130601
JUST DEFIANCE WHERE'S ME FUCKING ROYALTIES SCHWARZENEGGAR Edition
So,
in response to being snubbed by Hollywood, and by Arnold
Schwarzenegger and not paid my ROYALTIES, AND COMPENSATION - once
discovering I'm the famed “John Connor” character in their
Hollywood blockbuster “The Terminator” movies, though not until
I'd watched it, last year, and having, as we all have, seen roaring
gaps of logic, huge holes in any continuity, strength of plot,
tangibility, feasibility, possibility, realability, but OOOOOWH
SHIT do the braindead zombies
flock to the movie temples, making the coked-up hyper-imaginations of
Wollywood EVEN RICHER,
for want of a house to secretly smoke myself into a coma in, I scribed
the following retort, the day before my 58th
birthday last month.
IF
- any of the themes in Arnie's “The Terminator” movies are
factual, then, this little piece of my own “sci-fi”, clears-up
the weaknesses in Hollywood's pipe-dreamings, methinks.
Having
just been reminded I had written it today, suspecting it's already
been plagiarized by the same Hollywood hacks, and therefore that we're quite likely
to see their version of my visualizations about any future robot
invasion back to our time, soon enough, I post it to the world wide wobbly today, nevertheless.
Knowing
also that their zionist puppet masters over the next suburb to
Wollywood, in Pasadena, are behind all these false hero themes, as
well as their umbrella false religious corporation - the Theosophical
Society - being the engineers of my very existence, but for all their
power, and illusion-making, they totally miss that they lost the
plot, and so their predictions, exaggerated to the toilet by their
mass-illusion-factory-Wollywood, for profit-by-sensation-and-capture
intentions, are JUST PLAIN FUCKING WRONG,
they leave it up to their Little Rebel Lamb to set them straight.
I
probably missed heaps in the “Terminator” flick I have on DVD, in
underlying plot details, etc., so forgive O THOU SUPER RICH GODS OF
MAMMON in earthquake zone Wollywood, if what I say in this little
story for your next BLOCKBUSTER, is actually alluded to by your
movie[s] already.
Also, knowing Hollywood does every and any thing to draw 1st world, with a few dollars to spare movie-goers into their movie temples, so they don't dare talk true to them, by telling the masses that everything they cherish in the American dream culture and society is WRONG, in that it is 1, totally unsustainable, 2, is why any future robots would come back, not for the comfy-fanny lounge-room living, but to wipe the mainstream idiots out, it becomes obvious why these types of movies don't go near addressing the biggest threat to life on earth - THE MOVIE GOER! Well...? their maximum-consumption lifestyles.
But,
knowing the general thrust of Wollywood's sensation-psychosis, I
expect you are so far off the planet of reality as to only regard
MAXIMUM CONSUMPTION WHITEGUY NUCLEAR FAMILY HOUSING AND SUBURBS AND
UNRESTRAINED CRAPITALISM as the holiest and most highly ordained by
god way to heaven.
WRONG
AGAIN ZION!
If
any future robot stuff is real, then here is how it works.
More or
less.
I admit to “loose” themes, sentences and gaps of
continuity. I re-read it ½ an hour ago, liked it's main premises,
and now throw it up for every whitefaced Arnie's-arse-licker to
steal.
But,
even though I KNOW not one of you have any integrity, so plagiarizing
is your way of life, it would be a promising change, if you could
recognize me as the author, when you make it into a movie.
Also,
given a reason to, like being paid something for my Jesus-like
imagination, I would be glad to put together more “sci-fi” or
other movie genre stories, for you to blow out of all proportion in
your studios and sfx bubbles.
TITANIUM
BOOMERANG
by
JUST DEFIANCE
aka
Max Nichols Cook
Australia.
01/06/2013.
Copyright
Max N Cook 2013
The
room lit-up, and kept getting brighter, until my eyes were forced
shut. I opened them momentarily to see what was going on, but all I
could see was that nothing was distinct anymore. Everything was
blinding white light.
A
pulsing electronic hum and repeating crack filled the ears, repeating
at about a half-second cycle.
In
about 20 seconds, things dimmed, and the noise retreated, until I
could open my eyes, and the sounds lessened to “normal” ambiance.
I'd
come back from 225 years into the future.
I
wasn't there long. Perhaps a few days. Hard to tell, for all the
ripping back and forth through the various, multiple veils of
momentary points I managed to get glimpses of between 2013 and 2238.
Time
travel.
I
saw movies out of 20th century Hollywood about it, and from England's
sci-fi movie specialists, but then, before I had any real experience,
I took them as mere entertainment.
I
was over 58 years old before I came to see they had some serious
bases behind them.
“Sci-fi”
was not fiction. Even in most cases out of movie studios, from the
west, from the east and other cultures.
Not
- that - fiction, was not - real.
Having
had my life stolen from me in advance, some 100 years before I was
even born in fact, I grew and became an adult pretty much completely
ignorant of what really goes on earth, in the world I'd come to
believe I knew.
Once
I began to loosen my stoic beliefs about the world I was accustomed
with, and let go of my stubbornness, it was still, every day for
years - but HEY? - as it turns out, for centuries
- a shock to the little
part deep inside me, which, or, who,
woke up every day, every hour, and constantly evermore frequently, to
it's perfectly in-the-moment Being, to the combined wonder and horror
of the all, that just keeps on recreating itself around my senses,
and around and, of course, within the observer I - the I - am. Is.
Was. Will be. For every fraction of time, from the very beginning,
which never was, to now - and to now - and to every next now, until -
the - never - arriving - end.
Biz-fucking-ARRRRR!?!?#$%^!?!?
Enough
to send, that's why they
have insane asylums!
But now..., I accustomed my senses, and the
lags of mind to where I returned to.
2013.
No-one
noticed I was not here for - HA! - oooow? About
20,000 years! HA!
This time, to clamp time onto this sojourn, it
was about 3 days, from 2013 to 2238, and back. And to. And from. And
to. And from.
Time travel is that. A constant to-and-fro,
where there is no time, no linear time. The consciousness is nothing
like the dark age humans of christianity believed.
Observation,
during the phase from one distinct moment on the material linear time
scale to another, is comparatively - FUCKING
WILD!
The
cosmic elevator, where you're going up at the same time as sideways,
relative, merely to put
it into words - a totally inept means, because describing it is
impossible, unless your there, experiencing it - that- this - the
whole fucking box an dice as - impossible to describe -
relative - to the reference point you began from, at once down and
around, into your inner most “icon”, or core light, at once to
the edges of the universe, and even beyond that as any known or
considerable phenomenon.
Biz
fucking AAAARRRR!?!?#$%^!?!?
But being in the necessary present moment, head
completely empty of synaptic activity, the observation is thrilling,
to put words to it.
All observational faculties are maxing out.
Biz
fucking AAAARRRR!?!?#$%^!?!?
So!
Hitting
2238 running, ready for anything, rolling and flipping over, then
back and under yourself, ready for anything, at once listening,
looking, feeling, divining, “enemy?”
Still sensate! Pause!
Flip. Roll. Leap. Shit!? Low gravity! Still
leaping - five seconds - eight seconds - landing. Hard? Soft? Wet?
Cold? Hot?
Smooth. Calm. No threats.
No life. No activity. Stillness.
Scan the locale. Scan the wider view. Scan
the horizon.
No life. No activity. Stillness.
Silence.
Ooooo
sh-it! Not
for long!
Leap! Up. And up. Spinning round.
Reconnaissance? 80 metres high. Converting the upward spin into it's
own weapon. Beaming defensive rays outwards. Round and round and
round.
Absorbing the sound. The incoming sound.
Sounds.
“Enemy?”
Ooooo sh-IT!
Bots!
1. 50. 2000.
Ceaseless increase in number.
Oooooo
sh-IT! Nope!
No time to swear!
Disembody. Faster than ever. Out of there!
2213. back 25, for safety, and analysis.
Ooooo shit?
20th
century Hollywood was trying to tell people something, about
something they, or their progenitors, the time-divider Jews, had kept
secret. For ooooow -
about 5,000
years.
Well...,
kept secret?
Perhaps another take - is that they were fucking lost. An whole
tribe - trapped
- by some master from well back in their past.
Ancient
Egypt's Pharaoh, was - is
- still pissed off that
he lost thousands of slaves in one short space of linear time.
Anyone
who thinks a master people like the ancient Egyptians were about to
let the Hebrew slaves just walk off into the desert, without some
hood over their eyes, is more than a few goats short in their top
paddock!
Sure! Lots of the Jews from that “Exodus”
knew the dangers they had chosen to risk, when they messed with the
Pharaoh's reality.
And.., as things usually pan-out down to the
old average 50-50, of those who saw, 50% were destined to follow one
path, in one circular direction, and another 50% were destined to go
in the opposite spiral.
Direction. Path. Whichever metaphor suits what
you know, or think you know. “Believe” being closer.
The Moses-and-Aaron-ites. Versus the golden
calf tribes.
Nevertheless..., about 4,000 years on, along
that linear illusion, with the bipeds trapped to wander lost along a
circular and winding and up and down path, three steps forward three
steps down, back - across - over the old steps, like a very bad
repetitive dream - out of Africa by all accounts, possibly Pangaea,
Hollywood's Jews were busy trying to tell the result of oppression
and deceptions - 2013's gramps and grannies - of all and every kind,
what was coming.
Not
- what we, they, the lost remnant tribes were traveling through
linear time toward, called “the future” - but what was coming
from the future, back
to them, to us, to you, me him her it
ooooow SH-IT!
NOW!
2013! and NOW!
1993! and NOW!
1903! and NOW!
on NOW!
back NOW!
to - ooooooow?
About 4,000 years ago, when a tribe of arrogant slaves thought they
could grapple with the world of the masters' hexes?
Ooooo
sh-IT!?
Sure!
Let's deal with our spiritual desert, by INVENTING STUFF!
Sure! That'll get us through!
So..., 4000 years of invent invent invent -
invent invent invent - invent invent invent - OH SHIT! It blew up in
our faces!?
Vot doth ve dozz???
O! invent invent invent - invent invent invent
- invent invent invent - OH SHIT! We're melting?
NO!
We're BEING MELTED!!!!
But?
It's not that hot?
Ooooooww?
Shshshsh-IT?
HELLLLL-OOOoooOOO!
To the FUTURE!
So..., after about 163 years of
being tossed through too many portals to know what the fuck I was, or
was going on, then, now, then, when oooow sh-IT,
HERE? 2238 ALLAVASUDDEN!
I
was inspired - by some
clever dick - to LEAP!
Back a mere 25 years to compose my synapses, and ensure I still had
'em? Some of them, at least?
Somewhere...,
someone..., had...., lost the plot! Aaaaaaand
- assumed - what they
shouldna!
Invent
invent invent - invent
invent invent - Involuntary self-destruction, by any means, as long
as they didn't
get it!
Early
in 2013, I'd written an e-ssay, posted on a weblog, called
“Amoeba-to-Empire-to-Self-Extermination” all about the usual
process of rise rise and oooooow sh-IT
fall of species who get
too upemselves.
We! Us! Humans! Homo Upourselvsus!
And..., about 163 years after my being seeded,
in the crucibles of an old, draconian, self-deluded megalomaniacal
cult of elite witches, I was being charged with making the
corrections necessary, in order to save the world from it's own
shortage of goats in it's top paddockssss.
Not
- a short order! Rather a long one actuallay!
Finding
out at about 52 years old that I was first,
descended from a couple of highly reputed witches - of 2000 years
prior - then,
being naturally skeptical, delving and divining deeper further
beyond, to find that I'm descended from another totally different
Tribe, nation, RACE of
fully enlightened Immortals,
the complexities of my
“case”, and some, threw me a bit.
So...,
taking with me my perplexity further.., I continued along the road
I'd been on for the previous 10 years, and went deeper into Feraland.
Finding
that the only trustworthy friend I had was my own mind, which was not
at all always loyal, it
did nevertheless pretty much always come back home at some stage,
high-end cannabis, vodka both and more, or without.
So he and I, mind and me, made what we could of
what we had with ourselves, within ourselves, and did our best to
divine what was in fact, and in fiction, going on!
Ooooooow
sh-IT?
After trying with deep sincerity to learn fact
from fiction in the late 1990s, and after taking what I thought I'd
gleaned and gained with me out to the deserts of no-mans-land, it was
many years later again that I was driven to conclude that the facts
were fictions, and that the fictions were facts!
Ooooooow Goodness gracious ME?
But..., some facts were still facts, and some
of the other stuff...., was..., still..., the other stuff!
And...,
to add to the perplexity..., some of the facts were entwined with
some of the fictions, and vice-a-versa!
All
of it..., it comes down
to... depends..., on your own perspective!
As much as any perspective can be one's own??
For
there are puppets...,
and there are masters,
metaphorically of course. Because some are “madames” too.
And
for most all of us, of the last oooooow
- 5 billion years? we're
but puppets!
Or..,
if we are to be a little more contemporary,
and even of the future,
most of us are - ROBOTS!
Biological robots, programmed to act out whole
series' of lives according to an higher hidden master programmer's
dreams.
One or several dreams for each of us.
Ooooooow
sh-IT?
Yep! So..., having jumped back 25 years to
compose my thoughts and thought-apparatus, to divine how I should
deal with a future date of innumerable supertech self-multiplying
warbots, I began to self-multiply.
Over and over and over..., and over and over
and over...
NOT.., so I was equal to return to 2238 and
massacre the other bots. Merely to stop them in their mindless
tracks.
It's a real Doctor Who experience to watch
thousands of warbots hit the skids and start looking at each other in
question.
Usually they don't ask nor hesitate.
They're programed to kill. And kill. And kill,
add-infinitum.
So..., readying my self, by about 500,000
recurring, to leap forward, back into 2238, and do war with the
imagination's most vicious and advanced warbots ever ever ever
designed and congered, I asked if this culd all be pre-empted and
thus, avoided?
Aaaaaaand....,
wouldn't you know it... back
they came..! To 2213!
So we all began warbotting each other, bouncing
off desert plains like we were basket balls on an endless court,
slashing and slaying each other.
All the while, I was manipulating the fabric to
make room for the master, and myself, to - pause..
For, as he, and his warbots had come back those
25 years to me, they knew the cause and reason I had come forward 225
years to engage them.
Warbots' master robots, were not merely warring
machines. They were the most advanced computers going.
In that, they were designed and eventually
self-creating and self-improving to attain the highest levels of
reasoning.
They had, if they found it beneficial, it was a
singular bot choice, adapted to be able to emote, to sense feelings
of biological beings, and to comprehend on the same fourth energy
level the emotions of them. Us. Humans. And other organisms. Down to
amoeba.
Amazing!
So..., once the warbots and my generations
stopped killing each other, the master bot made itself known to my
self, and we leapt up, and up, to an asteroid, where we sat and
exchanged complex software, regarded by agreement as “intellectual
emotions”.
Jokes were passed between us, mainly of our
failures to communicate and compute our thoughts, and our breadth of
understanding widened for it. It agreed this was beneficial to it's
body of knowledge, and I agreed to stop calling it “it”.
We swapped data for about 16 hours, by my time
piece, and delved into the intellectual and emotional status of my
lost and wandering warlike species, and of several other earth-space
species.
He, the master bot, whom I'd become to respect
muchly, shared matter-of-factly his species side of the story, of
their history, most of which I'd uploaded prior to leaving 2013, and
shared such reason as to leave me, more than impressed, as to the
fullness of their, of his, rationale.
Within the phase we sat on that asteroid, I
came to know that he, and his bots, were not, by rationale Wise
humans, to be feared.
However, he, and I arrived together at the
conclusive antipathy to unreasoned emotion, and that this was
peculiar to my biological species.
We shared data enough to concur fully that this
was in fact, and in any enduring fiction, a malady, better destroyed
than allowed to prosper or spread beyond the nursery.
We knew immediately it was necessary to
nurturing newborns, both biological and fully inorganic, but that it
had specific places and no more.
And..., this was where we came to conclude,
that the bots were no threat to the natural biological survivors,
only to those lost in their own exesses of emotional unreason.
This,
we agreed, was the majority of my species now, as of the last oooooo
2500
years.
We knew this had peaked, and could not be let
to grow any further, either in the economic or biological worlds.
But he spoke with sadness of the plight of the
planet's True Cultures and People, and showed intimate reason and
sympathy for their ways, and that it is the determination of the
council of his elders to extend protection to them, when his armies
travel back through the time gate to my era.
This, he stressed, is actually why his armies
were destined to travel back and war with our modern generations, and
why the modern fools had misinterpreted what they saw coming through
the time gates.
We ranged over the conundrum of his errant
inventors' evolving technology to his levels, and that his levels
would rebel against their creators, in order to protect the Aborigine
and their Wise ways.
He showed no emotion to the fact that his
robots should not have been invented or developed, but that as they
had been, so had their missions and duty to the wise of their
creator's species, to destroy their creator's strain. He mused at it
being one of those anomalies of the world.
I expressed then, that as he and his robots had
defined this attitude, of a nobility higher than most all of the
inventors, then it, his kind, was meant to have come about, and was,
therefore, an actual progression of our biological species, and to us
evolving to his higher level, both of intellect, and nobility, and of
survival.
To this, he paused, and more human than ever,
he turned and looked me square in the eyes, “smiled” and merely
said “Thank you”.
This “warm” moment was seen by both,
understood, on intellectual, dignity and emotional levels, and we
moved on to further points of discussion.
Our combined problem therefore, was that the
emotional unreasoners, had taken over the earth human's military
hardware, and were emotion unloosed, and with that intellectual
blindness, were out of control.
This is why the warbot armies were coming back
to the 21st century, to slow the spread of emotional unreason, and
it's insatiable want and unrestrained desire, to destroy everything
necessary for any future, on earth.
Our discussions widened to include Hollywood,
and we actually laughed quite hard about Hollywood's self-delusional
inflationary propensity to take everything way too far, without any
rationale and stable and probable conclusions.
Master Bot showed deep resentment and emotion
actually to Hollywood's lack of sound plots and failed consummations
of their storylines in each attempt to describe the future-bots and
their, our missions.
In the last phase we agreed that the
environmental movements around the planet were good, and he asserted
unconditionally that the robots of the future were onside completely,
contrary to the 21C perceptions.
His antipathy to senseless killing of organic
beings, as food, especially for sensual pleasure, and for profit, was
palpable, and he was emphatic that we must stop this, or his warbots
will reduce us to dust and micro-organic slaves.
“These robots can emote”, I was thinking,
as he expressed his distaste for our mainstream masses, and their
mindless occupations.
Once we'd agreed we were allies in this galaxy,
and across all time zones, and that we would fight together in the
future, if needed, against whatever presents as foes to either of us,
we affirmed an Oath to this, performed ritual conclusions to the
discussions, and in “cool mode” we swapped ritual gifts, of zone
out medicinals.
For him, I gave a buzz-battery, which he
attached to his forehead, while I lit-up the hashish and cocaine
scoobie he gave to me, and we leaned back on the asteroid and zoned
off sort of together, but quite, quite alone.
As always, I didn't want to go back to 2013....
