Chesslings

Brian one thing and one thing only from someone who knows of truly shitty situations:

Don’t give power to people. They’ll turn out far shittier than you’d have imagined.

This is why Socialism will always turn into torture camps. Power is given there to people that haven’t been tested by life. People that didn’t come up by earthly means. None of your Apalachians would be able to exist in Socialism. They’d have been hung by their balls or tongue or any of the treats socialists tend to have for “dissidents” and “revisionists” as those who don’t live in herds are seen.

America is paradise. Capitalism is God and Liberty.
Because life is rough and humans are very far from God.

is this the part where we try to one-up each other with our war stories?

oh goody. i love these.

I mean it. If you’d have half an inkling of where Im from you’d understand that. You’d also understand why there is nothing I loathe more than Socialism.
You Americans man, have no goddamn clue how beautiful your country is. Because why would you ever leave, to find out? Its too beautiful to leave. So you’re free to imagine it sucks.

youtube.com/watch?v=8SV7CLhxdXA

fun game
the end is particularly interesting as his choices diminish quickly because he doesn’t answer my bishop sacrifice with one of his own.

I think the crucial moment is right after I moved the g pawn forward. He should have instantly responded to that threat.
Pawns, man. They inherit the board. Chess goes a long way to show the power of the proletarian.

  1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 { D20 Queen’s Gambit Accepted } 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. e3 Nd5 5. Bxc4 e6 6. Nf3 Qf6 7. Nxd5 exd5 8. Bxd5 Bb4+ 9. Bd2 a5 10. O-O O-O 11. a3 Bd6 12. Ba2 Bg4 13. Bc3 Qh6 14. h3 Bxh3 15. gxh3 Qxh3 16. e4 Bf4 17. b4 a4 18. Bd5 c6 19. Bc4 g5 20. Be2 g4 21. Bd2 gxf3 22. Bxf3 Qh2# { Black wins by checkmate. } 0-1

I mean it though. Im not taking about your prison sentence which I couldn’t say sounds like vacation. Im talking about these people living off the wild land with great effort.
We have no wild land. You couldn’t in a million years imagine doing that here. We have a small strip of dunes and some patches of forest you walk in and out of in 15 minutes. The dunes are wild, they line the west and north of the country uninterruptedly and the islands are made out of sand hills with nice but sparse vegetation, it is my favourite country by quality on the planet but you can’t go unnoticed and thus you can’t really live off it. You’d have to sneak around in the one swampy place there is on one of the islands shooting birds with a bow and arrow and trapping hares. Besides one or two preserves for birds I have yet to find a place in this country where you can go about a few hundred yards unobserved. Ive tried sleeping in nature here, its doable in the dunes. But there’ll always be some morning promenaders to worry about and you definitely can’t make a fire or anything like that. Of course you do, anyway. Gotta make use of these nazi bunkers somehow.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w88F3kh2J9o[/youtube]

Dont lecture me on the pyrotechnics. I was being nihilistic.

what am i supposed to tell ya? america is a great country. it’s the people that suck. but look at the irony of this conversation. you complain about the density of city and industry in the netherlands… and yet that’s precisely because it’s a country in europe… which happens to be where THE CAPITALIST REVOLUTION occurred.

so if the thing you most admire about 'merica is that fact that we still got some frontier… well that’s because the capitalists arrived only a few hundred years ago. give this country another century and it’ll be cram packed with concrete and steel.

it’s your boys that are ruining da earf, not mine.

I think I grounded you.

Talk like this all day and watch what happens.

The probably was a confusing message.

What I mean is, stop mentioning socialism and anything related and start talking about the frontier, and how America was ruined by Europeans but still has some wild in it. If you do that, I am willing to bet you’d find an instant fanbase.

Lets make it a bet. If you systematically put fronteerist nonpartisan rants with weird inserts on youtube and do not gather a fanbase Ill owe you 20 dollars. Hell Ill make it a hundred.

This is just the capitalist in me, of course, seeing value. Self-valuing talent applied to increase value around it, all kinds of potential for profit.

Its not my ow profit I am concerned with. Just my own entertainment.

Thats the whole capitalistic Ouroboros.

Hell with it, be a Red - just frame everything in terms of the frontier.

Meet mr R and shoot some guns and talk shop (not politics plz) and trump everything we’ve ever seen of the US.

You might lead the way in unanticipated places. That is, I think, the ethics of a frontier. Unexpected ways to prove oneself.

"believe it or not, courage was more respected than strength. if the littlest guy in the block was called to the box (the shower stall to fight), and he didn’t refuse the challenge, even if he walked out beaten to a pulp he would earn the respect of everyone. even the wolves that would once extort him for his commissary would leave him alone after that, which was interesting because he was still an easy target. it’s the prison ethos… like being thrust back to the seventh century. the single most defining feature of character was one’s courage for battle. didn’t matter if you lost, only that you tried. but being that you had to be combat ready at all times, pretty much everyone, with the exception of the very religious (who wouldn’t fight), was constantly training and working out. you hit the weight pile everyday. but all in all, there weren’t as many fights as you’d think. most inmates don’t want to fight and would only do so - either start a fight or answer to a challenger - if they had to prove something. for one thing, if you got caught fighting, you could lose all kinds of privileges. and the officers had it down to a science. if an inmate was seen with a fresh bloody nose or busted lip, the officers would storm the block, line everyone up, and examine each inmate for signs of fighting. torn shirt, red knuckles, elevated breathing and heart-rate… signs that you just had a tussle. i saw many an inmate get busted for beating someone up that way; find the guy in the line, cuff him right there on the spot, and take him to seg… and remember that every move you made was being monitored (except in the very back corner of the shower stall where you could fight). even on the yard; guards in trucks drove circles around the yard without pause. so everyone wanted to avoid fighting if they could… except for… you guessed it… the gang members. constantly fighting without any concern about getting busted. for them, privileges were less important than gang honor.

and the gangs had more control over the prison than the guards. if you were in the laundry or canteen line, and a blood jumped in front of you, you didn’t say a word. that’s just the way it was. if you wanted to call him out, you risked having to fight a whole mob of em who would come to his aid. and one on one fights with a gang member were a pain in the ass to get clearance for. you had to find the highest ranking member and ask him for permission to fight the dude one on one. fuck all that, just jump in front of me, asswipe. you can have it.

and not standing up to a gang member was unanimously understood as okay. it didn’t mean you were a coward… it meant you weren’t an idiot. that was the law. but unaffiliated inmates had different rules. if a dude called you out, you had to get it in, mang. put them shooters up, drop a three piece on his ass, and put em to sleep… or take a nap yourself. lol… that was a common phrase before a fight; ‘you ready to take a nap, nigga?’ i’ve walked into the bathroom and seen dudes knocked out in the shower. laying there, out cold. inmates would check on you, and if you weren’t dead, they’d try to wake you up. fights were like a big event… and when they were over, that was it. no more beef. the same two dudes that were fighting would be cool with each other minutes later, like it didn’t even happen. something i never understood. if i went so far as to exhaust all other means of diplomacy and fight you, you are an enemy. end of story. we ain’t gonna be playing cards together two hours later. stay the fuck away from me or i’ma put that three piece on ya again.

yeah but i seen the littlest dudes hanging out with the biggest motherfuckers on the yard. that kid might be little, but he got heart. that’s all that matters."

Ok, now write a rap about it.

(Been working in sales enough time now that I know you won’t. I lost you. It is that frustrating circumstance where I got you right up to the line, but I know you won’t cross it. You might write me a pitty rap. But um. That’s a rap I’d pay to hear.)

P - as far as your rap - the lyrics are outstanding. The first two lines give away what you intended. Clearly thats not what you were able to do with in your situation. But theres a musical styler there thats very much whats going on in hiphop.

Probably the fanciest Queen sacrifice I ever did. Circa 27.

lichess.org/EcYB1ReXpRpI

I see you still use your opening to break the rules.

Gets me in trouble with all the girls.

I’m like Slick Rick with a conscience.

But the wu tang is wrong. It’s not for the children. It’s by the children. For the girls.

What do girls want?

Not to be abused? No, they obviously have no problem with being abused.

Do they just wanna have fun? Yeah, I guess we all fell for that one at one time or another.

The phalus? Fucking Freud. Like not being abused, it’s something that intrigues them, but it’s not what they want.

No man. Those things aren’t what they want.

What is the philosopher’s task?

To say truths without being poetic.

A home?

Please. Do you really think it was men that marriage was concieved of to trap? For whom an allmighty God had to be created to order them to be married?

Homebreaker is not a phrase that ever applies to men. Neither are men ever the ones to ask for a divorce, unless a woman seduced him.

No… Not that either…

Medea was the one to drown the chilren.

They want emotion. Their tummy stirred.