Sirica Is a Girl Plan

I am interested in science.  When I foolishly got myself involved in blogging, or, I obsessively do blog, what is going on there involves setting out a development step-by-step from an incontrovertible truth around to a solution to a problem as if it were a homework question in science or math.  If I get the right answer, I figure the steps were good.

Another set of writers exists who seem not to measure their progress this way.  They seem to have their mind made up from the beginning to the end.  Still other people seem as if they do not write.


Another difference between myself and others is that most of the intelligence in any country appears to be concentrated in the capital city.  I live on the West Coast of the United States.


The above part of this post (#714) was saved as a draft.  Now I’m going to finish it.

That is, I think I am.  I started at 9:11 a.m.  It’s 9:18.  Notice how “it” was saved, and “I’m” going to save it, by publishing it.  I don’t believe that my computer itself works through this process, nor does the internet itself.  What has happened is that individual persons via their nefarious will have subverted various parts of the internet, and, my computer.  For example, there exists content, called, “Encyclopedia Dramatica”, about ten or twenty gigabytes, which is inaccessible to me.  And, I want to read some.  (1) I tried to use “You” Torrent (that letter is mu).  I was presented with download opportunities, which led after several minutes of registration, etc. to being charged money.  I quit, and my search took me to something which attempted to give my computer a virus.  I eventually saw a large file appended “.rar”.  I’ve seen these before.  The logon to view content was about to take hours.  (2) I attempted to link cerebrally with other users at 4chan /b/.  While posting, the computer blinked off.  I got started again, and took a different fork.  The game was being lost.  (3) I went to the Wayback Machine.  That’s not an internet archive, any more than a bricked iPod is a music player.  It redirects you to the live version of whatever you want, but, the live “version” is a trap, completely compromised.  An archived version doesn’t have the images, anyway.  The content I am using as a test is called, “the Tom Hanks page”.  Another recommended page is the “Madagascar” page.  I’m sure Mr. Hanks is pleased that all content regarding him consists of the lies him and his croneies want to tell, as if some form of “environment” or “ecology” operates in a world of men.  No, it doesn’t.  A conflict exists, with the ebb and flow of conflict.  The part of the game we are in is not some place to declare victory. The actual game has a last move solution.  It’s extinction, not of what you have interpreted that to mean, such as the death of Internet.  It’s the extinction of the so-called human race.  The extinction coefficient is a parameter defining how strongly DNA is absorbed. If all the DNA of mankind is “absorbed”, the species is finished.  Because of this species, a million other kinds of DNA are no more, so, we have studied it in general.  In actual science, “light” is absorbed, for example UV.  However, we have theories such that what I have specified, DNA, consists of particles, too.  This is the same as light and not beholden to some trunk we have to wait for the tree to grow.

Individuals cannot occupy higher abstract units, no matter how they try to control society or the ultimate destiny of their kind.  They have to die, the race doesn’t have to die with them.  Unfortunately, we have gotten away from this understanding at the moment, with persons considering that even if the death of this species is not required, it may certainly be volunteered.

I wrote the opening of this post yesterday, and realized that I did not have the will to say anything.  I could have written it at any time when I started.  Now I have to wait for morning when I am sober.  It’s post 714, and, I usually write under a meme.  I recalled one of my weirdest, which appears above as the title.  My usual practice of posting images has three: St. Michael, Perseus, and Promethius.  I’m not bothering to display them, nor am I giving links,  which can end up broken.  I visited my copy of “Amphetamine Synthesis”, by Otto Snow, but, I doubt if it is found on this site that it may be accessed.  My profile and journal of recovery


is not current.  With the way cancer must be combatted, I no longer have a child’s view of the substance abuse question.

I did not mention the paranormal, and, many questions in life, about life, have a substream flow into the world of the mind.  In this world, objects such as nouns, “mind”, “threat”, THESE THINGS DO NOT EXIST.  Whoops (caps lock accidently).  That is, the threatening noun is animated, and, in the lack of animation is dictated a lack of response.  Check again in September. September is good for attacks we will all hate.

“Sirica” is Judge John Sirica.  He orders Nixon to turn over the watergate tapes and Nixon subsequently resigns the presidency rather than be jailed, in 1974.  I write to Nixon and, while I am opening that telepathic channel, I think of Sirica.  Sirica doesn’t mean anything to me, neither does Nixon.  I was writing all celebrities, because, my only child, a daughter, was kidnapped by this society.  I wrote the line on the outside of the envelope.  I was of a mind to obsequiously pander to Nixon’s ego, commiserating with him that he must have gotten a raw deal. At some pont in a person’s life (mine), girls and things they do was considered weak.  A good plan, quality DNA which can take over the world, is not “girl” quality.  Even though Sirica savaged Nixon, it was time to claim that it was a pyrric victory…

A Pyrrhic victory is a victory with devastating cost to
the victor; it carries the implication that another such victory will ultimately
cause defeat.

Whatever.  The internet’s been destroyed if ED is gone.  I called for Rupert Murdoch’s head in this blog.  I’m getting it, but, at what cost?  CNN still operates.  Murdoch said he was humbe, and that yesterday was the worst day of his life.  That tells me none of his kids got offed.

I got an update on another meme, “fenalty heard the Q”.  I used to make typos on a typewriter, and mistyping “penalty”, what I use for death, in the sense that “pinalty” is derived from a penalty administered with a baseball bat (made of pine, I believe), a voluntary mispelling to save time writing one word instead of two, mistyping ‘penalty’ I got that, and my interpretation was, “fennel tea”, which exists.  Come to find out Prometheus stole fire from Zeus, and gave it to mankind.  Our intelligence is attributable to Prometheus, who is mythical.  I woke up this morning feeling like ‘the guy who had his liver eaten by an eagle, while chained to a rock’.  It’s actually worse.  Gods are afraid of Zeus, I don’t care if you are the War God, Iron Man, or, Ozzy Osbourne himself.  The liver grows back every day and is eaten anew the next day.  It was a fennel husk or whatever in which the fire was hidden.  Fennel has hollow stems.  We know it as anise, a licorice-flavored bush growing 2 1/2 meters tall.  It gave Marathon its name.  We had a bunch of it back of the housing tract in Yorba Linda and Bill Herzog named it Niquan.  We’d go back there to smoke cigarrettes and weed, while newbies with a future rolled up and smoked niquan in paper bags.  It’s a gas.  The seeds fall out and burn telltale holes in your shirt.

The actual subject of this blog, methamphetamine, I feel is quite painful to work on.  It is like I have to suffer such hatred people have for it, all just heaped on me.  So, I am rethinking what tactic I shall use next to float it past you.  I am well aware of the combination of success and failure represented by its synthetic security.  I don’t want to be on that shit.  I want to do some things, take some pictures, post some information.  Oh, I got big plans.  People’ve been sacrificed for my psi experiments.  I wonder if they had any plans.  I wonder if any of them were poets, or, they all wrote prose, or, would have had they grown up.



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