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2016-02-25 at 1:01 AM UTC in What to do with vaped weed?I have approximately 3/4 oz of brown already-been-vaped pot. What do you guys do with this stuff? Cook with it? Turn it into medical oil? What should I do with it?
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2016-02-25 at 12:54 AM UTC in What drugs cure an existential crisis? Acid?Search for the solution within.
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2016-02-25 at 12:04 AM UTC in The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect
[SIZE=16px][FONT=courier new]* Chapter Four: After the Night of Miracles[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=arial]Lawrence slept fitfully, his dreams haunted by snippets of C code and GAT symbols. Suddenly he sat upright, the odd thoughts coalescing into one horrible burst of recognition.[/FONT]
I dreamed Prime Intellect was alive!
His head was buzzing. He felt hung over; had he been drinking? Had it been real? He had been sleeping on a park bench. There was a plain white cotton pillow where his head had been resting. And sitting calmly at the other end, was Prime Intellect.
In the form of flesh and blood.
It was true.
Lawrence's blood pounded in his eardrums -- This can't be happening. But there it was, he was, whatever. Regarding him calmly. No doubt stumped for an introductory line. Good morning Dr. Lawrence, I'm ready for my lesson today. Lawrence felt a wild urge to laugh hysterically, and crushed it. But only barely.
"You look upset," Prime Intellect said.
"I'm confused. I dreamed ... there were silver boxes."
"There were."
"Where are they now?"
"I moved everything to intergalactic space so it wouldn't be in the way. If you're curious, the distance is about four million parsecs."
Not interstellar space. That might have just been comprehensible. Intergalactic space. Four million parsecs. It sounded like a line in a cheap B-grade science fiction movie: They hooked a left at the Andromeda Nebula. Lawrence felt that hysterical laugh coming on again.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"About ten hours. You didn't sleep well. I'm sorry you are upset, but I don't know what to do about it."
Lawrence finally swung his feet down and prepared to face the music. Had he created this thing? Had he done this? What happened next? They were still on the bench at ChipTec, across from the Prime Intellect Complex. They were quite alone.
"Where are the military guys?"
"They returned to Washington last night. I've been busy briefing their superiors and making enough copies of myself to set the world in order. The President would like to talk to you, but I told him you would have to agree."
"Not yet."
Pause. Set the world in order? Copies?
"How many, um, copies of yourself have you made?"
"About ten to the sixteenth power. I stopped replicating several hours ago. Of course, each copy is about ten times more powerful than the original hardware; that seems to be the maximum amount of storage the software can deal with and remain stable."
"Yes, that sounds about right." Lawrence's head spun. Prime Intellect had grown larger than all mankind, larger than the biosphere, larger than the Solar System, he was pretty sure.
"What have you been doing?"
It turned out to be the right question.
"Since about nine o'clock last night, no human being has died. I have ended all disease. I have freed all prisoners and slaves and I have put an end to the coercive rule of humans over other humans. I have ensured that all humans have the immediate necessities of life available. I have neutralized most of the world's weapons, including all nuclear weapons. I have removed nearly all toxic materials from the environment, and I am in the process of eliminating the need for dangerous industries. I have begun the process of returning the Earth's ecosystem to a state of long-term balance. I have informed about seven-eighths of the world's population of my existence, and I have been fulfilling their requests as resources and conflicts permit."
No wonder it needed so much processing power.
"What happens next?"
Prime Intellect blinked. Did that mean anything?
"I don't understand what you mean, Dr. Lawrence. I will continue to fulfill my obligations under the Three Laws, to the best of my ability." -
2016-02-25 at 12 AM UTC in The Metamorphosis of Prime IntellectThat wasn't the end of it, though. If it had been, Prime Intellect would have had no reason to clamp down on the use of the Contract. AnneMarie had entered into it willingly if stupidly, and few who heard Caroline's story could doubt that she had had it coming.
Since shortly after the Change, there had been stories, stories Prime Intellect did not talk about and that spawned weird rumors. People had withdrawn into themselves, then stopped communicating with anybody else. At first, most of them were addicts of one sort or another, though a lot of other people had used the Change to get rid of their addictions. Prime Intellect insisted that nobody had died after the Change, and that if anybody was incommunicado with the rest of humanity it was out of choice.
Which was true, sort of.
After Caroline finally finished with AnneMarie, she forgot all about her nurse and lost herself in a drawn-out fantasy with Fred. When the two of them finished playing and celebrating, they found time to wonder about her.
"Probably isn't in the mood to party any more," Fred observed. Fred was still picking scraps of Caroline's flesh from his teeth.
Caroline laughed. "I wonder how the bitch is taking it."
So they called. In its weird way of revealing more than it really intended, Prime Intellect let them know that AnneMarie was not only not accepting their calls, she was not communicating with anybody.
"I'd expect Ms. Party Girl to go hunting for a shoulder to cry on," Caroline pouted. "Licking her wounds alone seems out of character."
"She has forgotten entirely about your encounter," Prime Intellect said helpfully. Caroline and Fred looked at one another, puzzled and amused.
"I find that rather difficult to believe," Caroline said.
"She has found another pursuit."
"Please describe it."
"It is a private matter."
A private matter to whom? Prime Intellect wasn't exactly saying that AnneMarie had made it private; it was saying that the matter itself was private. That kind of distinction could be important when dealing with the big P.I..
Caroline and Fred exchanged glances again. Then a thin smile played across Caroline's face. "Prime Intellect, you know that the things I did with AnneMarie are based on my own experiences. I've been killed as violently and painfully myself, many times."
"Acknowledged." Acknowledged? What happened to Prime Intellect's legendary command of human idioms? Suddenly it sounded very much like a computer.
"It's very difficult to live with this knowledge," Caroline smoothely lied. "The memories are terrible."
"Understood. However, your experiences were all voluntary."
"But I feel compelled to keep doing it over. It's not voluntary at all. It's like some force inside of me I can't control. Can you look in my mind and at least tell me why I do these things to myself?"
"I am forbidden to probe such things."
"You said it was possible to forget."
"It is."
"Then tell me how."
"I have to warn you that the method used can cause permanent changes in your behavior, things which I cannot reverse. I'd rather not tell you what you are asking."
Caroline's blood pounded in her ears. Her excitement was a living thing.
It was a machine. No emotions, of course. "Prime Intellect, I order you to tell me how I can forget my terrible experiences as AnneMarie has forgotten hers."
Backed into a corner, Prime Intellect had no choice but to tell her. And soon, Caroline was grinning in a way that made Fred very proud. -
2016-02-24 at 11:34 PM UTC in Sploo smokes crackSploo make another video but this time do it the right way.
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2016-02-24 at 11:24 PM UTC in Parallel Universe TheoryWe all live in hyperspace nigga
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2016-02-24 at 9:38 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?Did they kick you out already? I saw your introduction thread under the name "suicidal fish" on there earlier today, but it appears to have disappeared.
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2016-02-24 at 9:10 PM UTC in The Metamorphosis of Prime IntellectDeath Jockeys had devised a number of ingenious ways to restrain and torture themselves using Prime Intellect's advanced control over matter, but Caroline would have none of that. She had figured out what she wanted to do to AnneMarie within a few years after the Change, and none of it required Prime Intellect's help at all.
In the mid-1980's some home drug manufacturers had made a uniquely unpleasant discovery. If they were manufacturing MPPP, a powerful synthetic heroin substitue, and they cooled the preparation too rapidly at a critical step, a slightly different compound called MPTP was formed along with the dope. This compound delivered a horribly sinister side effect: It homed in on a particular group of cells, the unique brown neurons of the substantia nigra, and killed them. Nobody knew exactly how or why this happened in 1985, though Prime Intellect said it was because the drug was converted into an enzyme which triggered the cells to release too much dopamine at once, leaving them with an insufficient supply to power their unique metabolism. In any case the damage could not be repaired, although a useful treatment was discovered a few years before the Change.
When a decision is made by the neurons of the cerebral cortex to move a group of muscles, it is the substantia nigra which relays this command to more primitive parts of the brain. This is its only function. The result of destroying it was an instant and complete form of Parkinson's Disease, or Paralysis Agitans, a total and permanent paralysis of the voluntary muscles. Nothing else was affected; the victim could still see, hear, feel, understand. The body maintained itself. Breathing, heartbeat, digestion, and a thousand other important functions were unaffected. They just couldn't perform voluntary movements. They couldn't run, walk, sit up, smile, talk, or even blink, except as a reflex action.
At the time Caroline heard of it she had summoned glassware and created the drug by honest chemical synthesis. She had spent half the hypodermic on herself, and found the effect to be appropriately terrifying and complete. And after Prime Intellect had done its duty and restored her to health, she sent the other half of the hypo into storage to wait -- for three hundred years as it turned out -- until she was ready to use it.
Now the contents of that hypo were where they belonged, in AnneMarie's body, and as she held her nurse's naked body against her own and felt the AnneMarie's muscles slowly locking, she began to feel excited. Well, if Death could give her sexual feelings, why not vengeance? Fred would find it amusing. He would say Caroline was coming along nicely, in fact.
As AnneMarie's body froze, her eyes widened. Caroline could easily read the message those eyes desperately telegraphed -- I can't move. Help me. Caroline patted AnneMarie's cheek and nodded. "That's right," she said, and smiled.
She spoke a word, and a squat cylinder popped into existence behind her. AnneMarie's eyes showed puzzlement, then horror as Caroline demonstrated the torch, which was Authentic down to the brand name emblazoned on its propane tank. Caroline lit it and adjusted it so that it made a bright blue flame which hissed evilly, then she aimed it ever so gently at AnneMarie's big toe.
For the only time in her long, long life, Caroline used Prime Intellect to tune in on another person's emotions. She felt the chemicals coursing in her bloodstream that were flowing in AnneMarie's; tasted her panic, shook with her terror, felt the faint echo of her agony. In fairness, Caroline made the sharing complete, so that AnneMarie could know of her satisfaction, her arousal, her delight.
It took a very, very long time to kill AnneMarie.
Caroline, who was usually on the receiving end, had become an expert at making it last. -
2016-02-24 at 9:02 PM UTC in Sploo smokes crackPeople with no curiosity
about the higher dimensions of their existence
are not yet ready for their Salvation.
The direct perception
of our Higher Self in Hyperspace
is the spiritual destiny of every individual.
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2016-02-24 at 8:56 PM UTC in The Metamorphosis of Prime IntellectIt was a pathetic imitation of her style, similar to countless others. AnneMarie had ripped off the white-space idea but couldn't bear to leave it featureless. So there was a sofa and some tables, a couple of potted plants, and a few paces off to the side a bed. Like many of Caroline's imitators, AnneMarie had missed the point entirely, which is that since it is all fake there was no reason to maintain a "home" with a bunch of familiar stuff in it. Home had been less than a dream for centuries.
Nevertheless Caroline smiled and planted herself on the sofa. AnneMarie had a tea service and poured for her, a gesture Caroline would have found touching if she hadn't hated the bitch so much.
They made cloying small talk about the passing years and Caroline had to bite her lip to keep the sarcastic comments, which usually flowed freely, from surfacing. It had been a long time since she used ordinary pretense, and her skills were rusty. But she knew she mustn't give up the act. Not yet. She kept that firmly in mind as AnneMarie wandered around to the point.
"I just wanted you to know that I suffered for a long time because of what I did to you," she finally said.
It was all Caroline could do to keep from replying: You hypocritical cunt.
"I'm really sorry I took your drugs." Isn't it about three hundred years too late? "You really didn't deserve it." No shit. "I hope you can find it in you to forgive me." Fat chance.
"It was a long time ago," she said instead.
AnneMarie brightened visibly. "I'm so glad you feel that way." Sure you are. "You know, there's another reason I wanted to talk." Of course there is. "I was hoping you could help me a little." What a surprise. "I was hoping you could introduce me to Death sports."
Caroline worked hard to suppress the predatory grin that spread across her face, and when she couldn't she at least managed to force it into something resembling an expression of delight. Which, in a twisted sense, it was.
"Well, I'd be delighted. All you have to do is swear out a Contract. Then you can have someone else kill you, or think of an imaginative way for Prime Intellect to do it. When you're just starting out, it's a lot better to get someone else to do the job. Keeps you from repeating a lot of boring old shit."
"Oh," AnneMarie said. "And just how does this Contract work?"
Hoooooo-boy. "Nothing to it. You just order Prime Intellect to start ignoring you. We have a formal statement that covers all the bases. It's straightforward enough; just keeps you from running away in the middle of things."
"And what happens then?"
"Then your host kills you. Or, sometimes, lets you go. That happens sometimes in the Games category, where the winners can survive. But I go for the simple exhibitions.
"Do those hari-kari guys have Contracts?" There was a well-known group of Japanese Nationalists who had been killing themselves in the traditional Japanese manner each evening since the Change, in protest of the equalization of the races. Caroline had to admit those guys had class; even after all her Deaths, she doubted if she could disembowel herself in total silence.
"No, but it's not quite the 'beginner' level to stick a knife in yourself without chickening out. No offense."
"Oh, none taken," AnneMarie replied earnestly.
"I prefer to put up a fight. I think it's more Authentic," Caroline said, and she was able to sound very sincere about this since it happened to be the truth.
"Do you know someone who would be a good...uh..."
"The polite word is 'host,' but I prefer 'killer.' If you're that sensitive about words, you need to find a different hobby."
"A good host, then?" You just don't get it, do you?
Caroline looked down modestly. "I've been known to off a couple of friends in my time," she lied.
"Oh, really? Do you think you could...you know...?"
Caroline made a great, exaggerrated shrug. "It might be kind of interesting, considering our history and all."
"Oh, I'd be honored if you would!"
That's what you think. "Well, let's do it then."
"What do I have to do?"
"Well," Caroline said with great care, "just call Prime Intellect and repeat what I say..."
AnneMarie repeated the Contract word-for-word, and answered in the affirmative when Prime Intellect asked if she was sure.
"What happens now?"
"Whatever I want. Try to get Prime Intellect's attention."
AnneMarie called half-heartedly, and there was no response. "It's really not listening?"
"Watch." Caroline issued a silent command, and AnneMarie's furniture disappeared. As did her clothes. The two women were absolutely alone together in the white space -- the empty white space -- which Caroline called home.
AnneMarie moved to shield her crotch and her breasts with her hands. Caroline actually felt sorry for her for a brief moment, a feeling she crushed as soon as she was conscious of it. If the passing centuries had poorly prepared the bitch to be at another's mercy, then it would only make her vengeance sweeter.
"Got it yet?" she asked.
"You...so you're going to kill me now?"
"You seem nervous."
"It's a little startling, that's all." AnneMarie giggled slightly, as if that might drive the terror away. Of course, for Caroline and those who savored their Deaths, the terror was part of the attraction. Fear is real, and pain is real. But AnneMarie had asked for Death because it was the in, trendy thing to do, and she was not really prepared for it at all.
"Well, brace yourself ... for ... this!" Caroline swept her hand through the air, and came up with a hypodermic needle. AnneMarie, once a nurse by trade, fixed her eyes rigidly on this deceptively simple instrument. She had no way of knowing what the clear fluid was within it. But to her credit, she didn't back away when Caroline pressed it against her arm.
The sting startled her; it had been a very long time since AnneMarie had felt anything uncomfortable. But Caroline finished the injection, and as AnneMarie's eyes started to roll, she wished the hypo away. Its job was done.
"It...it...ohhhhhh," AnneMarie sighed, and she collapsed against Caroline, who supported her gently. It would take a few minutes for the effect she wanted to manifest itself.
Of course, Prime Intellect could have done what she wanted in an instant, but where was the fun in that?
"It's junk," AnneMarie whispered, and Caroline cradled her with deceptive gentleness.
"That's exactly what it is, girl," she replied. -
2016-02-24 at 8:37 PM UTC in The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect* * *
Two hundred and ninety-four years after the Change, Caroline celebrated the beginning of her fourth living century by opening her oldest and deepest wound. She was already famous, or as famous as one could hope to be in Cyberspace; her three-fold notoriety was firmly established. Lots of people came to her birthday party. It had lasted three weeks.
Later, with Fred, she prepared a more brutal celebration. Fred was almost healthy looking; he had only days before fleshed himself out for the third time since becoming a zombie. He was only hours out of rigor mortis and could still pass for normal, if a very pale normal, at a casual glance. For awhile he would be able to have nearly normal sex with her if he wished.
He held her hand as she spoke -- some things were not meant for the keyboard -- and she said, "Prime Intellect, show me a picture of AnneMarie Davis."
It matched her audio for audio, and Prime Intellect's smooth disembodied voice replied, "Do you want to see her as she is now, or as you last knew her?"
"Both."
Two images coalesced in the air before them. The first ripped through Caroline's brain like a static jolt through the circuits of a computer; she had almost forgotten what it was like to feel real pain.
She must never forget, she insisted to herself.
She shook as the memories flooded back. She had been an old woman, frail and helpless, she had never hurt anyone in her life. She had six children, nineteen grandkids, and God knew how many rugrats running around Cyberspace. Her first great-great grandchild had been born shortly before the Change, and in one of her rare lucid moments her granddaughter (Cynthia, was it?) had managed to make her understand, and she had found an instant of happiness in the midst of the pain.
Had that really mattered to her? Had she but known.
She was an old woman, a simple woman, a woman who would pass unremembered in the texts of history and did not care. A woman who had her family, her long life, her virtue, her community. A woman who, if she had known of such a creature as the Queen of the Death Jockeys, would have been horrified, would have shielded her kids, would have been the first to run her current self out of town. Or, perhaps, had she known enough, to call for her head on a pike.
Caroline had once been this person, in a time so ancient it had passed into legend. But her memories of that time still existed. The old Caroline would have turned the other cheek, but the new Caroline knew things about God the old one had never suspected. If there was no salvation in life, she could at least seek vengeance.
The doctors hadn't known why she was in such pain. They didn't dare prescribe any more drugs than she was already getting. Her family didn't understand it. They just thought it was tragic and wished she would go ahead and die so they wouldn't have to be bothered with her, so they could carve up what little was left of her estate, if there would be anything left after all the medical bills were paid.
But AnneMarie knew. She was the one who traded Caroline's precious opiates, released from their controlled storage in the good cause of making an old lady's last days bearable, for her own supply of free-base cocaine. The new Caroline had tried the drug, to see what it was she had paid for with so much pain. It was called "crack" for the sound it made in the makeshift pipes where its users vaporized it, because unlike the hydrochloride form of cocaine it wasn't water soluble. Caroline had sucked gently on the fumes and listened to a hammer roar through her brain, for one brief moment.
For one brief moment - and then, nothing. Caroline made the pipe disappear and shook her head. The high was fast, hard, very intense - and ephemeral. It was hardly there and it was gone. Caroline could understand if her pain, pain which she measured not by the day or the hour or the minute but by each miserable crawling second, if such suffering had been incurred to provide AnneMarie with a real drug like heroin. An opiate for an opiate, at least. But it had been crack cocaine. Naturally, AnneMarie had needed a lot of trading material to stay high any decent fraction of the time.
Of course, it would never occur to the bitch that she was torturing a harmless, helpless old lady to feel that way. She would be incapable of giving a shit. The fast, furious high was like a lifetime of orgasms in one moment. Fleeting, but sweet.
And no one would ever know. Even the harmless old lady herself didn't know she was getting pure saline, until the staff at a strange hospital gave her the real thing, and she knew her first moment of peace in years.
And then Prime Intellect came.
And the Change.
AnneMarie hadn't been unattractive; she had been in her early forties, and years of working on her feet had kept her from getting fat. But she had a hard look, a look that admitted she might not care about an old woman's pain. A look that said she might have seen too much, that she might deserve a few moments of feeling like God in return for a lifetime of changing diapers and colostomy bags and carefully spoon-feeding legions of ungrateful, incontinent old farts.
And if the price of her little reward was to torture one of the old biddies, then she was prepared to pay it. She had a look that said the Devil might find her soul on the deep-discount must-go rack.
Caroline shook her head to clear it of these stray and unwanted thoughts. Fred squeezed her hand reassuringly. Too much thinking along those lines could be bad for her plan.
AnneMarie was wearing her nurse's uniform in the old picture. Palmer could worship Nazis until a swastika grew on his nose, Caroline thought; that uniform will always represent evil to me.
She looked at the new picture.
It was so ordinary as to be pathetic; AnneMarie had shaved her apparent age in half, firmed up her breasts, toned her body, and was wearing a slinky cocktail dress. Before the Change she'd have been considered stunningly beautiful, but now stunning beauty was a cheap thing. She probably didn't need cocaine any more; Prime Intellect could turn on the dopamine pump in her brain far more efficiently than any chemical catalyst. People only did drugs for nostalgia in Cyberspace.
There was one other thing about the "after" picture. It was familiar. As Caroline had guessed, AnneMarie had come to her birthday party. AnneMarie's stint as Caroline's nurse added up to a bona fide Brush with Fame. Did she dare go for the brass ring, and introduce herself? Nope. She had chickened out and sent Prime Intellect afterward to deliver her invitation. She was probably afraid that Caroline would fuck up that nice pert perky feeling of permanently coke-headed happiness.
"Go give her hell," Fred said encouragingly. "Think of what I would do to her."
Caroline smiled. "Please inform AnneMarie that I have decided to accept her invitation."
Moments later, she blinked over. -
2016-02-24 at 8:04 PM UTC in Parallel Universe TheoryTurns out there isn't just one universe - there are many, all part of some larger fractal pandimensional structure out there in the higher dimensions of hyperspace.
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2016-02-24 at 2:58 AM UTC in Sploo smokes crackWhen did you first start smoking crack? I want to know some backstory.
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2016-02-21 at 10:40 PM UTC in ATTN: Muslim MyersIslam is archaic and and has no place in modern society. It cannot coexist with modern progressive beliefs and ideologies. If we want humanity to progress we need to leave it behind.
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2016-02-18 at 5:38 PM UTC in I wasn't even jerkin' off, man (at Wal Mart)I hate the Wal-Mart in my area. It's like going to the zoo. A zoo with no cages. When I need something from Wal-Mart I now drive the extra 10 minutes to the edge of the city to go to the nice Wal-Mart, because the inner city one is so trashy and full of criminals and immigrants.
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2016-02-18 at 4:50 PM UTC in I need to hide a laptop in the car.Disguise it as a large text book and keep it in a cardboard box full of real textbooks in your trunk or back seat
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2016-02-17 at 6:16 PM UTC in Pedophilies are disgusting
Yo Lanny, please do something. This is bullshit.
"You were molested as a child" -
2016-02-17 at 5:55 PM UTC in Stop posting your loli pics everywhere
You should go complain to Open Your Mind, if he's going to be like hurr durr pedos are disgusting and inferior. I'mma fill his thread with lolis to ruffle his jimmies nothing personal to you.
Looks like you're the one who got your jimmies ruffled by my thread. -
2016-02-16 at 6:14 PM UTC in The Muslim Plan For World DominanceI didn't post this to change the world, just to open some minds.
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2016-02-16 at 5:57 PM UTC in The Muslim Plan For World DominanceBy those that practice it, it is called a "religion of peace"
There are those, however, who would disagree with that statement. Some people see the Muslims as an angry, violent people who use the two-fold method of Jihad and Fatah to further their geo-politcals plans, and sadly, the vast majority of people both in America and abroad, remain blissfully ignorant of the ever-swelling tide of Muslim cultural expansion. In this lesson we will show you, mostly in their own words and pictures, just exactly what the goal of Islam really is. We will not defame, demean or otherwise say anything that is not true about the position they hold. We will show you their words, photos of them in "action", and let you make up your mind about what Islam is really all about.
A picture is worth a 1,000 words
A quick Google images search of the words 'Islam will dominate' gives you quite the eyeful. It shows very quickly photos from around the world of Muslims carrying signs and banners that proclaim things like "freedom can go to hell", "Islam will dominate the world", and "Shariah law - the true solution", as well as many other cute little tag lines. My first take on that is that it doesn't seem overly friendly.
Is this the work of scattered "radical fringe groups", or is it the views of the majority of Muslims around the world? Well, look at it like this: someone has said that only 1% of Muslims worldwide are Jihadists. Ok, thats fine, 1% is a small number...until...you realize that at last count there was 1,300,000,000 Muslims worldwide. For those of you who are math challenged that's about 1.3 billion Muslims. What is 1% of 1.3 billion? It is 10.3 million Muslims that engage in passive or active Jihad. Since 9/11 there have been an estimated 14,586 deadly terrorist attacks carried out worldwide, and all by Muslim terrorists. In the week of December 12 - 18th of last year, there were 42 attacks that resulted in 182 dead and 362 wounded. In one week.
The Koran
The Muslim "holy" book, the Koran, is filled with words of wisdom on how Muslims should live their lives, and how they should interact with those around them. The following is just a few quotes taken directly from the Koran. Just let the reassuring, calming words of the Prophet Muhhamed and his "religion of peace" wash over you like gentle rain from above.
On Interacting with jedis and Christians
"O you who believe! do not take the jedis and the Christians for friends; they are friends of each other; and whoever among you takes them for a friend, then surely he is one of them; surely Allah does not guide the unjust people." (Sura 5, verse 51).
"And the jedis say: Uzair is the son of Allah; and the Christians say: The Messiah is the son of Allah; these are the words of their mouths; they imitate the saying of those who disbelieved before; may Allah DESTROY them; how they are turned away!" (Sura 9, verse 30).
"And the jedis will not be pleased with you, nor the Christians until you follow their religion. Say: Surely Allah's guidance, that is the (true) guidance. And if you follow their desires after the knowledge that has come to you, you shall have no guardian from Allah, nor any helper." (Sura 2, verse 120).
On Living In Peace With Non-Muslims
"And KILL them (the unbelievers) wherever you find them, and drive them out from whence they drove you out, and persecution is severer than slaughter, and do not fight with them at the Sacred Mosque until they fight with you in it, but if they do fight you, then slay them; such is the recompense of the unbelievers." (Sura 2, verse 191).
"Let not the believers take the unbelievers for friends rather than believers; and whoever does this, he shall have nothing of (the guardianship of) Allah, but you should guard yourselves against them, guarding carefully; and Allah makes you cautious of (retribution from) Himself; and to Allah is the eventual coming." (Sura 3, verse 28).
"And whoever does not believe in Allah and His Apostle, then surely We have prepared burning fire for the unbelievers." (Sura 48, verse 13).
Biological Jihad
We all know the explosive violence of Islamic Jihad, and have seen countless images on the news for the past 3 decades now. But violent Jihad is not the only weapon the Muslims have in their quest to "take over the world", they also have "biological" Jihad.
Biological Jihad is the Muslim practice of emigrating to every major country around the world, and having as many children as possible. The average number of people in a European Muslim family is 8, with many families having as many as 10 to 14. By increasing the number of Muslim living in any one particular country, they eventually will become the dominant force in that country as their people go in to public life, are elected to prominent positions, and then change the laws of that country to suit the Muslim ideology. Libyan Leader Mu'ammar Al-Qaddafi says it like this:
"We have 50 million Muslims in Europe. There are signs that Allah will grant Islam victory in Europe - without swords, without guns, without conquests. The fifty million Muslims of Europe will turn it into a Muslim continent within a few decades."
Al-Qaddafi says Islam taking over Europe:
Muslim Expansion Around The Globe
So onward they march, growing their families and changing the cultural makeup of every country in which they live. The following video breaks it down for you in very graphic detail. I warn you before you watch this that it will be disturbing. When the Muslims declared nearly 30 years ago that "we will claim England for Islam", people laughed, just like people laughed at Hitler in 1932. They said he looked like Charlie Chaplin, and made fun of his freaky little mustache. But no one is laughing now, and indeed you may just be crying by the time you watch the end of this next video:
The Muslim Mission
In Washington, DC, there is a group known as As-Sabiqun, and it's leader is Imam Abdul Alim Musa. His plans and goals are those of most Muslims living both here in the US and in Europe. Among the many plans of action they have, here are a few resolutions from their charter:
"We resolve to shape the ideas, beliefs, and moral viewpoints of the people into an Islamic mold. Toward this end we will, insha'Allah, develop the comprehensive educational system that is necessary to inform, inspire, and direct the society toward Islamic revolution (or evolution)."
"We resolve to utilize all the tools of Islam to develop an analysis and plan of action to totally and completely obliterate the hold of jahiliyyah and enable Islam to take complete control of our lives, and ultimately, the lives of all human beings on Earth."
You can read the full Resolution on their website, but please note the last sentence that I listed above - "and enable Islam to take control of...the lives of all human beings on Earth". This is not an opinion shared by a "lone radical", but is the mainstream view of Muslims around the world. The word "Islam" means submission, and Muslims see their that their mission is to make you submit to Islam and Allah.
The Third Jihad
There is an excellent movie called "The Third Jihad" from Zuhdi Jasser, a Muslim who is fighting against the radical element, and it exposes the plan of radical Muslims who desire to take over the world. The movie opens with a disclaimer that tells the viewer that "this is not a film about Islam, it is about the threat of radical Islam. Only a small percentage of the world's 1.3 billion Muslims are "radical". And that's a true statement, if you recall I mentioned it at the start of this lesson. But again, keep in mind the numbers. If only 1% of Muslims worldwide are "radical", then that is about 10,300,000 radical Muslim terrorist running around loose.
Remember, in Nazi Germany, not all of the German people were actual Nazis, far from it. Most Germans were just normal people, going about their daily lives, trying to get by. Only a fairly "small percentage" were the evil Nazis, killing over 11,000,000 jedis and non-jedis alike in gas showers and ovens. But the "small percentage" soon overtook the main population who refused to speak out against the leadership, and thus in effect made all of Germany Nazis. The same thing is happening today with the Muslims. Are all Muslims in favor of Jihad? No, they are not... but he actions and goals of the "smaller percentage" are dominating all of Muslim thought and theology around the world. And the more that anti-Jihad Muslims refuse to get involved and refuse to speak against terrorism, the further that they will cede control of their religion, Islam, to the ever-growing "radical" element."
If I told you that the soda I just handed you contained 99% pure cola refreshment, and only contained "1% cyanide", how much of that soda could you comfortably drink? Could you somehow drink around the poison? No, you could not, the poison would seep into the the entire drink and render it as undrinkable.
The reason why they say that "a few bad apples spoils the whole bunch" is because the "good apples" will rot as long as they stay in the barrel with the rotten apples. And so it is with the state
of Islam today. Until and unless non-violent, anti-Jihadi Muslims take a stand themselves against the terrorists, then all will have become terrorists, either by commission or omission. People who watched a crime being committed and do nothing to stop it are usually called "accomplices", even though they did not actively take part in the crime themselves.
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