The Philosophy Now Forum

Round one of Frazier vs Ali (Jan 12th vs Jan 17th) is fantastic. If Ali would have came out like this on Spinks, he would have beaten em.

Immediately, Ali is sharpshooting. Not for points. This is for real... he's afraid of Joe and is TRYING to knock him out. Ali is forced to be serious here. It's not until Joe's tired out mid fight that the clowning can begin safely, see. Ali didn't know this until he knew this.

For every six or seven well landed not terribly dangerous jabs and crosses by Ali, Joe gets one of his fantastic hooks in. I say again... don't let Ali's shaking his head to reassure you it's nothing, deceive you. Cassius Clay is genuinely afraid here but still has the swagger to keep up appearances. What a beautiful first round.

You'd understand this if you were familiar with Ali's other fights, the vast majority of which are orchestrated and drawn out by Ali on purpose... and precisely because he isn't afraid, is he able to do this and, very effectively, too.

Vs Frazier, Ali has to be a fighter. Against the others, he has the luxury of being a performer.

Also, this. Boxers don't see other boxers like we see boxers. To us, a TKO counts as a win... to them, it doesn't. A boxer who wins by a TKO can be clowned by his losing opponent, who will argue that points don't win a real fight. But if i knocked you down? We'd need no judges and ambiguous point counters to decide for us here whose ass just got whooped.

So no, Ali and us all know he didn't win match 2 and 3. But for an arbitrary number '15' rounds, did he win anything.

Now, I want this dispute settled once and for all. Frazier is the post-Liston era GOAT and I wanna hear you say the words, goddammit.

Fun fact: taller, longer armed fighters tend to be the winning party against opponents to are shorter when TKOs are concerned. All because of jab points that short fucks can't earn.

While watching a fight, i saw all the old cigarette and car commercials from the early 70s. They're so silly. This one Mercury Cougar commercial. Two leave it to beaver golfers... one of em is livid with excitement: "say, does it have the flip down headlight covers!" The owner, all sauve and not to be bothered, impatiently answers his questions. Omg and shaving cream commercials.

Here's the secret wisdom of the day. Those commercials are so corny because when real people try to act, the result is always exaggerated and overdone. Why isn't it like this in today's commercials? Because these aren't real people trying to act... they ARE the act. They ARE the cheese.

That depression medication. Forget the name of it. Dad and the two kids wanna have a fun day, but mom's depressed and locked in her room. Dad knocks on the door, and she finally comes out. They got her wearing one of those overlarge sweater pullovers... the one with the sleeves way too long that young girls always wear. She's like 40 years old, and she's acting like a depressed teenager.

Why isn't this odd or embarrassing. Because it's not real people trying to act unaturally like in the 70s. These people really ARE like this. That dumb bitch really does think she's depressed. That emasculated dork husband really would tiptoe down the hallway to mom's room and try to get her to come out. You don't notice this is all overdone because you, like them, are overdone.

Whenever a capitalist creates an advertisement, he's designing you, breaking you down. He's showing you what you already are (because of him) or what he's going to try to turn you into.

Why is acting easier today? Because the whole thing is an act, the people are actors... they are already the people in the commercials. Not real people pretending but fake people being real.

Found it! The Caplyta commercial.

https://youtu.be/cpsVyCFcAEw?is=O1T---JgqknT7cHm

I die a little every 6.3 seconds this comes on the TV. I even only watch the history channel and national geographic (the only two interesting channels) and it still follows me.

https://youtube.com/shorts/0ub-q6Rbyss? ... nVt-08qZHb

It's fantastic, isn't it? To end up taking six years to pay off what you would pay off in six weeks if you had a working truck (or a non-working truck and an honest capitalist garage owner) and no State told the world you were a child molestor.

Instead, we have a) a State telling the world that you're a child molestor so you can't risk advertising, b) a credit card drawing 23 percent interest on a loan of $5000 given to me to pay a capitalist to break your truck, c) a State that would charge you a fee to take legal action against the very f****** capitalist it licensed to break your truck, and d) work volume so low (see 'a' and 'b') that whatever money you do make is barely enough to pay the interest, nevermind the principle.

How strange to me it is that millions of people go through similar nonsense, and yet none raise a finger at it. I write it off as them being religious (which means sucessfully distracted from real problems) or satisfied and complacent in their lives, their TV series, their weekends, their hobbies, their families, etc.

Myself, on the other hand, why, i have no such things to distract or occupy me. I have become a walking manifesto living under a tyrannical gestapo rule. The kind of guy that makes bombs and no longer talks to anyone with an IQ lower than 150, badge or not. The kind of guy that waits. And waits. Let's his enemy punch himself out. Then he goes to work.

I wonder where you all will be and what you'll be doing when the time comes. Still trying to figure stuff out in your books?

No, seriously, it's different when you're a construction worker, and the work you do can actually hurt.

Go build a deck and then give all the money to Mastercard as payment (usury) for the favor they did loaning you $5000 so you could afford to have your truck destroyed by a mechanic.

Mastercard akses, "What has that garage guy got to do with me?" Now they wanna get philosophical, right? Okay. You both are of the same parasite phylum. You, because your wealth and the property that has gotten you such success as a legal loan shark was not generated with your labor. Him, because he either allows dishonest employees to work for him or does dishonest work himself. In each case, a profit or benefit is exacted at the expense of the consumer. If he's the dishonest worker himself, he's using his opportunity to lie as a way to exact a profit. While both are parasites, each practices their parasitism differently.

What's the word in Greek... It's in theater when a major unforeseen event draws an obligation from the protagonist that turns him from the expected course of the plot followed so far. Dammit i used to know what it is.

Yeah, but anyway, this one is mine. It wasn't the 2010 and 2016 wrongful convictions and imprisonment that did it... nor even the lifetime SO registry because State judicial workers are incompetent and/or corrupt and charge people with crimes they don't commit.

I was generous enough to allow the mandatory three strike rule. A fourth strike is out of the question. Hence, the watershededness of the event. No turning back now, baby. All this because of some suit punk out of law school wanting to hurry himself up the corporate ladder with good conviction rates and some white trash mellow yellow drinking transmission shop owner. If the gods don't have a sense of humor when I'm done, then they have nothing.

The most pressing question is this. Should i die or stay alive and go to prison so i can do youtube interviews seated at cold steel tables with pseudo-Freemans? What would solidify my glory more... a legendary death or stay alive and give testimony that moves mountains? Like a rock-star, you're automatically cooler if you die. But a philosopher? His art is in his testimonial skill, his ability to convince and awe with reason. So, unless he's got a lot of books, it's risky to take the heroes death. I don't got any books, so i sure as shit can't die. Only if i can give my testimony can i be a legend.

Next question is more imposing. Do i do this as a favor to man or just because i love the badassedness that i am and want to stay alive and bask in it?

I would like to help, but here's the problem. I'm such an unsual event that an overturning of the entire order of the world just to prevent guys like me from happening is hardly reason enough to start a revolution. And yet only a revolution could get me out of it... and THAT'S not even a guarantee.

But this is irrelevant. What i say should happen should happen anyway, whether or not I, the event, exist or not, see. I'm simply an accumulation of the negative effects of capitalism and its crony State fully exacerbated and brought to bear in a single fellow. This is why i have so much clout in the imaginary fantasy anarchist circles I'm part of.

They'd be like, "There was five hundred years of capitalistic crony State liberal democracy in the west, and then there was this guy, the counter-argument.

Anyway, as much as I'd like to help the world sort it's shit out, i can't manage another bid in the joint. Twice was enough. I don't ever want to be reminded that there is no god so brutally again. I'm fine with my normal logical argument stuff. Don't need to see 'human beings', allegedly who have souls and are the precious product of an intelligent and all-loving god that jump around like monkeys trying to stab each other while obese corrections officers watch and place bets from the control booth, to be reminded that there is no god.

That being the case, i have to die the heroes' death and become a vague, half-comprehended legend.

It is possible to become unconsciously habitually superstitious. Your luck can be so bad that you unconsciously avoid taking any risks or making any advancements because you expect that, as usual, something will go terribly wrong. Now you don't consciously think this... you don't hold trial in your head and weigh risks against benefits and all that shit. And you might even take a risk... but you won't be AS ambitious in it. You will be far more cautious than you should deserve to be because of the uncanny bad luck you have... and this slows and sedates you unconsciously. It saps you, so to speak.

The superstition begins if and when you try to reconcile your fate with any kind of concept of a god. If you can't make sense of your suffering and why you should be going through it - and the burden is on god to make you ABLE to make doxastic sense out of the avaliable data with which you will form your beliefs about said god - you can't make sense of a competent AND benevolent god. A competent and capricious god, yes. A benevolent dumbass god, very, very, very unlikely. How could he have gotten to that rank being a dumbass?

Therefore, i conclude the former. But in doing so, i must become a Stirner and not concern myself with any of the gods' business. For what capricious god could I trust with anything? But i have no avarice for caprice and am quite openly capricious myself! That is my business, and not to be of any concern to them.

https://youtu.be/ncLVYhPnlU4?is=7-terrXEBskAeVq4

See how they had em pause for effect right after "stuck a shotgun in her uh..."?

OMG OMG WHAT? WHAT DID HE STICK A SHOTGUN INTO?

That's how sick your politicians and your government are. Dems'll do the same shit.

No... it couldn't be that many of these released prisoners were reformed and ready to become productive citizens again rather than live off of taxpayers forever in a prison.

Naw, it's gotta be an AGENDA.

Lol and that dramatic pause. Did you know the directors of that ad are bigger fuckin perverts than you are? In a Zizekian way... don't have time to explain.

Very tasteful. Let's all let ourselves be subconsciously directed to imagining someone sticking a shotgun, etc., etc., by the sick fucks that want you to vote them into office.

I wonder how many takes they did before he got the pause and the little break-down-and-cry right.

Your entire world is theater. Who was it... that Russian dude. He said "Ideology: they don't know it, but they are doing it."

Btw, that's bro-bro I emailed an unofficial warning to about the SO nonsense. He's my gov, mates. He took my email so seriously that he hasn't replied in over a year. I think he thought I was tryna muscle em into signing me off the registry and expunging the felonies. I mean I kinda was but only like a gangster wearing a fedora beside you at the bar indirectly suggests before taking a shot of bourbon that x oughta do y because things might turn out good for em if he did... but in a disinterested and matter-of-factly way, not in a threatening way. Not in a way that says "you're fucked if you don't do y".

Sorry. The 'agenda' of course being to let rapists out so they can stick shotguns into people. This guy is no fool and knows exactly what's going on. Probably some Democrat Satan pedophile ring, anyway.

The cool thing about having stalkers is that you get to miss (or respond to late, rather) real job calls because after you've gotten enough prank calls and texts you don't bother grabbing the phone while working to answer a notification chime because it's very likely a stalker.

This is a perk you get when a) the State not only broadcasts your personal information all over the internet but adds a bit of false information of its own to stir people up, and b) the State allows its citizens to become hapless internet stalkers who harrass each other.

Hopefully, because it takes so long for me to check my messages, the prospective customer calls another contractor, gets a quote, and hires him instead.

Oh hells yeah you have no idea the vast network of effects following logically and directly from that single event. There was a whole new arrow of philosophical spacetime experience that i stepped onto those many years ago. What a tremendous occasion. I'm almost unworthy of bearing the philosophical obligation and responsibility that any virtuous man in such circumstances as my own would have.

But just the thought that i may be the ignoble who does the wrong thing - which is nothing - who does not stand on the side of troof, enrages me. That i should become merely lazy, too old, lose that desire for mischief, aimless wandering, a little revenge... this all frightens me.

Now see, England would take me and keep me off any vigilante hit lists, i.e, sex offender registries. Her majesty would rather keep that incident under wraps. I'd even never work for myself again, wash dishes in a pub, rent a dingy little flat and listen to Leonard Cohen, if, in exchange, i could interact with someone without them wanting to murder me.

But her majesty would never let me land at England International in the first place. That's the problem.

I go to finish the deck this morning, and i find the guy standing there waiting. He immediately starts pointing all these things he thinks are wrong. A case of the person not understanding what's going on, seeing the work before it's completed, and thinking I'm leaving things unfinished, etc. Example: I screw the edges of the trex after i lay all the boards, not while i lay the boards. He sees the unscrewed edges this morning and thinks I'm making mistakes or doing shitty work.

Then, after i explain all this, i start to work, and he's standing there staring at me the whole time. The customer that doesn't trust you and watches over your shoulder the entire time.

Then it happened. I just stopped, started rolling my shit up, and said, "I'm done. You can have it."

I tell him I'm not gonna finish it, and that $400 labor was kinda low anyway. He offers me $700. I turn it down.

This is how i know I'm shedding my skin. I just passed up $700 that i would have had in my hands by two o'clock this afternoon. Gave him half a deck for free. Spent three hours drive time and prolly fifty in gas. For nothing.

And somehow, i truly don't care. I even tried to regret the decision on the drive back. I played out the scene in my head when i tell the cat lady (who collects bags of cat feces, bathes maybe once a month, and doesn't know how to set an alarm clock) that i don't have the credit card payment or utility money... then she starts up... then i tell her to call the cops or write her congressman if she doesn't like it. Still nothing. Kept right on drivin'.

So here we are. On a couch in front of a TV again. These two dual surviver guys on history channel. Why does the guy who looks like a professional wrestler think he's an american indian? Have you seen this guy? Long blonde braids, teeth necklaces, leather headbands, the whole nine yards.

In other news. So, the aunt I've not talked to in seventeen years who thinks I'm a pedophile has the mandatory bi-weekly phone calls with the sister she really can't stand (the cat lady) to keep up appearances. During these calls, the cat lady complains about how expensive everything is and how many new diseases she has, while the sister (my aunt) pretends to be listening. If i come up as the subject, a couple things happen. The cat lady will use me as a burden to draw sympathy from the sister. How abusive i am, how I'm not making any money, etc. Well, in this last particular phone call, the aunt said she was angry at me told the cat lady to tell me to "go mow lawns or something." In her head and through the endless channels of misrepresentation of me by the cat lady, she thinks I'm a pedophile loser bum that just wants to lay around. Lol there are not words to describe the possible distances between people, the brutal truth of inequality, the nausea a superior spirit feels when he looks around and observes others. Shortly after the phone call, the aunt was on her way to Italy for a vacation. I was on my way to the couch after doing half a deck for free.

Wait, it gets better. The aunt has a psyche degree and is a retired rehab clinic counselor. She's been overweight all her life. Hard to burn calories when your job is to sit around an air-conditioned office and talk to alcoholics all day about nothing so you can make way more money than you're actually worth because insurance companies pay your salary so you can fly to Italy for vacation while the nephew you've thought is a pedophile bum for seventeen years is still struggling merely to get a working vehicle after getting out of prison for cimes he didn't commit nine years ago.

Lol, i do more work in one day than that useless **** does in a month. Lol, for a fraction of the costs of a trip to Italy, i could have gotten my truck fixed. Lol, "go mow lawns."

I'd neither aks nor accept any help from this aunt. The philosophical truths i have collected (like little gems) from these experiences are far more valuable than any amount of money. This is what i needed. I have destroyed god and the State, and now i have destroyed the family.

Disgust is always the stronger of the two when compared to adoration. When you like something, it's just trivial pleasure... but when you hate something, you are charged with disgust, animated by it, you feel the repulsion as if it were a stomach or headache. The certainty that 'this thing is bad, is ugly, should not exist' is not at all ambiguous like the nature of some trivial pleasure. As such, it is a truer, older judgment that one has to be 'talked out of', which means it must be made sophisticated and untrustworthy. One must be made to not trust their repulsion and give it a second thought.

Does this thing deserve to be hated? Could you be thinking about this the wrong way? Could your hatred be a sign of your own weakness and insecurity? This is the self-interogation moral sophists would have you commit to.