1998-05-09 - Dialogue - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!

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From: Toto <toto@sk.sympatico.ca>
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Message Hash: 23ca0b96d0e5b8e574d731c128d91d0e1de8b4ab3de365331d64c23f9c2ea444
Message ID: <3553A2E3.2E06@sk.sympatico.ca>
Reply To: N/A
UTC Datetime: 1998-05-09 00:24:23 UTC
Raw Date: Fri, 8 May 1998 17:24:23 -0700 (PDT)

Raw message

From: Toto <toto@sk.sympatico.ca>
Date: Fri, 8 May 1998 17:24:23 -0700 (PDT)
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: Dialogue - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
Message-ID: <3553A2E3.2E06@sk.sympatico.ca>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain


Dialogue - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
_______________________________________

WAS: BASIC TRUTHS!

Everyone Has A Photographic Memory...Some Don't Have Film:

  I've got film...

  Pretty Harry, a MarijuanIzen of Garberville, Humbolt County, 
California, was a man who paid close attention to the vagarities of life 
that comprised his MeatSpace environment.
  I was sitting with him in 'The Cellar', a local bar, one night, when 
an effeminate young gentleman from the BigCity came in, sat at a table 
in the middle of the bar, and ordered a drink. Every RedNeck in the bar 
cast derisive looks in the young gentleman's direction
in order to impress upon him that they could do one-armed push-ups, were 
sexually excited only by women, and didn't cotton to young gentlemen 
with full, red lips drinking in 'their' bar, in 'their' town...
  Pretty Harry gave everyone time to get in a threatening scowl, or two, 
and then go back to minding their own business, forgetting about the 
effeminate young gentleman, and he then proceeded to walk over, grab the 
youth by the hair, tilt back his head, and proceed to give him a wet, 
sloppy kiss, with plenty of 'tongue'.  
  Since Pretty Harry was an established member of the local social 
scene, those who observed the event merely barfed into their beers and 
continued whatever they were doing at the time, pretending that they 
hadn't really seen what they had really seen.
  
  This event confirmed what I had already suspected...Pretty Harry was a 
cool dude.

  Pretty Harry sat and talked with me for about twenty minutes, just 
long enough for those present to bury the memory of what had occurred, 
and then proceeded to walk over to the young gentleman's table and 
repeat the action which was so delightfully delicious to the effeminate 
young man from the BigCity, and so disgustingly depraved to the Local 
Yokels who could do one-armed push-ups, and were sexually excited only 
by women.
  This is when I realized that Pretty Harry was WayCool (TM)...

  My point is this...
  Pretty Harry, having proven his deep understanding of the Tao of Life, 
given his ability to throw a Serious Fuck (TM) into the normal 
progression of MeatSpace Reality, was astute enough to tell me, "I've 
noticed that when you come into the bars in town, you sit quietly in the 
corner, and watch what is going on around you. You know more about 'us' 
than 'we' do..."
  There's the Watchers...there's those Watching the Watchers...there's 
those Watching
the Watchers Watching the Watchers...

A Day Without Sunshine Is Like...Night:

  One thing that you will notice if you have the retained the ability to 
'watch' what is happening around you in your MeatSpace environment, is 
that, no matter how comforting the platitudes and 'wise sayings' that 
society-at-large attempts to program into your subconsious, A Day 
Without Freedom Is Like...Slavery.
  If you do not understand what I am attempting to explain by the above, 
then it must be because I am a drug-dealing, terrorist pedophile.


Diplomacy Is Saying "Nice Doggy!"...Until You Find A Rock:

  At the end of a song titled, "I've Been Up So Long, I Can't Get Down," 
on C.J. Parker's "Please! Stop Me Before I Sing Again" album, the 
extremely paraniod singer-songwriter says, "When you can't see THEM, you 
know THEY're being sly..."
  Since the confiscation of my computers, I have not seen a single, 
solitary police car during any of my trips to town. Today, however, 
after threatening the lives of every police officer upon the face of the 
earth during a conversation with my father over my 'telleveryonephone', 
I drove to town and could go nowhere without seeing 
armed police officers glaring at me from the safety of their officially 
marked vehicles.
  The dumb bastards haven't figured out that if they want to shut me up, 
they're going to have to use 'the rock'.


Change Is Inevitable...Except From A Vending Machine:

  When Micro$not was the only game in town, calling their customer 
support numbers resulted only in a recorded message saying, "When is the 
last time a vending machine gave you back your money when you banged on 
it? Fuck Off!"
  Once Pepsi has signed an exclusive contract with your local 
high-school, your children will be subject to felony criminal charges if 
they bang on a vending machine that has stolen their money.


Back Up My Hard Drive? How Do I Put It In Reverse?:

  "Never look back...something might be gaining on you."
~ That Nigger Who Could Strike Out Batters While Pitching From Second 
Base

  Satchel Paige! That's his name...
  He could strike me out in the batter's box at Yankee Stadium while 
pitching from second base at CommuninSki Park.

  I have grown used to losing the MeatSpace records of my life, loves 
and perceptive realities every time that I get mugged by desperate 
criminals or by self-righteous law enforcement agents enforcing what 
they imagine to be the laws that Hitler would put in place if he hadn't 
had to flee to the AdamAntArctic in order to have his body frozen until 
such time that the Nazi scientists welcomed with open arms by the CIA 
after World War II could perfect the CryptOgenics technologies that have 
their roots in the SuperMan Not Wearing Tights theologies of Nazi 
Germany.
 
  I don't look back...
  When Canadian Customs and the RCMP steal the digital record of my 
life, loves and perceptive realities, I look 'forward' to their 
funerals, in the Time-Space Continuum in which SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY 
DRUGS so that the murderous slaughter of everyone who has ever crossed 
my path can be justified as a valid Weight Loss Program which allows one 
to eat anything they want, as long as they burn off the calories in a 
murderous frenzy.


I Just Got Lost In Thought...It Was Unfamiliar Territory:

  ...uuhhh......never mind...


Seen It All, Done It All...Can't Remeber Most Of It:

  Space Aliens Hide My Drugs!


Those Who Live By The Sword Get Shot By Those Who Don't::

  Grass-roots activism and $ .50 will get you a cup of coffee in a 
greasy spoon.
  Canadians who peacefully protest against murderous dictators coming to 
Canada to participate in an Economic Summit will learn that "Money Rubs 
Pepper Spray In Your Eyes And Bullshit Rules!" [WAS: "Money Talks And 
Bullshit Walks!"]


I Feel Like I'm Diagonally Parked In A Parallel Universe:

  I bet if I used a truck-bomb to destroy an enclave of grunt-workers 
involved in the murder of men, women and children who hold uncoventional 
religious views, I would be called a monster for individually emulating 
the actions of the collective.


You Have A Right To Remain Silent! Anything You Say Will Be Misquoted, 
And Then Used Against You:

   The proper quotation of your statements will be released to the 
public after having been sealed under the guise of National Security for 
50 years, at which time it will have little chance of counterbalancing a 
half a century of FUD programming the masses to believe that [Your Name 
Here] acted alone, using a Magic Bullet that officially refutes the laws 
of Newtonian Physics, but which is unlikely to result in your being 
awarded a Nobel Prize.


Nothing Is Foolproof To A Sufficiently Talented Fool:

  This Basic Truth (TM) is the foundation to all amendments to the US 
Constitution, all interpretations of the Holy Word of [Your (G)(g)od's 
Name Here], decisions made by a hand-picked jury of the judge and the 
prosecutor's peers, and really good bar-pick-up lines delivered while 
rubbing one's private parts and drooling.


All My Lies Are True...And Everything I Do, I Really Am:

  "Ask not who your country can Nuke for you...ask who you can Nuke for 
your country."
~ Timothy C. McKennedy, President of Samsonite Peripherals, Inc.

  While the Mayonnaise Mountain Man keeps himself busy attempting to 
limit the ultimate effect of the digital emissions he fires toward the 
InterNet--which ricochet into the minds of innocent bystanders--by 
ranting against the ludicrousness of engaging in 'Magical Thinking', 
some of those taking a direct hit to the head by his XXX Magnum 
Diatribes Against Established Lunacy manage to catch the HeavyLoad 
BulletIns with their teeth, and spit them out in a parallel dimension 
where a lighter atmosphere allows the citizens to wear lighter loafers 
with crystals where the pennies should be, and propel the conceptual 
spirit of the electronic missives of An Aider And Abettor Of A Terrorist 
Nuclear Strike To Be Named Later through electronic goalposts which are 
far-distant from MileHigh Electronic Stadium.

  Thus it is that Circle of Eunuchs Initiates, FrostBack Division, can 
use a John Candy movie to implant in the minds of the Sheeple the 
subliminal suggestion that they can take a personal hand in writing the 
history of Biosemiotic Evolution within the boundaries of the segment of 
the Time-Space Continuum they inhabit, and get to fuck the living shit 
out of Gena Davis.
  Thus it is that Circle of Eunuchs Initiate, Army of Dog Gorrilla, Son 
of MicroGomez can confidently proclaim Peter Jennings to be a Circle of 
Eunuchs Initiate, FrostBack Division, and not be in the least surprised 
when 'Epilogue 7.3 Rev. 1.7' of 'SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS' rails 
mightily against the hypocritical ludicrousness of those sworn to 
'Protect and Serve' the citizenry responding to the actions of a single 
dangerous driver by adding a dozen LEA dangerous drivers to the 
equation, and less than a week later Peter Jennings, made manifest as a 
Circle of Eunuchs Initiate by the simple act of declaring it to be so, 
slams an exclaimation mark down to provide an addendum to 'Epilogue 7.3 
Rev. 1.7' by inserting a piece into 'Word News Tonight' which pointed 
out that:
  ~ One-third of those who die in high-speed police chases are 'innocent 
bystanders'.
 ~ 1,000 people a year die in high-speed police chases in California.
 ~ 5,300 people died last year in high-speed police chases in America.
 ~ State laws make it virtually impossible to sue LEAs in order to force
    them to face the consequences of their decisions and actions in the 
same
    manner that is required of other citizens in 'criminal' as well as 
in 'civil'
    court.


The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth:

  During the WaterGate debacle, I was listening to a Saskatoon radio 
station on which a 'political expert' from Washington, DC, give his 
opinion of the moral and legal issues surrounding the affair and the 
role which President Nixon played in it. During the call-in 
question/opinion period, I phoned the radio station and proffered the 
opinion that, "If Nixon knew about the affair, then he is a criminal, 
and if he *didn't* know about the affair, then he is incompetent, given 
the fact that the crimes were committed by those in power as a direct 
result of his administrative decisions and choices."
  A few days later I was listening to a mainstream media news broadcast 
in which the news anchor announced that the 'current view' of 
'Washington insiders' was that Nixon was either incompetent, or a 
criminal. The wording made it plain that the 'current view' of 
'Washington insiders' was the direct result of an inastute political 
neophyte from ButtFuck, NoWhere, inadvertantly stumbling upon a Basic 
Truth (TM) which was relevant to the situation--namely, "The Buck Stops 
Here!"
  Not..."The Devil made me do it!"
  Not..."I was betrayed/tricked by those I trusted!"
  Not..."It was the result of the Messages From Mars that I received 
through 
             the fillings in my teeth..."

  "The Buck Stops Here!"
  I knew that, you knew that, and everyone ensconced in the Halls of 
Power who were involved in putting a particular politically-motivated 
spin on the WaterGate affair knew that. Nobody holding a well-paying 
job, with medical and dental benefits, wanted to rock the boat and risk 
changing 'the way things are'. Nobody satisfied with the level of 
welfare benefits they were receiving wanted to rock the boat and risk 
changing 'the way things are'. There were few who refrained from 
recognizing and stating the obvious out of ignorance--most of us/them 
did so as a result of being 'bought off' by our current position in life 
nudging us toward accepting THE LIE in order not to put our established 
and manageable world-view at risk of tumbling down around us as the 
result of a violent assault by THE TRUTH.
  The comfort and safety of a world-view paridigm which was willing to 
accept mutually agreed-upon lies, in order to prevent the boat being 
rocked and subject to swamping, was ripped apart by the voice of a 
TruthMonger, Deep Throat Division, crying in the wilderness, to those 
who had 'ears to hear'.

  My sister was predestined to move to NewAge, California, take a Sufi 
name, purchase a mountain of crystals and become a feminist, 
anti-nuclear, yogurt-eating guru dedicated to the promotion of 
color-therapy as the answer to all of humankind's ills.
  The only reason that Charles Manson chose to have his followers 
slaughter Sharon Tate's Baby, instead of my sister, was because she was 
honest enough to admit, during the height of the Vietnam War Craze, that 
the young men of America were being sent to their deaths in order for 
her to enjoy the benefits of refridgeration which were denied to the 
peasants in Third World countries.
  "G.I. Joe died for Standard Oil's sins..."
  ~ A Communist Sympathizer To Be Named Later

  "The King has no clothes!"
  This is the message of the InterNet...

  "KNixon Knew!"
  This is the message of the InterNet...

  "A thousand points of light, censored by the New World Order!"
  This is the message of the InterNet...

  "If the dangerous, high-speed police chase is being video-taped from a 
helicopter following every move of the 'escaping' vehicle, then why is 
it necessary for the police cars to use flashing lights, sirens and the 
threat of armed violence to exacerbate and add to the bad judgments 
being exhibited by someone who has little or no chance of eluding "Three 
air-units." (Verbatim quote from 'World's Scariest Police Chases' which 
is sexually exciting me, even as we speak.)"
  This is the message of the InterNet...

  When is the last time the subject of government regulation came up in 
a business meeting and, when your opinion was solicited, you stated, "We 
have reached a point where it is morally acceptable to kill the 
bastards, but it is not yet feasible to do so."?
  When is the last time you passed this gem of wisdom from Vin 
Suprynowicz (Vin ThePolishKike to Zen Racists) along to fellow Netizens 
who did not hold the power to immediately affect your life for better or 
 worse by deciding whether or not you would continue to receive a 
paycheck?
  This is the message of the InterNet...

  My WebSite was murdered by Sympatico without warning or explaination, 
as a result of Armed Thugs I had offended violating my inherent right to 
speak the Truth as I perceive it. My computers and those of my relatives 
were confiscated without any warning or explaination, as a result of 
Armed Thugs violating my right to speak the Truth as I perceive it.
  The 'Official RCMP Hate Page' now resides in a hidden file on dozens 
of Canadian government computers, thanks to the efforts of a CypherPunks 
list member who is willing to defend my right to free speech regardless 
of the fact that he has contracted a hit-man to murder me for forging 
posts to the list in his name which made him look like a fucking idiot.
   This is the message of the InterNet...


The Truth, The Half-Truth, And Nothing Remotely Resembling The Truth:

  'The Amazing Randi' (?) is a magician who has gone to great effort to 
expose Uri Geller and debunk his claims of using psychic powers to 
accomplish what magicians can replicate through sleight-of-hand.
  Did 'The Babe' *call* his legendary home-run shot by pointing to the 
location he was planning to bury it, or was it a 'lucky' stretch of his 
muscles before stepping into the batter's box?

  I would be the first to admit that a strong case could be made for 
viewing the 'hard evidence' I point to as proof of the validity of my 
rambling, insane conspiracy theories, as being the result of the 
selective presentation of Reality-Bytes filtered through sieves designed 
to present 'chaff' as a real substance not dependent on the existence of 
an imaginary 'wheat' substance whose existence is promoted by 
underground Reptilian
Nazis hell-bent on world domination.
  I would also be the first to admit that 'coincidence' could account 
for Peter Jennings seemingly fullfilling in MeatSpace his 
Virtually-Assigned role as a Circle of Eunuchs Initiate member by 
providing the hard facts and figures substantiating the views espoused 
by 'Epilogue 7.3 Rev. 1.7' of 'SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!'
Not to mention the fact that 'coincidence' could explain the fact that a 
single reference to 'Thelma & Louise' at the end of the same Epilogue 
was followed by references to the movie in dozens of disparate TV shows 
over the next few days (including an episode of '48 Hours' which showed 
excerpts from 'Thelma & Louise" as I was typing this very paragraph...).

  The fact of the matter is, however, that a lifetime of separating 
'coincidence' from 'synchronicity'--through a process of objective 
evaluation of mathematical probability--has led me to believe that this: 
|<----------->| : is 8", in a parallel universe within which women have 
not yet been given the right to vote.
  Likewise, it is ludicrous to live in a universe in which it is a 
recognized scientific fact that the emissions of a cellular phone can 
affect a radio telescope a hundred kilometers distant, while disallowing 
the possibility that the emissions of a human mind, heart or spirit can 
register on a similarly designed biotechnological receptor in local or 
global proximity to the source of the emissions.
  It is equally ludicrous to fail to recognize that physically 
manifested and disseminated symbols representing the results of human 
thoughts, emotions and concepts will have an effect that is every bit as 
observable and predictable as laws of physics concerning inertia, 
impetus, velocity, acceleration and direction, etc.

  If a decade of scientific investigation into the mechanisms by which 
pigeons find their way home proves to be inconclusive, the pigeons will 
still manage to find their way home. If humans find themselves incapable 
of returning to the place they were born without having a 
birth-certificate and a roadmap, salmon are unlikely to abandon their 
natural ability to do so by virtue of a process which could be viewed as 
'Magical Thinking' by those incapable of reducing the process to a 
solveable MeatSpace equation.
  NewAge 'Magical Thinking' is nothing more nor less than an esoteric 
extension of 'The Power of Positive Thinking' paridigm which is the 
foundation of all subsequent self-help, goal-oriented individual 
accomplishment and corporate management systems which recognize that an 
inspirational thought that results in a single step toward Mecca is more 
effective than a thousand corporate meetings discussing the feasibility 
or futility of putting a journey to Mecca on the agenda of the next 
shareholder's meeting.


How To Get Even Without Breaking The Law / Sweet Revenge:

  I have been fucked a thousand times by the arbitrary, capricious 
decisions and actions of a variety of officially recognized 
Authoritarian Sivil Servants who didn't like my looks, my attitude, or 
my breath. I have also avoided being fucked several thousand times by 
'shaping' my answers to their questions in a manner designed to 
misdirect their peckers as they tried to stick them in my butt.
  When the Canadian Customs & Immigration shit hit the fan, and I was 
forced to appear before an official Board of Inquiry convened to decide 
whether or not I could be denied entry into the country of my youth, I 
found myself forced to abandon all logic and reason, and trust in th Tao 
to protect me as I resorted to telling the <gulp><swallow> Truth (TM).

  In the face of damning evidence of my slick, conniving manipulation of 
rules, regulations and laws through the use of Damnable Lies!!!, I 
explained my theory of Variable Speed
Truth (TM) to the Board of Inquiry (although I attributed it to Albert 
Einstein, in order to give it more credibility).
  I explained that, as a Border Child, I had grown up in an environment 
which enabled me to understand that 'Rules Is Rules...' is an extremely 
flexible maxim which can be interpreted by an individual Canadian 
Customs & Immigration OffalSir to mean that, even though you have been 
dating his daughter for several years and have been invited over to 
dinner numerous times, that he can legally deny you entry into the 
country and make you drive fifty miles to enter through another Customs 
Port if you fail to have three hundred and forty-two pieces of picture 
ID, particularly if you kept his daughter out past curfew the previous 
weekend.
  I also explained a variety of situations in which I had crossed the 
US/Canadian border more than once on the same day, and claimed residence 
in different countries, because I knew what each border guard wanted to 
hear in order to make my passage proceed more smoothly, as opposed to 
making my life a living hell for no apparent reason other than their own 
misunderstanding of the laws of the country.
    Although I would be the last to downplay the successful result of my 
appeal as being partly the result of the members of the Board of Inquiry 
being decent people who had retained a small part of their soul while 
serving the Great Beast, I fully recognize that the outcome might have 
been completely different if I had failed to properly play my part in 
the Grand Play by hanging my head in shame as my extremely expensive 
legal counsel pointed out to the Board of Inquiry what a sorry, pathetic 
loser I was, and how the only real options in this case would be to 
forgive my trespasses, or take me to the pound and have me put down like 
the poor, sick, mangy dog that I am.

  My point is that, regardless of the letter or spirit of the existing 
laws, it is up to each individual to interpret them in a manner 
consistent with their own best judgement, and to live with the 
consequences of what they truly believe to be 'right action', no matter 
what judgements or punishments may result from people with larger 
weaponry taking the opposite view.
  Of course, I would be foolish to pass judgement upon those who 
recognize the wisdom in grovelling, snivelling, and hanging one's head 
in shame, if it appears to be the path that will allow one to live to 
fight again another day...kind of like faking a limp on the way back to 
the huddle, in order to break for the Big Score.


An Exercise For The Reader:

  I can no longer remember just where this rambling, semi-coherent 
missive was evenutally designed to end up, but I think it has something 
to do with the fact that my unsubtly veiled threats against those with 
False Smiles (TM) has resulted in the glue-sniffing progeny of A 
Wagon-Burner Named Earlier having had the flimsyl, fabricated assault on 
his Charter Rights abandoned by the dropping of all trumped-up charges 
against him.
  However, this has come at the expense of my being called down to local 
Gestapo Headquarters to receive paperwork indicating that I can expect 
to go to eventually go to prison for at least four years as a result of 
Baby's transgression of the 'Dog At Large' bylaws of the Town of 
Bienfait, Saskatchewan.
  Silly me...my drunken, drug-induced paranoia would have me believe 
that much of my current troubles stem from the fact that I am in the 
midst of preparing a legal defense for a Wagon-Burner whose continuing 
persecution by Dudley DoWrong and John Law was one of the subjects 
addressed in "The Official RCMP Hate Page" chapter of 'SPACE ALIENS HIDE 
MY DRUGS!!!', and who is being persecuted by the same Queen's Court 
Bench prosecutor whose ass I used to wipe the floors of the Halls of 
InJustice and then bragged about it to (G)(g)od And Everybody in a 
public forum on the InterNet.

  Anyway, figure out just what point I am trying to make here, consider 
it made, and hit the <Delete> key at your own convenience...






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