Monday 30th of November 2020

looking after us...


Individually, we are intelligent… We have evolved and we have developed intelligence. From the age when we can support ourselves and our family we do whatever we can to use the system in which we are born into.


We need food, shelter and comfort for our feelings. Our feelings include love, hope and compassion. In general we are brainwashed by the system — and by our self on the edges of our natural desires, and we try to minimise hurt, relatively.

This seems to work well as long as we avoid confusion. Conflicting ideas and the forces of nature can make dents in our comprehension. The system gives us some freedom to act, but in general the system does prefer predictable behaviour. We become statistical entities — numbers with a growth factor included, as most systems demands more of us by design or by accidents — it’s in the bible: "go forth and multiply”. 

The way humanity is divided into various groups from families, countries and alliances creates various competitions of needs and wants. Sustainability which should be a number’s game of balance becomes a trick of statistical accounting. 

We have a problem. There are too many of us. Or is there? Do we need to fill all the squares of the board game to realise that we’re not going to win the planetary Tictacto game, even if we all end up eating plastic food. Despite our intelligence, individual and systemic, we still play a reactive ad-hoc game with nature and with each other.

This is not "planet of the humans", but the planet of the interactive proteins. The proteins could become obsolete if the robots take over. This is not a new concept. In Fritz Lang movie, Metropolis, the robots become the new masters. Back in the 18th century, mechanoids build from clockworks could perform some delicate tasks. Some of the makers of the time, already envisioned that these crude robots could one day be imbued with emotional and active intelligence. In the 21st century (or whatever timefame is used to measure our present), we could be on the cusp of such invention. Can the robots become their own generators from extraction of minerals to forging metallic envelop and electronic quantum intelligent evaluations?

In the age of Covid19, in which our individual and systemic human reactions are mixed, yet drastic due to fear of the unknown, our Age of Deceit seems to be on the cusp of the age of confusion. The more we know, the less we understand what is best for us. While in the past, our drive was mostly deceitful, it was assured by the right of godly kings and dictators fighting for supremacy. These were our systemic ideals. Presently despite our deceit which stretches from fake news and weird real news to Donald Trump’s fantasy world, our future is less certain than ever before, though most of us carry on as usual “in the safety of numbers", thinking less and less and valuing distractions more and more. Have we stretched our illusions beyond the realms of this little planet?…

Many of us — still in the grip of philosophical amusement park merry-go-rounds and big dippers — manage to ask the questions. With more questions than answers, we seem to be regressing. We vote for the dork rather than the deceitful. Meanwhile we are aware that our behavioural models are manipulated by the artificial values of derivative ideas rather than the hardcore structure of life on earth. 

Will we muck "it" up? “It" being whatever we choose… We have mucked it up before, but more often than not our muck up was done with the deceitful certainty of improvement. Now? We are in the grip of confused uncertainty on many levels and we cannot rely on the saving grace of our deceit to write the next chapter… Are we going to hit the wall in slow motion or at high speed?

Good luck.

Ephemeral traveller.

in a state of panic...

From C.J. Hopkins

Cowering before the Virus of Mass Destruction

It isn’t yet clear how totalitarian this show will get, but, given the nature of the pilot episode, I am kind of dreading the rest of the series.

There comes a point in the introduction of every new official narrative when people no longer remember how it started. or, rather, they remember how it started, but not the propaganda that started it. or, rather, they remember all that (or are able to, if you press them on it), but it doesn’t make any difference anymore, because the official narrative has supplanted reality.

You’ll remember this point from the War on Terror, and specifically the occupation of Iraq. By the latter half of 2004, most Westerners had completely forgotten the propaganda that launched the invasion, and thus regarded the Iraqi resistance as “terrorists,” despite the fact that the United States had invaded and was occupying their country for no legitimate reason whatsoever. By that time, it was abundantly clear that there were no “weapons of mass destruction,” and that the USA had invaded a nation that had not attacked it, and posed no threat to it, and so was perpetrating a textbook war of aggression.


What I’m describing probably sounds like psychosis, but, technically speaking, it isn’t ... not quite. It is not an absolute break from reality. People functioning in this state know that what they believe is not real. Nonetheless, they are forced to believe it (and do, actually, literally, believe it, as impossible as I know that sounds), because the consequences of not believing it are even more frightening than the cognitive dissonance of believing a narrative they know is a fiction. Disbelieving the official narrative means excommunication from “normality”, the loss of friends, income, status, and in many cases far worse punishments.

Herd animals, in a state of panic, instinctively run towards the centre of the herd. Separation from the herd makes them easy prey for pursuing predators. It is the same primal instinct operating here.


Read more:



Gus note: The herd mentality here is to isolate members of the herd with social distancing and home detention... as the predator COMES FROM WITHIN THE HERD...


See also:

google should be hit in the gonads...


Hi, Dave, my name is Hal. I’m here to help…

Google should be destroyed. It is not designed to help but to make a profit. 

I am a handy handyman. I can fix nearly everything. Give me a Russian rocket (with plans attached to speed up the process) or a US Shuttle, a Ford Falcon or a Holden prior 1990 — before they invented the “electronics” that control everything when they work — and I can fix a broken ceramic tile or a 12 valve engine… 

Should your electronics go kaput in your BMW, it could cost you upward to $5,000 to get them fixed — unless you decide to to a trade-in… Which could be cheaper, because as they say in the preface of any good handyman's handbook, when something goes crap and gets fixed, something else is going to go crap, immediately.

But in general, gimme your tired washing machine and your leather-belted 50-year old Simpsonian dryer, and I can fix it — providing I can find spare parts. But even then I can fix things with a bit of fudge and some glue. Elastic bands come in handy… Masking tape is excellent for old vacuum cleaner suction pipes, but I have been told that they will ration masking tape andmake  fixing vacuum cleaner suction pipes illegal, especially in the covid affected fascist-regime.

So, why should Google be blowup? Well, should you be looking for a spare part for a gizmo that has a bit of trouble, the first sites to find part number #45739-B are maned by “experts” and you can join for the modest fee of $5 as long as you give your credit card details in full. From then on, an “expert” (a polite computerised generated sub-search engine with the voice of Marilyn Monroe) will guide you to a pile of excellent rubbish, not even as useful as a call-centre in India.

I don’t go there. 

I carry on searching and on page 14.7 of the Goggle search, there is the OFFICIAL site of the gizmo's manufacturer and all the spares available — except the one you need.  So you (politely) email the manufacturer with an accurate reference of the part needed and where it fits in the washing machine model XXXX-9.1. The reply comes back a day later demanding you supply the make and serial number of your sick food processor.

This is where, young people would give up and throw a perfectly good gizmo into the Cook’s river — and buy a new one. Not Uncle Gus… Having a collection of barely one million useless stuff and Steptoe sparts, I can make the spart (spare part) out of an old bicycle handlebar — and the new contraption will work for eternity. 

Google should be strangled...