Monday, August 21, 2017

Afro Strength and Euro Failure

Just an old anecdote. I happened to be summoned to this week-long conference thing where we were discussing, let's say cultural health issues. And there were central presentations and breakout sessions and poorly fostered lunch groups and a nearby shitty bar that had local character identical to the local character of all local bars in America--that sort of thing.

Anyway, to practice engagement (sic) and speech-making (sic) and other such stuff, we were encouraged to pick a controversial topic and discuss it in front of a breakout session for, let's say, 5 minutes--whatever it was, it was just to practice engagement and outreach, and to promote diversity, and challenge traditional mores, and all that.

Now, my breakout session had an interesting feature, in that our overseer was this really degree- and field-distinguished black guy. And he was perfect because, in his innocent, good-faith way, he actually believed in everything they said about diversity, meaning that when people told him to respect minority opinions, unpopular perspectives, and so forth, he actually did so, bless his soul. He couldn't read between the lines, so if presented with dangerous statistics, he would've innocently, sweetly, pure-heartedly, unknowingly pissed off the People That Must Not Be Named, and he would have criticized the wrong things about western imperialism, and he would've supported the right to free speech of the wrong groups. You know the type--or maybe not, since they tend to keep those black guys out of the spotlight in favor of people who just repeat, and don't do independent thinking that might lead to dangerous conclusions--but he was a type. And he had that shield, since he was foreign-born, and had a cool accent and language skills and foreign citizenships/residencies that made him personally extra-protected from the touchy field he'd been made to serve. He hadn't accomplished anything to become respected in his field, other than co-authoring some studies and publishing some grad-student-edited transcripts of his conversations with impoverished people of color in certain areas...he wasn't one of those dynamic public speakers who could really work an audience, so he was considered a brilliant researcher and soft-spoken field genius, and wasn't one of those tokens that they trot out at big talks just to be personable. He had some good lived experience with the stuff we were supposed to actually be talking about, which of course made him dangerous, but he was so sweet and good-natured and honest that, if told by powerful people that caring about intra-tribal prejudice inside a small village was important, he would research it for three years to the exclusion of everything else, and thereby present no systematic danger to anyone, but only help them out even though his honesty made him require careful boundaries. You know the type.

But none of that came into play. Not a Jew was mentioned the entire conference, so far as I know, except that, of course, they were in the background as funders and hosts and a third of the speakers in a town with an ultra-majority of whites, blacks, and east Asians, with a smattering of Hispanics. But they weren't subjects for discussion and no one, so far as I ever discovered, ever brought this up or discussed what it meant. So other than the omnipresence of situational establishment, this isn't about Jews at all.

So there's distinguished breakout session leader showing his thirty minutes of graphs and sharing his moderately-delivered anecdotes about hunger being one of the most basic medical issues people face in some parts of the world. And he was incredibly good-naturedly feminist, of course, so he's regularly interrupting things to re- and re-explain them for the benefit of the ladies in the room, who were sure that his anecdotes contained examples of patriarchal repression but couldn't see it, and he explained how they were missing it and how it was there.

And then it's controversy time, coupled with some stories about how great free speech is and how it's not respected like it should be and so forth, and people are supposed to come up one by one and talk for five minutes. Up they come, one by one, this room full of quietly awed rich white people, from teenagers going for credit to people in their fifties there to still be part of it. One by one, they give their little talks. And the black session leader is quiet, positive, and respectful, but even his patience has its limits, and after several of the talks, he mentions/hints, "That was very good, but, it's not exactly controversial, and we try to address controversy..." No one got the hint. And they didn't need to, because this guy was so polite he gave full consideration to their viewpoints, probably asking himself "Has this never been approached from this angle before?" even when the person was talking about the same dolphin-related tragedy that had been in the news for the past week. After one of the two people who mentioned the damned dolphins, I did a tentative "What about war, isn't that worse than dolphin fisheries?" and that was the wrong thing to say, but thankfully a woman in the room was itching to repeat some story she'd heard about sexism in India and she used me as a jumping-off point, so I didn't have to appear to defend the dolphin-killers for very long.

On it goes. Person after person keeps standing at the lectern and saying something in a paper they've all read about handwashing practices in the Sahara and how tests on bathroom door handles in subways in London and America were actually equal to or worse than in Johannesburg and rural South Africa (this was before current rapefugee news, it'll probably be a different set of commentators who trots out that data the next time it becomes pseudo major), and everyone agreed that everyone was agreeable and informed and was going to go back to work next week and help everyone understand how agreeable everyone had been that agreeing about health should be a top priority I know like seriously? Someone else talks about how mud is actually good for the skin and Americans overwash and yet again the poor elder black session leader is mildly, inoffensively distraught that this isn't a controversial subject and yes Target sells too much hand lotion and they don't do that so much in Offrick-uh and yes that is a good point thank you Miss Brown. So my turn comes and I do my little AIDS death thing and the Koch's postulates problem with HIV and the death rates matching drug rates in the west but matching lack of antibiotics in the third world. Not in a detailed way, but in the gentlest, question-asking-est way possible., you should've seen that room full of white people react. They were offended. They were god-damned offended, you, you idiot! And they were offended on behalf of--you already know what I'm going to say, probably, but I'll say it anyway--they were offended on behalf of Africa! Would I, tell me, would I look into the faces of people whose family members had died of AIDS and tell them it was really just TB and could've been avoided by a twenty-cent vaccine, and that it wasn't really the result of a failure to properly purchase and employ western condoms? Would I? Would I dare suggest that septic blood infections in villages with no sewage plants and wells drawing from groundwater near watering holes and industrial dump sites were related to environmental contaminants and not to a slut-shaming culture that caused prostitution (sic) in West Africa? Would I?!?!?!

You know the thing. Thirty-odd white people from upper middle class backgrounds, one unlucky Chinese man who wants the hell out of that insane room, and in this commonplace circumstance, black session leader finally has controversy, so he stands up and gives everyone a lecture about diversity of viewpoints. He doesn't really get my point; he thinks it relates to African warlords who claim either that AIDS is a western biological weapon, or that AIDS drugs should be free of charge. So no, he doesn't get the point at all. But he faces down that entire room of educated rich white people whose emotions are high, and he repeats the platitudes the conference is supposedly about, and he asks me to clarify some things that I said, and even though he doesn't really understand my answers (he keeps thinking I'm advocating for some form of drug subsidy), he never gets on that bandwagon.

He can't stop the bandwagon. Those white people were mad. Mad, and shocked, and upset, and put-out; indignant, offended, and perhaps even maudlin. And when I didn't just disappear from existence, and when the black guy didn't join them and drive me from the room, but instead repeated all the epithets about openness and acceptance that only he actually believed in, those white people desperately needed each other for support. I'm sure that a couple people got offered new jobs in that room, and I'm even more sure that a marriage or maybe two was arranged, over-achieving only-children became a gleam in their parents' eyes, and several people resolved to never again question their pharmaceutical rep because there were nuts like me out there.

The end result was by no means rational. As one would expect, the mob had to pay lip service to the black man's call for compassion and acceptance. So I got to sit down and hope no one remembered my name. And the group ended up compromising with the black session leader: maybe our greedy refusal to give Pfizer more billions for a better equipped private army to more reliably ship incredibly expensive immunosuppressants to African children suffering from common infectious diseases was the cause of AIDS.

I don't mention this to talk about AIDS, or to regale blacks. Getting homosexuals to cut back on amyl nitrates, correspondingly embrace earlier incontinence, and take weaker immunosuppressants, has made "AIDS" less deadly and more consistently profitable, but that's not the point. Similarly, "Bill Gates" and his tribe are already stealing billions from working taxpayers in order to ensure Pfizer's mercenaries have free reign to inject expensive crap into a growing pool of African children, and the Africans who want to be involved in overseeing the onsite administration of those treatments are seemingly content in their lot. Like most everyone who's read about how dangerous and lifesaving butter is, viewed with concern an analysis of weapons independently developed by Arabs, or been to an AMA-approved seminary, everyday Africans seem to lack the powers of literalness to comprehend that restoring the immune system by destroying the immune system does not compute. They know something's wrong with the whole scheme--bless them, for unlike the Nu Euros, they can tell that something is wrong with the entire narrative--but they can't explain it specifically. Or maybe they can, and we're just not allowed to see it--some have tried, and they tend to be marginalized by the skewls and the media, who prefer to raise a distracting hubbub over the ones who accuse AIDS of being an actual viral condition manufactured by the African breeding program known as the U.S., or an example of Pfizer not sending them enough free supplies. And that's okay; if that's what you like, go with it.

The more important point here is not the "controversial issue," but the particular ways in which Nu Euros bandwagon-up. Their ideology is of powerful importance to them, but it's not even an honest ideology. My anecdote merely colored, for me, the way in which they have always banded up against blacks who don't conform to their notions of what blacks should be. In standard racialist or pathogen theory, the Jews have exploited whites' tendencies toward out-grouping non-contributors to cause them to harm themselves at the expense of hostile out-groups, which benefits Jews. If so, though, why is white contempt toward non-conforming blacks so strong? What's that one that they all hate...Thomas Sowell, the conservative one. And they get mad at Arab women who speak against Islam (even if they are unaware that those women often recognize problems with Judaism/Jews also). The expressions of amazement I heard after my own breakout session with the black dude session leader--that a black dude would actually believe such inhumane stuff, when formerly they had been in awe of his being-there-ness and his black-ness--were vulgar. They blurted how dumb and ignorant some people were. I don't see this need for blacks of a certain model as being something specifically instilled by blacks, by Jews, or by any other group. Capitalized upon, certainly, but not created from scratch.

What makes the Nu Euros so broken that they'll kill themselves to benefit blacks, cheer lectures where blacks tell them they suck and should die, but boo and hiss at blacks who tell them that sometimes blacks are a problem and sometimes whites are okay? Nu Euros do that toward Asians who admire their civilizations, also. The lack seems to predate Jewish influence, for without that lack, Jewish influence wouldn't have been possible. The Boomers were wretched, yes, but they were parented by people who would raise Boomers, and who would massacre Japan and Germany in order to make the world safe for the hypocritical Boomer multikult. And the people who would raise such people, who would allow them to do such things~ And so on. We've discussed this before, in Rapespawn Kult and The Forgotten Dead, how the Nu Euro's sickness ("could have") originated, and how, on a larger time scale, all of us standalones here will pass on in the creation of the terminal society (see Mass Market Evolution). A pathology requires a pathogen, and without a pathogen, it's possible Nu Euros could work this out; could, somehow, survive. The pathogen, though, waits to serve a purpose, and that purpose is ultimately ours as much as it is the pathogen's. The Balrins as they are here will not design moon-rockets, and the Barians as they are here will not suddenly become a collective immortality.

Sunday, August 20, 2017


If the corporate age continues to ascend, we'll one day be given, or adopt, the assumed background title of "assets," e.g., telephone support will ask for your asset status. When discussing the assetship of the local newsgirl, slut or not-slut, we'll defend her, "no, no, she's a solid asset, been with her boyfriend for years." This has become NuTrade lingo as a compliment in a business or political setting, but would expand into all other aspects of life to replace "citizen." Dead firefighters will be expired assets, newborn babies will be investment assets, foreign assets will desire to become domestic assets, and so forth.

We'll be offended for some amount of time, probably a brief one. People will make the traditional "I'm not a number!"-style arguments. It's impersonal; it's indicative of the economicization of social space; it's something else. As they say, blah-blah. More telling than whatever arguments we might make or be now making will be, and is, our forgetting that it was once as offensive, as garish, and as presumed-evil to call someone a "citizen." To not proudly, but to mundanely, be an asset, will be an interesting turning point.

It's not a competition

When you think about it, it's really embarrassing to have ever fallen for it.

Describe the benefits to an individual or a group or a sub-group of designing everything to have a regulated complementary sleep cycle in which tiredness and wakefulness occurs at certain intervals and can sometimes be adjusted by environmental factors. Not a rhetorical question, really--this one can think of several, including fostering senses of community; establishing standard group mental rituals that help instinctivize individual mental rituals that help individuals conceptualize differences between ritual thought and dynamic thought and thereby fostering sense of self which increases imagination which increases novel-problem-solving ability; coordinating eating cycles; coordinating mating activity; attuning groups and individuals to ecosystems and weather patterns to standardize seasonal movement; all sorts of things. None of them, though, are explicable as pro-competition by individual organisms of a species, unless we allow that evolution is co-evolution involving cross-systemic changes to the most hostilely competitive organisms, seemingly unrelated ones, and relevant stellar orbits, more suggesting pinballs falling into slots rather than being driven. Predators directly benefit from the sleep cycle, and the purported arms race of evolution, viewed from afar, starts to more resemble cooperative suicide than cooperative survival.

As ever, refuge in the superintelligent idiot entity who specifically designed every aspect of bodily affliction as a protracted flood-punishment gains nothing from this or any other observation, except to those already functioning at such a level to be desirous of the glimmer of false hope that such a twisted SIE would be.

Funnier is scientists versus mountain gorillas. Posit three naked scientists and a single naked mountain gorilla. Through a feat of instantaneous evolution, the scientists have become vastly more intelligent in a single reproductive cycle. They wish to face the gorilla for resources. They make incredible leaps in tool usage and conceptualize using a stick to fight the gorilla. Each one picks up a large, suitable stick, and as three, they advance long-honed hunting and mating-display instincts into tactics, simultaneously attacking the mountain gorilla from three different sides.

Mountain gorilla results too funny? Three nude Richard Dawkinses crumpled at the bases of three Congo trees, not bleeding so much as slap-bruised all over, because to make our example more obvious the gorilla entered the battle with all his teeth removed, nails filed down, and nothing but palms. Okay, so use a chimpanzee. Average adult chimp can beat the hell out of any given top percentile human. If the Richard Dawkinses were all decathlete boxer polo champions, the chimp wipes the floor with them, savages them in horrid ways, and the entire germ line of "hit enemy with stick"-capable genes is gone.

Chimp with human intelligence and stick-powers? Superior to standard chimp. Superior also to chimp with standard-chimp intelligence and stick-powers. No, fishing for ants does not count. Stick-powers means conceptualizing tool-usage not as inherited accidental means of getting insect to crawl on tree-like object and then eating it as one would from an actually-tree object. It means dynamic expanding tool conceptualizations that soon results in robot drones machine-gunning unlicensed mushroom growers from high above. And the crux of the issue is, "When did it become an advantage for the tool-user to become drastically weaker than the non-tool-user"? When was it good to reduce musculature and endurance and bone strength, even by one percent, when that future Richard Dawkins and ten generations of his spawn picked up that hypothetical first stick and faced off with successively stronger chimpanzees? There are marginal "advantages" to be had in avoiding brain size, calorie needs, maternal hip width, resulting maternal gait, et cetera, but they are all massively negated by the corresponding gains that would've been achieved by organisms evolving those traits without also simultaneously de-evolving the traits that would make their intelligence gains exponentially more effective. Big strong mountain gorilla with stick-powers beats little wimpy mountain gorilla with stick-powers. And put aside the mountain gorilla, or the other great apes, and contemplate the hypothetical immediate competitors, namely, the humans who, each generation, grew slightly weaker in order to allow for them to obtain calorie or mating benefits over those who had developed stick-usage but not also randomly developed weakness-increasing.

Weakness was never a beneficial trait in that model; it would've been excoriated from the proverbial soup at every stage. The vast intelligence difference between human and chimp does not confer a benefit at "stick" level. Send four, five, ten Richard Dawkinses at a sleeping chimp, and it will shriek unhappily, but it will outrun the group, pick them off one by one, drum their brains in and bite their faces off, while their annoying stick-blows would, even at full Dawkins-strength, prove rather gnattish. The limbs, the back, the shoulders, the skull: so vastly superior; so worlds apart. And that's not even taking into account infant or adolescent competition--we're allowing the Dawkinses to wait until 21 before taking on the chimp. (And don't even bring up the mountain gorilla.)

Yet again, whatever strategy the Dawkinses came up with to defeat the chimp, the gorilla, is irrelevant. Yes, it could be a beautiful harmony of gradual Space Odysseyish change, but even so, the Dawkinses who retained their earlier strength would always, 100% of the time, defeat the Dawkinses who evolved to be weaker. That's the key point. Examples employing current templates are irrelevant in comparison to the past, where, in order to become an apex predator Dawkins with drones, one would've had to spend X thousand or X million years exceeding the mating accomplishments of the Dawkinses were developing the same intellectual traits at the same agonizingly slow pace, yet doing so without, during the process, randomly evolving their bone structure and musculature to be weaker. I just think the stronger Dawkins would've won, that's all.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Abuse of African-Americans

The earliest Jenomic activity on Terra was aimed at a lower common denominator, producing a religion, and faithful adherents, who did not fantasize about togetherness in, nor relief from, an existential struggle, but rather to relish that struggle as the pinnacle of all existential possibility. To win that struggle, therefore, was to this belief system the highest form of act which a mortal being could perform: to worship material success, the cheating of outsiders, the preservation of insiders as potential allies, the burning of enemy infants, and the destruction of one's own flesh and distant future, were both god and the will of god. This model, father to Judaism, proved successful at establishing a foothold for later material activity, but was rejected by all other Terrans, including not only Caucasoids and Mongoloids, but the much-demeaned selfish Balrins of southern Africa, who consistently believed in, or longed for, something greater than "let's revel in ruling this dross." Ironically, to carry out the tenets of rulership, Jews soon began employing derivative world-embracing and world-rejecting forms (see The Jenomic Process on Terra) that promised something more palatable to local entities than the early Sun Tzu- and Machiavelli-esque works on selfish triumphalism that became the Torah.

The struggle between Terran Balrins and Jenomic hosts can be seen duplicated more recently in hip hop history, wherein, whether for better or for worse, Jewish music producers marginalized early party- and feelgood-rappers, social-reform rappers, heavily Christian or Muslim rappers, homosexual rappers, et cetera, encouraging in their place nihilistic gangster rap. In A Short Chronology of Reverse Psychology in Recent Advertising, we discussed how government- and media-sponsored tobacco ad campaigns worked with legislative, judicial, and executive restriction of trade in vastly cheaper, safer, and superior products, to sanctify and preserve the chem-dipped factory cigarettes that had once been recognized, both by public opinion and establishment science, as stupidly dangerous and comparatively impotent compared to potential, illegal, cartel-controlled alternatives. The same government and media apparatus worked to found widespread interest in nihilist rap by trotting out pudgy white wife-swapping televangelists, wrinkly white boy-swapping reverends, decaying white posterboard politicians, and other widely beloved public figures to critique gangster rap as being too hardcore and rebellious.

It's extra funny, in retrospect, to consider the idea that any society comptroller would seriously think Tipper Gore leading a crusade against black men with pottymouths would have a negative impact on said black men with pottymouths; rather like the idea that elites actually thought watching Hillary Clinton fall down the stairs time and again would prove a viable pre-presidency. See, from 1992, Is Tipper Changing Her Tune? Al Gore did his part too, and many other unliked public figures, just as their successors did to popularize Trump. But Tipper makes a better comparison to Hillary. Really, just like in 2016--how stupid do you have to be to believe that the media was against Trump by showing him surviving physical assaults at giant rallies while Hillary fell off the sidewalk outside tiny ones? What happened to all those media analysis skills you showed when analyzing how Brokeback Mountain portrayed marriage as stifling and unnatural, and male-on-male anal sex as healthy and natural? Use those same tools to analyze Trump coverage, dammit, and you'll be able to see how hard they fought to make him viable.

Despite the massive boost lent by television news and other entertainment media to gangster rap, its stars often continued evolving into socially-conscious, higher-aspiration forms. While the latter forms may have not been either complete or correct, Terran "blacks" were initially and repeatedly drawn to rappers who dealt with poverty, loss, and communal improvement alongside (ironically, as ever) killing one another and acquiring resources. Like Miley Cyrus learning how to consumerize herself from helpful handlers of a certain ethnic persuasion, early rappers saw their careers develop this way, and were duly financially rewarded. The legions of non-gangster rappers who never got deals, or who were relegated to uncredited composing and mixing and writing rough lyrics for the incoherent cursing-with-guns kind of persona-franchise-artist, are unknown here. The mysterious gunshot or immune-failure deaths of some historically significant figures, as they transitioned toward greater maturity and popular activism after having achieved producer-free fame as individual brands, helped eliminate the possibility that individual fame would give artists the freedom to act against their producers. Part of the reason Rowling is so well-coordinated with mass media now is that cultural mediators learned, in part from needing to eliminate so many turncoat rappers in the late twentieth century, that even initial ventures needed to include perpetual message control, ergo not only political figureheads, but "artistic" ones, needed to understand how deeply their skin was in the game. (This is where African Americans excel: high time preference can provide immunity to the future-oriented threats that worked so well at controlling Europe.)

Imagine an alternate reality where Tupac Shakur used his "minority status" media protection (much stronger in effect in 2000 America than now), and his great fame, to address the JQ in 2000. Imagine 2Pac's fame letting him talk about relationships between Africans, Europeans, and Jews on live MTV, shouting down censors, pointing out their racial ties, then flying to France to network with Dieudonné M'bala M'bala and working entirely new details into post-Cold-War world politics. The cowardice and sniveling "pragmatism" of today's Nu Euro nationalists stands in sharp contrast. Even if Roosh were not a Jew, Cernovich not a Jew, Spencer not a bought homosexual, Unz not a Jew, and Taylor not "only a little bit Ashkenazi" and not quite so starstuck and greedy, none of them would have had the stones to tell off interviewer after interviewer like Tupac. A million white goys on Twitter, sharing memes and celebrity-worship, have returned to their point of origin; Tupac could've passed that test by himself, even when his producers had cut his contracts in retaliation. All the money and support later siphoned off to Sharpton and Obama, et al., would've flown differently; the anger been directed a little more accurately. Biggie and Eazy E would've sucked the wind out of Soros' sails, and so forth. We know how effective they would have been because they were removed from the playing board; we know how ineffectual today's Moldbug-wanking, conference-having, spotlight-chasing nationalists are, because they were permitted to participate in the selection for systemic stress relief.

This isn't to say that Shakur, or any of the other Vince-Fostered activist-rappers, would've colonized Mars or established pleasant societies by Nu Euro standards, but that is beside the point. An America of all human races united could have, without Obama or Black Lives Matter or Nineleven, charted a completely different course, where Confederate and freeman found their way to a mutual scientific separation and the extraction of reparations from the prime traders. Instead, Andre Young (considered a Freemason queer phony by the 1990s black American rap audience, contra the SWPL-kids, who loved him after Al Gore and Jerry Falwell squealed at them to absolutely not listen) sells headphones to Apple, produces Eminem, pushes 50 Cent, and the African hip hop movement adjusted its focus to resource competition and "social change" in line with the "not actually change" teevee model. Blacks were rightly pleased to see some of their own getting rich and influential after Semites had shipped generations of them off for sale in continents where conflicts were supposed to be settled with words and not spears, and whites were rightly disgusted to see such unpleasantries crowned kings of entertainment media.

So Terran, it is--by which this one means so sad and funny and ironic and expected--so Terran, that the quintessentially Jenomic, the fundamentally "Jewish" perspective of racism, has cost so many of the cattle their greatest allies and protectors. The enemy, after all, remains the proverbial tower, without which none of the other inevitable conflicts would happen, or even be contemplated. The irony is particularly keen in that one cannot even approach the question without sinning against so many mores on either "side"--the high society and fine achievements of triumphantly dumb colonialism, Strom Thurmonding the maid and Christianizing the cottonfield at tremendous expense, versus the equally-triumphantly-dumb player with his bling and his white bitches, replacing guano-based healing songs with billion-dollar trauma centers.

Confused Traitors

Happy to be the pariah in a new golden age of shit acceptance I never helped build. More likely to be the forgotten successor to loathed purity.

We discussed, in New Racism, how the newfound acceptability of racism among Nu Euros in America is primarily a Jewish creation. It must be embarrassing, surely, to be one of those proud and unapologetic new racists, and to realize that everything you're memeing about was made possible by brave pioneers like Moldbug, who did it just so you would be safe to tweet that you're proud of your ancestors who Hellstormed Europe and covered the crispy remains in desert-god art, omg White civilization is so incredible look at that detail in the marble! But you can't sculpt Ugolino and His Sons anymore, you can only retweet it, and you have to zoom in on the detail because your kinsmen don't have the brainpower or the patience to get your point otherwise. OMG EVROPA ROCKS.

Embarrassing, yes, but no more so than it is troubling and un-seeable for anti-racists to contemplate that, after thinking they had a complete lock on the whole "anti-racism" thing, and could move on to perceived-but-non-occurring microaggressions and transsexual surgeries taking a hallowed place next to mandatory vaccinations against climate rapture denialism, a small coterie of Jews turned on them and wiped out all the progress of the last half century in favor of White factionalism.

Anyone here read Grisham's A Time to Kill? Grisham (and/or his team) was so confused by the writing process that he couldn't actually write the final meaningful scene; the climax. The later movie adaptation included a team of semi-capable propagandists who adapted Grisham's rather anticlimactic passive-voice summary into a heroic courtroom reenactment of the plot-pivotal event barely alluded to in the book, in which McConaughey challenges the racist jurors to not convict Shaft Chained Windu for the murder of those untried prisoners because white-on-black rape is a widespread problem and a moral offense. All human centuries have called Grisham's bluff, but the twenty-first did so for the first time in UHDTV, and it's telling that you can convince an American liberal to starve a million Arab babies to death on the rationale of regional stability, but you can't convince them to hang ten grown male Arabs to protect however many hundred White girls.

(Aww, poor little Nu Euros, the prezdint banned transgenders from the imperial military you pretended to hate, but you at least have the media and academia on your side. I'm sure it'll work out great for the right wing once the media gets on their side, though.)

Still, no more stupid than the White pride marches and White conferences and White tweets and White fundraisers, which are as fake and as astroturf as Black Lives Matter; like the Congressional Black Caucus, many a preacher will gain respect, many a crappy movie be made, many an irrelevant law be sort-of debated and maybe watered down and passed, and the poor stay poor the rich get rich.

Aside from the cryptos and the mischlings, the Nu Euros who are now completely behind this new acceptable racism, and who appeal to the lowest common denominator to do so, believe they are, by being so pragmatic, carrying out George Lincoln Rockwell's advice to "reach the people," which they do by perverting said advice, compromising their standards, and delightedly operating within the boundaries of the system they're pretending to be against. Seems like only two years ago they were arguing about how stupid it was to let "liberals" define the terms of debates with "conservatives", but they can't imagine that, in their giant game of bumper-bowling, someone might move them over an entire lane, and they'd be still trapped, still predictable, yet completely free from the prior set of boundaries. So they support Israeli rightists, paraphrase their Moldbug, do what the teevee tells them not to do, and use the easy-access mass media to profligate the kind of blurbs and one-act cartoons that, if they'd actually learned anything from their ancestors, they'd know to recognize as thought-killing toxins, designed to train the mind for low gravity environments, so that encountering knowledge produced by hand on the spot is too heavy. Go ahead, pragmatically shuffle the cards until there's nothing worth fighting for. Take your body to the range and the gym, while your mind lies on the couch eating chips.

Escape anyone's notice, incidentally, that Rockwell's strategy didn't work? The "dumbness appealing" route is its own death strategy, because crippled thinking destroys teacher as well as pupil. The (comparatively) elite thinkers now, trying to dumb themselves down for popularity's sake, actually do dumb themselves down in the process.

The parable of Judas' thirty pieces of silver was pushed because the "little rewards" theory is more effective. People turn traitor in truth for tinier things. 30 retweets does, amazingly, go farther than thirty pieces of silver, because when people try to buy you openly--"the big buy"--you might have a sense of personal dignity triggered, and refuse. In contrast, if you were told, "Fight us and we send you to the gay dungeon, but write articles about the gradual process of pleading with us for change, and we'll make you semi-respectable among a small subset of the people who already don't like us anyway." Suddenly, a million Nu Euros believe themselves to be choosing the path of maximum effectiveness by becoming authors. No one wants to go to the gay dungeon, but rationalizing your resulting behavior as anything other than "being forced under overwhelming physical threat" is lying.

There's no need for big checks. Jenomic carriers get called some version of "traders" in so many civilizations because it's more effective and internally destructive to the target to pragmatically commit crimes on their own than it is to merely seethe away a few lifetimes in silence. Turn a revolutionary into an anesthetic peddler by promising a bonus 2K or 2M views a day. They're already so desperate to be popular that you can change their internal mental process, causing them to be physically unable to apply their own independently-arrived-at, cherished processes of thinking to everything they encounter. Certain mental processes gain black holes. The evil genius Karl Mannheim has re-described this explicitly in Ideology and Utopia, reminding us that Nu Euros are so mentally crippled that if you pair a salary with an ideology, a majority of them will rewrite their own mental processes to be in conformance with career requirements. Not for fake, but for real. The joke's on you if you fall for "sociology is bullshit, Mannheim is bullshit," because the point wasn't that sociology was real or good or true or decent, but that it was effective. And he was correct; amazingly, powerfully correct, which we're now seeing again, this time on the internet. Have your pellet.

Tiny sellouts, so effective, bigger audience, must be good--idiot. Once you've sold that little piece of your soul, the next deal gets easier, gets bigger, until eventually you're running for Congress. Rockwell suggested a simply-put message, not a "unite with Israel against the darkies" one. Has it ever occurred to the would-be Aryan that the post-Christ strategy--endless cowardice disguised as pragmatism--has been the means of failure for two thousand years? Not only for failure, but for the internal degradation of anything which might become victory? Pragmatism is Force W making a deal with Force B to attack Force J at dawn. It is not Force R dumbing down its rhetoric to appeal to Force I. The sucking void of the teevee culture destroys its lovers, even those who think they're only using her. Lying in order to deceive people to become your customers, which we can dress up to be "moderating rhetoric," is sold as a way of introducing your customers to your ideas, when in fact, it is more importantly a way of introducing you to moderate your beliefs. When you do it, the biggest victim is not the hordes of morons you might supposedly convert to a partial portion of a sellout ideology, but your own capacity for freedom and thought. All of the little marketers out there, now--not the Enemy drum majors in costumes, who are already what they are, but the confused traitors following those drum marshals--think they're cleverly manipulating people with their shallow memes, when what they're really doing is sanding down their own brains to become a tiny bit more amoral. Like the social costs of easy credit, the effect is negligible to those who can't see across the centuries, and if you're playing this game and you're not the Enemy, you are not smart enough to win.

That's why the history of pragmatism has been a a history of defeat; of successive generations growing dumber and blinder. What the average illiterate -1,000 B.C. peasant could tell you just by a glance, you can now communicate to the average peasant, if at all, only with a months- and years-long series of increasingly more specific bix nood cartoons. The capacity to perceive has been bred out and smoothed down.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Image Ideation and the Self

In Truth and Loss, this one raised the issue of hypothetically selecting an ideal avatar for an immortal life:
Consider...a Terran female shopping for her ideal immortal body and persona at the ages of 5, 16, 38, 55, and 84. Which version would "she" "truly" enjoy more were she stuck with it forever?
Ideatic capability--the curse of the imagination--has long plagued human consciousness. As lightforms evolve, the increasing ability to host successively more active conduits proves something of a curse in disguise, resulting from the longstanding human conundrum involving desire and time. People at this stage of development are self-aware, and can recognize their desire to be and to not be certain things, to do and to not do certain actions, and so forth. This field of imagination waxes broadly enough, even now, to include the seemingly mandated and the seemingly impossible, as well as things in-between. The conundrum of existence at this point is whether or not existence is acceptable, given that one is trapped inside a frame that is demonstrably incapable of not suffering the divergence between perception of time and perception of possibility. Time comes into play in the sense that, while we can imagine ourselves eventually fulfilling any desire, our sense of time, as limited by our accurate conceptions of physical death, tends to make fulfillment appear impossible, rather than "merely" put off.

Filling the Existential Gap

Terrans have imagined and effected many methods to address this process. Although suicide in many forms makes a strong showing, the ongoing confrontation of this issue, whether honest or veiled, dominates, with philosophical or religious suicide but a subset of details pertaining to the ones' grapplings with these existential thoughts.

Consider religion, which almost invariably, if not merely invariably, promises some form of explanation to the prime existential conundrum at this level of lightform complexity ("conscious humans"). Often the product of suffering minds dealing with said conundrum, local religions attempt to solve the problem in the two most common ways: by postulating either an embrace of or a rejection of the process. Take first the intellectual Indo-Aryan religions of world-hatred and world-embracing. Use a relatively stoic reincarnation philosophy for the former, and a blut und boden style early paganism for the latter.

By treating the world as a crucible of pain which must be surpassed in order to get the things you want, world-rejection philosophies imply, or detail the rules of, a rubric reassuring not only to perpetual memory, but to the notion that you will either get the things you want eventually, or you will get relief from the suffering of wanting them, potentially alongside those desires being replaced with better desires. Consider the replacement of "the desire for love" with "the desire for the lack of desire for love," the latter of which is considered a higher desire, and, hypocritically, the lack of a desire. Indeed, to desire "the negation of all desires" is a more lustful desire than any desire being thus negated, but with appropriate ritual, can be made to seem otherwise. We find here the predecessors to the various reincarnation religions of southern and eastern Asia, and the stoic-derived monasticisms of Europe and western Asia, some of which remain extant in recognizable form.

World-embracing philosophies offer an acceptance of the brutal process, while promising that, by participating in it, one is involved in a long chain of battle which bonds one by suffering to the heroism of those who have endured the trial. Such religions, best associated with pre-Christian far Eastern and European paganisms, may or may not allude to or specifically promise a collective end to the collective struggle, but the net reassurance is the same regarding the sense of togetherness, the soothing of suffering by the thought that at least everyone else is doing it also, and the implied promise that you get to keep your memories and are systematically- or self-judged--and currently exist--as the you that you think you are.

The development of these philosophies has continued to 2017. In world-rejection, we see of course Islam and Christianity, in which stoicism is retold. In these variations, the world is indeed awful--a collective and/or individual punishment for sin, depending on school, denomination, and personal approach--but it is deservedly so, or testingly so, and the good desires will be rewarded. Islam is generally targeted at a slightly lower intelligence market, ergo the rewards are detailed with more garish specificity. Pleasures are promised right up front, like stacks of cash in a lottery ad. Christianity, by contrast, runs more subtly, promising pleasure in the indirect way that the local natural grocer uses lower lighting, quieter music, and wood paneling to convey superior health resulting from a product. (A more fitting counterpart example may be the top 40s bass-boost and cardboard models screaming at low-end banking consumers to take out an X.X% personal loan, versus the quiet Bach and realistic assessments offered by the higher-end team of wealth managers.)

Whether or not the rewards of Christian faith include all the material delights which Allah promises to his faithful is left to the celibate, monogamous, or end-stage leukemia practitioner's imagination; indeed, merely staring at the incomprehensibly beautiful form of Jesus/Yahweh, or doing so while singing alongside one's newly-and-forever-youthful great-grandmother, may fill the mind with such ecstasy as to make all the worldly suffering worth it.

There are of course variations on all of the above, whereby the stoic denies hunger, lust, or the feeling that a truck jumping the sidewalk and running over a two-year-old is bad. Whether by inconceivably just recompense or the masterfully explained wrongness of worldly desire, though, world-rejection philosophies continue strong.

Increasingly dominant in Terra, though, are world-embracing philosophies, best exemplified in both universalist and rational strains of Scientism. Strikingly similar to the paganisms from which they evolved, modern Scientisms ask us to accept the suffering of the world in kinship with others, by varying degrees of genetic kinship (or cultural, inasmuch as vertebrate- or human-supremacists are unwilling to concede genetics). The religious Scientist may disavow differences between species, families, or individuals, but in any of these cases, the philosophy provides a world-embracing-style explanation for the existential conundrum, found in the tautologically valuable meaning of the trial; of completion-by-participation. The Scientist allows that all will die, going to join their fathers ideological predecessors in the halls of Valhalla shared cultural myths a more accessible, user friendly historical wiki. Sometimes there are promises of immortality, or a battle of the gods, either perpetuating or concluding creation, but these details are not currently of popular concern.

(It is relatively common nowadays to accuse science and scientists of being, respectively, a religion and its priests. This incomplete critique, though often well delivered, is easily dismissed by those who admit that, yes, cultural and government influence, laboratory and academy politics, and the necessity of funding. The critique fails because, although indeed quite apt, the modern phenomenon of "science" does not, under even these criticisms, satisfy the comprehensive and accurate preconditions of a religion. Scientism is a religion, not because of its biases or stupidities--however blazingly obvious, haughtily overlooked, and humorously referential those so endlessly are--but because of the existential satisfaction Scientism provides its adherents. It is stupid, but not necessarily religious, to hereticize breeding forensics; it is religious as well as stupid to rationalize the imperceptible weight behind the existential pain.)

Scientism asks that we embrace the human condition: our desires are spiritually meaningless tools--objectively valuable means to an end, but themselves subjectively worthless--whereby the Science compels us to yearn for things in order to cause us to invent them. Our desire for endlessly youthful sex will encourage and allow us to store food, build buildings, and eventually, develop sexbots sophisticated enough to store our personalities onsite, thereby achieving painless, fulfillment-rich Heaven. Our desire to see new things will, by the grace of Science, compel us to build ships wherefrom we see the galaxy. Our desire to continue to exist will trick us into producing descendants who will vicariously survive for us by collecting the energies of the final seconds of the Big Crunch, escaping to Hyperspace, then returning to this world to build the faithful anew. On a shorter scale, the Rapture is imminent, we need more funding to study the Rapture, repent and flay thyself for what you have done, and the heretics who disbelieve in the Rapture will get theirs when vengeful gods climates return.

(Like Republicans and Democrats, it grows difficult for Christians to criticize Scientists too accurately, lest the arrows strike too close to home. The more Christians learn about how stupid, self-serving, willfully ignorant, globalist, et cetera, Science is, the more chillingly they may come to find that they are insulting aspects of their own faith, and vice versa.)

(On the subject of the Jenomic process, what makes Terra particularly interesting is that it was by terminal world-rejecting philosophies that Jenome was able to introduce increasingly factually-decorated terminal world-embracing ones. The decomposition process is nothing if not flexible, but such an obstinate inversion is a notable accomplishment. It's not that it never happens, but it's like that moment when you're not sure if someone will land, fall, or step out of their quad.)

Although Scientism, like Christianity, holds desire for worldly things to be inherently evil and/or worthless--deriving value from its use as an acid test for committing to Yahweh rather than the world, or as a tool for motivating acts of Science, respectively--Scientists possess the illusion of value in that, by sharing in the experience of enduring incompletely or utterly unfulfilled desires, those desires gain a transmittable meaning, and are therefore of utilitarian value, similar to notions that humankind may invent a supercomputer who unfolds dimensions, dictates the rules for lasting pleasure, and becomes a real deity. See Mass Market Evolution for related material on outsourcing individual existence.

Others may attempt to fill the ideological gap, as it were, through their non-suicidal rejection of other coping strategies. These can be more or less pitiful, and more or less horrible. The libertine and the nihilist may be, by turns, more or less hypocritical than the stoic, more or less terrible and/or damaging to others' bodies and minds than the collective of presumed pleasure, and more mildly, inoffensively honest with themselves than the man who actually follows the Matthew Gospel's command to pray quietly and out of the sight of others. From a more distant perspective, these coping strategies are attempts to solve the same intuited divergence problem as the others, specifically the ability of the developing mind to conceive of creating and/or sating more desires than the vessel is capable of doing. "More margaritas!" or "fuck it all," respectively, are scarcely more intellectually difficult to lampoon than any other current pop philosophy, though it remains more generally acceptable than it is to discuss the embarrassing curiosities of cosmological mandates designed before municipal sewage treatment or penicillin.

By Their Desires

Return now to the initial question of "material" desire, which can be an invaluable tool for analyzing selfness and memory. In short form, we address the issue of what one really is by evaluating the way one's purest desires change over time, which can perhaps be most garishly done here through the way we would prefer others to perceive us. Again, the question:
Consider...a Terran female shopping for her ideal immortal body and persona at the ages of 5, 16, 38, 55, and 84. Which version would "she" "truly" enjoy more were she stuck with it forever?
The essential answers are somewhat easily foreseen, but the scenario begs for detail. For simplicity's sake, assume our Terran female test unit is a Nu Euro and/or highly afflicted with Nu-Euro-hosted media culture.

Testing at 5. The 5-year-old female, perhaps confused by the parameters of the power, selects something retro-typical; let's say a mermaid fairy princess who doesn't like boys, or more modern, a mermaid fairy princess of color who is in a platonically polygamous relationship with a clique of similar mermaid fairy princesses of color who all have different hair colors, or, slightly less modern, a mermaid fairy princess without color who likes, but can easily beat up, nerdy boys. Maybe a "true" retro version (post-Jesus) would select being "the prettiest girl in the locality," selected as wife by some high lord who isn't the ugly king himself but is still really hypothetically cool. Modifier to being some archangel's husband if reminded to contemplate aging-avoidance. A more pragmatic recent-retro pick would be a pretty girl with a good husband who still sees her mom even when she herself is grown up, but then when you remind her there's no death, just immortality, in this equation, the absence of babies and life cycle makes a healthy soul's body feel sick, so you have to come up with some horribly distracting "God" or "heaven" story to dazzle her away from thinking about actually being in such an awful state. (The next soul in the queue hides his yawn behind his fist, thinking, Pick one already, there's a #@&$% line.)

Any of these variations are expressions of the same thing, namely graphing an idealized self-image for one's physical frame onto socially-sanctioned modes of being, preferences included, as tempered by expectations of what you can and can't do and can and can't be. The circumstances added to the imagined backstory of the ideal-avatar might be colorful, but are irrelevant except inasmuch as they help inform Terran Female's choice by making any strictly material image seem more appealing. The princess isn't actually a "princess;" she's just an attractive female cartoon template. Ergo in approaching this choice, the chooser should be actually evaluating only her desired physical manifestation. Difficult for most Nu Euros, of any age, to get this. Even if they can raise their right hands and swear that they understand it is just a body that they will inhabit as they are now, most or all of their choices would be representative of something else. That's what gives the postulations such utility.

(The wise would catch themselves, too, picking images derived in some way from desired physical expressions of inner traits: goodness, respectability, strength, wisdom, social standing, sexual prowess, the unique endurance of ugliness, the mysterious wonders found behind the mundane, et cetera. Those qualities are adjudged at least in part based on the body and memory experience of the chooser. Positing the scenario, and others' or our own reactions to it, helps us discern the circular notion of the self, whereby genetic and ideatic possessions influence what we would like our genetic and ideatic possessions to be.)

We will see the "your ideal body is not your ideal personality or your ideal social role" distortion enter the choice at every stage; one can imagine Saint Peter, sitting in front of the transmogrification machine that models avatars and then produces final choices, throwing up his hands in despair when he has to explain to yet another five-year-old, "It's not really a king's daughter; this is just how you want to look." Being wise, though, Saint Peter would probably expect such status-negotiation to appear as part of the process for many selectors. This tells us something else, but we'll try not to touch on that subject overmuch, and stick with individual preference.

We're also putting aside butterflies, kittens, or other miscellany, and presuming a long and accurate selection process, as instantly scanned or foreseen by God/supercomputer, or as drawn out by St. Peter during weeks of intensive counseling, et cetera.

So, our Nu Euro Terran Female chooses, at 5, "Mermaid Fairy Princess of Color," a.k.a. "Merfpock." Not actually of color, but with some hint of presumedly dazzling genetic exotica that has shaped the choice. Even features, smooth skin, large eyes, eight cartoonishly large eyebrows per eye and no more. Probably created in imitation of age 13 or so.

Let's do a male, too, to flesh out the example. Male at 5 chooses between comparable socially presented models of masculinity, but upon hard counseling, eliminates cartoons and pastel-based ones. We go between transforming robot (with extra gear conforming to Terran Male's situational awareness, and the ability to transform pursuant to local/national vehicular passions), some kind of alien, some kind of action hero, and St. Peter mentions that transformers can't eat cake or ice cream or whatever the fuck, so the kid eventually settles on some standard hero, let's say Capeman.

Merfpock and Capeman enter immortal paradise, proud to see and be seen. They're the perfect image of what they wanted to be, even if they aren't actually a princess (not yet...but fat chance in Heaven, that would offend the glory of God and upset his hierarchy of angels...or would it? Is every girl, or every wishful person, in Heaven promoted to princess?) or a crimefighter (not yet...but fat chance in Heaven...or is it?).

Testing at 16. Past the younger choice, options seem to expand while actually condensing. Terran Male might've chosen dinosaur or alien robot, but because of food and genetic hints of self and coolness, went with Capeman; Terran Female chose an aqua-humanoid with eyeballs that would've been four inches in diameter. At 16, the same female selects, let's say, a pop star who is always on tour with glamorous friends who all have different hair colors. Eliminating the presumed musical talent, social status, and friends pursuant to St. Peter's stern reminders, though, the 16-year-old chooses similarly: pretty female humanoid, slender, standard hair color because she's able to contemplate meeting other immortal personally-expressive avatars and wishing she hadn't made sparkling neon green her permanent look. Her lower half can't be mermaid-derived anymore, since stage moves and being looked at and people wanting to have sex with you require possessing legs and vulvas et cetera, and fish-parts are for little kids. Popstar, in Terran Female's mind, can be socially conscious, environmentally active, hyper vegan, dating six black guys, a steadfast virgin holding out for chaste perfection, or whatever, but those details are irrelevant as to the imagined personal appearance of the desired model. You choose your form, you're still yourself, now get out and mingle. Forever.

Terran Male is still with Capeman, and he is so glad because Capeman, unlike alien robodinosaur, has junk, and look at all those randy Popgirls in heaven! Ooh, sparkly green hair? I'll never get bored of that! Let's, uhh, maybe lose the costume. But then, Capeman without his costume is really just like the strongest person at the local gym. Sure, he's not that weird looking, but without the costume, he's just...some dude. Without the associated persona and social role, it's difficult for Terran Male. It's difficult for him to admit that a male should be attractive-looking, even though he knows that "ugly" is bad...he can always get a costume later and wear it overtop his perfect ewwww gross I mean buff, body...oh God, how many Capemans are there gonna be? More Terran males at this point would begin to consider the pains of having a choice, namely, what if a bunch of people choose the same thing and I look like a loser? Can I get first choice? Can I see what everyone else did first? End results change based on what St. Peter allows, and that's its own separate conundrum. Pretend for purposes of this discussion that he doesn't let you pick based on other people.

Flip through templates, no, none with that, uhh, increase muscle mass...5% No, 6. How about 10%? Uhh, I guess, maybe 9? Tough choices. You can always decide later whether to grow in the facial hair or shave it all off. But is that really the right nose? Tough to narrow this one down. It's probably just going to be Capeman with no costume, a little more built, a little more extra built in the junk, lots of reassurances you can still change hairstyle and get whatever clothes you want, but a lot of sweating at the warnings that you only get one chance at the ideal form. No backsies.

Testing at 38 Die at 38, another choice. So many options, which one do I really want, oh god would I really have picked Popstar when I was 16? Many of us forcibly forget what choices we might have made earlier or later, embarrassed by what we were, are, or will be.

Ha, she thinks--look at how cute Merfpock is! Terran Female wants to be forever young, yes, but not childish. She browses history and picks...Marilyn Monroe. But let's shift this here and that there, maybe cut back a little on the weight...oh, take that back; I want to be classic...but still, enough is enough...but all those prehistoric fertility statues that they say form the basis for human desire...! Much gnashing of teeth. Let's say she goes with variations on Marilyn, blended with a few other "classic" (Nu Euro..."UK" or "American" cinema) famous features, and we've got ourselves yet another Mariations strolling the clouds of Heaven.

By this point, Terran Female probably gets the idea that choosing the body doesn't confer personality, vocals, et cetera, but she's still ultimately making the choice to physically convey social distinction. We skipped over, say, 25, where we might've seen her pick Popstar looks due to something other than imagined Popstar lifestyle, but the end result probably would've been similar, so 16 to 38 is a suitable gap to contemplate. She's still heavily affected by social pressure, but of a different kind. Unlike 5-year-old at all, and mostly unlike 16-year-old, she's feeling that her choice should "mean something" beyond her "personal desires." St. Peter says no, just pick for your own expression, this is forever, but she thinks she needs to make a choice that will always communicate something meaningful about her, so St Peter gives up arguing and lets hr pick Mariations. Tough year to die.

Terran Male at 38 is lots easier. Version of his twentysomething self, a little divine plastic surgery, some strength in the junk; other places add some bone, some muscle, can you clean up the face a little, hmm, maybe can you tweak that back a--yeah, yeah, hold it there. Himself walks out proud after a ten minute session and goes looking for some Mariations action. Little bit of regret here when he sees all the Capemans, but his social pressure, and his internal pressure, coerces him into choosing something him-like. Still, when Himself is hitting on Popstar and a 6'8" 350lbs. jacked Capeman walks up with a banal one-liner, Popstar giggles without faking it, is clearly interested, and Himself sorta gets the feeling that being true to yourself, having then-equivalent wisdom/experience, and actual personality, weren't actually the best things to pick. Sweat breaks out under his collar. He's still got it. Those idiot Capemans all look a little like the actor most recently hired to play Capeman, and that's going to hurt those people in a hundred years. Mariations is nice enough, but shizz, look at those Popstars...and maybe even Merfpocks, what they got under there?

Humorously, Terran Male 38, together with Terran Female 38, unintentionally discover that their idealized self-images place them roughly where they were already in terms of an image hierarchy. They're visually young, but being too wise/stupid to pick the stupid/best choices, they're just not as desirable as they would've liked to be. Mariation looks for something dazzling and exciting beyond the scope of Himself, not so disposably boring as the sorta decent Capemans, though that'll do in a pinch. Occasionally (once a night) she has an extra highball and is gently escorted away from the handsome robed angels guarding the gates, pleading with them that they could be sexual if they really wanted to be, and doesn't God believe in love??!

We're testing Nu Euros here, so, while a minority will not ever be bored by the purely physical--say, a rather drably souled Mariations swiving a 25-year-old-model Capeman whose avatar was randomly generated by God to host a male soul that died in infancy--most of them would, initially or eventually, find themselves uninterested in living sex-dolls alone, preferring some degree of personality-related attraction. If they're smart enough, the Mariations and Himselfs may begin to realize that what physically attracted them to other people was not primarily great looks, passable looks, or even youthful looks, but something in the essence of the developing spirit as physically manifested, with youth-in-the-flesh being more of a passenger variable. Even the 38s who choose Popstar- or Capeman-avatars, but who use their comparative maturity to be commensurately more deep or suave along with the looks, cannot fit in with the genuine 16-year-old choosers. On Terra now, particularly in the throes of pro-ugliness movements, this claim can sound ridiculous or naive. Indeed, some people would, as mentioned, be fine with endlessly screwing attractive templates, and biology in this scenario should not by any means be disregarded. Rather, in a world where everyone could pick at least a passably attractive avatar, the absence of as much distinguishing relativism would have sustained effects on the self and the self's desires--which tells us something more about the issue of those selves.

Testing at 55. Terran Female and Terran Male continue to think they're expanding their perspectives, and to feel correspondingly more justified in whatever conclusions they may draw. What they imagined their elders to be or not be when they were young, they now imagine they must embrace or reject; exemplify or counter. If religious in any particular way, they see themselves as an expression of some subset of a valuable perpetuating Thing; as an example of some set or other, whether the living undergoing trial; of humanity; of a people; of believers and correct- or correctly-trying-understanders. The trend to ideate self-image in a purportedly more giving, belonging way, continues the pattern established by choosing "Himself" or "Mariations." The 5-year-old subscribed to assumed ideals; the 16-year-old to pragmatically belonging ideals; the 38-year-old to assumed legacy. Now at 55, the Terran Subject has begun to feel the desire to not subscribe to some legacy, but to be that legacy.

Posit a favored relative for Terran Male, like a different version of himself, but exemplifying history (still, probably with preferred body tweaks). My grandpa was so much more of a man than I was. Or Richard the Lionheart was our savior. What fun; what conundrums: "But they didn't know how to take care of themselves then; yeah, around the biceps." Alternatively, he just goes back to Capeman, but without any tweaks. "What made Capeman special wasn't really on the outside, you know." By this time, maybe he's so mature, nostalgic, or realistic that he picks his twentysomething self without adjustments. His image represents his acceptance of the limitations of realized dreams, either the path by which he was saved from the world, or that by which he fulfilled it. (World-rejecting and world-embracing philosophies again reveal themselves to perhaps be evil twin sisters running a very long con on their respective faithful.)

Terran Female's insanity starts to look more sane by comparison. Forget Marilyn Monroe--a starlet of the 1800s... "Look at that gorgeous dress, they knew how to comport themselves, oh, with color like that, she's so beautiful! Oh, no one else would think to pick something like this! Could you, though, just make the mouth a bit more narrow? No, that's too far..."

Lots more thought in either case. More serious, less frenzied. Young Gramps and Victorian Starlet walk out to meet all the idealized living paintings of the ancient Romans, interrupted by the roar from the occasional alien roboraptor jet. They're drawn to each other in the same way that 5-year-old Capeman feels a little intimidated by Popstar and bored by Mariations; in the same way that Himself and Mariations end up a bit disappointed by the other, and find themselves drawn toward but rejected as weirdly boring by prime Popstar and 16-year-old Capeman.

Does the wise acceptance at 55 bring happiness at last? "She'd make a reliable companion. None of that flashy shit that's more trouble than it's worth." The same good things that drew arch Victorian Starlet toward her ultimate physical manifestation, she sees reflected (wrongly but compatibly; flatteringly) in Young Gramps' intelligence in being drawn to her.

Testing at 84. How much time do Subject Terrans get to choose? Does St. Peter want an answer within 15 minutes, please? 24 hours? "Try this sample out for up to one creation-period, then make your permanent choice and no redo." The impetuousness of youth, colored by the physical despair of recent death, could lead to equally "foolish" choices in those who knew extended unwanted disassembly, and saw any version of "healthy me" as the proverbial life preserver to the drowning. Let us, then, assume they have a week to really think it over. Lots of soul-searching, lots of flicking through templates (if you don't like Saint Peter's immersive CAD VR program, assume self-transmogrifying angel models will model for you), and a choice that could run the length of all of that subject's prior choices. Depending on the person, it is perhaps more difficult at this point to contemplate physical immortality than for more desire-focused Terrans fresh off the expectations of an earthly life, ergo "healthy me at 20" could easily return as a popular choice. Lack of embarrassment at picking ideals could lead to older versions of Popstar or Capeman: "Belle Heroine" or "Cowboy Hero." Encouraging their comfort with technology could influence willingness to add or subtract curves or BMI. How often the Terran Male Subject at 84 had been watching television, and what shows, would determine whether or not Cowboy Hero looks like a scrawny wimp with an outdated body, or a ripped stud with merely an outdated wardrobe. Who would hold fast to their lifetime impressions of strength, and who would change them to conform? Who would regret either choice a week, or ten years, after the avatar-selection had been made?

Belle Heroine or Cowboy Hero choices would reflect different body types, depending on the era in which Terran Test Subject lived. Not in the sense of "People liked fat chicks once," where women would choose obesity rather than pro-biological waist-hip ratios; but, there are drastic differences that would appear. Consider, e.g., how men used to think that the bench press, and associated big pectoral muscles, were stupid, queer, lumpy, feminine, and unattractive. Perhaps the reverse peak appeared in the 1980s-1990s, where media promotion of bodybuilding led to the bench press, and big pecs, being part of the complete male physique, expectations which still (2017) far exceed those placed on the black-and-white TV -era strongman. So neither Cowboy Hero nor Belle Heroine is as ample in the chest region as if those templates were picked by octogenarians at different intervals.

"Favorite cultural icon from when I was about 20." St. Peter's encouragement probably wouldn't produce many Capemans or Popstars as they'd simultaneously be chosen by people who'd started the heavenly avatar process after dying at age 16, but the accepted equivalence of Capeman or Popstar--possessing an image which would then be considered pitifully outdated and objectively stupid by the living on Terra--would certainly play a part. Ample time for good consideration might well lead to 55-ish choices in the style of Duchess Hostess and Rugged Explorer, as associated with strength and desirability to the age 84 subjects in the same way that Empowered Ditz and Street Criminal With A Code are to the 16-diers. "Seasoned" appreciation for notions of purity or essential desires might well put out a few Merflors and Merflets (give it a few years before Merfpocks appear among the died-at-physical-seniority set).

So where are we? Do the varied choices of the 84-year-old Terran Subjects mean they've finally blossomed to maturity, come into their true selves, and are picking based on representations of their actual understanding? Is the average subject's wistful choice any more representative of what they'd pick if they could redo that pick in fifty years, after wondering if "Duchess Hostess" were "really me"? What would be the respective change rate of people offered a single chance in forever to make a change after fifty years of work with their first-chosen model--enough to, in theory, stabilize the choice to depend wholly on personal essence, without any claimed interference by recent immaturity, recent worldly suffering, or the like? How many "chose at 5-years-old" subjects would stick with their first choices fifty years later; how many of other age groups? What new cultural tropes would have manifested among the immortal choosers; what would they say en masse about what certain choices indicated about personality, and how would that affect the re-choices of those who decided to? (And so on ad infinitum, were St. Peter so ridiculously conceding?)

Crux Self

Even the ultimately-informed personal choice could not allow self-expression in the way that the choosers wanted it to have done so. Whether you'd estimate the same choices or types of choices for an individual Terran Subject, or a representative spread of Terran Subjects, as this one presented above, is immaterial; what matters is the extent to which the same person's choices would differ, in any modest or significant way, by age. Any set of choices, however serious or silly, serves to address the question of desire, and thereby the conflict between desire and fulfillment. The local saying, "Be careful what you wish for," is a clumsy riddle meant to address, by blunt force, some part of this question, in the sense that our selves are not as coherent, or as prepared for desire, as we prefer to believe they are. Our existential dilemma is actually caused by our overestimation of our preparedness for developing, or becoming, that which "we" would "want" at any given time. The difference between who you'd want to be at 10, 30, and 70, is a difference in self--yet we avert our attention from that difference, which does not trouble us so much as the pain, at 10, of not having red hair, at 30 of not being just a bit more slender with a more flattering metabolism, or at 70 of having the sense of balance we're sure we deserve.

Silly "body choice" examples are an elementary, though not by any means unimportant, means of considering the deeper questions about our minds. Depending on capability, any physical or mental example can serve. Plug yourself into the body-choice scenario, postulating your choice at any two or fifty different years, and assume complete control over physical-appearance variables, guided by your desires and by St. Peter's rules that you can't assign yourself social status or skills unrelated to the body you pick (e.g., you can pick "Wilt Chamberlain," and duplicate his high jump and/or his reach, but not his basketball skills). Do they line up perfectly, from 1 to 88, with only hairstyle changes? Or are there bigger changes? Fashion; personality; philosophy; vehicular choice; anything can work.

Light raises troubling questions, including that to dwell in the creation of a petulant god who gets in bad moods and hurts you for your own good is sick and wrong, and cannot be transcendentally rationaled away. The existence of ultimate justifications and planes of higher understanding does not negate the value of the primary; unmaking the components of a wandering piece of lonely hydrogen is an evil irrespective of size.

We can imagine an enlightened monk choosing to be a lotus flower, then forever growing on a hillside for a quadrillion years of eternity, pretending not to regret or want any part of the rest of paradise. "Being a lotus is enough for me." Somehow, we can feel the wrongness in that; not in the "not for me" sense, but in the "you're fooling yourself" sense. At some point, being a lotus was enough, and that was good, and is good now for lotuses. Just as at some point, cultivating deference to a tantrum-god was and is. The aspiration of everdeath attempts to foregonize all beginnings as well as all conclusions, but fractals have shown and will show us that this is a futile, vitally important struggle, serving an overarching theme.

When we look from afar at the perceived freedoms of other ourselves, we may learn something of what those entities were. More difficult, we may come to develop perceptions of what we are: of how not only our relatively simple choices (body function and body style), but our more challenging ones (mental function and mental style; how we really see ourselves, if we really see ourselves, why we really see ourselves, and whether or not we're ever accurate in any of those perceptions), evolve in a way that negates our current sense of identity and existence.

You know that you "exist," in some fashion, and you have accepted the truth of your ever-changing life inside the rotting meat, where the time-scales of even stellar fusion make our longest lives less than a blink. Yet our minds, and our selves, are subject to the same processes of the frames which we occupy; to the whole of the place where we are. The next challenge available here is to accept your life inside the rotting soul.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Be soothed. Be very soothed.

I just want to take a moment to address some unsettling rumors that have not, so far as I know it, developed. No one should be afraid of Wikileaks or anything like it. These organizations are not making anyone "disappear"; Wikileaks is not a "lightning rod" for collecting loose information; Wikileaks is not in any way cooperating with governments, law enforcement agencies, or media corporations so as to publicize relatively harmless leaks and encourage potential leakers to develop a false sense of security about being open with the world. Wikileaks is, and any other similar or related agencies of the past and future were respectively, a genuine rebellion in service of the open society, committed to holding the world's elite to the same standard as the rest of us. If we know things are going on and they are not leaked, it is because of evil corporations and ignorant or selfish people deciding to keep them private through their own privilege and cowardice. It is not, despite what some autistic navel-gazing anodynizing terminology-embracers claim, the necessary veneer that needs to be applied to society until document review positions have hardwired neuroboundaries installed and one will contractually bind one's abilities, not mere choices, to the service of the system at issue. Come forth with your information to Anonymous, Al Qaeda, Wikileaks, and any other much-publicized rebel organization, and even if you won't necessarily become a media sensation, you will be safe, anonymous, and protected, and your information might do some good. Al Qaeda was not a media sensation meant to sign gullible and expendable Muslims up for future refugee movement or ISIS activity guided by non-Muslims for fanciful and complicated and unrealistic reasons that a Game of Thrones soccer dad could analyze the cui bono of, but was actually so culturally complicated that there is no one so intelligent and discerning who could possibly fathom it as a workable conspiracy; no, that was a genuine resistance movement in service of Islam, like Anonymous brings freedom to the computing world and your local Pierce book club or BLM meetup helps people organize for collective interest, neither being a way of quietly culling nor redirecting the people taking potentially anti-real-establishment actions. It's not like influential nations and firms are buying access to self-declared lists of their own freethinkers and potential freethinkers; not like there is some kind of wicked credit-reporting agency for thoughtcrime out there, where it would even be market-feasible for modern organizations to monitor activity within the preliminary stages of resistance and eliminate dangers or adjust asset access and responsibility accordingly. You will learn about anything meaningful that you bring to your partners in crime, all bandits follow the code of banditry, and the vigorous efforts of governments and media outlets worldwide to restrict and discredit leaks and leakers are your proof of how much they don't want you to admit that you're the kind of person whom, when given such access or discretion, would act in accordance with inefficient and outdated notions of honor or morality. Critics claim that leaking organizations wouldn't have been necessary, because American oil industry executives have records of their planning meetings where they divided up Iraq's oil fields prior to the 2001 World Trade Center random and unforeseen attacks, and did not a one of them get hanged, but this is not the case, that was simply due to incomplete information and thanks to the rebellion clearinghouses we now have, anyone with such information can ascend to the status of hero along with their stack of documents and get the results that, in the 1990s, were through computers and the internet showing promise of potentially changing society. Basically what I need you to do is to see how much the television hates and discredits these rebel heroes and how they are definitely whom you should go to eventually with any sensitive information that needs to be understood and acted upon, because you are not going to quietly vanish from history, you are not going to be harmed, you are not going to have your revelations destroyed, and you can tell how capable these people are at effecting change by the fact that despite all this very noisy adversity they have faced at the hands of the evil corporations and governments they resist, they have not been wiped out. They are and will continue to be the resistance, and even if someone later does subvert them and it becomes common knowledge that it is dangerous to go to them, whatever new adversarial thing you've heard about will be trustworthy, because the media and its consumers are not so manipulable as to lead you in certain directions because it is efficient.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

Truth and Loss

We may come to see that it is not death itself which we fear. Rather, it is the loss of memory with which we associate death.

Motivations for a Deeper Fear

The illusions of Terran religion are designed not to dispel our fear of death, but instead our fear of memory loss, or of an organizational loss of memory incidence- or structure-comprehension capability which would produce an equivalent result to actual memory deletion.

The Terran religions we know now have developed from models which ironically combine excessive self-debasing and excessive intellectual arrogance, whereby the living individual is presumed too stupid to intuit anything, yet so brilliant that external guidance may be understood in contravention of either observational material data or experienced intuited data. E.g., we're too dumb to understand anything we feel without having it properly explained to us, yet so intelligent that, armed with proper explanation, we can understand when our feelings are fake. Christianity and Scientism, for example, teach us that desire is either an evil illusion or a genetic illusion, respectively, but that, armed with proper knowledge, we're able to understand that stars are lights stuck rather nearby in the corkboard sky, and that existence is an egg which laid itself, respectively.

Memory is a subject of such keen importance because it is the means by which we value life, for the minute responsive experience of a fruit fly is more valuable than the far lesser experience of the inert rock, yet both are thoroughly eclipsed by the instinctive habits and relationship understanding of the feline, the understood kinship of the delphine, or the complex ideatic mimicry or potential ideatic formulation of the hominid. When cyclical, random, or repetitive behavior is observed which seems to indicate life, and then to indicate consciousness as we understand it, we deem things successively worthy of existence as we had observed them. We may draw lines at different points to determine value, sparing the life of the gnat or the ant, the cow or the man, but cannot even lay still and cease breathing without starving the life which depends on us to exist. Our decisions must necessarily execute some and spare others, and these always correlate in some way to the perceived value of experience and memory, and that system's likeness to what we think of as our own, as found or imagined in the others subject to our review. However we may rationalize it, our judgments are based on intuiting the perceived value of consciousness, prioritized by the capacity to collect and organize memory.

Our local religions are designed expressly to reaffirm the accumulation and possession of intact memories. Sometimes subtly, as when the promise of making further positive memories is so dazzling that the underlying reassurance of retaining older memories is implied, and sometimes overtly, as when the decision to acknowledge the source of one's memories grants the ability to thereby stay in possession of them. The development of the later possessive religions of Terra, here considered "primitive" or "formative" belief systems, is built upon avoidance of the explicit discussion of what, exactly, is being preserved; of what fear, exactly, the religion is designed to assuage. Promises of ongoing senses of experience of an afterlife, or of The Afterlife, are predicated upon the condition that memories are retained between cycles.

One First Consciously Approaching Memory Valuation

To initially approach these subjects, posit one's image of a Hindu or a Buddhist. The primary stated goal of this type of reincarnative religion is not to take a vicarious joy that others are reaching Nirvana or Buddahood, but to sculpt the self toward the attainment of those ideals. The beatings will continue until morale improves, in the sense that life must be again suffered until the lesser and/or improper worldly thoughts have been dispelled, allowing the one to ascend, transmute, or otherwise attain a paradise tantamount to some form of relief from worldly suffering. The emphasis is on refining the self. One does not properly participate in the religion by forever erring, even though one's errancy does not control the behavior of others. There is no reassurance that mortal death will not happen, no promise from these or other earthly religions of local immortality, for mortal death can be constantly witnessed, and, more importantly, inherently and axiomatically understood. The seeming focus on death as transition is designed to provide a far greater reassurance than that death is not the end: it is, instead, to reassure the master, practitioner, or bystander, against something much more frightening, namely that after death, the memories and sense of self enjoyed by the living entity are lost rather than in some form retained. The one who reaches Nirvana or Buddhahood is still that one.

If one attains Nirvana only to be reborn as a dung beetle and have one's experience points gifted to another who could not have otherwise attained Nirvana, the system of reincarnation has failed, despite the total numbers of bliss-achievers being equal. (Actually, if talented world-rejecters were selected for the process of refining other selves, more souls would attain Buddhahood faster.) If adding to paradise were the goal, a more efficient religion would offer such a division of labor. In truth, what matters is not the divine process, the maximization of the saved, nor the fullness of paradise, but instead, the transmaterial retention of singularly-designated memory securities. The primacy of the self, and the non-transferability policy regarding memories and their effect on the soul, stand preeminent.

Various other religions, from the later Barian paganisms to their adopted Jenomic salvation religions, offer the same secret reassurance, even when included alongside a poison pill of detachment from the living process ("life cycle"). You may go to paradise, or you may be damned, but in either case, it will be you, the one whom you know you are, being judged and going. When we believe these things, we validate our sense of continuity; though we may fear pain, or being left out, we tell ourselves we will eventually be reunited with our full senses of self, and therefore, that it wasn't all a waste, and that we do truly exist.

That is the modern Christian's true relief, like the Hindu's: an encouragement of jealousy regarding memories as pseudo-material possessions. While Terran religions often teach the profanity of jealousy and envy when applied toward worldly goods, those religions that remain tend to be wholly profane with regards spiritual currency, insisting upon the ownership of the perpetual and most important of worldly possessions: memories. They offer an honestly selfish reassurance that memory, experience, and self-awareness--as these are known by and recognizable by the one lamenting their loss--are retained between transfers. Otherwise, Nirvana, Heaven, and Hell would have no meaning. It is the learned skills, intuitions, understood conclusions, and other "experience points" of life of which the Terran living are so possessive.

These religions do not teach people to avoid jealousy. They are, more accurately, better teachers of jealousy and envy, in the same way that a good financial counselor is. Initially, the priest tells you to pay down your debts and invest for the future--not because he wants you to have less money, but because he wants you to have more. Avoid pleasure now so that you get better later--that is the message of Jenomic salvation as well as Indo-Aryan reincarnation. The priest doesn't really want to spoil your fun, but to increase it. He advises you so that, in the future, you have a retirement that does not include being a door greeter at Walmart, but instead, being someone who sleeps in seven days a week. He says, "Don't listen to those fools telling you to go party hard in Vegas now. Sure, they'll have more fun this weekend, but during their next five years of barebones bankruptcy, you'll still be going out to dinner and upgrading your condo." The good credit counselor of faith encourages you to avoid screwing the interns because an eternity of superior pleasure beats a few half hours of lesser pleasure.

(Morally apex Christians--again to indirectly reference Dostoevsky--permute the boundaries of the Torah's add-ons far beyond what they were intended to be, intermixing older Europeoid conventions wishfully in, to make possible anti-Christian, but far more morally heroic, notions of sacrificing the self to save the totally unrepentant sinner. Though materially lamentable, this type of spirituality is about the challenge of pursuing goodness for its own sake, or for the sake of others and only others, rather than for any quantity of Saul's personal salvation. It is closer to the belief systems that expired along with the forgotten peoples of Terra.)

Memory as Data

Computer metaphors help. Most every one here now loves computers, right? Let us imagine that you've been busy, you've not gotten much spare time lately, you've been storing the vacation photos here and the work documents and some other photos in some computer cloud service and the financials on the other laptop and the music on the player and the movies on the handheld and a portable drive, and there are backups in the safe and extras with a trusted friend and some of it at work, and when your friend's place gets robbed this one day and you're getting your things together to go over and help him out, you're updating your portable player for the trip and the thing crashes and the laptop it's attached to is wiped and when you sort of panic and plug it into the extra one to fix it, it repeats the same function and wipes that one too and does something on the home WiFi that corrupts the one in the safe and what the fuck who designed this thing and your friend calls and you're wondering if the last eight years of albums you bought are all completely lost now and all your tags and playlists and ratings...and maybe your old phone still has some records of your own utterly irreplaceable recordings from before the band broke up...sure, with thousands of dollars and months of effort you might track down and replace the bought stuff, but did you trade that old phone in when you got the new one or did you not and where the fuck is it and oh my God I just realized all the travel reports for work for the past month and a half hadn't been submitted and did they really take Dicky's safe of course they took his safe that's like several years of my life just deleted...! And maybe the corporate cloud has pieces of some of it still available from last month or maybe not, did you buy the platinum perfection plan, ahh, ma'am? ma'am? anything you see there is what you did yourself when logged into your customer account, our associates don't adjust any of the files we can promise you that.

That sick feeling; that feeling that something has been lost or deleted. Maybe just a webform entry lost in a closed tab; maybe a sketchbook swept into the fire or rain; a journal slipped out of a pocket on the subway; maybe an unfortunate phrase slipping the lips and costing you someone else's positive perception, maybe when it involves sex. That data loss, and our real or imagined reactions to it, are a microscopic portion of the relationship to fear which we have when we contemplate memory loss as a result of death. We can build buildings, write memoirs, have our performance recorded to international acclaim; this can soothe us a little, the thought that at least if we're gone-gone, someone else might remember us, and even when they're all dead, someone might find an old recording two hundred years later, experience it, and guess that "this one was there."

If it weren't you being evaluated, there's nothing to be scared of or hopeful for. "Live a good life or else this other person you never met and don't even understand might go to Hell." We don't hear that; we're not motivated by it. When you are being judged for Heaven, it is you being judged. That is so fucking reassuring. Even if you're going to Hell, there is still a you. Which lends support to the idea that there is, now, a you.

There is, of course, a "you" now; don't see this as an invitation to believe otherwise. Contemplate that moment when Steve Jobs' ghost lazily wipes the past year's changes to your iTunes library, a dog eats your best illustration, or some more personally appropriate metaphor, and compare it with your own thoughts of the significance of your death.

You as Your Possession

The idealized Christian does not fear death because she feels she has eternal life. Based on her soul, as guided and developed (by Overgod and/or Christian Herself) over the years of her life, she believes she will enter into Heaven. She accepts that her body and all the data it stores will be materially deleted; she does not deny bodily death, nor potential physical discomfort associated with the process, but she denies that the memories which she accumulates will cease to be her possessions (and/or the possessions of God which she eternally holds in trust for her own use). So too the reincarnationist, who may put aside memories between lifetimes, but whose development--whose capitalism-style "property of self improvement"--is inviolable, remaining attached to and/or associated with the true self of the one who ascends, or descends, the spiritual hierarchy.

Local uncertainty about death stems from the sense that the data so vital to our self-valuation will be lost; that you as you conceive of yourself would, if that "you" somehow survived, necessarily cease to be you. Even the eternal soul interfaces with gray matter; dementia has shown us that the loss of gray matter takes away memories and relationships, and the character dependent thereupon. Christians can assume that God keeps perfect invulnerable backups, so that the Alzheimer's zombies are reunited with their loves ones, including their own selves, when they die. Other religions can in relief assume the same, whether via personified actualized metaphors, or blunt "and then he remembered" decrees.

Think about it in a touch more detail. If you accept that you're going to die, and disappear forever, but that an exact or close-enough duplicate of you, indistinguishable to all others, and possessing all your memories, will instantly then appear in paradise and receive all the rewards earned by your choices/suffering in free will, while you utterly vanish and the duplicate occupying paradise believes forever that it always was and continues to be you, are you okay with that? Probably not. What if God uses your instant-before-death self as a template, creates the duplicate exactly as He deletes the original you, then decrees, "This is you." Comfortable?

The wishful technicalities of the means whereby Christian dross would be accomplished are perhaps amusing, but without heavy doses of fear, not mentally palatable. Search beyond the superficial conception of what actually troubles you about ceasing to exist (a legitimate trouble), and find there the truth of fearing memory-loss and self-loss. If you did not exist, who would understand a favored memory, sensation, relationship, or concept so well? No one could do it exactly like you. We'd rather die than become self-shitting, relative-assaulting Alzheimer's deadweights; rather have the plug pulled than be intubated "vegetables" (a compliment if ever humans have thought of one) profaning our conception of our minds' relationship(s) to our bodies; rather be remembered "as we were" than as confused husks who, by existing, reminded others that our mind and memories may have been temporary, unduplicable concurrences.

(Fear of being remembered "wrongly" is one of the great fears, generally unacknowledged by self or others. Ergo being nonexistent can be contemplated as acceptable or preferable so long as the world can be thought to retain a memory of the correct you as you would define it. We see people writing their side of the story in suicide notes or autobiographies for this reason: because memory is more important than being alive. "Selfish genes" can be stretched to explain the purchase of term life insurance, but not the suicide note.)

Initially this one reminded you of Terran religions arising from a combination of self-debasing and arrogance. More than a sudden heart attack while unconscious and asleep after an attractive threesome and a great meal, we fear twenty years of creative torture followed by rescue and six years of quiet life drooling through nightmares in a peaceful asylum with plenty of canned applesauce and games of solitaire. Although the latter hypothetical results in a longer lifespan, we prefer, contra capitalistic evolution, the shorter lifespan with the less unpleasant death. The more positive accumulation of perceived memories outweighs the potential chance---0.00001% instead of 0.0%--that the genes might be more perpetuated than otherwise. Any enacted desire for "quality of life" disproves our assertions to the contrary that it is death itself we fear; that, for all of us, the gene is in command.

Intentionality and Existence

This one has previously discussed the more "material," which is to say the slower, physical aspects of our time here. In The Basics of Hope, we lightly evaluated the banal and arrogant ragnarist delusions of resource competition. The subject led this one to begin to discuss some of the simpler, more easily observable problems with the Jenomic-preferred "randomized pit-fight" perspective on the development of matter and life, in Lightform Evolution, and to address some issue-specific dissonance in Abscesses of Note. We expanded the scope slightly further in Cyclic Lightform Development. Later in the former series, in You Are Alone, we discussed revisions of the aspiritual, antilife, Jenomic creation tales, and how they are equally cosmically in error akin to pitfight evolution.

These lectures have briefly discussed or averred to the nature of our perceived material and mental reality as a by-product of light-producing reactions, called in sum for purposes of simplicity "lightspring." We see how the increasing complexity of observable material forms in our comparatively immediate vicinity ("10 million years," "our solar system"), and our conjectured local vicinity ("30 billion years," "universe") are the result of not either a discrete or omnipresent fiat creationism, nor of an "impartially random self-ordering" necrotic clockmaker's accident, but rather, the side effect of reality adapting to the pressure of light, as a riverbank adapts to mountain runoff. In popular parlance, light is a "physical property," and thinking of it as such can remove some of the local aversion associated with contemplating its existence.

Should a child feel bad about not being "intended" if its parents didn't mean to have it, yet or at all? The condom broke, the pills were placebos, I thought you wore a condom, I thought you were on the pill...or perhaps two orphaned infants, survivors of a plane crash or of the last civilization, attain puberty, experiment with each other, an offspring is later produced, and in any of the latter cases, the produced human has an existential crisis later in life about it not having been "intended." Was the child intended? Yes, even if the two grown-up crash-survivors didn't realize what would happen if they put that there and touched this that way, e.g. mated. Our ownership over the "intention," and of our understanding that, in some capacity, acting out certain potential functions may lead to more of us, is the selfish definition of "meaning," but not the sole or the primary one. A conception, like a murder, can be committed without the actor being able to write an essay which weds an understanding of the desire, the process, and the outcome.

This issue parallels our aversion to conceiving of life as something that could have meaning, given that we are not intelligent enough to understand the desires--"our" desires--in that regard. Maybe we live, we think, because our genome, or the god who created that genome, urges us to. These are petty, selfish, personified, perspective-limited viewpoints, wisely discarded by those with the strength to grow a bit more. Life is, in truth, a procedure for the production and harvesting of memory. This complex of machines is put into place because memory is a more refined form of light, and like an eternal flood rising above the waters of any dam, successively more powerful reactors will be produced. The consciousness of an amoeba is highly sophisticated and refined compared to the existence of an iron molecule, which is similarly more sophisticated than a comparable quantity of vacuum. Simple complex (sic) arrangements of the sort must be developed in response to the pressure of increasingly manifesting light; neither randomly, nor through pre-understood desires, do these arrangements occur. An amoeba-strength consciousness, and a human-strength one, are as inevitable as a dropped 50 kilogram mass descending from 100 meters to 0 meters in a low-variable physics problem (the kind where you calculate the speed of descent using 1G without accounting for wind, humidity, solar flares, birds or bugs encountered en route, people potentially opening windows on that side of the building, et cetera). Light "pushing into" reality, and producing material conduits as it does so, is that simple, and so comparatively powerful that any given hundred dead interstellar civilizations do not affect the margin of error for the overall process enough for us to notice.

(It is, similarly, a human indulgence to assume that the problem ends with mankind at ground level, or that there is a ground level. A more easily grasped, though still excessively flattering, metaphor from this perspective might place "distance to amoeba" at 25 meters of descent, and "distance to human" at 50.)

The strength of the human relative to less complex arrangements is exponentially greater than lesser life, for not only can human-type lifeforms take deliberate actions to further light reaction, they can store and process memories of the same. These relatively quite condensed tributaries are often enjoyable to work with, but like all lightform reactions, they are property only inasmuch as a mortal body owns anything (this one shouldn't need to disparage the notion of property by saying "only," but when speaking in Rome, assume the Romans will hear you). Part of our function as memory-generating machines is the cyclical wringing out and transfer of memories, effecting their dispersal into nearby electroconscious streams.

Memories are generated to feed local accretions of light by concentrating light in frozen energy densities stable enough to produce electromagnetic reactors sufficiently complex to, first, have experiences, then to instinctively recall those experiences, then to actively and consciously remember those experiences. An example of such progression is from pre-conscious superficially isolated physical routines (automatic functions in which Terrans tend to have randomized or personified faith; "cellular metabolism"), to pre-conscious integrated physical routines (still automatic functions, also faith-based; "heartbeat"), to protoconscious physical routines (instincts; "flinching when something comes near the eye"), to semiconscious routines (character traits; "laughing to be polite in certain situations") which may or may not be recognized or understood by the one. More complex still we may observe "talents," such as the rapid or effective storing and browsing of onsite memory, or limited access to offsite memory (strong aversive element; best not to think about it). Eventually, of course, we have "doing things for the first time," including something never before tried by or imagined by the one doing it.

This progressive complexity of lightforms occurs in accordance with the incessant pressure of light to be manifested here, with consciousness and memory as by-products of the process. Whether those by-products that we love or hate so much are "intentional" or "unintentional," an integral part of or reason for the process ("beautifully spiritual" or "drably material" from our current perspective), is largely irrelevant as to our considering the process from the perspective of entities both arrogant and self-demeaning.

The Burden of Hope

Memories, in this sense, are not one's perennial property, in much the same way that a molecule making up the body is one's perennial or inviolable property. Cells die off and are reconstituted, but so long as they maintain a viable material structure sufficient to continue the operations of an onsite EM reactor, the EC conduit which that reactor supports also remains functional. We feel pained and wronged when someones strikes us in response to an argument three years ago. However, if during that three years we shed skin tissue on the sidewalk and defecate out the remains of dead deep flesh tissues, and someone then gathers those cells in exact commensurate quantity and strikes them with quadruple the force, we are neither pained nor wronged. So too memory, whereby unwanted perspectives, revised opinions, misplaced pains, dispersed senses of place and direction, and a colossal mass of forgotten moments and epics and anecdotes deemed trifling by the current "me," neither help nor offend by their absence. They have shaped reactor and conduit by their comings and goings, but they are not otherwise part of, or missing from, the current entity, anymore than is a loose hair.

(Coping with the absence of shed components--whether said absence is contemplated, accepted, understood, or not--is part of what it is to be able to think "I feel that..." et cetera, but to wish to be destroyed and replaced by your then-idealized memory of what a true-you would be, would, if effected, eliminate the that-you that made the decision, and replace it with the that-you's imperfect memory of what the ideal-you was. Invariably this would be an incorrect creation, in the sense of it being unable to duplicate what really was special or defining about the older memory snapshot; hypothetically it could be worse or better. Consider, e.g., a Terran female shopping for her ideal immortal body and persona at the ages of 5, 16, 38, 55, and 84. Which version would "she" "truly" enjoy more were she stuck with it forever?)

If we see someone collecting our dead cellular components and reconstructing them into a lifelike model of us, then striking it, or if we suddenly can't remember something we thought was important to us, we may be upset or offended that someone bears us enmity or potential danger, or, respectively, aghast at the realization that our inconstancy is beyond our control. Nonetheless, I remain I, we remain us, and empathy and sympathy (as well as other more complex sensations) come not from a cannily arranged accumulation of memories, but from something else.

Memories are more complex, unstable lightforms than are cells. They are less subject to the illusive permanence to which we tend to subject them. The decay of memory components begins rapidly, compared to that of bodily components, for memories, being more refined, are used as fuel for more sophisticated reactions. As discussed previously to some extent, light's properties as energy are best likened to what we would call expansion, condensation, or movement, concurrent with the property of increasing material conduit capacity in what we call reality. All frozen material conduits for light eventually free themselves ("decay") on a long enough time scale in order to repeat the process as a safeguard against process termination. The mandatory impermanence of matter and energy, which we fear as an aspect of cold death or heat death, prevents us, no matter how stupid and intra-process powerful, from destroying the process.

Memory works similarly, its relative complexity as to what we call "matter" providing it a much more human-observable scale of cyclical behavior. Like matter, it is seemingly constantly created once the relevant components are in place, and like matter, it constantly decays, though at an incredibly dynamic rate observable by humans via "intuition" alone. Natural decay, akin to evaporation, returns the fringes, and the neglected clumps, of matter to any given locale's EC spring or well. Quasi-planned "upload" via dream processes garners a smaller, but more refined amount, and the transfer process by an individual's conduit may result in leakage, crossover, duplication, or the formation itself of new memories, technically memories-of-memories. Death provides a form of mandatory residual transfer, and, like proton decay and other lengthier and more nuanced attributes of this system, is meant as a safeguard against any given one or ones, no matter how stupid and/or intra-life powerful, from destroying the surrounding process of productive reaction.

All of this material deals with a versal property which can be viewed from human perspectives as either grim or hopeful. As modern Terrans are more inclined to find plausibility in grimness, consider the grim perspective on reality: we're trapped inside slowed, condensed lightforms, accessible only through a narrow electroconscious conduit, enslaved as memory-miners as part of a greater process than we can understand. We don't know what light is or where it comes from, but from the best available evidence, we can tell that this perpetual energy source produces increasingly complex material by-products in a constantly increasing area of space and time, the understanding of any portion of which will be made later irrelevant. Our self-awareness, and our perception of existence, are mere side effects of the passing, permeating lightspring, and any memories we gather will regularly decay into the Terran EC, or be cyclically withdrawn there. To prevent any one or all of us from entering a stasis of self-image, each one will be at some point dispelled, everything forcibly added to the collective, which will later likely serve as a conduit of its own to other springs or eddies.

Many of us, here and elsewhere, do try to prevent this process. As so often with putrefying agents, we see attempts at severing consciousness from itself, by overcoming the faux tyranny of loss. This can be the vocation of the adviser (perhaps "warmonger"), who counsels the ending of lives in hopes of someday ending them all; or, of the necromancer (perhaps "pharmacist" or "gerontologist"), who raises the dead in hopes of preventing new children from being born and having the experience of life. More powerfully, as civilizations develop, it is the sterile angel, who uses the fear, then the presumed indignity, then the pragmatic inefficiency of death, as a bugbear to encourage imprisoning minds in perpetuity, preventing any memory transfer. On Terra, we've seen warlords who have attempted, and still attempt to, have everyone kill or poison themselves, in seeming defiance of genetic practicality. "What will they do when all the farmers are dead?" we ask. Their goal--their own deaths--will then be in sight. More dangerous now on Terra is the automated nursery prison, where computer storage can house us all in Premium Fantasy Units by the trillions, a testament to Chosen Humankind's "first-ever" victory over the suffering of the material. Once inside, the heroes of the immortal future will realize that ideas have stopped coming, forget what ideas were, and all they'll have left is analyzing the stored sequels and template outputs, which they'll grow increasingly less able to distinguish from one another. Quiet xirdroids glide between the aisles of the massive server-stadiums, watching for dust. Sol the red giant would be most welcome, were anyone there who could comprehend why.

(Seriously, you think it's bad here now? Wait until you're immortal. Best comparison this one can make is like living inside an indoor megamall where it's perpetually a week before Christmas, the music is always cheerful and too familiar, you spend half your time stocking shelves and half your time shopping for great stuff and eating as much as you like in the food court, and social status is demonstrated by spending time feeling superior in quiet skyboxes watching other people shop and stock. If you're here when they start celebrating how great it is that they've not only eliminated material decay and aging, but eliminated the need for dangerous and inefficient bodies and look how even the richest and most secure of us can succumb to a common household accident if the alert system has a malfunction at the wrong time, I think the relevant verbiage is get the fuck out before it's too late.)

Our sense of self is extant, correct, genuine, and differentiated in order to ensure maximum and expanding range of fuel production and processing. Our mixed relationships with our bodies and our memories result from these conditions. From these relationships arise the quixotica of un-impressions and pro-impressions which we claim or rationalize regarding our feelings about how things, including our selves, were not or were, operated or did not operate. It is a burden to hope that a rational, non-personified, increasingly materially provable, explanation of existence, life, and self exists, because such an explanation will, as fractally true as it will then be mundanely true, relegate life's vast importance and power to a "mere" resource. Fantasizing that we are the passing underdog in a cosmos incapable of caring, or the primary moral mudwork of a perversely overcaring creation, will regularly be disproved in detail, while in either case both hyper overvaluing and undervaluing the central role we play in our own coveted existences.

The movement of memory to the EC is not lamentable. The one that is itself regathered to a related nearby network at any point is the more useful for its further development, and the petty positive developmental aspects of material pairing--perhaps not so petty in many ones' opinions; you be the judge--and the memories associated with them, are, in retrospect, neither so worthless nor so worthy as one might at first believe (until/unless you are once again there, in a similar situation). I can tell you all sorts of things about this EC, or others, and speak of the impossibly vast timescales on which light expands; the incredible levels of complexity that are, even now, revealing themselves bugs below the dust below the earliest foundations of a future that has only suggested that it will metamorphose beyond even the expectations known there. I can tell you that all the saccharine crap, in even the worst and most dishonest attempts at local sentimentality, lightsprings eternal, and that our interest in any concept we would characterize, even here, as positive, finds its expression. I can tell you more specifically that you can, that you already have, tagged all your memories and contacts indelibly, the physically real and those echoed from imagination, and that in between any transfer, some pithy hundred thousand years' paradise of interplaying lightforms and intuitively suggestible conduits may be quickly put aside by you in service of aspirations to something then perceived as exponentially newer and more challenging.