The first rule of Grievance Club is Who said you get to make the rules without checking with me? That is SO typical of you -- I bet you don't even think about NORMAL people like ME. If anything, *I* should be telling *you* what the rules are. Except they wouldn't be rules. Actually if I were making the rules of Grievance Club they'd be completely chill guidelines or suggestions and if people like you applied them wrong or even if you tried to understand them as rules I'd have you shot.
You think the politicians are in charge? You look at this and you tell me we're not being punished?
I'm going to have the Paris effect if I ever get to Erfurt:
https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/erfurt/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congress_of_Erfurt
87.3% of non-US Americans can't find these on a map, but Cosmic Industries will be looking at early election results from these states:
Absaroka
Delmarva
Deseret
Madawaska
South Georgia
Westsylvania
Winnecone
THREE of these are on the EAST of the Central Time Barrier. ONE is on the WEST. Figure it out yet?
Want to understand the way tomorrow's election will go? You need to study this map and consider its relevance to the Central Time Barrier.
Here's a hint for eagle-eyed election wachers:
https://www.southernliving.com/east-coast-vs-west-coast-butter-8606853
My idea: CLOTHES SHOP FOR DADS
You roll up at the facility, drive over to the JEANS hut. Dinnerlady-type in her wee hole says "What size luv," you go "thirrehfourthirrehtwoluv" while making a mental note to go easy on the pies so you can get back to 32/32, she goes "Right you are luv, tenner alright?" and chucks you a bin bag full of dead blokes' jeans that aren't too far gone and you give her a tenner and you're done, move on. T-shirts next.
T-shirts are more complicated, your jeans were the simple one to ease you into it. Pull round to a bloke eating a pasty. He asks "Size," you go "Medium or large depending y'know," he nods, "You wanting colour, drab, black or mixup?" you think about it a moment and go aye, go on then, "Mix it up mate, colours and drab," he goes "Plain or wi' shite on, plain's two quid extra," you're sure as hell not gonna advertise some bugger else's T-shirt business on your body, so you give him twelve quid and he hands you Bin Bag 2.
There's a pub on-premises that'll do you some chips or a pasty and you can watch the JCB sorting out the clothes while you drink your pint and furtle through your bags to see what you've bought.
It'd be brilliant. Buying clothes would have nae stress at all, plus if you ended up wearing shite and looking a bit of a muppet you could just go "Aye well it were in the bag weren't it" and everybody'd nod and go aye, fair do's
The anarchists discipline their ranks by exposing their backsliders to elections, and thereby subjecting them to the agonizing and paradoxical combination energies that politicians provide: nerd and theater kid energy.
Democracy is a system by which the anarchists punish us statists by sending their most marginally pro-social representative to be a representative of chaotic neutral in order to generate the surprise needed to steer the ship of self-organization. We democrats think that we are settling issues by a comparing crowd sizes, but the truth of it is that all of this happens in a clearing created by the silent anarchist majority.
The liberal subject -- autonomous, empirical, rational -- was the culmination of an Enlightenment project of public *paideia,* or *bildung*.
"Walking on eggshells" is basically the phenomenology of internalizing a norm or standard. A person who feels like walking on eggshells is not experiencing something contrary to tyranny, but is participating in it. Tyrants and tyrannizing personalities want you to feel like you're walking on eggshells. They want you to be painfully self-aware. They want you, you, YOU to feel the blame.
Humanist interested in the consequences of the machine on intellectual history.