This just occurred to me:
What if I truly did write a play that saved the world? That would be so completely awesome. Will there be a parade for me?
Saturday, July 08, 2006
A Resignation
The reason why the Supreme Leader of Cucka Land does not engage me is because he understands that I am more powerful than he. I am tangling with forces the likes of which he cannot even conceive. They would not permit him to fuck anything up. He understands his place. And they understand nonlinearity.
Are you ready to rachet things up? I don't mind... This is getting kind of boring for me. And where's my movie deal? I just want everyone to understand how beautiful I am...
Are you ready to rachet things up? I don't mind... This is getting kind of boring for me. And where's my movie deal? I just want everyone to understand how beautiful I am...
Operation Fuck The Commies
Whereas:
1. 9-11 was an inside job,
2. The executive branch of your federal government has been taken over by what you may safely regard as communists (who were always a front for mere businessmen anyhow, but I'm happy to use their own advertising term against them),
3. Those communists very badly need to make you less free (and, indeed, take great joy in having emasculated the vaunted American sense of "freedom"),
4. and everyone now knows this (at least those who follow such things.)
Most don't know what to do about it. So I unveil:
OPERATION FUCK THE COMMIES
We all know those little ways that we impede an undeserving boss or a company procedure that we don't agree with. We lose paperwork, we forget to fill the toner, we "lost" that document or recording. Oops. It's hardly a firing offense...
The whole system is functioning on your own energy. Just stop doing the bad things. Don't arrest people for bullshit, don't shove bananas up people's asses, don't let lies pass your lips again.
So if you're involved in the system and you don't like it, just find ways to fuck it. And spread the truth. Because when you do, the indictment against your enemies is so damning that everyone will be caught off guard and they won't know how to deal with you. They won't dare try to publicly punish you. They'd be proving your case.
The executive branch is rotten because of, oh, I'd guess --who knows...-- a hundred people? And you know who they are... How many decent people are there in that branch? I'm guessing tons more. You can easily ignore the instructions of your bosses because the orders are unlawful. They were founded on a false flag operation. They were founded on a lie. And you will have all the armor you need when you indict those same bosses.
"You were in on it. And here's the proof."
...Poof...
"I don't think so."
Well we don't, either. You will have the favor of the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals.
More later. Freedom's on the way! And I wrote a hit play! ...So I'm not sweating it, either...
1. 9-11 was an inside job,
2. The executive branch of your federal government has been taken over by what you may safely regard as communists (who were always a front for mere businessmen anyhow, but I'm happy to use their own advertising term against them),
3. Those communists very badly need to make you less free (and, indeed, take great joy in having emasculated the vaunted American sense of "freedom"),
4. and everyone now knows this (at least those who follow such things.)
Most don't know what to do about it. So I unveil:
OPERATION FUCK THE COMMIES
We all know those little ways that we impede an undeserving boss or a company procedure that we don't agree with. We lose paperwork, we forget to fill the toner, we "lost" that document or recording. Oops. It's hardly a firing offense...
The whole system is functioning on your own energy. Just stop doing the bad things. Don't arrest people for bullshit, don't shove bananas up people's asses, don't let lies pass your lips again.
So if you're involved in the system and you don't like it, just find ways to fuck it. And spread the truth. Because when you do, the indictment against your enemies is so damning that everyone will be caught off guard and they won't know how to deal with you. They won't dare try to publicly punish you. They'd be proving your case.
The executive branch is rotten because of, oh, I'd guess --who knows...-- a hundred people? And you know who they are... How many decent people are there in that branch? I'm guessing tons more. You can easily ignore the instructions of your bosses because the orders are unlawful. They were founded on a false flag operation. They were founded on a lie. And you will have all the armor you need when you indict those same bosses.
"You were in on it. And here's the proof."
...Poof...
"I don't think so."
Well we don't, either. You will have the favor of the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals.
More later. Freedom's on the way! And I wrote a hit play! ...So I'm not sweating it, either...
Temporal Focusing
When it is said that the pen is mightier than the sword, what is meant is that the temporal power of a written blow is mightier than a physical one. The sword kills only in the temporal frame in which it is thrust. The joke kills forever. It is a blow in a fight that may be savored endlessly.
The past and future do not exist. They are perceptual conveniences that lend a conceptual framework to experiencing The Field. They are handmaidens to the one moment. The past and future are continuously rewritten, so as to be in informational harmony with the present. Your "memory" of the past is merely your perception of the informational state which you call the "past." And when the present changes, the supporting informational state which you perceive as the "past" changes, too. This leads you to believe that your newly perceived "past" is the same as it's always been. And physical "evidence" of the past changes, too; the world will organize itself to support the present moment.
Present moments may change, along an arc of informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked possible moments. I cannot take two steps and be in New Hampshire; this is not an informationally consistent next present. I must cross the river first. So the proper informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked moments are such that I must first step the necessary number of steps to go to the river, and then to row across.
There are things that I say and do that make no sense in the temporal frame in which they are issued. They don't even make sense to me half the time. But I have faith --and always did have faith-- to say and do as I am counseled. These utterances take on new meaning and power in protemporal frames. This is because --as I now understand-- those informational waves are combining with other waves in the target temporal frame. This is called temporal focusing, and is a skill too complex to be performed by the conscious mind. That's why one must have faith. ...Faith in some deeper part of oneself, or in some greater entity.
My enemies should be aware that I now know how to exercise temporal focusing.
I have the power to attack across time.
I'd say that makes me pretty dangerous, especially when combined with non-linearity.
The past and future do not exist. They are perceptual conveniences that lend a conceptual framework to experiencing The Field. They are handmaidens to the one moment. The past and future are continuously rewritten, so as to be in informational harmony with the present. Your "memory" of the past is merely your perception of the informational state which you call the "past." And when the present changes, the supporting informational state which you perceive as the "past" changes, too. This leads you to believe that your newly perceived "past" is the same as it's always been. And physical "evidence" of the past changes, too; the world will organize itself to support the present moment.
Present moments may change, along an arc of informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked possible moments. I cannot take two steps and be in New Hampshire; this is not an informationally consistent next present. I must cross the river first. So the proper informationally consistent and economically plausibly linked moments are such that I must first step the necessary number of steps to go to the river, and then to row across.
There are things that I say and do that make no sense in the temporal frame in which they are issued. They don't even make sense to me half the time. But I have faith --and always did have faith-- to say and do as I am counseled. These utterances take on new meaning and power in protemporal frames. This is because --as I now understand-- those informational waves are combining with other waves in the target temporal frame. This is called temporal focusing, and is a skill too complex to be performed by the conscious mind. That's why one must have faith. ...Faith in some deeper part of oneself, or in some greater entity.
My enemies should be aware that I now know how to exercise temporal focusing.
I have the power to attack across time.
I'd say that makes me pretty dangerous, especially when combined with non-linearity.
Yahoo! Music: Escape Artists Never Die by Funeral For a Friend
Chris King Pop Icon (nowhere@ckpi.com) has sent you a page from the Yahoo! Music Engine. Escape Artists Never Die by Funeral For a Friend
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Personal message:
I'm coming for you.
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Pish Posh
Have a little faith; it all turns out in the end,... after I've locked up The Perpetrators.
We'll all have a beer after the show. But until that time, I need you to understand just how scared shitless you really ought to be. ...Because these are very serious matters...
We're winning.
And you, dear reader... Have you chosen wisely? Or have you allied yourself with The Perpetrators?
We'll all have a beer after the show. But until that time, I need you to understand just how scared shitless you really ought to be. ...Because these are very serious matters...
We're winning.
And you, dear reader... Have you chosen wisely? Or have you allied yourself with The Perpetrators?
Yahoo! Music: O Superman (For Massenet) by Laurie Anderson
Chris King Pop Icon (nowhere@ckpi.com) has sent you a page from the Yahoo! Music Engine. O Superman (For Massenet) by Laurie Anderson
http://yme.music.yahoo.com/ymeNav/ymu/song/438397
Personal message:
Artists are efficient conduits of temporally focused information, due to their disabled censoring mechanisms. They say what they're told to say.
This originated in a retrotemporal frame.
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Huh. What's under here?
I will leave it to better minds to fully piece together the events leading up to the horror story of 9-11. The operational minutiae do not interest me. I am concerned only with tracking the guilty parties. They and I will have our stand...
No matter what door I kick in, I see chocolatey Israeli fingerprints. From Israeli airport security companies, to Israeli art students, to Israeli moving companies, to the Israeli agents in the Office of Special Plans,... to the Project for the New American Century, to "A Clean Break," to McGreevey's little boyfriend, to Cucka News,... I can't seem to find a single Muslim at the crime scenes. I find only the overweight boy, the outcast, the one who wants his day in the sun. I find the one who has given himself over to the dark force.
At these crime scenes, I find only Jews.*
Whatever have you been up to?
You can call me ContraYou all you want. You're just ContraMe. So there.
Run! Run! Run! The rock is lifted!...
---------
*It is true that the architects and beneficiaries of Israel are not Jews; the architects worship a malevolent god. They have employed unwitting Jewish dupes to provide the pathos for their show, as well as to till the land. They have insinuated themselves among the Jews in order to have some plausible claim to some hypothetical "ancestral homeland" in Palestine, and, thus, to erect an outpost in this strategically vital part of the world. But if the Jews are happy to allow them to leer from the windows of their house, then I'm happy to call them Jews, too. Their choice...
No matter what door I kick in, I see chocolatey Israeli fingerprints. From Israeli airport security companies, to Israeli art students, to Israeli moving companies, to the Israeli agents in the Office of Special Plans,... to the Project for the New American Century, to "A Clean Break," to McGreevey's little boyfriend, to Cucka News,... I can't seem to find a single Muslim at the crime scenes. I find only the overweight boy, the outcast, the one who wants his day in the sun. I find the one who has given himself over to the dark force.
At these crime scenes, I find only Jews.*
Whatever have you been up to?
You can call me ContraYou all you want. You're just ContraMe. So there.
Run! Run! Run! The rock is lifted!...
---------
*It is true that the architects and beneficiaries of Israel are not Jews; the architects worship a malevolent god. They have employed unwitting Jewish dupes to provide the pathos for their show, as well as to till the land. They have insinuated themselves among the Jews in order to have some plausible claim to some hypothetical "ancestral homeland" in Palestine, and, thus, to erect an outpost in this strategically vital part of the world. But if the Jews are happy to allow them to leer from the windows of their house, then I'm happy to call them Jews, too. Their choice...
Friday, July 07, 2006
RidicuLexicon Entry: ContraMe (n, adj)
I have invented a new word. It is an advertising term. I call it "ContraMe." It is used to describe those who are against me. Its entry in my RidicuLexicon reads thusly:
"Whosoever shall maintain that I am not the smartest or the best in all respects, or who shall make disparaging comments about me, my opinions, or my Farah Fawcett-Majors hair, shall be guilty of being ContraMe."
The ContraMe are very bad people. They eat babies and despise all that is good. So, obviously --duh-- anyone who is against me is bad and, logically, that makes me good.
You may know a ContraMe --or ContraHim, if my audience is referring to me and my enemies in the third person-- because they are against me. And their utterances may be ignored as the unseemly product of being ContraMe. Plain and simple. There.
Usage:
1. "The ContraMe have a congenital hatred of me. You can ignore them and whatever they say."
2. "That's a slanderous, ContraMe thing to say! How come you hate me so much?"
3. "Some say that Chris King Pop Icon is off base regarding his position on the popular vote, to wit: He believes that a vote is an abstracted, sublimated expression of the individual war-making power and, as such, the vote should not be granted to those unlikely to have the desire or ability to wage war. The issue his detractors have is one of how to properly gauge the true popular sen--"
"--Oh, they're just ContraHim. Ignore them. They're so full of hate."
"Whosoever shall maintain that I am not the smartest or the best in all respects, or who shall make disparaging comments about me, my opinions, or my Farah Fawcett-Majors hair, shall be guilty of being ContraMe."
The ContraMe are very bad people. They eat babies and despise all that is good. So, obviously --duh-- anyone who is against me is bad and, logically, that makes me good.
You may know a ContraMe --or ContraHim, if my audience is referring to me and my enemies in the third person-- because they are against me. And their utterances may be ignored as the unseemly product of being ContraMe. Plain and simple. There.
Usage:
1. "The ContraMe have a congenital hatred of me. You can ignore them and whatever they say."
2. "That's a slanderous, ContraMe thing to say! How come you hate me so much?"
3. "Some say that Chris King Pop Icon is off base regarding his position on the popular vote, to wit: He believes that a vote is an abstracted, sublimated expression of the individual war-making power and, as such, the vote should not be granted to those unlikely to have the desire or ability to wage war. The issue his detractors have is one of how to properly gauge the true popular sen--"
"--Oh, they're just ContraHim. Ignore them. They're so full of hate."
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Do you think so, Doctor?
"The liberal news media are complicating our prosecution of the War on Unraped Girls."
That's kind of the point.
That's kind of the point.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
I have deer in my yard.
I live at the edge of town, on a ridge of about five acres. That ridge is situated among other topographical structures such that hunters don't find this area suitable for hunting. Point is, no one hunts in this area.
So I have wild turkeys and foxes and owls and peregrine falcons and deer on my property. It's like a game preserve on my land.
Last evening I was sitting on the back porch, in the old-person chair that was left here when I bought the house. The cloth strapping under the cushion has sagged, so sitting in this chair really means sitting on the wooden supports. I'm going to have to get a different chair.
One of the deer in the area is a young buck. I don't know much about deer, but I think he would be called a spikehorn. Not much in the horn department, but he's got some...
He walked across the backyard and stopped about twenty feet away. He looked at me. I said hi with a weird look in my eye, in my idiot-savant sort of way, and he flicked his tail and twitched his ears and ducked his head. He jumped around a little bit. He was looking for a friend and wanted to play. He obviously liked me.
So I have a new friend now.
So I have wild turkeys and foxes and owls and peregrine falcons and deer on my property. It's like a game preserve on my land.
Last evening I was sitting on the back porch, in the old-person chair that was left here when I bought the house. The cloth strapping under the cushion has sagged, so sitting in this chair really means sitting on the wooden supports. I'm going to have to get a different chair.
One of the deer in the area is a young buck. I don't know much about deer, but I think he would be called a spikehorn. Not much in the horn department, but he's got some...
He walked across the backyard and stopped about twenty feet away. He looked at me. I said hi with a weird look in my eye, in my idiot-savant sort of way, and he flicked his tail and twitched his ears and ducked his head. He jumped around a little bit. He was looking for a friend and wanted to play. He obviously liked me.
So I have a new friend now.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
cell phone
My cell phone got shut off again. And I have the money to turn it back on now. But I'm like fuck it... Why should I even get it running?
They listen to your phone calls. They read your email. I'm scared of talking to anyone or paying anybody a social call; who else is going to get in trouble for my incisive and sardonic wit?
And I'm sure my cellphone provider tripped over themselves to curry favor with the Communists by handing over tons of customers' call records. They probably even have a comfortable chair and headphones at the switching office for the convenience of the substance-eating government snoops.
So my cell company can fuck off too.
They listen to your phone calls. They read your email. I'm scared of talking to anyone or paying anybody a social call; who else is going to get in trouble for my incisive and sardonic wit?
And I'm sure my cellphone provider tripped over themselves to curry favor with the Communists by handing over tons of customers' call records. They probably even have a comfortable chair and headphones at the switching office for the convenience of the substance-eating government snoops.
So my cell company can fuck off too.
Transmission Now
I just realized something: You all had better start loving each other pretty damn quick, or this truly is the end of it.
You have to break the cycle of control --which has gotten _out_ of control, even by the estimation of those who had built the system-- or it will fly apart, completely destroying all of you.
You can't have government --at least not the way you have been taught to know it-- because the logical extension of that game algorithm is destruction of your planet.
And, thus, of course, you.
Your species is under attack. Your enemy cannot be seen by you. That's what makes it so dangerous.
More later.
You have to break the cycle of control --which has gotten _out_ of control, even by the estimation of those who had built the system-- or it will fly apart, completely destroying all of you.
You can't have government --at least not the way you have been taught to know it-- because the logical extension of that game algorithm is destruction of your planet.
And, thus, of course, you.
Your species is under attack. Your enemy cannot be seen by you. That's what makes it so dangerous.
More later.
Yahoo! Music: Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt by DJ Shadow
Chris King Pop Icon (nowhere@ckpi.com) has sent you a page from the Yahoo! Music Engine. Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt by DJ Shadow
http://yme.music.yahoo.com/ymeNav/ymu/song/1238654
Personal message:
I've decided that I really love this guy's music. It's great that he describes it as "coming through" him. This guy so gets it.
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Monday, July 03, 2006
"Have a happy Fourth!"
Yeah, I'll do that --if I can avoid getting pulled over for having a license plate light out and having some way-too-juiced-up cop demand that I submit to a breathalyzer. Heaven forbid that I should blow an oh-eight and get hauled off to jail and lose my job --all for driving at an impaired level that is still NASCAR compared to some half-blind retiree.
From the archives, a special Fourth of July version of "The Word of God"...
--------
I was going through a box of books the other day and found my Bible. A big one, like a foot tall by eight inches wide. A family Bible. I got it at Barnes and Noble a few years ago. It was on sale.
I kind of defaced it, but for a good reason: I painstakingly cut out six hundred pages' worth of profile of a Smith and Wesson Sigma forty caliber, so that the gun would hide nicely inside. (And no, not one of the sissy, post-ban ten-rounders. I mean a pre-ban, fifteen-round magazine with one in the chamber. Sixteen rounds of forty. Yeah, you forty-five guys may not care for a forty, but I've got six more
rounds than you do. To each his own.)
So anyhow, I did this for a reason. I kept it on the bookcase by the door when I lived in Orlando. Check this out:
[Knock knock.]
Chris: "Who's-ever there?"
Thug: "Department of Anti Not Niceness. Open up. We're here to put a bag over your head and ship you off to a con-, I mean, relocation camp, and to shove a banana up your ass. Bird flu is coming, don't you know."
Chris: "Just a moment, I'll get the--"
Thug: "No need, sir, we'll just break it down." [Door smashes in.]
Chris: "Oh my goodness! I tremble in fear of you! You used to be a harmless welfare recipient. But now that welfare-to-work program has made you a government employee with a gun. Good thinking!"
Thug: "Shut up and stick your head in this bag!"
Chris: "Oh, please, please, may I take my family Bible? To comfort me in my hour of need?"
Thug: "Oh, sure, why not. You silly religious types..."
[Chris grabs the Bible and, oops! it falls right open in his hands and tumbles to the ground. Look what remains!: A big, fat, fuckin gun in his hand.]
Chris: "Eat lead, Commie! [Blam!] You're a sorry excuse for an American! [Blam!] Where's your driver? Lemme plug him while I'm at it! Torch your car, too. Turn _you_ into the hunted! [Blam!] Don't forget: Freedom isn't free! [Blam!] Sometimes it means killing losers like you! [Blam! Blam blam!] _Now_ look!: Your head wound is ruining my berber! And now I have to repaint _again_!"
From the archives, a special Fourth of July version of "The Word of God"...
--------
I was going through a box of books the other day and found my Bible. A big one, like a foot tall by eight inches wide. A family Bible. I got it at Barnes and Noble a few years ago. It was on sale.
I kind of defaced it, but for a good reason: I painstakingly cut out six hundred pages' worth of profile of a Smith and Wesson Sigma forty caliber, so that the gun would hide nicely inside. (And no, not one of the sissy, post-ban ten-rounders. I mean a pre-ban, fifteen-round magazine with one in the chamber. Sixteen rounds of forty. Yeah, you forty-five guys may not care for a forty, but I've got six more
rounds than you do. To each his own.)
So anyhow, I did this for a reason. I kept it on the bookcase by the door when I lived in Orlando. Check this out:
[Knock knock.]
Chris: "Who's-ever there?"
Thug: "Department of Anti Not Niceness. Open up. We're here to put a bag over your head and ship you off to a con-, I mean, relocation camp, and to shove a banana up your ass. Bird flu is coming, don't you know."
Chris: "Just a moment, I'll get the--"
Thug: "No need, sir, we'll just break it down." [Door smashes in.]
Chris: "Oh my goodness! I tremble in fear of you! You used to be a harmless welfare recipient. But now that welfare-to-work program has made you a government employee with a gun. Good thinking!"
Thug: "Shut up and stick your head in this bag!"
Chris: "Oh, please, please, may I take my family Bible? To comfort me in my hour of need?"
Thug: "Oh, sure, why not. You silly religious types..."
[Chris grabs the Bible and, oops! it falls right open in his hands and tumbles to the ground. Look what remains!: A big, fat, fuckin gun in his hand.]
Chris: "Eat lead, Commie! [Blam!] You're a sorry excuse for an American! [Blam!] Where's your driver? Lemme plug him while I'm at it! Torch your car, too. Turn _you_ into the hunted! [Blam!] Don't forget: Freedom isn't free! [Blam!] Sometimes it means killing losers like you! [Blam! Blam blam!] _Now_ look!: Your head wound is ruining my berber! And now I have to repaint _again_!"
"Chris, why do you have to be so angry all the time?"
"It's completely unattractive, you know. You'll never find a date."
It's just that there's so very much to be so pissed off about.
I sometimes will force myself to watch TV, in the hope that I will somehow become well adjusted. And then I can have a date and go on double dates and laugh a carefree laugh instead of a sardonic one.
Me want mind control now.
It's just that there's so very much to be so pissed off about.
I sometimes will force myself to watch TV, in the hope that I will somehow become well adjusted. And then I can have a date and go on double dates and laugh a carefree laugh instead of a sardonic one.
Me want mind control now.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
A Demotion for Alberto
It doesn't happen often, but it seems I was wrong about something. I improperly tarred Chief Legal Sophist Alberto Gonzalez as the architect behind The Supreme Leader of Cucka Land's unitary executive theory. It was actually the brainchild of one John C. Yoo.
Allie --may I call you Allie, Allie?-- Allie just runs water. Good thing, too, because he certainly doesn't run a convincing press conference. I suppose the term "sophist" implies an ability to not look stupid. [Government plant: "Hey, guys, stop playing X-Box. Don't you want to stick it to the man? You know what you guys should do... We --I mean, you-- should blow something up! I'll order some fertilizer for you?... ... ...OK, then. We're all in agreement." That was a real coup against the Flying Car People, Allie. Have some self-respect. Your bosses are using your...inviting...mouth...]
I'm no Indian-giver; so although Mr. Gonzalez would be more properly known as Legal Lackey to the Stars or something, I will allow him to keep his more prestigious title.
And in an apology to Mr. Yoo, I hereby devise an even better appellation: Special Attache for Legal Legerdemain.
Sorry, Allie, I've got to take your three-card monty table away from you and give it to its rightful owner, Mr. Yoo.
And when the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals get underway, I'll send them to see the Special Attache... And we'll let you minister to our...needs. ...a service to which you are uniquely suited.
Allie --may I call you Allie, Allie?-- Allie just runs water. Good thing, too, because he certainly doesn't run a convincing press conference. I suppose the term "sophist" implies an ability to not look stupid. [Government plant: "Hey, guys, stop playing X-Box. Don't you want to stick it to the man? You know what you guys should do... We --I mean, you-- should blow something up! I'll order some fertilizer for you?... ... ...OK, then. We're all in agreement." That was a real coup against the Flying Car People, Allie. Have some self-respect. Your bosses are using your...inviting...mouth...]
I'm no Indian-giver; so although Mr. Gonzalez would be more properly known as Legal Lackey to the Stars or something, I will allow him to keep his more prestigious title.
And in an apology to Mr. Yoo, I hereby devise an even better appellation: Special Attache for Legal Legerdemain.
Sorry, Allie, I've got to take your three-card monty table away from you and give it to its rightful owner, Mr. Yoo.
And when the Citizens' Lawful Government Tribunals get underway, I'll send them to see the Special Attache... And we'll let you minister to our...needs. ...a service to which you are uniquely suited.
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