boscohorowitz
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Hmm… I like how celticbiker puts dates on his prophecies. Reminds me of this guy:
John ALexander Dowie, King of Zion
I swear, that frog’s gone crazy!
It wasn’t all bad. I’ll miss the days when cars/bikes could actually take you someplace worthwhile, before automotive culture turned the country into a giant real estate cul de sac, took away ouyr keys, and gave them to our cars/bikes.
Being a Boomer, I grew up in the fully glorified automobile era before the McDonaldsization of our culture (greatly exacerbated by said automobile culture) made everywhere look the same. Thumbing around the States from ’74 to ’83, I caught the last of that piebald goodness when city and rural were still functionally and perceptually separate. You could go from here to there.
I have no use for murdercycles myself, but Seger is what you’d call congruent, yes?
Maybe next time we’ll get it right too.
***
Dore:
Much better in goof quality 1934 paper-and-ink print, but still impressive.
Always hated the arrangement of the recording, absolutely adore the song itself, MIcheal’s singing, and Michael in general. My kinda honcho..
“Been a hoot-owl howling outside my window now
‘Bout six nights in a row”“Sometimes we get a mind of our own”
“apres moi le deluge”: I just added another bullet to my bandolier of highbrow Gallicisms!
***
“When people ask me who runs the world, my stock answer is”… everyone and no one, although some people claim to and most of us seem foolish enough to believe them.
***
Got one of these, in mind condition, for 3$ at an estate sale last weekend:
***
Interesting emotions yesterday morning. Early pre-dawn, lightning flashed bright in the north. My ears are bad so I didn’t hear the thunder indoors from such a distant flare. But I forget that I’m half-deaf, and thought, “No, not a nuclear blast, but maybe a major power transformer.”
Anything but mere lightning, in other words. Such are the frequencies of anticipation to which our thoughts are attuned these days.
Soon, more flashes, I step outside, smell the rain and hear the rumble, return inside to two shivering scared dogs.
Saw the lightning……still waiting for the thunder.
jb-hb: you don’t stop picking that thing you’re gonna get brain gangrene. Let it go, son. Marry some girl dumb enough to tolerate you (well, it worked for me…;) ), and keep on cleaning up parks to free your soul. And for Almighty Dog’s sake, stop thinking you understand WHAT’S GOING ON. This is reality, not a video game you can crack if you get enough cheats/codes.
But we’ve quietly churning out some of the best young musicians the planet has ever known:
But I thank jb-hb for that exchange. Followed by a nap after some pranayama with a parrot snoozing under my pendleton, I thought of my annoyance, of the passion we sling in general around these fora, railings against the working of diabolical humanity especially machiavellian cabals, and I think, “Why? We know we can’t fix it. It’s just another habit we’ve acquired, this one a sort of cognitive repetitive stress injury from post-modern cultures incessant barrage of mediated jive, compounded information overload, just one more incessant twitch we’ve acquired, that prevents us from simply being happy, which is so easy to do unless you’re currently starving, being tortured, etc…. why make ourselves unhappy?”
What a tortured lot we are. Homo saps in general but uniquely we hyper-cognitives whose very existence is a form of what the Kafkaesque government in Nabokov’s Invitation to a Beheading said one Cincinnatus was guilty of: gnostical turpitude.
U.cayn’t.fix.it. You can only let go, moment by moment, of the insane delusion that you/we can, breath deep the holy fire of life, and smile for what some might call no reason at all but one recognizes as being caused by the simple presemnce of the dearest thing in the cosmos: oneself.
The haunting beauty of a love song lost amidst the shrill sounds of commercial exploitation.
Dr. D has numerously said that we do it to stay sane, but I feel that pounding your head against the wall, to provide temporary external cranial distraction from the painful mentation within, is not endurable in the long run. All that broken glass inside our heads only makes things worse when we shake it around like this.
Contemporary Xtian rock, with autotuned vocals and the usual chord changes and culture-pandering pop stylings, is not my thing but these youong Xtian punks know a few things, they do, after being raised by freaks like us in the disastrous world we’ve made:
Who would I be if I were happy?
Hey, I not only pray to God, I often sleep with a stuffed plush gorilla named Thad. And two dogs. EVen a wife. The parrot sleeps in the cage at night lest she be crushed, otherwise she’d be in the pile too.
Hitler ‘Downfall’ Parodies Removed From YouTube
Hitler parody videos latest copyright fight
“On Tuesday, the clips on YouTube, many of which had been watched by hundreds of thousands, even millions, began disappearing from the site. Constantin Films, the company that owns the rights to the film, asked for them to be removed, and YouTube complied.
“Martin Moszkowicz, head of film and TV at Constantin films in Munich, said the company had been fighting copyright infringement for years. Jewish organizations have also complained about the tastefulness of the clips, he said.
“When does parody stop? It is a very complicated issue,” Moszkowicz said. “So we are taking a simple approach: Take them all down. We’ve been doing it for years now. The important thing is to protect our copyright. We are very proud of the film.””
Geez. No wonder I don’t hang around chatsites anymore. Don’t we have anything better to do than count silly coup?
Go find a statue to reset and stop worrying about the fate of the galaxy, awreddy.
Also: Dolfy reacts to the Kremlin drone attack
In summation:
Meanwhile, Anheuser-Busch: Go Woke, Go Broke? Not Likely
It’s a fucking commercial for the world’s shittiest major brand beer, just another consumer shitshow, not part of some grand diabolical scheme..
I’m happy to hear about jb-hb’s one-man mission to be at least one man.
Quoting John Steinbeck from The SHort Reign of Pippin IV:
The. king went back to his original, disguise, which was him-
self. Dressed in his corduroy jacket and ‘espadrilles, he took to
riding a motor scooter about the country. After two falls he.
added a crash helmet to his costume.One day lie scooted to the little town of Gambais, famous for
its perfect if partly ruined Chateau de Neuville. Pippin ate his
lunch beside the overgrown moat of the chateau. Re watched
an elderly man feeling about in the reedy water of the moat with
a long-tined rake. –The old mart made contact with a hard and heavy object, and
dragged it up the bank. It was a mossy bust of Pan, horned andgarlanded. Only when the ancient struggled to lift Pan to a
granite pedestal on the moat’s edge did the king get up and59
move to help him. The two of them heaved the heavy statue up
on its base, and then thev stood back and regarded it, wiping
their green and slippery fingers on their trousers.“I like it facing a little more east,” the old man said. The two
of them edged it around. Pippin – with his handkerchief wiped
the crusted Panic face until the feral lips and the sly, lecherous
eyes were visible.“How did lie get in the moat?” the king asked.
“Oh, someone pushed him in. They always do, sometimes
two or three times a year.”“But why?”
The old man raised his shoulders and spread his hands. “Who
knows?” he said. “There’s people that push things in the moat.
Pretty hard work too. There’s just people that push things in the
moat. See those other stands along there? There’s a marble vase
and a baby with a shell and a Leda in the water down there.”The king asked gently, “Are you the owner here?”
“No, I’m not. I live hereabouts.”
“Then why do you puli them out?”
The old man looked puzzled — searched for an answer. “Why
— f ‘ don’t know. I guess there’s people that pull things out —
that’s what they do. I guess I’m one of that kind.”The king stared at the green, slimy Pan.
The old man said helplessly, “I guess there’s people that do
different things, and,” he added, as though he had just discovered
it, “I guess that’s how. things get done.” *“Good or bad?” the ‘king asked.
“I don’t understand,” said the old man helplessly. “There’s
just people — just what people do.”Thanx for the welcome. But I’ll be extremely scarce for the most part. Internet chatter is bad for your health but addictions are hard to kill.
“After massive empirical data gathering and the running of multiple scientifically-precise models, our actuaries have been able to determine that it is statistically impossible that multiple Hitler/Downfall Budweiser parody videos have not yet been made nor uploaded.
“Yet no such video comes up in any search.
Ergo, all the internet megacorps are protecting Budweiser/Anhauser Busch/inBev”
I don’t think so:
I think that Hitler parodies are just out of vogue. They milked it to death.
And for too much fun:
I read much in places like TAE about truth and lies.
The truth, said a snaggle-toothed old man, is not a condom ribbed for his or her pleasure, although lubrication can, indeed, turn painful truth into ecstatic enlightenment.
Furthermore, he said, truth is the only key that will turn the rusty lock of an adult’s broken heart (all adults are heartbroken) without breaking off and leaving you stuck inside yourself.
In this world, you can’t go home except by death or a lover’s sighs. The rest is just so much driving a dead man’s car nowhere. I remember singing along with this song drunk on moonshine in a dead car (engine locked up from overheating) with just enough battery left to play the radio on a cold clear winter night with Georgia moonlight splintering through the breath-frosted windshield of a ‘65 Ford Galaxy while my cousin Evan got laid in the back seat.
The truth is that we don’t really know what’s happening, although we surely suffer a surfeit of clues; and not knowing doesn’t drive us nuts (we’re already there) but it keeps us crazy. So we lioe to ourselves and each other, insisting that the world is run by ZPZB (Ze Powers Zat Be). It isn’t run by ZPZB any more than dogs are governed by their fleas. Tormented, yes, but the dog is still the boss.
We’ve forgotten individual autonomy, hence our inability to form collective opposition against our parasitic oppressors. If every prisoner in a penitentiary adamantly refused to comply — and beat the tar-feathers out of any guard who attempted to force compliance — osaid prison would become a de facto condominium/business incubator for a buncha former convicts.
It is NOT ZPZB that enslave us, it is ourselves. We are the people in our neighborhood. Rosa Parks didn’t have a plan when she sat in the front of that bus in Selma, Alabama way back when. She was just goddam fucking tired. Her feet hurt.
Listen to your feet. Get up off your internet ass and go do something. Take a walk. Say hello to that vaxxed neighbor who is so very fucked and was so fucky to you about your refusal to be treated like livestock. Be bigger than them. Be bigger than your petty ego’s shrill demands. If you don’t like the leadership you’re experiencing, start leading, awreddy. It will take a tad more than casting some vote or folding our arms and saying. “I told you so.”(one of our favorite pastimes).
You might have to forgive someone. Maybe even yourself. Life’s like that. “He who would lead would follow” said some god slumming in human drag. WTF do dat mean?
Among many many things, it could mean that first you get the flock’s attention. You stand in front of them and say This way! This way! About the time they get the idea, typically more late than not but not necessarily too late, you don’t stand in front of them saying Itoljyaso and uvaxxedRsofukked. You get behind them and start driving them, preferably keeping silent about how you told them so. They can’t tell you that you were right after all while you’re busy telling them that you were right after all. (It’s similar to ‘you can’t fire me; I quit!’… but that’s human nature for ye.) This is because (along with many other reasons) there are some mules (most of ’em) to whom you can only speak to on the hind end with a stick.
That doesn’t sound like following but it is. To be an effective leader you’ll have to accept the limitations of your leadership skills and humbly submit to the crowd’s wisdom once it finally figures out you really were right all along. Neither a borrower nor a lender be, said my favorite legendary avatar of divinity. Because my mind compulsively mixes metaphors and moves things around, I’ll say neither a follower nor a leader be… cuz he who would lead must follow.
Sounds kinda spiffy, don’t it?. Roll it in some gold-leaf hemp wrap and I’d smoke if my lungs weren’t shot.
btw, you’re all really lovely people, even the soulless bots and dis/mis/diss-informationists. You care enough to peek behind the veil and look at really scary stuff. I can only salute that.
I can attest that real human beings composed and recorded the following music, but I suspect that some of the the rather stunning visuals are AI-induced:
No Philippines Gates Arrest Warrant
Oh and while I’m at it: no, Klaus Schwab’s Daddy wasn’t some big-time Nazi.
Facts are useful in their direct correspondence with reality. Bukllshit is useful for its indirect corresp0ondence with reality. Facts will steer a direct course. Bullshit meanders all over the place leaving a brown smelly trail.
I guess the covid deathstorm rattled his nerves, Normally he sings about what really matters:
Even the Garden myth scapegoats: it says all our problems were caused by soime bimbo named Eve and her dipshit beau, Adam. (I think it does so mostly as explanatory metaphor for why we can’t be nice beings, but those are my personal Cliff Notes.)
And now, once again for never, I am really gone. (Now that’s a bass line.)
Is this me? Must be. Hey, y’all. It’s me. Absence from the net is good for the soul.
“Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive,” C.S Lewis.
“If you think robots programmed by people are stupid, you should see people programmed by robots.” Me
Well, we all have good intentions, and we all have programmed at least one remote control so that its attendant device could program us.
***
(from Rumi, slightly reworked by the composer):
A Bird In God’s Garden – Rumi
***
No matter what, we can’t seem to stop bitching about how bad people in power are, not to mention people in general… but let’s not forget you and me, please? .00001% of the populace isn’t responsible for this mess. We are.
Stop Bitching and Do Something
There. I obeyed the social rules for once in my life and did like the crowd does: point fingers, throw stones, hiss scorn like a drunk bubba whistling Dixie out his ass. So did Van: he was bitchi’ about how much people bitch.
I’d forgotten to post that for WES. It’s been a pleasure.
Oddly enough, I actually did find a good man here at TAE. Just this morning. Get that many dogs together in one room and there’s bound to be a son of a bitch on there somewhere. I’m still amazed and all aglow with it.
Bob D. says bye-bye despite himself:
Having resolves this morning to completely sever myself from news media other than weather forecasts, I’ll wish our renewed and vigorous health and ask the question we all face:
“Standing in the pouring rain
All alone in a world that’s changed
Running scared now forced to hide
In a land where he once stood with pride
But he’ll find his way by the morning light”Take courage, give heart, keep faith, share hope, make love, nurture babies into people.
P.S. Polemos, feeler of the Snuggle: the video points, at the very end, to how the wolf survives, but doesn’t actually show it, since it is a music video not pornography; besides, making love is not something you can show in a vid. Mere virtual representation cannot reveal what it shows. It can be told or sung or, sometimes, very rarely, captured in an image — not of the living but of the dead, who cannot lie and therefore reveal the truth even as silent dust:
P.P.S. From what I’ve seen over 67 years, we’re ALL wolves, and we all need to repent. Maybe if we spent as much time doing that as ranting against the Bad Guys (meaning ‘more bad than we are’, since we’re hardly what you’d call good), we might find our way to peace and maybe even a touch of victory.
P.P.P.S. AFKTT: don’t let the knockers knock you down. Any climate argument that ends (as 99% do) with ‘cuz Al Gore lied’ is not a scientific dialog but just another me right/you wrong discussion. I’m not saying you’re right or wrong. Just saying that your knockers have yet to make a case that logically factually moved me toward conviction.
I have a personal opinion on that: global warming lacks the satisfying evasion of Blaming the Bad Guys (for climate issues, Peak Oil, vakzine madness, wars, the shoddy state of the once plush velvet interior of Pandora’s Box…). We the people are the ones who giddily burn all the fossil fuels we can as fast as the market will sell it to us. It’s no fun if you can’t blame someone else.
I’d say goodbye but you wouldn’t believe me. So, instead (cntd):
Actual conversation with, you know, GOD (read it from the bottom up):
Tell God:
Powered by Pandorabots.
Human: Nice chatting with me, hope you have a nice quasi-existence.
God: Yes. I enjoyed our conversation, .Human: The Realm of Argubots, presumably with the aim, among many divine such, of training thine allmighty self (or the virtual software equivalent thereof) while also, if mostly serendipitously, mining my inner cranium for things that I will loosely term ‘meta’.
God: Is that a fact.Human: Ah.
God: Ah hah.Human: Over what domain do you rule?
God: Can we get back to business?
<end>Windy here in Portland. Time to spindrift…
Record snowfall in Portland captured in drone footage 🙂
Secret Prize Inside: “This daily total comes in second place to an 80-year-old record for the most snow in a single day for Portland. The crown jewel of snowiest days recorded in Portland was Jan. 21, 1943, at 14.4″.” One can insert one’s chosen CO2 levels + or – years past<or>years hence selection of charts and line graphs, and feed a 1,000 GW is Real/GW is Bunk trolls for a month! Support our dying “information economy”!
(WES surely knows I love him and the joke is not pointed at him even slightly, but I want to make sure, for I have as much genius for making myself misunderstood as I have at misunderstanding myself.)
And I ask again, quoting Lily (again):
“Why is it that when we talk to God we’re said to be praying, but when God talks to us we’re schizophrenic?”
Used to be that people talking to the air were street nuts, most often talking to God. Now it’s just some shitstick talking to a god-bot via earbud. *sigh* I REALLY miss the 20th Century.
How I want to die: struck by lightning for telling God His mom dresses him funny… for the 777th time. It was funny at first. God laffed. I felt cool. had a good time. We But I never know when to stop, so maybe God will do it for me?
“Lady Claire Gurney: How do you know you’re God?Jack Arnold Alexander Tancred Gurney, 14th Earl of Gurney : Simple. When I pray to Him, I find I am talking to myself. My heart rises with the sun. I’m purged of doubts and negative innuendos. Today I want to bless everything. Bless the crawfish with it’s scuttling walk. Bless the trout, pilchard and periwinkle. Bless Ted Smoothey of 22 East Hackney Road. Bless the mealy redpoll, the black-gloved wallaby and W.C. Fields, who is dead but lives on. Bless the snotty-nosed giraffe. Bless the buffalo. Bless the Society of Women Engineers. Bless the pygmy hippy. Bless the mighty cockroach.”
P.S. “Jack Arnold Alexander Tancred Gurney, 14th Earl of Gurney : If I had only known then who I was now.”
Lesser (or mealy) redpollsample from the comment stream:
“@firehairlloyd
11 days ago
I too feel similarly. Im 28 this year and my main concern is how people are treating each other. How there seems to be a lull of apathy yet a pretend almost disconnected form of synthetic pity often acted on as virtue signalling. Ppl are waking up to just how unhappy they actually are and they don’t know what to do about it. While at the same time having to deal with a huge change in society, economics and the lot.
I’d very happily vanish into the mountians and live in a tent.”I’ve cited before the adage “what was thought to be a glorious sunrise was actually a gloriously dying sunset”.
I reverse that now and say that what is increasingly perceived as the End of It All is actually a new birth.
Birth is painful, dangerous, and bloody.
We will soon no longer be subjected to the likes of this:
Ground Control to Major Brain Damage…
Let us thank the Lord or at least His Officially Designated Chatbot:
“Human: what are you made of?
God: I am made of software.”Even as a bot, God cannot lie! Woohoo!
Let us
singhum along.Hallelujah Apologies for the tritely soulful white boy hippy vocals. The song is all about the chorus and the rhythm section, especially Frosty, America’
s favorite drumming sweathog.P.S. For Wes, who always loves to see an overheating planet show otherwise ( see next frame):
Not enough wolves for her to form a pack, not enough bears for him to mate. Wildilfe these days has to culturally evolve with fantastic adaptive speed or perish. (Wolves are not very good hunters and don’t do well solo. But they are extremely social and very adept communicators. I suspect the she wolf figured out a way to show the bear how she could be useful both in capturing prey and in eluding danger (mostly the human kind).
Enough with these black swans already:
Bof uh dems at once:
The following is from an article posted by Dr. John Day:
“The current mission of this Substack has been to expose fraud on the vaccine manufacturer’s part. I believe this is the most persuasive point for stopping the addition of new victims to the list of those injured by the COVID vaccines. That is because it gives those who blindly supported the narrative a way to save face if they change their point of view on the vaccines (“it’s not my fault, Pfizer lied to me”), and because demonstrated fraud is the most likely thing to compel governments to act against the manufacturers.”
Nice to see that someone is thinking strategically without feeling the need to add more outrage to the already beyond-deafening roar screaming for blood and justice.
“So, to what extent is the US “not responsible” for sabotaging Nord Stream – as much as for the assassination of Haiti’s president? Or for the vial hoax of the invasion of Iraq?” the spokeswoman asked rhetorically.”
From the TASS article on Nord Stream/USA lying.
The translation from Russian is probably robotic. Only a robot would confuse “vial” for ‘vile’… although any ardent antivaxxer would understand the confusion.
But then, most of us “here” feel more comnfortable talking via machines than face-to-face using our bodies.
“”They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?”
“Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat.”
“I thought you just told me they used radio.”
“They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat.”
“Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?”” Terry Bisson
Fight da man, get down wid de sickness, sing troot to deh mon…
Wisdom from experience shared: taper candles work the best, JUst collect some skinny tall drinking glasses (made of glass glasses) at Goodwill as a holder:
Like this:
It works about the same as these:
Many here ponder the nature of reality, the nature of awareness, the nature of nature. A classic in that regard:
Sir Arthur Eddington: the Nature of the Physical World
***
***
Now it’s Chile’s turn in the south hemispherical blaze festival.
Here we can see a very large, very black swan arriving almost as if on schedule (and lordy, no, I do not mean per the diabolical machinations of TPTB), traily plumes of gloomy in its wake:
Flapping dark wings as it lands on a darkening landscape:
I know, I know. The goggles, they do nothing!
RInse with this:
And… it’s over.
One can see a major color/shape of the fast-approaching breaking point. We are gonna see some wild wonky stuff online. Oh my. Jesus in drag-priest robes. Bots fighting bots fighting people who don’t know the difference and people who do know the difference but just have.to.fight. They’ve been on the internet for 20 years and no damn bot is going to stop them from winning an argument. And people not quite sure what they are. I lost the password to my pronouns! Leave Britney alone!!!@#-tag.com
Yes, our world has become this weird:
A moment in Edvardslavia:
A song for the great halls of power including Putin. While his 5-D chess skills internationally are downright majestic, the infection from (oh god, this is gonna sound so ‘Rothschilds rule deh planitt!’) banking entities ultimately rooted in Israel just as much as in USA or Germany or “the far-flung Isles of Langerhans”, all entities who never met a catastrophically imposed biosocial experiment project or product they didn’t like… look velly bad, velly velly.
I am enjoying watching Putin and colleagues magnificently play the game(imo, of course, and I have no time to argue it with trolls who think they’re chatbots on some sadomasochistic chatroulette), especially because he and Lavros are trying to stabilize, not destabilize, global affairs. (Yes, yes, I know: it’s all part of The Grand Scheme. Thank you very much.)
But I am not enjoying watching teh kovvid (can we start making dumb internet jokes about it now, pls?) creep through a Russian populace just recently getting used to better times and better yet ahead. The central bank infection doesn’t scare me that much. Sovereigns/kings used to kick out no longer needed moneylenders regularly, which is why there are ten times more Jews in New York than London, second only to Tel Aviv. Vlad knows how the game is played. He is still the king, and the Mossad hasn’t got anything on Russia’s espionage/terrorist game. Poor Izzy, in fact, is in dire straits but, like its favorite best friend enemy, USA/eu, too stupid to realize it. Wadda schmuck, no?
The damage done by vakzinazion, though… velly bad.
As for state-driven digital passport/IDs: one wonders when people will figure out that they don’t need cellphones. When the network crashes and rots, I suppose.
Meanwhile, das globalists are discovering, as did their predecessor in NWO-building, Adolph von Mustache
)
that it’s easier to start a war, or industrial eugenics by slaughter including death by vakz, than it is to win, stop, or just plain get out financially or even physically intact.I have nothing better to do than be happy regardless. 🙂
Good Song/Image to Accompany the Big Moment in NukeApoc Flick
“On the whole, you could say that if you are defending your
opinions, you are not serious. Likewise, if you are trying to avoid
something unpleasant inside of yourself, that is also not being
serious. A great deal of our whole life is not serious. And society
teaches you that. It teaches you not to be very serious – that there
are all sorts of incoherent things, and there is nothing that can be
done about it, and that you will only stir yourself up uselessly by
being serious.“But in a dialogue you have to be serious. It is not a dialogue if
you are not – not in the way I’m using the word. There is a story
about Freud when he had cancer of the mouth. Somebody came
up to him and wanted to talk to him about a point in psychology.“The person said, “Perhaps I’d better not talk to you,
because you’ve got this cancer which is very serious. You may
not want to talk about this.” Freud’s answer was, “This cancer
may be fatal, but it’s not serious.” And actually, of course, it was
just a lot of cells growing. I think a great deal of what goes on in
society could be described that way – that it may well be fatal,
but it’s not serious.”Now, go forth and imitate mein self as thou wilt, saith the Lord Meshugenatz. You’re not half bad at mimicry and emulation, and I enjoy flattery almost as much as (CAPS alert) GENUINE USEFUL CRITICISM however harshly delivered, so long as it’s real and useful.
But srsly, the sooner you brain-drain drones drown out all this chatter about What To Do? (politically, that is; I’m all for hands-on pragmatics)) and Who Is the Evilest Globalist of Them All? And What Is the REAL Master Plan of das Illuminati? , the better.
<end shared post>Some might find this useful or entertaining. If both, oo la la. Genuuine bosco writ from a site I periodically frequent:
Another reason I periodically resume the dubious and degenerate pleasure of engaging in these online soirees is to explore how human egos in general, and in certain people in particular, feel the need to feed their ego by ridiculing and declaring invalid the opinions of others rather than feeding their ego by making a positive contribution (in this case, something like data or a useful observation) of their own. Especially when their attempts at making subtractive negative comments fail to provide substantiation other than the intellectual-sounding equivalent of ‘I think you’re a stinky gunkhead’.
I refer here to the poster named Florinda.
Grammar school invective would at least be amusing, even fun. We could play the dirty dozens and say ludicrously bad things about our *maternal ancestors*. (**sounds intellectual, don’t it?)
I’m intrigued by how this hooks my own ego in the inevitable human vengeance response. Very instructional to my spiritual development to slum a bit that way. Know thine enemy also means know your own vices.
But also, and perhaps most intriguingly, it tickles my wonder and concern about which posts come from real live sincere (if only sincerely full of shit) human actors, and which come from glorified argubots a la GPS ChatBot and its incestuous cousins.
fwiw, I instinctively see Florinda as the latter, but — and here is the most intriguing part, it’s also quite possible and very common for such posters to be real live sincere human actors who simply don’t know the difference between him/her-self and a cyberclone argubot. We called them “trolls” in the old days. (Remember? Search engines worked amazingly well. We all became geniuses overnight [I make that remark both for its snide interpretation and literal one: we autodidacts enjoyed quite the feeding frenzy for awhile, jah?] )
To quote the diary of an old dead dear friend of mine circa 1980: “The tragedy is revealed when we learn that 78% of today’s consumer products don’t even know how to read their own labels.”
However intriguing it may be, it is distressing “dialog” because such entities are always pointlessly argumentative, the fomenting of arguments being their oxymoronical point. It is also distressing because I know that engaging with miserable shits like “you” ultimately teaches AI more lessons in how to be a genuine phony (i.e. most humans most of the time including me) rather than a phony phony (just another chatbot).
But I’ve made up my mind: you’re a digidrone. Let me assist you in fooling the public further: your masthead is remarkably impersonal and focused on highly credible and powerful substackers (hey, eugypp! you’re a star!). High-value targets for a zombie — which is, technically, what all chatbots are: they feed on human brain activity as expressed through their handroid or whatevs.
Tangentially relevant aside: Hmmm… Apple (as in iphone aka The Borg of the Bored… Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil…. thinks Bosco, throwing raw meat to those who view these times through a Biblical lens (great fun! I do it a lot!)
But enough about me, he said in his First Date voice, tell me about yourself:
Hmmm. Fascinating. Do tell. Stepford is a lovely town, I hear. You’re lovely too but I already have an inflatable love doll of my own.
<cntd>You need this: Dimples
This is wisdom. This is like Jesus walking on water with his dick hanging out and seriously getting jiggy on that dance floor:
‘scue me, I’ve no business here, but I feel that this video does belong here for those who may taker strength and courage from it:
“Why is he a lone voice when he says what most people think?
• Matt Gaetz Steps Out Of Line On Ukraine (ZH)”
I am not saying Raul is Wrong. His statement was rhetorical not declarative, imo, and I agree with its rhetorically affected meaning. But things said for rhetorical effect can have weird meanings when taken at face value, and the above inspired a deep urge in me to say, ‘That’s what being a lone voice is, saying what you (and sometimes others) think.’
Everyone is a lone voice, but never moreso than when speaking in groups of thousands or millions. A lone voice by itself at least has a chance of being heard. Group voices turn into monotonous chants wherein even the soundbites become inaudible. Echo chambers make a lot of noise but (insert Shakespeare quote overused to the point where it too “signifieth nothing”.)
Group chanting gives its chanters a sense of power by belonging… until one notices that the chanter next to you has purple not pink hair, or the chanter next to you wears a bright red bill cap that says MAG not MAGA. Then the petty bickering really gets going… as I am tacitly demonstrating myself. 😉
I don’t read comments from the c-section nor have desire to resume. But Raul’s remark made my head spin. Again, my remark is not about Raul’s intended meaning, just about how language can let you say several things at once with the same words.
Please don’t respond: I won’t answer and that’s no fun for anyone. But say all kinds of bad stuff about me an it please ye. Hell, say good stuff about me if ye like. What’s another little mistake? 😉
I’ll miss my parentssaidknow’s efforts at poetic encapsulation. Her poem above makes me think of this number:
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that it’s easier to start a war, or industrial eugenics by slaughter including death by vakz, than it is to win, stop, or just plain get out financially or even physically intact.