15 May 2013 by Mike Gogulski
Posted in mind control
, rōshi will break my other leg
| Comments Off on Jesus, Aldous Huxley, Jim Morrison and Dick Nixon: Debugging the regexes near the heart of the human condition
On the title: “regex” is short for “regular expression”, a basic tool in computer science, programming, linguistics and a variety of other fields. A regex is a tool for elaborating and concretizing patterns which a pattern-matching engine can then locate in the input data and apply further processing to.
In response to my previous post, “Bitcoin, Anonymous and the death of the dawning of the Age of Aquarius” on Facebook, an old friend asks:
To be clear, are you suggesting that those 6 people were killed by the US government? If so, how do you explain the currently accepted accounts, particularly for MLK and Lennon?
To which I responded, perhaps rather verbosely:
I’m a conspiracy nut, sure, but not your typical one at all. I guess I would say that, as might not be crystal clear here, when I say “FBI” and “CIA” and all the rest the way I did, it’s a sarcastic reference to conspiracy theories in general and a specific reference to the work of Robert Anton Wilson (RIP) in the Illuminati! novels and other volumes.
“Bob” and the Fightin’ Jesus take on the Conspiracy Hydra
The Conspiracy is nothing like a unified group of heredity- and secret-society-lineage-linked anemic global bankers bent on word domination, and the Conspiracy’s program certainly isn’t a secret plan aimed at securing its future sovereignty in its much hoped-for Hell on Earth hatched at a meeting at some filigreed Schloss in Bavaria back ’round the 17th or 18th Century with blood sacrifice and references to the Temple of King Solomon. The program, rather, is more like bits of old DNA programming — code once essential for we higher monkeys to thrive and evolve and eventually write novels and epic-length FactBook comments, but code firmly grounded in its original pre-novel-writing world where the wrong shape or sound or smell meant instant death by snake or tiger scorpion for us and our families. Mostly obsolete today, with our effective mastery and dominance of land and creatures, the code tells us things like “tiger face death pain enemy; monkey face maybe family friend mate but strange unfamiliar monkey face want steal/kill/eat/rape me family baby wives nest”.
And if you think this is tricky, try debugging the mind.
Better put, we carry today a kind of pattern recognition and reaction mechanism along the lines of “Pay attention to survive: The creature you see now that you know you saw yesterday and who is part of your mating/huddling/nesting/grooming circle, and other creatures like it, is somewhat predictable, it may be your friend and you may need it to fill your belly and the wives’ and babies’ bellies, too. When you see a completely different type of creature and never saw it before, the best thing to do is hide or run, but be ready to fight if you must. Watch the creature very closely, especially when you see it watching you. Learn to spot the threat and react. And it is better to overreact, with swift and extreme violence, than to underreact, because if your pattern-matching and attention-paying and so on are less than perfect, you only get one chance to fail at protecting your life and all that is important to you and your world.”
As a result, we don’t worry too much any more about tigers and snakes, but we’re graced through our genetic heritage with almost instinctual behavior patterns which, in some less sensitive or perhaps less learned, give rise to the modern joys of racism, sexism, classism, homophobia, nationalism, linguistic chauvinism, religious intolerance and on and on. And since we are modern and philosophical, and because we grasp history in its broad strokes, we know that the foreigner, the stranger, the wierdo, the one who says strange and unfamiliar things in public, the queer and the deviant must be paid very close attention, for they may well be harbingers of more to come, and we don’t know WHAT might happen then to the people, places and things we love and that our families have cherised for generations if not millennia.
So I suspect, assuming you take the original post and this reply seriously, you find some shred of truth in the thing and start evaluating possible parallels between this and your own knowledge of people, your knowledge of history and even between this and your own religion, spirituality or absence thereof, whichever flavor they may be.
I don’t think it’s crazy to think that when, for example, a carpenter from Nazareth, AWOL for 20 years and remembered for little more than a massive temper tantrum at the temple, smashing tables and scattering coins, then coming back from the desert saying things like, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, “love your enemy as yourself; what you do to the least of my brothers and sisters you do to me also”, “render unto Ceasar that which is truly Caesar’s”, and “I have put away childish things; come, follow me, for I will give you rest and point the way to the Kingdom” and breathing life into a two-millenium flavor of the same quest and question which unites every thinking creature with a full belly, a warm fire and eyes to see the stars above, it’s no real surprise that the run/hide/kill program in the local chiefs and many of their dependents and wards runs with this utter strangeness unlike any pattern in the cache as input and produces “kill” as output. And so the wacko carpenter goes to his death in glory beyond measure while his own people scream for his blood and for the release of some pesky-but-familiar thief whose name is remembered only because he was on the rota that day too and because his name contains the funny letter “B” a few times.
Or when, for example, a druggie scrawls, “If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite,” awakening the poetry and brilliance inside a rough beast like Jim Morrison who, as the going got weird took the weird pro, it’s no great shock that Sauron’s eye focused on him for a moment before moving away and that the very people inspired by his poetry then pick him apart at every turn until someone yells “show us your cock!” at a poetry reading. Nor is it outlandish that the poet, trying to artistically and instructively engage even the stinkiest orcs among us, gets triaged in a cage before being fed into the “welcome” end of the meat grinder some call justice and comes to believe that he’ll never have enough Windex to polish the glass on those doors, and chooses to just surrender, not his spirit and not to spirit, but to the agony of beauty and purity mocked and defiled.
So, no, I don’t think the US government really killed anyone, because, like a mind virus, that entity doesn’t actually exist outside the minds of humans. It was humans that ruined and destroyed and killed those Faces, sometimes acting through governments, sometimes through private debating societies, sometimes through business but most often and most importantly due to the old software now become is malware still running strong in the depths of the monkey brain. One divine messenger or one lucky cur or one challenging artist or one scientist at the nonexistent frontier between Mind and Reality shows a few just a tiny peek through the Veil of Maya, and then morphs instantly in the minds of some fraction of us poor creatures into the extradimensional chaos monster from some the shrieking outer maelstrom of insanity. OF COURSE that fraction MUST kill, harry to suicide, subjugate, irrevocably and powerfully bind, discredit through slander and libel or otherwhise neuter that Other, that Monster, that Great Beast right away, burn the flesh, crush the bones, drop the ashes down the darkest hole and deliberately forget what happened so that the monster could never harm the children. After all, that’s how they came to survive a period which ended just a shake of a lamb’s tail back in the almost imponderable immensity of geological time, not only alive but with minds and societies they could reflect upon and know to protect.
I could go on. There’s that president-monkey, a particularly vile specimen of Politicus vulgaris vulgaris, taking the paper from the speechwriter and setting the capstone on the hopes and aspirations all the mean mind creatures on this one rock without any conception of the depth of truth and beauty he was reading:
“All the people on this Earth are truly one.” — Tricky Dicky
“[T]he heavens have become a part of man’s world. And as you talk to us from the Sea of Tranquility, it inspires us to redouble our efforts to bring peace and tranquility to Earth. For one priceless moment in the whole history of man, all the people on this Earth are truly one; one in their pride in what you have done, and one in our prayers that you will return safely to Earth.” — Richard Motherfucking Nixon
But this sort of thinking also challenges, existentially, the cringing monkey brain which, even as it tears out the messenger’s living heart, ignores that messenger’s message itself. For too many, what comes after is too often a perverted caricature of the simple inspiration that triggered the kill button.
(BTW, you already know this stuff. I’m sure you saw the books I was reading, in Calculus II, during the free time that I, Dave, Brian, Paul, and you had after we finished all the classwork in 20 minutes and then rushed to set up the chess boards. But since were five, one was always out, and I read some books that I know you looked at and maybe borrowed from me or from Ellis or someone else. No real news here.)