I just left a big message with my Carepages pals.  I never know how it works with the fervently religious.  Suppose God does work in mysterious ways?  Uh, if I might point out, even a toad works in mysterious ways.  A predator like that always existing…well, you just know you’d better come up with a little bit over toad to impute God; you did not need to.  You thus violated Ockham’s razor, in which case you may have until noon tomorrow (or the next day), to prove Pythagorus’ theorem in a cage.  You and the dog come out of your cages, if the dog catches a gopher, you don’t get this can of premium dog food, he does.  You can’t.  You do not have the claws.  Merely rip the earth a bit faster than  he runs underground.

Yeah, that says, “FEAR ME”, alllllllgh!   The lie is this one.  It says what I said it said, whenever a book is in front of another book.  whilst I am reaching down to clear the way for me to read the title, which subtitled is: Something Blogging Something (so, what?  A Pulitzer Prize?), there is a computability issue.  Can a book say for you to fear me?  I don’t think so.  Look at the surroundings, so squalid.

Going to write myself, and, I am going to limit my use of the copula (to be).  If so, I am going to run into the problem in which that going before leads to a logical joint, the word, “so”, as I am arguing.  “If A then B, so A”, is as good as in, “Fucking A”, which does not have “so”.  In fact, although Julian Assange answers questions by pretending, he starts with “so”.  Him and a few more also state, “yeah”, once they get the question, even though the guy is not done stating it.

“So”, comes along in your own personal argument as you work your way through.  That is why we (Buk), are, as drinkers, “working on” drinks.  I will have this “beer”.  Your argument should be shotgunned apart and the “so” deleted.  That’s what I mean by, “computability”.  With one blank, there are twenty-six separate book titles, and, oof!  I’d love to pare that down some.  Arguments do not evolve to the best arguments, nor do they short-circuit through to clean ones, for arguments are not the main, the conclusion is.  Not unfortunately, but, by design, finishing something returns you, guess where, to your life.  The mental world acts to destroy you in a war of attrition, but, is included in the physical world.  I am the 2010 psychic variety, not, trying to play out quantum mechanics to accomplish telepathy.  I’m doing the telepathy by means of circuiting parts through baths of infinity.  I know damn well nobody has this answer.  It takes over one lifetime to compute it.  It takes less if you find it.

Computers now spit-take answers on command, and, have for years.  They see patterns, give us an answer, then we see patterns.  A dekapetabyte filling out a form, racing for the corner, can run out of data and we can supply the missing character, but, you can’t, not if you want that dog food.  Computers hardly ever run us off the road, capture us, strip off our medals, and grill us.  They don’t have any branding irons.  The hackers stole the.

Okay!  I hear a high, plaintive whine (I’m making it).  I’m going to die!

Off first is a consideration how to enjoin folds to adopt the face-up configuration.  People do not actually talk to other people.  They face the wall in back of the person they are addressing, and, talk to it.  Once they speak their piece, they turn to the wall at 90 to the first one, and repeating the information, turn again, and repeat.   I am left in doubt.  They miss one wall.

Hello, are you there?  I’m over here.

It does not matter what orientation the object folded inside the sheet has, it only matters whether the title reads once the fold is made.  If not, and, you flip it over, the object falls out.  If you have to reverse the fold to fold it back on itself, the object falls out.  When it matters the orientation of the inside object, the two chance spheres of this folding take up more memory, and, folding something yields an object larger than the original object, even though it is folded, and, that’s my way of making that true now.  “Closer together”, can have the original meaning or the opposite meaning, but, the topology of origami causes the universe to shrink, or, the object to grow, and, these are equivalent.

You and the rest of the onlookers do not loot a given scene for valuables.  If they did, you could pick up his wallet first, then the next guy could take his wristwatch.  This is an ideal world, but, the objects have a heirarchy, not, you and the players have ordered the choosing to avoid conflict, because, only one thing in each scene is good.  Everything else, by design, is as much a liability as it is an asset.  You’re not picked first, to pick the first thing, and, to know what’s good.  By design, notice, as you cross an ice floe, you break through and are eaten by polar bears.  No, wait.  There’s no design.  Seals aren’t going to—what?  There’s orcas down there?  Okay, design it is.  Spontaneous design (calls to me, seven ounces of beer, 2:41, glass).  Any younger person’s object heirarchy is predicated of their own personal gifts.  If they’re fifteen, a cheerleader squad has possibilities.  A cheerleader squad in my hands would be inextricably linked with anchor chain and stored on ice in the hold of the Andrea Gail, outbound from Glouchester, to go cod fishing.

I don’t have the two pennies, but, supposing I did, I would have a chance on my walk of life to just pay.  Oh, how clever I was talking to the clerk with my debit card, flipping it over, saying, “Which way does this go?”  I must have that receipt.  Oh, it doesn’t matter now, what with the whole thing taken out of real time.  It’s queered now, or scotched.  Just a moment.  I think the word is, “slot”.  Oh, why would I have used that?  It’s in my notes, but, I mean, I’m typing because you don’t dirty up a room with papers.  Flea eggs grow on paper.  Now I used the Scotland, and, there’s a part of me on that.

I don’t actually type unless I am going to read statements running vertical.  I mean, that works with scribbles, too, but, there are more pens than there are papers, all else being equal, and nothing is read which is not annotated, especially is you feel you read it when you wrote it.

1146 words, a threshhold of when the muse gets bored and starts coming up with discourses a lot more valuable to cover.

The two pennies would have allowed me to reduce my copper burden if the charge had ended in a one or a two, then, would have caused more work than it was worth to hold them had it not.  It’s only this type of stuff that allows psi to flourish, imagining an entity that declaims, “This guy has more sense than those around him, consistently.”  Any such entity would need NP-complete solutions in order to gauge that, and, the liberation of NP-complete beings would make short work of the planet.  We have an attenuated NP entity within ourselves, weighing alternate universes.  It’s doing a good job, but, there’s a flaw in that observable.

“Dear Me”, receipt

Details…what do you mean details…a detail by itself is random information.  Without any other information, both sides of the argument that it does or does not have something to do with something else is untestable in the case of there being the main point in question.  How nice to define.  Here, it’s a “the”, not an “is”.  One being yellow, the colors orange fully open to leverage over someone’s details.  I wanted it to be two, since I wanted to get rid of pennies, and it was, but then, I did not want it to behave off what was said or thought.  I just hated the black muse.  Windage and elevation (for the accuracy), Mrs. McClusky.



…… .88

…… .1








…… .1






Aw, Elmer.  What about


Naw, if I knew…

“Be”, then.  Corporate will hear about savings: 77, 111, 111, 211, 300, 7+ 3 x 1 SEB pulls a put 211 on the receipsk… = 10.  And seven equals ten when you add nthree.  A ten does not affect the nickeling penniage return.  So, orthogonal.

One Response to “_EAR ME”

  1. 7-7. Mainstream Paranormal Television Programs « How to Make Methamphetamine Says:

    […] https://sbillinghurst.wordpress.com/2011/06/29/_ear-me/ […]

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