platform as auction block

Slavery is now a “feature” at Substack Notes.

Don’t worry that you might get left out—the slavery is an auto-default. Select your level of bondage and customize for orifice, because it’s all about choice. Freedom’s just another word for auto-moderate. Get yours. [picture topside is “Sheeple” depicting my left leg juxtaposed with my sheepskin] [pubic-hair joke deleted here]

Well, “now” ha ha. Slavery is now a feature? It’s always been a feature of this particular slavemonger’s platform. Haul him forward. “Dave”? Toggle off his auto-moderate loincloth. What do I hear for this fine [looks closer]…this fine male? Well…he has nice big hands, like Michelangelo’s statue. He’s happy to offer [checks clipboard]…to offer free content every day for more than three years, aren’t you son? Pull his lips back so we can see the teeth. Apparently he got a little uppity there when he tried to run off with his own notes, and he tried to be a no-till no-kill no-shovel gardener at the plantation, but we set him to rights, didn’t we? Speak up son. Laughing? You think this is funny, son? Dang, our own rules don’t let us say the n-word here on the auctioneer’s block so we can’t call a spade a spade, but I think we all know what I mean. Get him off the platform.

This whole “now” thing is an heuristic, because by the time the stack babyeaters admit to slaving that means they’ve already been doing it so long it’s time to formally normalize it, like how aliens are now no biggie. I know—t’s rude of me to call them babyeaters because obviously they’re nothing of the sort, given that the owners of Substack are at a far higher level of evil than a bit of the usual blood & buggery. They’re not running a quaint little B & B here. This is the final throes of human freedom, and they’ve set up the auctioneer’s block to parade the writers just to make sure no one much cares.

I ran a diagnostic on Thursday to confirm what I already knew: most of my five-hundred followers aren’t getting most of my notes. And even on the rare occasion when they get one, do they get it?

I’m a poor man who lives in a white van, but I’m offering a thousand-dollar U.S. bounty for anyone who can facilitate my getting my three years of S.S. notes printed. Heck, if it really happens and I’m standing there in a Terrace B.C. parking lot with thousands of jokes and thousands of aphorisms in my hand on physical paper, there’s definitely gonna be a generous bonus. If you’re anywhere between Alaska and Guatemala this winter, I’ll drive the cash to you. Hell, with that much stimulus, I might even remember how to send money through the sky gods. A likely candidate for such an extraordinary act might be someone who has already pulled off their own notes and sequestered them on paper and on thumb drives. [hitch-hiking joke deleted here]

Lordie lordie, the places I’ve been on the notes at S.S.

When I started I thought the moon was real, that Americans actually built their splendid statehouses, that the Erie Canal was dug by Americans, that most geology wasn’t a meltscape. I hadn’t yet found that million-year-old structure in downtown Sarnia, and I was close-but-no-cigar on the whole question of enlightenment and who, really, I Am. Interesting document, my S.S. notes, three full-sized books long and following a stunning arc of discovery. Quite a document, if we can ever find it.

[Stands in front of mirror and toggles off Auto-Moderate to see what the auctioneer was hesitating about.]

—Dr. David Ker Thor/mson, B.C. B.A. B.A. B.R.E. M.A. M.A. PhD, Princeton 1997

I have six earned degrees, because would anyone ever give me an honorary one? The B.C. is where I live now. For I Am consciousness, everything is a state of mind, including you lot.

Thor is a diminutive of Thomson, not a pseud. I overcame the arches and the son-ness (filiation). Thor is a giant fighter, like David. Does that make us giants?