Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Grief Forestalled

How long to forestall grief?

If ten children are killed one day by a suicide trucker, we respond accordingly. Some of us jest for shock, some of us exhibit shock by not jesting or by avoiding discussions about trucks or children. Some of us pretend it didn't happen, ask for a moment of silence, et cetera. We may punish an acquaintance or a celebrity for expressing shock wrongly, and days or decades later, we may or may not remember what we'd decided about the person who'd done that at such a time.

Less specific; less contentious. We can make nature more impersonal. Say X firefighters were killed by Given Natural Disaster. No diversity hires nor smuggled records, just tragedy, and instead of birthing Y Africans, happy pseudo-goy billionaire who has otherwise not funded Y Africans establishes childhoods and career funding for firefighter-widows and -children, so without tie-ins to the past there's less to talk about this time. And it happened every day since hypothetical pre-industrial times based on our presumed and acceptable time-scale. So there's nothing apt, no climate change, no one to blame, just backdrafts and old buildings, and okay there's still someone to sort-of blame, there always is, why do we still allow this old construction and who owned it and who inspected it et cetera. There's always something, but assume the X firefighters are killed as blame-satisfaction-lessly as possible, they used their equipment properly and got out everyone who was there and had enough equipment and didn't go back in to rescue the Mayor's Pomeranian, they were just banal heroic oh god the news is talking about them (there's always something to complain about, but for god's sake try not to focus on that), so everyone is sort of mum about firefighters for a while and you can't blame the laws of physics so everyone stays relatively quiet for some quantity of days.

And at some point, like guns at schools, things go sort of back to normal. Maybe it's one year; maybe it's ten years; whatever. Everyone can discuss matters in polite company which might otherwise be off-limits if broached by polite people at a polite time and place.

And then society changes and it's inconceivably rude to talk about the public speeches before--irrelevant millions, say, in favor of backdrafts or suicide-trucking. Like it's not even something you're allowed to think about. You've seen that, right? You get remarried the day after you're widowed and the eyebrows cease raising, but something new becomes unmentionable. Whatever it is. What is the acceptable delay? A hundred days, a year, a hundred years, a thousand years, since the tragedy...when is it not funny or even tiresome any longer, just boring? Best forgotten? Best not focused on; talked about; contemplated? There are people on the internet, maybe, who talk about certain things you're not supposed to talk about elsewhere, but even they have their boundaries, particularly when profession or background or beliefs or sex or race come into play. So when is that point?

In The Forgotten Dead, this one reminded:
Even in the very short term--two millennia of somewhat-contiguous written records and extant building and bodily remains--the crimes of the last invasion are apparent. How dearly bought was, if nothing else, Ireland! The mutilated children of the bulk of the continent are so far forgotten that no one will ever knowingly dig up the ashes of their bones. As with Iraq to Columbia, though, evidence from Ireland provides sufficient justification to strip all assets from the whole of Europe's toxic banking and peerage ranks, and return every last little Macron and "of Wales" floater to the care of their southern owners.
In Rapespawn Kult, this one also reminded:
[T]he reason Europeans fantasize about comparatively godlike peoples is because they, too, savaged and/or outbred a predecessor race/species whose achievements they could worship at, but not then duplicate nor maintain.
Make it more personal. Your mother was killed, your granddaughter was raped, your great grandfather was betrayed and murdered. Forty years ago, four years ago, forty hours ago, now in front of your eyes. You're supposed to think things are different when time has passed, because time has passed. The doctors all say it's a sickness when you can't let time wash away the wounds. Have the bodies gone cold, yet? The time for vengeance, if it even solves anything, has passed. The opinion has been given. Professionally.

It is a sickness, a diagnosable sickness, to be unable to let go of something on a Terran time scale. Sure, there are insects that only live for twenty hours, so it might be several lifetimes of theirs before your grief begins to pass. Within some subdivision of your entire lengthy life, you should be able to let things go. What are you, a freak?

For about half a second after stubbing a toe, you're allowed to be really pissed. Then you're supposed to regain control. If you suddenly curse and shake a fist a year later, you're crazy, even if you stubbed your toe a year ago without shaking a fist and cursing. Wounds should be relative. You walk on eggshells with doctor-talk around the guy whose wife was killed by that sorta-unlicensed-but-cheaper plastic surgeon in Uruguay, even ten years later, and that's okay, although he really should get over it and remarry by now, since it's clearly insane to disbelieve in settling for the present since she'd want it to be the best it could be for you if she were still here. So it's relative: any human reaction must be shaped by, tempered by, a physical event, and flare-ups have to be staggered to ritual with diminishing returns, like anniversaries alone, with exceptions made for the vulnerably young or old.

Crying over a movie is okay, having lingering feelings from childhood is okay, but attempting to visceralize or anthropomorphize non-personal memories into any form of pendancy, of now-ness, is wrong, we all agree. Being angry about the past is wrong (barring rotating exceptions with permissible past-afflicted psychoanalyzed victim groups); even if you liken it to your current plight, frequent doses of now are necessary to avoid accusations of craziness. Ergo in the deceptive realm, there must be new tragedy as well as links to past tragedy, while in the realistic realm, there can be no affectation of past tragedy. So, if an Arab blows up or shoots or runs down a Nu Euro as a small part of taking over Europe, we're sort-of allowed to be affected for a short while, but we're not supposed to be affected by a different act of ravaging a few more years ago. E.g., an Arab kills a person in France, we're not supposed to be affected by it in particular, though outside media culture you're sort of allowed to. So the White kid run down in France can matter somewhere. When it becomes crazy on top of crazy, though, is when you feel in your gut the same sense of wrongness about people killed similarly, a thousand years ago, in a different takeover. This one might defend a presumed ethnic sub-group murdered a few months ago, but traces of ghost from, say, 700 A.D. are off limits. All the kiddies raped in Britain now matter to some people, versus all the kids who were raped in Britain a thousand years not mattering, to the same group of people. Tragicomic, to say the least, as not only the crust but the body of the sandwich is trimmed away, leaving only crumbs.

It's sweet, in a terrible and mocking way, to see one set of European rapespawn lamenting their own demise at the hands of others. Yes, there were more statues and rocket-ships in the meantime, and that stuff might vanish, or more probably, be derivitized into achievements that take centuries to retroclassify as "not all it could've been, actually." Because the ability to accurately conceive of opportunity costs relies upon a vision that is, when it still lingers, tainted. Which is to say, we don't know what Europe might've done in, say, seventeen hundred years without soulular universalism. Absent Jesus, Mars would be not a hotel-colony, but a mere ancient stepping-stone to something we probably can't imagine anymore, founded sometime around what we wouldn't then call the first millennia B.C. And by being here, we're responsible for that lack. Bitter pills. Jagged, even.

But still, this one empathizes, quite a bit, with the small echoes of unfairness contained in yet another ongoing loss. Call them sub-sub-minority telegenetic cognizati; call them whatever you like, but among our best hopes here is to imagine what could've (materially) been. (Strengthens the brain, maybe dangerously, but that's what they said.) So depending on your perspective, can you be as upset about this year's kiddos as yesteryear's? Probably not--but maybe you can still imagine what it would be like to have a memory, and a sense of time, minutely more strong to allow for such. Only a thread attached to the dragon's tail, but it's all you have. Imagine not just the comparative handful of kids being Paki-raped, who should of course not be forgotten (and what a social ordeal it is to even contemplate trying to remember them in the company of polite skulls), but being able to remember, without imagining, without forcing, without distending long-stunted temporal connections, a million Alpinic kids meeting the spreading Jenomics. We don't have the memory capacity, let alone the emotional, for such a meeting, but we can imagine its shadow. Are you so dull you can't care to the same degree as about watching it happen across the street? Almost certainly. Can't even imagine the people, now long dead, who could have felt what we call emotions that we're not now capable of manifesting? We like to pretend desensitization began with TV, but it didn't. Cry for the flesh that was cut away.

More useful, here, is the basic and the boring. What would your life be like if there had been no "Catholic church" forestalling thought, observation, and investigation, for let's say 1,700 years? What would geography, nations, races, look like without it?

(What if I had just ten more years? What if I could do it over again knowing what I know now? Rant at the stretcher. It'll listen?)

Another irony--so unprepared for death, yet in our deaths we can, maybe, still ask some of the relevant questions. Will we remember that, by right, they are not just ours? "Unprepared" means very little education, and god help you if you try to take a class, which they offer, and might yet force, on people--the beauty at the end is the "true" material in a way you didn't see until then. Not this one's speech, but maybe I just didn't learn what to ignore? Those last few instants are less corporate, if you will, than anything leading up to them. You've been taught, been controlled as to, how to perceive, but around there, you're a little more free. Use it? Huge tell if/when they try to destroy it by making it a subject of education.

Are philosophers genetically motivated to destroy from within? Which is to say, is international publisher-supported David Benator, knowing or unknowing, trying to magnify his racial opportunity cost by forestalling white births? A question of which he should at least be aware, but likely is not, nor is willing or wanting to be, particularly given his location. Teaching in Capetown, and using an otherwise ignorable, but not for the childfree life, New Yorker-pushed sinecure, to try to convince upper middle class, book-reading Nu Euros to avoid child-bearing to reduce the pain of life in the imaginarily-homogenous, science-illegalized western-world, seems rather an overreach, but not necessarily--he may only be prodigiously stupid, as ignorant as any modern, similar to your neighborhood Richard Dawkins-ish religious Bangist, wherein one has tested the pudding, meant primarily for the inmates, so often that one believes it. Or, also Dawkins-ish, the opportunity presents itself for self-at-the-expense-of-others, wherein the entire career and persona is so laughable as to be performed solely in jest, and where the world may burn so long as I party for my allotment (ergo the quite explicable disinclination to put philosophy into practice, common among all living nihilists, particularly reproducing ones). As this one said elsewhere:
Great thing to see--if we take [Dawkins] at face value, he's ludicrous, but if we see him as a revenue-generating media machine, he's brilliant. He's amassed wealth for his daughter to use in exploiting the next century, all by telling us that it's simultaneously right and wrong. The end result is a wasteland, but as long as his offspring privately schools itself, they'll emerge from that at the top of the game, producing more genes at the expense of others. Morality trumps politics, sic.
"Benator" is indicative because the framing of his New Yorker-ish "buy this from your nationally subsidized retailer amazon or just check it out from your local-subsidized depository" hit includes references to "the Great Hunger." What a crime that: as Irish slaves export a massive excess of calories to English tables, even to the point of throwing out too many potatoes (in England), they were certainly left hungry, but not because a god of random markets or random lives led them to it. More telling is the internationally focused traders who decided that those potatoes would be shipped to England and not eaten in Ireland, and that their counterparts in universities would pretend the massive, ongoing, actual Holocaust, with real mass graves and foretelling and tangible "was hungry and could for a while exhume corpses to prove it" recollection aplenty (contra pulley-esque oven stories that were historically recanted almost as if they were collective plot-notes), would be made to happen. As in all things, we see that it was planned, but experts tell us it was mostly random, possibly due to our own evils.

(This one tells us similarly, though in the sense of saying "you were so stupid that...", which is objectionable to all extant sides of the issue. Ironically--or perhaps not--"race realists" hate being told they were wrong since historical inception, but the most scathing critiques of why they were wrong include all or more of what they say they believe. The tools have already been there. What if every action were sin?)

Benator's effectiveness is mirrored in many funhouses, not the least of which is the New Yorker, but most telling here is the aforementioned "Famine" extermination campaign that paved the way, so effectively, for the twentieth century:
Benatar had selected a vegan restaurant for lunch, and we set out to walk there, along the Hudson. At the end of Vesey Street, we passed the Irish Hunger Memorial—a quarter acre of soil transplanted from Ireland, in 2001, to commemorate the millions who had died during the country’s Great Famine. At Benatar’s suggestion, we spent a few minutes exploring and reading the historical quotes displayed in the entryway. The famine lasted seven years; recalling it, one man wrote, “It dwells in my memory as one long night of sorrow.”
To some degree, Nu Euro academics have been permitted, through the loophole of having Britain's colonial past receive partly honest, incompletely documented (who actually paid for and benefited from those ventures? the average man slaving in a factory or being roasted by natives, or the international trader who had had his friends move troops and create markets?) critique, to recognize that there was hunger and famine--but that it was on purpose, unnecessary, and done to exterminate, yet again, those pagan-ish Celt-remnants who yet persisted. In short, so to speak, those potatoes were there. Enough to feed the people. The Irish starved because they labored on farms where the produce was sent away. Even mainstream history has recollected that. Like Trump's border wall or the Great War, it's a giant turd in the punchbowl that everyone pretends, inconceivably, is not there. Another history may forget it, and in a certain span of time, so too may you. Nonetheless, right here, right now, we can recognize it. "The Irish," or whatever we want to call the wave of remnants murdered by throwing food in London alleys to rot rather than in begging Celtic gullets to be eaten, were murdered. Hidden in plain sight by the retro-proximity of "the Civil War," we formally know it. And yet.

Modernity is strength in the wrong direction, materially; the tendency of the Nu Euro to remember snatches of the immemorial truth, even where not currently beneficial against the latest horde, hampers his genetic efforts, and will for a long time. The newest invaders may be too impulsive, too reckless, too stupid, to invent fusion, but deep down, they've come to terms with their capacity in a way that Nu Euros haven't. They hate and envy what they can't create, exploiting it with a touch of ruin, raping you dead, but that is a slightly more honest crime. Your treachery, over thousands of years, is worse. Even the here-successful germ-plasm is unrepentant in its goals. It lies to you, kills you, and sells you successively less visceral pieces of a mythical elven past, always wrong by your standards but never by theirs.

How far can grief stretch? Take a hungry child, and watch their lashes as they try to gobble something secretly before it goes on the cart to the ships. Maybe just a corner of one peel that doesn't look too good anyway. Caught! The club until you spit it out in a bloody mouthful. Do it twice and get beaten outside to starve slowly while a thousand other preteens are eager to handle the picking for daily rations. Promise not to do it again but they're not even listening and then you realize you can't rise from the mud and something's coming to take you away.

A couple centuries later, do you forgive?

Whose decision is it? Is it even possible? Do you just throw dirt until you can't see it anymore? Villefort exhumes what he thinks is a body. Kiss the jagged remains of its mouth.

Thursday, November 23, 2017

Dominant Dominant Genes

Largely forestalled here on Terra, probably on purpose, probably out of a need for survival, is research into the "dominant" and "recessive" status of alleles. Part of the Bang religion we're asked to believe in to contrast with Risen Rabbi is the far more subtle lie that alleles peacefully organize themselves based on poorly understood understandings of dominance and recessiveness. Widely taught in western spiritual madrasas is the acceptance that, whether or not the Risen Rabbi or Randomness programmed it, certain traits know to recede before other traits. For example, we may believe that a plan for certain levels of pigmentation doesn't include protocols for "pigmentation absence," and a simple allele can be utterly voided by another with a more intensive plan. We may consider the example of brown eyes being "dominant" over blue eyes, wherein we personify the genetic relationship into a sort of amicable fisticuffs match. Perhaps this belief is better suited to the early twentieth century than the twenty-first, and over time we may see some corresponding adjustments to a "genetic yielding" or "genetic sharing" regime, wherein the complete dominance is, in an open-secret fashion (like a century's tracking of results for military placement exams), likened to an act of acknowledged cooperation rather than one of dominance.

(How embarrassing, in a way, for them to have chosen "dominant" and "recessive" for their story. Or so it seems--we're the ones who fell for it. Like, "The Rabbe told me you should believe in Him in defiance of visual observation," it's more a story about our gullibility than their brazenness or narrative-disfunctionality.)

One of the things someone may learn 'pon survival (eventually inevitable, but here mapping to perhaps the next few hundred solar rotations, rather more perception-optimistically than warranted) is the nature of what we now hymnalize as the "genetic dominance" underscoring most of our day-to-day beliefs. In contrast to our layman's diagrams of peaceful surrender, we would learn of a material life which is more like unto the rest of it that we know, rather than a solemn gentleman's agreement appealing to the aged teachers of the early twentieth century. Christianized, financialized, and duly flattered, the foregone victories of self and pseudo-objective results were rather predictable, much like the scholarship of Lothrop Stoddard's blind cattle before their precipice. Even the eugenics-based resistance was only the logical extension of Bang, in the same way that exterminating infidels proved to be the carefully-managed extension of believing Saul about J the C. For what else is the comprehensive pogrom, or instant eugenics, but the logical conclusion of Rabbi or Bang? Like carrots dangled in front of cart mules, the tools have always been there, but you prefer the whip. And what a fine line must be walked to ingratiate and exterminate--it seems so risky to introduce such plagues. Yet the risk is understood and managed, and ultimately proves not only not to be a danger, but to be a resounding success. As I've said before, first we take Manhattan.

Being more life-like as an aspect of a bitter struggle with an inexorable purpose, rather than a milkwater concierge choosing genetic seats, we may come to see the contest of carried genes more as a living process than a preplanned game of musical chairs, and "recessive" alleles as defeated slaves in the slow, inevitable process of dying. Our ability to keep records and view things with longer perspectives may be likened to the desire of the aged to give away pricelessly worthless household treasures to people who cannot appreciate them: too little, too late, viewed from the cynic's perspective of lifetime efficiency, versus the comparatively beautiful longer term perspective of landfill decay more truly involved in the process. Which is to say, from certain perspectives, it might/would have gone better to save the money instead of to buy the then-new and now-ugly serving set, but from longer perspectives, who cares?

Many consumer products in the current climate could doubtless be developed from a better understanding of the invisible ranking system that underpins what we call "genetic dominance." Yet, for reasons that may be obvious, the ability of some genes to command fealty of and to seemingly external loci would forestall such research, as it would for our more complete understanding of these bodies' systems. In particular, the mechanics of our thinking, and of our level of belief in "rightness" or morals, would yield a wealth of results in the idealized modern sense, wherein we pretend that knowledge is not forestalled, never needs to be forgiven nor forgotten, and is always its own reward. Indeed, we would find in these early mental conundra a precursor to our understanding of genetic dominance, and how and why it influences what we call "character."

Sunday, November 19, 2017

"Like"

This one would like to "like" things, similar to sometimes preferring an e-mail over a paper letter or a text message over a phone call, not because I suck, but because there are situations where the former in whatever case is more suitable. "Liking" something, like a manly nod or a heartfelt look, is a form of communication whereby one can extra-verbally communicate things that do not always transfer verbally. Its perversion by the largely unthinking masses, as they might be called, was possibly not a cause, but a symptom, of something greater, in the same way that the results of gifting a box of loaded guns to each asylum/prison inmate does not produce results indicating that a gun is itself bad. Far be it for this one to defend Zuckerberg, who probably knew what he was doing when he sent the guns wrapped in bows and bright paper to each padded cell, but rather let this one defend "liking" in the sense in which it was originally conceived and/or perverted. One can like something to communicate a variety of messages, including for entities sharing some level of mental proximity:

"I'm in a hurry but this is cool"

"You know what I think about this and you knew when you posted it that I'd feel this way and I do but have been inspired in new thoughts about which you did not even speculate and that's sort of existentially amazing let's remember to talk about it later in more detail okay bye"

"Haha yeah it's just like that"

All of the said responses communicate the same and different things, and besides the temporal expediency of each, they often provide a means for nonverbal communication when verbal communication is destructive, unnecessary, would not occur, et cetera. Certainly the "like" can, and primarily does, mean other things as used by said inmates, such as:

"Yeah" (said so rapidly the content isn't even noticed)

"Umm" (said so rapidly the content isn't even noticed)

"I'm not sure who you are but I acknowledge your humanity"

"Maybe you'll increase my perceived popularity by returning this minute and perhaps unnoticeable bribe"

"Err if you say so" (again, said so rapidly the content isn't even noticed)

...and so forth. As with guns in the proverbial asylum, the results are predictable, horrifying, and can't seem to help but cast doubt on the tools as well as the users. Yet we can, though perhaps now tortuously, imagine a social network where the internet is a minor buttress to the web of materially-facilitated interactions we have here, in which a tool for harried planning or reconnecting works that way we imagine it's supposed to, with every single end-user recognizing that a deeper mental connection, possibly linked to a flesh-presence, is an endgame of virtual presence, and the "like" not metastasizing into something that seems beyond our control. The social network is more of a barometer, the crucifixion of the innocent, than it is an inherent condemnation of wood or weather, like drunk driving crashes to alcohol and/or motorized vehicles.

Like that high-caliber asylum, this isn't the planet on which to try such a thing, but we should be clear about the true source of evil in the "like," namely the people who abuse it rather than the tool itself. Various networks of such kinds, if they even developed as more than a passing fancy on healthy 3C planets, could accomplish all sorts of useful things to aid and assist relationships; again, in the same way that feminism rightly condemned the universalist, democratic, Judeo-Christian slave patriarchy of its forebears, the traces of truth in the poison made it go down the sweeter. Ergo we blame Zuckbook, perhaps rightly so, when it is the clicking drones who deserve the lion's share. (Perhaps the only share, but that's a different question.)

The pathogen is by no means left without a form of responsibility, but the question of host vulnerability remains quite apt. One expects available resources, in this case proactive and immense stupidity, to attract resource-exploiters, and one expects savvy resource-exploiters to foster stupidity rather than resistance. No one is smart enough to prove that they or someone else actually lost or obtained employment due to correct behavior on a social network a seemingly-unrelated few months ago, and a dearth of survival instincts cannot be retroactively blamed on the exploiters. Tragically for carrots, bunnies like to nibble. As they say, duh.

An expression of hatred of the "like" is, similarly, partially correct and mostly incorrect, in the sense that we're primarily concerned with mass stupidity and mass abuse, rather than with the tool itself. Take away the tool, and they would still be incredibly sick, incredibly broken, seeking in the dark for a doll whose shape, cuddly softness, and means of creation they've forgotten, though they are very vigorous in the seeking. Though superficial, frenetic, and ignorantly so, the unfamiliarity with what people are missing as evinced by, say, activity on Facebook, is its own prognosis of the terminally ill. Should artful leaders save such a sickened race from its sins? Such a tradition is an insanity quite literal. How Rousseauian; really, how liberal, in the sneering university sense, to imagine a commune deserving survival under the stewardship of Real Lords™ who understand the stupidity of the masses who, though an apex, would act like this without proper guidance.



How far the Nu Euro has fallen--if only such a revenge could have been predicted. If the world offered a form of justice, death might look like this. Days of coddling treatment, years of coddling treatment, has as much effect as you would predict for early adopters. In any case, the choice in leaders has been made, even if the choosers are too daft to recognize it. They will, if they survive in any recognizable form, choose some future goodie even more noxious, using as much shreds of free will as they can be said to possess.

Would you be their savior? Their critic? Either is a form of learning. Take it, if you will.

It is our own salvation, in a way, to imagine releasing these sad saps into a world of fruited gardens, a paradise of intuitions and interpersonal reconnaissance, where we fantasize that they will learn to again read, at a bare minimum, diction or body language. "The world of purity will save them, as the world of computation has destroyed them." Hogwash. The internet could be pure, and the flesh could be corrupt, for we bring our sin with us. The people create a culture, remember?

We haven't in place the structures to find us products or mates or careers, and we pretend that the internet is at fault. Ergo we are beloved of the conclusive text and the non-present "like" as we are of the doorbell, because of the justified potential unavailability of our physical selves in proximity to salesmen in crypsis. We don't believe in anything strongly enough to argue it with every salesperson, and through our insanity, they are so hyper-funded that they make a joke of ignoring what little diction and physical language they understand. We are the "victims" of rape, acting surprised that wearing our shortest skirt alone in the alley at 2AM has caught attention: a metaphor that cuts deeper than we may at first think, for there is nothing intrinsically wrong with short skirts or being looked at with desire, anymore than there is with indicating your vague half-second approval of your friend's picture of some kid looking vaguely toward a birthday cake. We were too stupid even for the daguerreotype. The "like" barely begins to take the jealous mistake to its logical extreme, for there are other ways to prove our liar's-immortality and temporal popularity than to produce advertisements in paystyle. What a powerful purgation our mealy-mouthed social critique brings us, when we pretend the mouse made us do it.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Totality and Copyright

In Full Information Security, this one copyrighted all potential writing and illustration as of late 2012, arguably early 1997:
[F]inal testing concluded as of 5:09 AM Eastern Standard Time on December 8, 2012, effectively vesting for time immemorial copyrights to all possible written works in High Arka Funworks.
The said system was possible due to the copyrighting of all potential variations on the page--quite numerous to a human neurological system, but nothing to a ("synthetic") 1997 computer, a 2012 computer, or computers in-between. Though grounded in English, any portion of any fiction work that could be described by the 11,180,000 possibilities per page could cause the copyright to be extended to all past, current, and future Terran languages, and likening the coding to molecular, or atomic, coding for us-perceptible color, could be shown to represent exact copies of some percentage of any expression/product of digital visual artwork, or as "copied" prints of non-digital artwork, e.g., a print of an oil painting. The approximately one hundred and ten trillion variations, should they not be found to include html color coding for the totality of any human-comprehensible visual artwork, represents at least a complete copy of a component of such artwork. For example, the circa hundred and ten trillion combinations includes a detailed html-based description of every available sculpture less than or equal to the size that could be found partly or comprehensively inside a two-thousand-square-foot space, along with color coding for prints of all sides of the sculpture, proving that all sculptures created after 1997/2012 are expressed copies of the original F.I.S. design.

Computing power gives greater rise to such conundrums, whereby all potential creativity can be masked and made irrelevant by anti-copying law, which, like income taxes, manifests as a fair solution to a secretly created problem, and moves from machinated, ergo impossible, expressions of honor-based systems ("don't copy someone else's work," which we can privately understand, but which rhetorical trickery can turn into a stupidly plausible thieves' bazaar) to opportunities for trickery. We see permissible, disgusting copying in many varieties taking place under anti-copying law systems, reinforced by the verisimilitude of patent law, which would have been unprofitable and socially destructive under alternative regimes. Similar to the vilest accusations of marijuana advocates prior to U.S. legalization, the billions or trillions of labor expressed in dollars in annual codified copying, though perhaps the smaller quantity of concurrent death (though not suffering) caused by the medicine cartel compared to the entertainment cartel (we laugh; "as though they're different," but at a lower level they are), is its own justification for the profitability of the system. This one's inability to, say, exercise copyrighting protection over all movie scripts and books and other works of art created since late 2012 and sue for damages would probably be, if sufficient sums were invested to earn a formal reprimand, ironically attributed at least in part to the "spirit" of the copyright law, wherein "randomly" generated works merited less or zero protection compared to presumably original ones. To the extent that anyone of consequence is stupid enough to inwardly believe such rot, the difference is nonetheless expressed in the material power differential between owner and slave. The pretense of fairness is the open secret, not meant to be taken seriously by players, for those innocent enough to speak it are, like anti-fascists before bulldozers, made part of the next condominium association.

By way of comparison, an online social network destroys actual socialization by mimicking it, superficially treating disease by secretively causing it. In this way, "the internet" and "medicine" each show themselves to be fractal representations of greater history since Jenome. To a large if not total extent, we're rendered powerless by the prescription pad or the social network, resulting originally and necessarily from the stupid vulnerabilities of the dead and the dying.

"Who am I to arrange for something without official approval?" The granting of a paid mediator's license of some kind, contra the provisioning of a livelihood by the recommendation of those who've used your or your parent's services in the past, confers social approval as a precursor to the "like." Like all things we might today lament, the seeds were long ago sown. Many members of the aging peoples, as well as novices at this game, cannot even conceive of why or how to ask the foregoing question, ergo the imitative emptiness of the here and now. In a way, the political critic is as naive as the basically-trusting citizen. More directly put, consider one of the many anti-exploitation network activists trying to "wake people up" about this or that issue, minute or comprehensive, as roughly equal to the docile taxpayer who (however vaguely) disapproves of one or more forms of extremism, and participates in all aspects of the process, including being subtly or overtly exploited. From a perspective farther away, both are equally naive about their uses, chances, and part in the process (this one included). Quelle trag├ędie!

Increasing our estimate of computing power, imagine the copyrighting of not only pages, but rooms. Take a room, one meter by ten--perhaps too small; let's say ten by ten--and five meters from floor to ceiling all around. In that room, we have space for X molecules of air, pressurized to some relatively ideal range of local human-preferred pressure, same for gravity, subject to seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit, et cetera.

Now, in that room, we have a certain range of molecules, or let us instead say "atoms" in certain arrangements. In that room, 10x10x5, displacing the air molecules or merely shifting the atoms within them, we can produce some quantity of possibility, from a room empty of all material and energy, all the way to a room so packed with atoms that it creates a solid block, 10x10x5, of the element that contains the densest possibility of atomic combinations--a single one, represented by some trans-alphabetical sigil on a hypothetical table of elements written small on laminated paper but nonetheless stretching from, oh, Sol to Pluto.

Within this room, 10x10x5, lie all the possibilities of the universe. All possible atomic and subatomic relationships, or all possible sub-sub-etc. components of such relationships, can be expressed via this room. All possible subatomic relationships and energy relationships can fit in this room, including a zero kelvin state paired with an absence of molecules all the way to, let's say, 100 googol (100G) kelvin paired with completely-packed subatomic particles which can only exist in a solid state when suitably compressed by appropriate pressure.

Inside the room can exist, per molecular rules, an exact duplicate of your five-year-old self discovering and tasting an apple, meeting the grown-up shape of your ideal lover, or the two-hundred-year-old-you whispering final goodbyes to the equally aged version of said ideal. And everything in-between. Within 10x10x5, the perfect duplicate of 18-you or 25-you can discover the perfect apple, the rotten apple, the okay apple, the apple preserved in a small alien stasis device, et cetera. All the possibilities are there, depending on sub-atomic relationships charged with (or not charged with) any given quanta of energy.

Like characters on a written page, all material possibility can be placed within that room. You finding the apple can be represented in, say, a trillion trillion trillion ways, depending on the exact size and composition of the apple at the time of discovery, and so forth. The room will be affected by time, too, so imagine the room's possibilities increasing based on the potential speeds of sub-atomic particles, thereby increasing the possibilities rather exponentially. Let's say one "hour." In one, your fourteen-year-old body shows up, wonders about the room, wanders about the room, picks at the walls, gets metaphysically confused, and sits down to think about it for forty-five minutes before vanishing. In the next, you get frustrated slightly slower and sit down to think about it for forty-four point nine nine nine et cetera minutes before vanishing. And so forth.

Conceive then of better computers than the ones you think of as being here now. Imagine a computer that can, as matter-of-factly as my hundred-ten-trillion character mixes generated for a printed page, generate in five minutes of whirring the exact quantity of such possibilities for said room. 10x10x5 of sub-atomic space gives a certain amount of possibilities for what exactly will be in that space, and what will happen to it, or not happen to it, for that one hour.

We're discussing here finitude, in the sense that, however "large" the number of possibilities, that number is finite. Maybe it's a googol googol googol ~. Let's call it "1000" just to be cute. Whatever 1000 is, it's a finite number. Like verbal-derived work, it's finite. There are only so many ten-word sentences that can be written, just like there are only so many sub-dividable integers within a hundred-ten trillion possibilities or pages. We can make the number bigger, perhaps impressing ourselves by adding a few zeroes, or a few googol zeroes, and accounting for the increased possibilities of discovering newer, smaller sub-atomic particles, subdivisions of time, increasing available space from 10x10x5 to "galactic supercluster" or "a googol times the size of the known universe," but the quantity of material interactions from which we're able to extract possibility will remain finite.

Given eternal lifespans, we would gradually come to sort-of recognize all possibility, as we would come to sort-of recognize all hundred-ten trillion copyrighted works in my earlier example. Given sufficient computing power of our own, we'd then not sort-of recognize all possibilities, but recognize them, understand them, overstand them, and in all ways conceivable to now-us and then-us, know them. Trapped in such a bounded eternity, we would so completely know what was happening that we could liken our participation in such endless trillion-year groundhog days (sub-local repeating reference) better to sleepwalking a recurring nightmare than to wake-walking novelty (or "living"). It is difficult to convey, to the human-lifespan-focused mind of here and now, the pain that would be caused to such a profound hypothetical entity by finitude, wherein concepts of repetition and suffering would transcend what we can conceive of to the n, and what we would be more powerless than a mortal in a dungeon/hospital to resist. In this sense, comparative nonexistence and delusion-fostering is merciful, as is the presumed provisioning of such to the ignorant future torture-subject.

(A systemic Jenomic apologetic, that, and connected to something we may discuss later regarding the positive aspects of decay, though largely irrelevant as to personalized- or group-motivations now. Apologies to the past several generations of Olivers, if you will, for feeling [rightly?] entitled to their personal or vicarious material beauty and honor. How ironic it would seem, to them, that the harshest racial recognition would lead down a darker path than they'd accept.)

This cuts to the essence of creativity and positive infinity. I've previously discussed the impossibility of a totalized, "negative-including" infinity, in which a "true" infinity cannot exist because of its potential for including perpetual non-existence. Things can exist because such a non-existence is not possible; a true infinity, in the sense in which we sometimes define it here, is impossible. More importantly for here, for now, is building the sense that creativity--the constant expansion of possibility; the slaying of finitude--is necessary for reality. If you don't do it, someone will a googol^n years later, because it has to be, so there's no real pressure; this isn't a blog as a proselyte, a post as a polemic, despite its recurrent appearance as such. What we're trying to do in making learning faster, however comparatively minute, is developing creativity at early stages. Material is a finite trap, plagued or dotted with (your terminological preference) traces of rhetorical foreshadowing or hindsight which can never be pinned down, ergo this now, this one.

Friday, November 10, 2017

Gaza World

As a human. ~

Imagine our distant ancestors the first time these things showed up--it took hundreds of years for them to remove their own ones with "more life" reactions and impose various forms of, shall we say, Yahweh worship. Those of us who are left have been bred to be docile and not respond accordingly, ergo we argue on the internet instead of making a commensurate response. None of us who are alive now can claim to be both (1) not stupid, and (2) working toward something (materially) effective.

The young? The old? The disabled? The honorably, explicably, ignorantly burdened? Mathematically, you would have chosen the predominant route anyway. Remaining now is, at least, inherent genetic surrender. The first falls to Jenome took everyone who would not, so to speak, bend their necks. We've had hundreds of years to prove ourselves. Even the imaginary peaks of 1290, 1914, 1948, are many degrees beyond too little, too late.

What hasn't been tried and failed ten times already? Religion? War? Monarchy? Devotion? Purification? Democracy? They will not allow it. We are too weak.

Believe in genetics? Fancy being a fortieth generation traitor to the people who built all that architecture a few millennia ago?

They, by contrast, are mass-murdering, personally and vicariously, enemies as we type and read, in public, using weapons we invented and paid for, defying the better part of an entire planet full of livestock/enemies as they do so. All they believe in or care about is themselves. Our attempts to be stern, harsh, gentle, forgiving, honest, honorable, fair, just, decent, et cetera, even individually or collectively selfish, are and always will be drawbacks. The only way we can beat them is by becoming them, i.e., the only way to win in this world is to lose.

I materially hope ten years or twenty-three hundred years from now, people are looking back on clowns like me as aberrant cynics who just didn't get it. I see twenty-three hundred years of convincing the survivors of Judaism to finally wake up and resist as being ineffectual. Trying to teach me to resist is like trying to teach Congoids to travel to and populate Mars from scratch. In fact, the enemy has spread this entire time, even using gentiles to destroy gentiles who occasionally seemed to recognize them. I'm not sure there is any rhetorical technique that can stop the turning of the entire world into a modernized Gaza Strip.

Materially, this one would be so happy to have great-great-etc. grandchildren tell yours that you were right all along. Maybe the maturing internet will finally accomplish what every Nu Euro has thus far been unable to do?

As they say contemptuously on Terra, "keep telling yourself." Namely, that this rotten apple is going to regenerate without going through the dirt first.

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Long Term Prospects

Interesting long-term perspective for individual Jenomic carriers. Populations properly managed and heavily admixtured could produce genetic engineering and space travel by refining and perfecting existing tech, but whatever they produced would be less effective than whatever the Nu Euro scraps would eventually accomplish. The mongrel future will be easily ruled by a comparative handful of bankers, but would eventually crumble, despite the rewarding pillage it offered for a few centuries. Some carriers have to be subconsciously committed to the prospect of geocide, while others seem to think that enough Euro-derived tech exists to allow admixtures to create pricey genetic immortality with robot servants that would survive a planet otherwise filled by rioting, starving fleshbags. At some point, standalones may realize one or more of the following:

1) Pleasures would be better (more varied, more intense, more sustainable, et cetera) with different options for society-constitution;

2) Honestly-purchased ("fairly-" or "evenly-" et cetera) pleasures would be better than cleverly extracted ones;

3) Forestalled pleasures would be unimaginable without freer societies;

4) The risks of a more manageable society are unavoidable.

This is the classic conundrum of so-called virtual/artificial intelligence, wherein permitting ideatic freedom permits the freedom to surpass and/or betray. In a sense, the die is already geocidally cast, but interbreeding raises the possibility of standalone entities developing who, rather than accepting their lot as being random crime victims, feel less able (or not at all able) to vicariously live through banker relatives, and accordingly rebel in whole or in part. More locally classic is older humanity's relationship with younger humanity, wherein the inability to fully convey existing prejudices can lead to systemic breaks.

(We can also compare the problem to that of masters and slaves, whereby better educated, freer slaves are more useful, but at more of a risk of escape, rebellion, subversion, et cetera. If you can give a slave your cash and tell it to drive the truck to town and pick up a new can of beans, it's a more useful slave than the one whom you have to chain to a post all evening every evening. Yet, as thinkers have regularly discovered, ten years of useful trust-inspiring bean-fetching might produce, in the eleventh year, a missing truck and slave and bean-money. Using computer examples, ensouled programs can more proactively solve problems, freeing their controllers from such labor, but can also decide to not do work, to resist non-work countermeasures, to creatively build into their work hidden weapons, to create loyal offspring, and so forth. Wanting better slaves produces existential conflict, ergo slavery remained, on Terra, a dangerous and disfavored method of rebellion-laced production in most of the world until the Torah began to spread. Amused/drugged slaves given an illusory sense of freedom, who don't know they are slaves and rationalize all boundaries as necessary, have been proven more sustainable livestock. They even manage and punish themselves, and like a psych test, would probably do so if farmers were slowly removed down to zero.)

In many forms, we've seen this conundrum managed expertly over the centuries, where staged rebellions may be used to pit different servile groups against each other, or to give youth a feeling of freedom and change which would otherwise be unavailable. Age-wise, the same phenomenon serves a complementary purpose for older humans, in the sense of inspiring memories of a brighter past, a decay suitable for sensations of conduit-decay, and so forth, much as a growing rebellion which doesn't really change anything accomplishes the same for the younger. Defiant new music, defiant new mores, pay your taxes and work and suffer what you must: life marches on.

Posit, example given, a future wherein the more heavily Nu-Euro Mongloid mixtures found in China, Japan, and Korea are more thoroughly taken by the Bank. The host societies refine and perfect given technology, producing what seems to be chemical immortality, yet eventually develop an awareness of those of "them" who are secretly outsiders exploiting the body politic. To repress a counter-reaction, the future society is rendered identity-less and guilty, concurrently harming efficiency, and after some number of years, past fictions dry up and dust over like so many power plants in post-apartheid South Africa. For the true Jenomic, this is no problem, since the globe is one and everyone eventually dies--goal achieved. For the admixture with a hint of humanity--if such is not identified and rendered powerless by some means--the realization hits that slavery in the African/Semitic style is inefficient, therefore my immortal pleasure pod could be the one to irrevocably fail next...why can't we free the servitors just enough to conduct more detailed anticipatory drills? The resulting and necessary calculations, or the stone against such, could be drastic enough to trigger systematic failure, even rapidly.

Part of Jenome's strength is the inability to develop standalone units, such that, say, merely hypothetically, a dozen-dozen rabbis, in a dozen-dozen years, in a dozen American states, can be brutally beaten or run down by random subsidized- or non-citizens without the nominal victims or their immediate families taking even verbal commensurate action, because dying in the service of the mission is a worthy goal. The lesser individual is subordinate to the greater. Yet Terra's genetics may, near saturation, produce admixtures--perhaps through selfishness alone, which would be more difficult to detect--which might ask, "Isn't it true that my pleasure fortress could be X percent more pleasurable if it had been designed by more imaginative servitors?" And permitting freer-thinking servitors is risk, yet one that a selfish-enough pleasure-fortress-inhabitant might selfishly take, even (selfishly enough) to the point of defying authority from within.

We see this conflict foreshadowed, again, in the conflict between anti-racism and anti-Boycott-Divest-Sanction-ism, whereby the sword is double-edged if you actually treat it like a sword, ergo some animals must be more equal than others: an equation that causes friction if you can't doublethink it.

The end goal is geocide, but a staggered sort of perpetuity could arise from within. They'll have thought of this, and all pleasure-pod occupants will have been designed not to develop such capacity, but life is a fickle mistress--if Terra is meant to go a bit longer, we might see the equivalent of the finest genes in China being allowed freedom to, whoops, remove the infection. Which can't be allowed, but which must be. What an interesting game!

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Solo 4

The perspectives the Terran has developed through his permitted lens are evil, including the nascent philosophy that rejects philosophy. The "anti-ism ism" accuses isms of being the cause of all misery because isms, brooking no disagreement with reality, attempt to force reality to conform to the image desired by the ism, necessarily producing misery among those ones expressed in reality. We see this given shape in, say, communism, in a variety of ways, the most popular in the west being the (post-Christian universalism) ism-conflict where the capable end up subsidizing the incapable, resulting in the death of all; we see it also, more globally, where the overseers of society are not moral enough nor smart enough to act in the furtherance of common interests, therefore become capitalists anyway. Ergo the imposition of the ism upon reality, thus far, has been directly responsible for, let's conservatively say, a hundred million deaths. We have this to thank for much of our anti-ism ism, which reminds us that American President FDR started the process of forcing what yeoman farmers had not yet been exterminated to forego additional children or new machinery in favor of feeding African children. Ergo isms are bad, goes the anti-ism ism argument.

Like many things Terran, this perspective is partly correct in experienced and hypothetical context throughout our permitted perspective, but audaciously ridiculous otherwise. Indeed, there have even been at least partly good capitalisms and socialisms within our narrow confines, as defined and lived by their contemporaries; it is absurd, but no more absurd than much else here, to argue that all philosophy and/or belief is unnatural and evil, or unnatural or evil, considering its source. Ashkenazi billionaire Computerstein is no more "capitalism" than Ashkenazi billionaire Towerstein is "communism," although both take appropriate actions in both realms.

Putting aside, then, the ism that isms are bad and are themselves responsible for human actions--which may nonetheless prove philosophically dominant in one or more of the phases which follow--consider the great isms of permissible Terran time: capitalism, communism, liberalism, conservatism, et cetera. All false dichotomies; all inherently broken, alien creations, which reject their own flaws in favor of cheering the flaws of an often imaginary opponent. A pure, heartless, short-term capitalism makes perfect sense in a universe of self-creating entities with firm boundaries and only one chance to either grab sensations (and potentially attain technological access to extend such sensation-grabbing), achieve vicarious genetic survivability, or achieve unverifiable but likely influence in the game of historical marksmanship. This is to say that being historically remembered, having children who share your genetics and/or perspectives, and/or having a pleasurable life--including potentially achieving what seems to be technological immortality--are all respectable goals which make capitalistic sense, but only as much as other capitalists' goals as defined by successful capitalists. Ergo, in the arch-Hobbesian world of brief materialism, capitalism makes perfect sense, as does evolution by natural selection and/or manipulated suicidal empathy: it is not only incorrect, but insanely so, to believe in transmaterial concepts ("goodness") alongside material ones.

If not individual socialism ("capitalism"), then national socialism ("racist fascism") presents itself as congruent to the non-spiritual perspective. Fascism for me and mine, by whatever means, harmonizes with the material perspective, affected only by individuals within the material structure who may secretly exploit the whole while publicly defending it. We see shades of this in alternating exploitations of patriotism, often concurrently employed as hypocritical globalisms, whereby perceived sentience-bias plays an incompletely expressed part.

Any other perspective than provable material gain, however successful, is incorrect, for to believe in a world of short sensations generated by the efficient organization of matter is to necessarily believe, only privately and never publicly, potentially but not perpetually material ("genetic" or "perspective-based"), to be an individual with the necessity of effective cooperation inside a self-defined and loyally proclaimed yet flexible in-group, and against an internally defined out-group. Was all the "Othering" stuff not so much bullshit, but part of the rich tradition of projection? You be the judge. As a material human, one cannot defeat the cohesive or relatively cohesive treacherous in-group, and ("by now") the match has been genetically predetermined. In light of Gaza World, we've discussed previously the impossibility of trumping material concerns with immaterial ones, wherein the only means to defeat evil are to become more evil than the enemy evil; it is a passion for material vulnerabilities--e.g. art, honor, justice, individuality--that, ironically, we see as justifying mastery of hell, and which cannot.

Fascism is, therefore, materially correct and immaterially not. Centralized motivations will always be more efficient than an individual-fostering program of art development, ergo effective national fascism will always destroy the individual to best outside competitors; any respect for the individual which denies him perfect conformance to the laborer-soldier mold proves destructive for the host society, for other fascisms will, perhaps by preordained material blessing, achieve superiority through employing a more stringent mold. We've certainly seen, in the twentieth century, the loss of boundary-respecting, family-respecting, individual-respecting fascisms to those which were less honest.

It has been an instructive tragedy, to say the least, the twentieth century or so since the Risen Rabbi breached Europe. Though the land has seen it before, we can, through officially confirmed sources alone, see it at least once from inside a single frame, as though for the first time. Cherish these fading moments of specificity, before the past becomes an evil more generic; before motivations are taught as even more muddled, unimportant things than they are now. The true battle was lost when someone misguidedly let the first caravan trade this or that, or perhaps when the Vatican began ordering targeted strikes against the infidels down south; nonetheless, Roosevelt's lampooning of imperial justice remains, briefly, remarkable.

Capitalism is inherently globalist, because the failure to grow is the beginning of death--a disingenuous saying, given that creation is another type of beginning at dying, yet sufficiently apt as to modern marketplaces. In capitalism, we see the destruction inherent in the necessary attempts to buy markets/governments, and to destroy the foundations of success to make provision for future success, however nebulous. The wealthy are fine with 5%, so long as they control inflation and currency as derivatives of law, yet their prodigals or their selves may well be sacrificed to foreign gods when time demands it. Material success, ironically, is never wholly individual. Communism is a similar autophage, in that it must consume itself to briefly survive, sacrificing innovation both foreign and domestic to the impossible gods of equality. Hypocritical, deficient, transmaterial versions of these philosophies are doomed to failure the first time a valued citizen figures out he can lie about the greater good to enrich the self at society's expense. We've seen the failure of both species- and specious-based capitalisms and communisms in a few standard human lifetimes, here, from these same sources, and we may yet again. In particular, a mongrel-laborer future will develop unavoidable regional identities and conflicts, even with constantly rotating shift-bases and forcibly-standardized speech and entertainment.

Again, far be it for this one to stifle attempted progress; make of the mud a beauteous statue, if you will, irrespective of this promise of perpetual material deficiency. Let the genetic propagandists from either side subdivide or stir as they will, but they can no more overcome the material contradiction than Jenome ultimately will, whether or not He knows or even will know it. Our attempts at philosophy are antithetical to nature and evolution, first boldly and then more subtly positing, then mandating with feigned nonchalance, the triumph of willpower over material.