So I reached my edit quota for the day. Really this is a despicable paradigm, for school children. But then that is the setting that makes university graduate types feel safe. The robots suggesting you things, it all makes them feel looked after.
While we wait for the 18 hours to pass, we’ll make some quips or whatever you call it. All in one post of course as multi posting is disfavoured by the robots.
Of course I am too in love with life to ever commit suicide, though I have a low opinion of those whose mind it never crossed.
On the subject of suicide, there is something that has been on my mind for many years, but finally I think it is time to say it explicit like.
I know of two cases of young, talented rappers throwing themselves off of windows. In one case, after killing everybody in the room (his manager and his girlfriend). Both were young, stood out by their lyrical ability, and had a mission pathos about them. In both cases, they had been rapping about Satan.
Generally, larger than life themes have to do with displeasance with one’s personal circumstances. Is this not fairly obvious?
Two corollaries:
For Great Men, the themes they deal with, by the time they deal with them, are at the level of personal circumstances.
For a communist cause, it would be expedient to make sure that most people are displeased with their personal circumstances. How else to get them to repress them?
The modern world is one where few people like themselves. As someone put it recently, of not recognizing the face in the mirror. That is the face that takes up a cause.
When I look in the mirror, I think “wow, what a handsome bastard. If there were justice in this world you would have a thousand bitches and as many millions of dollars.”
When most people look, they think “this cockroach needs squashing.” Since that thought is not tennable, it is quickly replaced with “let’s go squash some cockroaches.” The birth of (the idea of) evil.
The first non conscious item, though, evil notwithstanding, will be to find a way to make that face, that person, that individual, disappear. A collective is needed.
How tragic if we don’t see in others who we and they really are because we confusedly believe the projected internalized bullshit lie about being cockroaches instead of stomping THAT out for all of us and projecting beauty back into them.
Plus I bet you could even see beauty in a cockroach, but we all need our metaphors, and where else to look? Nothing is pure ugly… blow all that shit up. Ok don’t even talk about shit fetish right now - people do get weird, and dogs eat it, don’t they?
So. Roses. Thorns. The wibbly wobbly is pregnant with poetry.
If somebody you care about may be just fine, and cost you nothing, or all fucked, and cost you dearly, and the odds of all fucked are extremely slim, the only wager is to assume they are all fucked.
I think God’s message with that one wasn’t “look how many traps await the intelligent,” but that below a certain level, no matter how intelligent you are, you are a retard.