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Posts by Obbe
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2016-02-25 at 7:21 PM UTC in Parallel Universe TheoryIt is a good point, except that the theory presented in this video is verifiable. Faith that "God did it" is unverifiable.
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2016-02-25 at 6:16 PM UTC in What drugs cure an existential crisis? Acid?cry harder you tranny cock sucking[sub] faggot[sub] cunt [/sub] [/sub]
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2016-02-25 at 5:14 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?What a bunch of faggots.
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2016-02-25 at 4:19 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?I don't know. Maybe?
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2016-02-25 at 4:11 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?Get Sophie or someone to build a bot that spams the site with links like that under various different usernames at the same time. DDOS their site after a while. There is a slight chance some people will come here looking for answers. It's easier to steal their members than troll them on a site with such strict rules.
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2016-02-25 at 4:07 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?
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2016-02-25 at 3:58 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?Mass spam links to this site.
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2016-02-25 at 3:12 PM UTC in Who wants to help Troll a Site?What did you do, specially?
And what is the plan of attack? -
2016-02-25 at 2:07 PM UTC in What drugs cure an existential crisis? Acid?
I'm not going to try to figure out if if you're really this dumb or if you're intentionally avoiding the issue with the aim of twisting it into some kind of alan watts tier bullshit a few posts down the road because it's not worth my time either way. Good luck with the whole "incoherent and frustrating to talk to" thing though.
I'm not going to try to convince you that what I have to say about this actually makes sense when you stop trying to be a cunt and actually think about it. If you think "growing into a different understanding" is somehow detrimental to what I'm saying here, good luck with that. -
2016-02-25 at 5:47 AM UTC in What drugs cure an existential crisis? Acid?
And what if others "grow into" a different understanding? Sorta like how I've grown into the understanding that the majority of your post are just empty platitudes.
Asking that is like asking "what if" some people like classical and some people like gangster rap. -
2016-02-25 at 1:14 AM UTC in What drugs cure an existential crisis? Acid?You don't learn about this so much as you grow into understanding as a consequence of mental/physical/spiritual evolution, like you grow into walking, talking, and sexual consciousness. This is not difficult to understand; if its meaning does not develop like music after some rumination, comprehension is simply impossible, so don't sweat it.
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2016-02-25 at 1:06 AM UTC in What drugs cure an existential crisis? Acid?The meaning of music is the gestalt; otherwise it is only notes; the beautiful sensation of music is produced by experiencing the energy of the gestalt amplified by harmonic resonance with each note. Likewise, the meaning of life/reality is in its gestalt, a synthesis of all its disparate parts in a higher dimension of consciousness.
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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.
