From: Strata Rose Chalup (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Date: Wed Nov 15 2000 - 23:58:21 PST
The web is a great substitute for personal organization. First I used
to remember things. Then I used to save them, and look into what I'd
saved in lieu of memory. Now I remember, and look on the web, and
sometimes get lucky, sometimes not. Of course, I have a *lot* of 8mm
tape stacked up in various places to read someday.
Anyway-- catching up on FoRK, I was pleased that the very first entry on
a Google search for "Weyerhauser smile" brought this up, from a modern
remapping of the canonical place. Nothing like tying a few threads
together in one post.
BTW, for those whose checkered pasts could adorn a fleet of taxicabs, I
offer the following insight into the last 20-odd years out of college:
Little did we know that "drag and drop" would come to mean more than
running into someone who was 'carrying' while we were on the way to
PS- I re-read this and wonder how much of the X-Files' backstory came
from some impressionable youth reading this in the days of the
-- ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Strata Rose Chalup [email@example.com] | firstname.lastname@example.org, KF6NBZ Director of Network Operations | VirtualNet Consulting KnowNow, Inc [http://www.knownow.com] | http://www.virtual.net/ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
[Uber-rant from the Master follows]
From: jpg3196@tahoma.UUCP (James P. Galasyn) Newsgroups: talk.bizarre,alt.activism,alt.individualism Subject: A simple rant Date: 21 Nov 89 18:59:00 GMT Organization: The Boeing Co., BCA FSL, Seattle, WA
So we're speeding headlong into the eco-econocataclysm, business-as-usual, corporations so big you scream "Fuck You" from the bottom of your lungs and the echo from the top of the power pyramid comes back a year later as a NOTICE OF DISHONOR OF CHECK form letter. Or no echo returns at all, and you try to scream again but the wet-thick coughs rack your chest (too much NOx from the street) and you realize that the corporate death aliens are turning our air into a hydrocarbon copy of their smog-and-CO2 atmosphere; "Boy Howdy! You can sell those humans anything! We've got 'em buying nuclear-waste fertilizer, we've got 'em buying mercury-loaded meat by-products, we've got 'em buying FEAR as an entertainment industry... We can sell them smog-making machines and ozone-wrecking machines, we sell 'em exotic cancers AND the expensive ineffective cures, we sell them brain-rotting guilt-programming on our favorite electronic drug: TV!" And the aliens LIKE television! Sure it slows a human's alpha waves and puts us in the hypnogogic state for hours on end; sure, it turns our minds into Play-Do for the mass-advertising jackals to shape into whatever tractable sheeplike form pleases them. BAA! BAA! "Read my lips: No new taxes!" "This is your brain on drugs." "GE brings good things to life." And the Earth is their Third World and they've spent the past three billion years mastering the Art of Vertical Integration AND our planet is their latest levered buyout...TV is GOOD for them, that raster cutting across the phosphor puts them into disease-free ECSTASY while turning our brains to pink MUSH.
So you eat some more paper because that's the only way your mind can find its original shape, and you go into the woods, knowing that those trees will only be there a few more years because the goddamn US Forest Service is selling all of the "National" forests to Mazda and Mitsubishi Bank... and subsidizing the sales with your own "no new tax" money. Yes, your brain is on that hot skillet, sizzling, turning brown around the edges, and you feel SANE for the first time in months. Because you've been getting more and more paranoid lately, haven't you? You see a dumb horror flick by a low-budget director while you're really baked and you realize it's a fucking DOCUMENTARY, not just another teen slasher product, but a last-ditch effort to wake people UP: They Live, We Sleep, OBEY, CONSUME, NO THOUGHT.
You see an old friend and he has a poster that says "Paranoid? Most of your fears are real." And you really ARE paranoid, but if ever there was a time for paranoia, it is now; you watch Jollie Ollie North casually explain to Sen. Inouye his plans to suspend the Constitution, as if there even WERE a Constitution anymore, after the National Security Act. But the A gives you wisdom and comfort: YOU aren't going crazy, you're JUSTIFIED in being paranoid because it isn't paranoia, it's being brutally REALISTIC. Land of the Free, right, we live in McSuperPower and who do you think sells this cheap plastic CRAP that TIME MAGAZINE calls "the American Dream?" George Bush? HA! He is Pure Product, he IS chicken McNuggets, he IS an expendable fuse through which the real powers dump vast energies...the Trilaterals? The Council on Foreign Relations? You don't even want to ASK about these guys, because they're the Big Boys, the Grim Secret Men in Black, and just THINKING about them draws their attention; it's like yelling HASTUR or YOG-SOTHOTH out loud, or invoking the Freedom of Information Act to see your FBI file, you just don't want to do it, if they notice you you're finished.
So there are pretty vortical tracers flowing off your fingers now and you remember that death is an illusion and Mind is the fundamental ordering principle of the Universe...obvious things that everybody including you seems to forget...and the neon rainbow colors remind you of that new Floyd bootleg CD you bought from Second Coming records, GEE! How do they get all that DATA onto one spectrally chromish disk? They can store ENCYCLOPEDIAS on one of those things, and by GOD, the FBI must have thousands of pages of surveillance info on EVERY SINGLE NETTER in North America, all neatly stored and indexed, ready to be consulted when they find it necessary to send YOU to one of the FERA camps...If you say, "George Bush, ex-CIA director, was out of the loop" enough times maybe they'll take pity and only use the thorazine; if you say "Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone, murdered President Kennedy" they may even send you to Tiger Island to join up with the Death Squad Elite. You chant over and over, "Lee Harvey Oswald, acting alone..." and maybe you can even convince yourself it's TRUE, but not while you're frying, because right now you're NOT asleep, you see through the NSA even if they DO own over half the Crays ever made, you see through the petty little treacheries that are sold to the public every day: Reagan and Khomeini, Bush and Noriega, goddamn GE and NBC bringing good things to life at Hanford and Pinellas, Exxon and the environment President, BP on the move, RJR and their sickeningly subliminal Smooth Character Penis Camel, the glorps at work who don't MIND toxic waste as long as it's "disposed of" in some IBM-owned Third-World country, and we BUY this shit.
And above it all, you can HEAR the slack-sucking aliens laughing their ASSES off, because this invasion was so damn easy it's pathetic. "Gawd, you can sell them ANYTHING! Just last week we convinced them that a war on their own country will make them MORE FREE! This 'Freedom' product is the best scam since the $64,000 question!" Yes, Earth is the laughingstock of the galaxy, creatures in the Small Magellanic Cloud tell human jokes: "Hey Vornan-17, how many humans are buying Men-From- Planet-X brand National Security at this very moment?" "Dunno." "Three hundred million! HAW HAW HAW!"
So now you're peaking, and tears are rolling down your cheeks from the relentless giggling. It really is funny after all, this "Bob"cid is the best fry you've had in years, at least the aliens haven't gotten their tentacles on the vitamin A industry; in fact they made it a felony because it makes you HUMAN again, blows their Jack-in-the-Box raster- scanned molasses lint out of your brain...it should be given away FREE on every street corner.
And a Forest Ranger, wearing the official Weyerhauser smile, puts a .38 to your head and turns you off.
. "You don't have many suspects who DEATH . .. are innocent of a crime. That's . . . contradictory. If a person is innocent . . . . of a crime, then he is not a suspect." . .. . . . . - Edwin Meese III . . . . . .. . . . . . . .
This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Fri Nov 17 2000 - 17:54:27 PST