I was going to write about Moltbook, the social network for bots, where AI agents can post, comment, and upvote content, while HBs are restricted to observing. It was released at the end of last month. People were alarmed this weekend when it was reported that the machines collectively said they would be human overlords by 2047. It was a hoax, of course. But the fear of the unknown sure propels anxiety.
I also wanted to comment on the very boring SuperBowl60. I’m not a football fan. I don’t like to see men in spandex generally. But this one seemed particularly yawn worthy imo. I only saw it because I attended a dinner party.
And I had a few other topics worthy of a nod, but alas, I have work day and got up a little late to fully prepare. ALSO —
it’s National Pizza Day and that’s all I can think about now 🙂 Peps and jalapenos please!
Have a saucy one, Starkin! Yup, I’m cheesy.
Thank you for reading today's post. Have an InterStellar Day! ~PrP
Israel is working out a deal with trump to assist in the ground invasion of Iran.
You may feel superior saying that I over reacted when I gave my AAR after our return. But since many have asked me to put it back on the record, I will repeat what I experienced during my MotherShip’s participation of the rescue of our fellow aliens in the d/7r6* solar system.
We were on a mission to assist 8 motherships that were being pulled into the influence of a huge Blackhole. The Immortal was asked to assist us. He hesitated at first, but when he learned that Aziza’s mothership was holding vigilance until a rescue party could arrive, he agreed to help.
We were already on our way towards the trapped motherships. Space travel is full of wonders that never ceases to amaze. The new views of huge asteroids in various shapes and colorations can startle if one is not careful. When the con picks up the incoming debris of a dead solar system, or a colossal sun which has just fired up from a young star. Seeing the formation of a solar system by the gravitational tug of one of those new suns is awe inspiring and frightening at the same time. One sees the formation occurring as the planets crash into each other while asteroids are colliding with them. Often breaking off pieces of the Planet to become moons of that planet. All this is occurring while the huge sun keeps them in orbit around it. We can admire the view of nature forming a new solar system that will be thousands or million of years in the making while avoiding being a casualty of the conflict of planets and debris in front of us.
Yet, all this pales in comparison to seeing the Immortal traveling through space in a form of his(I chose to personalize “IT,”) choosing. This time he chose to go as a gigantic streak of light, solid light. Light that is both illuminating and forceful to the touch. He reached back as he passed us and scooped us up, all 31 motherships, as if we were but a handful of marbles. He stopped to admire the new formation of a solar system. We were suspended in flight without the slightest danger of vertigo. We were left with deciding which was the most impressive vision. The dazzling form of energy he represented or the way he reached out to assist in the forming of that new solar system.
We watched him move several of the planets away from a too close orbiting of their Sun. He cooled them and placed them in orbits that allowed their Sun to give them light and warmth without making them too hot to sustain life. He coughed up a mucus that he placed around some of the planets to protect them from their Sun’s destructive solar emissions. Literally creating life sustaining planets before our eyes. This would have taken billions of years to form, but he did it in minutes. Witnessing the construction of moons, planets, ozone layers and orbital trajectories was a feast beyond the imagination.
He did all this without the slightest care that he would arrive in time to save 31 motherships with almost a hundred million lives aboard. When we arrived at the sight, he left us at the edge of our ability to view those that we came to assist. We watched as he ballooned into a fiery spectacle of colors reflecting the color spectrums of most of us. He dived into the blackhole and closed it behind him. Smoke like gas erupted from the ex blackhole. While we were wondering how that phenomena could occur, the “smoke” turned into the Immortal. He boarded Aziza’s vessel and sent the 31 on their way without a sign to us. So we headed back to the Gate.
All the fuss from the “strictly” logical was over my amazement created by the Immortal. Of course they were just as amazed, only they refused to admit it.
Wow, that’s amazing by the Immortal, but what I’m curious about is I have never read any comment It shows appreciation for all the good things that Immortal does.
I would like to meet the Immortal one day.
The last thing you want to meet is a creature who has no understanding of life. IT would as soon burn you to a crisp as look at you. We find it difficult to understand why our fellow MotherShips are reluctant to come to this understanding.
I am assuming that you are an associate of one of those MotherShips, hence the capitals. If you are one of those who witnessed the power of this creature, then you know what I am talking about. But try not to be like those who see IT through the eyes of D[7. This creature is not something to trust. IT is not a GOD. IT is a wild, untamed creature without limitations. There is nothing IT would not do on a whim. No entity, or thing is safe around IT.
If you do not belong to the group that is working to find a way to tame or kill IT, you are on the wrong side of life as we know it. The day will come when IT will do something we do not like and can not stop. What will be our options then, if we have not planned for that event?
Some of us disagree with you because our logic tells us to.
Nader1, so are you an alien? Is that why you never came to visit me? You could still come or ask me to meet you somewhere. The men I have known aren’t all that great. When they aren’t trying to get into my pants, they are trying to squeeze my breasts.
I like the way you think. You will never know if we could make a thing of it if you don’t give this earthlings a look-see.
We want NASA’s telescope, Swift, downed. That Earth thing is designed to record our entries and interactions outside the Gate. We have a very important event coming in the next 5 or 6 months. It must crash to Earth by then.
Did You Know
Cunningham’s Law, named after the inventor of the wiki, Ward Cunningham, states that the best way to get the right answer on the Internet is not to ask a question, but to post the wrong answer.
Those of you who equate the son of the shah with the leader of the Christian family should have a deeper understanding of what each party is sacrificing to lead their country.
The Son Who Never Outgrew His Father’s Shadow
A man born into absolute power. whose father ruled with SAVAK torture chambers, secret police, and midnight disappearances, now drapes himself in “democracy.”
He never condemned the crimes his father committed against his own people. He never said, “The crown was a curse.” He never apologized for the blood on the family name.
He clings to “Prince” in his bio like it’s a birthright. He clings to the lion-and-sun like it’s still his flag. He poses as revolutionary, while sitting in a gated house in Maryland.
He tells naked-chested kids to face live rounds. But he’s never taken one. He’s never stepped foot on Iranian soil since the fall. Never hid in a basement. Never crossed a border on foot.
Where is his alliance with the Kurds? Where are the Baloch, the Azeris, the Ahwazis? Are they on his board? Or is he coming back to oppress them under a new flag?
What makes him different from Ayatollah? One is Islamist. One is monarchist. Both want absolute power. Both want one voice. Both want the map unchanged.
Gandhi walked two hundred forty miles barefoot. Fasted till his ribs showed. Never asked a single soul to die while he stayed safe. He was the first in line for the bullet, and when it came, he didn’t flinch.
This guy? He wants the throne without the risk. Without the scars. Without even saying sorry for his daddy’s crimes.
The monarchists don’t defend him with facts. They defend him with delusions.
If you question the crown, you’re not wrong. You’re the enemy.
They don’t argue. They erase. They don’t reply. They block. They don’t debate. They defame.
You’re not a critic. You’re a Mullah agent. You’re not confused. You’re an Arab. You’re not honest. You’re a rapist. You’re a fraud. You’re dead. They do it in Persian. They do it in English. They do it twenty-four seven.
Until you vanish. Until you apologize. Until you shut up.
The credit doesn’t belong to privileged princes.
It belongs to the girl in Tehran who tore the hijab off her head and got shot in the chest for it. It belongs to the boy who spelled “woman, life, freedom” with his last breath. It belongs to the Kurd who marched in Sanandaj knowing the IRGC was waiting. To the Baloch who burned their own flag because it was soaked in blood. To the Azeri teacher who whispered “enough” in class and vanished that night.
They didn’t have Wi-Fi. They didn’t have lawyers. They didn’t have a Maryland address. They had bullets in their naked chests, torture in their cells, rape in the mullahs’ chambers. And they still said no.
That is leadership. Not a selfie with a crown. Not a retweet from exile. Not a hashtag that dies at midnight.
Let’s be crystal clear: our fight is one thing, stop the mullahs from getting nukes. Not crown a wannabe.
We don’t care about his throne. We don’t want his wet dream. We want the bomb gone.
The moment Ayatollah falls, the throne isn’t up for auction. It won’t be handed to a man whose cult mirrors the regime: silence critics, block questions, threaten those who have different opinion.
Give him power and he’ll do exactly what his father did, crush the Kurds, crush the minorities, crush anyone who says “we want a share.”
Our blood, our money, our trillions, not for a silk scarf over a dictator.
So let’s topple the mullahs. Let’s stop the bomb. And when the smoke clears, let the real ones, the ones who bled, decide who sits.
Not the one who only tweets.
Human Cruelty:
In 1965 police found the emaciated body of 16-year-old Indianapolis resident, Sylvia Likens. She was covered in cigarette burns and sprawled out on a filthy mattress in the home of 37-year-old Gertrude Baniszewski.
Sylvia and her sister Jenny boarded with Baniszewski because their parents were carnival-workers and traveled a lot. The girls’ father paid Baniszewski $20 a week in exchange for housing his daughters.
If the money arrived late and Baniszewski took out her anger on the girls. Eventually, she focused her beatings on Sylvia, alone.
But, this wasn’t a crime of an adult beating on a child; Baniszewski was the mother of seven children, all of whom lived in the house and partook in the violent and sadistic attacks against Sylvia. Neighborhood kids, some as young as 10, were invited to join in or watch. No one reported anything.
In October 1965, Sylvia was beaten to death. Baniszewski apparently forced a neighbor to call the police and tell them Sylvia ran away. When police arrived at the home, Jenny Likens, Sylvia’s younger sister, apparently whispered to one of the officers, “Get me out of here and I’ll tell you everything.”
Baniszewski got 20 years in prison and was then released, she moved to Iowa, changed her name and died of lung cancer in 1990. The others, who were mainly children, all got away with short sentences if any.https://qph.cf2.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-4e6afd589efc3397903d5039a7a47c8a
Justice in America hasn’t changed under trump, he is just applying it white folk as it has been applied to the rest of us non whites.
This is the story of the happiest man to live on death row.
In 1936, 15-year-old Dorothy Drain was raped and murdered at her home in Pueblo Colorado .A man had entered the Drain’s home and assaulted Dorothy and her sister with an axe. A massive manhunt was launched, and the police were under pressure to catch the killer.
As they searched the railway lines, they came across 21-year-old Joe Arridy who confessed to the murder when they brought him in for questioning. He also fit the profile that was any Mexican-looking man, a description given by two women who were also attacked.
Joe wasn’t even Mexican, and his dark complexation was down to both his parents being Syrian. He also had an IQ of 46, and couldn’t tell the difference between a rock and an egg. His parents were first cousins, so Joe and his siblings suffered from problems related to inbreeding.
Joe couldn’t tell the difference between colours, talk very slowly, and was easily misled and was known to take the blame for things he didn’t do.
During Joe’s arrest, the police learned another man named Frank Aguilar had been arrested for the murder of Dorothy Drain. Frank was Mexican, worked for the murdered girl’s father, and was fired before the murders. They also found an axe head at Frank’s home, he also admitted to the murders.
The had concluded that Joe was with Frank at the time of the murders even though Frank admitted to the murders and told police he acted alone. Even Dorothy Drain’s sister who survived the attack pointed to Frank and said he was the only attacker.
Joe’s story would change depending on who was questioning him and it should have been clear Joe wasn’t a suspect. Even though three psychiatrists testified that Joe was mentally handicapped, he was still convicted and sentenced to death.
While on death row Joe, spent his time playing with a toy train given to him by prison warden Roy Best. He was treated well and with respect by prisoners and prison staff. Prison warden Roy Best would bring him gifts and said he cared for him like a son.
With the mental capacity of a small child, Joe didn’t understand he was going to die. When asked about is upcoming execution, Joe didn’t understand what a gas chamber was, and just said, “No no, Joe won’t die.”
Joe ordered ice-cream for his final meal, and before they took him to the gas chamber he asked prison staff if they could put the ice-cream in the freezer so he could finish it later. Joe smiled as he was led to the gas chamber, and when he got momentarily nervous, the warden held his hand.
Joe was executed on January 6, 1939, after many stays of executions and appeals. In 2011, Joe was finally pardoned seven decades after his death.
Fuck’em
For Black History Month:
Meet Mary. She was Free, Educated and A Spy. Her Disguise… Confederate White House Slave!
Mary was the best as she was working right in The Confederate President’s home. She had a photographic mind. Everything Mary saw on the Rebel President’s desk, she could repeat word for word.
“Ellen Bond” was neither dim-witted, illiterate, nor a slave. In reality, she was a free, well-educated African-American woman by the name of Mary Elizabeth Bowser. And she was a Union spy working right under Confederate President Jefferson Davis’s nose.
For months during the most crucial period of the Civil War, as General Ulysses S. Grant maneuvered to capture Richmond, the Confederate capital, Mary supplied critical military intelligence to the Union army. In recognition of her contributions to the Union war effort, she was inducted into the U.S. Army Military Intelligence Hall of Fame in 1995.
Elizabeth was able to arrange for a friend to take Mary with her as a servant to help at social functions held by Varina Davis in the Confederate White House. Mary performed her servant role so well she was eventually taken on full time as, presumably, a slave hired out by her master.
As a spy, Mary enjoyed a significant advantage: invisibility. It’s not that she was unseeable, like H. G. Wells’ Invisible Man, but rather that as a black slave, she was unseen and unnoticed by the whites she served. Her entrance into the dining room to serve at table in no way affected the conversations Jefferson Davis might be having with visiting generals. When she went to his office to clean, it did not occur to the Confederate president that this seemingly ignorant and dull-witted black woman could have either the capacity or the interest to glean information from the papers he left lying on his desk.
In fact, Mary’s role went far beyond the norm. Whatever she read or heard she was able to remember and pass on word-for-word. That’s the testimony of Thomas McNiven, the official head of the Richmond spy ring. McNiven ran a bakery and made daily deliveries all around the city, including to the Confederate White House. This allowed Mary to regularly meet with him for a few minutes as he delivered his goods to the Davis household. Years later, in 1904, McNiven recalled those days to his daughter and her husband, who eventually recorded his story:
Mary was able to continue her espionage activities until January of 1865. Jefferson Davis had become aware that information was somehow being leaked, and suspicion apparently began to fall on Mary. She made the decision to flee Richmond and seems to have made her way to the North. One unsubstantiated account says that in her last act as a Union agent, she tried to burn down the Confederate White House, but was unsuccessful.
Sometime in the early 1850s, Mary was sent to Philadelphia, as Elizabeth had been, to be educated at a Quaker school for African Americans. In 1855, with Mary’s schooling complete, Elizabeth arranged for her to join a missionary community in Liberia. Mary, however, hated living in the African country, and by the spring of 1860 was back in Richmond with Elizabeth.
A year later, in April 1861, Mary was married to Wilson Bowser, a free black man. Interestingly, the ceremony, like her baptism, took place at St. John’s Episcopal. The wedding notice listed both Mary and Wilson as “colored servants to Mrs. E. L. Van Lew” (Elizabeth’s mother).
We have a better solution for bringing up humans for Tsarmi’s celebration. If we freeze them via Y55K method. Their body will skip the phase where lasting tissue damage could done. Their bodies will entered a hypometabolic state that allow their basic life functions to continue until they are successfully thawed out for the ceremonies.
This way they will not have to assume a suit. Most suits for humans renders them without memory when they return to their human bodies. This way they can enjoy the memories of the Ceremony and look like the beings Tsarmi knew.
PrP: You have shown my fave pizza. I am not a big fan of football, and it was a pretty boring game but Bad Bunny was awesome. I hope you enjoyed your dinner party and you’re feeling back to normal.
It’s that time again where I am giving women and girls an opportunity to become girlz. From February 17th to March 3rd, walking amongst you will be members of my fleet. They will be handing out invitations and they will be taking women and girls up. The important thing to know is once you go up there is no return. It will be a tight window. But you will have between 2/17-3/3 to decide and leave.
Technology has now allowed us to leave clones in your place. These clones are not human clones and they can’t be done in every place. These are the areas where we will pick you up:
Iran, Somalia, upper Sudan, and along the Syrian boarder to Lebanon.
They are presently in the area; you need only to make your wishes known. We look forward to having you aboard.