lyceum_and_chautauqua_ordure
« Un flic
Category: Zsilnic
Sunday, 23 February, Year 12 d.Tr.
Tuesday after Christmas
Tuesday after Christmasi debuts with a near-perfect depiction of the fundamental modeii of human amorous entanglements.
Then it takes a sudden bend and goes decidedly South. The impression one starts forming by half an hour in (and then simply can not shake by the time the credits roll, try as he might) is that the entire collection of cucky "smart guys" (with a great sense of humour, bien sur) working in Romanian advertisingiii who had married some insecure (but clever!) careerwomaniv and then divorced her with a pre-teen in towv gathered together in a convention-festival-concurs or something, and brainstormed 'till the wee hours to produce the best possible "look, I'm an upstanding, moral, cvasi-heroic guy, I did the right thing and that angry lawyer bitch is just a harpy" piece of agitprop.
Which... I mean, I can sympathize with the concept, the "careerwoman" fumes & fumuri are dispelled like the smoke they are the very moment the ugly little girl "runs into" / is ran into the facts of life. All it takes is the man's hand on her face and she's bawling the stupid out of her guts like so much bile after her first "real" party -- but then ? What then ? Where's the followup, Simpy McCuckersonvi ?
They could've lived happily ever after together, but if you don't tell them to ? If you don't make them do it ? How the fuck are they gonna, on their own ? What is this supposed to be, the post-human future ?
Anyways, as ever the case with propaganda, the film succeeds in unintended directions unforeseen (deliberately, for cause of wilful blindness) by the authors much better than it manages in the vein it was supposed to.vii In this particular case, you can safely turn it off twenty or so minutes in, you'll not be missing out on much thereby.
———2010, By Radu Muntean (whose name I actually wrote out here, in lieu of copy-pasting), with Maria Popistasu (the young woman), Mimi Branescu (the man), Mirela Oprisor (the wife). [↩]Yes, adolescents belong with older adults, that's how this entire thing called humanity (to distinguish it both from what the animals do and from what infantile, unexamined "imagination" would have it do) works, and how it's supposed to work in the first place. For reasons.
No, age-"appropriate" mating is not appropriate, especially not for young people. In older people it can be excused, on the same lines the self-abandonment, functional failure and all the rest of the stupid shit old people do is excused -- they don't wash anymore, they don't learn anymore, these are greater problems than not fucking teens anymore, and so the smaller problem readily passes unmentioned, its place in conversation crushed by the immediacy and immensity of the larger. They'll die soon anyway. In adolescents however -- in young people it is such massive failure of meeting age-appropriate development goals as to by and of itself constitute sufficient macula to warrant the "developmentally retarded" label.
Yes, that's right -- if you're 25 and haven't yet lived with -- I don't mean "drunken brawled", once. I don't mean any of the other dumb bullshit you plebs do to "substitute" for the necessary achievements incumbent in the unfolding of life. I mean quite exactly lived for -- you're retarded, just like any other booger-eating, spittle-dribbling mongoloid. The difference, if there's a difference, if anyone can be bothered to look for such things as a difference, will come out as a matter of degree. It will not be a matter of kind, because there's not two kinds. Retards are retards, broken sub-humans, they don't make the cut and that's that. It don't specifically matter if the other's 55 or 39, but it does matter they're twice your age, give or take. It does matter that the retarded adults around you "would never approve" and the immature girlies about "don't understand how you can". You'd better fucking well can, because as the men used to point out to each other all the time (back when some could still be found) : you either do what's to be done or you're no good.
Yes, I'm aware the currently prevailing practices among amok little girls trying to pass themselves off for "careerwomen" pululating all over our meanwhile failed colonies go the exact opposite -- and (wonder of wonders) they even have a lot of hot air to supposedly "justify" ahem, "it dun need any justification" but to "explain" and "I have to understand". All this is because they're fucked in the head. They may pretend to a centrality, universality and ahistoricity which absolutely does not belong to them all they want, until they fall over, but all that inconsequential gargle notwithstanding the correct practice is what the mercantile republics did, not what these idiots (who managed to squander in the past fifty years almost everything the warring states of Europe had been gifting them freely) think -- if we can so abuse that poor verb in the first place. Neither the mores nor the "justifications" of either North or South Argentina are of any import in the settling of human affairs. None whatsoever.
Now get to work. [↩]Of which cinema, including the Romanian New Wave, was a subtype -- all these people earned their livings by doing adwork, everything else is a sideline. [↩]No, I'm not here discussing pizdi from Fizesu Gherlii and other such axe handles, inconsequential biomass eaten up by USG.Blue because porn was no longer worth money and moreover -- I had put an end to life and the very possibility of living through my mere say-so (talk about power, huh).
No, I mean genuine (sui generis) clever girls, somewhat driven, meaning well... like my mother, say. Like so many like her, not really either brave or curious enough to live, but also not quite abject enough to substitute facebook for it. Have you met any of these backbones of mediocrity ? They're great for raising children, even if they're not particularly good at making enough. [↩]Which honestly... given the year is 2010, these are therefore precisely the insuficient biosacks that were picciutteddi back when I decided the new blood's neither , actuallyworth sticking around for nor ever capable of filling the previous generations' shoes, and so made an end of it. [↩]Called Paula in the film, for extra lulz. Because, of course, the young whore's also magical. [↩]This should also explain the fabulous products of said Romanian New Wave : propagandists without central command, scraping for employment here and there, ended up making random shit which seems to work well by people who weren't aware of how it was made, or why, or by whom -- which is to say, moviegoing audiences. It worked for Henry Miller well enough, rite ? [↩]
« Girl, interrupted
The FUD, the king of the hill and... so on »
Category: Trilematograf
Monday, 15 June, Year 12 d.Tr.
Trilema altogether no longer showing ?
The whole "fuck leechers" thing worked while it worked ; but apparently the recent republican closure made Trilema ever more popular, to the point of choking my server.
I've had to restart apache to increase servlets/workers (apologies for the brief downtime earlier, but apparently 512 wasn't nearly fucking enough, so now running with 8k i), which helps somewhat. But ever since...
Current Time: Monday, 06-Apr-2020 08:08:54 EDT
Restart Time: Monday, 06-Apr-2020 07:47:51 EDT
Parent Server Config. Generation: 2
Parent Server MPM Generation: 1
Server uptime: 21 minutes 3 seconds
Server load: 0.33 0.48 0.55
Total accesses: 2061928 - Total Traffic: 76.1 GB
CPU Usage: u70.07 s33.96 cu587.68 cs83.79 - 61.4% CPU load
1630 requests/sec - 61.7 MB/second - 38.7 kB/request
389 requests currently being processed, 339 idle workers
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................................................................
and sustainedly,
Current Time: Monday, 06-Apr-2020 08:12:58 EDT
Restart Time: Monday, 06-Apr-2020 07:47:51 EDT
Parent Server Config. Generation: 2
Parent Server MPM Generation: 1
Server uptime: 25 minutes 7 seconds
Server load: 0.50 0.48 0.53
Total accesses: 2683363 - Total Traffic: 97.5 GB
CPU Usage: u107.46 s53.27 cu771.91 cs113.22 - 69.4% CPU load
1780 requests/sec - 66.2 MB/second - 38.1 kB/request
548 requests currently being processed, 180 idle workers
___...R_W..WKWCKK.K..K.KW._._...W_K..__K_RKW..KK_.__RKK_._.K_R_C
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................................................................
Do the math if ye fucking will, what's 100GB / 25 minutes come to ? Anything like ~170 monthly TB ? So... yeah, I'm back where I was a year, five quarters ago : da fuck am I going to do, this is about as much as this server can take, it's arrived at ye PSF : if I increase servlets the average processing time increases as well, this machine can pump out 1500-2k reqs/s and that's it, that's what it can do, fiddle knobs as ye will.
Unlike a year ago, however, I see no simple solution. 40kb average request is indicative of... you know, people reading, what am I going to do, not let them ? I suppose I should have pushed the originally intended multi-server thing I was discussing with lobbes last year more decisively, but honestly...
If in the future you end up having to queue to read Trilema, it'll just be a natural continuation of living in the free world, don't you find ?
———Which is 8192 and not 8000, whatever math Bezos might've learned at his special needs school. [↩]
« Yet I do not repent me, or Semana Santa en Costa Rica
Coffee and Cigarettes »
Category: Meta psihoza
Monday, 06 April, Year 12 d.Tr.
Today in our Cultural History of Internet Marketing (CHoIM-757) class : The tube site before the tube site, or what's a TGP ?
I mentioned recently ancient, long forgotten drama about tube sites. The term TGP itself makes its sporadic appearancei on this here definitive sheet of all things. The glue that ties these all together for our needs today however is a comment I just left on Diana's site. It went like so :
There's multiple strata involved (because no, neither English nor Romanian are creative cultures in any proper sense, they just retell what they've heard). The joint portions between the ro Pacala and the uk Pacala are really echoes of HREii figures, born at the interplay of historical Veneto, Lombardy, Bavaria and Saxony. These didn't yield only the two, but numerous -- rather, countless -- derivative works in most all neighbouring subcultures. There's a "purely Transylvanian" 1800s vintage, Romanian-spoken such smart guy who gets himself hired by a baker under false pretenses, oversleeps, makes the breads wrong ("creatively", though), ends up kicked out, sells his misshod creation for great profit due to the novelty factor (really, due to early pantsuit self-support, the same reason they watch each other's farts on Netflix) and then the baker attempts to sue for damages. The story is self-obviously late medieval Saxon, but localized in Sibiu.iii
The interesting portion of Pacala however is where (unlike his ItaloGerman-derivative counterparts) he communicates with Afanti, and the rest of the Eastern-Oriental panoply (which are genuinely interesting, for reasons of better poetic inclination in the Golden Horn & Iranian space ; longer time -- as in millenia versus decades -- more diligently applied and perhaps the blessings of the soil). So "nu pot, pentru ca mi-am uitat pacalitorul acasa" / Caragiale's stories about "researching Gawker to find whether oxen can walk on the ceiling like flies" / such items are both unknown in the bitter weeds island, and genuinely delightful.
Thus armed, let's further draw on my (well earned, and well deserved) credit to define some of our terms. I promise it'll be interesting enough.
You know what a "gallery" is, as a digital culture term of art, yes ? Any collection of digital pictures, displayed multiple in a row over multiple rows, where the item displayed stands symbolic for a larger version available is a "gallery", that's just what we call them. Right ? It used to be "gallery preview", but then got contracted, much like "webhost" became "host" and "weblog" became "blog", and "www" became nothing. Isn't it funny, by the way, how the late 1990s "futurist"iv pedophiles and con artists kept trying to stick "world wide web" or at the very least "web" into pretty much everything yet it never took, at all ? Almost like their sperm.v What sort of retard still spuriously elongates his domain with a www. prefix today ?
They were called "thumbnail" gallery previews for no substantial reason, perhaps a thin whiff of marketing-politeness, aiming to imply that the scale difference between the item displayed and the item it symbolizes is so markedvi as to evoke the thumb-to-person relationship, maybe -- except of course for the obvious problem : the TGP site held no larger images anywhere. Hurr. At first, back in... I don't even recall, 1995 maybe, there was some brief space for the reasonable expectation that if you click on some thumbnail depicting a chick with her tits out and her snatch stuffed a larger picture depicting the same chick with the same tits & stuffing would pop out of the machine. It didn't last long though ; by the time the dotcom bubble burst all clicking did was produce a new list of thumbnails, over and over again.vii
The economics of this Skinner machine were very simple : the "traffic" mental construct (an entirely fictitious object, exactly like Harry Catniss or Jasmine the Vampire Slayer) being further arbitrarily subdividedviii in two aspects holding some rather tenuous relationships to objective basesix (uniques, and pageviews), of which one was (just as arbitrarily) deemed of greater value (the first) whereas the second of lesser value, it then logically followed that the job of the self-unaware unemployed would be to "optimize" these. Tell me, if you have a site that "does"x 5`000 uniques and 60`000 pageviews a whateverxi, wouldn't you pay someone to "optimize" it such that it does 15`000 uniques and 50`000 pageviews ? I mean... it's better to have 15 u and 50 p than 5 u and 60 p, we've already agreed u is better than p, aite ? So wouldn't you trade five pounds sixty shillings for fifteen pounds fifty shillings ? So then!
All this complicated re-dreaming of underlying phenomena aside, the actual ongoings underneath were rather plain : for every guy with a (credit-card based!) subscription there were dozens of other guys who either a) could not actually afford it (for instance, for being underage, and thus ineligible for credit card activity) ; b) didn't judge they could afford it (for instance, for being married, and concerned wifey might find out) or c) just didn't want to do it (for whatever reason). The name of the affiliate game was to wring want-to-and-will-do out of these categories, by convincing the b) wifey's never finding out, by tittilating & frustrating the c) to the point where he changes his mind, by driving a) nuts enough to actually steal the parents' cc (a very safe move, you realise wife's gonna blame daddy not you, duh). All this "work" was generally accomplished by having them click on TGPs until they fell over (and yes, as you might've intuited, this was an almost entirely adolescent male activity). Thus in practice the porn affiliate business was a three plus one step process : 1. [young] male gets horny ; 2. user ends up on tgp ; 3. user clicks around a while until, maybe, hopefully, 4. user subscribes to a paysite.
This disposition in the field gave birth to traffic trading, and the concept of BCTxii. Admitting that there's two such TGP sites, admitting further that on average the user clicks fifty times before wandering off (with or without a hot sticky mess on his hands, nobody cares, seriously), then switching users midway will... what will it do, let's turn this into an interactive exercise.
So, as to uniques, it up to even doubles them. If the populations are isolated (as they very much were -- in the 90s) then one site's users are entirely distinct individuals from the other site's usersxiii. Thus switching them midway will result in... double "traffic" (in the sense of, "uniques") for... both sites. Win-win, right ?
Whereas speaking of pageviwews... if the user does fifty clicks before edgingxiv, each site will have half as many pageviews as before on averagexv -- which is not necessarily some great loss, seeing how all other sites on the internet besides forums and tgps had much lower pageview-to-unique ratiosxvi and well... the kids only ever wanted to belong anyways.
This is then what the TGPs were : take content from the paysites (generally freely given, especially towards the end of the period every paysite had piles of tgp-ready content, and most even pre-formed tgp pages for the affiliates to gobble up wholesale), scale it down to almost-unusability, and trade traffic back and forth.xvii
The tube sites were the exact same thing, with some tweaks. For one thing, they still took the content of paysites, but this time it wasn't freely given. They simply took the videos and presented them to an eager public, wholesale, no shits given.xviii For the other thing, they had no paysite model. They simply chased "traffic" for its own sake, which has resulted in some extremely friable "properties" : the costs balloon, because no, streaming isn't free (not to mention all the challenges from the pulpit lobby, throughout time and forever the only true enemy) whereas the income vanishes, because who's gonna pay for it all ? "Advertisers" ? You've gotta be kidding.xix
Do you understand now what embrace and extinguish is ?
———There's at least four : one time back in 2011 a user uses it straight (and you may perhaps infer the mountaineous disdain implied in the usage of the term "user" in porn back in the day from this circumstance) ; I make a coupla transparent references in the very logs -- the latter of which very much worth carefully re-reading ; and then there's a direct definition from 2012. [↩]Holy Roman Empire, a pre-medieval attempt by the Germans to unify the Italians back into a Roman Empire continuator whether they wanted to or not. SPQR v2.0 ftw, what, it worked for myspace v2.0 aka facebook also! [↩]More properly, Hermannstadt. [↩]Yes, that was the cultural affiliation, much like I used above "digital culture" to denote a thing, this also denotes a very similar thing -- a thing which explains why Seth Godin is bald, why Steve Jobs wore those block-color turtlenecks, and why Austin Powers' Dr. Evil is funny.
I'm not proposing, incidentally, to equate the two over substance, quality, value, power, reach or any other positive quality. I'm well aware early pantsuits are just as irrelevant, in any possible retelling of the world, as middle or late pantsuits thence stayed ; so no, 1970s-1990s "futurism" is in no manner commensurable to 2000s-2020s mainstream digital culture (they'd like to pretend otherwise, of course, but then never were powerful enough to make what they like matter).
What I'm saying is that just as Colonialism impels Spanish hidalgos to cross the ocean, enslave some women, and beat up some local beta bois, just so matriarchy impels some local beta bois to be beaten by the men-horses and some local girls to be by them enslaved. It takes two to tango and a few for any social dance, therefore the stone age primitives' culture is that which impels them to be stone age primitives, eagerly trading [what they understand of] the island of Manhattan for a handful of glass beads much like mercantilism as a culture is what impels the traders to produce, transport and offer the beads. Obviously stone age primitivism loses out in any contest with the more advanced culture ; but inasmuch as it's what drives its followers, it's what drives its followers. The man who dies of an infected toenail was killed by his infected toenail just as the man who dies of massive cerebral oedema died of his massive cerebral oedema. This equality isn't liable to imply that both conditions are equally dangerous to the man still living, or that they'd be similarily treated in a hospital setting. I trust by now we understand each other. [↩]You know the joke with a dying Steve Jobs sharing last words with his long-term wife Stephana Wozniak (weird name on account of her having been acquired through a mail-order bride service), with whom he's had seven beautiful daughters and a good for nothing son ? It goes something like "you can tell me the truth now, who did you have that loser with ?" ; and the retort comes like a guillotine : "that's the one I actually had with you".
That's kinda the lot of pantsuits in this world ; and always has been. Yes the thing they stand for repeats itself, endlessly, forever. That's why it's called stupidity. But individually they're all completely sterile, retardation has that natural and necessary effect. None of them have any impact on the endless pululation of the filthy bottom under manhood anymore than individual bacteria drive Brownian motion. It's a physical phenomenon, Brownian motion, you understand this. Do you ? The fact that it indistinctly animates specks of nothing and allegedly alive bacteria through space and time is neither intentional nor meaningful ; and in any case the spurious specks don't "inherit" Brownian motion from each other. It predates them, and it just as well survives their extinction -- a situation which definitionally bars inheritability. [↩]You're getting your money's worth, being the idea, if you click on these you won't be on the receiving end of a postcard indignity, 320x240 or even -- horror of horrors -- 160x120 pixels but rather 640x480 or even 800x640 glory of glories!
Speaking of which, do you still recall the ascii art nudes of the 80s ? [↩]Occasionally they'd link to a paysite, which was a site holding the actual content -- nicely sized pictures and the occasional video -- behind a paywall. At first people'd plonk down 19.95 1990s dollars for a month of such service (a proposition kept economical by the fortuitous circumstances that most users were on dial-up, and also too clueless to save their downloads not to mention too isolated to trade their loot, thereby allowing even a modest library to sell well for years and years and years, always encountering fresh eyes in the marketplace owing to the internet going nova back then), but by the mid 2000s $1.99 lifetime offers with multiple paysites bundled was rather the norm. [↩]You recall how this goes. [↩]Plural of basis, did you know ? [↩]Let's not even get into the tenuousness of the relationship between the object and the phenomenon. What's the relationship between website and "traffic", some kind of doing ? Laissez. [↩]A rather common situation, at the time. [↩]Blind clicked traffic, meaning that an actual user clicked on something, but he didn't know what it was when he did. [↩]A very tenuous proposition outside the 90s, and the active core of many chumpatrons since 2001. [↩]The masturbatory practice of edging (as in the deliberate marginal stimulation such as to not-quite-orgasm) was unknown in the 90s, much like female orgasms, the most trivially banal item in the world, passed for a myth in the social conversation of the 80s (a stance supported by very wide consensus -- don't tell me you don't remember).
So, at the time, once they started edging the users stopped clicking and started stroking. By the time the activity was called fap-fap (ie, mid to late 2000s) edging had actually become the norm, and in terms of fluid expelled pre-cum readily overwhelmed actual ejaculate by mass in common social practice. [↩]Unless, of course, there is such a thing as variety ; and unless it actually drives more acute interest. It is entirely possible the user of one site only clicks fifty times whereas if he could click on two sites he will click fifty-five times before finally bestowing his unctuous contribution upon inanimate objects. Pushing this to an extreme, perhaps if the user can click on two billion sites he will click fifty billion times, and never even cum, just dribble clear fluid for hours and hours and hours. It's... possible, right ? Theoretically speaking it's possible, notwithstanding how it very much happens to be exactly what happened. [↩]Notably, the mainstream media "properties" had at all points scandalously low figures, "unfairly" not to mention "unscientifically" exposing them for the spurious frauds they've always been. Who knew nobody gives a shit about Pravda ?!?!?!?
They were very butthurt about this state of affairs (they very carefully never mentioned as such) so they drove a silent and broadly ineffectual campaign to convince everyone that "the best" split of the two imaginary components of the imagined object is closer to how it splits for them, as opposed to everyone else. What'd you ever do if you didn't have the Pravda ensemble to subtly convince you of patent nonsense ?! [↩]Hence "traffic productivity", meaning that if on average a user (of a class of users) does more clicks than the average count of clicks before he's redirected to a different TGP, he will be replaced ; whereas if he doesn't, he isn't.
Think about it, if you have who to trade high productivity traffic with, you will necessarily have infinite traffic available, for the exact same reasons nuclear reactors produce energy : if all users click in and then click out, to be replaced by other users who also click in and then click out, you're never running out, ever. This was the dream of TGP owners, documented as such in the media of their time. [↩]This hurt, because shooting a few hundred stills takes a few hours and costs a few thousand, whereas shooting an hour of video takes a few days and costs a few hundred thousand. Back in the days of the TGP paysite owners could readily afford to ignore the (negligible by volume, in most cases ; and universally negligible by actual economic impact) theft and continue offering their paying subscribers an abundance of stills and the occasional quarter hour video as a bonus.
It can be said that with the development of the internet, and especially the ascendancy of always-on, broadband cable connections, the arrival of the tube sites was necessary and unavoidable. Much better connected users are definitely going to save, and trade, and there goes the library value up in smoke. Nevertheless, video production is expensive and stays expensive, which is why 2020s porn collapsed into camwhoring after a brief foray through "gonzo" in the 2010s : there's no cheaper way to make it.
Yes it's pure shit, much like the "food" and everything else is shit in Pantsuitistani lands. Yet the problem is purely economical : at what's available in payment, nothing else can be had. Game shows are too expensive for Netflix, and gonzo porn is too expensive for social media. It's what it is : purely an economic result.
The economic result of extreme poverty. [↩]There is no such thing as "advertising" as an economic activity. Advertising is strictly a political mechanism, it is the Roosevelt-socialism equivalent of notes from Stalin, it translates into faux, pseudo-economic terms the underlying arrangements of social power -- a rather obvious fact Christos Ballas readily intuits though he carefully disavows.
So no, the tired old cunt lobby isn't going to print money to give to their wholly state-owned "independent entreprises" to give to you to keep on undermining their whole system. Doh. Wait, what the fuck did you think advertising even was !? And what else did you think, that Google-Facebook "make money" ? "From advertising" ? Are you fucked in the head or something ? [↩]
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Category: 3 ani experienta
Sunday, 12 April, Year 12 d.Tr.
To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar
To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmari enjoys the not inconsiderable distinction of putting forth the absolute best wardrobe I've ever seen in cinema. Ever, best ever, think about it.ii The scenography more generally's acceptable though not capable of bearing quite such extreme claims, and the general photography's middlingly unremarkable ; but with the solitary exception of a technicolor Spanish hat that absolutely should have been crimson red (and not the TV carmine they use throughout) there's nothing but sheer fabulous perfection decking the trannies throughout.
Which brings us to the actual actors. There's a twin problem here, one... horn, let's say, of which being that Wesley Snipes never in his born days looked as good presenting dude as Noxeema does presenting femme.
How's that for a conversation-ending bomb! I don't know if it's because he's black or because what, but honestly I can't look at anything with or about him anymore and not think it's really Noxeema in counteriii-drag (and to her detriment). Really, it's ended his acting career, as far as I'm concerned.
The other... horn, let's still say, is that at no point during any of the frolics does Patrick Swayze look like anything other, besides or beyond Patrick-fucken-Swayze. It's like a case of those idiots on reddit or wherever they pusstulate, putting hats on cats and thinking they've done something while the cat's just there frowning at the idiocy, very self-obviously, duly and plainly a cat someone put some shit on. It doesn't stick to him, at all, it doesn't alter one iota, he'd have been just as much in drag by simply holding a piece of paper indicating through labeling the intended transformation, kabuki-style.
I don't know if it's because he's white, or because unlike Noxeema he's not a damned faggotiv, or what exactly, but the contrast's uncanny.
Definitely worth seeing, though the script's atrociously terrible, I mean Mystery Science Theater level of broken nonsense.
———1995, by Beeban Kidron, with a pre-tax Wesley Snipes, Patrick Swayze and I guess John Leguizamo (we're not mentioning the fat fuck who ruined Reservoir Dogs like he ruins everything he's ever into with his lengthy monologues of pure ham).
The title comes from the characters' obsession with the original catwoman, which is why her likeness thrones over the proceedings. It's a joke, see, because she's going to stuff herself into a box ? Get it ?
Anyway, she's pretty hot from behind. She's also pleasing from the front, as far as nature endowed her, except she's also greatly suffering under the considerable burdens of living among idiots. She did her part posing, like a good girl ; but the imbecile photographer can't use the damned tools, just look at this massacre :
Dear apprentice butchers / amateur photographers (whether you "work" for the church of photographical atrocity calling itself Playboy or not) : there are specific, pre-ordained cuts the human body may undertake while being photographed, and the female leg contains none such past the knee. Meaning that if you get her knee in there, you get all her foot in there, NO EXCEPTIONS. Fucktard really needed that mile of sky up there, that's what they pay him for, amateur daylight astronomy in the optical range.
It's sad that you have to learn the very fucking basics at the core of your alleged vocation from reading Trilema, but then again I guess everyone's in that position these days. [↩]Not fucking kidding! The young ("jewish") hussy's memorable white geddup in Ivanhoe is memorable, but just a piece ; there's others, "three or four", but here it's everything, just absolutely everything. [↩]Or however the fuck do you call it. What's it called when bitches dress up in dude ? [↩]Do you suppose it's actually true all black men are gay ? I mean, it used to be fashionable consensus not so long ago ; meanwhile it became just as unfashionable just as consensus. But as to the truth of the matter, are blacks basically like women, sexually ambiguous naturally, essentially an' substantially ?
The questions for the ages. [↩]
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Catslave, the making and using of. »
Category: Trilematograf
Thursday, 24 December, Year 12 d.Tr.
To my mind, bureaucracy...
To my mind, bureaucracy is the only true and perdurant enemy of mankind. What bureaucracy may in practice turn out to be is indeed formally varied and perhaps may even appear as distinct, superficially : the mother hovering and doting on her child, lest he hurt himself -- why ? let the child hurt itself, that's what it's for (and, should it hurt itself to death, let her make another -- that's what she's for) ; the pantsuit, aspiring to pull themselves up by their own breeches and through empty pronounciations alter, somehow, the very fabric upon which is draped existence ; the "well-meaning" mediocrity trying to "live as best it can within its means", not merely content to eat for the rest of his life in the first eatery that took his money, but actually upset when (and not if) the vagaries of commerce force the closing of that one establishment -- so uncurious, so spurious his inhuman mind that, at great distance from ever summoning the interest to try out something new on his own power, it actually perversely curdles into an odorous pretense to protest when such a trifle as stepping out is compelled by events (and the husbands of a single woman, similarily the first to have opened her legs to his intolerably whiny litany are all exactly the same thing, however they lie to themselves about it, and then to any that'll listen) ; the speakers of one single language, the first they (unawaredly, and thus unpainfully) ever learned ; all dreamers and such "escapees", sufferers in a putative (but really, thoroughly vacuous) "mind" of slings and arrows of what in their eyes seems fortune ; the lowly faggots, those despicable creatures made through supplying the wrong answer to that one truly universal question that reads "ne batem sau te fut ?"i (and no, following "trends", such as presented by the clucker, is not in any way anything different) ; the dedicated solvers of other people's problems (for the self-obvious reason that one's solutions to another's problems can never really fail, much like howsoever vigorous copulation with another's wife isn't liable to burden one with offspring to support) ; the unwilling to die for concern of losing a life they had been, at all points prior, stolidly unwilling to live ; the stringers of trite prosody that should in their eyes be nevertheless deemed poetry (because it rhymes!) and all their sad, insufferable, never happy exam-taking kind ; the rural farmer, content to plough his land, just like the bison is content to browse ; and the town jade, thinking itself above the farmer in the manner of an eleventh floor urinal deeming itself more dignified a space than a second floor broom closet, for self-perceived loftiness ; the sad yet sadly numerous contingent who never came up with a joke (counterdistinct from reciting a joke they dutifully learned aforetime), within their number also counting all the essential cuckolds, who never hurt nor could conceive of killing but in anger, never for fun, nor for the sport of it ; the true faithful of bullshit "religions" predicated on being as mediocre as can be, flimsy disguise indeed for such a spiteful hatred of mankind as'd readily justify in their eyes the wholesale slaughter of the lot -- if only they could beg, borrow or steal a pair of balls somewhere they'd do it, too ; also the name magicians, adrift upon an absent, stormy sea of labels they came up with by themselves (in general by pasting up on boards the scraps of old, discarded labels found about) to put on things they in their mind imagined -- the hunchback sort that walk out of sculpture exhibitions with the (smartly packaged) fire extinguisher and never know the difference, and in their number too "students" of degrees, and "soldiers" by contract, and "leaders" by appointment or regular election and all the rest of the sad lot of fauxmankind ; all those whose expectations are so great (for having grown like fungus, of and by themselves, in isolation, fed by the mind alone) that expediency is fundamentally necessary to the point of becoming the only manner in which they still dare approach their life... as you can see all these are thoroughly the same one thing.
And, make no mistake about it, it is a thing.
———The English version, not nearly as good (for much weaker vocalic and consonant alternation in that language, not to mention absence of most grammatical structure that makes linguistic effort worth the bother to the thinking man) would go something like "shall we fight or shall I fuck you" I suppose. [↩]
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Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc
Tuesday, 03 March, Year 12 d.Tr.
Things I have been doing
Well for one thing, I put a pot of delicious chicken soup ("a la Grec", it's a Romanian thing) to the firei, a proceeding more involved than it has to be as I had to go retrieve it from the other fridgeii, where it was lodgediii because this fridge is fulla delicious fruit -- such as a half dozen or so pineapples, which'd be readily worth a grand a head anywhere in the world, because, to quote "are you kidding me, most people drive an hour to get fruit you wouldn't eat, you'd say something like 'is this Automercado produce' and push the plate away"iv, not to mention mamon (this weird alien looking thing that I'm perfectly capable of eating by the kilo while watching films for instance), mangosteen, a cartful of mangoes that defy this language's trim offering of superlatives to such a degree I'm just going to pass in silence, and besides fresh coconuts (no, you've never had them, what you have are mature coconuts, and besides your inch of rind to my milimeter I can otherwise assure you they taste nothing alikev, something I'd know, through experience) and... whatever, a bunch of other fruit (the produce has a different fridge long ago dedicated to it, and so on). I suppose truly the only way out here is to have a proper, New York luxury restaurant-grade cold room put in, somewhere. Then we could re-hook its refridgerativevi tubulature like we've seen in that Tom&Jerry cartoon and spend a day or a week or an eternity figure skating to classical music materializing itself out of thin ether merely as a token of the universe's superhuman esfuerzos to keep up with how fucking cool we are, if not level then at least in the general range of marginal adequacy. No ?
Let's see then if I'm done listing things I've been doing before the thing's boiling, because once it is I'll go eat and while I do girls will come in to ask that, to do this, etcetera, and I'll forget what I was saying and we'll never meet again. Not kidding.
Anyways, I've been to the beach, an abortive trip that failed through a trifectious confluence of Maramures-grade bad weather (though I expect you've other synonymous notations for "ploaie mocaneasca), extremely high waves and a dubious brownish discoloration of the very water. I've no idea what the fuck, but there was a large-ish (6.something) earthquake off the coast by Jaco monday, strong enough to be felt an hour away where I live (as a most concerning, low frequency earthly vibration) and I suppose it fucken broke it ?! Anyways, I expect my beach be fucken fixed for me by the next trip! Or else there'll be words, are we clear ?
I've also had the car stopped on the side of the road (hey, emergency lanes are there for emergencies, right ?) because the cocksucker seated in the back on my left was doing a terrible job of it and I had to have her replaced (I've not punished her for it, nor do I intend to -- heck, I didn't even kick her out of the car or leave her there to hike the rest of the way, uncharacteristically enough -- but she has spent the entire day since teary-eyed and regretful, which... well, I suppose it's only fitting, what can I say). The ongoing proceedings were no doubt observed by at least two different sets of peajevii workers spanning fifty miles or whatever, and I sincerely hope it serves them well in their lives, because really, what's the point of sitting in a booth if there's no possibility of sucking cock for it ? Stop wasting your lives, chickies!
Furthermore, I've opened a bottle of fine old rum... actually here, allow me :
And yes, it's quite as good as the context seems to suggest. Otherwise, I also spread the good word a little :
The respondents to these modest catechistic efforts, as you no doubt expect, were mostly dudes -- young unestablished dudes thinking themselves exactly that which they least resemble. But, lives go on, and so on.
I've also had the bimbo expose herself to a tiny shoestore's fullness of dudes, there must've been like five or six of them packed in the other square foot of floor space, aside from mine. Because what the fuck, I don't imagine I do my own shoes when I'm out buying shoes, huh ?! No, I have a valet (with tits) for that job (and another, holding my cane and things, on the sidewalk for lack of space inside), and... This is the sort of insanity one has to go through to have their shoes bespoke these days -- but I do not count myself an injured party at all here, seeing how the kid seemed competent and his work product fine. So I've ordered some shoes made.
I've also answered his bewildered question (as he was desperately trying to come to grips with the Royal Flush of a situation) whether we're French with no, I'm Romanian ; and the girls too ? No, they're from the US. That sad old whore pretending (ever less credibly) to countryhood never had an ambassador quite as forcefully efectual since at the very least the days of Titulescu, I'm persuaded, because now there's one more poor skilled labourer from Nicaragua going about thinking Romania is how Cthulhu says Cthulhuia in Cthulhuian, the eater of worlds, the humbler of UStards, with your (readily given, and if not readily given then forcibly extracted) permission your most humble author, I.
On the other side of the isle, meanwhile, the failed femastate's offerings : destroy everyone's jobs under pretext of the necessity of "distance", only to then have them huddle together at the monumentally brutalist Free Soup "office" building. Isn't socialism grand, seriously now !?
Planeta Pizdutelor v-o trebuit, planeta pizdutelor aveti, si sa va spalati cu iea pe cap, bai!
And speaking of precious cuntlets : I've had the idea (inspired by the preggo display above, in the Chinese quarter) of a... special, let's say, pregnancy chemise. You know those things with long sleeves that tie behind the back ? For mental patients ?
Well... I mean...
No ?
Usure ?
Just look at the thing on the left, you know ? Cute designs like that, I think it'd work well enough.
A watched pot never dares ; and, in closing, I leave you with...
Macar stim cum stam, zic.
———And once it's done I'm going to eat it with a side of leberwurst&trims sandwiches, yum! [↩]And in the process woke up a sleeping beauty because she finding herself relatively early in her rapemeat career she startles easily, and especially so with the sound of opening doors -- as you knever now. It's a pity, too -- she's not been getting all that much sleep these days.
I suppose "going through this page-length single paragraph masquerading as a run-on sentence and turning the parantheses to footnotes" should also go on the list of things, seeing how I've just done it. [↩]With the coffees, because yes, the harem cold-brews its coffee these days (and ever since the kittens met), resulting in whole square feet of refridgerated space being used continuously not to mention a dedicated cold brew specialist slavegirl (just as naked as all the rest, and just as tasty, I can attest).
It may interest you to know that both parantheses in this footnote started their earthly life as square brackets, back before this paranthesis itself became a footnote. [↩]Which is strictly true, Automercado is a premium supermarket that supplies thousands upon thousands of dollars' worth of various comestible for my harem's needs (most of which imported, it's true). It also peddles fruit by a long shot better than anything you can get anywhere in English speaking lands (we're no longer considering Europe above Africa in terms of luxurious [or for that matter, proper] living) for any amount of money, literally any amount of money, yet it still constitutes a baseline of desperation I've not yet been forced to settle for. I get my fruit at Don Kike's fruteria by the sea, bitches! You have no fucken idea... [↩]Holy shit I had a lot of trouble fishing that piece of shit back out of the depths. Here, so I get something for all my trouble :
SELECT [...] LIKE "%finger%" and [...] LIKE "%underwear%"
> nope.
SELECT [...] LIKE "%bill%" and [...] LIKE "%my time%"
> nope.
SELECT [...] LIKE "% %" and [...] LIKE "%French girl%
> nope.
SELECT [...] LIKE "% %" and [...] LIKE "%under age%"
> nope.
SELECT [...] LIKE "%bed%" and [...] LIKE "%wine%"
> nope.
SELECT [...] LIKE "%me to stop%" and [...] LIKE "%wine%
> nope.
SELECT [...] LIKE "%keep going%" and [...] LIKE "%bottle%"
> fucken finally!
The dork was never worth this much work. In fact, he still isn't ; it's only through the ready contrast that he affords my plain grandeur that he gets a (however limited) license to exist at all. Just like... well, pretty much every"one" else, huh. [↩]Ever wondered why is it called "refridgerated" ? The damned thing's a fridge not a refridge, what, they fridge it somewhere first then they bring it to you and you re-fridge it ? That's specifically what you're not supposed to do! [↩]They do the whole pay coins for highway thing here, like it's still the 70s. [↩]
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Category: Zsilnic
Thursday, 27 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - You Are The 98%. Adnotated.
no, they forced you
"We are the 99%."
Rarely does a slogan perfectly capture the zeitgeist, the ethos and the pathos, each word a passionate announcement of a popular uprising. And neither does this one.i
It is, however, an important piece of propaganda.ii It sounds like the enemy is Wall Streetiii, but observe that the slogan doesn't point to an enemy, it defines the group. The slogan is a twist on an old fascist standby: select a minority enemy, and create an impression of opposing unanimity. Once done, the leaders of the group have the powerbase to do what they wantiv, making it impossible for anyone in the rest of the 98% to disavow this madness. When it all goes down you will be too terrified, or too busy, to dissent.v
Take a look at the website, see which one you are.vi
I very, very much empathize with this woman, but her aside, what if I don't believe education is they key? What if I think there should be no such thing as student loans at all? What if I think that it, not Wall Street, is a far greater enemy of civilization?vii Do I get to be in the 99%? Do I get a choice?
Here are some of the demands of #OccupyWallStreet:
Restoration of the living wage.
Free college education
Begin a fast track process to bring the fossil fuel economy to an end
One trillion dollars in infrastructure
Open borders migration
Never mind that these demands are internally inconsistent, mathematically impossible and downright weird. ("Bank to Bank Debt and all Bonds and Margin Call Debt in the stock market including all Derivatives or Credit Default Swaps, all 65 trillion dollars of them must also be stricken from the "Books." Really? You want that?) What's important is that most of the 99% don't want all those things, or even most of those things.viii
Grant me that when Naomi Klein is invited to speak for the 99%, at least 45% are looking at each other like, wtf, who let Linda Tripp in here?ix
Do you think that whenx the movement becomes powerful they will represent the guy making $533000 as well as the guy making $0? How about the $250k and the $5k? All the way to the median income of $30k, but -- surprise -- that $30k guy most definitely does not want anything to do with an open border policy and guaranteed living wage and abolition of the death penalty. Oh, your plan is to exclude all of the states that have >2 right angle borders. Hmm.xi
They exist in a quantum superposition of multiple eigenstates, but the moment they make an official demand the whole thing will collapse into a single state and everyone will hate it.
Which is why any demands are quickly disavowed, "There is NO official list of demands," they emphasize on the site, and yet the point isn't the demands, the point is the "they."xii The point is to pretend that there aren't any official demands, attract the largest possible base -- who doesn't hate Wall Street? -- and then make demands. "'They?' You mean the loose affiliation of Trader Joe's shoppers at OccupyWallSt?" No, I mean the guys who can say this:
This content was not published by the OccupyWallSt.org collective, nor was it ever proposed or agreed to on a consensus basis with the NYC General Assembly.
They say they have no leader which means it's pointless. If they do get a leader, science suggests it will naturally be a man with a long ring finger and some psychopathic traits; all I know is that they will simultaneously count me amongst their numbers even as they ask me please to die.xiii Or kill, depending on how much power they get.
II.
What you don't realize about those pictured as "the 99%" -- what they have in common is not that they are young or college educated or indebted or white femalesxiv, but that they were willing to put a picture of themselves on the internet, fully of the belief that they stand for something worth being pictured for. Bad move.xv
You think marching on Wall Street gives you power, a voice;xvi but it is a wholesale surrender to the media, you have signed a waiver allowing them to use your image any way they want, and they will tell the rest of us what to think of you and titrate our exposure and emotional responses, all while feeding us with marketing for the very things that got us into our predicament. The income disparities, the education pyramid scheme, the personal and public debt, the anxiety, brought to you by Revlon and the makers of CNN.
Take a guess which side Fox, MSNBC, John Stewart chose. How did you know? Wrong: it isn't their "bias" because it doesn't matter what the protestors want, it's because they predictably transmorph the protestors into what they need them to be.
"Marching gets our message out." No it doesn't, it gets CNN's message out. "We don't watch CNN, we use the internet." Yet given the infinity of the internet you still surf the same 5 websites, looking for and finding exactly what you want, like a baby playing peekaboo in a mirror over and over and over and over and over and over and... xvii
You are the 98%, you are totally without any access to the machinery of power and worse, much worsexviii, you plug yourselves into the machinery of media and become a slave.
"That's why I don't watch television!" Well, a) you mean TV dramas, and 2) it's because you're not a 45 year old woman, the target demo of TV. But maybe you're proud that you skip the commercials and avoid the "mainstream media", you don't want to be part of the corporate consumerist machine and good for you, yet your independence is why Whole Foods knows you'll buy anything wrapped in brownxix and you already have a subscription to The New Yorker, which has a curiously large number of ads for mental institutions. If you're reading it, it's for you. The New Yorker is also at the checkout counter in Whole Foods, along with Rolling Stone and Psychology Today and not along with Sports Illustrated and The Weekly Standard. You think you shop at Whole Foods because it has better quality food? It's because of those magazines.xx Even the neocons who shop there -- they don't shop at Acme -- shop there because of the branding: liberal=organic, so the more left wing magazines and the more dred locks the more it has reinforced the "liberalism" and therefore the "quality," and so you go, "reluctantly", shaking your head at the crazy commies stocking the store as you hand them 3x more than anything is worth. "Would you like to donate $1 to help Ethiopian refugees?" Son of a bitch, this apple is delicious.
III.
If you hold a protest and you aren't throwing rocks it will fail. I'm not telling you to throw rocks, I'm explaining why your march won't work.xxi
The reason "peaceful protests" don't work anymore is because now the protests are slower than the media coverage. When they threw the tea in Boston Harbor it was urgent, immediate, and by the time the press could interpret it it had already been digested by the public. But now even before the protest reaches critical mass the media, whose agents outnumber the protestors 100 to 1, has packaged and produced it, like a reality show, and by the time Naomi Klein got there I had already been told to expect someone like her. Do you see? She had already appeared before she got there.xxii Yes, I can take pride in thinking for myself but if I'm going to be honest, all I'm doing is reacting to what I'm told.xxiii I was once going to write something about what Amanda Knox's innocence revealed about our earlier media prejudices, and then I realized I still have no idea if she's innocent or guilty, only that the media tells me she isn't. And then I wondered, why do I even care if she is guilty or innocent, why do I even know her namexxiv, what's that got to do with me? Because the media decide not just truth and falsehood but existence and non-existence. #OccupyWallStreet never stood a chance, come one person, come ten million people, it doesn't matter, the only people who have any power are people like her:
and she is stronger than all of you. Close your eyes: do you remember anyone else?xxv
You can agree or disagree, but you must do it with her, not with the folks holding signs.xxvi And by her I don't mean her, of course, she doesn't get to decide what she thinks, either -- her producer tells her, and so on up the chain.xxvii
Late at night as I'm drinking my eyes blind I hear the protesters regularly complain that they are not getting enough media coverage. They are protesting Wall Street, and they want more Wall Street coverage? You lose.xxviii
Those protesters are based in a world that is built on rules. Because of this, they will never be as strong, or as fast, as the media that exists outside those rules. "Hey, stupid, what's that? a sign? TOO SLOW, we have a thousand satellites and a harem of reportersxxix, from beautiful blondes to ugly intellectuals, we control the whole thing. You even put a hashtag in your official name because your only voice is twitter. Bless my heart -- twitter! How absolutely precious. Don't forget to rock the vote!"
"We are the 99%. We want to cut the umbilical cord from fossil fuels and consumerism." Easy, but then what? There are two ends to that cord, something has to nourish you and all that's left since you can't afford what you were told you needed is the placenta of the political-media machine. "Get out the vote" is truly terrible advice, the only way to win is not to play. If you're at the protest and a guy comes around asking you to register and it's not for a handgunxxx, punch him in the face. He's your enemy.xxxi
"We need a third party!" Come on, do you think the media will allow you to have a third party? John Anderson, Ross Perot, Ralph Nader -- they let them through to "show" third party candidates aren't any more serious than Howard Stern when he ran for governor. Poor Ron Paul pulls in more people than porn but he can't get a break, sorry buddy, 100 years too late for your kind. There's a difference between what you need and what you want, and the media will always, relentlessly give you what you want. Do you know why you have such poor candidates every single election? Because you want them, you want someone you can easily judge for some sexual indiscretion or because they called latinos chicanos. "Well, that matters to us!" Then you got what you asked for.
The media will have data mined the culturexxxii and chosen for you two cans of Campbell's Chicken Soup, and then encouraged a public debate about which can is a better representation of the spirit of the country, the one on the left or the one on the right. "Well, that matters to us!" I know.
IV.
The protests will fail. They will eventually be co-optedxxxiii by the pre-election media orgasmia, branded as either this team or that and assigned a leader no one would have ever picked, ever, ever. The Tea Party may have started with Rick Santelli but they soon got Sarah Palin, figure that out.xxxiv Half of you will vote, all of you will complain, and nothing will change until the day we are buying fake iPads with real yuans, hey, who's the balding guy on the 20? And the 50? And the 100...? And the reason it will fail is that you don't want it to succeed. You are still holding on to the mercantilist, zero-sum economic delusion that tariffs and gold standards and less money for Wall Street means more money for you, and then you can go back to living like it's 1999 again. You can't. It's over.xxxv
Of course Wall Street has excessive profitsxxxvi, but just as your life has been an inflated delusion of easy credit, so has theirs; yes, they have received an obscene share of that fake money, and ten-twenty years ago maybe you could have redistributed that fake money, but that ship has sailed. Now, the moment you take it away from them it ceases to exist, poof, it's gone. It's fine if you want to do it to punish them, I get it, it's the right thing to do and Glass-Steagall and all that, but it won't help your situation one bit.
$3.6T out, $2.4T in, those are the numbers, and in case you want something on letterhead here's the CBO saying taxing the rich would get us $450B over ten years. Ten years! Double the taxes, triple the taxes, it makes no difference, it's over. The only way out is a massive tax on wealth; cold fusion; a war; a new media; or inflation. Inflation has the side benefit of pushing you into a higher tax bracket and we'll all get to see what a $1000 bill looks like.
"We are the 99%." Stop it. There is a 1%, fighting another 1%, and while both of those megalomaniancs dominate the media coverage the other 98% has no recourse, no representation, no allies, and no savings.xxxvii If you're over forty 2007 was the best you will ever have itxxxviii, make sure you backup your photos, it may not get worse than this but your only hope for growth is the next generation so you better change your expectations and your priorities. If you want to eat something other than canned goods and insects when you're 80 you better prepare your kids now, work them harder in math and get them to read better books, make some kind of/all kinds of a sacrifice for them, because the only thing keeping you from the hellacious Medicare funded nursing homes and the Social Security that will not exist is them, the 17 year olds you are screaming at for drinking too much of the whisky you are hiding in the bathroom.
And in 2030 don't tell me "the young should respect their elders," in the oldest of days the elderly were revered not because the young were respectful but because in those days if you made it to 60 you were a goddamn superhero. "Whatever the hell this guy did in his life," Johnny said to Timmy, "I'm copying. How in Sutekh's name did he not get eaten by a hyena?" If the hyenas had slacked off maybe those youth wouldn't have been so respectful. Pray you don't find out.
Are you listening to me? Or were you looking at the woman in the red dress?xxxix
You are the 98%, and you are too slow.
———Right ? Who the fuck even remembers the pre-looting party of 2099% or whatever it was. Wasn't it twothousandninetyninepercent ? I'm pretty sure it was, and what the fuck do you mean "that's not even a real year" ?! It was the one with that mulatto dude, the constitutional professor of history or whatever, they were occupying his house because his wife was slutty or he wasn't validating their passing grades or something, I remember. Vaguely, but I remember. [↩]This is quite like saying "it's a substantial piece of aerogel", seeing how propaganda is unimportant by definition. [↩]See ? I told you it was #occupychange. Or was it #occupychallenge ? Whichever it was, something with you can believe it or you'd better believe it... hm. Maybe it was "you can't believe it's not occupied already", like a toilet in a busy metro station. Something like that at any rate. [↩]What "leaders", what "power" and moreover... what the fuck doing ?! More like a howling case of "where the fuck is everyone", if I remember. [↩]Keks.
Must suck, trying to pretend to human life on the meager resources of a pantsuit tard in the thick sauce of a pantsuit world, huh. Well... fuck you. [↩]I don't have to -- seeing how it's on a platform I just assume it's lame as all get-out. What did Gitsie say, "really all of it... it's just an onesie" or something like that. [↩]Anything to not have to say "her not being beaten into a pulp". Anything at all.
Because... well, if he had said that, then... who'd do it ? [↩]Or even understand what any of those things even are. For that matter, they fail to represent even a simplified list of what those things could be. [↩]I am crippled by not having any fucking idea who either of those bitches are. In any case, they should've invited Stoya. [↩]Rather, if. And no. [↩]Wel... it's scientific, right ? It's with right angles and counts and... Science you can believe in, aka scientism. [↩]No, actually the point is power, and authority.
Let's understand each other through sharing my private life -- not like we have a choice, seeing how your private life isn't worth recounting, let alone sharing, as it contains exactly nothing that'd interest, let alone enlighten, anyone.
So : slave girl gets in trouble because there's no eggs. Elder slave girl attempts a negotiated solution, "listen, she asked you when you charged her, she said ''so if there's less than a dozen I should buy'', and you said no, which no I expect she took as a firm rule rather than a rejection of her proposed solution.
Then the yelling starts : "I don't need a slavegirl that buys exactly twelve eggs. I am only interested in a slavegirl that buys the right number of eggs such that I always have as many as I want. For instance if she hears we're making deviled eggs she buys three dozen, and if I say I'ma try making hachapurri tomorrow she doesn't face me from behind two dozen-and-a-half cartons containing a total of ten eggs!"
That's the point, my slave doesn't get a guideline, like at the office, there's not a rule written down in her jobsworth and whatever, she did what it said in there, "let me see how they're gonna fire me for cause" bullsit. My slave is responsible for the perfect functioning of the mechanisms I'm interested in, and that holds in all conditions, she's a human slave not a paintsuit employee.
That's the point across the board : the idea of the "protestors" isn't "the government should do thus and following", like during earlier, more involved, interested times. Their idea is "the government should do what should be done -- and they should figure it out themselves and correctly without bothering us to instruct them, we got bingewatching and inane minutia awaiting at home, what the fuck!!"
Basicaly they're protesting not being me, and... well, it's working out for them about as well as you'd expect. [↩]Heh. [↩]Or future Karens. [↩]Hey, every Traci gotta start her trip to the only possible destination somewhere. It's true these mostly seem like late bloomers, but that's intentional : come to hang out with the (discardable, you just don't know it) older chicks, stay for the afterparty. How much rape went on in those "occupy" tents, by the way ? Anyone bothered with as much as an attempt at quantification, or is this "not a sexy topic" in the pravdas because racism? [↩]No dude, they're fucking desperate to get laid. All other avenues being closed, they're gonna camp on concrete, because it gotta be done. [↩]Da fuck would you want them to do ? Own their environment ?! Maybe if you paid them more money... [↩]Worse nothing. The last thing anyone needs to see (or, for that matter, wants to see) is these fuckwads having any access to anything even resembling power.
Heck, even limiting their access to horsepower has greatly improved the world over the shortest of spans. [↩]Ah, lovely soviet 70s... how I missed thee... [↩]Now this is entirely possible, not in the direct causation sense, but in the meta "the thing that makes you shop there has nothing to do with the food and everything to do with its other specific manifestation, the selection of magazines". Stated like that, it's almost trite. [↩]I am telling you to throw fucking rocks. Burning rocks. [↩]All these spurious twats nobody's heard of... Seriously now, lay off, nobody cares. [↩]So stop gargling the pravdas like normal fucking people, what the fuck. [↩]Excellent question, who the fuck is this Amanda Cocks.
Tits or gtfo, you understand ? Shut that shit down. [↩]This is such idiotic nonsense... It's like Messy irl, except mine was a work of fucking fiction, why's this dude so very unsubstantially ireal ? [↩]And yet that's precisely not how that panned out -- but of course Ballas is disappeared now, so he doesn't have to cash the cheque of his being wrong ; and of course there's ever more pointless dorks in a neverending stream doing the exact same thing over and over again. The situation is approximately as if every single mosquito you ever ran into vocalized instead of buzzing, "oh, you have no power". Then you kill it, and so it's silenced, but... the next mosquito... I mean, it's in their genetic code, the nonsense doesn't have any basis in anything besides biology, it's how they buzz. If mosquito buzzing happened to be "meaningful" in your particular dialect (perhaps because you happen to be Polish), what'd that change ? [↩]Up the chain, huh. [↩]Pretty funny, because it's true. [↩]This is actually the core of the problem. Get your own harem or get the fuck lost, smart boi. Unless you command female submission significantly better than the other party, you ain't got a leg to stand on. [↩]Bless your heart, register for a gun ? Why, so as to have your manhood reissued ? [↩]The problem with this sort of enemy is that punching them in the face is more expensive for you than it is for them. You want the converse to be true, which is why firebombing the police will work way the fuck better than punching random politruks in the face. [↩]This incidentaly may seem like a big deal, a sort of modern day equivalent of the "means of production" of yesteryore, those magical behemoths baring access, yet it is very far from difficult. "The media", like any other government agency does a terrible job of it very loudly ; but otherwise data mining the culture's rather on the trivial side of things. [↩]What co-opted, the whole thing was "strategic" "guerilla" "tricks from the book" Obama camp nonsense from the get-go. Are you fucking kidding me, any more USG.blue handprints on it, it'd have been called a color. [↩]It's figured out. [↩]That much is absolutely true ; the age of the prole came and went. From now on, as for all of history except for the brief interlude, it's 100% rustics ye are and rustics ye stay.
But the rest is perfectly false : yes, the world is very much a zero-sum game ; yes the world is very much on the gold standard, as it always was, as it'll always stay. What "gold" exactly means may change, on the grounds of its having changed exactly twice throughout history -- first from bronze to gold ; then from gold to Bitcoin -- but the point ever remains, there's no such thing as "cooperation". The word for the genuine article this "cooperation" is ineptly trying to monkey is submission. There's no such thing as viable socialism ; the word for that thing which this socialism is ineptly trying to monkey is monarchy. Und so weiter... [↩]Excessive...as to what the fuck standard ? Profits are never excessive, there's no such thing nor ever could be such thing as "excessive" profits anymore than there's overwet water or too airy air. That's what the fuck profits are, the excess. Is there such a thing as excessive excess ?!
The thing about absurdity is that they're not free, but pregnant : all held absurd notions describe the holder ; and the holder of this "excess profits" absurd notion is necessarily, inescapably and by definition living in a collapsing world. That's what it is, completely and exactly, the only thing "excessive profits" discusses is that there's no more profits to be had anywhere, the whole thing's going down for good. (There's somewhere, possibly in the logs, where I explain that the females-as-scar-tissue civilisational decay is primed by the first generation of males being less successful than their parents, but sadly now I can't find it. Something in the vein of The principal-agent problem, or how America went away, but more explicitly pointed. I'd have liked to link it off that "going down", but... well, maybe one day.) [↩]Quite. [↩]More like 1999, but whatever.
Actually, come to think of it, his 40 is overgenerous. Reality's a lot closer to "if you're over twenty", and the article was written in 2009. Practically, if you were born before the mid-90s... forget about it. There's a reason MP is looking for women 25 and under, and that reason is... you're doomed. [↩]A dress with pockets ?! Like, on the tits like that ? Really, looks a lot more like a lumberjack shirt, but... whatevers, simps will simp out I guess. [↩]
« thelastpsychiatrist.com - The Wisdom Of Crowds Turns Into Madness. Adnotated.
Quiz Show »
Category: Adnotations
Wednesday, 12 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - The Wisdom Of Crowds Turns Into Madness. Adnotated.
less independent than they think The "Wisdom Of Crowds" concept is that the average guesses of a crowd will be closer to the truth than a [sample of] randomly selected individual guess.i
The reason this works is that because the crowd has different individuals with different types of systematic error, e.g. prejudices. With more individuals, the prejudices negate each other.ii
The Swiss study took 144 college studentsiii and asked them a series of questions (population of Switzerland, murder rate, etc). It recorded 5 consecutive guesses, as well as the confidence for the first and last guess.
I.
The first interesting finding is that the crowd is sometimes so incredibly wrong that the mean of their responses is just... really wrong. How many assaults were there in Switzerland in 2006? 10? 100? 1000? 10000? 100000? Those are exponentially different guesses, so an arithmetic mean could be way off, factors of ten off.
In such cases, a geometric mean is much closer to the correct answer. So, point number one, when you are crowdsourcing, choose your mean/distribution appropriately.iv
II.
The diversity of guesses is quite large -- everyone comes to the question with their own prejudices and errors.
But merely by giving the subjects access to the previous round's guesses -- either the mean of the guesses ("aggregated information") or everyone's individual guess, the diversity disappears and everyone's guesses begin to converge.
The first round the guesses were wildly disparate, but as everyone got to see the other guesses, they converge remarkably.
Why did having the full information (all 12 people's individual guesses) seem to cause less convergence than having the mean of their guesses? It didn't, really; but also because the aggregate is only one number that you converge to; having 12 wildly disparate numbers to converge to is harder.v But by the third round, it hardly mattered -- a systematic bias had been introduced into the crowd, which is ironic since it is systematic bias that the Wisdom Of Crowds is supposed to negate. Moo.vi
III.
People following the herd would be boring but not disastrous, except for the other finding.
Since the guesses converge, since other people are converging with you and you can see that, the confidence in these guesses goes up: a false belief of collective accuracy with no increase in actual accuracy. "It's unanimous!" Yikes.vii
Also remember, these people weren't being given an expert's guess to converge to, just other (regular) people's. As the authors point out, they didn't even attempt to measure group leader effects, persuasion, talking heads on TV, or twitter.viii
This is not a trivial problem. It isn't just saying that the beliefs converge; it is saying that since the beliefs converge along with greater confidence in their "truthfulness", it becomes more difficult for any individual to not converge as well -- and feel confident about it.ix
If you do manage to run from the herd you have to climb a high wall.x "Can so many people be so wrong, yet so close together in their guesses? So wrong, yet so confident? Is everyone insane?"
You can imagine the social implications of a highly energized crowd, or electorate, or laity, or polity, or tax base, all converging on a "truth" of which they are supremely confident by virtue of the fact that others believe the same (which is the result of similar convergence on their part.)xi This is probably supercharged when you have a charismatic figurehead leading convergence, and by "charismatic figurehead" I mean media; no one person came up with this, everyone just knows it's true.xii
IV.
So much for the paper. Now consider the more general implications.
"Well, I'm going to be an independent thinker and not be affected by the herd and make my own educated guess." No, you won't.
The moment you have the other people's guesses, you cannot shake that information. Your "independent" guess necessarily includes that guess in some way, you can't unlearn it.xiii Either your guess converges towards the herd, or your guess is characterized as against the herd.xiv Either way, the herd affected your thinking in ways you don't realize.xv You're part of the dialectic and you didn't even want to be.xvi That you don't want to be part of it ensures you are part of it.
The existence of the convergence of ideas, knowing that a convergence exists, either attracts further groupthink, or sets up a second groupthink in opposition to the first.xvii Groupthink certainly reinforces one idea; and it can cause the setting up of a second large idea in opposition, but it makes a third independent idea highly unlikely (unless, again, it forms in opposition to ideas 1 or 2.)xviii
In other words, in cases where social influence is impossible to avoid, the wisdom of crowds becomes the madness of crowds even for those who disagree with the crowd. All it takes is one idiot with a megaphone.xix
———Rather, the "wisdom of crowds" is a particular class of "meat -- tomorrow" socialist meme. This one proposes that more people are better "because they're varied", omitting to notice it's shitting into its own trough : yes more people are varied before socialism is a thing ; but once socialism becomes ever more of a thing, the sort of people it spawns are ever less people in the proper, previous sense, and in any case not at all varied. There's relatively little difference between this proposition and the proposition of walking on clouds : yes, they seem solid enough, for as long as you're not there trying to step on them. From down here, from before socialism is a thing, all sort and manner of things and notions work quite well. Afterwards... [↩]See also the "nuclear family" delusion, very much in the same vein. [↩]Has anyone yet made a study on the systemic and systematic biases induced into "the results" of "scientific research" conducted upon... college students ?
Pro tip : no, they're not fucking people. They're barely even human, more in a potentiality sort of sense than anything practical, and for fucking sure they can't tell their own arse from a hole in the ground.
I am willing to bet practical application of "psychological research" conducted on toddlers would outperform practical application of this sad ilk of "psychology research" conducted on college students. Markedly outperform. [↩]This is actually one hell of a good point, for sure. [↩]What troubles he goes to restate the simple if self-evident "college students can't add" in such a way as to not make too obvious what he doesn't really want to have staring him down...
How about this : the simple fact that the mean converges so much faster than the "full information" invalidates not only the results of this "study", but the entire pantsuit edifice of piled & stacked shit-for-brains ? Because no, they don't fucking cut it.
Anyways, let me tell you a good source of beatings in the life of a young slave is exactly this : an order of "estimate that" coming back with the kind of result that needs geometric means to bring in line -- the misfortunate loving girl ends up wearing the geometry in question on her hide for a while. Point being : yours could add too ; yours could be capable of converging just as fast off a given mean as off a list of a dozen guesses. All it takes is beating them whenever they do not.
Do it. [↩]In fairness : those kids knew why they were there. This isn't Tina alone & by herself, recoiling in horror at realisations of her own. This is a bunch of listless yet bored college kids, with nothing better to do that evening but also with enough institutional training (college, yes ?) to know that "the sooner we converge the sooner we're out of here", past the cattle gate dispensing the twenty bucks or quarter of a "credit" or whatever the fuck truth is being sold for in Switzerland. The cheap building blocks of pantsuit truth manufactories, ethylene truthol. [↩]Whatever simpy, put your muzzle back on y cuidate mucho. [↩]If you beat them they would've. [↩]Well now... it all depends what you mean by "individual", doesn't it. Yes, I'm sure life becomes ever harder for the pantsuit simp. That's kinda the point of socialism, neh ? [↩]Here's the problem with this "high wall" theory : it is only visible to some. This has happened to me with eerie regularity as long as I can remember,
"how did you ace that examination ?" "well, she asked me questions and I answered them" "but... but... but didn't you know she's the worst, her exams so hard they're impossible ?" "I had no idea."
"wait, wait, you fucked so-and-so ?" "yeah..." "how did you manage that ?!" "what do you mean how, I asked her over and she came." "but... but... but..." "whatever, listen, I'm busy"
Nor am I the only one, you know ? Plenty of people "sorry, didn't know it was invisible" and other such misinteraction with the "tall wall". Because tall walls are only tall if you're short enough ; and also they're only visible at all, or walls at all, if you are short enough.
In other words : this pantsuit's cherished if carefully silent belief that "all people are the same peopl, readily interchangable and otherwise undistinguishable" is in no way different from those pantsuits' equally cherished, perfectly identical belief. Meanwhile people... they ain't the same at all. To begin with, most aren't even people in any sense. [↩]Actually, you don't need to imagine it, I've documented this recently. They're... amusing, pleasant through their absence and amusing through their idiocy. [↩]Well... "everyone". All the nobodies, sure. [↩]This odd concern seems suspiciously alligned with "cunts are made of soap" belief structures and other such theosophica. So what exactly if my guess "includes" (in some however limited, marginal sense) the... "guesses", let's call them, of other people ? Is this supposed to be some concern of mine ? Is the proposition here that this'd be somehow detrimental ? To me ?! Da fuck, Trilema already includes everything anyone's written for the past decade, literally everything. Most of it is just not much worth the mention, but it's there nevertheless, Trilema is of course and indisputably the sum total of all written words written since its inception. And even before! And... sooooo ? [↩]Characterized, by whom ? [↩]You know, I also have geckos in my house, and they affect my household in ways I don't realise -- or sometimes even do realise. Soooooo ? [↩]Dude, I don't care. Seriously. I'm also part of the gravitational pull upon Triton, you know ? [↩]Again : depends who you are. If you're me, no, and if you're not me you really don't matter anyway, the particular way in which you don't matter as inconsequential as everything else about you, and for that matter you altogether. [↩]This sort of impudent idiocy is what makes me want to drop the adnotation activity on this material. What the fuck am I going to do, sentence him to a year of reading Trilema ? [↩]Socialism sucks, get out of it. [↩]
« The balls of schmaltz and the end.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - You Are The 98%. Adnotated. »
Category: Adnotations
Tuesday, 11 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - The Rage Of The Average Joe. Adnotated.
all of this has happened before and it will happen again
"Of course he shouldn't have killed anyonei, but you can understand the frustration of a guy who does the right thing, but still gets the shaft, meanwhile these other guys get everything handed to them..."
"You know, he does have one legitimate point..."
"All I'm saying is his explanation makes total sense..."
"Look, I don't condone what he did, but I can understand..."ii
etc.
II.
Of course his explanation makes sense. What did you expect? Numerology? Bible codes? He's not insane. The man could just as well have railed about blacks or illegal immigrants. It would still all make sense, it would all be internally consistent, and it would all be wrong.iii
Look up there. See those quotes, those justifications? Those are what people said -- after George Sodini shot up an aerobics studio. They're the same hedges despite completely different events. That's because the content is a red herring.
If he had blamed the RAND Corporation and the reverse vampires, would you have listened? But since "IRS" seems plausible you overlook the paranoia.iv
What people want is to take his possibly legitimate frustration, and extend it to his actions. "Since he was so frustrated, he eventually snapped." The note tells you why he was frustrated, but it does not tell you why he killed anyone. If you want to use it for the former, go ahead. But the note is as informative as Mercury in Libra for the latter.v
III.
"But the note says the IRS made him do it."
Funny: Sodini's note said he did it because he was about to lose his job, but still it's blamed on a lack of sex. You know why? Because no one cares why Sodini did it, they just want to talk about their own gripes. "Women are bitches." "Men are misogynists."
In this case, people are going to use it as "see how the government drives people crazy?" and simultaneously by others to as "these anti-government nuts are crazy."
In other words, if you're reading it, it's for you.
IV.
"Was he a right wing nut? I heard he was a socialist nut?"
It's natural to look at this from your own perspective ("he has a point about the rich" etc) but this isn't a manifesto, it's a suicide note. The information of suicide notes are not reliable.vi
And it's a suicide note, not a homicide note, because it is about his life/death. Everyone else doesn't matter.
The reason why he's so hard to pin down as right wing or left wing (or patsy) is that it's not important to him, writing the note.vii The purpose of the noteviii isn't to convey informationix, it is to convey mood, and the seemingly random and contradictory positions he takes on issues is all in an attempt to win you, the reader, over to his side.x He knows for sure he is angry, he knows for sure he feels wronged, but he can't logically and realistically link the real world events to his level of anger.xi So he confuses you with words while blanketing you with mood. You have no idea what he's talking about, but you definitely sympathize with the frustration. Boom -- he got you.
If you simply look at it as a "type", then he's a mass murdererxii, akin to a guy in a tower with a rifle.xiii So the form of the note will be impotence, paranoia, displacement, a feeling of rejection/invalidation, and, of course, narcissism.xiv I'll make the simple observation that as obsessed with rules as he was, he didn't think and didn't like that they necessarily applied to him.
The reason this is important -- that you should focus on the form of the note and not the content -- is that it speaks to "treatment" and prevention.xv If you had granted every single one of his wishes, he would still not have been satisfied, he would not have been happy.xvi As bankrupt as he was, he still had a plane, a house to set on fire, a car... note also he didn't seem to care about his family he left behind.xvii The problem isn't what happened to him in his life, it's how he viewed his life and its expectations.
I'm not saying he would [have] inevitably found a reason to explode, or that rage against the IRS was not a factor. He may not have someday flown his plane into an old high school bully or a cheating wife -- or maybe he would have -- but it's wrong to think of this as an ordinary man crushed under the weight of regulation.xviii
This was a keg of rum rolling around a smoldering ship. Maybe he blows up, maybe he doesn't. Either way, abandon ship.xix
V.
Commonly heard after an event like this: "he was so nice, I can't believe it he did this."
"We didn't know that he had frustrations and troubles," said Pam Parker, who had known Stack and his wife, Sheryl, for several years and last spoke to him a few weeks ago.xx
"He always was very easygoing," Parker told the Austin American-Statesman. "He was just a pleasant friendly guy."
You're surprised because you think you knew him because of the duration of your exposure to his body and the sounds his mouth made; but they don't put themselves into their relationships, they put themselves into appearances. The rest is just going through the motions.xxi
VI.
Why hasn't this happened before? Or: why isn't this being called terrorism?
Because the media says it's okay to shoot women, but not okay to don suicide vest.
We have already accepted -- not acceptable, accepted -- methods of American violence, and the media has a backstory for all of them, right or wrong: The 70s was serial killers -- "caused" by childhood sexual abuse. In the 90s we had school shooters, "caused" by bullying. We have one for random violence against attractive women: loser loner, caused by (either) no sex or . So we can all be horrified, but not surprised.
Now we have a template for a new kind of violence: anti-government Average Joe.
Unfortunately, the creation of this template -- the repeated discussion amongst pundits that "we don't condone but..." and then a dramatization on CSI or in a movie, means that Average Joe mass murder is going to be inevitably part of our culture.xxii
But none of these templates are true, in the sense that there's no causality. They are merely post hoc descriptive. And since dead men tell no talesxxiii, you can pretty much describe one any way you want, for your own purposes.
If Joe Stack had reflected on that, he would never have hit the ignition.xxiv
———Fact : nobody who's never killed anyone can be called a man with a straight face.
So... yes, very much of course he should have killed someone, what the fuck are we even doing here, knitting ?
Stop fucking pandering to the female wrongview -- it has nothing to do with the world, and it is also superlatively fucking boring on top of being outrageously wrong. [↩]I don't fucking "condone" it, what the fuck simpy bullshit is that. I outright demand it ; and fuck you. [↩]The apodictic wrongness of people whose sensible, internally consistent descriptions of the world contradict what the subject wants to be true so bad, he's willing to make true. [↩]Actually, the only possible reaction to anything even remotely like an IRS is a hail of bullets ; a point firmly ensconced in written materials from not so very long ago, such as for instance the US Constitution.
But whatever, you don't review source material, generally with the excuse that "it's in foreign languages", as if that meant anything, foreign to the fuck whom !? Yet even when they're in directly legible vernacular, there they sit, untouched.
So let's consider a point closer in time : not a full century ago, which is to say during the 1940s, the great hubbub was that either the Allies or the Nazis dared tie the hands of war prisoners. It was outrageous, not to mention in pointed violation of the Geneva convention. It could in fact be argued, however plausibly, that Nazi war atrocities -- the whole thing -- were put in motion by some anonymous Canadians ill-advisedly binding the wrists of a few Germans during a failed attempt at invasion.
What now ? Say "they'd have done it anyway" and back away slowly into a dark corner ? Fine, whatever, it makes no difference what they would have done : they're in the past, these they. Their deeds are done, the rounds all fired, the casings all expended on the floor, the curtain call rang long ago. Yet at the time, the idea, the mere idea of handcuffing war prisoners was unbearable. These aren't neighbourhood kids, this isn't Joe's son from three houses down under discussion here. These are evil foreigners so reviled, their continued existence justified travelling five degrees of magnitude further than the average trip the average fellow took at the time (or now). And yet...
Try walking into a police station and explaining to them folk there all about how handcuffs are beyond the pale of the socially acceptable ; then come back with those results, having persuaded them to absolute effectuality, and so armed with credibility proceed to explain to me how such atrocities as the IRS may be reformed into social acceptability. Or else forever hold your peace, whichever's easier. [↩]Because action is related to thought, but killing is not an action like any other, say baking a batch of cookies or thrashing the missus -- it is magic, peternatural otherness etcetera etcetera.
It's weird how religious thinking bubbles to the surface. Is all this nonsense driven by the conception of souls, incidentally ? Does this dork believe that since people have souls "therefore" killing one is substantially different from snapping a reed ?
There's really nothing to it, modern dentistry or driving on the highway are way the fuck more involved, intricate and demanding activities than killing people ever gets. [↩]About as reliable as the information in any other notes. Seriously, there's nothing magical or even special about death, it doesn't enchant notes with particularity. Okay ?
What the fuck next with this nonsense, throw fat highschoolers into the volcano ("they're virgins!") to cure global warming and rape nine year olds ("they're virgins!") to repair your HIV ?
Say it with me : there's nothing magical about death. [↩]Or in general ? I thought Ballas' idea was that it's not important in general, what the fuck changed here ? [↩]He goes through all this, and more, a lot more, without fucking quoting the damned thing. What does this say about him ?
But... whatever, here. [↩]The fuck "convey information", what's this scientism bullshit ? The truly annoying thing about Ballas is that whatever he figures out at rest, whatever pantsuit grime he manages to wipe off of himself through reflection, it's all immediately and thoroughly back on the very fucking moment he's ever so slightly touched on the dolly by events an' occurences. He vaguely reminds me of the "proletarian hero" in Romanzo Popolare, it's just... what the cuck dude, weren't you saying five minutes ago "bisogna presentarsi al medio campo e salutare" ? Well ? [↩]Doesn't it stand to reason that someone who has such intent or expectations is not exactly likely to be killing themselves ? At least from the point of view that generating the delusion of hope is the principal psychological measure against suicide ? In other words : the opposite of what the pantsuits are claiming is what the pantsuits otherwise profess to believe.
How about forget all that an' more traditionally Du-te la ostire! Pentru tara mori, si-ti va fi mormintu-ncununat de flori! Heroism is a thing ; even if it's not a thing for women heroism nevertheless is very much a thing. [↩]Alternatively, he doesn't give a shit about all that fret ; he knows his situation is impossible and he does what he can to increase the costs of continuing the pretense for the pretenders. Against the background of that flawless, purely and simply flawless behaviour, everyone left behind to blather among the ruins in the shithole is stuck doing so in much dimmed tones. Their voices all are muted, barely audible, because when Stack speaks who the fuck even cares what Ballas burbles. [↩]Leaving aside the glaring problems with this putative "mass murderer" type, this guy is not particularly typical. Obviously what Ballas meant to say went rather along the lines of "if the manner in which we'll go about pretending the hero wasn't heroic nor his heroism imposing some obligations on the rest of us cowards, we could claim he's an X and a Y", which is... not nearly as blankety, huh. [↩]Not so akin, unless the rifle fires both fronwards and backwards at the same time.
Not akin at all. [↩]Actually, the form of the note is the heroic message ; I struggle to recall to mind another instance of America-born heroism in the past decade in any case. [↩]Somehow the glaringly obvious defensive nature of the proposed course, "focus on the form and not the content", "close your eyes and think of The Empire", "just don't say nigger, you'll go to neoprotestand heaven sure enough" is yet not directly obvious to the misfortunate author. The idiot ball is a trope of fiction, but this isn't fiction in that sense and yet... the idiot ball, here it is. Somehow, magically, his brain turned off. What gives ?
I ain't about to turn female just because Ballas doesn't like the fact, the fact, that Joe Stack's example requires -- requires -- him, personally and without delay, to fly an airplane into the closest government office. The facts are the facts, an' what bois "think" about 'em is neither interesting nor, ultimately, even welcome. [↩]This proposition goes beyond merely unpersuasive. It rather seems out and out nonsense of the "you're affraid to get married" ilk. [↩]Maybe they weren't worth caring about ; this is a common enough discovery in adult males, as it happens. Or is the proposition here that by simple virtue of "being his family" ie crawled out of the correctly-blessed thighs, therefore it can't be the case they're a buncha worthless twats ? Because yes, if that's the proposition that may very well also be the problem. [↩]Yet the fact that he's post-hoc extraordinary does not invalidate the supposition that he was ad-hoc ordinary. Yes the saints are different from the laity in that they're saints, which the laity isn't ; but before they became saints, were they already saints ? Or were they just another lay person ? Is heroism pre-determined, are only the elect going to heaven come hell or high water ? Maybe heroes are just normal men that hear clearly. It's not necessarily true, but it's strictly speaking possible ; and moreover anything else is strictly speaking incompatible with human life in any sort of meaningful sense. [↩]Abandon ship ? To where ?
This notion that there'll always be somewhere else to go... [↩]And pray tell, what did she say ? [↩]I don't think anyone seriously expects Pam Parker, "who knew Stack and his wife, Sheryl" has anything to add here. She didn't know jack, nor is she valid in any sense. [↩]It's unavoidable. [↩]Especially when you're going to discard, attempt to discredit, reinterpret and generally bullshit your way around the stories they did in fact tell. [↩]Right, right. He'd just have sat home and quarantined, I'm sure. [↩]
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Category: Adnotations
Tuesday, 11 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - The Psychological Uncertainty Principle. Adnotated.
A commenter, who I believe is a physics undergrad (his blog here) emailed me some of his thoughts on narcissism, and [in there he] wrote:
...those studies where people rank each other in a room for different attributes having never met them... I think what's going on is we assign people personalities based on how they look and force them to become a certain thing, creating a whole custom world for them...
which puts the idea of "profiling" on its head. Do we actually ever "figure people out," or do we change them into what we think they are by the act of engaging in a relationship (on any level) with them?i
It sounds a lot like a psychological version of quantum entanglement:
When two systems, of which we know the states by their respective representatives, enter into temporary physical interaction due to known forces between them, and when after a time of mutual influence the systems separate again, then they can no longer be described in the same way as before, viz. by endowing each of them with a representative of its own... By the interaction the two representatives have become entangled.
Which, unfortunately, sounds a lot like this (p. 236)ii ):
The unreflective consciousness does not apprehend the person directly or as its object; the person is presented to consciousness in so far as the person is an object for the Other. This means that all of a sudden I am conscious of myself escaping myself, not in that I am the foundation of my own nothingness but in that I have my foundation outside myself. I am for myself only as I am a pure reference for the Other.
You can't know who a person is without relating to them, and once you do that, you irrevocably change them.iii
Only in relationship to another do you get defined.iv Sometimes you can do it with your God; but either way, any adjective has to be placed on you by someone else. Are you brave? Strong? Funny, stupid, nervous? All that comes from someone else.v So when someone relates to you, they define you. You can try to control this -- hence the narcissist preying on the borderline to get her to see him the way he wants to be seen -- but ultimately it's up to the other person.
So we're are, or become, whatever a person thinks we are? No, it's worse than that -- we want to be what they think we are. That's why we maintain the relationship, otherwise we'd change it. ("I divorced her because I didn't like who I became.")
We do it because it is easier, and it serves us. You're kind because he sees you as kind -- which in turn allows him to be seen as someone who can detect kindness.vi And you accept that you're kind -- or mean/vulnerable/evil/brilliant -- because it serves you -- there's some gain there. But a strong person accepts that on the one hand the other person gives you definition, and on the other hand you are completely undefinable, free, at any moment, to redefine yourself. You can defy him, biology, environment and be anything.vii
You say: but I can't be a football star just because I want to. But that's wanting someone else to see you in a certain way. Do you want to play ball? Go play ball. "But I won't get on the team." Again, that's wanting to change someone else. Change you first.
But what about -- identity? That's the mistake, that's bad faith. Thinking that our past is us; what we did defines us. Our past can be judged -- what else is there to judge?- but it can't -- shouldn't -- define us, because at any moment we are free to change into somethingviii, anything else. And so, too, we can be judged for not changing.ix
Ultimately, you are responsible for everything you do and think. Not for what happens to you, but for how you choose to react. Nothing else made you be. Nothing else made you do.
Trinity said it best: The Matrix cannot tell you who you are.x
———Hurr. What actually dies and is mourned when actual people die and are mourned isn't the actual people that were there ; but the imagined people that were not, ever, anywhere besides the mourner's own mind. [↩]Proposing that a statement of quantum entanglement "sounds like" a quote from Sartre is exactly, but I do mean exactly the sort of marauding, offensive idiocy so typical of pantsuitards, and so infuriatingly common in this dork's body of work. Who predates who, motherfucker ? Who predates who and moreover, why the fuck not quote properly ?
Here :
When two systems, of which we know the states by their respective representatives, enter into temporary physical interaction due to known forces between them, and when after a time of mutual influence the systems separate again, thenthey can no longer be described in the same way as before, viz. by endowing each of them with a representative of its own. I would not call that one but rather the characteristic trait of quantum mechanics, the one that enforces its entire departure from classical lines of thought. By the interaction the two representatives (or ^-functions) have become entangled. To disentangle them we must gather further information by experiment, although we knew as much as anybody could possibly know about all that happened. Of either system, taken separately, all previous knowledge may be entirely lost, leaving us but one privilege: to restrict the experiments to one only of the two systems. After re-establishing one representative by observation, the other one can be inferred simultaneously. In what follows the whole of this procedure will be called the disentanglement. Its sinister importance is due to its being involved in every measuring process and therefore forming the basis of the quantum theory of measurement, threatening us thereby with at least a regressus in infinitum, since it will be noticed that the procedure itself involves measurement. Another way of expressing the peculiar situation is: the best possible knowledge of a whole does not necessarily include the best possible knowledge of all its parts, even though they may be entirely separated and therefore virtually capable of being "best possibly known ", i.e. of possessing, each of them, a representative of its own. The lack of knowledge is by no means due to the interaction being insufficiently known -- at least not in the way that it could possibly be known more completely -- it is due to the interaction itself.
Self-obviously the thing, quote correctly healed by competent hand, does not discuss, does not come even close to discussing the half-baked nonsense Ballas loaded his misfortunate brains with. It's about limitations on mathematical representation, problems of perfect knowledge are discussed, it's central to a general theory of the fundamental limits to representation which is why I'm familiar with it -- it was in my philosophy abilitur paper or w/e you call it -- but me aside, it's been quoted upwards of a thousand times by sane people, it's well understood and thoroughly digested (by such intellects as have any business digesting such things).
Evidently it's also been misquoted and misunderstood who knows how many untold billion times by celenterates like this here ignare "scientist". The problem with not citing properly (equal half to the other major problem with "public participation" qua public participation -- the misusing of terms of art) is that if it "succeeds" (in the sense the morons doing it misrepresent success) then it therefore creates the very nooks and crannies in which kooks and crazies best breed. If the moron manages to separate the quote from its author (such that the author can't well tell him where and wherefore he's wrong) while any portion of the prestige of the quote endures outside of this separation then voila! The marketing engine! Now there's a fucktard trading on stolen credit ; get enough of these together and the world ends.
And since we're on the topic : the scandalous "Grammarly" nonsense, whereby the erstwhile meat shannonizers are now specifically equipped with thesaurus lists implicitly ordered by frequency (such that they can now avoid the principal heuristic previously deployed to distinguish humans from the socialism-bred pseudohuman atrocities -- tedious repetition leading through reiteration to wooden tongue formation) is mere incremental evolution on the previous nonsense of "keywords" and "website niches", whereby they were "writing" such that "nobody could tell" it's not something they wrote, but something they copy-rote.
The idiots of the world are now trading on something built by generations prior, namely, the frequency with which words appear in historical usage. This wasn't an accidental result, it's not coincidental that dulcet or halcyon are rare whereas word, or country are common. It was not a deliberate result, granted, if the idiots of ages past had functional access to electric memory to supplement their limited cognition it'd have been fucked earlier, I'm sure ; nevertheless that it wasn't deliberate doesn't impinge on it not being coincidental.
Consider the future : under the pressure of this idiocy, all words will become similarily common, and therefore similarily meaningless. You know, like "rape" : after having been used "for effect" rather than for its actual meaning so many times, it ended up having a buttload of... no effect whatsover anymore, and also no meaning at all left anywhere inside. Yay for pantsuitism, wrecking social relations ain't good enough, such that every pantsuit is this fucking weirdo beyond any hope in any and all social contexts, isolated from any and all things besides that precious red star above his head ; no, no, the blade must cut on, the destruction of language would be a step forward towards baring shut even the theoretical possibility of communication, on which in principle one could leverage the possibility of socialization (as exactly one in practice does leverage, and precisely no one else ever did or ever could). Insanity must follow, it's not enough to have lonely, alienated fuckwards, thoroughly derealised in their concrete cubes. It must go further, the mind itself must find no solace and no support, floating atop a sea of meaninglessness inside the headbox ossature. This "painless civilisation" thing is quite the fucking wonder, it don't seem long now at all until they finally manage to actually build the human cow. [↩]Holy shit. All Sartre's doing is engage in insanely elaborate gymnastics to reconcile his brute, low-level, "personally held" notions of individualism with his high level, socially-infused pantsuitist notions of general and universal collectivism, Great All-Cunt In the Sky and assorted nonsense. It's not even internally consistent, to leave aside how utterly laughable it is.
And it has nothing to do with physics, or with quantum mechanics, or with math or with the theory of representation. Or with anything else properly called intellectual, really -- which is why the female fuckwads keep wanting to hook their troscoleta to it. Luce Irigaray is oft mentioned here because she's the ur-model of the pantsuit "thinker", as perfectly representative and thoroughly illustrative as Saint Elliot is the model of their social life. Readily disavowed, both of them equally, and to the same degrees and in the same ways and to the same exact effect : none whatsoever. The scientism of Luce is no different nor ever could be different from the scientism of Christos, just as the awkwardness of random girly before being killed and reborn is no different, nor could ever be different from the awkwardness of Elliot. Same things, off the same roots grown in the same ways, da fuck do you want already, same is same, let it rest. [↩]They'll never be rid of that Crusoe lulz, are they.
Wake up, ye troop of wanna-bes, toiling pointlessly upon them vast fields of intellectual curiosity, them gardens for your sad ilk so very arid, sad spaces of "accomplishment" and whatnot. Wake up, and smell the coffee : that Crusoe wank is not a crutch to thought, it is not helpful nor supportive, it's more in the vein of a Reader's Digest Secret Prize. [↩]No it very well fucking doesn't ; nor ever could. [↩]Must suck to be born without a soul, huh. [↩]Yea, I'm sure. Ins'allah I mean god willing...
By the way, how do you know when your God Of The Scripts has finished downloading kung-fu or whatever into you ? Is there a chime ? Like an audible ding or something ? How do you know ? [↩]No, rather, "because if it does, that chick is fucked", her argument destructured, destroyed, completely quashed by my trivial observation that "most people won't trade three aces and two kings in hand for a ''whole brand new'' hand of unknown cards". And you absolutely want her to have a point, because what other excuse for pointlessly frittering away your time is there ?
That's the structure of the "clever" uppity pleb -- that he doesn't have to anything because at any point he could anything and so therefore the homework piles undone and slowly but surely those "possibilities" come to exactly naught. But... who knows, maybe inflation fixes it all, magically, somehow ? Maybe the guy who was smart enough to do, and therefore has, can be overwhelmed by some sort of systematic process such that he won't forever come ahead, atop of and above the pleb, who didn't, and hasn't ? I mean... who knows, right ? Nobody could ever guess, we gotta wait and see, hmm... [↩]You can judge just as soon as you get your warrant to so judge from me, and not before. All other nonsense purporting to misrepresent itself as "judgement" is by that very fact invalid. [↩]The postmodern comicity of this nonsense. Trinity said it best, you know ? Epic. [↩]
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Category: Adnotations
Thursday, 13 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - Taboos Are The Ways Christians Try To Control Us. Adnotated.
if I told you the A stood for adulteress, would that turn you off? My husband said the same thingi
Of the manyii emails I received about the taboos post, only a handful were not of the form, "you are a right wing Rush Limbaugh douchebag." Wrong at least two times. You fail.
Here was one of the nicer ones:
So, you're saying to not publicize all your wrong-doings, because there are small pockets of people to support you, no matter what you've done. But, you seem to love Tucker Max (or at least his jokes?) who has basically done that for his ENTIREiii life. What gives?
The person who wrote that is a woman in the sciences whom I've emailed a few timesiv, i.e. if she misunderstood the post, it was my fault.v So:
So, anywhere you can get support, including the NYT, by all means go. This isn't about getting support, and these individuals aren't getting support.vi They don't care what you think. That's not what they're doing.
You don't need me to tell you what's right and wrong and anyway I'm hardly an expert on morality. But what I am an expert in is the psychological tricks we playvii, and their consequences to you. You may be able to live with the consequences, but they exist nonetheless.
Guilt, unlike shame, was always about You vs. Yourself.viii But what's changed is that You -- the guilty party -- has found a loophole in the system. That loophole hurts everyone.
I.
What did Epstein do wrong? Incest and infidelity.ix He did both, right? What's happened in the press? The incest's severity has completely erased the infidelity. At no time does Epstein have to confront the internal guilt of infidelityx, because he's battling an incest charge. I don't mean publicly -- I mean privately, he never faces himself about infidelity, only incest.
Now incest -- terrible, we all agreexi, but should the law really be monitoring the sex lives of consenting adults? Of course not. "Incest is wrong," I might say, "but we have no business policing it." What just happened there is that "Epstein" has managed to get me to partially support him. I may hate him, but irrelevant- "he" interprets my partial support as part of a global judgment of him, and thus has mitigated his guilt by converting it to shame, and the shame is lessened because some people are partially supportive.
I realize that HE didn't do this on purpose or consciously (though his lawyer is), and HE does not care about my support. But it happened nonetheless. That's the whole point of the media's involvement, our generational solution to the problem of guilt. This is what we will all be doing, the internet as confessional and for the remission of sins. Whether we do it on purpose or not, once a private guilt that (should) gnaw at you gets exposed as a public shame, and the public/whatever newspaper you have at your disposal/your facebook friends/etc start taking sides, that internal guilt is obliterated. Epstein still has to deal with the shame and social and legal repercussions, but not guilt.xii
What's the result? The result for Epstein isn't my interest, it's his life and it's not my rightxiii to keep his guilt alive for him. But now, FOR SURE, incest is no longer a taboo, it is no longer a matter of guilt, but of shame. Everyone is free to decide whether they can take the shame; everyone has become a Nietzschean supermanxiv, deciding for themselves if there are any taboos. Which, of course they were always free to do -- but they had the good sense not to try. Now it is possible to ask "am I free to have consensual sex with my adult daughter?" -- which, of course, you are free to do, and which, of course, you are never free to do. It's that simple.xv
Do you think it's a coincidence that 2010 had three big adult incest stories, but 2009 had none? They were occurring in 2009, but the gates of that taboo have lost their sentry: guiltxvi. So now incest is a matter of shame, not guilt.xvii If you can take the shame and your daughter's hot, enjoy.
Many in the comments accused me of being an old codger, a "these kids today are immoral" uptight Rush Limbaughlite. If you think that, you're missing something truly important: these aren't kids. These are middle aged professionals who have kids.xviii I expect -- want -- a little Nietzsche in the 20 somethings of the world, to fuel them to do something with their lives. But these are people who should know better. Instead, they've convinced themselves, after 4 decades of life, that they deserve to be happy, that their happiness is more important than anything.xix
I'm not free of guilt. But the difference is that whatever guilt I have I don't let infect other people. If I am incesting or cheating on my spouse, I would still have the human decency NOT to try and publicly mitigate that guilt by conversion to shame because I know that if I succeed then it becomes okay for someone else. I may have the "right" to do whatever I want, but do I have the right to make it okay for others?xx How I deal with guilt has an effect on how someone else will. What could I ever say to console my daughter if her husband cheats on herxxi, when I'm in the NYT saying cheating is a matter of "finding a soul mate?"
Every one of our actions has a blast radius, and there are other people in it. KABOOM. Count the bodies.xxii
II.
Would you trust Epstein or Tucker Max to babysit your five year old daughter?xxiii It's not an idle question, there will come a day where you will be asked to choose between X or Y and without any kind of architecture to guide you you will choose what my idiot generation has chosen, which is to choose nothing -- "I'm not letting my child out of my sight" and you'll end up like those parents at the park who use their kids as human shields to avoid connecting with any other parent.xxiv Result? Your kid doesn't get kidnapped by the Unabomber but he has learned you think all people are evil. Enjoy their adolescence.xxv
"Not a fair comparison, Blackbeard, we're talking about consenting adults. Who would you trust to chaperone your 24 year old wife, Epstein or Tucker Max?" That question is a lie. That question really worries about who would be more successful with your 24 year old wife, and of course that's not a comment on their trustworthiness but on your wife's. If she can't keep some alternative penis out of her vagina then the problem isn't the penises.xxvi
But to answer the question, of course I would trust Tucker Max more because I have a sense Max's limits are at X point -- has he slept with all his friends' wives? has he cheated on his wife? (1) -- and David Epstein's limits are only his own physical limitations. Nothing but the law contains Epstein, which is not any kind of containment. If I'm right he does not feel guilt -- that means anything, including eating a baby, is possible. "Are you saying he'd eat a baby?" No. But what's stopping him?xxvii
III.
There are a few people commenting who doubt the relevance of guilt, or the need for it; who openly decry it as a tool of the Christians or the establishment as a means of social control. I haven't tracked the IP addresses, but I'd wager big moneyxxviii that those are the same people who want to think Goldman Sachs is evil.
I'd also wager gigantic money that none of these people are carrying around any terrible secrets. None of you supporting Epstein are in the market for adult incest.
What infuriates you is the idea that anyone or anything has control over us. You don't like to be told they aren't allowed to do something. "As long as it doesn't hurt anybody, I should be allowed..." You want complete freedom -- which you will use to conform to very ordinary standards of living that you impose on yourself.xxix
But this isn't a moral issue that I am describing, it is an architectural problem: the very thing that allows you to exist in a world of complete freedom is those internal controls and not the social controls -- laws and shames -- that you think bind you.
Shame will never be enough -- when your identity is "strong" enough nothing shames you, not a sex tape or a prison term, you'll take that scarlet letter and put it on a tight tank top and wear it ironically, not to mention hotly.xxx
The laws will never be stronger than you. Wall Street may need more regulation but it won't reduce the corruption at all.xxxi If they want to find a way around the law, they will. Always. The more laws you have, the less relevant guilt becomes. The laws are exactly the same mechanism as Epstein's shaming: externalizing the rule affords you the opportunity to explore the grey areas. The only thing that will stop corruption is people not wanting to be corrupt.xxxii
The new factor is our access to the media, our connectivity. No matter how hard you try, it is impossible to completely block out the judgment of others -- and you won't want to if that judgment is to your benefit.
I am not trying to stop progress or technology, I'm telling you to be careful with your lives. Riddell and Epstein may have dodged huge psychological bullets, but those bullets hit the rest of us right in the face.xxxiii
---
1.xxxiv Maybe this isn't the place for a textual analysis of I Hope The Serve Beer In Hell, but he's not so much disrespectful to women as a master of a kind of dialogue with them, one that both of them are completely aware of.
"You're a slut."xxxv
"No I'm not! and I'll prove it by sleeping with you."
"Whatever. Let me get my coat."
At least within these kinds of interactions, labeling him "disrespectful" or "sexist" misses the woman's active participation in this kind of dialogue. It's a game, she knows it's a game, she's seen this game before, and she wants to play that game.xxxvi Interestingly, it's probably correct to say that your missing the woman's active role in the game reveals an implicit assumption of male dominance in social interactions, i.e. you're kind of a sexist.xxxvii
———The original image (meanwhile disappeared off the author's own site) consists of (a very small version of) the above shot of E. K. Grindemyr, doctored by him such that the panties became red with a barely legible white cursive capital A overimposed. I opted to merely describe rather than attempting to figure out what the fuck exotic font he used on the basis of three by four pixels, and otherwise trying to retrace his insanity with my own hands, because seriously now.
I'm not even sure what the fuck point he's trying to make, but I hope it's not something like ''let's all agree not to fuck other people's wives''. [↩]On the face a dubious claim, but whatevs. [↩]The ENTIRE life of an adolescent ain't that entire just yet. Meanwhile that very same entire also includes a stint as a Max Keiser clone, "investmentfinanceexperting&advice" on no basis whatsoever, as well as shipwrecking into a marriage-with-children thing to eat at the inlaws' table, because gotta eat... there's a whole list of lulz lined up in the "entire life" of some anodyne organ donor, besides that one time in game 6 when he scored or whatever it is he did. [↩]That's more like it, ie
Are niste prieteni si niste cunostiinte care-l si citesc. Ei nu sunt cititorii lui care intimplator ii sunt si cunoscuti, sunt prietenii si cunostiintele lui care intimplator il si citesc. Daca miine nu l-or mai citi tot aia or fi.
Not really what he was implying, da' noa, hai, treaca de la mine. [↩]Simp. [↩]I suspect ambiguation re "support". If I decide to bomb this dude's house, and the Serb mafia in his neighbourood is providing me with a ride for the purpose, it'd be either the case that they are providing support, in the sense of furthering my goals, or not providing me "true" or "real" support, in the sense of... not furthering his goals. Cuz obviously trebuie sa intelegi, "real" support leads to what he wants to happen, not what actually happens. [↩]I'd say! [↩]Very bizarre, this guy's guilt fetish. [↩]I presume this is a different Epstein from the one running the Clintons' rape island for little kids bought on public funds, as I'm way the fuck too lazy to check. [↩]Maybe the "wife" was in on it ? I mean, it's possible, yes ? If she were, she wouldn't have sent a report card to Ballas of the Internet, right ? Notwithstanding Ballas gets oh so very many emails, nevertheless it's perfectly conceivable a faggoty old pimp's "marriage" is not exactly congruent with Iowa-powered expectations. Right ? [↩]I suspect we very much don't "all" agree all that much, but whatevs. [↩]I suspect that what he's proposing is actually a pretty decent schema to represent and therefore explain a lot of internet-only exhibitionism from otherwise very shy and socially inept shitsacks. I've certainly observed the behaviour he's discussing (though almost universally in below-zero SMV rejects), the analysis makes sense, the whole thing checks out -- though it's usually "I said I'm pigging out on twitter, so therefore my dead diet may be to my shame, but not my guilt. It's not usually incest or whatever, though at least in principle there's no real bar to the extension. [↩]Leaving "the right" alone, as nobody in his right mind gives a flying fuck about rights, that shit's expensive! Why the hell would anyone keep some other dork's "guilt alive for him" anymore than his wife satisfied or his children fed ? Let him do his own fucking work, what the fuck. [↩]Well... of sorts. [↩]"Is she hot" is much more on point than any of this. The rule of hotness in amorous entanglements is like the rule of cool in fiction : it trumps everything else. To put it plainly : the only reason I'm not fucking my adult daughters is that they ain't hot enough to bother with, and exactly nothing else. Yes, coincidentally I also don't have any adult daughters -- well, not of my own making I mean, they're other people's daughters -- but that's just as irrelevant as any other coincidence. Like, I don't have any soda in the house, but I wouldn't drink it even if I had it, so the absence's coincidental to the not drinking. Same principle with the fucking, except of course in the positive.
That said, we all agree you shouldn't be fucking your own daughters, adult or otherwise. In fact, we all agree you shouldn't be fucking at all. [↩]This seems at best a tenuous interpretation of whatever media nonsense. For one thing, there weren't six, or nine or four in 2011, and there's none in 2020 etcetera. Maybe, just possibly... they weren't happening in 2009 ? Or, for that matter, in 2010, either ? Maybe all this shit on the "news programme" is... made up ? Maybe I wouldn't even fuck my daughter at all ? Or maybe if I did fuck my adult daughter it'd be outside of anyone's purview to find this out, seing how... well, how the fuck is anyone going to ? [↩]What the fuck was the guilt supposed to be about, anyways ? Like, you're such a terrible lay, it's gonna melt her brain and sag her tits, or what exactly ?
She's not made of soap, yo! It doesn't wear out with use! The cunt's not made of soap and there's no soul, what the fuck else magicks will we discover reading scientists' take on things & sciences I wonder. [↩]Is the problem here that the professionals organ donors are having too much fun ? Because seriously now, if you think fucking your daughter's automatically fun for that reason not only do you sound a lot like the Internet's worst, but maybe the best solution is to actually try it out ? Pro tip : she's not special. There's no "special". Stop chasing chick flicks irl, motherfucking larptards! [↩]Dude, again. What the fuck's happiness to do with any of this ?
If your happiness is built out of fucking some chick, you're more fucked in the head than she is! [↩]The fuck is he asking me for. Yo! Go ask whoever the fuck "gave you your rights" what you're supposed to do with them. As far as I'm concerned you're more than welcome to shove them, what the fuck. [↩]What ?!
I have to sometime meet this daughter who's consoled by her father when her husband cheats on her. That's some seriously otherworldly shit right there, I thought I had the trophy but apparently not after all. Apparently there's people with even wilder ideas out there! [↩]What are these bodies doing for a living, if staying the fuck out of blast radiuses ain't it ?
Hurr durr, the world's made of china dolls and you're responsible for all of them, fancy that wonder. "Guilt is how I feel like god, it's been co-opted by my narcissistic needs of self-worship and I really dislike it when others cheapen it by public exposure".
Pro tip : they'll be fine. They "won't like you", but the thing is... they never did like you anyways. If they had liked you, your arrangements'd have looked a lot different than what they actually end up looking like. Aite ? [↩]I wouldn't trust anyone but her mother and her mother's slavegirlfriendsisters to babysit, what the fuck nonsense is this. [↩]This has nothing to do with anything ; 1950s women didn't do the "babysitting" thing either, nor the social awkwardness for that matter. The two are unrelated, the "babysitting" nonsense started with "careerwomen", tis a 60s an' 70s phenomenon. [↩]Wait... does he mean sexually ?! [↩]Hey, I was gonna say the exact same thing in a footnote ; but apparently his brain works ok sometimes. [↩]Babies don't taste particularly good.
Remarkably rural Moslem line of argumentation, incidentally. I've searched and couldn't turn up (though I'm sure it's in here somewhere) the place where I grazingly discuss a very similar approach among my friends in Cairo, "ok, you don't believe in Allah, that's understandable, being a Christian" "I'm not a Christian" "What then ?" "Nothing." "But... what do you mean nothing ?" "Just like that, nothing." "But you have to believe in something" "Why ?" "Because... because... if you don't, what's to keep you from doing anything, any bad thing ?" "Nothing, really."
A poor man's notion of what wealth's like, basically. [↩]Whence this inclination of people who don't have big money to describe their willingness to wager such as they don't actually have ? [↩]Well duh, what the fuck else are you gonna do ?! Or anyone else for that matter. I can beat the girls, any time I want, with whatever I want, for as long as I can muster the energy. Such is my absolute and unquestionable, not to mention unquestioned priviledge -- dut do I ? Occasionally ; somewhat. Not most of the time, obviously. [↩]Quite. There's absolutely nothing "society" can ever do. [↩]So then... what's it need more regulation for ? Not enough pointless bureaucrats being fed as it is ? [↩]Yet corruption is definitely preferable to the alternative. [↩]Honestly, my only takeaway from this pile of contortion is that Ballas has cheated on his wife, a single event which he regrets (in the usual sense), and also is very much affraid he may want to fuck his daughter. To console him, however belatedly : it's not uncommon for fathers to be sexually aroused by the daughters ; it is extremely rare for the daughters to be at all receptive however. In other words : Ballas along with every other simp needn't worry too much about the magical power of their penis to alter reality. There's no such thing ; definitionally the limits on their reality is set by the women they live amongst. [↩]Apparently he perceives the need for footnotes too! [↩]Techncally, "you're inferior, which I will call random words". "No I'm not! Pick any thing in this room -- I will lift it over my head! Mendelbaum! Mendelbaum!
There's a meta-reason to engage in this dialogue as stated. "Ironically", if you will : for the longest time it's something women simply could not afford, period. That now they can lends the campiness some semblance of cool, derived from the ambiguity of personal positioning -- in order to work it has to be played straight, see, otherwise endless generations of mulas also played it down, or for laughs, or any other way other than straight, because straight was simply economically unviable (to not say impossible). But it also has to be played not-straight, because what the fuck, really ?
Women generally like men who can well handle ambiguity, in any case much moreso than they like men for any other reason. [↩]Amusingly enough, the people labeling him "disrespectful" or "sexist" aren't discussing the interaction between him and the one woman that he's playing the game with. They're discussing the interaction between those two having played their game and everyone else. The point isn't that he's dissolving to the social arrangements and mental representations of the women he's fucking ; the point very much is that he is dissolving of the social arrangements and mental representations of the women he's not fucking! This argument is flawed in the usual sense of straight-up wanna-be-ism, of course, seeing how Tucker Max very much isn't me ; but this solid objection aside one'd have expected a lot more sympathy for that line of argument from this particular simp, at least given the foregoing blather. [↩]I know, right ? [↩]
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Category: Adnotations
Tuesday, 11 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - Reciprocal Determinism And Why Punching People Out Is Way Cool. Adnotated.
And stay away from my man!i
A quickii addendum to my previous post on the "Psychological Uncertainty Principle."iii
A reader pointed out that some of this is explained by "reciprocal determinism", which basically means that you respond to your environment, but then force a change in your environment which further changes your behavior. For example:
"Girls don't like me. Girls don't like me. Girls don't like me." Repeat x 100.
So a girl thought she liked you, but then met you, and now decided you're a nutter. So she bolts.
Now you have proof girls don't like you.
It sounds like reciprocal determinism says who you are affects your environment, which then affects you.
That's wrong. In the above example, it wasn't ever true that girls didn't like you.iv You made it true. You changed your behavior, somehow, that made it so that girls don't like you. You received some gain from making it true that girls didn't like you -- perhaps it helps you avoid intimacy, etc, etc.v
So your identity never enters the equation. Reciprocal determinism is about behavior, not identity. Albert Bandura (the originator of this concept) was responding to Skinner's behaviorism.
Wikipedia's article on reciprocal determinismvi is a perfect example of this exactly wrong use of the concept. They describe how low MAOA enzyme can cause you to be antisocial. In fact, it is the opposite: having low MAO-A does nothing, but having high MAO-A seems to be protective. The reason people became antisocial (synonymous with criminal) in those studies was that they were abused -- in essence, they imitated the behavior.
The experiment Bandura is famous for speaks to my point about the absoluteness of your responsibility for your identity: kids watched adults beat up a bobo doll, and were then put in a room with a bobo doll, and, surprise, the majority then imitated this behavior, even using the same hitting techniques and repeating the same phrases the adults did. Nothing genetic or even environmental affected this outcome -- almost all the kids did it (and almost none of the control kids who didn't watch the adults beat up the doll).
So watching the Matrix causes kids to go Columbine?vii Bandura would have said yes. But oddly no one ever wonders why then the cooking channel doesn't result in more pies, or why porn hasn't prompted rampant depilation.viii Bandura's theory of reciprocal determinism required a key element: reinforcement. There has to be a gain in the imitation, in the identification. You may have "learned" the violence by watching it, but you won't display the violence unless there is some reward -- it isn't just a reflex, some part of your core identity. You decide to imitate it, because it rewards you. How? "I want to be just like my Dad" (except he beats Mom.) "Neo is so cool." (Didn't he kill all the human security guards?) "Thug life!" Etc. Note that no one ever imitates the violence of, say, Gollum. Want to know why? Because Gollum never scores any chicks.ix
So once again, you pick who you are. Or: you picked who you are, how you behave, whether you know this or not. So now ask: why did you pick this person, this identity? And what is preventing you from changing any or all of it?x
———Can you believe no larger version of this stamp exists anywhere on the Internet ? [↩]This "a quick" device is well ripe for either construction or (preferably) outright abandon. Don't fucking "a quick" me, it's at best patronizing and otherwise inexcusable ; instead, put the fucking needed work such that it's "a proper" -- or else get the fuck out of everyone's hair. Da fuck "a quick" nothings on a stick, "nobody can accuse me of being a vapid officious intermeddler, I WARNED THEM!!!". Pshaw. [↩]Speaking of which, these piggybacking portmanteaus ain't my favourite dish either. What is this, the naming porn flicks convention, "Masha's Mashing : The Uncuntability Theorem" ?
They're especially infuriating when they belie a barely cursory acquaintance of the "idea guy" being "creative" with the subject matter of his inept appropriation. [↩]No, it was plenty true. Why should girls like the average simp, anyways ? What, just because [your version of] a state needs to sell said simps on said lie so they'll pay it taxes ?! Forget about it, girls don't like you. They might tolerate you for cause, but that's about as far as it goes. [↩]Ballas absolutely wants the lulztheory on gender to be true, and so he'll make it fucking true, what. It's just about him and himself, nothing else enters into HOW IT IS!!!! Rite ?
Forget about it ; as much as a post-Bismarckian attempt at "an ordered socialism" / "city on the hill" / bla bla bla would benefit from it, nevertheless it's absolutely not the case that there's a woman for every dork. Most women would go with any of the few alphas and none of the betas, while most men and a few of the women are broken and therefore worthless. That's very well fucking it, an' no amount of piled-up pretense can ever change that. [↩]Oh for fuck's sake. [↩]No, rather : living in "the US" makes kids who watch the Matrix "go Columbine", much like living in a chicken battery makes chickens that watch other chickens peck at other chickens cloacas peck at other chickens cloacas even though free ranged chickens don't either exhibit or immitate the behaviour. The problem is "America", not some film or other. [↩]Because Ballas spent his time talking to relatively few women, and they were all wives. Pretty much all the sluts I've seen for years now were "of course" (that's a direct quote) hairless about the cunt. [↩]Funny, I'd have guessed Gollum's violence is by far the winner of any popularity vote. You don't think it's by far the most immitated variant ?! [↩]Yeah, seriously, why didn't you pick to be me instead ? Hurr. [↩]
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Category: Adnotations
Tuesday, 11 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - How Does The Shutdown Relate To Me? Adnotated.
is Obama there?i
Everyone knows ads are propaganda, but what happens when you have an ad for propaganda?ii While you sip your first Guinnessiii and try to figure out why China's government can only ever shut down onceiv, you can ponder this ad:
The only reason you haven't spit nitrogen bubblesv on your screen is I haven't shown you the other half of this outstandingly accurate abomination. You should get yourself a towel and another drink.
I.
Intelligent people like to tell each other that they aren't liberal or conservative but independent; that Fox and MSNBC are biased and can't be trusted, that partisanship, "special interests" and "lobbyists" have destroyed Americavi; in essence, that they are not ideologues but practical, reasonable people who just want the system to do what's right. Then you ask them what exactly "right" is, and the yelling starts.
Intelligent people, like racists, are fluent in describing themselves in opposition to what they are not, but ask them to define themselves by what they are, tell you what they do believe in, and they're lost. They have opinions on issues, sure, but ask for an overarching ideology and their face botoxes. Overarching ideology? Only people with manifestos have ideologies, not having an ideology is the whole point of being independent, the only thing they deal in is "facts" or "reality", and gun to head if they believe in anything it's "science."vii Not physics or chemistry, but evolution. You know, whatever ideologues hate.
I phrase it this way not to insult a group, but to show you how very easy it is to brand identify a group, because when a group becomes a demo it loses most of its freedom of action and becomes baa baa black sheep. Do you want to see the consequence? Turn on CNN.
II.
"The government shut down just shows that our government doesn't function correctly!" That's one interpretation, the other is that when a car starts to smoke, you pull over and fix it, you don't keep going 'till it explodesviii, though I recognize the explosion makes for better TV. What you're seeing is the ordinary back room realigning of interests and powers, but this time trying desperately to hide from a voyeuristic media that caters to a demographic, i.e. you, that believes that never more than three at a time colorful but poorly understood #issues will eventually get us to Mars. "We shouldn't go to Mars." You got your wish. Off topic, speaking of Mars, here's an interesting thought: if things proceed as per y=mx+b, then the entire human race of the future interstellar diaspora will all be Chinese. Huh. What do you know, Star Trek was way off.
Americans, by which I mean a populace propagandized to the Left or Right or Middle, cynically believe that "wanting to get re-elected" or arrogance or ideology is what's to blame, as if 500+ career Machiavellians are too stupid to know what an underemployed theater grad knows. "They should just do the right thing!" Who will let them? You?
The shut down was the inevitable consequence of a government not permitted to compromise, smothered by the oppressive gaze of a kamikaze media that will kill itself and your country just to get a headline today. I'm starting to wonder if the reason it is always pretty white girls who get kidnapped is that the media is the one kidnapping them. And you blamed Bear Stearns for being too focused on short term profits? CNN's time horizon is your next micturition. The media demands partisanship, conflict, opposing sides, but despite having 24 hours to fill will never, ever explain the interplay between complex issuesix, preferring to feature them in segments while hyping them to a crisis. Imagine trying to have sex always on camera, and always with a goat, and always with some know-it-allx screaming at you, "get hard now! NOW! 8 seconds left! NOW! What's wrong with you?!" Jesus, can I take a minute and do this privately? "Transparency!"
If Senator X "makes a concession" the relevant media will proclaim him a loser and a coward, they don't want representatives, they want cage fighters. There's no reward for compromise and there's no safe place to attempt it, either. This is 100% your fault, "I can't believe how stupid these people are!" It's great how you can't find employment but have time to micromanage the U.S. Senate.xi #outrage
If you want to know what political career disaster looks like, have an infinitely leggy ex-sorority girl in flesh toned Manolos sitting behind a glass table in perfect lighting announce to 50% of America that you were beat by an old woman from California or an old man from Ohio. "Ha ha, what a cuckold! Back to you, Kent." You blame Congress? They are the ones who "don't get it"? When a representative democracy gets crippled by what amounts to a 3x3 magic square, it's not that they can't figure out the solution, the solution is easy, the answer is 15 and the five is a gimme, we just need someone to dare allow himself to be filmed putting the 1 on the left or the right or the center so we can finish the other 13 numbers and go bomb Syria. "Wait, what? I don't understand." Yes, that's my point exactly.
III.
I'm not saying the shutdown isn't a real problem, only that if the news came out only in weekly format, this particular shutdown wouldn't have happened. Or, said differently, if there was a government shut down at a time when the news came out only weekly, it would mean we were getting a new flag.
All of what is now being subverted by the media has been detailed in The Process Of Government, you should read it. But you won't, it has too many characters, and this is accurate no matter how you define characters. Come on, at least read Chapter XX, it's online. Jesus, here. "Umm, It's pretty boring." I know, I know, you want to know how the news relates to you, and boy oh boy do I have the news network for you.
"But that book was written in 1908. Based on what I've seen on Downton Abbey, things were a lot different then."
Well, yes, obviously, there had just been a massive leap forward in technology and industrialization, a booming economy fueling a wealth gap, temporarily course corrected by a financial panic "precipitated" by the failure of two overspeculating brokerage houses. There were also, simultaneously, great advances in progressive causes like worker's rights and food quality, all on the background of decreasing importance of religion among educated whites in favor of science. Not physics or chemistry, but evolution. Tabloids were incomprehensibly popular, partisan media the norm. A loosening of conventional morality manifested as bored promiscuity, female bisexuality, and a flood of new porn the likes of which never existed before.
"That does sound different. And awesome. What did their Millennial kids inherit, what did they experience over their adult lives, say 1929-1945?"
I totally don't know, Boardwalk Empire only goes up to 1924 and Mad Men starts 1960.xii
IV.
The problem with blaming the shutdown on Congressional partisans is that the partisans on either side know exactly what they want.xiii When there are specific things you want, compromise is usually possible.xiv
The public in the middle, however, don't understand politics, only emotions given to them by TV, and so their beliefs are cobbled together in real time, improvisedxv, as they get "more information." One trending topic at a time, each vacuum sealed to prevent cross contamination.xvi They don't look at things historically, culturally, humanistically, or even selfishly, there exists no system for interpreting "the facts." Compromise becomes impossible, as a simple example, when a "moderate" "thinks" there should be more restrictions on guns, they want gun owners to give up something they want very much -- in exchange for nothing. "But it's the right thing to do!"xvii And the yelling starts, in HD.
Worse, they proudly announce their lack of ideology by branding themselves as Independents -- capital I, a thing, a demo. He willingly lessens his independence to become part of a group.xviii
The "independent" demo actually has all the textbookxix characteristics of a group most susceptible to propaganda, more correctly "pre-propaganda", and by textbook I mean literally Propaganda.
They consider themselves leaderless. They can have representatives, they can have "evangelists" but they have to believe that their conclusions are all their own, through individual reflection and objective consideration. Interestingly, and on purpose, they believe their brains can handle such an analysis, any analysis. This isn't arrogance. They are told, by universities and the media, that their mind is prepared to do this heavy lifting as long as they are given just the right facts, filtered from the "noise." "Where can we get the right facts, in a world of liars?" Good question, maybe the news?
Commonly, independents have a single personal issue, say gun rights or abortion, but no personal experience with other issues, and lacking any subjective starting point, they therefore believe that ONLY objectivity will give them the truth. The less life experience they have the better; the less they've seen of the world, the fewer people they've argued with (in person, where it is real and has real consequences like punches), the less frequently their water balloon worldview is tested by people with pins, the more they will cling to the premise that "facts" are what's important. In this way the one personal issue serves as a reference point which the propaganda exploits: "hey, gun advocates, did you know you like low corporate taxes?" I do? "Yes, because the people you hate are for raising them." Consequently, raising corporate taxes is felt like an attack on the Second Amendment. "Liberals! Taking away our rights!"
But sometimes the complexity of issues is just overwhelming, once in a while reality creeps in, and issues are discovered to be massively complicated, and anyway he has no power to do anything.
No doubt this sounds depressing, he's going to start drinking heavily, or become a cynic, or go the Hemingway. So the media=propaganda fosters his regression towards a much desired solution: total alienation. The media explains how things relate to him, and as long as he understands what's going on, he feels empowered. He is given an ideology without even knowing it. Now he doesn't actually have to do anything, indeed, it's way the hell better if he does nothing. All that's required is support, and through his support not only will "the right things" happen but he'll share in the credit.xx
You'll counter that there are right leaning and left leaning independents, isn't there a difference? but this misses the point: propaganda doesn't try to get you to believe something, but to do something, and in this case it is to do nothing -- it doesn't matter what you choose to believe, as long as your outrage is done from inside your house.xxi
This is the whole gimmick of media, not polar but triangular, right, left, middle, mobilizing an army of assonauts to feel strongly enough about something that they don't do anything.
I already knew that "independent" was a group looking for representation, what I was surprised by is how fast "independent" became a mainstream brand demo. Here is page 2, and 3, of Time Magazine:
The first and most immediate observation is that Al Jazeera assumes its American target demo is stupid, very stupid, because here we have what is most certainly a college graduate who considers herself in need of unbiased, objective, independent news -- yet she is still reading Time Magazine, as her main source of in depth news. Rana Foroohar balanced by Fareed Zakaria, two wrongs can make a right, and "it's somewhere in the middle." She has decided that the problem with her understanding of the world is that she just needs better intel. Yes, she will say intelxxii, it sounds more objective.
In order for the Time reader to have formed the quoted thought two other thoughts had to have occurred already, which in itself is astonishing, here they are: 1. She's figured out that all American news is biased, she's sick of the partisanship, after all, it doesn't brand identify her.xxiii 2. She thinks that more objectivity is to be found at Al-Jazeera America.
Why would she think this? Because she's stupid? Actually, yes: the culture you know least about has all the answers, which is also why the Guinness ad hypermale in pre-season Special Olympics has chosen to tattoo gigantic Chinese characters on his arm to explain his ennui to himself. "It's a chinese proverb, 'That what doesn't kill me make me stronger.'" I hope to God a bus tries to make you stronger. Off topic, as a sociological metric, you can track a chinese person's first level of alienation from his culture by his branding himself with English-word tattoos; but you will know that all the chinese has been media powerwashed out of him when the he starts getting Chinese character tattoos. "It's because I'm Chinese," he'd explain, to which you would not dare reply, "yeah, I kinda figured." To which he will then not reply, "I mean, I know I'm genetically Chinese, but I don't really feel Chinese, but this signals that I'm part of a symbolic China more authentic than the actual China of my parents which I feel no real connection to, yet I know I'm supposed to feel the connection, it's not like I can go around pretending I grew up on Waltzing Matilda."xxiv To which you will not add, "It's not entirely your fault, you didn't live through a war like your parents and grandparents did, and anyway modern China resembles the U.S. far more than it does symbolic China. Technically, you're alienated from your parents alienation, but neither are you connected to Americana either, the white girls/boys seem out of reach, there's a frivolity you can't really empathize with, jobs other than Law, Medicine, Science are unreal, and you feel like you're always looking at everything from an outside that itself has no firm location." And he'll blink, confused, "truth be told, my only real association to chinese culture is my parents screaming at me that I'm not as good as 'real' Chinese. What can be done?" I don't have an answer for you, the good news is that when you finally find the answer that works for you, your kids will be too old to care.xxv
Al-Jazeera America is trying to call itself "objective", but right in the ad is the brand reveal: she doesn't want objectivity, she wants subjectivity explainedxxvi to her, she wants to know how the news relates to her. She wants to know: how can I, an organ donor in Sector 3, be part of the global community now that my husband is boring and my kids prefer their individual LCD screens?xxvii The media wants her to have an answer, after all, do you know how many Nielsen ratings that family generates, how individualized is the data? It's not the quality of the news at AJA she likes, but how watching it makes her feel smart, unique. She's not going to watch Fox, MSNBC and AJA, right? Only one of those, but AJA brands her as out of the mainstream, unique, open to other opinions. "I like to get my information from different sources." I assume that includes twitter, 140 characters and an appeal to authority and you're good to go at the Starbucks.
V.
To be clear, I'm not at all worried Al Jazeera is going to secretly convert this woman into a jihadistxxviii or spread misinformation and disinformation. I have no doubt Al Jazeera will be as objective as CNN, after all they took Soledad O'Brien from them to signal that very point.
So when I say AJA is (pre-)propaganda, I don't mean it won't be accurate, I mean that its purpose is to prepare its demo for a certain way of life.xxix Of course everything I've said applies to any American media -- except that Al Jazeera offers something else the American networks don't or can't. If you want to know what Al Jazeera is really offering, take a look at its aspirational target demo:
Not pictured is a white guy in a suit, because he already has media that's for him, and it's probably Fox, and the above four people hate it. That's powerful branding in America: in opposition to what you hate.
Women and minorities may not seem like an aspirational demo, but it is -- not for actual women and minorities necessarily, but for people suffering from tremendous ennui who want to be part of a struggle, something bigger than themselves.
They feel, without fully comprehending this to be true, that the only reason the American media is so partisan and loud and angry and urgent is because nothing really important is happening.xxx Yes, there's a countdown clock on CNN for Debt Ceiling Armageddon and I guess Kanye West is headed for the asylum but it's all boy who cried wolf blitzer at this point. She heard, like you heard, that the NSA is monitoring us, and you know what? Meh. Though it was interesting when it was on The Good Wife. This isn't to say things are going well, it is to say they are degrading boringly. Like the above woman's marriage.xxxi
This is what Al Jazeera promises her, not objectivity, but a connection to history. Our big crisis is... whether [we are] or we aren't going to pay our short term debts. You think either of the four people above can get hyped about that? But over in the middle east history is happening, racial equality, women's lib, the right to get an education, riots, ideological clashes -- all that stuff is happening over there. Women are being stoned to death for seeing a penis, gay men, too, if you assume that at some point in some future these things will no longer be true, then you are saying that historical changes are afootxxxii as the old ways are replaced, and by ways I mean men. The #OWS demo wants to see powerful men humbled before the t-shirted, tweeting masses, it allows them the fantasy that it could some day happen here, which it won't because the propaganda worked.
Propaganda doesn't succeed because it is manipulative, it works because people WANT it, NEED it, it gives their life a direction and meaning and guards against change.xxxiii
Fans of AJA will probably attack me for being biased, but this accusation is silly. The whole point here is that the target demo for AJA is not smart, and I know this because no one smart would watch TV news.xxxiv If you are watching TV news, then you're not smart, this isn't me saying this, this is TV news predicting this: no one smart would ever ask another person, let alone the news, to explain to them how the news relates to them. TV news thinks you're as stupid as Time Magazine.
If anything, Al-Jazeera isn't the "Islamification" of the west, it is the westernization of the middle east.xxxv Al Jazeera reports in English, they have western values, and, most importantly, accept ads -- western style ads, i.e aspirational, not representational. The neocons couldn't have planned this better, someone should check to see if they didn't. Two months of Al Jazeera and this woman will turn to her then deceased husband in a moment of big picture clarity and say, "you know, they're not so different from us, they want the same things we want." Yes. Why do you think that is? Evolution?xxxvi
The news for Americans, especially Independents, lacks meaning, direction, ideology -- and they miss it, just like economically, they've been left behind. Now the news is artificial drama, just local crime stories blown up nationally, a natural disaster, the occasional Youtube video -- where's the Change, where are the upheavals, where are the riot police? We don't have political riots here, we have high end sit ins near the Broadway Starbucks, and occasionally 20 motorcycles will attack a minivan. "Is 'motorcycle' code?" That's where we are right now, this is what the media has trained you for, detecting racism or hypocrisy or some other character flaw in the speaker as a proxy for the complexities of the issues so you don't have to think. It is under these conditions that you expect John Boehner to "compromise" on something you don't at all understand, and scream for his beheading if he doesn't, all to the thrill of the media. "See! TLP is a right wing zealot!" See, you're stupid. And boy oh boy do I have the news network for you.
———I'm stuck using the dude's original tiny stamp, because it is fucking impossible to find an exact copy of that image, because the artificially ''intelligent'' piles of crap beleaguering the thinking man on all sides are so fucking excited to have recognized the banal (uh oh, it's boehner!!!) that there's no talking to them anymore. The whole thing recalls to mind that Dexter's Laboratory episode where, having had enough of the dog's insistent if pointless attempts at communicating it fed it a literacy pill -- only to discover the dog's a dog because that's what it is, not because nobody thought of feeding it the English language in pill form yet. [↩]Even better : what happens when you realise "inexplicably" idiotic non-events from a decade ago were really much more akin to a dry-run for pretty much the same idiotic bulshit today, somehow meanwhile blown up to incomprehensible scale ?
Those fucktards also closed down the parks, did they not ? Because hurr, what the fuck was it ? A transparent exercise in "look how important we are, please believe", yes ? [↩]This is a wink and a nod to an anachronistic activity males in the author's time still nominally engaged in, whereby they'd gather together to figure out the situation at hand and decide for their women and children. [↩]This incidentally is an excellent point and a rather important observation. How come actual governments can only close once, but this "democracy" cancer has been rotting away human hope and human potential seemingly forever ?
As debatable as that "seemingly forever" may ring, definitively looms as a distinct possibility, at least according to a certain prophet :
Human productivity will never recover ; 2000-something, whichever it was, marks a (likely permanent) high mark in human activity. Sure, contrary pretense may be put forth, even defended for a while. Perhaps robotization may fill the slack such that nominally Earth productivity will one day surpass that. Human productivity however never will, which is the greater point here : the relevancy of individual humans to this world, to human affairs, to human society, economy, etcetera, is gone. There was an event horizon, apparently, nobody fucking realised this, it would seem, nevertheless sometime between 2019 and 2020 it was crossed and... well, again : likely permanently. Nothing you do nenceforth (like henceforth but in the negative) matters in any substantial sense, because between fake science and very real social dissolution humanity has meanwhile lost the ability to matter in the world or mean anything to itself.
[↩]This is a wink and a nod at how the beer the men in the above footnote drank as some sort of symbol of their putative office is just alt-flavoured soda, and so, vehehehery gingerly it is implied that maybe their office ain't what it used to be also.
How delicate the pseudo-males get, huh! [↩]This, combined with a very banal observation of the married woman, that it is exceedingly easy to remove political obstacles in the household by simply demanding to see the kids' report cards, produced the 1980s "libertarian party". The thing lived essentially as a collection of middle aged, middle class, mostly white suburbia-dwelling women who, having independently noticed that recourse to accountancy wonderfully silences the kids, and the husband, proceeded to apply it to local government. As they found each other they ineffectually attempted to scale up their meager discoveries, but unfortunately for them their winds scaled on a tight logarithmic whereas the defenses of the socialist-democratic behemoth scaled on a loose exponential, and so by the mid-90s their nautical nutshell was done as a going concern (even if, nothing if not stubborn, some kept trying for a decade or thereabouts).
This, of course, was the age of gopher, and actually competent, actually skilled females in the workforce cut out of the cloth of that Admiral chick. Nowadays the same impulse produces mere Karens out of the barely-literate, practically mongoloid Vickis of America. [↩]The poor little frail gals -- and I know this first hand, for having been very much right fucking there, as per usual with me -- were nevertheless quite disproportionately influential, and while Ballas is right in identifying their overpowering effect upon the media, wherein pretty much everything that non-Trilema even is today entirely consists of the substance of fearing them and hating them, like everything a wolfsangel or a roundworm are is driven by the overwhelming mammal they parasitize and naught else, the contemporary wank of pseudoscientific dedication to "Science" derives from exactly the same source. It is naught but exactly that : the scab built by the body politic over the round hole these chicks' spear left in it. Except, of course, calling it "a body" tends to imply that it had other shit going on, it was otherwise engaged when pierced ; but this implication is not factual. Rather, much like once the wolves start howling in the night the blacksmith might take a scythe and beat it into the Z shape, just so once they started showing up at townhall meetings the tardsmith beat the state into the presently observable shape. Fear, and loathing, and scant else besides.
But hey, at least the pantsuited hilarity "liberated" women, you know ? [↩]This, amusingly enough, is what I used to believe ; and as I believed so I did. Not anymore, though, for months now.
The problem starts when overbearing yet overarching, spuriously self-perpetuating and automatically expanding complexity (such as for instance manifested in contemporary cars, or anything else) encounters progressively less able, less active, less qualified and capable and therefore less "opressed by the violence of capitalism" and "burdened by colonialism" -- ultimately, less human humans. Like the lovable, loving schmucks befouling Costa Rica, among whom I'd have to find a car mechanic, if I seriously intend to give my pulling over any kind of fixing follow-up.
They're not capable of anything such as maintenance, you see. I'd say "here", but (on the basis of actual experimental work) I very much doubt the problem is localized. If you're currently finding yourself in a bubble where the foregoing yet doesn't hold true, worry yourself not -- it certainly will soon enough. Frankfurt also seemed like a city, and stood like a city, for abundant centuries before the deskilling gutted it like were a rotting catfish, in what seems subjectively quite like the blink of an eye even though my calendar informs me it exceeded a decade. Nothing can long survive "speeds much more important to us", once you take rape out of the classroom there's scarcely any point to pretend you'll ever see hot water or purpose-made flooring ever again.
And so no, I no longer so believe, and as I don't believe I don't do. Experience has shown it is cheaper (merely cheaper in money ; it is however much cheaper in time and energy) to simply buy the car, drive it until it fails, at which point shrug, abandon it on the side of the road and buy another one than it is to attempt to maintain, fix or otherwise interact sanely with the byproducts of insanity and through the tools of insanity. Insanity breeds insanity, and the pincer movement of ever more elaborate pretense put forth by ever less worthy morons is perfectly capable of cracking any wise nut'll ever grow anywhere. So I went through two Mercedeses and a BMW in the past six months, and... fuck'all, if I ever meet a competent car mechanic at some future point I'll simply hang him by the guts of the last competent car design specialist. Because they should've been there, to live and die with the Republic, back when the Republic still lived. What the fuck else did could've been expected ? [↩]"The media" in his very televisual understanding has a serious problem : explanations need the whole tree, whereas the "stop anytime, start anytime" paradigm of TV is exactly counter-alligned to this. There's a reason you're not allowed to talk in class, and that reason is -- what the teacher's saying now progresses from what he's been saying a minute ago, and builds the basis for what he'll be saying a minute from now. If you break the tower it has to be started over, your talking in class doesn't carve out of other people's time merely the length of your talking, as when monkeys talk over each other ; it actually ruins the entire effort of everyone else who had been following along, you very well can, with a well delivered three second interruption, destroy the half hour labour of dozens of people. What's infinitely worse : the reason they even engage in the complex, demanding, laborious and time-consuming activity of directed tower building is faith, pure and unadulterated, they're crediting the theory that their labour will bear fruit. If you fuck it up, you don't merely fuck up the instant case, but you also significantly deter any future engagement in the behaviour. In other words, all it takes is one monkey going to class to render education strictly impossible. This is why the original Oxford, the thing that actually worked as opposed to the atroctios remnant left behind, was surrounded by fortified walls equipped with cannons.
Now imagine a classroom where people come and go, randomly, like say the train station. You see now why the only possible education in this paradigm is the "teacher" masturbating herself ? And why it'll be the faux sort of "you can't accuse her of not masturbating" masturbation ? What the fuck else's she to do, rub herself raw ?
It's not possible to have culture while any idiots are tolerated anywhere in sight just as it's not possible to have cleanliness with cockroaches, or civilisation with any involvement from anxious females. Not any, not any whatsoever at all. Now you know why demonstrated courage and generally valour have been systematically and throughout history the qualification for participation. Yes ? [↩]You know, amusingly enough Hitler was probably the foremost besserwisser of them all ?
Maybe that's why these people get so livid whenever daddy's in any sense mentioned ? Maybe their problem is they'd like to pretend they invented their own genes, rather than simply, blindly & incomprehendingly inherited them ? [↩]In fairness, that's precisely what "the media" told them the Senate wants from them. #PublicParticipation!
Remember, incidentally, that lulzy time when the French president took a-woman-other-than-his-wife to some social function, and the British press went livid over the "scandal" and "impropriety" etcetera, eventually culminating in the explicit threat to send a bus of "real" journalists over to Paris, to show those "incompetent" journalists from France "how journalism is really done" ? [↩]Keks.
You know ?
And, admitting you do : can you too afford to laugh at it with me ? Hm ? [↩]I am entirely unpersuaded by Ballas' ultimately deeply State-centric views. The various partisans on either "side" know very little, and understand even less. They, like everyone else in their said failure of an intellectual system, simply keep trying to find and buy the IBMs, those things "nobody can get fired for buying". This doesn't amount to any kind or degree of knowledge. [↩]The fundamental problem is that nobody involved wants anything concrete, they simply want representations to appear valid. The impasse is very similar to the freeze in gender relations around puberty : neither 13yo girls nor 15yo boys want anything specific -- they merely want to not appear ridiculous. By the time the girls are about to turn the nineteen to twenty they've been long wanting specific things to go with cildhood's nonsense, and so compromise is indeed very common. [↩]Actually, everything about this "public" is just as improvised. You, not benefitting of my luxurious circumstances, are probably unaware or deem it "plausibly deniable", but how about you get a good grip on some members of this general public (slavery works, for an instance) and then examine "their opinions" without allowing for any of the usual means of escape. You'll discover some incredibly shifting sands, a magical non-place populated by cvasi-things that aren't anything in particular, a dreamlike world wherein even the words change, move and twist to support the fudamentally impermanent, entirely unexamined and therefore utterly insubstantial "ideas" of the "personalities" in question. There's nothing the fuck there, just a jumbled pile-up of circumstantially accidental improvisations half-remembered at best. [↩]Amusingly, this has nothing to do with "the public". There's a recent "debate", if you can call it that, among "practitioners of statistics in different branches" as to whether "their statistics" is "applicable" to the other's business. As medieval as you'd like it, and "thought" in name only, very much not reserved to the imaginary layman, that proverbial "man in the street". They're all, equally so and exactly the same lay men. [↩]The amusing proposition of these demented fucks that they're not religious... What the fuck is religion besides this "it'd please baby Jesus" nonsense ?
Yes, they're very religiously unrefined, definitely, but a guy who adds instead of integrating isn't "not doing math", he's just doing the little math his little brain can support, that's all. [↩]One of these days I should probably translate ye olde Grup si identitate piece. Then again... [↩]Speaking of which, the recent habit of contemporary dimwits of presuming "a textbook" exists for any arbitrary field they dreamed up (and of course to presume themselves familiar with it etcetera) is really fucking insufferable to the point Ballas not doing that (however pointedly) is quite endearing. If I see one more "the book" I'm gonna fucken pook. [↩]Or rather : he'll adamantly "believe" that whatever the fuck actually happened will have been "the right thing", because otherwise what about all his "investment"t to date and, more importantly, whence's that trickle of credit to come from ? God knows the opposing side's not willing to give him any quarter, MP would much rather pluck his toes from their sockets and shove them one by one down his ears than advance a bowl of soup, and thus...
A most ridiculous position to find oneself, so so ripe for comedic exploitation... Imagine, if you will, the captive fucktard stuck believing whatever occured was the right thing! No commedia yet devised had such valuable stock character as that, because how could it ?!
They saved the sun from cold by wearing muzzles, these people, everybody knows! [↩]What is the substance of prophecy, in your book ? [↩]She god damned fucking will, and it would be amazing! [↩]Right ? The problem with the sea of idiocy is nothing else and naught besides the inconvenient circumstance of... the idiocy being unflattering to a given idiot's personal headfulla shit! If it were more attuned to her dumb empty head, if it were validating then all would be well. [↩]This is a major problem of "travel" and "social mobility" and etcetera ; it comes with major costs that, as it happens, will be paid by the offspring. Not everyone is capable of actually reconstructing an ideal Romania more authentic than the "real" Romania such as it supposedly "exists" (except it doesnt). In fact, most everyone isn't so capable. Thus, if you "opt" to stay the fuck home, and spawn your useless spawn with a similar partner, the result will at fucking least know what the fuck it is, and where, and what for! Whereas if you "opt" to
Saturday, 08 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - Christopher Columbus Was Wrong. Adnotated.
Asked another way: If I say Columbus was wrong, then who was right?
Contrary to populari belief -- a belief caused by every American grade school textbook from An American Pageant to Prentice Hall Earth Science, no one in Christopher Columbus's time thought the earth was flat. It was established information, since the ancient Greeks, that it was a sphere. Eratosthenesii calculated the diameter to 10% accuracy back in 200 BC. Ptolemy (0 AD?) knew it was round, but thought the sun (another sphere) revolved around it.
And yes, even the Catholics believed it was round, too. St. Augustine knew it was round, his difficulty was accepting whether there were any people on the other side of the world -- how do you know it isn't all just water?
So the dispute was not whether the Earth was flat, but how big it was: most people thought that it was bigger than it actually was, and Columbus thought that it was much smaller than it actually was. Turns out even Columbus didn't really believe it was that small either, as he fudged the ship's logs so that the crew wouldn't know how far they'd actually gone, and mutiny.
Either way, the Dominican Republic was in the middle, and no one expected that.
So Columbus was wrong about how big it was. The prevailing estimates were closer to the truth.
II.
Some of you might have assumed my initial question was of the variety, "Did Christopher Columbus discover America?" or "Did he think he made it to India?"
What's interesting about those questions is that they are not fact queries, but political alignments. It is a fact he discovered America -- he didn't know it was there. It is also a fact that others had been there before him, and people were indigenous to it, as well; but these are not mutually exclusive facts.
And people love to jump on the question, take sides: "no, no, he didn't discover it, Leif Erickson/the Chinese/Indians!!!" But they're not correcting misinformation; they're debating prejudices. They're not taking sides for something; they're taking sides against something.iii
Anyone who tells you Leif Erickson discovered America is unlikely to know any other fact about Leif Erickson. Not the date of his voyages, his country of origin (Viking is not a country)iv or what he was even doing that far west in the first place. Nothing. They don't care about Leif; they just want Columbus to be wrong.v
Why that is could vary: maybe it's a slap against the establishment, their parents, "everything my Dad told me is wrong!" as they take a deep drag from their only true friend. Maybe they want to appear smart. Or possessing of a trendy anti-european sentimentality.vi
What matters here is why such a meaningless debate is the one most people want to have; yet the other, more urgent one -- are we even being taught anything correctly in school? -- passes without even a thought.vii
III.
So why is it we were taught that the prevailing opinion was that the Earth was flat and that Columbus's crew was terrified they would fall off the edge?
The most common answer is Washington Irving's (yes, that Irving) book The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus, a fictional account, which assumes a prevailing belief in a flat earth.
Trouble is, most people have never heard of this book, let alone read it; to blame it for generations of misinformation seems, well, a stretch.viii
But the flat earth misconception does indeed appear in textbooks. The problem comes down to this: no one cares enough to fix it. Parents learned it; kids learn it; and even if you do discover the truth (e.g. now) it's simply not worth going back (to whom?) and fixing the source (e.g. the textbook.) The correct information becomes a novelty, bar talk. The factual information supposedly has no value.ix
Yet the debate about who discovered America -- that somehow matters. The incorrect knowledge makes medievalists look like religious idiots -- that's ok.x That it alters your hazy guess about what life was like back then -- no problem.xi That it supports the idea of history being divided between now and pre 1980 -- awesome. Secular humanism is the name of the game, and that also means no special place can be afforded to any Italian/Spanish explorers.
How do generations of Americans get the basic facts so horribly wrong? No one reads primary sources, and, worse, everyone relies on the same bunch of interpretations of primary sources. Then the debate is not about the the accuracy of the information, but the presence or absence of a political biases.
We got what little information we have about history from the same few sources; no wonder we don't know anything, and we all don't know the same things.xii Imagine if we all got our news from the same few sources, or our medical information from... oh, wait.
In other words, it's the same way we practice medicine and pick our Presidents -- More of The Same vs. Less Of Everything. And it doesn't seem likely to change.
———It's really neither popular nor even common anywhere outside ESLtardia, the pantsuit reservation. [↩]Thales and his shadows math is probably worthier of mention. [↩]While it's very much the case they're not "correcting misinformation", whatever that is, but debating prejudices, it's nevertheless not at all the case the difference is "that some are for something and the others against something". Both political and scientific activity exist in the positive as well as negative, the people taking sides take sides against things just as well as for things, and the people trying to figure shit out figure shit's one way just as well as they figure shit's not some other way. The particular misconception Ballas belabours here is very much specific to people who have some scholarly exposure which has been veheheeery carefully tuned to avoid math. In most other disciplines of thought, the so called "positive sciences" (or if you prefer "empirical" something-or-the-other) the net result of intellectual labour is some sort of afirmative -- "yes you can fly with objects heavier than air, the relative weights are not the important part really, it suffices to have a foil to the wind thus and therefore to be able to lift this-and-so much weight" etcetera ; or "yes you can float iron on water, just make a watertight volume hollow inside by this and so ratios" and so on. By contrast, the result of intellectual activity applied to math is almost in the negative, "that line will never cross that point" or "that curve will never touch that line" or "the left side will never be larger than the right side" (which, if you insist, can even be put in the affirmative but it'll stay "negative" regardless.
In the end, what he'd expect to be "his valuable intuition" here, the poorly vocalized inkling at an ethics he's trying for, something along the lines of "the good is positive and the bad is negative", rings hollow and stands worhtless. Things... well, they're not that simple, sorry. [↩]And is "the ancient Greeks" a country ? Because people living thereabouts thenabouts very pointedly didn't think so. Was this Euripidocles or whatever from Lacedemonia or was he rather from Atina ? Beotia ? Pointlessposmagia ? What do you mean Pointlessposmagia ain't a place, you ever heard of the Parakoimomenos ? No ? Well, they were from Turkey, so there! [↩]Occasionally you'll run into some weirdo who thinks he's "ethnically viking" and related to Leif as a party / picking up chicks gimmick. Though granted, not since they went quarantarded. [↩]Wait, the Vikings weren't a place that also wasn't from Europe ? This is progressing nicely... [↩]Seems a foregone conclusion at this point. Water is wet and US schooling a joke, what's to debate. [↩]No it doesn't. Because... [↩]Rather, the culture long abandoned any semblance of meaning. [↩]It's not just okay. It's absolutely needed by the tin women society of morons. Here, listen to this sample of out and out imbecility :
America's reckoning with slavery and white supremacy is focused thus far mainly on Confederate monuments. But there is also an ongoing discussion about the Founders who owned slaves, How should we remember them? What should be done with their monuments?
The Supreme Court will at some point confront this question about John Marshall. When you tour the Court, a statue of the Chief Justice dominates the exhibit hall downstairs. When new Justices are formally given their place on the Court, they sit in John Marshall's chair during the ceremony.
The problem is that John Marshall owned people. In fact, he owned hundreds of enslaved people. Paul Finkelman's recent book on that fact (called Supreme Injustice) is well worth reading (at least for the portion about Marshall). In writing my biography of Bushrod Washington, I was struck by Marshall's terrible record on slavery and on race (including various comments that he made in letters). Much of this record was not known until recently, which partly explains why the Chief Justice has escaped the criticism that the other Founders from Virginia now justly receive.
Does this change my opinion of Marbury or McCulloch? Not at all. But do I think that Marshall should be singled out for special recognition within the Supreme Court building? Not anymore.
Posted 9:24 AM by Gerard N. Magliocca
Bushrod Washington had slavery issues too. Shall see how the book (which sounds interesting) will cover them.
I figure we will be seen as pretty bad in 2220 too [a lot of people today think we are pretty bad] & in various ways they will be right, but I'll probably be dead.
posted by Blogger Joe : 5:21 PM
The inflationary crowd holds "its views" for no other reason and towards no other purpose than the very obvious direct : to make room for themselves, and more of themselves. Why discuss politics in terms of the politicians are all stupid [and in any case much stupider than I am], let's see which one is also '''a racist''' ? It... simplifies things, doesn't it ? It truly makes it so much the fuck easier to hold on to that cherished "I too could" delusion. The pointless esltard herd wants to believe they's got the drop on John Marshall for the obvious reason : they very well fucking don't, nor in another century or fifty thousand centuries ever could. Not at the rate they're going. So... hey, did you know Newton was a racist ? And a good thing he was all that, too, because that way "we" don't have to figure out gravity (or for that matter alchemy). Yipee! [↩]Aaactually... [↩]Or rather : don't know the same things in the same ways. [↩]
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Category: Adnotations
Monday, 10 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
thelastpsychiatrist.com - Cho Seung Hui: It's The Movies, Stupid. Adnotated.
I still haven't had time to really look at this situation, but I have to address this nonsense about his psychiatric history: it's irrelevant.
He didn't do this because he was on Prozac, or he was Bipolar. Look at it the other way: are we going to say that people with bipolar are more likely to go homicidal? If so, should we do a Kansas v. Hendricks for bipolars? (in which the Supreme Court said it was ok to lock up pedophiles indefinitely, even in the absence of a crime, since "pedophilia" makes you a priori dangerous.)i
If you want to really understand why he did it that way, you have to find out what article of media he was imitating. Take the photos, the manifesto, and google it until you find the movie the handguns came from; the book (or comic book) the manifesto came from. He didn't come up with this stuff on his own, he is imitating something.iiFor Klebold and Harris it was the Matrix and Doom. What movie is he imitating? Find it.
Because it isn't about mental illness, or genetics. It's about identity, it's always about identity, and sometimes the identity you choose doesn't work out that well. So, emergently, you grab an identity which has appeared to work -- you imitate a movie, a game, a comic.
I'm not saying movies made him do it; I'm saying he was looking for an excuse to do itiii, and he went through the usual catalog: movies, comics, games. Come hell or high water, he was going to kill someone. But in terms of prediction, the operative question is, if this guy goes homicidal, how will he do it? He didn't strap explosives to his chest, not because it wasn't available, but because it didn't match the identity he wanted to haveiv -- that he got from a TV show or movie.
Ismael Ax, handgun to the head, hammer cocked like a bat to the right, knife to the neck -- all those stills from his video clips you see on CNN aren't random, they're a specific imitation of something else. Find the thing he was imitating, and you have found him.v
Because he didn't exist, that's the problem. He picked an identity, and no one liked it, it backfired -- no chicks -- so he moved to plan B: pick an identity that absolves him of the guilt of shooting 30 people.
Stop looking in the DSM. Start looking in IMDb.
~ * ~
Cho Seung-Hui is Ismail Ax.vi
I know nothing more about the case than anyone else with a FIOS connection, but for what it's worth, "Ismail Ax" seems like a gaming avatar. I know a lot of people are trying to link it to Islam, who knows, maybe, but if anyone out there is tight with the gamers -- especially True Combat and Battlefield 2 -- or if you have a teenage son -- I'd ask around.
———Pretty shit democracies come up with, huh! Now explain again how nazionalsocialismus is different from pantsuittwitterismus or whatever. [↩]The theory seems persuasive on the face ; esltards are trivially little more than meat-powered shannonizing machines, and if you have any doubts on the matter just fucking listen to one talk for five straight minutes -- if you can manage that. [↩]This is an exceptionally astute point, even though in classical Ballas fashion of "doesn't see what he doesn't want to see", he fails to take it to its natural conclusion.
Here's the fact of the matter : deranged thought, infantile thought and female thought are not actually distinguishable. They're the same fucking thing, when you're "encouraging" girls to "think like a woman" you're not encouraging them at all, and not towards anything worth being called thinking. And he plain knows this, too, it's just... you know how it goes, he can't know it is all.
Don't encourage women to "think like women". Explain to women instead that thinking "like women" ain't thinking, at all, and their only hope to ever participate in this far reaching psychosocial game called thought is to think like men. Unlike the mentally ill, girls are born with a chance at being good, you know ? Don't fuck it up for them. [↩]I think this narrative approach drastically overplays what's ultimately deffective if at all present agency. It's not so much a matter that "here's the options, these do and these don't match the identity I want to have", as far as the pantsuitards are concerned. It's rather a matter of "out of the entire field of possibility I'm only aware of like... three things ; the specific three things in question function as a substitute of a personality when seen from the outside, even though I am not aware of this myself". A point Ballas is, as it's rapidly becoming the rule, quite aware of. [↩]Well... "him".
The problem with the simps, as any human female can tell you if she's capable of self expression to any minimal degree, is that there's nothing really the fuck there. "Find the clothes stand and you have found him" umm... you can't hump air, even should there be some clothing floating among it. At the very most you'll overturn the pole holding the shirt up and feel like an idiot for playing the elephant in the china shop -- which, I suspect, is the deep reason for all the Ana Thinspiration chicks out there : it's not that "they're trying to get back control over their own body", it's that they perceive their body over-substantial for mating with the thoroughly disappeared males of their generation. If stuck in a house of echoes, just faint whifs of thoroughly ethereal males anywhere, the average female might even go on a diet, I can totally see it. [↩]Adding this in here because really, not worth making a whole article for. There's relatively little to say, besides taking the time to observe how exactly "the news cycle" works to break human thought as an activity. Why is it that Ballas sports these confused one-liner pieces and I don't ? [↩]
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Category: Adnotations
Monday, 10 August, Year 12 d.Tr.
The young new slavegirl
In most cases your new slavegirl will be an adult woman, readily and wilfully presenting herself for enslavement as deliberate fullfilment of self-determined identity.
On occasion, however, they will also be mere children, their bodies having shot out from under them into a ripeness they barely represent and utterly don't understand.
The defloration of children into womanhood is not a topic I claim any pre-eminence in ; nevertheless, find below a modest suggestion of presentation.
The only needful item of scenery is a generously ample full length mirror, such as she can comfortably observe her transformation reflected back at her as it occurs. Handcuff her wrists behind her back (though a leather wrist-to-elbow cuff works much better, if available). Put a sturdy doggy leash on her to hold firmly on to (if you're not the more primal sort that prefers holding firmly on to a fistful of the animal's occipital hair) and drive the point home -- or rather, carve the point a new home out of her fleshy, visceral moist.
Once that's surfeited to your satisfaction (but in any case before she actually starts enjoying the ministrations -- there'll be time enough for that later) anoint her puckered butthole with a dollop of vaseline and force the blood of her erstwhile maidenhood into her rectum. I don't say do it suddenly, nor should you, but on the contrary -- do it slowly, steadily and taxingly, such as it may last her the remainder of her life.
As resistence melts and the sphyncter turns to milking your rod from where it was vainly attempting to deny it entrance, bring her to her knees, and bring her blood and hard earned guts into the back of her throat, so she can thoroughly taste herself, and develop an appreciation for just what she's made of and just how far it can take her.
Aftercare should consist of cuddling, while she whisperedly recounts for your benevolent amusement the subjective highlights of her recently expired childhood ; optionally elder slavegirls extracting uncounted, palpitatingly exhausting orgasms out of her worn and bloody apparatus all the while.
Or at the very least -- that's how we do it.
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Category: 3 ani experienta
Wednesday, 29 April, Year 12 d.Tr.
The world's great though unfortunately populated, sau mula-n beige
As I woke up, one slave was just leaving, to have the car's oil changed and assorted other chores ; whereas the other one was sleeping, having had a hard night the night prior (which followed a day which we spent doing things starting at about four in the morning, as you'll soon enough see). So when she woke up, she was ordered to gather up her nice heelsi, blindfold herself, and tease herself to almost-cumming all over the place ; to pose and moan and show herself every which way ; to make such a spectacle of her sex and sexuality as ever could be made. That's exactly what she's been doing, too, for the past half hour I've been leisurely preparing the pics for this article, and writing now and again, and snapping shots of her, and teasing her, and well... you know.
We haven't had sex yet, not that she's not been begging -- geddit, the naked horny hottie in high heels and naught else rubbing herself all over the place has been begging for a while now -- but I just... well I mean... not yet, you know ? What's the rush, anyways. Let her enjoy blind slavespace, why not.
Actually, at this juncture I just took a moment to give her a nice tail, as she was rubbing herself on the floor. Picked up a nice soft plug with a pretty purple footlong tail, like for a whorse or a honicorn or something, lubed it nicely, and slid it into her slowly. I think she looks much better like this, and besides, did you know sexual paroxism is purely a learned behaviour ? Orgasm with a buttplug is possible just like speaking Swedish is possible -- not likely, no ; certainly impossible naturally ; but artificially... as much a given as lingerie. Or, for that matter, high heels.ii
But let's move on from kitten's kitty, and look for birds instead. Honestly I find the arrangement quite conducive -- to writing, I mean. The slut's not on my mind at all, I can just as well write about birds with no sexual undertone whatsoever, I've not been sitting here for the past two minutes trying to make a dirty pun on "sulphuratus" or anything like it. (I did however add ankle bells to her, I think you remember them. I find it helps concentration as well as focuntass.)
There's been a deluvional ammount of... Lol, she stepped on her tail. Keks an' high heels!
Anyways, there's been a lot of rain here, it being the rainy season and all ; the mountain rivers swelled, and carried alluvionary offerings with them. The locals are doing the best they can to manage the situation.
Also, poles are a problem.
So as I was saying... actually, I didn't get to saying much yet, have I. Neways, took the sluts out to Jaco, which is supposed to be ground zero of Costa Rican prostitution, or at least competitive feminity. A sort of University of Arizona (or I guess that other thing in Miami) campus or somesuch, if you're from the 90s (and if you're not from the 90s... well...). Needless to say...
The ride over, the young'un practiced her swallow skills ; because slaves are like birds even if people are like ferrets.
I had the windows down most of the way, the weather's admirable and the honking amusing -- not to mention the staredowns from the local mulas, vehehehery fucking apt to imagine that they, in their meagre, opposite-of-noteworthy person and projection are the arbiters as well as the be-alls-end-alls in female behaviour, in spite of not having given the matter ten minutes' thought together let alone any fucking practice at all. Or even any practice plainly, without the fucking. So they fucking stare the sluts down, it's the lulziest shit imaginable, like conservation's not merely an instinct they don't possess, but they're absolutely barred from even considering such a thing could exist by the strenght of their stupidity instinct or something. Fancy that wonder, mice staring kittens down, the world's upended I kid you not.
Pro tip : if you're one of those cheese-cunted females that does not habitually cmnf etc, have some fucking sense of decency and of your own place in this world and kneel when you perceive sluts on deck. You don't belong standing, you half-ass abortion that there's no other, so go on the floor, eyes down, and stay there. Aite ?
Good, I knew we could understand each other.
And no fucking panties, either!
Oh, by the looks of the old decrepit church in Purriscal it occurs to me this wasn't the Jaco trip, it was the Purriscal trip a coupla days prior to that.
What can I tell you... deepthroating takes a lot of practice. Can youiii swallow a footlong sausage by the way ?
Above : Mr. Horny, the beetle. He flew in, attracted by the delicious lights ; and drove the kitten wild with wildness so (as he wouldn't be deterred, but had to fly about bombardiering towards her head "like one of those 1920s airplanes in cartoons" in her own words) he had to go to jail overnight. We released him in the morn, discovering that out of the bevy of offerings intended to make his stay more comfortable he nibbled on the mango and perhaps took a bite or two off the coconut. He spurned the pineapple as best I can discern, which is unfortunate -- that might've been the best pineapple I ever had (which is saying about as much as ye olde Baron Rotschild discussing the best wine he's ever had).
Below : Sunset. Or no, actually, that's the sunrise not the sunset. My bad, I keep confusing these two.
The manifest advantage of this entire "covid" meme consists in delivering that ancient hope beyond all hopes : the resection of you from this world.
And I hope to god they never let you out ever again.
Above : little beach snails make these complicated paths in the low, tidal wake.
Below : poor me, post fall! I was ass-aulted at the beach!
A perfect sand-dollar she found (sadly, it did not survive the trip). Goodbye, beautiful small thing ; and may your perfect shape be always remembered!
Roadside coconuts, absolutely humongous, like a galon each ; and so soft they can be trivially punctured with a knife. And so watery I measured a whole quart come out of one. And so delicious as'd be fit of my having them. And none other.
Above : Dingo Star & mariachi band. Or was it Mingo ?
Old men forget ; yet... all shall be forgot.
Below : bitch watchin' dat meat counter. I asked mine if they want to buy her something ; they didn't. No love for bitch from bitches!
Needless to say, Jaco ain't doin' too well.
Even leaving aside how it's lost all of the competent womanhood that was camping there two-three decades ago, come from all corners of the world (from Kiev to Nairobi and so forth)... oh, ye sluts of yesteryear, delightful as competent, curious and daring, better men in their round and ample womanhood than any of these plaster "men" they have nowadays ever manage to seem to be (leaving aside how they never ever live up to the little they seem), meanwhile replaced with the mangy dogs the reprehensible gringo shawrmy is fucking simping...
Jaco ain't doing too well.
The crowning glory pe cirnat : mula-n beige, ca doar ce pula mea.
Above : triple order of mar-y-tierra with trims, right before. This place by the marina serves a most excellent steak, such as I regretted having the out-and-out phenomenal lamb oso buco last time we visited -- and so now made ammends.
Below : right after.
And with that we... I don't know, what do we do ? Go to bed, I guess ?
———Howly she's got a lot! And fucking great ones at that!
I don't think anyone her age has half such a collection. In fact, since that pinoy chick croaked it's more than likely nobody does -- excepting, of course, my other one. [↩]Did you know, incidentally, how and for whom high heels were invented ? And when and wherefore ?
Awww. [↩]No, it's not a matter of anything but can you. Like "can you do multiplication", the matter strictly discusses your adequacy to this world and its specific, set and unchanging challenges. If you don't, it's because you can't, and for no other possible reason -- and bear in mind that the word for failure in meeting age-relevant developmental goals is "retardation". The deepthroating age is certainly no later than mid-twenties, so... seriously now, what have you been doing with yourselves ?! [↩]
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Category: La pas prin lume
Wednesday, 08 July, Year 12 d.Tr.
The wonderous fiction of Otherdolls.
Friday October the 10th. I dreamed the whole night that the owner was forcing himself inside of me, but it wasn't painful at all. It just melted my behind like if I was made of icecream down there, and I just leaked out into a puddle. Then I'd drag myself out of the puddle by my hands, nails scraping on the floor, and I'd have my butt and legs again somehow, coming out of the puddle with the rest of me, and I'd kneel with my knees apart for him, and my belly between my thighs, the way it was when Doll held me and told him to come into me, and he'd come and force himself into my hole again but it wouldn't hurt, just my butt would turn into birds, many little white birds that flew away chattering in all directions and I'd fall over without a butt just my body and I'd roll down the side of a hill which was all green and grassy although we were still in the room somehow, and my legs would grow back from the grass and at the bottom I'd kneel again for him, and he'd go inside me again, and my insides and guts just churned somehow and churned and churned and then I was inside-out and he was tickling my outside which was my insides with his penis and dripped from it on me everywhere and also melted butter and lemon juice. Like for a snail, or to scare goat. And then I'd fall out of myself and I was back to normal, like I am normally, and I'd kneel again for him and he'd come again for me and something else would happen and again and again like that, I don't remember them all. It was very strange and I woke up panting and really desperate for having him inside me.
Alana was sleeping on her back with her mouth open, and she was making a soft sound with her throat, like a rustling. I went next to her very slowly and whispered in her ear very quietly, "Pretty whore, kiss my butthole" but she didn't move so I said it again, and she made a sound from her throat but then didn't do anything, so I whispered again. I did it many times and eventually she woke up and she turned but I had my eyes closed and she thought I'm asleep. She turned on her side with her back to me, and then after a little while she turned on her other side with her face to me and then she kissed my mouth very softly! I opened my eyes, and she said "Princess, I want to... may I... may I kiss your pretty butt, Princess ?" and I nodded and I turned the other way, with my back to her, and she moved down on the bed all softly and kissing my back from where my hair starts down the middle of my back many many kisses until where my butt starts, and then she lifted my leg with her hand slowly and then kissed me between and kissed my butthole and started licking it deeper and deeper and kissing it. I put my hands around sisi, and she woke up. She whispered "Oh Princess" and kissed me, and I whispered back "Kiss my bud lovely sisi princess". She went between my legs and I rested my head on sisi's thigh right by her bud. She smelled just like she smells between her thighs, and they licked me both together very loving and softly. I was on my side not sitting on anyone's face but they had my leg up so they could reach me easily inside and their mouths were so warm I was drifting into a sort of crazy sleep and then I had it like in a dream.
They didn't stop after they made me have it the first time, but it was driving me just too crazy and I couldn't have it again so I told them I can't do it anymore and begged them to let me go and they did but only after playing with me more, like I was their toy in their mouths and it felt good although I was too antsy to really enjoy it. Then we went to shower and it was too early because Meron wasn't in with the breakfast, but we sat in the livingroom anyway on the floor, chatting but not very long because Doll came out and then Sylvia and dogslave holding hands and they said hi and showered too and then I asked Doll what did you three do in there ? She told me that at first she kissed dogslave like she likes to be kissed inside while dogslave was sitting on Sylvia's face so Sylvia could eat all her sweet pee which she did and then kissed her with her mouth full of it too, meaning Doll, and they both kissed dogslave with it also and they all split it among themselves kissing their mouths with it like that. But dogslave only had a little in her and they asked her how come you have so little sweet, puppydog ? and dogslave told her that she makes herself make it many times, when she's on the toilet, she puts her thumb inside her hole and her other fingers inside her butt and rubs herself from inside both ways because there's just a little skin there in between and with the other hand rubs her bud and she thinks of lovely things and it makes her sweet pee come out like that. Then Doll said she and Sylvia held each other and they kissed their mouths like they were buttholes and Doll looked into Sylvia's eyes, and Sylvia looked into Doll's eyes, and Doll put her leg up over Sylvia's butt, and Sylvia put her leg up over Doll's butt and dogslave kissed one bud and then the other and then again many times and she made them feel loved together like if they were holding arms adrift upon a sea of kisses. They fell asleep like that and with dogslave at their feet but they didn't kick her.
And I told dogslave "you are such a whore!" and she said Ruff! Ruff! and panted and sisi clapped and ran over and hugged her. Then I asked Sylvia if she'll let me see what she tastes like, and she said sure Princess, and bent over with her hands on the floor and her knees bent a little and I kissed her cunt lips and then licked inside her and she tastes really as good as Doll! Then Alana asked if she may taste too, but I said silly, a whore needs some time to make her nectar back! Why don't you taste Doll insted ? They taste the same anyway! And Doll spread her legs in her armchair and Alana kneeled and kissed her while Doll was stroking her hair. Then dogslave ran off to her butt and started sniffing and nuzzling, so Alana lifted herself off from where she was kneeling and dogslave slid herself in between her feet and her ass and kissed her and licked inside and her legs were kinda spread open so I looked at sisi and I made fist and she made scissors so I kneeled down and tasted dogslave too! She is not like Doll and Sylvia, she is sweeter and more like earth.
That's when Meron came in, with Chef and with one girl with the breakfast and with another girl carrying all our gym clothes. They were like whoa wtf because Sylvia was hugging Doll and Alana was licking inside Doll and dogslave was licking inside Alana and I was licking inside dogslave! And sisi was like "I dunno wtf they're doing ?!?!" with her shoulders up and arms to the side like ummmm ?! and then I stood up and I said come kiss my mouth Meron, and she did! And then she licked her lips! Then Chef said we have to go to the gym after breakfast, except for Sylvia who has to be debriefed, and we all had breakfast together and Chef asked us what would we like to do after gym ? And I said really we should be beaten, Chef, I really need to be beaten and all my girls need it too pretty bad and it should be humiliating because I really need to be put in my place and would he please do it to all of us himself ? Because I don't want to do it, I want to be a slave that's beaten and hurt and no better than anyone. Chef said that can be arranged and I asked if they could just grab us from the gym and drag us away crying and screaming. Alana lost it, she went on her knees before Chef and started begging him "Please sir, abuse me. I need it so bad, please let me come too. Make me feel just how worthless I really am!" and things like that, so he said he'll have to check on her, but that it's not a good idea to drag us from the gym because it would give us this image like we're reluctant and unskilled beginners and it's not even true. But we can be convicted and it's going to feel just as good. Then he left.
Alana was really excited about the us being beaten. I asked her if Chef will let her be with us ? She said she's a lease-in, so she's sure they have the authority to whup her ass. But then she said "Oh god, I hope Master thought to put it in my terms." and took a bite of her croissant and then she said "You crazy whores are a lot more fun than I ever imagined!" with her mouth full. Then we got dressed, stretch pants and sneakers and bras and even gloves and everything, even underwear. I asked Meron if these are our clothes and she said "No Adadis, no girl in the facility has her own anything. Everything is for everyone, clothes and everything. Everyone just receives what she needs or should wear, and every girl wears whatever she is given, socks and panties and everything. Usually gym clothes are at the gym, but you are different, because you have your own slaves, and you can go into the warehouse directly and pick what you want, but it is not allowed for anyone else because it would be too messy and we're not worthy anyway. But the dress slaves don't mind picking up after you and helping you try things on and do everything you want, because they respect you so much. Everyone does." so I asked her, "So you can't tell me how many other girls wore this pair of panties before ?" and she said "No Adadis, nobody knows. Many have, but they were all the same size as you." Then she stopped and then she said "And they are clean, they come fresh from the laundry." I think because she heard about the time before. Doll said "That makes sense, huh, when everyone is mostly naked all the time anyway" and Alana said "Yeah, I hate wearing clothes. Eveyone mostly does, and they definitely want to keep it that way".
We showed up at the gym on time, and we started training hard like the trainer said, but she convicted us to wearing ball gags the whole workout soon after because we talked among ourselves too much. She was right to punish us though because at first she told us not to do it and I said "Ok, sorry" but then we did it more anyway. I don't know why, but I didn't realise I was promising to stop, which is stupid, and we don't really have any discipline just like she says, and we'd better learn. But ball gags are horrible! It's a round ball like a large plum that goes inside your mouth, forcing it open like as wide as it goes, so that your jaw ends hurt, and there are leather straps tying it behind your head, so you can't spit it out. It makes it very hard to breathe because you can only breathe through your nose anymore, although the trainder says this is a side benefit because workouts should be nose breathing only anyway. But the problem is you can't really swallow your spit anymore, so it just drools around the ballgag and you dribble it everywhere like a retard, literally. It's so humiliating! And also makes it hard to breathe because you choke on it and god I wish I had kept my stupid mouth shut. I told the girls too, not a peep during training never again, I'm not wearing that shit on my head ever ever! Unless it's for punishment or humiliation but really it sucks so bad to work out with it on you.
Then after workout as we were taking off our sweaty clothes for the laundry pile, which is literally a large pile, every girl that finishes just piles everything in there and the wardrobe slaves come and pick it all up with carts and dump it into the laundry machines which are huge and just around the corner from the big gym. Then everyone goes into the showers naked and washes and then leaves, there's towels if you want but I never use them. It's perfect, just like it should be exactly. I love the facility gym even if my body aches everywhere the whole day after I go. And every girl could get her own towel if she wants but most girls like to use the towels other girls that those girls used already, it's a secret sign so everyone knows who likes who and wants to be in bed together, and so most of the time towels are used until they're dripping wet and then they go on the pile too. But the girls whose clothes we used last time were like mindblown because what we did is so much bigger really, and nobody thought about it before apparently, not that we knew what it meant which is maybe why. So now it's the fashion and lovers do it all the time now, wearing each other's used gym clothes instead of getting new ones, especially the panties because the trainers don't like sopping wet clothes so much because it's harder to keep the machines clean but really not by much and basically sweat is now in so nobody minds using wet machines anymore because it's the fashion! And you're not supposed to kiss another girl in the shower anywhere on her body or make her have it or anything, but hugging is ok so girls now rub their sweat on each other before showering, and all of it started basically the day before yesterday! Everyone's sweat crazy, I mean the older girls especially, because nobody our own age actually dares even look up at us when they're around not to mention say anything, but all the highschool age girls are so into us there's always a growing crowd everywhere we go. And the girls whose clothes we used wanted to hug us and rub our sweat together and it's a little weird smelling but it's somehow very warm and loving and Doll says it's very intimate and I guess we should get used to doing a lot of it from now on.
Anyway, but just as we were about to leave after showering some executioner guys came, and they read our names so we all kneeled down, me and Doll and dogslave and sisi, and they read our whipping conviction, but the problem is everyone around us was shocked and then they kneeled too and one of them yelled "Whip us too!" and they all started chanting like crazy, "Whip us too!" "Whip us too!" because they thought we're being punished because of the sweat thing and the news spread very fast and all the girls who were working out came to the showers and kneeled too or at least most of them I think came and they all started chanting the same thing and it looked like it was going to cause a riot! And they couldn't hear us because they didn't understand we were even speaking because they couldn't see us. But I thought this is too crazy, and I stood up without permission or anything and yelled "Hey!" and suddenly everyone shut up because they saw I was trying to talk to them and I yelled as loud as I could "Go back to working out, seriously! We're not being punished, we asked to be whipped! I asked Chef to beat us myself over breakfast this morning! It's because we asked for it, it's just something we want, please don't ruin your workout because of it!" and they all looked at us like we're from outer space and aliens or something, but they did go back in and I hope the trainers won't punish them with ballgags or anything because of it. Though I doubt they have that many ballgags. But who knows, maybe they do.
Then after gym we were just kinda hanging out, and Alana asked if it would be ok if she took dogslave and sisi to show them around, and meet other girls and maybe if it's ok meet her Master too ? Alana is very popular I think and she knows a lot of the girls, and I think sisi kinda wanted to go which is very good because sisi is kinda shy but she is more at ease with Alana and she should meet more girls. dogslave was real eager for it, so I asked her "puppydog, you wanna get fucked ?" and she nodded and kneeled and licked my hand so I played with her saying "Oh does the little puppydog want her hole stuffied, does she, does she ? Does the puppy hole itch inside her ?" and things like that tickling her while she was ruffing and rolling on her back like a doggy. Then I told Alana she can tell her master if he asks that I said it's ok to fuck dogslave if she wants him to, in trade for me having armfucked his loose whore, meaning her. So they took off, and I was left just with Doll, so we laid down in my bed and we hugged and talked. She told me Sylvia is going through a tough time kinda, and she hopes it is ok she used my puppy last night. But I told her Doll Ma'am, you know you can use anything of mine any way you want, and myself included, boss bitch. She was really happy and teared up a little and I think she is maybe going through a tough time herself as well. I asked her about it, and she said it's because they're so old, everyone here is like sixteen and they're ten years older than that, both her and Sylvia, and she is very afraid because what if the Master that buys us just doesn't care about them ? And she told me that I can for sure learn all the gymnastics things sisi and dogslave can do, I can teach my body whether it wants to or not, but her and Sylvia are just too damn old, and they probably never will be able to, no matter how hard they try!
I told her "Lovely Doll, that's just not true, many women much older than you can do those things" but she said "Yes but they started much earlier Babydoll, that's the problem" and then I said "You know there's so many slaves very old, you're not old, they're like that one in the library sixty years old! Sixty Doll, think about it! And their Master still love them very much and they are happy together!" but she said "They were also slaves their whole life Babydoll, they didn't start when they were twenty five, they started when they were like fifteen or maybe even twelve!" I said "Doll, you're not even twenty five, you're twenty one!" and she said "Yes, I'm twenty one and Sylvia is twenty four. That's like twice twelve Babydoll!" But I just thought she's being silly, and I told her "Doll, you taught me so many things! And they know it too, I didn't tell them but they figured it out even if they're kinda slow here, and they want you to come back and help with the training of young whores!" but she said "Maybe they want me to come with you, if you say so Babydoll. But they don't want Sylvia. And you did tell them." but I told her Sylvia is so sweet and loving, and anyone would want her, she's just great and maybe we may have to train her a little but she is fun and interesting. But Doll kinda teared some more and said "Maybe she just was interesting, Baby. Because of her career and things, back before we saw all the dresses and we went to the parties and we met the people maybe she seemed like more. But now it's nothing to us, and it's nothing to any of these people. She was just a little B-list model girl, they fuck real stars from the movies if they want to!" but I told her "I just can't imagine anyone not wanting Sylvia." and Doll looked at me and opened her mouth and closed it. She didn't say it, because it hurts me so much just thinking about it, but the owner didn't want me either. He didn't. Maybe they don't want any of us, maybe nobody does. Maybe we're just like the clothes in the pile, the sweated out clothes nobody wants to wear anymore.
When Sylvia came back with Chef and Meron and lunch we were just holding each other in our arms and crying our hearts out like crazy people. Sylvia asked what's going on dollies ?! But we just said we're too happy, that's all. And Chef asked us if he's invited to lunch with us, and we said "Hell Chef, it's your lunch, we just whore here." and he said "In that case, may I invite you three whores to lunch ?" and we were like yaay! Chef's lunch! Let's see what great things he made out of boiled oats and hay this time! Maybe there's like... a raisin ? We could split it three ways! But really it was great lunch, they have surf and turf which is steak with shrimp and demi-glace sauce which is something French but I don't know what. And they cook the steak very well, it's not like rare but not point bleu either it's a little in between and it's just perfect. And he told us the beating is scheduled for nine, and it will be public, and we'll have a lot of fun, and it'll be great for our publicity, because he's sure we'll take it like champs and enjoy ourselves. He said that's very important, when the audience sees the slave is hurt but takes it like a slave, that she knows she deserves it and works with the man whipping her together towards the same goal which is her being stripped of everything so she's completely defenseless and fully exposed without any protection at all.
After we were done inhaling that lunch, omg were we hungry, Chef left and Doll asked if it's ok if she and Sylvia hang out in her room, and I said sure Doll but is it ok if I get your book you got ? And she said sure Babydoll but which one ? And it was the one called Other Stories of Otherdolls, but it's really in French so it's different. And while they hung out in their bedroom I read a story from it. It's kinda hard so I did need to work with the dictionary a lot, but I will tell it here so this way if I want to remember it later when I'm old and like sixty I don't have to do the whole dictionary thing all over again!
There was once a young man who was a merchant and he had a ship full of merchandise which he was trading, but there was a storm one night, and his ship crashed and was sunked. But the young man escaped from the sinkage on some wood chunks from his exploded ship, and after three days crashed on a beach of an island. It was really hard to be on the ocean just hanging on to some wood chunks for three whole days, so he just kinda passed out on the beach, and slept there. When he woke up it was night, and the moon was rising, all sharp and narrow like a sickle which is a tool for cutting down hay and things and it looks just like the moon when it's all small and not round. Then the young man heard a voice singing a song, and the voice was so sweet and loving and the song was such a sad and lonely song that he was very sad and he cried and couldn't sleep anymore at all. But when the morning came he went all over the island, and found out it's really an island, and gathered some fruits and tried to work out like a shelter for himself in case it rains or something, and tried out all sorts of things like roots to see if they're good to eat and other things like that, until he was very tired when the night came on like he spent the whole day working out at the gym basically, because that's exactly what he did. But then he couldn't sleep all night long because the voice came again and it seemed even sweeter and the song was even more desperate and depressing! And he thought maybe he is losing his mind, and it is not really even a song, but just death singing for him, which I think is really poetic and I wonder if death does sing for people like that and only you hear it because you know what it is.
So when it was morning again he was like deeestroyed, so he didn't do any work but he just went all over the island all careful to see wtf and where could a voice be coming from, because this is a story from long ago before they had speakers or anything like that. And he found nothing, so he just kinda fell over from tiredness under a tree, and slept there in the tree's good shade because he was so exhausted from the sun and not sleeping and so on. But then he woke up because a fruit from the tree fell on his head as he was sleeping because it was ripe, and he remembered what he had dreamed, which was that he was sleeping and a fruit from the tree fell on his head and rolled down through a grate at the tree's roots! And it was the exact same tree, but there was no grate there or anything, because there was just a mess of roots and earth and things. But he dug through it, and found there was a real grate there, just like in his dream. It had just been covered over time by the roots! So he worked all day long to get it off, but it was really hard and he was tired but still he banged at it with rocks all day and tried to dig it out and everything, and eventually managed to break up enough to make room for himself, and he slid in!
He landed in a ruined fane, which is like an old building of the beautiful kind they have in Paris, or maybe Rome, and the inside was very nice and had columns and marble and it was very elegant and antique, and very big with many corridors and statues and rooms but no windows. So he kinda wandered around through there and found all sorts of rare jewels and precious stones and valuable things like that and gold coins and gold statues of like an elephant and jaguars and owls with rubies in their eyes and lots of very valuable good stuff like that, worth much much more than all his ship with his things in it that he had before, but of course it was of no use to him on the island. But then he wandered more and he also found food things, like steaks and cheeses and dried fruits like figs which are delicious and he ate very well which is good for him because he was real hungry. He also found wine bottles but they were from that time which means they were very big like as tall as a person or even taller! He drank some because it was the best and most fine and good wine he ever had, and so he kinda had a little too much like I did and he was a little dizzy but he kept walking around and then he found a room with a bed! Which is all the better because he was so tired, but the bed was not empty, because an incredibly pretty and beautiful woman was sleeping in it! So he thought this is really great, and wanted to force himself into her, but when he turned her on her back because that's how people forced themselves into women back then, they had to be on their back, he thought she is so beautiful like the most beautiful ever and better than he even thought possible and he didn't want to force himself into her anymore when she is asleep, because he wanted her to be awake and beg him to do it to her! And besides, where was she going to go anyway, it's an island.
So he went to sleep next to her as the sun was setting, and he woke up a little later, just as it was night, so he didn't get to sleep long at all, but she was holding his head in her hands and caressing his face and telling him she loves him, because she has been here a very long time, ever since she was a little girl, but her entire life she dreamed of him ever since she was very little, that he will come for her and be her perfect lover and Master and she knew what he looked like exactly from her dreams and it was him! She had waited her whole life for him! And that sad song of loneliness he had heard was her singing, because that's how she spends all her nights, just singing about how much she misses him! And she begged him to make love to her, but he said look, I am very tired, because first I was three days just floating in the ocean with some wood, and then I slept a little on the beach but then couldn't sleep the whole night because of your singing and then worked my ass off the whole day and then couldn't sleep again and yes you are the most beautiful girl in the world and beyond my dreams of beauty but please let's get some sleep now, and we will be in love when we wake up in the morning!
But she said no, that they can't! And he asked how come ? And she said that the reason she sings all night is that she sleeps all day. And the reason she sleeps all day is that long ago, when she was a very young girl, and she lived in her parents' house who were really not like normal people but like aristocratic very rich people and she had a room all by herself in a tall tower, he came to her! He came to her first in her dreams, just a little, but then every night more and more and then one night she woke up because the dream was so intense and there he was, sitting on the ledge of her window! So he told her to come off with him, but she kinda didn't want to at first, but he caressed her and kissed her and petted her and talked to her and asked her to please come so she said ok! And he gave her a hug, but then she saw his wings, because when he hugged her he grew very large bat wings from his shoulders all huge, but maybe they were there all along and she just didn't see them before somehow. And when she saw his wings she saw his face too, and it wasn't him at all! Instead it was a very big lion head with a crazy red tongue and really scary eyes that was on a much bigger body with really huge muscles and chains hanging from him all black and things like that, and she started crying because she was very scared and thought he just wants to eat her, but he flew her away regardless while she was struggling to get herself free but she couldn't struggle so well anyway because what if she was free of him what then ? She would fall from the sky. So he took her to this island and put her inside the basement where he found her.
She didn't want to let the lion head guy fuck her anywhere not even in the ass or anything maybe because she was just by herself, and he didn't want to let her go either, so she just had to sit around the place there and she had nothing to do all day and she was getting very sad being all by herself, so she begged him to just kill her but he didn't want to kill her so instead he cursed her that she sleeps all day long. And she does, only at night she can be awake, so that's when she sings about how much she loves him, the young merchant guy, and how lonely she is and things like that. And then there is more to the story but later the lion guy comes who is a demon really and he just kills the young guy and eats his liver like literally, gulp! And then the poor merchant is just kinda rotting there on the beach and the vultures and things eat him and she sings no more, because before she didn't know if the young guy even exists or it's just something her dreams came up with that's not real, but afterwards she does know he doesn't exist anymore. And that's the end.
It's really a very beautiful story but it's so sad it made me crazy, and maybe it's even true, like the dream in it is true for the girl that dreams it, only she doesn't know which way and it tricks her. I kept thinking about it and crying and then Doll and Sylvia came over because I think they probably heard me, and they kissed my mouth and hugged me between them and told me nice things and we napped a little together but then Alana came back with dogslave and sisi and they were very excited and told us all sorts of stories but it's all basically that they met a bunch of girls and what they said and things but it's not that interesting just how much they admire us and want to be exactly like us but not really with us. And Alana's Master really did fuck dogslave in her new hole, after Alana kissed him on his penis first, and he sent me a letter written very interestingly with strange letters on a special paper and it had a wax seal all big and red outside with a complicated symbol on it and Alana said that's their, or her Master's house crest, that many masters who are taking it seriously and have many slaves and spend a lot of time and money with it have House Crests but each is different of course so you know whose letters are which, and inside it said that he thanks me for my very enjoyable gift of my slave's flesh and he remains indebted to me for my generosity, just in more words and all weird like it's clear they are. And Alana explained that this means that he's going to make me a gift but he doesn't have it ready, so I should probably hold on to the letter. And I said, "But Alana, I'm just a whore slave, I can't hold on to anything, I'm not even allowed to own things" and she said she knows but my case is very strange and she's never heard of anything like it before so why not wait and see. Maybe my buyer gets it, why not. She said a slave is allowed to hold on to things for her owner, or otherwise how did she bring me the letter in the first place ?
She has a point I guess, though it's all pretty confusing. And I asked dogslave how did she like it ? dogslave said she really liked it very much and it's very nice to be fucked, and then Alana asked "what sort of experience does she have ?" and I said "She was raped once, that's all". Alana said "That's the best, isn't it" but dogslave said not really, she said that she likes it much more like Alana's Master did it to her, very softly and slowly and just moving little by little like that and holding and kissing her and delicate but stretching her wide. Alana was like hmmm, and then she asked if dogslave was knotted yet ? And I asked what's that and she explained that when a whore fucks a dog, like a real dog, the dog's penis is not like a man's, but it has a big clump in it that grows as the dog fucks and it becomes like an orange it gets so big, and it's because the dog seals the whore's cunt that way and then pumps her full of his hot cum all full and stretched. And she can't get away from him for a while, because of that clump in her, so they just have to cuddle and rub each other, and it's called being knotted.
I was like ewww, that sounds terrible, but Alana said no, it's actually great, and I said "Yea, you'd know, Alana Wide Screen TV Cunt" and she asked what do I mean like she was all hurt but I put my fingers together like before and I said "Remember ? You're so loose you can fit a sneaker in there probably, if someone kicks you they can even fall in!" and she said "Listen Princess, just because it stretches wide doesn't mean it's always loose. I bet you my cunt is much tighter than yours!" and I said I don't know, maybe, I never had anything inside me there. But Alana was like whatever, and then picked up the pen from the table and put it inside herself. Then she walked like that and jumped up and down on her tiptoes and even had me pull on it and it was really hard to pull out! Then dogslave tried but it just fell right out, like directly, and Doll too, and Sylvia also, and Alana was just snickering and said she bets my dumb bitches can't hold anything inside and she is right too, we tried all kinds of things even shampoo bottles and they can't hold anything at all, even if you drain all the shampoo out and it's just the bottle so it's very light it still falls out in like no time at all, and just standing no walking or jumping or anything. So Alana was like heh and Sylvia and Doll were really bothered like omfg our cunts are broken wtf. But Alana explained that there's special exercises for cunt muscles a whore has to do, like every day, because the cunt is full of muscles inside of it and they need exercising, and if you do them you can take anything well, a tiny pen or a whole fist it's all good because you're not an amateur anymore, and that there's special exercises with weights called Kegels that every whore has to do no matter what anyone says. And we were all like whoa! but she said there's even contests like tug of whore, where two girls pull at each other and the one that pulls the thing out of the other one wins and it's a big deal among real whores.
We were kinda blown away but right then Chef showed up to take us to our beating. It was pretty great, there was a big stage and we all kneeled in a line, Sylvia too, and Alana also because her Master said it's all ok, Chef is very good and he knows what he's doing better than anyone. So we were lined up but we were blindfolded so I didn't see much, but it's better to be blindfolded, I like it very much because you can focus on your pain and how you're being used and exposed that way and deal with it right because otherwise people distract me very much and I want to whore out to them kinda instead of being beaten properly. Chef says because I'm a bit of an attention whore, which isn't really so good, although it is ok in little girls because they can grow out of it easy. I want to very much. But they told me afterwards how it was, the stage was all dark and they had a very strong light from above on the one being beaten, and first we got it with the paddle which is good because it gets the blood going and the nerves excited, and then we got it with a thick cane to stimulate the deep muscles, and then we got it with a sharper leather strip to flower the pain out of us. It was the strongest feeling of a beating I ever had, but it really left very little marks and I think it makes a very big difference how good the one doing the beating is because when we did it to each other I think we did a much worse job. It's a trade like everything else, and I think we spent a lot to get a little while Chef knows very well how to get a lot spending very little. I told him after that I like him beating me so much I hope he does it every time he feels like or thinks I could use it, even if I don't deserve it because I don't want to deserve it, I want him to hurt me often so I grow up to be a great slave. And then I asked him about where to get Kegels and what are they ? And he said it's not possible for virgins, Princess, it's only for whores with their hole made ; but he'll set Doll and Sylvia up with a trainer, because they have special trainers for this here! And I asked what about dogslave ? And he said she's very young so that's up to the trainer, but we'll see tomorrow.
And then we gathered our sore butts together in a sack and went to sleep!
Continued >>
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Rosarch Babydoll and the conflicts of love »
Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
Thursday, 12 November, Year 12 d.Tr.
The woman who wasn't insulted, the lord who accidentally unearthed the political stone, the scary that was always there and no Santa-Moroze whatsoever.
This article started out as a comment, on his lordship the crypto-alchemist's blog (again) ; but it became an article once it got to discussing who gets to call who bitch when and why etcetera.
[...] The principal idea which stays with me is that source code -- along with, perhaps, many of the (by)products of "engineering" in general -- is so shitty mainly because it lacks (among others) clarity, that is, the property of being built upon clear concepts, themselves constructed upon priors which (among others) leave no room for ambiguity.
Abso-fucking-lutely, that's precisely what it is.
There's a mismatch which arises naturally (tho I suspect it's also cupidlyi promoted by the bureaucrat class) whereby origins are factually important, and their effects less important by degrees as you move downstream from the origin ; whereas seriousness as a personal investment and psychological deployment is least at the onset and by degrees increases over time. The end result is that most of the human effort in software is applied to the least important bike sheds, and least of the human effort goes in the only place where it should have went to begin with.
The necessary cause for which this problem arises naturally is that software is [the foremost embodiment of] abstraction, and abstractions, not being physical, do not exist until they're actually written down ; as such there's nothing there to anchor the preponderence of effort, there's nothing to work with at the onset thus no work is done with it. But, as hanbot very aptly points out, the negative space's still very much part of the abstractionii, which simply means that as downstream development (in the positive) unearths more upstream negative space, effort is to be diverted towards it. This is the profound meaning, and the only anchor, and absolutely the direct cause of the republic's long-held stance that there's no possibility of anything apolitical, this very thing here. As further development downstream evinces more of the negative space that was always there silently, thought must be given to these questions, "what was always there silently in the first place". Listen to Naggum :
some day, I hope you will start to listen to people who have worked with Free Software for the better part of a decade and have wondered (1) why people get much enthused but then leave disappointed and disgruntled, (2) why free software programs gain a very high quality as long as the goal is very clear, and (3) why it then goes on to accrete crappy features nobody needs but are fun to add by the less competent people who are unable to accept that an idea has fully matured. (watch GNU ls acquire "human" sizes, for instance: multiples of 1000, instead of 1024.)
And say it with me now!
"ls was never supposed to have fucking alt-sizes baked in"
"says who ?"
"that's it, you're out of the band!"iii
It's what it is.iv
———Cupidity, it's a thing. [↩]Think along with me now : how often have you heard, in your "professional" life I mean, "the big boss" let's call it participate in some meeting whereby one of the few women there makes some excellent point and his response is "nice going, bitch" ?
Aren't you glad <blink> still exists, by the way ? But leaving aside that in the mickey-mouse alt-reality artificially maintained at great (if sulphurously disavowed) expense for the needs of overgrown twelve year olds women aren't even chattel property in the first place -- it'd de-actualize way too many utterly baseless, completely spurious feelings of adequacy and well being. Think ye if you will : women aren't property in your dreamworld so that no powerless boi feels his powerlessness, and you think she's being insulted ? When I climbed in the girl-only subway car underneath Cairo it wasn't the girls' modesty that was being insulted ; it was every 30something virgin dweeb out there's spurious feelings of adequacy that took a bath.
Leave all that aside, and consider what's on point here : negative space very much is part of any abstract construction, from blueprints and plans to social arrangements. And you're aware of this, too. You well know saying "good job" is just as much a part of the proceedings as not saying "bitch", right ? So then why do you go around pretending you don't know this ailleurs ? You evidently know it here, what happens ?
I'm not even kidding, this needs an absolute, correct and complete response. Why ? [↩]Sorry, it's an obscure in-joke of a group of people twenty years ago that doesn't even include me. "Your hair's too big" & "you fucked my sister" also figure. It's all about Robert Smith, the famous wrestler promoter (though seen through rather Morissey lenses). What can I say, you had to be there -- as it's apparently nowhere else. [↩]And yes, this is also why it's better to be right than proper. Great fun has been had with filthy girls -- or what's your preferred epithet for the opposite of propriety ? [↩]
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Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc
Sunday, 26 January, Year 12 d.Tr.