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Today's Topics:
1. Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation (Xer0Dynamite)
2. Re: The Panama Papers: If you thought Snowden's Leaks were a
'limited hangout' then... (Zenaan Harkness)
3. Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation (Zenaan Harkness)
4. Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation (Xer0Dynamite)
5. RE: [FORGED] Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation
(Peter Gutmann)
6. Austrian military chief displays subtly rebellious attitude -
America cringes (Zenaan Harkness)
7. Re: [FORGED] Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation (Rayzer)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Message: 1
Date: Wed, 6 Apr 2016 18:28:52 -0500
From: Xer0Dynamite <dreamingforward@gmail.com>
To: I <beatthebastards@inbox.com>
Cc: cypherpunks@cpunks.org
Subject: Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation
Message-ID:
<CAMjeLr_5F4m9S3f_9F=CAo2mon8+BMLXoqnZqCxVRwaRtQkz0Q@mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8
On 4/6/16, I <beatthebastards@inbox.com> wrote:
> "I've seen prisons."!!
Sorry. I should have been more clear. I've been assaulted three
times by police fighting for justice in America. I've seen them on
the inside. I've mastered the Law it takes to defend yourself and in
order to do that YOU HAVE TO APPRECIATE THE BASIS OF THE LAW.
They are too thick-headed to appreciate the little guys point of view,
but if you appreciate the law, you can be the victor.
There's serious injustice as I've said happening in America. But
nearly everyone you report to is complicit. They are not victims.
They like their redmeat, their television, their iPhone. Why should
they fight for those with no voice? (That's the question I had to
answer -- and ANSWERED.)
\0xD
------------------------------
Message: 2
Date: Wed, 6 Apr 2016 23:34:43 +0000
From: Zenaan Harkness <zen@freedbms.net>
To: Cypherpunks <cypherpunks@cpunks.org>
Subject: Re: The Panama Papers: If you thought Snowden's Leaks were a
'limited hangout' then...
Message-ID:
<CAOsGNSRVvk2yVNtTZF739t7nVLBkU2rUUDLj3LVFd1BoKk+m6A@mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8
On 4/4/16, Rayzer <Rayzer@riseup.net> wrote:
> rysiek wrote:
>> Dnia poniedziałek, 4 kwietnia 2016 10:40:18 CEST Georgi Guninski pisze:
>>> On Sun, Apr 03, 2016 at 09:13:30PM -0400, grarpamp wrote:
>>>> http://panamapapers.sueddeutsche.de/en/
>>>> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panama_Papers
>>>> The Panama Papers is a news leak of confidential documents from an
>>>> offshore tax haven originating from the Panamanian law firm Mossack
>>>> Fonseca.
>>> What is the main point?
>>>
>>> The law is written by the rich for the rich.
>>>
>>> I suspect a lot of laws have subtle workarounds for "optimizing taxes"
>>> and worse stuff.
>>>
>>> What other consequences this may have except to show someone broke local
>>> laws and have more virtual money than expected?
>> You're right, none. I suggest you don't read it, ignore it, and hence make
>>
>> your prophecy self-fulfilling. It will give you a warm fuzzy feeling
>> inside,
>> I'm sure. :)
>>
>> For the rest of you that might be interested, here's another source:
>> https://www.occrp.org/en/panamapapers/
>>
>
> About your Panama Papers ... Brought to you by US intelligence agencies
> with special thank to the "International Consortium of Investigative
> Journalists" (ICIJ), which Pepe Escobar notes is funded by the "Center
> for Public Integrity"... IOW:
>
> "...the Ford Foundation, Carnegie Endowment, Rockefeller Family Fund,
> Kellogg Foundation and the Soros racket"
>
>
> One of his commenters:
>
> "The Panama Papers are the exact kind of weaponized Psyops posing as an
> 'activist leak' I wanted to see from Hybrid Warfare."
>
>
> THE ULTIMATE LIMITED HANGOUT LEAK
>
> Put on your Panama hat and dance the leak.
>
> And if you believe in the integrity of the "International Consortium
> of Investigative Journalists" (ICIJ), I got a made in Shenzhen
> Panama hat to sell ya.
>
> I never was, and never will be, a member of this racket; well,
> people asked me, and I'm answering.
>
> The ICIJ gets its cash and its "organizational procedure" via the
> Exceptionalistan-based Center for Public Integrity. The money comes
> from: Ford Foundation, Carnegie Endowment, Rockefeller Faimly Fund,
> Kellogg Foundation and the Soros racket.
>
> This alleged most massive leak ever was obtained by - what else - US
> intel.
>
> But the REAL leak will never be known. Even the uber-pathetic
> Grauniad admitted, on the record, that "much of the leaked material
> will remain private".
>
> Why? Because it DIRECTLY implicates a gaggle of Western
> 0.00000000001% multibillionaires and corporations. All of them play
> the offshore casino game.
>
>
> https://www.facebook.com/pepe.escobar.77377/posts/10154027375976678
> https://www.facebook.com/pepe.escobar.77377/posts/10154027598731678
Pepe's article not on Facebook version:
http://russia-insider.com/en/dance-panama-papers-limited-hangout-leak/ri13765
Well, at least clear directions for those with a genuine intent to
infiltrate and leak^B^B^B<ahem> axe to grind... don't wink now.
------------------------------
Message: 3
Date: Wed, 6 Apr 2016 23:46:40 +0000
From: Zenaan Harkness <zen@freedbms.net>
To: cypherpunks@cpunks.org
Subject: Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation
Message-ID:
<CAOsGNSQKFri3Q_FQkZUXaM6gqDM2hxaW_+vnwNPSvDu7LyOp1g@mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8
On 4/6/16, Xer0Dynamite <dreamingforward@gmail.com> wrote:
> On 4/6/16, I <beatthebastards@inbox.com> wrote:
>> "I've seen prisons."!!
>
> Sorry. I should have been more clear. I've been assaulted three
> times by police fighting for justice in America.
Ahh, those American police, fighting for justice like the rest of us
should be. What great examples they set.
> I've seen them on the inside.
Male or female police?
> I've mastered the Law it takes to defend yourself and in
> order to do that YOU HAVE TO APPRECIATE THE BASIS OF THE LAW.
Just as well you've clarified the basis of such MASTERY WITH
CAPITALISATIONS, MAKES IT REALLY CLEAR FOR ME AT LEAST, PROBABLY FOR
OTHERS TOO.
> They are too thick-headed to appreciate the little guys point of view,
> but if you appreciate the law, you can be the victor.
I agree with you, but it can be bloody tough getting to the point of
remaining in one's center in the face of the blatant corruption and
psychological attacks of a Magistrate or "judge".
> There's serious injustice as I've said happening in America. But
> nearly everyone you report to is complicit. They are not victims.
> They like their redmeat, their television, their iPhone. Why should
> they fight for those with no voice? (That's the question I had to
> answer -- and ANSWERED.)
Very good, perhaps would be useful to share some of your successes
with the rest of us. Yes, there's a whole movement which can be
googled, but I'm responding to you raising specific and personal
events - many of us are interested in actual events, in particular
successes, not hearsay.
Regards,
Zenaan
------------------------------
Message: 4
Date: Wed, 6 Apr 2016 19:04:43 -0500
From: Xer0Dynamite <dreamingforward@gmail.com>
To: Zenaan Harkness <zen@freedbms.net>
Cc: cypherpunks@cpunks.org
Subject: Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation
Message-ID:
<CAMjeLr9unHypxOC5uY3hN4-uryPaOF_7A-38w1Kh+ZsxYoq2wA@mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8
> Ahh, those American police, fighting for justice like the rest of us
> should be. What great examples they set.
Agreed, but remember not only are they only 1 branch of the US
government, if they're acting without the authority and direction of
the ELECTED executive, you are at a better legal position than they.
>> I've mastered the Law it takes to defend yourself and in
>> order to do that YOU HAVE TO APPRECIATE THE BASIS OF THE LAW.
>
> Just as well you've clarified the basis of such MASTERY WITH
> CAPITALISATIONS, MAKES IT REALLY CLEAR FOR ME AT LEAST, PROBABLY FOR
> OTHERS TOO.
Hey, my VT220 doesn't allow italics. And it's simpler to hold down
the shift key when typing than searching for asteriks.
>> They are too thick-headed to appreciate the little guys point of view,
>> but if you appreciate the law, you can be the victor.
>
> I agree with you, but it can be bloody tough getting to the point of
> remaining in one's center in the face of the blatant corruption and
> psychological attacks of a Magistrate or "judge".
Remaining in one's center yes. Blatant corruption by a Judge, show
me. Most every time people are victims to Judges who expect certain
kinds of proceedings that decades of lawyers have spoiled them with.
You have to remind them that it's a gov't of the People, not lawyers.
>> There's serious injustice as I've said happening in America. But
>> nearly everyone you report to is complicit. They are not victims.
>> They like their redmeat, their television, their iPhone. Why should
>> they fight for those with no voice? (That's the question I had to
>> answer -- and ANSWERED.)
>
> Very good, perhaps would be useful to share some of your successes
> with the rest of us. Yes, there's a whole movement which can be
> googled, but I'm responding to you raising specific and personal
> events - many of us are interested in actual events, in particular
> successes, not hearsay.
Well I'm responding also to the idea that people are victims, they are
not. They are usually complicit actors and beneficiaries of the
SYSTEM. My personal story is too complex about how a taser shredded
my immune system so that now I can hardly fight for anything due to
the clinical depression.
Marxos
------------------------------
Message: 5
Date: Thu, 7 Apr 2016 05:12:11 +0000
From: Peter Gutmann <pgut001@cs.auckland.ac.nz>
To: I <beatthebastards@inbox.com>, "cypherpunks@cpunks.org"
<cypherpunks@cpunks.org>
Subject: RE: [FORGED] Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation
Message-ID:
<9A043F3CF02CD34C8E74AC1594475C73F4C3B53A@uxcn10-tdc05.UoA.auckland.ac.nz>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
>"I've seen prisons."!!
I've seen troopships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
Peter.
------------------------------
Message: 6
Date: Thu, 7 Apr 2016 08:26:33 +0000
From: Zenaan Harkness <zen@freedbms.net>
To: cypherpunks@cpunks.org
Subject: Austrian military chief displays subtly rebellious attitude -
America cringes
Message-ID:
<CAOsGNSQ3zd83rScqyMPVGFzXJuvJuaAwd0i6TCNiZ2gK7-tnZw@mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=UTF-8
Can't quite call him punk, yet.
https://www.rt.com/news/338641-russia-austria-cooperation-military/
'Russia closer to Austria than other major world powers' - head of
Austrian General Staff in Moscow
Published time: 6 Apr, 2016 12:46
"
Vienna’s top military figure noted that one of the reasons for his
visit to the Russian capital was to disobey others’ orders.
“I’m not going to carry out instructions and follow orders on who's
worth talking to and who's not. That’s exactly the reason why I
decided to pay you a visit,” Austrian General Staff Lieutenant-General
Othmar Commenda said at a meeting with the chief of Russia's General
Staff, First Deputy Defense Minister Valery Gerasimov.
"
------------------------------
Message: 7
Date: Thu, 7 Apr 2016 08:53:57 -0700
From: Rayzer <Rayzer@riseup.net>
To: cypherpunks@cpunks.org
Subject: Re: [FORGED] Re: [Cryptography] A humble recommendation
Message-ID: <57068295.3070007@riseup.net>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="utf-8"
Peter Gutmann wrote:
>> "I've seen prisons."!!
> I've seen troopships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
>
> Peter.
>
>
I've seen: "...bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother
finally ******,"
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving
hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at
dawn looking for an angry fix,
...angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection
to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and
tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural
darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El
and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating
Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were
expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on
the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in
underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the
Terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards
returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who
ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley,
death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams,
with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless
balls, incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning
in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating
all the motionless world of Time between, Peyote solidities of
halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the
rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking
traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring
winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of
mind, who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from
Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and
children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered
bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and
sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s,
listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox, who talked
continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to
museum to the Brooklyn Bridge, a lost battalion of platonic
conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off
windowsills off Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking
screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and
eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole
intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with
brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, who
vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous
picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats
and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under
junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room, who wandered
around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where
to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in
boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms
in grandfather night, who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross
telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated
at their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of Idaho
seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in
supernatural ecstasy, who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of
Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown
rain, who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz
or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse
about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to
Africa, who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind
nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry
scattered in fireplace Chicago, who reappeared on the West Coast
investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes
sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets, who
burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco
haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in
Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos
wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry
also wailed, who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and
trembling before the machinery of other skeletons, who bit
detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for
committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and
intoxication, who howled on their knees in the subway and were
dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts, who let
themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and
screamed with joy, who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love, who balled in
the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public
parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come
who may, who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a
sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked
angel came to pierce them with a sword, who lost their loveboys to
the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual
dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one
eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the
intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom, who copulated
ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package
of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the
floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision
of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the
sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the
snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in
the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen
night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of
Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty
lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops
in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely
petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of
johns, & hometown alleys too, who faded out in vast sordid movies,
were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked
themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and
horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment
offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the
snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a
room full of steam-heat and opium, who created great suicidal dramas
on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blur
floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in
oblivion, who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the
crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery, who wept at the
romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad
music, who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge,
and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the
sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky
surrounded by orange crates of theology, who scribbled all night
rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow
morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten animals lung
heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable
kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an
egg, who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for
Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every
day for the next decade, who cut their wrists three times
successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique
stores where they thought they were growing old and cried, who were
burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid
blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments
of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of
advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or
were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, who
jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked
away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup
alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer, who sang out of
their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in
the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,
danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of
nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw
up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the
blast of colossal steamwhistles, who barreled down the highways of
the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude
watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation, who drove crosscountry
seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision
or he had a vision to find out Eternity, who journeyed to Denver,
who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who
watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went
away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each
other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated
its hair for a second, who crashed through their minds in jail
waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of
reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz, who
retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender
Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black
locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or
grave, who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism &
were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury, who threw
potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented
themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads
and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol
electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong
& amnesia, who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic
pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia, returning years later
truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the
visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering
with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight
solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare,
bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother finally
******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement
window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied
down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose
twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary,
nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination— ah, Carl, while
you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total
animal soup of time— and who therefore ran through the icy streets
obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the
ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane, who
dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images
juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual
images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of
consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens
Aeterna Deus to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose
and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with
shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm
of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel
beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to
say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly
clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the
suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma
lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the
last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out
of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
End Stanza I
Howl By Allen Ginsberg
For Carl Solomon
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179381
--
RR
"Through counter-intelligence it should be possible to pinpoint potential trouble-makers ... And neutralize them, neutralize them, neutralize them"
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