Sunday, June 29, 2008
"Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions."
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Word has it that someone tried to rescue Professor Erwin's cat once. The gallant man was Smedley Faversham. Some said that he was a time-traveller from the future. Some said that he was a charlatan. Perhaps the cat brought him here, like it did me? Who knew these things? Anyway, he pretended to conduct an interview with Professor Erwin (just like I did). During the interview, Professor Erwin mentioned that he was visiting his friend, Max Planck and entrusted his cat into the care of Smedley Faversham. Smedley was overjoyed. It turned out that the dead-alive cat was hidden away by the shrewd professor and Smedley was entrusted with Mrs. Erwin's cat instead. Silly Smedley tried to run away with the cat but not before Mrs. Erwin returned. To hide from Mrs. Erwin, Smedley and the cat accidentally locked themselves in a cabinet with a Geiger counter, a vial of acid, and a hammer! Turns out that was exactly what Professor Erwin planned all along. In fact, there was no Mrs. Erwin - that was all part of Professor Erwin's ploy. The results of the experiment was never published publicly but it's safe to say that both Smedley and the cat were simultaneously dead and alive in the cabinet!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
This armoured feline tore dumb GI Joes apart. Just ask Frank Quitely. He was cornered on cold dark night by Mr. Morrsion while walking through a David Llyod scene with exploding torsos and flying entrails. cats in the blogs? This is far, way far from arkansas. Mr. Morrison said he will revamped Puchong into a 30 parter with tuiton center managers and engineers as bit part characters and several full page splash of exploding theologians and decapitated docotrs. Geof Darrow had been summoned. Some said this is just another version of a bad plate of Chow Kit mi-hun kueh. (Business starts at 12 midnite, go there and tell the fat ass auntie Pltypus sends you. ) Most just agree its a case of the the traffic going to the dogs. Meanwhile down south, manicured playmobiles are driven by engineered doctors on pay-to-drive circuits. And despite all the best of social de-engineering, the traffic still look like Isaiah on a bad hair day. Blame it on the reformed barbers with their "The Dummies Guide to hair cut" or "The Idiots Guide to Sweeney Todd". Mr. Morrison, even he, would be retconned to label hell with the multiverse of expandegesis of neo-transient plasmatic orgiastic bela lugostic mr bombastic low low low bookend la-la-lalistic exepornagraphistic execonstipatic exelunatic exevomistic exefartistic exe-ejaculastic bomb. Mr. Morrison is safe in Scotland and have never molested John Knox. He believe in giving it as it is but not necessarily in straightlinear but you get the point. He has not written any handbook. On a brighter note Mr. Morrison's Mystery Play is now a southern reality show, daily pay-to-view extravaganza. Patience is required as the reverential characters sometimes takes some effort to realized that the have been lied to. Just watch the comments section for snippets of the Mystery Play. Mummy's boy even allowed a cameo, powdered bums and all.
This is how Richard Fell would look if it was written by Mr. Llyod
Actor #1: How should we play this?
Actor #2: Let's just give it to them. The strait and narrow.
Actor #1: I'm not doing Godot again. Besides, ain't nobody interested in that crap anymore. Waiting forever for some idiot who never arrived.
Actor #2: People used to think that Godot was supposed to be an allegory for God.
Actor #1: Let the public think what they want. As long as they buy the tickets. 'Sides, you and I? We ain't paid to think. We just deliver our lines.
Actor #2: But Beckett said that he never meant for Godot to be God. Otherwise, he'd simply call it Waiting For God!
Actor #1: Who gives a flying fuck about that old perv Beckett anyway? Word has it he was a virgin all his life! Crazy old coot.
Actor #2: But we don't even have a play. No script. No audience. Just us. Actors on an abandoned stage.
Actor #1: I thought we brought in an unconscious Chinese bloke?
Actor #2: And that's our audience?
Actor #1: Who cares? We've got a job to do, let's do it.
Actor #2: Maybe we should do a retcon of Godot. Y'know, like an Ultimate Godot. For the post-literate crowd, I mean. Add in more angst and more MTV. Mix it up with an identity crisis and throw in some shit about the loss of beliefs in this generation.
Actor #1: What's a retcon?
Actor #2: I thought you weren't interested in the intellectual side of our plays?
Actor #1: Still ain't interested. Just askin' ya about the meaning of a word s'all!
Actor #2: Oh, all right. A retcon is an update on a familiar theme or character. Usually done in order to repackage and sell something old to a new audience.
Actor #1: You mean like the Bible?
Actor #2: Huh?
Actor #1: Y'see, in the Old Testament, God was all fire and brimstone and shit. Then in the New Testament, he's all about finding lost sheep, raising dead Lazaruses and chatting with women at the well. The Old Testament God probably wouldn't be very popular with today's demographics, eh?
Actor #2: 'Cept probably with those Al Qaeda folks and Christian Fundamentalists screaming for blood to be spilled everytime a gay-parade is in town.
Actor #1: Exactly my point.
Actor #2: But y'see, the whole thing about a retcon is that it has to make sense. That means that the intrinsic part of the character must be retained - just that the whole packaging needed to be made more palatable to the tastes of a new generation.
Actor #1: So we doing the same with Godot?
Actor #2: Precisely. Got any ideas?
Actor #1: Maybe do it like a medieval play version of Godot. Play down the existentialism and play up the morality side of things.
Actor #2: But Godot still does not appear. I mean, the whole intrinsic nature of his character is to NOT appear, right?
Actor #1: So a successful retcon means that Godot retains that intrinsic element of NOT showing up. Exactly.
Actor #2: If he doesn't even show up, why bother with a retcon even?
Actor #1: Does it even matter? Look around us. We don't even have an audience!
Actor #2: Sigh! Time was, we used to pack the halls. Do you remember the last time we played Godot in Folsom Prison?
Actor #1: Not Folsom. That was Johnny Cash. We did it in Rykers.
Actor #2: I meant Rykers. Wasn't that what I said? And who gives a damn about Johnny rockface Cash anyway?
Actor #1: Hahaha! Exactly my point. So in Rykers, there was this particularly soulful inmate, remember? And he was like all sobbing and screaming after the 3rd Act.
Actor #2: I remember him. Backdoor Jim. He sodomized 32 Altar Boys. Used to be a Jesuit or something. Did you know that he wrote me letters every Saturday for 3-4 years after that play?
Actor #1: Really? I didn't know that.
Actor #2: I read the first dozen or so. Never opened the rest. All sorts of existentialist shit in there. He was saying that he never chose to be a Jesuit. It was all his parents and Catholic schoolteachers. That he watched our Godot and realized that he's been had. That his life felt like coming into a movie right in the middle - missing the first and the last parts. And that the middle had a hole that he was trying to fill.
Actor #1: That was his justification for filling the a-holes of Altar Boys? Huh? Not that I care about Altar Boys, of course. Just sayin' is all.
Actor #2: I don't know. People read all sorts of things into these weird, absurdist plays. I mean, Beckett's been analyzed to death by pseudo-intellectuals and academicians everywhere.
Actor #1: I get it. Maybe we can retcon the whole Godot thing to feature an academic analysis of the original Godot play. Then the stupid blokes can go on and on analysing the thing and Godot never even show up! Haha!
Actor #2: And Backdoor Jim appears in the last seen to sodomize all those silly academicians.
Actor #1: Curtain falls.
Actor #2: The End.
Actor #1 and Actor #2: Bueno excellente!
"You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?"
- Bob Dylan
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
To be continued.....
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
I sat there ashamed of myself. Not because of the Goth chick. She was pretty hot. She knew all the Bumpo Carnation songs, Poppy Z. Brite novels and she was high on MGH. It's not everyday that you get all those elements in one leather-bound package marked with black mascara! Anyway, the cat beckoned me to follow it again. I got up from the bed (actually it was Dalia's bed but I've no idea where she was after last night's bout). Pushed aside the used condoms and old newspapers. Accidentally stepped on a Bumpo Carnation CD cover and shattered it (Dalia will kill me for this), pulled up my old pair of jeans and followed the mysterious cat out of the stinking apartment.
I cursed under my breath. Why am I still following the damn cat? I should be getting home. I've got no money, no phone, nothing. Perhaps I'm too tired to think. Dalia was like a vampiress sucking the life out of me. La Tey warned me about Goth chicks the last time. He was at a Neil Gaiman signing in Borders, Singapore. I told him to keep a lookout for Goth chicks. He picked up two Gaiman books and stood in line. But the Goth chicks all looked like failed plastic surgery victims. In fact, he could've sworn that some of them were last seen in the Mos Eisley Cantina. Maybe that was why he turned to Thai and Spanish chicks after that. As for me, the last thing I remember was walking out the subway with the art-exhibition. Standing outside the Hegre Studio, a Swedish girl in furs (and wearing a Santarina hat) walked past and asked if I was an artist. I nodded (an outright lie, I know - but you'll nod too if you'd seen the Swedish Santarina!) We started chatting and very soon it was pretty obvious that she modelled for Hegre Studio. She introduced me to another fellow model - Dalia. The rest, as they said, was history.
That's the story of my life - premature ejaculations, pillow-fights and silent-breakups. Broken CD cases and used condoms. Another apartment left behind. Another affair to haunt me the rest of my days. Brian May was right - "Too Much Love Will Kill You - In The End". So I'm back where I started. Stupidly following a cat around Arkansas. I want to go home.
To be continued...
Monday, June 23, 2008
"We have been happily borne or pehaps have unhappily drag our weary ways down the long and crooked streets of our lives, past all kinds of walls and fences, made of rotting wood, rammed earth, brick, iron railings. We have never given a thought to what lies behind them. We have never tried to penetrate them with our vision or our understanding. But this is where the Gulag country begins..."
I was asked why the 10 + 1 after declaring Siberia for ages. Even Solzenitsyn knew the score and just stuck to autobiography and a few commentaries. In the ice cell of isolation what need have one for mindless graphics? The best I have seen are the "Prison Letters" by Bonhoeffer, that shooked a nation and bought down a whole school of theology . The collected archives added in the "Prison Poetry" with meditations on Psalms as a commercial retcon. It sold. The theory of isolation brings out the literary genius in most exiles. I read the 3 x Journals of Gombrowicz while awaiting the blade to fall. Life was Martin Road and a 9 to 5 warehouse sorter. The heat was a bitch and nearest toilet stank. 3 containers a day. That was what I was told. Nobody said anything about the crushed 20 x 20 cartons inside to be sorted out. The old school that was my co-sorter was Spider. He stank like the toilet and was always in heat. One time he came in with his head shaved bald and singing the saints are a marching in. We all knew he was somewhat out of it but no one even suspect he was suffering from a brain virus related to a sexual encounter he had in Langkawi. So this half dead spider stank and sang while I read Gombrowicz. I wonder why that's not a bad thing.
Darick Robertson came into his own with cover #5 for Transmet. The 10 + 1 was sold on this cover alone. Same for Hickman's Nightly News and Wood's Channel Zero. Don't believe the lie. You can read a book by its cover. Read the cover: This one stank of Chow Kit. This one stank of Jaybee. This one stank of Clementi. This one is Santa Cruz. This one is Stephanus Daedalus Tawau. This one is Puchong. This one is Sengkang. This one is Pasir Ris. This one is Jalan Gasing. This one is S.E.A Park and SS2. This one is Ipoh. This one is Potong Pasir & Hougang. This one is Penggarang and I stood at such a five foot way on a hot December night. This one is Chongqing when everyone has gone to sleep. This one is Joo Chiat. This one is Race Course Road at night. This one is Silibin. This one is Menglembu. This one is Sitiawan. This one is Pulau Tikus. This one is Bendemeer Road. This one is Bencooleen. This one is Beluran just 20k off Sandakan. This one is Teluk Ramunia. This one can be found at Teluk Blangah. This was abandoned at Pasir Panjang. This one was found at Brickfields. This one is old town. This one is Sentul. This one is Chaar. This one is Layang-layang. This is Gulag country.
"And those who, like you and me, go there to die, must get there solely and compulsorily via arrest"
Frank Quitely and Geof Darrow were deeply indepted to Moebius for the depth scene they brought to Delano's nightmare and Miller's fantasy. The depth charge explosion of pages were due to this dude's art. If the modern day city swallow you up, then show the city's guts in all its gore. Let the details tell their own stories.
It is obvious, collectors one shot like these are hard to come by.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Frank Miller's version of driving in SIN. The road whoring pricing system makes a prostitute of very driven drivers in their engineered playmobiles. Pay to be driven. Geof Darrow lost his cool with the script. Now, why is that not a bad thing?
Read: Hard Boiled, Dark Horse
Watch: Hard Boiled, John Woo
You know how it sounds, a metalhead who's suddenly seen with a jazz cd. Or an engineer reading Lovecraft. Or a tuition teacher who pull the graveyard forecasting futures and trade. The last one is not hard to imagine. The engineer is at best an anomaly but now frequently seen at MPH slaving the new york times bestseller list. I mean everyone want to be IN. That leaves the metalhead. It's a widespread disease of integration, there's no loyalty to genre now. Once, if you are indentified as a brudder you live and die a brudder. Now, you listen to what sells.
So that year, I had just came out of the plot of Extinction and the other X-overs many times over. The one shots were piling and I was smug. There, i said it. I mean full painted glory - Kent Williams, Jon J Muth. Frank Teran? Had them all. One shots made great collections, so I was smug. I don't know and I don't care. I just like the art and if the story don't suck, I kept them. The rest burned. Pity the poor sobs who had to slave the monthly issues. Then came the explosion of chest and such tiny waist formulas that calls itself Valiant and Wildstorm. Then more were enslaved, I mean some sobs just collects anything. So you change the costume and make them street speak and make the pages glossy. So? Fuck them all. I was digging the archives for Lynn Varley, Mike Mignola, Sienkiewicz and other such legends. My one shots continue to pile. Then I was seen with Moebius... One can call that a second coming. Stan Lee call it a Silver Surfer tale. I got a steal for the still unheard and unseen sci-fi shorts that Moebius hand painted. Smug? Yeah, I said it. Then 2020 Vision.....
First, Frank Quitely. The disturbing image. The unrepentant gore. The full page indisciplined no-rules panels that were strewn all over the place. You would hate it at first sight if all you ever encounter was: Madam English Tea Christie and a clean shaven Obelix. How on earth the muscles don't bulge after years of carrying menhir is beyond me. Anyway, to hate what you see need a certain level of bias, prejudice and conformed acceptance of certain world views and vice. One has to questioned if the vice part were a little light in definition. That was a yesterday that was yet unexploded. Frankly, the images quitely seeps into the mental pores like a virus that need to feed. So the world as one knows it, divided neatly into two zones - one where the rich dwell, and the other, filthier, unhealthier place where all the nobodies stay, become integrated. Even metalheadz were listening to Coltrane, Hawkins and Monk. Epistrophy anybody? Once light is shined in darkness, the old colonialization must ceased. What the affluent says can be opposed. What those in governance demands can be rejected. Alex Woycheck can be seen & heard without censors. Jamie Delano can tell a tale without giving two hoots to retards hiding in dark cubicles. Make that another hoot to full frontal lobotomized opiate freaks. (Nietzche version of 'opiate' for the less educated)
Alex Woycheck saw the plunge. So did anyone who actually viewed the crazy panels through his first person perspective. If Ellis can get away with Spider Jerusalem, any other brits with a tale to tell would jump in with his own version. This is Jamie Delano & Frank Quitely and a few other art people, their take on the apocalypse. It's life and it's not neat. Alex Woycheck, a generic nobody who has lead quite an interesting life, but loathes his present one because of the well off and power hungry people of the city. This could be tampines, this could be damansara. Heck, this is marine parade and ang mo kio combined! This is Puchong and S.E.A Park! This is Sungai Siput but Sami veloo lost long time agao... This is neu yorke. Hell. Pity the poor sobs who still suck up to the white shitheads and collect their turds for keepsake. Ah, colonialism you have returned! What mighty entourage you have! Why you even have a puppy... So, civilisation parodied in panels with crazy graphics while real life ooze turd from recolonialised mutants. If their pathetic existence really meant anything, Frank Quitely would have drawn them as herpes infected sodomized followers of other such gonorrhoea infected stinking morons waving their labels like flag day.
So, in the blogs we have seen the neo british india in southern island demanding monopoly for their brand of beliefs. You have to agree. If you blog you must take on the imperial labels. If your jesus speaks than you must label your jesus in the green truth of the neo british india company. They will trawl the blogs for dissenters and beat up such indian or moslem or china traders who just want to feed their family. They will googgle your blog for correctness and demand that you recant you political incorrectness. You are the bastardized children of Bush. Their threats are manifold but typical of colonial lack of inventiveness. If in doubt, they invoke the seal of royalty and send the damned to calcutta. That was the rule. That was the line drawn. Till their ships ran aground in the rocky shores of a graphic novel, drawn less than neat by this Frank Quitely. As in Woycheck's city, the power-seekers were infected by the uniting of plagued folks; the colonial bastards were summarily infected, hexed and rubbished. Their residue can be seen in the floatsam of Kranji at very low tide. Word: if someone wants to beat you up down a dark alley - and I pray no one ever does - you might tell them you're HIV-positive; if they have a brain cell at all they'll then walk away, and at least some good will have come from such a catastrophic nightmare.
no one cares for the truth.
Some turd for brain neo-colonial labelled-mispelled moron actually walked into such an alley some months back. His face was pushed to the floor. You will need a Quitely to draw the content of the floor to know the trauma this sick puppy has since acquired. The sequel? Like a dog going back to its vomit, the puppy wanders back. The truth? A puppet manipulated by lies.
Truth: I have not bought (again) 2020 Vision yet. It's a capitalist cage. You can't beat the system. The trade is cheap but in cheapo black and white. The single issues reamain in glorious paintwork and can be available for a bomb. Capitalist pig! This the lie. Either way you lose.
Are you tired of being lied to?
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The thing is happening at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center --
Lesson no.1 get the brainwashed mass in. Don't let them think you are capitalist pig. Even if you are one, hide your knuckles. Let them know they are part of a convention that will change the world. This sells. People think they still can change the world. It's a capitalist thing. Open the doors, let the herd in and sell them the manuals for a convention speacial of one hunrdred and maybe fifty more. So even if they don't attend, they get this heavy tome back to add to the other tomes from convention past. One tome at a time. One brick at a time, hide them behind convention walls and use sublimal messaging from Pink Floyd for credibility. Who would figure baptist actually are changing the world? One herd at a time. People would think its the great commission.
Important point. I will be smoking onstage. You will not be smoking inthe convention center. This event has been categorised, believe it or not,as performance art. As having access to nicotine is essential to myperformance,I have been accorded the right to smoke. You will all have to suffer.
Did I say warren Ellis is a prick? Ellis IS a prick. Do you know convention speakers get stage preferential treatment? They get to drink diet coke. So they get to prance around in their suit and monkey tie, showing off they newly learned hip-hop YOs! while sounding still like a half-fucked baptist. And guess what? The herd actually YOs back! People would think that is good preaching. The manual sold on preaching said so.
The format for this appearance is Q&A. the herd moves in unison This is where I take questionsfrom the audience, and then ramble on at length about five other thingswithout even getting within the same zipcode as your actual question.So, there's no prepared talk this time, it's just me cueing off questionsfrom the floor, telling stories, and pretending to dispense The StarryWisdom while actually telling you nothing of worth or relevance.
Just when you thought it's safe to speak up, they put a boot in your mouth. Some independent type would ramble about puppies, whore and Da Vinci tee shirts. That is considered a renewed zest for authentic now-existence. People would call you contemporary. For a baptist mini-stirred, the heavens open to unleashed a grand opportunity for him to ramble. Q & A is actually the orgasm peak for ministers who have kept it inside too long. I mean Warren Ellis sprayed his audience didn't he?
**Well, who says a baptist can provide an immersion experience?
Also: yes, the story earlier changed versions a couple of times. What eventually came out was that although,naturally, the circumstances reported aren't matchingthe various stories circulating through back channels. so I can't get into this as deeply as I'd like, but this is interesting for a lot of reasons, none of them good. Sadly, I don't think all this summarize a convention expereince. As for the one act herd trooping off with this newly purchase convention special, I think they're goingto have a very good day tomorrow. I hate this. I dunno. I might read a bit from Ellis or something.
This has been WORD: Warren Ellis One Act - A Baptist lay (er, play.)
are you tired of being lied to?
Friday, June 20, 2008
The earlier bum that I spent the night with was responsible for this piece. It was a self-portrait, he told me. Howie Lewis And The Subway (did I mention that he's "Howie"?). He used to paint buildings and trains. This is the first time that he painted a person. I stopped him midway through an impromptu speech that he started about how he's a person caught in the middle of the intersecting networks of trains and lives - yet having no life of his own. Usual bum-existentialist complaints posing as deep-philosophies. Deep but not deep - like the Nietzsche quote that he sleeps beside every night. The next two paintings were even more interesting:
This one was done by Gorny-Dork (I learned later that "Gorny" was short for Gonorrhea). He was in Vietnam. He painted this in memory of a friend who "saw the Light" (his words) towards the end of his Second Tour-of-Duty. I wasn't familiar with Vietnam War history. He talked about "My Lai" and "Hamburger Hill". I listened without commenting. Then he told me about how this bloke called Preacher Ray who was always going on and on about Jesus-this and Jesus-that. "He was a pretty decent chap", Gorny told me, "but perhaps not hardened up enough for the fuckin' war!" I nodded. "He should've gotten married to a nice girl back home and became a preach'r or somethin' but they had to ship him into t'is hell-hole..." He came back with his faith dashed and his Bibles burned. Then he put a gun to his temple and blew out his brains. "Fuckin' stupid, if you asked me," Gorny continued, "but that's just the way it is..." I could see a tear streaking down Gorny's face. I moved on to the next painting:
This third piece was done by a drunk called Swampy (nobody knows his real name). He's sober for exactly 25 minutes every day. He's fast asleep next to this painting when I approached. "Don't wake 'im," Gorny cautioned, "last guy who did got his teeth kicked in..." Howie explained that Swampy used to be a Marxist and one damn fine artist. This piece he did was called "Well-Fed Karl". For some reason, he got disillusioned by it all, burned his Manifesto, mixed the ashes of the burnt book with Dr Peppers and forced his ex-girlfriend (who was anti-Marxist) to drink the ashes of the burnt book. The girlfriend was a blonde who had great big boobs - that was the only reason they got together in the first place! "God knows it had nothing to do with ideologies!", Howie remarked. His girlfriend was forced to drink the strange concoction and he collected her shit in a plastic bag. "That's what Marxism is today," Swampy used to explain to his friends, "devoured by Capitalists with their blondes and boobs and shat out into a plastic bag!" The girlfriend got the cops to nab him not long after and he spent the last 4 years in the slammer. I stared at Marxy in the painting for a while. After that, I bade goodbye to Howie and Gorny. "Gonna continue the trek to Mordor?", Howie joked. I smiled back.
I was going to look for the strange cat.
This crazy tour is turning out to be like an old Moody Blues song with all its pretensions to spirituality and meditations. Homeless fucks who once believed in something very deeply but living in a world where ideologies mean crap. What matters are degrees and doctorate theses -don't matter if you don't even believe the shit - so long as you can put it into a book and sell it for SGD150. In my opinion, Swampy's girlfriend's shit in a plastic bag or Preacher Ray's brains on the floor are worth far more than a stupid doctorate thesis. But that's just me. Ain't gonna convince many people in this unbelieving generation.
Where is that damn cat?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
from a small island
to your small island
return in shame
is on your name.
**all bloggers same warning applies.
You stupid academic Christians boasting about your correct Greek. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVIL! And the only thing you are doing is writing academic thesis to show the world how well-read you are? Or inspirational rubbish to soothe/numb the senses of the adherents to your religion (opiate)?
Read through Project Guttenberg by Rushkoff This is the link to the free ebook:
Gutenberg To add to this, for example religious fundamentalism, or institutions, is essentially a closed loop system. This is derived first of all from 2 sources. First of all, the belief that justification is secured by adherence to a creed. This helps to make knowledge closed via the irrationality of fear. Anyone who is deemed to have strayed in his creeds is therefore in dangers of the fires of hell. It follows that the religious will have to invent hell which has nothing to do with a Judeo-Christian worldview. The fear of hell helps to define solid boundaries for the sheep to never stray. The second that it has to adhere to a closed source of 66 books termed the “canon”. The canon finalizes what is to be read or considered authoritative. Anything that is outside of this is to be questioned; therefore the religious fundamentalists do not anymore seek to learn further truth anymore. Then knowledge is forever static to the evangelicals.
This is what I think of it.
Gutenberg refers to this guy who invented printing. But what has it got to do with Rushkoff's open source renaissance?
The story and myths of the ancient world has always been a way to manipulate the masses. The myth of the reformation and puritans are one good example. The masses are manipulated by stories of those in the hierarchy to cement the power. The myth of fundamentalism strengthens the grip of the religious leaders. Whoever controls the stories controls the people. It is the same idea when Gaiman says that gods cease to exist when their stories are forgotten. The power of the gods is their stories. Then it naturally means that whoever controls the media manipulated the people. In the past it is oral tradition, heroic poetry and also the singing of the bard. Not long before printing was invented and it means that the reach of the stories became even further.
And then we came to the 20th century. In this era we see the coming of the technopriests. The box becomes the medium to channel the stories. The technopriests controls the content.
This is related to the idea of memes. Joseph Goebbels, ministry of propaganda of the Nazis said that if something is repeated enough times it becomes a reality. That is the magick of memes. The memes are the ideas prevailing in the masses, and this it in turn dictated by those who controls the media. Up to this point the power is still a top down, hierarchical approach.
This of course is the work of the brotherhood. Rushkoff wasn’t too obvious about it but the allusion is there. The memes enabled the
The birth of the internet enables interactivity. As such we can become our own priests as well. Open source then is not just a computer software term. He applies that to the law, and even to the stories that once directs the masses. If that is the case then the memes runs in a chaotic and anarchic way. His analogy of the slugs shows that beings can react with solidarity without a hierarchical (reptilian) control. Open source, as opposed to closed source goes from bottom up against the original top bottom intent.
To add to this, for example religious fundamentalism, or institutions, is essentially a closed loop system. This is derived first of all from 2 sources. First of all, the belief that justification is secured by adherence to a creed. This helps to make knowledge closed via the irrationality of fear. Anyone who is deemed to have strayed in his creeds is therefore in dangers of the fires of hell. It follows that the religious will have to invent hell which has nothing to do with a Judeo-Christian worldview. The fear of hell helps to define solid boundaries for the sheep to never stray. The second that it has to adhere to a closed source of 66 books termed the “canon”. The canon finalizes what is to be read or considered authoritative. Anything that is outside of this is to be questioned; therefore the religious fundamentalists do not anymore seek to learn further truth anymore. Then knowledge is forever static to the evangelicals.
It eventually means for humanity to create their own story, against the bloodthirsty and greedy attitude of the brotherhood. Let the economic system that is esoteric be revealed and reviewed through open source. But are we truly free to write the new chapters? Rushkoff asks us to declare that we are living in a just world already right now, instead of looking forward to it in an unjust world. The change must take place then from bottom up, the change in memes of the world.
What do I think of this? It seems that this guy is trying to beat the guys at their own games. Use the internet, media that has always been used for propaganda to have a reverse flow effect. Do people realize this? Do people know that the current economic system needs reform, a dog wagged by its tail? I don't know. But what he writes seems to be plausible.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
2 - Borrow money from pessimists -- they don't expect it back.
3 - Half the people you know are below average.
4 - 99% of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
5 - 82.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot.
6 - A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.
7 - A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
8 - If you want the rainbow, you got to put up with the rain.
9 - All those who believe in psycho kinesis, raise my hand.
10 - The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the
11 - I almost had a psychic girlfriend, but she left me before we met.
12 - OK, so what's the speed of dark?
13 - How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?
14 - If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked
15 - Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
16 - When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
17 - Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy.
18 - Hard work pays off in the future, laziness pays off now.
19 - I intend to live forever....so far, so good.
20 - If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?
21 - Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
22 - What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
23 - My mechanic told me, "I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your
24 - Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?
25 - If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.
26 - A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.
27 - Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.
28 - The hardness of the butter is proportional to the softness of the
29 - To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is
30 - The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.
31 - The sooner you fall behind, the more time you'll have to catch up.
32 - The colder the x-ray table, the more of your body is required to be
33 - Everyone has a photographic memory; some just don't have film.
34 - If your car could travel at the speed of light, would your
In 2004, Marc Dutroux was convicted of torture, sexual abuse and torture of 6 young girls between the age of 9 to 16, of whom 4 he also murdered in Belgium from 1995-96. His supposed accomplice, Michel Nihoul was acquitted of murder or of any involvement on his part. His other accomplice, Bernard Weinstein was murdered by Dutroux after having his testicles crushed. But, what is shocking was Dutroux reveals in Court that he was in fact a pawn of a child sex-ring that was protected by the police and politicians. Excerpts of this news from CNN can be found here.http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/europe/03/03/belgium.trial/index.html
Is this just a rambling of a paedophile who wants to get himself off the hook?
This is the full article on Dutroux's possible link to the gruesome murder/torture of Christine Hess in 1984. A large part of this article contains the statement of one of the witness XI of this murder..
The interesting thing is the statement by the witness linking the paedophile ring to prominent directors of banks and politicians. Below is the quote from the full article from De Morgan, January 1997.
The witness went on to correctly identify the murder/torture items like the electric wire with its covers melted, and also an enermous nail, which at that time was unknown to even the investigators. She also correctly drawn out the plan of the schene of murder, and also the secret hideouts of prominent people. This lends credibility to the information of Witness XI. With such a witness why was the case of the murder of Christine Hess never solved? That is the question that still puzzles me. Going back to the case in 1995-96, we see the below entry from Wikepedia:
As mentioned the case causes widespread discontent at Belgium with the justice system. The officers investigating Dutroux's house did not act on the kidnapped girl's cries at all.
More shocking is the threat by the "shadowy figures" to the original judge who ordered investigations into the activities of Dutroux and the paedophile rings connection. Of course the judge was removed before the trial came to an end. Read the excerpts from his testimony on the witness stand:
"On the witness stand, Jean-Marc Connerotte, the original judge of the case, broke down in tears when he described "the bullet-proof vehicles and armed guards needed to protect him against the shadowy figures determined to stop the full truth coming out. Never before in Belgium has an investigating judge at the service of the king been subjected to such pressure. We were told by police that [murder] contracts had been taken out against the magistrates." Connerotte testified that the investigation was seriously hampered by protection of suspects by people in the government. "Rarely has so much energy been spent opposing an inquiry," he said. He believed that the Mafia had taken control of the case."
Also interesting was the link to Abrasax, the god of which the girls are sacrificed for. The details were found in the letter from Weinstein's body. The definition of Abrasax from Occultopedia
From David Icke, we know that Michel Nihoul was the leader of the paedophile rings, conducting black masses with high ranking officers, policemen and judges in attendance. "The Biggest Secret" was written in 1999, and it is interesting to note that Nihoul himselfs was acquitted at the end of the trial in 2004. Could Dutroux be only a scapegoat?
The shocking truth for most of us is that:
1) There is a possible large child paedophile ring being protected by a group of people with power
2) Such rings was also not just about sex with minors, but also linked to a possible ritualistic activities
3) Humanity possibly have not gotten over our "past" of ritualistic sacrifices to Moloch (eg. sacrificial pits of ancient times, the sacrifice of Agamemnons daughter Iphigeneia, cannibalism of Shang Kings)