August 28, 2008

MELROSE

Filed under: Artists — thesatur @ 11:35 pm

 

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August 26, 2008

SILENCE

Filed under: Music — thesatur @ 12:43 am

 

Esteja alerta para as regras dos três
O que você dá, retornará para você
Essa lição, você tem que aprender
Você só ganha o que você merece

Tempted in our minds
Tormented inside lie
Wounded and afraid
Inside my head
Falling through changes

Did you know when you lost?
Did you know when I wanted?
Did you know what I lost?
Do you know what I wanted?

Empty in our hearts
Crying out in silence
Wandered out of reach
Too far to speak
Drifting unable

Did you know when you lost?
Did you know when I wanted?
Did you know what I lost?
Do you know what I wanted?


August 25, 2008

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:54 pm

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SANCTION

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:46 pm

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Otis

Filed under: Finance — thesatur @ 10:27 pm

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August 23, 2008

KRILLS

Filed under: Third Eye — thesatur @ 4:15 am

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Crack is powder cocaine cooked in baking soda and water, sometimes ammonia is used to form a chunk, and then broken in tooth size pieces; it is an off white color. The name crack comes from the sound it makes when lit. Crack came about in the early 1970 by American dealers. They found it by chance. They placed cocaine on tin foil then burned it to test its purity. They then discovered sniffing the vapors is an intense high thus the birth of freebasing cocaine. Being cooked in baking soda allows easy transportation, packing and selling of the drug, and of course leads to extreme use and making dealers lots of money. When a person smokes rocks made from cocaine you can smell a disgusting stench. You’ll know the smell when you smell it.

August 21, 2008

REDEMPTION

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 9:13 pm

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August 17, 2008

Quartus Column: No Gospel

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 12:43 am

Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market-place, and cried incessantly: “I am looking for God! I am looking for God!”
As many of those who did not believe in God were standing together there, he excited considerable laughter. Have you lost him, then? said one. Did he lose his way like a child? said another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? or emigrated? Thus they shouted and laughed. The madman sprang into their midst and pierced them with his glances.

“Where has God gone?” he cried. “I shall tell you. We have killed him - you and I. We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all suns? Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we not smell anything yet of God’s decomposition? Gods too decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we not ourselves become gods simply to be worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whosoever shall be born after us - for the sake of this deed he shall be part of a higher history than all history hitherto.”

Here the madman fell silent and again regarded his listeners; and they too were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern to the ground, and it broke and went out. “I have come too early,” he said then; “my time has not come yet. The tremendous event is still on its way, still travelling - it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time, the light of the stars requires time, deeds require time even after they are done, before they can be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the distant stars - and yet they have done it themselves.”

It has been further related that on that same day the madman entered divers churches and there sang a requiem. Led out and quietened, he is said to have retorted each time: “what are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchres of God?”

Friedrich Nietzsche

Filed under: Artists — thesatur @ 12:34 am

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August 15, 2008

CHINATOWN, SF

Filed under: Travel — thesatur @ 2:36 am

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August 14, 2008

Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn

Filed under: Astronomy — thesatur @ 8:05 pm

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Filed under: Religion — thesatur @ 8:02 pm
  1. An idol with a human skull
  2. Ahead with two faces
  3. With a beard
  4. Without a beard
  5. With the heads of a cockerel
  6. With the head of a man
  7. With the head of a goat and the body of a man but with wings and cloven feet

August 10, 2008

MEGA SCALE

Filed under: Propaganda — thesatur @ 11:18 pm

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August 6, 2008

Clytemnestra

Filed under: The Saturnalia — thesatur @ 3:23 am

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Filed under: Maxims — thesatur @ 12:35 am

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AUGUST 5

Filed under: Travel — thesatur @ 12:27 am

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August 4, 2008

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 1:34 am

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August 3, 2008

Filed under: AWOL — thesatur @ 11:01 pm

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July 30, 2008

Filed under: Evolution — thesatur @ 8:25 pm

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Tertius Column: NO WORMWOOD

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 4:54 am

The Fine Art of Seppuku

Seppuku (only gaijin refer to it as “hari-kari”) is a highly ritualized performance, as complicated as chado (tea ceremony). The principle difference is that at the end of chado, one is merely nauseated from too much green tea, whilst at the end of seppuku, one is dead.

The first thing to do is to recruit an assistant, a kaishkunin. Contrary to what is thought, almost all forms of seppuku do not technically involve suicide, but merely inflicting fatal injury upon oneself. The kaishakunin does the actual killing. If one is ordered to commit seppuku by the bafuku (shogunal government), it will generally appoint its own kaishakunin. Otherwise, one should ask a great iaijutsuka (practitioner of the technique of killing with a single sword stroke) or a close personal friend to be one’s kaishakunin. If asked out of friendship, one may refuse on the grounds that one’s waza (sword technique) is inadequate; if the request is repeated, however, one should consent gracefully, as flaws in technique will be forgiven (by the living).

Seppuku is ideally committed by in a garden or a Buddhist temple (Shinto temples should not be defiled by death). The participant dresses in white, to express purity of intention and sits in the seiza position (legs drawn up under the body so that one is actually sitting on one’s heels). A servant places the sanbo (an unlacquered wooden table) before one. It will contain a sake cup, a sheaf of washi (paper handmade from mulberry bark) and writing accoutrements, and the kozuka (disemboweling blade). This can be a tanto (dagger) blade without hilt, wrapped in several sheets of paper to provide a better grip. Real samurai, however, use their own wakizashi. If one is of tender years, or judged too dangerous to be trusted with steel, a fan may be substituted for an actual blade.

The sake cup is filled from the left, by an attendant using his left hand (this is indescribably rude under other circumstances). The person committing seppuku then empties it in two drinks of two sips each (one sip would show greed, whilst three or more would show hesitation). This makes a total of four sips; shi, “four”, also means “death” (Nihonjin just love these kinds of puns, especially when they’re about to kill themselves).

One then writes a death poem in the waka style (five lines of five, seven, seven, five, and seven syllables). The poem should be graceful, natural, and about transient emotions. Under no means should it mention that the fact you are about to die. Asano, whose seppuku precipitated the famous “Forty-seven ronin” incident, is said to have written a particularly poor death poem, showing the immaturity and lack of character that led to his being ordered to commit seppuku in the first place.

At this point, the person slips out of his outer garment (kamishimo) and tucks the sleeves under his knees to prevent him from doing something undignified like slumping to one side. He picks up the kozuka, and with his other hand picks up the sanbo and places it under his buttocks, to cause him to lean forward slightly in the proper attitude.

If the person committing is so young or so evil that a fan has been substituted for a blade, the kaishakunin executes a kirioroshi strike (a vertical cut) as soon as the person committing seppuku touches the fan to his stomach. Otherwise, he will typically wait until the person plunges the blade deep into the left side of his belly, and draws it across to the right, with a sharp upward cut at the end. A samurai who feels himself capable may then plunge the blade into his groin and cut upwards to the sternum, followed by a horizontal cut at the base of the rib cage. However, the kaishakunin is supposed to keep a sharp (heh, heh) eye out, and strike at the first sign of pain or hesitation in his principle.

The kirioroshi, incidentally, was not intended to actually sever the head, but to leave it attached by a strip of skin at the throat. It was considered infra dig for one’s principal’s head to go spinning across the room, spraying blood as it went; only low-class criminals were treated thus. Especially one should not whack one’s principal in the jaw with the katana, as Yukio Mishima’s kaishakunin did in 1970. As noted above, minor imperfections in one’s waza would be forgiven if one was acting as kaishakunin out of friendship, but acting in such a piss-poor manner gets one talked about, and not in a good way.

After the person committing seppuku is finally, the sanbo, the kozuka, and the katana are all discarded as being defiled by death.

Incidentally, real badasses did kill themselves, in the ritual known as jumonji giri. This is just like seppuku, except that there is no kaishakunin. After disemboweling yourself, you sat quietly and bled to death over the next half-hour or so. The last person to do this historically was General Nogi, who did it as junshi (following one’s lord in death) on the death of the Meiji emperor in 1912. He not only committed jumonji giri, he buttoned up his white naval blouse afterwards.

Reasons to commit seppuku were junshi (although was strictly discouraged by the bafuku and daimyo, as it used up too many perfectly good retainers), funshi (to express one’s indignation at a situation), kanshi (as an admonishment or rebuke to one’s lord for his behavior), to atone for dishonorable actions of one’s own, and to avoid capture and disgrace (and probable torture and execution) in battle. In such circumstances, of course, there usually wasn’t time for the whole ritual, so expedients as cutting one’s own throat, throwing oneself from a running horse with a sword in one’s mouth, or flinging oneself off high walls, towers, or cliffs were winked at. In 1516, Muira Yoshimoto committed suicide by cutting off his own head, something that got him a gazillion style points (he was still dead, however).

July 29, 2008

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:32 pm

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Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:15 pm

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Filed under: America Rules — thesatur @ 4:17 pm

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BETTER THAN FINE

Filed under: Press Release — thesatur @ 5:46 am

July 28, 2008

Filed under: Travel — thesatur @ 7:20 pm

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July 27, 2008

Filed under: FTW — thesatur @ 11:47 pm

 

My name it means nothing
My fortune is less
My future is shrouded in dark wilderness
Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on
Everything I possessed - now they are gone

O, where can I go to and what can I do?
Nothing can please me only thoughts are of you
You just laughed when I begged you to stay
I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

 

The world is a lonely place - you’re on your own
Guess I will go home - sit down and moan
Crying and thinking is all that I do
Memories I have remind me of you

July 25, 2008

SACRIFICE

Filed under: AWOL — thesatur @ 1:56 am

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July 23, 2008

HONOR

Filed under: Maxims — thesatur @ 11:36 pm

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FRIENDSHIP

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:49 pm

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Secundus Column: NO TRUST

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 3:07 pm

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March 15, 44 BCE: Caesar attended the last meeting of the Senate before his departure, held at its temporary quarters in the portico of the theater built by Pompey the Great (the Curia, located in the Forum and the regular meeting house of the Senate, had been badly burned and was being rebuilt). The sixty conspirators, led by Marcus Junius Brutus, Gaius Cassius Longinus, Decimus Brutus Albinus, and Gaius Trebonius, came to the meeting with daggers concealed in their togas and struck Caesar at least 23 times as he stood at the base of Pompey’s statue. Legend has it that Caesar said in Greek to Brutus, “You, too, my child?” After his death, all the senators fled, and three slaves carried his body home to Calpurnia several hours later. For several days there was a political vacuum, for the conspirators apparently had no long-range plan and, in a major blunder, did not immediately kill Mark Antony (apparently by the decision of Brutus). The conspirators had only a band of gladiators to back them up, while Antony had a whole legion, the keys to Caesar’s money boxes, and Caesar’s will.

July 22, 2008

NV

Filed under: Industry — thesatur @ 10:13 pm

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Filed under: AWOL — thesatur @ 9:44 pm

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July 13, 2008

SERF 1134NYC

Filed under: Artists — thesatur @ 6:16 pm

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July 7, 2008

Filed under: Maxims — thesatur @ 6:52 pm

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PLEASE LISTEN

Filed under: Education — thesatur @ 1:00 am

July 6, 2008

Primoris Column: NO QUARTER

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 11:11 pm

Antiochus’ army was easily defeated by the Romans who now demanded Hannibal’s surrender from him. The wretched warrior fled to Crete and thence to Bithynia, whose King, Prusias, weakly agreed to give him up to his enemies. Hannibal then fled to Libyssa on the eastern shore of the Sea of Marmora, where, broken in spirit and unwilling to bring further misfortune on his friends he took poison, which, according to narrators of that time, he had long carried about him in a ring. Some doubt exists as to the exact year of his death but it is generally believed to have been in 183 B. C.

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:51 pm

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PATERNAL

Filed under: 5th Column — thesatur @ 10:49 pm

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July 3, 2008

Filed under: AWOL — thesatur @ 7:02 pm

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July 1, 2008

WORMWOOD

Filed under: Evolution — thesatur @ 1:02 am

 How you have fallen from heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations

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