What Google Says. What Facebook Allows.

Posted on Posted in econocaste, enzilla, paradox lostTagged

Identity is owned.
but by whom, what? Are you a robots term. Do you belong to Google, or Facebook, or Hotmail, or./…./
Why do they need your name, age, whatsit to them. Other than to mark you. Other than to market you. Other than to market to you.

The net is being owned. But isn’t that what is supposed to happen to everything? And the company is a fictional creation of the King, setup to limit the liability of some few loyalists. Something that can be easily managed. A someone of no birth, no birth right. We are headed, very quickly now, to a day, a state of being, in which we live a life as the unpaid employees of a net-company. We have only the rights they grant us. And only so long as they tolerate our desires.

Don’t believe me. Change your internet name, gender, birthday. Change anything, and you would think you’d have to apply for a visa, or pass through their hiring line. Watch what happens to the ads. Cialus or whiskey? Scooters or hot dates? And you can’t turn it off, can’t turn it down, because you don’t own it. And the senators want even more. And they will get it. Just so you can see cats fart and send the link to your friends.

the way our world churns, not a blink, but a link… then we are gone.

Y/our Brain On Kind Of Drugs

Posted on Posted in babl

from the web (a security blog):

she was kind of enough to write in

my emphasis. The author went into auto type and upon hitting the word “kind” had to complete the, apparently, very common phrase “kind of.” This automatic response lost the author’s train of thought.
That is the way of babl. When we ignore, we eventually become igno….

Apologies To The Kill Squad

Posted on Posted in wargasm

I must apologize for yesterdays post.
I said that the kill squad was impotent, but upon added viewing, I’ve noticed that their dicks aren’t soft, just small. So my apology to you crack squad of elite marksmen; You aren’t impotent, just un-endowed. Maybe that explains the need for group gushers. If women can’t find you, they can’t find you interesting. If not women or cadavers, maybe each other. Hoohah. War on!