We are developing the social individualist meta-context for the future. From the very serious to the extremely frivolous... lets see what is on the mind of the Samizdata people.
Samizdata, derived from Samizdat /n. - a system of clandestine publication of banned literature in the USSR [Russ.,= self-publishing house]
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Roy Bacon seems to have a talent for finding the silver linings in dark clouds.
The panic ban on books and electronic gadgetry aboard transatlantic airliners throws into relief our terror at being deprived of the means to insulate ourselves from other people.
The shock of losing our personal entertainment bubbles should give us pause for thought, and make us wonder if there is a better way of enduring the enforced collectivism of a long-haul flight.
Five hundred people is more individuals than most of us can hope to know intimately in a lifetime. It is the population of a small village. If a packed Jumbo is a community, then aisles are village streets. All right, they are a bit narrow for a full-fledged passeggiata, but there is no reason we should not loiter, chew the fat, shoot the breeze – indulge in those unhurried activities that are so out of kilter with the rush of modern life. With a little lateral thinking the jet airliner, the destroyer of worlds, could be the means of regenerating some homely values.
If you do not like the idea of talking to your neighbour, and in the absence of printed matter, why not get a tattoo to entertain him or her? Depending on your physique you might be limited to a short story or a few haikus, but less – in terms of skin and stanzas – has always been more. Airport novels are not thousand-pagers out of literary necessity.
Or have a random word inscribed on your skin: from an authorised British Airways or United Airlines list, of course. Stewards could ask us our syntactical preference as we get on board, and arrange seating in a narrative way. Even with a 500-word vocabulary there would be the chance of dramatic developments as a YES fell into company with a PLEASE, or failed to see eye to eye with the MAYBE two rows back.
We should start thinking about this stuff. The War on Terror is here to stay, and it is only a matter of time before they take things to their logical conclusion and ban us from carrying anything at all onto aircraft beyond ourselves. And would that really be so bad?
It is often observed that a series of power cuts in a developed nation precedes a spike in the birth rate nine months later. A planeload of naked adults flying through the night: surely they could all find something to do!
I am proud to announce the launch of the brand “spanking” new adults-only Samizdata site. You can expect the following from the Samizdatistas at our new, saucy digs:
The “Rugmuncher” Samizdata people are a fomping bunch of sinister and heavily creamed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the wad pulling felching enters of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many screws is a sense of humour and the titty fucking intermittent use of British spelling.
And you thought us such a pedestrian bunch! Viewing by subscription only. Paypal is on the left.
(Pornolize link via India Uncut)
Tim Blair updates the Australian version of the English language.
but still a good one:
Three white collar prisoners are hanging around the yard comparing notes:
Former Exxon executive: They say I charged too much for oil. I’m in for price gouging.
Former Microsoft executive: They say I charged too little for software. I’m in for unfair competition.
Former Samsung executive: They say I charged the same price as everyone else for computer chips. I’m in for price fixing.
What happens when you combine 200 liters of Diet Coke and over 523 Mentos mints? EepyBird.com has the answer in the form of the Extreme Diet Coke & Mentos Experiments.
Hrm. Sorry to plunge you all into the bizarre depths of DailyKos twice in the space of a week, but some of the goings on there are quite amusing. If I was a psychologist, I would say professionally intriguing. Take DailyKos commenter “CheChe” and the – erm – unusual relationship he appears to have with his daughter. Here’s an excerpt from his post, which is so tragi-comic it is hard not to laugh out loud when reading it:
I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of misery and dejection on the face of my daughter as I just did a moment ago.
I sat down with her on the sofa and (as calmly as I could) tried to explain to her why the Senate Republicans want to drain the treasury in order to give every American a $100 check. I tried to keep my voice steady, but it became increasingly difficult – the rage and feelings of helplessnes were just too much. I think my daughter could tell something was wrong. I found myself at such a loss for words – nothing made any sense; nothing makes sense anymore. I finally had to admit, “Honey, I just don’t know – I don’t know what’s going on in this country anymore…”
When I finished her lower lip started to tremble and her eyes began to fill with tears, “Daddy” she said, “why are the Republicans doing this to the country?” Well, that was it for me: I finally fell apart. She just fell into my arms and we both began sobbing for several minutes.
Er…right. How old is this child? Does she even know what $100 is worth? Of course, the policy itself is utterly ridiculous, but that’s hardly the point.
Now, there is something really odd about this CheChe character’s comments. He takes the exact same wordage from a previous comment he wrote relaying his daughter’s earlier misery, and then superimposes another Kos talking point as the source of his little girl’s current terror and sadness to create a new saga:
I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of misery and dejection on the face of my daughter as I just did a moment ago. She just couldn’t understand why the President would be spying on everyone. “Even my Grandma?” she asked pitifully. […] When I finished her lower lip started to tremble and her eyes began to fill with tears, “Daddy” she said, “why are the Republicans doing this to the country?” Well, that was it for me: I finally fell apart. She just fell into my arms and we both began sobbing for several minutes.
They have a lot of these kinds of chats; here’s another. Same scenario, different bogeyman:
I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of misery and dejection on the face of my daughter as I just did a moment ago. She just couldn’t understand why the President would be going to Iraq when so many things are wrong in this country. “Doesn’t Mr. Bush care about us anymore?” she asked pitifully.
I sat down with her on the sofa and (as calmly as I could) tried to explain to her why the President seems to be abandoning his country. “Honey, I think his boss, Mr. Rove, sent Mr. Bush out of the country in order to keep himself out of the newspapers. You see, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be arrested today or not, and so he planned Mr. Bush’s trip ahead of time just in case…”
And so on. By now, most would have twigged to the fact that this CheChe fellow might be playing a little jape on the Kos kids. But no. Check out the number of people who “recommended” one of his posts (26), versus those who pointed him out as a troll (2). It is amazing that these plainly fictional tales of crocodile-tear woe hold currency with parts of the American left. To be fair, some people on the thread pointed out CheChe as a rather obvious fraud. His subsequent denial was true to form and hilarious:
I’m simply not going to apologize for loving and comforting my daughter. […] There’s just not enough time to always be writing a new story each and every time something happens, and since this is what happened, it seems fair. Since we lost her mother there hasn’t been a lot of free time around here.
Classic.
(Hat tip: Zoe Brain)
One of my all-time favourite bloggers – who also happens to be the funniest man in the blogosphere – is under attack from DailyKos contributor ‘dday’, who does not think Harry Hutton is particularly funny at all. This post raised the ire of ‘dday’ and provoked this response from the little pet. ‘dday’ starts off by qualifying his monumental whinge with a “some of my best friends are black, but…” type defence of his sense of humour :
I’m not above making fun of people. Actually I do it for sport.
For one so allegedly adept at the art of piss-taking, he does not seem to understand that whole irreverence thing. Later, ‘dday’ flashes his humour credentials again – just so everyone is sure it is not him with the problem :
I make jokes continually, so I’m pretty up on my joke construction.
You can imagine the sort of emasculated, PC jokes this guy would crack. I bet he’s about as funny as a gender feminist. Anyway, if the plight of those living in intellectual poverty concerns you, take a look at the “debate” via the links provided above. The related comments thread on DailyKos and that attached to the offending post at Hutton’s are also worth a read if you enjoy the spectacle of uncomprehending, outraged mewling from humourless dolts.
In the Nanny State, you can never have too many warning labels, so they might as well be scientifically based:
Warning: This Product Warps Space and Time in Its Vicinity.
Caution: The Mass of This Product Contains the Energy Equivalent of 85 Million Tons of TNT per Net Ounce of Weight.
Handle with Extreme Care: This Product Contains Minute Electrically Charged Particles Moving at Velocities in Excess of Five Hundred Million Miles per Hour.
Note: The Most Fundamental Particles in This Product Are Held Together by a ‘Gluing’ Force About Which Little Is Currently Known and Whose Adhesive Power Can Therefore Not Be Permanently Guaranteed.
The Onion just keeps on getting better.
This vacancy should send my career into orbit!
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Who Are We? The Samizdata people are a bunch of sinister and heavily armed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the values of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many crimes is a sense of humour and the intermittent use of British spelling.
We are also a varied group made up of social individualists, classical liberals, whigs, libertarians, extropians, futurists, ‘Porcupines’, Karl Popper fetishists, recovering neo-conservatives, crazed Ayn Rand worshipers, over-caffeinated Virginia Postrel devotees, witty Frédéric Bastiat wannabes, cypherpunks, minarchists, kritarchists and wild-eyed anarcho-capitalists from Britain, North America, Australia and Europe.
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