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Bienfait Nutly News
"ANARCH IS OUR ONL HOPE"
Christmas Special
*****************
by King Author and the Dark&Stormy
Knights of the Magic RoundTable
[College Station Nudist Colony]IT WAS A STARK NAKED AND COLLEGE
dormy night...
[Prudential Annex, Alcatraz]JIM BELL STRUGGLED TO HOLD BACK THE
small bead of sweat that was beginning to form on his brow as
he feigned indifference while the Warden reviewed his application
to form a prison swim team...
[Oklahoma City]amADbOMBERtObEnAMEDlATER CREPT UNDER THE FENCE
surrounding the former site of the Murrah Federal Building. As
he placed the explosive charges at strategic points among the
rubble, he couldn't shake the feeling that government spin-
doctors were already preparing to issue a statement clarifying
that BATF agents were absent from the site at the time of the
explosion as a result of having moved to new offices, while
the innocent children, air-lifted to the sight shortly before
the tragic act of terrorism, were part of an educational tour
that had been scheduled months previously.
He shook off his fears, reminding himself that Louis Freeh,
Janet Reno and Michael Fortier had planned everything down
to the last detail...
[Austin, Texas]THE BARMAID AT THE HEB CENTRAL MARKET CAFE WAS
certain that she had seen all of those attending the alleged
Austin CypherPunks Physical Meeting in a variety of local
theatrical productions over the years.
It didn't make sense. Why would someone hire a rag-tag group
of actors to impersonate members of an anarchistic, crypto-
privacy InterNet mailing list?
And who was the strange character from the Bay Area who
occassionally attended the meetings? She remembered seeing
him at Stanford during the visit of the SexCriminal and his
MainSqueeze to convince their daughter, Chelsea, that dating
a man who was stalking her father with a Stihl chainsaw could
have negative political reprecussions, and that she didn't
need that fucking psycho's reassurances as to her sexuality,
since daddy also thought she had a great ass, and was not just
saying that because she was his daughter.
Stanford wasn't the first time she had seen the Bay Area
visitor to the CypherPunks meetings. She had also seen him
leaving the Texas Book Depository in Dallas, shortly after...
Anarchy is our only hope...
Lone gunmen and unabombers are Dog's way of telling us,
as we stare at a meaningless election ballot, that we could
have had a V-8, pretending that we were drinking the blood
of a single innocent child we had slaughtered in an act of
random violence with an M-16, or in the bombing of TWA-800,
or any one of a variety of mind-numbing reminders that we,
as well as the cargo on our flight, are just numbers, that
can be erased with the stroke of a pen, or a flash of light
and a loud bang...
Anarchy is our only hope...
Face it, the System isn't working...
We need to Democratize murder, once again putting it in
the hands of the common people. People with wooden or stone
clubs; people with Saturday Night Specials; people with
knives in kitchen drawers, directly behind the freezer
door that their fat, lazy spouse is staring into, wondering
which gallon of ice-cream to eat first; people with access
to both the drug-cabinet and the maternity ward, who realize
that the solution to child-crime is stopping it at its very
source...
The process of natural selection, which decrees that only
the strong AND lucky survive, has been derailed by social
and government interference that leads to genocidal policies
which mark our fellow humans for deletion on the basis of
race, religious and/or ethnic background, political beliefs,
ownership of land which has oil or mineral reserves underneath
it, use and development of strong crypto, ad infinitum...
It used to be that those with strong survival instincts,
finding themselves short of funds, could beat up and/or
murder a Jew, pulling out their gold fillings in order to
make it to their next paycheck.
Once government got involved, the average Joe and Jane
couldn't hope to compete with the streamlined merger of
thousands of ignorant thugs into a single giant bully.
It was a step backward for the JesusKillers, as well,
since they had a fighting chance against the more ignorant
members of the light-skinned races, who didn't realize
that it didn't really help for them to hide in dark alleys,
as well as members of the dark-skinned races who couldn't
resist smiling in the dark when a potential victim approached.
Once ethnic discrimination was declared to be a function
of government, there was no need for Official Thieves Thugs
And Murderers to hide in dark alleys, since they could herd
their victims into railway cattle-cars by use of official
government brochures promoting Auschwitz as a Health Spa
with state of the art shower systems guaranteeing not only
hygenic cleansing, but also eugenic cleansing. Those who
enquired as to the meaning of 'eugenic cleansing' were
told that it would become clear upon their arrival...
Anarchy is our only hope...
A passage in a work by one of the true literary genius'
of the InterNet (whose name I can't remember, but the work
was titled, "InfoWar") pointed out a period during which
violent crime was rapidly decreasing at the same time that
public perception of the rate of violent crime was reaching
an all-time high.
A parallel poll, commissioned by the People Against
Humanity division of the Synics Cociety, revealed that not
a single person taking part in the other poll believed
themself to be an ignorant, societally programmed moron,
incapable of anything beyond sucking up whatever slop
MainDream News Farces chose to throw into the public
media troughs for consumption by those who believe that
the High Cost Of Rational Thought is an unbearable burden
that will leave them too poor to add the 24-Hour Drooling
And Slobbering Channel to their cable package.
Anthropologists specializing in the rise of civilized
society have discovered that a solitary recluse living
alone in the wild, will, upon drooling and slobbering on
HimOrHerSelf, instinctively realize that, if they continue
to do so, then the chance of their ever developing the
ability to walk upright becomes radically diminished.
At the same time, modern research indicates that if test
subjects from current society are exposed to pictures of
Michael Jordan drooling on his shoes, that manufacturers
can add a hundred dollars to the price of their sneakers
by adding artificial saliva-stains to them.
Anarchy is our only hope...
*************************************************************
WE ARE INTERRUPTING THIS PREVIOUSL SCHEDULED
BROADCAST TO BEING OU AN IMPORTANT NEWS FLASH
The Author, undoubtedly affected by solar flaring
reflecting off of the early evening moon, suddenly
realized why Leslie Stahl seemed so nervous during
last night's '60 Minutes' piece on InterNet FUD,
titled, 'The Rumor Mill.'
It was not, as he originally suspected, Ms. Stahl
psychically picking up on his efforts to peek up
her skirt, and was, in fact, not the Scent of a
Woman, but the Scent of Fear...
Fear that Jane and Joe Sheeple, empowered by InterNet
Search Engines capable of catering to their true
desires, instead of attempting to mold their desires
to fit the hidden agendas of Stahl's CBS controllers,
might actually choose to access J. Orlin Grabbe's
'World's 50 Greatest Conspiracies' website, and
compare his 'information' with the 'information'
provided by '60 Minutes'.
Fear that a generation of people who had grown up
believing Walter Cronkite when he ended his news
casts with "That's the way it is...", would suddenly
begin wondering why Wally never told them that Jack
Kennedy, their beloved President, was screwing the
living shit out of Marilyn Monroe, ending his news
cast by making a circle with the forefinger and
thumb of his left hand, poking his right index
finger back and forth through the circle, and
saying, "That's the way it is..."
Fear that Marilyn Manson, whining on Public Radio
about 'The Rumor Mill' on the InterNet spreading
'lies' and 'disinformation' about HisOrHer tour,
would be recognized by those paying attention as
being strikingly similar to Ms. Stahl's whining
on '60 Minutes' about the 'lies' and 'disinformation'
being spread by people who had different beliefs
about Reality and Truth than those that she held.
Fear that vague hints about "Junk," "Regulation"
and "Online Policemen" were not strong enough to
truly get her point across, while indulging in
violent screaming calling for hanging J. Orlin
Grabbe by his hairy balls for disagreeing with
her WorldView would only confirm viewer suspicions
that she was in the same league, although on a
different team, as Marilyn Manson, who believed
that some kind of "censorship" was needed, to
prevent the ChoirBoys at Ms. Stahl's church from
spreading Christian Right lies about HisOrHer
tour on the InterNet, while waiting their turn
to insert their young, hard, throbbing cocks
into a member of the congregation who was a
regular correspondent on a major television news
magazine show.
Fear that the Author, currently working on the
development of a forged Leslie Stahl's HomePage,
had a 50-50 chance of correctly guessing whether
or not she was wearing panties...
**************************************************************
WE NOW RETURN OU TO THE REGULARL SCHEDULED BROADCAST
**************************************************************
NO WE DONT...
**************************************************************
Someone drinking Dirty Mothers wrote the stuff above, last
night. Maybe it was me...maybe it wasn't...I woke up with a
headache.
Regardless, reading today's posts to the CypherPunks list,
it soon became apparent that my clever ruse, pretending to
be intellectually superior to the other list members, worked!
The real purpose of my egoistical diatribe was to ferret out
the list members not truly deserving of being on the same list
as the rest of us, who are using 11% of our potential brainpower.
I knew that the Pretenders to our elitist level of being, being
insecure, insecure enough to avoid repeating repeating their
words, would accuse *me* of being insecure.
Sure enough, the Pretender was exposed, and now we *all* know
that the Pretender on the list, whom we are all superior to,
is...
Nobody!
In retrospect, we were fools not to realize it long ago. All
of the signs were there...
The self-effaceing alias, 'Nobody'.
The inability to reflect a CypherPunks Consistent Net Persona.
Always posting from different accounts: Juno, Replay,
HugeCajones, CypherPunks, Dev.Null...
The propensity for taking wildly varying stances on the same
issue.
Overcompensating for HisOrHer lack of self-worth by always
demanding credit for HisOrHer posts, and never posting
Anonymously...
I was surprised that the rest of the list members never
figured it out.
I guess I'm smarter than the rest of you...
**************************************************************
OK, *NOW* WE RETURN OU TO THE REGULARL SCHEDULED
BROADCAST--*REALL*-I *MEAN* IT THIS TIME!!!
**************************************************************
ACTUALL, I FORGOT WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT, SO
I THINK I'LL JUST TR TO EXPLAIN A CONCEPT I WAS
THINKING ABOUT ESTERDA, BUT NEGLECTED TO ADDRESS:
ANARCH IS OUR ONL HOPE...
**************************************************************
Uhhh...
I hate to appear to be a fucking idiot, incapable of
sustaining a logical train of thought, but I just reached
the PointOfEnlightenment that comes around 4 a.m., when
one is out of beer and beginning to sober up, and looks
at the orange sitting on their desk and sees...an orange!
Not the cosmically meaningful macrocosm/microcosm orange
that seems to hold the key to the secrets of the universe
when one is high on acid. Not the orange with a bit of
green-stuff starting to show on its surface when you look
at it at the end of another long, hard day at the Salt
Mine, whereupon you chastise yourself for letting it go
bad before eating it, because your tired, acheing bones
remind you that you are living in a cold, hard world.
No, it is the orange that both the pragmatist and the
mystic see at 4 a.m., about an hour after the last beer
is gone, and the liquor store doesn't open for another
few hours. The *real* orange...
Anyway, 'Anarchy Is Our Only Hope...' is one of those
Deep Truths (TM) that are important to attempt to explain
to the unenlightened, who quit doing acid in '72, and now
have regular jobs.
But, Fuck It (TM)!
SPACE ALIENS HIDE M DRUGS!!! was always intended to be
my autobiography, but somebody else started it (although
I'm not complaining, because the FUD generated helped to
cover my ass on the original TruthMonger SoftTarget Tour)
and I think I have the right to be a little self-indulgent
(like it's the first time...right!) and put off finishing
the Bienfait Nutly News "ANARCH IS OUR ONL HOPE!"
Chrismas Special for a day or so.
So I think I'll sink into one of my undermedicated, ill-
advised rants about my personal issues, history and problems
which only remotely relate to the goals and purposes behind
the creation of the CypherPunks list.
Unless you have a lot of idle time on your hands, you might
just want to go ahead and delete the next chapter of SAHMD,
since it will undoubtedly be a semi-coherent, rambling diatribe
with little relevance to your life and/or your interests.
On the other hand, given my present state of mind, and the
fact that I just found a warm beer in the back of my truck,
the next chapter may well turn out to be one of those classic
works of literature that can only be produced by someone who
finds themself in the Desolate Place, an hour after they have
finished the LastBeerInTheWholeWorld (like Job), and then
is reborn, resurrected, refurbished by the discovery that,
not only is there a God AND a Dog, but there is also another
beer...
Smoke 'em if you got 'em...
