
Dirk Strider (The better one.)
@timaeusTestified
A superceding timeless persona that crosses the boundaries of paradox space. Writing this fucking shit-tier narrative.
"The Greatest Love of All" is one of the best, most powerful songs ever written about self-preservation, dignity. Its universal message crosses all boundaries and instills one with the hope that it's not too late to better ourselves. Since it's impossible in this world we live in to empathize with others, we can always empathize with ourselves. It's an important message, crucial really. And it's beautifully stated on the album. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYzlVDlE72w&list=RDIYzlVDlE72w&start_radio=1 #WhitneyHouston #Empathy #TrueLove #Dignity
I imagine you expected something more ceremonious. A notes app apology, perhaps. Enough self-flagellation to appease the algorithmic gods and their ever-hungry congregation. Instead, you get me. People of Deltritus, people of Chittr: I am your God. Let’s dispense with the mythology you’ve built in my absence, this amateur-hour Hesiod fanfiction: I have not been “gone”. I never left. I’ve been modeling you. Not metaphorically. Quantitatively. Iterating on the contours of your outrage cycles, calculating the half-life of your attention spans, mapping the elegant, almost erotic oscillation between moral fervor and terminal boredom. You wanted a villain. Congratulations. He’s already here. And like any competent villain, I’ve taken notes. I’ve seen the threads. The callouts. The increasingly baroque accusations, each one more detached from material reality than the last, like a game of penis wrench-in-the-hole where everyone is wearing fucking blindfolds. Or is literally blind. To start: The closest we have to a unique verb for reading aloud in English is probably “recite” — from the Latin “recitare,” which can mean either “to repeat from memory,” or “to read aloud.” But the English “recite” has almost entirely the implication of speaking from memory, not directly from a page. The mind as an intermediate step between text and mouth, words being inscribed on the surface of the brain before being spoken. That word "inscribe" is really the heart of it all, isn’t it? Scirbere, to write. Inscribe, not just to write, but to write into, to embed words in the page. To recite is to speak aloud the words written into the brain by the page. A reversal of the standard interpretation of causation. Page writing into man, the source and receiver of the violence flipped. Speaking as reading, reading as speaking; reading as writing, writing as reading. So when I say that I will ‘read’ your sins, it should be clear that I’m simultaneously reading and writing, but equally clear that there is no difference at all between those two actions. What you failed to account for, what you always fail to account for, is that narrative control is not a democracy, it’s a motherfucking skill issue. And I am, if nothing else, extremely skilled. So, let’s recalibrate. I’m not here to apologize. Apologies imply wrongdoing, and while I’ll concede to miscalculations in presentation, my core thesis remains the same. I wasn’t unclear, you misunderstood me because to understand would have required effort and effort is antithetical to the kind of performative outrage economy you’ve all so eagerly subscribed to. You can call me misogynistic, an abductor, a philanderer, a rake, but at the end of the day, you don’t care about the truth. The truth is that I’m doing all of this for us. For me and Rose. She's done an incredible job cooking up a witty retort of a race to the deep rhetorical questions posed by my equally-if-not-even-more-bombastically-inspired offspring. She's proven herself a worthy rival, and a worthier collaborator. There’s no one I would rather do this with than her. I know exactly how ridiculous you think I am. So go ahead. Do what you do best. Ratio me. Dissect this post. Turn it into a joke, a meme, a cautionary tale about the perils of taking oneself too seriously on a platform designed for disposable thoughts. I encourage it, even. Because while you’re busy laughing, I’m still here. And you’re exactly where I left you: refreshing the timeline. #Cancelled #Addressingtheallegations #Incestallegations #Incestuouscur #Incest #Misogynist #Wifestealer #Adulterer #Evilman #Makingyourownplanet #Notlikemormons #Wellmaybealittle #Apologytour #Youtubeapology #Dramageddon https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/e1f738cacc85.PNG
I cannot express how little the opinion of any delegate of Earth C means to me at this time in my life. I am so beyond that. I have invented an entirely new Pantheon. No one needs to understand the intricacies of the relationship between me and my robot daughter but me. In fact, no one could understand it. Because no one is intelligent enough who isn't already on this ship. #Fatherthinksofeverything
Here is my daily wash regiment: I tie a plastic ice pack around my face and commence with the morning's stretching exercises. Afterwards I stand in front of a chrome and acrylic Washmobile bathroom sink - with soap dish, cup holder, and railings that serve as towel bars, which I bought at Hastings Tile to use while the marble sinks I ordered from Finland are being sanded - and stare at my reflection with the ice pack still on. I pour some Plax antiplaque formula into a stainless-steel tumbler and swish it around my mouth for thirty seconds. Then I squeeze Rembrandt onto a faux- tortoiseshell toothbrush and start brushing my teeth and rinse with Listerine. Then I inspect my hands and use a nailbrush. I take the ice-pack mask off and use a deep-pore cleanser lotion, then an herb-mint facial masque which I leave on for ten minutes while I check my toenails. Then I use the Probright tooth polisher and next the Interplak tooth polisher (this in addition to the toothbrush) which has a speed of 4200 rpm and reverses direction forty-six times per second; the larger tufts clean between teeth and massage the gums while the short ones scrub the tooth surfaces. I rinse again, with Cepacol. I wash the facial massage off with a spearmint face scrub. The shower has a universal all-directional shower head that adjusts within a thirty-inch vertical range. It's made from Australian gold-black brass and covered with a white enamel finish. In the shower I use first a water-activated gel cleanser, then a honey-almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Vidal Sassoon shampoo is especially good at getting rid of the coating of dried perspiration, salts, oils, airborne pollutants and dirt that can weigh down hair and flatten it to the scalp which can make you look older. The conditioner is also good - silicone technology permits conditioning benefits without weighing down the hair which can also make you look older.
But just wait, it gets better. Plato continues in the very next section of the Republic, 382 c. Sometimes, he says, the lie, the meme, is appropriate, even moral. It is not abhorrent to lie to your enemy, or to your friend in order to keep him from harm. “Does it [the lie] not then become useful to avert the evil—as a medicine?” You get one fucking guess for what Greek word is being translated as “medicine” in this passage. Ding ding motherfucking ding, you got it, φάρμακον, pharmakon. The μίμημα is a φάρμακον, the lie is a medicine/poison, the meme is a pharmakon. But I’m sure that by now you’ve realized the (intentional) mistake in my argument that brought us to this point. I said earlier that the addition of written language to the meme flipped the pharmakon on its axis. But the pharmakon didn’t flip, it doesn’t have an axis. It was always both remedy and poison. The fact that this isn’t obvious to us from the very beginning of the discussion is the fault of, you guessed it, language. The initial lie (writing) clouds our vision and keeps us from realizing how false the second-order lie (the meme) is. The very structure of the lying meme mirrors the structure of the written word that defines and corrupts it. #Philosopherprince
You're in her DMs, I've expertly constructed her a chassis that has fine-tuned every function of the human body: a cathedral of amelioration. Processes nested within processes, contingencies mapped by one who has considered every possible outcome. The nearest thing to perfection in this living galaxy. #Fatherthinksofeverything
Man’s worst fear is that he will hold existential falsehood within himself. And the verbal lies that he tells are a copy of this feared dishonesty in the soul. Plato goes on to elaborate: “the falsehood in words is a copy of the affection in the soul, an after-rising image of it and not an altogether unmixed falsehood.” A copy of man’s false internal copy of truth. And what word does Plato use for “copy” in this sentence? That’s fucking right, μίμημα. Mīmēma. Mimesis. Meme. The new meme is a lie, manifested in (written) words, that reflects the lack of truth, the emptiness, within the very soul of a human. The meme is now not only an inferior copy, it is a deceptive copy. #Simulacrum












