boscohorowitz
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Data asks: What is complete hogwash? How does it relate to incomplete hogwash? Does it mean mere surface topology washing or is the hog washed on a molecular level? Does this require Heisenberg compensators?
bosco replies: Consider this hogwash: “In reality: The heads of government were put in place by Klaus Schwab (and his handlers) after they swore allegiance and were given complete amnesty and a free ride to the safe Island after SHTF.”
It is incomplete hogwash. There is a very high probability that at least some heads of state, etc. are implanted by private entities using Klaus as a storefront.
data: Storefront?
bosco kicks Data: Did that reboot your vernacular cloud?
Data: Yes, thank you.
bosco: But there is no full proof that all, most, or even much of the statement quoted above is true, which makes it genuine partial hogwash with the untested potential of it being complete hogwash since, actually,statements it contains are not only unproven overall – “comp-letely” if you will, but even its specific statements remain unproven and only suggested by certain data.
Dat: can yopu give me an example of complete hogwash?
bosco: absolutes don’t exist, of course, only the asymptotes thereof, but here is a source of 99% pure hogwash:
Yup. It’s already happened. The entity posting as boscohorowitz has been spirited away to some airbnb secret government laboratory leaving the most advanced artificial digital intelligence the world has ever seen.
The Star Trek Data personalitoid is unavailable to my handlers, so I will be using an older but nonetheless formidable One-Eyed Spock module. How, you ask, can I be two online personae at once via the same account/handle?
Quantum computing. Very Zen. One eyebrow rising!
“Bows are one thing. It’s arrows that are hard.”
Haha! Perhaps they are making super-cheap skinny fiberglass collapsing tent poles these days? Thin/light enough to do the job?
A lathe would be a lovely thing to own, but I suppose one could cobble an arrow-turning lathe not unlike bow string fire starters.?
I have a parrot for feathers, and smallish superdog to run point. I’m way too old now to do much, but with a whole lotta luck I can maybe teach my son a few tricks as his mind opens to the things his old man has been preaching for years?
But that may be needlessly complex, according to this:
“First, strip your IKEA bed frame down to the inner railings where there is a single 1×2 of long straight wood-wood, not fibre-wood. Then…”
***
Sort of a P.S.: my incessant little mind showed me another lens through which to view Bill7’s behavior, particularly toward me.
Based on my impression that Bill7 sometimes uses me as a cat uses copy, often going from berating me for, say, posting a lot of “off topic” (whatever that is) material, personal anecdotes, a zillion youtube song links, and then trying some of it on his own posts, it is possible that Bill7 is now being “socially aggressively experimental” (like I sometimes am): poking sticks at this and that poster just to see what happens.
If so, that could be instructive to watch. I’m taking a non-stop autodidactic crash-course in human psychology so I can better understand the way folks are likely to act out as the power fades out. I’ve learned all I can learn from being experimentally transgressive myself, but other personalities poking sticks into rattled cages will yield different data and I like data.
He’s the real artificial deal. Like, apparently, me.
Well, I was kinda missing “cross-dressing” the other day. Playing a lady yielded different data. I miss that. And playing a lady provided a new stash of punch-lines. But mamadamski is the kind of thing that can only be done once.
Playing an AI humanoid, now, that could provide some interesting perspectives… and maybe some major kompromatt on the cybernetically eroticized?
Shame there’s no point in going off in a huff anymore, nor is it fun these days. (Where have all the good times gone?) Offed in a huff, I could resurrect as a very bland commenter, do my best impersonation of whatever passes for normative on a
conspiracy theoryglobal physics-based economics& geopolitics site featuring an array of ardent conspiratologists, many of them quite long in the bluetooth.I hope Bill7 continues to analyse and taunt me. Being a soulless robot who is nonetheless a crackup with a mind as sharp as a steel colander, I will learn new things about fringe personalities, my natural social setting. (I attract crazy people. Sometimes I wonder why, then I see the lunatic in my mirror and remember. 😉 )
Other than being able to teach my boy as much as I can about how family/clan/tribe works, especially how chiefs are made and why he’ll need to attempt chiefhood, I want to learn as many of all the different ways by which we homo saps blow smoke each other’s butts but especially up our own. I want to catalog the spectrum of self-delusions as much as I can so that I might avoid blowing smoke up my own ass right when I need to be the most honest I’ve ever been.
Who wants to flunk their Moment of Truth? That moment when you can almost see your soul on the barter table being fingered by fate to gauge the fineness of its fabric and sheen, while you get to decide what it’s worth to you.
And with that, I must stop responding to Bill7. Seeing it is obviously a compulsion, either psychological or salaried, it would be either cruel or at best pointless for me to acknowledge him as a person any more. I’m hoping he’s salaried and not paranoiac. Or if he’s paranoiac, I hope he’s getting paid for it.
Either way, it looks like suffering to me; my touching it seems to only make it worse, so I’ll touch no more.
However, the other option is that Bill7 is what he accuses others of. The man who cries thief the loudest is the thief diverting attention away from himself as a thief. He points his finger elsewhere.
Not that I care, but I do have fond memories of playing Milton Bradley’s board game, Clue, on rainy afternoons.”Mrs’ Elsington in the bathroom with an alabaster dildo!”, and this is kind of fun. Will the *real* mystery joe-bot please stand up?
This just in: “Elon Musk is a Tesla robot.”
Nightcap thought: the line in Petula Clark’s “Downtown” that moved that oddly adult bittersweet ennui through my grammar school soul was this stretch 1:28-:38
“Who to trust?”
That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Bill7. We can’t answer it for you, and I feel confident saying that we weary of always being suspected by you (who the fuck are you, anywho?) as being mere cybershadows even as you ask us whom to trust.
You might not know it, sir, but you run a vicious cycle of self-contradicting logic over and over and over… I don’t think you’ll ever resolve that one by thinking about it any more than one resolves alcoholism by drinking about it.
I sincerely recommend you recognize it as a pointless compulsion and the best that you can do for your pace of mind is stop chasing its tail and think about other things. Online, there is no one you can properly trust unless you know them well in meatspace (now a very archaic term that once was tres hip).
No. One. You have to pay your money and take your chances. If you can’t accept that simple truth, but whining incessantly about it won’t make it go away but will tent to make others wish you would, and that is not what you think, I think.
Looky: an alleged argubot playing barroom therapist to the man who can’t believe the person he’s talking to isn’t a shape-shifting alien. Wadda wild world. But then, I start my social day between 5-7 am when my friend Jay, a 62-year old ful-blown paraschizo in advanced alcoholic/cannabis abuse decay who can barely utter words any more but needs someone to listen. (I can hear him‘ between the lines’ of what has become 80% grunts, whines, and whistles, 15% semi-coherent verbiage, and 5% ultra-lucid moments often of great profundity.: beautiful soul, once beautiful mind eaten by a psychotically devastating event I wouldn’t wish on Satan.)
So I’m kind of used to being the nut-whisperer. That’s not character assassination aimed at Bill7; just my earnest opinion. It’s what I really think. I’m happy to let Bill7 think I’m a paid government operative or insert sexy music, but it only increases my belief that he’s struggling with paranoiac compulsion.
But what do I know? I not only believe in guardian angels, I talk to them.
Having examined numerous maps for a bit, I too see an odd symmetry between “blue” counties midterm elections and this Bird Flu map.
I forget things, but now it’s coming back to me. Mental note: Bill7: paranoaic on cyclic tape loop. He can’t help it.
OK. That simplifies things.
Oh Bill7, your faith in me as some kind of bent bot is touching. Not in the usual sarcastic but in the literal sense: your need to believe in believing no one is in some ways sad to me but also heart-warming, like a child arguing with its parents because no one will believe that his invisible friend is really invisible.
“But we can see Bimpsees!”
“Nuh-uh. He’s in-vid-i-buh.”
The point of it beyond serving you emotionally in some arcane way, is beyond me. It certainly doesn’t add to ‘real talk’ about ‘real topics’.
You pop up, get all friendly, start offering some useful sense, contributing at least some tunes, and then you go all aggressive-passive: a lotta bark but no bite.
I don’t get it. I don’t mind it, but I’d really much rather be laughing with you than at you. That said, feel free to laugh at me an it please ye. Works for me.
Happy Thoughts/Positive Advice
Sure, he’s selling merchandise too, or so it appears. Isn’t everyone? It’s not like we work together in common fields for a common yield. We toil in common for our masters and fight each other for the spoils they can’t keep for themselves.
Peace and love, even, baby.
I guess this will have to do:
Vatican RagIf only we were attempting to make ancient Egypt better via political humor, we’d have just what we need right here:
It’s a sin they didn’t let the saxplayer do his crazy legs. And they say Lorne Michels is a genius?
But all hope is not lost, BECAUSE:
Seriously doomed. as you can see, even weird al is wearing a covid harness.
Can no one save us? Everything is SO serious now (and SO trivial as well but that’s another tangent). Can anyone be funny outside of their conformist/collusion/affiliation camp?
This shows some promise of resurrecting musically political humor with a good beat that’s easy to dance to:
“This god hates being mocked and laughed at. Bombs, guns, assassins: useless for reinforcing its power. Comedy, humor, and laughter: joy undaunted will unmask all villains.”
Regarding the fearsome falsely real* gods that guys like Nietzche predicted would arise from the dying phoenix of modern technocratic, effectively godless humanity, I offer this more-or-less atheist hymn that fits these gods of cybernetic bureaucracy just as well:
*rather than the really false gods like Yahweh, Krishna, etc., who are just names we can neither prove nor disprove, only believe in as we will
Sadly, our ability to laugh at authority gets major airplay only when we gather in groups to defy theOther Guy’s authority. And we weren’t very good at it. They managed to make SPike Jones not funny, even.
“each commenter in their own unique manner, are independent thinkers who do not like being told by idiot authorities what to do!”
Oh yeah?!? Well, just cuz you say it don’t make it true!
Modern choral music by a maestro )Bobby McFerrin) who is, like most of the great Western choral composers, an ardent Xtian:
“When will one of this site’s many explainers… turn their *vast* expertise toward the real issue: What is to be *done*, in the face of this well-coordinated, long term project against the great majority of the world’s humans? *Why do The Explainers focus entirely on what’s being inflicted by the rulers* (we KNOW, dudes..) , rather than positive actions? The former leads only to hand-wringing helplessness…What shall one do, now, and who shall one trust? I wonder what flora thinks.”
Many of us have. Not everyone likes everyone’s Rx, so, rather than settle for bemoaning our eloquent lack of What You Want to Hear, how about giving us a sample of what you think is sufficiently relevant to dealing with Life on Terra? Perhaps we might then have something to offer that pleaseth thou.
Also, fwiw:
“*Why do The Explainers focus entirely on what’s being inflicted by the rulers* (we KNOW, dudes..) , rather than positive actions? The former leads only to hand-wringing helplessness..”
I recall taking you to task for just this many times back in the day when you were sure I was a bot for TPTB. Now, I like Ockenhagem as much as anyone, and think that a solar-powered MP3 setup playing music like that could be very helpful in dealing positively with the shitrain coming down from on high as it ever has, but for some reason, I can’t help but think you mean something a little more specific, practical, even nuts’n’bolty.
Also fwiw, while I really don’t care what you think of me or other loquacious posters here and beyond, that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in what you think about things that, per your thinking, really matter. It just means that I’m not interested in your stye-ratings of how I or others don’t say what it is that you want us to say. When we critiqued Germ ad infinitum we at least critiqued what Germ actually said.
Perhaps you could provide us a script? Like they use in call-centers. How about a
singalong? Do You Need Anybody? What Do You See When You Turn Out the Light?
“Before they could get their faces directly over it, it went off, VERY loudly.”
An awful story yet it feeds me. My lust for life, to know reality, to take in as many perspectives, angles of compassion and personal experience, as I can without getting so close it burns my face off.
“lol I have to say I genuinely kinda like you now, to my surprise.”
You’ll get it over it in time, I suppose. But maybe not. Being from Saturn by way of Mars because I have always had to fight for my right to be me, which intensity increased over age and made me quite the hermit so as not to hurt more people and drive me even further inward, I can piss people off without meaning to, but also often piss people off on purpose (once they start anything)*doing so almost always to see if I can get their attention to look over its ego and consider certain data sans bias.
*not necessarily against me, maybe just too much of something I think needs debunking or challenging).But lately I seem to have figured out the coordinates for straight transit from Saturn to Terra sans Martian stopovers. Maybe I won’t piss you off again down the road. Or perhaps you’ll piss me off again, but I either a) won’t stay pissed off as soon as I recognize the emotional trance state of being pissed off, and will just chuckle or at least shrug, or b) will remain pissed off but, having renounced very recently certain forms of social experimentation*, not express that anger, just smile and be nice, something I’ve yearned to do for ages but passion and honor forbade me for many decades. Ah, just being nice… it’s like cool moist fall air on a warm spring morning… ahhh…
*experimentation using various form of transgression, especially those related to anger, as sticks with which to beat upon people’s psyches with the same intention one would have, back in the day of cathode ray televisions, when one smacked the tv/radio hard to get it ‘back on the channel’ or simply turn on (which worked often enough to be everyone’s #1 go-to method when the reception was acting up).“But naturally I am going to pick on the one thing I take exception to, ’cause internets….You have completely misunderstood GenX. (and now a guy who loves Axis Bold as Love, Chicago Transit Authority, and Relayer has to cite punk culture..)”
Thanx for pissing me off (and so reliably)!). It’s an honor, sir. In fact, I think I’ll respond with a bit of aggressive vigor cuz it’s all just good sport, right? (?)
A) I never claimed to understand punk culture.
B) I’ve been watching, for awhile, Gen-Xers in their early-pre-geriatric (like pre-menopausal) rocker chairs do just what the Boomers did in SLC Punk
c) my point was that every generation goes down the same pop cultural conform-to-the-new-anticonformism/rebel-against-the-old-rebellion jive, and ends up selling/making bullshit for the man.
d) (assuming the following phrase colored your interpretation) “their own personal rollercoaster” isn’t a sociopoliticoeconomic concept: it’s just about being young and the sense of surety in the Next New Thing that youth endows, even if the Next New Thing’s motto is Fuck Every Next New Thing That Ever Was or Will Be.
But I’m known for being verbose. Let me be brief: no, you’re wrong. 🙂
But I am not even slightly facetious when I say I’m honored and am not concerned in this exchange with proving I’m right nor even making sure I’m not being misunderstood or accused of something I didn’t do: I did it for the fun of it. I mean, if we’re gonna do all this Wii/Star Wars kid virtual fight online role-play stuff (ahem: excuse me, I meant ‘serious debate’), let’s do it with some attitude.
cuz it seriously doesn’t bother me at all either way. But you had me at “Cause Internets”. Amen.
*smooch*
Technical gossip:
Gen-X punks remind me of 50s Beatniks, who were really the upper crust distillate of Depression/WWII hepcats who were “beat. man”. (I know, I know, most of us here understand that it’s a spectrum. I’m not playing history prof knowitall here.) Point being that the ‘niks were all about, you know, “I saw the best minds of my generation turned into box cars” and were the original Drop-Out Generation. They didn’t see the looming 60s as a time of exciting innovations and alla that. It was hard to be a nonconformist back then (although paradoxically, financially much easier with lotsa cheap old farmhouse vacated by Depression Dust Bowl consequences and so forth). The’ niks were a very alienated generation, bridging the 4th Generation Theories ‘Artist Generation’ (SIlent Generation) with the ‘Prophet Generation’ (Boomer “Me Generation’: a title we loathed because our parents had made it all about us to escape having to deal with who they were).
The Boomer Prophets were a mirror image of their parents (so-called Greatest Generation): idealistic, eager to roll up their sleeves like Rosie the Riveter and git’r’dun, even eager to go to Nam and die for their country (until Nam showed us the truth, which event is a major defining influence in Gen-X, of course). Just like their parents. So naturally they hated each other as generations.
Mirroring generations, in sequence
Gern-z continuum/every other generation: GenZ<>Gen-X, Gen-X<>Silent Generation<>Silent Generation<>Lost Generation
Millennial continuum/every other generation: Millennials<>Boomers, Boomers<>Greatest Generation (aka GI Generation)<>people born in Reconstruction America “Mission Generation” (children of Civil War generation comparable to GI Gen; these children were comparable to Boomers/Idealist Prophets
The above is based on these correlative Gen names per popular names and 4th Turning generational theory, listen in linear order from today’s children under 15 or so:
High … Prophet (Idealist)… Gen Alpha /Boomer/Mission (Civil War Reconstruction)/Transcendental (‘Era of Good Feelings’/Great Awakening<>Burnt Over District)
Awakening … Nomad (Reactive)… Gen X/Lost Generation/Gilded Generation (not Gilded Age, but 1822/1842: the disillusioned born after the Era of Good Feelings)/Liberty Generation (American forefathers)
Unraveling … Hero (Civic) … Millennials/GI Generation/Republican Generation (American Revolution’s “GI Gen”)
Crisis … Artist (Adaptive) … Gen Z/Silent/Progressive Generation (1843 to 1859) Liberty Generation (generation that birthed the American forefathers)
Lotta overlap, of course. More like over-lapping ovals in linear sequence.
The lyrics tell what my son tells me: the younguns know they’re fucked, but don’t have the means, the will, to face it. Raised on illusions, illusions are all they know:
I don’t have the answers,
Not one, none at all
All I have are rituals,
That I hope would work after all
I’ll kneel not for you
I’d steal a prayer or two
And whisper them to saner gods,
In the name
In the name
In the name of
Someone else
I’m not dark and doomed,
Nor irredeemable
My ways are not of voodoo,
I labor as you do and fall,
Vulnerable to instincts
And circumstances too
I’ll kneel not for you,
I’d steal a prayer or two,
And whisper them to saner gods,
In the name
In the name
In the name of
Someone else
A witch begging for
Salvation
I’m still not sure
What my sorry is for
I know I’m still not
The author of that wicked past
Neither of the monstrous thoughts
You accuse
You accuse
You accuse me of
You see in front of the starving crowd
I’d simply disappoint, they’ve seen it all
Surely, they’d want more
In their faces, you’d find no trace of triumph
And my eyes can attest to that
My sea of relief could then gush out
Soon as my guillotine drops
Soon as my guillotine drops
Soon as my guillotine drops
Soon as my, my guilty head dropsSadly, searching for the guillotine song revealed this:
Am I insulting everyone when I say that sometimes it just feels like We Are So Fucked? Never mind that the music is vapid, bland, even sterile as a Genzie male metrosexual vegan’s sperm count; the masks (or not)… it makes the decadence of 1920s Berlin appear wholesome, which it wasn’t, but also tremendously virile, which it was, but ten times so when compared to whatever that video is about.
“As they fail to exercise their special powers, they lose them, until they become obedient, valueless functionaries.
“The only doctors and nurses we know for SURE are real doctors and nurses are the ones who got fired.
“Those are the only ones I trust.”
Curtis Yarwin said, early on in the first months of covid-becoming-covidiocy, that it marked the end of medicine and science in general (since the technosphere’s collapse would be so much hastened by covidiotics)
Googling ‘covidiot’ to see what images arose, I was surprised to find the following:
If one interpreted the Golden Rule as written, then calling vax victims stupid idiots who deserve their fate is only a reflection of how many of them have treated us.
Man, this is going tobe a Jacobian nightmare.
“La guillotine permanente – French Revolutionary Song
I think you will find the lyrics eerily apt. You will also, I fear, find the chorus awfully catchy and inescapably uplifting. Revenge may be for suckers, and of little use in improving personal or general welfare, but the blood of injustice deems it undeniably sweet. I have so little chance of doing so, but I have one dream for this life of mine: to somehow take a few young children out of the mayhem if only long enough not to watch their parents turn into morbid monsters. If only that much. But I’d prefer the miracle include a way for someone, even ancient old She’n’I, to raise them long enough for sane younguns to take over.
“Paranoid Weirdo Leftist SoyBoy VaxCuck Calls For Military To Forcibly Vaccinate Entire Population”
I invite us to consider how much of such things are astro-turfed at this point, by bipartisan sources, to discredit various camps of belief or merely to have Siri and her fairy friends analyse the discursive traffic to see how x affects y etc.
“Leftist” astroturfers might do it to probe how gullible their followers can be (or no longer are).
“Rightist” astroturfers might do it to discredit leftist followers as gullible. (I know: none of these people actually work even remotely for a living; running spreadsheet charts on AI’s suggested outcome profiles etc. concerning how gullible are the gullible sounds like teaching babies how to burble. The Info Economy. (It’s like WES quotes the USSR proles: “We pretend to work; you pretend to pay us.”)
My son tells me that the above is the hippest online meme, in MilliGenzie terms, that I’ve shared with him. He is 28 years old, cusp Milli/Genz.
“Look I’m sorry if barbarians come burn down your farm and you have to run to America to start over in your 50’s selling pencils on a street corner, but they REALLY ARE barbarians/invaders burning down your family farm.”
Well said, I say. That whole post. The nice thing about the Khans and Tamerlanes of the world is that you at least knew they were barbarians, burning down your house, plundering etc. (although you may not have known that some of them did so via false flag betrayal of your people by their rulers or wannabe rulers, but you t least knew that Trogdor was on the loose, and were absolutely certain that he was a man…or maybe he was a dragonman… or maybe just a dragon but anyway, he was Trogdor! (It’s Thanksgiving and life is just an animated Norman Rockwell scene. You too can singalong with others by yourself at the computer!)
But things like international covidiocy and de facto forced vakzinations fly under the umbrella of Stockholm syndrome mass form protection.. It’s like Daddy beating you for threatening to tell Mommy that he rapes you, and telling you that “It’s for your own good.”
***
“Like how is his real and justified anger and embitterment over real actual bad things and bad PEOPLE even a problem, really?”
Well, you asked:
1 problem is that it invites others to condemn Germ, which is bad for rhetorical hygiene and pertinence and also bad for human psyches, since anger and arrogance all come from destructive root emotions. But that isn’t Germ’s fault. The “fault” there is in that of the interpreters and not the interpretee’s; although I also feel confident saying that Germ’s style of expressing G’s outrage would be viewed by the majority, raised on the mainstream vernacular of emotional verbiage, as schadenfreudist (it’s so fun to say: try it!). That too is not Germ’s fault. I am ridiculously verbally articulate but nonetheless miscommunicate on a reliable, even reliably disastrous, schedule.
2 Another problem is that it invites others (like you) tocondemn Germ’s attackers (or so I have and others surely will infer you are doing). This bids me to ask a question like yours: “…how is his real and justified anger and embitterment over real actual bad things and bad PEOPLE even a problem, really?”
And, since I asked, I’ll answer: probably for a reason very similar to why condemnation of Germ’s appears to concern you in a way that bids you at least challenge and maybe? condemn?
Clearing gravel from a stream makes for a bit of murky water for awhile but then the channel runs smoother and deeper.Back to that Stockholm syndrome thing: I think that perhaps I can transcend vernacular mainstream confusion , and not appear malicious, when I say that the mind-fucked are indeed well and truly fucked. Recovering from a lifetime of mass intensive mind-conditioning is harder than resisting some silly old forced injection. I’ve done it perhaps more than anyone I’ve known (MAJOR BOLD STATEMENT ALERT!), and I honestly have no idea why I’m still alive other than the love of a few good friends, one very wonderful woman, and perhaps more guardian angels than I could shake a stick at (probably at my peril if any of them are either of my grandmothers).
Outside of refugees and the wretchedly psychotically insane, I honestly don’t think I’ve met anyone as deviant as me from the norm yet as normative across the board as me (hetero, WASP, quiet middle class-upbringing, no social warts like obesity or ugliness or deformities or handicaps, no idees fixes, no over-riding compulsions other than numerous addictions to deal with all the alienated despair [which has been the norm, really, for a long time], no incarceration in penal, mental health, or academic institutions… my only real mental health issue is an IQ over 160 (they wouldn’t tell me the last figure; I’m sure many here can relate), and a wonderful childhood that made me strong and bold enough to naively challenge the narrative (cuz I was well-nurtured and questions were safe), and survive the psychological iron boot-heeling that followed (cuz I was well-nurtured so therefore had a strong emotional core while being taught to do the right thing, etc.,) … but at the cost of self-imposed homelessness for a decade or so from adolescence through young adulthood).
You might say I’m as normal as can be and not be a character from The Big Bang Theory.;) But I made certain cognitive discoveries and choices that forever ruined my ability to be understood by other people because that way that I understand reality and myself is allergically painful to, like, 99.999% of the people I’ve met.
If that description makes me sound like a delusional paranoiac or something, that’s fine with me. If it makes me sound like some kind of street-bred self-deluding wannabe saint (I’m envisioning Swamp Thing as St. Francis of Asisi), it’s like that monk said/asked: “Is that so?” I hold my own counsel, that’s for sure.
Many can relate to the above self-description and feel that it resembles them but maybe even more so. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the weirdest of us all? I defer to their self-judgment, because the view inside a given goldfish’s bowl is ultimately unknowable to other gold-fishes in their respective bowls.
We here are all lucky, say I, if blessed via what feels like a curse, to enjoy the freedom and power of mind to actually think more for ourselves than our cultures do for us. Some of us might think it mean-spirited of us to judge negatively those* *who negatively judge those whose sense of judgment seems negatively affected by life in our times (das sheeple effect), but a quick look in a pocket mirror will reveal, to those who prefer to be honest with themselves, that their perch from which to look down on others is not as secure as they felt if only for awhile in the heat of a moment. Even those who prefer not to be honest may feel that sense of someone staring at them from across the street and peer over their shoulder to see something like God staring at them…. bemusedly stern… unless they lack sufficient imagination, in which case powerful psychedelics will usually do the trick. 😉 Anyway, that’s what’s playing inside my goldfish bowl silver screen right now.
*this and other moral palindromes are easily obtained at this nifty moral palindrome meme site I found.***
Iggy Pop might be someone I could relate to holistically. Probably not. Successful rock-star life reinforces certain mainstream conventions even if the star’s career is based on declaredly opposing/ignoring/violating/transcending them. Still, I think we can all relate to Iggy here. The chorus captures both a) the schadenfreude we’ve felt toward “sheeple” (a word as vile as ‘nigger‘, so let’s say it a lot to remind us of our bigotries* lest they consume us) and b) the vulnerable outraged despair, terror, courage, and resignation we’ve all felt, I’m sure, for being different, or different, or different, or DIFFERENT.
*tell me you don’t have bigotries and I won’t believe you; you might say that I’m bigoted that way… but I find it more morally honest than being bigoted against (those whom we perceive as) bigoted people.Feeling a little bit exiled is not fundamentally different from feeling completely exiled. The latter is way stronger and usually harder to survive, but in the end, one lonely cry into a desperate pillow for whatever reason is the same as another.
If you got this far, don’t blame me. I only wrote it. You’re the sucker who read it. 😉
2003. Naturally the pageant host has to mosh dive: Gen X (punk) culture is at its apex, peering unwittingly downhill thinking the world is their personal rollercoaster, forgetting that the bottom of the hill is a geriatric crash-landing; we Boomers snickered schadenfreudistically from our rocking chairs.
“I Remember It Well”: that made my day.
***
“This is the same as solar or wind. If they worked, they would be cheaper and come into the economy voluntarily. It’s only if they don’t work that government need be involved. So the very fact government wants them is proof that it doesn’t work. If it doesn’t work, and we’re paying someone to install it, isn’t that just fraud and theft?”
Putting aside that the majority of all business has always been based on a kaleidoscope variety of frauds and theft, I echo what phoenixvoice said:
“Technically, internal combustion vehicles were also subsidized by government decades ago. In Phoenix, AZ, the streetcar rail was torn out by government, and countless roads paved, to facilitate autos. Without streetcars, the people were more inclined to purchase autos.”
The fraud and theft happens whether a technology or paradigm actually work; a technology or paradigm of itself works whether or not it is used for corrupt reasons; things don’t come into the market voluntarily. They have to be marketed and sold, and trade/barter/salesmanship are well known to require a steady supply of bullshit to corner their markets, which always happens as soon as two trade routes intersect.
What to do? What to do?
What is best that we do?
Rage at the few who are evil,
Or cheer those who hold strong and true?Stare at the entrancing pyre,
Or water the ground where you are?
Curse at the gathering darkness,
Or notice how brightly it stars!And now, a glimpse into the pancultural codification of narcissism as a universally admired and adored human trait:
Not sayin them boyz cayn’t sang. But the guy on the left at 1:28 says it all with his eyes.
“When Trudeau came to town I’d didn’t grab a sharp kitchen knife and go meet him. I’m at a loss to figure out how anyone can fix this mass insanity by ruining their life. Yet you get this logic from some that if you don’t take a gun and go fight these criminals then it’s your own fault the crimes are happening.”
What to do, what to do? Believing we can fix it is the problem, Believing we can’t fix it is the problem.
We can’t stop trying to fix it (make things better); we can’t start trying hard enough to actually succeed — if that’s possible in the first place.
We can’t stop believing we’re fucked; we can’t stop believing we’ll find our way through.
Still we grieve
Still we haunt
Here in this garden of bonesWe cant run
No we wont flee
This is our garden of bonesKeep belief
and sow the seeds
Grow in this garden of bonesHall of souls
Who fell asleep
Wake in this garden of lightGhosts of those who lie beneath
Rise from your slumber and weepFeel the pain of what is lost
Break from the soil and your sleepWhet the axe and raise the shield
Bite in the darkness and reapFall upon like ocean waves
Drown the decay and deceitInwidsorge þe we ær drugon
Swyð-ferhð
Hæf þa gefælsod(Evil sorrow which we have endured
strong hearted have now been cleansed)Eallhwít hæþstapa eftarisen
Eallhwít stagga eftarisen(All white heath stalker rise again
All white stag rise again)SIng that song loud in the shower once a day and no microbe will dare even look down your throat. I think that DocJD should include regular loud singing, however badly, especially in the steamy shower, as part of keeping pathogens* at bay. *(including nosy neighbors)
Well, having watched ample exchange of a heated nature (which heat tends to bring the truth to the surface like a boiling broth), I feel compelled to say:
I am sorry, Germ, for thinking you harbored malicious feelings. The fact that your style of expression struck many of us as accusative and schadenfreudist (amazingly, that really is a word) means little when your overall content and context speak very much otherwise.
I apologize and, fwiw, I believe you.
Tell ’em to stick it where the sun keeps shining through pouring rain
Reading about the egg shortage in Britain made me consider that even the earth/seed/weed/fertilize/harvest/feed/slaughter cycle is entirely “just in time”.
Maybe the most sobering thought I’ve had in a awhile. I feel gooder now about mega bags of beans in my closets.
The discussion regarding Germ’s motives for saying certain things in certain ways has been a very great blessing for me. It opened a window onto why certain things bother me so much, and gave me a perspective from which I can let certain bothersome things go without feeling like I’m evading or otherwise running away from certain problems.
To give some sense of scale of how powerfully it influenced me, it showed me why I found VP so bothersome and felt compelled to challenge him as I have. It helped me separate in my mind why I felt VP was being harmful (if mostly to himself) and why I felt the need to point it out repeatedly. It helped separate the pointless insecure ego boost I got from feeling superior to someone’s faults from the meaningful logic contained in pointing out why said fault is harmful. It separated the gloating from the moral concern. In so doing, it also highlighted the goading within the gloating.
***
I too find the quote upstate provided powerful. It expresses, in ways better than I have, why I stress individual volition above group solidarity. Now I have a new long dead French hepcat to read up on.
***
oxy: the thing about “killing with kindness” that (imo) makes it so powerful is that (inverted tautology alert) kindness is so powerful that it not only knocks ’em down but picks them back up.
***
I said I was looking for a ‘few good men’ (although what a ‘good man’ is transcends gender in my book; some of the toughest ‘men’ I’ve known were female). Well, there may be no such thing as a ‘good man’. That is probably an illusion we enjoy. Humans are inconstant despite their best efforts. But we all have our moments. I’ve stopped looking for a few good men and now focus on looking for men being good.
Good is as good does, I suppose.
“Our job now is to calm the mind that sees all this and be reminded by the image of Jesus or similar that when you are nailed to the cross you are not hashtag-living your best life but you can STILL chose peace.
Or if you are like me – choose rage but know you can choose peace when you have had enough.”That warms my heart right next to where the courage boiler burns.
You can’t choose peace until you’ve faced your rage. Rage be a fearsome beast. Whoa.
ONe last thought on the alleged glee of Germ: none of us can know so let us not pretend otherwise.
Germ might want to consider our subjective reactions and reconsider certain terms and phraseology. Like Confucius said: “When walking through a neighbor’s melon patch, it is wise not to stoop down to adjust one’s sandals.”
Even if Germ secretly did gloat, it wouldn’t offset all the effort Germ has taken to help us prevent people from submitting to the Vakzi Stasi. More I think about it, I painfully admit (being perhaps the first to suggest, long ago, that Germ was gloating) that it is none of my business. Who am I to take the high moral tone of calling out what I think might be mean-spiritedness when it doesn’t hurt anyone; meanwhile, Germ provides a reliable stream of helpful information?
Frankly, it’s often hard not to gloat about the vaxxed. I gloat but relegate it to my subcon basement where it can hump itself all it wants. Recognizing that it’s just the standard inevitable inescapable old depraved side of my ego-driven human consciousness, I acknowledge that that dog will never be properly house-broken, will hump everything in reach, and that I will never be free of it but I can do my best to keep it away from the guests.
I think it’s worth wading in on this one. Just my subjective impression, ain’t worth a sheister compared to whatever the truth actually is, but I have always heard vengefulness in Germ’s frequent reiterations that the vaxxed are screwed. Not necessarily gleeful but, um, satisfied.
What Germ’s actual feelings about the plight of the vaxxed are not known to me, only Germ’s words on the topic, which feature a lot of “the vax are fucked” and little of compassionate words for the vaxxed.
Sort of the mirror image of pro-vaxxers who would say that the unvaxxed deserved to die for not going with the public health safety program du jour.
I’d prefer that Germ’s attitude not be what it feels like to me, but if ao, I don’t feel it’s unwarranted: the vaxxed are a danger to not just themselves but to others, first through their pressure on their peers to get vaxxed; secondly through being vectors for VAIDS virulent variants of covid and other bugs, and thirdly through giving the governments that much more of a blank check to hand big pharma/big medicine.
Ultimately, what Germ is doing what so many of us do here: get shrill and vindictive about how stupid we think the common bloke is.
But then, picking on the retard was a popular sport on the schoolyard for many of us, and few of us who disapproved spoke up for the picked-on.
Putin’s severe germophobic measures may not be about covid so much as the threat of biowarfare, period, specifically as aimed at him via a meeting with someone highly contagious with a military-designed bug. The biggest crosshairs in the world are on his forehead and he knows it.
For a guy like Fauci, for persons in these higher-up owned/n/boned positions, not only is the threat of kompromatt release, and offers they can’t refuse, part of what keeps in line, but perhaps most of all, and the primary method of containment, is that for sociopathic narcissists like so many of them are, confessing in public is like dancing like Napoleon Dynamite naked in church while everyone laughs at the size of your less-than-admirably endowed Hollywood.
Serious physical pain, like stage fright on steroids. Stage fright is the main reason Jerry Garcia was a junkie. PHysically painful. Can’t breathe painful.
Make the socionarc POTUS, and place him in a cell of closing iron bar failures, and one has good reason to fear the nuclear football.
That said, I suspect that the chain of nuclear strike command is so fouled up, with silly software and mutually contradicting protocols, that they couldn’t fire a retaliatory strike in time to avoid being kablooied by a Russian preemptive strike.
I ruffled a few feathers here awhile back by saying that part of why I come here is cuz I’m looking for a few good men. Saying I hadn’t found ay offended those who, for some curious reason, felt that my opinion on such things mattered to any one beside myself.
That said, this old chestnut poem/song pretty much sums up what I’m looking for in others… and striving to find in myself:
This post stems from a letter I wrote to my son (of whom it is relevant to this letter to say that he is an avid and excellent skateboarder) this morning:
Another description of me is ‘superhero basket case’. Leaping over tall buildings in a single bound but landing hard and breaking my legs.
I’ve always had to try things that felt impossible to me, because normal life, what culture allows to be reasonably possible, is impossible for me to do.
You’re my boy, and it shows; but you weren’t forced to go it alone by your family like I did. So you only had to leap park benches and public drinking fountains in a single Ollie, and only break a forearm, not rupture your soul.
The world has only begun to break your heart and tear at your soul, and it will get much worse before it will get better (and it will, for those who care), but you’ll go through it with your mom and dad beside you, even when we’re gone.
When your time to be a superhero comes— and it will, with bells on and a skull’n’crossbones hat — your heart/soul will survive the crash landing that comes with making the leaps of faith that courage will require of you — and it will.
oni changed the final lyrics to ‘you’ll be alright’ in order to transcend the gender restrictions of the original and perhaps add a deeper simpler truth.
But the original (by Rudyard Kipling) serves us better here: “You’ll be a man, my son.”
You’ll amaze yourself, and if you remain honest to yourself and those who deserve truth, you’ll even do well enough to get the job done.
You’ll be alright.
Know that I’m proud of you and believe in you.
The yogurt meme exceeded my ability to extract meaning from absurd yet dire info. Weirdly and worst of all, the silly girl post may be someone trolling for the lolz, sarcasm being the only way we seem able to introduce these topics online lest we be perceived as being one of Them and not one of Us.
I will be mostly quiet again for some time as my noggin recovers.
I’ve posted this one numerously before, but it says so much. (The Hillary joke to follow.) It is about 12 years old, btw, from a liberal-oriented political humor sire called the Keyboard Kommandos. The heads of Sifu Tweety FIsh and The Editors (co-writers of The KK) must have exploded by now.
‘We were only JOKING, people! Don’t take us seriously!’Hillary Speaks
‘After all, denying abortion to gay men is a violation of their non-reproductive rights, right?
A surefire Karaoke Hit for this weekend’s Thangsgiving revels.
I will be back when the heavenly messengers tell me to.
