Respect is a modern luxury

From Invert's last post to me:


Rosa,
Rosa.
Rosa.
Rosa
Rosa.


Huh, I love to see this name mentioned with such extreme density of occurence.

 

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And I love to see people delete their posts because they know that I'm right.

Rosa. Rosamos. Rosario. Rosapepa. Rosemos. Rosaction.

Blah. If you can't handle people saying your user name in a conversation with you, then you've got problems. I suppose you think it's that I'm following you? Such ego you have.

But a hidden ego, isn't it? Why? Because ego on a woman is unattractive?

Respect is something that must be tricked from a person rather than a true showing of the self? Hmm?

 

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Vert:

I am confusing squat.

You desribe your gwama as being so full of love yet unloved she showered these beings with her surplus.
With her eyes she saw these homeless beings as tiny mirrors reflecting her loneliness yet there you were, a spineless worm, condemning them to parasitsm with your slaughter.
She saw saw innocence, hunger and loneliness when she looked in their eyes as this was her reflection.
You saw savagery and useless waste, a reflection of the teenaged piece of shit you presumalby no longer are.
Furry little teenaged parasites on all fours just like you.
Right?
Watch you say wrong.

I say presumably becuase you can actually look back and feel no guilt.
Animals so trusting they shelf their fears for the comforts we give them, animals who know only the innocence of play, lust and hunger.
That you can profess guilt for those you ran over but not for these you called parasites is this very luxury the modern prole, like yourself, feels entitled to.
As if you hold a fucking sword by which each animal is to be knigthed worthy or unworthy.

You feel no guilt? Even knowing my heart aches imagining the noise and the slaughter with you in the middle?
So the man feels no guilt, and neither would I with you tied to chair forced to watch me smashing your loved one's- any loved one, especially a child- smashing their skull in with a fucking brick.

 

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No. You were confusing terms. You compared the cats I ran over with the parasites.

No, in fact I described as a woman that was well-loved. By her whole family. But, she, as so many other old ladies, outlived her husbands. So she was without a significant other. So you could say she was unloved in that way. She also came from a time when love was different. People from her generation didn't really marry for love. They married for practicality. Her marriages were no different. I think. I never knew her first husband. He was dead far before I was born. Her second husband was unfeeling. There was only practicality in that marriage. My brothers grandparents are the same way. They do not shower love on each other. They show love through action. They are from an older generation.

But, that's all blah. Mere background.

Wrong.

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No, not completely. I, of course, was not aware of any such reflection. But I have little doubt that such might well be the case. I was a useless shit. I cared for nothing and no one. Even my wonderful grandma suffered my disaffection during this time. I hated myself and I hated the world. The cats were merely another part in it.

And now we have Gendanken, an animal so sophisticated that she can forget the other F. Fighting. They were vicious bastards. The males would kill the infants. Sometimes they'd just go through the litters and chew their nuts off. This was their mercy, I suppose.

You know, one of the cats that my grandma tamed was called Jasper (well, that's what I called it. I think grandma had a different name for it. She didn't often name them, really.) Jasper was born with three legs and a runt to boot. She'd get along pretty good, though. Jasper survived grandma's move into an assisted living center. Jasper had a good many litters of kittens herself. A thing which would not have happened in the wild.

I also remember a cat named Jack. It was one of the first. This cat was HUGE! It was one of those orange cats. It's head was the size of a canteloupe. This cat could tear up small dogs. Jack lorded himself over those cats. And he wasn't kind about it. Not at all. Jack met his end one day. Not by me. No. A dog found him. And tore him to shreds. I never told grandma that I found him half-dead. That I sent the dog packing. Hell, I guess I did kill him. To tell the truth. I put him out of his misery that day. Do you think I should feel guilt for that act as well?

You know, I haven't thought about Jack in years.


My brother was at work one day when there arose a frightful yelping and screeching next door. He looked over the fence and saw a little old man trying to kill a dog with a small sledge hammer. Why? Becaue while backing up his Winnebago in the driveway, he ran the poor bastard. Scraping him over several feet. A long bloody smear. The dog was in agony but alive. The old man was trying to finish him but couldn't. He was too weak and too disturbed by what he had done, accidentally. My brother hopped the fence and took the sledge hammer and finished it. They laid a blanket over the body and minutes later the school bus showed up and that old man's grandkid got home.

Do you blame my brother for his action?

He had nightmares about that, you know. Ironic, because of another tale that I've told you (That I do not want spoken in public.) But, it's true. It really shook him up killing that dog.

I'm sorry that your heart aches, Gendy. I can empathize with you. But, no, there was no other course of action open. It was a mercy killing in the end. You haven't mentioned the possibility of taking them to the country for the coyotes to eat. There are other possibilities as well. Possibilities that remove myself from directly causing their demise, but is the responsibility any less mine should I have chosen those paths? I feel that I would feel guilty if I had done it this way. If I had chickened out in such a cowardly manner.

Your analogy on loved ones doesn't hold true to the examples given. Apples and oranges.

 

RosaMajika,

Almost forgot to ask. Would you be so offended if I told you I had murdered a whore last night? That I dumped her body deep in the woods where no one will ever find her? Would this divert your attention from the killing of cats 15 years ago?

 

AHA!

You see now how one can feel for their fellow humans!
You see now how I feel for those morons in Jonestown, including the children, that lost themselves to propoganda.
You expressed empathy some thread ago at the thought of the children mangled with cyanide and I feel nothing.
For the 6 millions or so jews that went up in smoke I feel nothing.
For the man on the street that asks how my day was all he gets is a cold stare because he does not care, he's only playing part I refuse and don't feel like playing.
See him run over and I feel nothing.
Now do you see how conscience has to be beat into somebody?
No matter the angle or what I threw at you for the cat's sake, you never showed it (conscience) becuase you do not have it for those cats.
The mind of the cat never once enters yours as does the mind of 98% of humanity never once enters a certain type of murderer or seemingly 'cold' person.
This is the basis of conscinence, the awareness of another mind.
A few days before posting this thread I had occasion to watch a cold case file on a prostitute that had been murdered 15 years ago.
The killing was brutal enough that it drove both the parents into the grave and filled one private investigator with so much bitter frustration that he lost himself in trying to solve her case.
All the testimony, all the hurt and pain did JACK SHIT for my revulsion to see such energy expended on a useless expendible, a fucking commodity, a a prostitute that never cared for its own life let alone other's.

Somewhere in here I remembered the cats and the game began- I must say you made it hard by hinting your suspicions but still.
Stroke of genius.

ITS THIS that I need for you to see in my other thread little man. The Omnipotence of Murder.
You could never put the cat's mind in yours as the infant, or the autistic, or the schizophrenic can never put your mind in his.
Ergo, all four have no concience until one is beaten into them when forcedto recongnize you.

MUAHHAHAHAHA!

(True, I've been silly but it was needed.
I've also been purposely overbitchy as well, seeing if you'd break.
Your blooming defensiveness was betraying you.)

 

Grahahhahahahahahahahahahhahah......

 

How amusing…

Neither are you due anything. You are no more original or special than the prostitute, what makes you think you are; grand thoughts, an occupation? Ha. And what are they worth as your corpse putrefies? As your grand being becomes fodder for worms, a feast for bacteria and mold? “Oh but she had great insight into our insignificance, grand visions of the self supreme.” But who is left that will care to remember your words? What value have they to me?

Killing and murder? More masturbation. Life is frail and easily extinguished, “See I can piss in the sand!” a great revelation of power indeed.

Rather an expression of a hobbled mind too filled with self-loathing, so bankrupt of self-worth… of any worth that it can find nothing within that might attract another’s attention. “I can kill therefore I am special” they all cry. They have nothing else to offer.

All morality is an expression of vanity. It stems from the self; there is nowhere else from which it could come. It exists to ennoble the self, to provide it with value and meaning. Respect is not something we owe to others; respect is that which we give to ourselves. “I have value therefore you have value” is all it means. Some would call down the Gods to give it validity but morality must precede the Gods, otherwise how do we know they are worthy? The self is indeed supreme but existing alone it has no value.

So what is it you have to offer and to whom?

~Raithere

 

Interesting. Yes, recognition is certainly elemental. It is part of the problem of overlarge groups. How can one recognize one who we don't know? Will never know. Can never know.

And in overpopulated societies such as Japan where it considered the height of rudeness to push yourself into someone's awareness?


Heh. I knew what you were getting at. I more than hinted. I wonder what Rosa will think of the whole thing now? You used her, you realize.

 

Thus comes the requirement at earning respect. What value are her words to you after her death? None can say. No one valued Nietzsche while he was alive. No one valued van Goghe while he was alive. It wasn't until death claimed that their works reached greatness. Sometimes, the troublesome human behind the work must be removed for the work to achieve greatness.

Remove the whore from her work and the work is gone. Vanished along with her putrifying vagina.

Masturbation? You bring sex into it. Violence and sex combined in your mentality? Why? Violations of conscience lumped together into one vile loathing?

Life is frail at times. Some people die just by slipping on the sidewalk. Other times, it hangs on with a tenacity that is unbelievable. People can suffer from the most grotesque and horrifying injuries and still struggle to survive.

Ever seen the guy that had his face bitten off by a bear?

Certainly some killers kill for that reason. But not all. Surely you see that. Do soldiers kill because they have no sense of self-worth? Or because they have too much? (the last question doesn't really fit soldiers, but it does fit a broad range of killers.)

Yes and no. Morality comes from self, surely. It is our interpretation. Yet, it also comes from outside. It is our interpretation of that which we see about us. It is our interpretation on the ways and means with which we may interface with this thing called society. And as the groups grow larger (getting tired of saying that. Need a short phrase for it) the interpretation becomes ever more abstract and surreal.

The definition of respect you just gave is your interpretation. Others feel quite differently. Personally, I have said I give a tentative respect to strangers. I have since changed my definition. It's not a respect I give, but a politeness. It has been pointed out to me that they are not the same thing. And I agree. I give politeness in order to maintain contact (if I wish to maintain contact, which is not always). It's a welcoming. Respect comes later. And has nothing to do with getting respect in turn. To me anyway. THat would be too... insecure.

Respect is something that you give to those who you respect. If you don't respect them then don't show them respect hoping that they will offer it to you. If you respect them yet they don't respect you, then show them your respect (or keep it secret, there's no law that states respect must be known) don't deny it for such petty reasons.

I agree with this statement. There is a delicate balance between self and group that must be maintained, but without group there is no self. I've said this often.

 

Admit it, Vert.

It was GENIUS.

Getting to you pukes some other time, including you Raither sitting up there with your pathetic sneer.
Hands hurt.

 

Oh, I do admit it. But, it could have been more geniuser. I feel. For instance, I know that someone was in on it. So, your whole point to this thing was to prove to me that this conscience is forced upon you externally. Beaten into you.

Now, this is certainly one means of instilling the proper (to those who raise the child) set of moral values, but it also instills the value of beating into the child. And also the value of being beaten.

Here's the thing. It's true that the child may not necessarily care to have the particular contents of conscience that the parents may desire. So, the parents attempt to force their values in. But, they fail. Always the contents of conscience is interpreted. Always. And by this interpretation, a quite different set of values than those desired may be instilled. And, the child may think that he learned the lesson of his parents well. It's not until the child matures and the contents of conscience flesh out and become associated with even more concepts and thoughts that these differences begin to show themselves.

How many serial killers had their particular brand of conscience beaten into them?

And how many serial killers had their brand of conscience carressed into them?

Equal proportions?

Possibly. Possibly not.

The point is that we are not aware of the inner workings well enough for this type of moral instillment to be 100% effective.

Mistakes happen.

And who's to blame when this occurs?


But, anyway, I think you could have been geniuser by leaving Rosa in the dark. You know as well as I that she would have continued her lashing at me. Hating me for being a cat killer. In fact, I feel you sabatoged her will to attack me. After she was told, her attacks became less coherent. She didn't put the effort into them she did before.

You see, I think that you could have made two points for the price of one. To me you could have attempted to demonstrate this beating of conscience. To her you could have demonstrated the ridiculousness of justice.

That would have been sheer genius.

But, you came so close and just didn't quite make it.

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Sorry 'bout that.

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Better luck next time.


However, you did raise a good point. I'll consider it and incorporate it into my theory of conscience. For, we inherently seek patterns in the social structure around us. We fill our box called conscience with something. But, on our own we might not come up with a socially desired conscience. So, deliberate steps are taken to manipulate the filling of the box. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

The Bene Gesserit of Dune were adept at this type of manipulation. This psychological murder. For, if anything can be called psychological murder it is the forced manipulation of conscience.

 

Respect cannot be earned in a literal sense, it is only gifted. Unless what I have to offer complements your value system you will not respect my offering. Since we are both human many of our values are likely to be in accord. This comes into play below where you speak of the group dynamic.

Certainly I was not the one to bring sex into this dialogue but this was not my point. I meant masturbation as an essentially useless act of self gratification.

My point is that killing is not a particularly difficult act.

I was under the impression that we were talking about murder as an act of self-realization. I do agree that not all killers fall under that heading.

I believe that the basis for our morality stems from our physical natures, some of which has adapted itself to a communal living arrangement. Certainly we build upon this from our experiences. My point, however, is that morality is intrinsically personal. You cannot simply adopt someone else’s morality. Although one may be forced to abide by another's in which case some will find a justification for it.

The feeling of respect I have is different than what I think respect is. In the context of this thread we seem to be talking about a general sense of respect between people. That even people deemed worthless by others have some value worth defending or avenging. In this context I believe we are indeed talking about the self. By demonstrating a basic level of respect for all people or all life we are really just affirming that we, ourselves, have an intrinsic value. It becomes a validation of our own value.

Just a little circular there, don’t you think?

I don’t know if I’d go quite that far.

~Raithere

 

I await breathlessly. Your sneer is so much prettier than my own.

~Raithere

 

So its been claimed. Cant say its correct or not. I dont exactly have an anthropological library that would back me up on what its like in tribal societies, but I see no reason to doubt that they do the same thing. A lot of people want something for less effort than it aught to take.

 

Have you no heart?!

 

Rosa,

Absolutely I have a heart. One that grows healthier by the day since I've quit smoking.

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But, I presume you mean "Do I have compassion? Emotions?" Absolutely. I am a very emotional person. Unfortunately, I don't understand them well so I tend to push them to the side and try to act rationally.

Why do you ask? Do you feel that I'm being hard on you? Why? You feel that because I stated that you would have demonstrated the ridiculousness of justice that I am cruel, evil, monstrous? Why?

You took part in a play where you attempted to lead me along by the emotions. Playing on an incident of my past that I was ashamed of and another that was done for someone I love. The thing is that you didn't even deal with the one I was ashamed of. You tried to 'beat' a conscience into me for the one where I had none. And in so doing, you said some rather mean and hateful things.

It's somewhat funny. Now that I think about it. (It was at the time, too. Especially the way your arguments degenerated.) But, now it's a dfferent funny. Because, Rosa, (Oooh. There's your name again.) you are now a cat killer. Enjoy.

You attempted to take part in a psychological murder. With full awareness of your actions. Do you feel guilty? Even a bit? For calling my beloved grandmother a loveless bitch? Do you feel guilty?

It's funny. If Gendanken had left you in the dark then you would be innocent. But, as it is, you are guilty. Inescapably and unavoidably guilty. Just as I am with those cats. The question is... have you no heart?

Oh. By the way. Scanning about here and there I came across a page with a convo between you and Spurious where you say that you have been called a bitch for your use of latin. Just to clear things up, in this thread I used the term *bitch*, but I was referring to the difficulty of translating these latin phrases. Not you in particular. Just want to be clear on that. Latin away, but just know that no one knows latin anymore. Not in America anyway. And, it is often seen that people speak other languages to say things they don't want to tell you directly. That's why people get defensive when it happens. And, I've seen it happen to others besides me.

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Raithere,

Right. Earned was only used because of the absence of a better word. True respect is an outflowing. It may be reciprocated but not necessarily. It is not so much action by the recipient that earns respect as interpretation of that action by the giver. It is, in the end, personal, as all things are really.

I imagine there was some small talk of sex before we got sidetracked into cat killing.

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Did you really read the whole thing? Bravo.

Self-gratification. Sometimes masturbation is self-abuse. As is murder.

And my point is that it can be. It can be very easy and very hard. In more ways than one. First, one must get over the inhibitions instilled by society (unless he's escaped the moral instillment. Or twisted it's teachings.) The first murder is often preceded by years of fantasies and self-hate. Loathing of these fucked up images that roll through the mind. (This is of course the serial killer type murderer) It is a great divide that seperates the fantasy from reality despite the right brains unawareness of fantasy. Once that line is crossed, then it becomes easier. Easier each time. It is something to become accustomed to. Very few kill, for the first time, with ease.

Also, sometimes the bastards just won't die. You keep bludgeoning them on the head and they just keep screaming and gurgling and crawling away. You pierce their organs and they still hang on to their precious lives.

Have you, by any chance, heard of the young nurse who run over a homeless guy a few years back? She was fucked up on extasy and didn't call the police. The bum was lodged in her windshield. Alive. Horribly wounded but alive. He died over a period of three days, I believe it was. This murderess would occasionally go out to the garage and apologize profusely to the man for what she was doing. She would explain to him how she couldn't go to jail. How she was so precious to this world that she must survive, so he must die. I don't remember how she got caught. I oughta look into it. Get the full details.

I don't like to limit myself in such ways. It's more about the mentality of the non-killers rather than the killer.

That's my view as well. So, we agree here. Although, being forced to abide by another's moral code would in the end be another interpretation. Subject to all the possibilities of error that is inherent in any interpretation.

Hmm. Perhaps I have been using the improper usage of respect. A personalized respect that one gives to someone they look up to, rather than a general respect for life.

Hmmm. I'll need to think about this. I'm sure Gendanken will have something to say about it. Maybe she can clear my mind a bit on this.

Heh. Yeah. But also no. I'm using respect in two different ways there. The first respect is a noun. It is the thing that is bestowed. The second respect is a verb. The emotion inside of you that prompts the giving.

Lack of terminology leads to the appearance of circularity. Methinks.

Me neither. Not entirely. But, in the end it's true. If one never knows another then he is feral. There is little self, human self, in the feral. Those who have known the group but seperated lose themselves gradually. The memory of the group remains to reinforce their selves, but even so, it becomes dimmer by the day.

We are social animals. Born and bred to it. We don't fare well in isolation. Complete isolation.

 

Found it. The Windshield Murderer at the Smoking Gun. Enjoy. That's respect for you. Let me tell you what.

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Edit: From the site:

White man. Not of her group.

She got scared. Here was this white man impinging himself on her awareness so fucking rudely. And here she was just going along her merry way fucked up on X and booze. Damn whitey. Always on my back.

Fear of punishment. Shows no signs of guilt as of yet. No fear of reprisal from the wounded. He's far too gone for that.

Attempt to seperate herself from the act. Go up and make use of the extasy to further her selfish libido. Hoping, beyond hope, that the problem would solve itself. All she had to do was fuck long enough.

"Help me. Please. Why are you doing this? Just take me to a hospital, I won't tell. Please." You could have heard a pin drop when they turned and shut the door.

Problem solved. It just takes time. And to think. She didn't even dirty her own hands. What a gal.

Now, the guilt begins to arrive. Was it there to begin with? Then why did she brag so mercilessly to friend earlier? Now that the consequences arrive things are so much different. And the interpreter would have it that it was always so.

"Oh, I felt so bad for that white man. Oh, poor me."

"Sorry. I'm very sorry. Want a hamburger, Mr. Dying White Man? Maybe it'll hasten your demise?"

Chante acquired another to clean up her mess. Not only could she not finish the deed mercifully. Not accept her state as a murderer, she couldn't even clean it up. It was always someone elses fault. The pills, the booze, the white man, Vaughn. Not Chante. No, never Chante.

Fucker bled to death. Over a period of days this bastard bled out lodged in this half-hearted murderer's windshield.

Fry the bitch. This was in Texas. I wonder what the verdict was?



By the way, as I wrote this, I saw many parallels between this case and the cats of my past. Can you see them too? Can you see how I could have taken the cowardly path of Chante? Which is a better choice, I wonder? I have the answer, do you?

 

Raithere:

I know.

Miffed?

What value is being placed on Self when respect is so smeared on mankind it is able to promote socially, allowing the Negro a place in the office because he is Negro and not because he qualifies?
How valuable is self when its easy to hand it around like a pamphlet at some carnival so big its gone mad?
Never let it be said that posthumously a valiant Self mourns because no one mourns its corpse.
When Self becomes so valuable one guards it like a mother, it is because it is at a premium in a world where the individual is only a vessel for mass.
This Majestic Self is the last thing you will find mourning that others forgot- it only mourns that its been robbed of continuing its life Majestically.
Dwarfing yours.

Nice try.
Realization. Absurdity.

“Respect is a simple reflection of what each man feels entitled to, a narcissitic tool we call Ethics.
Mankind has become something like a room full of pompous women with big hair and neat makeup, walking around with a nose in the air intimidating the audiance into civility someone like Bundy picks one out in the bunch, looks her over for a while sniffing something not right, and then reaches out to pull her wig off in public.
This is the joke.
It is here when he begins laughing."- gendanken

You would not laugh.
And neither would your little brother Guthrie.

Rather more a sneering in contempt at those you feel cold, you blow the hot air on them you blow on your little brothers but look- they don't stir.
Its your little brother who's more likely to be the angsty teen on his skateboard smashing up mailboxes and kittens in order to prove himself angry.
Its your little brother, so kind by default he is lost in the powerful forces of anger.
Its your little brother that is likely to be the Angry White Teen- not the higher mind disciplined and reticent enough to absorb meaning from madness.

But only when it is allowed to exist alone for a while does it have value.
No?

A mother goes rummaging through the boxes she keeps in the attic every Christmas. There she will find all the gifts she will give for the holidays to those she belittles- any trinket will do, she'll blow on each trinket, brushing the dust off and scribbling a name on each in her haste.
But the prize jewels she keeps in her bedroom, tucked away in neat velvet and were she to give one of her rubies away its to those she calls loved ones.
This, dear boy, *is* respect.
Not the shiny trinket the man on the street gives to you when he asks how your day was.
As if he fucking cares.

Vert:

Staying true to your word, to your self.
Not buckling to adversity, even if it was Gendanken throwing grenades on your platfrom.
Adhering to one's sanity, even at the cost of estrangement.



Interesting to see that the bitch's last name rhymes with Coward.

 

I really am stupid at times.
Its just hit me that the best way to check errors is to copy paste a post you've just finished into a word doc.


STUPID.