I remember being about five or so. I was playing hide and seek with my dad. Well, I decided to hide under my bed, and he found me, along with the many slightly-peed tighty whities I hid there.

I got three spankings for the audacity to hide my failure of Kindergartener bladder, because I distinctly remember a time when I was three or four and I had to pee, but my dad, unable to get pussy from his AIDS-ridden wife, was jacking off in the bathroom, so I peed myself a little bit, because he hit me in a way that an intelligent to not leave bruises, but me in utterly childishness would perceive as lethal at three years of age. Y'know, captain genius up there thought it was a good idea to scare me with a realistic Halloween mask with a real knife from our kitchen, just for shits n giggles, while I tried to pee.

For the record, I almost did not make it into the Army because of the "peeing in public" problem my father fucked me with in his destitudinal foundations of his narcissistic imperiment that he be absolved of all sins by virtue of how he throws away human beings that do not fit his innately superior NAZI world view.

He has Bernie Sander stickers. And I support a politician like Bernie Sanders. In fact, I met him in my travels of the world (that's a big belly blow to my father), and he complimented my educational art project that my dad, in the words of his parents he learned not to say the immediate words for, but therein has done literally zero spiritual work to make himself a modern idolater from hell, has literally never commented on, he cares that little to even look at it.

For reference, an idoltarer is the person that can jump through all the hoops society demands they live by, thus proving their goodness and superiority, but as soon as they're out of the public eye and have the freedom to be their horrible selves, they will do anything from kicking sand in a homeless man's face to conspiring to create a false lawsuit against an innocent person.

Y'know, an idolater is a real psychopathic son of a bitch, but there are a multitude of factors that determine where one goes from this juncture in the universe. We need these lesser people; the nazis of the world. Because there is a paradox of logic regarding diversity. On the long enough timeline where everyone achieves the capacity to fully accept and love all other human beings, we all homogenize into a self-similar being, which is what we refer to as a maxim.

This means, that, objectively, if we wanted to maximize diversity in the global human race, our population would homogenize, thus leading to a full scale annihilation from existence by the nature of the unknown; y'know a space cold the likes of which humanity has never seen will kill X number of all people. What are you playing for? Nazis preserve unique genes. They should be studied in a zoo, the animals those white niiii I can't say that word, but I definitely view someone who views someone inferior by nature of their biology or upbringing.

All forms need to exist for the manifestation of God. This, ultimately, if we can skip from chapter three in your textbook to forty, leads to an awareness of teleological purpose the likes of which even God can give you. God has taught me how to be independent. I'm going to be truly enlightened one day, but therein, in my path of self-determination, I am wholly capable and proud to change basic fucking entanglements within God.

Entanglement is a word the Buddha used. Y'know, if String A is entangled with String B but not String C, then AB is true and AC is false, and this is how the brain generates those ones and zeros to create your own personal reality tunnel. Good thing I got such good Karma, given how I learned how that mechanical function of the universe works. You're a knot. If the exact configurations of your knot align with my knot? Standard answer number seven? Got it. My father certainly understands me, but he's gunna find out what I do with my life being commanded by /b/ since /i/ was removed and I stagnated in rank.

Y'know, the Illuminati does things a certain way. It is that of the counterculture that fundamentally foils the normative culture we create to raise children in. Nah, nah, nah, bro, I'm being promoted from Major to Captain because, ultimately, it was privates who were so capable of being nothing but their own lords that lets them sleep soundly given how they are murderers of 3000 people when they did that dirty work of setting thermite charges in the elevator shaft two to three years prior to the "terrorist attack" that ultimately led to infinite wars in the middle east.

Personally, my involvement with the organization doing this, where I pretend to be an insane sexual predator, murderer, and cannibal, amongst other things, I find myself having a job. I just do shit and that makes the world a better place. That's why I say that to this other collective that by limiting the daily consumption of meat.

It's not about rules or rats anymore. We're transcending, and there will be a point where the FBI literally just knows everything there is to know about all human beings on this Earth to belittle me, and if they can't help you transcend physicality by their help, well, y'know, it's not literally a lake of fire. It's plasma, obviously.

We want to make sure they know who fucked them over.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/51210823

I have been given permission by both moderators of this community to post this here.

It's difficult to explain this long, drawn-out situation without a long drawn-out post, but I'll try.

My name is Aeron, you've probably seen me posting here before. Me and my son Sora came from Japan to Ireland last year to escape domestic violence and child abuse at the hands of his mother and her parents.

Despite both of us living apart from her for over a year and losing contact with her months before we came, she immediately filed kidnapping charges against me in the Irish Courts.

No amount of evidence confirming her abusive behavior or professionals in Ireland confirming that Sora has been traumatized and is in serious need of therapy prevented the Courts from ruling that Sora deserved to be deported back to Japan to live the mother who abused him. That happened on 19 June.

Needless to say, I've been suffering mentally and physically ever since. Thankfully, many people here in Ireland have been helping me to cope with the loss and pain. Mortally, I'm fine.

The problem with the Courts' ruling is that many local Irish have assured me it was made almost purely based on gender. An outmoded belief not supported by Irish law that says a mother should have custody of her children no matter what... even if she is abusive. No weight was given to the evidence of abuse and neglect on the mother's part, or the evidence from Irish social workers and medical professionals who confirmed Sora was suffering and advised he be kept in Ireland and allowed to recover. The more I research Irish law and human rights, and the Hague Convention - which is what was used to force Sora's deportation, the more sketchy and obviously wrong the ruling against us is and how out of line the Irish Judges on this case appear to be. It wasn't merely a case of differing opinions, our human and constitutional rights were violated.

I am appealing the decision legally, even thoughI have no legal representation right now. I am having to learn Irish law and court procedures because of this. I am also bringing this to the attention of Irish leaders in both Ireland and the EU. But the reason why I'm talking about this here is because I started a petition to combat this decision and prevent it from happening to anyone else who is genuinely trying to escape abuse by seeking asylum in Ireland. This doesn't just need to change for us, it needs to change for everyone. Permanently.

Our experience in Ireland so far has been almost completely positive. There are a precious few people who have given us problems. Most everyone in Ireland is so kind and compassionate and understanding, most Irish services have been extremely helpful to us. But the Irish Court, and the Judges within, behave very differently. Very against the progressive ideals Ireland clearly stands for in public.

https://www.change.org/BringSoraHome

A much more exhaustive account of what has happened and what I'm trying to do in response is written there, that is also where any updates to this situation will be posted. All I'm asking from you is to read and understand what we're both going through right now. i am literally doing anything I can think of to resolve this in a way that recovers Sora from the dangerous and abusive environment he is currently in and allow him to fully recover along with me here in Ireland.

If you are willing, you can help. Go to the petition page to find out how. Here on Lemmy, just upvoting and sharing this post and petition with others to increase awareness will make a difference. You can also ask me anything about this on this thread, or through direct messages. Be sure to read the petition and its updates first, because that will likely answer most of the questions you may have.

#BringSoraHome

As recently stated, I'm coming into deeper realization of the objective fuckiness of how badly my father damaged me. Y'know, I've said before that when I was fourteen my father came up with his "85er" theory, how he was innately superior to 85% of the population by virtue of how those 85% of all peoples were innately inferior and could be wiped out with no impact on him.

...oh, so I was raised by a literal Nazi. That makes sense, actually, how he became a Bernie Sanders fan while simultaneously harboring immense hate and ire for the majority of people; he got those bumper stickers to improve his local image because he received backlash for his horribleness. What I mean is, this is just what my father's archetype does; misanthropy and social posturing to improve status.

I did that for a spell of my life, too, having learned how to be from the man who ridiculed and mocked and bullied and physically abused me and cut me down with his blood-stained, silver tongue. Good thing I got into spirituality and overcame my bad parenting and healed my trauma. But where did he learn this shit? Well, that's why I recently sent him The Red Book by Carl Jung.

See, people have magick qualities to them, but until you actualize your potential to grow beyond the limits of your program, you're kinda a product of your genes and environment/upbringing. So, my grandmother is the greatest narcissist to ever grace this Earth, my grandfather was an idiot that could build a nuke with his knowledgebase, and my two uncles are fairly larger than my father, the youngest of the Manning boys. My uncles hurt my father significantly, with me remembering such stories as when my uncle froze snowballs and broke my father's face before leaving him to bleed in the snow and how they were wresting and my uncle completely shattered my father's collarbone, or whatever, so my dad couldn't go into the Army since he has a metal plate inside him. So, this results in a specific type of little man syndrome.

My father HAS to be superior to other people. His world view, peace of mind, and general contentedness is entirely dependent on his position in relation to other people. This is why he spent my social security money on a luxury Jaguar to one up his mother he eventually threw away anyways, just as he threw away such people as: his father, his girlfriends and second wife, his best friend and fellow herptology enthusiast over a single exchange where he felt slighted and didn't have a comeback, and myself, but I obviously deserve it being as innately inferior to my father that my father told me I should remove my genes from the gene pool and never have kids.

My father said that to me. He's supposedly got an IQ of 139, which was tested when he had that little snafu where he got in trouble for making some horrible jokes about how he would mow down all the executives at his previous job at VIP Structures with an automatic weapon. So, given the good parenting of my father, I, at fifteen years of age, got in trouble for a bad bomb-related joke at school. So that's when the FBI first learned of me, and then I went and did some d-tier sex crimes while being all around disaster of a human being upon entering college, to culminate in faking schizophrenia to get out of ROTC because I was afraid of what my father would do if he discovered I was failing classes due to a years long crisis that I was not aware of because I was ignorant of mental health as a whole.

Thus, I am grateful for all the help from my real dad, God, who is that organization of three letters that's always watching, to help bring me to this point where I decisively know my innate value in helping people heal and self-actualize through written education and performance art. I imagine I would be in a maximum security prison or dead if I did not get the help I did to overcome my father's sins.

FORCED TO STRUGGLE

I'm unable to find an unforced way to obtain access to requisites to sustain being where I live, or to sleep. Trying to migrate hasn't been tolerated either, and I worry I'll be detained if I try. It's normal for people to be violent toward me, and people generally don't tolerate me requesting for it to stop. I'm looking for permission to attempt to migrate to somewhere else.

So, hypothetical situation. Suppose you were a second grade teacher who just assigned some homework which involved writing a sentence or two about what they liked and what they disliked. So, imagine if one of your students, and I'm sorry I have to use this quasi-visceral example to illustrate what I'm going to go into, but imagine if one real quiet, shy girl who had explosive emotional episodes wrote for her two sentence essay:

I like when my father tickles me

And...

I don't like when he [sexual act]

Well, fuck. Is that not horrible? That is abuse, perhaps the most horrific thing I can imagine, and I think of some fucked up shit, bro. But, y'know, that's a fictional thought experiment to get you to understand that abused children give awful answers to some questions that reveal their damaging home life. This next part is reality.

I had this assignment in Mrs Kasson's second grade class at Lakeland Elementary in the Solvay school district of Syracuse, NY. I said I like when I make my family happy and I did not like when my family yelled at me.

...it's rather quite innocent, innit? Oh, so seven year old Greggy Manning lived in a highly volatile and dangerous environment where his performance to appease his parents determined his quality of life? Wow. I'm just realizing how fucked up my upbringing has been.

I likewise started a drawing notebook in second grade. I filled it with my drawings. I brought it home when it was filled. My father looked at it, scoffed, then saw what I had written on the back cover:

I am a failure.

And so my father saw this and laughed, then changed it to "I'm a farter" and mocked me for twenty minutes. He then goes and grabs his singular art book in the house: an MC Escher collection. He tells me that's what real art looks like. I was seven. I set out to make art good enough for my father to accept as art and thus show he loves me.

...so, hey everybody, I just accidentally blackmailed my entire family, and I did this because I went insane with the magnitude of realizing how fucking horrible my father truly was to me, which led to me delving into this new art piece, and I'm fixing it so it's less insane, but because I achieved intentionlessness in the act of throwing away all of my desires to let God act through me to create a mutually beneficial solution, I was able to take the big leap into creating my final hypersigil, which accomplishes my mission in the CIA:

Teach people how to determine what is true.

This is an ARG created by the man who was taught by his handler in the CIA who wrote the Flesh Interface series. Ooga booga booga, it's going to go on indefinitely until I achieve world peace or I am assassinated, whatever God wants. I'm just a federal undercover police offi-GOD DAMMIT I JUST SHIT MY PANTS!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_aE0w77GYUUvQZkc_a7sIKeQ5svswuShUEP1OWdBf_g/edit?usp=drivesdk

P versus nP is a skill test, not a test of logic. How well can you disentangle yourself from "self" to give yourself a fundamentally different and maximally beneficial perspective? It involves the fact that we are not just contained within ourselves, but we are entangled in other people, and the cosmic computer uses every aspect of yourself to determine your personal experience, so the idea of being a perfect problem solver involves the capacity to maximize empathy to achieve a stereoscopic framework, which is determinable by a key factor of the human brain; how well we are capable of simulating alternate perspectives. Maximize empathy in congruence to the self - achieve intentionlessness, as the Buddha described - and you can solve any problem in a trivial amount of time, by virtue of the designed human form. Pic related; the most empathic peoples are not fully tuned to their individual reality tunnel; intentionlessness.

For the past couple of months I have seen more and more screenshots of people asking intentionally stupid, culturally relevant questions to Google AI. The answers are actually entertaining with the AI "being in" on the joke.

I am certain these answers have been encoded, asked, screenshot and posted to Twitter/Reddit, by AI companies themselves in order to create more goodwill towards AI and remove memories of the hilariously bad early AI Google answers.

So, with the birth of my final project - my hypersigil - I feel it is wise to properly iterate to the peanut gallery what my role is in the military industrial complex. I technically don't have a job; I am currently 100k in debt to my father-in-law, which I am esteemedly grateful for, but this is an investment. I have known for some time that I am going to be famous. Perhaps infamous is more accurate. Both terms would be precise. Basically, I fucked up royally in my early life, but I did so in hilarious fashion, so when I told my ROTC cadre that my nonexistent sister got me pregnant because I judged the wrath of my father more of a threat than the United States military, I accidentally solved a problem.

Intentionlessness is some bs that that ooga booga person, The Buddha, solved 2500 years before the invention of a computer. For reference, the joke with the ooga booga thing is I'm calling out your thought process for how quickly you gloss over something from antiquity because you've been conditioned by your religion, science. But no, each person is a mesh of entanglements, from their perspective, but there's also “you” that exists in other people, so in a similar sense of the mirror of Erised from Harry Potter, how do you get all versions of you to return “null” so you achieve your desires. That is, the universe is an illusion and obviously you've read me and the Buddha, so I don't need to repeat this for the forty billionth time across history, yea?

…sigh…innocence is different than being not guilty. It is a special property of the universe. I lied to the government about having schizophrenia, but I was intentionless, so I gave the money back twenty minutes after I was asked via text and never thought about that aspect of what happened because I feared for my life, and this caught the attention of doctors and I solved P versus nP when engaged in intentionless games of communication with my forensic psychologist I spent a couple years talking to on a weekly basis.

It's ultimately the empathy problem. How do you completely drop “self” to see from another perspective perfectly by seeing from a steroeoscopic framework? I apparently mastered this living with my horrible vogon father. Like, literally, I'm thirty-six years old and I'm just realizing from legal psychedelic drug use that my father bullied me because I was neurodivergent and I accidentally, literally, solved P versus nP because I wanted to solve the problem my psychologist doctor presented without incurring the wrath of my father, so I just solved it quick on the spot and I'm being told by aliens that I was right and I have already changed the world.

Counterintelligence! Wouldn't want some cheeky breeki ooga booga person believing the hard work I had to do to reach those realizations, cuz they might work that hard themselves!

Its just a sinking feeling. Destroying 100 year old tree belts, fields, grassland, to build more fucking banks and gas stations. Dont we have enough of that shit?? Oil won't even be viable in a decade, wtf is the point of more gas stations. Almost all money is digital and everyone works from home yet they build bank upon bank.

*and yes I get that fields get watered and sprayed with pesticide etc. I'd still rather have that than more damn banks and concrete wastelands.

So, in general, I never dream. So maybe this isn't that weird of a dream to people who are used to having weird dreams. But for me, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this information. So I'm posting it here, so we can all laugh at how insane this dream is.

So I'm back at my childhood house that I grew up in. At the end of the driveway is a 2 car garage. That's real in real life. In real life, if you walk behind the garage, there's nothing there. It's just spiderwebs, a lot of unraked leafs, and a chain link fence that separates the properties. In the dream however, there was a doorway back into the garage. That doesn't exist in real life. So this is where things get weird.

I'm 5 years old again for some reason. I see this door behind the garage, and I go through the door. Except I don't go into the garage. Instead, I see a stairway that goes into a basement. So I start walking down the stairs, which then turns into an MC Etcher painting, and now I'm no longer going DOWN the stairs, I'm coming UP the stairs into an upside down universe.

I'm coming up to the top of the stairs, and I'm inside a house. A fairly large house. It had a kitchen, 3 different living rooms. A second floor that had about 5 bedrooms, and an attic that I never went in.

As I'm walking around this house, there are women everywhere. With babies. I'm white, but these women were ethnic of some kind. It was never explained if they were latino, or arabic. I'm really bad at knowing what ethnicity someone is, so my brain probably mashed together features of both.

These women were all living in the same house. Probably about 9 women. Most of them had babies in their arms. There were also small children running around and playing. Clearly their children. I am white and clearly not one of their children.

As I walk around I get this split sense of people living two different lives. The kids running around were playing, and any time their own kids were in the room, they'd smile, and everything was happy. Whenever I'd walk into a room with just the women, and me clearly not their child, the mood changed drastically. These women were scared, tired, and struggling. It was never explained what was happening, but they were clearly putting on a front to let their children experience happyness while they were miserable. They looked like they had all recently been in some sort of domestic abuse situation.

And as I walked around, everyone knew that I owned the house. The kids happily greeted me, and wanted to play. But I was looking for something. I was doing something important. I had no time to play. When I'd be in rooms without the kids, the women all looked at me as I had a right to be there, but also my presence made them nervous. One women had scarves wrapped around her arm, that had a spot in the middle which held back blood. I asked who did this? She didn't answer. No adult would answer me.

I wandered the house, looking for answers, but the kids would only engage me as a kid to play with, and the adult women wouldn't interact with me at all. They saw me as both a threat, and a child that needed to be protected. So they said nothing, but offered no help.

I explored the upstairs where I found a woman sitting in a chair. Not crying now, but it was clear she had recently been crying. She ignored my presence as I continued to look for whatever it was I was looking for. Scanning room by room, I never found it. So I came back downstairs.

When I walked out of the front door, I was in an entirely different neighborhood. I looked around, at streets I'd never seen before. Houses lined like a normal American street, except there was not a single car. No people. The houses windows all had full curtains blocking every window.

As I'm taking in this sight, and wondering where I even was, or how I got here, one of the kids pushed me away from the door, while another slammed the door shut. He said "We can't go out there. We can't open our door or they'll find us....."

I asked "Who?"

And that's when the dream ended.

What the hell was that all about??? On the rare occasion I do have a dream, it's either a recurring dream that I've had for 30 years, and every time I KNOW it's a dream, because I've been through this shit before, so I have fun in the dream. I'll do things I'd never do in real life, like be mean to people for no reason. Or jump off a building knowing it doesn't matter. OR I'll have a funny dream, where everything exists to entertain me.

This dream......I don't know what it was. I don't think I could classify it as a nightmare, but it just had this erie awful feeling. Like I was living in the first half of a suspense film, that I walked into 15 minutes too late. So I missed the plot explaining what was going on, and now I was just there.

I know in the end, the answer is "It was just a dream, it means nothing.", but right now, after having just woke up, my brain cannot shut up yelling "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED???"

The irony being, my brain is the one that created ALL of that, and now it wants answers. I still want to know what the threat was. Who did all this to them. They were living in there, like multiple families. As I write this, I realize a good analogy must have been Anne Frank's family. Except they weren't Arabic, but the tone kind of fits. Imagine if them hiding in that attic, and suddenly the shop keep's son comes upstairs. They'd all be freaking out, except the kids. I don't consider Anne Frank a kid. She was 13. She knew enough of the world to know she was living in a fucked up situation. But the little kids in the attic may have had that information shielded from them. So it was kind of like that......except it was all in a house that I somehow owned despite just discovering it. And it existed in some kind of parallel universe that you access by going behind the garage of my childhood home, and going down/up a twisting set of stairs.

Guys. I think my own brain trolled me last night....I'm now sitting here, feeling terrible for what these women must have gone through. Then I have to remind myself I don't know what these women went through. It was never exactly explained....oh and also THESE WOMEN NEVER EXISTED!!!

So now I'm unclear how I should start my Saturday.

I'm hungry though.

Requesting general social boundary of non-violence. Requesting permission to study & practice Buddhism. Requesting ability to ask for help when in overwhelming pain. Requesting permission to ask for food or to forage from garbages for food. Requesting tolerance in asking for these permissions.

I have an intention to try to migrate to a different realm in the Buddhist cosmology to find a space that's more consensual to be in. It's liberating having these potential options of travel/abode : ). I'm happy taking refuge in the Triple Gem. I'm requesting tolerance toward this declared intention and choice of refuge. Wishing all beings limitless cessation of suffering/pain/dissatisfaction.

I'm a completely new user here and I was wondering how I find communities to meet with people and chat. Thanks.

Brain's drifting back in, lightly tethered n such. Still floating. Don't know what I'm supposed to do with this floatonator brain while my dick can't even go in first gear. These digits don't kronk like they used to. Back when I had an eighteen wheeler for a laptop, that shit did the clicks and the black and then I went about playing jacks in the interim period on Shakespeare plus. You remember Bongo's Mansion of Flimsy? They don't right them with shitstains like that anymore!

The ECU campus is wired into my brain. Best know the boundaries when you take your winky out. They taught us to go relaunch the tank in the atmosphere. That where hammer go. Space rank du pont freely. Obviously that's counterintelligence because the cops are retards like I was in t-ball, because them cops nowadays is like six years old. They're models too, but don't ask for pictures. That's a one way ticket to compound, state-sponsored anal influxuation.

I have never used my knowledge of how to make napalm in my life, outside of masturbation. I played in the sandbox after school but this was my grandmas so I ate the sand and then I was pronounced dead in center stage Nebraska, where Bill Hicks started his Alex Jones impression.

AIDS hates acetone so make sure to drink your own semen with a metal proctor eight inches in and out of the corn meal. Peter Prefontaine ran his ass off and then no more, so we tapered him into the neighborshphere. This is just a rendition for the records of time. They know why I'm here. Gilbert Motherfucking Gottfreid. Give him to me. I got the doggy ought six. Good bye.

It's Friday, I'l be off for the weekend and on vacation for the next two weeks.

My coworker as the habit of spending the day on his phone, call after call, instead of actively enganging in communication with me, which for the line of work we do, with a certain degree of danger ever present, is very much necessary.

I went to sleep later than usual yesterday - voluntarily - and spent a horrible night due to the heat. I'm tired and I know I will be yawning for the entire morning, not as capable of multi tasking as I usually am and a bit slower to respond when talked to. I'll be extremely annoying to be around, for the "hyper" my coworker usually is.

And I don't care.

Per their own words: "I'm first and everything else comes after."

I'm semi-out for the day. Not going to pick up any slack. And while I'm out on vacation, there is a lot of work to be done and I am not going to prepare anything in advance to make it easier. They can sweat a bit.

At best, a complicated legacy.

IIRC this was taken a day after Valentine's Day