?" they asked him. "You tell me ; you invited me here after all". They could not imagine it, and the boy watched them deal with the usual, for him, the primordial, for them, experience of the encounter : when the formerly inconceivable becomes the present irreconcillable. What shall they do ? What can they do ? Wut do ?!

They couldn't hire him, for being underage, though they'd have dearly loved noting more ; he might've played along with their game, briefly, like a few years later he played along with the "teach a course at the university" game, briefly. This, the same boy who watched a judge issue an order granting his argument, in court, during proceedings he couldn't have, legally, participated in. But it did not occur to anyone to card him, because seriously now ; and moreover... what can it hurt to see how these actually go, in practiceii ?

Yet he always knew how they go. He always knew how they go and he never could quite be bothered to take them nearly as seriously as the half-men-riding-half-hares all around always seemed to. After all, he wasn't missing all the parts they did, and so he also didn't need all the crutches they couldn't leave the house without. Simple enough, no ?

Now gaze upon the header, and then tell me some things. Tell me, for instance, who do you know "among the early Bitcoiners" that was making money on the stock exchange before Bitcoin was a thing ?

Tell me, for that matter, who do you know that was making money trading options ?

Of all the people you know with direct, deliberate exposure to Lehman Brothers in Q2 2008 -- we're not talking here of all the idiots who were exposed "without knowing it" -- how many made money off of it ?

How many were exposed in the sense of holding CALLs ?

And what was this LEH thing anyway ?! What was 2008 ? Was it a year, exactly like any other ? It doesn't really seem credible, does it. 2008 is very much not at all like 2019 is right now, and even so much less than 2020. It's too long ago. So long ago, in fact, it might've never even happened ; and the things that were already the same sort of indistinct "ancient history" at that time appear to the helpless mind of the present moment about as distant, as remote, as imaginarily powerless as goings on contemporary with 8 Thermidor. Something to do with Napoleon or whatever, right ?

Yet there's firsts and firsts, you see -- but the only important property of the first-ers is that they either first once and then fizzle, or else first all the time.

Now tell me again about "engineering", and about things and matters ; gaze upon the header yet again and tell me your story yet again ; and again and again and for long as you have patience retell it -- I won't be listening, but in this I'll be consecvent : I wasn't listening the first time around, either. You just thought I was, in the usual sense of that term. You "thought" I was because... well... what are the alternatives ? I'd better be listening, right ? Or else!!!

For as long as the ticker keeps ticking, you have to retell it. Don't you ? If you stop talking the judge's gonna grant my motion, isn't he ? Your whole existence, its unlikely continuation such as it is, teeters precariously, predicated on supposedly successful filibustering ; if you shut up you die. Isn't it ?

Nevertheless : while the women gathered round the cows chew the cud together, talking the endless thread of traded moos, treading water traded for water... things happen. The men struggle with the hyenas for control of the cave ; and lose. The lions chase the hyenas away, then move. The men "discover" the hole, the same old hole that was always there ; the hyenas come right along... it's a whole world ongoing all the while.

Va pupa tati.

———The way these things are born in such situations -- some pre-existing people agree among themselves on a new nominative convention, "you know this thing you did ? we'll call it so and thus from now on". [↩]This, the same boy who showed up at the big deal maturity exam, the bacalaureat, one day early, and the organizing teachers, who all knew him, and his family, whom he all knew, personally, were befuddled. "What are you doing here [you weirdo] ?! Your turn's tomorrow! [Did you forget what day it is ?!?!]" They knew this, what his name is, where he belongs, they knew him. They thought they knew him well -- like mechanics know cars, mostly by the undercarriage .And he knew them, too. "Oh, I'm not here to take the exam" he said. "I'm here to observe".

And they were blown away, as he knew they would be, and then they read the copy of the law that he provided, and yes indeed, out of naive extension of long standing principles meanwhile long forgotten in practice the boy was well within his rights, as a citizen. He got to watch the oral examination in local "literature", by far his weakest spot, and for a day's watching aced it, because they didn't expect that vector of attack, because they were adults not fundamental thinkers and apparently at some point one's held to choose, can't have both, I guess ?

The same boy who, as a very little boy, in kindergarten, learned the whole quarterly theatrical show's audible output by listening to all the other kiddies try and fail to recite then proceeded to learn the "maturity exam" similarily, in the same way, a decade and change later. What is everything, after all, but a maturity exam ? How could he by whom maturity's defined fail such a thing ?! [↩]

« The alleged crisis of the supposed engineering, or mistaken identities pantomiming a comedy of manners.

The momentary dusk of reason ; or the world as a received trigrammaton. »

Category: 3 ani experienta

Friday, 06 December, Year 11 d.Tr.

Did anyone ever notice before the pierogi are shaped like a twat ? No ? Me neither.

I swear that made sense before. Sometime mid-Friday, sometime before a course (really, multiple simultaneous courses) of events that resulted in complex chains of effects and side-effects intertwining each other ever crescendo until culminating eventually in that paroxistic gasp of half hour ago the whole pierogi twat thing made sense. I just don't remember what it was. Actually I mean whose.

I have to be very quiet as I type here behind a closed door in my separate bedroom. I can't even go to the bathroom, separate also as it finds itself, because I am afraid that if I flush I might wake one up, and if I do they'll probably all wake up, and the next tick they'll be on me kissing my glans and licking my balls. Come to think of it, flushing and using the bathroom ain't the same thing, is it ? Brb.

This is so much better. Let it never be said an acute observational mind and being a stickler for detail never served anyone or helped anything. Lo that it made my current sad state of being besieged by cunt bladderly bearable. Isn't it a pity there's no b-word for the c-word in this language ? It is my hereby considered opinion any self-respecting language should have a twatword stwating with every letter of the alphabet. You want more than three or four letters, start coming up withwat.

But let's get back to narrative format, it jostles my head less and that's definitely for the better. So the last I clearly remember -- actually no, let's do a few straggler bits of Budapest. Here's a nice buildingsi :

And here's Hodl street intersecting Bank street.

I knew you wouldn't be surprised.

Furthermore, here's a modest course of Indian food, including three or four kinds of lamb, some butter chicken, basmati, naan with garlic and I don't remember what all else (though it was delicious, and also most of the sustenance that supported us through all of the recent Africa dipii) :

I made the image narrower so it appears not only wider but more dazzling, and also so you can't tell who I'm having it with. Isn't that clever ?

Actually, maybe I shouldn't be sharing these tricks of trompe l'oeil and skillful blogwriting quite so readily. I heard a story once of a man who told anyone who asked him how he went about doing the things he did, and then eventually someone started doing the same thing ; though honestly I don't believe it's a true story. It may be based on true fears, I guess.

Anyway, here's Hun-Gary in one word (well worth the ten thousand pictures bedecking yet beweighting my hard drive, such that on Judgement day it will definitely not be light enough to float to Heavens on its own buoyancy -- but hey, at least I have the excuse I made them all myself, out of my own whores and whatever shiny specs & motes they aspirated into the whirlwind that is my being in the worldiii) :

The hussy's only depicted clad (such as she is) because of her monumental size. Nobody wants to be looking at watermelon-sized nipples from underneath a subway tunnel twat.

I've put that there just in case the world doesn't have enough pictures of the Sun rising over airplanes -- arguably a distinct possibility. The very next frame in the black box that's my camera you've seen, it depicts a thousand + morons queuing for cabs. Let's then move on :

Niggers can't spell, news at eleventy. Would you like some delicious fried chicken ?

First class is the only class!

But let me recount the story of how we ended up boarding that LOT flight, with its excellent steak and cute stewardesses so blown away by my manly presence, one spilled her water on meiv.

I would like to take a moment out of my busy schedule of cowering and typing quietly in my separate bedroom to point out that my desperate plea for help went out to the esteemed republic at eleven-ten. It is now half past noon almost exactly and I have not yet been helped in any way or manner that I can discern. Send help faster please!

Back to the recounting : our flight out of Budapest left at about six in the morning, meaning that in order to get there around four we basically just stayed out and partied all night long. Then we landed, eight in the morning or somesuch, went around for a mile and a half through Oslo's horribly misorganized airportv -- can you walk a mile and a half after being awake for 24 hours ? In heels ? Without complaint ?

Once finally out of the disturbingly ovoposited mess, we encountered the now-famous, only & principal salient feature of Oslo and by extension all of Norway : the queue. Because they're fucktards. So I had the slaves drag our luggage across the fucking street and over a concrete bridge into the Radisson hotel, because ha-HA! I got slaves. Everyone else got stares, apparently this was never fucking done before or something.

The plan was that I'll either have them get me a cab or have them get me a room and fly right the fuck back out of that cesspool of idiocy and rotten wanna-be-human-ism. In retrospect, this latter course would have been correct -- an observation I oft am constrained to make by the flow of events. In my extensive experience, spanning two decades of intensive and well heeled travel, it has never yet paid to take a soft stance. It is always by very far the best course to drop whatever is being considered at the very first sign of inconformity, howsoever slight, than to attempt and "work with it". Such attempts only ever come to grief, yet somehow I can't seem to manage to educate myself to stop trying, and consistently drop bullshit at the first, however vague, whiff.

The receptionist warned us that it's "expensive" and I said whatever ; she called us a cab but couldn't tell us how long it'll take ; but she will come fetch us. We settled into dazed stupor, a state of mind only really comprehensible to he who's spent more than a few dozen hours in flight in any one given year. It's this thing, where your eyes are open, you're even making conversation, but nothing the fuck's happening in the brainbox. I suppose lots and lots of people actually manage to live like this their entire lives, but I find the state very distressful, and especially in retrospect.

Anyway, the woman told us the cab arrived, and after some zig-zagging through spurious curvatures, porticuli, ramps and assorted architectural insanity we came to a large black van. Which was the taxi. So we rode into town in style, found the apartment hotel where we had reserved a double bedroom apartment, but... yes, there's always a but, isn't there. Well, here there's two buts : on one but they only take their shitty kroner-knockoff, can't pay in euros, hurray for hospitality a la norge ; on the other but their checkin time is three o'clock, she'll try to expedite it but can't promise anything.

Wut do between ten and three then ? Well... let's go change some money. So we drop the baggage (a mere 100 kgs or so, including a variety of whips, buttplugs, high heels and platforms and so following) and have the friendly if mentally foggy taxi driver take us downtown. He happily takes euros, and he happily considers things he's never considered before -- such as the novel thought that come to think about it, the fish there isn't really that great, he had better fish in Italy on vacation. And actually working as a cab driving employee seems kind-of stupid, especially given that anywhere else in the world cabbies are indepedent contractors. And actually... activity's been dropping for at least half a decade, it used to be better in the 90s, but by now...

So we walk through Oslo. It looks, in bimbo's words, exactly like a movie set. There's one of everything -- one brand of shoe store, one brand of clothes store, one brand of whatever other store and these just repeat. The whole thing appears as if hastily put together out of cheap materials (cheap, first of all, intellectually), so as to fool the eye, especially if the eye's mechanical, regards everything from a very carefully controlled safe distance, and doesn't go poking around too much.

It's not that "Forex Bank" calls itself "the best bank" while shamelessly printing exchange rates like 9.2 / 10.4, as fucking if. It's that it's the only bank. The only one. They have no others, they have some credit union or whatever the fuck, pointless closed circuit "financial institutions" of the soap opera kind -- so useless yet precious cuntlets can park their butts in chairs while discussing soaps all day long -- exactly like the soaps showed them they should.

We had some pretty amusing exchanges, too. Imagine me, the same me fascinating the (Polish-born) first class cabin crew to the degree they literally can not look away, entering a reservation of Norway-born ~same cunt. "Can I exchange euros here ?" "Oh no, sorry, we don't do that." "Why not ?" "Oh... I don't know. But you could try Forex Bank, it's..." "Yes, it's a scam. I would like to deal with some honest Norwegians, for a change."

So we walk, a slog of pointless idiocy ever multiplying mechanically in all four directions, copy-pasted soundstage after copy-pasted soundstage. "O look, it's an intersection! With nothing in it!". The girls enjoy the absolute worst bananas ever put in mouth by woman, and so in this vein, for hours. Eventually I stopped going into places with white faces in them, useless fucktards. Got myself a nice muslim boy instead, running some kind of household item jumble, and fixed another problem. That's two before breakfast, and after not having slept the night prior, you with me ? As we're walking away, I say "we should probably just go to the airport directly, and get the fuck out of this shithole. It takes them all of five minutes to come up with some batshit insane problem that shouldn't exist, then I spend two hours fixing it, then they just pop another one five minutes later."

The girls know, in the gut they know I'm right, as we sit at the sidewalk cafe surrounded by 20 dollar muffins and donuts and whatever crapvi with ever-smaller bites taken out that nobody wants to bite again. But we're all tired, so look, let's just go to the hotel and sleep.

So there we are, the girly at the reception desk watches me with greedy eyes as I count 13`300 kroner ("Oh, that's a lot of money, mind if I count it too ?") and then offers herself up, literally. Then we go to our apartment, and you should have seen this thing! Suffice it to say we checked out the very next morning, I filed a fraud complaint with the local police station and we went straight to the airport to get a flight the fuck out of there.

So we're at the SAS counter, we explain what we want, specifically, three seats to Warsaw. The woman tells me the price -- 6`646 per. Yes, that's right, about 750 euros to fly from here to there, My Timisoara driver would drive me the distance for less, which includes him getting to Oslo and getting back home from Warsaw. But what can you do, when in Norway, burn money pointlessly. So I excuse myself to go to the other fucking floor where their own exchange house money burning altar is, to sacrifice more euros for no good reason. And then I'm back, and then...

I don't think you can imagine the "and then". Here it is : and then, "but we only have two seats".

Pause. You know, for effect.

But eventually... well, the manticore I'm depicted riding in the header does her thing, and there we go, three tickets to Warsaw. Then the plane is late. You understand this, damned thing supposed to leave 19:45 is announced 20:30, because why the fuck not, people who haven't slept a night because out partying care not for measly 45 minutes!

And then, as 20:15 rolls around, they announce that the flight is overbooked, and they're looking for a volunteer. Apparently, they did indeed only have the two seats. Wut do ?

You know what generally happens, right ? They start offering incentives, and eventually some lone man takes the sweet pot. Well...

I dunno what happened here, but I suspect something else, for the following factual reasons :

they never started announcing any sweeteners. I mean, sure, it's not mandatory, but it seems in the circumstance publicity benefits the airline, having the only potential net effect of reducing the final cost of the settlement through reducing market opacity. But that's me, and what do I know about economy, a derpy airline has its own counter in Oslo and thereby a dais to promulgate its own opinions ;

well after 20:30, a very angry woman followed by a pubescent daughter left the (very tightly packed) boarding area, and boarding began immediately thereafter

we noticed there were two empty seats in first class, through the following procedure : a stewardess separated a woman and a small child from a man and a slightly older child, because "I'm sorry, these are first class seats, this is just how it works, you can't sit here". So they kept back-and-forth-ing the whole two hours, because that's perfectly fine an' legal, just as long as a woman doesn't sit with her family all's well

Now it'd seem to me, on the basis of these, that a perfectly possible explanation would be that not only did they not try and crimp the misfortunate, but wouldn't even bump her to first class. The plane was overbooked, and what the airline did was -- first, delayed everyone about half an hour (in the process fucking a bunch of connecting flights, at least two of which wouldn't wait for the misfortunates involved) while asking for a volunteer to, literally, not fly. That's it, not "a volunteer to not fly now but fly later and here's a lemonade", nothing at all. They wouldn't even fucking bump the poor woman to first class!!!

This is the world female participation in business has built. So unafraid are corporations (by which term we also denote governments) of their public and so convinced are they of their dominantly central social role as the only available dole conduit that a ticket on an overbooked flight is no longer a negotiable instrument, immediately worth more than what it originally cost to acquire. This is what women do to the worldvii, and this is why domestic slavery is way better a fate than any kind, version or formulation of female rights. Way better a fate not just for the women themselves, but for the world in general. Your daughter without a collar means a shitty tomorrow. Try and remember that.

But let's go into the nitty gritty of what comfortable accomodations look like. First, the views :

Yes, that's right, I have five hundred feet of balcony. Here :

Alright, let's see the interior then!

But enough still life, let's see the activites!

I bet you never thought you'd get to see it, huh. Well, here it is...

Here's a stray thought : if yours ain't bruised... they also ain't yours. Naimean ?

And now thus sated, time to go out!

Very nice Georgian restaurant, where the girls had their first sip of Georgian wine, and also things were discussed of a nature so deliciously subtle, so satisfyingly elegant, mere virtual digitized paper can not convey.

Then there was a night, and then the next day... hey! Did I mention I bought myself a cane ?

Remarkably light, too! And it hurts... like you wouldn't believe. I proceeded to try it on the asses about, very lightly and friendly-like, and I am satisfied it's one of the harsher implements in my current arsenal.

There is some disadvantage to the spending of an Eastern European's weekly wage on a polished stick and then proceeding to try it out on the asses surroundant ; other than the shell-shocked countenance of the mules aboutviii a sort of passion rises inside one, like a heroic rage, dissimile a ogni altra. "I'm kinda tempted now to go use it on various girls, like that one there. Her butt looks like it'd love it.ix" "What are you, on a rampage ?"

I will not recount what happens if you stop a Polish girl with a cute, well formed ass in the streets of Warsaw to inquire whether she speaks English (of course she does), nor what occurs if you inquire whether she's ever been caned in public before (of course she hasn't), nor whether she'd like to be. Nor will I say what happens if you point out to her that she will have to loosen her belt and lower her pants under the bubble, nor many other things. I will however say that on a different occasion, at a bus stop of all places, upon asking a girly wearing a leather harness atop her very conservative blouse+pants getup where the BDSM club is in town I ended up the center of the contributory efforts of three or four of the hussies -- who apparently all speak English and all know what they're here for.

But let's move on -- time for a spot of coffee and desert!

That's right, not only did I find myself some excellent cigars in a shop someone other than me pointed out but that's ok because I own them anyway, whole and entire and including all fruits of all their toils and labours, but even Diplomatico! Isn't that a grand old time!

Or so you'd think, at any rate.

That's a nice building. I don't know what it's for or what it does, but there it is, at any rate.

Shall we go into that church there on the right ?

I mean why not, right, we're only walking about...

Those two derpy kids spent the entire interval of my stay there moving the rug roller at the shaky rate of one inch per minute, with plenty of back and forth, dithering and unintentional slapstick. I eventually went over and explain to them how to do it -- specifically that you hold one end in a firm grasp and roll the other, but they were having none of it, "that doesn't work either" and assorted bullcrap. Part of the problem, of course, being that they sent two kids to do one man's job, and well... it doesn't bruise quite as well. Nor does it work nearly as well, nor anything else.

Catholics, what can you do.

Perhaps it's time for some twat I mean, pierogi ?

I do not at all remember why the hell I thought that was so funny even now, nor what exactly the link to this picture is (though I suspect there's one). Suffice it to say a chick named Daria brought us hundreds upon hundreds of pierogi, large quantities of unfiltered wheat beer as well as two or three servings of that cabbage with meat thing that they inconscionably deem some sort of antique tradition of theirs ; all lathered generously in remarkably sweet "sour" cream, butter, bacon etcetera. By the time we were done we were done, could hardly walk. But then again, they do have cabs.

Oh, speaking of cabs : time to get ready to go out again! Doesn't it happen quickly around here!

But first, let's take a shit, have a drink, the basics.

And here we are!

The fare tonight's gonna be prosecco by the bottle and Polish cherry vodka by the dozen shots (about a quarter liter). Like three or four of each, if memory serves (which it most eminently does not).

I bet by now you're noticing something about these shots. What can I say, must suck to be one of you average guys with a great sense of humor. The whores be lookin' for something else entirely.

I played with her clit in the little girls' smoking room, while she smoked a djarum and all the other girls tried their best to pretend like they don't notice. She gets wet if you play with her, it's the strangest thing -- and if you play with her good and hard and long she gets flooding wet. Fortunately there's always a helping hand at the ready ; I suppose if we were technically minded we'd observe she who prevents a flood's called a dyke. Maybe that's the origin of the slang term ?

But by now, enough of that, it's time to go!

Naked sluts in hotels, as per lengthy, immemorial if memorable tradition.

But... what's that ?! Oh no! The asses dun wanna go! Ho ho ho!

Holy hell no, that's not even my room -- I'm a quarter mile further down the corridor, past the bend. What would Dancing Baby Jesus do ?

And in closing...

Oh, I nearly forgotx : at some point during the past days of chaos the whole slut conclave was gathered in the bathroom upon our return from town. I needed to pee, so I simply took out the item documented above and let go. All over them, clothes, skins, hairs, faces, dresses, shoes, indiscriminately everywhere. A mad dash ensued among the sudden mermaids to get the watering rod in their mouth and thereby stop the indiscriminate deluge -- and I'd even permit the enjoyment of the fruits of such heroism for a moment or two, but then out it went again and all over everyone it rained once more.

It was great fucking fun ; we ended up with a lot of laundry and some girls incapable of dressing for a limited period, on top of unwilling (for a much further extending period). But they got so wet! I might be the happiest five year old the world has ever seen.

Ta-da.

———Instead of protesting, you could be making room in your heart for the Hungarian plural! [↩]Norway is in no way a civilised, or an European country. The Norwegian is the nigger of Europe, every negative thing you ever heard about niggers in the southern US eminently true and absolutely factual a description of these sadly shambling bits of twat cheese. They're worse than the fucking gypsies. [↩]No, really, isn't that poetically phylosophycal ? A tropical storm of dripping-wet cunt spinning around my authoritatian pole and reorganizing the world around us in the process.

I like it, and I'm keeping it. [↩]No, I mean literally, she was gazing while pouring so well, she got it all over me. To quote the perpetrator of this heinous wettening, "thanks god it's only water, else I'd really be in trouble".

But in all seriousness, it's nothing a trip to the tiny first class bathroom can't fix. Or at least set right. Or I guess... hm. How shall I explain this.

The sad truth of the matter is that most important things that happen between a man and a woman can't be explained -- and doubly so when any kind of wetness is involved. [↩]I think these congenital retards may actually be trying to copy Heathrow deliberately, as the only set of biorefuse broken in the head enough to imagine Heathrow is a good thing, rather than the sad abomination and shameful macula on white culture every actual human being immediately and intuitively understands it to be.

I'm not even fucking kidding, if you think Heathrow's anything but the devil's own work, you're probably Indian, or something equally unacceptable. Go be a "data architect" or w/e it is your replicant kind does and let you never be heard from again. [↩]I don't mean 20 dollar total, I mean a greasy piece of fried dough that'd be fit to pitch in any trucker stop in the Midwest carries, along with a thoroughly spurious pretense that it's food, a price tag of roughly 20 bucks here, once you're done noticing that the dollar's not quite an euro and notwithstanding the local knockoff "currency"'s barely worth a dime nevertheless they try to get a quarter per. [↩]Because they do not fight, and do not hurt (I don't mean "rationally", but quite on the contrary, irrationally : they do not hurt for the simple pleasure of inflicting distress and pain, as in proper rape), they therefore are predictable, the total space of their activity is not homomorphic to the actual space of possiblity, and therefore their activity is the activity equivalent of cryptographic weakness : it permits exploitation. The female state is exactly this : a large chumpatron built atop the systematised delusions of womanhood.

As you might expect, from inside the chumpatron things that do not exist carry names, such as "trolling" or "rape", or "violence" or "short selling" or "inclusive" etcetera ; whereas things that do exist, such as culturally-aggravated female inferiority, are "unknown". Not that this makes any difference, but as it happens the longest running social game (besides science) is this "let's see how long I can go before I have to step in the mud" female game -- the source of such things as acrylic nails, for instance, if you were curious. "How long before I have to do some manual labour" is the whole of that game, and why they binge-watch soaps but only if there's others to compete at it with!

And so... how long before someone steps through the bubble bearing a belt ? Inquiring cunts wish to know! [↩]See what I did there ? Ass, mule ? Yes ? Yay me! [↩]This is true, incidentally. Female flesh loves bruising, not indiscriminately nor anonymously, but in the right context from the right hand, utterly loves bruising like it loves naught else. [↩]This is as far from a complete account as could be had ; a lot of stuff is missing, such as for instance that one time when I capped a five+ mile walk by having them kiss, and suck and lick and fondle my feet, spending the next hour pampered like an Oriental tyrant while inquiring tongues went in all places, dutifully replacing sweat with saliva only to remove the enzyme once again a moment later. It's a delicious scent, from what I'm told, that of Master's sweaty feet. Coming as it does with the achingly overwhelming hum of being a good girl, I'm not even surprised it would be. What else can ever be delicious besides the bliss of grace ?

Or, for that matter, that other time when, deciding to fuck one in the ass, sent the other for a pair of handcuffs and then proceeded to have the buttslut tie herself to the ballustrade on the balcony, atop a busy intersection mid day. She waved to the passersby as I had my way with her, and then I was done, and I left, leaving her there. Because there's much more important things in this world than a nude slut with an enlarged rectum dangled seductively atop a crowd of locals, such as for instance I don't remember what. (Fret not, for she was not left there forever -- eventually I sent the other to undo her, except for that brief interlude of "hm... I wonder where are the keys ?!" "Don't tell me I didn't take the handcuff keys!".)

But, all in good fun, yes ? And think of it, they have no naked girls on huge posters here like in that other catholic country famous for its sluts. [↩]

« Life's a helva gumdrop, you know ?

No Such lAbs (S.NSA), Statement on Q2 2019 »

Category: La pas prin lume

Saturday, 29 June, Year 11 d.Tr.

Diccionariul Banacean -- de lucruri, fapte si locuri imdepartate si inportante

dedicat de autorele tinerei demoazele Emma Portante, quelle fleur que...

Tuesday, 30 April, Year 11 d.Tr.

Derpy Sluttyev, or how shall I call this...

Motto:

mp_en_viaje: aand hello from derpy ukraine.

diana_coman: lolz, what did the ukr do?

diana_coman: or, most likely, not do

mp_en_viaje: it's basically greater timisoara,

somewhat larger, somewhat more decrepit, ~same really.

Might as well go into detail, huh.

Above, the immigration queue. Kiev has the tiniest airport that ever graced a rural community of about 50 thousand or so souls -- the whole thing is like three rooms and their respective corridors.

Yet nevertheless, in spite of minuscule traffic, they manage to produce queues!

Depicted above, just about the entire contents of a mostly full 200-seater ; the Ukrainian immigration process produced a monstruous queue almost worthy of say Istanbul, a place where 2-5k people land every ten minutes. This because... well... derpystan hasn't figured out how to use multiple booths yet! The booths are physicaly there, whoever was contracted to build this mini-airport thing did understand how airporting goes in principle ; but... the having's not quite enough, not by itself. Gotta also use. And... well...

On top of everything else, they take 5minutes+ per random traveller ; most everyone is out of there in ~15 seconds, but then some people go through at the rate of ten per hour. Thus after sitting in the queue for a boring ten minutes or so during which it scarcely moved two feet, I was just about ready to throw a hissy fit -- demand to see the whoever the fuck is in charge and thunderbolt my finest at him. But then... the queue starting moving, and Hannah's prediction (~fifteen minutes) was satisfied to the minute. What happened ?!

What happened is complicated, but typical : after the Russkis came in with the rape&fucksticks, whatever was left of the Derpistanis decided to show them!!! and so created an insane process with fingerprinting and complicated paperwork, to be applied to Russian nationals only. It didn't occur to them however to also separate "Russian national" from "Foreigners" queues, so that everyone non-Russian could admire live before their eyes how much and how deeply it sucks to be Russian (according to the Ukrainian immigration authorities), which'd be pretty much the only way they'd actually collect the downstream benefit of their action.

Instead of this, Derpystan deemed it right and proper to simply have me wait in line behind some Russian that'll take forever. I don't know whether the tall chick in front of me is Russian or Lebanese (ok, I could venture a guess, but still), all I notice is that the process randomly takes either seconds or minutes, which of course pisses me off, but it pisses me off at the Ukrainians as the obvious guilty party. Thus instead of gathering the actual benefit of their anti-Russian legislation, in the shape of me pointing and laughing at the tall chick stuck somewhere way behind (and her getting butthurt from being laughed at by all the affluent foreigners -- pretty much the only thing that can penetrate the Ru-grade thick skull, now as in 1719), they just end up with a buncha pissed off non-Russian foreigners on their hands (and a buncha Russians confirmed in their belief that Ukrs are too stupid to live, and if given a gun will shoot own foot).

I delve into detail here because it is deeply illustrative -- this is quite what I mean by derpy, and it's systematically and throughout repeated, reconstructed and universal in Ukraina.

Yet the (very comfortable, and quite well placed, and well managed and well run) hotel has... door keys! They can't give you multiples, though ; and the rooms contain two forks and two spoons. Why save on that ? Well...

Nothing reminds me more of the clubs in the good old days, back when the world still worked, than this balcony. Sit and watch the titsea undulate beneath, pick what you want.

What, you think I'm kidding ?

Here's a metro station. The metro is inconvenient, labyrintine, ill lit and ill signalled, overfull and in numerous details shockingly reminiscent of Buenos Aires. Which I suspect is not at all a spurious similarity -- they're both "countries" of "nations" of orcs that wish to present white being maintained into some semblance of credibility by free Euro money, such as is available.

The locals are peculiarly cute about this, too. They go about self-advertising to each other among themselves a putative belief that they'll actually be allowed to join the EU, at some point in the future! And furthermore, that this "joining" will, somehow, conceivably make some sort of difference.

You know, the limp-dick European Union that didn't take Turkey back in the 2000s, when Turkey wanted to and the EU could've, conceivably, absorbed it. The sad, hopeless European Union that meanwhile completely fucking bankrupted itself, and all but ensured an enduring foray into the inconsequential with morons like May, Merkel and the rest of the oldwoman orchestra at the helm. That EU will... let Ukraina join. How the fuck ? Look at a map sometime, seriously now, how is this supposed to work ?

Do you know what there isn't any of, for a three mile radius around that picture ? Convenience stores. There's nothing like a 7/11, there's nowhere to buy a thing of milk, or even a bottle of water. Just little bistros and knick-knack stores and assorted nonsense as far as the eye can see, what, you might want to not have to transport a pound of carrots five miles ? But... but... that wouldn't be derpy enough!

So, an Europe that increased its "households with no running water" per capita figure by a degree of magnitude (and its "schools with no running water" per capita figure by two or so degrees of magnitude) when it let Romania join (and never fucking recovered, nor ever will) is going to... what exactly, build the missing ten trillion instances of ten thousand different things that inexplicably aren't here ?

How ?! Just fucking... how ?!

That's a "local homebrew alcohol" paddle. Guess who got paddled with it ?

By the way, from left to right : almost excellent, utterly horrible, best excellent, most excellent, kinda horrible and somewhat dubious. Guess who made the classification ?

Above : upon trying mystery murky drink #2.

Below : upon my announcement that this is now an official harem punishment drink. Notice the female tendency to seek support in each other. Womens' styles are more co-operative, as they say.

I'm picking up a book!

There's a lot of ye olde sovok memorabilia and nostalgia items about ; both in this particular venue and throughout the country in general. Though I suspect you've perhaps already noticed.

Yes, the word "Penthouse" is scribbled on that sad brownstone tenement, fit to head the fleet of the proudest slumlord. Go ahead and ask me again, "derpy how ?", why not, I'm here all night.

Some kind of subteranean entrance ; honestly I've never seen holes this fucking oppresively sad anywhere besides maybe bucharest.

We're ahem. I might be taking the real harem out to check out that putative penthouse harem later. We see.

Iconographic confusion. What's the letter M really mean, anyways ?

But, enough of the day, time to move into the night. A night during which my cock has been in so many eager, youthful mouths I lost tracki. This is no kind of rhetorical exageration ; at one illustrative point I still remember, after taking a piss I turned away from the toilet and into the hallway, cock in hand, so my slave can lick it clean (why use more paper than one has to, amirite ?). This nearby slut we hadn't even talked to yet (but who was hopefully eighteen, I guess ?) pounced on her and sucked the salty right out of her mouth. Hawt!ii

I say the world needs more parties like that, and more toilet lines like that at parties like that.

I'm tempted to call this the metawhorsosis. Doesn't it have a certain ding to it ?

Bimbo whorganizing the show.

The sluts were some of the star attractions of the fetish party, I'm really good at caning them and they're really good at being canned by me, so there was a lotta applause and such. Go sluts!

This is a sushi joint, which wasn't merely open at four in the morning ; it had its happy hour!!! then. Can you believe this shit ? I know of no place in this world, not fucking Boston, not fucking New York, not fucking anywhere you have such party infrastructure at the ready.

Are you fucking kidding me, restaurants ready to go for when you're done drinking ? Sushi ? Tom Yam ?! Holy shit I'm in love!!!

Pretty cool and comme il faut, neh ? Yet on the other hand...

This is Ukraina. I can't say I don't like it ; but it sure as fuck can get pretty infuriating a tratti.

———This, as of Saturday morning, mind you. I landed here Friday evening.

Meanwhile I finally managed to wash most of the lipstick and eyeliner potpourri offa it (no small feat, some of that waterproof shit can be hard to remove), yet I still can't produce anything like an accurate count.

Ukraina, still holding the slut crown of braided hair and flowers up higher than everyone. [↩]I know this "sounds incredible", but the thing with public sex is... I have witnesses! [↩]

« The Tale of Three Soups, or Goodbye Minsk!

thelastpsychiatrist.com - Are Certain Behaviors -- And Jobs -- More Masculine? And Out Of Our Control? Adnotated. »

Category: La pas prin lume

Saturday, 27 July, Year 11 d.Tr.

Deluge in Kiev, and other excess stories.

Intro

meanwhile in derpistani lulz :

it just rained for maybe 15-20 minutes

(admittedly kinda hard) and...

kiev is now flooded,

foot tall waves in the "street"

But before we get to this secondi flooding documented on Trilema...

Very nice sushi joint ; the quantity of quality eateries in Kiev is mindblowing, especially after the sadness called Minsk.

Here's me handling the derpiest currency in the current world (other than Argentina's, of course).

The first time I visited with my local banking agent, he was more than happy to satisfy my "larger denominations, please" by breaking out his stock of 500 grivna bills (worth about 0.002 BTC each), blowing the dust off of them and then adding some 200s to meet the (very modest) sum I was there for. Yesterday however... he was out of anything besides the 200s, apparently the highest denomination genuinely circulating here -- I'm guessing that stock of 500s was really for decorating the Christmas tree, or set aside for ritual use during the biennuial Bankerissance Faire, or who knows, kept as a prop for when TV crews need to do one of those utterly meaningless "illustrations" for news stories.

In any case, a modest restaurant meal for three comes to eleven bills, it's like paying in leaves.

This is what Summer showers look like here.

And now back to your regularly scheduled TLP programming! Thanks for tuning in!

———The count is completely innacurate, there's pics of washed away bridges and roads and so on. [↩]

« thelastpsychiatrist.com - Are Law Schools Lying To Their Applicants? Adnotated.

thelastpsychiatrist.com - Aren't Two Antipsychotics Better Than One? The Most Important Article on Psychiatry, Part 3. Adnotated. »

Category: Zsilnic

Monday, 29 July, Year 11 d.Tr.

Dark Passage

Dark Passagei is a short hop skip an' a jump straight into Plot Hole Central.

The movie makes no fucking sense whatsoever, it's not a matter of fridge logic, it's more the case everyone ever involved in any capacity with this script was never in their whole life sober for five god damned straight minutes. Get a load of this absurdity extrusion : a man breaks out of San Quentin. By himself. He just makes it into a barel and out the gate atop an open bed truck, not even a lid on the damned thing. Nobody's waiting for him. He's got no change of clothes. Nothing. Some woman picks him up, who was all into him during the trial but somehow magically abstained from writing him weekly letters in jail, notwithstanding she coincidentally is right there in the foothills and runs over to pick him up, so they don't keep her house under surveillance at any point (notwithstanding the indetecting "detectives" are sewn so thick into the woodwork, they harass poor vagrants in derelict diners at the wee hours of the morning). Then a cab driver takes him to the best facial reconstruction surgeon in town, which genuinely exists in the 1940s, and which is just naturally within the acquaintance horizon of the average cabbie -- who incidentally wants nothing for this, not even a tip, he just did it for the love of a stranger's eyes. Also speaking of eyes, the work's gonna "mostly focus around the eyes", easily the hardest bit of skin to operate upon, but also a) the part that's left without any bandaging and b) the only part that's still functional, such that the man can't gesture but has to blink his agreement once off the magic chair. Oh and also, the doctor wouldn't have done if he were a real killer (which he can judge presumably by the mug's mug) and the bandaids have to come off after one week, just like that, no further anything involved. And then everyone just falls from heights to their death by accident of convenience.

It's a mess ; but the portion leading in, filmed in first person, oozes a certain tension, a dark gritty voltage anticipating both Hitchcock, the videogame and gonzo pornography. The underlying substance's very directly and self-obviously noir, and the failure has the merit of describing and exposing more deeply and cleanly that conceit than more artful, composed and therefore convincing offerings. You get some understanding of human anatomy from watching ballerinas for hours, but you get a lot more from one glimpse of a compound fracture poking through the skin -- failure's more instructive than function.

Bacall's indeed very pretty, facially, and they never film anything else practically speaking ; Moorehead's exceptional in the role of the proud, argutious womanii, perhaps her very best role, minute for minute.

There's worse things to do in bed than watch this thing. Then again, there's also better.

———1947, by Delmer Daves, with Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Agnes Moorehead. [↩]And also very well illustrates, in just a few strokes, the period function and functioning of the "sporting" girl, the wanton slut. Once she's made it in a black book all the friends' friends of friends etc will come a'knocking one evening or other ; but her suggestive usage of the kneeling pillow right there underhand specifically for the purpose's strictly masterful.

Yes, darlings, your 1940s great-granny was way the fuck more deft and sexually adept than you are today. "Progress" and "technology" ain't gonna suck it for you, aite ? [↩]

« Sadly Frankfurt's fucked.

Dance Flick »

Category: Trilematograf

Monday, 14 October, Year 11 d.Tr.

Dance Flick

Dance Flicki is easily the best product of the ultimate sellout crew. Obama might've acted white enough to get into the White House, but the Wayans acted white enough to beat all other blackface shows offa the face of the Earth!

The film's funny. Excessively, painfully funny. It's all built out of visual gags atop a thoroughly & viguriotously post-structuralist understructure with no shits given whatsoever ; unlike the earlier offerings it makes no concessions, and especially no attempt at placating the tedious nigger lobby, or for that matter anything else. The first time Hannah's duck ever encountered fish (in the shape of some leftover sushi) it ate, what ate, it vacuumed that shit up like it was not ever coming back ; this little squeaky toy with a stubbly little beak, chomping on tiny trocitos the size of its deglutitory canal for dear life. Then it got a little amazed, singleminded dedication subsiding in its tiny velociraptor eyes, suddenly awash in confusion. Then it lost the battle : took one half step backwards, grew dizzy, its head shaking, its grain-sized knees buckling. The diminutive beak opened and it hoarked chunks about, around and all over, with this indicible expression of regret. The overstuffed minigullet emptied with a faint hiss, like a two ounce leather bag someone packed pneumatically. And then it came through : shook its head, got again its bearings, and attacked the little piles of vomitfishchunks, to get back at least a little bit, a small part, something! Until this film, that was the definitive visual representation of this lizzardbrain drive -- but since this film, the dude dipping his hamburger in his own vomit for relish... how, tell me how can you beat that ?

The scope is uncharacteristically ample for blacksploitation (which it still is, of course it is, what the hell could it ever be -- it's with blacks, innit ?), it even includes a Little Miss Sunshine parody! And the lead's fucking ugly, and there's not even any drive to "marriage" and the rest of the retarded "romantic" firm requirements of the tedious old cunt lobby...

I'd say you should see it, mostly because every time someone watches this thing Bing Crosby date rapes an underage niece of Al Shrapton's in the "custodian" closet of a DNC fundraiser. #metoo

———2009, by and with a buncha Wayans (illustrations below) and Tarah Paige (the stripper poledancing scene).

Aaand since you'll probably need the white trash also...

Aite ? [↩]

« Dark Passage

How Germany got itself banned, and Western Europe altogether isn't all that far behind. »

Category: Trilematograf

Monday, 14 October, Year 11 d.Tr.

Cum a trait Ivan Evgheenievici.

Ivan Evgheenievici lucra intr-o fabrica.

Intr-o zi a venit la Ivan Evgheenievici supraveghetorul si i-a zis de la obraz : "uite mai Ivan Evgheenievici, asa si pe dincolo". Dar Ivan Evgheenievici i-a raspuns simplu sefului : "Jet!", si si-a vazut de ale lui mai departe.

Ivan Evgheenievici a fost dat afara din fabrica. Dupa ce-a fost dat afara din fabrica, Ivan Evgheenievici s-a angajat lucrator comercial.

Intr-o zi a venit la Ivan Evgheenievici responsabilul delegat si i-a spus clar in fata : "domnule Ivan Evgheenievici, uite asa si pe dincolo". Dar Ivan Evgheenievici i-a intors-o ferm responsabilului delegat : "Jet!", si si-a vazut de ale lui mai departe.

Lui Ivan Evgheenievici i-a fost desfacut contractul de lucrator comercial. Dupa ce i-a fost desfacut contractul de lucrator comerical, Ivan Evgheenievici s-a apucat de rapit fete de liceu, pe care le vindea la tirg, peste granita.

Intr-o zi a venit la Ivan Evgheenievici seful tirgului engros de curve proaspete de peste granita si a racnit la el : "bai Ivan Evgheenievici, fi antena, asa si pe dincolo". Dar Ivan Evgheenievici l-a scuipat in frunte cu "Jet!", si si-a vazut de ale lui mai departe.

Dupa Ivan Evgheenievici au trimis atunci racheti asasini ca sa-l asasineze. Daca a vazut asa, Ivan Evgheenievici s-a apucat si el sa asasineze in stinga si-n dreapta.

Intr-o zi a venit la Ivan Evgheenievici Moartea (Morteevici) si i-a sopit discret la ureche : "Ivvvvannnn Evvvvvgheeeeeennnievvvvviccccci, bau!". Dar Ivan Evgheenievici i-a raspuns sec Mortii : "Jet!", si si-a vazut de ale lui mai departe.

Astfel a trait Ivan Evgheenievici.

« A catagraphy, or the remains of a bathroom

59 Particulars laid down for the Regulating of things. A selection. »

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte

Wednesday, 11 September, Year 11 d.Tr.

Corydon

Find below (both in original and personal translation) a Romanian poem originally titled "Corydon"i by a somewhat obscure Romanian author (one Radu Stanca). I made the English version rather Scottish deliberately and, in my view, quite deservedly.

Sunt cel mai frumos din orasul acesta,

Pe strazile pline cand ies n-am pereche,

Atat de gratios port inelu-n ureche

Si-atat de-nflorite cravata si vesta.

Sunt cel mai frumos din orasul acesta.

Nascut din incestul luminii cu-amurgul,

Privirile mele dezmiarda genunea,

De mine vorbeste-n oras toata lumea,

De mine se teme in taina tot burgul.

Sunt Printul penumbrelor, eu sunt amurgul...

Nu-i chip sa ma scap de priviri patimase,

Prin parul meu vanat, subtiri trec ca ata,

Si toti ma intreaba: sunt moartea, sunt viata ?

De ce-am ciorapi verzi, pentru ce fes de pase ?

Si nu-i chip sa scap nici pe strazi marginase...

Panglici, cordelute, nimicuri m-acopar,

Cand calc, parca trec pe pamant de pe-un soclu.

Un ochi (pe cel roz) il ascund sub monoclu

Si-ntregul picior cand pasesc il descopar,

Dar iute-l acopar, ca iar sa-l descopar...

Celalalt ochi (cel galben) il las sa s-amuze

Privind cum se tin toti ca scaiul de mine.

Ha ! Ha ! Dac-ati sti cat va sade de bine

Sarind, topaind dupa negrele-mi buze.

Cellalt ochi s-amuza si-l las sa s-amuze

C-un tainic creion imi sporesc frumusetea,

Fac baie in cidru de trei ori pe noapte

Si-n loc de scuipat am ceva ca un lapte,

Pantofi cu bareta-mi ajuta zveltetea

Si-un drog scos din sange de scroafa, nobletea.

Toti dintii din gura pudrati mi-s cu aur,

Mijlocul mi-e supt in coreset sub camase,

Fumez numai pipe de opiu uriase,

Pe bratul meu drept tatuat-am un taur

Si fruntea mi-e-ncinsa cu frunze de laur.

Prin lungile, tainice, unghii vopsite,

Umbrela cu cap de pisica ranjeste

Si nu stiu de ce, cand plimbarea-mi prieste,

Cand sunt multumit c-am starnit noi ispite,

Din mine ies limbi si naparci otravite.

Din mine cresc crengi ca pe pomi, matasoase,

Si insasi natura atotstiutoare

Ea insasi nu stie ce sunt: om sau floare ?

Sau numai un turn ratacit printre case,

Un turn de pe care cad pietre pretioase ?

Sunt cel mai frumos din orasul acesta,

Pe strazile pline cand ies n-am pereche,

Atat de gratios port inelu-n ureche

Si-atat de-nflorite cravata si vesta.

Sunt cel mai frumos din orasul acesta.

And now in English :

I am the most beautiful one in this town,

My equal's not seen in the populous street

So graceful, the ring in my nose, and so neat

So flowery sweet and azure, both breches 'an gown

I am the most beautiful one in this town!

Born as I were, of light's light incest at dusk

My gaze carresses carelessly th'abyss

While every soul, dreaming the bliss of my kiss

Behind leaves its body, forgotten old husk

I am the Prince of penumbra, the essence of musk

There's no way to miss the countless eyes inflamed

Through my purple hair they pass, thinner than ice

And as they wonder they look twice, then thrice.

Why the green socks, and why my hat's thusly maimed

On sidest street still I am met with multitudes untamed.

From under a bundle all cockades a' ribbons

My foot falls on earth as if coming off marbleii

One eye (that is pink) hidden by lenses that garble

My step shews the elegant gait of the gibbons

While well aired hips help the spreading of sibbens

T'other eye (that is jaundy) I permit to amuse

It's a sight, to see a whole world, like a thistle

Ensared on my wool. World of dogs chasing a whistle

Jumping an' jaunting an' fighting to figure who's whose

The eye that amuses I permit to amuse.

Mysterious crayons so contour my beauty

Three times every night I stop-bathe it in cider

My spit is akin to the juice of a spider

The shoes I wear are most complicated, and fruity,

While my morgue is well drawn in pale tinctures of duty.

All teeth I still carry are dusted in sable

My viscerae caught in a strangulation most august

I smoke only pipe, full of opium, humongous

Each part of my body is described on a label

Upon high brow lies a neat bunch of net cable

Through lengthy, mysteriously hued thicket of nails

Th'umbrella with grinning cat's head can be spied

And who knows why, when my walk swells my bosom with pride

With the enjoyment of inventing new passions, new scales

Out spurt of me slithering serpent, and railroad rails.

Of me grow tree branches consistent with silk,

And very nature, herself omniscient

Yet can't quite say if deficient's sufficient

Or merely something of towery ilk,

A wound seeping forth amethists, garnets and milk.

I am the most beautiful one in this town,

My equal's not seen in the populous street

So graceful, the ring in my nose, and so neat

So flowery sweet and azure, both breches 'an gown

I am the most beautiful one in this town!

Ta-da!

———Somewhat ineptly, considering the name's a placeholder for Greek bucolic works, whereas the subject, context and style most definitely urban in such a way as to preclude the relation. [↩]I defy you, find much more poetry rhyming marble, and ribbons. Shit language is shit language, wut. [↩]

« The three watches

Freddy Got Fingered »

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte

Sunday, 27 January, Year 11 d.Tr.

Continuing with the reflective history of the republican forum -- still on logday 659 (year 6 d.Tr.)

Yes, that's right : January 31st, 2014i was logday 659 because the republican log starts on April 13, 2012ii ; that'd make today logdate 2`646 (the d.Tr. thing is because Trilema itself starts in 2008iii).

There's no less than 2`584 lines making up logday 659, if you can believe that! No less than 26`630 wordsiv!!!

Now let's try a structured summary of the proceedings (on the left side, dash-separated, start and end lines ; categorical classification follows ; some explanation coming optionally after that, in paranthesis).

1 - 1 Ticker

2 - 6 Drama (some doge scam)

7 - 7 Reference (ongoing conversation)

8 - 9 Drama (same doge scam)

10 - 10 Ticker

11 - 16 Drama (same doge scam)

17 - 22 Signalling (I'm commissioning the Hitler paintingsv ; basically signalling happenes whenever two or more parties attempt to organize specific joint activity. It is different from discussion, which merely attempts to organize joint understanding -- with a view to possible future activity, yes, but as a potential rather than anything specific.)

23 - 23 Spam (yup, back then we actually had proto-deedbot set to spam the channel, as some kinda stotting behaviour, I retrospectively suppose)

24 - 25 Signalling (Same commission)

26 - 26 Spam

27 - 27 Ticker

28 - 36 Signalling (idem)

37 - 37 Bot (This is not a ticker, because the bot is not reacting to outside events, nor spam, because the bot's response can be fully predicted on the basis of in-channel material. It is rather what is currently deemed proper & traditional bot function.)

38 - 40 Signalling

41 - 41 Spam

42 - 43 Signalling

44 - 46 Paste (material from outside copied verbatim)

47 - 49 Drama

50 - 53 Paste

54 - 56 Drama

57 - 57 Paste

58 - 58 Bot

59 - 60 Paste

61 - 61 Drama

62 - 84 Discussion (that'd be what's currently deemed proper & traditional channel content ; different from pastes and drama somehow subtly in a comensurate manner as bot speech differs from tickers and spam -- the first an attempt to sync the proto-Republic to the outside world ; the latter churning through material to produce structured trees out of piled up ideals)

85 - 85 Bot

86 - 86 Drama

87 - 94 Signalling

95 - 95 Ticker

96 - 99 Drama

100 - 100 Ticker

101 - 106 Drama

107 - 107 Ticker

108 - 112 Drama

113 - 115 Discussion

116 - 116 Drama

117 - 117 Discussion (the fragmentation's suddenly apparent, isn't it)

118 - 118 Drama

119 - 119 Discussion

120 -120 Drama

121 - 121 Discussion

122 - 122 Drama

123 - 123 Ticker

124 - 136 Discussion

137 - 137 Ticker

138 - 168 Discussion (the discussion engine, whereby drama self-represses as discussions gear up was evident even as early as 2014 -- and, most importantly, before any explicit statement of its working, or attempt at codifying it. I personally believe this was one of the major latent necessary Republic constructors, playing approximately the same role as iron ore in human civilisation)

169 - 169 Ticker

170 - 189 Discussion (yes, there's two of them, but I judge the jurov intervention still counts)

190 - 190 Bot

191 - 191 Drama

192 - 192 Discussion

193 - 194 Drama

195 - 195 Discussion

196 - 196 Drama

197 - 241 Discussion (By now I can't keep myself from adding footnotes to the other one.)

242 - 243 Ticker

244 - 244 Paste

245 - 246 Ticker

247 - 250 Discussion

251 - 251 Ticker

252 - 253 Drama

254 - 254 Ticker

255 - 262 Drama

263 - 265 Discussion

266 - 269 Drama

270 - 270 Discussion

271 - 279 Drama

280 - 280 Discussion

281 - 281 Drama

282 - 292 Discussion

293 - 293 Ticker

294 - 296 Discussion

297 - 299 Drama

300 - 301 Discussion

302 - 304 Drama

305 - 305 Discussion

306 - 308 Drama

309 - 309 Ticker

310 - 311 Drama

312 - 312 Discussion

313 - 313 Ticker

314 - 314 Discussion

315 - 325 Drama

326 - 326 Paste

327 - 327 Bot

328 - 328 Ticker

329 - 329 Drama

330 - 330 Paste

331 - 342 Drama

343 - 345 Paste

346 - 351 Drama

352 - 354 Paste

355 - 355 Drama

356 - 356 Bot

357 - 357 Drama

358 - 358 Paste (holy hell this thing's fragmentary)

359 - 363 Drama

364 - 364 Paste

365 - 374 Drama (with some bot and paste interspersed, but whatever)

375 - 376 Ticker

377 - 390 Discussion (pretty advanced talk of optionality and closed windows for the context and the times, I guess)

391 - 391 Ticker

392 - 405 Drama

406 - 406 Paste

407 - 407 Bot

408 - 411 Drama

412 - 414 Discussion

415 - 416 Drama

417 - 417 Discussion

418 - 418 Drama

419 - 419 Discussion

420 - 421 Drama

422 - 423 Discussion

424 - 424 Drama

425 - 428 Discussion

429 - 429 Drama

430 - 430 Discussion

431 - 431 Drama (also very period-typical assonautism, huh.)

432 - 433 Discussion

434 - 437 Drama

438 - 438 Discussion

439 - 454 Drama

455 - 456 Ticker

457 - 457 Drama

458 - 504 Likbez (interestingly enough -- they listen to him much better than they listen to me ; as things currently stand I suspect this is because much fewer retards have fixed ideas on highly specialized technical topics they're just waiting for the slightest opportunity to broadcast in tedious repetitive detail. In other words -- nobody gets quite as hard for Noether as they get for that other Sheila slut.)

505 - 505 Ticker

506 - 513 Likbez

514 - 516 Drama

517 - 521 Likbez

522 - 524 Drama

525 - 526 Likbez

527 - 527 Drama

528 - 528 Ticker

529 - 538 Drama

539 - 539 Bot (not really that great)

540 - 542 Drama

543 - 543 Ticker

544 - 550 Drama

551 - 551 Discussion (alf makes a solid point, and one that still stands today, at the root of a well developed tree even)

552 - 552 Drama

553 - 555 Discussion

556 - 562 Drama

563 - 563 Bot (also fucking terrible, looks like Nede)

564 - 564 Drama

565 - 565 Discussion

566 - 566 Ticker

567 - 574 Drama

575 - 576 Ticker (notice the {} compression device btw, that was pretty cool ; and also if memory serves one of the first proto-Republican items specced in the republican manner, in channel, on a need driven basis and all that)

577 - 580 Discussion

581 - 581 Ticker

582 - 585 Discussion

586 - 586 Ticker

587 - 594 Discussion (with strong likbez edges -- this item incidentally was a characteristic strong point of early alf, his very strong likbez-discussion linking skills sparkled like diamonds. Nowadays the larger (to a surprisingly fine granularity of large-ness) items are "well known", such that they'll be passed by reference if at all, and to the superficial viewer this may alter the superficial view of the field. Then again, what the fuck does the superficial viewer ever know.)

595 - 595 Paste

596 - 596 Bot

597 - 597 Paste

598 - 598 Likbez

599 - 599 Paste

600 - 600 Drama

601 - 601 Likbez

602 - 606 Discussion

607 - 607 Ticker

608 - 615 Discussion (amusingly, S.NSA was in need of a next product even then!)

616 - 616 Drama

617 - 617 Bot (holy shit what the fuck is this, not even worth the mention! Either I've grown old or else 2014-era bait used to be utter shit)

618 - 644 Drama (very tenuously "Romanian whore words likbez", I guess)

645 - 645 Bot (even more useless than bait)

646 - 691 Discussion

692 - 692 Paste

693 - 707 Drama

708 - 709 Ticker

710 - 718 Discussion

719 - 719 Ticker

720 - 720 Paste

721 - 726 Discussion

727 - 727 Paste

728 - 746 Drama.

747 - 747 Paste

748 - 748 Bot

749 - 756 Drama

757 - 757 Ticker

758 - 760 Drama

761 - 761 Paste

762 - 762 Bot

763 - 763 Ticker

764 - 776 Discussion (though nonsense it may be, what can you do)

777 - 777 Ticker

778 - 783 Discussion

784 - 784 Paste

785 - 785 Bot

786 - 812 Drama

813 - 813 Paste (considering the github profile shows ~1k contributions in the last year ... anyone wanna drop this guy a line maybe ?)

814 - 814 Bot

815 - 816 Discussion

817 - 817 Ticker

818 - 824 Drama (incidentally, do you notice the very scarcevi presence of lolz, as in "lolz and drama" throughout this log ?)

Arriving at this point, about one third of the way in or so, and after having sunken something over four hours into this thing, I find myself embroiled in a conflict : the time I'd have to allocate to complete the task at hand would overrun the timeslots available (principally because I'm meeting some local cunt my slaves dredged up at eight, but be that as it may). There'd be, through linear interpolation, at least another eight hours more to just go through the raw material (and even if though systematic improvement borne by experience I might work more effectually and therefore faster, how much time can one shave this way here, an hour ? maybe two ?), and then I also wanted to do some processing on the structured data, draw some conclusions, all that good stuff. It'd add what, at least two more hours ? Yet it's past two in the evening now, adding eight to ten hours atop that makes it night, and well...

The solutions before me are the exact same ones as before anyone else in the same situation : either I blow off the timeslots, and I just persevere with whatever I happen to have in my hand forever, or however long it may take in any case ; or else I drop this thing, do the other thing, and pick up this thing again later.

I kinda hate doing that, honestly -- for purely subjective reasons I'm sure I very much prefer finishing things to switching out of things. So... well, there's obviously the cheating solution of pretending I wasn't going to go any further anyway, slap some rushed statistics atop right about here and call it good. Yet that idea doesn't much appeal, to be honest, because this article will live on like everything else on Trilema, and I'm going to be stuck looking upon its aborted face every so often from now on forever ? Meh. How about, instead of that, this other cheating solution that splits the difference : I'm going to publish what I have so far, incomplete as it may be, and either continue it later directly here, or maybe write a second part different article, or... I see what I'll do then. This seems to optimize all desirable outcomesvii while minimizing all undesirable outcomes, from my current point of view.

So... laters, I got things to do and holes to check out.

825 - 825 Ticker

826 - 826 Drama

827 - 829 Spam

830 - 832 Ticker

833 - 834 Drama

835 - 837 Ticker

838 - 828 Drama

839 - 844 Ticker

845 - 845 Spam

846 - 846 Bot

847 - 847 Spam

848 - 848 Drama

849 - 861 Ticker

862 - 862 Drama

863 - 863 Ticker

864 - 864 Spam

865 - 865 Bot

866 - 893 Ticker

894 - 894 Paste

895 - 895 Bot

896 - 897 Drama

898 - 899 Ticker

900 - 901 Drama

902 - 902 Ticker

903 - 903 Paste

904 - 904 Drama

905 - 905 Bot

906 - 907 Drama

908 - 908 Ticker

909 - 942 Drama

943 - 943 Paste

944 - 944 Drama

945 - 946 Paste

947 - 1019 Dramaviii

1020 - 1020 Ticker

1021 - 1024 Drama

1025 - 1025 Paste

1026 - 1026 Bot

1027 - 1028 Drama

1029 - 1029 Paste

1030 - 1034 Drama

1035 - 1035 Spam

1036 - 1036 Bot

1037 - 1051 Drama

1052 - 1052 Ticker

1053 - 1063 Spam (admittedly the drama/spam border is a little fuzzy)

1064 - 1070 Ticker

1071 - 1071 Paste

1072 - 1073 Drama

1074 - 1074 Ticker

1075 - 1076 Drama

1077 - 1078 Ticker

1079 - 1095 Drama

1096 - 1096 Ticker

1097 - 1098 Spam

1099 - 1099 Ticker

1100 - 1101 Spam (or I guess drama, huh)

1102 - 1102 Ticker

1103 - 1103 Spam

1104 - 1104 Bot

1105 - 1105 Spam

1106 - 1106 Bot

1107 - 1127 Discussion (me trying to get jurov to get off ass, start Slovak party. Didn't take.)

1128 - 1128 Ticker

1129 - 1211 Discussionix

1212 - 1212 Ticker

1213 - 1217 Discussion

1218 - 1218 Ticker

1219 - 1225 Discussion

1226 - 1227 Ticker

1228 - 1235 Discussionx

1236 - 1236 Paste

1237 - 1237 Bot

1238 - 1254 Discussion (including mention of Thomas Bata, the guy who invented what you "inexplicably" and "for no reason" call "psychological pricing" or "charm pricing" or "price ending" or just about anything, anything whatsoever, just as long it's not "Bata pricing". It could be five hundred consonants in an uninterrupted, unpronounceable string, you'll much rather say that than reference the inventor and thereby admit your indebenture to your betters. Right ?).

1255 - 1255 Paste

1256 - 1256 Bot

1257 - 1259 Drama

1260 - 1260 Ticker

1261 - 1265 Discussion

1266 - 1266 Paste

1267 - 1267 Bot

1268 - 1287 Drama

1288 - 1289 Ticker

1290 - 1299 Drama

1300 - 1300 Ticker

1301 - 1306 Drama

1307 - 1307 Ticker

1308 - 1317 Drama

1318 - 1320 Ticker

1321 - 1322 Drama

1323 - 1323 Ticker

1324 - 1327 Drama

1328 - 1328 Ticker

1329 - 1340 Drama

1341 - 1341 Ticker

1342 - 1355 Drama

1356 - 1358 Ticker

1359 - 1361 Drama

1362 - 1362 Ticker

1363 - 1364 Discussion

1365 - 1366 Ticker

1367 - 1367 Discussion

1368 - 1370 Ticker

1371 - 1371 Discussion

1372 - 1377 Ticker

1378 - 1387 Discussion

1388 - 1388 Paste

1389 - 1389 Bot

1390 - 1397 Discussion

1398 - 1410 Ticker

1411 - 1413 Ticker

1414 - 1414 Bot

1415 - 1420 Discussion

1421 - 1421 Paste

1422 - 1422 Bot

1423 - 1423 Paste

1424 - 1424 Bot

1425 - 1436 Drama, basically. I know, I know.

1437 - 1437 Ticker

1438 - 1440 Drama

1441 - 1441 Ticker

1442 - 1445 Drama

1446 - 1446 Ticker

1447 - 1447 Discussion

1448 - 1450 Ticker

1451 - 1456 Drama

1457 - 1457 Ticker

1458 - 1475 Drama

1476 - 1479 Ticker

1480 - 1483 Drama

1484 - 1484 Paste

1485 - 1485 Bot

1486 - 1491 Drama

1492 - 1492 Ticker

1493 - 1494 Paste

1495 - 1495 Ticker

1496 - 1497 Drama

1498 - 1501 Paste

1502 - 1504 Ticker

1505 - 1507 Paste

1508 - 1508 Bot

1509 - 1510 Drama

1511 - 1511 Ticker

1512 - 1520 Drama

1521 - 1521 Paste

1522 - 1522 Bot

1523 - 1523 Drama

1524 - 1524 Ticker

1525 - 1527 Spam

1528 - 1528 Bot

1529 - 1535 Drama

1536 - 1536 Paste

1537 - 1537 Bot

1538 - 1558 Drama

1559 - 1559 Ticker

1560 - 1561 Drama

1562 - 1562 Ticker

1563 - 1568 Drama

1569 - 1569 Ticker

1570 - 1575 Spam

1576 - 1577 Ticker

1578 - 1578 Spam

1579 - 1579 Ticker

1580 - 1580 Spam

1581 - 1581 Ticker

1582 - 1584 Spam

1585 - 1585 Ticker

1586 - 1586 Drama

1587 - 1587 Ticker

1588 - 1591 Drama

1592 - 1592 Ticker

1593 - 1602 Drama

1603 - 1603 Ticker

1604 - 1610 Drama

1611 - 1612 Ticker

1613 - 1618 Drama

1619 - 1620 Ticker

1621 - 1622 Spam

1623 - 1623 Ticker

1624 - 1624 Discussion

1625 - 1625 Ticker

1626 - 1630 Spam

1631 - 1631 Ticker

1632 - 1634 Discussion

1635 - 1635 Bot

1636 - 1636 Ticker

1637 - 1649 Discussion

1650 - 1650 Ticker

1651 - 1654 Discussion

1655 - 1655 Ticker

1656 - 1672 Discussion

1673 - 1675 Spam

1676 - 1676 Discussion

1677 - 1690 Spam

1691 - 1691 Bot

1692 - 1695 Spam

1696 - 1696 Ticker

1697 - 1698 Spam

1699 - 1711 Discussion

1712 - 1712 Spam

1713 - 1713 Discussion

1714 - 1714 Paste

1715 - 1715 Bot

1716 - 1716 Discussion

1717 - 1717 Ticker

1718 - 1792 Discussion

1793 - 1793 Ticker

1794 - 1810 Discussion

1811 - 1811 Ticker

1812 - 1815 Discussion

1816 - 1816 Ticker

1817 - 1819 Discussion

1820 - 1820 Paste

1821 - 1821 Bot

1822 - 1826 Discussion

1827 - 1828 Ticker

1829 - 1854 Drama, mostly.

1855 - 1855 Paste

1856 - 1858 Drama

1859 - 1859 Bot

1860 - 1865 Drama

1866 - 1866 Paste

1867 - 1871 Drama

1872 - 1872 Ticker

1873 - 1873 Drama

1874 - 1874 Bot

1875 - 1875 Paste

1876 - 1876 Ticker

1877 - 1882 Drama

1883 - 1883 Paste

1884 - 1884 Bot

1885 - 1885 Paste

1886 - 1889 Discussion

1890 - 1890 Ticker

1891 - 1896 Discussion

1897 - 1897 Ticker

1898 - 1902 Discussion

1903 - 1904 Ticker

1905 - 1907 Discussion

1908 - 1908 Ticker

1909 - 1910 Drama

1911 - 1911 Ticker

1912 - 1912 Discussion

1913 - 1913 Ticker

1914 - 1919 Discussion

1920 - 1920 Paste

1921 - 1921 Bot

1922 - 1923 Ticker

1924 - 1937 Drama

1938 - 1939 Ticker

1940 - 1944 Drama

1945 - 1946 Ticker

1947 - 1958 Drama

1959 - 1959 Ticker

1960 - 1960 Discussion

1961 - 1961 Paste

1962 - 1962 Bot

1963 - 1968 Discussion

1968 - 1969 Ticker

1970 - 1973 Discussion

1974 - 1974 Paste

1975 - 1975 Bot

1976 - 1976 Drama

1977 - 1977 Ticker

1978 - 1991 Discussion

1992 - 1992 Bot

1993 - 2017 Discussion

2018 - 2018 Ticker

2019 - 2041 Discussion

2042 - 2042 Paste

2043 - 2043 Discussion

2044 - 2044 Bot

2045 - 2108 Discussion

2109 - 2109 Paste

2110 - 2114 Discussion

2115 - 2115 Paste

2116 - 2123 Discussion

2124 - 2125 Ticker

2126 - 2128 Discussion

2129 - 2129 Paste

2130 - 2130 Bot

2131 - 2147 Discussion ("Altcoin" the altcoin was pretty much born here.)

2148 - 2148 Ticker

2149 - 2157 Drama

2158 - 2158 Ticker

2159 - 2162 Drama

2163 - 2163 Ticker

2164 - 2168 Drama

2169 - 2169 Paste

2170 - 2170 Bot

2171 - 2171 Drama

2172 - 2172 Ticker

2173 - 2173 Paste

2174 - 2174 Ticker

2175 - 2195 Drama

2196 - 2196 Paste

2197 - 2197 Bot

2198 - 2218 Drama

2219 - 2219 Ticker

2220 - 2225 Drama

2226 - 2226 Ticker

2227 - 2236 Drama

2237 - 2237 Ticker

2238 - 2241 Drama

2242 - 2242 Ticker

2243 - 2243 Bot

2244 - 2253 Drama

2254 - 2254 Paste

2255 - 2255 Bot

2256 - 2263 Drama

2264 - 2264 Paste

2265 - 2265 Bot

2266 - 2270 Drama

2271 - 2271 Ticker

2272 - 2272 Spam

2273 - 2273 Paste

2274 - 2295 Discussion

2296 - 2296 Paste

2297 - 2321 Discussion

2322 - 2322 Ticker

2323 - 2344 Discussion

2345 - 2346 Ticker

2347 - 2364 Discussion

2365 - 2365 Ticker

2366 - 2441 Discussion

2442 - 2442 Ticker

2443 - 2450 Discussion

2451 - 2451 Ticker

2452 - 2457 Discussion

2458 - 2458 Paste

2459 - 2459 Bot

2460 - 2460 Drama

2461 - 2461 Paste

2462 - 2462 Bot

2463 - 2465 Signalling

2466 - 2471 Drama

2472 - 2472 Ticker

2473 - 2473 Paste

2474 - 2475 Drama

2476 - 2476 Ticker

2477 - 2478 Drama

2479 - 2482 Ticker

2483 - 2489 Drama

2490 - 2491 Ticker

2492 - 2492 Paste

2493 - 2493 Bot

2494 - 2495 Drama

2496 - 2496 Ticker

2497 - 2498 Dramaxi

2499 - 2499 Ticker

2500 - 2515 Discussion

2516 - 2516 Ticker

2517 - 2520 Discussion

2521 - 2522 Ticker

2523 - 2528 Discussion

2529 - 2529 Paste

2530 - 2530 Bot

2531 - 2531 Drama

2532 - 2532 Ticker

2533 - 2540 Drama

2541 - 2541 Ticker

2542 - 2559 Signalling

2560 - 2560 Bot

2561 - 2561 Signalling

2562 - 2562 Bot

2563 - 2571 Signalling

2572 - 2572 Paste

2573 - 2575 Bot

2576 - 2584 Signalling

Whew! We're done, can you believe that ?!

Now let's see some breakdown. First we're gonna

cat data.txt | awk '!(NR%1){print $3}' | sort -u | uniq

To get the list of Bot, Discussion, Drama, Likbez, Paste, Reference, Signalling, Spam, Ticker so as to then...

cat data.txt | awk '!(NR%1){print $2-$1+1" "$3}' | awk '$2 == "Bot" {Bot += $1} $2 == "Discussion" {Discussion += $1} $2 == "Drama" {Drama += $1} $2 == "Likbez" {Likbez += $1} $2 == "Paste" {Paste += $1} $2 == "Reference" {Reference += $1} $2 == "Signalling" {Signalling += $1} $2 == "Spam" {Spam += $1} $2 == "Ticker" {Ticker += $1} END {print "Bot: "Bot" ; Discussion: "Discussion" ; Drama: "Drama" ; Likbez: "Likbez" ; Paste: "Paste" ; Reference: "Reference" ; Signalling: "Signalling" ; Spam: "Spam" ; Ticker: "Ticker}'xii

thus obtaining our results :

Bot: 63 ; Discussion: 1045 ; Drama: 674 ; Likbez: 64 ; Paste: 85 ; Reference: 1 ; Signalling: 70 ; Spam: 73 ; Ticker: 260.

Actually... would you like to see percents ? I guess we could do that, yeah.

Bot: 63 (2%) ; Discussion: 1045 (44%) ; Drama: 674 (28%) ; Likbez: 64 (2%) ; Paste: 85 (3%) ; Reference: 1 (0%) ; Signalling: 70 (2%) ; Spam: 73 (3%) ; Ticker: 260 (11%).

Holy hell, look at that! I wonder how I did it ?

Not to mention... they don't even add up, we have a 95% whole!!

But moving on : discussionxiii was by far the dominant category even five years ago ; and while I could formulate a few objections to the form in which things are discussed, I daresay that if we try and weigh the substance, a day in 2014 doesn't have all that much to be ashamed of. We were lifting heavy rocks back then as well.xiv

Anyway, by now I've forgottenxv what I even wanted to do with this, so I guess it'll have to stand as it is. Here lie buried about eight hours of my time -- unlike all the other hours these get an epitaph.

———Not that notable a day as far as anyone knew before. The only item published on Trilema that day was this "No argument" piece resulting from line 451, and otherwise... do you remember anything noteworthy to have happened on that date ? [↩]IRC logs (and subsequently IRC lulz & drama -- the twin bedrock of early Bitcoin) exist that predate that date, however the cutoff is not arbitrary, but in fact the furthest from arbitrary one could have : sometime after Dragon Day I handed over a complete and correct list of loglines going back as far as I judged worth it (no kidding, I actually sat down and figured this out).

Earlier material does in fact exist, on my hard-drives as well as (likely) dozens of other people's (then again... tens of thousands of Bitcoins also "exist" in the same manner and to the same degree -- and mostly on those same people's! -- hard-drives) ; but it has relatively little to do with Bitcoin or The Most Serene Republic of Bitcoin, and relatively altogether everything to do with various randos (including yours truly) struggling with the mud and cockroaches inhabiting their own skulls.

PS. The "dragon day" thing itself is a much older reference. [↩]Though here as well material perhaps exists predating that date. [↩]Yielding an average line length of 10.3 (compared to say yesterday's 24.9, ie 1`967 words over a mere 97 lines) and an average debit of 18.5 words per minute -- about 10% of the world record or thereabouts, though in fairness that guy didn't type for a day straight at that speed.

Just... wow.

How the hell did we put up with reading all that!? [↩]This is an ongoing Trilema lolreference -- very early stuff, four digit comment indexes sorta thing. [↩]In fairness, lolz exist in drama, they're a meta-effect of it, much like rainbows exist in air. From a certain well chosen vantage any slice of air contains a rainbow, though not all rainbows are necessarily that great ; and exactly so with lolz and drama : all drama is lulzy from a certain pov, but no thing such as de-dramified lol can ever exist. Not anymore than vacuum rainbows can exist, at any rate. [↩]Consider how this choice interacts with "intellectual property" -- what happens if someone else "steals" ie continues my work, for instance ?

There's a lot buried in right here about the Republic as an intellectual approach, you know ? What will it hurt if people can read my drafts while I'm not working on them, you think ? [↩]Money shot : line 1018.

mircea_popescu: i think entire retirements will consist of strictly cataloguing the insanity that went on back in this day.

You know ? [↩]And quite a gem thereof! Some selected moneyshots :

mircea_popescu: because by 2018 it will be all "hello I'm Herp McDerp, I have 0.059876 btc in a webwallet, let me tell you all about Bitcoin"

mircea_popescu: wao-ender nothing comes of those who think about things, in my experience.

jurov: everythin *will* end up on my back

Soo... was it a back well saved ? [↩]

mircea_popescu: no, reward is there in you expressing yourself, and expressing this thing you believe in.

Right ? [↩]The naive idea at the time was that somewhere, in the magic woods or who knows where exactly, there's this vast pool of people intellectually capable of running a business, and what's really and truly needed is you know, support services for them.

Come to think about it, that's still the naive idea -- this is one of those naive ideas that seems to never fucking die, just moves about. Anyway, no, the world doesn't have more entrepreneurs not because "friction", but because "people themselves" are useless moronic fuckwits still with us because not worth a bullet and for no other reason. The world population at any given time is stuck here, yes, but stuck here in the opposite way you imagine : they're stuck here by the presence of a floor, not stuck here by the imaginary presence of an imagined ceiling. If it weren't for the ground they'd fall through ; there's no "glass ceiling" in the sky and yet they're not floating away to anywhere. [↩]Do you suppose I hand typed all of that ? Well... I didn't, hence the previous "let's extract the labels" step. It stands to reason instead of print $3 one could just do print "blabla"$3"blablasomemore"$3"again" and so on yes ?

Suddenly spyked's point is a lot closer to focus, I'd guess ? [↩]Though definitely using the term rather lightly by today's standards -- which observation slams open the doors to Pandora's temple. What portion of one man's Drama is another man's Signalling ? Which Discussion is Likbez and which Likbez is Discussion and for whom ?

Und so weiter, the problem of summarization is that, strictly speaking, summarization in the general case is impossible -- what is "gained" through shorter form is lost through narrower readership. And no, this isn't limited to "other people" -- one could get something summarized so damned well, even he "himself" can't read it anymore, a few hours later.

No man ever dips twice into the same river of words -- because it's never the same river of words and he's never the same man.You see me daily struggle with that "where the fuck was it" quest. Sometimes it succeeds, some other times it fails, yet it hasn't so far occurred to anyone to complain about Trilema being... overabridged. And yet it is, of course it is, all writing is summarization. [↩]The constant interruptions are fucking infuriating, though, I'll say that. This is visible in the immense length of the tagged summary, 565 individual fragments are required to describe the day, this is a factor of merely 0.218 holy hell.

Nevertheless, I suspect the interruptions are a lot less painful to the reader than to the summarizer, it's easier to skip lines than to create new entries in your summary. [↩]Forgotten my foot, I was going to do a real summary like the first few lines at the beginning, but it is impossible.

Sorry. [↩]

« The Barbarian Horde presents : Girandole Al'fright-o!

So what are you... »

Category: Bitcoin

Thursday, 11 July, Year 11 d.Tr.

Concedo hoc...

There's been some mommentuous evolution this morning, spurred as such often is by lateral discussion of misdeeds :

mircea_popescu: unrelatedly : hey trinque, now that there's actually multiple functional castles the time's prolly come to update the deedbot voice model into awareness of this situation. so how about a patch making voice in #trilema dependent on ~my~ wot, rather than deedbot's own ; and similarily in any castles that ask for it / you come to an understanding with the lords thereof, so they can use the voice model there if they wanna.

mircea_popescu: this way the ad-interim imaginaria of a bot's wot can be put back on the shelf where it belongs.

Neat, huh! It's the way of the future.

This draft leaves two major questions open : one being the signalling of lordship to the botsi ; the other being the licensing of castles.

Currently castlehood's a nebulous concept not specifically defined anywhere, merely flowing from curated practice ; but if one's to decouple voicing in #trilema from castle owning, obviously any and allcomers could in principle make their own abominatiou wherein to monkey after the fashion of children the comings and goings of the adults they naturally (if disavowedly) worship. The two may co-exist, but passing one for the other'd be at best harmful and in any case fraudulent, so some mechanism to distinguish legitimate castles from monkey castle's required.

At which juncture... why not make use of the deed system ? Produce a nice standard form, and grant people worthy of running their own castle a deed, something they can frame and put up on the wall, why not!

At which juncture formal considerations take hold, such as... well ? What language should this grant be spelled out in ? Obviously not english, right ? Absolutely not Romanian, either... well I guess that leaves

Ego, mircea_popescu, per accidens et pro tempore custodem de rebus hoc ultima Respublica,

Omnibus quo competit, sciant per hoc brevis et factum

Quod ego, considerans dedicatione ostensum necessitatibus Statu, et sui abnegationem quod ostendens, et dignus fidelium servitium fiat idem per eius Dominium Dominus in congruis tempus locusque ;

Et volens excitare ardor in futuro, aut saltem non possit in via tale ;

Concedo hoc titulo ad castrum , usque rescissus, cum eius reditus et eius bona, cum omnibus eius pertinentibus ut sint constructum sursum per dominum, sine reliquum vel cauda.

Datum in #trilema anno 11 et post Rempublicam quinto.

It's a draft ; let the half dozen or so currently running one, and the half dozen or so perhaps considering getting themselves one comment ; and let the whole rest of the world keep quiet, because quite plainly nobody asked it anything.

What say you, then ?

———Though on this score I'm actually growing to like diana_coman's proposal as refined, to simply admit into system what was long tacit practice -- namely that the ten integer values of the ratings actually have human names, with 10 standing for bodily expiration and (hereby) 9 standing for ennoblement. [↩]

« Successive strata of castlebuilding (spoiler : they decay over time) as part of a narrative on the greatest Italian circus in Romania and teenage sexuality

thelastpsychiatrist.com - CATIE Reloaded. Adnotated. »

Category: Bitcoin

Saturday, 14 September, Year 11 d.Tr.

Christos Ballas ("TLP", thelastpsychiatrist.com) archive

By cause already mentioned I set out to recover the historical TLP archive from further decay in the orclands.

I took the following approach :

First, I downloaded the monthly archive as available on the site (/archive.html) ;

Then, I downloaded the category-based archive, also as available on the sitei ;

Then, I spidered a collection of various other pages linking in ;

Each of these steps producedii a list of links.

Because steps 1, 2 and 3 individually produced the same list of 698 article titles, I therefore conclude I have the complete list.iii

Here is then said listiv, sorted alphabetically (older adnotations of the same material in square brackets listing the year) :

1 In 5 Cars Has A Personality Disorder

3 Important Things About The New Wikileaks Controversy

3 Media Narratives About The Middle East You Should Defend Against

4 Easy Steps Towards Weight Loss That Aren't Drugs, Diets, Or Excersise

4 Unintended Consequences of Seroquel's Adjunct to Antidepressants Indication

50% of American Kids Receive Food Stamps

$51M Vioxx Verdict Overturned

5 Signs Your Child Is a Psychopath, According To The NYT

5 Things You Need To Understand About Wikileaks Before You Celebrate

7 Things To Expect In Our Brave New World

8 Characteristics of Family Annihilators

Abusive Teens Force Their Girlfriends To Get Pregnant! (Don't Let The Truth Get In The Way Of A Good Story)

Academics Hide Drug Company Payments

Acadia Gives Up On ADP-104-- Maybe It Shouldn't Have

A Case Study On Why Policy Changes Fail: Pharma Paying Docs

According to Time, The World's Most Influential Person Is...

Accounting For Inflation It's Closer to 40, But True Anywayv

A Diagnosis Of Schizophrenia

Advancing Paternal Age And Bipolar Disorder

Advertising's Collateral Damage

A Final Thought On Cho's Mental Illness

After You Shoot Three Women, Who Should You Call?

A Generational Pathology: Narcissism Is Not Grandiosity

A Little Bird Told Me

All Girls School Or Coed? Which Is Better?

AM Radio Kids

Amy Schumer Offers You A Look Into Your Soul

An Addendum To "Ten Things Wrong With Medical Journals"vi

An Army of Narcissists? No Way

CATIE: And Another Thingvii

An Education

An Observation About The Current Election

Another Diagnosis Of Schizophrenia, This Time With Cats

Another Final Word On Cho's Mental Illness

Another Honor Killing That Isn't About Honor, And Even Less About Nietzsche

Another Man Gets Harassed At An Airport, This Time On Purpose

Another Round Of The Ultimatum Game

Another School Shooting-- Sort Of?

A not very happy observation about +/- being a woman

Antispychotics and Lawyers

A Primer on Pedophilia

A Quick Word On Google

A Quick Word on Porn's Effect On Your Penis

Ara Abrahamian Wins Award For Medal Toss, Saved By Passport

Are All Drug Reps Hot?

Are Antipsychotics Overprescribed In Kids?

Are Antipsychotics Overprescribed To Kids?viii

Are Certain Behaviors-- And Jobs-- More Masculine? And Out Of Our Control? [2015]

Are Drug Companies Hiding Negative Studies?

Are Law Schools Lying To Their Applicants?

Aren't Two Antipsychotics Better Than One? The Most Important Article on Psychiatry, Part 3

Are People Attracted To Good Dancers?

Are Schools Breeding Narcissism?

Who Are Academics Writing For? (For Whom Are Academics Writing?)

"Are there really so many people with such troubles in your country to make such medicine such an important matter?"

Are Women Prone To Paranormal Beliefs?

Are You Good At Reading Faces?

Are You Mom Enough? The Question Is For What

A Solution To The Pharma Problem

As The Population Ages, Will Suicides Increase?

A Study Finds Antidepressants Don't Work, And Suddenly It's October 25

A Surprising Number Of Teens Think They'll Die Young, Or Live Forever, Whichever Comes First

Atkins v. Virgina and the Execution of the Mentally Retarded

A Trip You May Have Taken [2015 redux]ix

Atypicals and Diabetes: Glucose Transport

Atypicals for Maintenance Bipolar

Autism and The MMR Vaccine

Bad At Math

Bait And Switch: Surveillance Movie Review

"Because I Said So"

Beer Goggling Isn't Natural and Being A Good Looking Girl Sucks From 9 To 5

Being The Main Character In Your Own TV Show Is Sort Of A Delusion

The Biggest Dick Ever

Biology Is Destiny

Bipolar Rates Are Increasing As Long As You're Willing To Call Everything Bipolar And Defy God's Will

Birth Order: Are First Borns Always Older Than Their Siblings?

Borderline [2015]

Breast Implants and Suicide

British Medical Journal Sends Its Scienticians To The Internet

Can Narcissism Be Cured?

Can The Court Force Treatment on Jared Loughner?

Catfish: The Real Danger Of Social Media

CATIE Reloaded

CATIE: Sigh

Celebrities and Narcissism

Charles Manson's Single Moment Of Clarityx

Charlie Sheen Has An Awesome Experience, This Time With Drugs and A Hooker, Which Was The Same As Last Time

Check Out My New Acura-- ads?

Chicago Tea Party

Child Rapist-Murderer John Couey Loses By Eight

Children With ADHD Drugs Score Higher on Tests

China Needs Fewer TVs, Or A Billion Of Them

China Needs More TVs

Cho Seung-Hui is Ismail Axxi

Cho Seung Hui: It's The Movies, Stupid

Christmas Breakxii

Christopher Columbus Was Wrong

Cinco de Mayo Is Not Mexican Independence Day

Clarification On What Goes Wrong In A Psychiatrist's Family

Clinical Experience vs. Clinical Trials

Clozaril: FDA Misses The Point, Again

CNBC Ratings And VIX Predict Rum Sales

CNBC Ratings Seem Correlated To Future Market Volatility

CNBC Ratings Predicts Bailout To Pass, VIX To Fall

Comedians Tosh, Gaffigan and Hedberg for Narcisissm

Competency to Be Executed

Competency To Commit Suicide?

Congress Has Its Say, And It Says, "Hey, Did You Cashew Shells Loan Out All The Money We Told You Not To Dare Lose Any Of?"

The Contagion Is The Solution

Cookie Monster Becomes Aware

Couple Reveals Child's Gender Five Years Too Late

Craig Ferguson, The Jonas Brothers, and Katy Perry

Crazy

Cut Rates Now

Who Bullies The Bullies?

Damned If You Do... No, That's All. Damned If You Do.

David Duchovny Does Not Exist

Deconstructing a Promotional Slide Deck: Geodon

Deja Vu

Delaying Gratification Is Easy If You Don't Try

Desmond's Teleological Suspension of The Ethical-- Or My Novel?

Deus Ex Homonymia

Diana Chiafair 's Hot, but Is She Illegal?

Did BP Fake A Picture? Yes, But We Did Even Worse

District 9

District 9 Now Elsewhere

Do Antidepressants Induce Mania?

Do Cougars Exist?

Doctors May Only Be Paid Once

Does Media Reporting Of Suicides and Homicides Promote Copycats?

Do Narcissists Get Abortions?

Don Draper Voted "Most Influential Man"

What The Miss USA Pageant Says About Us

Don't Hate Her Because She's Successful

Don't Settle For The Man You Want

The Dove Sketches Beauty Scam

Do We Want Neuroimaging In Court?

Dr. Nasrallah Asks Questions That No One, Including He, Wants Answered

Drug Reps From Congress To Detail Doctors

DSM-V Controversies

Economy: Where We Go From Here

ECT Deserves A Press Release

Either Conservatives Are Cowards Or Liberals Are...

Election 2008

Election 2008: "What Patriotism Means To Me"

Eliot Spitzer and Alexandra Dupre: Don't Choose The Red Pill

Elizabeth Smart: Hey, You Brought It Up

Esmin Green Died Because Only Kings County Hospital Cared

Everyone Goes Crazy In A Different Way, As Long As That Way Is The Same

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

Experts Weigh In On Bipolar Disorder

Family Annihilators Don't Do It Because They Love You

Fanapt: Deconstructing A Promotional Slide Deck

Fanapt Slide Deck

Farewell, Depression

FDA Discovers That Anticonvulsants Cause Suicide, Too

Fearless Kids Go On To Become Criminals

Federal Judges Order California To Release 50,000 Inmates

Fifty Percent of Foster Kids Are On Psychiatric Medications

Finding Existential Solace In A Pink Tied Psycho

First Anniversary Of The Death Of Antidepressants

First Person Account Of The Milgram Experiment

Forget Paypal- This Is What Blogging Is All About

Four Things Not To Do To Your Kids

Fox & Friends punked by Obama supporter

Friday Diversion: Jonathan Coulton

Frosty The Snowman

FTAC: Forensics Gone Awry, And I told You So

Funeral

Further Thoughts on Competency To Be Executed

Geodon Is Not BID

Geodon slide deck post finished

God's Cheat Code For Accuracy

Good Game, America

Gossip Girl Is Going To Corrupt Someone

Grade Inflation [2015]

This Week On Grey's Anatomy The Preposterous Happens

Guess What Isn't The Cause Of Physician Suicide

Guess What Is Unstoppable: Movie Review

Happy Fourth Of July

Happy New Year 2011 From Your Friendly Neighborhood Pirate

Has Anyone Noticed That Price Of Gold And Platinum Is The Same?

Healthcare Reform Is About Protecting Monopolies

Healthcare Savings Accounts: Emphasis on Savings, Not Healthcare

Heidi's Real Problem On The Hills: She's In The Wrong Movie

Here's What Governor Spitzer Should Do With The Pedophiles: Send Them To Cuba

Here's What Happened When I Went To LAX With No ID: Nothing

The Effects Of Too Much Porn: "He's Just Not That Into Anyone"

He's Not Yelling At You Because He's Angry

Hey! We Just Now Invented A Cocaine Vaccine 9 Years Ago

Hipsters On Food Stamps, Part 1

Hipsters On Food Stamps, Part 2

Holy Crap, I'm On Wikipedia

Hong Kong Suicides, Revisited

Hop, With Russell Brand: A Life Lesson For 4 Year Olds

Hospitals Accused of Patient Dumping To Pay

Hot Sports Reporter Ines Sainz Was Sexually Harassed

How Am I Going To Get Paid If It Isn't Autism?

How Dangerous Is Academic Psychiatry? Ask David Foster Wallace

How Doctors Don't Think

How Does The Shutdown Relate To Me?

How Do Antipsychotics Cause Weight Gain?

How Do You Lose Weight? Which Diet Is The Best?

How Do You Treat Atrial Fibrillation?

How Not To Meet Women

How Not To Prevent Military Suicides

How Seroquel XR Works, Part 1

How Seroquel XR Works, Part 2

How To Be Mean To Your Kids

How To Create: Motivation for 2010

How To Destroy A Marriage

How To Draw (This Is Not An Article About How To Draw)

How To Get Rich In Psychiatry Steps 1-5

How To Get Rich In Psychiatry Steps 6-10

How To Get Rich In Psychiatry (update on stocks)

How To Lose Weight, Method #394

How To Promote Energy Conservation

How To Take Ritalin Correctly

How To Treat Vertigo

How To Write A College Application Essay Or Personal Statement

How to Write A Suicide Note

Hunger Games Catching Fire: Badass Body Count

I Am Tiger Woods, Part 1

I DO NOT CENSOR COMMENTS, MY DAMN SPAM FILTER DOES

If Bipolar is Kindled Than You're In Trouble

If France Gets Its Way, 38 Million People Will Die

If I've Won Cronkite, I've Won America

If These Guys Aren't Invested, Then It's Over

If this blog were a book you would give to someone else, what posts would you want in it?

If This Is One of The Sexiest Things You've Ever Seen, You May Be a Narcissist

If You Are Surprised By Vioxx's Risks, You're Fired

If You Have To Ask, The Answer Is Neither

If You Liked The Descendants, You Are A Terrible Person

If You're Drinking Decaf, You're Probably Too Tired To Read This

If You're Reading It, It's For You?

If You're Watching, It's For You

If You Want The Closest Thing To A Financial Disaster, Look To Etrade: How To Be Up 50% And Still Lose Everything

I Go To Germany For A Week, And The Country Implodes

Illusionist

I'm Building A Rape Tunnel

Imitrex (sumatriptan) Is Good For Many Headaches-- And Therefore Dangerous

I'm Not The One You Should Be Worried About

I'm One of The Best Doctors In America. Seriously.

Impulsivity In Kindergarten (Does Not) Predict Future Gambling

Inception Explanation

Infidelity And Other Taboos, Media Style

"Inflammable Means Flammable? What A Country!"

In Honor Of Columbus Day: Christopher Columbus Was Wrong

In My Language

Intentionality In Treatment

Interest Rates and The Moral Hazard: Why You Must Buy GOOG Now

Internet Addiction Belongs In The DSM-V

Intrinsic Value of Money

Is A Brain Glitch To Blame For Financial Crisis?

Is An Hourglass Figure The Ideal? Only If You're Weak And Stupid

Is Cho The Question?

Is Genetically Modified Food Safe?

Is Internet Addiction Really An Addiction?

Is More Regulation Needed?

Is Obama Inspiring Black Adults To Step Up? The Nature Of Altruism, Part 1

Is Schizophrenia Really Bipolar Disorder?

Is Taking Nothing Legal?

Is The Cult Of Self-Esteem Ruining Our Kids?

It's Either Narcissism Or Dementia

It's Not A Lie If It's True

Why Do Politicians Cheat?

I Win Again

What Political Propaganda Looks Like

Jay-Z Calls The Next Market Move

Jay-Z Gives Ten Reasons Why Pop Culture Authenticity Is Real Only If It's Fake On Purpose

Jay-Z Is A Genius

J Crew Ad Promotes Something That Some Call "Transgenderism"

Jezebel Proves Scott Adams Is Right

Joe Paterno Fired For A Crime He Didn't Commit

Judge Beats His Daughter

Judges Accused Of Supporting Social Change As Per Script

Just Because You See It, Doesn't Mean It's Gone

Just How Many Drinks A Day Is Bad?

Kanye West And The Video Music Awards

Kerouac's On The Road: The 50th Anniversary Of A Book I Had Not Read

LA Fitness Shooter George Sodini Did Not Kill Because He Was A Misogynist

Language And Behavior, Embodiement, and Chronic Pain

Law Says To Science, "You're Kidding Me, Right? "

Lawsuit Funding

Life's Possibilities As Seen By Men And Women

Liver and Medications

Lost TV Series: Desmond's Fear and Trembling

Louis CK on being a dad-- the hidden piece of his happiness

Love Means Not Letting The Other Person Be Himself [2015]

Love The Way You Lie (With Me)

Lunar Cycles and Psychiatry

Luxury Branding The Future Leaders Of The World

Major Depression is Major Depression, Until Proven Otherwise

Man Convicted Either For Child Porn Or Nothing

Man In Coma For 23 Years Not In Coma

March 13 Week on Partial Objects

Marc Maron's Mid-Life Crisis

Market Capitulation

Massacre of The Unicorns

Why Do The Elderly Commit Suicide?

McCain, Obama Describe Tim Russert-- And Themselves

Medical Bankruptcies, Redux

Mel Gibson Audio Tapes: A Closer Look At What Was Said

Merck Publishes A Fake Journal

Merry Christmas

Michael Jackson Died Of Overdose

Miners Get Paid, As Expected

Missing The Point At The NY Times

MMR Vaccine Finally Cleared Of Assault

MMS Chicks: Oil, Sex, Drugs And Anything Else You Want To Imagine

Modafinil vs. Clozaril

Mood Stabilizer + Antipsychotic for Bipolar

More On Amygdala, Anxiety, and MRIs

More on Medical Competency

More On Medical Journals

Moriarty

Most Common Cause Of Bankruptcy Is Catastrophic Medical Bills

Most Frustrating Technology of 2010 (so far): Google Android

Most Prescribed Drugs 2009: Post 1, JFK to SFO

Murder-Suicide

"My daughter deserved to die for falling in love" [2015]

My Fellow Americans: The Speech President Bush Should Give

"My fiancee is pushing me away and I've lost hope"

My name is NotMichaelBay, and I just fucked your girlfriend

Narcissism Out Of The DSM-- And Into The Open

Narcissism Run Rampant

Narcissism Up In College Students; The Goal Is To Keep Them In Puberty, Part 3

Nature Says Scientists Use Performance Enhancing Drugs

Nature Weighs in On What Is True

Neither Is This Is A Narcissistic Injury

No Bias Anywhere Here: The Future Of Bias

"Nobody will understand what went on in this house to drive my dad to this level of insanity"

No, Not Effexor, Too!? The Most Important Article On Psychiatry You'll Ever Read, Part II

No One Likes A Sure Thing

No One Noticed

No Self-Respecting Woman Would Go Out Without Make Up

Not A Good Month For Blonde Reporters

Not Competent To Make Medical Decisions?

Not Yet Ready For Porn

Number Needed To Treat

NY v Junco: Sex, Civil, Hygiene, and Mental, All In One Post

Obama And McCain On Mental Health Coverage

Observations Afterwards

Ocean Marketing Supports Obama

Odd Finding of Gender Differences In Walking

Off Label Prescribing Turns Out To Be On Label

Ohio Mom In Jail For Sending Kids To The Wrong School

Oh, Please, What Do Europeans Know About Psychiatry?

On Being White

One Last Word on University Suicide

One Of These Things Is A Straw Man, And The Other Is On Fire

One Should Note...

One Way Our Schools Are Training New Narcissists

Or, You Could Just Nuke The Bitch

Osama Bin Laden Has Been Killed

Parenting and Personality Disorders

Parenting and Personality: MAO-A

Paris Hilton Loses Inheritance

Paris Hilton or Mary Winkler? Forensics Gone Awry

Part 2: Why Can't Kids Walk Alone To School

Partial Objects

Pathological Liars

Paul Ryan vs. Rage Against The Machine

Pediatric Bipolar. Yeah. Okay.

Pedophilia Is Normal, Because Otherwise It's Abnormal

Pedophilia Makes You Stupid

Penelope Trunk, Abuser

Pesticides And Fruit

"Pivotal Role That Psychiatry Has Come To Play"

Plan B Emergency Contraception: Doctors Out of Their League, Again

Is Obstetrics Worse Than Psychiatry?

Platinum vs. Gold

The Ten Biggest Mistakes Psychiatrists Make

When Your Patient's Parent Is A Psychiatrist and A Patient and You Just Want To Go To Bed

Can A Patient Postpone Their Own Death?

How To Be Powerful, And Why You Are Not

Pre-Fed Update

Presidential Anti-Pharma Rhetoric Heats Up

Pricing of Placebo Affects Efficacy

Probably Not The Best Lesson, But One Of The Few I Know

Product Review: Panasonic PT AX200U (Hipsters On Food Stamps Part 3)

Provigil vs. Cocaine

Pseudoseizures vs. Seizures

Psychiatry Is Politics

Psychiatry is the pressure valve of society

Psychology vs. Psychiatry

Psychopaths Are Charming?

Psychopathy, Antisocial Personality Disorder, and Narcissism

Radio Host Has Drug Company Ties

Everything Is A Teachable Moment When You Are A Piece Of Garbage

Raising Wine Prices Makes Wine Taste Better

Ramachandran's Mirror

Randi Zuckerberg Thinks We Should Untangle Our Wired Lives

Reality Responds To The Matrix

Real Men Want To Drink Guinness, But Don't Expect Them To Pay For It

Real Or Fake? (Fake.)

Recent Trends in Stimulant Medication Use Among U.S. Children

Reciprocal Determinism And Why Punching People Out Is Way Cool

Recollections Of Your Parents Before And After You Have Children

Refusing To Answer The Feds

Relative Income Inequality

Ritalin Causes Cancer?

Ritalin Doesn't Cause Cancer(?)

Rutgers Student Commits Suicide (After (Being Taped) (Having (Gay) Sex))?

Sara Ackerman Is Both a Nut, and X

Schizophrenia and Dry Cleaning?

Scientists Find Evidence For The Unconscious

Second Life Is A Second Chance, Which Is Why It Fails

Secretary Paulson Implements the Regulatory Act of 1773

Selegiline Again-- Neuroprotective?

Selegiline: Can I Still Smoke Crack?

Self-Embedding Syndrome: What's Going On In Ohio?

Seroquel For Bipolar Maintenance

Sex In The City 2

Shame

Shame Is The Desired Outcome

"She Said She Had Breast Cancer-- But She Lied"

Shhh-- Don't Tell Anyone Cheerios Lowers Cholesterol

There's A Shortage of Psychiatrists Somewhere, We Just Have To Find It

Short Film: Bad At Math

Should Hubris Be In The DSM-V?

Should Kids Go To College Early?

Should School Start Later?

Shouting vs. Spanking

Six Quick Changes That Will Lead To Better or More Cost Effective Hospital Care

Sleep Loss And Moral Judgment

So At Least Two People Agree With Me

Social Welfare Is A Red Herring: The Return Of Feudalism

So Doctors Are Allowed To Breast Feed

So Ends The Ochlocracy of Medicine: How To Fix Medicaid, Part 1

Some Inspirational Words From My Friend In Colorado Springs

Sometimes The Question Is Worse Than Any Answer

Stanford Prison Experiment Redux

STAR*D Augmentation Trial: WRONG!

Star-D Study Participants: What's Wrong With These People?

Still Alive

Stopping Meds Does Not Cause Relapse

Study Finds Chocolate Causes Depression. In Other News, These Kinds Of Studies Cause Insanity

Subtypes of OCD

Suicidal Patients' Access To Their Psychiatrist

Who Died?

Psychiatrists On The Wrong Side of Civil Rights, Again

Suicide Note Revisited: Formulation

Sunshine and Suicide

Superman's A Baby, But He's Still Superman

Swallow This: How Seroquel XR Works, Part 3

Taboos Are The Ways Christians Try To Control Us [2015]

Tech Sunday: Will.I.Am Gets A Job At Intel

Teenage Girls May Be Having Oral Sex, But The Problem Is You

Temper Tantrums In The DSM

Ten Extra Seconds Would Have Saved True Detective's Finale

Ten Things Wrong With Medical Journals

How 9-11 Changed America Ten Years On

Test of Psychopathy 2

Test Of Psychopathy?

Thank God The 'Heart Attack Grill' Is A Great Name; Also, How To Learn French

The 1000 Point Drop and What Is Happening Now

The Abusive Boyfriend

The Action Movie Fairy Tale

The APA Says The Media Is Making Women Really Hot

The Atlantic Recommends Abandoning Marriage Because One Of Its Writers Can't Keep It In Her Pants

The Best Way To Improve Your Creativity

The Black Swan Movie Review Criminal Attorneys And Hollywood Don't Want You To Read

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

The Boy Who Learned To Talk Too Late And Too Fast

The British Model Of Cost Effectiveness Fails On Philosophy

The Bubble In Academic Research

The Charade is Revealed-- We Are Doomed

The Chart Is Dead, Long Live The Chart

The CIA Has The Same Problem Medicine Does

The Cognitive Kill Switch

Advertising's Hidden Second Message

The Coming Global Collapse, Sponsored By British Airways

The Communists Say James Bond Is Anti-Communist

The Conspiracy Theorist's Guide The Financial Crisis

The Copenhagen Interpretation of Lost

"The Copycat Effect:" Does Reporting Violence Lead To Violence?

The C Team

The Dead Sea Effect In Academia

The Decline Effect Is Stupid

The Diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder: What Does It Really Mean? [2015]

The Difference Between An Amateur, A Scientist, And A Genius

When Therapy Won't Work, Try Cymbalta. When Cymbalta Doesn't Work, You're Dead Meat

The Dumbest Economic Collapse In History

The Dumbest Generation Is Only The Second Dumbest Generation

The Enemies Of Promise Guard The Road To Success

The Extent Of Psychiatric Knowledge

The Fall And Rise Of Rebecca Black

The Father That Shot His Daughter's Computer

The FDA Says No Black Box Needed On Drugs That Increase Suicidality, But Still Needed For Those That Don't

The Fed's Dilemma: The Moral Hazard

The Fort Hood Shooter: A News Quiz

The Fraud Isn't Baby Einstein

The French Obey Authority Figures

The Girls Of Pfizer

The Graying Of Kindergarten: The Goal Is To Keep Them In Puberty, Part 1

The Harvard Cheating Scandal Is Stupid

The Hidden Zero Effect

The Hunger Games Is A Sexist Fairy Tale. Sorry.

The Legend Of Steven Colbert

(Part 2) The Limits of Control: The Dream

The Limits Of Control: The Movie

The Lululemon Whydunnit

The Maintenance Of Certification Exam As Fetish

The Massacre Of The Unicorns II

The Media Is The Message, And The Message Is You're An Idiot

The Military And PTSD: A Star Wars Guide

The Moral Hazard

The Most Important Article On Psychiatry You Will Ever Read

The Most Prescribed Drugs

The Nature Of The Grift

The Near Death Of A Salesman

The Neurobiology of Wisdom

The New Yorker Writes About Power

The New York Yankees: Mission Accomplished

Greece To Pay Disability Benefits To Pedophiles: America To Report On It

The Next Step: Suspend The Capital Gains Tax, and The Market

The Other Abortion Question

The Other Ego Epidemic

The Other Soprano Psychiatrist

The Other Technical Analysis

The Paycheck Cycle

The Perfect Game: What Would You Do?

The Plan Will Always Fail Catastrophically

The Pornography Of Medicine

The Problem With Science Is Scientists

The Problem With One Specific Female Doctor

The Process of Bringing New Drugs To Market

The Psychological Uncertainty Principle

The Question Isn't Why Do Babies Do It

The Rage Of The Average Joe

The Real Mystery of 'Lost'xiii

There Is No Link Between ADHD And Organophosphate Pesticides

The Scariest Thing I Have Ever Seen

The Second Story Of Echo And Narcissus - Audio

The Sex-Starved Wife

The Sopranos Finale Explained

The Source Of Society's Ills

The Special Circumstance Which Causes The Wisdom Of Crowds To Fail

The Second Story Of Echo And Narcissus

The Suicide Of Bill Zeller

The Supreme Court Hears Arguments That Warning Labels Should Include Things Done Correctly

The Terrible, Awful Truth About The Debt Ceiling

The Terrible, Awful Truth About The Tax Cuts

The Trouble With Charlie Sheen

The Trouble With Psychiatry-- "Not Even Wrong"

The Truman Show Delusion Is Not Real

The Twilight Movie Review Your Boyfriend Doesn't Want You To Read

The Ultimate Explanation Of Inception

The Ultimatum Game Is A Trap

The Walking Dead: Not About Zombies

The Wisdom Of Crowds Turns Into Madness

The Woman Who Can't Forget Is Awesome Because She Can Forget

The Women Of Lipstick Jungle Are The Same Age As Rachel From Friends

The World Is At A 52 Week Low, And The Past 10 Years Never Happened

The Worst Thing That Can Happen Is You Succeed

The Writers of Fool's Gold Get One Thing Right

The Wrong Lessons Of Iraq

They're Going To Get Paid No Matter What

This Is Baywatch

This Is How I Know Society Is Collapsing

This Is Just a Joke, Really, No, Really, It's Not Real, We're Much More Rigorous Than This, I Said It's A Joke, Okay? Let It Go!

This Is Not A Narcissistic Injury

This Is What You Wanted, Right?

This Is Why Medical Care Is Expensive

This Is Why The American Dream Is Out Of Reach

This Man Killed His Family And He Doesn't Know Why

This Needs To Be Explained

This Onion Clip Is Hilarious; Now Let Me Tell You Why It's Scary

This Shall Pass

This Time It's ESP

This Will Either Mean Something To You, Or It Won't

Those Five Days Matter More Than Anything, Except The Other Days

Three Vignettes You Won't Understand Until I Explain Them, And Then It Will Be Too Late

Tiger Woods, Part 2

Time Magazine Asks Cleveland Clinic What To Do About The Healthcare Crisis

Time Magazine Stays Out Of the Election

Time's Person of the Year Is Someone Who Doesn't Actually Matter

To The Brain, God Is Just Another Guy

Transgender Man Is On Women's Basketball Team, Sort Of

Treating Insomnia With Less

True Detective's Detective

TV Creates Its Own Enemies

Two Causes Of Autism

Undue Influence On Psychiatrists, Or The Public?

University Shootings: I'm Sure It's All Just A Coincidence

University Suicides On Schedule

Unpublished Lamictal Studies Left Us Thinking It Was An Antidepressant

Update on Schering Plough

Upgrading Movable Type Is Like Getting Hit By A Bus While Watching An Airplane Crash

USAToday Says Drug Ads Are Smarter Than Doctors

Vanderbilt University: The Goal Is To Keep Them In Puberty, Part 2

Violence Intervention Program

Violent Crime vs. Coffee vs. Wine

Vioxx

Vote

Vytorin

Wakefield And The Autism Fraud-- The Other Part Of The Story

Wanted, Starring Angelina Jolie, Is The Greatest Movie Of Our Generation

Was Brontosaurus A Herbivore?

Wasted Billions In Iraq

We Are All Mercantilists Now

We Are All Skyscrapers Now

We Have Breaking News: You Don't

Werther Effect: Copycat Suicides May Not Exist

What An Obama Presidency Means For Blacks

What Are We Voting For?

What Design Flaws Need Fixing In This Blog?

What Did You (Not) Do In 2008?

What Does The Woman Who Feels No Fear Feel?

What Else Causes Suicide? You'll Never Guess

What Goes Wrong In A Psychiatrist's Family?

What Happens If Pharmaceutical Marketing Disappears? Part 1

What Happens To An Action Hero When We Grow Up?

What Happens To Fake Studies?

What Hath Google Wrought

What Healthcare Reform Means To Hospitals

What iPads Will Do To Your Family

What Is A Real Man?

What is Off Label Usage?

What Is The Best and Healthiest Coffee To Drink?

What Percentage of Suicides Had Depression?

Does CNBC Cause Market Volatility?

What Should Count As A Disease?

"What should I say/do to my son after this happened to him?"

What Should Really Be Done For Autistic Children?

The Fundamental Error Of Parenting: What's The Difference Between a Tiger Mom and A Wolf Dad?

What's Wrong With Research In Psychiatry?

What's Wrong With The Hunger Games Is What No One Noticed

What The Hell Kind Of Suicide Assessment Is This?

What To Do About Sexy High School Girls Having A Slumber Party

What US v. Comstock Means To You

What Was The Matrix?

What Would You Do If Your Fiance Gave You a Ring That Wasn't Good Enough?

What Would You Do If Your Fiancee Rejected The Ring As Not Good Enough?

What You Need To Know About The MAOI (Selegiline) Patch

When A Culture Is This Invested In The Lie, The Culture Is Finished

When CGI Porn Looks Real: Is Anyone Thinking About The Children?

When I Get Writer's Block, You Get This

When I Said Doctors Were Too Involved In Social Policy, This Isn't Exactly What I Meant

When Is It Okay To Rape A Woman? [2017]

When Lilly Pays Out $800M, Where Does That Money Go?

When Was The Last Time You Got Your Ass Kicked?

Where Are They Now?

Where Did The Title Come From?

Where Does A Tree Get Its Mass?

Where Parents Go Wrong

Which Is Healthier: A Dunkin Donuts Bagel, Muffin, or Donut?

Which Is Worse: An Altered Photo of Reality, Or A Photo That Alters Reality?

White People Think Black People Are Dirty

Who Are We?

Who Can Know How Much Randi Zuckerberg Is Worth?

Who's Afraid Of Lil Wayne?

Who Should Pay For Continuing Medical Education?

Who Would Benefit?

Why Are Athletes Barely Better Than Their Competitors?

Why Are So Many Psychiatrists From India?

Why A Story About Russian Spies Who Use Facebook?

Why Can't Kids Walk Alone To School? Part 1

Are Chinese Mothers Superior To American Mothers? [2005]

Why Did George Sodini Shoot Women?

Why Do Autistics Score Poorly On The Eyes Test?

Why Do Doctors Accept Gifts, And What Would Happen If They Didn't?

Why Fly When You Have Tuberculosis?

Why I Am Against Mental Health Parity

Why Is It So Hard To Find A Good Black Man To Marry?

Why Is Mel Gibson So Angry?

Why Is There So Much Pollen?

Why Is This Funny?

Why No Progress Will Ever Be Made In Psychiatry

Why Parents Hate Parenting

Why The Latest Season Of Mad Men Blows

Why We Are So Obsessed With Culpability vs. Mental Illness

Why We Are Terrible At Math (And Reading Comprehension)

Why We Love Sociopaths

Will Lilly's New Glutamate Agonist Antipsychotic Be A Blockbuster?

Will The Suicide Rate Change As The Population Ages?

Will You Ever Be Happy?

Wine Is Healthy In A New (Or Old) Way

Wolf Blitzer Is Not An Idiot

Wolf Dad, Tiger Mom, And Why Trying To Be A Good Parent Is A Bad Idea

Worried About What Kids Will See On The Internet?

Worse Than The Flu

WOW

Written Authority For Standard Of Care

Wrong About Obama

Wrong About Obama II

Xanax, Vicodin, Percocet, Ritalin and Valium

Yeah, Well, Cry Me A River

Yet Another Study On Antidepressants, And No One Notices The Timing

You Always Know Less Than Your Source, Unless It's Balenciaga

You Are The 98%

You Can Have Your License Revoked For That?

"[You, not I, are] killing people on a grand scale"

Youth Suicide Rates Up? Not So Fast

You Want To Be Don Draper? You Already Are

Why Zyprexa (And Other Atypical Antipsychotics) Make You Fat

Zyprexa's Weight Gain: Does What You Eat Matter More Than How Much?

I then proceeded to download each of these ; along with the images included by Ballas in the articles as content (but not various spurious inclusions such as voting buttons etc.).

This resulted in a ball of gnarl, about 45% by weightxiv spurious mark-up and similar nonsensexv. I then proceeded to (mostly) de-gnarl the ball of gnarlxvi, producing a flatfile of the textual content of the archive, which is temporarily available as fulltlp-clean2.txt. The original images discussed are also temporarily available.

I intend to read and adnotate each of these over the coming weeks (and also as feasible replace the shitty images of the original author with better variants if available).

So... hold on to your shorts, Trilema's feed's about to light up!

Questions for a putative interview with TLP, should he ever re-emerge.xvii

When / under what circumstances did he start using the term "core dump" ?

Did he enjoy a torid/platonic relationship with a certain teen by the name Brittany, cca 2011 ; and if torid, did consummation first occur just prior to June 8, 2011 ?

At the time of penning of that Amy Schumer piece, had he any idea that Maria Schneider was raped in the making of Last Tango In Paris, in the specific sense that a) "the butter scene" was improv rather than scripted, and single-take ; b) she was neither consulted nor informed prior ; c) the whole thing was Brando's idea, and it mostly came to him as he went along and d) not only did she not enjoy herself, but rater quit acting as a result ?

Does he actually imagine he's having relationships with the voices he hears ? Does he take that fantasy as far as to alter his behaviour / thought process according to what he imagines they'd enjoy or dislike ?

Did he ever see Equus ? What did he make of the Kaopectate monologue ?

———Enumerated list : Clinical ; Clinical.Antipsychotics ; Clinical.Suicide ; Coffee,Liquor,Etc ; CoolBeyondWords ; Education ; HomicidalManiacs ; Humor ; InsuranceCompanies ; LegalIssues ; Media ; Money ; Movies,TV,andBooks ; Narcissism ; Pharma ; PhilosophicalSpeculations ; Politics ; PsychiatryGoneAwry ; RelationshipsandFamily ; Sadly,Porn ; ShortStories ; WRONG ; [↩]via

| grep -o '<a .*href=.*>' | sed -e 's/<a /n<a /g' | sed -e 's/<a .*href=['"'"'"]//' -e 's/["'"'"'].*$//' -e '/^$/ d'

[↩]This "completeness" is self-evidently illusionary. For instance, the original article that sparked my interest in the man's work (so much so as to motivate me to translate it into Romanian back in February 2011) was long deleted by its original author. [↩]Should anyone know of more articles I would very much appreciate a note in the comments section ; I will consider pretty much any custody chain or other proof of paternity for possible inclusion. [↩]Content-less fluff piece, skipping. [↩]Contentless piece, skipping. [↩]The whole article consists of

if CATIE is so important, and was funded by the NIMH (i.e. taxpayer dollars), why isn't it available free on the CATIE or NIMH websites?  Or anywhere else?  Snakes.  All of you are snakes.

Sunday, 14 July, Year 11 d.Tr.

Burn After Reading

Burn After Readingi is absolutely fucking wunderbar. Their understanding of how things work is so utterly exquisite I don't imagine anyone professionally involved in the field could possibly complain. This isn't a feat of tolerance, like how old crows may still appreciate Hopscotch as a construction of metaphore and wishful thinking, frustration relief, tongue in cheek, amusement once or thrice removed. No, Burn After Reading is actual, correct and complete summary, it's exactly how the whole thing goes, if you had to explain it in ninety minutes on film.

So, J.K. Simmons as the Agency point man keeps being assaulted by irrelevant organized idiocy.

Why did they do that ? What sense does that make ? Ok, so what level is he ? 3 ? Fine, whatever, no big deal. No, no, don't get those idiots involved, they'll fuck it all up [read: expand the bogon field further]. Burn the body. Get rid of it. Get back to me if any of it starts making sense, I guess ?

I can literally taste his despairii. He can't commit to this curl of insanity, because it's not worth it. His commitments are expensive, he can't afford to waste them, he can't just drop everything and follow some irrelevant threat on the grounds that it is irksome. Every unemployed postgrad student out there, focusing on "digital library organization" because at least that's a task he knows how to approach and even vaguely similar to the actual task of ordering his life ; every bankrupt ex-something on the verge of unemployability sinking his time on DIY projects because he knows how to do that, notwithstnading it's not what's to be done by any conceivable stretch ; every refined intellectual in his own estimation, spending his time calling call centers and gratulating minimum wage workers with unsolicited performance reviews -- the whole army of confused nobodyes and ineffectual morons stands always ready to commit irrelevantly for the sake of "nobody could accuse them" of not committing. But not him.

Not him. J.K. Simmons is the Agency point man because he doesn't do that stupid shit. His boss knows he doesn't, of course, but it's not even about his boss. J.K. Simmons would rather fucking quit than give in to the bogon field. Quit, not "quit his job". Quit-quit, as in quit your life for you, and everyone else's for them. He'd quit in the sense the Jesus Nut quits, world-ending quittage of no return.

He would, but it's not quite there yet. So far, his subtle mind can perceive sense, can order the world, can seamlessly cut through the bogon mass, the swarming horde of zombie morons. His cuts are unhindered, of the very substance of perfection, [one of] his slavegirl (David Rasche) admires him for it like nothing else, like you admire transcendence personified. The slavegirl would love nothing more than to make sense for her owner, to bring him useful in proper wrapping, to have herself and everything justified in his own eyes, by her own competent application to the tasks defined. Instead, she just comes in time after time bearing incomprehensible updates on inconsequential nonsense. Nothing's right nor anything's even vaguely proper, but there is no punishment... yet her master's confused gaze is worse than any punishment.

John Malkovich is not a man. He could've been a man, but he isn't, not really. He drinks too much. He's incredibly lacking self control. The whole story starts with him being let go, for being insufficient, which he liberally reintreprets in any other terms than the plain evidence -- he's a husk, some thing superficially but no more like a man. He confronts his direct equivalent, embodied by Richard Jenkins, something just as superficially but no more like a man, bearing this time the monkey colors. They're exactly symmetrical, and pointedly equal, grunts on either side of the only divide that matters. "I have fought you my entire life", the words sound, the fight's a dribble.

George Clooney's a dumber grunt. All muscle memory, as he correctly explains. He shoots the unexpected right in between the eyes on the strength of training imbued into him by the men, for their own purposes, but once that's exhausted he reverts to monkey, monkeying about. The vague memories of manhood in the monkey's flesh are rendered as a thing of superlative beauty, the Coens absolutely outdid themselves in this jewel -- and the fact that they had the perverse subtility to employ George Clooney as the clueless vessel of this meta-accomplishment... the film literally re-does with the actor what the character's supposed to have been doing in the film, it's a pinnacle of cinematic achievement of outright philosophical proportions. Rarely will you chance to see anything nearly as crafty brought forth from the crooked timber, it's just beautiful.

So the story continues, on and on and foreveron. Ultimately, as the underpinning other pole, it's simply that... well... the dumb woman from Fargo wants her delusions actualized. She's benefit immensely from caging. She belongs spending the brief rest of her life chained to a pole on the roadside, but J.K. Simmons incorrectly believes that'd be an improper outlay of resources (because he's bought into puritan iconoclasm, always and everywhere certain doom of the arts and in their footsteps following industries). Because J.K. Simmons does not understand the importance of elaborate statuary in church, Frances McDormand and her sad ilk get to roam free and produce, complicatedly, multi-layeredly, "impredictably" the very bogonic field effects J.K. Simmons is stuck dealing with as if they were "a thing of itself". Yet they're not -- they're cuntal emanations one and all -- cage the cunts in the morning, watch the zombie swarm disappear overnight.

There's not many better films out there.

———2008, by E. J. Coen, with J.K. Simmons, David Rasche, John Malkovich, Richard Jenkins, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton, Frances McDormand sorted by character bogon order. Remarkably well fit to actors' bogon order too, and notice how the old women are firmly at the bogon end ? No, it is not a coincidence. [↩]Just... the reference-counter / garbage collector working behind his eyes, in those short half second pauses... you can fucking see it, behind his eyes, collapsing trees, searching, checking... [↩]

« Holy shit, I woke up by myself.

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Category: Trilematograf

Tuesday, 13 August, Year 11 d.Tr.

Budapest and such

Above : contemporary Romania (the more developed Western part).

Below : leftover antique Romania (a remarkably extensive wood civilisation),

Above : gleeful nostalgia.

Below : regretful nostalgia.

Above : bimbo vs bimbo.

Below : a facade. Isn't it all ?

Above : possibly the derpiest statuary hero ever to have been cast in bronze. What's that sword there for, anyway ? In case people don't applaud, he's gonna what, slice his steak wistfully with it ?

Below : Remnants of the Notre Derp cathedral.

Above : a different facade. Aren't they all different ?

Below : they started off with this whole roof theory, but after a little bit they discovered that... meh, fuck it. Can be flat just as well, why the hell bother with all that triangular bullshit.

Above : the best facade of them all! Glitters and is gilt!

Below : palinkaoff shenaniprocedigans : the line-up and beyond!

Above : the view from my room.

Below : whatever you want to say.

« #joketime

Der fantastische Harem. »

Category: La pas prin lume

Tuesday, 16 April, Year 11 d.Tr.

Bring It On

Bring It Oni is... well, obviously, what the fuck could it be, teenage (female!) homoerotic softcoreii with a blonde and a brunette. They're cheerleaders. Things and matters! Problems! Check out the high kicks!

Enough Kevin-Spaceys-in-American-Beauty watched it to produce low nine figures in salesiii, two or three direct-to-video "remakes" (including none of the original cast, because variety is the principal sexual need of the male) and the arguable status of a cult classic. Can you believe it ?

I enjoyed it myself because of all the groans it squeezes out of the girls I like to fuckiv. They're evidently aware of it, and have been, for many years ; they evidently thought about this thing, as fifteen year olds, and as nineteen year olds ; they evidently remember those thoughts. Through this mediation it's quite the fun bedtime piece, for me. Can't say I actually went through with the whole thing, though -- kinda lost interest when it more or less became obvious the plot pivot ain't gonna be blonde subbie going to the East Compton Redskinsv' den and, after kneeling an' suckling on the thirty-year-oldvi's toes a while offer for her entire set of teens to anilingus the shit out of East Compton's butts & bralessvii, thereby leaving Albanian-fathered exotic dancer / vampire slayer to find her.. place in the... world, so to speak. Does she want to join blonde subbie in subby-ing ? Did she think they had something special going ? Is she gonna set out to find her own East Compton, so that in another decade (if she's lucky ?) a later version All-American Mainstream Slut suckles her toes, bearing awkward offers of butthole kisses and ass-snorted happiness ?

I've seen much worse better films than this not even bad terrible film. Everything's in the company you keepviii, you realise this. Do you ?

———2000, by Peyton Reed, with Kirsten Dunst and Eliza Dushku [↩]Very softcore. They push the envelope as much as they know how, but the tank tops ain't never coming off, painted on as they may be, on they stay. It's like comic book rules for some reason, in 2000.

Not merely the visuals, either. The moves, too! Imagine this : the Toros (from Carne county!) cheerleader team holds tryouts, where a top shelf stripper shows up, does her stuff, yet they don't sign her. Not because she's not good -- she's evidently way the fuck better than anyone there -- but precisely because she's too good. They're good like fifteen year olds (Dunst was 18, technically, but this is what retardation's all about : being almost 15 at 18.5) while the stripper's good like nineteen year olds are good. Never the fuck ever will these twain meet!

Then at some later point they're both in bed, and it's obvious they're gonna experiment. The blonde got into the brunette's car on first call earlier, notwithstanding they just met. Now she's in the brunette's bed. She's definitely there to be told to kiss muff, she's licking her lips in anticipation already, but... well, what can they do, push Buffy otta da closet ?! There's this misfortunate dood with hemiparesis they keep throwing in to "balance things out" that nearly dies strangled in electric guitar cables, better be good emuff. [↩]BOM only lists 68mn, but they're wrong. [↩]And because I kept hearing "Torn Shippment", which you must admit is a funny name to give one's daugther. [↩]I have no fucking idea why, but the token black girls were drafted into playing American Indians in this thing, Pocahontas with dual US & German citizenship came to steal their ancestral lands. It's pretty fucking weird, do you suppose the average UStard actually fails to distinguish one set of We Waz Kangz from the other ?! [↩]What, you didn't realise Gabrielle Union was born 1970 ? Awww! You really thought she's eighteen, didn't you.

Dork. [↩]Butts & braless is well know hip-hop/ebonics for "best and bravest". [↩]Speaking of company, have you seen the wikitardia entry ?

she learns from Torrance's offended and passionately defensive reaction that she was completely unaware

Torrance, crushed by her failure to lead the team successfully, considers quitting.

Cliff encourages and supports her, intensifying their growing attraction.

and so following, all the way to queers.

In the finals, the Toros place second, while the Clovers win. However, after the Nationals, Torrance and Isis find respect in each other.

Can you believe they stole my anilingus routine by the way ?! [↩]

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Holy shit, I woke up by myself. »

Category: Trilenciclopedia

Tuesday, 13 August, Year 11 d.Tr.

Black or White (The day of Saturday)

You're curious, aren't you ?

Well... okay. So for the first time in many weeks, we stayed in for a weekend. Therefore, there'll be no picturesi, just narrative.

First off, I woke up, and over breakfast convened the harem around the kitchen table, where I proceeded to ask them some very hard math questions (not objectively, they're learning). This resulted in some very frustrated girlies, some tears, some harsh words... it reminds me so of my own happy childhoodii... My mother'd tear out my pages, and I'd cry and scream and we'd argue and then I'd do it over, and fuck it up again, and... over the few years' worth of primary school I amassed I think 8-900 "solved problems", their count stated in paranthesis behind my name on the outside cover of the -- empyreal at the time -- Gazeta Matematica. No publication ever achieved (or ever could achieve) such heights of fearsome respectability as that modest, obscure monthly did back in the day ; nor was I that angry, or upset, or frustrated, or depressed, or melancholy, or furious, burning with untold emotion, including sheer hatred and... and yet, for all the intensity of feeling I did no-one any violence by consequence, I didn't poison my mother in her sleepiii, I didn't set the god damned redaction building on fire after replacing their waterlines with gasoline lines so they can't even put it out, I did none of the terrible, horrible things that in all truth and in all fairness'd have constituted but little portion of revenge for the distress they caused me, growing up. Because that's the problem with learning, especially important things : it fucking hurts. It does.

After which, one started cooking while I sent the other for the belt. I own (through taking posession of my slaves' previous possessions) a belt, antique, wonderful, metal rings reinforcing holes in three rows all down its ancient leather length. It's especially good to roll around the ankles in a tight knot. Then I had her hop downstairs (except I forgot something so made her hop back halfway -- accidentally, of course). Then I handcuffed her to the stairiv and left her there to spin in her head -- she does this, too, anticipation runs through her mind at such feverish pitch it makes her palms sweat. I sat for a while conversing with the cook, then went upstairs for the captive's boa.

You know what a boa is, right ? This feathers-on-a-string arrangement, sure. And what does your mind associate with it ? Bad wanna-be burlesque shows, perhaps ? Instagram part-time "dark and disturbed" goffy teenagers ? Really old women with false teeth, sweaty decolletages and bad wigs ?

Could you guess, perhaps, what that boa connotes to this slavegirl we've left chained to a post while we're doing other things, in complete disdain of her... needs, shall we call them ? Humanity ? Personhood ? Sheer existence ?

In any case, I grabbed a thing of steel wool from the dishwashing supplies cabinet, and while her mind spun on the boa casually thrown on a stool within her visual space I gave her a good rub. Ever rubbed down a horse ? They love it, you know, the harsh brush tickling their coat while you talk softly and coo at them...

Girls love it too, especially the ones that do. You tell them all about how they're just like a head of cattle, tied down for a rubdown, while working that unforgiving thing all over her soft skin, red, irritated marks streaking from neck to heel and on the side, and under the tits from nipple to hip and everywhere. The streaked red hide, glistening with sweat's quite the sight, you know.

Maybe you even break out the rubbing alcohol afterwards. Safety first, right ? Besides, it smells nice, and perhaps you even get a box of long grill matches and place it demonstratively by the boa before getting the alcohol. You wouldn't set a poor girl on fire just like that, now would you ? And she knows you wouldn't, too. Doesn't she ? After all, mutual confidence's the cornerstone of traditional marriage, is it not ? Not like you have a bunch of spares lying in wait, ready to take her place at any moment -- spares you forced her to go out and find for you half the time anyways!

So then... you let her sit there another while, while you sexually molest the cook just at the most difficult moment in her work, because why should anyone have it easy in this house ?! And then you, by which you I mean me, leisurely fetch a garbage bag -- not a shopping bag but the very soft, the very thin, the very clingy garbage bag, and now you, by which you I mean you, suddenly realise what the boa connotes to the poor nude captive. Oh, did I need to mention she was naked all along ? I scarcely perceived this need, see. The girls are naked all the time.

Yes, it's for her head. The plastic bag goes over, limiting her air supply. The boa goes, like all boas ever go, around her neck, making sure the limit's in place. Unremovable, unyielding. Rub as she will with her elbows, twist and turn as she might, the bag's not going anywhere, the air's not going anywhere, the carbon dioxide's not going anywhere, the moisture's not going anywhere... everything's there, and there it stays, matting her bangs, teasing her lungs, echoing her screams and whelps back into her.

It's quite intense, especially from the receiving end. Not all girls like it, sometimes they seek to be excused from attendance -- it's too much like a simple execution, too much like death, plain and unbecoming. While you're leisurely looking for a condom, vaguely inquiring after the lubev the victim's writhing, moaning, feeling faint and turning colors. But who cares about that, right ? Crop her a little here and there, maybe, for encouragement, and when you're good and ready (or when she's well and ready, depending on your feminism) you mount her, from behind. Her asshole's clenched in the throes of asphixious death, but what difference's this to make to anyone ? You defeat her clenching sphincter, mercilessly, manly... so what if it takes a little longer ? You've got all the time in the world. You do. She doesn't.

Isn't accuplation a wonderful thing ? Or should we call it rape, rather, seeing how nobody asked the worthless cunt anything, nor would, nor ever will, and for that matter she didn't even know what next is happening to her, not at any juncture since waking up, or properly speaking at any point on any day for weeks and months before ? This is what you call rape, isn't it ? What now ?

I'll tell you what now : as my cock's sliding in and out of her, and as she moans, pain, fear, desperation comingling in her bursting heart, I... blow. I grab her boa, wrapped as it is around her throat, strangling her in the process, but also thereby making a little hole, behind her neck. You know, where all those cute hairs are ? Did you ever kiss your girl's neck right there, about the fuxx fuzz ? Was it delicious ? More delicious for you, would you say, or for her ? Or how would you know ?

Oh, but I know. I know because... well... you see, when I do that I blow. Not exactly fresh air, it is true, what you blow comes straight from your lungs, and so in one perspective's the exact opposite of freshness. But then again, perspectives are a matter of perspective -- the air from your lungs' been in your lungs but once ; the air from her bag's been in her lungs dozens and dozens of times. Comparatively fresh air, even if it merely extends agony, averting death just enough to keep it within sight... yeah, I think I know. See ?

We fuck for a long time thusly, her girlfriend mercifully tearing (with permission) an airhole in the bag -- no, the point isn't outright murdering the victim, we're not honest animals here, we're perverse humans, we revel in an experiential retelling of the world. After a while she gets a little gentle clit rub -- I keep hot pepper alifie on hand for just such an occasion (it's not an overpowering burn, rather warm and pleasant, from what I hear) and then I'm done, so I leave, to wash my cock complicatedly in the bidet, leaving behind a panting fucktoy, her loosened digestive pore pulsing to cope.

It's called "aftercare" in the license lingo, you know ? That which you do after you're done with the slut, that's aftercare. I did not neglect her entirely, I almost never do. In my generosity I spat on her back from the balcony above the stairs, on my way to the bathroom. It's... well, it's something, wouldn't you say ? Something, always more than nothing, and, importantly -- always exactly sufficient in some perspective. Because love is a matter of perspective, we agree on that much, don't we ?

Then she was released, and permitted to shower, and then we ate (after I made out with the nude cook some, I think -- to tell you honestly memories do get fuzzy in the ejaculatory afterglow). And then we napped.

Except I kinda woke up a little later, and went into the bed of another girl. She gave herself to me, in my arms, so completely... I'm not sure how to explain it, there's this thing women do, when they palpably, pleasantly renounce their body, give it up, entirely and without reminder. I find it intoxicating. I wanted to be in her, just lie there thus, so I had her go fetch a condom. Then she kissed and carressed my growing erection, and then I went in, and we sat there a minute, her fucking herself on my cock imperceptly arriving out of nowhere, and imperceptibly growing into quite perceptible pleasure... I told her things about herself, and had her cum and told her more, and more... it was quite delightful.

Then we did more math -- and it went a lot further, a lot easier, which makes me suspect some unspeakable things about holes, but let's pass over.

Then we had serious talks, or no, wait. I think possibly we had the serious talks first and then the maths... or maybe not. In any case, eventually we had enough and also finished the chocolate cake at some point -- I'm pretty sure it was during the maths, but I could be wrong.

And then we went to watch a movie. It was The Apartment, and the only whore to last to the endvi didn't think so much of it -- in part because she had heard the exact same lines seventy years later from the same exact sorts of morons, and it grated her more than the steel wool ; in part because... well ? Why are these people such idiots ?

What can you say...

I took my baby on a Saturday bang

———I mean... I took some, but to you they'd be straight-up pornography (perhaps not even the best sort) and to me they're cherished memories, so... I'll keep them.

This is, by the way and believe it or not, my publish-or-archive decision process : if I believe public value exceeds private value I generally publish (with the caveat that the calculations are complicated, such as for instance "the public value for the model as a member of the public" can be a consideration) ; otherwise I do not (though sometimes the calculation is later reviewed).

I suppose there could also be perceived (I mean "perceived", as in particularly... imaginative, shall we say, perceivers) the shadow of self-aggrandization involved in the process. Yet... consider the extenuating circumstances, if you will. A decade ago, when some "popular blogger" (in his hugbox and there only, femstate-style) made false but general statements, as is the lot of such idiots, I pissed all over him (and in the process also upon the whole countryfull of them). Amply, abundantly and from high altitude I urinated, while that entire country pretended to not have noticed, as if that fucking fixes anything (no, pretense fixes nothing, hence their being exactly in the same place a decade later).

And the pretense continues today as a decade ago, carried in the same vein by the same sort of people with their "inexplicably" wet hair. Here :

Do you notice something about this inane retard's hirelings ? Well, do you ? But... are you sure ?

Actually... let me ask you this : are you HIV positive ?

Whatever, let's move on :

Leaving aside how the girl's Denise Parkinson, the photographer's girlfriend : do you notice anything, to distinguish these lamers from me ?

Anything at all ? Today's header, perhaps ?

Motherfucking idiots already! Bare cunt or go the fuck home!

We're not even remotely alike. We're not even remotely alike not merely because I own my whores outright. Outright, you understand me ? Outright, without license or permission, without licenses or conditions, without right or rights, without "safe words", without anyone or anything else -- I own my whores outright ; while socialism's cardboard "plausibly-deniable" alt-MPs just borrow from their collective daughters. That much would certainly suffice, but the discusion needn't even reach that far. We're not even superficially, howsoever vaguely alike. Bare cunt, or go the fuck home. Buncha sad fakers...

What, nobody could ever notice ?

Go home.

Niciodata nu o sa puteti sa fiti ca noi

La noi incepe tot cand se termina la voi. [↩]The girls love zacusca, btw, so much so we have a court appointed manufacturer that ships in the material by the pallet. Tuna + zacusca in a bowl being the gym hoes' fave breakfast these days ; consequently I have in excess of fifty jars sitting in a cabinet downstairs. Just like a normal family! [↩]"I'm going to poison you while you sleep! But not in the usual way, you're too good for that! I'm going to put it on a knife and fucking stab you with it!" [↩]Easy enogh to do, have each arm go in through a different side of a pole and handcuff the wrists on the other end. [↩]Petroleum jelly's the only lube there is -- accept no substitutes. [↩]Girls sometimes ask to be excused, in this case to sleep, you're familiar with the concept from before, yes ? [↩]

« The fungus

The Clouds That Threaten Domestic Bliss »

Category: Lifespiel

Sunday, 26 May, Year 11 d.Tr.

Birds, birds, birds, just lookin' for some sugar... birds, birds, birds, just lookin' for a crumb... ta na na na na na

Hey, remember... Sabrina ? That long, hot '87 summer when some wanna-be Madonna chick did that thing in the pool, and then we watched "Maid in Sweden" right after and then... oh. ait. You weren't even there. A well...

She did have nice tits.

Cvas, you see, it comes in a bottle. Or it can, at any rate.

Above, the excellent noodle Uzbek soup and below, the excellent Uzbek lamb axe at this excellent Uzbek pectopah I've mentioned before.

Above & below : this entirely different Uzbek place in an entirely different location two blocks from the other one.

Above : the lulz, in Moontalk. Don't they look fucking hysterical though ? Once the narrative overlay is removed by analphabetism, once the scammer's muted, doesn't the simpler, truer substance hit like a ton of bricks ?

Below : girls shooting girls. For some reason that place (a very nice waffle & smoothie joint, about two blocks from either of the other two) is the nexus of instawhoring -- earlier today there were a coupla fifteen year olds posing themselves, in their school sneakers and everyday jeans, but it's the faces you make at the camera that matter, rite ?

Above : the weirdest thing happened while we were having coffee! Under the watery gaze of the crone on the right, the crone on the left proceeded over grumpily, went through a screen three layers deep of other chairs to select the very one our baggage train (purses, hats, sticks, things) was resting upon, and dragged it all over there!

Below : birdy came to steal some food, which I didn't really wanna give it because salt and other people things ; but then it stole a crumb of brown sugar the size of its head, swallowed it all like a maniac, and then got all hyper. I had nfi sparrows can digest sugar.

A lifetime of elite luxurious elegance in luxury, as Elliot would have put it.

Above : I ordered all the available prosecco at the breakfast joint. Because I can.

Below : it's 100% cock, you understand.

Anyway! We had a fabulous time ; mostly me (and since at least 1987). But not just me!

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Category: La pas prin lume

Thursday, 18 July, Year 11 d.Tr.