Thursday, June 29, 2017

The Tardation Matrix: Human(x,y,n)

Lot's Despair.
Is it worth trying to find
ten righteous men in this
degenerate day and age?
Author’s Note:
This post is a continuation of an ongoing series, it will make a lot more sense once you’ve read the ones which precede it in the series…
Concerning Tardation; The Tardation Matrix; The Tardation Matrix: Dimensions

Tardation: a manufactured and artificially installed psychological malady emulating an addicted state of life where irrational political beliefs are deliberately sublimated into a life as the working counterbalance for the equally deliberate creation of a dysfunctional individual psychology within the victim.

===   ===   ===   ===   ===   ===

This post is a bit of a shakedown, a trial run. The structure of this study is far from finalized, but to improve from this point requires a bit of experience with the tool being built. So in my head I’m going to drop a thought into the machine and see what’s left of it when it comes out the other end. I’m really not expecting much, not yet.

Just for a working example consider Human(2,2,n)… in other words, or rather in English words, the test subject is a thought that resolves as involving Sustenance which also cross the concepts involved with an individual’s Self Acceptance.   Certainly a broad enough range for today’s purposes.

Sustenance is, of course, a much wider subject than simply food, of course it is. The subject includes all things that sustain  us across the mortal run. The physical is important, but of even greater importance to this study are the things that sustain heart and soul, the matters of the spirit and the will to put forth the effort to live free. When considering tardation it is easily seen matters of motive carry at the least equal if not greater weight than the relatively simple issues involved in the physical.

The importance of self acceptance to the functionality of an individual simply cannot be overstated. In any mechanism of manipulation, regardless if it is an effort of considered malice or some confluence of a defective social psychology’s subconscious,  in either case self acceptance will be a standing target, continuously under attack.

To accept to yourself the self you are is truly the deepest foundation of mental health, genuine mental health the antithesis of tardation. With that said it of course must follow the preceding statement has for an underlying assumption an individual actually knows what is self, and what is not… but more on that a bit later.

The deepest difficulty of this study is that the human being is in the deepest essence a social creature. This shouldn’t really be much of a surprise because in the wild the human is also a prey animal. Only a very few humans are able to mount a viable defense against any of the natural predators using only what nature gave them. Only an intelligent and proactive imagination expressed in what social arrangements enable allows the human race to survive, much less thrive.

Observation gives this fact is integrated into the cumulative human psyche to the point it is often enough assigned a form of mental illness when is not  a key and dominant factor in someone’s thought processes. This fact, which is in fact a critical spin point between all three of the first dimension parameters  is obviously, and heavily, exploited by the mechanisms of tardation.

It might be argued the need for social inclusion should be considered a primal. The problem with setting it a primal is that it bridges between the species, the society, and the individual. It is no more a primal need of one than it is the other. From the faith of a heretic I will assert to you it is always an error to treat with any single concept as if it were the same concept when viewed from the differing perspectives of the society and the individual. I have found the confusions generated from this error are often the headwaters of a great many miseries and evils ranging far beyond tardation!

Therefore I propose to let it play as a named free agent index in these deliberations. Social inclusion, an all but ubiquitous factor in the thoughts of the human. Let it become a unit to measure the motivation of a thing. If the SI index is integer one the total motivation for the act in focus was to maintain or enhance an individual’s acceptability or importance, their stature, face as the orientals would call it, within their society. On the other hand if the SI index is negative the conventions and opinions of the social structure associated were of some degree less than unimportant, a negative one indicates a motive, an emotion, that would translate as “may the thermonuclear camel they rode up on take obscene liberties with their colon.” Anyway, diseased and debauched camels set aside, moving onwards.

Reality presents some thought, the thought becomes a question: is this part of what is tearing up my world? Am I seeing what I’m looking at?  The essence of the question is  “In some manner might this be a driving force of tardation? If so how? From which primal need is it leveraged? Which of the three facets of personality is it’s prime point of access?” 

The first question resolves to a yes or a no, but the means of resolving the remaining questions are anything but binary. It is becoming ever more obvious the first real challenge to the effectiveness of this study is deciding what questions should be put into the machine, and by which of the nine possible paths?

The modern world is a complex and convoluted place, many things are evolving and not all of those things, for as strange as they might appear, are harmful or bad. Sorting out the good from the bad from the simply ugly is going to be a challenge.  I’m going to think about the problem for a bit and leave that for a closing thought before this post gets totally out of hand.

Catch you later.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Fashion Explained

When we are young our parents take us to church.

To go to church our parents dress us up in special clothes.

Wearing special clothes at church is when God loves us.

We grow up and decide God must hate us because church is crap.

But we still wear our special clothes when looking for love.

*  *  *  *  *
*  * *  *
* * *
* *
Eye candy just for fun...tripping in the badlands.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The Tardation Matrix: Dimensions

Ok, bringing it back up to speed. We left off asking what kind of things play deep enough in a human life to leverage the diminished state of Tardation?  

Tardation: a manufactured and artificially installed psychological malady emulating an addicted state of life where irrational political beliefs are deliberately sublimated into a life as the working counterbalance for the equally deliberate creation of a dysfunctional individual psychology within the victim.

The first categories established were those things common to all things both alive, and mortal: (1)sustenance; (2)security; and (3)procreation. To provide a place for these, and a couple of more should something truly primal present itself in the investigation, in the matrix mentioned in the title?
ReDim Human = Array(5)

Today’s effort is to set the remaining dimensions on that matrix, attempt to discern which elements of the individual  become the targets of the mechanisms of tardation.

To do what’s being done these things will have to be deep things, first order things of the inner self. What parameters of personality might play at such a level? What sets the key and critical difference between people that leave some but not others vulnerable to the condition of tardation?

For a first thought I’m going to start with another three concepts I’ve found to be as critical to the individual as the first trio are to the species: the traits of self confidence, self discipline, and self acceptance (thank you Ms. Alex… you showed me the true power of these).  From long and personal experience I know if any of these three are compromised the life is compromised in equal measure. A life compromised is a life vulnerable to being manipulated, and tardation is most definitely a manipulation. Of course these are categories, container thoughts, working  dynamics of a personality rather than some talisman or totem that once possessed goes on a shelf for display.  

Since these are dynamic qualities it then follows there must be some range of functionality, some range of values one relative to the other ranging from perfect to acceptable to quite counterproductive for the life to function smoothly.  To install Tardation as a functioning component of a life will almost certainly involve tampering with one or more of these.

In light of this I’m going to set the second dimension of the array to reflect these three, and as before I’m going to tag on a couple of more slots to hold what might be found that should play at the same level within any individual life. In the computerese this becomes ReDim Human  = Array(5,5).  Set the elements as (2) self acceptance, (3) self confidence, and (4) self discipline, with (1) and (5) as before left open/null until and unless later defined.  The nature of the language in play sets this as the top plane of the Tardation matrix, the one that is fixed and cannot be modified later: a five by five grid where the center three by three are  defined.

I say tampering, and swallow hard. To deliberately tamper with such low level concepts Is dicey enough if you’re only talking about one individual, but to attempt to tamper with them in any significant percentage of your population as a whole runs from audacious right on over to total idiocy.  The scope of tardation is so large it’s a viable question to ask if it is even possible  for it to be the result of a  deliberate effort on someone’s part. 

The answer is, of course, it really doesn’t matter. Regardless if the degree of tardation afflicting the modern world is the result of some dastardly plot by mercenary necromancers operating out of the deepest bowels of academia’s psychosocial poli-sci studies or totally a consequence of social evolution being overdriven by technology the net results are the same.  Regardless of the source the situation remains unchanged, and there equally remains the need for mitigating action in the cause of allowing the survival of modern society.

For the purposes of this study I’m going to proceed from the assumption the current situation is the result of a socio-evolutionary potential opened by the exponential advances in technology quickly recognized and exploited by the existing necromancers of their respective vintages.  There is a history here to be discerned and recorded at some point, but such history is not the focus of now, it will be included in the ongoing “History ala Mode” series of essays under the title “What the Dishwasher Saw.”

At this point what is defined for the matrix is two dimensional, flat, a chessboard reduced by three rows and three ranks.  It is taking shape, but hardly big enough to handle what is coming at it.  Fortunately there is a third dimension available, and yes indeed, it is going to be used. The third dimension is where the questions live, each as relates to the square above it. What happens when there is to much of a given thing? What happens when there isn’t enough? How does it effect a persons’ perspective on things under those circumstances? What changes when those imbalances are compensated by the politically motivated mechanisms of tardation? Earlier I compared such questions as the engine of this study. I’m a bit of a country boy gearhead in my essence, such analogies are comfortable for me so I’m going to hold with that analogy.

From that perspective the nature and exact wording (as exact as possible, to compare to the precision of the wording used in juris prudence) of these questions, each of which must be applied to every facet of any thought put into the engine, become the cam and carb, the exhaust system and ignition advance curves in service when the beast is put in the field to go to work for real. The wording becomes the tune parameters that make all the difference in how the beast is going to run under load.

The nature of the array defined is such that only the final dimension can be changed on the fly. The last defined dimension is open to being expanded, or contracted. So from where we are now the three dimensional Array Human is five by five by some number N deep where N represents all the possible combinations and permutations of questions that have, or might seem to have, some bearing on the subject of Tardation. 

Just for a grab and go example before I sign off this chapter? Consider the matrix element Human(3,3,n). In other words, where security crosses with self confidence. The number N becomes how many possible ways  might some convergence of forces generated from the primal need of all living things for an acceptable degree of security, as it is seen manifested in some manner related to self confidence, how many different points that meet those two criterion  might be playing in these considerations? If tardation is a accidental thing how did the accident happen? If tardation is a deliberate act of malicious manipulation how was the manipulation implemented? Give this half a moments thought and it is readily apparent there may well be fifteen, fifty, maybe a hundred possibilities within the parameters established.

In point of fact the number of possibilities grows so quickly that each of the nine defined possibilities deserves an exploratory essay in its’ own right just to begin defining, testing and examining, retaining or discarding the possibilities. So that’s where this series will continue: The Tardation Matrix: Human (x,y,n) where the position gives the subject under consideration. A wide open field of  considerations indeed. Methinks a good compass and sextant and clock might be a good thing to have handy, a kid could get lost in the possibilities without them.

Later gang.

Sunday, June 4, 2017

Recovery Time...

A Surrealistic Sun
I hadn't realized just how draining it is to spend time in a place where you know every word uttered (well, posted) is to the intent of corrupting someone's judgment, perverting their vision, compromising their soul. It's been a while since I kept the company of those called right wing conservative. They are still such repulsive creatures, toxic and tainted. Nowhere nowhen nohow have I ever met anything to compare to the Ugly American Conservative for draining away all joy in life, all inspiration and creative energy. Six months playing tag with Agent Smith on Farcebook and then two months dealing with the contard assholes Farcebook's personality profiler's finally concluded was me (faked them right out!) and the reserves are running a bit low. I be a weary boy, soul deep weary.

So... I bought me a brand new Missouri Meerschaum (lol... aka, classic corncob) pipe, the best Cavendish tobacco to be had in a factory sealed bag, some new charcoal pencils and a super cool and groovy new easel box to carry all the drawing stuff down to the park or the coffee shop or the pub... and I be plotting a bit of a vacation. There's picture's to be painted and music to be found and the old VW is still a job underway (good lord there's a LOT of tin to scrub and paint on one of those engines!) and... yea, it's summertime.

My final words for the contards of Intellectual Takeout? Better Dead than Red, and I'm damn sure not talking about communism... I'm talking about being a Republican. No more elephants in the office. End of subject.

Enjoy life while you can, catch you later.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Triumph of Innocent Joy......

Yea, that's one bahuumpa grandiose title, don't ya' think? But dang it, every now and then what's wholesome and happy needs to have the stage. Them who know me, my writings, know I love to look at the ladies, they're pretty. If you're waiting for me to change my mind about that pull yourself up an orbit and get comfortable, you're gonna be here a while. Now I like to pair up the ladies with a music that sets a theme for her, sounds that set a soft harmony to flowing muscle in motion. All things considered? It's just plain hard to beat this one for absolute unabashed joy in motion... this is what I watch when I've had a bellyful of the political bullshit and I'm ready to say "let the dumbfucks burn, they brought it on themselves..."

This is what brings me back to saying "nah, gotta keep trying, this, I mean yes sir this is worth trying to protect." Enjoy.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

An Anecdotal Backfire…

I don’t think it was a Tuesday.  Might have been a Thursday.  In any case it was early in the summer of 1968 and early in the afternoon and I was hanging out at a friends house.  His mom was headed downtown, and knowing we were headed in that general direction later yelled at us going out the door “you boys want a ride?”  Of course we said yes knowing full well we’d bail out and hike back, but hey, anything to cut the miles on the feet.  We put a lot of miles on our feet that summer.

Now Mrs. Baggins (not her real name, of course) was a rather conservative woman, she had to be really, she was married to a most prominent man in the community, prominent in his church as well, and Mrs. Baggins full embraced the conservative culture his position demanded.  Of course back then I really had no idea there was any other culture, being as how my mom was of the same sort, a rabid John Bircher who didn’t allow much by way of any external culture into the home.  It was her way or the highway if you get the drift, to her Democrats were without a doubt servants of Satan.  Yea, one of those.

Anyway, half way to where we were going to bail Mrs. Baggins copped an attitude, and I mean big time.  She turned to us and with a tone of voice I’d later learn means distilled malice said “Let’s go laugh at the hippies.”  

She cut away from the main road to take us down the little lane that runs along the edge of the beach in Oceanside.  It’s a slow little road, pedestrian choked, think the speed limit was all of fifteen miles an hour.  So instead of a quick ride to within a few blocks of our destination my buddy and I were subjected to her ogling, and utterly mocking, the young folk on the beach for a lot longer than we wanted to listen.  Oh dear lord, the expression on her face to see the California girls in their really very modest (by today’s standards) bikini swimsuits.  Didn’t know what to think about what she was radiating about the boys (being all of 12 and innocent having absolutely no idea what a case of the hypocritical hornies look like), but it was distinctly uncomfortable and riding plenty of wattage to jump the Pacific and be heard in Tokyo.  We were within a couple of blocks of where she’d have cut back for the main road when the traffic got snarled, bringing us to a complete and total standstill for almost five minutes. Those five minutes changed my life.

The little lane was, probably still is, lined with cottages facing the beach, and we stopped directly in front of one where two handsome young bucks were sunbathing in front of their quarters.  They were definitely gentlemen of leisure that afternoon, kicked back with a beer and watching the pretty girls put on a show on the sand.  They even had music to go with the show, they’d put rather large speakers in both front windows of the tiny cottage.  Good speakers they were, sitting on the road I could hear the music quite clearly, it was very good fidelity for the day.

Anyhow, that was the first time I ever heard the Moody Blues, the guys  were listening to “The Afternoon, Forever Afternoon” they were, an utterly enchanting music.  Of course Mrs. Baggins all but hit the roof, fuming and sputtering and all but slobbering on herself in utter outrage that, that hippies  could have a music so delightful.  She dialed on her contempt to combat max, my buddy quailed, retreated, withdrew.  But she was his mom, not mine, I had a little more maneuvering room.  I remember looking at her turning red with outrage while looking at them smiling and waving, looking at her puffing up like an adder turning her nose up in the air, looking past her at the pretty people on the beach, and then looking away from her with a very major decision made.  I didn’t put it in these words, I really didn’t know these words back then, but the sentiment was instant, absolute and final, translated into the modern it would read “fuck her with the horse she rode up on, I’d rather be there, with them where there’s some beauty in life than with some frigid hate filled bitch like her.”   

That was the moment I quit being a conservative and started down the path to where I am now.  Odd, but yea.  I never went back, never really looked back.  

The moral of the story?  Beware letting your bigotries go naked in public because you never know when they might become the point of negative comparison that will turn someone in the exact opposite direction.  So yea Mrs. Baggins, thanks for taking me to laugh at the hippies. Sorry (not) that it backfired on you so big.

Monday, May 8, 2017

The Tardation Matrix…

Once upon a time, back in my prior life, I did a bit of safety work for my company. The work wasn’t all that hard, and yet it was horrible. The idea was to be professionally paranoid. You were supposed to try and figure out how, working with what you had, you could blow up the world and kill someone in a totally new and novel manner. You’d make up lists, work from diagrams, and stock from stone to steel and strut look at each thing and ask the same set of “what if…” questions.  You knew you’d done some good when you’d get that sinking sour oh shit feeling having just realized yea, that could happen, and most likely the operator would not survive.  Half the battle won, the threat was identified.

Half of being successful in such a study is setting it up properly in the beginning, defining that list of questions, establishing the risk matrixes to match the questions. As mentioned in the post “Q, Q and A” for the last couple of months I’ve been collecting the final tailings on my recon run across the world of the social media by observing the ebb and flow of a professional right wing propaganda page on farcebook. I’ve been living among the one’s they’d call lib-tarded, I wanted to get a quick look-see on the con-tarded side of things, focus on the right wing side to observe how the mechanisms and malice that has done America so much harm was being deployed there. To even fake a decent matrix I pretty well had to, no matter how distasteful and discouraging it turned out to be.

That’s what this post is about: beginning the process of defining the tools of the job, what questions are to be asked of each thing, what are the cascade potentials between the questions and what is a realistic risk matrix to match the range of possible answers. In short, that oh-so-critical groundwork. So with your permission I’m gonna start by setting up a multi-dimensional array to organize the questions to be asked and the answers derived concerning component bits of the social interaction where tardation happens. I’m gonna mix pseudo code with text, we’re in the declarations section of writing a program. I’m not asking anyone else to keep track of this, it’s for my thoughts, but what the whale, it won’t hurt to share/show how my thoughts are organized.

Option Base 1 //(for them anal enough to ping a technicality later)
Dim Human As Variant // human can be anything
Human = Array() // A dynamic array, wide open at this point.
// no shape yet, no dimensions, just “heads up computer, it’s coming your way.”

I’m not the first to say it, not by a long shot, but I’ve repeated it more than once elsewhere because it makes sense to me that all things that are both mortal and alive will share these three needs in common: the need for sustenance, security, and procreation. Pretty much everything in life will load back to one or the other of these three primal needs. So I’m going to define the first dimension as things serving the cause of one of the Big 3. (I’m gonna tag on a couple of undefined slots, they don’t cost much while they’re empty, just to have some spares in case something else comes into view that really should play at a primal level.)

ReDim Human = Array(5)
//2=sustenance; 3=security; 4=procreation; 1 and 5 open/null.

Ok, that was easy enough, but it’s time to go to work for real now because hanging down from each of the big three is that list of questions I was talking about, the ones that will be applied to each and every thought put into the machine. These are the engine of the beast. You build an engine to match the load you want it to pull for you. So just exactly what is this engine supposed to do? It’s supposed to illuminate the hidden ways Tardation was inflicted on the American people.

So tell me again, what exactly is that definition of Tardation? Tardation is a manufactured and artificially installed psychological malady, essentially an addictive state of life where irrational political beliefs are deliberately sublimated into a life as the working counterbalance for the equally deliberate creation of a dysfunctional individual psychology within the victim. 

In other words, Tardation is how you produce the most disgusting and dangerous of the political spectrums: the snitches and the sneaks, the spies and informants, eventually the Brown shirts and Fingermen who physically enforce tyranny on their countrymen. The mechanisms of Tardation are the line of supply feeding monsters into the service of the political.

So the current objective is to figure out how you deform the psychology of an innocent infant to the point that by the time that infant is thirty years old it will be firmly convinced that it is doing God’s will to betray, torture, and murder his fellow human beings in the name of the political cause that provides the antidote to his addiction. And, of course, having figured out how to do it make damn sure and certain that it doesn’t happen. That’s how these studies work… first you figure out how to make it happen, and from that figure out how to make sure it can’t happen.

What kind of things play deep enough in a human life to facilitate a state of Tardation? Corrupt religion (#2, security, emotional)? Deformed sexuality? Deformed sexuality concealed? (#3, procreation // #3->#2, procreation vs security)? These are the sorts of things that will have to be sorted and ordered into the next dimension of the array. I’ll leave you to make your lists, I’ll make mine, maybe we can compare lists next time.

Later gang.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

(repost) Momma Puritan and the Capitalists

This is a repost of a comment made on "What We Saw Today", the excellent blog of Unbearable Lightness, where she was speaking to the unholy marriage of Capitalism and the modern descendants of Puritanism to be seen in today's culture, particularly in the dangerously misdirected activities of the conservative religious right. What is below is a best guess explanation on my part for the momentum to be observed in our nation and culture. It was originally published in April of 2011, it has been bumped to the top for those facebookers who find this blog wondering who in the hell I am.

***   ***   ***

A point to ponder indeed! The fate of our culture is solidly immersed in those almost-rational beliefs. I say almost because in this, as in so many matters of mental (illness?), the subscribers are perfectly rational if you accept the original delusions that motivate them. This is well known to any psychologist, any dreamweaver or seductress, anyone who earns their livelihood in a trade where the raw material is people. What is not given much voice is the very powerful idea that the sane need not accept those illusions and delusions as the ultimate motive for the reality observed. With nothing but the faith of a heretic for support I'll assert this to you: the irrational motive does not breed true, if what appears irrational has endured for many generations then the irrational is not the motive, the irrational is the socially approved and acceptable icon of an ongoing motive to painful or conflicted to be acknowledged in daily life.

The marriage of Materialism and Puritanism is an old marriage, they've been together for a long time. I say materialism rather than capitalism to a purpose, they are not the same thing. Materialism was Puritanism's first mate, capitalism as such really did not exist when that union was joined. I will equally assert to you that Capitalism as it is known today, the concept of the corporation, public ownership by way of the markets, is in fact the child of that union, conceived in an attempt to further mitigate the original and still active motive for the marriage.

Capitalism was the great hope of its' parents, and in many ways it has lived up to that hope, but the structure of contemporary Capitalism includes a hidden flaw so lethal that I am convinced it even destroyed Ayn Rand when she perceived it, she who is/was Capitalism's greatest advocate. This flaw is the motive for the current (and indeed often just as incestuous as it appears) affair between Puritanism and Capitalism, the threat driving the ill-fated and desperate mobilization of their resources in the alliance of the conservative religious right. To illuminate a reason for these observed facts requires the use of a comparison to set the stage, please, hear me out.

Ultimately a society lives or dies on the degree of ethics in the morality practiced within that society. I give you that from that perspective these two events are identical: the year is 1795 and a man goes to Savannah to buy himself a slave to work his farm; and, the year is 2005 when his direct descendent goes to his stock broker to buy 1/10,000th of a ten thousand man corporation. What both men have purchased is the surplus productivity of another human, the ultimately unethical ownership of another man's accomplishments, and both men have imbibed exactly the same poison. The mechanism of the poison they imbibed is the covert evil of slavery, the evil that has laid low every slave holding society known to history.

Note Well From History: it is not the slave who becomes weaker, degenerate and debauched, it is the masters who suffer those reductions generation after generation until the society collapses.

In essence, Capitalism has run home to Momma Puritan, hoping her discipline and restraints can reverse the effects of that poison, hoping her influence will allow them to endure and survive where no others afflicted by that covert evil of slavery ever have. The overt evil of slavery has been greatly diminished, eliminated from many cultures and yet the covert evil persists and is even today the driving cause for a great deal of what is seen. There is a way to save Capitalism, to keep all of the good things it has done and eliminate the toxicity, but it doesn't involve God or the church, it involves some changes to the laws of inheritance. But that's a different rant entirely, and not one I'd bring up in a conservative caucus unless I was feeling suicidal and didn't want to pull the trigger myself.

Monday, April 24, 2017

Of Mouse and Eagle...

( this little ditty from a few years back, a tasty tidbit overlooked in the archives)

It was a favorite poster of my childhood, the hopelessly overmatched little mouse flipping off the bird of prey about to make a meal of him.  And the title was, of course, defiance. 

A few years later came a second edition, also dear to my heart.  Again the bird of prey with talons outstretched, and again the little mouse with his middle finger extended.  But this time the mouse's other hand is concealed behind his back holding a chrome automag, the pistol of all pistols.  Never mind such a weapon would outweigh the little mouse a hundred to one, or that the recoil would convert the tiny hero to strawberry jam… setting all this aside our mouse among mice has determined to stand his ground and with his final act make sure that damnable bird doesn't make it home either.  Defiance, second generation.

It has been many years since I have seen my mousy heroes.  But I see their philosophical offspring every day in the news, and I wonder what manner of mouse is preparing to take the field next in defense of a few crumbs and seeds for his offspring.  It is a pressing subject as I watch fate thrust so many back into the role of struggling for simple survival in a world dominated by the eagle's arrogant mass consumption.   

Mice do not eat meat, but they become meat to those who do. What hope has the mouse, forever certain of his place in a food chain where he is always the provider?  And those who eat meat consider this proper, and why should they not?  They were raised from hatchlings to know they are the elite, predators, the highest order of existence.  Just ask them.  The eagle knows no fear, no want.  There has never been a shortage of mice and rabbits and doves for it to eat.  But for the mouse there is never a shortage of threats:  the cat, the eagle, the snake, they are all about, silent, deadly, harboring an implacable and unexplained hatred for all creatures who do no belong to their kind.  The mouse suffers and survives only by stealth and procreation, litter after litter enduring poverty and fear hoping two from every litter of ten will live long enough to breed and continue the species. It is a rough world for the mouse.

The callous dismiss this as the balance of nature, and turn away.  They do not, they dare not, they cannot tolerate what emerges when these symbols are applied to the societies of the world… the results are terrifying beyond their courage to face.

It is, of course, the mouse with the pistol of whom I speak.  He was institution raised on dreams of dignity, he has struggled all his life to become smarter and stronger (for a mouse) in the hope of winning that prize of prizes.  For him it is such a shattering revelation to realize what he dreamed served no purpose beyond inducing him to become a tastier meal for the eagles of his world.  It is his despair that has driven the mouse to take arms, causes him to ignore the fact his weapon will be just as lethal to he himself.  C'mon, who ever heard of a mouse who could defend himself, wield any pistol, much less a magnum?  Ridiculous. 

But like all stories there is another side.  With the mouse's first and last shot for the first time death invaded the eagles world as it has always been known to the mouse.  He was just picking up a mouse to feed  to the chicks, and bang, he was killed.  Unforgivable.  No eagle should know fear, give second thought to his own safety when he hunts… it is his birthright to harvest without concern.  The eagles numbers are diminished by one, but far worse the innocence of the eagles consummate arrogance has been destroyed.

Does this little parable sound familiar?  It should.  It is how the United States has been behaving ever since the attack of  9/11, acting like eagles who have suddenly learned the hard way even a mouse can now do the mighty eagle mortal harm.  The eagles, of course, take little solace in the fact our mousy gunner was indeed turned into strawberry jam by the recoil, after all, he was only a mouse, and they don't count.

I must challenge you now: look at the news for a week or two and count how many mice are mentioned.  Some are groups, others individuals, some are nations, but all share in the mouse's world.  They all live in fear, and they all feel preyed on by creatures whose very existence is predicated on inflicting the suffering the mouse and his kindred have endured for time beyond memory.  Events say far to many feel a dignified death in battle a better choice than a life without even the hope of dignity in the eyes of the world.

Our world is full of eagles and mice, divided out not by religion or race or gender, no, the dividing line is the self righteous attitude all things are allowed the predator, the bloody heritage of one of histories great lies, the lie that might makes right, that war can make peace… a lie newly found by the mice.

Ours is a much smaller world than it was, and the very things that caused it to shrink have brought weapons capable of terrible destruction within the reach of even the smallest. The forces of science and technology have shifted the balances.  The eagle would do well to learn respect for this fact,  for victory on the field of battle can only assure him famine, the mouse has no such constraint. The eagle would do well to learn compassion as well, for when the competition is in endurance the mouse has the advantage, his culture has been honed by millennium of evolution to the task of surviving massive loss of life and continuing on.

Eagles, beware, for if you do not heed this lesson it will be the vultures who take your place.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Q, Q and A…

The acronym of the title stands for Quote, Question and Answer. For the last couple of weeks I’ve been trolling the trolls so to speak, haunting the offerings of a professionally run page on Farcebook. The page is called “Intellectual Takeout” and it is a conservative page sponsored by the Rand Group. They were honest about themselves when I asked, the honesty a fair indicator of honorable intentions. That I often disagree with their implied conclusions does not detract from their right to present them, and they present them well. Nor are they devoid of points I agree with, being Pragmatic Idealist I stand with a foot in both camps. Such is the nature of true democracy at work.

None of which is to say they’re not a propaganda page, they are, and a high end good one. They know what they’re doing, but then again, since I also know what they’re doing this isn’t a problem for me. Genuine high end propaganda will present at minimum five to ten obscure truths to put a foundation (of misunderstanding) beneath any false  assertion of strategic importance. I’m quite willing to mount the minor effort of filtering out the assertion of strategic import in exchange for those obscure truths, many of which are really only available from those who engineered them into reality in the first place *Spock-ish eyebrow, sidesaddle smirk*.

One of their staff presented a post based on the writings of the German philosopher Nietzsche, using the fact that Nietzsche’s definition of “Liberal” is the exact opposite of the definition the majority of their audience has been preprogrammed to apply to that word, twisting that old lie to torque and  over-torque the bolts holding the prison bars of their bigotries to floor of the CNF agendas. (and anyone who’s ever bolted down a set of heads knows that when you over torque a bolt it becomes progressively weaker until eventually it snaps… hence, my motive to hand them the cheater bar ;-).

Anyway and anyhow, that’s what I’ve been up to when not working on the antiPorn story The Care and Feeding of Unicorns or the first full Sundown novel All the Colors in the Box, or setting up the job of building a mighty mouse of an engine to go in the old VW van that’s been a closet on wheels for thirty years so he can go back to fetching the groceries home from the store… or being a mobile motel room for some long overdue travels.

What is below is the quote presented, the question asked of course “is this what’s happening to America?” and below that my response. Just for an example of what I’ve been talking about.

“The value of a thing sometimes does not lie in that which one attains by it, but in what one pays for it — what it costs us. I shall give an example. Liberal institutions cease to be liberal as soon as they are attained: later on, there are no worse and no more thorough injurers of freedom than liberal institutions. Their effects are known well enough: they undermine the will to power; they level mountain and valley, and call that morality; they make men small, cowardly, and hedonistic — every time it is the herd animal that triumphs with them. Liberalism: in other words, herd-animalization.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
Twilight of the Idols

Ordinarily Nietzsche and I tend to fence a bit, sometimes with the buttons on, other times not, but in this I would tend to agree with him although I feel the quote presented overlooked the most critical component of such a thought, the one that establishes the context from which it is most easily demonstrated a truth.

I would posit that what he spoke of was the price associated to having a motive of one's own choosing, the noble cause, the grand quest. Such a motive self chosen is the deepest essence of freedom. Of all things that elevate the human above the animal it is the sense of a purpose larger than the self, a reason to justify the effort, a reason for all other reasons. Stripped of such motive? Yes, the human tends to degrade as being purposeless morphs into life made meaningless.

Sadly, human history demonstrates that various forms of conflict external to the self are the most common template of motive, they are the most easily understood from the immature perspectives common to that age and stage of life when people are most likely to be searching for such a motive. To adopt a conflict as the essence of a motive then becomes the most futile and self defeating of things for victory in the conflict destroys the larger portion of the value involved... the motive dies with the victory but the habits of war and strife do not. Doubt this? Look long and hard at the world between WW2 and now.

The habits of war die harder than any enemy, and the habits of war can only breed more war causing equal if not greater harm than the original enemy might have. The United States of America is, in my opinion, teetering over the edge of self destructing to this fact. All the forms of hedonism to ever color the dreams of Bacchus become pale outriders to the debaucheries introduced by the habits of war seeking a reason to remain in power.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

We'll never know for sure...

Goodly mother shares two men...
Father, son, ne'er love rescind.
Mia, if by some chance this image comes before your eyes? Look up the name, it's really the highest of compliments.

Monday, March 27, 2017

The Dream Police and The Case of the 5lb Line...

==originally published Jan 2015==

I stand accused in the court of my conscience.  The crime?  Social profiling dishonorable motive.  The scene of the crime?  My favorite little greasy spoon diner, of course.  The particulars of the accusation?  Two kids, out of the bar early looking for a bite to eat before going on to what ever was to become of their evening, of their obviously evolving relationship, and the assumptions and assignments their conversation (carrying clearly across the quiet of a slow to dead point in the evening’s traffic) inspired in yours truly.

Both kids were college students of course.  The lad, by his words, on the edge of graduating with a technical degree of some sort in aeronautics, he spoke of taking a job as a ferry pilot taking aircraft in for maintenance work.  The lass really didn’t reveal her course of study, of her all I have is observation.

They spoke quite formally, really, very polite exchanges of well crafted sentences dealing with events relating to their lives on campus, nothing out of the ordinary at all.  In point of fact it was the very structure of their conversation attracted my attention to them, otherwise I’d have paid them little mind, left my assessment at a first impression: just a couple who’d found each other early in the evening and agreed to adjourn for more private recreations, the only point of interest a slightly voyeuristic chuckle at the difference in their statures: he rather tall, slender, refined in the manner of Scandinavian nobility with exceptionally long fingers, she an attractive and very petite lass of oriental heritage, my first thought concerning them was actually a quite benign hope they’d find a bit of genuine delight in each other as described in David Bowie’s song “China Girl.”  She seemed the sort of woman to fit the devotion expressed in the song, the kind where you just know if she takes it into her head to take a boy’s mind off his worries for an evening she knows exactly  how to go about such a mission of mercy.

If I’d left it there I’d not be where I am, standing in the dock of my own thoughts, but I didn’t.  As their conversation continued on phrase after phrase popped flags from the typical Republican political spiels, the unmistakable markers of the conservative elite, and it was the lad offering them. The lass would echo each he offered almost verbatim several exchanges deeper into the conversation, but never offered one in her own right.  She said several things quite in keeping with them, but never in the exact wording of the propaganda masters.  It got so dense I was entertaining the idea what I witnessed was a lad determined to rise through the political ranks of the Young Republicans using the lass as an audience to practice for the campaign trail.  If that was his intent I’d give him good marks, he had them well memorized, played them at appropriate points.

And yet, there was no evidence to indicate the lad was anything but sincere in his statements.  Ample evidence to indicate he was more than a bit frightened of his companion’s well refined sexuality (I’m not sure he was even aware that he was humming, in a quite pleasant voice, what I think were church hymns every time the conversation would cross the man-woman interface, any time she’d try and dial on even a bit of feminine allure as a complement), but nothing to indicate he was anything but sincere in his goals and ambitions, his values and his ethics.  

It is an impeachment of my objectivity as a pragmatic idealist that I’ve allowed the dishonorable methods and motives of the hypocritical and essentially traitorous Bain-AIG-Halliburton-Enron camp to become the default assumption of motive where a traditional-conservative individual  is concerned. 

Enter the above as exhibit A in the prosecutions case: gross cynicism inspired by  what was, at one time, the American dream being expressed in a social setting. 

Not an acceptable thing, but still, where it might have gotten me noticed by the dream police it wouldn’t have been likely to have gotten me indicted.  What got me indicted was my after the fact speculations concerning the lass.

Every university is host and home to some number of them, the women who attend with an mrs degree her prime and quite undeclared major. She studies hoping she’ll never need to earn her living with what she’s learned. Such women are not as common now as they once were, but they still exist in sufficient numbers to maintain the stereotype as an active subset of current society.  The stereotype is, of course, most often applicable to women where the conventions of her culture specify she is to dedicate her life to being homemaker and mother, her livelihood provided by her mate, her education a resource to enhance and enrich the lives of her children.

Such is an honorable intent, no rational fault to be found with it, certainly not enough fault to justify the venom directed at those who choose such a life by the bitter and jaded-jealous elements of the liberal world who attack the very concept as their morning litany.  Still though, it is true that such women really are predators after a fashion, hunting as they do for a man who truly embraces and internalizes the same code and convention to be her mate; and, it is equally true that such women (and men) are commonly the more if not most conservative of people. 

It was reflecting on my speculations concerning the lass in question that brought about the indictment of conscience.   If it should please the court then enter into evidence what follows as prosecution exhibit B.

The corrosion and erosion of the American ethic has, over say the last seventy five years, produced a subset of peoples who to casual observation in the short run will present the same demeanor as the family oriented conservative people mentioned above.  They will use all the same rhetoric, present themselves in the same manners and yet in objective fact carry agendas anything but family oriented, they who are the bread and butter mainstays of the industries of divorce, they who made necessary the instrument of a prenuptial agreement.   

These people are some of the most absolutely predatory of individuals to be found, and they like their opposites hunting the liberal worlds of the alternate lifestyles are in fact sexual  predators.  Since the instinct to procreation is universal it should be no great surprise that every facet of society will be home to a subset of predators who base their attack on that segment of society's unique deformities of this most primal of instincts, nor should it be a surprise these predators will adopt the closest approximation possible to the appearance of wholesomeness within any given social environment.

In my world the apogee of such predators are assumed (perhaps justly, perhaps not) to be most commonly found on campus living in the Greek houses, the campus’ self appointed elite, members of a fraternity or sorority.  As a matter of course quite a number of derogatory names have been devised to describe such individuals*, and equally of course those innocent of such ignoble motives are often victims of the disdain intended for those not so innocent, an ongoing case of unjustified guilt by accidental association.

That’s what I did to the lass in question, allowed that assumption to take the stage before any other, and that was wrong of me.  She’ll never know it, but I do.  My first thought, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, was to try and assign her a *Sorostitute, the most vile of predators working the conservative side of the equation.  I was actually arguing, in my thoughts, the idea that she was simply a higher class call girl entertaining a client as the more positive of the possibilities, a most distinct secret injustice inflicted upon a perfect stranger.

Like I said earlier, she really was a fine and foxy creature, clearly intelligent, attractive, sensual and seductive.  Equally the evidence of her behavior towards a lad obviously uncomfortable, frightened, of her unabashed femininity showed her to be a rather gentle creature really, she could have hammered him into stuttering silence at many points, but she didn’t.  In spite of all evidence to the contrary my conclusion was she had herself a twenty pound man hooked on five pound test, and with total sarcastic cynicism for my attitude I was wondering if she’d play him out and reel him in, or if he’d manage to break free and flee before being harvested. 

Mea culpa, guilty as charged.  The negative assumptions had control of my thoughts from so many different directions as to almost close away the rational, the real and leave me a peripheral agent of the very evil I was assigning to another.  Got to do better than that in the future if I’m going to do any good for anyone, including me.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Service Pack 1...

NOW that the hyper emotional propaganda based "repeal" nonsense has failed against the ramparts of democracy America can get down to doing what needs to be done... begin the refinement of the ACA to make it do what needs done for the American People. I implore all who might read this to push this thought to your representatives of either party: now, in full transparent democracy, set about refining the system with carefully considered amendments to establish truly world class health care for the nation.  Nothing of such complexity as a national health care plan comes out of the box ready to run, nothing does. That it ran at all is a testament to the vision of those who wrote the original. Now that the flaws have been seen it is time for the next stage... the tinker and tune stage to find the optimum way for it to run. The ball is in your court, Mr. Ryan. The nation is counting on you.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Concerning Tardation…

The word “tardation” is, of course, a shortening of  the word “retardation,”  a state of diminished abilities where said abnormality was induced by some element not native to the entity or individual in question. In modern usage it is often found in several forms as a derogatory suffix attached to some other word.

Tardation is a manufactured commodity,
it is not a naturally occurring state of life. 
The conservative politicos of the United States were the first I saw use such a suffix, for a time they were quite fond of teasing those of an opposing orientation by calling them Lib-tards, their implication obvious: in their world holding a progressive stance on matters political meant you’re a deformed caricature of a person unworthy of any respect at all. Of course it never seemed to bother them their targeted insult was equally a cruel mockery of those for whom fate set a simple life a challenge, but go figure. The radical right has never been known for any great degree of human sensitivity. Still, when they created the one term they equally created an inverse: if there are those where “Libtard” is a valid description then there’s equally a set to be called “Contarded.”  It is to the mechanisms of Tardation I wish to speak, because beneath the childish cruelty of such partisan labels I smell a most deliberate and vicious of international rats.

Where the terms are derogatory and callous they do sad justice to describing ever enlarging segments of our society. I will assert those segments are where a deformed, innacurate and irrational political belief has been deliberately introduced as the working counterbalance for the equally deliberate creation of a dysfunctional individual psychology,  and this to allow the dishonorable and the tyrannical to short circuit the functions of democracy and assume defacto control by bartering the antidote to the illness in return for votes come election time.

To put it in a nutshell I’ll assert what I’m calling “tardation” is the commercial wholesale form of what the psychologists will call the  enabler scenario with a political belief taking the place of another individual whose presence enables a toxic contradiction to afflict the life and times of those inducted into, or associated with, those deceived by the mechanisms of tardation.

In my reconnaissance of the Facebook world I realized the commercially funded and peer approval based mechanisms of the social media are all but optimized to install and support tardation.  I do not know if this was accidental or with malice aforethought, but with all things considered I can find little reason to doubt the social media are in fact a prime contagion vector of this affliction, and the primary maintenance mechanism of this set of afflictions which is so easily exploited by dishonorable power brokers working to subvert the foundations of democracy.

To speak to the specifics of tardation, how it was implemented on this group or some other is a rather large subject that must be considered on a group by group basis, it is a subject beyond the scope of one essay. In posts to come I’ll be addressing what I’ve perceived of it, and identifying such posts with the word “Tardation of:” in the title.

This subject will most definitely be continued. Semper Fi.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Rubber on the Road... or, how to save the world...

Any who have followed my writings know how much power I think is actually tied up in the dreams people carry, the dreams they use to motivate and power their lives. When it comes to public dreams, the ones everyone can see in operation there is one group of people who make a profession of weaving those dreams, influencing the dreams a great many people hold on to as the thing they hope for, look forward to. The group I'm speaking of are those who write and produce the advertising that sponsors the entertainments to fill all those idle hours civilization has bought for us. They, more than any other single group, set and define what the world has for dreams, at least the kind you're likely to talk to your buddy about. So, I would propose that one of the very first steps to doing any good at all is to recruit them into the cause, seeing as how what needs doing really isn't going to hurt their chances of selling someone something anyhow.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

In the Beginning...

== brought forward from January of last year, 
just to break up me ranting about the consequences of FB ==

Gates looked out upon the sand and darkness was upon the sand, for the sand was without order and divided grain by grain in great contention.  When Gates perceived the chaos his thought was troubled for the sand reached high, yea, even unto the walls of heaven did the sand reach.  So Gates caused the Angel of Validation to go out upon the sand that NULL become NOT, AND when NULL was NOT peace fell upon the sand, for the sand did fall away from contention in great streams of choice, yea verily did the sand divide itself according to OR AND XOR each grain according to its’ nature that it might RETURN to GATES the harmony of His thought.  Gates looked out upon what had been wrought, and Gates saw that IT was good.

First Chip of Apple, #000000010

That is no sarcastic attempt at blasphemy, no it is not, for so might someone’s scriptures begin, somewhere deep into our future when the full truth has condensed into legend.

Monday, March 6, 2017

Playing with Fire… in a Dynamite factory

An interesting statistic crossed my sight the other day. It turns out roughly half of all Americans are Facebook users. I have never heard of any other single media source to  achieve such a massive following. The “Googleplex” no doubt exceeds it on total throughput, but the googleplex is a thing of distributed and dispersed functions, no single point accessed through the googleplex really rivals the social media giant. The sum of its’ competitors might rival it from time to time on some specific event, but on a consistent day to day basis the mechanisms of Facebook are without peer and without precedent in terms of a single point of social influence.

In the realms of social psychology Facebook is on uncharted terrain, and the facts of modern history show the terrain it is on is exceedingly unstable, volatile, in point of fact potentially quite explosive. Many, many things are now seen that have never been seen before, many things that had been seen as minor things, perhaps of legitimate concern within their scope but still minor in comparison to the full society, have been exaggerated to seem of such importance as to over shadow what is in fact critical to survival.

Call it fifteen years since the onset of the social media phenomenon, make it four generations of “social media” evolution to arrive at the modern Facebook and company. Across that same fifteen year run it cannot be denied that society has crystallized, polarized, and is at this point hanging over the edge of violent civil war, a war that does not even really have an ideology associated. On second thoughts? No, war is not the correct word. With no clear ideology associated what is seen in today’s news can’t really even be called a war, it’s much closer to a society on the edge of committing suicide.

I do not believe that these two facts are a coincidence of history, I hold that these two facts are linked, that the rise of the former is the cause of the latter. The mechanisms of the influence are hardly defined, of course they are not defined. Even the most casual glance across history indicates the Social Media are a brand new phenomenon. There has never been a single point driver to compare to Facebook and company, there has been no time for the society to actually understand the full consequences of how its’ own psychology will fare in such an environment of massively interconnected emotional transfer.

The facts of modern history make it a very, very open question: Can society remain sane in the face of the exponentially expanded environment of the social media machines? Will society remain sane, and survive as human, or will it collapse into history leaving behind only biological manifestations of the machine intelligence which destroyed it? After six months of observing the operation of Facebook that is the question I find myself facing. What is the nature of the dynamic Facebook has introduced into the human condition, and is it possible for humanity to survive with any fidelity of self in the mutated emotional environment those mechanisms have created?

As always, more to come if I don’t get shot first for daring to challenge Agent Smith.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Mission Improbable…

The Eyes of Takiea...
what was fiction is fiction no more.
Six months ago I took advantage of a situation I did not create to investigate the social media giant Facebook and in lesser degree it’s main competitor Twitter. The focus of the reconnaissance was not the people utilizing the media giants, the minor events and major drama passing across, but rather the responses of the robotically managed environments to what they (the robotic intelligences crafted into the structure itself) perceived of what the humans presented to them. My motivation? Call it a morbid curiosity concerning the unnaturally polarized nature of the current political scene.

The circumstance precipitating the recon began with the agent of the publishing house that published my first compilation of fiction, in concert with the person who agreed to work as a publicist for a percentage of any net profits, insisting that I had to have a presence on the social medias to sell any books. Their erroneous assumption was that I did not already have such accounts because I was simply frightened of the technology involved, an error I did not correct. At their urging I grudgingly agreed to allow the creation of a FB account in my pen name, which was done… an email account in that name and then a FB profile. It is my understanding it was that email account my publicist then used that to establish a presence on Twitter.

That the initial data recorded at creation for neither account would trace back to my machine or my ISP address was the enabling factor of my strategy. I worked from the assumption the new account (mine) would initially carry the personality profile indexes established for the accounts already associated to the address logged at creation. In short, I went in under the shallow cover of the robotic intelligences (let’s call him Agent Smith, just for a convenient handle) assuming it would see from the new account pretty much what it had seen from much older accounts tagged to those ISP/MAC id’s.

The tools of my investigation were crude and simplistic. They were anything but scientific. In point of fact they were the exact opposite: my knowledge of my own internal psychological makeup, and a very old (powerful in it’s day, competent now) PC oft modified over the years and an obsolete operating system. The PC was loaded in such a manner as to encourage short system hangs when being worked hard, those short system hangs when the image on the monitors would freeze for between half a second and two seconds while the operating system dealt with the difficulties I had deliberately arranged: two monitors of different size, the second and smaller requiring a custom resolution setting. The browser open on the main monitor and just the edge of its’ window moved over onto the second and smaller monitor resulted in an undefined region in the video matrix in the driver software, that undefined region what the machine was compelled to accommodate whenever the window was scrolled, that accommodation the cause of the short system hangs… a most primitive trapping tactic to intercept anything presented subliminally. That I caught what I did from no more of a trap than that indicates a frighteningly deep saturation of subliminal “advertising” on Facebook.

Beyond the ethically very questionable presence of subliminal “advertising” there was also an intense scrutiny on any facet where any commercial or governmental algorithm might be active acting as a filter mechanism for what came before a users’ eyes. In all truth that scrutiny produced more than a few chuckles, three weeks in the bots were totally confused about me, and feuding one with another as to how to handle me. On one instance the chumchum boxes along the side were presenting me these options: Modern Communism (complete to a red hammer and sickle logo), “The Modern Socialist”, and the one that cracked me up, the one with a picture of Old Glory and the caption “God, Guns, Guts and Glory.” Yes, all in the same frame. Those three selections were direct one to one to the content of comments I’d left on other people’s posts the day before. The idea that Agent Smith does not read and interpret every word input into his  system evaporated at that point.

Of course I did absolutely nothing to make Agent Smith’s job easier. I never so much as hovered my mouse over any suspect element, certainly never followed any link machine presented, the “suggested posts” were only scrutinized in relation to my words directed to another being human in the past 48 hours. I initialized the account with nine “friends” during the first week (chosen to represent the widest spectrum of society conveniently available from the folks I knew world of real life who had been active on FB for many years), I only accepted two friend requests in six months, and politely declined several by way of the messaging function, in each case citing some element of personal preference for a reason (I’m not gay, I’m not inclined to violence as a first response, no, I’m not interested in a Russian bride… my muse is a Ukrainian woman and already married) and watching what Agent Smith and his baby bots, the chumchum stuffers, presented to me afterwards. The correlation between those conversations and what was presented was beyond coincidence, Agent Smith monitors the messaging functions with due diligence and an even greater degree of subtlety in his responses. I say this with the intent of full warning: there is no privacy on Facebook.  Not from the machine itself.

At about the five month mark it was becoming obvious I’d passed some boundary, the advertising became what you’d see on TV, no connections, few correlations: Agent Smith was running me in “ABC” mode knowing I was watching HIM just like he was watching me. At the six month mark (a few days ago) I called the mission off, said goodbye, and began to sort and order my thoughts on what I’d learned both by the events observed and the psychological pressures I endured that were not explainable by any element of my own inner self. The account is still active, since I did not create it I can’t deactivate it, it is being used as an access point into several debate forums on current events, I am participating in those and marking all things observed in the interlinking universe of the social media (FB, Utube, DevArt, etc et al) for correlations to the subjects discussed. The most notable evidence of those communications is which of the many posts put up by the pages in question are presented first on my “wall” or home page for me to respond to. As is SOP for the mission I’m not giving Agent Smith much to work with.

In posts to come I’ll speak to individual events observed and present my analysis of the potentials and intents of what was observed, but for now let it stand that I consider the social media, any and all of it,  to be a clear and present danger to the functions of Democracy, and an ongoing hazard to the mental freedom and well being of all those who place even the tiniest bit of trust in them. I am ever more convinced the circus of the absurd running into the obscene of the political scene is but the tiniest tip of the iceberg created by the social media, and that the situation will do nothing but degrade into utter social chaos and collapse if the situation is not corrected as rapidly as possible.

More to come if I don’t get shot first… or wake up to find this computer and my modem a smoking pile of slag. Catch you later.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Only a bit more verbose...

Yea, ok... the song goes "Goodbye," that's all she wrote. I wrote a little more than that on my final post, and I'm gonna write a bahoompa more than that on the subject of the social media to be published here... but... first things first... them guys need a hot shower, the best damn meal the cooks can scrounge up (and yes, they've got money for black market beef)... and 48 hours in town where it's known there will be very generous favors awarded for treating them well. It was six months behind enemy lines to get boots on the ground intel about that facet of the enemy's operations. Mission made.

Monday, February 27, 2017

Half a hundred...

LaMH_50 The Birth of the Butlerian

Were I now a younger man
...astride the rising flood
Of sentiment set social cue
...contrive'd meme, bovine cudd..
I think that I should dress a blade
...and bless each lethal round
To serve the cause of freedoms cry
Where beings human hold their ground.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Life at My House No. 49... Monster

Now to watch the dangled bait
…and count the barb’ed hooks
Hanging from an agents pole
…assuming fish can cook
Dishes made of glazed white lies
…with steaming flattr’y sauce
Served on plates of permafaux
…sans face in any book.

The recon mission is almost over. 
This one has been interesting, to say the least.