To start out, notice how I didn’t capitalize civil war three.
I did this because capitalization of words increases inevitability, so in that regard the prevention of civil war iii is at its base a linguistic problem, which I will go to in another article.
The way I see it…
No one wants to see the last duel of DNA occur only by force yet without guile and cunning in the mix.
If that happened, we’d only end up in another Dark Age where only might made right, and not intellect or charm.
The repetition of history has already occurred…
In Asia the common salutes are non-contact.
They consist of combinations of both bowing and hand gestures, but not by making physical contact.
In Western cultures, the greetings are almost always physical, some more or less.
This is one of the key differences between East and West, and the difference…
The Pakistani-Indian rivalry in Kashmir is chalked up to so many things, including ethnicity, religion, and resource allocation.
However what few observers and pundits have called attention to is the clash between word and image.
Islam is an Abrahamic religion that places word above image, and cautions humanity against getting…
Authenticity is a hell of a drug.
Humans will ever strive to find it, seeking it out, by voyage or pilgrimage.
We are now in the age of deep fakes, meaning netflix and hbo can more easily present a servicable image of a human and the zombies will take it hook line and sinker.
It’s not going to work out that way, you bozos of the ones and zeroes.
Many moons ago I attended an anarchoprimitivist gathering in Southern Oregon, near Crater Lake.
At the time I was, as I am to this day, highly skeptical of the utility of technology in society.
The event was a mess — everyone was paranoid, using monikers, undercover federal agents were snapping…
While I wept I begged for my mother, but she was not in the room with me.
The doctors were outside and I was alone in the room, and they were talking about me.
Then they all came in to the room, and my mother was not there, and they held me down and stabbed me.
For a few days after, I could not walk well, for the vaccine had hit a nerve in my leg.
The first time I threatened my mother that I would kill myself, I was seven years old.
America, don’t buy into the witch doctor bullshit.
Street seven was as it always was.
Cheap beer, endless mating calls cooed from the lips of bar-girls and masseuses, and old, sad Western men dying slow.
Not to say the street didn’t have its charm, with the liveliness of the Khmers, every street or alley in the country had…