The business ; and the fantasy

Before proceeding, I have like a curiosity. What would you say is the difference between reality and imagination ?

Write it down, why not, the literate process helps and always helped humanity.

There's a fundamental difference between sexⁱ and masturbationⁱⁱ or rapeⁱⁱⁱ.

There's also a fundamental difference -- the same exact one -- between work, ie, the productive use of resources, and "work" as understood and depicted in fiction (and readily accessible if we deign to look through the eyes of little girls, by which we mean old women mentally regressed to the age of about five, the intended audience of daytime drama^iv & assorted soapsuds).

There's a difference, you see, the same one difference, between a little girl's notion of womanhood ("oh, I'm never doing that"^v) and the erstwhile little girl meanwhile woman's notion of her own life ; there's a difference between a little boy's notion of "being a lawyer" or a "fireman" or anything else and the actual life of the people, no longer children but meanwhile adults, who actually are (inter alia!) lawyers and firemen and whatever else.

There's a difference between the actual trader and the fantasy trader, but what is it ?

Obviously, reality is complete, whereas imagination is fragmentary. Life consists of everything that's involved, in all its parts and mechanisms, in all their absurdly intricate detail ; whereas fantasy consists of just those parts you like to think about.^vi

When a kid sits down with a sheet of paper and his favourite athlete cards picked among whatever sugar-delivery-device/breakfast cereal his parents buy provide him with to "construct a team", he needn't worry about any of the real problems actual team managers have to fucking deal with on a regular basis. The best team manager isn't the guy who "lines up the best line-up" like that, out of thin air. The best team manager's the guy who wrings the most out of all those ugly, unseen edges.^vii A great bridge isn't one that looks like you thought it would, a great bridge's one that's still standing long after you're fucking dead.

So exactly in this vein : a business is the thing that covers everything that's there. Not the sexy parts, not the parts anyone likes to think about (and sure as fuck not "in the manner we like to think about them"). Business, unlike fantasy, comes with this guarantee of coverage, the implicit promise that everything^viii was done.

Business is everything.

1. Id est, sexually interacting with another, live, present person. [↩]
2. Ie, sexually interacting with one's own fantasy. [↩]
3. Hurr, also interacting with one's own fantasy! It's the same fucking thing, what the fuck did you expect?!

   And yes, subsidiarily this also explains a lot about my own "strange" sexuality. What you improperly call sex consists of interacting with your fantasy in the elaborate setting of the presence of another idiot just like you, who's at the same time also interacting with their own fantasy. This is why their gender doesn't really matter -- not like you're about to do anything with them. This is also why "consensual relations" are so fucking important to you muppets : because it's the magic word that guarantees fictivity of rapport!

   The false, constructed, artificial "reality" of your running the imaginary race of your imagined thoughts and feelings is to be predicated on a witness, that's what you've come up with, "nobody can accuse me of making shit up -- look, I have proof". That witness is to be paid in kind, because you're socialist morons, and anything else "would be wrong". Therefore the only remaining problem is synchronicity -- how do you know she's witnessing your masturbation, and how does she know you're witnessing her in exchange ? Oh, well, enter consensus, it's the gun sending both assonauts off to the races, the "START!" signal of mystification.

   This isn't sex ; it's mutual masturbation. The act of sexual interaction with a woman who is "being herself" exactly in the manner Power Fashion told her "being herself" goes is not fucking sex! It's jacking her off, you're just being a male nurse, which is why I call my sexual interactions rape : to signify to the other, be it whoever they may be, that we're going to actually have sex, as opposed to mutual masturbation. And yes, they fucking love it, and yes, women flock to be raped in this manner, it's exciting rather than scary, and yes, it's absurd to call sex rape and masturbation sex and so following, but the euphemism treadmill's the only active cultural process left in this sad language, turning all around slowly to ashes. What can you do ?

   I dunno, maybe ask whether "they came" ? Can't hurt anything. Write it down in the ledger, let the OP know you're taking your witness role seriousy -- perhaps we could even call that sad activity "a great sense of humour" and progress even further into insanity on this score, also ? [↩]

4. Especially "office" "work" looks a very certain way in that context, doesn't it ? All those similar people (ie, equally bad actors) dressed a certain way, but always sitting about and talking. They may be sitting about in some kind of recognizable context, their environment may be howsoever structured, they may even exceptionally stand up! Maybe there's a logo above the entryway, and yet... except for the structure around them, you can't tell whether they're at home relaxing or in the "office" "working" -- they're always perpetually doing the same thing(s) : loitering and gabbing.

   Now that you've noticed that -- all "other kinds" of fantasy "work" are actually exactly the same, aren't they, construction "work" may have earth moving machinery humming in the background, but it still consists, as far as the camera eye can ever see, of loitering and gabbing. Because what the fuck else can one do for the camera ?! [↩]

5. There's a reference supposed to go in here, to some ancient Trilema article where I describe by reference the tendency of 14yos (ie, 9th grade highschool girls) to agree that "they ain't never ever gonna suck cock" and then, a few short years later, as 12th graders, the "same exact" girls' tendency to similarily agree that "only hicks don't suck it good". Sadly, I can't find it now. I looked for half hour or so ; I ain't spending my whole day searching for something I absolutely know is there and utterly can't fucking find. [↩]
6. The raped women sitting in the police precinct have husbands, whom maybe they care about, who maybe are insanely jealous. They have children, who maybe are girls, what do you say to your daughter about that one time ? You had a great time ? Did you ? Should she be careful ? What about that new guy she's met ? What about... what's the mother in law going to say outside of earshot ? Should you try beating everyone to the punch ? What if you're not pretty, and not black, and nobody really cares ?

   Meanwhile the "raped" woman (note the singular) of the masturbatory fantasy happily sits in another chair, non-aging and non-menstruating, transparent to the marrow of her bones... doesn't Skylar Price look like she's having a great time after those dudes in the bar slipped her a mickey ?

   

   No actual rape victim, ever.

   She's really not that concerned with the whole "questions" bullshit -- she doesn't need any of those people for anything, she doesn't care what the fuck they do. Dealing with her "rape" is their fucking problem, not hers, if they don't manage to they're more than welcome to get the fuck lost, for all the difference it'd ever make to her. Right ?

   She had sex. All the dudes in the bar, they had "sex", ie they jacked off, but she, the heroine of this only-remaining-avenue-for-sexual-expression, she actually had sex, which is why she's shining with the unmistakable resplendence of the recently well fucked. She sure as fuck wasn't witnessing anyone else's jacking off session, she was too overwhelmed (by penis, as it happens) to have any mental time left for the contemporary neurosis.

   Imagine that sadness, half a dozen dudes needed to play the role of the man, and women having sex at the rate of about one per month for the whole population. Can the domestic market supply problem grow any worse in the Socialist Motherland ? [↩]

7. You know who won the Mayweather - McGregor encounter ? No, it wasn't the guy that "looked most like a winner to you". It was the guy that was hurt least by all the punches thrown his way -- not all the punches "he saw coming" nor "came from where he was looking at". Certainly not "all the punches he agreed to receive", like in wrestling. No, none of that : all the punches that were there. All of them.

   The guy who was hurt least by all the punches thrown his way while managing to throw most punches he had the opportunity to throw, that's who won. I know because... well... it's who always wins, you know ? [↩]

8. Notice the common theme here :

   mp_en_viaje: the idea being, nobody trades bitcoin for fiat in uruguay, we know this for having looked ; and nobody trades bitcoin for fiat in buenos aires, either, we also know this for having looked, because the fiddy bux it costs to cross the river goes into the gap many many times over.

   mircea_popescu: every. EVERY. EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ACCOUNT ANYWHERE jesus f christ.

   mircea_popescu: alright, so make a list of the few, walk up to them and explain what problem you're encountering, and ask whether they'd be willing to either mentor or participate.

   mircea_popescu: and i do mean ~every single last one~. i talk to every single chick on fetlife, meaning EVERY SINGLE ONE. that's the job of existence. nothing else passes muster.

   mircea_popescu: if i everyone wasn't such a fucking retard, we'd have a lawyer joined up by now, and i could sponsor his clerical costs to send amici briefs to each and every single case involving "digital evidence" arguing it's a govt plant.

   mircea_popescu: "planning" is a miserable substitute for work. nevermind the nonsense. call everyone. today.

   mircea_popescu: absolutely no comments/interest whatsoever from anyone, of course, much like "gotham girl" joanne wilson, much like just about each and every one of the paper hopes pushing crowd.

   mircea_popescu: there's a lot of these strands of cocktopus stuck in each and every pie. how do you have "democratic" syria ? turns out that you don't - you either have "democratic" yet-another-flyover-state ; or else syria.

   mircea_popescu: asciilifeform incidentally, that reddit suggests to me we shall soon have reddit/hn/twitter/facebook/everything accounts, each and every last one of us. and we won't even have to man them :D

   mircea_popescu: cazalla hey, wanna make a list of trilema articles that fit with 8chan ? and qntra idem.

   mircea_popescu: actually, here's an interesting project : someone traverse the l2 trust from assbot, make a list of who's on it.

   mircea_popescu: but since it's a topic, i wonder if anyone were to make a list of all the supposedly big businesses in btc ordered by the total btc sum they donated to exposing scams,

   mircea_popescu: tour the fucking city, talk to everyone.

   This, coincidentally, is why business counters stupidity (also known as "work made man") : stupidity is just as universal, and just as insistently persistent. Water aims to leak at all points, and a dam prevents leakage equally at al points. Stupidity tamen usque recurret, business systematically closes all the windows.

   It's what it is, and no alternatives are available -- in particular shaking the magic stick of fantasy at the flood ain't gonna do nothing (and I'm very much not into listening to florid an' elaborate interpretations of the nothing). [↩]