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General observations of events in the news or daily happenings.

Rapt

Friends:

I want to present a possible conspiracy theory which I think has as much merit as anything else I’ve seen on social

BUT I don’t want to do it to contribute to anxiety (at least not directly) because first of all, it’s a quasi-positive theory; and second, I want to build on it to explore a darker side of something else which we’ve been hearing a lot about, but whose whole picture isn’t discussed.

I’ll get to it:

Assuming that there are strings being pulled at a high level, and that 5G, Covid, Tiger King, et al are smoke and/or mirrors, it occurs to me that the forced quarantine has less to do with safety and more to do with conditioning -priming- people for a post-employment world (PEW). For example, the benefits programs which are being enacted seem like a pilot program for universal basic income (UBI) and even staunch opponents of such government “handouts” are being mollified into accepting it when the stakes are theoretically raised by a plague. Slowly, as we sit at home and begin receiving money, we will become more accepting of the PEW.

Now one major objection to UBI is where the money for it comes from. However we can’t talk about that without a larger convo about central banking, FRB, fiat currency, etc., and that is beyond the scope of this post.

The second major criticism of UBI is, “What will people do with their time? Probably become fat, lazy blobs.” We’re seeing that now: some are catching up with loved ones, others are developing hobbies, some are venting online (🙋‍♂️), and some are reporting on their neighbours. The cream of society is doing what it always does, rising, and without getting too eschatological, I don’t think we are speaking too recklessly in comparing this as a rapture of sorts. Who will rise to the call?

But I digress, because this UBI talk should received as a blessing; our level of technology is poised to displace most workers and this is simply the first wave which the marks the flow of that tide. So rejoice, right?

Well, here’s where it gets dark: if we do become dependant on governments for payments rather than earning our living, we threaten to atrophy and erode what sense of individualism and individual autonomy we still have left. Being financially dependant on an institution makes us much less likely to meaningfully challenge that institution, if we aren’t already paralyzed with fear by the thought.

If the hand is feeding us, we can’t bite it, and I think this is an oft-under-appreciated negative externality of UBI. What if we rely on government money and our behaviour is deemed overtly anti-state? Do we get cut off? It’s possible. Yet even if you think that overtly anti-state behaviour is worth cutting someone off for, that self-same technological advancement which displaced us from our jobs is also poised to passively track all of our movements, habits and purchases and rate us on an unknown algorithm as the threat we might possibly manifest one day.

We may very well see ourselves get “cut off” for a cumulative set of behaviours which, though innocuous in isolation, together culminate into a problematic profile. Or if not cut off entirely, then have our wings clipped through travel limitations, higher fees for services, etc. as we see happening more and more in China.

I don’t know what I think about this whole situation but I’ve expressed the following sentiment to close friends and I hope it brings you some comfort. If our situation is shit, then know that it has never not been shit. By that rationale, it’s as good as its ever been and we KNOW it could be so much worse. When it seems like things “above you” are pushing “down” on you, you must remember that if you are properly oriented upward -toward that highest ideal- obstacles don’t come from above -they come from the side. It is only when we take our eyes off the goal and cower from the things around us that they appear to tower over us and dominate us. But, if we keep focus upward then we will navigate the vicissitudes of life like we always have: in suffering, in pain, with death, and -if we keep focused upward- maybe with some success.

Don’t be they guy on the bottom. It’s rapture, baby; rise or get risen over.

Best,
-Dre

 

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I’m Never Gonna Treat You Like I Should

“You know that I’m no good/
I’m never gonna treat you like I should…
…I’m  a part-time lover.”

Friends,

Em is upstairs in my bed. I am in the living room on the couch. Neither of us could sleep. I would be lying if I said that my insomnia wasn’t partly due to her presence in my bed, but I could also blame the late afternoon coffees I had and of course all of the thoughts swirling around in my head.

The main thought swirling around in the mental morass right now is that I need to be away from my family. All of them. There’s noone I want to see right now. It’s not about them being bad, but rather that I feel bad around them. I feel inadequate, and when I’m around them all the ways I have been deficient as a member of the family are thrown in sharp relief.

Of course I recognize the flawed logic: I have been gone and so to make it better I will stay gone? –That hardly makes sense, right? Well no, not if I want to make things better with them. That’s a big ‘if’ though. I want to make things better for me.

I am so anchored by this feeling of owing something to my family. I am consciously aware of it on some level with my grandparents and ancestors, and the last few years I have been putting undue pressure on myself to have a family. Still in the last few months since my failed engagement and year in Germany which were followed by decompression in Latin America and a few other adventures, I feel like I need to prove something to my more immediate family; father, step-father and siblings. These feelings don’t serve me and I find myself full of insecurities when I’m around them. I don’t wanna feel that way anymore. I get resentful even when my sister messages me saying she is with my grandparents and asking if I can come out. She wanted to put me in touch with a second cousin whom I haven’t seen in years today and I said ‘yes’ but I was inwardly annoyed.

I had it out with my brother today. Lately every time I see him its a problem. Every time I go to his house I feel I am walking on eggshells. I don’t want to feel that anymore. En route back home after parting ways with him I was angry and resolute not to be put in that situation again. And that anger brings me to Em -hopefully now sleeping soundly now that the noise of my thoughts is away from her.

I messaged Em on the bus back home alluding to her recently-single status and in short order made it clear that I was looking to fuck. There has been some flirting and attraction since we met a few weeks back, but she had a boyfriend and I wasn’t trying to bring any drama into my life. On a more fundamental level, I know how much power I have both to hurt people emotionally and to get love-distracted from my own aspirations, and so I am very careful, cautious and even afraid to get involved with someone. However, in my state of indignant anger after having it out with my brother I wasn’t trying to be careful, cautious or fearful -I wanted to fuck.

Long story short, Em eventually did come over but she had to finish work and in the 4.5 hours that elapsed from when I first messaged her, my righteous indignation boner had mostly subsided. Plus, she had her own shit going on which wasn’t really conducive to the fuck-making I had been quite clear about wanting to do –ladies, y u do dis? We frolicked a little and sex could have happened if I had taken one of several opportunities to kiss her, but I didn’t/don’t want to kiss her. I wanted to fuck, nothing intimate. So we ended up just hanging out from like 6:30 onward and it wasn’t unpleasant but all I could think about was the work I wasn’t getting done.

I’m annoyed at her for taking up my time….and my bed, but I’m more annoyed at myself for letting it happen. I should know better than to think that I can be nice to a girl and a pleasure to be around and that she will, as a result, do anything less than take up more of my time.

I’m annoyed with my brother. Annoyed because I unquestioningly took the weekend to help him move some furniture because he has a bad back while he gave me a hard time about giving me a ride to a bus station when he knows I don’t have a vehicle and that to drive anywhere from his middle of nowhere country home is a mission. But again, I am more annoyed with myself for allowing him the opportunity to have power over me.

My family is like women in that both are time-pits. They are to time what cars are to money. I need to be hustling, grinding and saving my time and that means not only not spending time with them, but not spending time thinking about them.

Time to be ruthless 😐

Best,
-Dre

 

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An Almost Complete Picture…

Friends,

A thing occurred to me.

It’s one of those incredibly circumstantial things with multiple avenues pointing in the same direction, but where the final (key) piece still eludes me. In a word, Moscow.

Moscow is the political capital of the Russian Federation.
Moscow is the home of St. Basil’s Cathedral (The Cathedral of Vasily the Blessed)

St. Basil’s towers resemble (to me) mushrooms, like Amanita Muscaria.

The active ingredient in A. Muscaria is Muscimol.
Something of Moscow is Muscovite.
There is more than one St. Basil.
The St. Basil who lent his name to the aforementioned cathedral was a holy fool.
I suspect there is a yet-to-be-discovered connection between mushrooms and holy fools.
(I myself have considered devoting myself to the mushrooms and forsaking all else…like heroin, I’m waiting ’til I’m in my 70s)
There is a connection between A. Muscaria and Santa Claus. Said connection is also HERE.

This is what a connection looks like.

The second St. Basil I mentioned is considered an inspiration for Santa Claus (#mushroomsanta).
St. Nicholas, the name often ascribed to Santa Claus, is the patron saint of (drug-haven) Amsterdam and (gasp!) Moscow!!
**********Secondary Connections************
The mineral, Muscovite is named after Moscow (duh!)
Muscovite is the most common mica (tenuous, I know)
Muscovite was first mentioned as a name for the mineral in letters to Ivan the Terrible in 1568.
Ivan the terrible was a contemporary and pallbearer for **dum dum dum* drumroll please!)….. ST. BASIL!?!

Conclusion

BASIL AGAIN!!

Short answer: I don’t know what it all means but I do have a hunch which I trust that there was oodles of mushroom fuckery in Imperial Russia. Furthermore, I’m just crazy and smart enough to believe that my noticing these connections means there is something to them.

Still, there is a key-piece missing, isn’t there? It seems like there is heaps of peripheral information but that something central to tie it up still eludes us. I’m going to keep researching this with priority placed on shedding light on the St. Basil’s cathedral mushroom connection as there is a work project I wish to write based on that.

In the meantime, can anyone help me get to the bottom of this and find the missing piece that ties it all together?

Best,
-Dre

P.S. There is only one other person aside from myself whom I know that has managed to trip off of A. Muscaria. If anyone else has managed to trip on it I would love to hear about it. My trip can be found HERE.

 

 

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Fuck Hater Bitches!

Friends,

Back in early 2010 I was 25 years old, almost a year back from Afghanistan, in my second semester of my third year of university, and dating a really pretty and sweet young girl named Chelsea. Chelsea was 18. We got along well and bonded over our love of the gym. We ended staying together for 5 years -it was a beautiful thing.

This post isn’t about Chelsea; this post is about sticking it to hater-ass bitches.

At this time, 2010, Chelsea was still living on campus in a residence. I would come visit her and often spend the night. Coming by after a certain time however, especially on the weekend, meant that I would have to get signed in. This was typically never a problem but one night I came in a little drunk from a party on a Friday night and hilarity ensued.

What went wrong?

First off, I suppose I looked like a shady defiler of barely legal girls in a vintage red leather jacket holding a couple of peacock feathers; feathers which, even now, I’m not quite sure how I obtained so late in Canadian winter (God, I used to be so cool!). Now at the time I could swear that the jacket made me look like Brad Pitt in Fight Club, but it’s also possible I was delusional.

Yeah, it was definitely the latter.

Second, my attitude probably didn’t help either: I am typically defiant when I need to show identification and the entitled attitude of student volunteers always came off as particularly irksome to me, as I had seen a modicum of authority take otherwise insignificant people for the worst in the military. In any event, the lobby sign-in was being staffed by some sophomore girls and guys who had turned their shift into a party with music and such. The lead girl had gotten quite the case of runaway self-esteem, taking the piss out of people who wanted to get signed in. I had texted Chelsea as I walked up to the building and as it usually took her a moment or two to reach the lobby, I walked over to the table.

The mother hen gazed inquiringly at me.

I gazed back.

She blushed a little, gave me the googly-eyes and then complimented my peacock feathers.

I thanked her and offered her one.

She took it and asked me who I was here to see.

I told her.

She asked to see my ID.

I obliged.

She looked at my ID, then up at me, then at the 1984 birthdate.

“You’re?…twentyyy….”

“Five!” I responded with a benevolent, though drunken grin.

“How old is Chelsea?” she asked.

“18.” I responded, just as good-naturedly.

“You’re …seven years older than her?!

“Awesome, right?”

She turned to her friend and I overheard her expressing concern to her friend that I was 25 and Chelsea was only 18, but just then Chelsea walked up looking as petite and sweet as ever. She smiled at my ridiculous outfit, and also because she knew I was a little drunk and this might have been her first time seeing that.

As Chelsea was a bit of a head-turner, the guys in the group started to take notice of me also. I don’t think they (the dudes) had a problem with me beyond the fact that I was an off-campus interloper coming into their house and having a slumber-party with one of theirs, but the girls were a little indignant.

The mother hen turned to Chelsea: “He’s your guest?”

She acknowledged this was so.

The mother hen screwed her face up a little as I walked by hands up, not guilty, free like OJ all day.

What could she do? I was an invited guest with ID, and a full-time student to boot. I told her to enjoy her feather and I walked past the ‘doorman’, having, to the best of my recollection, a wonderful rest of the evening.

Fuck hater bitches!

Best,
-Dre

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Children of Mandalorians

Friends,

I just finished Chapter 3 of Prince Oberyn in Space and (SPOILERS!) something occurred to me as I watched its Mandalorian protagonist eavesdrop on Werner Herzog’s “Client” character before rescuing baby Yoda: The Client, it seems, wants something extracted from the infant and he doesn’t seem particularly concerned with the its survival. Right off the bat this reminded me of harvesting ADAM from little sisters in the Bioshock series…

this is four panels show how a little sister is harvested in bioshock

…and ADAM was essentially stem cells.

Chapter 4 of The Mandalorian has not dropped yet, but I would hazard a guess that the Client wanted Midi-chlorians. MCs are not stem cells per se, but they do some pretty incredible things and I think it’s significant that the client wants to extract them from an infant, as it makes the stem cell comparisons inescapable.

So now we have two assumptions:
1) The Client wants Midi-chlorians from baby Yoda, and…
2) Midi-chlorians are an allegory for fetal stem cells
Let’s run with these assumptions, taking them all the way to their ultimate conclusion and see what Disney is trying to tell us about stem cells through coded messaging.

Harvesting Stem Cells From Babies is Bad

If you listened to Alex Jones’ most recent appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience (and you definitely should), and if you furthermore believed even half of what he talked about, you would know that harvesting terminated pregnancies is very lucrative in the United States, and agencies like Planned Parenthood are bravely leading the charge. In our little allegory, the Client (a German eugenicist who employs a mad scientist) and his Imperial Remnant faction could be said to be Planned Parenthood insofar as they intend to profit from what they harvest from Yoda.

“You could harvest these nuts, nukka!”

In the scene where the Mandalorian rescues Yoda we even see him dispatch one of those floating “abortion orbs” which extracted something from Leia (information, but still…) in Episode IV.

In retrospect, this makes me wonder about how many abortion references I missed in the original trilogy. Probably millions…

Yoda for his part seems drugged up and oblivious to the fact that they are about to steal his mojo…

….and this only reinforces his lamb-like innocence.

Man(dalorian) the Fuck Up!

I know the word Mandalorian has been around in Star Wars lore forever, but it’s nonetheless fitting that this male character with such a manly appellation (he’s even called, ‘Mando’ by no less a man than Apollo Creed himself aka Carl Weathers aka Greef) would be the one to rescue the helpless child from the abortionists. After all, protecting the family -born and unborn alike- is a father’s job, and Mando is very heavy-handedly established as a surrogate father.

the mandalorian and yoda imprinting pn each other and establishing a father child dynamic

However there is more than one Mando, and collectively they, the Mandalorians, have been forced underground since the abortionists (a term herein being used interchangeably with ‘the empire’) did away with them in The Great Purge. In their exile they have retained their warrior ways, their honour, and (a few personal flourishes on their armour notwithstanding) a high-standard of uniformity in dress and deportment.

this image shows that all of the mandalorians have unique flourished to their armor but there is nonetheless a consistent them

In fact, The Mandalorian’s rebuilding of his armour is a fairly prominent plot point of the first three episodes, and the other, non-Mandalorian bounty hunters seem to resent his highly-visible self-improvement when he walks into a bar in his new threads (more on that in a moment).

“I’m here to rescue fetuses and chew bubblegum…”

But before you reductively think that Disney is making a statement that men are based and all women are abortionists, it bears mention that the Mandalorians are led by a matriarch, and she, as well as being their blacksmith and authority, also seems to be their keeper of traditions, stories and children -or foundlings at least.

Wretched Hives and the Scum & Villainy Therein

Remember how I said that the other bounty hunters all looked like bums compared to Mando in his new dipped threads? A large part of it has to do with their individual deportment; nobody looks particularly well-armoured or strong.

More importantly, they all seem very ragtag -there is no uniformity, just a bunch of poorly-dressed, self-interested individuals about as organized as atheist, godless protestors who have no higher principle to organize behind than a desire to tear down what is good –fashion slaves protestin’ to get in a fuckin’ lookbook as it were (word to Killer Mike!).

Contrast that to the Mandalorians, a tightly-knit, albeit quarrelsome, family who have a higher ethos than self-interest; a higher calling than mere bounty hunting. Specifically, the Mandalorians have a religion referred to as “The Way,” and for better or worse, it keeps them cohesive while underground, it places priority on continuity through the sponsoring of foundlings, and it leads the tribe to come to Mando’s rescue when he is ambushed by the (pro-choice?) bounty hunters attempting to steal the baby away from its newfound father for a reward. And all of this while comporting themselves with a high-degree of uniformity.

So what does it mean? Well I think how we put ourselves out in the world matters. Guy Richie talked about how a man’s suit is his suit of armour -it’s how he openly and honourably shows how he’s part of the game, it shows which game he’s playing, and it furthermore shows how he invites all challenges. Mando does no less, making no apologies for what he is all about, walking into Greef’s hangout, wholly unafraid of making a statement.

That Statement?: “I’m better than you.”

And that is how the righteous must always be -nay, that is the only way they can be.

the path of the righteous man“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.”

Don’t be virtuous unless you are well comfortable with being hated and schemed on by others.

B A S E D Favreau?

So is the show’s writer and EP, Jon Favreau consciously trying to make an anti-abortion statement? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was his sub-conscious feelings peeking through; as a father, this is his story. Still, it’s important to remember that we’re operating on two assumptions: The unconfirmed assumption that the Client wants Midi-chlorians from Yoda; and the poetically licentious assumption that Midi-chlorians are allegorical for stem cells. However, even if both of these assumptions are incorrect, the fact remains that the Client wishes to harvest something from Yoda and cares little if he survives. This dynamic has real world parallels and I find it difficult to believe that Favreau was not cognizant of those parallels.

On it’s own, I don’t find this story outrageous in light of said parallels -on the contrary, fathers protecting children is about as old and traditional as stories get. That said, I was nonetheless surprised to notice such an allegory in a Star Wars program, as the Star Wars franchise since the Disney takeover seems to have prioritized progressivism and female empowerment. Meanwhile The Mandalorian is at the very least a celebration of older values, and at most, a condemnation of the progressive values which have led the franchise astray.

Still, maybe I’m seeing something that’s not there, but I studied English literature so can you really blame me?

Looking forward to Episode 4: The Abortionists Strike Back!

Best,
-Dre

 

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Cold Servings

Friends,

I got betrayed by someone whom I offered to help. Helping this person would have helped me too. Helping this person would have required solidarity, ruthlessness, and a long memory for how we had both been transgressed against by a third party.

Her memory wasn’t adequately long and she took pity on the third party, breaking solidarity with me.

I saw it coming, and should not have put my faith in her.

Still, I’m having trouble not hating her in this moment. I wanted to win. I should have won. But winning in this case hinged upon the weakness, the inadequacy of another.

That weakness / inadequacy in question?: Her compassion and forgiveness in this misplaced context.

Her weakness is going tp cost me time and money, and it’s hard for me in this moment to wish the best for her; to hope that the third party doesn’t continue to transgress against her once I’m gone. Part of me wants things to degenerate further once I’m gone so she’ll realize that virtue misplaced is tantamount to sin. So that she’ll realize that she messed up.

The only thing which softens my current feelings toward her is thinking that perhaps things played out like this for a reason; perhaps this is a part of some larger-order plan -everything is after all.

For now I will simply be patient and take things as they come, making the appropriate adjustments as necessary and acting accordingly.

I don’t intend to forgive her precisely, but in time I will come to be grateful to her.

The wheel keeps on turning. Let us never be so prideful as to think we know where it should stop or that it should stop.

-Dre

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The Sweetest Self-Sacrifice

Friends,

I got a little drunk last night. I hadn’t intended to, but I got to having drinks at the campus bar with new friends, it got good to me, and, well… we all know this story ends. It didn’t help that the campus bar, tlc, was a little dead and so the entire weight of making a night of it rested on our shoulders. Karl aptly referred to the drinks as dance juice and by my third drink I was lubricated enough to tear it up to whatever came on, although I was most affected by the 90s hip-hop.

Oh alcohol -you are always there.

Last night and many nights before, libations have given me the wings and energy I needed to be the life of the party. At what cost though?

Well, my mental faculties, the shape of my body and my feelings of health and wellness the next day. What am I sacrificing these things for? Well to bond with people socially; to feel connected.

Is the sacrifice worth it? Depends on the people for sure. Depends on the frequency too, as bonding with people is one of those things which has a place, but it also must be kept in bounds. In the Japanese salaryman culture for example, I have anecdotally heard stories of over-worked high-achievers having breakdowns after weeks, months and years of prolonged workdays, extended by unpaid overtime, and not actually finished until after a full evening of drinking with workmates.

On the other hand, Gavin McInnes aptly described the breakdown of his relationship with Shane Smith as “we stopped going out for beers together.” -There’s something to that.

There’s this idea I’ve heard too about alcohol consumption not just being a sacrifice we make of a little bit of our health to the social gods, but also a way to demonstrate status, like “look how hard I can go and still keep it together.” This was certainly me 15 years ago, hitting the bars 3 nights a week and going for a run every morning -although my grades were in the B range so I’m not sure how together I was actually keeping it that balance.

On one episode of Mark Manson’s podcast -a complex, poetic analysis of romance- romance is compared to alcohol among other things and the following stuck in my brain: “Romance is like alcohol. None is healthier than too much. And a little is healthier than none.”

Alcohol consumption, drug use, partying -these things are sacrifice; they are status symbol; they are incredibly easy to overdo.

Yet, if life was just about avoiding clearly “bad” things, it would be too easy. To be appropriately, optimally challenged we need to be beset on all sides by potentially bad things which start out so good.

I’ve been here before and I know where this road leads. I know all about the diminishing returns of once in a while becoming  every night. We all do, and so we all must act accordingly.

Best,
-Dre

PS Pics to follow 😛

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