Originally published September 11, 2010
If I say the name John Hinkley Jr, would you recognized it? Name rings a bell, but you're not sure? Now, how about Lee Harvey Oswald... yeah, much more famous, right? Naturally you've all identified the man who shot JFK, but on the other hand I suppose that those among you who recognized the name of the would-be assassin of Ronald Reagan are not too many. What strikes me the most is the fact that both of them perpetrated the same deed and so should be enjoying a similar level of notoriety; the only real difference between them is that one of them succeeded where the other failed. And yet of the two only Oswald can be considered a household name.
It's true for the general public, and it seems to also be the case among conspiracy theorist circles: if it's about impossible to cross the street without tripping on a conspiracy thesis on the assassination of Kennedy, you have to dig to find one regarding Hinkley's shooting of president Reagan in 81. A Google search gives about 2 million results, but the links' relevance drops like a stone starting on page four. This is certainly not due to any lack of suspicious elements and strange coincidences, starting with the fact that Hinkley came from a family that was close to the Bushes: when you think that George H.W. Bush was vice-president at the time, and would have been slingshoted president in the event of Reagan's death, c'mon, I mean seriously, ain't just this stuff writing itself out? We ought to expect at least an Oliver Stone movie on that, and libraries filled to the brim with one best-seller after another all offering "shocking revelations" based on "previously undisclosed evidence" finally telling the "true story" behind this "historical tragedy". As it is, if 70% of americans continue today to declare in polls that they believe in a plot behind the Kennedy assassination, I'm positively sure that if we were to ask them the same question about the Reagan shooting, 70% of them would answer something along the lines of "No clue". And I strongly suspect that the few who do get interested in it are only doing so because it involves the Bush family; the Reagan conspiracy seems in fact to be nothing more than a footnote in the interminable 911 truthing saga.
It gets better: in 1994, four algerian extremists hijacked an Air France airliner with the intention of suicide-crashing it in Paris, presumably on the Eiffel Tower. The terrorists' plan failed, mainly because they made the mistake of making a stopover instead of flying straight towards their target. This is not a small thing: we are talking about a September 11 before the time, the WTC replaced by the Eiffel Tower, Ground Zero on the Champs-de-Mars. Imagine for a moment that they succeeded: imagine the shock, the trauma, think of the reactions (I can hear Bill Clinton solemny declaring "Today, we are all french"). Try to visualize Balladur, "the axis of good and evil", "you are either for us or against us", the attack being used as a justification for an invasion of Algeria – no wait, that doesn't make any sense, the terrorists were all algerian; let's say Morrocco. Or perhaps Belgium (No reason, it's just to make the french laugh. For some reason it always makes them laugh when someone mentions Belgium).
There's no doubt that we would have been witnesses to the major event of the decade, if not the entire second half of the 20th century, the kind that defines a generation, of which everyone say they remember where they were and what they were doing when it happened. In this parallel universe, you only have to pronounce the words "december 24" to get the emotion taps a-flowing.
And there's no doubt either that this would have spawned countless theories diverging from the official version, an entire subculture of conspiracy accusing everyone and his grandmother of having been part of the plot. However as things stand now, if anyone took upon him to slap together a plot theory accusing the french government to have pulled an inside job, he probably didn't put it online cause I haven't found anything.
Maybe we are beginning to glimpse a fundamental aspect of the peculiar psychology of conspiracy theorists. You would need to be naive to the point of idiocy to believe that there's no such thing as a conspiracy; it seems that the drive to plot against one's fellow person is firmly embedded in human nature. From co-workers gossiping behind their superior's back with the unavowed intent of stealing his position, to extremist groups plotting government overthrows, daily life as well as history is replete with plots and conspiracies either successful or not, and all have inspired numerous authors and scriptwriters. The disposition towards conspiring is written in undeletable letters in our collective unconsciousness.
But those mundane conspiracies are not enough for the conspirationnist; he has to raise the bar to impress his peers, he needs the Conspiracy of conspiracies, THE all-encompassing plot of ages, universal, penultimate, that controls everything. Freemasonry, Illuminati, Bildeberg, trilateral, cosmoplanetary order of the lizards of the Temple of Zurich, farmers wives club of, all this and more somehow all builds up towards some grand old Universal Plan.
After some thought, it's becoming obvious that it would be impossible for mere humans to organise such a monster: we are talking here of some super-organisation gathering everything that human society can muster in elite power-gifted individuals, and that managed all through the eons to control the world without getting noticed, and all the while succeed in avoiding the pitfalls of the Peter principle, the Snafu principle, the theorem of the five apes, that miserable exercice in meanness and mediocrity that we usually refer to as 'petty office politics', in short of all those organisational cancers that plague all agencies and hierarchies and turn them into those pathetic, bloated and ridiculous monsters burdened of all those incompetent, career-seeking and fundamentally useless buffoons swarming in all businesses and governments, and end up degenerating in those pachydermic bureaucracies that are the plague of our societies and that we know all too well.
Clearly we are dealing with individuals far above the norm, whether on intelligence, determination and especially an unconditionnal devotion to a common cause. The kind of people – or creature even – that would for instance choose not to have anything to do with four clueless dolts likely to commit such a gross tactical error as to land with an hijacked plane, thereby putting themselves at the mercy of law enforcers. The kind also who, endeavouring to scheme out the assassination of a president, would certainly manage to find better than some confused whacko armed with a .32 purchased in a pawn shop who fired six bullets at point blank and still managed to miss the target on all shots, only owing his single hit on the president to a lucky ricochet on the limousine's bumper.
There's little merit in umasking plots fomented by klutzes and fatally vowed for failure; search 'pope conspiracy' on Google and you will find more pages on the death of John-Paul the 1st than on the assassination attempt on John-Paul the 2nd; there's no doubt in my mind that this would be a far different case if Ali Ağca hadn't miss. For the conspirationist perpetually craving for personal self-esteem, it is much more gratifying to uncover plots from age old organisations formed of supra-geniuses, and better still to publish his findings on the web in all impunity, without fear of reprisals from the hyper-powerful: "they are the greatest minds of all time, and I am smarter than them".
All is left to do now for the conspirationists is to seize power themselves, if they're so smart: isn't this their secret fantasy anyway?
February 25, 2011
December 23, 2010
Pimp my blog
Originally published, like, two hours ago
Here's introducing the new and improved Toaster, now with 70% more bling! I just wanted to make the switch to Blogger's version 3, but when I found out I could create transparent backgrounds, I sort of got a little carried away. Not to mention rounding the corners; now my blog looks like a crossover between OS X and The Sports Network. In a nutshell it is full of awesome.
I spent three days on that; I loaded and reloaded the page so many times I went up about twenty ranks in the TLMB directory. If you ever wondered how comes absolutely crappy blogs manage to get in the top ten, well now you know their trick.
On that, have a merry christmas.
Here's introducing the new and improved Toaster, now with 70% more bling! I just wanted to make the switch to Blogger's version 3, but when I found out I could create transparent backgrounds, I sort of got a little carried away. Not to mention rounding the corners; now my blog looks like a crossover between OS X and The Sports Network. In a nutshell it is full of awesome.
I spent three days on that; I loaded and reloaded the page so many times I went up about twenty ranks in the TLMB directory. If you ever wondered how comes absolutely crappy blogs manage to get in the top ten, well now you know their trick.
On that, have a merry christmas.
December 15, 2010
All ye Unfaithful
Originally published December 25th, 2008
Christmas: it is a christian holiday right? Are you certain? You sure about that? Let's have a look, shall we?
For starters there's the date. December 25th was the day of Sol Invictus (Unvanquished Sun), a roman holiday of the winter solstice representing a composite of sun deities from various cults. It was not before the 4th century that it was assimilated with the celebration of the birth of Jesus. In fact the days preceding and following the winter solstice have been the object of rites and celebrations among just about every culture through Antiquity, and have invariably been associated with the worship of the Sun.
Then there's the tree. Germanic tribes venerated Yggdrasill, a mythical tree that held the world. To pay it hommage, kings hung sacrificial animals to tree branches, while the poor hung fruits or other offerings.
Father Christmas: well aren't we in some kind of mess or what. If the original Saint-Nicholas was a christian (and greek), he changed quite a lot along the centuries: norse mythology, germanic folklore, Charles Dickens all added their contribution. A certain Samuel Moore gave him his reindeers and sledge in a poem, an illustrator from Harper's Weekly caparisoned him in his red costume, a Macy's dept. stores ad campaign added a ninth reindeer (Rudolph), and another ad campaign, from Coca-Cola this time, fixed the portrait for posterity.
The confusion is such that hollanders don't even know to which saint they should turn to anymore: half of them offer gifts on Saint-Nicholas day (their traditional Sinte Klaas), half of them on Christmas (Santa Claus) and half of them on both. It's an epic clusterfuck, so let us just cut the gordian knot and proceed straight to the inevitable conclusion: Frankensanta here has jackshit to do with Jesus, and his origin is about as biblical as that of Barney the dinosaur.
The giving of presents: perhaps you think that the custom of exchanging gifts commemorates the offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh by the three Magi to baby Jesus? Perhaps; but on the other hand, romans already held that custom during their saturnals.
Mistletoe? Sacred plants of the druids, it bears fruit during the winter solstice, and was used in their New Year rituals. The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe comes from Scandinavia, where it was held to be the plant of peace; ennemies who met under a branch of mistletoe laid down their weapons and observed a truce for a day. And to make a long story short, the Yule log also is from the Scandinavians, as well as the Yule stockings hung on the chimney. And the Yule garlands. And the habit of singing Yule carols from door to door. And the word Yule (are we through already? Beginning to grind my gears, those scandivanian they are).
Now for the Nativity scene, or creche. Okay, there's Mary, Joseph, Joseph jr sorry I mean Jesus, we're seeing some relevance at last. There's also the three Kings of the Magi, even if they aren't really kings in the Gospel, nor does it tell us how many they actually were or what were their names. There's no ox or ass; there are angels, but probably no star – it would have appeared to guide the magi, but doesn't seem visible from the site as it is in fact the angels that marshalled the neighbouring shepherds to the site.
As for baby Jesus, the fact of portraying him as a one-year-old might be passed off as artistic latitude (newborn infants are not exactly picture pretty), but the baby blues and golden curls send us back again straight to the cult of the Sun God, especially Apollo. Cause, y'know, Jesus was like all the other hebrews: he was a brown dude and his eyes were pitch black.
So next time someone starts busting your chops with this whole "christian heritage" that is Christmas Day routine, chortle quietly and tell them to just fuck away.
Christmas: it is a christian holiday right? Are you certain? You sure about that? Let's have a look, shall we?
For starters there's the date. December 25th was the day of Sol Invictus (Unvanquished Sun), a roman holiday of the winter solstice representing a composite of sun deities from various cults. It was not before the 4th century that it was assimilated with the celebration of the birth of Jesus. In fact the days preceding and following the winter solstice have been the object of rites and celebrations among just about every culture through Antiquity, and have invariably been associated with the worship of the Sun.
Then there's the tree. Germanic tribes venerated Yggdrasill, a mythical tree that held the world. To pay it hommage, kings hung sacrificial animals to tree branches, while the poor hung fruits or other offerings.
Father Christmas: well aren't we in some kind of mess or what. If the original Saint-Nicholas was a christian (and greek), he changed quite a lot along the centuries: norse mythology, germanic folklore, Charles Dickens all added their contribution. A certain Samuel Moore gave him his reindeers and sledge in a poem, an illustrator from Harper's Weekly caparisoned him in his red costume, a Macy's dept. stores ad campaign added a ninth reindeer (Rudolph), and another ad campaign, from Coca-Cola this time, fixed the portrait for posterity.
The confusion is such that hollanders don't even know to which saint they should turn to anymore: half of them offer gifts on Saint-Nicholas day (their traditional Sinte Klaas), half of them on Christmas (Santa Claus) and half of them on both. It's an epic clusterfuck, so let us just cut the gordian knot and proceed straight to the inevitable conclusion: Frankensanta here has jackshit to do with Jesus, and his origin is about as biblical as that of Barney the dinosaur.
The giving of presents: perhaps you think that the custom of exchanging gifts commemorates the offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh by the three Magi to baby Jesus? Perhaps; but on the other hand, romans already held that custom during their saturnals.
Mistletoe? Sacred plants of the druids, it bears fruit during the winter solstice, and was used in their New Year rituals. The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe comes from Scandinavia, where it was held to be the plant of peace; ennemies who met under a branch of mistletoe laid down their weapons and observed a truce for a day. And to make a long story short, the Yule log also is from the Scandinavians, as well as the Yule stockings hung on the chimney. And the Yule garlands. And the habit of singing Yule carols from door to door. And the word Yule (are we through already? Beginning to grind my gears, those scandivanian they are).
Now for the Nativity scene, or creche. Okay, there's Mary, Joseph, Joseph jr sorry I mean Jesus, we're seeing some relevance at last. There's also the three Kings of the Magi, even if they aren't really kings in the Gospel, nor does it tell us how many they actually were or what were their names. There's no ox or ass; there are angels, but probably no star – it would have appeared to guide the magi, but doesn't seem visible from the site as it is in fact the angels that marshalled the neighbouring shepherds to the site.
As for baby Jesus, the fact of portraying him as a one-year-old might be passed off as artistic latitude (newborn infants are not exactly picture pretty), but the baby blues and golden curls send us back again straight to the cult of the Sun God, especially Apollo. Cause, y'know, Jesus was like all the other hebrews: he was a brown dude and his eyes were pitch black.
So next time someone starts busting your chops with this whole "christian heritage" that is Christmas Day routine, chortle quietly and tell them to just fuck away.
November 8, 2010
So much hate
Originally published November 9, 2007
One practical aspect about some hate jokes is that they are permutable; all is needed to do is to substitute the target group to the one which piss us off the most, and the joke becomes much funnier. So here's a collection of jokes I gleaned here and there off the net, after correcting the numerous spelling and grammar errors (I'm starting to really believe the connection between hate and ignorance). Simply replace all instances of "you-know-what" with people that you personnally dislike.
Oh, come now, no need to look at me this way, you have one too, don't deny it; ethnic, religious or sexual minority, political opinion, sports team affiliation, economic class, profession, we all have a "you-know-what" towards whom all our lofty principles and moral outrage don't apply. If hard pressed, just use "pedophile", you can't go wrong with them, pedophiles are about the last minority on which it is still politically correct to indiscriminately bash upon. Nazis on the other hand, it may be tempting, but you really have to be a bag of bricks not to see the irony, so the fun gets spoiled somewhat – but then again there are many who won't really think twice about that.
So without further ado, here are the jokes.
How do you call 1000 you-know-what at the bottom of the ocean?
A good start
Do you know why you-know-what coffins only have two handles?
You've ever seen a trash can with four handles?
What's the difference between a dead you-know-what in the street and a dead dog in the street?
There are skidmarks in front of the dog
What's the difference between a you-know-what and a rat?
One is a loathsome vermin carrying repulsive diseases who enjoys wallowing in carrion and filth, and the other is a rodent
How do you call a you-know-what buried in concrete to the neck?
A concrete shortage
Where can you find a good you-know-what?
The cemetary
What's the difference between a you-know-what and an onion?
We cry when we cut the onion
A guy walks into a bar holding a crocodile on a leash; he asks the bartender "you serve you-know-whats here?"
The bartender answers "Yes, of course"
And the guys goes "Great, that will be one beer for me and one you-know-what for my crocodile"
How do you call a you-know-what with half a brain?
Gifted
A you-know-what shows up at the Pearly Gates; St-Peter looks at him and says "Sorry, you-know-whats are not allowed in Heaven!"
- But I'm a good person! says the you know-what; once I gave 20 dollars to a beggar!
- That's it?
- Another time I gave 20 dollars to a foundation!
- Oh really?
- And then one time I found 20 dollars in a wallet, and I gave it back to its owner!
St-Peter is hardy impressed but he tells the you-know-what to wait and he goes inside to talk to God. After a couple of minutes he comes back and gives a wad of bills to the you know-what saying "Here's your sixty bucks! Now go to Hell!"
How do you get a you-know-what down a tree?"
You cut the rope
What do you-know-whats use as a contraceptive?
Their personnality
You are locked in a cage with a tiger, a rattlesnake and a you-know-what. You have a rifle but only two bullets: what should you do?
Shoot the you-know-what – twice
What's the difference between a you-know-what and a trampoline?
You take your boots off to jump on the trampoline
One time there's this guy driving a truck on the highway. He is the kind of guy who really enjoys running over you-know-whats with his truck, because like, he really hates them; every time he sees a you-know-what he just can't control himself, he has to squash him and scratch an X on his dashboard.
So one fine day he picks up this preacher who was hitchhiking. After a few kilometers he sees a you-know-what on the side of the highway; he's about to make a swerve to hit him but thinks the better of it and barely misses him; he casts a glance at the preacher and mumbles "I'm sorry rev. I don't know what got into me"; the preacher justs looks at him disapprovingly muttering "tut tut tut".
A little later he sees another you-know-what; again he makes for him only to change his mind at the last fraction of a second; again he looks sideways at the preacher and apologizes profusely; again the preacher shakes his head and goes "tut tut tut".
Some more kilometers later yet another you-know-what is standing on the shoulder lane. This time it's just too much, three you-know-whats in less than half an hour, it's a new record, he thinks, he just have to nail this one. So one more time he aligns his course to get him head-on, and one more time he changes his idea just before impact, but this time it's too late and he hears a boom while he sees in his rearview mirror bits and pieces of you-know-what flying all over the pavement. Mortified, he glances at the preacher who promptly starts admonishing him: "You're behavior is absolutely inappropriate my son!"
- I'm sorry reverend, please forgive me, mea culpa, I won't do it again!
- You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You almost hit two you-know-whats!
- Pardon me reverend!
- And if I haven't opened the door, you would have missed the last one as well!"
What's that? What is my you-know-what? Wait, you don't know? Why, it's you of course! No, not you, the other one behind. Yeah that's right, no use in hiding. Sorry to tell you that, I thought you knew.
One practical aspect about some hate jokes is that they are permutable; all is needed to do is to substitute the target group to the one which piss us off the most, and the joke becomes much funnier. So here's a collection of jokes I gleaned here and there off the net, after correcting the numerous spelling and grammar errors (I'm starting to really believe the connection between hate and ignorance). Simply replace all instances of "you-know-what" with people that you personnally dislike.
Oh, come now, no need to look at me this way, you have one too, don't deny it; ethnic, religious or sexual minority, political opinion, sports team affiliation, economic class, profession, we all have a "you-know-what" towards whom all our lofty principles and moral outrage don't apply. If hard pressed, just use "pedophile", you can't go wrong with them, pedophiles are about the last minority on which it is still politically correct to indiscriminately bash upon. Nazis on the other hand, it may be tempting, but you really have to be a bag of bricks not to see the irony, so the fun gets spoiled somewhat – but then again there are many who won't really think twice about that.
So without further ado, here are the jokes.
How do you call 1000 you-know-what at the bottom of the ocean?
A good start
Do you know why you-know-what coffins only have two handles?
You've ever seen a trash can with four handles?
What's the difference between a dead you-know-what in the street and a dead dog in the street?
There are skidmarks in front of the dog
What's the difference between a you-know-what and a rat?
One is a loathsome vermin carrying repulsive diseases who enjoys wallowing in carrion and filth, and the other is a rodent
How do you call a you-know-what buried in concrete to the neck?
A concrete shortage
Where can you find a good you-know-what?
The cemetary
What's the difference between a you-know-what and an onion?
We cry when we cut the onion
A guy walks into a bar holding a crocodile on a leash; he asks the bartender "you serve you-know-whats here?"
The bartender answers "Yes, of course"
And the guys goes "Great, that will be one beer for me and one you-know-what for my crocodile"
How do you call a you-know-what with half a brain?
Gifted
A you-know-what shows up at the Pearly Gates; St-Peter looks at him and says "Sorry, you-know-whats are not allowed in Heaven!"
- But I'm a good person! says the you know-what; once I gave 20 dollars to a beggar!
- That's it?
- Another time I gave 20 dollars to a foundation!
- Oh really?
- And then one time I found 20 dollars in a wallet, and I gave it back to its owner!
St-Peter is hardy impressed but he tells the you-know-what to wait and he goes inside to talk to God. After a couple of minutes he comes back and gives a wad of bills to the you know-what saying "Here's your sixty bucks! Now go to Hell!"
How do you get a you-know-what down a tree?"
You cut the rope
What do you-know-whats use as a contraceptive?
Their personnality
You are locked in a cage with a tiger, a rattlesnake and a you-know-what. You have a rifle but only two bullets: what should you do?
Shoot the you-know-what – twice
What's the difference between a you-know-what and a trampoline?
You take your boots off to jump on the trampoline
One time there's this guy driving a truck on the highway. He is the kind of guy who really enjoys running over you-know-whats with his truck, because like, he really hates them; every time he sees a you-know-what he just can't control himself, he has to squash him and scratch an X on his dashboard.
So one fine day he picks up this preacher who was hitchhiking. After a few kilometers he sees a you-know-what on the side of the highway; he's about to make a swerve to hit him but thinks the better of it and barely misses him; he casts a glance at the preacher and mumbles "I'm sorry rev. I don't know what got into me"; the preacher justs looks at him disapprovingly muttering "tut tut tut".
A little later he sees another you-know-what; again he makes for him only to change his mind at the last fraction of a second; again he looks sideways at the preacher and apologizes profusely; again the preacher shakes his head and goes "tut tut tut".
Some more kilometers later yet another you-know-what is standing on the shoulder lane. This time it's just too much, three you-know-whats in less than half an hour, it's a new record, he thinks, he just have to nail this one. So one more time he aligns his course to get him head-on, and one more time he changes his idea just before impact, but this time it's too late and he hears a boom while he sees in his rearview mirror bits and pieces of you-know-what flying all over the pavement. Mortified, he glances at the preacher who promptly starts admonishing him: "You're behavior is absolutely inappropriate my son!"
- I'm sorry reverend, please forgive me, mea culpa, I won't do it again!
- You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You almost hit two you-know-whats!
- Pardon me reverend!
- And if I haven't opened the door, you would have missed the last one as well!"
What's that? What is my you-know-what? Wait, you don't know? Why, it's you of course! No, not you, the other one behind. Yeah that's right, no use in hiding. Sorry to tell you that, I thought you knew.
September 27, 2010
Let them eat s... cake
Originally published on December 27, 2009
At the last reckoning, the world population was about 6,8 billion; divided by 1 million tons, that gives 0,294 pounds, or divided by 365, 0,3656 grams per day. So if 100 millions tons of a given good is produced annually in the world, the equal share of each inhabitant comes to 36,56 g.
I went and perused production statistics of various basic food products. Some numbers dated back to 2006, and their accuracy is not always rigorous, but as a whole they give a rather good picture.
Whenever possible I substracted whatever was destined to cattle feed, or the production of ethanol fuel. So there is what each person on earth should be expecting to find on his plate every day:
At the last reckoning, the world population was about 6,8 billion; divided by 1 million tons, that gives 0,294 pounds, or divided by 365, 0,3656 grams per day. So if 100 millions tons of a given good is produced annually in the world, the equal share of each inhabitant comes to 36,56 g.
I went and perused production statistics of various basic food products. Some numbers dated back to 2006, and their accuracy is not always rigorous, but as a whole they give a rather good picture.
Whenever possible I substracted whatever was destined to cattle feed, or the production of ethanol fuel. So there is what each person on earth should be expecting to find on his plate every day:
23 grams of beef
35 grams of pork
6 grams of mutton
31 grams of poultry
19 grams of egg (about 1/4 of one egg)
44 grams of fish
200 grams of milk, 31 grams of cheese and 22 grams of butter
322 grams of vegetables and 135 grams of fruit
33 grams of maize
153 grams of wheat
36 grams of soy
149 grams of rice
152 grams of vegetable oil
If you have a hard time believing those figures, you are not the only one: I checked three times and I'm still convinced I fucked up somewhere, and if someone could point it out me where I would be very grateful cause I find it quite surreal that there are people starving to death on a planet capable of delivering nearly a kilo and a half to each and every one of its inhabitant.
I didn't factor in the food destined to pets; ah ha, here it is, the cause of world hunger, our cats and dogs. We should kill them all and eat them (yeah, I know, it's not funny).
As a closer, if each of the 6,8 billion earthling had a Toyota Prius, there would be enough gasoline at this moment to let each one of them drive 4,400 kilometers each year.
http://www.21food.com/news/detail10748.html
http://www.beef.org/uDocs/IssuesUpdate/Insight%20Jan-Feb%202009.pdf
http://www.pig-international.com/ViewArticle.aspx?id=27106
http://www.thepoultrysite.com/articles/918/food-outlook-global-market-analysis-poultry-meat
http://www.mydigitalfc.com/commodities/global-wheat-production-be-a-record-2008-09-report-261
http://nue.okstate.edu/crop_information/world_wheat_production.htm
http://www.foodproductiondaily.com/Supply-Chain/Record-world-wheat-production-forecast-in-2008-09
http://www.mydigitalfc.com/commodities/global-wheat-production-be-a-record-2008-09-report-261
http://www.rice-trade.com/world-wide-rice-production.html
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2148362/
http://www.greenfacts.org/en/fisheries/l-2/01-fisheries-production.htm#0
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m3779/is_n48/ai_11907856/
http://www.fao.org/docrep/010/ai466e/ai466e09.htm
http://www.internationalegg.com/corporate/eggindustry/details.asp?id=18
http://www.dairyco.net/datum/milk-supply/milk-production/world-milk-production.aspx
http://www.rabobank.com/.../The%20world%20of%20vegetables_intro_tcm43-34783.pdf
www.fas.usda.gov/.../World%20Fresh%20Fruit%20Market%20(08-04).pdf
(and numerous others...)
July 10, 2010
Toaster meth
Originally published November 15 2005
I went on a lark and searched the web for those infamous recipes for methamphetamine, a.k.a. crystal meth. Didn't take me long: first site I've found gave me about half a dozen recipes, and none of them were alike. They had one thing in common though: all of them had a list of ingredients postal enough to discourage anyone with an IQ over fifty to stay the hell away from this shit. I mean, no kidding, muriatic acid? Aluminum dissolved in sulfuric acid? Prying open lithium batteries? Scratch away the sulfur on match cartons??? ...And you smoke that?!?
I have the conviction there must be a plot conspired by some tenebrous power to wipe the fucktards from our society. Or unless it's merely a manifestation of the collective unconscious. Whatever the case may be, those recuring fads of toxic drugs, extreme sports, road rage and jackass-inspired behavior seem to be the end result of the sudden realisation on the part of certain individuals that they represent a regression for the genetic pool of the species and that they should try to terminate themselves before they have the opportunity to procreate and so to perpetuate their defective genes. Well while you're about it why dick around? Crystal meth, fah, that's for sissies: I cooked you up a little special blend of my own, you let me know what you think. Come to think of it, I don't believe you'll be able to let anyone whatsoever know what you think or anything else. So without further ado, here's my recipe for "toaster meth".
You will need
I went on a lark and searched the web for those infamous recipes for methamphetamine, a.k.a. crystal meth. Didn't take me long: first site I've found gave me about half a dozen recipes, and none of them were alike. They had one thing in common though: all of them had a list of ingredients postal enough to discourage anyone with an IQ over fifty to stay the hell away from this shit. I mean, no kidding, muriatic acid? Aluminum dissolved in sulfuric acid? Prying open lithium batteries? Scratch away the sulfur on match cartons??? ...And you smoke that?!?
I have the conviction there must be a plot conspired by some tenebrous power to wipe the fucktards from our society. Or unless it's merely a manifestation of the collective unconscious. Whatever the case may be, those recuring fads of toxic drugs, extreme sports, road rage and jackass-inspired behavior seem to be the end result of the sudden realisation on the part of certain individuals that they represent a regression for the genetic pool of the species and that they should try to terminate themselves before they have the opportunity to procreate and so to perpetuate their defective genes. Well while you're about it why dick around? Crystal meth, fah, that's for sissies: I cooked you up a little special blend of my own, you let me know what you think. Come to think of it, I don't believe you'll be able to let anyone whatsoever know what you think or anything else. So without further ado, here's my recipe for "toaster meth".
You will need
30 grams of cyanide
300 ml of curare
1 kilo of Cyclon B
20 grams of cobra venom
50 grams of strychnine
A couple of grains of enriched plutonium (optional: that's just for the bling)
3 doses of ecstasy
Take the ecstasy, and wait for the effect to kick in. When you feel full of energy and boldness, invincible, capable of anything, in a word thoroughly and utterly shitheaded, mix the cyanide, curare, venom and strychnine, add the other ingredients and let seep for a couple of minutes. Gulp down the plutonium rinsing it down with the mix, and in your throes of agony open the box of Cyclon B and good ridd... well, okay, maybe not. Let's just say happy trails, you're gonna go far kid, you're gonna fly so fucking high. Dude, I'm like totally tripping to the extreeeeme, I'm in your faaaaace!!!!
For those who worry that I may encourage youth suicide, I mean sriously, do they really need any encouragement at this point? Be honest, it was just a matter of time. And this way, they won't spent the next ten years trying to steal your credit card or cart away your TV set to the pawn shop.
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