Tuesday, 03 April, Year 10 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

"Love stories" in our rural colonies that used to call themselves "America" but now prefer "the US" in another instance of their most characteristic style of deriving no improvement of accuracy whatsoever through periodic changes of form that are both floridly embraced and patently designed towards the single goal of protecting from any substantial changei, love stories by the idiots for the idiots I say always follow the same tired old formula : there's two girls competing for one guy, you see. Not five, like in the azn harem pulp, not one real and one ideal like in the European romantic literature in vogue briefly at the exact moment anyone in the colonies last opened a book. No, two exactly, and always exactly the same two : the girl next door, and the "exotic" and "sexually attractive" but "dangerous" girl from out of town. That's it, and that's all, and as I expect you either imagine or else realise on the basis of experience, it'll be all about how it aint worth being a man (because, of course, your being a steer is cheaper -- for the rancherii).

Dangerousiii is entirely no different -- made by UStards for UStards as it is you needn't be surprised. It is however remarkable, on two scores. The first, and easily disposed, is just how great an actress Davis is : when she plays her generous "saviour" it is evident to the viewer that she is playing him, and also at the same time her performance is credible enough that we could see how a WASPish sort of idiot -- bereft of experience and the faculty of speculative thought as they stereotypically were -- would not see it. So when she turns around on him and tells him she was just playing, it's not a case of "well... I guess if the script says so we gotta believe it's what happened, retroactively". An actress that can play the part rather than rely on divine intervention to straighten out periodically the nonsense she piled on is exactly what an actress even is. Why, you thought it was something else ?

The second is less valuable, in aesthetic terms, but perhaps more interesting conversation fodder. The girl next door, here, is played to ethereal perfection of that nonsensical dream of the settler. She is, indeed, like the janissary wanted, "transparent to the marrow of her bone". I can't imagine how one'd get an erection with such a frank, honest and vertical partner and not feel entirely like a faggot, but these considerations are helpfully omitted by the lead's choices -- he kisses her, at the most, and even that's plenty awkward.

Their interplay, their batshit insane interaction where the man dumps a devoted and competent female because hurr durr, and where the competent and devoted female moves on because idem hurr durr, is the entire WASP ideology pinned out for display. That's all that idiocy was all about, treating women in that manner, and with them horses and slaves and everything else. Treating men in that manner, and with them owners and bosses and masters. Treating reality as if it were a soccer match -- brief ninety minutes during which dreams may be supported, to soon come to an end and be forgotten as the small and inconsequential thing that it was. You wouldn't trade "perdition of your eternal soul" for "forty pieces of silver" only good for fifty or a hundred years, would you ? So then! What do you mean those broken, sad little metaphores don't manage to cover anything of interest in reality ? What do you mean there's more depth than that ? FIE!

Protestantism is deeply offensive -- and I mean all of it, not merely some dumb shit fifty black dorks in a "church" somewhere accidentally brewed up last Thursday, but everything that ever split off the "santa romana chizdaiv" including Lutheranism, Calvinism, UStardism, everything -- specifically because it's simple thought. "Information security" in terms of XSS, systems programming in terms of bash scripting, thinking the world in protestant terms are all the same exact exercise in "what if I actually did not have a brain".

Notably absent -- the obviously correct and also directly necessary solution, where he puts the girl out of town on top of the girl next door, and switches them now and again, when he feels like it. How could he feel like anything, he's a WASP ain't he ? Boring doesn't begin to describe the sad state of a world thus maimed.

But it'd be... what would it be, "unthinkable", is that right ? Here's the scoop : all that the empire of idiocy needs to perpetuate itself is to convince you that the necessary's unthinkable. If it gets that, everything else is smooth sailing from there on.

You may enjoy watching this film on your own, perhaps. In my experience, nothing beats enjoying it on your knees, at my feet.

  1. No, it didn't start with "software", notwithstanding the shit they peddle stands with software in the exact relationship fast food stands with food. Nor did it start with "technology" in the similarily reductionist understanding of the term -- always denoting idle webshits that ain't even close to technology, not more so than subsistence prostitution is "industry".

    Take a moment to think. I said "subsistence prostitution". This isn't a "slur", by which I mean this isn't UStard political speech. The words aren't strung together for emotional impact with no consideration of meaning, as UStards trademarkedly do. No, it's on Trilema, it exists exactly like everything else on this only item worth reading in English exists : as perfect form dressing daring thought.

    "Subsistence" works the job of an adjective in that construction, indicating that out of the broad meaning of the noun it accompanies, only a certain subset should be selected. In this case, the subset is, "those cases where the activity described by the noun is engaged in as the only available means of daily survival, even though it needn't be". That coda differentiates it from "obligate" -- an obligate coprophagiac (such as, say, the rabbit) eats its own shit to survive because, biologically, it has to, there's no other option there nor could there ever be, that's just how its digestive system works. It's a herbivore just like the cow but can't afford the cow's bulk, so can't afford the luxury of carrying gallons of shredded alfalfa about in its four stomachs. It doesn't have four stomachs, it can't sit itself on the side of the river and chew the cud with nightfall. All it has is its den, and so it will run about getting as much primary food as quickly as possible trying to avoid all the many predators, then vomit it into the digestive den, then come back later in safety and reprocess it. That the vomiting happens through one end of the tube than the other, well... matter of expediency.

    Unlike obligate coprophagiacs, subsistence hunters could not be stone age fucktards, yet for whatever reason they choose to be stone age fucktards instead. Maybe they're just taking two weeks off ; or maybe they misrepresent the option in question as absent, to themselves or to the entire world. If they do, that little game they're playing is entirely besides the point. The fucktarded Tupi or Goshut are not in any way excused from simply dressing in their Sunday best and strolling down into town to take a job as a bank clerk or lift operator. That they don't it's because they opt not to, and whether they or you perceive "they had that option" isn't a consideration. It isn't a consideration at all. Unlike the rabbit, they do ; and unlike the rabbit they choose not to take it.

    Yeah, that's right, the sword of pain cuts both ways : you don't have all the options you hallucinate having, no matter whom you get to agree with you, and at the same time you do have all the options you have, even if you "don't perceive them". And you'll be footing the bill for both flights of fancy, and I'll be there, to take the payment in pounds of flesh. Now get cracking.

    The foregoing should clarify the first part ; and prostitution is the act of selling the self. Like the prostitextuate, or like the settler, or like the wiz kid -- prostitutes, all of them. Subsistence prostitution, when they sell the self to live another day, even though they don't actually have to. See ?

    Or don't you see because it's too close to home ? Seeing or not seeing is just a free option that you have ? I see, I see. []

  2. Think about it, Prikoke -- the only party that has a rationally justified and rationally justifiable interest in your bodily integrity is the farmer that sees you as his livestock and aims to butcher you for meat later.

    Outside of this, what difference can it possibly make to you when you die and with how many holes in the hide ? Hm ? []

  3. 1935, by Alfred E. Green, with Bette Davis, Margaret Lindsay. []
  4. Sometimes also spelled "chiesa" in older texts. []
Category: Trilematograf
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  1. [...] re-write of the old Dangerous/Hell's Woman story came about in the usual way -- one merry day about a week agoi I wondered [...]

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