FUK-U-SHI-MA

There is no irronism per se in what I am about to say, but one should know that irony has always been the cold iron fist inside irrony's romantic glove, its strange grimace. As endosymbiotic evolution involved omnisexuality encoded as eating, and manifestation based in structural autonomy, so too does our current form of 'nature' exist as various methods of harvesting the reproductive exuberance of creatures of a lesser, or greater station. That there is no greater being to harvest our own reproductive exuberance is what gives rise within the equation, not only to notions of symbolic cannibalism as in X-tianity, but also to collective utterances like the nation state, and the corporation whose name itself is an Irronism of the the first order. These colonial and meta-conscious social aggregates are nature's own response to our curiously asymmetric position within the food chain, the supplementalism of the space of consciousness completes the equation even when we ourselves as individuals only involve ourselves at a removed from them, their total prosthesis utterly engulfs our machinations, our daily syntaxic reality etching whose computational holarchy is based in praxis as indexicality. One can see in this light the sly and subtle irony effaced by a corporate name like Oracle, or Intel, whose motto could very easily be, "We eat you to grow. We eat you to live." And in terms of things like Moore's law, Abstraction itself extends itself through both the prosthetic enhancement of informatics which is part of the equation but people. You can imagine people's lives as forming a part of bandwidth curve. And really I only say that to set up more discussion. Look at Verdi's old pun on AbDomine' and Abdomen. All secular scholars know that religion is logos worship, in one form or another, and there are good arguments on either side for the existence of agency, but the fact remains, we are the only species thinking about agency, and we are the agency of all those other creatures in some sense, or at least part of the lethality of the landscape, words become too unsubtle. Here is something:

Do you see how this academic writer retain Verdi's secret which is no secret. Both Nature and Abstraction are the same. The Universe is a mirror of itself. As when in Nature animals eat and take sustenance and character from the substances they consume, so too, do we. Rabelais knew exactly what he was doing

when he created the metaphor of the giant pissing on the city for Fun. There's no reason we gives ourselves over to these giant abstractions other than "We just do." "We like it." There is a dialectic, a symbiosis of provisional autonomy. We give our life force to abstractions like state, family, corporation, etc, and they return the favor by stabilising in some various measure what we want to call our 'life' which is more or less the sum total of our proximity war with the matrix of the various digestive agencies and synthomes.

We are the organelles of the collective.

We are collorganellium.

Kind of makes you lose you boner. (Falstaff)

but like leaves of music (mistaken)

What a weird chicken coop we've made for ourselves.

Hinkelstrasse

Hirn-cul-stresse

stress which street

All Power relations

stem from the leveraging of indexicality.

Ideology is already a 'brand name" of this digestion exchange with abstraction.

Ideology is already one level into priestly taint.

Abstraction itself is the vampire we feed, and we, our body-praxis-browsers

are little more than abstraction ourselves, as complexity's 'soft machines'

are utterly perishable.

If we think of reef in terms of torque

as in "He reefed on the pipe util it broke free from the fitting"

Humanity at present time might be said to be

a "choral reef"

though what exactly we are breaking free of

is anybody's guess.

Are we breaking free of earth?

doubtful.

Are we breaking free of sanity, or insanity?

Couldn't say.

I think we must be breaking free

of breaking free.

We're stuck here.

We're fucked.

and our weird investments

will just return weirder and weirder dividends.

It's the what's behind the door scenario.

It's an old donkey.

There never was

Art for Art's Sake,

but only

Labor for Labor's sake,

and the thing birthed

is a monster.