The following is weapons grade highly enriched 0.99999 fine purest fissile bollox. So don’t waste your time here if you have a productive life to pursue. You have been warned, Stay away.
It is now about a quarter of a century since the outermong came to our office and ever since that day of unlimited farting around, even though we had a commercial dial up pipe previous to that which did nothing more than highlight the total rip off that UK domestic telephone lines were, I remember the two things that were out here from day 1. Porn and the Saturn Hypothesis.
No news, no opinion, no history, nothing but tits and Titan.
Years later I discovered how Docklands was really using its IT investment on running live sex server farms which explains how UK banking infrastructure for domestic customers is so decrepit. Always ask yourself what a UKulak clown with other people’s money in its hands will do. Invest the cash or burn it away on the flesh? Oh yes, immolation every time.
Anyway over the years of hanging around out here watching the arena fill with paid clitoral actors, always coming here over nothing, one spots the constant low level activity of monglife going by in the background, twitchings which are to be drowned out by crisis cumming until such times as they are forgotten or can be/need to be killed.
This outermong has developed into a massive insane asylum as everything mental has been decanted into it and all embarrassing evidence accidentals released into have been hunted down by the Marshalls and inmates for eradication. All infosewers are now piped into the poison yard and rainbow troupes of actors have spontaneously incarnated themselves to help the infogenies spread mental unhealthality and real mirages. All the while the porn has continued unmolested and the naked truth silts up.
So with that I reflect on a quote that is not.
Why would this even be dropped into the outermong?
So what to make of that then? Well if one spends enough time snuffling in the undergrowth one of the background scents that is a signature of what is what, a constant across all time and societies, is Admiralty.
Just as there must have been a lot of humming and hawing, when the spoken legends were first written down, along the lines of “Oi you, how do I know that when you’ve wandered off with my tales written down you won’t change the scratchings or mix represent my words to those who cannot read? You bastard.” So we’ve now got the outermong with its ability to “update” what was written down without anyone knowing. Is Mark Twain going to turn up and point out that the iFART version of any of his works is false? Is the final librarian going to care to check if your own tailored perversion of War & Peace is verbatim against the last remaining hard copy in the outermost Thule library? I mean if we are not allowed to read Алекса́ндр Иса́евич Солжени́цын today because he mentioned that the jews in Russia were a bunch of murderous cunts then what value is any iFART pixel pattern? Homever Homer listened to is never going to care if Bart Simpson turned up in the iBELCH 24/7 rolling updates of his false Hesiod fictionals.
With enough time all is forgotten and one can write anything approved and invent anything that you are paid to create as truth. Money creates truth and reality for survivors. And time is concatenating.
Here is another quote, a real quote from a real book that I have in my possession. So I know the wordy words are real and highly likely to be the author’s originals.
“…….in which the historian no longer assumes that he can recover any ‘bare facts’ apart from meaning and interpretation. Twentieth-century historiography, in contrast to the historical methodology presumed by the old quest, no longer believes that history presents us with some kind of bare facticity. Rather history exists precisely in its meaning and significance for us. An event is an historic event, not simply as something that verifiably can be said to have happened, whether it has any meaning or value for us or not, but only in its continuing significance for us. …….” p40, The Church Against Itself. Rosemary Radford Ruether. 1967. Herder and Herder NY
Add to that the Rovian crap, I shouldn’t need to quote that mongmerchant’s fecal matter, mix it all up in an iMAGIKMIRROR, ration the Herd and you can see that nothing means all now that nothing means anything.
But that is not the issue; the issue is that any bunch of humans that believes in totems will believe anything under Admiralty. Ultimately they will do anything for food, period. Link that food rationing through their iTURD and any level of murder is possible.
Now I know I took a wrong turning there and the post actually started out concerning Thorium and at that first blank quotation I went all mental but I didn’t want to clog Penny’s comments up with my bollox. So the gonads I wanted to expand upon got parked here. However it does still make sense, weirdly.
We will get back to the Thorium matter later.