Crumbs Crumbs 4

For those remaining on the surface, the scattering of survivors and the passing of a generation had a profound effect. Isolated from one another, the dwindling enclaves of humans filled in the holes of their culture and history with whatever was left available to them.

Four Types of Dystopia

By Darren Allen

Source: ExpressiveEgg.org

The twentieth century saw four basic visions of hell on earth, or dystopia. These were:

Orwellian. Rule by autocratic totalitarian people, party or elite group, limitation of choice, repression of speech and repression of minorities, belief in order, routine and rational-morality. Control by enclosure, fear and explicit violence. Violent repression of dissent (via ‘the party line’). Erotic physicality and sexual freedom suppressed via control of sexual impulses. Control of thought by explicitly policing language (Orwellian Newspeak).

Huxleyan Rule by democratic totalitarian systems, excess of choice, limitation of access to speech platforms, assimilation of minorities, belief in emotional-morality, ‘imagination’ and flexibility, and control by desire, debt and implicit threat of violence. No overt control of dissent (system selects for system-friendly voices). Erotic physicality and sexual freedom suppressed via promotion of pornographic sensuality and dissolution. Control of thought by implicitly enclosing language within professional boundaries (Illichian Newspeak, or Uniquack).

Kafkaesque…

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Trump Wiretaps Presaged in Come and Take It

While watching the DC wiretapping drama unfold, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a passage in Come and Take It where the president is informed that all the executive acts empowering the security industrial complex have come back to haunt him and destroy the republic.

“Patriot” acts, secret courts, secret warrants, gathering of metadata, recording everyone’s calls and texts and pings, building back door access points, and relaxed judicial interpretations of the Fourth Amendment have nothing to do with keeping us proles safe and EVERYTHING to do with accumulating political leverage.

Surveillance is being used to build a massive blackmail database, a strategy taken directly from the J. Edgar Hoover playbook.

 

From Come and Take It, Chapter 24:

“You can’t do this,” said the president.

“Of course we can. And we have all the presidents, yourself included, to thank for it. The joint chiefs, they simply used the mechanisms that you and your predecessors put into place. We weren’t the ones who cited national security as pretext to suspend habeas corpus. We didn’t pack the courts with authoritarian-friendly judges. We weren’t the ones who turned the intelligence agencies loose to gather up the necessary blackmail data on every person in the country. We weren’t the ones who muscled those impotent imbeciles in congress into funding our black ops and secret prisons. You did that, Mr. President. You did that. You and your predecessors. And you sit there and look so astonished. We’ve simply decided that it’s time to stop fucking around.”

“It won’t work. The secretary of state will intervene. The senate, the house, they’ll impeach you.”

“No. I’m afraid not, Mr. President. The secretary of state is dead. I heard it on my way in here. Apparently she just died in a car crash…most unfortunate. She was burned alive. Congress? Don’t make me laugh. They’re puppets. We have access to everything the NSA collects. We know it all. We’ve got the goods on all of them. We know the names of their mistresses and whores. We know how much they received in kickbacks and how much they spend on porn and cocaine and booze. We know the front companies where they hide their wealth from the IRS. We know their portfolios and the untoward things done by the companies they own shares in. We know about their off-color jokes, homosexual escapades, and the shocking manifestos they wrote in their youth. Every time they, or their family members have slighted anyone on record, we have it. Every vice they bragged about, every depravity or petty crime or crude behavior or moment of human weakness. We know everything about their donors as well, and the companies they own and invested in and everything they’ve done. Guilt by association, Mr. President. It doesn’t matter if they haven’t done anything significant or even if they’ve been model citizens. We can take the most innocuous thing and spin it up in the media—the media that we control; the propaganda machine you created by throwing the real journalists out and packing the press corps with sycophants. And if that doesn’t work, we’ve partnered with the banks. We can yank anyone’s campaign funding and turn them out at the next election. And the people, they’re so damn dumb they’ll fall for it. The populace is a horde of mindless millions. You know that. All politicians know that. If you didn’t know that and use that knowledge, then you couldn’t have gotten elected in the first place. The people will fall for anything. Get ready for the show. The indictments and arrests are coming.”

“For what?”

“Does it really matter? Insider trading. Embezzlement. Tax evasion. Structuring. Campaign finance violations. Fraud. Drugs. Prostitution. Corruption. Racketeering. Drunk driving. Cruelty to animals. Jaywalking…whatever. Do you really think the population is going to oppose the incarceration of the very scoundrels who wrecked the economy? They don’t give a damn about the validity of any charges. They just want to see them in handcuffs doing the perp walk. Well, we’re going to give it to them, and we’re going to deliver it right into America’s living rooms on their big screen TVs.

“We can get to anyone, Mr. President. But we probably won’t have to go that far. Do you think any of those whores in congress would tolerate even a moment behind bars or a moment of financial insolvency or the humiliation of a perp walk if they could avoid it? Hell no. They’ll follow our orders.”

Read Come and Take It for free, in its entirety.

 

Walking Dead Jumps the Shark…Again!

Spoiler Alert.

Terrible.

The Walking Dead is now the only t.v. show I can think of that has jumped the shark…TWICE!

It would have been 100 times better had Carl gotten brained. I was praying for it. Club him, Negan. Please, oh God, please do it.

Then it’s like, c’mon man…Bob Marley riding in to save the day with a tiger and the entire final battle scene devolving into something reminiscent of a terrible episode of the A-Team?

That was really, really, really, really bad. Bad, show. The Governor 2.0 (i.e. Negan) is the only thing it has going for it.

C’mon AMC. Hire ME. I can write better than that.

Here’s what I would write. It took me all of three minutes to come up with it and it would be better than any episode any of those Hollywood twats could dream up.

The survivors make their way towards a true haven. Mishone dies horribly and heroically killing hundreds of walkers to save the group en route. Rick ends up causing Carl’s death. With Rick emotionally incapacitated, Daryl takes over. In sight of the haven, Daryl sacrifices his life to stave off Negan’s band and to save Maggie. “This is for Glen!” he says as he loads an arrow into his crossbow and goes to war. Daryl and Negan, the last survivors of the battle, fight to the death while walkers close in and devour them both.

When the rest of the group reaches the gates of the haven, Rick, playing the part of Moses, chooses instead to stay behind with his dead son. He returns to Carl’s corpse, embraces him, and allows himself to be ripped to shreds by Carl and a horde of walkers closing in while he has loving, sentimental flashbacks of all the friends and family he lost.

Maggie, finally reaching safety of the haven, gazes out at the wild, wild zombie world beyond the walls, looks down at her infant son and Rick’s step daughter who symbolically become the next Adam and Eve.

The End.

Chapter One, Feedback Needed

Chapter 1

 

Many historical accounts describe how it first became visible to the naked eye, shining low in the eastern sky in the predawn hours of early spring. It shown at first like a star, then, day by day, more brightly like that of a planet, and then as the brightest feature in the nightly heavens save for moon. There were at first many theories as to its origin, and many in those days were superstitious and prone to fevered panic and wild speculation at the onset of anything unexpected. This was the Third Century after all, and there were many, many people in those days who led busy, ordered lives punching keys on keyboards and sharing videos of their precocious cats via their handheld devices. Much of humanity had grown accustomed to predictability, abundance, and to the bliss of self-absorption.

Threat assessment was deferred to the experts appointed by the nobles the masses had elected to parent them. It was efficient to arrange society that way, in those technological days, and for the public to simply follow the perpetual stream of orders as they were beamed into their personal video screens. Just go with the flow. Any insufficiently accredited lay person, who had the audacity to attempt to question the experts and form his own personal opinion, would be quickly overwhelmed by a tsunami of data and find himself swept out of the warm sea of blissful ignorance and onto the cold, jagged rocks of mental paralysis. The Third Century was an unimaginably complex world—what with all the cat videos and cricket scores one had to process each day.

It was a widely held belief, at that time, that if an existential human crisis were ever to arise—such as the eruption of a super volcano, or the global proliferation of a deadly virus, or invasion by religious fanatics, or a massive solar flare, or a cosmic ray burst, or a reversal of the poles, or a runaway greenhouse effect, or the inevitable coming ice age, or a cataclysmic oil spill, or fascism, or an electro-magnetic pulse, or peak oil, or soil erosion, or Chinese imports, or extraterrestrial invasion— that the elected nobles would eschew their personal considerations for the sake of the greater good of all humanity, set about to solve the problem, and immediately instruct everyone as to their best course of action so that they could make proper arrangements. Regardless of how prevalent this view was, there were, nevertheless, many Ancients who absconded from this go-with-the-flow mentality and who would ask, “What in the hell is that shining light in the sky?”

This question was often either out-rightly dismissed as extremist lunacy, or reacted to by a condescending roll of the eyes by the unflappable mainstream. But occasionally, when pressed, or when the mood was right due to the ingestion of mind-numbing substances, these conspiratorial queries were entertained.

“What do you mean?” asked the unflappable mainstreamist.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I not clear? What I meant to ask was, what in the hell is that shining light in the sky?” replied the extremist.

“Oh that? That star up there?”

“Is it a star? I’ve never noticed it until recently.”

“Oh Jesus. Don’t start. That is just Venus.”

“No. I don’t believe that is Venus. Venus is over there, in the west, about to set. See?”

“I am quite certain it is Venus.”

“No. It is not in the right place for this time of night. Not only that,” continued the extremist, “Venus follows a trajectory across the sky along a band known as the celestial ecliptic. See that bright star over there? That is Venus. That shining light there is not.”

“Then it is something else. It must be another planet. Maybe it is Jupiter.”

“No. Jupiter traverses the ecliptic in the same manner as Venus. That shining light is in the wrong place.”

“Then perhaps it is Saturn.”

“Saturn is a planet, too.”

“Then maybe it’s a comet.”

“But it has no tail.”

“Maybe its tail is pointing directly away from us.”

“Hmm, perhaps. Or maybe it is a meteor heading right for us.”

“Ha ha ha! Are you seriously suggesting that the earth is about to be destroyed by a meteor?” asked the mainstreamist. “Because I’m sure that if it was a meteor, on a collision course with earth, I would have heard about it on CNN by now.”

“Are you certain they would have told you?”

“It’s probably the international space station. It’s very bright, you know.”

“Moving so slowly in the sky? It’s just hanging there. Satellites tend to move.”

“Maybe it’s in a geosynchronous orbit?”

“No, I don’t think that is it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. What you don’t know won’t hurt you. I have neither seen nor heard any mention of it in the news. If it was something to worry about, the authorities would have told us. Try not to think too much, it will make you paranoid.”

And that was how inquiries as to the approaching light’s origin were handled, at least up until the end of April when the thing became visible during the daylight hours, setting in the west around midday. By then, there were wild speculations from members of fundamentalist sects who suggested that the star was an omen, perhaps portending the second coming of our Lord and Savior Michael Jordan.

Around that same time, all the princes and presidents of the earth had been informed by their court scholars as to what it most likely was. They had heard explanations that, based upon Newtonian calculations, laser spectrometries, and direct observations by orbiting telescopes, that there was a ninety five percent level of confidence that the approaching light was actually a metallic object, constructed by some form of extraterrestrial intelligence, that had traversed the unimaginably vast distances of space to reach earth, and that it appeared to be decelerating into a trajectory that would take it into a low earth orbit.

“And what if you’re wrong?” asked the princes and presidents of the world’s nations as they were known at the time.

“What do you mean?” replied the scholars.

“You said that there was only a ‘ninety five percent confidence’. You’re scientists. You certainly must know that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. What if you are wrong? What if it turns out that it is not what you so confidently believe it to be? And if you are wrong, what else might it be?”

“What else might it be?”

“Yes. What else might it be?”

“Well, if we are wrong, which is not statistically probable in lieu of the thing’s decelerating trajectory and complex symmetrical form, than the thing we have observed would therefore be classified as some heretofore, unexplained, astrological phenomenon.”

“Like what?”

“What do you mean ‘like what’?”

“Like what classification of unexplained, astrological phenomenon?”

“I imagine we would have to apply the Kulkarni-Torkleson scale.”

“The what?”

“The Kulkarni-Torkelson scale. It is a method for identifying classes of orbiting things. If, based upon new evidence, we were unconvinced that it was of intelligent design, than we would be compelled to classify it as a: Type 1, Non-Organically-shaped, Self-Propelled, Metallic Thing.”

“But for now you are proposing that it is of intelligent design.”

“Yes. We believe the evidence strongly suggests it is, with a 95% level of confidence.”

“So would it be classified as a ‘Type 1, Non-Organically-Shaped, Self-Propelled, Metallic Thing’ regardless?”

“Regardless of what?”

“Regardless of whether it was of intelligent design or not?”

“If it was deemed to be of human design, it would be a Type 2. And if it was deemed to be of extraterrestrial intelligent design, then it would be classified as Type 3.”

“I have a question,” asked a counselor from France who was known to be difficult at times. “What if its origin was of unintelligent human design?”

“Then we suppose we would classify it as ‘Type 1.5’,” responded the scholars, patiently.

“So allow us to play the devil’s advocate for a moment,” interjected another counselor. “Would you consider crystals to be non-organically shaped?”

“Hmm, well they occur organically but they can also be symmetrical which makes their Kulkarni-Torkelson classification somewhat problematic.”

“Aha! So would a giant, naturally-formed, symmetrical crystal, floating in space, be definitively classified as a Type 1 thing?”

“We suppose technically, yes,” answered the scholars.

“So you’re saying the spaceship…er…uh, the thing, if it was a sort of a celestial crystal, than it would be classified as a Type 1?”

“The thing approaching the earth does not resemble any known crystal. Crystals have a predictable, repeatable molecular organization which…”

“What if it was made of an unknown type of crystal—an exotic, complex, fractal-based geometry?”

“Uh. Hmm. Well, fractal-based geometry is not our area of scientific expertise as we are all astronomers and exobiologists and physicists, but perhaps it could possibly be that, albeit a very, very exotic, undiscovered type of crystal, that is also thirty miles long and has a self-contained propulsion mechanism allowing it to decelerate, and one that has a statistically improbable human hand shape affixed to one end of it.”

“Great. Terrific. Thank you,” replied the counselors.

And the counselors excused the scholars and then briefed the princes and presidents of the world’s nations who then congregated in a great blue hall in a place called Manhattan and discussed matters amongst themselves. They talked for some time before the delegate from Iceland finally rose to address the gathering.

“We simply must tell the people of the world what we have learned, today!” he insisted.

“Yes we must!” shouted some.

“Here, here!” shouted others.

“Without delay!” shouted more.

This caused a great commotion, and before long, the secretary general was compelled to pound his gavel to restore order.

“Do I have a motion on the floor to vote to discuss drafting a preliminary resolution to document our intent to debate the potential dissemination of this arguably important information to the citizens of the world?”

“Not so fast!” shouted the chancellor of Europa. He was a tall, portly, and balding fellow with thick glasses, who looked only slightly less menacing than the grand vizier of the United States, but had a pointier nose and was regrettably from a place called Belgium. “Before we relay this very significant information, shouldn’t we consider the economic ramifications?”

“I agree!” shouted some.

“Absolutely!” shouted others.

“Without delay!” shouted more.

“What economic ramifications are you referring to?” asked the secretary general.

“For instance,” continued the chancellor, “have we considered the possibility that announcing the arrival of an extra-terrestrial spacecraft might result in unreasonable worker demands—perhaps up to and including a widespread and pervasive call for taking time off to prepare for the possibility of alien invasion and human annihilation? Have we even considered how this worker idleness will negatively affect gross domestic product in the third quarter? We are already teetering on the brink of global recession.”

“Hold on,” objected the king of Kenya. “I don’t recall the scholars indicating that the spaceship was definitely of extra terrestrial origin. They merely said they were 95% certain.”

“What else would it be?” asked the imperatore of Indonesia.

“I have tremendous reservations regarding the effect of announcing the arrival of alien invaders,” decried the grand vizier of the United States. “Alien arrival could be very detrimental to the performance of our stock markets.”

“We should consider that the arrival of extraterrestrial beings raises many significant, philosophical and spiritual questions,” suggested the chairman of Sri Lanka.

“Like for instance?”

“Like for instance, will confirmation of the existence of aliens undermine the belief in God?” asked the prime minister of the Vatican.

“Do we even have a plan to contain them so they don’t try to take over the world or be a bad influence on China?” asked the grand vizier of the United States.

“We object!” replied the president of China.

“It seems it would be prudent to discuss these matters before informing the public,” suggested the sultan of Turkey. “Since we have not reported this earlier, it might appear to the public that we have been covering something up. Telling them now might greatly damage our credibility. It is probably best to continue the policy of avoiding the matter indefinitely…in order to preserve our legitimacy.”

“Indeed!”

“Here, here!”

“Without delay!”

“What do we tell the people, then?”

“We tell them,” advised the first lord of Canada, “that our expert scholars have studied the thing extensively and determined that it is, with nearly one-hundred percent certainty, a ‘Type 1, Non-Organically-Shaped, Self-Propelled, Metallic Thing.”

“Does someone have an acronym for that?”

“An acronym?”

“Yeah, you know, an acronym. Like: SETI for the ‘Search-for-Extra-Terrestrial-Intelligence’ or ELE for ‘Extinction-Level-Event’ or…”

“Or ACBAR for ‘Arcminute-Cosmology-Barometer-Array-Receiver’ or BOOJUMS for ‘Blue-shifted-Objects-Observed-Just-Undergoing-Moderate-Starbursts’…”

“How about TONENOSSPROMT?” someone suggested.

“Should we even reveal that it’s self-propelled?” asked another.

“We’ll just leave that part out and say that we are awaiting further scientific confirmation.”

“And what about the fact that it has a giant human hand shape affixed to one end?”

“We’ll describe that as a coincidental, complex, fractal-based geometry, for now.”

“Or a CCFG for short.”

…And so the world continued as it was, blissfully ignorant and essentially the same, save for the giant, extraterrestrial thing that finally decelerated into low earth orbit, rotating slowly in the sky. The entire massive object, including the human hand shape affixed to one end, was plainly visible to everyone on the planet, eight times per day, except to those who lived beyond plus or minus forty degrees latitude.