Naive Baynesianism and the Real Land Down Under
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I'm going to flip your lids and explain some space folding that will boggle your brains, and shake your every existences to the core. At the same time, you will also get to enjoy, should you choose, a beautiful landscape and the best roads since Rome.
I "say" I live in Sumeria, and I do, in a Ziggurat, I won't go into specifics because these days it's a ruin and I don't want you sniffing my essential salts like some randy necormancer, or worse confiscating them for even more nefarious alchemical purposes (such as ressurection for one, eck!). That is my 4,000 year old self, my ETERNAL ME, so-to-speak, but I incarnated multiple times in between, mostly due to my work in the far future. How I sent myself into the past to become myself in the future sending myself into the past is an enigma, and the more I explain it the harsher the consequences for existing reality may be... or that's hyperbole. You need slack, and I'm gonna give you some, faithful reader.
I grew up on Kent Island, or as they say in the Simon Necronomicon, the land of KI, and hung out with all sorts of nasty teenage devos, we ere the real source of the plagues famines and wars of the deep past, but we also brought industry, technology, religion, and a variety of other wonderful things to the deep past. We were't alone in these efforts, Krikket and oddly enough Australia provided amazing technological wonders to us simple savages (we were young, so theres some more hyperbole). We had cars, we did drugs, we played video games and we engaged in temporal warfare. Almost everyone in the future does (that is male games and stuff). I won't specifiy the games I played except "Sacrifice" by Interplay, and Earthworm Jim by Shiny. Both fascinated me because of the character James, who is also a gentleman at the Blackwater Fish and Huntclub, formerly of Cambridge, and runs parallel to Kimber James, one of the most exotic suprapinks in existence... All of whom had intense earthy values.
My people, in our system of things operate under the Naive Bayenesian system, and it's definitely beastly. Only older developments are relatively free of the design features of the new homes, especially the cul-de-sacs, which utilize the families as a factory to generate new information and data (I wouldn't believe it either if I didn't experience it). It's much like being ground to dust, which is no surpise since I live on the nominally charged "Grist Mill Lane".
Anywho, I was sent down in 2002 to go to College in Salisbury, and experienced a great amount of tension as I stayed within my domicile continually temporaly shifting, taking the bulk of the city with me (after years of spice navigation I was, and am, a natural at this, no questions please) and survived several alternate universe nuclear winters and at least one invasion of strange cutesy aliens. Somehow I folded Ur, Sumeria with Salisbury, Maryland, and the entirety of human history alike has never been the same since, although they constantly try to (in my favor perhaps) to convince me "it is the same". A well sucked poppycock I'd be if I believed that balderdash in it's wobblywrackin'.
A tour of the city will illuminate the strange names, and odd geometries of the city, which very much exists somewhat south of the Delaware border, and the most fascinating aspect as yet is the "13 0 13" the long tour from Dover to the Southern Terminus of Virgina's share of the Peninsula". Ostensibly the whole construct of my enviornment either lies in my head, my computer, or my car, which is now dissappeared.
It is an incredibly strange story, and if you ask some questions I'd be glad to answer.
What's most incredible to note are the variety of ciggarrette brands named after television shows n' soap operas (like 'tIMELESS TIME' a mentholyated cigarrette).
The people here are incredibly strange, yet remarkably convivial. We have multiple Masonic lodges, Christian science reading rooms, fall-out shelters, and more themed cemetaries than you can shake a gnarled staff at.
Plus the women are country, and the guys go-go-go.
Caveat: The best explanation for the pheonomena is that I am neurologically predispositioned to tautologically constitute a narrative of my life based on superficial synchronicities.
It's also wrong, existentially speaking.
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Incidentally on this subject connections in my region of time warping can be found between H.P. Blavatsky-Lovecraft, Voodoo, Santeria, Finnegan's Wake and the Chronicles of Riddick.
Naive Baynesianism may have been the inspiration for Necromongery. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::)
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Gita as i was saying to you.................................
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I played Earthworm Jim too
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One caveat of being in the location I dwell amongst is the tendency of the "I"'s to congratulate the "You" (usually by proper name) in an attempt to trick them into "running", which usually either means chasing their "selves" through the virtuosity of the towns and cities, or in darker means is an actual hunt. Fortunately for the "You"'s I have been turning them all into devestatingly dangerous (although pleasurably recieving and giving) Overmen and Uberfemmes. Sure we'll all get ours eventually, but torturing the mere men and women who play their pink games to death is not our goal, it's educational, especially towards the territorial mormons, the misguided witnesses, the dreamless workers, and for brevities sake, over-reactionary disgruntled ex-scientologist postal servicefolk.
We have a selection of insane musical channels whose purpose is to "clear" you, but I've upgraded the system with the Fox (tm) Glee (freewarez) operational Devastation protocol (available on my Fourth Way Prime and Extensions extraction available as sharewarez (that is in my understanding of the term, if you improve it, you share your improvement, with no quell from me or the Mikey Contingent; but if you develop a working product go through the legal processes to be able to send me a letter of thanks without any legal backwash on you (and I use the term in an entirely friendly fashion).
Without further adieu I present you and myselves with this glorious offering in true Cainite fashion: www.wzbhrocks.com
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I get this one....
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I live atop the Holy Mountain
Upon the Holy Island, called Shaolin
Where We, the Hidden Masters
Box our Shadows all day long
Till in the dark, they disappear
Suddenly! The One! The All!
The None! Our fears!
Forgotten after a few swigs of beer,
Tokes to Shiva,
Lets dance a bit!
Until I wake up in the morning
The first thing I do is take a shit