As I'm sure some of you're already aware, I am from Jupiter (like, in the same way people who grew up in Oak Park are from Chicago, and folks residing in Ahrensfelde live in Berlin).
You see, I was born *in Europa, which is technically a suburb of Jupiter. Now that NASA has confirmed the existence of one of our "great lakes", it is only a matter of time before you'll begin to read headlines like Jupiter three moments away from some scary shit!
More to the point: When you read or see or hear that (name of government or acting union) is frustrated with (name of government or acting union), what you should take away from that is that some combination of shadowy and not-so shadowy interests want you to believe in the aforementioned parties' frustrations (though the demands placed upon them can sometimes lead to actual frustration; the difference is nominal).
You'd in vain try & figure out who all of those interests are, some being obvious to some of you, more to a few. The rest of you vote. Which is cute, I grant you.
Correspondingly, when your media frame Occupy Wall Street (as quaint a mix of metaphoric metonymy as one is likely to find) and what "they" might stand for, the hunt is also for snipe. OWS signifies some sort of would-be inversion of financial hegemony. Perhaps a takeover. Or an overthrow. Or usurpation of the hegemony. But that's just the name.
The interests of the people and parties giving their energy to it are as da-verse as Christopher Marlowe & KRS-One (note that the former is no more) and far-fangled as an anarchist and an Ark-ist (note that "nobody" takes either one seriously). The remaining actors "lending support" are just status quo. So no: the occupiers don't stand for anything. Neither does anyone else.
What is in a game?
Whenever you hear that some kind of financial pact is in the offing, be aware that money is being shuffled about in a manner which might seem complex to anyone who'd bother to read about it, but is actually no more or less byzantine than you going to the cash machine round the corner. Except in this case, you'd be a rich serpent-god's offspring going to an ATM that dispenses more cash in one go than turds flushed in Holland biannually.
I know about serpent-gods. They hail from Jupiter proper, float in its gaseousness. Their presence here on Planet Earth dates back about 20,000 years originally, but the major influx didn't occur until about 2,000 B.C.E. (there was no Christ, btw, "historical" or otherwise (lol;-))
Then, from the serpent-gods came the reptilian-demis, who can, like their progenitors, communicate telepathically but, unlike their forebears, don't excrete waste through their pores and are able to shapeshift into human form for several days at a time. And, yes, they are terraforming your planet. Duh, right?
Being from Europa has it advantages, in that my existence here doesn't necessitate hostility toward your kind's requirement for survival. I like humans. Sort of. Okay, "like" isn't exactly right; let's just say that I tolerate you in spite of my finding you intolerable. The main point is, I like your atmosphere.
If you're looking for me to make some grand pronouncement of enmity against the serpent-hybrids, I got bad news for you:
An' da Mawshans begat yo ass too!
When the Jovians began dipping into your gene pool, you'd already been Martianized, which is what it means to be "human". An abundance of pure primates was left to roam the surface of the planet as a clue, because they knew that they (you) would forget from whence they (you) had sprung.
Evolution is a quaint theory, the ironic result of a narrowly deductive reptilian brain. Who knows what you'd've come up with had the serpents left you alone. In reality, the religious freaks are closer to the mark. Those of you who snicker at the creationists are carrying the same serpent-god/Martian-monkey mashup, which sports the traits of obstinate ignorance that have led to the intolerance and sense of superiority on both sides of that issue. But humans have their good side, too.
A human's financial class reflects roughly the predominance of its Jovian gene, or lack thereof. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but that's how it works. Keep in mind, however, that it is not a strictly proportional proposition: There's a crystal ceiling for anyone without nearly ninety-nine percent Gas Planet in 'em, and legion are the parties that half-n-halfers never get invited to, even if they do demonstrate sacrificial sycophancy at "Bohemian Grove".
Read Faust: It really is instructive; except for the ending.
Are you a rept-brid? If you don't know already - not enough to count. No one drop rule here: if you can't do a jig, you ain't Irish. So what do you do? You could declare the demis enemy number one, but that would be almost as effective as the Native American waging war against the United States. On the other hand, if it gives you a sense of purpose, I say do it.
The Good News is: everybody dies.
Most of you who live long enough won't survive the coming changes. If survival is what you're after, best chance'd be to find somebody really rich (really really rich) and marry into their family. Though, to be honest, I am pretty sure that the serpent-gods have already completed that phase of the project, so you'd likely only be kept on as a slave. And not a sex slave; if you find yourself being a sex slave, it means you've hooked up with a lurking fifty percenter. That ain't good. Talk about issues. They got 'em.
Me? Well, it seems ye olde Nat Wood is being wandered again, so I may have to make myself scarce. She was a seventy percenter herself, you know: nearly three-quarters serpent blood. Back then I still had an affinity for 'brids. They knew how to party and could, uh, do other things. When it became obvious that she was never going to leave that "not Lyle Wagoner" guy - a lowly ten percenter - I tossed her into the Pacific.
That was rock-bottom for me (more-so for her); I was doing a lot of tina back then, which quickly devolved into pure reptilian behavior. We were all tweeking that night. Walken even let me have him after he saw what I had done. Shows you where he was coming from.
If you want my advice: I think resistance is the best option. It has a sort of code to it. But take that with a grain of salt; I'm from Jupiter.
You see, I was born *in Europa, which is technically a suburb of Jupiter. Now that NASA has confirmed the existence of one of our "great lakes", it is only a matter of time before you'll begin to read headlines like Jupiter three moments away from some scary shit!
More to the point: When you read or see or hear that (name of government or acting union) is frustrated with (name of government or acting union), what you should take away from that is that some combination of shadowy and not-so shadowy interests want you to believe in the aforementioned parties' frustrations (though the demands placed upon them can sometimes lead to actual frustration; the difference is nominal).
You'd in vain try & figure out who all of those interests are, some being obvious to some of you, more to a few. The rest of you vote. Which is cute, I grant you.
Correspondingly, when your media frame Occupy Wall Street (as quaint a mix of metaphoric metonymy as one is likely to find) and what "they" might stand for, the hunt is also for snipe. OWS signifies some sort of would-be inversion of financial hegemony. Perhaps a takeover. Or an overthrow. Or usurpation of the hegemony. But that's just the name.
The interests of the people and parties giving their energy to it are as da-verse as Christopher Marlowe & KRS-One (note that the former is no more) and far-fangled as an anarchist and an Ark-ist (note that "nobody" takes either one seriously). The remaining actors "lending support" are just status quo. So no: the occupiers don't stand for anything. Neither does anyone else.
What is in a game?
Whenever you hear that some kind of financial pact is in the offing, be aware that money is being shuffled about in a manner which might seem complex to anyone who'd bother to read about it, but is actually no more or less byzantine than you going to the cash machine round the corner. Except in this case, you'd be a rich serpent-god's offspring going to an ATM that dispenses more cash in one go than turds flushed in Holland biannually.
I know about serpent-gods. They hail from Jupiter proper, float in its gaseousness. Their presence here on Planet Earth dates back about 20,000 years originally, but the major influx didn't occur until about 2,000 B.C.E. (there was no Christ, btw, "historical" or otherwise (lol;-))
Then, from the serpent-gods came the reptilian-demis, who can, like their progenitors, communicate telepathically but, unlike their forebears, don't excrete waste through their pores and are able to shapeshift into human form for several days at a time. And, yes, they are terraforming your planet. Duh, right?
Being from Europa has it advantages, in that my existence here doesn't necessitate hostility toward your kind's requirement for survival. I like humans. Sort of. Okay, "like" isn't exactly right; let's just say that I tolerate you in spite of my finding you intolerable. The main point is, I like your atmosphere.
If you're looking for me to make some grand pronouncement of enmity against the serpent-hybrids, I got bad news for you:
You've all been crossbred to some extent.
Most of you are about one percent.
An' da Mawshans begat yo ass too!
When the Jovians began dipping into your gene pool, you'd already been Martianized, which is what it means to be "human". An abundance of pure primates was left to roam the surface of the planet as a clue, because they knew that they (you) would forget from whence they (you) had sprung.
Evolution is a quaint theory, the ironic result of a narrowly deductive reptilian brain. Who knows what you'd've come up with had the serpents left you alone. In reality, the religious freaks are closer to the mark. Those of you who snicker at the creationists are carrying the same serpent-god/Martian-monkey mashup, which sports the traits of obstinate ignorance that have led to the intolerance and sense of superiority on both sides of that issue. But humans have their good side, too.
A human's financial class reflects roughly the predominance of its Jovian gene, or lack thereof. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but that's how it works. Keep in mind, however, that it is not a strictly proportional proposition: There's a crystal ceiling for anyone without nearly ninety-nine percent Gas Planet in 'em, and legion are the parties that half-n-halfers never get invited to, even if they do demonstrate sacrificial sycophancy at "Bohemian Grove".
Read Faust: It really is instructive; except for the ending.
Are you a rept-brid? If you don't know already - not enough to count. No one drop rule here: if you can't do a jig, you ain't Irish. So what do you do? You could declare the demis enemy number one, but that would be almost as effective as the Native American waging war against the United States. On the other hand, if it gives you a sense of purpose, I say do it.
The Good News is: everybody dies.
Most of you who live long enough won't survive the coming changes. If survival is what you're after, best chance'd be to find somebody really rich (really really rich) and marry into their family. Though, to be honest, I am pretty sure that the serpent-gods have already completed that phase of the project, so you'd likely only be kept on as a slave. And not a sex slave; if you find yourself being a sex slave, it means you've hooked up with a lurking fifty percenter. That ain't good. Talk about issues. They got 'em.
Me? Well, it seems ye olde Nat Wood is being wandered again, so I may have to make myself scarce. She was a seventy percenter herself, you know: nearly three-quarters serpent blood. Back then I still had an affinity for 'brids. They knew how to party and could, uh, do other things. When it became obvious that she was never going to leave that "not Lyle Wagoner" guy - a lowly ten percenter - I tossed her into the Pacific.
That was rock-bottom for me (more-so for her); I was doing a lot of tina back then, which quickly devolved into pure reptilian behavior. We were all tweeking that night. Walken even let me have him after he saw what I had done. Shows you where he was coming from.
If you want my advice: I think resistance is the best option. It has a sort of code to it. But take that with a grain of salt; I'm from Jupiter.
"Chocolate City" - Parliament
von: George Clinton, William Collins, Bernard Worrell
*Your colloquial "in" (a state/country/continent, etc.) has interplanetary origins: the majority of what you understand as life dwells within planets, not on them.
