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Messages - Cain

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1
Mike T sounds like a man you don't want to piss off.  That's a fairly inspired bit of vengeance.

Hey Roger, maybe when Lilly is gone, you could apply for Jim's old job.  You may not be the management the plant wants, but you're the management the plant needs.

2
What colour was the dress Leonard Nimoy wearing while he died watching 50 Shades of Grey?  You wont believe what millenials said!  Click here for the listicle.

3
Quote
The investigation that followed lifted the lid off a bizarre underworld that few Florentines knew existed in the lovely hills surrounding their city. In Italy, most young people live at home with their parents until they marry, and most marry late. As a result, having sex in parked cars is a national pastime. It has been said that one out of every three Florentines alive today was conceived in a car. On any given weekend night the hills surrounding Florence were filled with young couples parked in shadowy lanes and dirt turnouts, in olive groves and farmers’ fields.

The investigators discovered that dozens of voyeurs prowled the countryside spying on these couples. Locally, these voyeurs were known as Indiani, or Indians, because they crept around in the dark. Some carried sophisticated electronic equipment, including parabolic and suction-cup microphones, tape recorders, and night vision cameras . The Indiani had divided the hills into zones of operation, each managed by a group or “tribe” who controlled the best posts for vicarious sex-watching . Some posts were highly sought after, either because they allowed for very close observation or because they were where the “good cars” were most commonly found. (A “good car” is exactly what you might imagine.) A good car could also be a source of money, and sometimes good cars were bought and sold on the spot, in a kind of depraved bourse, in which one Indiano would retire with a fistful of cash, ceding his post to another to watch the finish. Wealthy Indiani often paid for a guide to take them to the best spots and minimize the risk.

Then there were the intrepid people who preyed on the Indiani themselves, a subculture within a subculture. These men crept into the hills at night not to watch lovers but to spy on Indiani, taking careful note of their cars, license plate numbers, and other telling details— and then they would blackmail the Indiani, threatening to expose their nocturnal activities to their wives, families , and employers. It sometimes happened that an Indiano would have his voyeuristic bliss interrupted by the flash of a nearby camera; the next day he would receive a call: “Remember that flash in the woods last night? The photo came out beautifully, you look simply marvelous , a likeness that even your second cousin would recognize! By the way, the negative is for sale . . .”

Quote
One day he learned from a beat cop that investigators had questioned and released an odd character who had been passing himself off as a medical examiner. Spezi found the story charming and pursued it for the paper . The man was “Dr.” Carlo Santangelo, a thirty-six-year-old Florentine, of pleasing appearance, a lover of solitude, separated from his wife, who went about dressed in black wearing eyeglasses with smoked lenses, gripping a doctor’s bag in his left hand.

In the ever-present doctor’s bag were the tools of his profession, a number of perfectly honed and glistening scalpels. Instead of maintaining an established residence, Dr. Santangelo preferred to pass his days in various hotels or residences in small towns near Florence. And when he chose a hotel, he made sure it was near a small cemetery. If there was a room with a view of the tombstones, so much the better.

Dr. Santangelo’s face, eyes covered with thick dark lenses, had become familiar to the staff of OFISA, the most prominent funeral establishment in Florence, where he often passed his hours as if on important business. The doctor with the dark lenses doled out prescriptions, saw patients, and even ran a psychoanalysis business on the side.

The only problem was, Dr. Santangelo wasn’t a medical examiner or pathologist. He wasn’t even a physician, although he seems to have taken it upon himself to operate on live people, at least according to one witness. Santangelo was unmasked when a serious car accident took place on the autostrada south of Florence, and somebody remembered that in a hotel nearby there lived a doctor. Dr. Santangelo was fetched to provide first aid, and all were amazed to hear that he was none other than the medical examiner who had performed the autopsies on the bodies of Susanna Cambi and Stefano Baldi, the Monster’s latest victims. At least that was what several employees of the hotel said they had heard directly from Dr. Santangelo himself, when he had proudly opened his bag and showed them the tools of his profession.

Santangelo’s peculiar claim got back to the carabinieri, and it didn’t take them long to find out that he was no doctor. They learned of his predilection for small cemeteries and pathology rooms, and, even more alarming, his penchant for scalpels. The carabinieri promptly hauled Santangelo in for questioning. The phony medical examiner freely admitted to being a liar and spinner of tall tales, although he wasn’t able to explain his love for cemeteries at night.

He hotly denied as libel, however, the story his girlfriend told of how he had broken off a night of passionate lovemaking by taking a dose of sleeping pills, saying this was the only way he could resist the temptation to leave his bed of love to take a turn around the tombstones.

Quote
Police detectives also took the Savonarola theory seriously, and quietly began looking into certain priests known to have odd or unusual habits. Several Florentine prostitutes told police that from time to time they entertained a priest with rather eccentric tastes. He paid them generously, not for normal sex, but for the privilege of shaving off their pubic hair.

The police were interested, reasoning that here was a man who enjoyed working with a razor in that particular area. The girls were able to give the police his name and address. One crisp Sunday morning , a small group of police and carabinieri in plainclothes, led by a pair of magistrates, entered an ancient country church perched among cypresses in the lovely hills southwest of Florence. The committee was received in the sacristy, where the priest was in the act of dressing in his robes, taking up the sacred vestments with which he was about to say Mass. They showed him a warrant and told him the reason for their visit, stating their intention to search the church, grounds, confessionals, altars, reliquaries, and tabernacle.

The priest staggered and almost fell to the floor in a faint. He didn’t try even for a moment to deny his nocturnal avocation as a barber for ladies, but he swore in the strongest terms that he wasn’t the Monster. He said he understood why they had to search the premises, but he begged them to keep the reason for their visit secret and delay the search until after he had said Mass.

All taken from Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi's excellent book, The Monster of Florence.  If you're not aware of the case, you should look into it, and definitely read their book if it catches your interest.  Not only are the crimes themselves shocking, so is the incompetence and careerism of the Italian police and prosecution.

4
Haha, I am on teh wireless internets.  Seriously though, this place is so stupid.  "Students, you cannot be trusted with broadband internet access after midnight.  Well, unless its also wireless, in which case that's OK".

Well it wasn't for me, because I didn't have wireless.  Until now, anyway.

 :lol: That's totally nonsensical.

But they can be totally trusted to self-medicate.  But they can't be trusted to choose suitable bedtimes.  But they can be trusted to cook for themselves and clean a kitchen.  Etc etc ad infinitum.

This place's rules almost seem like they were designed to frustrate logic.

5
Haha, I am on teh wireless internets.  Seriously though, this place is so stupid.  "Students, you cannot be trusted with broadband internet access after midnight.  Well, unless its also wireless, in which case that's OK".

Well it wasn't for me, because I didn't have wireless.  Until now, anyway.

6
Aneristic Illusions / Re: OFFICIAL POLITICAL CARTOONS/PIC FREAD.
« on: Yesterday at 10:40:41 pm »
 :lulz:

7
To me, Discordia seems to mean "question everything, including the answers your previous questions led you to." But I just read the Principia Discordia and the Black Iron Prison myself, and my head's still in that "new information filling it with fuck" state, so I'll have to rethink this answer at some point.
Sounds like you are doing quite well, especially the rethinking part.
In the spirit of questioning everything: Question the questions that led to your current answers.

At first realizing you're wrong is uncomfortable... even painful. But if you practice it enough, eventually it starts to feel not only less uncomfortable, but actually empowering. With enough time and diligent practice, you will find that there can be found a certain pleasure in [it], and you may even start seeking out such discoveries avidly, until eventually you become addicted to the feeling and start [doing it] all the time, on purpose.

It's just like yoga.  Or anal.

:spittake:

We were all thinking it.  I mean....


8
It's easy to see the appeal, if you aim low and just set your sights on simply being accepted as a regular zek, you never have to confront that pesky issue of never being anything more than a zek. The aspiration to be something more than a simple factor in the course of production requires a kind of courage most of us simply cannot muster while separated from one another.  It's a winning strategy for everyone involved, regardless of which side they happen to be on at any moment. Tumblr activism is the perfect ghetto to house possible dissidents of the younger generation. The various authorities don't even have to invest in informants to keep tabs, the radicals simply stay home no matter what, using devices that passively collect any data of value anyhow.

Meanwhile the far right gains ground in real life here and especially in Europe. In spite of it's completely bankrupt ideology, the german communist movement was at least still strong enough to fight the brownshirts in the streets for a few years. Can you imagine how quickly some of our own home grown fascists will cut through the drum circleists and identity politicians? Yikes

Yeah.  Right now the only thing that seems to be dividing them is their own internal wranglings, along the Nouvelle Droit/Eurofascist lines.  And given Russia's recent prominence among the Europrean Far Right, I can't help but worry that those home grown fascists will have a disturbingly international dimension to them.

9
Yeah, he was the previous highlight.

"I was a member of the Conservative party for over 20 years and the National Front for just 14 months, why does everyone focus on that year?!"

That sure is a mystery, huh?  :lulz:

It's also fascinating, given that Farage has assured the public that former NF and BNP members are proscribed from UKIP.

Anonymous Tory bloggers have also been mentioning that former EDL or EDL sympathetic members have deleted their social networking accounts and joined the ranks.  Could just be Tory propaganda...but it has a certain ring of truth about it, too.

10
It's to the point where I can't tall the strawmen from the radicals.

This is going to be the great culture war of this generation. SJW "kill whitey", accept me for identifying as a cloud, and be gay or die, and fat is beautiful school of thought, vs  /pol/'s Joules evola, Seig hail, traditional values or die, all untermensh in the oven.

Though tbh, as someone who spent a few months on both sides. Each just circle jerks over images of straw men and are told "all of X are like this." then they take it to the extreme and never stop to question what they're doing. They'll grow out of it.

No.  The great culture war of this generation is whether or not the republic morphs into an autocracy, or if it turns into a theocracy.

Which is why the gender/social issues war is so useful.  Note: I don't think it's a conspiracy or whatever, just people attempting to assert control over the only politics left available to them, because Wall Street firms and oil money men bought the rest.

11
Thanet's council, IIRC, also has the former National Front UKIPer too, who defends his former membership on the grounds of "I was never a member of the Gestapo".  No, just a member a group who idolise the Gestapo.

12
To me, Discordia seems to mean "question everything, including the answers your previous questions led you to." But I just read the Principia Discordia and the Black Iron Prison myself, and my head's still in that "new information filling it with fuck" state, so I'll have to rethink this answer at some point.
Sounds like you are doing quite well, especially the rethinking part.
In the spirit of questioning everything: Question the questions that led to your current answers.

At first realizing you're wrong is uncomfortable... even painful. But if you practice it enough, eventually it starts to feel not only less uncomfortable, but actually empowering. With enough time and diligent practice, you will find that there can be found a certain pleasure in [it], and you may even start seeking out such discoveries avidly, until eventually you become addicted to the feeling and start [doing it] all the time, on purpose.

It's just like yoga.  Or anal.

13
Aneristic Illusions / Re: Daily Telegraph: Shock, horror
« on: Yesterday at 05:29:58 am »
Peter Oborne's basically that conservative you wish other Tories would be like.  For a long period of time he was the only voice of reason at the Daily Mail (in 2007 he did a very good series on Islamophobia in Britain - the Mail was not impressed) and up until recently as the Torygraph political editor.

Interesting also, to read his take on the internal happenings at the paper. The Telegraph was importing certain American Right memes a long way back, and it seems like that was deliberately cultivated by the Barclay brothers.

14
I think it's a TA, trolling you all. 

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