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Write down ten things you like before continuing.















































Beside each one, write down anyone who may want you to like them. Advertisers, corporations, religious instiutions, friends, family, etc.

http://au.ibtimes.com/articles/395479/20121018/discordian-religious-advice-investor.htm#.UH-NW7st2Aw

Thought people may like this.

The following article by Albert Einstein appeared in the New York Times Magazine on November 9, 1930 pp 1-4. It has been reprinted in Ideas and Opinions, Crown Publishers, Inc. 1954, pp 36 - 40. It also appears in Einstein's book The World as I See It, Philosophical Library, New York, 1949, pp. 24 - 28.

Everything that the human race has done and thought is concerned with the satisfaction of deeply felt needs and the assuagement of pain. One has to keep this constantly in mind if one wishes to understand spiritual movements and their development. Feeling and longing are the motive force behind all human endeavor and human creation, in however exalted a guise the latter may present themselves to us. Now what are the feelings and needs that have led men to religious thought and belief in the widest sense of the words? A little consideration will suffice to show us that the most varying emotions preside over the birth of religious thought and experience. With primitive man it is above all fear that evokes religious notions - fear of hunger, wild beasts, sickness, death. Since at this stage of existence understanding of causal connections is usually poorly developed, the human mind creates illusory beings more or less analogous to itself on whose wills and actions these fearful happenings depend. Thus one tries to secure the favor of these beings by carrying out actions and offering sacrifices which, according to the tradition handed down from generation to generation, propitiate them or make them well disposed toward a mortal. In this sense I am speaking of a religion of fear. This, though not created, is in an important degree stabilized by the formation of a special priestly caste which sets itself up as a mediator between the people and the beings they fear, and erects a hegemony on this basis. In many cases a leader or ruler or a privileged class whose position rests on other factors combines priestly functions with its secular authority in order to make the latter more secure; or the political rulers and the priestly caste make common cause in their own interests.

The social impulses are another source of the crystallization of religion. Fathers and mothers and the leaders of larger human communities are mortal and fallible. The desire for guidance, love, and support prompts men to form the social or moral conception of God. This is the God of Providence, who protects, disposes, rewards, and punishes; the God who, according to the limits of the believer's outlook, loves and cherishes the life of the tribe or of the human race, or even or life itself; the comforter in sorrow and unsatisfied longing; he who preserves the souls of the dead. This is the social or moral conception of God.

The Jewish scriptures admirably illustrate the development from the religion of fear to moral religion, a development continued in the New Testament. The religions of all civilized peoples, especially the peoples of the Orient, are primarily moral religions. The development from a religion of fear to moral religion is a great step in peoples' lives. And yet, that primitive religions are based entirely on fear and the religions of civilized peoples purely on morality is a prejudice against which we must be on our guard. The truth is that all religions are a varying blend of both types, with this differentiation: that on the higher levels of social life the religion of morality predominates.

Common to all these types is the anthropomorphic character of their conception of God. In general, only individuals of exceptional endowments, and exceptionally high-minded communities, rise to any considerable extent above this level. But there is a third stage of religious experience which belongs to all of them, even though it is rarely found in a pure form: I shall call it cosmic religious feeling. It is very difficult to elucidate this feeling to anyone who is entirely without it, especially as there is no anthropomorphic conception of God corresponding to it.

The individual feels the futility of human desires and aims and the sublimity and marvelous order which reveal themselves both in nature and in the world of thought. Individual existence impresses him as a sort of prison and he wants to experience the universe as a single significant whole. The beginnings of cosmic religious feeling already appear at an early stage of development, e.g., in many of the Psalms of David and in some of the Prophets. Buddhism, as we have learned especially from the wonderful writings of Schopenhauer, contains a much stronger element of this.

The religious geniuses of all ages have been distinguished by this kind of religious feeling, which knows no dogma and no God conceived in man's image; so that there can be no church whose central teachings are based on it. Hence it is precisely among the heretics of every age that we find men who were filled with this highest kind of religious feeling and were in many cases regarded by their contemporaries as atheists, sometimes also as saints. Looked at in this light, men like Democritus, Francis of Assisi, and Spinoza are closely akin to one another.

How can cosmic religious feeling be communicated from one person to another, if it can give rise to no definite notion of a God and no theology? In my view, it is the most important function of art and science to awaken this feeling and keep it alive in those who are receptive to it.

We thus arrive at a conception of the relation of science to religion very different from the usual one. When one views the matter historically, one is inclined to look upon science and religion as irreconcilable antagonists, and for a very obvious reason. The man who is thoroughly convinced of the universal operation of the law of causation cannot for a moment entertain the idea of a being who interferes in the course of events - provided, of course, that he takes the hypothesis of causality really seriously. He has no use for the religion of fear and equally little for social or moral religion. A God who rewards and punishes is inconceivable to him for the simple reason that a man's actions are determined by necessity, external and internal, so that in God's eyes he cannot be responsible, any more than an inanimate object is responsible for the motions it undergoes. Science has therefore been charged with undermining morality, but the charge is unjust. A man's ethical behavior should be based effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties and needs; no religious basis is necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by fear of punishment and hopes of reward after death.

It is therefore easy to see why the churches have always fought science and persecuted its devotees.On the other hand, I maintain that the cosmic religious feeling is the strongest and noblest motive for scientific research. Only those who realize the immense efforts and, above all, the devotion without which pioneer work in theoretical science cannot be achieved are able to grasp the strength of the emotion out of which alone such work, remote as it is from the immediate realities of life, can issue. What a deep conviction of the rationality of the universe and what a yearning to understand, were it but a feeble reflection of the mind revealed in this world, Kepler and Newton must have had to enable them to spend years of solitary labor in disentangling the principles of celestial mechanics! Those whose acquaintance with scientific research is derived chiefly from its practical results easily develop a completely false notion of the mentality of the men who, surrounded by a skeptical world, have shown the way to kindred spirits scattered wide through the world and through the centuries. Only one who has devoted his life to similar ends can have a vivid realization of what has inspired these men and given them the strength to remain true to their purpose in spite of countless failures. It is cosmic religious feeling that gives a man such strength. A contemporary has said, not unjustly, that in this materialistic age of ours the serious scientific workers are the only profoundly religious people.

http://archbrony.weebly.com/

I continue to be assured that Discordians are my people.

Das ist anyone Here? I could use assistance translating.

Nil

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/france/9536990/France-shooting-hiker-describes-horror-of-murder-scene.html

Story of British family murderered in France.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/france/9534285/France-shooting-Murdered-Briton-was-acting-strangely-before-family-were-killed.html

Another story, makes it look stranger. Describes killing as professional assassination. Strange behaviour by family before murder.


Sorry about only having Telegraph links; allegations death may have related to defence work.

Mr Al-Hilli worked for Surrey Satellites Technology Limited (SSTL) near Guildford, and detectives are expected to ask colleagues about whether his work may have made him a target for assassination.

Mr Al-Hilli was part of a team involved in an undisclosed project linked to European Aeronautic Defence and Space. The company designs and launches satellites for clients who want an "eye in the sky" for commercial, civil or security purposes.

However, friends and colleagues said his work was routine and not secret.

Placid Dingo: Today, I'd like to talk about why compulsorily voting is a good idea.

Squid-Demon: That's ridiculous! Voting makes no difference at all! How does one vote matter?

PD: Well, it doesn't, not as just one vote. But I don't think of my vote as one vote. By taking part in Democracy (and encouraging others to do so), I'm part of sustaining a culture of participation within the democratic system. I influence others to participate, and help spread the cultural message of voting being important; a message which touches more than one person.

SD: But not everyone wants to cast a vote. So why force them?

PD: Firstly, compulsory voting makes it compulsorily to turn up, not to vote. You can draw a dick on your ballot instead of ticking a box if you like. Secondly, if everyone is compelled to vote, the government is compelled to cater to all areas; not just those who traditionally vote, ignoring those that don't.

SD: You think all those people are just going to vote cos you tell them to? That's naive.

PD: It would be naive to think so, but I don't think they'll all vote. I do think that a large number of people will, once a ballot is in front of them, choose to vote. So governments will be compelled to ensure they spread their message to a wider, broader demographic.

SD: But what about people who can't vote? You'll just fine them. That's a whole group of people who are usually busy, poor, disenfranchised, and you're just going to punish them financially.

PD: First, if you have a good excuse for missing the vote, you submit it, and you don't get fined. This could be anything from a car breaking down to a personal crisis. Secondly, there's alternative options, such as postal votes, support in second languages etc. Again, with a compulsorily system, it becomes more important to provide people with these alternative means of voting, as there would be great anger if these options were not provided.

SD: Won't this encourage less politically aware people to vote for some idiot they've never heard of?

PD: Isn't that the current system anyway? Democracy is meant to be the rule of the people, not rule of the handful who could be bothered voting. Again, if you see a whole demographic, racial, geographical or other suddenly voting, you as a politician are compelled to send your message to a broader group of people. Also, instead of putting energy into ensuring people bother to vote, the system can focus on educating people on their voting options and rights and the help they can access.

SD: But what if they have work to do, or kids to look after, or clothes to wash or...

PD: Participating in Democracy is a priority. If you can't vote, well you can't, and there's ways to get around that. But if we actually believe in Democracy, we should do what we can to ensure all citizens have their voice heard.

A statement from the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) says Australian and Afghan troops hunting the killer of Lance Corporal Stjepan Milosevic, 40, Sapper James Martin, 21, and Private Robert Poate, 23, have captured "a key facilitator".

"Operating shoulder to shoulder, the Afghan and coalition soldiers successfully captured a key facilitator who not only enabled the insider attack, but also was responsible for IED (improvised explosive device) emplacement, and the kidnapping and murder of Afghan civilians," the ISAF statement said.

It said the operation was planned and executed in co-ordination with Afghan officials including approval by the Oruzgan provincial governor.

Afghanistan's president Hamid Karzai has hit out at the Australian military for killing two Afghan men during a search for the rogue soldier who shot dead three Australian troops last week.

The men - identified by the Afghan government as 70-year-old imam Haji Raz Mohammad and his 30-year-old son Abdul Jalil - were killed on Friday night.

The deaths occurred during a raid in which Australian soldiers captured a suspected insurgent leader who is thought to have been helping Hek Matullah, the Afghan soldier who killed three Australian soldiers in a green on blue attack last week, to escape.

Mr Karzai claimed the Australian soldiers acted unilaterally, breaching an agreement to give Afghan forces oversight of night raids.

"The president condemns the operation as a breach of the Memorandum of Understanding signed between Afghanistan and NATO on the special military operations," a statement released by the Afghan government reads.

"President Karzai has also instructed the relevant authorities to launch a full and an all-out probe into the incident so that Afghan government can take a stand as required on the violation of the mutual agreement."

I'm in the process of believing two opposite things.

I believe that a meaningful cultural revolution is becoming inevitable. Not one that overthrows, or, let's face it, even really impacts politics, but a general cultural movement and shift in the model of the 60s hippy scene.
Everything is so geared to passive engagement. TV, Facebook, unlimited Data, capitalism.
Just doing in itself is becoming an act of Resistance. Non-regulation fun-times themselves are nearly an act of resistence, if not against any tangible opponent, against our stagnant culture of interacting in purely memetic (internet, TV) or preprogrammed (go to the movies, go shopping) contexts.
To break into the habits of culture building, of self directed value challenges and self exploration, is possible, and I feel is rumbling below the surface, just waiting to break open into streets, parks, homes.

I believe that a meaningful cultural revolution is becoming impossible. Especially one that overthrows, or, let's face it, even really impacts politics, but even more generally a general cultural movement and shift in the model of the 60s hippy scene.
Everything is so geared to passive engagement. TV, Facebook, unlimited Data, capitalism.
Just doing in itself is becoming an act of Resistance. Non-regulation fun-times themselves are nearly an act of resistence, if not against any tangible opponent, against our stagnant culture of interacting in purely memetic (internet, TV) or preprogrammed (go to the movies, go shopping) contexts.
To break into the habits of culture building, of self directed value challenges and self exploration, is difficult, and despite the need to experience something authentic, visceral and self directed the rumbling sense of desire for meaningful cultural change that lingers below the surface, just waiting to break open into streets, parks, homes, remains effectively distracted by flashing lights and gentle status quo corrections.

They want new artists. Email designs to eshop@gmail.com.

Cool. Edited.

Im a bit late putting it out there, but a lot of people still have invitations from events sent out when the Discordian Society on Facebook spammed the fuck out of people with event invites.


There's only a handful of events this far in the future but I thought it might be interesting to do some celebrations. The upcoming event is 'time at which only a handful of Discordians will be left.' Date; September 9. Any suggestiOns?

From here;http://www.magick-instinct.org/ Downloads as word file. Did you guys know about this?


OOOH TASTY, French Language PD Jpegs. OMNOMNOM!

IOT: When people are presented familiar information, they will remember it as true.


The one I forgot: In studies where people are shown a list of statements where some are true and some are false, them have the false statements pointed out, they are MORE likely to identify the false statements as true once they have been remembered once.

Does anyone remember what this second one is called? IT's been mentioned on this site.

Also, discuss.

http://www.extremetech.com/extreme/134682-hackers-backdoor-the-human-brain-successfully-extract-sensitive-data

!!!

Anyone else familiar with these guys?

http://enderender.wordpress.com/2011/03/09/krewe-of-eris-met-with-police-aggression-arrests-during-parade-in-new-orleans/

Inspired by the Reddit thread.

You have;

A ten week term, with one 45 minute class a week.

A class of 14/15 year old students.

An electronic whiteboard (can use multimedia; visuals, clips, music, etc)

What would you include? What makes a good sexual education unit? What messages are the most important to promote?

I've got some stuff to do, but I'll add some thoughts later.

HILDE: Have you heard of OMGASM?

MARSHALL: What's that, tantric sex?

HILDE: No, it stands for Operation Mindfuck: Golden Apple Seed Mission.
(Correction: it's also the name of a short film which is about yoga and sex. --P.H.) 
It's relatively new. It's the idea of sending out a mindfuck to different cabals,
planting mindfucks like golden apple seeds that are spread around and grow.

MARSHALL: Glad OM is still growing. Idea's not new, though; we did it. I never
thought Discordia would go anywhere. Back then.

HILDE: There's a Discordian book called the Black Iron Prison that says we're all
prisoners trapped in grey walls and it's up to us to do what we will, but we're still in
a perceptual prison.

MARSHALL: That sounds like negatism, hopelessness--what Thornley and Hill
called "Greyface talk." There's a line in one of the books, maybe Summa
Universalia. People lock up themselves in cages because they're afraid of the real
world and then complain because they don't have any freedom. (The quote is also
in Principia Discordia: "Ye have locked yerselves up in cages of fear--and, behold,
do ye now complain that ye lack FREEDOM!"--P.H.)

HILDE: The BIP's not that way. It says our perception is limited, but we can make
what we can out of it.

MARSHALL: Until you reach your level of incompetence.

HILDE: Pardon?

MARSHALL: That's from a book called The Peter Principle. I think I remember it;
"In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence." It's the
idea that if you do a good job, they promote you. But in modern society you get
promoted into something different than what you got promoted for. You keep
getting promoted until you reach your level of incompetence, then you stop. And
whoever promoted you won't put you back to where you were actually useful
because that would mean admitting they made a mistake promoting you.

HILDE: Are you familiar with the new or neo-Discordians? Steve Jackson,
Reverend Uncle BadTouch, Rev. DrJon, Professor Mu-Chao, Professor Cramulus, High
Priestess Elestria, Rev. St. Syn, St. Verthaine the Goth, St. Mae?

MARSHALL: Not really. But that doesn't mean anything as I haven't kept up. I
recognize some of those names from that Intermittens magazine you showed me;
more professional than anything we did. Nice new jakes and classic mindfucks,
Thornley's and Quinn's. And I liked the story about the sheep. (The magazine
issue was number 7 and has my first interview with Richard Marshall. "Mutton
Chops" is by Nigel.--P.H.)

Nil

http://www.facebook.com/TheLibraryOfDiscordia

These guys are trying to gather counterculture books/music/stuff.

We envision the Library of Discordia being an activist center and gathering place for thinking people with an emphasis on materials that help individuals cast off the yoke of menial employment and develop their livelihoods. And a cafe would be nice too. With fair trade coffee of course...

This current goal is only for the acquisition of materials ONLY, for the library. The library building itself will be funded later once the collection of large enough to fill a space worth opening to the public. The size of an independent book store at least.

There's a project page on Indie-go-go if you want to donate. They're asking for a lot ($23,005!) but because of the Indie-Go-Go set up, they will get all promised funds regardless of meeting goal.

OR they also say on the FB group,

...we welcome any and all contributions to the library we can possibly get. Write directly to this page for a mailing address to send us materials.

Which I have done, and will share with you spags, as some of us may be interested in our creative works being included; I'm sending off my two meatspace pieces. Other works like the Chao Te Ching, upcoming BiP2 etc, Faceless Man could be sent along.

Thoughts?

http://www.delinquente.blogger.com.br/

This guy is a Brazilian blogger. His holy name is Timpin Pinto (I'm told there's a dick joke in there) and his real name (which is apparently more commonly used these days) is Ari Almeida.

I'm going to try to contact him to rope him in for Chasing Eris if possible. If anyone (I know Nyx can habla the Espanol, not sure who else) would like to let me know anything interesting on that page, I'd appreciate it. Also, it's just there so you can enjoy it.






Also; That blogger that apparently popularised Discordia in Brazil? Name is Ibrahim Cesar. Webpage HERE (Translation)

AFAIK His Discordia work was all on 1001 Gatos De Schrodinger, which has since been eaten by the Internets.

Aikawarazu, TOA is offering Discordian calenders. There's a lot of talented artists here (Net, Epi, et al) so I'm thinking it could be worthwhile getting out shit together to offer ten quality visual arts pieces and call it the PDcom Calender. My quality creativity is pretty limited to words so I can't really offer more that inspiration, but there you go.

I'm taking the better half of next year to travel. I have a weird thing where I don't like to travel for travel sake, so I usually find some work/project/courses to build plans around.

I want to get into a writing project, ideally accessable enough to get accepted by a publisher, that charts the contemporary Discordian scene. So if you're keen for me to harass you, in person, sometime next year, let me know. Also if anyone puts put up for a night, I pay for accom with making dinner.

Woman on train asked guy to turn down music.

He's now warning her about extr-terrestrials and fluoride poisoning. Trip just gt awesome.

The aliens are coming back in 2013.

Ms Taylor and three other International Criminal Court (ICC) envoys have been placed in "preventive detention" in Zintan for 45 days as Libya investigates allege threats to its national security.

The four-member legal team for Muammar Gaddafi's son, Seif al-Islam, has been held since Thursday in the western town after Ms Taylor was found carrying documents for Seif that were considered a "threat to national security".

Earlier on Wednesday, Foreign Minister Bob Carr said the Australian lawyer was in good spirits despite the fact she was facing a lengthy prison spell.

http://www.news.com.au/breaking-news/parents-call-on-libya-to-release-lawyer/story-e6frfku0-1226394653522#ixzz1xfOk0ifY

Thoughts? Is it likely that she's being used to meet other goals by Western nations? Or is she basically being kicked around becasue she's representing Gaddafi's son ?

[In the beginning, all was dark. In the darkness there was form. This form swirled in gentle harmony for many millenia.Then, in part of the form, a tiny ripple began to emerge. This ripple started to move against the form, and the two halves began to pull apart from each other. They began to pull apart from each other. With a violent burst and a crack that echoes across the universe, the two halves split from each other.The two halves of the form sat in the darkness, aware of each other. For the first time they could conceive themselves, as for a moment they could perceive That-which-was-not-self. Said the larger half to the smaller, "Brother, I have fears you cannot be trusted. It was in your half that the ripple formed that tore us apart. I will take responsibility for creating new things, and you may watch." "As you will, sister," said the other half, amiably. The sister took great care in developing the universe. She puffed up the great balls of gas and lit them to set them on fire, so she might see her work. She then crafted the great planets. For many years she worked tirelessly, and the brother watched on, content.When she was satisfied with her work she looked upon Earth and began to create animals. Over time she changed them, very slowly. Some grew taller, lost their hair and their tails. These were our forefathers.]

Feedback welcome

All the world will be your Enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and when they catch you, they will own you.


But first they must catch you.

In the beginning, all was dark. In the darkness there was form. This form swirled in gentle harmony for many millenia.
Then, in part of the form, a tiny ripple began to emerge. This ripple started to move against the form, and the two halves began to pull apart from each other. They began to pull apart from each other.
With a violent burst and a crack that echoes across the universe, the two halves split from each other.
The two halves of the form sat in the darkness, aware of each other. For the first time they could conceive themselves, as for a moment they could perceive That-which-was-not-self.
Said the larger half to the smaller, "Brother, I have fears you cannot be trusted. It was in your half that the ripple formed that tore us apart. I will take responsibility for creating new things, and you may watch."
"As you will, sister," said the other half, amiably.
The sister took great care in developing the universe. She puffed up the great balls of gas and lit them to set them on fire, so she might see her work. She then crafted the great planets. For many years she worked tirelessly, and the brother watched on, content.
When she was satisfied with her work she looked upon Earth and began to create animals. Over time she changed them, very slowly. Some grew taller, lost their hair and their tails. These were our forefathers.

1.

1. HEAR this O Child of Earth! O Child of Westria! You have been greatly deceived and blinded! Illusions have been set before your eyes.

2. An illusion is no solid thing. Illusions have only the power we give them.

3. We are the lovers and bedfellows of our own deceptions. There is no illusion without consent. The Uniform says 'AUTHORITY' and the mind gives consent. The soul makes love to the illusion.

4. Illusions are seedy Pick Up Artists with many tricks to get us to sleep with them. They wrangle from us our consent.

5. They take our money! They take our dreams! They take our identity! They take our desire! They take our allegiance! They direct our conversations, and plan our itineraries! Even our lives. EVEN OUR LIVES.

6. We have grown lazy. Our bodies are not threatened. We need not fear violence. Our society protects the body.

7. The body is left unharmed but the mind assaulted with great violence.

8. This attack is less subtle. It will not kill us immediately, but neither can it be fought with conventional method. We must learn anew how to fight. 

9. O Child of Westria, this is a great call to arms to defend our minds, and take the power from the illusions. I call on you to be a Aukyrie!


In the dark times, man was not as he is now. There are our forefathers. These are the Greyfolk.
All were naked or clothed simply to stave off the cold, faces expressionless. Life was very simple. Food was collected, prepared simply and fed to the people. Weapons were made to fend off wild beasts, sex was indulged infrequently.
No songs echoes off these dark walls. No images were carved into these walls.
This way of life continued for many years, and all held that it was good.
Up in the cosmos, Brother grew restless.
"Sister," he spoke, "all has remained the very same for some time now. The Greyfolk have lived out this day as their descendants did one thousand years past. Surely you would consent to allowing some change to our Earth and allowing us to make sport of our creatures? I fear myself steeped in ennui."
"Brother," sister replied, "They lived this day as they did a thousand years past, and will live just so one million years hence. What need for change? The Earth is good, the folk are good. Let it be."
Brother though, could not let it be. His sister had forbidden him from creating anything, and at any cost, he did not know how.
So it was that he descended himself into Earth to try to find means to entertain himself.
He spoke to the Greyfolk, though they were little interested in conversation. They could gain no benefit from speaking with him, therefore they ignored him.
On some occasions he visited them in the form of wild beasts, though every time was driven off.
He tried to disguise himself as one of them, but still they perceived the truth of his form.
Sister looked down upon his failed deceptions and smiled, knowing that her Greyfolk could not be deceived by her brother. And Brother meanwhile, sobbed into the red dust that billowed around him, and howled angrily to the moon.

2.

1. Is there such thing as Free Will? A great question, but for our purpose, meaningless.

2. A person under complete servitude of illusions, doing as directed by maliciously constructed propaganda, has no free will.

3. One who questions what one hears may not be free, but may be more free.

4. So too the next may be more free than the last, ad infinitum.

5. When we reach the last, most free person, are they absolutely free, or simply as free as can be? I say to you, the difference is negligible. Whatever that person is, that is what we fight to become.

6. I seek for you to become an Aukyrie! To fight against the tyranny of illusion and free yourself from the manipulations of others.

7. Your head is full of other people's thoughts. Your soul is swayed by other people's values. Your heart yearns for other people's dreams. Your path is trodden by other people's soldiers, leading you into other people's snares.

8. How free shall you be? How free will you be? AS FREE AS YOU CAN. From the hills, the buildings, the screaming electron, the rebel, the fighter, the freak, screaming the words. HOW FREE SHALL YOU BE? AS FREE AS YOU CAN! AS FREE AS YOU CAN! AS FREE AS YOU CAN!

9. There are many dangers on this path friend, but so too many treasures. The treasure of the limitless soul awaits, but not freely.

Brother walked to the edge of the river where the Greyfolk fished. He stared at his reflection in the water, and felt lonely.
Taking two rocks he struck them against each other until one shattered. He pounded it against the other time and time again, until he had formed a slim blade. This he used to cut off his finger, and throw it into the lake. He cut off another finger, and another, then began to slice chunks from his arm and throw them into the river.
And each chunk of Brother's body, as it landed in the water, turned into a silver fish, that darted through the lake. And he continued to cut himself into pieces until finally there was nothing left.

More; https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cWx7sUZJK-_SLAo2Y-sBvShPGk6F8PtWsKMZmFOEkL0/edit

Level up!
World's on fire got a hand on the joystick
Keyboard, sword, dagger, uzi and mouseclick
Double click, step back, let's get Jurrassic
Breaking down walls with a mental gymnastic
Plastic buttons smashed up, button mashing
Need for speed, burnt rubber, confidence smashing
Theories burning, restart before crashing
I'm rehashing: cheats and old ideas
Won the mellee and took a grav-hammer to my fears
Frozen stiff stuck down in this ice level for years
and I'm freezing, I don't know how to keep believing
If you see me wearing green, will you think Link or Luigi?
You tease me, can't find two player mode
I'm swinging through to find you like a fat Battle Toad
And all I need is a kiss to turn into a Prince
Shipwrecked on a King's Quest and never seen since
Burst out of the Flood of emotion unscathed
I'm Mario now with my overalls bathed
In the blood spurting out of the 8Bits of my broken heart
Press forward, better, stronger,
No need to restart,
Level Up!

In the Age of Empires you know I was Roman
Because dreams were to big to fit in one home and
I stopped playing Guitar Hero when the Smoke over Water
Thinned enough to show the burnt bodies post-slaughter
I need a med pack, need to launch an attack
Meditate to take you over, turn back
And stare close enough to see the pixels in your eyes, I'm
There! Close enough to know a blessing in disguise
Hide long enough to build a world out of blocks
Swept past the Creepers, but broke my head on a box
Jumping up from under, seeing too many questions
Awkward difficulty curve makes painful lessons
I'm dead, waiting to respawn, while you're raiding my tomb
Every piece of myself is exposed in this room,
And soon you'll be gone
I need more manna to hold on
Running through coins just chasing that golden
Dream, and learning what I should have learned from the start
Drop the damn box in the fires and burned your mechanical heart
Level Up!

The cake might be fake but it's a beautiful lie
And I taste it's sweet icing when I look in your eyes
Double Dragons crossed twice past a velveteen moonlight
Delight in the soft grace of the flight
Shooting straight to you, confidently grabbing each vine
Error 37? Try error 69,
Level Up!










If I can make it better let me know.

One of the most common expressions of frustration against the general trend of extremely horrible people doing extremely horrible things and making extremely large amounts of money as a result, is to rail against 'the system', often with phrases such as 'the system is corrupt', 'crush the system', 'fuck the system' and so on. I have a feeling that this language, and the thought that accompanies it is tragically misguided, and I'm going to try to explain why here.

A good metaphor evokes images that help to make it easy to understand a concept. One metaphor used in 'Black Iron Prison' makes liberal use of the metaphor 'the machine.' In this metaphor we are all part of the machine; one cannot 'fight' the machine because we are the very cogs and gears that make it. Any attempt at change antagonistic to the machine will either be eliminated, subverted or accommodated cleanly.

For some reason, the metaphor of 'the system' doesn't hold the same nuance. We talk of the system almost as though it were on one side of the world and we were on the other, when of course, that is not true. Political hegemony is upheld by people WE vote for. The BP disaster saw the spill of oil WE needed for our cars, and globalization is fueled by our participation in the global economy; at any level.

Let's stretch the system metaphor. 'The system' is a name given to a collection (Art of Memetics fans might say 'an EGRAGORE') of smaller systems that link up together. These systems are in constant flux. We are a component of the system, and the system is a part of us (we both influence and are influenced by Microsystems that make up The System).

We're not really going to deal with The System any more. We're going to talk about systems in general.

I personally have grown to dislike the idea of Random acts of kindness. Why? Because the things that are making the world worse, generally, are not random, but systematic. Exploitation of the worlds poor is possible BECAUSE it's done in the same way, day after day. Successes that cannot by made systematic are not meaningful.

What I'm suggesting is a way of thinking of 'systems' as the tools for change, rather than 'fighting The System' as a method of change.

What sort of systems can or have produced change? Vegetarianism or Veganism present one example. World Heritage, Environmental Regulations, Animal Welfare and changes in marriage law are good examples for the same reason above; they are systematic changes, that have had an effect yesterday, are effective today, and will meet with success tomorrow.

Compare this to any of the attempts by Adbusters to subvert or destroy Capitalism. A mighty struggle may be an exciting narrative, but it is not generally likely to get results. Again, if metaphors can shape the thinking behind our action, maybe we need to lose the idea of 'fighting a battle' and expand on the concept of 'building a village'.

Counter-culture belongs to the first category, the battle allegory. It is parasitic, a reaction against the 'mainstream'. Instead of a focus on counterculture we should focus on 'culture,' building alternatives instead of struggling against the existing culture or system.

If you just skimmed it, here's the main idea; The System is actually a collection of interrelated competing systems. If we want to cause change we should focus on supporting or building systems that can thrive within The System, thereby causing positive change.

It's like Word Association but with more of a point. When we started some of the 'What do we want Aneristic Illusions to be' a lot of people made a point of saying they knew how little politics they knew, and wanted to improve their knowledge. I thought this could be a way for us to build on eachothers knowledge in a fun way that acknowledges the interconnectedness of everything.

Basically you post a figure and give an overview, and somebody draws a connection to them.

Eg,

Wilfred Burchett, pro communist journalist

connects to

Richard Feynman - Burchett won fame being the first journalist into post bomb Hiroshima. The project to create the bomb had the involvement of Feynmann.

etc. Surprising or generally unknown links are OK. Even 'non-political' figures are OK. If we end up with Jay-Z we just connect to Beyonce, who performed for Gaddafi. There's enough links out there.

I would have put this in AI but wasn't sure how it would have been received there.




To make it easy I'll start out with a super easy one; Barack Obama, current President of the United States.

[More from less]

Oz-centric, but interesting.

Megatrends
A megatrend is a collection of trends, patterns of economic, social or environmental activity that will change the way people live and the science and technology products they demand.
The five interrelated megatrends identified in the report are:

More from less. This relates to the world's depleting natural resources and increasing demand for those resources through economic and population growth. Coming decades will see a focus on resource use efficiency.

A personal touch. Growth of the services sector of western economies is being followed by a second wave of innovation aimed at tailoring and targeting services.

Divergent demographics. The populations of OECD countries are ageing and experiencing lifestyle and diet related health problems. At the same time there are high fertility rates and problems of not enough food for millions in poor countries.

On the move. People are changing jobs and careers more often, moving house more often, commuting further to work and travelling around the world more often.

i World. Everything in the natural world will have a digital counterpart. Computing power and memory storage are improving rapidly. Many more devices are getting connected to the internet.

Five megatrends, resulting from 19 identified at the Trendy Thinking workshop, that will change the way we live and the science and technology we need.








Megashocks

A global risk, or 'megashock', is a significant and sudden event; the timing and magnitude of which are very hard to predict.

The report identified eight megashocks relevant to Australian science:

asset price collapse

slowing Chinese economy

oil and gas price spikes

extreme climate change related weather

pandemic

biodiversity loss

terrorism

nanotechnology risks.

http://www.csiro.au/resources/Our-Future-World

On Hakim Bey, creator of the concept Temporary Autonomous Zone (a predecessor to PLUR)

There is a periodical, preserved at the University of Michigan's famous Labadie Collection, that seems to make an unlikely fit with the purpose of that special archive, which is to preserve anarchist materials in particular, as well as those of other social movements, including sexual freedom and gay liberation. It is the NAMBLA Bulletin, which has been published monthly since 1983 by the North American Man-Boy Love Association. "Man-boy Love" is a term used by apologists of paedophilia. I hereafter use the term paedophilia where such people would object to its use. But why was a paedophile magazine acquired by an archive with such a charter? Most people would argue that "Man-Boy Love" is not an issue relating to gay culture at all, since paedophilia occurs no more or less frequently among gays than it does with straights. Very few people of any politics consider adult-child sex to be a legitimate lifestyle choice. But the former curator who added NAMBLA Bulletin to the Labadie was actually keeping to the central mission of the anarchist archive when he subscribed to the journal.

Beginning with the July-August 1985 issue, the magazine carried a long series of items by Hakim Bey, who was already a distinctly anarchist writer. Most of them were discussions of the paedophile obsession with a clear anarchist slant. Anarchist ideology was the mode of justification, the method of persuading children to have sex and to keep it secret.

On Kerry Thornley (some guy, started some religion or something.)

Pope OldBoyfloats: Do you consider what you wrote in your book, Prankster and the Conspiracy, about Kerry's predisposition towards sex with children to be metaphorical, satirical, or dog gone truth?

Adam Gorightly: Well, there are plenty of metaphors and satire in The Prankster and the Conspiracy, but the question you've asked falls more into the category of "dog gone truth", although what the complete truth is regarding Kerry Thornley--in regards to many unanswered questions--who knows? And "truth" is something that can change, and will change, with the more information you process. So "truth" is a word I have issues with, as it's so damn subjective, and nobody's "truth" will ever be quite the same as the next persons. I just reported the story of Kerry Thornley as best I could, but as with so many questions concerning Kerry, the verdict is still out,such as: did he meet with Oswald in New Orleans; was he involved in the JFK assassination; was he a victim of mk-ultra mind control—or all the above. We'll probablynever know for sure—we can only speculate. But to answer your question, I wouldn't say that Kerry had a predisposition towards sex with children. However, he was an idealist about all matters sexual, and his philosophy was documented pretty thoroughly in a series of magazine articles he wrote in the early 1970's entitled Erotic Minority Liberation, where he defended nearly every sexual taboo, including exhibitionists, voyeurs, fetishists, pedophiles, transvestites, nymphomaniacs, obscene phone callers, animal lovers and sadomasochists. Now, I wouldn't classify Kerry as a pedophile, as the only documented instance--which I wrote about in the book--occurred in the early 1970's with Grace Zabriskie's daughter, Marion. It was an episode where Kerry fondled Marion, who was 8 years old at the time. Knowing what I do about Kerry, he probably thought it was all good, letting nature take its course, that type of thing.Just all part of this philosophical approach he had to sex. Perhaps, he was simply experimenting, wanting to try at least everything once. Kerry, if anything, was naïve. I don't think he was manipulative,or a predator.

I was born in the later 80s to parents who weren't part of any kind of crazy scene in the 70s (which as I understand it, was the Australian 60s, more or less) so I don't know but what I'm wondering is, was the a general tolerance of paedophilia amongst the Lefty/hippy/esoteric/freak scene? Or did these two individuals just happen to be anomalies?

It's a Google Doc atm, but look at it in progress if you like. I'll xpost here once I have something solid.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ekrNi9MzdScxTM3ZejwIMcXHqoZq9rcZlMqfclPiRPs/edit

EDIT: Xpost


Twisted Threads

Concept: Twisted threads is a card game built around the complex multiple levels of international relations.

Players control a 'set' consisting of a number of human characters under their control. Each player begins with a set of three characters under their control. Each character brings three Sparks to the player. The main aim of the game is to continue in an advantageous position across the narrative ark of the story, but within a single game a player has the short term goal of keeping or increasing 'Sparks' while forcing other players to lose theirs. This can be done by directly playing cards in God mode, or by making open strategic moves in Story Mode.

In story mode, one player designated as the Central Scrutinizer (CS does not control a set) goes through an open ended series of events. To begin, the CS will explain where each player is in the story arch (for a continuing story) or introduce players.

In a God Mode round, players have been dealt ten cards. Each card can be played at a cost to the player, and affects events of the story, and the Sparks of individual players. The cards may reflect very general situations which are explained further by the CS, in Story Mode, or immediately where the circumstances require it.

Human Characters:
Human Characters have a small number of attributes.
Type: Based on MBTI. Roll four dice.
1 Odd E even I
2 Odd N even S
3 Odd T even F
4 Odd P even J
Certain types hold certain properties. You may choose to disregard this element early on for simplicity.

Funds. Rather than a complex finance system, character hold financial classes.
Bankrupt/Borderline. Struggling to make ends meet. Only one 'Loyalty' point.
Middle Class. Enough for basics.
Upper Class.
Megarich.

Affiliation.
Characters are affiliated with any number of Clans. At the start of a game, all characters must be affiliated with the player's Clan. A player who becomes dissociated with the key Clan remains under the control of the player, but is more easily manipulated by the CS or other players.

Loyalty. Starts at five, may be reduced by different events or situations.

Personal details; Name, age gender etc, as revealed by player.

Clans:
A character may be involved with any number of clans. The clan is any specific organisation (listed or not) under the following catorgories. These may include;

Government (Australia, America, Afghanistan)
NGO (UNESCO, Invisible Children, PETA)
Political Group (Greens, Republicans, Liberals)
Anti Government (Anonymous, Wikileaks, Socialst Alternative)
Internal Affairs (Federal Police, FBI)
External affairs (CIA, Mossad, ASIO)
Media (Al Jazeera, ABC, Fox News)
Religious Organisations (Catholic Church, Church of Scientology)
Cults (Westboro Baptist Church, Raelians, Exclusive Brethren)
Other (Discordians, The Royal Family)
Organised Crime (Zetas, Yakuza, Mafia)
Terrorist Groups/Armed Resistance (LRA, Al Quaida, Boko Haram)

It is advised the there are clear relations between clans. While it is possible to tell the story of Mossad, the Yakuza and the Catholic Church, it would be easier to interact between Wikileaks, the American Government and the FBI.

 Letters (from an arsehole)

On use of time.

Greeting from Seneka Mori to his dear friend Lucilius.

Do not contend too heavily with the thieves and robbers of your time dear Lucilius, at least not on their own terms. Many will come to deprive you of this most precious commodity, so precious indeed that once lost, it can never be regained. Vengeance can be had, surely, but even so this does not bring back our lost time. We will always lose time. There are three types lost to us; that which we surrender to idleness, that which is torn from us, and that which is taken gently.

That which we surrender we have not remedy to complain against. Have not we ourselves been the thief but not the beneficiary of this crime? There is no remedy for this but to be aware of when we are wasting our time, and to refuse to accept such villainy from our baser nature. When watching TV just to entertain us, when stalking your ex-girlfriend on Facebook, when replaying resentful or hurtful scenes in our minds, we lose this time to our own foolishness.

The more insidious (or at least, most punishable) form of time theft comes from those who would take your time for their own purposes. The boss who demands four hundred pages of documentation, the friend who drags you to tiresome events, anyone who tries to sell you anything, ever. You do not solicit these thefts just by your existence or networks. There are two ways we can deal with these intrusion Lucilius. We may seek to block these intrusions through bluntness or incompetence. As the wise Feynman would do, spread rumors of your irresponsibility. Express that you are too busy, or more directly, too unwilling to participate in these ventures. Sometimes these impositions will be unavoidable, but often we will liberate ourselves quite nicely with such refusal.

Punish those who insist on their right to the theft of your precious time. Do not seek vengeance out of malice; malice is not our forte; but out of a desire to keep your time, by spending it on your own amusement. To do so one must master the troll, which I shall discuss in further letters. Aggravate the thief. Play dumb, feign confusion. Lead them into confusing arguments. Arrive late. Give gifts that will cause distress, such as pet mice or awkwardly sized items. If one has children we can pass on items that creat great noise and allow the children to do our work by proxy. In short, dedicate yourself so wholly to your own amusement that the thief will consider twice before attempting again such a vile crime.

Last those who take gently are usually true friends. Time taken so gently is taken with an embrace that we would usually be willing to accept with grace. To be an arsehole is not a permanent state but a skillful art. A painter does not practice his craft underwater; be similarly discerning about where you practice your arts.

One must eat the hell out of a hamburger, and live the hell out of each day. We do not look forward to death, we look back on it; for the days we have passed are already dead, and only those few left coming towards us are left living. Each day we pass is killed, and best killed with a mighty battle cry, not a sooky whimper. A soldier does not mind his manners in battle. We are in battle Lucilius, a line of slain days behind us, and a line armed and passionate running towards us. Would you suffer your army mates to sniffle and whine about your manner as you plunge your battle axe into the head of a foe? Then do not tolerate those who sook out as you battle the days – grin your bloodstained teeth and carry on hacking.

It is too late too value your time when little is left, just as it is too late to ration the wine when the last is left. Pour time into the glass with care that not a drop is spilled. Or better yet, fuck manners and drink from the bottle.

Professor Thomas was a specialist. He specialised in grass.

He and his uncle lives in a small apartment with a small yard. In the afternoons, Professor Thomas would walk up and down the yard, looking at the grass.

"Five different genus, here," he would say.

"A varied ecology of bugs and beetles!" he would exclaim.

"An accelerated photosynthetic process on the left side of the yard," he'd muse.

But, after only a month, something happened. The grass started to die.

Professor Thomas couldn't work it out. He did tests. He took samples. He looked under his shiny microscope.

The bugs were OK.

The sun was OK.

The variation was OK.

He couldn't work it out.

One day he was talking to his Uncle. "I just don't know what's killing the grass."

His uncle gave his a fatigued look. "Look at your boots," he said, "You're stomping all over it."

Professor Thomas looked amazed. "Of course!" he cried, "I was so focussed on my awareness of the system in front of me that I forgot that I WAS A PART OF IT."

I figured this could use its own thread where we have a peek through to see what's useful.
http://www.wikileaks.org/the-gifiles.html
-----

Global Intelligence Files – more than five million emails from the Texas-headquartered "global intelligence" company Stratfor. The emails date from between July 2004 and late December 2011. They reveal the inner workings of a company that fronts as an intelligence publisher, but provides confidential intelligence services to large corporations, such as Bhopal's Dow Chemical Co., Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon and government agencies, including the US Department of Homeland Security, the US Marines and the US Defense Intelligence Agency. The emails show Stratfor's web of informers, pay-off structure, payment-laundering techniques and psychological methods, for example :

"[Y]ou have to take control of him. Control means financial, sexual or psychological control... This is intended to start our conversation on your next phase" – CEO George Friedman to Stratfor analyst Reva Bhalla on 6 December 2011, on how to exploit an Israeli intelligence informant providing information on the medical condition of the President of Venezuala, Hugo Chavez.

The material contains privileged information about the US government's attacks against Julian Assange and WikiLeaks and Stratfor's own attempts to subvert WikiLeaks. There are more than 4,000 emails mentioning WikiLeaks or Julian Assange. The emails also expose the revolving door that operates in private intelligence companies in the United States. Government and diplomatic sources from around the world give Stratfor advance knowledge of global politics and events in exchange for money. The Global Intelligence Files exposes how Stratfor has recruited a global network of informants who are paid via Swiss banks accounts and pre-paid credit cards. Stratfor has a mix of covert and overt informants, which includes government employees, embassy staff and journalists around the world.

The material shows how a private intelligence agency works, and how they target individuals for their corporate and government clients. For example, Stratfor monitored and analysed the online activities of Bhopal activists, including the "Yes Men", for the US chemical giant Dow Chemical. The activists seek redress for the 1984 Dow Chemical/Union Carbide gas disaster in Bhopal, India. The disaster led to thousands of deaths, injuries in more than half a million people, and lasting environmental damage.

Stratfor has realised that its routine use of secret cash bribes to get information from insiders is risky. In August 2011, Stratfor CEO George Friedman confidentially told his employees : "We are retaining a law firm to create a policy for Stratfor on the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. I don't plan to do the perp walk and I don't want anyone here doing it either."

Stratfor's use of insiders for intelligence soon turned into a money-making scheme of questionable legality. The emails show that in 2009 then-Goldman Sachs Managing Director Shea Morenz and Stratfor CEO George Friedman hatched an idea to "utilise the intelligence" it was pulling in from its insider network to start up a captive strategic investment fund. CEO George Friedman explained in a confidential August 2011 document, marked DO NOT SHARE OR DISCUSS : "What StratCap will do is use our Stratfor's intelligence and analysis to trade in a range of geopolitical instruments, particularly government bonds, currencies and the like". The emails show that in 2011 Goldman Sach's Morenz invested "substantially" more than $4million and joined Stratfor's board of directors. Throughout 2011, a complex offshore share structure extending as far as South Africa was erected, designed to make StratCap appear to be legally independent. But, confidentially, Friedman told StratFor staff : "Do not think of StratCap as an outside organisation. It will be integral... It will be useful to you if, for the sake of convenience, you think of it as another aspect of Stratfor and Shea as another executive in Stratfor... we are already working on mock portfolios and trades". StratCap is due to launch in 2012.

The Stratfor emails reveal a company that cultivates close ties with US government agencies and employs former US government staff. It is preparing the 3-year Forecast for the Commandant of the US Marine Corps, and it trains US marines and "other government intelligence agencies" in "becoming government Stratfors". Stratfor's Vice-President for Intelligence, Fred Burton, was formerly a special agent with the US State Department's Diplomatic Security Service and was their Deputy Chief of the counterterrorism division. Despite the governmental ties, Stratfor and similar companies operate in complete secrecy with no political oversight or accountability. Stratfor claims that it operates "without ideology, agenda or national bias", yet the emails reveal private intelligence staff who align themselves closely with US government policies and channel tips to the Mossad – including through an information mule in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, Yossi Melman, who conspired with Guardian journalist David Leigh to secretly, and in violation of WikiLeaks' contract with the Guardian, move WikiLeaks US diplomatic cables to Israel.

Ironically, considering the present circumstances, Stratfor was trying to get into what it called the leak-focused "gravy train" that sprung up after WikiLeaks' Afghanistan disclosures :

"[Is it] possible for us to get some of that 'leak-focused' gravy train ? This is an obvious fear sale, so that's a good thing. And we have something to offer that the IT security companies don't, mainly our focus on counter-intelligence and surveillance that Fred and Stick know better than anyone on the planet... Could we develop some ideas and procedures on the idea of ´leak-focused' network security that focuses on preventing one's own employees from leaking sensitive information... In fact, I'm not so sure this is an IT problem that requires an IT solution."

Like WikiLeaks' diplomatic cables, much of the significance of the emails will be revealed over the coming weeks, as our coalition and the public search through them and discover connections. Readers will find that whereas large numbers of Stratfor's subscribers and clients work in the US military and intelligence agencies, Stratfor gave a complimentary membership to the controversial Pakistan general Hamid Gul, former head of Pakistan's ISI intelligence service, who, according to US diplomatic cables, planned an IED attack on international forces in Afghanistan in 2006. Readers will discover Stratfor's internal email classification system that codes correspondence according to categories such as 'alpha', 'tactical' and 'secure'. The correspondence also contains code names for people of particular interest such as 'Hizzies' (members of Hezbollah), or 'Adogg' (Mahmoud Ahmedinejad).

Stratfor did secret deals with dozens of media organisations and journalists – from Reuters to the Kiev Post. The list of Stratfor's "Confederation Partners", whom Stratfor internally referred to as its "Confed Fuck House" are included in the release. While it is acceptable for journalists to swap information or be paid by other media organisations, because Stratfor is a private intelligence organisation that services governments and private clients these relationships are corrupt or corrupting.

WikiLeaks has also obtained Stratfor's list of informants and, in many cases, records of its payoffs, including $1,200 a month paid to the informant "Geronimo" , handled by Stratfor's Former State Department agent Fred Burton.

WikiLeaks has built an investigative partnership with more than 25 media organisations and activists to inform the public about this huge body of documents. The organisations were provided access to a sophisticated investigative database developed by WikiLeaks and together with WikiLeaks are conducting journalistic evaluations of these emails. Important revelations discovered using this system will appear in the media in the coming weeks, together with the gradual release of the source documents.

END

Because it doesn't really impact too many people here so directly I might put the Aussie stuff here.

For some time now there's been a lot of talk about the leadership of the incumbent ALP govenment (Australian Labor Party). Previous Prime Minister Kevin Rudd was ousted in a leadership challenge. The Labor Party have essentially two inside competing factions- the labor left and the labor right. Current PM Julia Gillard is supported by (though I don't think is actually of) the right. Rudd is similarly associate with the left.

There's a lot of media speculation of another challenge, this time with Rudd ousting Gillard. It sounded like crap to me but a friend whose political awareness is pretty top notch suggests the original backers of Gillard (Bill Shorten and other names I don't recall) are themselves losing faith in the ability of Gillard to beat Tony Abbot (climate skeptic, opposition leader). Last election was a hung parliament. So what does that mean? Not sure. But it's going to be an interesting

Leaked documents expose the way a well funded libertarian think tank goes about spreading anti climate change propaganda.

The inner workings of a libertarian thinktank working to discredit the established science on climate change have been exposed by a leak of confidential documents detailing its strategy and fundraising networks.
DeSmogBlog, which broke the story, said it had received the confidential documents from an "insider" at the Heartland Institute, which is based in Chicago. The blog monitors industry efforts to discredit climate science.
The scheme includes spending $100,000 for spreading the message in K-12 schools that "the topic of climate change is controversial and uncertain - two key points that are effective at dissuading teachers from teaching science", the documents said.
It was not possible to immediately verify the authenticity of the documents, although Heartland issued a statement on Wednesday claiming at least one document was fake, and that it was the victim of theft and forgery. However, Anthony Watts, a weathercaster who runs one of the most prominent anti-science blogs, Watts Up With That?, acknowledged Heartland was helping him with $90,000 for a new project. He added: "They do not regularly fund me nor (sic) my WUWT website, I take no salary from them of any kind."

http://m.guardian.co.uk/environment/2012/feb/15/leak-exposes-heartland-institute-climate?cat=environment&type=article

---

This box has Fat monkeys but no rotund gorillas

There is a flying dictionary but no TV guides

There is a film of Roger punching a bandicoot but no photos of Cramulus eating elderberries 

There is Brad Pitt's emotional older sister but not Johnny Depp's cousin.

Dimo's rules, except I don't mind if you discuss what you think the rule is.

SMF forum here; http://socialnetroar.com/Forum/index.php

Full of suck and fail (spammerz!) Any advice for a long term solution?

Interesting leaked (?) footage telling us more or less what we already know about the manipulation of media by corporate interests.

https://www.getup.org.au/campaigns/mining/monckton/monckton-speaks-to-mining-industry-share-this-video?t=dXNlcmlkPTE1MDk4OCxlbWFpbGlkPTU1Nw%3D%3D

Part 1/10.

Roger walked through the rain. It fell hard and sharp, the kind that didn't touch clothes, just passed straight through you effortlessly like a thousand so sharp ice shards.

He gripped the magazine close to his body to shield it from the wet, and approached the building. One of the door goons, a face like red boiled duck fat tried to stop him. As Rodger looked up at him he stepped back, apologetically.

"Let the Empress know I'm in," he growled. "And yes; it is fucking urgent."

***

Yesterday things hadn't been so bad. He was on top of the world that morning, and looked it, dressed in his sharp black suit and red silk cravat. His silver tipped cane tapped gently on the ground as he looked out the window at his army of machines.

"Look at that," he said to Richter. Richter was the new guy they'd shipped in. Apparently a genius. They discovered him somewhere in Eastern Europe where he'd been kidnapped by the Fascist Hipster League and forced into slavery. Two days later, the hipsters were dead, and Richter was doing a victory lap in an improvised tank. Shortly after, Rodger's team had made contact.

"These machines power everything," he said. "Everything in our company, everything in this town. Nearly everything in the goddamn country. You understand what they run on?"

Richter ran his thumbs down his leather suspenders. "They say, on horror."

Roger nodded. "It's more complex than that, but essentially that's what it comes down to. We mine the human psychic field for horror and convert it into usable energy. We sell the power to the state. The money sounds our science laboratories, which make new products and discoveries, which in turn keep us on top."

On top indeed. It had been... Jesus, nearly 30 years since there had been any company the could present a real threat to TGGR INC. No concept, no villainy, no genus could rival them.

Until now.

Now, Roger stood wiping his face dry with a sealskin towel as he waited for the Empress to see him.

He pulled out the magazine and stated at the face on the cover. Piercing blue eyes, thick black designer glasses and long blonde hair. The headline ran:

[Cramulus: The New Kid on the Block]

"Twenty four years ago, wasn't it?"

Roger looked up. The Dark Empress Nigel stood before him, clad in flowing black silk. Her black hair was cropped tightly and lay like a snake on her shoulder.

"My lady?"

"It has been twenty four years since anyone's face, from outside the TGGR corporation has graced the front of this publication. And now, a stranger on the cover. From, it seems, nowhere."

"That is why I seek your council, my lady."

The Empress nodded slowly. 
"I know. I will consult with the sparks and howls of the night, and return to you with answers. But now, you must rest. You are greatly wearied."

The Empress placed a warm comforting hand on Roger's shoulder. He could feel the cool edge of her metal thumbnail against his skin. She nodded to one of her eunuchs, who walked off to obtain a raincoat, and escort him back into the night.

***

The professor Cramulus adjusted his thick black glasses and shook his head slightly to dislodge a strand of his golden luxurious hair from behind his ear. He gave one of his rock star smiles and a million cameras shot off their flashes.

"Friends," he said, "Calm yourselves down. This is only revolution."

A million pens scribbled. The press fucking loved someone who could give a nice soundbite.

"For nearly thirty years," he continued, "horror has been king in psychic energy generation. The true horror, is that horror has been at the forefront for so long! What we have developed in Cramlarus Labs is a new energy concept: Memetic Field Looping. As our power source grows, so does it's strength. What we intend to do friends, is going to change everything."

Journalists pushed and yelled, each hoping for a golden quote. 

"The lady in red," called the professor, pointing.

The lady stood. She wore a burlesque red dress, black stiletto heels and a no bullshit expression.

"Janet Phox," she introduced herself, "major Blogger."

"Which Blogging Fraternity?"

"Freelance. Mr Cramulus, in the last five years there have been multiple instances of strange electronic fields and unexplained phenomenon close to your labs. Official versions of events ultimately admit no idea what causes the most concerning instabilities. Do you deny the link between your work and these happenings and do you understand the very real danger that your research poses to the stability of both the psychic and physical universe?"

"I should always get my business partner Commodore Telarus to choose who asks the questions," said Cramulus, " I always end up picking a conspiracy theorist straight up. I can't tell you how many times I've had to deny being a six foot lizard." There was a titter from the audience. The Professor continued to rearticulate the official corporate rhetoric. That was OK, Phox decided. She was a different breed of journalist. If she needed answers, she was going to have to play it smart.

***

Roger was restless. Sleep was distinctly impossible. He pulled himself out of bed and began to walk down the hall.

They had found something he hadn't. That was the thing to be worried about. In those bright lit, frequently exploding laboratories they had tried, often with success, every imaginable way of extracting psychic energy, and nothing had ever rivalled their current technique. Nowhere in the world performed science with the material, brains and  borderline insane reckless abandonment. And yet, it was not his face on the magazine.

He stepped outside and began to walk. The moon cast down a creamy light onto the streets. The road was silent.

As Roger turned the corner to his favourite haunt, a gloved hand grabbed his arm, face hidden behind a hat.

"Do you know what's coming?" he said.

***
 
Phox began to type.

[Pumped up with pomp and faux celebrity aesthetic, Professor  Cramulus' tiring rockstar schtick cleverly disguises the great truth; that this individual presents the greatest threat to international security since the early days of the TGGR Horrorfarms.]

She stopped to reread the sentence, before pausing as a hand knocked on her door. She slowly stood and opened it.

In front of her stood a woman with short brown hair and deep blue lipstick.

"Remember this moment," the woman said, "it'll make a huge stir on Livejournal." 

Then her hand flew from her pocket to Phox's arm. Phox stepped back, and stared at the needle stuck in her bicep. She tried to yell, but the world was already spinning.

***

The Empress Nigel woke with a start, and looked aside to the bedside cabinet. She kept a notepad there to write in her sleep. 

Her hand was wet. She looked at it, and it was black with ink.

She looked at the pad. It was stained black, torn and pulpy. She had been writing the same thing over and over until the paper had worn through and the nib had burst. She pushed the pad aside and saw clearly the words etched deep into the wood of the cabinet.

[shE ComES]

I'm trying to express some ideas in my head and the artistic filters aren't working so well so I'm going to try to express things clearly and precisely.

I've been teaching now for two years. This is my third year in schools. I'm in Central Queensland which is... Limiting, by virtue of being in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I spent four years at university preparing for this. That time was very future focussed so I wasn't ready for the change in pace actually having a job and looking into 'here we are' rather than 'this is where I'm going'.

I'm looking at going to Asia next year. To teach I think, but possibly with designs on moving into some kind of aid work.

Some of these Discordian ideas, ideas about Gods and giants and jailbreaks are starting to really come into this vision of where I'm going. The idea of the self, of wanting to be a giant; to cut out the flowery language, the desire to push myself and 'discover my best self'. To become better at what I do and more complete in who I am. I don't know if this is all a bit wanky.

I'm making career risks here and also relationship risks (which I won't go into detail over).

Right now I'm just nervous and uncertain about the future, what I want, where I'm going - or should be going. I have a vibe I'm going the right way but just... Head full of too much right now.

Also, wisdom teeth ripped out; so probably I can dedicate a lot of this post to my painkillers.

Partially inspired from here

Na na na na nihilism
I'm replacing plastic thoughts with a purity of vision
A new appreciation of an improved intuition
On a mission; saving minds, good choice, good decision

Because every thought 
I ever had
was wrong and bad
Barely a fad
Though technical like AutoCAD

And a new belief's
A true belief 
Hang it high
In the sky
Shining like a Christmas wreath

Too high for an ideology thief
Needs to learn to respect my belief
Respect my belief

I'm a born again Confucian I'm a born again La Rouchan
I'm a born again Buddhist I'm born again nudist
I'm a born again pop culture hack 
Lying on my back struck down with Lupus
I'm a born again communist
Found my way onto McCarthy's list
Shot down dead through the head with a mind bullet
Psychic warfare that you just can't resist
Buried secretly and then
Back up, fired up, fresh faced, born again
I'm a born again Capitalist
With a leather jacket and a rolex on my wrist
Killed off by a moral crisis
Born back into revolution ready for sacrifices
Yelling when the price is right
You'd better learn to fight, alright 
Yelling Na na na na na nihilism 
I'm replacing plastic thoughts with a purity of vision
A new appreciation of an improved intuition
On a mission; saving minds, good choice, good decision

Because every thought 
I ever had
was wrong and bad
Barely a fad
Though technical like AutoCAD

And a new belief's
A true belief 
Hang it high
In the sky
Shining like a Christmas wreath

Too high for an ideology thief
Needs to learn to respect my belief
Respect my belief

I'm a born again transcendentalist 
A born again accidental terrorist
I'm born again into thick swirling mist
A born again lover with lips unkissed
I'm a born again Discordian
Playing Weird Al on a two dollar accordion 
I'm spreading the word like, there's this guy
Called Malcalypse, man, I don't know of you've heard of him?
A born again Christian
Second time lucky, hoping Jesus will listen
Heart full of love like I'm on a mission
Pumped up fat with theological ambition
I'm a born again anarchist
Raise up my hand and make a fist
Standing up on stage with red shirts and rage
Tearing down the state like they can't resist
I look into the mirror, and 
I feel like I'm seeing Franz Ferdinand
Punch out and it shatters 
hits the floor and scatters
Not even sure if it matters
Look into the shards to see a thousand faces
All mine trapped in different times and places 
Handing out different brands of propaganda
Drunk and laughing leaning over my veranda
Yelling na na na na na nihilism 
 I'm replacing plastic thoughts with a purity of vision
A new appreciation of an improved intuition
On a mission; saving minds, good choice, good decision

Because every thought 
I ever had
was wrong and bad
Barely a fad
Though technical like AutoCAD

And a new belief's
A true belief 
Hang it high
In the sky
Shining like a Christmas wreath

Too high for an ideology thief
Needs to learn to respect my belief
Respect my belief

I'm a born again
Guy-who-thinks-it's-ok-to-watch-porn again
Shot from the tomb to the womb again
I wish that this would stop happening
Because every time I'm born again 
It means I've gone off and died again
Wait six seconds to respawn again
A big black stain on my pride again
In the night ideas start seeding
All of a sudden I'm on my back bleeding
A strange lost look goes and crosses my face and
Bang! Holy fuck, surprise! Reincarnation!
Confusion has increased 
I feel like I'm perpetually recently deceased 
I feel like maybe I should call my priest
Have him record last rights so I can put them on repeat
A beat beat on the drum
I feel like I know the tune but all I can do is hum
True is the fire the spark has begun
I got a new religion man, you wanna try some?
Every idea you have is you and you forever so never ever 
let them in, let them win, 
let them begin to convince you otherwise
Shield your mind, shield your eyes
Scream na na na na na nihilism 
Replace plastic thoughts with a purity of vision
A new appreciation of an improved intuition
On a mission; saving minds, good choice, good decision

Because every thought 
You ever had
was wrong and bad
Barely a fad
Though technical like AutoCAD

And a new belief's
A true belief 
Hang it high
In the sky
Shining like a Christmas wreath

Too high for an ideology thief
Needs to learn to respect your belief
Respect my belief

Cool photos from Har Par Villa in Singapore. Most of them will be on my flickr soon, but for now hers two I edited to reflect PDcom.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/29703537@N00/6688486705

http://www.flickr.com/photos/29703537@N00/6688486405

Haw Par Villa, also known as Tiger Balm Gardens is a trippy as fuck concrete statue garden full of Chinese religion, myths, ledgends and moral lessons. Probably about half of it is explained. The rest is just super random.

Inspired by this post from LMNO; http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=15647.0

Leon and Mr. West.

Leon was of medium height with a soft smile and a receding hairline. He was wealthy but rarely flaunted it. He usually wore just a Tshirt and jeans, and a necklace with a pawn on it. The pawn was his favorite piece because it was the only piece with some level of unpredictability; get it to the other side and you have a valuable wildcard. It was also the only piece whose trajectory was influenced by the position of the other players pieces.

Often people said to him, 'you should have the King now.' It would not have gone astray. He had not lost a game in over eight years (other than as a kindness to his seven year old nephew), and was known in many circles as Leon the Professional, after the film. The only person who had won more games was a wealthy shut-away known as Mr. West.

Mr. West's real name was Delcan La Rouche. He had the reputation for beating many professionals at their own game, and also a reputation for being a slippery figure, who won by questionable means. He had a habit of suing the hell out of anyone who dared accuse him of cheating. The judges repeatedly denounced him, openly loathed him, shot barrages of insults and reduced his character to ash.

And then, without exception, ruled in his favor, often stripping his challenger of millions of their hard earned cash, often reducing the cocky übermensch into a struggling genius, barely above the poverty line.

It was well known that there was no shame in declining an invitation from Mr. West. Even so, when Leon received the letter he only smiled his soft smile and passed it to his butler.
"indicate my acceptance," he said, politely. "Set a date."

Mr. West had a bookish, ordinary face, brown dull eyes and thin weedy fingers which darted over the pieces like a hawk chasing a mouse. He wasn't a bad player but certainly not a professional. He made his move. Leon took a few moments to respond. The chess pieces were a dark marble that reflected the candlelight that illuminated the study they played in. Old stuffy portraits adjourned the walls. In the corner, in a dark wicker chair,  Mr. Mark looked on intently.

Mr. Mark, not Mr. West had answered the door. He was an unpleasant looking man, awkwardly stuffed into a too tight Armani suit, puffed up like a cane toad. His thick black hair was slick with gel.

"Ah," he cried as Leon had entered, "the professional himself!" He shook Leon's hand with a too-firm handshake.
"I'm Mr. Mark, Mr West's attorney. I'm just here to ensure proceedings are fair. I'll be serving as adjudication also, under the following rules." He produced a list which Leon scanned, and a gold pen. They were verbatim the standard international rules. He signed.

In the mahogany room he had met Mr. West. Mr. West had shook his hand but said nothing, just gave a weak smile. Leon was white.

They had been playing for twenty minutes when Mr. West moved his pawn forward to take Leon's queen. Leon cocked his head.
"That's not how a pawn moves," he said.
"It's a legal move," said Mr. Mark.
"Not by the rules I signed to."
"The very same. It's a secret rule."
"There's no indication that there's secret rules. It's still not allowable."
"It's a D-34 military document. By implication there are some rules unstated. If you wanted to challenge for this information you would have needed your lawyer to appeal it. Of course at this stage, to do that, you'd have to forfeit the game."
There was a deep slow silence. Then Mr. West spoke for the first time.
"Your move."

They played for a while longer. Leon was frustrated but also energized. There were finite numbers of moves in chess, but now he was confronted with a new challenge; a strategy to find success when the truly unpredictable was possible.

First he just continued to play. Against an exceptionally arrogant and talented opponent he had once allowed the loss of most his pieces to puff him up with complacency, then with a handful of exceptional moves, completely decimated him. But this was not to be the case here. In another ten minutes West had moved his castle diagonally to take his bishop, and in another six minutes  moved his knight three forward and three left  to take out a  well placed pawn. The increments between illegal move were decreasing and this wasn't accidental; Mr. West was attempting to boil him like a frog.

He next began to experiment, duplicating Mr. West's illegal moves as closely as possible, moving his own pieces in new illegal fashions. Each time Mr. Mark told him off for an illegal move.

Mr. West moved his bishop like a knight to take Leon's castle. Leon grimaced. From here, even playing legitimately, he was in danger of check.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he said. Mr. Mark nodded and opened the door for him.
He left the room.

Ten minutes passed before Leon was back. He had left frustrated and anxious, but returned seeming cheerful. He made a move. Mr. West countered.
Leon moved his castle diagonally and took Mr. West's queen.
"Check"
"That's not a legal move," said Mr. Mark.
"You're not the adjudicator," said Leon.
"I should like to inform you that I am."
"Then as I am refusing to move this piece I believe it is customary for you to move it back."
Mr. Mark nodded, bemused, and stretched forward his hand. As he did, Leon slashed at him with a kitchen knife, cutting his hand. He screamed and Leon leaped up throwing him against the wall. As Mr. West came to his aid he thrust the knife between his legs.
"Take another step and I cut off his balls," said Leon calmly. 
"Dominic, please!" said Mr. Mark.
Mr. West sat down.
"Say what you need to say to make it legal," said Leon to Mr. Mark. He did not respond, so Leon hit him hard in the stomach with the knife. The blade only sank in a centimeter but the shock of the impact was enough.
"I hereby, by legal right," said Mr. Mark, shaking, a glob of sweat and hair gel running down his cheek, "resign my position as adjudicating judge, and announce in my stead, Mr. Leon Winters."
Leon stepped away from Mr. Mark who sank down. He placed his hand on Mr. West's shoulder, so that the cool blade is pressed as though incidentally against the back of his neck and reached over with the other hand to scoop up a handful of discarded pieces placing them so that Mr. West's king is in check. He waited to see if there were any objections. There were not.

Leon took the score pad and marked it 1 - 0. He sat back in front of Mr. West and tucked the knife into his belt.
"What do you say, chap," he asked cheerfully. "Best of three?"

I'm reading a collection of writings from Wilfred Burchett as I fly to Vietnam. It is a fitting collection to read on the way to Vietnam; Burchett was not himself a Communist, but certainly expressed work sympathetic to a number of Communist regimes.

It starts to feel, reading the works, that even while some of Burchett's sympathies seem woefully misguided,   a number of the communist or now ex-communist nations he depicts have a tradition of dreaming that our Western nations don't seem to stem from. The kind of dreaming Gene Roddenbery understood when he started Star Trek; a dream of humanity joined together, of elimination of poverty, of the limits of class or sex or religion. The kind of dreaming that gave a hint of itself  when mankind reached the moon.
These communist regimes were often quite incapable of delivering on these lofty dreams, but the way Burchett depicts his optimism for the future speaks of nations that believed in something, passionately, powerfully.

What do our Western nations have a history of believing in? Democracy? Perhaps. But what is the democratic dream? Our history of dreaming seems poor- the West has crushed, crippled and subverted Democracy overseas at every opportunity, often in the name of Democracy itself. 

I believe in Democracy, but what we see now is not a version of Democracy worthy of any utopian dream. We see America killing their own citizens without trial. We see laws again in America giving greater and greater power to control their own people. We see protest efforts against corporate greed and corruption actively subverted and insulted by governments and corporate media. We seen the shameful treatment of Bradley Manning, the pursuit of Julian Assange and the targeted destruction of Wikileaks. We internationally see Western governments pushing for laws such as SOPA that control the Internet. In short we see the main proponents of Democracy to be powerful individuals who through their actions display nothing but the darkest contempt for this very institution. If it feels I am speaking as though America were the whole West, I apologize, but use these examples as equally relevant to Australia and other Western nations because every thing I have listed is either duplicated or unquestioningly tolerated by our own government.

This 'Democracy' is not a utopian vision, a dream that can compete with the Communists vision of a paradise of equality. Has our Democracy lost the power to dream? We seem desensitized to the ways in which what we call Democracy manifests itself. Our political narrative has been reduced to a rehashed Summer Blockbuster. We find a villain, fight, kill, repeat. We're so accustomed to the plot now we can even cheer in all the right places. The killing of Osama Bin Laden was so well drawn into this goodies baddies narrative that the questions about 'rule of law' were drowned out by the cheering.

The ruling forces maintain an aesthetic democracy, without substance as an ideology; something nice to shout, to claim allegiance to without any real world obligations or repercussions. It's a trademark, a catch phrase, a sigil, a logo. This doesn't mean I'm claiming conspiracy, that we in fact live in a fascist civilization or any such; I do want to say that we are not encouraged to actually believe in Democracy in any depth beyond 'it's good' [and often thus by implication 'the others' are bad], and that based on what we have witnessed from our governments it is only regarded as valuable as long as it remains consistent with the existing power holders ability to do whatever they like.

If we want to believe in freedom, Democracy and rule of law, the first step is to relearn to dream; these are not pretty words, they mean real, big, brilliant things. How  could those things serve humanity? Try closing your eyes first.

I'm so glad I'm a beta

Except that I'm not. Glad that is. But I'm very much what you'd call a beta type.

I used to be one of those guys who complained about how girls only liked arsehole guys. I wasn't really socially brilliant. Girls told me I was cute and told me I'd make someone happy, but they were always talking about someone else.

I got over that shit. I got more assertive. I realized that its ok to riff on sex with girls around. I upped my confidence. I stopped waiting for a super obvious indication of interest before I dared to indicate any myself.

I got into Myers-Briggs and Keirsley. This was super useful because it pointed out to me that what I was thinking of as social retardation was really just introversion/NT-type personality.

So far so good.

But,

There's things I hear, on this forum and generally that niggle at me. 'if you have to ask how to be an alpha, you'll never be one.' 'you should stick to people with the same attractiveness and social skills as you.' I'm not unattractive, but I'm short, which for some people seems to count as worse. And like I've said, I'm not socially mangled but it's not automatic; I dislike new social situations and find them draining, I can't do small talk (I'm the guy who asks you about your life plan and political ideology in the first five minutes.

The comments made as literary criticism in my work pointed out my character wasn't alpha, he was a beta faking it. That's possibly very true, and makes sense to me because I don't know what it's like in the head of someone who just 'gets it', but I do know what it's like to be someone who has had to learn those skills in the same way other people learn to get good at poker or playing the violin. There's a difference though, is what we're saying, between a social extravert and someone who's learned the skills to succeed in a social environment. So again where does that leave me? Is there an expectation that I stick with the beta crowd rather than inconveniencing the genuine alphas with my second rate imitation of social skills?

What does that mean for me? I should stick to the socially semi-coherent not-overwhelmingly-attractive types? It might seem to make sense to say that when you're gorgeous and extraverted but I can't accept it. I don't get another life. I can't rely on being beautiful and extraverted next time around. I need to get everything I can out of life; everyone does (if you were so inclined I suspect you could regard it as Dharma) but I wonder, after people make comments like the ones I've discussed, what do they expect this social 'caste' to do? Because no matter how fake my social development may be, it gets me further than my 'real' introversion, and I'm happy with that.

TL;DR
Telling people they can't be alpha or should stick to a lower class of people they belong to (the unattractive, socially limited etc) is frustrating advice because it asks you to go against your inclination to succeed in life.

I wish I could be Kanye West
I wish I could be Sage Frances
I wish I could be Joyce and Jack
Sliding down a stream of conciousness
I want to spit trademarks, emit green sparks
I want a new concept like Breton and Marx
I want to burn so bright I light the dark
Memes up like lazerbeams on sharks
Fight for a big idea, invite the Devil near
Make it clear what was once obscured
I'm here. I'm pure. I'm new. I'm newer.
I'm back, I'm big I'm a burning ship
I'm a V8 engine on a mobius strip
Ripping up a comic book,
and guess how many pages it took
It took them all, and more, what for?
For spandex archtypes, motifs metapore
Better for dreams or life, or more?
I'm waiting for Jesus, I'm waiting for Superman,
I'm waiting for Mandella and Bauer and Hoffman
A gentleman thief, a fiddling Nero
A God, a girl and antihero
The belly of the whale went and broke my fall
So I wrote it up on my Facebook wall
Monomyth in 120 characters
Cos attention economy needs to keep shit small
and fall
and fall
and fall and fall and fall
Campbell knew what he was all about
When he said the first step was refuse the call
I refuse them all and refuse some more
Found a bag of cliches and reused them all
There's a frog and a pond and a girl and a ball
and car and a fence and a house and a mall
and democracy justice and freedom for all
Peter Parker became Spiderman, Saul became Paul
A magic marker, some vitamins, a pen and a floor
An idea, a muse
Two socks and two shoes
And running and running
And keeping up with the news
Which keeps up with you but hey, what can you do
I want Wikileaks and Gods and Freaks
I want to hear your voice when it cracks and speaks
Things that I didn't hear on TV first. I want the worst. I want the best
I want a flash of leg, of thigh, of chest
A cheeky grin, a smirk, a sin
A naked girl with a violin
A breakup that doesn't follow the script
Unexpected twists, tweaked and flipped and
kissed by a pair of perfect lips
And perfect eyes that blink like an eclipse
and slip
and slip