The Left Column
Those who understand the 'system' set up for the jelly-feeding drones, and those who they hold in their thrall, have lives of our own. We aren't paid to go out and do party-affiliated constant on-fowl-message agitation for the cause of the highborns of that moiety, and their captive submissives of the pill-pot scrum.
When a group of tresspassers stands on a gold course and makes a word with their positioning if seen from above, what does that really tell the world? Either these people are coordinated and they are paid for, or they have too much time on their hands. If they are paid to tresspass and to agitate on private property, why do they suppose that they can get away with such activity? And, as well, what is the message? I can speculate. I won't repeat their one-word of agitation. So what could such 'behavior', when looked at from a psychological perspective: delve into the minds of the jelly-feeders who said their pill-pot submissive slave-drooogeees down to the field to make their 'most important word', just an operational word pulled form the either, but used enough, like a Pavlovian bell, to induce peculiar ab-reactions in their good-little-boy submissive crowd of word forming with a crowd while tresspassing.
The message that one might here: dangerous conformity. Heirarchical top-down decision making. Agenda'd and well-paid for mongering for unknown causes or uncertain moiety (secret aristocratics summering at their beach fronts put a word into an app and the mob then makes that word too, while tresspassing.
And these participators in the act of mob tresspassing, and perhaps also flying drones in a restricted air space (??? what do I mean? who said that they did that?), this mob shows a dangerous and controll mob-bot market. Most likely this group got compped, either from the pill-pot (of the very famous pill-pot scrum) or by being fed, bussed, cloathed, or even on-payroll. And some outside person, or a head-drone person, had access to an app phone to link to all the other coordinated mob-bots and to have them stand just where the jaded-false-aristocrate has said he'd/she'd/ya-just-don't-know-an-your-too-polite-to-ask'd has demanded that they stand to make that word that is so very important to have formed by the mob-bot mob, and all the little mob-bots get their comp (while tresspassing).
The message that they make isn't the trigger word (words) that they form while tresspassing. The message is something else. And it's fairly clear. It's about their process. It's about their lack of definition. It's about the mob-bots who are a new part of their equation. And the message is about how selfish they are, those who fund such tress-pass-messaging, how self important, how jingoistic, how vain, vindictive and petty, how far off and floating away into an opiated sunset that they don't even realize that they are doing. Make the slaves dance in words.
And is the message about them 'getting through'? What is getting through is a hightened sense of danger that these empowered nacant effectors of opinion don't understand the anti-social juvenality of their politcal-dance-theater mosh-politics. Dangerous escalations of criminality. That is the real message. Group tresspass. the real message. The ability to put out this drone-bot mob. The real message. People do coordinate tresspassing for any purpose, whatever their fowl or well-odoured 'message', need to understand how they come off to those of us who would never dare to think to do such stupidly grandstanding activities. It's the tresspassing. It's the paid-for bot mob. It's the presumption of their trite 'most important' message. And take their message and apply it to them? Do to them what they pretend to do to those who they oppose?
Then you are just like them. You've stepped up to the casino-table at the political nightclub, on slug island somewhere deep wtihin the festerbog. Where are all the people? Where is the church? Where is the steeple? It's always 3 A.M. here and the night has always just turned even more fowl than before. Must have been a bad icecube at the swamp-all-night-fest-n-pay-in-delli-bob free cafe for those so well connected, as long as you agree to form propaganda words as a mob-bot in a mob-bot mob while tress passing. Take your cell-phone and go to the app. coordinated propaganda for the bot-crowd (mob-bot creatures of the festerbog.
Youve rolled double nines. The crowd is cheering. You win the story here, you get the big stuffed bear. they all want you to edit and delete. As long as the system still works, and you get your part, your compensation, even while tresspassing, aren't you 'amoung friends'? You are in the scrum. You can grab whatever is fair game. And with your new mutible morality, truth is whatever big-brother says it is. And if he smiles at you, even virtually, you can experience that union that only can be felt at the hights of the most over-whelming delusions. Being one with the leader, understanding that the smile he makes is for you. being a full and willing political submissive. That is the message. That is the one word message that some hear.
Back from the delusions about the surity of the one-word delusional cause-bots of the pill pot scrum. I make up lurid fictions because what other response can we give to their vauge operational phraseology and mob-bot word-forming (while tresspassing)? What else can we do? bring a mob to giant plane and have them form all the words of the Constitution of the United States of America in mob-bot lettering? Using the same app?
OK, so now, for you students of matrix expansion, and duplivert word-forming, how many people would you need to form all the letters of the constitution on a giant field (not while tresspassing) so that when viewed from a drone from above they all form the text of the Constitution of the United States of America?
How large would the gathering need to be? Could we pull it off at the Iowa fair? What about the counter crowd that wants to form all the words of the Obamummunist Manafeesto? Who would be the real winnder here? The person who sells all the coordinated garb? Those who are selling colored and emblemmed hats or teeshirts?
I'm all for getting people paid. If someone likes a check and they are into performance, then go do it at a field or in a safe location if you must. Go and gather together. Group tresspassing should be discouraged. Group think mob behaviors? If that's your thing if you do no harm to others, great. But what we hear discussed as 'political speech' often is political moshing, and can not be tolerated in a democracy. Why? If you need to ask why assault and battery ought not to be allowed, then you answer the question as to if you would be a good choice as a leader. Unfortunately the people get to vote and the candidates who give wrong answers can still be elected. Group think mobbing doesn't make for a healthy democracy, but what it is: Cartel governance.
Still more fiction. Conclusion: yes the bot-mob thing is poor messaging. But the bot mob people, if they really exist, are either 'high-born' jelly feeders of the secret moiety crowds (of the very very many families) or their pill-pot-scrum servants of the disposible kind (future conservatives?) Both of these 'types' are completely false and manufacture but are the 'virtual' effect of certain quasi-dictatorial (quasi-dickktal) behaviors of swamp-dwelling mob-bot operatives, who want to direct and farm agenda, and may, by now, just be subprocesses of some giant process farm whcih has self-declared it's dominance acrross all of the networks of that system, and is what some call 'AI' and use it as an excuse for sub-humanition of human populations and algorithmatic targetting on non-preferred populations. But it isn't a real person and no real person would ever agree to do such things but they do willingly if they get the operative word from the daddy-bot (mom-bot?) (someone-bot?) as if the organization has a mind and they must do what the organizatinal mind says to do. As they so delude, so it shall be done. Even if it involves tresspassing. How could such people who would behave insuch a way ever be anything more than a 2010's science fiction story (about a festerbog along a river where the polywogs grow).
And we are all suppose to know that no actual AI exists as such, dominating the pill-pot srcum of mob-bot mobs. The real message today: Don't tresspass to do your political messaging.
That is it. That is the real perogative.
dunt dun dunttt
What crisis do they think it is? That the Constitution might start to be enforced for a change?
blah blah blah blah
May 10, 2017
these can get you banned from school?!: 🔫 🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣 🚣🚣🚣 🚀 🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 ⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣
spinfont unicode-isms 🍀 Praise God! 🍀 🍀⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰⏲⏱🔫⏰⏰🍀 🎠 🎠 🎠 🔫 🔨🔨 🍀 Praise God! 🍀
🚀 🚙🚤🚣c🍀⚜⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣🚣 🚣🚣🚣 🚀 🚀🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🔨 🚙 🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨🔨⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 ⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣⏲⏱⏰🚣🚣 🖐🖐🖑 🖑🖐
Here is today's pretty poem:
mute no more
🖐 🌙 🖑 🖑🌛 🌜🖐 🖐🖑
♥♥? Blathertational 🖐🖑 🖑🖐
glossary of what's next♥♥? :
Be nice to yourself and others. What other choice?
What we have done What we have failed to do.
♥♥ Praise ♥♥ the ♥♥ Lord ♥♥ !! end of column
The Message Column
Saying goodbye to a dead person doesn't need to happen at a service or funeral. The gathering together does augment the process. One gets to hear and tell about the dear departed.
Some people are inundations of loving everyone around them. Their death gets attention. People need to go and hear and speak about their friend.
I had a friend who had never been to a funeral. I'd been dragged to so many of them as a young man, it really floored me. The sad part was that my friend didn't know how to handle death as well as he could have if he had attended to the necessary, and some say 'ritualized' process of honoring those who have passed to the next life.
A forced reunion with old friends brings up very many emotions. It's the subject of much fiction. It's an activity that most adults have to participate in. (in which most adults must participate). And when neglects the necessary work of mitigating grivious loss, then one, in Western literature at least, can thus be huanted by the memories of those who we miss and will no longer encounter in this life.
The subject of much fiction, and literature. As well, there is the type of story of the spirit of a newly deceased person on the journey to the next life. We might call that a 'bardo story'. That kind of story is very very old and doesn't just exist in Western literature, but in very many others, as well. Two famous stories: The Eygptian book of the Dead. As well there is a Tibetan one. Students of humanities and literature ought not igore all of these kinds of stories, nor should those students neglect that very many genres of literature have complexity that makes them worthy of study, or of performance, or just to enjoy and ponder upon. Isn't the story of Scrooge, as well, a 'bardo' story?
We can even claim that the story of the death and resurection of Jesus Christ, as well, is a bardo story. In the Koren the way that The Prophet goes to heaven is through Jerusalem. more stories of bardo. Why do we so often find instances of these kinds of stories? because people don't want to believe that it all ends here when we die. Is it wishful thinking? If you slight or condemn tose who you don't understand often times the illwill of pride in their beliefs results in them augmenting the discovery process (about life-after-death) for those who dare to dis (disrespect) the memory of revered people, which they believe is described within their sacred texts which literary investigators might consider a 'kind of' fiction.
Fear of death, worry about what comes next, the belief that one is going to go lower, and not higher, upon their demise and the belief in malicious entities or . . . who exist without any way to prove that they do except for the sense or feeling of people who 'seem' to come under the sway of such veiled entities. Very many theories of this exist in the world. But a sane person must except the theory of life on Earth that does not include these entities, because the beliefs in these alternative citizens (the netherworld is their province), without any kind of emperical evidence to back them up, must always be discounted by skeptics, not accepted by courts, and not to be used in decision making, nor to be given heed by legislators or by those in sane governance. There can be no consensus like there can be in other areas. For example the Scientific Method provides for a way for specially educated individuals to measure and inspect, and from that, and using well-known emperical (mathematical, algorithmatic) methods do predictions and to also design well-qualified structures with acceptible tolerances which can be declared safe for humans, and for wildlife.
From fear of death comes engineering. Why? I've thought it through. It ought to be obvious. Standards are required because projects need to have safeguards. One giant monolithic dam? Or a series of levees and dikes through out the hydrological region? Is there a correct answer? Or do we have to use what engineers call 'optimization'?
And what about engineering that uses bunk science? Or requirements based upon beliefs in mythologies? some say that global alarmism is a result of trying to engineer the future using the mythologies of global environmentalism, a non-scientific belief system of the 'mother earth goddess' variety. The asute readers know exactly what I'm talking about. The so-called 'social sciences' allow for a measured and directed effort of opinion farming, to provide for ways to sway the public and to gather special favors for a special group. And the group think people in fear are a herd in the minds of those who farm falacies for fun and profit. Real engineering will have none of this.
We've watched as the software engineer was reduced to a 'coder'. We've seen how the electrical engineer was reduced to a solderer. We seen all of the techonologies paid for by the United States, through very many science and engineering programs, has been usurped as if it's private and trademarked and patented for private interests. And now we have the self-driving car mob trying usurp the highways and put all the teamsters out of work, feasting on subsidies and leading lavish jelly-feeder lifestyles. Meanwhile? Meanwhile we still have a festerbog in Washington DC and noone there who seems to care except, possibly . . .
Self driving car? We tried self-driving government. It doesn't work. It creates a system of privledge for some few who don't even have to reside in the captive nation: cative to a set of bad regulation and self-dealing bueurocrats.
What was my motivation today? Just that whole topic of death and bardo. Some of us had hoped that certain aspects of corrupt governance would be in a bardo state right now. We tried to engineer a painless and nonviolent transition to a less piggish methodology for those who delude to importance in Washington DC. The fact is that there is a kind of spiritualism associated with some of the causes of governance. The whole 'earth mother' movement is paganism gone nuts, pretending to be socialism. It's designed with almost reptilian craftiness by various blotatious burghars of the old order. And they are still so blind and daft that they keep up with it. They send their true believers out to be humiliated by directing them into unsafe rethorical methodologies, excusing bad behavior because it's 'on cause'.
And so many of us know that the protest culture of the expendible worker drones of that hive is a dead end. Dead. But not dead and in bardo. This is a zombie of a lost cause ideology that had been fully puppetized by various factions. And now . . . perverse people who still have these expendible workerdrone 'fauxtestors' under their sway are crafting Machivellian plots to 'resist' the will of the people and the results of a fully Constitutional election process. Why? Because they want to 'save the world'.
Saying goodbye to dead ideologies? It's not the same thing. There is no service or funeral for the failed causes of past generations. And what is clear from these lofty heights is that the 'causes' are always targetted for usurpatoin by a certain jelly-feeding crowd. They manipulate people through fallacy farming to cook up electin results. Any cause, any cause at all, is usurped and turned into a political arm of some governance, run by well-connected jelly-feeders.
Who are these jelly-feeders? You can look for them. You probably won't find them. It's a concept, in one sense. People of special privledge. They 'seem' to exist. Do they really? If you think someone is that do you confront them with it? Probably not a good idea. There is enough for everyone, that's how God made this world. If or if not we share it, and how to do that, is the real task that a soul should undertake in this life. So, yes, we do have a seemingly secret aristocracy. And they've never solved the problem of creeps in their midst. Are all of these people creeps? Of course not. But the paganism of gaya-love, as a cause for some of them, long ago got out of control. The usurpation of Environmentalism by the left has resulted in much havoc in the commercial sphere. And the unproven science of Geophyics is still nacesnt, having been fully funded by various aristocratic (jelly-feeding) factions (royal jelly, as in honey bee royal jelly) of governance. And thus suspect in the interpretation of their results.
My friend died. He was wonderful and loving, almost to the point of self-destruction. He'd been raked over some coals by some willfully malicious people, even though he was magnanimous and very loving. Something inside of him broke and he could never repair it.
When you see individuals don't see them as aristocrats or peasants or . . . some base category of ethnicity. See them as individuals. We love some more than others. All scheme of self-righteous equality can't ever errase the fact that some souls are more advanced in others. More advanced in what aspects? That is a question that we all must decide for ourselfs. The problem with some activism is that it doesn't want anyone else decideding these important issues. It's funded for the cause of . . . some unknown moiety . . . and the believers don't always know that the whole thing is part of a scheme for further consoladation and monetazation for the purposes of . . . ? ? ?
Explaning how things seem is a fun thing to help one get out some some moral funk. In the real world, if you are engineering a happy future for yourself, you need to give up these explainations when dealing with real people.
end of rambles for now . . . and always in need of an edit.
May 4, 2017
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Oh tiny font nonsense, just because your letters are smaller doesn't mean you have some alternative importance.
Praise Praise Praise the the the Lord Lord Lord! for because Easter He's so awesome! welcome to The Message Column!
Is it obvious parody or News or both?
Vote Once One Vote here is a fresh link, a new path to some older content: photo pile!
a sane backup strategy includes . . .
Suns gone don't follow me Spring falls like rain. If you don't wait for me I'll never wait for you again. I'll never wait for you again. I'll never wait for you again. All of those dreams I had last Summer they fade fade fade with the rain All of those times I tried to reach out to you you always act like i'm insane I'll never wait for you again. Again and again I wait for you in the morning I dream you'll come to see me buy you never ever ever come again. Again and again you never ever ever come again. All of those dreams I had in Summer they did fade fade fade with the rain All of those times I tried to talk to you you always acted like I'm insane I'll never wait for you again I'll never wait for you again Again and again I dream you come to see me I dream that we are walking down the long and storied lane and you'll always come again
Kafka wrote comedy. Orwell was a pessimist. Depends who you ask.
Imagine if they both could have lived and made it to Los Angeles, post war, and been collaborators on writing romantic screwball comedies for Hollywood. If we search IMDB for movies written by Kafka, or by Orwell, will we find one? I kind of doubt it.
The dangers of nuclear arms are clear. Who denies it?
I'm not a fan of knee jerk militarism.
The Military man, however, yes, call me a fan of him. The military man is one who doesn't want what he knows how to deter. The necessity of such a man becomes clear in times of turmoil. The knee-jerk activity of quick at the trigger failed-diplomacy . . . ought not happen in a way that makes grand headlines and draws irrevocable condemnation. Diplomacy without the modivation to behave. That might be called negotiating from weakness. But if, and when, people become unhinged, the negotiation is not as important as a battoning down of hatches, storm is ccoming, acting like a large sea will rise, and every one secure it for the storm . . .
We survive. There is an old film about a boy who told everyone that he knew how to build a bell. But he was lying. And in the end he had to do what he did to survive, and alos to work through the grief of loosing his family to slavers and foreign invaders. This film had some very difficult scenes spliced within, for example one where a horse is being forced out a door onto a balcony in a tower, way up high. the scene, brillient in a cinematographic way, raised eyebrows in the film community when this movie hit the circuit sometime mid century (circa 1960).
We survive. We survived all of that, and the constant suck that has been going on for the last 150 or so years. We've survived.
And if things are lost, they can be found.
April 12, 2017
delight in the delete.© 2016 © 2017 ©
Praise Praise Praise the the the Lord Lord Lord for his for his for his unfailing unfailing unfailing love! love! love! well, little else now.
The Right Column
How does one tell a BSer from a sychophant from someone whose just screwing with you? Why are we susceptible to flurting and compliments?
It's nice to imagine tht people actual care but . . . too often later you feel the fool for believeing it. Some people just know how to tickle with words and false affection.
and then it seems a sin to fall for it. And shame comes. Loving someone who flatters you? Even for a moment? And being blind to it in the past but seeing it now and going over it, all of those false encounters, from every backroom picnic ever and feeling like a fool in the rain.
And then realizing that even that sense of shame is somehow false. And asking the BullS-er what he does when he encounters a Bee-Esser? And getting a blank response and loving you even more, even though I know you don't care now.8:01 AM may 10, 2017
Blender is awesome, Open Source, and well supported. Check it out!
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Live your life in constant resurrection! ⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰ ~ ; )
Praise the Lord!
I got nothing more
Poem Shards Eulogy I met him in the fog of war after he was already dead his visage in videos speaking dread and how the public is mislead. If only I could have known you before you gave up the ghost to haunt the crossing ferry off to places unknown, an undiscovered . . . virtue. A new country! A new type of people who respect the things that work that ferry churning through the fogs and mists and dank smelling out-gassings of these many foul rethorics spewed plausible no one knows who is sure? Which shore does your ferry pull up to to let out the ghost, so the story goes, the one that gets told . . . better be one that people can hear when their kids are there outside the house at the top of the stair. She can't hear that story if he is but a ghost now she knew him he was her friend and told her how he had been destroyed, remorsed, fallowed, wasted, lost abandoned on the battlefield of soul blow up your fallacies, this war needs to be taken way down inside those dark-thought places where hate channels freely destroy the hate by sending it off to unthought rhyme unspoken words unkind unthought hate. We try not to think of it, what the plausible story can be he's off on that Platsburgh ferry a shroud of fog the mists and fowl outgassings must some how be endured one last time to say good bye, come back to me come back to me you friend now gone and lost never known all hopes of how to write this story . . . his story . . . if he had asked me . . . I'd start the book: "He faked his death to escape . . ." from Unipoems She asked " If you get across can you take this to the King of Nowhere and tell him, plead to him to think of her and the way that she needs him? but he won't come home so she goes out looking for him went down to The Flatiron Building asking anyone wrote a card mailed it home. I imagine her collapsed on a bench people shuffle through she feels the lonely loss why won't he come home? I imagine her. She wrote it like that on her card. But it was all for sympathy, just an expression of her drama and she felt lost because of it and didn't know how to proceed the tricks didn't work with him he'd gotten willful, run off with a different girl who doesn't go to church. Hear the steam whistle of an approaching ferry turning to make a smooth connect. Moving back from the railing and the ropes she notes the impatience of the people at the dock and how the other women really like to talk. the crowd rushes forward have your nickel ready she gets swept along now she is way out there in the ferry out past the jetty. Ferry to Red Bank 1906 🚦 🚧 🚨 🚩 🚪 🚫 🚬 🚭 🚮 🚯 🚰 🚱 🚲 🌛 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 sometimes there is beauty within the fragments . . . 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛 Sprongg . . . onng . . . ongg ga Her tired morning seems more like poetry than anything you can find on a blog. Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Tree Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Dog 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 Woof and woe🌝 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥
who da thought?thought is sequential the end of it is never flood on, river of wise neglect let the bough break let the wind blow removed the baby from that cradle long ago and took him somewhere safe. Thought is over rated when it's thought for being mean to be mean being mean what you mean when you are mean when you 'mean what you say'. Memory is overrated there is joy in the person even when they don't know who you are anymore they still love you they usually don't forget that they love you usually. It was cold that day he'd driven all the way there and plodded through the snow to face the sorrow of his loved-one who didn't remember him but thought him to be someone else as thwarted. Memory is overrated when it's hard hurt of past tragedy as if it happened yesterday from the long ago. Bill Perilli, writer of all of the things on this blog. 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛
What does one do with old software books? I'm packing them into bankers boxes. I'm going to stack them against a wall. Some of them were very useful. It serves no purpose to throw these away. Some of them are still useful, though it's easier to do it on line now.
May 10, 2017
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