Messages

No anger, nor hostility...no cabbages either, though.

Well there's you 

If you believe in the whole concept of brainwashing then you have to believe that a baby is more susceptible to it. It's basic psychology. That's why you get 7th generation sectarian haters in this country. Because that reality grid is imprinted on them from birth. There's no one will convince me that a kid who was taught to sing 'Fuck the pope' or 'The sash' when they were 3 (I've seen the proud parents showing this party trick off btw) can realistically be expected to grow up and just snap out of it.

Imprinted reality grids much harder to 'see through' than a lot of people give credit for. You can't always change someone's mind with rational debate. Sometimes things are 'ingrained'

LOL - you have absolutely not idea how rough my approach is

Not a musician by any stretch of the imagination

I'm kinda undecided here - you two are enjoying this level of interaction right?

http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=10857.0

Apart from the vocals I thot these tracks turned out allright

Get a guitar synth as long as you quantise bigtime or step record you can do chords and everything

Just listened to 21 century angst 

Not the way I pictured it but that's prolly why I enjoyed it so much.

If the individual allows themselves to be brainwashed

afaik, you cannot really join the army and not allow yourself be brainwashed.

I suspect you might be able to get away with it right up until the curtain rose on the theatre of war.

That segment of the whole thing kinda stuck in my throat too but the rest was shit I totally get. Goes back to what I was saying about third person earlier - there has to be lulz and they come much easier if it's someone else picking up the tab.

LOL - oughta turn a profit then

Holy shit! In this country you'd be lucky to get a ¬£10 fine for stealing a policeman's pot 

I wouldn't look too happy.  Wackenhut, the main supplier of these work prisons, is likely to get the contract to build new ones over here, as they are tight with the Home Office.  Which means they'll likely drop off a fair bit of campaign cash to both Labour and the Tories to up the sentences on minor offences.

Best news I've heard all day, they just gave us an excuse to up the prices on contraband 

"want" to?


What, are you a follower of TEH SECRET now?

Holy fuck that thing has a fkin amazing level of production for one of those. Who the hell's behind it?

See what you want to see but know that you're seeing it because you want to. 

Holy shit! In this country you'd be lucky to get a ¬£10 fine for stealing a policeman's pot 

Silly, whatever happened to that monkey in the cowboy suit, anyway?

Funny you should ask, he turned up in a dream I had a couple of years ago. I posted this on the board I was frequenting at the time.

I had a good dream last night. I dreamt I was looking after my friends chimpanzee. I had just got a new snake, since I got the primate. I had forgotten all about the chimp and hadn't been near it for three or four weeks. I suddenly remembered the chimp (mid dream) and when I went into the bedroom, where I was keeping it, I saw the cage. It was the most ramshackle, loads of cupboard doors and bits of MDF and planks, nailed together, hell pit of a cage. Totally dark inside. I felt a sensation of panic. I'd left a highly articulate primate, in a dark six by six cell, for three weeks, with no food or water or cleaning out or anything!!! How the hell could I do this? I was thoroughly appalled.

When I opened the cage the stink of urine hit me like a punch in the teeth. The chimp was lying, wrapped up, like a baby, in a white blanket. It wasn't moving. I picked it up. It was cold and stiff. Then it slowly began to wake up, the way a reptile wakes up when it's been sleeping in a cool spot. Slowly, it came to life. I remember thinking - "It'll be completely insane". but it wasn't. When it got warmed up I fed it and it just sat there, happily scoffing down a carrier bag full of fruit. Then we played and walked around the house and in the garden. I felt pure joy in the companionship of this furry little friend.

Then we went back to the bedroom, which became the factory where I work. The cage was down at the far end and, as we approached, the chimp became agitated. He knew I was going to put him back in the cage. He started to fight with me, pulling away and biting my hand and fingers. I was fighting the chimp to try and bundle it into the cage. I was grief stricken, myself, at having to do this but, for a reason I don't understand, I had to. Eventually myself and the guys at work managed to get it inside the cage. I felt deep sorrow at what I had done and sat on my own, on some steps at the far end of the factory. I knew I was going to get shit for this, I didn't have a DWA license to look after chimps and It was going to get taken away.

So I'm despondent, and I look up, and there's a man from the council walking toward me, with a clipboard. He hands it to me. I look at it. There's a yellow sheet sellotaped onto it. Black letters, Something along the lines of - "the people around you have noticed you seem to be suffering from the symptoms of a nervous breakdown. they have brought this to our attention and we've come to take you away...etc" Then I noticed a little logo at the bottom of the page, a cartoon profile, laughing and the words - "Joke Email". Then the guy told me to turn the board over. I was looking at the wrong side. On the other side was some meaningless bureaucratic bollix and a bit for me to sign. I signed it and gave it back to the guy, who left. Then I woke up.

Here's my interpretation -

The chimp was my subconscious, more particularly, that deeper facet of imagination from which springs my inspiration. Monkey Muse. When I was just tiny and 'ickle I had an imaginary friend. His name was Sherrif. he was a chimpanzee, wearing a cowboy suit. If you ever saw the Ronnie Raygun movie, called "Bedtime for bonzo", or something like that, you get the picture. The dream was reminding me that, at some point in the past, I had put Sheriff in a cage, in a cold, black part of my mind, and forgotten about him. I'd put my best ever link to my subconscious genius zone, in a shitty, ramshackle prison and left him to rot.

The nervous breakdown stuff related to when I went completely nuts and ended up locked up in a looney bin. These events had occurred because Sheriff had wanted to play a joke on me, to remind me what I'd forgotten about. But it had backfired on him, as it made me "lock up" that part of my mind, even tighter, giving him less chance to communicate with me. I've had to build this personality up from scratch, in order to interface with the people I work with, have dealings with, and normal people in general. And, in doing this, have become the hollow mask which I wear as "silence". All I need to do to resolve the situation (get rid of the council guy) is to turn the mask around and sign the back. Nice one!

This is my interpretation. Any one have any other ideas, building on or contra to this, I'd be interested to hear 'em.