Human Stampede

Why do people believe silly stuff like that a man can be a woman just by saying so?

Or that marriage doesn’t have anything to do with reproduction, and that we can call any arrangement, regardless of its reproductive potential, marriage?  And ignore the blatantly obvious place that marriage has at the nexus of reproduction and civilization?

Why does everyone act as though they see no potential problem whatsoever with importing highly nepotistic groups with incompatible cultures and oppositional values into a society whose most prominent characteristics are extreme tolerance and sub-fertility reproduction?

Why do so many European people hate their ancestors and why have so many decided, consciously or otherwise, to surrender to the onslaught of comfort, luxury, and entertainment, and give up their continued existence?

Why are people just going along with taking children away from their parents for witholding from them gender-mutilating drugs and sugery?

Why are Internet corporations and governmental bodies openly collaborating to impose political censorship in public discussion spaces?

Why are massively powerful corporations exhaustively burning up millions of years worth of built-up organic energy in the span of a few 100 years, why are governments allowing nearly every square mile of the planet to be disturbed by humans, if not outright genocided into a monoculture for humans?

Why is there so little resistance to all this? These are all things that don’t have to be that way. They could easily change if people changed their behaviours; it’s not like it would be some monumental task like going to the moon.

Because everyone thinks it’s not easy, they think it’s impossible.  Everyone thinks the system is unstoppable like a runnaway train. If they have the modicum of an attention span it takes to realize what’s going on, then they simultaneously realize the futility of a single person’s actions.

Eveyone knows that if they even speak up, they’ll achieve nothing but misery.

The entire herd is out of its mind, it’s just running, sprinting, mindlessly charging in whatever direction each human thinks the herd is travelling towards.

Some people think this is going somewhere, or fleeing from something, so they constantly make frantic guesses about what will be ideologically stylish in the next moment so they can get there first.

It’s not hard to recognize a stampede, but it is hard to stop.  If every animal just stopped running, the stampede would instantly end, but every animal knows that if they stop, they’ll get trampled.  And everyone else will think they’re a moron.

For humans, that’s the worst part.  Yeah, getting trampled is bad, but the worst would be eveyone thinking you’re an idiot for getting trampled.

And so the whole herd continues the stampede, charging over the cliff into the void.

Minority Conditions

If European peoples decided they wanted to continue to exist in the future, would there be a way for them to do that without being hated? Or if, when they become a minority everywhere (globally and in each of their countries), would they be able to work together to try to prevent bad things from happening to them, like other groups do, without being hated?

Seems like they’ll be less able to prevent bad things from happening to them (like others taking their stuff, or killing or raping them) if they’re a minority that can’t defend themselves, and, looking at history, it seems pretty naive to think others wouldn’t take advantage of them like that. Assuming things would be fine in that scenario is a pretty big gamble.

Panicking is almost always a bad idea, and stuff like “racial pride” or “superiority” just doesn’t make sense to me, and feel like a weird waste of time. I think it’s a good idea to not get distracted by that kooky stuff, and think about current conditions and future trends with a clear, calm, open, honest mind.

Postmodern Vertigo

Back in the day people knew what was real because they could walk on it, they could see it, everything about their world was understandable in the context of their physical surroundings. Concepts in their head were like the kinds of things that were right around them, things they could directly interact with. A motive like hunger could be directly connected to the physical world in basic steps through things like hunting or foraging.

To hunt, they might need a spear, which is made of tree and stone, just like their environment; their tools were recognizable in their source materials, and those were a regular component of their environment. The relation between a tool and its raw material was a process done with their own hands, right in front of their faces. Hunting itself is something they could readily spot in their environment: many fellow animals can be observed to hunt. The connections between the concepts in their head nicely mirrored the connections between the objects in their world. Forming that correspondence didn’t have to be a conscious process–mere observation produced it.

Now we have concepts in our head that don’t correspond to anything physical or concrete. We have things like the Internet or vaccines, where our understanding of how they work is very different from the way we interact with them. What does getting poked in the arm have to do with antigens and possibly dying 10 years from now? What does poking a bright screen to talk to a friend have to do with TCP/IP packets, RISC processors, or rare earth elements? Even many of our labels, our tokens for communication are acronyms, which are an extra layer of abstraction.

And that’s just consumer technology; the same is true with politics, for example. How, if at all, does marking a paper beside someone’s name relate to changes in wealth received from work, or to changes in what will be demanded of us in the future?

If we get hungry, we go to the store to get food, which is a processed product, which means the ingredients and their source are unknown except as abstract classification (made from apple, not any specific apple, not even any specific cultivar, and definitely not an apple that was in this hand, picked from a known, specific tree) and means we get it by giving currency (which can take many forms, made from many different materials, somehow, issued by some organization running in some unknown way, controlled by people who want to remain unknown).

Everything we interact with is just the surface layer and beneath it are layers upon layers of abstraction, and the vast majority of people, if not everyone, don’t know all the layers between the concepts we have in our heads that let us interact with it and the physical reality around us that we can see and touch. There are entire fields of knowledge, entire communities of individuals, complete layers of reality that mostly everyone is unaware of.

There is no ground to our reality. We know some tips and tricks that let us get by in this world (until new technology changes it), but without knowing all the sub-surface layers (which is probably impossible now), we can only make guesses about what’s real. We’re not even sure of what kind of things are possible.

We don’t know what’s underneath the surface, and so we have no way of knowing if or when the surface will give out or fail, so every step we make feels like a risk, as if we’re walking on thin ice, except that there’s no water underneath: we have no idea what’s underneath.

On some level, we know that at any give time, in the next moment we may be falling into an abyss, and so we have an ever-present subconscious sense of vertigo.

One attempt to adapt to this situation is to just pretend it’s not a problem, to not worry about what’s beneath the surface, to only take things at face value, and to unthinkingly accept any absurdities that this inevitably results in.

Maybe that’s what most people are doing right now–it would explain a lot.

Related

Tangential

Openness

Opening your heart to someone new is scary. Allowing yourself to love someone is dangerous because it brings with it the possibility of pain from rejection, betrayal, and loss. Love can be kept secret, and that can protect oneself from some harm, but love is more fully manifested when it’s mutual, and truly loving someone means wanting to protect them, which means taking some possibility of harm upon oneself, removing it from the loved one.

Love is inherently dangerous, it’s unavoidably a risk.

Opening your mind to new ideas is scary. Allowing yourself to question your assumptions and consider new ones is dangerous because it brings with it the possibility of pain from uncertainty, confusion, and thinking differently from those around you. Different thoughts can be kept secret, but even hidden uncertainty and confusion is stressful, and progressing beyond that state to new assumptions may lead to new conclusions and convictions that compel the public defense of newly discovered truth.

Open mindedness is inherently dangerous, it’s unavoidably a risk.

We can decide to not care about uncertainty and confusion, but that’s essentially the same as not caring about truth, which is unacceptable and unworkable to those with an internally-arising motivation for honesty.

We can boldly declare that we don’t care what others think of us, but it’s difficult to overstate how much most people value social approval. Many put it above love, some put it above life itself and kill themselves when opinion turns against them.

Open mindedness requires courage. It’s easy to dismiss this as braggadocio, but dishonesty is often easy, and we could just as easily dismiss that dismissal as cowardice.

Blue Rose


Roses red and roses white
Plucked I for my love’s delight.
She would none of all my posies–
Bade me gather her blue roses.
Half the world I wandered through,
Seeking where such flowers grew.
Half the world unto my quest
Answered me with laugh and jest.

Home I came at wintertide,
But my silly love had died
Seeking with her latest breath
Roses from the arms of Death.

It may be beyond the grave
She shall find what she would have.
Mine was but an idle quest–

Roses white and red are best!

 — Rudyard Kipling

A Tangible Warmth

Deeper and deeper they went, hacking at the earth, chipping the rock into rubble. Long ago having cursed the sun for its burning light in summer and its pale cold glare in winter, they turned from its remote indifference, declaring instead their fealty and love for the Earth, only the Earth. With an aching need to be closer, to feel its solid, warm embrace they’d entered the cave, descended to the depths of its cavernous abodes, then, upon meeting the final nook, they began to tunnel.

As they descended their gratitude grew, for here they found freedom: freedom from fickle weather, freedom from cruel predators, and freedom from the changing seasons. And they found warmth growing, so they graciously shed unnecessary garments—all was laid bare as the rock of their walls, roof, and floor. When any one of them had doubts about their course and harboured thoughts of the abandoned luminous world above, these were assuaged with an assurance that “where there is warmth, there is light.”

For this devotion they were richly rewarded. An uncontainable abundance of precious metals and stones overflowed their bulging pockets, falling unheeded into the worthless pebbles of broken terrestrial skeleton. Still they drove deeper, superterranean memories becoming more remote, their senses becoming more accustomed to the dim light of their torches. In this darkness, the glint and glean of their newly discovered treasures seemed to ever brighten into dazzling attraction.

In this pursuit, they turned first from the harsh glare of their torches to the faces of those who held them, and as the fires passed away from their sight, so did they pass from their words and thoughts.  Pupils dilated wider. Then even reflecting faces too became unbearable to see, and they turned to their shadows on the walls, addressing them so that when they talked to each other, they talked to their shadows.

Downward they dug in the hot darkness, surrounded by their frantically dancing shadows.

A Nightmare Vision of the Modern World

This is the modern world
Billions upon billions of mass human fleshbags with ultimately no purpose to the obscene, mind-boggling quantity
A dying globe covered with a layer of endless writhing undifferentiated human
It desperately tries to heave off the bulk living detritus, to buck off the mindless mess, but there is too much–much too much–and the suffocation is uninterrupted
We have made a hell of Earth

Blasted Beasts

Kill ’em all, he thought.  18 of the beasts had cornered him here with all the exits blocked, and with what he’d been through, giving up was even less of an option than flight.  They sure as hell wouldn’t call it quits, not while their blood—or whatever it was that oozed out when he put holes in them—still circulated, still animated the hideous frenzied urge that enthralled them to his doom.

He probably wouldn’t make it out of this, but if he did, it would be through their dismembered corpses.  Their faces were like exit signs to him, showing him the way through fortified flesh that needed opening with his blaster.  Point there, squeeze here, and a portal would burst open in the beast, letting him walk out through the meaty mess.  The thought of myriad instant butchery provoked his hunger for killing into just the kind of madness needed to eagerly charge the deadly savagery closing in.

“Put down your weapon and reveal your empty hands!”  The audacity with which the tyrannical beast voiced this demand made his stomach churn.  Those sick freaks had no place using words—words are for humans, real, live, red-blooded humans!  The corrupted souls of these damned creatures—whatever the hell they were–could be seen a mile away through their dead eyes.  They weren’t fooling him, though they continued to try.  “If you comply willingly I am authorised to adjudicate a mitigated sentence.”

The nerve. “There’s just one thing I wanna know!”  He gripped his blaster tighter and became a coiled spring.

“What would you like to know?”

He’d been through hell—all 9 rings and a few extra epicycles to boot.  He’d pillaged a good deal of knowledge along the way, vast booty of arcane science and occult perceptions plus the usual exoteric observations on the requirements of survival: blast whatever gets in your way, keep moving, trust only self and blaster, sleep while blasting, and if blasting doesn’t work, smash it.  Don’t drop the medkit, unless you enjoy moving on perforated legs and smashing with a broken hand (he didn’t—much).  Getting a new medkit takes a lot of killing.

He also knew his blaster had 88% charge.  That would probably be enough, accounting for maybe 2 or 3 more unexpected complications.

And then there were all the things he thought he knew.  He thought he knew the layout of this facility down to the last brimstone brick.  He thought he knew that this room had access to the ventilation exhaust system.  He thought he was out.

It didn’t, and he wasn’t, and now he knew that hell had a lean-to, a 10th ring, a ring for the last finger, the trigger finger.  Lucky for him, he knew all about trigger fingers and his own was just itching to squeeze.  As he looked at the blaster in his hand a flood of countless memories of encroaching doom upon which it had rained down a cleansing fire visited him, and he smiled fondly at the intricately printed metal and energy display and glowing, murmuring hole of death at the end.

“I wanna know what kinda slimy bile’s sloshing around insida your soulless corpses!”  His brain blitzed into activity like a berserk Tesla coil, sending lightning rage through legion motor neurons to explode each harnessed muscle fibre with the motive power of undiluted centrifugally enriched bloodlust—or whatever-the-hell-lust.

The Bitter Cold of Nevada in Summer

Northern Nevada

In Nevada, which should have been the hottest and driest stretch of the trip, or so I thought, ignorantly assuming north was the same as south, after brief periods of minor showers we made our way to the western half of the state.  Cruising along in calm air, a sudden change of wind hit us head-on, bringing a cold ominous foreboding that physically slowed our progress, and mentally assaulted my resolve, so that, in confusion, I stopped at a barren rest stop, void of even a single wall as shelter.  But there was nothing to do, nothing but go on right into the thick of the menacing storm heralded by the bitter relentless gale.  My resolve would be tested yet further as the wind pierced deeper, driving cold wet closer to our souls.  Not heat and aridness would we find, but winding roads littered with fog, snow, and mud–and of course a most beautiful sunset.  Other bikers turned around. We shrugged as they passed and turned our faces forward, the throttle open, and the handlebars naught.

On the other side of it, tired and shaking uncontrollably and rattling frozen bones, I proposed an early stop–why not right here? It was not too far till sundown. Kim was unreceptive and indomitably undeterred, thankfully dragging me out of my momentary weakness. We’ll say the back seat is shielded, more pleasant, less draining. That’s what we’ll say. Knowingly into the dark trap, then. We let the sun duck under the hills and spring an ambush, catching us on the road with a falling shroud of darkness. Groping blindly along the highway, occasionally accompanied by one of the shrugged-at bikers who’d apparently decided to turn around a second time, we snaked westward. At the hotel, we booked the last room and received free cookies.

A grim glorious day that was, but perhaps not as grim as the escape from San Francisco. The transportation networks were choked with traffic; a plethorous mass of human flesh clogging the roads out of San Francisco, slowing the flow to fully stationary, punctuated by brief rolls forward half the length of a car.  Even outside the city, the swelling hominid profusity pressed out and filled all spaces, not sparing the “in and out burger” we stopped at.  Living talking ape meat spread its teeming overabundance into every seat and table so that we were forced out when we eventually received our order, and we ate outside. The masticating mass was repulsively nauseating. As repulsively nauseating as the pink centre of my burger, which I pushed down my throat in a clinically calculating decision to gain nourishment to counter sleepiness without needing to stop at another restaurant. A cheery employee walked by and asked how the food was.  I gave him a cold, dead, “it’s pink”.  As dead and cold as the centre of my burger.  “What?”  “The burger is pink.”  “So… that’s good?”  “No.  It’s bad.”  “Oh… sorry.”  And he walked away.

Later we rolled into Mark and Shannon’s driveway with the relief of Atlas at the apocalypse.

Health Effects of Pipe Smoke

Curious George smoking a pipe

$ means behind a pay wall.  F means full text available at link.

Mortality in relation to smoking: 50 years’ observations on male British doctors (doi: 10.1136/bmj.38142.554479.AE)

Only cigarette smoke tracked.

During the 19th century much tobacco was smoked in pipes or as cigars and little was smoked as cigarettes, but during the first few decades of the 20th century the consumption of manufactured cigarettes increased greatly.

Analysis of a Historical Cohort of Chinese Tin Miners with Arsenic, Radon, Cigarette Smoke, and Pipe Smoke Exposures Using the Biologically Based Two-Stage Clonal Expansion Model

Smoking a bamboo water pipe or a Chinese long-stem pipe appears to confer less risk than cigarette use, given equivalent tobacco consumption.

Cigar, Pipe, and Cigarette Smoking as Risk Factors for Periodontal Disease and Tooth Loss (doi:10.1902/jop.2000.71.12.1874)

Current cigarette smokers had the highest prevalence of moderate and severe periodontitis (25.7%) compared to former cigarette smokers (20.2%), and non-smokers (13.1%). The estimated prevalence of moderate and severe periodontitis in current or former cigar/pipe smokers was 17.6%. A similar pattern was seen for other periodontal measurements […]

Current smokers: smoke daily. Former heavy smokers: smoked daily for 10 or more years and quit. Non-smokers: had smoked less than 10 years or never.

Pipe smokers similar to former cigarette smokers for tooth health, less than current cigarette smokers.

Mortality in relation to cigarette and pipe smoking: 16 years’ observation of 25,000 Swedish men (doi:10.1136/jech.41.2.166)

From summary: “Pipe smokers showed similar risk levels to cigarette smokers.”

From table 2, relative death rates, all causes: cigarette 1.45, pipe 1.29, cigar 1.39.  This may be caused by the fact that “** The mean grams oftobacco smoked perday in 1963, standardised for age and residence, was estimated to be 10.7 in cigarette smokers, 8.4 in pipe smokers, and 13.5 in cigar smokers.”  Pipe smokers smoked less tobacco.

From table 2, relative death rates, suicide, accidents, and violence: 1.7, 0.9, 2.5.  Pipe smokers less likely to die of these causes than non-smokers.  Cigar smokers live dangerously.  But may not be statistically significant.

The pipe smoker death rate may be higher here, because in this group (Swedes) pipe smokers tend to inhale as frequently as cigarette smokers:

The relative risks for several smoking related diseases, including lung cancer, have been reported to be lower in cigar and pipe smokers than in cigarette smokers.2-6 These results were mostly obtained in studies performed in the United Kingdom and United States, where the proportion of inhalers is substantially higher among cigarette smokers than among smokers of cigars or pipes.20 21 In the present study we found similar risks of lung cancer in cigarette, pipe, and cigar smokers, controlling for amount of tobacco consumed, age when started smoking, and urban/rural residence. The similar proportion of inhalers among Swedish cigarette and pipe smokers may partly explain our results. No information was available on inhalation patterns in Swedish cigar smokers.

Summary of a Canadian Study of Smoking and Health

Mortality ratio: cigarettes only 1.54, pipe only 1.05.

May be worth looking into more, this is just a short summary of the study.

Mortality in relation to smoking: 20 years’ observations on male British doctors

Same people as 50 year study above.

From table VI, annual death rates per 100 000 men, all causes: non-smokers 1418, pipe or cigar only 1540, pipe or cigar and cigarettes previously 1600, cigarettes only 2456. (1600 corrected from 1000).

So, non-smoker 1.0, pipe/cigar 1.09, cigarettes 1.73.

It is evident from table IV that the excess overall mortality among smokers was due principally to an excess among men who had smoked cigarettes. Those who smoked only pipes or cigars experienced mortality rates which, with few exceptions, were similar to, or only slightly above, those of men who did not smoke at all. Substantial differences between pipe and cigar smokers and non-smokers were observed only for the eight conditions closely associated with smoking and for myocardial degeneration, which, it has already been noted was more closely related to smoking among men aged 65 years and over than was ischaemic heart disease. The numbers of deaths attributed to these conditions in pipe and cigar smokers were small and significant excesses over the rates for non-smokers were observed only for lung cancer, chronic bronchitis and emphysema, pulmonary heart disease, non-syphilitic aortic aneurysm, and myocardial degeneration.

Worth looking into more.  Note reduced Parkinsonism death rate in smokers (eg. in table XII).

Added 2015-01-27

After reviewing more studies (mostly skimming the conclusions), there seem to be a few general, uncontested “rules”:

  • Inhaling is more unhealthy than not inhaling: this appears in some studies as a difference in mortality between cigarette smokers and pipe or cigar smokers.  However, in some populations pipe smokers inhale at a similar rate as the cigarette smokers (Swedes in particular), and so they don’t show the cigarette/pipe distinction.  When a distinction is made (very often or usually it isn’t), non-inhalers died less/later than inhalers.  When no distinction is made, some studies find increased mortality among pipe smokers.  Mouth or gum diseases seem to be not affected by inhalation or not.
  • Smoking more frequently is more unhealthy: some studies find a linear relationship between amount smoked and mortality increase.  Low frequency of pipe use, and a correspondingly lower or nonexistant increase in mortality, seems to be classified as five (Higgins ITT, Mahan CM, Wynder EL: Lung cancer among cigar and pipe smokers, Preventive Med, 1988;Page 5 of 13 17(1):116-128.) or up to four (“Pipe and Cigar Smoking”, The Report of an Expert Group Appointed by Action on Smoking and Health, Practitioner, 1973; 210:645-652) pipefuls.

Added 2015-06-13

To read: http://www.york.ac.uk/depts/maths/histstat/fisher274.pdf

Added 2015-08-24

http://www.cancer.org/research/acsresearchupdates/the-study-that-helped-spur-the-us-stop-smoking-movement

Brief history of the studies and politics that resulted in the current consensus that smoking cigarettes causes lung cancer and cardiovascular diseases.