Thursday, 28 November 2019

Ganks Thieving

Raiders harvested
the Jamestown massacre, quoth

Saturday, 23 November 2019

It will come back to you.

On a counta recent activities, I've been netted by the audiophiliac-ical algorithm, nearly snared re. external (i.e. extra i.e not the (relatively) shittier version already provided) digital-to-analog converter-ism, and but for one audiophile's eventual graphing of the diminishing of returns in the matter of discernible hi-fidelity improvement as it relates to something like million dollar speakers versus gazillion dollar speakers, I'dn't've sussed that the improvement I'd just made which landed me in this spinner's web was the largest available along the chain of consumerist obsessions, i.e. the optimal appreciable aesthetic aspect -to- gross domesticated crass commercialized concern ratio had already been achieved.

Leaving aside the value of analog in general, — which is indeed the only way for our ears to hear its cut-out counterpart from the digital realm, which might lead one to wonder how one could deny what will always remain the inherent superior nature of our analog world (along with the not-all things-are equal aspects of digital, e.g. sample size and such — the compact disc quality file bit rate compared to that within the range of the mp3 represents in my lifetime's experience the biggest gaping hole in what had been least beneficial about digital technology: suffering tin-level resonance for the sake of saving space, or being able to cart your crappy crap around with you wherever you go with your twenty/twenty-first century's self.

In summary, it's back to the big file for me, not for cramming it in my ears mobility, but, yes, the space saving thing as well as the potential to schlep a terabyte in less than a trip if necessary. And the difference between Steely Dan at 320 thingies per second and 1411 of the same, via the same (relatively) shitty digital-to-analog converter inside ye ole computer device and from the same (relatively) shitty computer audio boosting boxes is like moving from the dark night of the soul to the formally known joys of daylight.

The betitled hat-tip is to BLCKDGRD, whose creation below, when-upon so clicked, links to the creation that scrolls to the song that led to the listening session that provided the preceding. God bless the Goog's Corps for reminding me that the artists' or their owner's access denial to my resident land verifies as well the virtue of the maintenance of (relative) material possession. It doesn't just sound better, but it's here.

2019 Nov 22 C by BLCKDGRD's JP

Thursday, 21 November 2019

Democrats are not viable.

They say so themselves. All the time. And on literal world stages for all to see. It's fucking hilarious. It's Uncle Joe's primary argument, if you can qualify his barely being able to get to the end of a spoken sentence. We all know what he means.

Not viable, I tell you. Not one in the bunch. I'm glad I'm at a place where I can say that with amusement and without equivocation, though I suppose an apology'd be in order. Apologies all-around. I'm sure there are plenty of people in the world who deserve better somehow.

They can say whatever they want to whatever dorky applause, but real people have long had what is not being said firmly dissonant in the soul of what's left of their bullshit meters. If you have to ask how it is that a near eternal stuck-in-the-craw sensation could result in the realisation of the one thing they say unites them in opposition, you probably shouldn't be reading this right now.

Before I go on, a little salve for what ails the faithfully hopeless:
“The great enemy of truth is very often not the lie — deliberate, contrived and dishonest — but the myth — persistent, persuasive and unrealistic. Too often we hold fast to the cliches of our forebears. We subject all facts to a prefabricated set of interpretations. We enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.

—JFK at Yale in June of '62

I won't make the ironic mistake of falling into this guy's cult of personality, but the words are quote-worthy. Brilliant really. Whether or not the Stone-view that he eventually had a Jesus moment and would have thrown CAutIon to the four winds, if you will, is debatable. Could be they off'd him because they had thought so. He did shit-can the guy they'd later name their holy city's airport for. Could be the overthrow was just sport. Status as tribe member spares no one when the boys are having a time. It doesn't matter.

I mean, it matters, sure, if the "everything changed that day" notion is worthy of reflection in the rear-view of yIke's complex exit. I'd sure like to believe that Jack-celot had that one affair, Mesc-tripping with the adorable peacenik, which'd led to more than reflection. Dunno, though.

Not viable. It's been the pastime of the party since before I came along. Yet another thing that's not new that they'd have you don't stop believing in, all the while jingo bellowing the arrival of Satan Claus, our as-of-yet worst case scenario sitting in the seat of power.

MSDNC and C-SPAN simultaneously vying for ayes is a sight. It's been a generation since I observed The Vying for Impeachment and had forgotten how much the subpoena'd are only there to passively moderate the commentary of congress-creatures. And the framing of the commentary thereof completely ignores what the great unregistered are thinking. C-SPAN, for its part, dutifully presents during the breaks the standard bearers of the red-and-blue worldview. The great unregistered I refer to involve themselves in no such dutiful doltery. To the extent they get involved, it is by default with what remains unsaid. Don't ask, don't tell.

Same rules apply to the staging of the great debate. In fairness to Bernie, he is the one who advised circumspection in their overzealous claim of unity of purpose. It falls nonetheless into the old sock drawer of vying for viability. Bernie woulda won? Nope. The party said he wasn't viable. His being an Independent gives them even the ostensible right to say so. And on their way to saying who's not viable they will nominate the one who'll keep the contrary from being proven.

What about Bubba and Bo Rama? Sure, if it's another huckster that's desired another huckster it'll be. "I'm tired of losing!" they snivel. Like entitled little brats who want a pony now and yet who project pony-purity upon anyone who doesn't share their goal-shifting admiration for the person they'll eventually canonize if they hadn't had it done for them already.

Who's the viable huckster in this bunch? I would love to see Uncle Joe face off against Dumps-in-His-Pants. And just like I said regarding the erstwhile first female nominee, I maintain we're better off with the dimwited gangster than we would have been with the cold-bloodedness behind the door not chosen. It's not just MAGA-heads who think she's crooked, it's just they got the guy who will benefit from saying it.

"What's not being said" is not about whataboutery, pulled out of every ass left & right to greater or lesser effect whenever an accusation flies in the face of one's own precious hero. Sure, whataboutery would be the counter-counter-accusation hurled at anybody who'd question the absurdity of calling everybody but your own a callous and corrupt war criminal, a meddler in democratic elections, a sower of the seeds of dissension and distrust among targeted populations. The charge of whataboutery is retroactively preemptive. It requires at the outset — if I may call back the quote — a prefabricated set of interpretations.

The nugget of what's not being said is that there is a mass of folk who couldn't care less if the lying and cheating is just adorable fudging or rises to the level of conveniently criminal. At the end of the day it is impossible to take the word of those who'll never come clean, even if it just means nobody required them to. If you cannot measure the gradation of malfeasance along the way, then every counter-claim is as considerable as it is unseemly and absurd. If nobody is being held to account, then nobody is being held to account.

And to the plethora of "bombshells" that would bring down the sitting poopypants: Shit like "That was my interpretation," and "There was an awareness of that," are not utterances, I don't think, that would sway the great unbiased gods of jurisprudence, let alone an elected bunch of upper-hosers who have made their bread on such weasle meat.

In case you're not paying attention, the "explosive" testimony is shaping up to be a choreography that'll at best snare the wannabe consigliere whose claim to fame was being mayor on truther Tuesday. Other heads will roll for sure, but the Capo will only go down in history. Not that he has that much authority. Not that his two predecessors along with their shifty houses didn't do their damnedestes to give it to him.

And lest you think I draw no distinctions between the unviable joke of an opposition and the alleged soul-distinguishing evil incarnate to be opposed,  I reserve terminology like poopypants and shit-stain for he who represents the final waste product that's the result of a pretty goddamn bad diet. So there's that.

Though, to be honest, I would equally enjoy seeing the shit-stain in the Oval Office get trounced by a Wall Street vetted war criminal who begins his term with white hair, rather than ending it having aged so much that he'd garner the respect worthy the sage that never really was. Nobody'll say Uncle Joe was a sage. Uncle Sam, all day long. That's the myth in the aforementioned quotation. Hence the idea that the White House is currently being defiled. No, Joe's no sage. He doesn't even play one on TV. Says he's viable though.

Tuesday, 5 November 2019

Indy Star: entworfene Daten

Hover to reveal the shapeshifters of the oval.
Click for the story.

Roger & Tony's  entworfene Daten / Data Drafted