Sunday 26 September 2010

The Granite Face Of Oppression.

What are the means of oppression in civil societies? Do the oppressors let the genie out of the lamp and start murdering at will?

Not quite.
While murder is always on the cards for those who do not conform, the real weapon at the disposal of oppressors is something that looks like (but isn't) indifference.

When we expect a fight, we are actually left with only boredom. Such boredom as makes us question whether there was a conflict at all, boredom that erases tension so fully that we are led to question ourselves, to question why we should question.

We are supposed to shrivel up and die.
The granite-face rarely shows any signs of life, and then only to our backs, lest we should realise we were right.

Oppression is a wall, a unity, a will to victory over all like us that encourages the few clowns who venture forth occasionally to torment us with their fraudulent sympathy and poisonous alliance; help, the more to enfeeble us.
And to question help?
Is to question common humanity.

When they take their rightful places in the wall, the wall between us and home, then we may wonder whether at all there was help.

But when the creatures of conformity see that we in turn are indifferent, then you see what led them to try and belong; the person you reflect to will feel the tables turned, and be brought back to their own distant defeat when that feverish, threatening indifference made them find the way to surrender, so as to feel the full kindness and welcome of the stinking sweat of the human crowd, a smell that has come to mean belonging.

And when you turn the tables on them, however fleetingly, you might see the human inside, struggling to belong to you instead.

But if you bring only freedom, you may find only hate.

Sunday Drivers.

I had to go and get fuel for next week; as I attempted to join the main road, a learner car came shooting up at way over the 40 limit.
I gave way and slotted in behind, but not without difficulty, as the guy slowed down sharply.

There was no student. It was the instructor.

For the remainder of the 40 limit, he did 34.
A queue started to form.

Back in the 60 limit, he accelerated, slowly and erratically, to 49. At one stage he nearly swerved into oncoming traffic.

Then we hit a 30 zone, in which he did 28.

Then we were back out on the open road, and I blew him away. Eventually he passed the petrol station where I was filling up.

This joker actually teaches this crap to people and they do it in real life, afterwards.

He should be sacked.

Anyway, on the way back I get the same shit from some people in an Alfa Romeo 2.0 Twin Spark.
Typical sports car being driven pathetically by a total incompetent.

I blew this one off as well on the next clear stretch, and never saw it again.

Why are there so many stupid bastards on the roads?

Wednesday 15 September 2010

Don't Keep Strange Society.

Every few years, something happens; a social interaction, a snub, a violation, something which moves into my consciousness and refuses to be dismissed easily.

It is sensitivity of a special sort, the sensitivity to something moving on me with a particular precision.

It usually comes as an attack from a quarter which is classed as friendly, without warning.
There are certain people who operate with a type of reserve which is anything but passive, and in fact is only waiting for the right opportunity to attack.

The attack can come when you're doing well, when you are relaxed and happy, or when you are down and out.

Come to think of it, the attacks on me are launched at times when any reasonable slug, peering out from under its stone, might presume to think that I am fragile or experiencing difficulties.

Of course, they underestimate me; and most people in fact.
Whereas somebody might look at me and think I'm alone and unemployed and short of money, in fact my prospects are bright, I have enough money (rosy circumstances of my own arrangement) and I enjoy being alone.

Usually it is some coward who fears my circumstances who tries to enforce their lame-brained classification of me, in order to feel superior.

This gratuitous evil can always be erased from their records by acceptance of relatives, or friends, or priests(!), but it leaves a permanent and growing psychological mechanism in their minds, the very mechanism they try to impose.

The plain fact is that a lot of these people exist only in terms of their own property, and to lose it would destroy them.
Give me a self-made man anytime. They won't be a vicious little moral weakling. Although they may well have their vices, social relativism isn't likely to be one of them.

Then of course, for the suspicious among us, there is the possibility that sometimes these people apply pressure all too exactly, all too precisely; that in fact they have given some thought to the matter.
At these times one has to be careful not to yell "Conspiracy!" too quickly.

But sometimes the depth of thought required to account for the unaccountable persistence over time of an encounter's bad flavour, is such that there can only be an active intelligence somewhere in the chain of delivery.

Who knew where evil grew, eh?

Saturday 11 September 2010

Why? I'll Tell You Why.

Our leaders(by presumption) call in every law enforcement, legal and publicity instrument every time someone threatens to reply in kind to Islamic terrorism and abuse; yet they do this at a time when the armed forces are fighting wars against the people who represent that hatred against us.

Why on Earth do they do that?

Well, it is simple.
The central principle(and excuse) for all socialist intervention and abuse is this:
Disinterest!

The adoption of disinterest as the sole excuse for all their crimes is the big fire curtain protecting their minds from the events of the World Stage, the only thing that allows them to go on doing what they do without realising what they do.

And the central tenet of disinterest demands one thing in particular;
action, but action divorced from morality.

What the socialists do understand, but never let on, is that morality isn't a dead collection of rules written in a book on etiquette, but is a real, dynamic, living feeling invested in the physical nature, the humanity, of Human Beings.

So to maintain the delusion of disinterest, they must at all times act and run contrary to human nature, they must try to neutralise it.

In other words, our armies must not kill Islamist murderers because of righteous hatred.

They must do it for the Islamists own good.

Monday 6 September 2010

It Beggars Belief

FOSS means 'Free, Open Source(code) Software.
I've been nibbling at FOSS for about 4 years now, by way of various Linux-based systems.
And what you get for nothing is nothing short of stupendous.
My present Operating System is supported for three years, but can be updated every six months to the next complete version; at any time, several updates may appear. There is no fuss, the process is open and leaves an audit trail with complete control over what and when things are updated.
For nothing, I get Gimp, which is equivalent to Adobe Photoshop. I can edit audio with Audacity to close to studio quality.
I can extract sound from video, I can play with the sound, put it back in and have fun on youtube with WinFF and Kdenlive.
I can produce full-length DVDs. At no cost except the blank DVDs.

Never mind that the market share is small.

The latest Linux distributions are what is driving the prices of Windows 7 down to £60 for Home Premium 7; Microsoft is now having to work its butt off to produce a product anywhere near as good, and it is only habit which is preserving market share, the habits of people who produce software for Microsoft systems, game authors and so on.

I'm now seeing jobs advertised for gaming programmers able to work in Linux; once this takes off, the youngsters will no longer have a reason to use Microsoft, and the price will fall further.

They cannot win. Their technology is, up to now, fundamentally inferior to Linux. I can obtain free Studios for programming which also work on windows.
Microsoft is supposed to be a great example of Capitalism, but it is valid to say it resembles the monolithic State Capitalism(if you take manipulation of capital as the definition) of the Soviet Union, which is dying in the face of People Power.

In ten years, maybe five, the alleged monopoly of Microsoft may well be a memory like the Soviet Union.

The real challenge for the future is how to embrace the FOSS movement in such a way that it is profitable and Capitalistic without anachronistic business restriction, so that it avoids all the pitfalls of politicised sponsorship and subversion.

Oracle is a large corporation; it has absorbed two of the fundamentals of FOSS, Open Office(a completely compatible substitute for Microsoft Office) and MySQL, a FOSS SQL-type server system.

Whether Oracle moves forwards with a new business model, or simply tries to snuff out the Linux market by killing two of its 'killer apps', will determine how soon the model changes, or whether we have to start again with replacements.

What the corporations are going to learn, one way or another, is that they don't own us or our minds.

Friday 3 September 2010

Another Exerpt From "The Hunters"

Straw was enjoying his breakfast, if that was the word for it.

The hotel had a breakfast bar supplied by a Chinese company called 'McFarm', which was supplying yolk-free eggs and salt-free pork patties in muffins, like the real thing but without the flavour.

A blue Chinese Rover 75 pulled up outside the lobby, and the driver waited while a shaven-headed SSS man – sorry, SP, they'd changed their name to Special Police – bounded up with a fresh smile and a banker's coat.

The announcement went out from the lobby desk for Robert Travis.

Arthur walked over, with an outstretched hand;

Hello, good morning, everybody calls me Rab.”

Good morning mister Travis, I've come to take you to see the big man. You ready?”

The brightness and head jerking exaggeration of the SP man were something Arthur disliked immediately. He smiled.

Certainly, let's go.”

They walked out to the Ersatz Rover, which really had some sort of unpronouncable Chinese name, and the rough diesel moved them briskly through the streets, West to Whitehall.

Straw took in the sights with a deceptively idle gaze; gone were the sandbags and barbed wire at Trafalgar Square. Instead the approaches were preserved behind a gated wall similar to the Peace Wall in the Falls Road in old Belfast.

Notice anything different?” asked the SPC.

Can't say I do. Years since I came South. I'm guessing the barriers are new?”

Yes, mister Travis. There was something of a terrorist problem a few years back.”

Terrorists?”

Sectarians, malcontents, what you will.”

We're safe now though?”

Oh yes.” Again with the exaggerated smile.”Quite safe.”

There was a hint of madness about Straw's grin.

That's good to know.”