Immanent Apostasy

"So that if there was no Change in Bodies, no Variety in Matter, and no Vicissitude in Beings, there would be nothing agreeable, nothing good, or nothing pleasant.-- Giordano Bruno, Spaccio

Making judgments  is in part how we evolved as a species. Now we destroy each other in mass aggregates of group thinking. My brother Nicholas was white, contracted AIDS off a contaminated needle, died in excruciating fashion, and yet I cannot take offense at Justine Sacco and her viral-deleted tweet. Even Caucasians of Boer descent should be allowed to be cavalier without such severe penalty as to be deprived of livelihood.

I revert to utter lack of optimism about our species. You will wipe yourselves out in 500 years or less, elevating Oakies for bread and circuses, only to fell them on urbane castigation of media arbitration. I did not read the article GQ,  but since my limited mobility makes me humanoid thrice removed, toppling Sacco and Robertson is easier than faggot-defamation stalking a cripple mortally wounded by American Stalinist micro police tendencies.

I was polite to Jeff Bonforte during the yahoo mail outage, and then I had feedback from twitter resisting my courtesy. Corporations are granted anthropomorphic status for legal purposes, but the idea that they have persona elevates jackasses to post-apocalyptic status. Doesn't mean they aren't still operated by people, however, this despite liberal attempts to brandish them with genocidal intent. Big Oil, big tobacco. Humans are replaceable, but creating the Bill & Linda Gates Foundation, that is a centennial generated event, contracted through the acceleration of efficiency and data processing.

Bruno had his tongue pierced while he roasted; More was beheaded for staunch loyalty. The Inquisition is superbly modern in reverberation. Not that I'm perfect; at times the construct is left in the air, perfectly capable of being polite to Claudie when I visit Dunkin Donuts. Haiti and its unfortunate citizens, a defacto 52 state of the last western empire, fascinates me, as it did Graham Greene, screaming to Amazon that a Graham Greene quality kindle edition is an absolute necessity.

We're all martyrs for all seasons. Should I really go to Elk Forge?

Sponge Cake

Roger Greenspun pinpoints the leaky unraveling in Angel Levine as a film. The basic real time plot is Mostel witnesses a bodega theft, protests while the thief dies in a hit and run, reappears as Belafonte. From that point on we are asked by Kadar to consider the strike at hubris in the parable of Babel, and this is what I meant about lack of coherence, rather than an ambiguity of doubt. I wasn't in the frame of mind on the seventeenth to stay awake and examine the cinematography once more past the swirling kaleidoscope of fragmented effect.

Now I know where I am relocating once I charge Presby with a hate crime, civil rights violations, and a Chief Justice Roberts favorite, reverse discrimination. The secrets of exploiting the disadvantaged like slaughter house cattle are buried here, which makes my diabolical intelligence a threat to the system. Before I hired the swindling cleaning service T2S, I verbally offered Trudy a deal in return for an affidavit (not that I used the word affidavit--Trudy is a good imitation of an educated woman, but my IQ would put all three of the downstairs sisters on the defensive, and has, partly why I've survived to type this post). But fuck the deal.

Despite my lifelong education in black manner, I left the cleaning technician from Wilmington alone. I gave her space, and ninety dollars. I still lost, and I am tired of letting Protestant hypocrisy whiplash me. The fight goes on. Hopefully Dru man won't regret it if I trot on up for a visit. We'll see. Lovely holiday gift, I would think.