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1171
Literate Chaotic / Discordian Wars
« on: August 19, 2007, 02:33:02 pm »
A rant in the form of fiction of events that may or may not have really happened.



Ah, fuck them, fuck them all.  They can't touch us, there's not a thing they can do.  This guy, what's his name, Firesong or something?  A nothing. A nobody, ruling an empty site.  Not a damn thing they can do against us...

Hmm?  Well well, looks like we've got a customer here.  Sit down, sit down, let me buy you a drink.  OB!  Hey, OB!  Get me another, will ya?  And one for my friend here too, OK?  Ah, its good to see a new face around here.  I tell you, sometimes, with only the regulars around here and the occasional stray Discordian coming in, it can get kind of monotonous. 

What do I do here?  Well, I suppose you could call me a...troubleshooter, a “point man” for persistent problems.  What sort of problems?  Well, you know, this and that...but, to me, its not just about dealing with the trouble and then moving on.  I like to think I am helping to provide a educational service to those our company deals with.

Ah, this is a good scotch.  We don't really have much in the way of opportunities for cutting loose and having some good old fashioned fun anymore.  Married?  Hardly.  You see, its our competition.  Back in the day, we used to keep our heads down, do the job and do it in the way we liked.  But now, now we're in the spotlight, well...it's all about public image, you see?  Our competition likes to  make big scenes now and then: they make a fuss about where we've been and who we're hanging out with.  Bastards watch our every move, too, always poking through company records.  Still, there's ways and means, what they don't know they can't blab about.

I remember...

Back in the Discordian Jihad of 2004, we were the Rogue Discordians, a legitimate wartime enterprise.  The glory days, fighting Prince Tao and EvT, self appointed leaders of Discordianism.  By the end of August, we had a perfect covert trolling unit in place on PD.com, seemed wasteful to let that talent fade just because we weren't at war anymore.  Besides, maybe we'd fought the wrong people.  You see, soon after, Roger was butting heads with some of the Pagans over at the Obsidian Mirror, while pursuing Trollax.  Business wise, it looked like our real competition wasn't other Discordians, but Pagans.  Wiccans.  Nature religions.

As soon as the Jihad ended, there were already skirmishes happening around the Discordian forum on the Mirror.  These went on and off, with a spirited last stand being made by Efrim until about March 2005, when Horab went over.  Back before he went a little mad, he was quite well respected, except by the denizens of the Mirror, it seemed.  Well, that simply would not do, so East Coast Hustle and Cain went over in order to stir the shit, finish the work started by TGRR and Efrim.

After one day, they shut the entire forum down and the admins there would only allow posts by mods.  Eventually, we got to say our piece and in return for being left alone, Obsidian transferred ownership of the site to one of the many Discordians who came over in the wake of our victory.  Bella, if I recall right.  Because, back in the day, the Mirror had in fact been the base of the DIA, the Discordian Intelligence Agency, but when the group fell apart, ownership was transferred.  And now, we had it.

You see, we had plans for the Mirror....

Now, we had a secret, off the maps, perfectly secure base for our Rogues, where they could stash the tools of their trade and lay down plans without inquisitive eyes looking in.  We renamed it Eris Bar and Grill, and kept the membership exclusive.  A nice quiet little place away from PD.com, where no-one could see what we were up to...

Isn't it a little quiet in here?  Don't you think?  I hate quiet, it makes me edgy.  OB, hey, OB!  Yeah I'm talking to you!  Put that Ear Fatigue song on, you know, “Wire Hangers”.  Ah yeah, that's better.  So, anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, EB&G...anyway, with the untimely return of Eric, it looked like we got our secret base just in the nick of time.  Eric had been disliked before, however the little pedo had lowered himself to new levels of fail in this incarnation.  While flame wars raged over on PD.com, we could sit in relative peace on EB&G and contemplate more intellectual pursuits.  Like, for example, who made PD.com go down in June of 2005.

Evidence suggested Eric and Aini, so the rogue Discordians were dispatched, at the head of a troll army out of FC.  They completely ravaged Aini's board, bombarding it with thousands of vile posts and eventually causing it to be shut down, while the Discordians themselves waged a jihad on Eric's copycat version of PD.com, PD.org.  Getting banned beyond count and driving away any posters who landed on the board by mistake, we declared victory.

From there, we were on a roll.  Megaman Hentai and LittleAngelHentai were both bought low, and the heathens did wail at their misfortune.

After that...well, things went bad for a while.  Every great war that saves a group is immediately followed by one that nearly destroys them, and this was no exception.  With ECH banned from EB&G and TGRR angry at his PMs being read, attacks were planned against PD.com itself from the Sandbox, a new base of operations for the most trollish of Discordians.  It almost succeeded too, driving away many regular posters.  However, by September 05, agreements had been reached, the trolling stopped, and many of those who had supported TGRR and ECH had migrated more to POEE.

Here there was more unity of purpose, trust and like mindedness, which led to expeditions over the web, either for the fun of it or looking for possible recruits.  After some good work done at GothPoetry.com, Roger was banned with no reason.  Well, we couldn't let some pretentious kids tell us where we could or could not post now, could we?  Especially not after the last 12 months.  So Cain and Roger launched a blitzkrieg against the site, bringing it to a standstill in about an hour.  Even after they were banned and the considerable spamming was cleaned up, they became very paranoid and found if they activated too many accounts, they only let a troll or two back in.  In fact, according to a hilarious email Cain “acquired”, they were scared shitless.

In addition to these grand campaigns, the Iron Troll Brigade set out on a trail of destruction, levelling hentai sites left, right and centre.  Busy days, busy days...

However, it was the winter leading into 2006 when we really came into our own...With the various vendettas and grudges more or less settled, and PD.com being down again for the Xmas holidays, many migrated back to EB&G.  From here, they learnt of Verthaine's adventures among the Pagans at Mystic Wicks, and some of us decided to go over.  An advance unit consisting of Cain, Eldora, TTM and Roger made their way over and made quite an impact on the forum.

By “quite an impact”, I actually mean Roger got banned for ranting.

However, the ban was lifted after a day and everyone went about their business quite happily, at least until TTM was banned for disagreeing with an admin.  Meanwhile, plotting continued over at the newly resurrected PD.com, which was by this point little more than a ghost town.  New members came in more regularly than EB&G, however, and TTM decided to put these to good use by creating yet another trolling group, this one ostensibly not Discordian.  With all eyes on EB&G, they could use PD.com as a place to rally the troops and coordinate attacks.  The group, known as HIMEOBS, replaced the largely defunct Iron Troll Brigade and went on to carry out a number of attacks on hentai forums, without a single link back to Discordianism or PD.com.

However, things on MW went from bad to worse, and when Mol's stash of meth finally ran out, he allowed his admins to go berserk while he tried to find a dealer.  With several Discordians and their supporters banned in rapid succession, and the few who remained being harassed, it was on.  Our supporters made their way to EB&G, where they turned a subforum into Little Pagantown.

Obviously, with the MW refugees and spies hanging around, our “secret base” was starting to look like Berlin at the height of the Cold War.  HIMEOBS had already cleverly arranged to have its own very hidden and private forum and site, but very few of the exiles met the criteria for joining.  After all, everyone has to have a fallback position, presuming EB&G were to be overrun, by “fake” refugees no less.

However, said threat failed to materialize, and we went on the offensive.  Mol's sordid past, stupidly revealed in a (probably drunkenly composed) email, were plastered all over his site, along with photos of him posing in a woman's nightie.  Strange thing is, despite sending out this stupid email, he repeatedly threatened EB&G with legal action should any portion of it or the incidents contained within were repeated on his site.  Of course, HIMEOBS was exempt from this, along with his own site...

We also turned agents within his own private pay site, all while driving posters away with the trolling and constant drama being promoted by our remaining supporters.  All in all, his site traffic fell from being the most popular Pagan forum on the net to roughly that of EB&G.  Not bad, eh?  OK, not quite the destruction that was wrought on Aini or PD.com, but good help was hard to find at that moment.

Then, something quite unexpected happened.  After months of nearly no activity, a coup erupted on PD.com, ousting the Mgt from power.  In her place, HIMEOBS agents under the leadership of East Coast Hustle took control of the site and became the moderation/admin team.  Now, the positioned were reversed, the final shape of the whole network was in place.

It's like Agent Nerve said, after he was busted selling MW accounts to YTMND trolls: “EB&G is the “front desk”, it's the open side of the operation.  TGRR, Bella, Idem, Daniel and GIGGLES are there.  The guy lurking in the shadows is Cain.  Who is the boss of Cain?  East Coast Hustle.   Where do they come from?  PD.com.  Where do the trolls come from?  HIMEOBS.  Cain is training and directing trolls.  The leader of HIMEOBS is Captain Da, he is recruiting trolls from all over the web to fight in Discordian covert wars.  What was Da doing by trolling hentai sites?  Gaining a reputation which allows them to find trolls anywhere who will do exactly what he tells them.  An army of trolls at their beck and call.”

As more and more people joined PD.com, HIMEOBS also grew, allowing extended operations not only against MW but any other sites that took our fancy.  With PD itself under our control, we hid one of the forums from anyone without an account, meaning our intended targets could not trace our actions back to us.  At last, with all three sites secure and under control, with a score of trolls at our beck and call, and a trail of blasted websites behind us, we were secure.

Friendly expeditions were sent to a number of other Pagan forums, peace missions if you will.  Not our fault the damn savages tried to cannibalize those we sent in good faith.  Spiritual Forums went into meltdown in record time, banning all Discordians, Subgenii, Pastafarians and anyone else with a sense of humour from their site.  PrincessKLS stupidly kept poking her nose in at EB&G, so a few people took it upon themselves to counteract the rumours she was spreading around the place.  And that is how we found TCC.

That's when you came in, right?  Yep, it's business as usual around here – always has been and always will be.  You wait until autumn comes around, you just wait because you ain't seen nothing yet.  Not TCC nor any of its moronic admins can stop me.  You think they can?  You think I'm worried about one little crummy site run by idiot asswipes, is that what you think?  Because if that's what you think, then in my book you are as stupid as they are!  Those fools can't touch me, I'm safe, totally safe.   

You think their legal threats mean anything to me?  Hah!  I mean, who is going to even believe the ridiculous lies they are telling, let alone act on them?  I mean, its like this whole story I just told you: it never happened.  It was a joke, OK?  A nice little bedtime story to make certain people wet their pants.  If anyone does come around asking questions, well, we just tell them the truth.  What's the truth? It's pretty simple, really:  PD.com, and EB&G protected Discordianism, HIMEOBS protected EB&G and PD.com, TGRR, Idem, TTM, ECH, Cain and the rest protected HIMEOBS and that is why they are Eris-damned heroes.  That's all.  Nothing more to say.

So we dodged IP bans, hurt a few feelings and mocked some overly important idiots, who gives a shit?  The real kicker is, no matter what we do, what tack we take, our enemies take a pasting, often wondering how the hell they got themselves in a position where all their new members either side with us or run off, and their site became a troll playground.

Let me tell you a little secret...it's all done with smoke and mirrors.

Well, anyway, listen, I ain't got all day.  Are you buying what our company sells or what?  Can we do business?

Excellent, I knew you were a discerning client the moment you walked through the door.

1172
Literate Chaotic / I have the greatest book EVER
« on: August 12, 2007, 04:14:15 pm »
Go out and buy "Black Swan" by Naseem Taleb.

Right now.

No excuses.

A book that explains how "black swans" (near-unpredictable events that forever alter the fields they are involved in) develop and unfold.  For example, 9/11 was a black swan.  It covers why unpredictability will always be the primary motivator of world events and how ineffectual the majority of social sciences are at coming to terms with this.  It includes a lot of psychology and philosophy, too.

Probably about the most Discordian book I have seen since the PD.  It encapsulates many of the ideas of creative disorder and the BIP perfectly.

1173
Literate Chaotic / Coming Home
« on: July 28, 2007, 12:54:04 am »
Written around June 4th

I pulled the car up on Shaftesbury hill, in order to watch the sunset as I came home, trying to sort through the many mixed feelings I have about returning to this place.  Stepping outside, I can feel a cool breeze on my face, watched as the last few flies made a desperate search for food this evening.

I realized I hadn't shaved in nearly a week, my usually clean appearance marred by the growth of beard.  But I didn't care.  The wind was starting to become cold, raising the hair on my arms.  I still didn't care.

I had nearly lived half my life within these 50 miles, in one dead end town or another.  In the town in front of me, I had become, ultimately, the person I was today, through a mix of chance and necessity.  I could see the new buildings being put up in the part of town nicknamed Little Warsaw, the crumbling council housing estates filled with subhuman scum, the glittering buildings in the centre of town, monuments of wealth in a county plagued by pathetic wages and inflated house prices.

I was still confused, not feeling much.  Once, I had known what I wanted to do, where I had wanted to go.  I had thought my way was clear, that with the path I had followed I could use what I had learned without having to work with those I detested, either on a personal, political or basic level.  However, these are only areas where someone of my skills could find employment.  Funny what difference 9 months can make.

I wasn't surprised when I saw the two teenage kids appear near me, and walk towards me.  Sighing, I turned to them.  Both looked anywhere between 13 and 16, dressed in imitation designer sports trousers and t-shirts, their body odour causing my nose to wrinkle.
“You lost, mister?”, one asked in a broad south western accent, the words more a statement than a question.
“P'haps we can help you find your way”, the other sniggered.
Lost travellers were not uncommon to the area, many passing through on their way to the popular tourist resorts in Devon and Cornwall, finding the winding roads and dying towns difficult to distinguish.  This gave the locals ample chances to practice their skills in intimidation and extortion ‚Äì valuable abilities for later life, to be sure.

I sighed again, then fixed them with a stare, saying nothing.  The smaller one began to fidget.  The two, seemingly unnerved by my silent relaxation in their presence, seemed to open their eyes wide, moving on quickly.  I breathed out, letting the tension leave my body.

I wondered how many more potential fights would await me down in the town below.  They seemed to be a way of life here.  In small towns where everyone knew everyone (or at least knew someone else who did), insults came quickly and grudges lasted decades.  And most of the idiots here only had the mental capacity to solve a problem with a beer or their fists.  Usually over some pathetic loss of face or incredibly unattractive and spoilt girl that no rational person would ever covet.  It never occurred to them about the power of humiliation, despite how much they hated embarrassment.  A niche  in the market, to my way of thinking...

9 months...it seemed like forever, yet not long enough.  I may call this place home, but I've never felt welcome there.  If home means anything more than a place to stay, somewhere warm and where you can eat food or have relative privacy, this certainly wasn't it for me.  Not only that, I had been gone a long time.  Fleeting visits between Christmas and Easter, normally before heading up to Oxford or London.  Lots of people moving in, tempted by the promise of unskilled labour being needed, no matter how little truth there was in this.  Lots of people rising up too, from the kids they had been to young adults.

Chances were, my past would not get me through anything more than my first couple of weeks back here.  Old friends would be gone, or forgotten, replaced by younger, leaner and more hungry people.  Poorer too, and struggling to find work, if my deductions were accurate.  I would have to step carefully.

There had once been a time I could walk freely anywhere I wanted, at any time of day without fear of attack.  Not because the streets were any safer (though they grew more dangerous with each passing year), but because anyone who came after me would have to be desperate.  And mad.  Because as soon as I thought I knew who they were, I would find them and make their life hell.  And no-one would do a thing to stop it.  In this place, as anywhere where times are tough, self-interest ruled supreme.

The problem wasn't that I feared it.  I knew the hammer would come down, one way or another, and everyone else would watch in order to see the results, know where they now stood with regards to myself.  The problem was that I no longer cared.  It all struck me as so futile.  My experiences of recent times had taught me more than anyone would rightly want to know about myself, or the world around me.  They could play at stupid dominance games all they wanted, because the fact was it was all a lie.  There is a real pecking order, beyond anything they could know, and they would never rank above ‚Äúserf‚Äù on it.

Truth be told, neither would I.  It didn't matter how smart or devious I was, how skilled at analysis of the chaotic patterns of warfare I had become, among my ‚Äúpeers‚Äù I would not be accepted unless I swallowed the entire bullshit line they fed me.  No matter how many problems I solved, or how many ‚Äúcontingencies‚Äù I drew up and critiqued for them, unless I truly believed, I was another academic heretic, disrupting their pre-chosen conclusions.  And that meant I was a problem, unless I ‚Äúrecanted‚Äù.

And it would be no different down here.

New hierarchies, old hierarchies, new jobs or old jobs, it was all the same.  No matter where I went, the same games would be played, only with slight variations.  Dominate or be dominated.  It was a game I couldn't stop playing, and couldn't escape from.  Anger overcame my apathy, momentarily.  Strange, how those two are so often linked, yet so different.

It was all so...dull. 

Getting back into the car, I came to a final decision.  I would not play along.  I did not want, nor need the approval of anyone, not here and not elsewhere.  Perhaps...perhaps it was time to strike out on my own.  I had no interest in serving the whims of another who, while offering a level of protection and safety, would ultimately do nothing for me.  Instead, it was time to move and shake, not be moved or shaken.  And where better to start, than this pathetic town, where the hungry and lean youngsters could very well learn a lesson or two about their real station in the world?  And perhaps, be guided by a hand who could teach them ways of striking back.

Yes, that sounded like a good idea, I thought, as the engine started.

1174
Or Kill Me / Codename V's Rant
« on: July 15, 2007, 02:02:14 pm »
Codename V's real rant.

Obviously this was not written by me, and all applause etc should be directed at Alan Moore etc  That said, its still much better than the washed down, "freedumb!" version in the film, though even a cursory read shows why it was not used.  Its precisely for those reasons I prefer it.  So here is the transcript taken from the comic, presented in full.



Good evening, London.  I thought it time we had a little chat.  Are you sitting comfortably?

Then I'll begin.

I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here this evening.  Well, you see, I'm not entirely satisfied with your performance lately...I'm afraid your work has been slipping, and...and, well, I'm afraid we've been thinking about letting you go.

Oh, I know, you've been with the company a long time now.  Almost...let me see.  Almost ten thousand years!  My word, doesn't time fly?  It only seems like yesterday...I remember the day you commenced your employment, swinging down from the trees, fresh faced and nervous, a bone clasped in your bristling fist.



"Where do I start sir?", you asked, plaintively.  I recall my exact words: ‚"there's a pile of dinosaur eggs over there, youngster‚", I said, smiling paternally the while. "Get sucking."

Well, we've certainly come a long way since then, haven't we?  And yes, yes, you're right, in all that time, you haven't missed a day.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

Also, don't think I have forgotten your outstanding service record, or about all the invaluable contributions you've made to the company.  Fire, the wheel, agriculture...it's an impressive list, old-timer.  A jolly impressive list, don't get me wrong.



But...well, to be frank, we've had our problems too.  There is no getting away from it.  Do you know what I think a lot of it stems from?  I'll tell you...it's from your basic unwillingness to get along within the company.  You don't seem to want to face up to any real responsibility, or be your own boss.  Lord knows, you've been given plenty of opportunities...

We've offered you promotion, time and time again, and each time you've turned us down.  "I couldn't handle the work, guv'nor‚" you wheedled.  "I know my place."  To be frank, you aren't even trying.  You see, you've been standing still for far too long, and its starting to show in your work...and, might I add, in your general standard of behaviour.



The constant bickering on the factory floor has not escaped my attention...nor the recent bout of rowdiness in the staff canteen.  Then of course, there's...hmm, well, I didn't really want to have to bring this up, but...well, I've been hearing some disturbing rumours about your personal life.  No, never mind who told me.  No names, no pack drill...



That I hear you are unable to get on with your spouse.  I hear that you argue.  I am told that you shout.  Violence has been mentioned.  I am reliably informed that you hurt the one you love...the one you shouldn't hurt at all.

And what about the children?  It's always the children who suffer, as you're well aware.  Poor little mites.  What are they to make of it?  What are they to make of your bullying, your despair, your cowardice and all your fondly nurtured bigotries?

Really it is not good enough, is it?

And its no good blaming the sudden drop in work standards upon bad management, either...though to be sure, the management is very bad.  In fact, lets not mince words...the management is terrible!  We've had a string of embezzlers, frauds, liars and lunatics making a string of catastrophic decisions.  This is plain fact.



But who elected them?

It was you!  You who appointed these people!  You who gave them the power to make decisions for you!  While I'll admit that anyone can make a mistake once, to go on making the same lethal errors century after century seems nothing short of deliberate.

You have encouraged these malicious incompetents who have made your working lives a shambles.  You have accepted without question their senseless orders.  You have allowed them to fill your workplace with dangerous and untested machines.



You could have stopped them.

All you had to say was "no".  You have no spine.  No pride.  You are no longer an asset to the company.  I will, however, be generous.  You will be granted two years to show some improvement in your work.  If at the end of that time you are still unwilling to make a go of it...

You're fired.

That is all.  You may return to your labours.  Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.



- Edited to unfuck the quotation mark problems caused by the server change a few years back - Roger

1175
Or Kill Me / Moral cohesion and the Discordian Society
« on: July 14, 2007, 05:17:26 pm »
Ladies and gentleman, we have a problem.  It is one that almost 100% of us, myself especially included, are guilty of.  It is one that, if it is not overcome, will likely mean we end up getting killed or imprisoned in the bad times that are coming, or at the very best, will leave us in our current situation that we are now in, with minimal influence and held captive to the workings of others.

Our morale sucks.

Really badly sucks.

Now, to be fair, there are a number of reasons for this.  We were caught off guard in the 90s and the opening years of the Bush administration.  With all the advances that were being made, with an ever more assertive media, 'progressive' governments in charge of the western world, the internet, lack of nuclear terror, the threat of nationalist terrorism receding, we had reason to believe things were, in fact, getting better.  Not totally better, to be sure.  There was still a lot of injustice, secrecy, casually created violence and poverty in the world.  But trends of awareness, the various grass root movements that had arisen and flourished (specifically without the level of government intimidation that had existed during the Cold War) were all good indicators for the future.

In short, we got lazy, and therefore sucker punched, big time.

The current wave of authoritarianism has infected pretty much the whole of the western world.  It came fast and unexpectedly.  Torture is back on the agenda, secret wire taps, gulags, suspension of haebus corpus etc all came out of nowhere and has dominated the political debate of the last decade, nearly, and will likely continue.

But more importantly, we ourselves have not helped.

We could have.  Setbacks can be overcome.  Hell, in the 60s they had COINTELPRO, which is even worse than what we have now.  At least civil rights leaders are not being assassinated by ‚Äúlone gunmen‚Äù anymore, though certainly the tarring and feathering they receive in the press is a non-violent equivalent.  Things are not yet that bad, so a comeback should have been in the making, probably around 4 years ago or so.  But it has not.

Thats because the second problem is not related to external events, but is inside of our heads.

Virtually everyone who becomes a Discordian does so because they chose to, not because they were forced into it.  That gives them a peculiar disposition, that is not found among many other groups.  Because they signed up freely, and usually have the presence of mind to deal with absurdity, contradiction and multiple conflicting belief systems, they are very hard headed.

And wont back down very easily.  To anyone, including other Discordians.

So long as Discordians are willing to stick it to each other as much as they would to a Greyface, then nothing can be solved.

Lets face it, we are numerically weak.  We do not use violence (except in exceptional circumstances), command any sort of control over the media or have a ton of cash.  Our only chance is a variant of guerrilla warfare, fought on terms of our choosing.

And the key to winning guerrilla wars is moral cohesion.  The entire idea is whoever survives the longest without imploding invariably wins.  An example is in order: as you recall, in the film of V for Vendetta, it is not Codename V who kills Adam Susan.  He plays Norsefire and Finch like fiddles, pitting them against each other until the very top of the government implodes under its own suspicious nature.  Susan cannot trust Creedy, Creedy feels threatened by Susan, and Finch suspects both were involved in the terrorist attacks that bought them to power.  V sets all this in motion, of course, and eventually topples the fascist government, but they need not have played along.  Not if they had trusted their own people.

And because of this, of how we have been for the last several years, we will lose any and every encounter we take part in, except against the weakest of enemies, who are already factionalized or limited in other ways.  Right now, we are just about able to hold our own against some fluffy pagans and their sexually deviant webmaster.  How can we ever expect to change the international system, or undermine the various governments that we despise, if we cannot even destroy an insignificant twit like this without major planning and grief?

Now, I am not saying we should become consensus city, or that there will not be disagreements of any sort.  Nor is this some exceptionally Byzantine and laborious way of telling people to go easy on the n00bs.  However, once someone is in, and considered in, that should afford them a certain level of respect and leeway.  It is a mark of honour, to be among us, and we should recognize it as such.  Furthermore, we will make it known that to battle with any single Discordian would mean to battle not a single faction, while the rest stood by and waited for a final result, but to deal with the entire Discordian society. 

To take us on would mean dealing with at least 60 or 70 vicious, smart, free-thinking and amazingly competent individuals (perhaps thousands more, as our networked numbers grow and more recruits are bought into the fold).  A single Discordian can be a very formidable opponent, as people like Hunter, TGRR, LMNO, ECH, Silly etc prove.  But what of these backed up by the entire weight of several forums worth of people?  This is the secret of power, that it resides in relationships and networks, not isolation and individual ability.  In short, to take on the Discordians will be to lose.

To that effect, I have buried all axes and vendettas I am carrying.  Even those most recent or longest standing ones.  I have signed up  to EB&G again, with peace in my heart.  I will not raise a hand against another Discordian at all, unless it is absolutely necessary, in circumstances I see as being next to impossible.  All I expect is similar leeway in return.  It need not be perfect, or even chummy, but so long as the fact I am a Discordian and that we have bigger fish to fry is remembered, then I will be fine.

I suggest others do the same, though I do understand it is a bitter pill to swallow, in many cases.  Long ago I made the case for not bothering with ideological purity in achieving our goals.  Right now, I feel the same applies with personality clashes.  We are not numerous enough to pick and choose who we can work with.  Lets bury the personal issues, and get on with the job in hand.  Which incidentally, is part of what is to come next.

1176
Think for Yourself, Schmuck! / I just had a flash of genius
« on: June 15, 2007, 02:53:33 pm »
Pure brilliant inspiration.

I will develop more, but watch this thread for updates.

1177
Literate Chaotic / The last laugh of the show
« on: June 06, 2007, 08:26:59 pm »
I was sat in possibly the worst club in the country.  That was the bad news.  The even worse news was the only whiskeys they had were Bells, or Jack Daniels.  Mmm, a choice between the vile one and the one which had no effect.  I shouted over the music to the barmaid for a double Bells with ice, then sat down.  I reckoned I could alternate, using JD to get rid of the horrible flavour of the Bells.  Or try another drink.  Or another bar.

Well, maybe not bar.  This town wasn’t friendly to other bars.  I suspected it had something to do with the thuggish nature of the hired work here, since this town was crying out for a decent place, anywhere but this meat market.  There were still a few pubs around, one that was supposedly “trendy” one the other side of town, though anyone who truly thought that had obviously led a sheltered life.  And probably even drank Stella Artois.

I looked about the place.  It was fairly quiet, as befitted the early time of night.  Or as quiet as it was ever going to get, to be more accurate.  The speakers pounded out the worst in modern dance and RnB while a few people milled around, ordering drinks or chatting with their friends.  It made a mockery of the whole club.  Not that it bothered me, the opposite in fact.  My friends would probably arrive in half an hour to an hour’s time, as I guaged it.  I happened to live a lot closer than them, plus now I was back home finally, I really needed to unwind some.  What a shitty little corner of the country this place is.

The first glass went down quickly and with no ceremony.  One minute sitting squat on the bar, in its golden liquid glory, then vanished.  I sat back a moment, savouring the moment as much as one can with Bells.   I motioned to the barmaid for a Jack Daniels, again with ice, then sat back.  I took my time over this, savouring the far better flavour, if not the lack of any alcoholic effect.  Perhaps they had some Jameson here, not on display?  It might be worth asking next drink.

By now people were starting to come in with some frequency.  I briefly scanned the crowd, no-one I should be worried about, though a few familiar faces were among the masses.  Sipping on the JD, I turned back to the bar, only to sense someone stand right next to me.

“Hey don’t I know you?” A female voice. I briefly glanced sideways, noting it was a tall, red-haired girl, but not much more.
I took another sip of the drink, then replied without another look “I don’t think so” before returning to my drink.
However, she didn’t take the hint and persisted “I’m sure I do.  You’re Marc, right?”
Damn, recognized.  I grabbed the glass tight, then turned to face her.  To my surprise, nothing else happened.  No grab from behind, no punch to the face, nothing.  Must be my lucky night or something.  Fights broke out here every night, often multiple times.  Now is a bit early, but they've started earlier before, and I've done as much as anyone else had to “deserve” that, from some people anyway.

I decided to answer her question, seeing as I had already been caught out.
“Yes, that’s me” I sighed, like I was reluctantly admitting a criminal charge, which some people would say it was.  I looked at her more closely in the dim light.  She was at least my height and slim, with a wonderful crop of long strawberry blonde hair.  She was dressed in a simple black T-shirt and jeans, wearing a slightly puzzled expression on her face, as if she was going to say something but had forgotten what.  I searched my memory frantically, trying to dredge a name up.
“Jenny?” I managed.  “So how’s things going?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.  How about we get a drink and have a chat?”  I shrugged, then since nothing else was going on, accepted.

This was a little odd.  I had known Jen for about nine years now.  We had practically shared a class in every year from when we were both eleven.  But we were hardly what you could call friends.  Just the kind of person you say hi to, when you see them walking in town or something.  But hey, it wasn't like I was doing anything else, right?

She ordered her drink, a vodka and coke, then I started to stand up, when my leg reminded me it wasn’t in the best of health right now.
“Are you alright” she asked with some concern as I managed to stand straight.
“Yeah” I replied through gritted teeth.  “Someone just dropped something on it today, that’s all.”
“What did they drop?”
“A massive reel of plastic lining about this size” I indicated roughly a foot (30cm) with my hands “by this” I finished, moving my hands about 4 feet apart.  I had been helping my best friend move stuff out of his garage earlier, when he had slipped.
“Ouch.”
“I’ll live” I answered.
We managed to grab a table somewhere away from the deafening loudspeakers, which allowed for conversation without loudhailers.
We mostly made small chat, about we’d been up to the last year.  I mentioned studying, while Jen had been getting qualifications towards being a nurse.
I shifted on my seat, once again gritting my teeth.
“Are you certain that’s OK” she asked?  “I could  have a look if you wanted.”
“That’s a kind gesture, but the management probably have rules about people stripping off in here.”  I thought about this a second.  “Male people anyway.  I’m sure it’ll be fine by Sunday, though I doubt I‘ll be doing much with it in the meantime.”
“Were you planning on doing much with it” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, mostly running, perhaps starting Tae Kwon Do again.  I haven’t really had much chance to practice since being down here, what with work and everything.”
“Hah, I still remember when you stormed out of that after college class after showing the instructor up.  My sister says he's back again this year.”

Great, another year taught useless and dangerous self defence techniques.  That was worse than teaching them nothing.  I made a note to do something about that, but skipped over it for now. 

“So, any plans for the night?  Or is it just another booze up at Legends?” I asked, mildly curious.
“Actually, I'm just waiting for some friends.  Then we should be going to the Kings Arms.  Apparently there are a few good parties going on in Shaftesbury tonight and we can easily go from the bar to one of those.  And you?”
“It was going to be just a quiet night in here, but frankly your plans sound much more fun.”
“Aw, poor little you.  Come with me then.”
“Well, that was hard work getting you to accept the idea..alright then, I'm game.”
We clinked glasses together and finished our drinks.  “Excellent” she said, licking some vodka off her lips, “we can catch up on old times.”

I raised an eyebrow curiously as we walked off.

1178
Bring and Brag / ATTN Creative types
« on: May 23, 2007, 09:34:25 am »
What is good software for mucking around with music?  In general, recording, mixing, producing etc

Also, freebies will be much appreciated.

Cain,
may finally do something with the 12 gig of music on his hard drive.  One day.

1179


You may find this instructional guide useful for dissemination of various pieces of information that you currently have.

1180
Literate Chaotic / Mother Russia provides!
« on: May 12, 2007, 12:02:25 am »

1181
When you come from the fringe, and enter an economic system, you bring some chaos, street smarts, wisdom or some kind of non-system thinking with you. And to a certain extent, this energy can help the system grow and evolve, and compete more efficiently.
-“Howard Campbell”, Poker without Cards

Ideology tries to integrate even the most radical acts

- taken from a cartoon of the same title, by the SI

“Wake up Neo, there is no counterculture”
- James Curcio, Culture-hacking


So, I was reading on Sunday a lovely little article on some awfully designed website that the Israeli government are coming up with new theoretical models for their operations.  That in and of itself is not too worrying.  I try to steer away from the whole Israel-Palestine issue, mainly because I have no good reason to stick my arm into a hornets nest and wave it around.  However, the thing about Israel is while their recent military performance may have been poor, they do consider themselves under threat and so are always looking for an edge, especially a theoretical one for urban warfare.

However, when I see that they are using doctrines based on Deleuze, Debord, ‚Äúpostmodern anarchists‚Äù and ‚Äúnomadic terrorists‚Äù, I can't help but feel they are starting to make a move into our intellectual territory, coming towards the theories we ourselves use, the axioms we take for granted, but from totally the operate direction.  In short, the co-option of our ideas and strategies, for the most Greyfaced of purposes ‚Äì to restore order, as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

We committed one of the two sins when it came to thinking about politics.  We knew they never meant well, but we had pretty much accepted they were stupid, too.  At least, stupid enough to not have learnt from people like us.  Yet, they have.  While this doctrine may not have spread yet, it soon will and it will catch on like wildfire, because its exactly what is needed for the current political climate. Debord's concepts in particular are worrying, as they are the basis for Hakim Bey's writing (probably lumped under one of the postmodern anarchists, I suspect, with Lyotard).  So, in other words, they're figuring out ways to deal with scale free networks, TAZ's, and swarming techniques that could conceivably be used to undermine, hollow out or collapse a state.  Principle ideas in subversion are being turned on their head in order to aid state power and given whose hands that currently resides in, I cannot trust their motives.

Clearly, this is a problem.

For too long, I feel, we have been content to rest on our laurels.  Discordianism has pretty much been at the centre of a lot of western agitation against the Powers That Be, if only indirectly.  RAW and Thornley, along with others, helped build up this mystical, near mythical ‚Äúcounterculture‚Äù in direct opposition to current one, where common wisdom was questioned and new (or old) radical theories were floated.  Again, with the early days of the internet, it was the Illuminatus! influenced hackers who were communicating on the BBS's.  A network of sorts was in place and ideas were encouraged and swapped, for the little good they have done to date.

Every time a subversive text has proved its worth, it has been co-opted at its moment of failure.  This is nothing new, of course, but it is worth noting.  And while in many cases, this was simply to ride out the effects of those who aimed at the removal of the current system, someone has been dangerously smart and has gone back to those ideas, not with plans to use them for the original intent, but to prevent against them.

And they have other advantages on us.  The texts we are talking about were mostly written in the late 70s, the 80s and the 90s.  In fact, the Israeli courses almost look like a who's who of subversive modern philosophers, from Derrida to Foucault.  Obviously not subversive enough, however.  They also have hundreds of ‚Äúshadow institutes‚Äù where the bright and the patriotic are being paid to study this and come up with novel solutions to the problems of the modern world, problems often based within theories expressed in those books.  Money, numbers and areas for practical trial runs.

The question of course is what is there to do about this?

Well, option one is to do nothing.  Fade into irrelevance.  Give up, admit we gave them a good run and go back to our television sets.  Not bloody likely, but possible.  Its disheartening when you realize the CoN is not only smart, its also very good at reversal, even of ideas of use to you.  There is also the rather vague hope that eventually the militaries infected with these ideas will become hotbeds of sedition and subversion, but I can't see it happening.

Secondly, we could go obscure.  Keep what we figure out away from the prying eyes of the various minions of Order and go with the idea that the unknown is what the CoN fears the most.  Of course, the problem then becomes obvious.  How do you go around attracting people to something so secretive?  More importantly, how do you stop it from becoming just another elitist social club, like the Freemasons or the OTO?

Then there is choice number three ‚Äì throw the guides away.  Forget the entire counterculture movement, RAW, postmodernism, everything and go way out there, throwing out the rule book.  Off the beaten track, into totally new theories, regain the edge we lost and have some sort of advantage again.  While the soldier boys and tacticians keep their eyes on the now, we can concentrate on staying ahead of the curve.  Since we have few worries of failed careers for not obeying orders or thinking the wrong thoughts in this regard, as well as not being bound by a current, active threat, we can put one over on the monkeys who are starting to catch up.  Screw Crowley and Magick, memes and failed rebellions of the past.  The only thing we should be looking at these for is to see how they failed, not why they sorta, half worked.

Thats how I see the options before us today.  We can evolve and live up to our titles as neophiliacs, or we can stagnate and die.  As always, the choice is change or perish.

1182
Literate Chaotic / RAW library
« on: May 08, 2007, 09:56:57 am »

1183
Literate Chaotic / For LMNO: Sufism and the Mysticism of Sound
« on: April 28, 2007, 01:22:16 pm »
http://sufimessage.com/mysticism-of-sound/vibrations.html

Quote
The silent life experiences on the surface by reason of activity. The silent life appears as death in comparison with the life of activity on the surface. Only to the wise the life eternal seems preferable on account of the ever-changing and momentary nature of mortal life. The life on the surface seems to be the real life, because it is in this life that all joy is experienced.

 In the silent life there is no joy but only peace. The soul's original being is peace and its nature is joy, both of which work against each other. This is the hidden cause of all life's tragedy. The soul originally is without any experience; it experiences all when it opens its eyes to the exterior plane, and keeps them open enjoying the life on the surface until satisfied. The soul then begins to close its eyes to the exterior plane, and constantly seeks peace, the original state of its being.

1184
Literate Chaotic / This Is Not A Nightmare: A welcome to The City
« on: April 27, 2007, 10:21:04 am »
You're not sure how you came to be here, in this stinking port, putting in among the oil drums and dark containers, with shit and filth lying deep on the ground.  You don't remember who got you the ticket, or how he came to find or, the name of the captain who was sworn to secrecy or the members of the crew who bought you your meals.

Its hideously different, yet frighteningly familiar.  You're mouth is dry with an odd sense of fear as you wipe away the cold sweat at your brow, wishing the fog would clear.  There is no picturesque view here, nothing that is to be seen on the television screens or the travel guides.  This is not your home, yet it is so similar...as if a schizophrenic had taken a copy of the country you once knew, and laid it over the reality, a land ruled by shadows and steeped in secrecy, where unknown figures avoid the light and crawl through the mess.

Taking a step off of the boat, you take a deep breath, then choke on the smoky black air, hidden in the misty shroud of the fog.  There are men unloading crates of 'butter', dressed in black fatigues and watched over by men with rifles.  You look back to the sea for a moment, the ocean waves possible of hiding all sorts of monstrosity, both human and unnatural.  Boxes spill open on the port, spreading white powder, clinking bullets and other hideous items of death, destruction and addiction.

This is not your home, not the way you remember it.  It has a different economy, a different trade base.  Even a different government.  In the quiet clubs, Mafia Dons mix with P2 Masons, exiled generals and boardroom CEOs mix drinks and share jokes with rogue intelligence officers, while SS scientists and private bankers share a tale or two.  The shadow population is in control here.

You need a drink, badly.  You walk down streets paved in freshly laundered gold, taken from the private collections of despots and hidden in off-shore bank accounts, meanwhile live TV broadcasts and newspaper boys shout only Dada like gibberish, in a mockery of what would pass for information.  You stumble and nearly fall through a battered and beaten door, aged not by virtue of being around for a long time, but merely through damage, into a smoke filled and dusty bar.  Pulling yourself up, you walk towards the bar, steps unsteady.  The bartender notices you, his eyes picking you out of the gloom.  As you make your way to a seat, he stops trying to clean the dirty glass and instead turns to you, ready to speak.

‚ÄúHey kid, welcome to the City.  Sit yourself down, you look like you could use a drink.‚Äù

1185
Literate Chaotic / Amazon top 10 list
« on: April 26, 2007, 09:58:31 am »
Fuck!  I'm a known quantity!

Recommendations for you are based on items you own and more.


The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus
The Fall by Albert Camus
The Third Chimpanzee: The Evolution and Future of the Human Animal by Jared Diamond
Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
by Steven D. Levitt, Stephen J. Dubner
The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene
Principia Discordia by Malaclypse the Younger
The Shadow Man by John Katzenbach
In the Heat of the Summer: AND The Shadow Man by John Katzenbach
The Subgenius Cyclopaedia of Slack: The Bobliographon by Ivan Stang
The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster by Bobby Henderson


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