Friday, January 9, 2015

If freedom is anthing

It is the freedom to create anything this bad, tacky, professionally amateurish atrocity.
If ever there was a justification to suppress freedom of expression,
this stands out among them.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

The sensitivity of the strains

(Musing after the must has left)
 This reptile wouldn't miss it or cry neither on such anterograde occasion
as grey cells could be removed entire.
Herein lies a crux of my reluctance
to countenance thirsty scalpel slake itin my brain.
Even could it be, as sinister whispers insinuate,
injury alone could be removed
a reptile wouldn't miss it
or cry neither,
is there one other thing...

a subject.  an object.  objects. subjects.

Which I'll save
for another

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Civil Disobedience without Uncivil Obedience.

 Je Suis

Can these things?
Really be happening again?

www. and I'm tying this by hand (I'll have to tell you about this one later, but one day you may find yourself)

Because this is a child safe site, each last digit of each URL is given by name.
these must be converted to numerical form.

Must this Phenotype come again?
Try this search term, copy and paste:

"tiny robots warfare poison insect"

And you will know the future of war.  We are not barreling ferocity like our clumsy encounters with wild boars, the nazi fragments that course through the minds of the beastly competition with a tusked adversary,
bumbling winnowers of graceful pests.

Violence resentful flaring for lack of resistance to our suffering added for "headline news" of canada.

Strategic relations 2015
Market Freedom
Civil disobedience
Looking the several ways whilst walking the street
Vendor Relationships Summit at
Note Strategic Plan Worker's compensation board 's for it's survival with age (most recent Acer Bookmark)

(Chances are pretty good I say.)
That old Chaos umpire sits. As the atoms melt away ands the universe cools.

There's simply no mistake on that score.  Together we live, together we die alone. Not unkin to it's independent kind. Humans in their present form, or anything very much like it, are unlikely to populate the several of rather hostile worlds in the galactic vicinity.  Are we preparing for judgement from above,
by our viciousness, always seeking seeking to sharpen it
against greater adversaries, and pursue greater gods.

Find this french poet, whose words I begin to close tonight:
"I'm caught in a hail of shrapnel.
The lead shot riddles the ground around me,
pierces mess sets and splits men's skulls."

The french call these broken faces.  And drove the development and production of steel helmets among british and french, but less well prepared adapted than the emblematic german helmet.  And still distance specified airbursts would be my choice of handheld shell.
 Micro-Chipped exploding ammunition, programmable at moment of firing ( distance, air pressure, temperature, ballistics. and a little robot with a nerdy propeller hat)currently with the XM25 2,300 feet (326 meters?)  said to be (probably by marketing staff,)
300 percent more effective than current weapons at the squad level.
That's  Pause to read.  Again child friendly site.
As any FPS player couldn't have told you years ago.

"tiny robots warfare poison insect"

layers and layers of successively nested delivery systems.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

I expect it will be colder tomorrow, but people are overdressed on this fine day in late prevention against yesterday's cold.

    While contemplating the magnificent elegance in the offshoots of Karl Marx' thoughts, Tosh seems to enjoy having cause to embrace fantastic conceits, but be reasonable.  He forbears, of course, to exploit them.  There is the ring of truth to Tosh's reverence for those "Fertile Errors(1)" of Marxism does not extend to endorsing them. With what unwary sophistication the historian in us beats off misconceptions!

    Millions dead, a deplorable abberation at which Tosh shrugs, knowing better than to attribute it to psycopathic cult of personality.  The challenges he elides are closer to truth.  How vast our forgetfulness.  Living memories time fades, and even historians make the lest of the most predictable virulence, reporting one way or the other which the most robust, if not always fruitful offshoots.

Local Wildlife

What do you know... local wildlife. Ever faster, CBC quality documentaries proliferate over the rate of immigration and reproduction of local mammalian wildlife.
I can't remember how long ago, or in precisely which form.  I resisted the proposal that truth is a value like any other.  It has from time to time btroughnew and unsuspected immune system reactions like any other.

Common sense sensibly detects when it is persuasively drawn to a blunder. Our model of stupidity gestates within our awe at blunders prepared by us for years.  We draw great pleasure to behold the ludicrous in others,  but it's only fair that we take joy in learning from each-other.

In our delight, we may forgo the opportunity to understand ourselves - even rather hasten to render unintelligible the revoltingly multivarigated expressions of degeneracy.

I do not dwell glumly on the wreakage of a fond delusion that even though I avoided responsibilities, I could console myself with a fleeting glimpse of existence, for all the while discontent passes by no less surely.

How often I've untroubled stumbled, that with curiosity and amusement is given the added pretext that we're half-expected to at least ready with concern and solicitude.  Why should I not too share in the wearm glow of conceit lighted in those who thrill in their scorn?  And though it has years since I've gone dancing, I step and pivot along the streets.  I look at the people all around me.  Even Alert, even ever so slightly alarmed

Why should I not too share the warm glow of conceit along with those who thrill in their scorn?