24 July 2012

[Self-Creating] Games People Do [Not] Play


Nature's Lifeforms Playing with [Their Own] Nature

"Games" and "play" are an expression of the self-evolution of humanity; in that sense they are also humane.

Hence, "human" war is not "human" self-evolutionary — rather self-devolutionary — and is, unavoidedly and undeludedly, a bottom of the hierarchy slavishly toleration of a top of the hierarchy imposed "mastering" process: "flushing away" of any social cohesion which might challenge and wrest the [exo/extra]-control; it is a harvesting of human fodder for ideological transitions from one form of hierarchy to a new one.

It is conducted for the "benefit to" and "entertainment of" vampiric parasites — made up of both sociopaths and psychopaths — and their dupes, a cesspool of self-whoring "professionals" at best... at worst, and most likely... resolute traitors to human and other life. These delusionists must first convince themselves before spreading their fetid and banal existences falsely acclaimed as rivaling the self-energizing of a "star", gravitating with the deceit of one who wears the skin of another to lure all others 'below' them into burdening the above-weight of a need-to-know-only (that is, invisible) global pyramid scheme so that it appears to be "as good as it gets", allowing them to "be all [they] can be". Be a slave today. Be a slave always. Never become, just be.

And then, there's the wading cesspool where politicos — necessarily and intentionally manufactured as "left" and "right" — authoritarians to the core of their mindless persistences — act as co-dependent cheerleaders for the evolution of their [common slavist] team.

There is no "com"-petition (as in "com"fort or "com"munity).
There is no "game".
There is duty.
There is a set of rules set out by rulers.
There is a uniform[ity].

The redundant drones of this leftist-rightist [pseudo-]competition are a "con"-petition.

The mold works in the sports arena where we toss ourselves to the lions around the radio, the television, the water cooler, the possibility of communicating with people about real people issues and desires, around the places where we might subjectively/actively exist but exist only as binary noises in the canned laughter of daily life and the attempts to compete for a systemically-scarcified survival.

Avoiding Our Own Nature in the More "In-Touch with Living" Species

Animals play. Suppression of play separates us from other lifeforms in a very negative way. That is intended.... Once your very nature is lost to you, its substitution is easily accomplished by forces outside yourself which seek your slow, sustained death based upon self-unconscious slavery to their parasitism. I call this trans-epochical social relation virulent hierarchy.

Inverting Play into the Passivity of an "Immobilized Prey"

"Professionalized games", i.e., "sports", is the mediated and mediating seizure of games and play, repackaged and procedurally-toxicified, which presents a social view which reinforces the dominant scheme: "there can be only one", "we're number one", ad finitum, ad nauseam.

Merely spectating some externality called "sports" which is experientially self-banalizing — rather than actively-engaging others via games — is the epitome of docility, of surrender, of embracing one's programming as a social cog.

Seeing who beats who or "who wins" is relevant only to those pretending to compete, and to those watching those "watching sports", because they, thus, see and affect what is real while the passive viewers affect nothing at all.

Theirs is an active entertainment which exploits the very core of what might be human, and then uses it to prevent that human from ever existing. Instead of becoming an explorer and inventor of "the game of life", through the self-relinquishment to "fandom" for "professionals" and "experts", one practices "being nothing of any importance". The supposed playing of atomizing games and with disconnecting "social networks", owned by alien-to-you forces, one practices self-disownership and self-alienation "as a way of life". Some life affirming everything but yourself. Wow! You got the high score in some self-domesticating [pseudo-]game. Now that's really living! How could you possibly commit suicide or homicide in a snap?

The spectacle of benefit to the viewer is generated for the viewer, and is maintained by the viewer. "Go team" is as much a facade as "this is where I've always dreamed of playing"; it's just a cliche, more a saddened sigh of resignation, or an excuse for being characterologically crippled, incapable of any sort of social revolution or self-evolution. The practice of killing imagination pays off such that you're a "number one" proletarian (unsaid is that you are laughingly in a tie with billions of other proletarians) who is anybody's slave, and who, thus, is psycho-dutifully contributing to the slavery of everyone else, present and future. What a team player!

Anyone who thinks athlete-slaves "do it for any of those monotonic cliche reasons that they all spew out is a well-programmed fool. They win for winning's sake and will dump a team they loved yesterday for the chance at a higher stake in the ligament-and-tendon whoring biz.

The point of any game is to play them yourself, and so that you "end the game" with a different you inventing and beginning a new game [of self-transcendence].

The very wheelbarrows of slef-aggrandizement and notoriety, — the driving blood of the narcissism-famished "star", feign credibility with credit ability that all these "little [wo/]men" entertainers (political stars, movie stars, sports stars, "news" story stars, etc.) get as payoff from their paying "fans": the docility of the beholder; those captured by morbid curiosity to-and-of their own participatory demise; the "frozen-in-the-headlights" imaginations which now can only imagine "life" as it sucks them in like a black hole; the gazing "red carpet" slave. [See Wilhelm Reich;s book Listen, Little Man for clarification.] The more "glow" in the star the less life in yourself as a living entity of the real universe. Our realities fade as imagined and hierarchically-manufactured ones are tolerated, worshiped, held in awe, fought over, and/or and otherwise-fetishized. Meanwhile, both the "star" and "fan" are process iterations of need — sold back in fictitious form and manu-imagined experience — so that together, they puppet about for those entertaining-away the sound and sight of puppet-slave "chains".

I detest games being held hostage, and I detest people defending that generalized social unconsciousness which their [dis]own[ed] gaze spreads to all they encounter: "how 'bout them Cubs" triteness invades every conversation like a plague. Slavishness wearing a jersey or cap is like the "colors" of a gang or the uniform of a ruling clique.

Revolution is The Detention of "Sports" and the Reinvention of Play

A uniform is not a costume!

A sporting event is not a game!

A hierarchy is not social.

The current world — a world where currency transmutes potential-and-negentropic credit into kinetic-and-entropic debt — is not a world of, by, or for humanity in any sense. It is the sped-up "Death March" perceptively-survived very, very slowly. That is "entertainment" to a sociopathic-psychopathic few atop our mounds of misery.

The time to show sense now needs to elevate the resistance game, the only game left, by blockading the daily surrender to the current world, else no new world can emerge. Surely, only a new system of rule will emerge from waiting for someone else to do it: aliens from out there, monsters, ghosts, dictators... they're all walking, talking, stalking forms of our own alienated selves, of our own surrenders, of our own [UN]making.

The only consequential game left is revolution, and by that, I mean the going where no recuperation dares venture: negentropic subjective fusion energy.

Resources: On the Nature, Form, and Presence of "Evil"

Resources: On the Parasitic Extractive Harvesting of [Human Self-]Power by "Hierarchy"

Resources: On the Consequential and Self-determinant Transcendence of "All This"

Posted by at 2:02:00 AM

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