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Diana Moe Hmmm... - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!
Return Of Beyond The Planet Of The Valley Of
Diana Moe Hmmm... - SPACE ALIENS, ETC., ETC.
____________________________________________
No doubt there are a variety of self-impressed, elitist
CypherPunks who have grown used to my weird capitalization
of the word 'cypherpunks', as well as my excess use of
commas, and incorrect punctuation, having come to recognize
that these things are part of my personal 'writing style'
(although few realize that, being too lazy to look up
proper spelling, and too ignorant to understand the reasons
behind 'correct' punctuation, I am merely cloaking my sloth
and stupidity under a croak of eccentric Oriental genius).
However, there are undoubtedly a few egoistical self-proclaimed
geniuses on the CypherPunks Disturbed Male LISP who have noticed
the 'Dina' spelling of the last chapter title being out-of-sync
with the 'Diana' spelling of the current chapter title (see
above), and mentally ridiuculed me as really being the sorry
drunk I keep claiming to be, thinking that I am only dimly
aware of the difference between my drunk&ignorant-but-honest
typos and literary mistakes, and the typos and mistakes which
I quickly recognize to have deep meaning, and are therefore
inviolate proofs of my true inner genius, in need of no
correction, even if I happen to spot the error.
If you noticed the discrepancy mentioned above, and were
indeed mentally degrading my literary talent, while considering
yourself to be superior to me because of your ability to
imitate a robotic computer spell-checking program, you would,
in this case, be quite correct in your assumption, since it
was really a meaninless mistake, but one I will not bother
to rectify, since I am currently both lazy and drunk.
However, you smart-ass sons-of-bitches, it would be a serious
mistake to fail to realize that my failings in character in no
way negate my obvious intellectual superiority over all of the
pretentious fools who consider themselves part of an elite
group of PseudoMathematicalGeniusAnarchists because of their
participation in Legendary LevelWithTheGround InterNet
Community MailingList Composed Of Subscribers Who Are Using
11% Of Their Potential BrainPower, and considering themselves
to be 'above' the other InterNet Elitists who are using only
the 'documented average' 10% of their potential brainpower,
and who, in turn, consider themselves to be superior to the
AOL'ers who believe that their IQ is somehow related to the
speed of their computer's processor (NOT!!!).
The short and simple answer to the question, ""So what
prompted you to start writing those missives to cypherpunks?"
is: "On a mailing list of elitist geniuses using only 11% of
their potential brainpower, the person using 12% is King!"
Thus I am able to toy with you silly fools, having little
fear of someone who uses 13% of their brainpower subscribing
to the CypherPunks list, and putting me in my place, since a
person capable of using 13% of their brain would likely be
above joining the list in the first place...
Why I Send My Missives To The CypherPunks List #327:
I truly recognize the past, current and future subscribers
to InterNet forums/experiences such as the CypherPunks to be
the only real hope for a world of VirtualReality to rise above
and go beyond the vicious MeatSpaceRealityCycles which are
evident throughout millennia of human history.
Thus, I feel it incumbent upon myself, as your intellectual
superior, to impress upon you what an ignorant, silly asshole
I am...
ou stupid fucks think I'm being silly, again, don't you?
I'm fucking serious!!!
While I truly consider myself to be the current epitome of
human evolution to this point in time, I would, nonetheless,
upon being recognized for my great wisdom and genius and
declared King Of The World, issue a press statement advising
everyone to kill themselves, since a world under my control
would be a scary thing, indeed.
As far as the world currently being under the control of
murderers and thieves who seem to have a lot of trouble
figuring out some of the more rudimentary things in life,
such as pulling up their fly upon entering the Offal Office,
I really prefer not to think about that, which I am sure
can be understood by voters in Boston, Chicago, ad infinitum,
who eventually figured out that the slogan, "Vote Early, Vote
Often" was not really a part of the original Constitution, as
their Ward Bosses had claimed.
The Original Peter Principle:
Civilization and Human Behavior provide hard evidence that
Creatures From The Primordial Swamp who crawled out to become
Middle Managers in the Gene Pool did so about a billion years
ahead of schedule.
The Original Clinton Inaugural Address:
"Most of my time, energy and money was spent on women, booze,
drugs and gambling--the rest I just wasted, eventually becoming
Governor, and then President."
The Original Commandment:
"Buy a fucking Clue!"
I guess that what I am really trying to say is, "As insane
as it would be for you to vote for me as the new King Of The
World / Ruler Of All That Exists / New World Order Dictator,
etc., etc., it would be even more insane for you to *not*
vote for me if I was running against the people currently in
control of our governments and society.
Why I Send My Missives To The CypherPunks List #18:
My only hope of being understood when I say, "I may be a
stupid fuck, but at least I'm not a stupid fuck." lies in
preaching to an audience that has the ability to understand
that ogi Berra's statement, "It's DejaVu all over again."
was nothing more nor less than A DirectMessageFromGod,
designed to serve as the Cole's Notes To Universal Human
History From The Beginning Of Time, in a format that would
allow us to write it on a slip of paper we could tuck into
the elastic of our panties, in preparation for the FinalExam.
True Initiates into the Mythical Circle of Eunuchs have long
understood that my obsession with peeking up women's skirts is
not the result of sexual depravity, but a highly spiritual
exercise in recognizing the difference between the masses of
Sheeple who truly benefit from the advice to wear clean
undergarments, in case they get hit by a bus, and those whose
unique, individual spark of life allows them to recognize that
they can step beyond society's strict moral programming by not
wearing any undergarments at all.
Although I am currently up to my ass in drunken alligators,
I am still capable of remembering that my original objective
was to drain the Scotch...
And The Way This Relates To Craptographics Is:
What is encryption, if not the epitome of the Anarchy Of
Meaning?
David Byrne, Largely Suited to serve as the Talking Head
who *could* be the originator of the Voice we hear, asking
us, "Psycho Killer, Qu'est Que C'est?", if we actually owned
a radio, understood that when Bob Dylan sang, "Johnny's in
the basement, mixing up the medicine...", it was an oblique
reference to Owsley developing a chemical technique to thwart
the MindPolice by using LSD to encrypt one's thought processes.
The Moody Blues, recognizing that the hippie movement arose
in response to Freedom and Privacy being threatened by a
GreyHound Restroom Public Key System that could be broken by
anyone with a dime, warned us that Timothy Leary, sick, depraved
pervert that he was, was 'outside, looking in', alerting us to
the fact that 'Free Shit' was nothing more than a corporate
advertising ploy by NewAge Gurus who wanted to save the cost
of a dime while buggering us, by telling us we may have won
'Free Film For Life.'
Phil Zimmerman, Hero Of The TellGovernmentToSitOnItAndRotate
Revolution, provided us with the tools we needed to have a
genuinely Free Shit in Pretty Good Privacy, enabling us to
lock the door while we crapped out our pearls of wisdom,
while the anal-retentive government agents on the other side
of the restroom-stall door dropped their dime, upon finding
out that the cost of peeking up the public's butt had risen
exhorbantly, due to those fucking California Hippie Trouble
Makers slipping 'acid' in their email.
The point that I probably would have made much earlier in
this chapter, were it not for the fact that I am a drunken,
inconsiderate asshole who fails to realize that *some* people
have better things to do than to waste their time wondering
where the fuck I get all of these goddamn commas, is this:
Anarchy is our only hope...
Surely anyone who has been paying attention to life around
them could not have failed to realize that if society elects
some bum going through the dumpster, to look for lunch, to an
official government position that designates him to be the
person responsible for removing doggie-doo from the city
streets (no salary, but all you can eat...), he soon declares
that he needs more money and a larger staff to do his job
properly, funds research indicating that dog owners are a
threat to Family Values, Apple Pie and the American Flag,
presses for Law&Order legislation adding Thirty-Five Dog
ears to the sentence of any Monger or Mongrel who is found
guilty of 'squatting' in commission of a poop, and calls for
the censorship of 'The Doggie Of Anne Frank' because of
its graphic descriptions of FIDO crapping in a secret room
in the attic, to avoid discovery by the DoggiePoop Gestapo.
If you think I'm being a WiseGuy, then think again, because,
if memory serves me correctly, this was the lead headline of
News Of The Weird last week, even though the original source
for the article was on page 4,385 of the New ork Times.
The first act of organized religion was to fuck up the Lord's
Prayer.
Anarchy is our only hope...
The first act of organized government was to raise taxes so
that they could give themselves a pay raise.
Anarchy is our only hope...
It is a knee-jerk reaction to bend over to pick up the soap
when somebody drops it, but it doesn't matter *who* fucks you,
it doesn't matter *how* they fuck you, *when* they fuck you,
or *why* they fuck you...the bottom line is this: If you remain
silent, ignoring the pain and indignity, listening to the still,
small voice of the Tao, you hear the Voice of Eternity echoing
from the birth of time to the death of the ten-thousand things,
whispering what was shouted by a great ogi, upon realizing that
the BigBang was actually a FistFucking KnuckleBall headed Hell
Bent For Leather (a California company) toward the Great Void
where the sun don't shine...you hear the Tao bend over and
whisper, "It's DejaVu, all over again."
Anarchy is our only hope...
Dr. Seuss Explains Sex To Children During His Prostrate Check:
After God created Adam, he took a bone out of Adam's side
and created Eve. The first thing Adam did was give Eve another
bone-from behind, as he wanted it to be a surprise.
If two people exist on the face of the planet, then, as surely
as night follows day, one of them is going to get fucked.
Anarchy is our only hope...
LIFE IN HELL Goes Country:
If you can see two assholes on a horse, without lifting its
tail, then it is a good bet that they are voting to steal your
money and your freedom.
Anarchy is our only hope...
We live in a world where, in a country in which starving
children are dying by the millions, the greatest threat to
those who manage to survive a FamineInTheMidstOfPlenty is
the ArmySurplusLandmine Company's 'Democracy' model, which
is guanteed to blow the limbs off of terrorists and freedom-
fighters, men, women and children, without discrimination as
to race, creed or color, although the guarantee clearly states
that it is not the responsibility of the manufacturer to see
that it serves the purpose for which it was originally
intended, according the color-glossy brochures distributed
by retired armed services officers now making the BigBucks as
DC corporate whores.
"The Democracy Model Landmine"
"Our most popular item, due to the billions of dollars in
advertising given to its name through the use of taxpayer
money being spent by unelected entities, both within and
outside of government circles, was built and designed by
highly qualified engineers and technicians to 'Save The
Life Of A Single Child.'
"As you can see from the pie-charts below, a computer
simulation showed that a minimum distribution of a
hundred units per square mile is sufficient to save
the life of a single child, providing that the child
is not so unfortunate as to accidentally step on a
landmine."
Anarchy is our only hope...
[GOVERNMENT REQUIRED NOTIFICATION:]
This chapter of 'Space Aliens Hide My Drugs'is a paid
advertisement for the Bienfait Nutly News "Anarchy Is
Our Only Hope' Christmas Special, available in boxes of
individually-wrapped 1's and 0's (in quantities of 8, 16,
32, 64...)
The perfect gift for grouchy old farts who still have the
box of Pecans you sent them last Christmas, because they
put their dentures in their shoes, and they can't find
their godamn shoes, and when they asked for help in a
post to the CypherPunks list, they got a hundred anonymous
emails from assholes telling them to, "Check the archives."