Jeez, you're like the bad penny mate, you keep on turning up even
after you go.

Just kidding.

Now, what can I do to get rid of you for good? The cunt in New
Bedford has fucked off because the silly treasonous prick thought his
neighbors might not like living next door to a Russian loving
anti-Zionist dick. We're down to 3 now, and Chris, well I'd say he's
only just hanging in.

When it's just you and me, I think I'll call it a day. You can keep
posting your armageddon crap till hell freezes over then.

Information is sizeless
Only information exists
The future controls the past
Time is a mirage of perception
Natures only law "Adapt or Perish."

You gain absolute freedom
When you take absolute responsibility
Your future destroyed your past Thang
It was all you, the mother, the wife, the kids.

[]

Imagine Dragons - Believer
https://youtu.be/7wtfhZwyrcc

[]

***

Book-1
Palace Of Nine Castles

“What does the hero do when he's dead?
That is the question that plagues mankind.”

Paralyzing force bound Pierce Daniels to the black chair. It was always a different face and always the same gun. The only constant known to a man who walked a lonely razors edge between two nations forever at war.
Growling in the pit of the stomach sent gentle waves of euphoric relief trembling across his slow silenced mind.
The first word would come soon after wondering what the first word might actually be. Seven Three Three Seven.
He was known to both Gog and Magog as Mr. Magoo.
A cartoon character nickname for someone both sides felt they could play with as they chose and slap around with impunity. No wife or children and parents buried long ago
lead both versions of the United States of America to under estimate the titanic level of resolve with which Pierce played this most fatal of games.
His eye twitched. He tried to smile but his body wasn’t ready. Alert to his quarry the shooter shuffled his feet. Pierce relished the return of his hearing. With that sense restored he fantasized about the sounds of waves and pieces of music he had heard and grown to love. He tried to rock forward from his chest detecting the movement in his groin area. Clocking forward he knew only two minutes remained before he could speak. Thinking clearly now he silenced his mind voluntarily restoring his true instincts.
Sitting on a soft, carpet, antique desk-map to his right; was a bold typed message awaiting decryption. The encoding was obvious to anyone who had the knowledge to survive the great war of 2012. There were only two very popular television shows ever broadcast and viewed by a colossal sized audience in real time. The type of effect the government clandestine experimenters had sought to use as a process to acquire a benchmark gauge that would determine the power of synchronized mass consciousness on the quantum fields that generated the future and past.
The first show broadcast in 1966 was the hopelessly titled; THE TIME TUNNEL. Experimenters were unaware people existed who were already capable of using such simple cause and effect relationships as a television broadcast and the power generated by the viewing audiences’ consciousness to initialize the type of devices required for time travel.
Einstein was long gone and the picture of reality had changed dramatically since his departure into the grave.

HUGO=HUE GO HUG15
YEMI=25EM-ATOMOSE
MR. EKO=51115 OK5
OG218=OG Vs. MAGOG
MR. FIVE = KNOCKOUT
The decoded message seemed a shop worn deception.
Pierce opened his eyes and looked at the shooter.
This was the first executioner he had ever recognized. Struggling for composure he allowed no...
“Where is Einstein?”
“Heads in a jar; his dicks in Doc’s flux capacitor.”
Pierce waited for the muzzle flash. The shooter had yet to raise his weapon.. Looking downward he noticed it was still the same Arsenal 44. Magnum used on him every time before.
Unable to move his limbs yet he studied the face of the look alike wondering why it took the NSA so long to finally try this trick. The shooter looked at the single gold pen on the desk before moving to a semi-squatting position to examine the underside of the white drafting table Pierce used as an oversized work board for his math problems.
“There are no marks under the table.”
“The count is accurately reckoned at precisely 7337.”
“We’ll see.”
The shooter put the weapon on the table while asking if Pierce was a fan of Star Trek.
“Portnoy’s Complaint is more my cup of tea mate.”
“A Fool’s Mate can easily be avoided.”
The shooter began preparing a pot of tea by selecting three bags from the glass jar on the old kitchen’s counter.
Three bags were silently denuded of their strings and labels before being quickly watered logged in the stout white china tea pot now headed towards the far end of the top floor apartment in the 1920’s art deco building.
The shooter paused before entering 6:00 into the microwaves key pad. Pierce picked up the pistol and glanced under the table. Reassured there were no jump calibrations marked underneath he placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The shooter pressed the start button on the key pad hoping to avoid an awkward moment. The pistols firing hammer clicked resolutely against the empty chamber.
“How many times have you made it to Canyon De Chele and succeeded in jumping off the cliff?”
A sinking heart and an empty pistol were laid on the table for his opponent to play with as he pleased. The long interrogation followed by the innocuous opportunity for an escape was the standard script from this point on. The long drop from Mummy’s Cave into Canyon De Chele was now certain
to lead right back into this chair paralyzed again by time.
“The CIA put LOST together for you with great care to assure you the mission was understood and very successful.”
“The Chekhov’s gun on the table bit then?”
“Orientation time. Can you move your legs?”
“Load the gun.”
The shooter pulled Pierce to his feet shouldering him forward and out the door left open on the previous trip to the microwave. The shooter loaded the gun while leading his target to the roof of the building. Loaded and replaced in its clip-on belt holster; the snap of its removal audible.
The weapon and holster were passed to Daniels, he complied by walking towards the sleek dark red four seat jet copter.
One minute later they were in the Shell gas station parking lot on the southern side of the railroad access way
obscured by well fed overgrown brush. They crossed the intersection formed by a rural highway and the rail bed.
Pierce knew the snipers nest were arrayed at both treetop and ground level interspersed at fifty yard markers all the way to Facility-1 of The Advanced Intraphase Research site.
Shooter and target walked calmly through the dense bramble curtain of prickly brush. The shooter smiled after holding the web of tangles aside for Pierce’s passage into the kill zone known as The Bell Devil’s Walk of Hellfire.
“Hurry Pierce.” That phrase was never spoken before. Daniels composure broke as he quickly tapped his beltline for tranquilizers. The first five dozen silenced shots spit out entered the shooter who let go and fell on his back quietly smiling. “God’s luck to Self 7337. Hang tough Doc.”
Pierce walked inwards. “Today is a good day to die.”
The curtain of greenery concealing the shooter’s inert body fell back into place as Pierce began trying to rise out of the dread and fearful uncertainty provoked by the now one dozen plus anomalous events estimated to have occurred in just the last ten minutes. The familiar three boys blocking the path up the triple magnetic lines hidden under the rail bed’s chipped granite-rock carpet were there standing pat.
From the sniper line twenty feet away a new player was emerging behind the three boys standing abreast blocking his passageway towards the paradomes controlling the braided lines and time waves. This newly arriving obstacle was as distinctly dressed as his usual triad of opponents.
Wearing native buckskin outers and moccasins; the new child waved him onward squatting down directly in front of the central boy named Page dressed in his usual three piece suit; complete with a gold watch and chain, silk handkerchief, and black hand made alligator skin loafers.
At Pages right was Mr. Eight the first boy to ever try to block his passage up the access road. His custom was a personal uniform of an American league baseball jacket adorned with every team’s patch, soft cotton blue jeans flared at the bottom, and a fresh pair of yellow, combed-suede desert boots. On Pages left, their military leader clad in his Intraphase black formal wear; with gold braid over a three colored, current task, chest icon.
Pierce walked forward his eyes briefly on the new player. “Eight, Page, Sky…”
The boy in native costuming withdrew a small black felt covered ring box agreed to by the other three boys; holding it cupped in his closed hands. Pierce deeply wanted a tranquilizer before agreeing to any game of riddles that would allow him to short circuit this 7338th occurrence of a tortured run up the Hellfire Lane to The Devil’s Bells.
“Somehow, being in front of a jury of four seems just as wrong as standing before a jury of one, two, or three.”
The boy in native clothes raised and shook his cupped hands concealing the ring box. Pierce involuntarily removed the gold ring on his right hand. The three small diamonds beside the square, black-onyx gemstone, reflected the Sun’s flash into his eyes. The boy uncapped his hands holding the ring box outward fully open. Pierce placed the ring in the small slot. The young native rose while closing the box. He briefly shook hands with the other four foot six inch boys designed to be obstacles blocking his journey up the lines.
Pierce stood waiting for them to move aside or begin the
vicious maelstrom inflicted on anyone attempting to reach the facility protected by The Bell Devil’s Hellfire Walk.
The young native moved confidently past him toward the tangled brambles stopping before the shooters silent corpse.
Pierce held the curtain of interwoven prickly vines for the boy. He began dragging the inert body up the small utility lane beside the tracks until sure he was beyond the magnetic lines terminus point and within the braided fields creative authority. The other three boys helped to pull the dead shooter onto the tracks. The shooter now lay parallel to the magnetic lines.
Page spoke while tidying up.
“That’s game. We won and they lost. Pierce is home.”
The well dressed discreetly appointed gentleman named Page currently winning Time Game Version-2085 reassured Doc that he had the 7200 lines necessary to own and control the date of his birth and first great living circle.
“It’s the “One After Nine ‘O’ Nine..”” Eight added.
“Where did all the lines come from Aloysius?”
“The Old Chief.” Page replied.
“It took 7337 jumps not counting the shooter.”
Page took Pierce by the hand leading him off the track lines followed by Mr. Eight and Sky. The native dressed in buckskins placed the felt ring box in the chest pocket of the shooters tan military desert-dusk camouflage jacket.
Having witnessed many burials of this sort Pierce lost interest and began walking towards The Devil Bells. The tracks hummed and flickered before a flash penetrated his entire body. The boys and corpse now gone he proceeded onward to death 7337.

On Wed, 18 May 2022 06:50:14 +0100, o'Mahoney <libertidad@south.south.com>
wrote:

> Jeez, you're like the bad penny mate, you keep on turning up even
> after you go.
>
> Just kidding.

### - smile, fyi there's maybe around 13 or 14 of us all just waiting for
YOU to piss-off so we can all come back and enjoy ourselves here again?

just kidding. :)

> Now, what can I do to get rid of you for good?

### - have you tried taking 40 sleeping tablets?

that'll defo get rid of me for sure :)))

> When it's just you and me, I think I'll call it a day. You can keep
> posting your armageddon crap till hell freezes over then.

### - try reading a history book occasionally dumbo, coz ALL the trends on
ALL the charts/graphs are falling worldwide in unison...

e.g., we're officially losing species at the rate of 100 per day and it's
probably far higher than that! plastic is choking all the oceans, people
are starving + the world is on the brink of ww3!

and you sit there in complete denial imagining everything's just fine
huh...

riiiiiiiight.....

as to the war part: haven't you noticed that in ALL their current
'arrangements' FOR war, that they've apparently omitted to include a
fucking... off-ramp??

therefore (heh) either russia now completely changes horses in mid-stream,
packs-up and all goes home (very unlikely) or, they meekly roll-over and
ALLOW themselves to be forever broken??

nope sport, do the math: WE'RE determined to wipe them out & THEY'LL fight
to the bitter end to maintain their existence...

they've both been expecting this showdown for decades!

and, as a student of history: so have i...

(the whole thing's currently hanging by a thread ffs!)

so stop being such a goddamn COWARD and SEE the world as it actually IS
for once!?

and then, when the panic subsides, weep along with the rest of us coz it's
actually rather sad...

"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War
IV will be fought with sticks and stones"

--albert einstein

Off your meds again?
Let me guess... bipolar, right?
With a bit of dementia mixed in...

On Thu, 19 May 2022 08:35:20 -0700 (PDT), LowRider44M
<intraphase@gmail.com> wrote:

>
>Information is sizeless
>Only information exists
>The future controls the past
>Time is a mirage of perception
>Natures only law "Adapt or Perish."
>
>You gain absolute freedom
>When you take absolute responsibility
>Your future destroyed your past Thang
>It was all you, the mother, the wife, the kids.
>
>[]
>
>Imagine Dragons - Believer
>https://youtu.be/7wtfhZwyrcc
>
>[]
>
>***
>
>Book-1
>Palace Of Nine Castles
>
>“What does the hero do when he's dead?
>That is the question that plagues mankind.”
>
> Paralyzing force bound Pierce Daniels to the black chair. It was always a different face and always the same gun. The only constant known to a man who walked a lonely razors edge between two nations forever at war.
> Growling in the pit of the stomach sent gentle waves of euphoric relief trembling across his slow silenced mind.
>The first word would come soon after wondering what the first word might actually be. Seven Three Three Seven.
> He was known to both Gog and Magog as Mr. Magoo.
>A cartoon character nickname for someone both sides felt they could play with as they chose and slap around with impunity. No wife or children and parents buried long ago
>lead both versions of the United States of America to under estimate the titanic level of resolve with which Pierce played this most fatal of games.
> His eye twitched. He tried to smile but his body wasn’t ready. Alert to his quarry the shooter shuffled his feet. Pierce relished the return of his hearing. With that sense restored he fantasized about the sounds of waves and pieces of music he had heard and grown to love. He tried to rock forward from his chest detecting
the movement in his groin area. Clocking forward he knew only two minutes remained before he could speak. Thinking clearly now he silenced his mind voluntarily restoring his true instincts.
> Sitting on a soft, carpet, antique desk-map to his right; was a bold typed message awaiting decryption. The encoding was obvious to anyone who had the knowledge to survive the great war of 2012. There were only two very popular television shows ever broadcast and viewed by a colossal sized audience in real time. The type of
effect the government clandestine experimenters had sought to use as a process to acquire a benchmark gauge that would determine the power of synchronized mass consciousness on the quantum fields that generated the future and past.
> The first show broadcast in 1966 was the hopelessly titled; THE TIME TUNNEL. Experimenters were unaware people existed who were already capable of using such simple cause and effect relationships as a television broadcast and the power generated by the viewing audiences’ consciousness to initialize the type of devices
required for time travel.
> Einstein was long gone and the picture of reality had changed dramatically since his departure into the grave.
>
> HUGO=HUE GO HUG15
> YEMI=25EM-ATOMOSE
> MR. EKO=51115 OK5
> OG218=OG Vs. MAGOG
> MR. FIVE = KNOCKOUT
>
> The decoded message seemed a shop worn deception.
> Pierce opened his eyes and looked at the shooter.
>This was the first executioner he had ever recognized. Struggling for composure he allowed no...
> “Where is Einstein?”
> “Heads in a jar; his dicks in Doc’s flux capacitor.”
>Pierce waited for the muzzle flash. The shooter had yet to raise his weapon. Looking downward he noticed it was still the same Arsenal 44. Magnum used on him every time before.
>Unable to move his limbs yet he studied the face of the look alike wondering why it took the NSA so long to finally try this trick. The shooter looked at the single gold pen on the desk before moving to a semi-squatting position to examine the underside of the white drafting table Pierce used as an oversized work board for his
math problems.
> “There are no marks under the table.”
> “The count is accurately reckoned at precisely 7337.”
> “We’ll see.”
>The shooter put the weapon on the table while asking if Pierce was a fan of Star Trek.
> “Portnoy’s Complaint is more my cup of tea mate.”
> “A Fool’s Mate can easily be avoided.”
> The shooter began preparing a pot of tea by selecting three bags from the glass jar on the old kitchen’s counter.
> Three bags were silently denuded of their strings and labels before being quickly watered logged in the stout white china tea pot now headed towards the far end of the top floor apartment in the 1920’s art deco building.
> The shooter paused before entering 6:00 into the microwaves key pad. Pierce picked up the pistol and glanced under the table. Reassured there were no jump calibrations marked underneath he placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The shooter pressed the start button on the key pad hoping to avoid an awkward
moment. The pistols firing hammer clicked resolutely against the empty chamber.
> “How many times have you made it to Canyon De Chele and succeeded in jumping off the cliff?”
> A sinking heart and an empty pistol were laid on the table for his opponent to play with as he pleased. The long interrogation followed by the innocuous opportunity for an escape was the standard script from this point on. The long drop from Mummy’s Cave into Canyon De Chele was now certain
>to lead right back into this chair paralyzed again by time.
> “The CIA put LOST together for you with great care to assure you the mission was understood and very successful.”
> “The Chekhov’s gun on the table bit then?”
> “Orientation time. Can you move your legs?”
> “Load the gun.”
> The shooter pulled Pierce to his feet shouldering him forward and out the door left open on the previous trip to the microwave. The shooter loaded the gun while leading his target to the roof of the building. Loaded and replaced in its clip-on belt holster; the snap of its removal audible.
>The weapon and holster were passed to Daniels, he complied by walking towards the sleek dark red four seat jet copter.
> One minute later they were in the Shell gas station parking lot on the southern side of the railroad access way
>obscured by well fed overgrown brush. They crossed the intersection formed by a rural highway and the rail bed.
>Pierce knew the snipers nest were arrayed at both treetop and ground level interspersed at fifty yard markers all the way to Facility-1 of The Advanced Intraphase Research site.
> Shooter and target walked calmly through the dense bramble curtain of prickly brush. The shooter smiled after holding the web of tangles aside for Pierce’s passage into the kill zone known as The Bell Devil’s Walk of Hellfire.
> “Hurry Pierce.” That phrase was never spoken before. Daniels composure broke as he quickly tapped his beltline for tranquilizers. The first five dozen silenced shots spit out entered the shooter who let go and fell on his back quietly smiling. “God’s luck to Self 7337. Hang tough Doc.”
> Pierce walked inwards. “Today is a good day to die.”
> The curtain of greenery concealing the shooter’s inert body fell back into place as Pierce began trying to rise out of the dread and fearful uncertainty provoked by the now one dozen plus anomalous events estimated to have occurred in just the last ten minutes. The familiar three boys blocking the path up the triple
magnetic lines hidden under the rail bed’s chipped granite-rock carpet were there standing pat.
> From the sniper line twenty feet away a new player was emerging behind the three boys standing abreast blocking his passageway towards the paradomes controlling the braided lines and time waves. This newly arriving obstacle was as distinctly dressed as his usual triad of opponents.
> Wearing native buckskin outers and moccasins; the new child waved him onward squatting down directly in front of the central boy named Page dressed in his usual three piece suit; complete with a gold watch and chain, silk handkerchief, and black hand made alligator skin loafers.
> At Pages right was Mr. Eight the first boy to ever try to block his passage up the access road. His custom was a personal uniform of an American league baseball jacket adorned with every team’s patch, soft cotton blue jeans flared at the bottom, and a fresh pair of yellow, combed-suede desert boots. On Pages left, their
military leader clad in his Intraphase black formal wear; with gold braid over a three colored, current task, chest icon.
> Pierce walked forward his eyes briefly on the new player. “Eight, Page, Sky…”
> The boy in native costuming withdrew a small black felt covered ring box agreed to by the other three boys; holding it cupped in his closed hands. Pierce deeply wanted a tranquilizer before agreeing to any game of riddles that would allow him to short circuit this 7338th occurrence of a tortured run up the Hellfire Lane to
The Devil’s Bells.
> “Somehow, being in front of a jury of four seems just as wrong as standing before a jury of one, two, or three.”
> The boy in native clothes raised and shook his cupped hands concealing the ring box. Pierce involuntarily removed the gold ring on his right hand. The three small diamonds beside the square, black-onyx gemstone, reflected the Sun’s flash into his eyes. The boy uncapped his hands holding the ring box outward fully open.
Pierce placed the ring in the small slot. The young native rose while closing the box. He briefly shook hands with the other four foot six inch boys designed to be obstacles blocking his journey up the lines.
> Pierce stood waiting for them to move aside or begin the
>vicious maelstrom inflicted on anyone attempting to reach the facility protected by The Bell Devil’s Hellfire Walk.
> The young native moved confidently past him toward the tangled brambles stopping before the shooters silent corpse.
> Pierce held the curtain of interwoven prickly vines for the boy. He began dragging the inert body up the small utility lane beside the tracks until sure he was beyond the magnetic lines terminus point and within the braided fields creative authority. The other three boys helped to pull the dead shooter onto the tracks. The
shooter now lay parallel to the magnetic lines.
> Page spoke while tidying up.
> “That’s game. We won and they lost. Pierce is home.”
> The well dressed discreetly appointed gentleman named Page currently winning Time Game Version-2085 reassured Doc that he had the 7200 lines necessary to own and control the date of his birth and first great living circle.
> “It’s the “One After Nine ‘O’ Nine.”” Eight added.
> “Where did all the lines come from Aloysius?”
> “The Old Chief.” Page replied.
> “It took 7337 jumps not counting the shooter.”
> Page took Pierce by the hand leading him off the track lines followed by Mr. Eight and Sky. The native dressed in buckskins placed the felt ring box in the chest pocket of the shooters tan military desert-dusk camouflage jacket.
> Having witnessed many burials of this sort Pierce lost interest and began walking towards The Devil Bells. The tracks hummed and flickered before a flash penetrated his entire body. The boys and corpse now gone he proceeded onward to death 7337.

Never. Too much fun.

What do you mean "...we can all...? There's only you and the twilight
years ex-tensegrity fella left. Plus, that inchoate nutcake from New
Bedfort.

I didn't see much enjoyment from you when lowrider was calling you a
pedofile. You quite resented it, actually.

Nor the occasional burst of name calling from the old guy, which again
you seem to react rather nastily to.

Am I wrong?

On Sat, 21 May 2022 10:54:40 +0100, slider <slider@anashram.com>
wrote:

>On Wed, 18 May 2022 06:50:14 +0100, o'Mahoney <libertidad@south.south.com>
>wrote:
>
>> Jeez, you're like the bad penny mate, you keep on turning up even
>> after you go.
>>
>> Just kidding.
>
>### - smile, fyi there's maybe around 13 or 14 of us all just waiting for
>YOU to piss-off so we can all come back and enjoy ourselves here again?
>
>just kidding. :)
>
>
>
>
>
>> Now, what can I do to get rid of you for good?
>
>### - have you tried taking 40 sleeping tablets?
>
>that'll defo get rid of me for sure :)))
>
>
>
>
>
>> When it's just you and me, I think I'll call it a day. You can keep
>> posting your armageddon crap till hell freezes over then.
>
>### - try reading a history book occasionally dumbo, coz ALL the trends on
>ALL the charts/graphs are falling worldwide in unison...
>
>e.g., we're officially losing species at the rate of 100 per day and it's
>probably far higher than that! plastic is choking all the oceans, people
>are starving + the world is on the brink of ww3!
>
>and you sit there in complete denial imagining everything's just fine
>huh...
>
>riiiiiiiight.....
>
>as to the war part: haven't you noticed that in ALL their current
>'arrangements' FOR war, that they've apparently omitted to include a
>fucking... off-ramp??
>
>therefore (heh) either russia now completely changes horses in mid-stream,
>packs-up and all goes home (very unlikely) or, they meekly roll-over and
>ALLOW themselves to be forever broken??
>
>nope sport, do the math: WE'RE determined to wipe them out & THEY'LL fight
>to the bitter end to maintain their existence...
>
>they've both been expecting this showdown for decades!
>
>and, as a student of history: so have i...
>
>(the whole thing's currently hanging by a thread ffs!)
>
>so stop being such a goddamn COWARD and SEE the world as it actually IS
>for once!?
>
>and then, when the panic subsides, weep along with the rest of us coz it's
>actually rather sad...
>
>
>"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War
>IV will be fought with sticks and stones"
>
>--albert einstein

### - lol you're never right about anything heh; satire, irony & sarcasm
always go righht over your head completely unnoticed, so much so just
can't imagine how you've even survived this long being so completely blind
to them...

here, have some genuine history sport, might help ya even understand
what's happening today + why (and how) it's happening! (you will have to
really struggle to use your tiny brain to understand it though, so you
prolly wont get it anyway...)

the theme being history very clearly repeating itself here today ya see...

why? because they repeatedly use what 'works' when it comes to managing
society!

so ok, in this instance it's about ww1, but the 'principle methods',
you'll notice, haven't changed one iota since then! they've in fact only
'polished & upgraded' said methods! ;)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwTwV9TypiU

and you're obviously very much the 'victim' of all that mindless... crap.

On Fri, 27 May 2022 04:03:57 +0100, o'Mahoney <libertidad@south.south.com>
wrote:

> Never. Too much fun.
>
> What do you mean "...we can all...? There's only you and the twilight
> years ex-tensegrity fella left. Plus, that inchoate nutcake from New
> Bedfort.
>
> I didn't see much enjoyment from you when lowrider was calling you a
> pedofile. You quite resented it, actually.
>
> Nor the occasional burst of name calling from the old guy, which again
> you seem to react rather nastily to.
>
> Am I wrong?
>
>
>
> On Sat, 21 May 2022 10:54:40 +0100, slider <slider@anashram.com>
> wrote:
>
>> On Wed, 18 May 2022 06:50:14 +0100, o'Mahoney
>> <libertidad@south.south.com>
>> wrote:
>>
>>> Jeez, you're like the bad penny mate, you keep on turning up even
>>> after you go.
>>>
>>> Just kidding.
>>
>> ### - smile, fyi there's maybe around 13 or 14 of us all just waiting
>> for
>> YOU to piss-off so we can all come back and enjoy ourselves here again?
>>
>> just kidding. :)
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>> Now, what can I do to get rid of you for good?
>>
>> ### - have you tried taking 40 sleeping tablets?
>>
>> that'll defo get rid of me for sure :)))
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>> When it's just you and me, I think I'll call it a day. You can keep
>>> posting your armageddon crap till hell freezes over then.
>>
>> ### - try reading a history book occasionally dumbo, coz ALL the trends
>> on
>> ALL the charts/graphs are falling worldwide in unison...
>>
>> e.g., we're officially losing species at the rate of 100 per day and
>> it's
>> probably far higher than that! plastic is choking all the oceans, people
>> are starving + the world is on the brink of ww3!
>>
>> and you sit there in complete denial imagining everything's just fine
>> huh...
>>
>> riiiiiiiight.....
>>
>> as to the war part: haven't you noticed that in ALL their current
>> 'arrangements' FOR war, that they've apparently omitted to include a
>> fucking... off-ramp??
>>
>> therefore (heh) either russia now completely changes horses in
>> mid-stream,
>> packs-up and all goes home (very unlikely) or, they meekly roll-over and
>> ALLOW themselves to be forever broken??
>>
>> nope sport, do the math: WE'RE determined to wipe them out & THEY'LL
>> fight
>> to the bitter end to maintain their existence...
>>
>> they've both been expecting this showdown for decades!
>>
>> and, as a student of history: so have i...
>>
>> (the whole thing's currently hanging by a thread ffs!)
>>
>> so stop being such a goddamn COWARD and SEE the world as it actually IS
>> for once!?
>>
>> and then, when the panic subsides, weep along with the rest of us coz
>> it's
>> actually rather sad...
>>
>>
>> "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World
>> War
>> IV will be fought with sticks and stones"
>>
>> --albert einstein

--
Using Opera's mail client: http://www.opera.com/mail/

On Sun, 29 May 2022 16:15:51 +0100, slider <slider@anashram.com>
wrote:

>### - lol you're never right about anything heh; satire, irony & sarcasm
>always go righht over your head completely unnoticed, so much so just
>can't imagine how you've even survived this long being so completely blind
>to them...

Your problem is you intend to gaslight, but you don't even know what
the term means or where and when it originated.

You, in a word, are inept.

>
>here, have some genuine history sport, might help ya even understand
>what's happening today + why (and how) it's happening! (you will have to
>really struggle to use your tiny brain to understand it though, so you
>prolly wont get it anyway...)

You patronising prat. No wonder you live in your little public
housing bedsit with the green door and the little 20 year old mini
minor. Never made much of your life did you mate? Any kids? A wife?
A girlfriend? You tried to crack on to that bird here on this NG a
while back, but she took you to the cleaners.

Happy masturbation, dickhead.

>
>the theme being history very clearly repeating itself here today ya see...
>
>why? because they repeatedly use what 'works' when it comes to managing
>society!
>
>so ok, in this instance it's about ww1, but the 'principle methods',
>you'll notice, haven't changed one iota since then! they've in fact only
>'polished & upgraded' said methods! ;)
>
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwTwV9TypiU
>
>and you're obviously very much the 'victim' of all that mindless... crap.

No you are living in cloud cuckoo land. Happy fantasies pal.

>
>
>
>
>
>
>On Fri, 27 May 2022 04:03:57 +0100, o'Mahoney <libertidad@south.south.com>
>wrote:
>
>> Never. Too much fun.
>>
>> What do you mean "...we can all...? There's only you and the twilight
>> years ex-tensegrity fella left. Plus, that inchoate nutcake from New
>> Bedfort.
>>
>> I didn't see much enjoyment from you when lowrider was calling you a
>> pedofile. You quite resented it, actually.
>>
>> Nor the occasional burst of name calling from the old guy, which again
>> you seem to react rather nastily to.
>>
>> Am I wrong?
>>
>>
>>
>> On Sat, 21 May 2022 10:54:40 +0100, slider <slider@anashram.com>
>> wrote:
>>
>>> On Wed, 18 May 2022 06:50:14 +0100, o'Mahoney
>>> <libertidad@south.south.com>
>>> wrote:
>>>
>>>> Jeez, you're like the bad penny mate, you keep on turning up even
>>>> after you go.
>>>>
>>>> Just kidding.
>>>
>>> ### - smile, fyi there's maybe around 13 or 14 of us all just waiting
>>> for
>>> YOU to piss-off so we can all come back and enjoy ourselves here again?
>>>
>>> just kidding. :)
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>> Now, what can I do to get rid of you for good?
>>>
>>> ### - have you tried taking 40 sleeping tablets?
>>>
>>> that'll defo get rid of me for sure :)))
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>> When it's just you and me, I think I'll call it a day. You can keep
>>>> posting your armageddon crap till hell freezes over then.
>>>
>>> ### - try reading a history book occasionally dumbo, coz ALL the trends
>>> on
>>> ALL the charts/graphs are falling worldwide in unison...
>>>
>>> e.g., we're officially losing species at the rate of 100 per day and
>>> it's
>>> probably far higher than that! plastic is choking all the oceans, people
>>> are starving + the world is on the brink of ww3!
>>>
>>> and you sit there in complete denial imagining everything's just fine
>>> huh...
>>>
>>> riiiiiiiight.....
>>>
>>> as to the war part: haven't you noticed that in ALL their current
>>> 'arrangements' FOR war, that they've apparently omitted to include a
>>> fucking... off-ramp??
>>>
>>> therefore (heh) either russia now completely changes horses in
>>> mid-stream,
>>> packs-up and all goes home (very unlikely) or, they meekly roll-over and
>>> ALLOW themselves to be forever broken??
>>>
>>> nope sport, do the math: WE'RE determined to wipe them out & THEY'LL
>>> fight
>>> to the bitter end to maintain their existence...
>>>
>>> they've both been expecting this showdown for decades!
>>>
>>> and, as a student of history: so have i...
>>>
>>> (the whole thing's currently hanging by a thread ffs!)
>>>
>>> so stop being such a goddamn COWARD and SEE the world as it actually IS
>>> for once!?
>>>
>>> and then, when the panic subsides, weep along with the rest of us coz
>>> it's
>>> actually rather sad...
>>>
>>>
>>> "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World
>>> War
>>> IV will be fought with sticks and stones"
>>>
>>> --albert einstein