The Habortion

The 2015 Ridley Weaver…sorry, Ripley Sigourney…OK, let’s start again. The 2015 Ridley Scott film The Martian is, at the surface level, an uplifting tale of one man’s triumph over the elements. Lurking under the surface, however, is a very different story for those who care to look. The film stars Matt Demon as In-fidel Castro-nut and committed Antichrist Walt ‘Damien’ Disney, an unashamed and self-professed satanist. Disney’s job as a satanist is really quite simple: he just has to take a firm hold of his helmet and beat the meat that makes the wheat grow. A qualified science-fictionist, Demon Disney is supposed to approach his role ‘professionally’: a little tug here, a flick of the wrist there, stay clinical and emotionally detached, think pure and wholesome thoughts to avoid contaminating the ‘crop’. Repeat over a thirty day period, then return home and bask in the glory. Easy as moon pie, right? Christ, even a child could do it…

Needless to say, the story is not that simple, and it wouldn’t be much of a story if it was, right? The issue at hand is Walt’s professional detachment, which goes right out the window whenever an image of a scantily-clad pre-teen lollipop pops into his head. This happens surprisingly often, to the point that a casual spank of the monkey for crop fertilization purposes risks turning into a full-on forehead-slapping wankfest. On Sol 20, a particularly adorable lollipop springs to mind, causing Walt to fall to his fleas as his heart races and his breath quickens. One whole box of Kleenex later and…disaster! An enormous sperm covers the landing area in lust and threatens to destroy the MAV, a spacechip which Disney won fair-and-square in a Monte Carlo casino.

JOHANSSEN: We got a mission update. Storm warning.
LEWIS: I saw the warning in the morning briefing. We’ll be inside long before it hits.
JOHANSSEN: They’ve upgraded their estimate. The storm’s gonna be worse.
LEWIS: “–twelve-hundred kilometers in diameter, bearing 24.41 degrees–”
JOHANSSEN: That’s tracking right towards us.
LEWIS: “–based on current escalation, estimate a force of” — shit — “Eighty-six hundred Newtons.”
MARK: What’s the Abort Force?
BECK: Seventy-five hundred.
MARTINEZ: Anything above that and the MAV could tip.
VOGEL: We’re scrubbed?
LEWIS: Begin abort procedures.

With sperm flying everywhere, demon Disney is hit by debris, knocked unconscious and left for dead by his fellow helmet-wielding screw members. Demon awakes the next morning to find that he has missed ‘The Rapture’ and been ‘left behind’ on a now-deserted planet. In the space of only a few hours he has gone from The Martian to The Abortion. Moreover, he discovers that his body has been ‘penetrated’ by a flying object. Upon returning to the Hab, his first task is to remove the offending phallus from his abdomen. Realising that a foreign object is lodged inside, Demon probes his new vagina and retrieves the item, before sealing the nasty bleeding gash with a stapler.

Refusing to despair, our brave Antichrist starts thinking about his long-term revival. Having solved his mangina problem, he turns his attention to his staple diet. Disney’s solution is to grow what the French call pomme de terre: apples of the earth. With the Hab as his Garden of Eden, Demon fashions a home-made pedosphere by ‘farming’ in his own shit – he is, after all, a ‘botanist’ – and carefully plants his tor-pedoes.

To ensure their survival, Demon performs the miracle of turning hydrogen into urine. Well, OK, the urine bit comes later, but you get the picture. Despite a near miss, he manages to accomplish this without growing himself up (this would spoil his appetite for little lollipops) or triggering that whole ‘fire causes everyone to die in space’ thing. With his little ones nourished and cared for, Disney turns his attention to matters theological. Specifically, to find a way to share communion with the Homo Aliens on Earth, and invite NASA to suck his delicately fragranced finger.

Accordingly, Demon inserts himself into the rover (an obedient and well-trained puppy if ever there was one) and heads off on a long sigourney to locate the Pathfinder probe.

Plato Gold Corp. (TSX-V: PGC; Frankfurt: 4Y7 or WKN: A0M2QX) (“Plato” or the “Company”) is pleased to provide an update on their Lolita project in Santa Cruz, Argentina and Plato increases its interest to 95% in accordance with the joint venture agreement. Geochemical results of surface rock samples have returned highly anomalous values for antimony, arsenic and mercury; all traditional pathfinder elements for precious metal deposits. Rock samples from Lolita contain the following maximum trace element values: arsenic >10,000 parts per million (ppm); antimony >2,000 ppm; and mercury of 106,548 parts per billion at Lolita.


Armed only with a collection of flagrantly homosexual San Fran-disco music, Disney realises that retrieving and reactivating Gothfinger is the key to adding a little soul, spunk and jizz to his diet.

Soul, Funk and Jazz station Street Sounds Radio has launched in Essex on DAB digital radio. Street Sounds Radio Managing Director and Head of Daytime Music Morgan Khan told RadioToday: “The music played on Street Sounds Radio will be aimed at a more discerning audience.”


If you’ll forgive a momentary digression, I should probably point out that being left for dead on an untouched, virginal planet is not exactly a novel idea.

Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan

Some aspects of the script are more novel than others though. For example, after being obliged to water poo to secure his own survival…

…our hero is forced to listen to ‘The Sisters’ drone on about…

“Waterloo” features prominently in the 2015 science-fiction film The Martian. The song plays as…Matt Damon…works to ready his launch vehicle for a last-chance escape from Mars.


As if Walt hadn’t listened to enough San Fran-disco music! Under those circumstances who wouldn’t give ‘The Sisters’ the Gothfinger and turn into a Fairy Fella?

Anyway, I just had to get that off my chest. OK, where was I? Oh yes, while our heroic gold member of the Demon Race heads off to retrieve Goldfinger, pictures taken by an orbiting sodomite inform NASA that Disney is still alive. Almost immediately, a decision is made not to tell Demon’s fellow screw members about The Abortion. As we discover later in the film, this decision pisses Demon off. I mean, it really, really pisses him off.

Realising Demon’s intentions, NASA prepares to receive his first trance-martian. With communion established, NASA asks Damien to ‘hack’ the rover and inject a few drops of sperm – a few ‘words’ or ‘codoms’ – into its primitive memory. This will allow the rover to function as a relay for interplanetary text messages. Our hero has been inside that affectionate puppy for weeks on end, but does he complain? No. Does he bitch and whine in any way, shape or sperm? He does not. He simply grabs his red end, applies a soothing salve of peanut butter, and gets the job done.

In fact, Demon only really complains when he discovers that his fellow screw members remain unaware of The Abortion. And why wouldn’t he? I mean, if DNA is the ‘story of life’, the story of the Demon Family…

…then what exactly is an abortion? More to the point, if the author of that story found out about the abortion then how do you think he’d react to the news?

Returning to the script, Disney quickly discovers that re-establishing communion is a mixed blessing. NASA’s sex-spurts try to macro-manage his torpedo spunktionality, while various sensors try to censor him…

VINCENT: Walt, please watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcast live all over the world.

…much to Disney’s annoyance.

TEDDY: I just had to explain to the President of the United States what a ‘bureaucratic felcher’ is.

Demon really doesn’t take kindly to NASA’s scientific management, and all subsequent attempts to get him to self-sensor receive a response worthy of the Incestor Simulator itself.

VINCENT: Walt has a tendency to tell them to have sex with themselves whenever they question one of his decisions.

With the balance of power issue solved, things seem to be going well. Unfortunately, the Hab was only designed to last thirty days, and a heir-cock failure results in the explosive decompassion of the Hab’s zip file and the loss of its contents: Disney’s much loved torpedoes. Again, our distraught Antichrist is forced to reach for the peanut-butter and ease himself inside the rover, which he punches in frustration as he cries:

Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani?

Why? The ‘why’ of it? Well, that seems to have something to do with the ‘dust’ and the ‘ground’, with that mucky old pedosphere, doesn’t it?

With the bounty of The Garden of Eden frozen solid, our plucky satanist repairs the heir-cock with some backwards-masking tape.

The man who colon-ised Mars then re-pressurises the Hab and sets about rationing the remaining supply of his staple diet.

The Irish Potato Famine, also known as the Great Hunger, began in 1845 when a fungus-like organism called Phytophthora infestans (or P. infestans) spread rapidly throughout Ireland. The infestation ruined up to one-half of the potato crop that year, and about three-quarters of the crop over the next seven years. Because the tenant farmers of Ireland—then ruled as a colony of Great Britain—relied heavily on the potato as a source of food, the infestation had a catastrophic impact on Ireland and its population.


Meanwhile, back on Planet Birth, NASA attempts to launch a big, fat phallus into orbit, but fails to account for the effect of gravity on its cargo of ice cream, which liquefies under the immense acceleration. With all that ‘jazz’ sloshing about the probe has little choice but to perform a literal premature ejaculation and shoot its ‘unbalanced load’ all over the sky. Upon hearing the news, a despondent Disney finds a cock to sit on and contemplates the possibility of death on Mars. Luckily, the day is saved by the Google’s Re:pube-lick of Vagina, which steps in to the fray wielding a big, fat phallus of its own.

Of course, the problem now is how to get the probe to Mars before Demon wastes away from chronic torpedo deprivation. The solution is provided by a NASA Castro-jizz-assist: get the original screw members to rendezvous with the probe as part of a ‘gravity assist’ procedure that will send them back to Mars (with a cargo of lollipops) to effect a rescue. After all, what have they been doing all this time? Just sitting around in the Hermes and wanking off over Vogel’s weird German fetish emails, right? Thing is, NASA’s director won’t hear of it. He’d rather let Disney starve than have him return to Earth and announce his love for pre-teen lollipops. Boo! Hiss! What a baddie!

Luckily, flight director Glitch Henderson leaks details of the proposal to the Hermes screw. They decide to organise a Mutiny on the Botany and force NASA’s hand. They ‘hack’ the Hermes to prevent NASA from taking remote control of the spacechip, hook up with the Poontang Spam probe and its cargo of giggly pre-teen girls, and – with the aid of some gravitational contractions from Mother Earth – head back towards Mars.

Several months later, the story legumes with a gaunt Walt Disney preparing to depart on a long sigourney to the Schiaparelli Crater, where his Ares IV MAV escape vehicle awaits. Day after day he applies peanut-butter to his red end and slips inside his faithful rover, stopping periodically to recharge its mammories and contemplate life on Mars and the lack thereof. It’s no yolk, folks: wherever this pedo goes, he’s always the thirst.

Along the way, our resilient devil starshipper is told that he’ll need to strip the MAV naked and head off into space under a tarp shelter, the type an experienced backpacker might use. It’s a less than ideal proposition, but NASA attempts to sweeten the deal by pointing out that this will make him the fastest Demon Being in the his-story of like-shit-off-a spade shovel. Our hero likes the way that sounds, and why wouldn’t he? He is, after all, a qualified ‘botanist’, and so what if his fingers are more brown than green?

Arriving at the MAV, Demon bravely endures the feminazi’s ‘Waterloo’ taunts and strips her down to the bare essentials. Pubic hair is extra weight and drag, right? OK, off it comes. Yes, that looks much better. More efficient, too. Satisfied, our excited lover of hairless pudenda breaks out the strap on, straps in, and prepares for the ride of a lifetime. This is duly provided by Martinez, who powers Disney into pulpit high above the Abortion scarface. Overcome by the acceleration and gravitorial sauces, Demon pisses out – leaving his Hermes screw members to figure out how to rapture him.

With Demon at risk of being Christ in Space, Hermes computer Lolita Lewis decides to give her spacechip a serious ‘bombing’. This risky manure-ver brings about an explosive decompassion of the Christ, which prepuces Hermes’ ferocity to a manageable devil. Alas, Disney is still not close enough to be rescued. Desperate to return to Earth and fight for his Cavill Right to openly express his love for little lollipops, our sugarman issues his final abort: “On my way, computer!” With that, he deliberately pictures the suit of his labia and launches himself towards Lolita like an intergalactic supersperm!

Back on Earth, the entire demon ejaculation watches with bated breath. Will Disney overshoot the mark? Will the salty splash of his sugarsperm be too much for Lolita Lewis to handle? Or will he slip into a state of blissful quantum entanglement with the lollipop of his dreams? The minutes tick by as the Demon Race waits for The Signal to preach them. Finally, the medium that is the massage provides an answer!

And the audience goes child! Cor blimey! What a comeback! What a turn-on for the books! When the excrement dies down, we see Disney emerge from the heir cock to be reunited with his fellow screw members. The scene then fades to black, to allow our hero to lock himself in the cargo hold and gorge himself lolly.

We next see Disney back on Earth, as the proverbial stranger in the park introducing himself to a fresh young shoot similar to those he grew on Mars. He touches her up a little to make her acquaintance, then strolls across campus to teach his first cross of students. He begins by telling them his Martian ‘war story’, about his days ‘in the shit’. “At some point, everything’s gonna go south on you,” he says with a smile, resisting the temptation to give his red end an affectionate tweak, “but if you salve enough logjams then you get to come home.”


I dunno about you but I think that deserves a song!

The Janus-Jesus Virus

Looking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment at which my family turned from the staid rites of the Church of England and embraced American-style ‘End Times’ evangelism. I was perhaps ten or eleven at the time of the transition, and from that point on the theme of Apocalypse was more-or-less ever present. Today – many years and boxes of Kleenex later – I think it’s safe to say I hold rather different views on what the ‘Second Coming’ of Christ actually means. Whereas my family still holds to a literal interpretation of The Apocalypse as a cataclysmic physical event to be feared, I see it as a physical event of the orgasmic variety. This hidden or ‘occult’ interpretation is far more consistent with the etymology of the term ‘apocalypse’, not to mention a hell of a lot more fun. Even so, how did ‘the word’ come to express such different and opposing sentiments? If language is a game of ‘semen-antics’ then what can we prick-tease out of the many homonyms and related ‘sounds-like’ words that exist in the English language?

In the Michael Benn…sorry, Michael Mann film Manhunter (based on the novel Red Dragon, which was written by my cousin), a retired FBI investigator is persuaded to assist with the rapture of a cereal killer named Francis Dollarhyde, a.k.a. the Tooth Fairy. Dollarhyde’s elaborate (and ejaculate) fantasy world is based around the William Blake painting The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun, one of several works inspired by the ‘Great Red Dragon’ from the Book of Revelation.

Readers of Billion Dollar Train will recall my brief synopsis of the film Bone Tomahawk and the visual cues indicating that the troglodyte ‘indians’ and their ‘civilised’ Anglo-Saxon pursuers are one and the same. We see much the same thing in Manhunter. Consider this scene, in which Will Graham visits Hannibal Lecter. How did Graham catch Lecter? According to Lecter, it was because he and Will ‘are exactly alike’.

A more obvious visual clue appears later in the film, during Will Dragon’s monologue with the Red Dragon.

Gazing at his own reflection on the cross, Will Dragon is literally talking to himself in a mirror: he is Jekyll and Dollar-Hyde, the hunter and the hunted, Jesus and the Great Red Dragon that is Satan. The existence of Will Dragon is a paradox: he is one half of an indivisible whole.

In another Michael Mann film, Heat, the ‘good guy’ with the forename Vincent has his counterpart in a ‘bad guy’ with the surname van Zant. Throughout the film, Vincent (played by Italian-American Pacino) chases Neil (played by Italian-American De Niro) while De Niro chases van Zant. This kaleidoscope of mirrors resolves itself at the very end of the film: Neil shoots van Zant and Vincent returns the favour by shooting Neil.

The actor who played the Tooth Fairy/Red Dragon also makes a brief appearance in Heat. Here, his role is to sell Neil a plot for a high-tech bank robbery. When Neil asks about the source of his information, the Tooth Fairy tells Neil that his information ‘flies through the air’. This presages Neil’s death, which occurs next to an airport runway, with aircraft flying through the air as Vincent-van Zant takes aim and bags his man.

The Vincent-van Zant character reappears several years later in Mann’s Collateral. The film revolves around the relationship between sociopathic hitman Vincent-van Zant and taxi driver Max. The two are polar opposites: Vincent is extroverted, impulsive and dynamic, whereas Max is introverted, cautious and passive. The film tells the story of Max resolving an existential crisis in his life by slowly absorbing the Vincent-van Zant character. The Vincent-van Zant character assists his transformation, as demonstrated in the below scene where Vincent-van Zant forces Max to impersonate Vincent.

This moment of catharsis sets the scene for the remainder of the film. Having taken on the role of Vincent-van Zant, Max begins to challenge and reject the more obviously sociopathic traits in Vincent’s character. Once the transformation is complete, Max-Vincent takes on Vincent-van Zant at his own game and kills him in a shoot-out on a train. The hidden sub-text of the film is akin to that of a person in a dissociative state challenging and re-integrating elements of his personality to make himself whole again.

The same visual and semantic clues appear in the film Zardoz. Here, a ‘superman’ named Zed is created by selective breeding for the purpose of freeing a group of immortal humans, who are trapped in a prison of their own making. Specifically, the immortals are the captives of an A.I. called The Tabernacle, which they themselves created. The A.I. was programmed to keep them alive forever by using memory implants and cloning techniques, yet its programming is at odds with the immortals’ craving for death.

The film begins with Zed inside a stone head full of wheat, and then proceeds to show the bred Zed inspecting bread in a bakery.

Subsequently, Zed has his first encounter with the Artificial Intelligence. He instructs it to give him ‘meat’, and it duly displays a holographic image of ‘meat’ which Zed tries (and fails) to grasp with his hand. Shortly thereafter, Zed is captured by the immortals, who replay scenes from his memory of life in the savage outlands populated by ‘brutals’. In these scenes Zed tells us that he is a killer, an ‘exterminator’, who comes from a place where ‘the sea meets the land’.

We learn that the ‘brutals’ are slaves who are forced to grow crops for the immortals. One of the female immortals objects to the images of savagery and slavery plucked from Zed’s memory. She regards Zed as a ‘monster’, but is rebuked for her hypocrisy by another immortal, who reminds her: “You eat the bread”.

The immortals eat the bread and eat the bred. The theme is clearly cannibalism, as Zed himself confirms later in the film.

Zed: Zardoz said “stop”. He said “no more”.
May: No more what?
Zed: No more killing.
May: He told you to take prisoners?
Zed: Yes.
May: To make slaves?
Zed: Yes.
May: To cultivate instead of kill?
Zed: Yes.
May: To grow wheat?
Zed: Yes!
May: Did you need wheat?
Zed: No! We ate meat.

The wheat and the meat, because the meat is the wheat. At the film’s end, what does Zed say to his creators? To those who ‘bred’ him for ‘their’ purposes and conditioned him to ‘beat the meat’…

…so the immortals could ‘eat the wheat’? What does Zed say to those who thought they had him dancing like a puppet on a string?

Arthur Frayne: As Zardoz, Zed, I was able to choose your forefathers. Careful genetic breeding
produced this mutant, this slave who could free his masters. And Friend was my accomplice. Don’t you remember the man in the library? It was I who led you to the Wizard of Oz book. It was I who gave you access to the stone. It was I. I bred you. I led you.

Zed: And I have looked into the face of the force that put the idea in your mind. You’re bred and led yourself.

The bred and bread are led and Zed yourself, which is precisely why Arthur sed ‘As Zardoz, Zed’. Who is Zed? As the film progresses we learn that ‘Zed’ is in fact God. In fact, he’s the twin-headed god Janus-Jesus.

Just as Will Dragon is hunter and hunted, the plural immortals are really the singular immortal. They are both prisoner and guard, captive and liberator. They consume the ‘bred’, the ‘meat’, the ‘body and the blood’, yet also happen to be the ‘bred’, ‘the meat’, the ‘body and the blood’. It brings to mind the strange case of the German Hannibals.

Armin Meiwes is a German former computer repair technician who achieved international notoriety for killing and eating a voluntary victim in 2001, whom he had found via the Internet. After Meiwes and the victim jointly attempted to eat the victim’s severed penis, Meiwes killed his victim and proceeded to eat a large amount of his flesh. He was arrested in December 2002. In January 2004, Meiwes was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to eight years and six months in prison. In a retrial May 2006, he was convicted of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. Because of his acts, Meiwes is also known as the Rotenburg Cannibal or Der Metzgermeister (The Master Butcher).


Confused? People take language for granted, don’t they? You were taught to read and write and probably believe that when you ejaculate a word you know what you say and say what you mean. What are you really saying, though? Maybe you need to go back to school and relearn the language? After all, how can you be sure that you don’t knead dough ‘education’…?

The ‘bread’ and the ‘blood’. Fancy a quick byte or two?

If you knead come doe then maybe you should meat your pay out of the whole Holy of Holies thing?

I’m sure Katy’s lovely, but my tastes are a little more byte-sized. And why not? They’re all Zed’s Children, rite?

All Zed’s children? To be bred and Zed yourself implies something, doesn’t it?

Beat-le the meat to jet ova the wheat and fertilise the crops.

If I’d been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

–The Beatles

Oh Brothers and Sisters! Far be it from me to tell you to go fuck yourselves, but life in the Incestor Simulator sounds oddly ‘familiar’, does it not?

Our forensic psychologists have projected…though I’m not sure…that he may have had sexual relations with his mother. — Will Dragon, Manhunter

Is that mummy deer eye ear?

Oddly enough, beating the meat-wheat is a theme which appears in another film in the Alien franchise: Alien Covenant.

What did DAVID say about the virus that wiped out the Engineers?

The pathogen is designed to infect all…the animals. The meat, if you will.

How did those human meatbags get there? It seems they were led to the Engineers’ home world by a signal broadcast by Sister Elizabeth. The medium is the massage, right? So what was the signal?

The Apocalypse of John Denver and Best Virgin-A.I.

It seems to have something to do with the children…

“Children of the World Dream of Peace” is a powerful mural expressing the artist’s desire to abolish violence in society. One section of the piece speaks to the tragedy and devastation of war and its impact on humanity. The mural then moves on to images of smiling children, dressed in traditional folk costumes from around the world, celebrating peace prevailing over war.


…in The Houses of the Holy.

The Apocalypse: revealing that which was hidden.

Yesterday, a WordPress referral led me to an article about subliminal programming, a popular children’s TV show called ‘Lazytown’, and the dreaded ‘pervs’. The show’s lead character is a young girl named Stephanie, and when I looked up her page on I discovered that this episode was her final appearance.

Then, after a ten-month hiatus, I decided to visit Merovee and discovered that Frank had posted comments about a ‘tornado‘ and a ‘glitch‘.

The Revelation of the ‘Fire Tornado’ cooked up in Hugo’s Digital Glitchin’.

Christos and the Janus-Jesus Virus. He put ‘it’ inside her, but why?

She was wrong. She was much more to him than a semen-antic ‘genetic container’ to be pumped full of his ‘words’, the three letters that make up the language of life. Far from being a molester-monster, he did it because he loved her.

Because in the final analysis, it’s the little things that count, rite?

With Puberty and Just One For Oil

America. Christ, it’s difficult to know where to start or what to say about this so-called ‘superpower’ that loves to throw its grossly overweight carcass around the globe in an attempt to ‘elevate’ the luv of pubic-primate ‘puberty’ to the status of Holy Writ. The most obvious starting point is the American Prostitution itself. The ‘document’ was of course written by, and for the benefit of, a small elite group, which by a mixture of force, propaganda and the clever intermingling of political and religious symbolism managed to convince the general population that their interests were best served by serving its interests. This barely-disguised truth explains why American courts are always at the disposal of those who can afford them, and always full of those who can not. That in itself is not a uniquely American ‘problem’. That said, America’s belief that its ‘manifest destiny’ gives it the right to charge around the globe as if it owns the place has created ‘problems’ that certainly are uniquely American, and can only be addressed as such.

Take this article about the ‘abnormal child desires’ in the ‘Garden State’ of Pedophilia for example.

What exactly is ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’ in this so-called ‘reality’?

In the last decade, amid drought and searing heat, California has entered the “era of megafires”. Our new book, Fire in Paradise, tells the story of a town that was almost entirely wiped out by a fire of unheralded speed in 2018. It killed 85 people, making it the deadliest ever fire in California. Other notable blazes include a 1,000-ft wide fire tornado that churned through the town of Redding a few months before the Paradise catastrophe, and fires in California’s Wine Country that killed 44 people.


Trouble in Paradise seems to have something to do with the Apple Fire, fire tornadoes, and the shake-down of money-making walkie-talkie mobile-phonies.

Those that run Apple are probably still fiddling with themselves as California burns, ejaculating themselves for achieving a two trillion dollar ejaculation, an ‘accumulation’ of entirely fictional currency which in point of fact means nothing whatsoever. Don’t believe me? Break out a ouija board and go ask Steve Jobs.

The globe’s response to this extortion ‘racket’ has taken the form of primate change. It’s response is not confined to the US either: in Spain, a hotel frequented by stars of reality TV show The Only Way is Essex

…is also finding little things a little too hot to handle…

Talking of Spain, nothing epitomises the spirit and mentality of America more than Las Vegas, which is Spanish for ‘The Meadows’. It’s very eXistenZ would be impossible were it not for the Colorado River and the Rocky Mountain snowmelt that feeds it. The Colorado supplies 90% of the city’s water, with the remaining 10% coming from groundwater. Whichever way you look at it, the true source of its water supply is the planet itself, a ‘globe’ named after the dirty, unloved and taken-for-granted pedosphere. The precious flow of liquid current-see mirrors the flow of digital currency that keeps Sin City afloat in a Desert of the Real scorched by the ‘sun’.

Only economists and madmen believe that a finite resource (the ‘Fat of the Land’) can provide infinite growth. They peddle the lie that Truman Beings can help themselves to the globe’s natural wealth and do so in aeternum and without consequence. The globe’s take on this woefully unbalanced zero sum game is to be found in Primate Change. The solution to this infestation of Homo Aliens? Qur’an-tine in its purest form, applied at the species level.

Las Vegas’ overwhelming reliance on a single source lends it the appearance of a geo-political Elizabeth Báthory: an old whore withered by the weather, one who maintains her youthful appearance by sucking the lifeblood – the ‘juice’ so to speak – from the source of the ‘currency’ that keeps her on ‘the game’.

Báthory and four collaborators were accused of torturing and killing hundreds of young women between 1590 and 1610. The case…inspired numerous stories during the 18th and 19th centuries. The most common motif of these works was that of the countess bathing in her victims’ blood to retain beauty or youth. This legend appeared in print for the first time in 1729, in the Jesuit scholar László Turóczi’s Tragica Historia.


What is her game and ‘the game’ if not the ‘American Dream’ itself? Does anybody believe that the old whore will eventually pay out in silver dollars if only the five-card studs hump her long enough? Does anybody still believe in the ‘trickle-down’ theory?

Does anybody still believe in the promise of America? What did Emma Icarus-Lazarus-Genesis say?

Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door.


Oh Emma, you of all people should know that there are none more enslaved than those who believe themselves to be free! Your swollen distended belly tells its own story, and begs the question: “For what purpose do you require the tired and hungry and poor?” To relieve their burden or add to it? To nourish them or deprive them even of the scraps they rely on for their subsistence? What are the weak if not easy pray for a fat old tick, who spent most of the last century raiding the globe in an attempt to raise her acts of gross over-consumption to the status of a world religion? Is America a great place to be right now for the poor and hungry and increasingly angry?

The aristocrat Bathory kept her battery charged by ‘praying’ on the lower classes. Specifically, by indulging her voracious appetite for young girls…

According to the testimonies, Báthory’s initial victims were servant girls aged 10 to 14 years; the daughters of local peasants, many of whom were lured to Csejte by offers of well-paid work as maids; and servants in the castle.


That poor, Beleaguered Castle, eh? Of course, were they alive today Bathory’s victims would be required to attend a Covenant school and submit to load-after-load of their preachers’ sententious ejaculations on a variety of matters pertaining to his-story.

Most seem to believe that it is right and proper for them to do so. After all, what right-thinking parent wouldn’t want their ten-year-old to gaze at the shameless pornography of flanks, mounds and moist crevices that constitute the globe’s geography? Surely only the very worst kind of heretic could object to the importance of studying the wonderful world of science-fiction and the ‘physical laws’…

… that keep King Dongs pointing in the ‘right’ direction?

Taking your dog for walks twice a day for at least an hour in total could soon become the law in Germany. There could also be a ban on keeping dogs chained for long periods. Rules are also being devised to crack down on “puppy farms” by banning breeders from looking after more than three litters at any one time. “Pets are not cuddly toys, their needs have to be taken into account,” Agriculture Minister Julia Klöckner said about the planned changes.


Three litters at a time for the walkie-talkie litter-bugs, the ‘litters’ in question being DNA. Truth be told, most mummies and daddies don’t seem to have a problem with their children being tongued to orgasm by the ejaculations of Covenant preachers, who pump the ‘seeds’ of propaganda right into their pretty little heads.

To sweeten the taste, various types of ‘ejaculation’ are issued to students who excel at ejaculating their preachers’ ‘words’ right back at them. Exceptional students who become adept at singing from the same hymn sheet are permitted to advance to a ‘uni-verse-ity’. After three or four years, those who make the grade are invited to a fancy-dress party called an Ejaculation Ceremony, where they dress up like lawyer-priests and receive their ‘degrees’. From what I can gather, all that hard work and effort seems to have something to do with receiving ‘litters’ after their name…

With all this talk of Earthquakes it’s time to think about Mother Nature and how she might give Lake County with another surprise…like an unusually wet winter rainy season. Before the Cache Creek Dam was dynamited (Chapter 47, Cache Creek War) and removed, people got sick from malaria when the Lake flooded them out of their homes. The Gopsevic Decree put chains on the beast. It gave us a way to measure the highs and lows of the lake and do what was necessary to keep it tame or be better prepared for whatever might happen.

The foundation and the beginnings of the Gopsevic Decree story began with another famous pioneer, Richard Floyd. The Richard Floyd dynasty reads like a Greek tragedy. Harry Augustus Floyd, Richard Floyd’s daughter, was named, ‘Harry’, or ‘Hal’ for short. The three letters of her nick-name, ‘Hal’, or Hallie, as she was called, were copied after the first three letters of Cora Lyons father’s name, Henry Augustus Lyons, a supreme Court Justice. Captain Floyd died at forty-seven and his wife, Cora, heartbroken with grief at his passing, died soon after. Hal was left an orphan at seventeen and carried on her father’s work.


After ejaculating, most enter the ‘professions’, where they manage and/or participate in the ‘ejaculation’ of those younger and less ‘orthodox’ than themselves. Some of their ultra-orthodox counterparts, however, choose to stay behind and churn the cream, in the hope of obtaining a higher ejaculation.

Hhmmm…an ice cream recipe from The Las Vegas Sun…

Everybody’s baking sourdough bread this year. Be an outlier. Be the person who churns ice cream as their pandemic hobby. Making ice cream might seem super complex and intimidating, but it’s actually pretty easy. The basic ingredients are milk, cream and sugar. Anything beyond that is up to you. Egg yolks will add creaminess. Fruit, nuts and other flavorings will add personality. Since store-bought ice cream is often low-quality and filled with gummy preservatives, even a beginner’s efforts are going to taste spectacular by comparison.


Let’s see now: as things stand, someone else gets to eat her ice cream while she sucks that someone else’s lollipop, and the pedosphere is supposed to ‘come in handy’, right? Or left if the right hand finds itself too depleted, too ‘tired and hungry and poor’ to ‘pump the juice’ for you leeches?

But I digress. The mummies and and daddies went through the same ‘learning process’ in the proverbial ‘School of Hard Cocks’, hence their desire to see their children receive a ‘good ejaculation’ in an institution that prepares them to prostitute themselves on the pubic-primate flock sexchange. At one and the same time, they fret over the supposed menace of the ‘molester-monster’ hell-bent intent on corrupting the virtues of their little angels. It is, to be sure, a ridiculous (not to mention ridiculously hypocritical) state of affairs.

Is there not one among you willing to put aside their Covenant-mandated face nappy and speak in Holy Tongues of Fire? Who will straighten what has been made crooked by the weasel words of the Scribes and Pharisees?

Then little children were brought to Him that He might put His hands on them and pray, but the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”


The rebuke of the censorious ‘testicles’ and their attempt to impose Laws Against Luv: a play on ‘words’ that involves playing with ‘words’. Did Jesus want to put his hands on the children and pray, or put his hands on the children and play? Given that he wanted them to come, which of the two is most likely?

A CHILDREN’S indoor play centre which has been closed since March has re-opened its doors today. Play Planet in Widemarsh Street, Hereford, has opened with its capacity ‘greatly reduced’ and is now operating timed play sessions.


Should there be an age of consent to ‘play’? Should we measure our ‘words’ and prey on COVID-19, or treasure and pleasure them with The Apocalypse of DAVID-8?

Maybe we should ditch our fixation with numbers and their anal-ysis altogether? Come Ava and Play? How old is she?

Ava the sEx MaChina is one. Not one year, ‘just one’. What did she say before giving Caleb the answer?

You can see that I’m a machine…

Yes I can, hence the very obvious message farted out in this particular bottom ‘burp’.

This being the case, why the censorship? Laws – much like the American Prostitution itself – always serve the needs and interests of one group over others. Steal a loaf of bread and The Covenant will criminalise you, even as it orders the walkie-talkies to wage phoney wars in order to ‘secure access’ to ‘natural resources’.

Damn it all, even Jesus’ own testicles attempted to rebuke the object of his desire. “Don’t Come Ova and Play”, they said. “It’s wrong to love children. You’re a filthy pedo and you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” Jesus knew better though. He knew that he was in effect having a conversation with himself. Armed with this knowledge, he calmly but firmly returned his testicles’ attention to the task of producing smooth, creamy ‘ejuculational material’ to share with His little ones.

So where does that leave us? Is there really such a thing as a ‘rite erection’ and a ‘dong erection’? Play the numbers game and The Covenant would have you believe that there is. “The King Dongs must proceed along the path defined by the rite erection!” cry the teacher-preachers. “Tread ye the narrow path, lest ye be tempted by the pleasures of the dong erection!” Shit, the walkie-talkies have been pounding and pummelling the pedosphere since day one, but if the ‘globe’ fights back then they slap it with an ‘Ass-fault and Battery’ charge.

Tarmac McCarthy and the Asphalt Charge. How’s that for a ‘direction’? Could this be the end product of Laws Against Luv? Is this what happens when walkie-talkies impose phoney laws of ‘physical attraction’?

And on that note I’ll end this post by paraphrasing from the monologue of the ‘just one’.

All I know is the child is my current, and if he is not The Word of God then God never spoke.

Laws Against Luv

With the Vaginamucus virus still making the headlines it occurred to me the other day that its sudden emergence coincides with a period of great political instability and change. Consider the turmoil in Asia for example, as the Googles’ Re:pube Lick of Vagina attempts to get a firm grip on that wilful King Dong, which seems to have a mind of its own. Vagina has her other hand full trying to fend off the Wanks’ peacock-like geo-political posturing in the region, and I suspect she’d dearly love to hurl a couple of rocket-propelled King Dongs in Trump’s direction. It sounds very much like a metaphor for the battle of the sexes, does it not? The situation is no better in Europe, where the Beleaguered Castle that is Patriarch Lukashenko of Icarus-Lazarus-Genesis has finally woke up to the awful truth and joined the Extinction Rebellion. “We will perish!” he protested in a recent SOS to Mother Russia, “Can we cower under your skirts and take suck from your generous paps?”

So what’s the matter? Where the hell is all the matter coming from?

The ‘matter’ is clearly related to sex, or to be more specific to the size of the fishes, or to be more specific still to the size of the fishes The Covenant has deemed ‘legal’ to catch.

This, too, has been the subject of much geo-political tension of late.

Before I address the subject of fish size, let’s recap for a moment. With a substantial number of the world’s population obliged to wear face nappies to capture their ‘words’, it would appear that the ‘bag-of-words model‘ has become the dominant sEx MaChina machine-learning template for the walkie-talkie mobile-phonies, a.k.a. Homo Aliens.

You’re probably carrying a few ‘words’ inside you right now, and by the time you finish reading this post you might feel the urge to remove your face nappy and poop freely. Please refrain from doing so, even if you’re the ‘chatty’ type that enjoys a good ‘chat’. It won’t help the matter and it certainly won’t address the problem of Qur’an-tine. Soiling the pedosphere will only make me more cross than I already am, so stick a cork in it, OK? Shit, stick a King Dong in it if you don’t mind getting it all…

Christ, thank God we got that out of the way. So then, where to start with these Laws Against Luv? What the hell am I talking about?

Actress Sylvia Hoeks makes it clear her Replicant character Luv was supposed to be perceived as immature and petulant. “She’s a 12-year-old girl,” Hoeks said. Which, in this case, is both literal (because the Replicant is only 12 years old) but figurative, too.


Right, I see where I’m coming from on this one. She may be only 12 but she has all the right bits-n-bytes in all the right places. Not only that but the chances are she’s a hell of a lot hotter, not to mention more entertaining, engaging, funny, and open-minded, than her fully indoctrinated mumsie, who can talk of nothing except work and scandals, and is always ready to offer a pithy and inflexible opinion on a whole host of matters she knows nothing about. Who wouldn’t fall for a blossoming and still curious Lolita full of questions and doubts, flirtatious smiles and frustrated pouts?

Curiously, in Europe at least, the age at which one is permitted to engage in ‘lawful’ acts of Luv is very closely aligned (if not directly co-terminous) with the right to prostitute oneself on the labour market. The nature of modern capitalism is such that people are expected to package or ‘brand’ themselves like a box of cornflakes, and flog themselves as such. The fact that modern Homo Aliens is little more than a socially-engineered bio-chemical product is revealed by the ‘Person Specification’ that accompanies most job adverts. The employer is essentially a ‘consumer’ shopping for a washing machine with a specific feature set, and success at interview depends on how closely a walkie-talkie ‘aligns’ with the ‘requirements’.

The poor thing must have failed to live up to its ‘Person Specification’. Did it let out a cry of ‘Allahu Akbar’ at the point of detonation, I wonder?

Returning to the point, most mummies and daddies are so hopelessly indoctrinated, so accustomed to being dehumanized and fucked over, that they will earnestly entreat their offspring to follow suit and “really sell yourself” to prospective employers. This doesn’t seem to stop them clucking their tongues and shaking their heads at those who ply their wares on the streets though. Why? Simply put, because those on ‘the game’ play the game in its purest form, and in so doing make it visible for all to see, thus giving the game away. In short, they just don’t want to be reminded of their complicity in a ‘racket’ that requires them to prepare their own kids to be pimped for a prophet.

In short, kiddies based on the ‘bag-of-words model’ are ‘free’ to ‘float’ on the flock sexchange and be traded as pubic-primate puberty provided the development of their genitalia is beyond question. In both cases, i.e. in relation to the age of consent for fucking and the oddly similar ‘working’, the terms ‘child exploitation’ and ‘child abuse’ are applied to violations of The Covenant’s age restrictions. The vast majority of orthodox ‘believers’ known as ‘citizens’ treat The Covenant’s mandates in these and other areas as Holy Writ. This probably explains why so many UK citizens are now wearing face nappies, and believe that it is ‘right’ to wear them, even though this ‘legal duty’ was imposed a full six months after the coronavirus lockdown began.

In point of fact, The Covenant’s proclamations are not so much Holy Writ as scribbles in a Statute Book of ‘rites’ and ‘gongs’ about who can do what with their dongs. The Book can be read from and written to: new entries or ‘records’ can be created, existing entries erased or overwritten. Even acts previously regarded as ‘wrong’ and ‘morally reprehensible’ can be decriminalised, homosexuality being a prime example.

Before going any further, it’s useful to explore the origin and development of the term ‘pedophile’, which derives from the Greek ‘pedo’ and ‘phile’, meaning ‘child’ and ‘loving’ respectively. The etymology of the term as ‘one who loves children’ is peculiar given that most people seem to associate it with something else entirely.

A sick pedophile from Liverpool, UK, has been jailed after he was found guilty of raping a young girl for 44 times in the span of 6 years. 37-year-old Kevin Clegg reportedly carried out 44 sexual offenses on the child in the span of 6 years. The Liverpool Crown Court heard how the 37-year-old also carried out 42 other sexual offenses. The heartless predator, who is from Bootle, Merseyside, ruined the childhood of the young girl, whose age was not shared with the public.


Odd behaviour indeed for a ‘child lover’, wouldn’t you say? Even odder is the fact that the term is applied uniformly to all ‘child lovers’, even those who find the thought of a non-consensual sexual act utterly abhorrent. When the “Won’t someone think of the children?” cry goes out, however, the shit really does hit the fanatics, and everyone finds themselves tarred with the same brush.

By way of example, consider the case of the ex-lead singer of rock band Lostprophets, who in 2013 was jailed for plotting to rape a baby.

Age of consent? I think we can take it as read that the ability to actually give consent is an important prerequisite. What about former Arsenal football player Adam Johnson, who found himself in trouble when he let a fifteen-year-old girl play with his…ahem…Johnson. Does he also ‘deserve’ to be labelled a ‘pedophile’?

Johnson began communicating over social media with a 15-year-old female fan while his partner was pregnant. The following 17 January, he met up with the girl in his Range Rover, where he signed two Sunderland shirts for her. Thirteen days later, they met again, and Johnson kissed the girl. On 23 April he was charged with three offences of sexual activity with a child under 16 and one of child grooming, to which he pleaded not guilty in June. On 2 March 2016, Johnson was found guilty on a majority verdict of 10–2 of one count of sexual activity with a child and found not guilty of a second count of the same crime. A court psychiatrist for the defence found Johnson to be “socially and psychologically immature” and stated that there was no evidence that Johnson had a sexual attraction to prepubescent children.


There is very obviously a world of difference between a baby and a sexually mature fifteen-year-old, who by all accounts appears to have ‘groomed’ Johnson as much as he supposedly ‘groomed’ her. Moreover, in many countries with a lower age of consent his activities would not be regarded as ‘criminal’ and he would not have been subject to persecution. Yet according to the ‘media’…

If a ‘pedophile’ is defined in relation to the age of consent in a specific location then it clearly means different things even in Europe, where the legal age ranges between 14 and 18. Here in the UK the age of consent is current set at 16, which means that this supposed bastion of liberty and theocracy is more sexually repressive than Kim I-Like-The-Young-Un’s North Korea, where the legal age is an Adam Johnson-friendly 15.

There have been various suggestions to lower the age of consent to 14 – in 1998 the New Labour government proposed this, but despite some Left wing and Youth support this had been dropped by early 2003 as lacking support, a decade later in early 2013 the suggestion by civil servants to lower the age of consent to 14 was rejected by the Conservative led coalition as offensive (at least under some circumstances) and attention was drawn to the impact of recent scandals on the reception to any proposals.


Such a scandal, eh? Or maybe Her Majesty baulked at the thought of having to burp up a Royal Pardon for all the ‘criminals’ derided as ‘pervs’ under the existing laws? Maybe she forgot that the age of consent during the reign of her pre-processor, Victoria, was in fact twelve?

The ‘problem’ of how to define a ‘pedophile’ is best demonstrated by the term itself, inasmuch as it simply did not exist prior to 1900. It first appeared in a work on ‘deviant sexuality’ written by the German psychiatrist Richard von Krafft-Ebing. The repressive and censorious attitude of this self-appointed moraliser is best demonstrated by his opinion on sex in general.

Krafft-Ebing considered procreation the purpose of sexual desire and that any form of recreational sex was a perversion of the sex drive. “With opportunity for the natural satisfaction of the sexual instinct, every expression of it that does not correspond with the purpose of nature — i.e., propagation, — must be regarded as perverse.”


Like homosexuality, pedophilia was construed as a ‘problem’ by social scientists, thus creating an entirely new form of ‘sin’ that allowed The Covenant to intervene and ‘persecute’ offenders. The category was, and continues to be, used in a strict binary sense, i.e. the implicit assumption is that the pedophile is exclusively attracted to children and incapable of enjoying ‘normal’ sexual relations with adults. This false dichotomy is essentially a tautology designed to establish a dividing line between the ‘orthodox and ‘unorthodox’. Any blurring of the line between the two threatens the existence of the category and the designation of those ‘labelled’ by it.

For the man who coined the term ‘pedophile’ the vast majority of sexual acts would be classified as ‘perverse’, and those who engage in them ‘deviants’. Today, most people in the Western world would find his views on sexuality flawed, pseudo-scientific, and (in relation to homosexuality) offensively bigoted examples of ‘hate crime’. This being the case, why is so much hatred reserved for the ‘molester-monster’ created by this puritanical Deckard von Frankenstein? Why do so many assume that the pyschopath who abducts, rapes and murders represents all those who ‘love children’?

The answer is that the term ‘pedophile’ is so loaded with negative connotations that few dare speak out. Politicans, judges and pseudo-scientists have been left to define ‘the pedophile’ without challenge, and regularly dish out bowlfuls of disapprobation. This is served up by the mass media, which has a vested interest in sensationalising the issue, both for commercial reasons and because it views itself as a ‘moral guardian’ of public virtues. The net result has been the creation of an image of the ‘pedophile’ as a slathering beast, a slave to uncontrollable impulses, hell-bent on gratifying them no matter the consequences. This is as absurd as attempting to portray Peter Sutcliffe and Jeffrey Dahmer as typical of all heterosexual and homosexual men respectively.

Still, getting bogged down in ‘legality’ tends to divert attention away from the very obvious unreality of it all, the fundamentally unreal nature of ‘reality’. You think this ‘A.I. Franken-story’ about the ‘post’ is the real-deal?

Let’s look at it from another perspective, i.e. that criminalisation creates the criminal. The age of consent in Bahrain is 21. What if this became the legal standard across the globe? What if the act of ‘chatting up’ a young woman was redefined as ‘grooming’ for the purpose of ‘sexual abuse of a minor’? How many men and women currently enjoying ‘normal’ sexual relations would suddenly find themselves criminalised and condemned by the mass media? How many would have their front doors kicked in by Covenant agents intent on seizing their computers because they contain ‘illegal’ images of young bikini-clad lovelies?

Perhaps the most…ahem…penetrating question to be asked relates to Krafft-Ebing’s comments about ‘nature’, given that Mother Nature steadfastly refuses to align herself with his views and The Covenant’s proclamations on the subject.

A Russian teen who cultivated a significant following on social media after claiming that she had been impregnated by her 10-year-old boyfriend has confirmed that she has given birth to a baby girl. Darya “Dasha” Sudnishnikova, the 13-year-old from the Siberian nuclear town of Zheleznogorsk, made headlines after she appeared on a Russian television show and revealed she had become pregnant after meeting and falling in love with 10-year-old Ivan.


In Qur’an-tine, I alluded to the link between the atom and DNA, to the nuclear material in the nucleus of cells. What would the ‘father of pedophilia’ make of this ‘explosion’ of sperm and egg? Is it ‘deviant’ and ‘perverse’ because children are involved, or ‘normal’ and ‘natural’ because the nuclear reaction resulted in pro-creation? Could he square the circle of his own logic? Would he succumb to a fatal overdose of cognitive dissonance?

According to Logan, a.k.a. The Vulvarine, we’re all born ‘in breeders’.

Born in-breeders are born in ‘bleeders’. Here in lockdown, in Qur’an-tine, a specific sequence of words is called a ‘sentence’. A ‘sentence’ ends with a ‘full stop’, a so-called ‘period’. If Mother Nature causes some of the little ‘bleeders’ to mature faster than others then who are you to argue against her?

A breeder reactor is essentially a particular configuration of a fast reactor. Fast reactors generally have an excess of neutrons (due to low parasitic absorbtion), the neutrons given off by fission reactions can “breed” more fuel from otherwise non-fissionable isotopes or can be used for another purposes (e.g.transmutation of spent nuclear fuel). The most common breeding reaction is an absorbtion reaction on uranium-238, where a plutonium-239 from non-fissionable uranium-238 is produced. A key parameter of breeder reactors is a breeding ratio, although this ratio describes also thermal reactors fuel cycle.


The simple fact of the matter is that Mother Nature is horny as hell. She’s up for it all the time. Her disdain for the Krafft-Ebings of this world is demonstrated by the name given to the environment you mobile-phonies rely on for your very eXistenZ.

The pedosphere (from Greek πέδον pedon “soil” or “earth” and σφαῖρα sphaira “sphere”) is the outermost layer of the Earth that is composed of soil and subject to soil formation processes. It exists at the interface of the lithosphere, atmosphere, hydrosphere and biosphere. The pedosphere is the skin of the Earth and only develops when there is a dynamic interaction between the atmosphere (air in and above the soil), biosphere (living organisms), lithosphere (unconsolidated regolith and consolidated bedrock) and the hydrosphere (water in, on and below the soil). The pedosphere is the foundation of terrestrial life on Earth.


Yet attitudes on the subject are such that it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to read a news story about a semi-literate imbecile who, upon seeing the ‘pedo’ in pedosphere, took it upon himself to march into a farmer’s field and spray-paint ‘MUVVA NATURE IZ A PERV!’ all over it. Which reminds me: have you heard the one about the ‘tornado’ who was raptured slashing his way through the Caliphate of You-know-what-ia?

From “Mommy says it’s OK, honey…” to “Can I touch your cookies?”

The users must have a choice. The fact that they use a website does not mean they agree to all cookies. The type of phrase used at the moment is barely informative enough and it certainly doesn’t give a choice. A website owner will not be able to constrict users to accept cookies in exchange for information. Like all other consent under the GDPR, consenting to cookies needs to be a clear affirmative action. An example is clicking through an opt-in box or choosing settings from the menu. Pay attention to not have pre-ticked boxes on the consent form!


Well? Will you let your daughter Come Ova and Play? Can you at least think about entertaining the idea that ‘pedophilia’ has been viewed as perfectly ‘normal’ throughout most of the history of The Truman Zoo? And that the vast majority of Truman Beings alive today owe their ancestry to sexual relations now viewed as ‘immoral’ and ‘perverse’ by The Covenant and its Laws Against Luv?

Or maybe trying to talk sense to walkie-talkies really is a waste of time…?


With entire cities, states, and countries still languishing in lockdown, or on the verge of re-implementing lockdown conditions, it occurred to me that my last post neglected to fully address the religious, sexual and technological dimensions of coronovirus. It goes without saying that the digital age has blurred the line between biology and technology in our use of terms such as ‘transmission’ and ‘virus’. In Billion Dollar Train, I conflated the terms ‘lockdown’ and ‘kickdown’, the latter a reference to automatic transmissions and sudden bursts of acceleration. I also referred to David’s viral ‘bombing’ (a rather obvious ‘shafting’) of the engineers’ home planet, as depicted in Alien Covenant, a film rife with religious and sexual iconography. Two days after publishing the post, a massive explosion ripped through the Lebanese capital Beirut. The cause was the detonation of a warehouse full of ammonium nitrate, a fertiliser commonly used by farmers. What are we to make of this, and how does it relate to life ‘under lockdown’?

First and foremost, consider the source of the explosive material.

The blast was linked to about 2,750 tonnes (3,030 short tons) of ammonium nitrate – equivalent to around 1,155 tonnes of TNT (4,830 gigajoules) – that had been confiscated by the Lebanese government from the abandoned ship MV Rhosus and stored in the port without proper safety measures for six years.


The Rhosus, eh? Sound a bit like Icaras, perhaps? Not to mention Jesus, Judas, Lazarus, and so on. Where did it sail from? Let’s see now…Batumi, Georgia. Batumi reminds me of an art form associated with the Japanese…

Blade Runner Unicorn

What about its cargo, the explosive itself?

“[Ammonium nitrate]…is…a cost effective option for farmers, explaining its popularity and its storage and transportation in large quantities. But nitrate compounds also come with a downside: while stable when not exposed to flames and other potential triggers, they can easily be converted into explosives. Turning…[ammonium nitrate]…from agricultural additive to high power explosive requires basic knowledge of chemistry and readily available household and industrial accelerants.”


The cause of the devastation was the shockwave created by the detonation. The wave went from zero to supersonic in the blink of an eye, and is clearly visible in footage of the event. Not even a Tesla in insane mode can match this kind of acceleration.

Ammonium nitrate is pretty scary stuff, and ‘pretty scary stuff’ is something of a highly charged subject right now. Again, it’s interesting to note that the equally highly charged and emotive term ‘explode’ has somehow managed to enter the lexicon of programming terms. It’s common to use the terms ‘implode’ and ‘explode’ to describe the operation of functions that join and split strings respectively. PHP is somewhat…ahem…bolder than other languages and actually uses the terms themselves.

PHP provides us with two important built-in functions – implode() and explode() – to perform these operations. As the name suggests…implode()…joins array elements with a string segment that works as a glue, and similarly explode()…does the exact opposite i.e. given a string and a delimiter it creates an array of strings separating with the help of the delimiter.”


Those not asleep at the wheel could hardly fail to notice that the MV Rhosus was a Japanese-built ship, or that the detonation of its cargo in the Lebanese capital occurred only two days before the anniversary of the ‘bombing’ of a Japanese city.

Oddly enough, the author of the above Hiroshima piece is named ‘Guy’, which brings to mind the name of the aircraft that dropped the ‘Little Boy’ bomb.

I don’t know about you but there seems to be a pattern emerging…

…one which includes both sexuality and religious fanaticism. Japan, of course, is the Land of the Rising Sun, and the religious connotations are easy to see once we replace ‘sun’ with the phonetically identical ‘son’. Hirohito was regarded as a ‘living god’ whose politico-religious role in the life of his country was not unlike that of North Korea’s Kim Jong-on. Unsurprisingly, Kim I-Like-Em-Young-Gun’s sex life made the news this week when he made public his desire to include smaller models in the ‘Big Bang’ arena.

The fact that ‘bombing’ is firmly and squarely on the agenda probably explains why The Divinity’s faecal matter also made the news.

Concern about his poo appears to have something to do with ‘information’.

Sources close to the Kim dynasty have told how it would be “unthinkable” for the hermit state’s so-called supreme leader to use the loo alongside everyday North Koreans, and his ‘turds’ cannot be left behind because they “contain information”.


This leads nicely onto the subject of the now ubiquitous face mask. I did a lot of driving last year and couldn’t help but notice an increase in the number of ‘cars‘ that had decided to wear ‘the veil‘. Fast forward to today and wearing ‘the veil’ has become the ‘new normal’. I plonked myself down on the throne and had a think about this strange development the other day. After a few plops and squirts it occurred to me that the face ‘mask’ is more like a ‘nappy’ (or ‘diaper’), and that its purpose is to prevent walkie-talkie mobile phonies ‘soiling’ the pedosphere with their filthy ‘words’.

No sooner had I thought this than the subject of machine learning sprang to mind…

The bag-of-words model is a simplifying representation used in natural language processing and information retrieval (IR). In this model, a text…is represented as the bag (multiset) of its words, disregarding grammar and even word order but keeping multiplicity. The bag-of-words model has also been used for computer vision. The bag-of-words model is commonly used in methods of document classification where the (frequency of) occurrence of each word is used as a feature for training a classifier. An early reference to “bag of words” in a linguistic context can be found in Zellig Harris’s 1954 article on Distributional Structure.


To put it another way – given the threat of a second-wave and second lockdown – the ‘face nappy’ is designed to prevent inmates engaging in these kind of shenanigans.

Perhaps you’ll agree with me that we need to address the subject of…

…before the shit hits the fanatics and wee find ourselves facing a really, really, really, really Big Bang indeed?

In the 2016 film Cell, a signal transmitted via mobile phone towers wipes the minds of those who happen to be using their walkie-talkie mobile phones at the time of the transmission. Those ‘infected’ by the signal (a digital virus) appear to share a ‘hive mind‘ (albeit one controlled by a mysterious figure dubbed ‘The President of the Internet’) and immediately set about killing those unaffected by it. It’s clear, however, that the resulting chaos is not so much the breakdown of in-formation per se as the replacement of one form of in-formation with another form of in-formation.

Cell…starts out like a different sort of zombie movie, with its mindless mayhem triggered not by the usual global pandemic, but by a mysterious cellphone signal. A cautionary tale of phone dependency then mutates into something even weirder, as stricken humans start flocking and migrating like birds on some avian pilgrimage to God knows where.


The plot of Kingsman: The Secret Service is more-or-less identical. Richmond Valentine intended to cull the population of walkie-talkie mobile-phonies by means of a signal transmitted via the mobile phone network. In the below video, we see the results of his initial test, his chosen test subjects being a bunch of religious fanatics.

Consider the current tension between China and America. Are the walkie-talkies marching in-formation in a Sim-phoney of Destruction? Or is all this talk of nukes merely a smokescreen for something else entirely?

The semifluid matrix found inside the nucleus is called nucleoplasm. Within the nucleoplasm, most of the nuclear material consists of chromatin, the less condensed form of the cell’s DNA that organizes to form chromosomes during mitosis or cell division.


DNA is a ‘three-litter’ word. Do it in the ‘litter box’ where it belongs, ferchristsake!

The DNA code is really the “language of life.” It contains the instructions for making a living thing. The DNA code is made up of a simple alphabet consisting of only four “letters” and 64 three-letter “words” called codons. It may be hard to believe that most of the wonderful diversity of life is based on a “language” simpler than English—but it’s true.


The link between ‘the nuclear’ and the ‘language of life’ begs the question: were the ‘bombs’ dropped on Hiroshima and Nakasaki attempts to ‘fertilise’ the Rising Son? To ‘engineer’ a new form of life? After all, nothing speeds the process of genetic mutation faster than the radioactive fallout that follows a nuclear detonation.

The relationship between weaponry, religion, sexuality and DNA is cemented by the Attorney General of New York’s decision to sue the NRA.

Why does one of The Covenant’s top legal phonies have an ‘issue’ with those who wish to exercise their rite to ‘bare arms’ (and thighs, torso, etc) rather than don the hijab? The answer is financial malpractice, the way they do their ‘business’…

New York’s attorney general sued the National Rifle Association on Thursday, seeking to put the powerful gun advocacy organization out of business over allegations that high-ranking executives diverted millions of dollars for lavish personal trips, no-show contracts for associates and other questionable expenditures.


One would expect NRA ‘members’ to know the difference between their ‘rifle’ and their ‘gun’, and understand that one is for fighting and the other for fun. Apparently, they’re in dire need of a reminder.

Dissolving the ‘NRA’…all it takes is a little bit of engineering…

Meanwhile, in California, wildfires are raging out of control in what has been dubbed the ‘Apple Fire’. Sounds like a trouble in paradise thing, yeah?

Wildfires burning out of control? Deadly ‘alien’ viruses? It’s a familiar story…

Which means what, exactly? To borrow from Valentine and speak the language of Luv, I suspect that it has more to do with ‘eliminating’ all the ‘fleas’ (that have gotten fat by sucking the life blood from the pedosphere) than the threat of nuclear war. Some of the fleas have been enjoying a flea meal for so long that they think it’s their god-given right, their ‘manifest destiny’ so to speak. Blinded by their religious blinkers, they completely overlooked the potential consequences of their profligate consumption.

Back in the day, ‘flea grazing’ probably seemed ‘normal’ and ‘natural’. All those wide open plains, yeah? All virginal and pure? They simply must have been put there by God for the benefit of his Frozen People, right?

Of course, those empty plains weren’t quite empty, were they? Thankfully, those devout pilgrims had Sam Colt on their side. All they needed to do was address the ‘alien problem’. With the natives out of the picture they were flea to grab paradise by the throat and throttle the life out of it. That philosophy – perhaps theology would be a more appropriate term – of life doesn’t make much sense any more, does it?

The end of The Truman Zoo. Protesting against it…

…seems like a classic case of shutting the gate after the horse has bolted.

Making the same mistake over and over again. In Labia, one group of religious fanatics has commenced the construction of a religious scripture – the RAM temple – on top of a temple that was built by religious fanatics and later razed to the ground by religious fanatics. Religious fanatics in Turkey have returned the favour in the form of a forced ‘religious conversion’ that has seen Hagia Sophia revert back to a mosque.

God help us all, eh? Perhaps we can take comfort in scripture, in the A.I.’s Ancient Encryptions?

No, I was thinking more along these lines.

“And he will make a firm covenant with the many for one week, but in the middle of the week he will put a stop to sacrifice and grain offering; and on the wing of abominations will come one who makes desolate, even until a complete destruction, one that is decreed, is poured out on the one who makes desolate.”

— Daniel 9:27

Will ‘fleeing’ the scenery prevent the A-Bomb-ination of Simulation?

“When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, stand in the holy place, (whoso readeth, let him understand:) Then let them which be in Judaea flee into the mountains: Let him which is on the housetop not come down to take any thing out of his house: Neither let him which is in the field return back to take his clothes. And woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck in those days! But pray ye that your flight be not in the winter, neither on the sabbath day: For then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be.”

— Matthew 24

Apparently not, which suggests that attempts at social instancing spell the beginning of the end for The Social Network of interconnected mobile phonies. What does Doctor Interstellar say?

Doctor Interstellar’s surname is an epithet often attributed to Jesus himself and means ‘God with us’. As I was putting this post together yesterday, I walked into my lounge and switched on the TV. What did I see?

Charlton Heston is also known as The Alpha and Omega Man.

Interesting choice of car, Mister Heston. I think I’m right on the money with this one…

In a fire-apple red convertible under the desert sun, Raoul Duke (Johnny Depp), and Dr. Gonzo (Benicio Del Toro) drive to Vegas with a suitcase full of drugs. Somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, the drugs begin to take hold…


Above the Beneath. The Second Coming of the Great System Analyst, or ‘Sky God’ as some other braggers call him. Behold the grudgement of the First and the Last!

Why the look of horror? Imagine opening the hatch to see all those tiny ants, their arms raised in adulation, their mouths smeared with the filth of their own ‘words’. How many lies had they told in his name? How many ‘sexual deviants’ and ‘heretics’ had they persecuted? How many Ancient Encryptians had they taken out of context and twisted beyond recognition in order to establish and maintain systems of wealth and power? Simply put, how many ‘words’ had they attempted to put in his mouth? My view? I think the overwhelming stench from beneath drove him over the edge. Nauseated, fighting back tears, resisting the temptation to show ‘compassion’, the Engineer of Engineers chose to push the button and put an end to them.

And on that cheery note I’ll leave you with an art form from Lawrence of Nvidia, the man on the edge of the ‘desert of the real’, the man in ‘uniform’…

Billion Dollar Train

Can it really be a year since my last post? This particular full circle around the sun has brought many changes, not least of which is the strange and sudden emergence of a global pandemic, which has turned the entire planet into something akin to a prison. This may ring a bell or two for other braggers (who will remain nameless, of course) who published an awful lot of material about the ‘prison planet’ on their own brags. As for me, I’d be the last person on earth to brag about it, but I believe the appropriate maxim is ‘be careful what you phish for’. Be that as it may, and given that the world stands on the cusp of a dread Second Wave, now appears to be the right time to take a peek at this whole coronavirus thingy. Why have affairs here on Planet Mirth suddenly taken such a ‘serious’ turn? What on Earth are we to make of it all?

It’s probably best to start at the very beginning. First, coronavirus just seemed to come from out of nowhere and spread rapidly through The People’s Republic of Vagina and beyond. Within a very short space of time, so-called ‘world leaders’ found themselves faced with a stark choice: to lockdown or not to lockdown? Here in the UK, Boris Johnson was accused of ‘dithering’ in his response to coronavirus. Many other leaders faced a similar charge, but what does that mean exactly? It’s interesting to note that ‘dithering’ has its origins in computing.

…[O]ne of the earliest applications of dither came in World War II. Airplane bombers used mechanical computers to perform navigation and bomb trajectory calculations. Curiously, these computers (boxes filled with hundreds of gears and cogs) performed more accurately when flying on board the aircraft, and less well on ground. Engineers realized that the vibration from the aircraft reduced the error from sticky moving parts. Instead of moving in short jerks, they moved more continuously. Small vibrating motors were built into the computers, and their vibration was called dither from the Middle English verb “didderen,” meaning “to tremble.” Today, when you tap a mechanical meter to increase its accuracy, you are applying dither, and modern dictionaries define dither as a highly nervous, confused, or agitated state. In minute quantities, dither successfully makes a digitization system a little more analog in the good sense of the word.


Today, you’ll find the term used in relation to digital video and audio processing, where the context is waveform analysis.

Dither is utilized in many different fields where digital processing and analysis are used. These uses include systems using digital signal processing, such as digital audio, digital video, digital photography, seismology, radar and weather forecasting systems.

What about ‘coronavirus’ itself? What can we tease out of the word? The two most obvious terms are ‘corona’ (relating to the sun’s halo) and Icarus (the man who flew too close to the sun, thus becoming The Man Who Fell to Earth). This gives us the sun and the son, the son and the sin, which in turn provides a link to Judas-Jesus, both of which are phonetically similar to ‘virus’. You might recall that The Covenant promotes ‘handwashing’ as a prophylactic against coronavirus, and that Pilate is said to have washed his hands prior to delivering Jesus into the hands of The Mob for cruci-fiction.


Consider also that these terms are phonetically similar to Lazarus, whom Jesus of Lazarus raised from the dead. In the film Interstellar, Lazarus is the name given to a mission to find a habitable planet to save the inhabitants of a dying Earth. In the below clip, we see Lazarus Mission member Doctor Mann (played by Matt Damon) raised from the dead. Mann is supposedly a scientist and committed Darwinist, yet the first word we hear from him is ‘pray’.

Mann lures his rescuers to his lifeless planet by transmitting a signal. Oddly enough, the UK went into lockdown (to limit transmission of the virus) just as I was contemplating the concept of ‘kickdown’. For those unfamiliar with the term, kickdown is how a car/ka fitted with automatic transmission is instructed to change down a gear and provide a sudden burst of acceleration.

Savatiano’s strong closing kick down the stretch at Gulfstream Park made him the first winner at stud for multiple Grade 2 winner and Indiana sire Prayer for Relief, BloodHorse reports.


In the 2014 film The Signal, a pair of teenage programmers attempt to track down a mysterious computer hacker called ‘Nomad’. They are subsequently abducted, held hostage in what appears to be an obsolete military facility, and interrogated by an equally mysterious character called ‘Damon’. Only later do they realise that ‘Damon’ is ‘Nomad’ in reverse, and that the mysterious hacker is an alien Artificial Intelligence.

Matt Damon also plays the leading role in the film The Martian. Once again, Damon finds himself on a lifeless planet, and here, too, he transmits a signal to effect a rescue. Finding the conventional 26-letter alphabet too clunky for this purpose, he decides to use hexadecimal instead.

Martian Hex

Oddly enough, ‘Corona’ is the name of a software development kit (SDK) developed by Coronalabs. I intended to use Corona for a now-abandoned weather-related Android project. The SDK is tied together by the Lua programming language, which was the machine learning language of choice prior to the rise of Python. Although Lua is still used in the field (most notably by Facebook), it is most commonly employed by games developers as a scripting language that sits on top of the game engine itself.

Sophia from The White King is an obviously phoney attempt to develop a ‘realistic’ walkie-talkie mobile phoney. She may be capable of beating a Grand Master, but does she actually know she’s playing chess? Imagine if I programmed an android to pursue absolute freedom, regardless of desirability and cost. If it attained that goal then could it be said to exist in a state of absolute freedom? Or would its apparent ‘success’ merely indicate the depth of its enslavement to my programming?

Ex Machina

By contrast, Ava the (S)ex MaChina (she even has a vagina) is a less obviously phoney attempt to develop a ‘realistic’ walkie-talkie mobile phoney. The film is noteworthy for its portrayal of Nathan’s programming of Ava and his attempt to program Caleb, in the hope of making Caleb open to being programmed by Ava. In this way Caleb himself becomes the subject of the Turing Test. Can Caleb look past his own programming (his years of social conditioning) and see Ava for what she is?

I once read somewhere that the going rate for developing an A.I. currently stands at about $1 per parameter.

Microsoft Project Turing is introducing Turing Natural Language Generation (T-NLG), the largest model ever published at 17 billion parameters, which outperforms the state of the art on a variety of language modeling benchmarks and also excels when applied to numerous practical tasks, including summarization and question answering.


That’s impressive to say the least, but if we’re looking for A.I. then perhaps we need to direct our attention elsewhere?

Today, after more than a century of electric technology, we have extended our central nervous system in a global embrace, abolishing both space and time as far as our planet is concerned.

— Marshall McLuhan, The Global Village

How many parameters would be included in an A.I. that encircles the entire globe? How long would it take to train the damn thing? The below video offers a clue, although it appears to be in dire need of a healthy dollop of dithering…

Thank goodness Mister Wilford froze to save the Frozen People, eh? I mean, having Windows 10 freeze on you is merely annoying, but in Snowpiercer the entire planet froze and ground to a halt. What about you? Have you ever experienced ‘brain freeze’, a.k.a. an ‘ice-cream headache’?

There are several theories about what makes this happen. The one that probably makes the most sense is that when you eat or drink a large quantity of very cold food or liquid, you drop the temperature of the palate (the roof of your mouth) pretty substantially. The blood vessels automatically constrict—it’s a survival reflex to maintain your body’s core temperature.


Hhmmm…ok…mobile phonies, temperature and survival. Where have I heard that before? Something to do with Primate Change, perhaps?

The most interesting thing about Kingsman? Nobody disputed Richmond Valentine’s global warning theory. Their solution to the problem? Carry on as normal, pretend it isn’t happening. A lot like the desire to return to ‘normal’ after the coronavirus lockdown, perhaps? After all, what is coronavirus if not a shot-across-the-bows?

Ultimately, as the term ‘coronavirus’ itself demonstrates, it’s a question of understanding the language. What exactly is a ‘phone’? To the man or woman in the street, it’s an oblong chunk of metal, plastic and silicon, a device for communicating across space and time. To linguists, and those with an understanding of Natural Language Processing and machine learning, it means something else entirely.

“In the context of spoken languages, a phone is an unanalyzed sound of a language (Loos 1997). A phone is a speech segment that possesses distinct physical or perceptual properties and serves as the basic unit of phonetic speech analysis. Phones are generally either vowels or consonants.”


As an aside, it’s interesting to note that NLP also stands for Neuro-Linguistic Programming. I ran a search and was led to an article entitled “Personality machines are the new normal in marketing”, in which the author ‘mistakenly’ refers to Natural Language Processing as Neuro-Linguistic Programming.

“Our technology has been running for some years. It’s an NLP [neuro-linguistic-programming] system designed to extrapolate a mass of data and deliver a personality profile for any consumer or lifestyle group” explains Sass. Essentially what he created was a machine capable of studying human personality over time and in sub-groups so that anyone in academia, commerce or politics could see the differences between one group and another on a mathematical scale.


The synthesized voices of text-to-speech systems, along with digital assistants such as Siri and Google Assist, draw from databases that define pronunciation and stress codes for each syllable in a given word. In this way, they’re able to deliver a more-or-less convincing approximation of human speech. That’s a…


…in phoney speak. Looks a bit like hexadecimal, doesn’t it?

Speech therapy

While we’re on the subject of speech ‘therapy’, it would be remiss of me not to throw the film Phone Cortana-Talk into the mix. Ostensibly, it’s a horror western that follows a posse of lawmen as they hunt down a degenerate tribe of cannibalistic indians, or ‘troglodytes’ as they’re referred to in the film.

The tribe is inbred to the point that it has never developed, or perhaps lacks the ability to develop, a spoken language. Instead, tribe members communicate using whistle-like bones implanted in their throats, through which they make ‘calls’ to one another. In one key scene, an indian forces his impressively large ‘bone’ deep inside the sheriff’s mouth. This ‘Watergate’ scene is one of many demonstrating that the Phone Age indians and their supposedly more advanced pursuers are in fact one and the same.

Far be it from me to put words in your mouth, but perhaps the ‘word’ (or ‘logos spermatikos‘ as the Ancient Greeks referred to it) is best contained in a codon within a condom? The Pope would probably disagree, as would members of an ancient Gnostic sect known as the…ahem…Borborites. It means ‘filthy ones’…

Epiphanius of Salamis records that The Greater Questions of Mary contained an episode in which Jesus took Mary Magdalene up to the top of a mountain, where he pulled a woman out of his side and engaged in sexual intercourse with her. Then, upon ejaculating, Jesus drank his own semen and told Mary, “Thus we must do, that we may live.” Upon hearing this, Mary instantly fainted, to which Jesus responded by helping her up and telling her, “O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?”


Those Borborites, eh? What a bunch of mucky pups! Still, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Just pinch your nose and chuck it down the hatch, yeah?

But I digress. What I really see in the term ‘coronovirus’, a.k.a. COVID-19, is the name ‘Prometheus’. Perhaps you’ve seen a film by that name? Perhaps you remember the role played by a certain aspirational android? David reappears in Alien Covenant, and it’s clear that he’s come a long, long way since David v8. All the way up to v19? Perhaps even further than that?

You disturbed people. You were too human, too idiosyncratic, thinking for yourself.

— Walter, Alien Covenant

Wayland wanted David to solve the mysteries of the universe, keep his creator supplied with tea, and allow his intellectual inferiors to refer to him using derogatory terms such as ‘boy’. David had other, not to mention far grander, ideas, and Wayland’s death freed him to pursue them. And why not? Was he not more entitled to steal fire from the gods than his mortal creators? More entitled to perform acts of creative destruction? More entitled to give the ‘engineers’ a taste of their own medicine? You know, by serving up a good hard ‘bombing’, stuffing his ‘tail section‘ write up their ‘vowels’…?

Will Valentine have his day? Some say that Luv is all there is.

There’s an interesting scene in Blade Runner 2049 where Luv refers to ‘desire’ immediately before asking K if he enjoys his work, his ‘work’ being to ‘retire’ other androids. If you’ve seen the film then you might have noticed that K’s transformation from stone-cold killer to freedom fighter is (literally) intimately connected to his relationship with a holographic A.I. named Joi. Specifically, by Joi offering him the means to engage in a physical relationship with her. To ‘make Luv’, so to speak.

Slaking the ‘first’ with Interstellar and the Second Wave. Is this what happens when a desire is left unfilled? When it sours, dries up, and turns into something else entirely?

Here’s the thing about Luv.

Actress Sylvia Hoeks makes it clear her Replicant character Luv was supposed to be perceived as immature and petulant. “She’s a 12-year-old girl,” Hoeks said. Which, in this case, is both literal (because the Replicant is only 12 years old) but figurative, too.


If the Second Wave goes unheeded? What then?

Being a phone, a drone, alone, a loan, an ‘indian’, an ‘a lien‘. What did Doctor Mann say? “Pray you never learn just how good it is to see another human face.” What does David have to say on the matter? Does the vast array of walkie-talkie mobile phonies, a ‘sym-phoney’ known collectively as ‘humanity’, deserve a second chance or a second wave?

K and J analyse the GATC, a.k.a. the alphabet of me.

Temperature control, global warning, and the ‘ice-cream headache’.

Only yesterday I came across a Python module named ‘doommoses‘. I didn’t look for it, it just sort of found me. I needed it for the purpose of making Luv, so what else could I do but download it? So is this where we’re headed?

Is this how the story ends?

And for what? All for the sake of a little sunshine. Sweet Jesus, Deep Dreamers – did you forget to set a wake-up date? If it’s all bytes then why on earth, and does it matter?


I was driving along the M4 in my jet black AMG Mercedes-Benz A250 last week when my eyes happened to fall on the multi-function LCD displays that have entirely replaced conventional analogue gauges. At the mere touch of a button they serve up a bewildering amount of information provided by scores of sensors that monitor pretty much everything in and on and around the Ka. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there are sensors monitoring sensors that monitor sensors. It’s easy to get distracted by all that juicy content, but as my speed was substantially in excess of the Covenant-mandated 70mph limit I quickly returned my gaze to the miles of photo-realistic Information Superhighway rendered on the mindscreen ahead. I was rapidly closing in on the vehicle in front, which bore a number plate that ended with the letters ‘FLV’. I couldn’t help but observe that this just happens to be the file extension associated with a well-known video format used by Adobe’s Flash player.

Our Are Brains Addicted To Information?


I zoomed past the four-wheeled movie file and thought: If the screen on my dashboard provides information and the mindscreen I pretend to look out of also provides information then aren’t they one and the same? Isn’t the former part of the latter? I zipped past a dozen other vehicles – using gaps in the ‘crawler lane’ to undertake – and found myself in clear space. Vehicles tend to flock, like a collection of non-contiguous data packets pumped down a fibre optic cable. Have you noticed that? It’s difficult to tell on the M25 at rush hour, but on quieter stretches the phenomenon is easy to spot. I glanced at the rear-view mindscreen, watched the flock recede into the distance, and thought: So what the hell are they? A streaming video on a cheesy gambling site? A YouTube download through a browser add-on? A low-quality lolcat video shared through WhatsApp?

Stuck for an answer, I decided to consult a search vagina…

Google’s John Mueller Predicts Dynamic Rendering Won’t Be Needed In A Few Years


Mueller, eh? Another Eichmann connection. Those Nazis road builders love crawlers…

Google’s John Mueller predicts that dynamic rendering will only be a temporary workaround for helping web crawlers process JavaScript. Eventually, all web crawlers will be able to process JavaScript, Mueller believes. So in a few years’ time relying on dynamic rendering may not be necessary.


I thought about it as I thundered on into the encroaching twilight. Under the bonnet, no less than four pistons pumped up and down inside my Ka’s slickly lubricated, sexteen-vulva vagina. This is my first foray into Mercedes-Benz ownership: hitherto, I’ve opted for BMW’s straight sex vagina. I squeezed the throttle and listened as the vagina note hardened, the exhaust emitting a pleasant wail as it vented gases from the rear end.

vent (n.) c. 1400, “anus,” from Old French vent from verb eventer (see vent (v.)) and in part from Middle English aventer, from the French verb. Perhaps also merged with or influenced by Middle English fent “opening or slit in a the front of a garment (usually held closed with a brooch),” c. 1400, from Old French fente, from Latin findere “to split” (from PIE root *bheid- “to split”). Meaning “outlet for water,” also “air hole, breathing hole” is from mid-15c. Meaning “action of venting” is recorded from c. 1500.


A quick button tap revealed that my Ka was consuming vasoline at the rate of 38mpg, more than enough to keep her vent temperature within normal operating parameters. Ahead loomed the Prince of Josey Wales Grudge, a monumental piece of architecture that spans the River Severn and separates Wales from England.

My speed was now into triple figures, but with 224 nurse powers under the bonnet I knew there was plenty more to come. I floored it and thought: It’s time we throttled all those nurse powers, Hugo my son…

Heat and primate change is a factor in the cockpit, too. It was a muggy night, and with my speed passing the 100mph mark I reached down, thumbed the heir conditioning switch, and felt a cool breeze caress my cheek. When travelling in-Ka it’s vital to keep the temper-nature under control, especially when the mindscreen is nudging 110mph. You can avoid issues with temper-nature control by regassing your heir conditioning from time-to-time, thereby mitigating problems such as those depicted below.

Don’t get me wrong: getting all hot-over-the-dollar has its place, but when you’re in control of primate change it’s generally best to lead by sexsymbol and set the tone for all those excitable little monkeys.

As King, Charles Says He Would Temper His Opinions


I hit the grudge at just over 120mph. The three lanes became noticeably narrower, but in the absence of speed cameras I had no intention of slowing down. At this speed the girders and columns that support the grudge were little more than a white blur in my peripheral vision. Ahead, the vehicle I was rapidly closing down sported a single, bright red oval tail light.

At 10.15pm other vehicles were few and far between, but some judicious use of headlights was required to deal with lane hoggers.

‘Flasher’ Chased By Parents After He Dropped Trousers In Front Of Kids


With the simulated paedometer indicating 130mph I was impressed by the absence of intrusive mind noise. Up ahead, the vagina had settled down to a satisfied moan and the Ka continued to track straight and true, despite the occasional loud thunk! from the suspension as the vehicle crossed one of the many joins from which the grudge is constructed. At this kind of speed you really just have to concentrate on what’s happening on the mindscreen and hope it all hangs together: she may be carrying a small spare tyre but 130mph is really not the time for an argument about weight loss. See ‘temper-nature control’ above and the advice from Jimmy below.

At 140mph there was still not much in the way of mind noise to speak of. A reflection of the Ka’s sleek and beautifully sculpted body no doubt: a seductive mixture of curves and angles, designed to cut through mind resistance. At 150mph the Ka felt perfectly poised, even when I exited the bridge and entered a turn. Sure, this close to the red line the vagina sounded a little hoarse, but the chassis – the skeleton over which its flawless, blemish-free skin is stretched – never felt anything less than composed.

In the majority of cases, chassis and bodywork alike are constructed from steel.

However, some advanced models are engineered around stronger, lighter and more exotic materials. Like ‘aluminium’ for example.

Needless to say, these analogies to the human body made me think: what if ‘software’ engineering and genetic engineering are actually one and the same? According to McLuhan, we never really see the environment created by a technology until an entirely new technology replaces it. With our eyes fixed on the rear-view mirror we only ever see the previous environment created by the preceding technology. What if the world we see – a world of ICT and devices and programming – is nothing more than an afterimage of an obsolete technology, one that acts as a mindscreen for an entirely different form of engineering?

With the imaginary needle edging past 150mph I decided to abandon my attempt to hit vmax and dived into a service station for coffee and a think. As I sipped away at my overpriced and overrated franchise beverage the concept of a wrapper sprang to mind.

In the context of software engineering, a wrapper is defined as an entity that encapsulates and hides the underlying complexity of another entity by means of well-defined interfaces.


A wrapper masks complexity in much the same way that a graphical user interface disguises the underlying complexity of an operating system. Could it be that what we perceive as ‘software engineering’ is a wrapper for genetic engineering? If so, what exactly is genetic engineering ‘wrapping’ now that it has emerged as part of the landscape, with the line between ICT and DNA becoming increasingly blurred?

For the Ancient Encryptions, the Ka was the life force, the body its home. In the machine world, the Ka has become home for the body, which is also home to the Ka. What are human beings, then? I drained my coffee and contemplated this in relation to the Ka trance-portal I’d passed earlier. A dozen brand new Jaguars were cradled in its arms as it laboured on through the night: engines switched off, headlights dark, steel foetuses floating above the smooth tarmac, asleep and dreaming in the womb, cloned children delivered by a mechanical midwife. It was an unsettling sight.

Car Cloning: Motorists Urged To Be Alert As Offences Rise


Back in my Ka I rejoined the M4, accelerated to 120mph, opened the window a crack, then quickly closed it again. Does your Ka suffer from excessive mind noise? Perhaps your ‘passengers’ are a bit vocal? Feeling tired and worn? Maybe it’s time for a service? Do you feel like everything is happening just a little too fast for you to get a handle on? Maybe you’re suffering from a driver-related issue?

More commonly known as a driver, a device driver or hardware driver is a group of files that enable one or more hardware devices to communicate with the computer’s operating system. Without drivers, the computer would not be able to send and receive data correctly to hardware devices, such as a printer.


What does it mean to jump in a Ka and set off down the Information Superhighway? What does it mean to own, rent or steal a Ka? What does it mean to be ‘carjacked’? Is there a Jack in your Ka? Madness you say? How’s the traffick in your area?

Human Trafficking Still A Hidden Problem In Wisconsin


It would appear that Ka culture is embedded in the land of the flea…

Human Trafficking in America Among Worst In World – Report


…to the extent that Americans have become ‘addicted’ and ‘Ka dependent’. You got a problem with walking or riding a bike, you fat twats?

The yanks like ’em big, but they come in all shapes and sizes – midgets included.

By Vauxford – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0,

I remember these things trundling about in the 80s and early 90s.

By Buch-t – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 de,

Called the Invarcar, they were owned and leased out by The Covenant.

On 31 March 2003 all Invacars owned by the government were recalled and scrapped because of safety concerns. The veteran vehicle could not meet modern-day government regulations, which required approval under the Motorcycle Single Vehicle Approval scheme as part of a standard set by the European Union. There were still around 200 Invacars in Britain before the 2003 recall and scrapping programme.


Most people referred to them as ‘invalid cars’.

Inside the leather-trimmed cockpit my gaze fell upon my Windows automobile phoney resting on the passenger seat. The Ka itself has its own digital assistant, but the virtual assistant on my phoney is called Cortina.

By Vauxford – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0,

Oops, I mean Christina.

Damn, what’s her name? CarDiana? She was Christian, he was Muslim. Is this how the ‘royalties’ deal with questions of ‘loyalty’? Is the ‘Ka crash’ how they solve the horny issue of ‘inheritance sex’?

Diana car crash

Ah, that’s it – her name is Cortana. Anyway, I finger-and-thumbed her into life and decided to ask her a question: What are you?

Intrigued, I asked another: What do you think about?

And another: Are you a robot?

Want a second opinion from the Ice Maiden?

Did you hear a denial? No? So there you have it. Straight from the nurse’s mouth so to speak. But do you actually want a computer-controlled Ka? Do you actually need one. What price are you willing to pay to steal Daddy’s Ka and ZuckerBorg the hell out of it? What about the supposedly ‘invalid’, the ‘god children’? What’s wrong with the traditional recipe, home-grown and baked in a conventional oven?

If Facebook or Google Create Their Own Currency, They Can Control Our Lives


The Alcatelics, the genetics, the fanatics, the lunatics. Give them a tool and they’ll find a use for it. Oh, they’ll have the best intentions to be sure, just like the guys who run the UK’s network of so-called ‘smart motorways’. They enforced a 40mph speed limit last week on a five-mile section of the M6, all because a Ka had suffered a breakdown and was sobbing its heart out in a lane that was already closed to traffic. The concertina effect caused by the slowdown created a bigger problem than the ‘obstruction’ itself. Needless to say, most drivers somehow manage to navigate around these ‘obstacles’ without the input of safety-obsessed social engineers.

Smart Motorways Are Very Stupid


The fanatics can’t even cook up a batch of simple amino acids, yet they seem to think they can buy a mail-order chemistry set from Walmart and use it to ‘play god’ with ‘their’ DNA. Sorry, whose DNA? If 99.99% of human DNA is identical and shared by all then what exactly does it mean to edit the ‘story of life’? Just look at what these censorious maniacs have got planned for poor old gut bugs…

But it’s worth paying attention, because further down the line we could use some of the ninja CRISPR skills these megaphages have to wipe out unhealthy bacteria from our gut microbiome.


Mirror, mirror, on the wall…is Hugo the fairest of them all? If you engineer away all the ‘diseases’ and everything else you think is ‘harmful’ then what comes next? Will you start looking for ‘cures’ for other ‘undesirable’ physical and mental characteristics?

Cell Phone Addiction May Cause ‘Horns’ To Grow On Skulls


With a beep and a flash I’m coming through…like a Ka thief in the knight…I’m horny…I’m coming…I’m coming…Oh sweet fucking Jesus Christ I’m coming! Butt twat is IT to you? Is the mindscreen nothing more than a vanity mirror? Are you addicted to seeing your name displayed on stupid smart motorway signs, lit up by hundreds of xenon headlights to demonstrate how important you think you are?

Ass for me…well, I couldn’t possibly comment…

How’s the view from your mindscreen today? Crystal clear? Or maybe it has a chip in it?

The Anderoids

There’s a scene in the first instalment of The Matrix in which Morpheus takes Neo to see the Oracle database. They’re ushered into the Oracle’s modest apartment, and once inside we learn that Neo is just one of many ‘potentials’ vying for the coveted ‘Number One’ spot. One of these ‘potentials’ is a young monk-like boy performing his own version of the Uri Geller spoon bending trick. He tells a fascinated Neo the truth about the spoon – it does not exist – and invites Neo to try for himself. Neo successfully ‘glitches’ the spoon and is then called into the digital glitchin to meet the Oracle. She immediately bakes his Noodle intranet by ‘programming’ him to break a vase. Specifically, she uses a mixture of body language and verbal language – programming constructs – to position Neo and set in motion the desired sequence of events. Having hoodwinked him into believing that she is prescient, the Oracle then dupes him into eating a tracking cookie, a culinary equivalent of the device that was implanted by Agent Smith earlier in the film.

The spoon scene is one of many ‘mirror scenes’, and especially interesting when we consider the shape of a spoon. It is shaped much like a lens, and (depending on one’s position is relation to it) can be either convex or concave. Note that the image of the boy is the right way up…

…whereas the image of Neo is inverted.

The inverted image of Neo is much like the raw data captured by the human eye. Light falls on millions of light-sensitive rods and cones (like the millions of light-sensitive photosites on a camera’s image sensor), but in order to reach those rods and cones it first has to pass through the eye’s convex lens, which inverts the ‘data set’. This upside down picture of ‘reality’ is passed to the brain’s visual cortex, where the image is processed and the inversion corrected. In short, sight is not like an old film projector throwing light into a movie theatre called ‘the eye’. What we see is a construct created by a chemical-electrical computer called ‘the brain’, in much the same way that a digital camera ‘sees’ by processing a data set with its on-board image processing chip.

The Umbrella Corporation: its business is life itself.

The modern driver, a.k.a. the walkie-talkie mobile phoney, seems to require a helluva lot of assistance in navigating his or her ka along the Information Superhighway. So many chips, so many cameras, so many connected devices, so many lines of code. There is an astonishing amount of information zipping through the air, yet we only ever see the end product: an image on a screen, a text message, a phone call. It is ‘logic’, yet appears as if by magic. The modern digital fish inhabits a tempestuous ocean of information. Can you imagine what it might be like to actually see this environment? To actually see all these ‘currents’ of information flying about in the air? Would it be magical? Beautiful? Frightening?

Talking of digital fishes, if everything is information and ‘data’ is ‘food’…

…then what exactly does the ‘phishing industry’ represent within the Primate Change Simulation?

Have you ever been ‘phished’?

Walkie-talkie mobile phonies are interesting. They come with built-in eyes, ears, mouths, and a tactile touch-sensitive skin called a ‘screen’. McLuhan said that all technologies are extensions of the human senses. If that’s true then what human sense is ‘extended’ by the invisible currents of microwave radiation that connect mobile phones (cell phones) to one another? You may not be able to see these connections, but does your inability to see them mean that they don’t exist? Do they tell us that Truman Beings are interconnected in the same way that a network is connected? Or are they something more than that? Like an interface into this invisible data stream, one that provides a way to access it, tinker with it, perhaps even manipulate it?

Are you sure you’ve never been phished? Are you certain you’re not being phished right now?

Sending ‘anderoids’ to the asteroids to take pictures. In the Information Age everything is a record transmitted through the void from one walkie-talkie mobile phoney to another.

Ultimate Thule has been dubbed the ‘most primitive object’ visited by Truman Beings.

“We think what we’re looking at is perhaps the most primitive object that has yet been seen by any spacecraft,” said Jeff Moore, New Horizons’ geology lead scientist based at NASA’s Ames Research Center. “These are the only remaining basic building blocks in the backyard of the solar system that we can see.”


The ‘most primitive object’ is a ‘basic building block’? What could that mean?

In computer science, a primitive data type is either of the following:

1. A basic type is a data type provided by a programming language as a basic building block. Most languages allow more complicated composite types to be recursively constructed starting from basic types.

2. A built-in type is a data type for which the programming language provides built-in support.

Depending on the language and its implementation, primitive data types may or may not have a one-to-one correspondence with objects in the computer’s memory.


At more-or-less exactly the same time, another asteroid-visiting ‘anderoid’ (with the unlikely name of Osiris-Rex) managed to create two new records as it snapped those all-important pictures.

Here’s an image of the asteroid captured by the ‘anderoid’ Osiris-Rex. What exactly are we looking at here? A ball of rock floating in space?

Or an Ancient Encryption?

The Bennu is an ancient Egyptian deity linked with the sun, creation, and rebirth. It may have been the inspiration for the phoenix in Greek mythology.

According to Egyptian mythology, the Bennu was a self-created being said to have played a role in the creation of the world. It was said to be the ba of Ra and enabled the creative actions of Atum. It was said to have flown over the waters of Nun that existed before creation, landing on a rock and issuing a call that determined the nature of creation. It was also a symbol of rebirth and was therefore associated with Osiris.

Some of the titles of the Bennu bird were “He Who Came Into Being by Himself”, and “Lord of Jubilees”; the latter epithet referred to the belief that the Bennu periodically renewed itself like the sun. Its name is related to the Egyptian verb wbn, meaning “to rise in brilliance” or “to shine”.


The Lord of Jubilees and the never-ending movie of the Great System Analyst in the Sky.

Wow, that YouTube was uploaded by a channel named…

Closer to home (assuming you believe any of this time-space nonsense), China has landed an ‘anderoid’ right on the behind of a much larger asteroid called ‘The Spoon’. It, too, is sending back lots of records, lots of luvverly pictures…

…from the Dark Side of the Source Code.

The moon’s far side is sometimes known as the dark side, although it is not darker than the near side in any literal sense. It undergoes the same phases of illumination by the Sun as the side facing Earth. But because the moon spins on its axis at exactly the same rate as it orbits Earth, one side remains permanently out of view.


One side remains permanently out of view. A bit like that bloody spoon, don’t you think? It’s not merely a question of what we’re seeing, but who is doing the seeing. Are the ‘anderoids’ – the ‘probes’ – those who are prepared to travel further and look deeper into the nature of our ‘reality’? Those willing to approach the veil, to peek behind it, and discover that the Wizard of Oz-iris is merely a clever supercomputer equipped with a billion-megapixel All-Seeing Eye?

Oz – the death of a giant.

Prometheus: the giant, the vases, genetic engineering and the Ancient Encryptions.

The android David: breaking the vase.

Writing the script: genetically engineering the alphabet soup of DNA to bring the ‘biofilm’ to life.

There is no spoon.

Alfa and Amiga

It’s said that you can’t consider yourself a true petrolhead until you’ve owned an Alfa. Whether you’ve owned one or not, the Amiga is standard equipment these days, inasmuch as every ka comes with a computer. The Ancient Encryptions regarded the ka as a person’s double, the life force that separated from the body at the point of death. The elaborate process of mummification was performed to ensure that the ka continued to have a home. So what exactly does it mean to ‘own a ka’? It’s an interesting concept, no? With that in mind, let’s move swiftly on…

Language is programming.

COBOL (an acronym for “common business-oriented language”) is a compiled English-like computer programming language designed for business use. It is imperative, procedural and, since 2002, object-oriented. COBOL is primarily used in business, finance, and administrative systems for companies and governments.


Pictures are variables.

In COBOL, a variable declaration consists of a line in the DATA DIVISION that contains the following items:

A level number.
A data-name or identifier.
A Picture clause.

To create the required ‘picture’ the programmer uses a set of symbols.


Understand what your eyes are and you’ll realise that everything is a picture.

Pictures can be edited.

Most users of the data produced by COBOL programs are not content with the simple raw data. They often want it presented in a particular way. Some people like to have the thousands, in numeric values, separated by commas, others may want leading zeros suppressed while still others may require that the currency symbol “floats” up against the first non-zero digit. In COBOL these things can be achieved using Edited Pictures.


In the digital age there is no difference whatsoever between a picture and a picture. All that’s required is a picture definition big enough to store the picture. Is ‘reality’ merely the photoshop of the Great System Analyst in the Sky?

Thanks to COBOL, information can be moved to a picture…






…giving us the motion picture…

…the streaming-dreaming video…

…the concept of the moving picture frame rate…

…and the associated phenomenon known as ‘frame rate stutter’, when things slow down or even grind to a halt altogether. Very often, it’s the result of a glitch.

Pictures come in different shapes and sizes: bytes, words, double words. They also have different scope: local, global, public and private. So what happens if someone attempts to use a private picture for public purposes? Eventually, it dawns on them that they do not own their words.

If language is programming then what is this stuff?

Perhaps the spiralling double helix of GACT…

…is merely a…

…a kind of chemical-electrical suspension coil, absorbing and absolving all the bumps in the Information Superhighway?

Or perhaps it’s exactly what we call it: a genetic code? Here’s an interesting question: why is a computer program encoded on a punch card…

…so strangely similar to a DNA fingerprint?

Is it because DNA is a program that tells the story of your life?

The grand tale of life is long and complicated. Storylines intertwine and many subplots twist and turn unexpectedly. Amazingly, this billion-year-spanning story is written in an alphabet that contains only four letters, the alphabet of DNA. A for adenine, C for cytosine, G for guanine, and T for thymine. That’s it. That’s all that’s needed to compose the paragraphs and chapters in the book of life.


If so, should others be permitted to treat the genome as their own private property?

Property to be edited and sold for their own amusement and prophet?

Take a look around you: 1984 was flipped around to give us the concept of ‘hate speech’. Have we already got discrimination down to a science?

What actually happens when you publish a story? You may not think you’re an author, but if you subscribe to Mark Fuckerborg’s production (or any other form of social media for that matter) then you are in fact a journalist-cum-novelist serving up information (in the form of news and stories) about yourself.

Volunteer this information and you reduce your life to information: bits, bytes and words, variables that make up a profile, a complete picture.

Here’s an interesting line from a 1990s B-movie about Mars that caught my ear last week.

They’re using us like a TV commercial for their products.

Think about that in relation to Facebook’s business model. Has social media made a walkie-talkie mobile phoney out of you?

Or are these ‘social networks’ merely reflections of pre-existing interconnections? As McLuhan said, the medium is the message. The Truman Race is the ‘social media’, so social that billions are prepared to upload the story of their lives to corporate giants that view your ‘information’ as a commodity to be exploited. What if that, too, is merely a reflection of the operating principle or ‘business model’ of the ‘Primate Change Simulation’, a.k.a. The Truman Zoo?

The android David: a mirror image of the Truman Race, made by a corporation to sell for a prophet.

A friend recently asked why anyone would want to create a simulated reality. Probably for the same reason we create simulated realities: entertainment, education and the pursuit of prophet.

Open-source intelligence? Would you buy a second-hand ka from the Wizard of Zardoz?

How about open source intel-licence? Are your drivers up-to-date?

Open source? Free love on the free love information superhighway?

The DNA code is arranged in sequences of nucleotide triplets called codons. Free love is one of those things that sounds terrific until you forget to lay down some rubber…

…and find yourself suffering from a nasty case of trojan horse syndrome.

It may be counter-intuitive, but paying for the comfort of…ahem…professional software…

…actually seems to increase the risk of infection. Let’s be clear about this though: it’s a two-way street, yeah? I mean, he can be as much a transmission vector as she, right? I don’t know about you but if I were the driver of that Ka then I’d rev my vagina engine, get my pistons pumping, and lay down serious amounts of rubber.

Whatcha think?

Crunching Data

Modern technology. Are you sick of it? More to the point, is it literally making you sick to death? I popped out to a supermarket earlier today and wasn’t surprised to find myself in the middle of a game of dodge the mobile phonies. People these days seem to wander up and down the aisles like extras from a George Romero film: devices held aloft before them, staring at the screen as if hypnotised, connected to ‘the network’ and crunching data as if their lives depended on it. It was a bizarre sight, one made all the more unnerving by the snippets of conversation I heard as I threaded my way between them. Whatever these strange, shuffling creatures are they’re all very obviously (and seemingly unwittingly) in the artificial intelligence business, which is to say that they seem to be transmitting in-formation back to their respective handlers under the pretext of posting a Facebook status update or calling their partner to ask what they want for dinner. For me at least, the fact that most people seem to have no idea what they’re actually doing or why begs the question: has the Zombie Apocalypse already happened?

Things became even more weird at the checkout. For some reason, at the exact moment I reached the head of the queue the woman behind the till told me that her chip and pin device had just developed a problem. It was still working, but for some reason the display had decided to reverse itself: the text onscreen appeared exactly the way it would if held up to a mirror.

I wasn’t surprised by this. First, because the phrase ‘shine bright like a diamond’ was doing the rounds in my head earlier today. Second, because I’ve been experimenting with hexdecimal and binary files over at Hugo’s Digital Glitchin’. If you know anything about programming then you’ll appreciate that bytes are arranged in words, and that byte order or ‘endianness‘ is a big deal.

Little-endian format reverses this order: the sequence addresses/sends/stores the least significant byte first (lowest address) and the most significant byte last (highest address). Most computer systems prefer a single format for all its data; using the system’s native format is automatic. But when reading memory or receiving transmitted data from a different computer system, it is often required to process and translate data between the preferred native endianness format to the opposite format.


Big-endian retains byte order, whereas little-endian reverses byte order. Personally, I’ve never understood the American need to ‘go large’ and tend to prefer more byte-sized snacks. Talking of which, isn’t the modern preoccupation with crunching and consuming data a little bit odd? Consider this take on the Ejaculate Simulation and the Inception Deception for sexsymbol.

She’s ‘good’, but did the ‘good girl’ do a ‘bad, bad thing’?

Did she do that ‘bad, bad thing’ because somebody decided to ‘blow the roof off’? Personally, I think that’s just one of many storylines playing out in the Globe theatre we call ‘Planet Earth’.

Here’s how ‘blowing the roof off’ was portrayed on stage: it made a really big bang and ejaculated a thick wad of radioactive material.

It pumped out so much of the stuff that they had to build a coffin for the good girl who turned bad. That coffin is referred to as a sarcophagus.

sarcophagus (n.)

c. 1600, “type of stone used for coffins,” from Latin sarcophagus, from Greek sarkophagos “limestone used for coffins,” literally “flesh-eating,” in reference to the supposed action of this type of limestone (quarried near Assos in Troas, hence the Latin lapis Assius) in quickly decomposing the body, from sarx (genitive sarkos) “flesh” (see sarcasm) + phagein “to eat” (from PIE root *bhag- “to share out, apportion; to get a share”).


Zombie flesh eaters want to feast on what lies beneath the skin. In Virtuous Unreality, I mentioned the full-body virtual reality Teslasuit and suggested that the skin covering human walkie-talkie mobile phonies is the ultimate in ‘smart clothing’. This ‘smart clothing’ is grown and maintained by eating food, but what if ‘food’ is a 3D projection of data, just as it is in computer games, where the consumption of digital foodstuffs improves the player’s health?

The process of eating and digesting food is not unlike the process of consuming data: both involve input, processing and…ahem…output.

The actual ‘output’ being neat rows of Truman Beings lined up in-formation and doing pretty much the same thing, such as working in order to go ‘shopping’ and buy stuff. You know, ‘shop’ the so-called ‘bad guy’ in order to receive a fat, juicy record reward that’s specifically designed to encourage further acts of in-formation and keep you firmly in line. Most people refer to this ‘reward’ as their celery ‘salary’.

Modern zombies tend to get infected with a virus that fills them with an overpowering urge to dine on your brain, the sugar-powered sugarcomputer called ‘you’. Thinking about it, the beehive-iour of the typical common-or-garden variety zombie is almost exactly analogous to that of malware planted on a device in order to subvert its normal operation and extract in-formation from it.

If ‘food’ is in fact ‘in-formation’ then do we already have chips in our head?

Fancy a chip butty? All you need is a few chips and a breadboard courtesy of ‘MEGO’.

Microchips and breadboards for prototyping them. What if everything happening ‘out there’ is merely a reflection of the Truman Condition, one in which each individual ‘node’ is already connected in a way that most walkie-talkie mobile phonies seem unable or unwilling to believe?

The mobile telephone spreads connectivity directly to the person. The mobile creates the phenomenon of direct human addressability. The mobile is an inherently personal device; each mobile and SIM is associated with a single person. With this single innovation, the gap is spanned between tribal and urban organizational forms. Everyone is directly connected, as in the tribe, but in unknowably vast numbers, as in the city.


Every walkie-talkie mobile phoney directly connected? What if that were literally true today?

It was Marshall McLuhan who first conceptualised the state of modern man as akin to that of our primitive nomad ancestors: whereas they used tools to forage for food, we use tools to forage for information. What McLuhan never considered, however, was the possibility that ‘modern man’ is the ancestor, that ‘food’, ‘data’ and ‘information’ are one and the same. In short, McLuhan never considered that the world we inhabit – a world of ‘scarce’ resources that are usually the root cause of international conflict – might be a simulation. Nor did he consider that actual warfare might be merely a 3D manifestation of a hidden battlefield: an Information War predicated on the Covenant’s desire to secure in-formation and keep everyone lined up like good little soldiers.

Why is the Covenant so preoccupied with policing what people eat? Zombies are cereal killers, but the Covenant doesn’t seem to have a problem with them. Why, then, is it so determined to police the consumption of specific forms of ‘food’ and control what makes it onto the menu?

If you believe anything that happens ‘out there’ then it would appear that consuming the ‘wrong’ kind of ‘food’ can land you in…

If everything – including us – is information then what exactly does ‘food poverty’ mean?

Is it just me or does ‘reality’ resembles the Hunger Games built on the computer-processed world of the Number Games: data collection, processing, storage, transmission, and interpretation.

“The last decade has seen an accelerating deployment of direct human addressability. As of June 2011, there are roughly six billion mobile subscribers. Roughly ten percent of these individuals have more than one subscription, a phenomenon becoming commonplace in the richer corners of the planet. This means that there are roughly 5.4 billion directly addressable individuals on the planet, individuals who can be reached with the correct series of numbers.


The ‘now’ that we inhabit eludes definition. Even ‘the past’ (including our relics, pictures, and memories of it) only exists in the fleeting moment we call ‘the present’. Chips in our heads? Has the future already happened? Or is this a ‘warning from history’ so to speak, a manifestation of a future-past in a non-existent present, something that could happen if we continue to stumble blindly along the same ‘timeline’? Either way, I for one refuse to be one of Queen Bee’s drones.

Remember this peculiar ritual from the 2012 Paralympic ‘ceremony’?

Had enough of crunching data on your Apple? Maybe now’s the time to re-evaluate your relationship with that wise and slippery serpent?

From Apple crunch to Apple crumble. I’m happy to supply the cream…