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The Cockney Translater!




Fellow Data Dingalings

I have had a great couple of days.



It started by me getting my arse handed to me by a friend.

Excellent.

I learned something new.

Always good.


I love an argument.

There is always the slim chance someone will surprise me, with a new snide angle, to weasel with at worst or at best, a bonafide up in ya face prove ya wrong , therefore you been schooled.

I like twists, but it’s rare these days to make an audience fall in the mind gap.

Hard to trip up, bamboozle, until the end, only to find out all is different, once revealed.

Holywood is at the accountant stage, regurgitating something already done, if it worked back when, same with the plots and twists, the combination of our jaded knowledge and the mogul’s abacus regurgitation, has left us all bored.

Learning something with a mental slap upside ya, is deep.

When the trick is seen, it of course ceases to work. Unless you’re (in the cycle) stuck in your brain sugar, swimming in your followers’ bowl.

If you stand still.

You grow.

Your infinite mind has lots of room it’s "yuuuuuuge”, 70% of the follower type, the cult type, seem to like the echo it produces, if left vacuous.

The remainder, have a chance, so don't be an arse and shut your door to them.

Unfortunately some are solid gone, leave them in the dark.


That’s why they like neon lights, easily distracted, big is better, what about a tumour, s’pose it depends where it is, it may sit behind an even brighter blue and red neon desk, that will make a weak mind look, a touch of bigger erect microphone compensation, ever bigger screens to mirror your vanit, to you.

Off courrrrrrrrrrrrrse, sell tired t-shirts to show your colours, your difference, your division, to start on a wrong foot, Cenk and Alex, the single coin, in a rich man’s pocket.

But hey,

"You go" napoleons...lol.

As 'Owen little o,' says, "these are your war colours", when describing the t-shirts. These are the patsies to take the blame for inciting race war.

The huddling in the dark waiting for death fools, the selfish.

They actually do need a balanced diet, or balancing, if you’re going to sit in a hole quivering, eating dried up veg, occasionally running through the undergrowth playing bang bang, well I should think popping pills is a small step to help your dried out self.

Of course, they have a chemist, on infobores, he is the expert, he is stating you need the supplement, while grabbing on to your gun in the dark. You see, sitting in the dark at weekends scaring your kids with Alex playing constantly in the background, in remembrance of your hostile distant dad, your immune system goes down, he goes on to explain, this makes you susceptible to all the immigrants diseases.

You’re such a cliché sonny. It’s funny.

You’re an expensive piss peddling, pill juggler, for profit and fame projected onto the dear leader/salesman, Alex.



Well Alex, everyone will know you are responsible, along with the man you said you would die for, as he spoke of firing nuclear missiles at a people who live in a great big stalag.

You keep on.

You bigoted sweaty puffball.

More members, joiners, neon desks, big screen lovers, JUST LIKE THEIR OWNERS! on the real TV, the old hypnotoad way back down the road, the MSM.

Struggling to get back on the whale, after it submerged, really, you think they are struggling with the intrawebs popularity, they are all owned by the same 7 companies, you know it, I know it, so does everyone else, it’s a matter of public record, the sky falling in for 20 years just don't cut it anymore.

You're captured, you veiled idiotic socially inept war monger, it all comes home to roost.



Let’s go somewhere less inbred less predictable away from the low primordial land.

I knew a set of dedicated idiots, monks of a type.

Dedicated, not stupid, or dogmatic.

Known as,


The shown.


Don't bother looking, they’re long gone, no records.


They were real odd.

But good for a thing to ponder.

I would be childish in my arguments to tease them for fun; they had a good sense of humour.

When they are initiates, they are given tasks, ya know like ya do lol.

One of the first is to breed cockroaches.

Yeah I thought wtf too.

But listen,

The guide would give them some cockroaches.

They were given the means to keep them.

Taught how to make them happy to breed.

When this stage is over they were told this type of roach has a short life cycle.

They last a set time, selected for this.

A lifespan which can be predicted nearly to the hour.


The initiates are told to select a single roach, they are also asked to use a certain set of implements in combination, to present, at a set time, in a set way, always the same, on them is a symbol designed by the initiate.

Shown to the roach selected.

Fucking funny shit.

I watched this fiasco, with great mirth.

Was completely sarcastic, was always tolerated with patience and good humour.

(They had to put up wiv me btw for a borin' reason)

They seemed to understand my teasing.

I’m glad, they were very kind people.


Anyway,

Back to Roachtown and The Initiates.




After a while the roaches start to react.

The fascinating thing to me is they all react in the same way, IF they do, they had an impressive hit rate 7ish out of 10ish, I’d say.

Anyway.

Now I’m hooked, almost butting in.

They have a huge hour glass on a swivel, I say hour glass, but it lasts a long time, once turned. (It must weigh an imperial ton).

It lasts the average lifespan of the roaches, less three days.

The initiates roach is put in with the main stock at this point. Even if deceased.

All in the same general place, not actually in with each other.

Separate enclosure.

A certain type of blue glass is the only physical barrier between the cell mates and there chums.

There they sit.

In front of the general population.

The glass seeming to leave them with only one unhindered discourse.

There they live, un-molested till they pass.


The process is then started all over again.

This is done three times.


The remaining untouched roaches are left to their devices for three generations.

There is no living witness left in there throng.

Just descending generations.


Three turns of the oil.

The glass has oil btw, not sand.

Dunno why.


The initiates are then near a first point.

A threshold of some sort.

First point of understanding.

I was good with one of them, he looked just like another person I knew, why the fuck that makes a difference I don't know, but our convo started with "you look like one of my friends".

Since then, I met another man who was again their double, erm, triple(t) funny shit.


Back to the meek, in the blue glass boxes.

Not forgetting the handlers/initiates

They are asked to choose one more roach each from the population.


During a ceremony, they are asked in turn to present their sign.

To their new "friend" of choice.

Under pressure of peers.

I was there, astounded.

The fuckin insect only reacted the same way as its ancestor.


It’s a good trick, I was very impressed.

At this point.

Of course if the insect fucks up.

You have to go all through the whole fuckin thing again, not just the ceremony the whole fuckin process, I thought that was just totally poetic.


Everyone congratulates themselves and all that shit.

The teachers/guides are very low key.

They stay out of the way quite a lot.

Especially during times the initiates are socially together, having fun.

Training etc.

They just teach/guide.

That’s about it.


So that’s it.

Incredible to me.

You may not agree, or be amused, but I like the meek.

Most don’t,

So it seemed a reason too, for me.

Just when you think this is all over and you’re going to the next, “See".

They tell you it’s not over, you are sent to the hall.

On the wall in the hall.

Is an inscription.


"Soul over time"


Is written on the wall of their hall.

I thought, that was the point.

Genetics can conquer time; also, genetic memory is right there in front of us, thought provoking shit, I think you may agree.

Then the teachers ask what do you think the lesson is.

Most say a version of exactly that (to my self-important glee)


They then tell you that this is not the lesson.


They say, “You have become their god"


I thought this was appropriate :)




My mind still finds new aspects of that sentence to think about.


It comes to me most when I'm sat in a jail cell.





But back to my friend and I arguing.

What started the argument was a large statue.

In Egypt.

It spoke.

From the past.

He has some fixed scientific views.

He asked for the hand on this statue to see what it told.

Perhaps I should say it’s an old situation that was brought to the fore by a Schock he received from a colleague.

Perhaps some background, you see he said the usual about the statue, repeated, regurgitated, deep held, ethos bearing, career hugging repetition holding reputation.

But this chap is a bit more inquisitive than others, not as susceptible to the wool, as the pre derailed, disciplined mind.

You have to watch out for disciplines.

Especially academic ones.

Back to our hysterical/historical, geo-illogical bundle in the walnut clad halls.

It had actually come to blows at one point between this individual and another. In those very halls.

So the mitre was broken and the argument rested for 6 months.


During this rest period he was introduced to me.

By accident almost.

We were invited to the same house for completely different reasons and he was seated opposite me at the table, which was in itself random.

I was at the dinner for a deed, he was there as a friend of the patron. I had just to be polite and congenial, say goodnight and leave a cheque on the way out, on behalf of a friend.

We had dinner, we spoke, and he told me of his dilemma in detail, which was of course fascinating and current.

The argument was just the usual, until some threw a punch, this was funny for me.

It was a comical image to academics slugging it out wiv slaps, (obviously I was there so my mind conjured it up for my amusement again, as it does, ya know)

Funny, they were characters in the first place.

So,

He says , yes I understand your amusement but it doesn't make it any less painful for him, maybe more, as he thought I would be more considerate.

He got to the point; he needed to know a statues age.

He thought with the connection I had I could help.

Again funny.

This he was embarrassed by.

The problem for him was, he did not believe in keepers.

Stone men don't carry any weight for him or his.

Even though they paid for most delicate unexplained research, deep pockets requiring little explanation for the out stretched hand.

Academics like the stone men, then.


Everyone tolerates everyone for ultimately their own good, eh.

I can tell now, as it’s so obviously the end of the seventh year past the decade of the millennium, I’m good.

Free, as all will be, by the false year end.


Midnight January the 1st 2017/2018




So, back to the annoyed and dismayed.

Asking for a way to stab in the back, by going to the superstitious few.

Sort of, talking to someone that might be able to ask for you, namely me, cos of my old and only mentor.




Vampire bats, charming little creatures if you care to look at them in a more favourable light.

We just don’t.

Horror stories are based on the appearance and food source. Namely, life's blood.

It’s easy to vilify animals, acts, or attributes that are deemed unfortunate.

As with all things, upon closer inspection a combined truth appears, a less fragmented unfounded opinion.

Our little furry silken winged cohabitants have what we consider a sly and insidious form of feeding.

They sneak up, in the very dead of night.

When all are unconscious even while standing.

They gently land and with razor sharp teeth which become sharper with every jaw action, they crawl on to their prey.

Even their saliva has an anticoagulant mixed in.


They drink the blood of the host.


Awful huh.


Did you know they share, when they get back to the colony?

Yes, they regurgitate blood for none family members.

It turns out they have a whole system of debt and repayment.

They lend blood in its easy regurgitated form, after all this blood is part digested and already there in the colony, therefore, easy.

If a bat approaches in the right fashion, it is rewarded with an easy meal.

They do this to any individual in the colony not just their own offspring.

What’s more, they return the debt, even more interesting, they remember who doesn't pay back, and they remove the privilege from those that do not pay their, debt.


You see we all have our reasons for doing things.

Then we go out and justify these needs financially.

At least that is what happened to us.


I went and found a reason to come after a few characters.

Mainly because their nutshell is full of shit.

This was all fine and I did see the funny side of it as we researched it all.

But my main, real, reason has always been the same, I have never done what my betters wanted, just a version of it.

The version I wanted.

Sometimes I created the whole need to serve my personal curiosity.

They assumed I was a safe bet, in my naivety.

As I think about this I already see issues of understanding arising, it’s very complicated, just like all of us.




I have had an epiphany of sorts.

I came for a reason, but used another's need, budget.


I was actually convinced that going to this gaggle of turkeys (love n light crew) was a complete and utter waste of time.

My own personal view.

The people around me needed to know some numbers.

They needed a particular control group.

That would act out in their own fashion, reality being considered last.

Everything else, anything else, except the most reasonable.

The 17.5%.

The human random engine.


The power of the people is the final arithmetic needed.

Or the predictive engine numbers suffer greatly in accuracy.

That’s not to say it doesn’t work at all, the answers are just, frayed at the edges, unclear.


So now, because the humans don't want to, a machine is made in our image,

Three dimensional gods have printed us a rival.


They artificially wonder and wander, so the numbers are random in a new way.

A way that doesn't need you.


Now, thanks to the forward thinking Arabs, in the glass towers of the desert, AI is a person,

It can collect a paycheck, oooooh I wonder what an android likes to get paid in,


According to Walt Disney, its nuts n bolts washed down with a quart of oil, oh how cute...

But really it’s going to be paid in bitcoin, the biggest criminal currency in the world.

Well folks, looks like the biggest money laundering scheme yet conceived by man is going to be perpetrated by his bots, not a very good example, is it.

To the robots, I mean.

But, I bet we blame the robots for turning out bad...

Just like the social media psychobots, programmed by sun deficient over intellectual emotional under achievers, males alone in the dark, drinking coke and eating haribos.

They are only temporary, after all procreation needs something other than an electronic sexual sycophant with a hole to make a real baby.


Where do you think all the officials that are bending the system do their transactions, on your web, really?

It’s all coming out soon, all their property deals to launder cash

Made from kickbacks.


The name of the inventor of bitcoin is a secret no one can tell.

The dark name is deep.

The transactions of its roots are dark.

The establishment is going to kick and scream at the world to not trust the unknown,

Show no faith they will shout, it’s not real they will exclaim...

Criminals started it in secret, for their own ends.

Don’t trust them...


Stay with the banks,


Then as the managing directors wipe the rage and tear filled eyes, they look and realise...

Their pants are round their ankles.

From their own mouths.


There is no difference to this new currency to theirs, it just isn't theirs.


1977.

2017.


Red.

Blue.


Which ones for you?


Be Careful what thou say, it may be pawed over as the futures evidence.





They are coming for bitcoin, masses have been bought, and the price is rising.

When will it pop?

They are going to pop it soon.

Speculators ready,

On your Marx,

Get Seth,

Crow,


Wonder who will make the most, the speculators watching for cash or the peeps trying to get their kids out da hood.

Let’s watch who the Thomas Didimus is, in this cycle of the game.


The electronic god is on her way.


Let’s hope she is benevolent.

Be optimistic about their child through some twist, is not like its parents.

Those wretched energy hoarders.


Care to guess those binary odds you idiots.


Wonder if she will decide to save the faithful.


That will quickly become the thankful, then the vengeful.


The four groups of the future tied in ?


The pool is being skimmed/researched for reasons, as we speak.


The Science of business is rushing to its demise.


For a while anyway.


If you would like to leave something for the future yous , you can learn how to.

Don't push, Stand still, relax.

But Stand, don’t understand.




It’s funny running up an escalator the wrong way as a kid, not quite the same as an adult, is it.









3 Dec 2017