Return Of Beyond The Planet Of The Valley Of Diana Moe Hmmm... - SPACE ALIENS, ETC., ETC. ____________________________________________ No doubt there are a variety of self-impressed, elitist CypherPunks who have grown used to my weird capitalization of the word 'cypherpunks', as well as my excess use of commas, and incorrect punctuation, having come to recognize that these things are part of my personal 'writing style' (although few realize that, being too lazy to look up proper spelling, and too ignorant to understand the reasons behind 'correct' punctuation, I am merely cloaking my sloth and stupidity under a croak of eccentric Oriental genius). However, there are undoubtedly a few egoistical self-proclaimed geniuses on the CypherPunks Disturbed Male LISP who have noticed the 'Dina' spelling of the last chapter title being out-of-sync with the 'Diana' spelling of the current chapter title (see above), and mentally ridiuculed me as really being the sorry drunk I keep claiming to be, thinking that I am only dimly aware of the difference between my drunk&ignorant-but-honest typos and literary mistakes, and the typos and mistakes which I quickly recognize to have deep meaning, and are therefore inviolate proofs of my true inner genius, in need of no correction, even if I happen to spot the error. If you noticed the discrepancy mentioned above, and were indeed mentally degrading my literary talent, while considering yourself to be superior to me because of your ability to imitate a robotic computer spell-checking program, you would, in this case, be quite correct in your assumption, since it was really a meaninless mistake, but one I will not bother to rectify, since I am currently both lazy and drunk. However, you smart-ass sons-of-bitches, it would be a serious mistake to fail to realize that my failings in character in no way negate my obvious intellectual superiority over all of the pretentious fools who consider themselves part of an elite group of PseudoMathematicalGeniusAnarchists because of their participation in Legendary LevelWithTheGround InterNet Community MailingList Composed Of Subscribers Who Are Using 11% Of Their Potential BrainPower, and considering themselves to be 'above' the other InterNet Elitists who are using only the 'documented average' 10% of their potential brainpower, and who, in turn, consider themselves to be superior to the AOL'ers who believe that their IQ is somehow related to the speed of their computer's processor (NOT!!!). The short and simple answer to the question, ""So what prompted you to start writing those missives to cypherpunks?" is: "On a mailing list of elitist geniuses using only 11% of their potential brainpower, the person using 12% is King!" Thus I am able to toy with you silly fools, having little fear of someone who uses 13% of their brainpower subscribing to the CypherPunks list, and putting me in my place, since a person capable of using 13% of their brain would likely be above joining the list in the first place... Why I Send My Missives To The CypherPunks List #327: I truly recognize the past, current and future subscribers to InterNet forums/experiences such as the CypherPunks to be the only real hope for a world of VirtualReality to rise above and go beyond the vicious MeatSpaceRealityCycles which are evident throughout millennia of human history. Thus, I feel it incumbent upon myself, as your intellectual superior, to impress upon you what an ignorant, silly asshole I am... ou stupid fucks think I'm being silly, again, don't you? I'm fucking serious!!! While I truly consider myself to be the current epitome of human evolution to this point in time, I would, nonetheless, upon being recognized for my great wisdom and genius and declared King Of The World, issue a press statement advising everyone to kill themselves, since a world under my control would be a scary thing, indeed. As far as the world currently being under the control of murderers and thieves who seem to have a lot of trouble figuring out some of the more rudimentary things in life, such as pulling up their fly upon entering the Offal Office, I really prefer not to think about that, which I am sure can be understood by voters in Boston, Chicago, ad infinitum, who eventually figured out that the slogan, "Vote Early, Vote Often" was not really a part of the original Constitution, as their Ward Bosses had claimed. The Original Peter Principle: Civilization and Human Behavior provide hard evidence that Creatures From The Primordial Swamp who crawled out to become Middle Managers in the Gene Pool did so about a billion years ahead of schedule. The Original Clinton Inaugural Address: "Most of my time, energy and money was spent on women, booze, drugs and gambling--the rest I just wasted, eventually becoming Governor, and then President." The Original Commandment: "Buy a fucking Clue!" I guess that what I am really trying to say is, "As insane as it would be for you to vote for me as the new King Of The World / Ruler Of All That Exists / New World Order Dictator, etc., etc., it would be even more insane for you to *not* vote for me if I was running against the people currently in control of our governments and society. Why I Send My Missives To The CypherPunks List #18: My only hope of being understood when I say, "I may be a stupid fuck, but at least I'm not a stupid fuck." lies in preaching to an audience that has the ability to understand that ogi Berra's statement, "It's DejaVu all over again." was nothing more nor less than A DirectMessageFromGod, designed to serve as the Cole's Notes To Universal Human History From The Beginning Of Time, in a format that would allow us to write it on a slip of paper we could tuck into the elastic of our panties, in preparation for the FinalExam. True Initiates into the Mythical Circle of Eunuchs have long understood that my obsession with peeking up women's skirts is not the result of sexual depravity, but a highly spiritual exercise in recognizing the difference between the masses of Sheeple who truly benefit from the advice to wear clean undergarments, in case they get hit by a bus, and those whose unique, individual spark of life allows them to recognize that they can step beyond society's strict moral programming by not wearing any undergarments at all. Although I am currently up to my ass in drunken alligators, I am still capable of remembering that my original objective was to drain the Scotch... And The Way This Relates To Craptographics Is: What is encryption, if not the epitome of the Anarchy Of Meaning? David Byrne, Largely Suited to serve as the Talking Head who *could* be the originator of the Voice we hear, asking us, "Psycho Killer, Qu'est Que C'est?", if we actually owned a radio, understood that when Bob Dylan sang, "Johnny's in the basement, mixing up the medicine...", it was an oblique reference to Owsley developing a chemical technique to thwart the MindPolice by using LSD to encrypt one's thought processes. The Moody Blues, recognizing that the hippie movement arose in response to Freedom and Privacy being threatened by a GreyHound Restroom Public Key System that could be broken by anyone with a dime, warned us that Timothy Leary, sick, depraved pervert that he was, was 'outside, looking in', alerting us to the fact that 'Free Shit' was nothing more than a corporate advertising ploy by NewAge Gurus who wanted to save the cost of a dime while buggering us, by telling us we may have won 'Free Film For Life.' Phil Zimmerman, Hero Of The TellGovernmentToSitOnItAndRotate Revolution, provided us with the tools we needed to have a genuinely Free Shit in Pretty Good Privacy, enabling us to lock the door while we crapped out our pearls of wisdom, while the anal-retentive government agents on the other side of the restroom-stall door dropped their dime, upon finding out that the cost of peeking up the public's butt had risen exhorbantly, due to those fucking California Hippie Trouble Makers slipping 'acid' in their email. The point that I probably would have made much earlier in this chapter, were it not for the fact that I am a drunken, inconsiderate asshole who fails to realize that *some* people have better things to do than to waste their time wondering where the fuck I get all of these goddamn commas, is this: Anarchy is our only hope... Surely anyone who has been paying attention to life around them could not have failed to realize that if society elects some bum going through the dumpster, to look for lunch, to an official government position that designates him to be the person responsible for removing doggie-doo from the city streets (no salary, but all you can eat...), he soon declares that he needs more money and a larger staff to do his job properly, funds research indicating that dog owners are a threat to Family Values, Apple Pie and the American Flag, presses for Law&Order legislation adding Thirty-Five Dog ears to the sentence of any Monger or Mongrel who is found guilty of 'squatting' in commission of a poop, and calls for the censorship of 'The Doggie Of Anne Frank' because of its graphic descriptions of FIDO crapping in a secret room in the attic, to avoid discovery by the DoggiePoop Gestapo. If you think I'm being a WiseGuy, then think again, because, if memory serves me correctly, this was the lead headline of News Of The Weird last week, even though the original source for the article was on page 4,385 of the New ork Times. The first act of organized religion was to fuck up the Lord's Prayer. Anarchy is our only hope... The first act of organized government was to raise taxes so that they could give themselves a pay raise. Anarchy is our only hope... It is a knee-jerk reaction to bend over to pick up the soap when somebody drops it, but it doesn't matter *who* fucks you, it doesn't matter *how* they fuck you, *when* they fuck you, or *why* they fuck you...the bottom line is this: If you remain silent, ignoring the pain and indignity, listening to the still, small voice of the Tao, you hear the Voice of Eternity echoing from the birth of time to the death of the ten-thousand things, whispering what was shouted by a great ogi, upon realizing that the BigBang was actually a FistFucking KnuckleBall headed Hell Bent For Leather (a California company) toward the Great Void where the sun don't shine...you hear the Tao bend over and whisper, "It's DejaVu, all over again." Anarchy is our only hope... Dr. Seuss Explains Sex To Children During His Prostrate Check: After God created Adam, he took a bone out of Adam's side and created Eve. The first thing Adam did was give Eve another bone-from behind, as he wanted it to be a surprise. If two people exist on the face of the planet, then, as surely as night follows day, one of them is going to get fucked. Anarchy is our only hope... LIFE IN HELL Goes Country: If you can see two assholes on a horse, without lifting its tail, then it is a good bet that they are voting to steal your money and your freedom. Anarchy is our only hope... We live in a world where, in a country in which starving children are dying by the millions, the greatest threat to those who manage to survive a FamineInTheMidstOfPlenty is the ArmySurplusLandmine Company's 'Democracy' model, which is guanteed to blow the limbs off of terrorists and freedom- fighters, men, women and children, without discrimination as to race, creed or color, although the guarantee clearly states that it is not the responsibility of the manufacturer to see that it serves the purpose for which it was originally intended, according the color-glossy brochures distributed by retired armed services officers now making the BigBucks as DC corporate whores. "The Democracy Model Landmine" "Our most popular item, due to the billions of dollars in advertising given to its name through the use of taxpayer money being spent by unelected entities, both within and outside of government circles, was built and designed by highly qualified engineers and technicians to 'Save The Life Of A Single Child.' "As you can see from the pie-charts below, a computer simulation showed that a minimum distribution of a hundred units per square mile is sufficient to save the life of a single child, providing that the child is not so unfortunate as to accidentally step on a landmine." Anarchy is our only hope... [GOVERNMENT REQUIRED NOTIFICATION:] This chapter of 'Space Aliens Hide My Drugs'is a paid advertisement for the Bienfait Nutly News "Anarchy Is Our Only Hope' Christmas Special, available in boxes of individually-wrapped 1's and 0's (in quantities of 8, 16, 32, 64...) The perfect gift for grouchy old farts who still have the box of Pecans you sent them last Christmas, because they put their dentures in their shoes, and they can't find their godamn shoes, and when they asked for help in a post to the CypherPunks list, they got a hundred anonymous emails from assholes telling them to, "Check the archives."