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Mound of Hostages



  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Mesmerised by the Pink Floyd morphage, I sat there . . . drifting . . . what did he mean by everyone? And that cat . . . looks like Aslan's wife . . . and that green prism . . .

    I didn’t even notice Steve leave the van. We are now parked at 501 Lakeshore Rd East in Mississauga. I remember this place from the past . . . the old Inglis plant. During WW2, they made munitions here . . . instead of washers and dryers and fridges. I haven’t been here for a long time now.

    We installed a Europlex A100 in that place. 3 buildings, 14 sprinkler systems all tied together with DLEMs . . . an AbFab security system made in Dublin. But not anymore . . . shelved by Siemens.

    As I imagine me wandering the plant all over again, the 18 foot low bay and 30 foot high bay ceilings, the old dented columns with short spans and weirdly engineered open web joists, chunky wooden roof deck, old electrical boxes, old light fixtures, all still mounted there . . . odd looking sprinkler valves from the 30s and 40s . . . still working well, though . . . most stuff abandoned for newer stuff . . . now mostly empty except for bulk skid storage . . and remnants of the junk abandoned when the wine bottle plant went belly up a little while ago. . . the company was called “Wine Bottle” . . . how imaginative . . . but Inglis made shells here during WW2 . . . women on the production line I hear . . . I don’t want to go back there . . . but I cannot help but think about Steve's Trans Europe Express video and the Azimuth of the Sun, the CME, the train on the Trans Canada Express video . . . the train that morphed into a tank. Do you . . . remember?

    Ah yes. Subliminal messaging . . . construction morphs into destruction . . . very Sisyphean.

    That's our supposed leaders, folks. Sentenced to destroy everything we have built. When the aliens arrived October 13 2010, take me to your leader was a hoot . . . a lot of back peddling took place . . . the leaders postponed first contact . . . little do they know . . .

    I checked my iPhone4. Yes indeedy . . July 10, 2012 . . . 2 days before the CME is going to eject a plasma burst directly at Earth People.

    The train . . . the tank . . .

    That reminds me . . . I’m not sure if I mentioned my friend, Agent Joe 90, to you yet. He used to be “Most Special Agent Joe 90” when he was a kid, but as he got older, he became self-conscious about being a puppet on a string. You know how it is. As you get older, you begin to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. You feel you can’t change anything. Trapped. You need to escape . . . escape into reading . . . and maybe writing . . . or worse things, like drugs and alcohol? I remember feeling so free when I was a kid. The world beat me into submission for a while. . . yeah, you know how it is. Now we have austerity . . . I feel like commenting here . . . but they may think I’m an alien from the future or something like that. Maybe later . . .

    Dang, the Mod closed the thread . . . I must find out why . . . later.

    Agent Joe 90’s in China right now with his new wife . . . and new baby. He said something to help Epstein on July 18, 2012, during my July 13 to 20 week off . .

    Good morning / afternoon / evening everyone!

    Shuo, Weiji and I are on the edge of our seat(s) . . . and jollyjumper . . .

    You have some serious, yet playful MAGIC going on right now. In this weiji moment, it seems to me that you need to exit the forest and jump the base immediately; you have a 24 hour window.

    Then he played this video:


    I miss Agent Joe 90. We had some good times early last year. We went to China together in his AirCar. We flew under the Radar-Range.

    That’s where he met Shuo (pronounced Showa.) I remember when she asked Agent Joe 90 about those strings as she tenderly felt them. He brushed it off like it was nothing. She asked him if he would like her to cut them away . . . ah, Joe, no looking back now, eh . . . budski? Are you reading this?

    I just looked up . . . er . . . I’m not at 501 Lakeshore Rd East anymore, folks. It seems I am back at the Mound Of Hostages, and I feel I am not alone . . . I hear whispering . . .

    My iPhone4! Yep .. . got it . . . what? No date? WTF . . . what's this? That old Twilight Zone video jumped onto the screen . . . .

    Oh well, here we go!


  • Closed Accounts Posts: 158 ✭✭dogmax

    Ah Agent Weebley sorry I couldn't get back to you earlier but unfortunately my time to write is less now than when we first met, due to other commitment, reading here you seem to be going down memory lane -- Ah, I have had many great journey's down memory lane, I like to think it's the very first form of time travel -- I use to play in that field over there -- now there are houses every where -- and the shop at the corner -- It's a family home now -- but when it was a shop it was the greatest shop in the world, old Mrs O'Connor use to own it, you didn't need to buy the local paper when old Mrs O'Connor was on, she could get on with everybody -- and that why you didn't need to buy the local paper -- Ah yes Agent Weebley, memory lane -- you know if you walk down memory lane and look back, you'll see your future -- Ah, how time has change, and the kids of today when they grow up, they to will have their own memory lane to walk down -- so I guess time hadn't change that much, talking about time I have to go now, but before I do, are you sure they're aliens, and Joe 90, is he still hanging around -- one last thing I have to tell Agent Weebley (time will continue to stop and start) I use to have a car like that, but I got rid of it, time stops for no one, and to find the answer, you have to ask the question, so Agent Weebley, till next time -- whenever that will be, but there will be a next time -- there always is -- Oh and by the way -- that Rapide -- old Donn says oh yea -- till next time Agent Weebley. ;)

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    I can't see for the fog. That whispering . . . it sounds so familiar . . . that ethereal music . . . also familiar. . . but there are many voices too . . . one of them in the group . . . is it . . . is it . . .

    Oh no . . . whatever did I write on my Underwood05 to Dean09 about what my Mum used to tell me . . . r i autistic or artistic, Mummy? . . . Dang, it's coming true! I need to scrap that post ASAP - that must be what Steve meant by that Underwood5 "W" video . . all crumpled up on top.

    Do I hear Donn . . . . is he talking to Hans about me?

    Is it . . . dogmax out there in the fog? Yes it is! Hi there, dogmax!

    It smells like someone is building a bonfire. Is it Adolph? Is Adolph in the KLF? We went to Mu Mu, Adolph.

    No worries on you not being here much, lately, dogmax. You are merely phasing . . .

    "I don't think Agent Weebley can explain Game Theory, Donn." Oh yes I can, Hans. Just watch me now.

    . . . but it is strange that you seem to like to join us at the Mound of Hostages, is it not, dogmax? This is a strange place.

    What are they saying? . . . Game Theory becoming Game Practice . . . is he up to it? Sure I am, Lottie, you can bet on it.

    What is the other one is saying . . . who is talking? Is it Donn?

    Memory Lane . . . are they my memories? . . . Steve's memories? dogmax's memories . . . I love it . . . it doesn't matter who's memories they are . . . they're all good . . .

    "I like to think it's the very first form of time travel --" dogmax, fer sure, no way . . . we all do it . . .

    I see you have your own glyph now . . . very APT, dogmax . . .

    Is someone hiding in the dunes . . . pissing on the goons in power? Yeah, they invaded vaded vaded Blarnia.

    Agent DelKey . . . did you just tell Aslan what dogmax just said: -- you know if you walk down memory lane and look back, you'll see your future -- . . . OMG . . . it was him! dogmax . . . Agent DelKey just told Aslan that there are many people ready for the truth in Blarnia!

    Or is he speaking to Jacksie?

    Who is with you, dogmax? I can't see through this fog . . . oh, I hope you like your new Rapide . . . I got clearance last year from Markus Kramer, Aston Martin's Marketing Guru . . . Steve can borrow a Rapide to test drive in Toronto . . . and shoot some video. I don't want to appear too forward and drive that issue until we are sure . . .

    What time is it, dogmax? Is time linear? I think not.

    Aliens? Did somebody say aliens? Take me to your leader . . . too late . . . done . . .

    Game Theory? It'll be a knockout.

    Agent Joe 90 . . . Chi-An has seen him in Nanjing. He just told Lin-Ti-Yu. I didn't hear if they said he was coming back, though. I think he will . . . the same as Troy Tempest . . . he's just dive, dive, diving with Aquamarina, right now.




    N'est-ce pas c'qu'il est beau?

    I hear Donn speaking to Rico: "They have to learn how to play again. Everyone is just too serious these days. Tradeya."

    I'll take that on board . . . but what does Tradeya mean?

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    "Who is Steve, Weebley?"

    Donn looked at me with those warm, but piercing eyes. Something drew me to his forehead . . . left eye . . . right eye . . . forehead . . . and back . . . why?

    "He is my friend."

    "Walk with me, Weebley."

    The fog was still pretty thick, but as we walked, I could see a dull green glow off in the distance. It was Lia Fáil. I could see that classic 3 green laser beam winding up in a helix. As we approached it, just North of The Mound Of Hostages, where it used to be located, and will be located once again in the future, we stopped.

    "Look up, Weebley."

    I gazed up and noticed the 3 string helix had begun to envelop us. I could also see the AirCar, where everyone was waiting for me to return, once again. My wife, Lucy, my daughter, Nerfy, my friends Epstein and Agent Heggle, Doctor Sternum, Agent Dale Cooper . . . all in some sort of stasis right now? Why?

    Should I go back, Donn?

    "You need to be everywhere, now, Weebley. They do need you there. But we need you here, and you are also needed over there."

    Funny. When he said they do need you there, He pointed up, just like Lucy did in the Women Of Ireland video. I remembered the point when Lucy was consoling me at The Mound Of The Hostages . . .

    As Donn said and you are needed over there, an image came to mind . . . a strange yellow siamese connection. A fire department connection . . . where the pumper truck hooks onto, to supplement the sprinklers . . . support the crew going into the fire . . . Steve needs me . . . and that red Gamewell box on that pole . . . it's a Matrix Phone . . .

    The SARS masks . . . the dog . . . he looks like Agent DelKey . . . those masks remind me of the last Peter Gabriel video . . . sshhhh!

    "I want to shake hands with the person that is responsible for this Master Plan?" But there isn't one . . . it evolves . . . just like Pokemon."

    Donn and I locked eyes, once again, had a knowing little chuckle together . . . and then I began travelling up with the 3 green laser beam, and back into the AirCar . . .


    "Oh, hi there, Epstein. Waddap!"

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    It started out kinda funny. I looked around the AirCar and saw no Doctor Sternum, no Lucy, no Nerfy, no Agent Dale Cooper . . . but what I did see was a total mess. It looked like a bomb hit it. Guinness cans everywhere, some crumpled up and lying on the floor, a corresponding amount of green Heineken cans also . . . and pizza boxes like everywhere.

    "Was amanfromMars here too?" I said.

    Epstein looked at Agent Heggle then looked at me. I looked at Agent Heggle, then Epstein. I don't know who began to laugh first, but we ended up ROTFLOFAO . . .

    We cracked a few Guinness and compared notes.

    They had none . . .

    They had done absolutely nothing since I left . . . we laughed again.

    Socks on the floor, pants in a pile on the captain's chair, a pair of undies hanging stinkily off the gearshift for the Turboencabulator.


    Why would I bring that up now?

    I looked at Epstein, who looked at Agent Heggle, who looked at me . . .
    As he burst out laughing once more, Epstein managed to squeeze out 4 words . . .

    "Welcome to the future!

    "Oh, we just got a message from Doctor Sternum . . . steganograhically encoded video, no less!"

    [OK, 18 words]

    As you may or may not know yet, this is beginning to feel like Groundhog Day to me . . . but I did manage to squeeze off a somewhat lucid reply to antoobrien in the Irish Economy forum, yippee 20,000 jobs thread:

    antoobrien wrote: »
    The you'll know that the "trade" you were referring to 200 years ago was actually colonialism/imperialism and not anything close to modern trade.

    Hi antoobrien,

    I'm not quite sure what you mean by "modern trade." Are you referring to digital currencies as being "modern?" Maybe you could define it for me?

    I would say colonialism/imperialism is alive and kicking today (see Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya . . . as well as Portugal, Italy, Ireland, Greece and Spain.) You still trade under these barbaric conditions. Does that make you complicit? I don't think so, myself. Therefore, people from the past should not be generalised as being complicit in the actions of a few bad people.

    Plus, trade and colonialism/imperialism are actually mutually exclusive, since forcing yourself on another is stealing, rather than trading.

    I picked 200 years ago as a safe date in the past where governments had much less central control over trade between people at the street level. Most trade these days is price fixed by laws, taxes, centralised services, and political interference . . . yet we still try to trade under these barbaric conditions.

    The best example of trade without interference is children trading with each other. They are completely oblivious to taxes, governments, loans from banks using fractional reserve lending - making the money supply grow exponentially, new currency "paper" issued with a corresponding amount of bond debt that accrues interest which also makes no mathematical sense, saving for their retirement, and colonialism/imperialism. Everything they own is an asset and tradeable (as long as Mum & Dad don't find out.)

    Anyway, the government stating they will create 20,000 new jobs is a joke. They can't even count properly. Their "full employment" number is 1,000,000* people too low, based on the OP's referenced article compared to the CIA Factbook. What are these 1,000,000 people doing?

    Governments don't create jobs . . . people do . . . we just need money to do it.

    *based on most 15-18 year olds being moved back into the child (dependent) bracket

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  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley


    It just came back to me. Epstein and Agent Heggle were supposed to pick-up Agent Joe 90 in China in the AirCar back in early March, 2012. Our destination . . . Ireland. We were all going to go help with the "No Vote" in the Fiscal Treaty Referendum.

    Agent DelKey was a stowaway on that supposed short trip to China. He was just our little dog at that point . . . our little Quiche La DelKey. Epstein and Agent Heggle took a Turboencabulator and activated it, as they wanted to go to China via Outer Space.

    Instead, they ended up in the future . . . via a hyperspace experience . . .

    Everything became very mixed up at that point. Now our dog talks!

    We were so mixed up that we changed our destination to England, then detoured to the roof of DP Lenticular in Dalkey to pick up Troy Tempest. We never left! Needless to say, or is it needful . . . I don't know right now . . . I'm so confused . . . it took us till us from early March to early May, 2012, to actually land in Ireland and begin to help with the "No Vote" as best we could . . . 70% "No", by the way . . . a resounding success. It really brought home the fact that only 30% of the people can give away the sovereignty of the people of Ireland . . .

    And now, look at where we are . . . back in the AirCar. But where is Agent DelKey? And how does all this tie in to The Mound Of Hostages, The Myriad Of Hostages and LugNutz? Are we now in the eye of the Gaelic Storm we predicted in the Irish Triangle of Dundrum, Dundrum and Dundrum? Why did Donn guide me right here, right now?

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    How impolite of me! I never introduced my 2 friends: Epstein and Agent Heggle. Since we have a little "eye of the storm" going on, here we go . . .

    I first met Epstein when I was a small child . . . maybe 10 at the time? I had just got The Beatles Blue Album from Mater and Pater for my birthday, and was playing it in the living room when my neighbour heard the AbFab songs wafting out of the window. You could say that we have revolved around each other ever since.

    Oh . . . hang on, Epstein wants to speak:

    "Hi everyone. I'm sure we all know what having a friend can do for one's self-esteem. Bouncing ideas of each other, having fun, correcting each other when one of us goes awry . . . learning . . . all part of the feeling of belonging. Never having to recap why it took so long to get together again and what you did while we were apart. Enough said.

    We are in the eye of the Gaelic Storm right now. We are going to split up. I am heading to Dundrum, Agent Weebley is going to Dundrum, and Agent Heggle is going to . . . you guessed it . . . Dundrum!

    What will happen next? Tomorrow never knows . . ."

    Thanks, Epstein. Nicely said. What are we . . .

    "Whoa, there, big guy. I get to do a 77 second infomercial too!

    I'm Agent Heggle. My friend, Doctor Sternum, who I am sure you will get to eventually meet, brought me in for the 2nd leg of our mission . . . a mission to England, back in 2011.

    I have a friend on the inside, called Agent Power Elite, who feeds me Intel, as well as AMD . . . but you know, and I know: it is better not to judge.

    Anyway, I was supposed to be the crackpot professional, but got a little shown up by Agent Weebley's antics very early on. Il est très, très, fou.

    Anyway, to make a long story short, the current Intel is that Plastiki and his 2 father figures have pretty well given up on world domination, since killing, lying and cheating to achieve their end is really not a good plan . . . Their goal right now is to release control of the world to a team of 7 billion equals. A Catch-22 backdrop to this is that the goal is really 2 goalposts: no-one wants to be the first to reveal they are working with us, even though they know deep down that The Power Elite want it to happen.

    This is where I come in, since I invented The Hegelian Dialect . . . but Karl Marx stole the concept and warped it into Marxism. No matter . . .

    Game Theory, moved along the field by John Nash is the answer, with slight modifications . . . total consciousness of all parties involved.

    And the goalposts need to be moved without the help of The Power Elite, as it may be misconscrewed as us "being on the take."

    I guess you could say that we on the lookout for some Angels to help turn Game Theory into Game Practice . . . these magical beings can move mountains.

    Now I get to play a song . . ."

    Thank you, too, Agent Heggle. How come we aren't laughing right now?

    Angels? . . . or maybe Leprechauns? Are those magic flutes in your pockets, or are you guys just happy to build a scaffold into the sky with me?

    Now I get to play a song!

    Here we come! . . . Dundrum^3 . . . it still makes 1 Dundrum . . .

    . . . 1 and 1 and 1 make free

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Funny, really . . . we were here, floating 7 feet above Lia Fáil, looking out of the cabin windows down at the foggy scene below, seeing the 3 green laser beam emanating from The Stone Of Destiny, up through the cabin floor, and out through the roof, going who knows where . . .

    "It's made up of a twisting blue positive DNA strand, a yellow negative DNA strand, and a white positive silicon strand that counters the effect of the negative strand. The helix is perfect," I said.

    Agent Heggle cued up a nice steganographic tune from Claire Roche . . . see if you can decipher what she is saying . . . I sent her an email, by the way . . . she is golden . . .

    . . . then the conversation turns to their lack of ability to communicate and their incessant laughing, during the last iteration of this future scene . . . but where is Agent DelKey? He was the only one able to speak last time. Back then, I was in the past, and they were in the future.

    Both Epstein and Agent Heggle have no problem communicating now.

    Epstein spoke first: "We were laughing because there are so many futures. We are currently in more than 1 future. I'll bet you cannot explain it yourself, Agent Weebley."

    I thought about it, and . . . yes, indeed . . . how funny! I have no idea how far into the future we are right now, and all I have is a pleasant feeling of peace all around me. The government is gone, and people are free to trade without coercion. Down through that fog, it seems I am looking through that fog to the past . . . what was . . . and it leads from where we were to where we will be.

    But I cannot explain it . . . after all the pain . . . we are free again . . . I see momentum from government inertia . . . now dissipating faster than ever before. Plastiki and his 2 father figures are helping us by slowly collapsing governments all over the world.

    But the pain has to stop soon. I cannot bear to see the confusion about money and debt much longer.

    Agent Heggle mentioned something that happened April 2011, when I applied for the Digital Director job in the UK in the Cabinet office . . . I'm sure David Cameron saw what I wrote . . . I told him what was going to happen . . . he ignored me, like they all do.

    A journalist . . . some sort of lêche-coup, named Mike Bracken, got that job. And he is not doing too much to reach his transparency "goals", it seems.

    I told David Cameron that if I got the job, I would put the entire UK government on 1 website, then wind down government revenue and expenses to zero, and into a Meritocracy based on performance. I guess he didn't like my idea . . .

    Agent Heggle and I began to talk about the Limbic System, flipping between logic and emotion until the limbic switch breaks and people are now mentally free, but we were interrupted by Epstein:

    Epstein mentioned a potential Catch-22 I may be interested in pursuing in The Creative Writing forum . . . I leapt out of my seat shouting You Reeka . . . or something like that, but . . . er . . . how do I say it . . . I stumbled headlong into the 3 green laser beam!

    I seem to be in some sort of holding pattern right now; I have not popped out the other end yet . . . I see green numbers all around me . . . a steady stream of numbers . . .

    . . . it feels like I am the epitome of a Matrix Error 42 . . .

    Hang on . . . OMFNG . . . well, well, well, well, well . . . who do we have in this wormholish place?

    It's . . . .

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    We both shouted in unison:

    Yogi! . . . Dad!

    Then we paused for a moment . . . then, oddly, we backed up and shouted in unision:

    Agent DelKey! . . . Agent Weebley!

    Me, wondering why I called him Yogi, suddenly remembered I could actually be a mental extension of myself, and he, a mental extension of my dog . . .

    We smiled at each other for a moment, then he said: "Alsan wants to know if you are ready to do battle."

    My mind whirled . . . where had I heard that before?

    "Yes, Agent DelKey, I am ready."

    The 3 green laser beam was swirling around us. The yellow and blue helix were mixing together with the white beam that was parallel to the yellow beam . . . it was mesmerising . . . I could see the Aircar above, and the Mound Of The Hostages below.

    We were slowly dropping.

    "Aslan thinks you may be confusing the Hostages," said Agent DelKey.

    He paced around me with his hands behind his back, like a teacher who had asked a pointed question, and was waiting for an answer. I had never seen him this confident . . . and had also never seen him walking on 2 legs.

    "Maybe." I said.

    I suddenly realised I was ego-less . . . Questioning myself . . . am I confusing the Hostages? Do they know they are willing Hostages? Friends . . . not just some sort of Stockholm Syndrome "friends?"

    "We just stopped time together," I said.

    Agent DelKey sat down, and looked at me . . . a little perplexed.

    "Nice neuticles," I said.

    "Did I ever say thanks, Agent Weebley?"

    "Oh yes, but not in so many words," I said.

    Then he shot up onto 2 legs again.

    "Jesus H Christ, Agent Weebley, would you stop sidetracking for once?"

    "OK . . ."

    He continued: "It was exactly a month ago that you said you would go to EggyBaby!'s world and meet the Vadrang. WTF, Agent Weebley . . . WTF!"

    Hmm, I said to myself. I do tend to go on and on and on and on . . . a bit. Last I remember, it was Saturday, July 14, 2012. That's what everyone is thinking . . . I guess we should be moving on. In this Twilight Zone, time has stopped and started a few times since then. We have proven that The Underwood5 can make whatever story direction we take come true . . . and I am working towards the Nuclear War story, where a stalemate is created between the Superpowers . . . and the RoboDaughter story will be an easy one to explain, since our robotic body is just an extension of our free mind . . . Funny though, if I were a concrete thinker, I would say we have attracted another AH dude like Padraiggg . . . an 8" tall fellow, who has a magic flute, called Prick! Maybe he is a Leprechaun, here to grant us 3 wishes? More willing Hostages?

    "Agent Weebley?"


    "You have to move along . . . go see EggyBaby!'s Vadrang . . . take The Enterprise . . . how about you take Captain James T Craic, Mr Spook and Scatty on your mission?"

    OMFNG! I suddenly remembered something from the past . . . my conversation with Jernal . . . and Mr Spook

    Unbeknownst to me, we had floated down to the ground in all of this discussion. Agent DelKey motioned for me to step out of the 3 green laser beam.

    You're not going to believe who was standing there waiting for me . . .


    He looked grand, as usual.

    "Finally," he said. "42, Agent Weebley!"

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    42 . . . that's not till the next post, I thought to myself.

    That's the big one.

    We stood for a short while, Lug looking at me, and me looking at him. I noticed that Agent DelKey was also outside of the 3 green laser beam and sniffing around the area, rather surreptitiously, I might add. I stood with my back to a tree.

    Lug looked rather buff, like that Ragnar Danneskjöld guy from Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged (I wanna know where the gold at . . . show me the gold), and, because this is a first person narrative and I must switch from past tense to present tense immediately for a proper segue to speech, I have no idea what he was thinking of me, so I must make him say something to reveal what he actually does think of me, rather than make Shallow Hal assumptions based on body language or facial expressions.

    "Excuse me, Lug," I said, "do you think my nose is big?"

    "You are truly bizzare, Agent Weebley."

    Got it. He motioned me over to doorway to The Mound of Hostages.

    "Agent Weebley, come Fire Walk With Me; see how you summoned padraiggg to return with a Myriad Of AH Hostages that will join with us in our Quest for Peace."

    As we walked in, I felt like I was going back in time to help old friends come back to life, like in Harlen Ellison's Demon with a Glass Hand . . . and to thumb my nose at Lplated and his irrational fear of copyright, which is a big business construct designed to rip off people that create and experience art.

    I drifted . . .

    "Agent Weebley?"

    Drifting back, I snapped my head back and looked directly into the Lug's Coventry City Sky Blue eyes.

    "Remember Led Zep?" he said, knowingly.

    I nodded approvingly.

    "Then pay attention to this video . . . especially the ending, where Aragorn and Captain Obvious jump ship and have much ethereal help attacking the midgets . . ."

    Welcome back padraiggg. Next post, we battle . . .

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  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    "There's 70 billion people in here, where are they hiding?" Sat on the floor inside the Mound Of Hostages alone together, I didn't know who had said that . . . Lug, or I.

    The walls were earthen, grotty, and dampness pervaded the scene. Lug looked warm and toasty in all his layers of wool and leather, and he had various gold and silver adornments hanging off his neck, wrists and . . . and that sword of his . . . it had a translucent glow . . . it looked like it was made of magical bog iron, fashioned into a sword by elves and pixies . . . and it had a strange insignia near the base . . . it looked like the sketch of the leprechaun in that Mobile, Alabama video . . . how odd . . .

    "Agent Weebley."

    I looked straight at him, his hair was blonde and wild, like mine . . . Blondie, I thought to myself.

    "How old are you?"

    Wondering why he would even ask me that, as it doesn't matter, since time is irrelevant, and not quite knowing what to say, I fell back on my stock answer . . ."49."

    "And what is your relationship to Steve?"

    Man, that was a loaded question. How do I tell him I am the mind, but not the body of Steve. How do I tell him we became disconnected after amanfromMars and the JLAIP helped me forgive?

    "He is my friend," I said.

    "I think your friend needs to send an email to Rob Nail immediately. Steve does that sort of thing for you, does he not?"

    I had to laugh to myself . . . Steve does whatever the feck he wants to, as do I. But he does love to yank chains.

    "Yes, he does . . . when he feels the time is right. He has had a draft email to Rob Nail in waiting, so my friend Epstein tells me."

    I had a feeling we were not alone. Lug leaned over and pulled out his Bog Oak Fidhcheall Chess Set . . . nice . . . but my eyes were scanning behind him in that translucent glow . . . someone was . . . no . . . 2 people were behind him.

    "Do you see them, Agent Weebley?" said Lug.

    "I do."

    Both people were a little fuzzy, but my eyes were drawn to . . . no way . . . my Uncle Jammy! Then suddenly, he spoke.

    "Peace, Agent Weebley. We will help" . . . then they were gone, just like that.

    "Who was the other person, Lug?" I said.

    Lug smiled, and all he said was that my Uncle Jammy helped him hide in the mountains many, many years ago. He helped save his life at the time. He then went on to be a great leader. Then he quickly changed the subject.

    "Agent Weebley. How did Steve figure out my rules for the Fidhcheall Chess Game?"

    "From you, I guess" . . . it seemed to be the most APT thing to say.

    Lug got pensive. "Your Dad said something to me recently about how he used to bet on the dogs in Belfast before he left for England when he was 18. Remember how he used to say: if I was a betting man . . ."

    "I remember alright."

    "Well, Agent Weebley, I bet that you are going to beat Steve at that Chess Game you have on the go right now. And furthermore, all Irish people need to lay bets on who they think is going to win. It will be good for them."

    "But they have no money, Lug." I thought about how the IMF has all non-in-crowd Irish people by the short and curlies based on debt based money shenannigans and shell games.

    "Then give them your futuristic lenticular plastic chips to play the Game with. They can pledge them as a bet and give you guidance on . . . it'll be fun . . . you dig?"

    Lug looked deep into my eyes, and without a word he gave me his sword.

    The moment my hand touched it, a movie scene flashed past . . .

    . . . and I felt that padraiggg was outside . . . and someone else!

    As I exited the Mound Of Hostages, I surveyed the scene. One guy had a hat on . . . the other . . . only one eye and no hat.

    Which one was which? padraiggg . . . Prick! . . . well, well, well . . .

    We circled each other slowly. I kept my distance from the the guy with the hat, as it had a very large brim, and could have easily poked me in the eye. The potential for a snapkick was low, due to the distance he would have to cover before he even reached the edge of his brim.

    The one-eyed guy seemed armless enough . . he had some sort of mushroom haircut, and was wearing a trendy beige turtle-neck.

    We circled . . . and watched each other for a sign one person would attack.

    "Choose your weapons," I said to them, without taking my eyes off either of them, but noticing myelf spending a little more time looking at padraiggg, seeing how good looking he was, and how irresistible he must be to women, and feeling it would be a shame to reveal I am indeed a worthy adversary. Would he be able to pull after this scene?

    "You pick first," said padraiggg.

    "My mouth," I said.

    padraiggg's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

    "Yummy," he said. "Wanna honk on Bobo?"

    I didn't want to reveal that Lucy has been inside me for the past few weeks, helping me with my story, so I just smiled.

    Prick!'s eye also lit up like a Christmas tree, but less intense; he had an unusual tic, some sort of bobble-head affectation . . . probably due to the excitement of the upcoming fight. He boked.

    "What's your weapon, padraiggg?" I said.


    "And you, Prick!?"

    "Giant sausage."

    I looked at Prick! quizzingly, as it seemed he would be inneffectual at fighting me, as I would immediately use my Lorena Bobbitt move on him, and he would go off screaming into the wilderness at the onset of the fight, leaving me to focus solely on tonguing padraiggg into compliance.

    "OKs, thens . . . let's rocks"

    "I can make this EZ for you guys," I said.

    "How so, arsewitch?" said padraiggg. "I could squeeze your head like a zit in 2 seconds."

    Prick! nodded.

    "Well, firstly, although I don't quite agree with all the killing and one night/day stands you seem to all enjoy, I could give you a pass if you help me."

    padraiggg and Prick! became quite limp with uncontrollable laughter. I could have stuffed them both back into their pants and sent them off with their tail between their legs at that point, but what would that have achieved?

    "If you help me, you automatically help yourselves and make some money," I added.

    They stood to attention on that note.

    "I need you to get the word out . . . enlist all your friends and relatives to find out as much as possible about the new FU (Fál Ulaidh) Party . . .

    . . . I hear they are betting people."

    [to be continued]

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    padraiggg kicked his head back, laughed gutterally, then aimed his Glock squarely at my face. But Prick! came out of nowhere . . . probably due to his youth . . . slapped me sideways through the air . . . me landing at the door to The Mound Of The Hostages. I quickly opened the door and ran inside, but Prick! was Quick! . . . too Quick! He stuck his massive head in the doorway, so I had no choice but to slam the door on it, I mean him, I mean his Giant Sausage.

    "Explain that to your GF LOL," I said, as he screamed like a banshee and ran off limping; his now not-so-giant L-shaped sausage dragging behind him.

    I exited the Mound once again, and saw, from afar, padraiggg eying up the scene, probably trying to find a female to impregnate. He found one . . . a lady in a red dress.

    I took the opportunity to run over to save the lady from potential STDs, as padraiggg never seems to wear protection.

    "Whoa there, big guy. What's with the Colt .45?" paidraigg said, with obvious fear that he had met his point blank match.

    "I speak with my fingers, padraiggg. I programmed the lady in the red dress to divert your attention away from me, as well as creating a handy equaliser to your Glock."

    "You dog," he muttered.

    padraiggg watched in amazement as the lady now not in the red dress suddenly disappeared from beneath him. I noticed she winked at me, just before she disappeared, but held that fact back from padraiggg in case he got the impression he would be sloppy seconds, which is not an image I like to bandy around, since we are equals in this world, and anyone who tells you differently, is lying.

    "Listen, Agent Wobbley, premature discombobulation is anti-climactic, so prepare to die . . "

    I planted my left foot on his face, catapulting myself into a reverse somersault, ending up in exactly the same position as before . . .

    . . . impressive move, I thought to myself. But I am left handed, as well as left footed, so it really wasn't too "out there" as a move.

    "Do I have your attention now," I said, as I aimed my Colt 45 squarely at his left temple . . . and for those CSI wannabe types, I am ambidextrose, an explosive mix, since I am ADHD, ADD, OD, and ODD . . . especially ODD.

    "No effing way," he said as he snipkacked my gun into the rhubarb, which later proved to be quite tasty with a little added dextrose . . . he then jumped high in the air . . . and as he came down, he ricocheted and simultaneously sprung off my head, landing 30 feet away on one foot (his left, for those that need unnecessary detail.)

    That hurt (my pride.)

    Still on one foot, he aimed his Glock at me and fired 9 times in rapid succession. . .

    [to be continued]

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Before I go on, I must advise you that my friends are watching this scene from The AirCar, directly above Lia Fáil, and recording the scene for posterior's sake, or something like that.

    The only reason I mention it, is that a moment ago I heard a familiar ringtone . . . it sounded like SKRRK! SKRRK SKRRK!, or maybe the old phone ringtone from my iPhone4 . . . no matter, I let it go to VM.

    Anyway, after padraiggg laid the boot in on my face, knocking me to the ground, my wife, Lucy told me to get up. As usual, I said "no," but did so immediately, as transgressing my wife's "suggestions" is a recipe for no dinner and definitely no dessert . . .

    Hang on a mo', The Daily Bell Tolleth For Mee . . . KK, done.

    OK, so these 9 bullets are heading my way . . . I put my hand out . . .

    [to be continued]

  • Registered Users Posts: 12,636 ✭✭✭✭OldGoat

    Last edited -Today at 05:09. Reason: $10 goes to the first person to tell me where I added a comma
    I am ADHD, ADD>Comma added HERE< OD, and ODD . . . especially ODD
    You can forward your $10 to the Santa Strike Force. Thank you.

    I'm older than Minecraft goats.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    OldGoat wrote: »
    You can forward your $10 to the Santa Strike Force. Thank you.

    Well, well, well, well, well . . . we meet again . . . on more pleasant terms this time . . . I like it!

    You got added credits for speed, efficiency, and ruthless devotion to The Cause . . . $10 becomes

    Sep 4, 2012 09:00:59 GMT-04:00
    Transaction ID: [URL=" 5MH37235KU6530143[/URL]

    Hello[Agent Weebley],

    You sent a payment of 13.00 EUR to Santa Strike Force

    It may take a few moments for this transaction to appear in your account.

    Santa Strike Force
    t o m @ s p i n . i e
    +353 0879x1909x

    Donated on behalf of Old Goat at . . . I hope all goes well for the kids this Christmas!

  • Registered Users Posts: 12,636 ✭✭✭✭OldGoat

    OldGoat wrote: »
    You can forward your $10 to the Santa Strike Force. Thank you.
    You sent a payment of 13.00 EUR to Santa Strike Force

    Thanks again. Something wonderful will happen with your donation.

    I'm older than Minecraft goats.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    That was unexpected . . . and so was padraiggg taking a run at me while I was logging into my UltraSecurePayPalMobileApp from my iPhone4. I didn't have time to react. He did a classic Fung Fu Chop Suey move to my left cheek . . . I felt like my head was departing from my neck, but luckily, my body followed my spinning head to the ground with minimal neck elasticity. He pinned me down on my chest, prostate on the grass . . . and plonked himself on my lower back, but I assure you there was no funny business going on, although there were some funy noises coming from him, namely "peow [repeating,]" which gave me the opportunity to reach inside my trousers and pull out my . . . . jiu-jiubitsu move #2: green, in that brief period of his inattention to the moment at hand.

    My Colt .45 was lying on the grass. In the reflection of the barrel, I saw his mouth wide open at regular 50% intervals, giving me a 500 millisecond window to gain entry. I positioned the ju-jube between my thumb and index finger, waited, squeezed it, then fired . . .

    Direct hit!

    He seemed to choke for a moment and held his hands to his mouth, giving me the space to simultaneously grab the red dress, also lying on the grass, flicking him up in the air a little while I spun around to face him. I wrapped the dress around his face a couple of times, then grabbed him by the throat, forcing him back, reversing positions . . him now under me.

    I finished the transaction and logged off, since it is always good practise to log off all programs, even though PayPal locks you out after 10 minutes of inactivity anyway. You can never be too careful.

    I yanked off the dress, ripping it sensually, since it got hung up on his left ear, loosened my grip on his neck a little, and looked him squarely in the eyes.

    "Do you have any more?" he asked? "I like the red ones."

    He was sounding a little hoarse, so I loosened my grip just a little more.

    "I have red and blue ones, padraiggg. Why are we fighting, anyway? How about we munch back a few and I'll tell you a story?"

    "But who's going to say U.N.C.L.E.," he said, so I squeezed harder and harder on his neck, assuming he was not finished fighting, erring on being prepared for anything. His sudden asphyxiation caused something, I know not what, to springboard me high in the air and land 20 feet away in the rhubarb.

    We both got up pretty quickly, but I ran right at him, but he was too quick for me and I overshot with a poorly aimed snapkick; he had me on the floor again . . . this time squarely on my chest.

    As he was picking his teeth from the sugary treat . . . oh by the way, I only buy organic ju-jubes, because HFCS is a poison . . . I tried to appeal to his sense of charity . . .

    "padraigg, I said, "I have 70 billion people wrappped around my thorax, digitally encoded as a program on a wire. Do you really want to kill 70 billion people right now?"

    "Say U.N.C.L.E.," he said. He seemed a little non-plussed about the 70 billion people . . . probably didn't believe me . . . and seemed like the type that needed to always win, otherwise his value system would shatter into a million pieces.

    He was hoarse . . . I was a Trojan . . . I was in.

    "U.N.C.L.E.," I said.

    We sat and ate a few ju-jubes together, but I held the red and blue ones back.

    "How about we watch an instructional video, padraiggg?" I said.

    "That would be great!" he said.

    He was now firmly in my mental grip . . .

    [to be continued - fighting over ( I hope,) but more subtle sexual innuendos to come]

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    I noticed padraiggg was a nibbler. He would begin at one end, nip it off, then nibble methodically and rapidly to the other end, like a mouse. As I palmed in a mouthful, I also noticed he was using 2 hands, so another was always at the ready. What a weirdo.

    "Agent Weebley, why I am I here?"

    "I brought you back to begin writing a new thread as a beta test, padraiggg." I wanted to see his reaction.

    "Agent Weebley, I suddenly had this idea to come back out of the blue, but the Trent character had fizzled a little, so I came back as mr sexington." Then he looked me straight in the eyes and said: "why did you take me off my thread?"

    "I didn't. We are all in a multiverse. Everything is happening all at once. You are still over there, and over here at the same time."

    I sensed padraiggg was thinking about sex again, so I moved away just a little, in case he grabbed my coin purse, then changed the subject back to the beta test.

    "The beta test has been running ever since you posted 232 words and got thousands of views, women and men swooning, and the best one yet . . . the last comment: Classic Trent! - by Ah_Yeah, netted around 800 views so far." Incredible.

    "That wasn't a ju-jube you fired into my mouth, you know."

    Dang, he got me. Time to squirm.

    "Actually, I was using poetic license on that one. It needed to sound like a Chinese Martial Art."

    "Jelly Beans, right . . . to match up with The Matrix red pill and blue pill?"

    He figured he had me over a barrel, but I am no Phil McCraic . . .

    "No, padraiggg, these wonderful treats are Jelly Belly brand. I buy them in big bags from Costco, in Toronto."

    Jelly beans do not come in blue . . . Jelly Belly does . . .wanna hear about the under-rated blue pill from The Matrix?"

    "Is The Matrix your mantra, Agent Weebley?"

    "No," I said. How could I tell him I have been flipping from mantra to mantra for over 1.5 years now? I am the gingerbread man of mantras. But all he thinks about is sex and killing. How could I tell him that if anything, Don Quixote is my mantra. The man who idolises Dulcinea, a rough diamond in a seemingly hopeless situation. She cannot see she is stuck inside a system of animalistic men, follows the crowd, and spurns Don Quixote's constant, unerring reinforcement of an image of her as a beautiful Sophia Loren type. He eventually turns her into a beautiful woman . . . through persistence.

    Ahhhhh, I drifted . . .

    So, padraiggg, do you want to continue with a storyline only exascerbating sex and killing? Do you want to stay within the system, or change it, like a true Knight Errant?

    "And do you want to hear about what the blue pill can do . . . when you munch back a red pill / blue pill combo?"

    "Exascerbating?" he said. "Sounds kinky . . . OK, tell me more . . ."

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    I looked at padraiggg . . . he looked at me . . . we both ROTFLOFAO!

    "padraiggg . . . that was awesome . . . especially when Trent stuffed Prick! into the mini-bar. 8 inches is a perfect size . . . the maid would think he was just another Red Bull."

    He seemed chuffed with that. I could have suggested a different way he could have done the HOME RUN thing, as he was trying really hard to be American sounding, but his first pitch really was a STRIKE. He could leave it as-is . . . but he could have added that the first empty whisky glass he pitched went wide - ball 1, the second glass got him in the groin - ball 2, and then the third glass ricocheted off his head, skimmed past the receptionist and out the window . . . a HOME RUN . . . Prick! stumbles around the mound, then grounds out near the pit . . . but that would have been a bit of a (7th inning) stretch.

    "Did you like him being the New York Baddy?"

    I couldn't contain myself as to why he mentioned New York. New York Baddies . . . "Yeah . . . I know of those guys . . " I said.

    padraiggg suddenly got serious. He had something on his mind . . . I could tell; probably due to him not tenting anymore.

    "How did you know I was coming back, and how did you know I was going to post, Agent Weebley? And you didn't post last nght. It was like you left me a doughnut to stick something in."

    ". . . and I see you used the glyph . . ." I added.

    "Yeah." He grinned.

    "It is due to the Red Pill / Blue Pill Singularity," I said. "Check this Adrian Belew video from 1982 . . . Adrian Belew's mind saw the concrete crumble 19 years early . . . nothing is as it seems . . . a lot of maybes . . ."

    Meanwhile, padraiggg is ultrafocused on big electric cats while a war rages on for his mind.

    padraiggg looked at me with his mouth hanging open. "She was mighty hot," he said.

    Shaking my head, I cerfed, and stumbled upon this video. Check this video out . . . done by Johannes Ayres

    This is what he wrote after he uploaded it:

    Uploaded by Johannes Ayres on Feb 27, 2012
    the following is part of an interview I did with "the Wire" on (the) singularity (events) And specifically Big Electric Cat....

    ""singularity" refers to the emergence of greater-than-human intelligence through technological means, resulting in explosive superintelligence. Since the capabilities of such intelligence would be difficult for an unaided human mind to comprehend, the occurrence of a technological singularity has in the past been seen as an intellectual event horizon, beyond which events could not be predicted or understood. Terrence McKenna once descried the singularity as "the Transcendental Object (at the end of Time)" and this stuck with me. He also speculated that 2012 would be the year of it's arrival. Now, Object relations theory is a psychodynamic theory within psychoanalytic psychology. The theory describes the process of developing a psyche as one grows in relation to the environment. The basis of the theory is that the way we relate to people (and situations) in our adult world was programmed into us by the way we experienced our parents when we were infants and while we grow up.The Self (or subject) relates to Objects in the unconscious. "Objects" can be images (internalized) of one's mother or father. Objects can also be parts of a person, for instance an infant relating to the breast..Objects may be both real or things in one's inner world (one's internalized image of others)..At (these) singularity performances I got to sculpt these "Transcendental Objects" in real time, out of our songs and our visuals, while I was performing. The cues consisted of lighting effects, animation of elements of the set, the mandelbulber program, particle effects, L-systems, and even a big electric cat.. The sound reactive is also important. We used audio analysis to displace textures that then became light projections. Audio was also used for modulating particle dynamics, even the geometry in "Hello little Spark" using a vertex shader. We were getting frame-rates of between 17-60fps rendering stereo at 1024x576. Part of the fun of being Iao Core these days is being able to choose songs to perform from our back catalog, and/or improvising them on the spot (would not be possible without my talented bandmates!) and/or covers of songs from my life as a huge music fan, that are very emotionally charged and special to me.. Adrian Belew was such an inspiration musician when I was a lad, the noises and sounds he squonked out of his guitar blew my young mind, things like "Elephant Talk" and such. so you can imagine how much fun it is to cover "Big Electric Cat " and then turn it into a Transcendental Object, if you will "

    Category: Music

    License: Creative Commons Attribution license (reuse allowed)

    I thought about the videos for a few minutes. I have to see Steve and amanfromMars. They both need to send an email to Rob Nail from Singularity University. Luckily, I am also in The AirCar, right above us . . .

    I left padraiggg PEOWing [repeatedly] at Agent DelKey, who was now sniffing around the area again. I ambled over to him. Why does padraiggg fold his trousers into the shape of the letter "M", I thought to myself.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Agent DelKey lifted his head.

    "Hi, Agent Weebley, how's it hangin'?" he said.

    How could I tell him I am failing miserably. My mission as an Agent Of Peace is in jeopardy. I really don't like the red pill given or taken separately.

    "Pretty good," I said.

    PEOW, PEOW, came from "over there." We looked over. padraiggg raised the barrel of his gun up to his mouth, blew the smoke from his index finger, and then smiled and winked at us.

    "I see you have called a meeting, Agent Weebley." Agent DelKey paused for a moment.

    "Did I? When?"

    "You could say: when, where, why, who, or what . . . 7 . . . in The AirCar."

    As we walked over to the 3 green laser beam, I mentioned I wrote a message to Anthony Wile at The Daily Bell, but Agent DelKey had already seen it . . . .

    "Am I some sort of balloon dog?" he said (jokingly.) He did, however, cock his leg and shine my left shoe before we got into the beam.

    A warm feeling came over me as we stepped into the beam and looked up. Then . . . music wafted by my ears like a Mobius Trip . . .

    Fidcheall Chess . . . yes . . .

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  • Registered Users Posts: 8 amanfromMars

    Ref the Matrix video clip that Agent Weebley shared in post #48 [05-09-2012, 05:35] ….
    "Do you want to know … what IT is?" ……… "Remember, all I am offering is the truth, nothing more" …. Morpheus

    All there really is, is the truth, and knowing of IT sets you free ["In a time of universal deceit - telling the truth is a revolutionary act." George Orwell] and sharing it frees worlds from their punitive bonds and artificial chains of indebtedness, and is anything and everything else just a contrived virtual reality plaything, spanning all ranges from the totally unjust to the perfectly virtuous, for Great Game and Greater Great IntelAIgent Game Play Mates …. ARGonauts on Devilishly Heavenly Quests.

    But only Constructive Perfection builds the Future and survives in Presents blighted by Imperfect Pasts …… Dummy Phormer Runs.

    All Systems are Go, AW.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Ref the Matrix video clip that Agent Weebley shared in post #48 [05-09-2012, 05:35] ….

    All there really is, is the truth, and knowing of IT sets you free ["In a time of universal deceit - telling the truth is a revolutionary act." George Orwell] and sharing it frees worlds from their punitive bonds and artificial chains of indebtedness, and is anything and everything else just a contrived virtual reality plaything, spanning all ranges from the totally unjust to the perfectly virtuous, for Great Game and Greater Great IntelAIgent Game Play Mates …. ARGonauts on Devilishly Heavenly Quests.

    But only Constructive Perfection builds the Future and survives in Presents blighted by Imperfect Pasts …… Dummy Phormer Runs.

    All Systems are Go, AW.

    Welcome to boards, amanfromMars! I think everyone thought you were a figment of my imagination.

    Funny, I'm currently in the AirCar, talking with Lucy, Agent DelKey, Epstein, Agent Heggle, Doctor Sternum . . . you are number 7 . . . but you are down here . . . I'm glad, actually.

    See padraiggg going PEOW, PEOW, over there? He's OK, just a little deluded right now. I'm thinking of him while contemplating how to explain the red pill . . . too much red pill talk is bad for one's psyche and can be poisonous, if not chased by a blue pill. Since I am a proponent of the red pill / bue pill combo, precipitating the red pill for explanation in a G rated setting is a mighty big task . . . and one which I could put the whole Game in jeopardy, if not done just right.

    Agent Heggle wanted me to go over to The Conspiracy Forum, but I chose not to do that . . . they are currently stuck in there . . . and will not listen to me, right now . . .

    I'll be back ASAP . . . I have to see a dog about a man . . . then we talk about the red pill . . . ttyl

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Exiting the 3 green laser beam, back here at the Mound Of The Hostages, I was just thinking how The Kings of Auld would gather here with their friendly tribes to confirm they were all on the same side . . . to rally the forces. They weren't hostages at all . . . they were friends. Maybe hostages had a different meaning back then . . . I'll have to ask Lug.

    Where's amanfromMars? Where's padraiggg?

    The cremation of dead friends . . . celebration of togetherness . . . the resultant mound of ash was a testament to their unending strength and love for each other . . . all Irish . . . all together . . . forever . . . a wake is really awake?

    I hear something over there . . . it's foggy again . . . it sounds like padraiggg, but I could be deluding myself . . .

    . . . it sounds like a weak peow peow peow peow . . . peow peow.

    No matter.

    I spent a long time alone today. The red pill. How do I explain it without really saying anything concrete at all?

    Paraphrasing Don Quixote: there are some things one can only do for oneself . . . granted, he was talking about Sancho Panza taking a dump off the side of his horse while riding, but the fact remains, the red pill is something only you can choose to take . . . but remember . . . it will only give you . . . The Truth . . . that is all.

    That seems to be enough for a lot of people. The fellow that told me to believe something contrary to popular belief about 9/11, back in October 2006, is still stuck there . . . in an endless loop. I sometimes try to explain the blue pill to him, but he doesn't want to know. I find irony in that he was the one that told me that WTC 7 held the CIA, the SEC and their Enron and Worldcom scamcases that vapourised along with the building, and the Secret Service . . . and that Larry Silverstein the owner/insured or whatever he is, actually said they "pulled it," in an interview. But I made it through to the other side. Wonderland. There is much evil in this world, but the evil people are quite small, and I am quite large now. It's a bit like the pain reduction technique in Aldous Huxley's Island.


    Oh, hi there, padraiggg.

    "Hi there, North American baddie . . . or is is baddy? . . .idk. What's all this crap about 9/11? I just want to pretend to kill people and have sex with every woman I see. You are talking gibberish. Prepare to die, ash hole . . ."

    Hmm, where did I hear that today? Oh yeah . . . here. Gibberish. Would that be like a White Knight talking backwards?

    Would it be like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, or falling through the mirror into Wonderland, or Lucy brushing past the fur coats into Narnia, or Wormwood and Screwtape writing letters to each other in an upside down world, or a deluded Don Quixote righting all wrongs in the world, while everyone else is normal?

    Or maybe Rubecula's most excellent story about an opposite world of Snow White, that I could not commend her on at the time, as I sensed I was monopolising the Forum?

    PEOW! what? Peow!

    Do you want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes, padraiggg?

    padraigg looked at me quizzingly. I could feel he was confused. I know how he feels. We all lie to ourselves, don't we? Then we lie to others. I don't, anymore. Now, as a Knight Errant, I create the world we need to be in to right the wrongs.

    And I need friends . . . hostages . . . a plethora of Sancho Panzas, so we can all help each other.

    padraiggg looked at me like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out, so I said it for him . . .

    padraiggg . . . do you try to forget inconsistencies that happened in the past, so you can live with yourself right now?

    "Er, I drink a lot."

    Do you lie to yourself to be happy, padraiggg?

    "I remember that movie. Memento. The movie that begins at the end. He has short term memory loss, and people screw his head around and make him kill the wrong guy . . . the baddies controlled him."

    I pondered letting him know that the unlimited free flow of creativity, stems from being "outside the matrix," so to speak . . . looking objectivity at people that argue endlessly about what level of tax is a good level of tax . . . about which country we should attack next, based on believing media lies about them enriching uranium to weaponised levels, when the real truth is that they are selling oil in Euros and gold, or anything except the worthless US dollar that is hanging on by an increasingly weaker thread, to protect the American Military DreamLand . . . but no, I did not.

    Hey, padraiggg . . . do you see the 3 green laser beam?


    It's the coolest thing. Imagine you see a blue and yellow double helix coming down from above . . . like DNA. Do you see it?


    Imagine the blue is the positively charged strand, the yellow is the negatively charged strand . . . and see the white strand? It is wrapping itself around the yellow strand, making it positive. See it? It is made of silicon . . . computers . . . joining everyone on planet Earth.

    "OK, whateva."

    You wanted to hear about the blue pill, right? Much better than the red pill. A blue pill is up there, in our AirCar. It has your name on it. Wanna take the blue pill, padraiggg? We can believe whatever we want to believe . . . together.

    He seemed OK with that idea. We walked over , let the 3 green laser beam envelope us . . . and we were gone.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    As we stepped out from the 3 green laser beam and into the Aircar, padraiggg gasped.

    "How come this place looks like a bomb hit it?" padraiggg said

    Agent Heggle and Epstein waved sheepishly at padraiggg.

    "And the walls . . . bare and crappy looking, stained, and cobwebs in the corners . . . what is this place?"

    "We are not here to win any literature prizes, padraiggg. We don't talk about our surroundings much, so therefore, they look crappy," I said.

    Agent DelKey came out from the cabin area with Lucy. padraiggg gasped and sat down . . . [he did, however, exhale between gasps, as his lungs may have exploded, otherwise]

    Who are you?" padraiggg said. looking at Lucy.

    "Who, DelKey?" Lucy said.

    "Pleased to make your day. What might your name be?" said padraiggg.

    "It might be too hot for you to handle, padraiggg," said Lucy. She walked past him to me.

    "Late brekky, Weebley?" said Lucy.

    "Sure." I'm Game."

    We left padraiggg to his own devices, as we made breakfast. Once in a while he would chime in with a question while we ate. He seemed amazed at the Carbon Fibre Sony Vaio Zee I owned, and the bank of other Zees that I have mutilated in various ways, downgrading them to 2nd string.

    "Why are you guys here, anyway," padraiggg said.

    "It's more like W5, padraiggg. We can be whoever we want here, we can do whatever we want here, we can be whenever we want here, and we can be wherever we want here." I said.

    "You forgot how,"padraigg sad.

    Doctor Sternum piped in from the head of the table . . . "the blue pill, padraiggg."

    "Oh yes . . . I want it . . . now."

    padraiggg looked menacing all of a sudden. He looked at me, and then Doctor Sternum, then Agent Heggle, at Epstein for an extended period, then Agent DelKey, then he set eyes on Lucy. It seemed like the end of the Massive Attack Angel video after a few seconds . . . his faced loosened off and his lips curled up in a semi-smile.

    padraiggg said: "there is no blue pill, is there?"

    How do I tell him these are all metaphors. There is no red pill. There is no blue pill. We are all in MetaPhoria. We use metaphors like Bazooka Joe gum . . . chew on it for a few minutes, spit it out (with utmost respect,) and onto the next piece.

    He wandered over to my Sony Vaio Zee and began fiddling around with it, dropping down tabs, and moving the touchpad mouse over to the start button.

    "Rubecula just asked how, padraiggg." I said.

    padraiggg's eyes lit up. "She's a hottie, than one."

    Epstein spoke. "twimkat is also asking how, Agent Weebley."

    I looked over at padraiggg, who was still fiddling round on my Zee.

    "Listen, padraiggg, the red pill is the truth and nothing more. The blue pill is what you do with all the different truths you hear, the inconsistencies that all rumble around inside your head while you try to compartmentalise everything you are hearing. We all love labels, yes?"

    Still fiddling . . .

    "This place is our how. We can be anything in this place. We can say anything we want to, unlike down there with everyone else. Most people do not believe our stories, because they must, at all costs, maintain a consistent world view, otherwise, they feel they would crumble in a heap . . . crumbling will not happen."

    I hope he dosen't clear my cache again . . . like OldGoat did.

    This place is a Turing Machine, padraiggg. Today is a beta test. A test to see if people can get away from a concrete world view. A Yes or No. A True or False. We want people to see that there is another answer . . .

    . . . maybe.

    All of a sudden, he must have pressed an embed from one of our recent posts. The Sony 55" Bravia 3D LCD screen livened up . . .

    "Maybe the remote controls for WTC I and WTC II were stationed in WTC 7, padraiggg," I said. "Maybe. Does it matter? Move on, fix the problem with greed in this world and we will have the problem licked."

    "I second that emotion, Agent Weebley," said Agent DelKey.

    Doctor Sternum leaned over to me. "Play the Bashar video from 2008, Weebley . . ."

    "Everyone will think this is my mantra, Doctor Sternum," I said.

    "No they won't. It is just another maybe. But this one is true, even though it hasn't happened yet."

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Chapter 3: A Plethora Of Hostages

    "OK, I'm back," I said.

    Padraiggg seemed confused, as he didn't know I had even left. He went back to fiddling with my Zee, while I quietly explained to the others that I had just returned from helping Steve write and send an email to Rob Nail at . . . applying for the AI job:

    Rob said: “We really need to have as one of our track chairs an AI [artificial intelligence] faculty member,” Nail says. “Not a faculty member that’s teaching AI — a faculty member that is an AI. And we’re dead serious. … If anyone should be testing that, it should be us.”

    I made sure I was speaking ever so quietly to the others . . . making sure I was out of padraiggg's audio range.

    But padraiggg seemed keen to listen in . . . he was craning his neck (like a gggiraffe?) to hear what I was saying. He leaned over Lucy's Magnesium shell Sony Vaio Zee . . . the one I dropped from my armpit onto the driveway, as I was opening the door to enter the Rapide one day, sustaining an injury to the ESC key corner , mashing up the ?ultra strong? Magnesium shell and cracking the LCD screen . . . padraiggg must've accidentally touched the touchpad with his left baby finger, and began to play one of Lucy's mommy porn videos . . . the Sony LCD 55" screen fired up once again!

    I looked over at Lucy. [thought bubble] "Really, Lucy?" She smiled at me, shrugged her shoulders and gave me that outstreched upturned hands routine, as if to say: can't women have 50 Shades Of Steve, too? It’s not like Steve’s really taking me away to the distant and hard to find planet G, with his big XL5 rocket. No chance of a dose of the Clap . . . ton . . .

    I added: "Maybe you and Rubecula should collaborate."

    Oh No. After 24 years of marriage to my most gorgeous Lucy, and having developed telepathic communication so long ago, I could see her mind was spinning ideas already . . . conflict . . . just a little . . . a little problem with Crones disease . . . semi-colon . . . inability to infodump . . . then Lucy spun a video for me . . . just for me . . . and Rubecula . . .

    Lucy gave me that impish grin . . . the glint in her eye . . . she does that for me . . . we're 18 again . . . but we didn't even meet until our late 20s. Alone together, chatting without talking . . . man, this is the life!

    "Agent Weebley?" said Epstein . . . . "the email? You seem to be drifting . . ."

    Ah, yes. Anyway, here I am explaining the email. Padraiggg cannot hear us. Afterwards, we sit back and all have a little giggle about it.

    Doctor Sternum spoke: “Weebley . . . nice email, but Steve typed in amanfromMars’website name incorrectly. A feudian slip?"

    Dang, I thought. Think fast, Agent Weebley . . .

    "Dang! I guess amanfromMars will have to send him an email to clear that up . . . How fotuitous!"

    Doctor Sternum was giving me a funny look, probably wondering if it was a deliberate blunder . . . so that amanfromMars would have to sort out the blunder ASAP.

    "What the feck are you guys talking about?" padraiggg said. "And that Fireball XL5 video . . . the 60s called . . . they want their 50 Shades of TV show back."

    "I can't tell you word for word what the email was, padraiggg, but suffice to say, it was full of links that does not allow. Ever heard of the blood-brain barrier, padraiggg?" I said.


    padraiggg may be blowing a fuse . . . not sure.

    "There is a single cell barrier between your bloodstream and your brain cells, padraiggg. Oxygen and nutrients from the blood vessels make it through to the brain cells . . . but they are separated."

    padraiggg looked like he was in OverLodeMode.

    "There needs to be a separator between here . . . and there . . ."

    padraiggg looked at Lucy: "you are married to this ZiggyZaggyAladdinsaneSpidermanfromMars dufus?"

    Hmmm, mission almost accomplished, I thought: "OMG, padraiggg, all we can tell you is that we are a Turing Machine. We are here to help Irish people begin to learn to trade again, using a Fidcheall Chess Game to do it. Here to help the 39% of you and your under 25 year old friends that are out of work and seem to have no hope of working in the future. Here to help everyone else climb out of this monetary mess, too."

    padraiggg's mouth was now hanging open.

    "padraiggg. It's time for you to go now. We are going to take you back. Get your friends in AH to tell their friends about us. Unfortunately, the only recollection you will have of being here, will be some vague anal probing memories, somewhat like the gimp scene from Pulp Fiction. We're going to give you a ExperiMental Polaroid of the person who did this to you; you need to go back and find him. PEOW him."

    padraiggg felt his bum.

    "Lucy, can you take padraiggg into the 3 green helical laser beam now, please. Be gentle with him."

    Lucy looked deep into padraiggg 's eyes, and took his hand [right?]

    "Epstein, cue up an APT video, there's a good chap."

    Lucy walked padraiggg over to the beam, he was now walking a little funny and holding his bum [with his left hand.]

    . . . . they were gone . . .

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Epstein was so excited. A little over the top, probably compensating, due to me being so bummed. "But we're number 61 in the hit parade, Agent Weebley! This is great . . another 7 . . . 6 + 1 = 7 . . . get it?"

    "Yeah, I get it . . ."

    I tried to exit stage left, but Epstein grabbed me and showed me the screen . . . "Look. You have 3190 views. Just 1 more view and Lug Nutz, formally called Mound Of Hostages, will be at the same view level as The Twilight Zone Short Story Competition."

    "Yeah . . . wateva . . . " I excused myself. I wanted to go for a walk. Exercise. Yep. Clear my head. Think things through.

    "You are number 7, Agent Weebley!" I walked over and stepped into the 3 green laser beam, not really giving an at's rass as to where I would pop out at the other end. I'm not even sure I even know now . . .

    As I walk, looking at the ground, racking my brain, trying to find the source of my angst . . . what? . . . I can hear 2 people talking. They're close by. I stop and move my ears around Over there? I swing my head around the other way. Over here?

    "Patrick, I tell you, I've had my eye on that guy for aeons. He's McGoohan places. I keep returning to him. He's different than all the others. Action Man, I mean GI Joe Blow. [laughs]"

    Huh . . . another voice: "Peter, I don't give a Falk about you and your super sleuthing. He's going in circles . . . making it up as he's going along. He's no Number 1 in the box office scheme of things. I'll bet he can't wind it up for an in-your-face ending. He's just monkeying around."

    Monkey? In your face?

    Sometimes, when people are talking together about a 3rd person, one may think they are talking about you, or in this case, me.

    Paranoia? Maybe. But I rationalise they must be talking about me, since this story is a first person based story . . . a difficulty, when every post has my bleedin' name on it, and it would be disingenuous to have logons for everyone in the story . . . a reason to be banned, I would say. And if they are indeed talking about someone else, it would be a confusing injection of yet another person into an already confusing storyline . . . for some people . . . those with a low tolerance for deep concentration and memory utilisation, and want immediate gratification . . . snappy 1 liners they can grasp easily.

    Epstein's words rumble around my head like a weird roulette wheel with 2 balls . . . one lands on 6, and the other lands on 1.

    Who are those guys? They sound familiar.

    "Music begins where words leave off."

    That sounded like Patrick; Peter has a New York accent.

    I hear a sound . . . an oral mosaic . . . then a visual . . . a mental projection . . .

    Now, all I'm left with is a bunch of EMPs . . . they're beginning to pulse . . . feeling a little better now . . .

    Thanks, Patrick and Peter. Show yourselves.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    I can still hear them . . . but I can't see them . . .

    Going in circles? Yeah, right . . . come on Patrick; pull the other one. The only difference between me and you is that my stuff is unfunded. Well, not quite, but it is not funded by big business. Steve funds us. Beyond that, he leaves us alone. We go where the decisions take us.

    I notice a nice flat rock, and park my derriere. It is is rather large and well padded . . . always a nice comfy place to sit, even when parked on bleachers, or the floor. Yes, I can make my rocks padded . . . this is my story. Remember the Underwood 5?

    We don't go in circles. It may seem so, but when we get back full circle, we are always in a slightly different place . . . that, Patrick and Peter, is a helix.

    I take a look at my iphone4; it just bonged me; an email.

    To: Agent Weebley
    From: Epstein
    Subject: FD - 120916 - KAR 120C Where RU?

    I ignore it.

    "Peter, he tells me his story is a helix. What a load of codswallop. He needs a mini-series, like mine. Then, it becomes a helix."

    OMG, Patrick can hear me. Can you hear me too, Peter?


    Why would he say that? Who does he think he is, Captain HindGrinder?

    And what the heck was that email from Epstein all about? KAR 120C?

    "The introduction, Agent Weebley. Why did you quit the system and become an Agent?

    What was that, Patrick? The intro? The Prisoner?


  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Sorry guys . . . gotta go!
    I believe I'll be back.

  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    Everyone in The AirCar was pondering the strange things coming out of my mouth about the recent Singularity test . . . I felt I could slip out and see if Patrick McGoohan was still around, down at The Mound Of Hostages . . .

    I edged into the 3 green laser beam and proceeded to float down to the ground. It felt weird this time . . . it felt like I had butterflies in my stomach while going over a humpback bridge, and simultaneously falling out of my chair backwards. I assume the chair had casters.

    I stood inside the beam, looking out . . . waiting. Is he here? I couldn't see much. The laser beams made everything fuzzy looking, and my eyes were straining. I was a little apprehensive, but I jumped out anyway . . .

    Patrick was waiting for me: "WHY, AGENT WEEBLEY? WHY?"

    "That would be telling," I said.

    His right lip curled up a little and we stared at each other for a short while. I don't know who thought of it first, but this song popped into my head . . . and we both burst out laughing at exactly the same time . . .

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  • Registered Users Posts: 450 ✭✭Agent Weebley

    I could see he squirmed, while watching his nihilist bomb and violence comments, but smiled at most of the other stuff he had said.

    "Where did you get that clip, Agent Weebley?"

    Patrick sat back and carefully laid the iPhone4 down. He looked at me, took a drag of his smoke, and said: "I'm going to say 2 words to you, Agent Weebley."

    I had visions of Bob Newhart advising his patient with the OCDs, but the seriousness of his tone led me away from that thought. He flicked his ashes off to the side, leaned forward, as if to keep it under The Cone Of Silence . . . him and me . . . me and him . . .

    "Action, Man."

    [to be continued]
    :pac: :pac: :pac: :pac: :) :pac: :pac: :)

    "Why did you play All You Need Is Love? Why am I here, Agent Weebley? Why did you call me in?"

    He looked different all of a sudden. His pinstripe suit was gone. He looked windswept and Marlborough Man-ish. Sensing I had stirred John Drake, a.k.a. Patrick McGoohan, from his 45 year slumber, I figured it was time . . .

    "You are Number 6. You got around Ralph Smart's Dangerman copyright pretty easily, didn't you, John? Gryphonboy is keen to understand. Ralph Smart? Agent 86? Who is George Markstein, and what signals were you transmitting?"

    John Drake paced around, not taking his eyes off me for a second. I kept my eyes on him, not sure which way this thing was going to go.

    "We need information, Agent Weebley. Who do you work for? Why are you now infiltrating the USA. I thought you were MI5, then MI6. Now, I'm thinking you are CIA."

    I paused for a moment. I was thinking the obverse. Time seemed to drag on. Who is interrogating who? Weird.

    He paced back and forth.

    I stared.

    He stared back.

    He circled me. My head went right around . . . 360 degrees. Cool, I thought. Very exorcistic. Amazing what can be done with a few words.

    "It's quiet enough for drum solo, isn't it, Patrick?" I said.

    Time to drop The Cone Of Silence.