Maturity

Imagine if you will, a duel between Stanislav Petrov and Wayne Rooney. Hold on. Who the fuck is Stanislav Petrov!? Wasn't he a player for CSKA Moscow...hmmm, or did he defend for Spartak? He wish he was. He's not a footballer, nor a Soviet gymnast with 229 medals from various competitions hanging around his neck. Fortunately, he's not a politician, singer or actor. He's not a famous lawyer or an Orthodox saint. There's nothing about him that would be "televised" enough to dig him out of deep anonymity.

He's just the man who saved the world.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The first reaction after reading something like this would be quite natural and would move towards imagining a Russian counterpart to American and Hong Kong B-movie productions where various characters save the world, fast, precise and strong, driven by a derivative of universal virtue and their default affiliation with the forces of good and, of course, their muscles.

But as mentioned, Stanislav is not an actor, not even a bad one. He was never even close to acting as a profession, although he existed in an environment where the path to the top depended on bad acting. Comrade Petrov was a lieutenant colonel of the strategic air defense of the former Red Army, on duty in the operational alarm center of the satellite system "Oko" ("the Eye") which was the first instance in detecting a possible nuclear attack on the USSR by the USA/NATO. He received the alarm signals from the satellites.

Among the monotony and paranoia that were constant roommates in such a place, something unusual nevertheless crept in. And that was what that system was built for. Alarm. An intercontinental ballistic missile was fired from the USA towards the USSR. Could it be a system error? But before that thought could reach rational processing in the brains of those present, a second signal was received. Error? A third. The fourth and fifth already seemed to confirm what was at stake.

From the alarm to the news reaching the ears of the Secretary General and the codes being forwarded to the strategic action units, not much time should have passed in an event such as that which took place on September 26, 1983. Any hesitation would have reduced the possibility of a counterattack. It was a matter of minutes. However, Stanislav somehow remained calm despite the roar of the alarm, the pulse that hit his head like a 20-megaton hammer, and the panic of his colleagues who demanded that he stick to the procedure. Which he violated and made a completely rational decision that five missiles were too few for a general attack. He decided that it was a system error and not a real attack. Although theoretically there was a safety mechanism for launching missiles that provided for confirmation of the attack from another source, no one knows what would have happened if he had acted as the rules required.

And no one would have known even if paranoia had prevailed, reinforced by the upcoming NATO military exercises in West Germany that would begin within a few days of the false alarm at the satellite center, and which would also include a simulated...first nuclear attack on the Warsaw Pact forces. Of course, they knew about that exercise in the East. And their basic assumption was that the attack would come under the guise of maneuvers. This event was classified as a military secret that only became public after the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Eastern Bloc. Both during Bolshevism and during "democracy" Stanislav was promised awards and recognition, hills and valleys. Of course, more cynical readers already sense what he received as a reward. There were neither palaces nor yachts, not even orders, nor was a school named after Petrov.

Those amenities in life are reserved for other people. Not for those who save the world in real life, but for those who do it on film. Not for those who contribute to a better quality of the experience called life but for those who deny it.

Which brings us back to the opening sentence and the announced Petrov-Rooney duel. The man who is why we are all here and doing what we do with our lives has no chance against the semi-retarded Wayne who earns more money per week than Stanislav will ever see in his entire life. A dingy apartment in a Moscow suburb and a pension that cannot keep Petrov alive.  

I have nothing against Wayne and his ilk, I'm just using him as a symbol. He could be a random basketball player, handball player, rugby player, volleyball player, tennis player...whose highest career achievement, which will be paid as if it were worth its weight in gold and over which there will be orgasmic contractions of generations of people...millions of people...is that he passed some kind of leather ball between three beams or through a metal hoop. Nothing more, nothing less.

And one would say that at the very least they saved the world or something similar, given all that noise around.

Does the comparison seem unreal? Maybe.

Or maybe it's just a testament to the maturity of a generation. A biological species. A global culture. A civilization saved only to continue blindly moving towards self-destruction.

(Roger Mortis 024) 

Requiem for the silent

And the sign said  "The words of the prophets

are written on the subway walls

And tenement halls"

And whispered... 

In the sound of silence

(Paul Simon)

We will never know. 

It remains a mystery that will never be clarified. But like all things that have no proper answer, they will forever remain smoldering somewhere, at least in a few places, at least in a few heads that have found it convenient to burden themselves with such questions. At least on the walls that Paul Simon sang about.

We live in a time of constant repetition of the burning of the Library of Alexandria, a sad daily rerun of the destruction of the collection of Al-Hakam II or the blackening of the Tigris River due to the spilled ink of millennial knowledge thrown out of the House of Wisdom in Baghdad.

As if in some cursed vicious circle whose contours are constantly traced by the caterpillars of the armored vehicles of O'Brien's Skull-Trampling Boot, the System, are locked the talents, the creative energy, the unspoken beauty, the unexpressed elegance, the unsung songs of billions of people.

Destruction is seen everywhere, in the eyes of all those who occasionally remember something they would like to do, to give their best, it is expressed as a scar in all those who do not know what they want outside the received programs with which the system generously supplies them.

Most of the energy and time that life consists of is spent in fear of the impossibility of eventual physical survival in various forms and types and of satisfying imposed needs.

Motivation is fear of death.

Motivation is fear.

Fear.

Pour qui?

Pour quoi?

(Roger Mortis 023)

Bewildered Sweethearts

There is one situation among a significant portion of people that is something special and to which due attention has not been paid.

And that is that the state of misery and unhappiness in itself gives them additional content, despite declarative commitments au contraire, at least in their heads. This condition is most often expressed through the tendency to start or if they are already in a relationship or marriage that can be characterized as a generator of unhappiness and fear. Add to this a job, an educational institution or any kind of position and the complete picture appears on the surface.

Why, oh, why all that bewilderment...

Because a possible happy and harmonious relationship/marriage would eliminate the "value" of most of the social content they deal with. Of most of the perception of themselves. Of Fiat currency backup. Probably everyday communication with friends, comrades, friends and acquaintances, real and virtual, real and virtual parents and relatives is such that happiness never comes to the agenda. And besides, happiness irritates the aforementioned people. Much more than a bleeding hemorrhoid.

No, happiness in any combination does not bring adequate feedback. The need for comfort? It's a winner. Although it is never called comfort, do not deceive yourself by naming things as they are. That is a one-way path to isolation. Pulling the chain on those oh so powerful emotions? Chasing the rainbow round the corner?

There are certainly small differences between the male and female versions of this strange situation, but the differences are not that great. We talk at length and extensively about how the partner does not seem like him, this or that, garbage and goods, but lo and behold. There is light at the end of the tunnel, a collective council of unhappy paradise is gathered, friends feel "needed" and "useful". Comforting, giving instructions... and after the sixth beer or the seventh vodka, one comes to the legendary words "Well, he's not such a jerk. He's actually not bad. He has a heart of gold, you know. He loves me".

The number of relationships that have ended up executed by the "good intentions" of friends, girlfriends, parents, relatives and other characters is incredible. The benefit is mutual of course, a reverse engineered mutualistic concept without a parachute, the service is returned with a service when the misery changes the face, but not the content. But those "advised" are in no way victims. The good old compliance.

But it's not just that. There is also the whole picture of themselves, beyond the perception of the closest environment with which they interact on a daily basis, the alter-ego, the Ponzi scheme. Being different you know. Original. Something else. Dancing counter-clockwise on a clockwise path. The question is how different someone is if the results are always the same as those of 999 out of 1000 people. Vast, overwhelming majority of people don`t want to be happy. It takes all their projected values ​​down the drain. So the only way to make a lasting relationship is to act in a way that makes them miserable.

If you are up to it and enjoy that.

If you are not...

Ask your self how fast can you run.

(Roger Mortis 022)

A Subjective look at the beautiful side of reality

I can't find words convincing enough to capture the extent to which I am against today's policy of putting street dogs to sleep or locking them up in cheap euphemisms for concentration camps - infirmaries.

The same goes for giving those creatures into the hands of various spoiled people to adopt them and thereby kill their essence and cut off at the root the aesthetics that are born in every swollen belly of a newly mated bitch! The feeling of having a pack of a dozen mangy, toothless and rotten dogs hanging around me makes me happy. Maybe I share this feeling with someone else, and maybe not. I haven't asked about it, and I don't give a damn. The fact remains that they make me happy. Just as the wizard Merlin was happy in the presence of unicorns.

Okay, I'm not exactly Merlin.

Zombified dogs in all their shapes, forms and smells are far from Unicorns. And our fucking cities are not mirrors of Avalon, a place in this world, but not of it. Except maybe Resen, which occasionally smells of apples.

But that doesn't mean there's no beauty in the whole situation. Of course, the word perception will appear in this text because of the subjective experience of beauty. Which doesn't always have to be smooth, fine and organized. Unlike here, on an island where piles of perceptions exported across the Channel originate (no, it's not Japan, for fucks sake), folk proverbs have meaning. Like the one - The beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Why, oh damned subjects of television lobotomy, are you trying to kill the dystopian idyll of our cities with the help of blinders in the form of hypocrisy and a crippled essence of morality!? If an animal rights activist tells you that he respects diversity, do him a favor and don't take him seriously. Because he wants this city to be different like... Zurich!?

Can this city be like Zurich?

And that by building a roof before the foundations, as always.

Neither Skopje would be Skopje, nor Bitola - Bitola, nor Veles - Veles without their beautiful four-legged symbols of dystopia and harbingers of a non-existent future that has the sheen of an ulcer on the skin of a half-decayed dog. And I'm not just talking about dogs, I'm not forgetting the other animals, the cats that drag a rib found in a container that was gnawed by a man for lunch and dinner and, by God, for breakfast, the rats, the eternal Condottieri of the transition processes, from here to Kinshasa, the jackdaws like morning trolls, the sparrows that hang around in parks, the cockroaches as a sign that the end is knocking at the door...

They are all just travelers from the future in our time, reminders of the errors in the foundations of the system. Maybe that's why there is so much hatred towards them. Who knows . They hate almost everyone, from those who would shoot them in the streets to those who keep cats on the seventh floor and love them so much that they break their eggs to turn them into moving toys. Ah...love...in a time of general decay and decay, you can be loved and adored even without your testicles.

Second best option?

Inter-dystopian cooperation and mutual assistance!

Charter flights with North Korean students who would come to us with the aim of getting to know the strange local culture and frivolous lifestyles. They could also watch a video by Slaven Žižek, since the authorities there are hostile to the Web. And since exchange is exchange - perhaps the most useful thing would be for mom and dad's sons and daughters to head in the opposite direction, to broaden their horizons and get acquainted with a bizarre culture, different in all aspects of existence and to try to progressively influence their colleagues on the other side of reality.

Why the hell not?

(Roger Mortis 021)

High Frequency Tango

The energy a.k.a. frequency that is the basis of the material and immaterial world..may never be explained so that we can perceive it in a quantitative-materialistic measurable way. Naturally, the Western-centric way of decoding information requires exact values ​​in order to function, but it is a model like all others, with its own great limitations, starting from the inability to accept the subjective image that depends on the observer as much as on the observed.

Now we have reached the Higgs boson as the basis of the fluctuation in the nucleus, but even that is not even remotely final, there are already models that divide that particle into constituent elements, which in turn opens up space for a model where the constituent elements are divided, and those that are divided are divided... we have a situation that resembles a dog that wants to bite its tail and spins in a circle without catching it, there is no end...

Because the one is contained in all and is projected into all, as all are contained in the one.

Some incomprehensible paradigm is needed, something completely new in order to be able to "grasp" the nature of that force in its very essence, and which will probably never happen.

There is no measurable and quantitative way to capture that.

Not at least with the decoder of reality that we have at our disposal. Known as the brain. Also known for the fact that many people use it as a decoration.

So at the end of the story, no matter how one turns, we gotta take a leap of faith.

Which is not so bad, at least not according to my perception of reality.

Especially if you know what form of materialization that energy/frequency sometimes takes.

Of course, far from any religions and ready-made models of beliefs and rituals...you know what they say. God save us from religion. Religion is the main force with which the elite throughout known history has distanced man from the possibility of conscious co-creation of reality by forcibly imposing a dogma that requires belief in an external force, an external terrible authority that punishes, all by sowing fear and lack of trust, faith, self-belief and doubt in the possibilities that are truly enormous.

Intellectually, many are aware of this. But in the heart it is difficult to find the path that allows co-creation of one's own reality in accordance with the dualistic nature of the universe. They made is believe in imposed limitations, so we experience those limitations.

A lucky few have overcome that and reached a reality of existence unimaginable to us.

(Roger Mortis 020)

Independence

Dependence and independence. From the system. As it is, not as the authorities declare it to be. Everything you have to do and do so that the system grants you the privilege (not the right) of life.

Biological life. The other qualities that it consists of, well...you have to pay for that privilege to be happy. Or at least for the illusion.

A quote from "Trainspotting" and the point is self-evident :

Choose life.

Choose a job.

Choose a career.

Choose a family.

Choose a fucking big television.

Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin can openers.

Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance.

Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments.

Choose a starter home.

Choose your friends.

Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.

Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.

Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.

Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.

Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose “life”...

But why would I want to do a thing like that?

I chose not to choose “life” : I chose something else. And the reasons? The reasons? Come on...

Life consists primarily of time. It can be defined through time both qualitatively and quantitatively. Without any deep philosophies, at least for a start. Time is a fundamental category in both the quality and fulfillment of an individual’s life. A person gets too little or nothing for the huge stake he places in the hands of the gambler called the System, and through his brokers and local gamblers - politicians, bureaucrats, parasites, employers...if he does not belong to the above categories, and even if he does belong to the lower echelons of that pyramid - he will receive an anal application of a Kwa-Zulu sized Penis.

One invests his life and what one`s get in return? He gets - feces!

No one asked me if I wanted to be part of this whole hypocritical, criminal, bloody system in which I am condemned in advance to pay derivatives for everything. Literally everything.

Well, no more.

Ya Basta, agueros de culo!

Freedom may be just the ability to dispose of the time that life consists of, in the largest and most comprehensive measure possible. If you want, you can also measure it, establish some kind of unit-measurement for freedom that would read "How much of a given period of time an individual spends on things that he does of his own choice, of his own will and for his own pleasure".

Probably with the intensity of the use of expressions like "I have to", one would sense to what extent a person is free and how much. I have to do this, I have to do that, I have to get up at such and such an hour, I have to go to bed at such and such an hour, I have to go to work, I have to fill out documents, hang around counters, stroke someone's ego, I have to put up with this, that, that...because this and that and that and everything and nothing depend on me, I have to, I have to, I have to...and so on every single day, from cradle to grave.

We are not talking about voluntary, chosen interaction and cooperation with people. But about imposed and forced, the kind that takes up time and nerves and resources...and permission is obtained so that the individual can be - abused...or if you don't mind the outdated expression...A slave! If this were applied to today's living, the results would be devastating. How much of our life do we have for ourselves and how much for the system?

Having sufficient resources that put the individual out of the eternal race for "survival", from all the conditioning and blackmail with which the system is used... is certainly a condition that must be met. Of course, 100% independence is hardly possible, but a gradual reduction in dependence is not only possible but within reach. For everyone. If there is anything good in this 2024 Anno Domini, it is some technical possibilities that have never been so accessible. You would be surprised to know how little is needed for an independent life from social and psychological pressure.

For energetic, social, political, emotional, spiritual and intellectual independence. It only takes a ridiculous fraction of the time it takes to serve the system. And the stake at bet isn`t your soul or life or sanity.

It`s fun actually. Imagine that. If you dare!

(Roger Mortis 019)

Love is a Derivative

Often, the biological paradigm derived from "The Origin of Species" and further research that supplemented the basic assumptions is used to explain intersex relations, but not lobotomy. That`s a very different topic.

Although this is true for the animal world, it is not exactly true for the human world. Not because of the unfoundedness of the assumption but because of its complete projection of the animal-human relationship.

The problem is in the results. It is said that everyone hides a savage, an animal, a Neanderthal. Unfortunately, there is no Neanderthal hidden inside, but a citizen, savages have been dead for 30,000 years and only here and there are signs that they survived. And a citizen is needed who is submissive and obedient. And that is how he is. Whether that citizen has a dick or a pussy, the elite that controls our perception of ourselves and reality does not care... the difference is in the nuances.

The matrix has been hacked, so that a program has been imposed on men and women. It would be disastrous for the system if men and women discovered that the most beautiful, most useful and most valuable things in this world are free and available to everyone.

And what can they achieve together, complementing each other in the nature and spirit of complementarity on a dualistic basis. That is why we are moving towards downloading a program (the Holy Trinity - media, education, environment) that will ensure that men and women do not achieve what they are capable of together. Emotional mutilation, conditioning from diapers, imposing behavioral models, artificially induced needs and ideas... you name it they are doin` it.

And as we see in reality, 95% of relationships are a struggle for supremacy. Men, being physically stronger, use their trump card. Women fuck in the brain, which is their trump card, and all in the name of various strategies in the eternal war called - the struggle for supremacy. Physical, intellectual or psychological, they are all like some elevations on a hill of great tactical value that the Ego attacks. But unlike military operations, here both sides lose, and the system that parasitizes on human misfortune, misery and dissatisfaction wins.

Why else would you think of selling 108 cm TV`s, a car without a roof or a random little thing with the purchase of which finally, but finally - the endorphin will start flowing through the blood vessels. From the porn industry to all the useless objects that make up the bulk of the economy, although work is running away all the way to Babylon. And in the end, someone sees a man, a strong fucker in Herr Josef Fritzl, Uncle Adolf Hitler or Richard Ramirez, and in the immediate vicinity, for example, there is someone with whom she could have a nice life or relationship. Of course, that is the ultimate limit, the average person sees Twilight.

And he? He sits at home and gets turned on by Angelina Jolie, Jenna Jamison or Megan Fox and is bothered that he is not rich, handsome or powerful enough to fuck someone with such technical-tactical characteristics. It is not so much about the fucking as it is about the applause. And about the fact that everyone imagines that something far better than they are belongs to them. That fate has destined someone like that for them. The universe has made a plan just for them.

Derivatives...gotta appreciate them.

The circle is closed, both "he" and "she" are miserable, the caravan is moving, the system is profiting, teeth are gnashing.

(Roger Mortis 018)