164 lines
9.0 KiB
Plaintext
164 lines
9.0 KiB
Plaintext
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_____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________
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| ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ |
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| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
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| |________________________________________________________________| |
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|____________________________________________________________________|
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...presents... My Grey Matter
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by Tequila Willy
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>>> a cDc publication.......1991 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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By the time you finish reading this file you should be dead.
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Consider the proposition of knowledge. When we experience an event we
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generally unquestionably accept it as a truth -- that is to say, we don't
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question that it happened. For example, when I'm French kissing a girl I feel
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that hot wet tongue and I don't doubt the experience. When I'm sitting here,
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reading this text file, I don't doubt that I'm doing so; I see the glowing
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characters on the screen and it's an experience I don't doubt is occurring.
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But there's another experience I didn't doubt either....
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I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness of my room.
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Suddenly, still prone, I was pulled from my bed -- against my will -- and
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carted out through my window into the darkness of the night. I was suspended
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in air for a moment, and I distinctly remember thinking, "No! I don't want to
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go!" And no sooner had I completed that thought than I was being sucked
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through a tornado filled with autumn leaves. There was a strong wind and I
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could smell and feel the stiff crunchy leaves and they collided against my
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body.
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I landed in a long tiled hallway. Immediately I acknowledged the array of
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doors and directly made my way towards a large rubber orange door. Out stepped
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my girl -- I didn't meet her face, but her stomach was hard and flat. She had
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long lean legs and I was happy to see her again! We made our way towards the
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end of the hall and out into the afternoon sunlight.
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Walking along the red brick path, we managed to cut through the throng of
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sweater-clad upperclassmen. Doug yelled out to me as we passed him -- they
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were all going somewhere; I don't remember where or why, but we certainly
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weren't going to join them. I returned Doug's greeting with, "...you trendy
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dork!" Shock spread across his face as we made our way past him.
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It was then that I realized that Richard was there. Richard's face turned
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red and he leaned forward and retorted a challenge towards me. At first I
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hesitated, but then I realized he was in a wheelchair so I quickly gave him a
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shove that sent him tumbling into the soft green lawn. Richard, sprawled
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helplessly in the grass, sent his horse after us.
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My girl and I, half running, managed to get the sliding glass door open
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and charged into the kitchen of the house. There was a large bleeding sirloin
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on the breadboard and suddenly I could taste it; it was raw and salty. The
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horse was right behind us now. Just as we finished sprinting through the
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kitchen and into the hallway I heard the horse's hooves on the kitchen tile.
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We turned into the master bedroom. Plaster littered the green carpet --
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no one had been in this house in ages and I pondered for a moment about my
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ex-wife. The horse was right behind us now. There was no where to run. I
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stopped short of the shower stall.
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Suddenly I woke up.
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Without hesitation I passed off my entire experience as a dream. Yet,
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while I was dreaming I utilized every sensory experience to test the reality of
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my situation and yet my sensory experience was merely reportive; it didn't
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attribute my experiences to fact or fiction, instead it just reported to me
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what was happening.
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I saw the color of the green carpet. I felt the door and determined it
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was made of rubber. I smelled the crunchy autumn leaves. I heard the horse's
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hooves on the kitchen tile. I could taste the raw salty sirloin. I even had
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the memory of my "ex-wife", and I've never been married -- I couldn't even
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trust my own memories as being true!
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My own experience was so deceiving and yet I am forced to attribute
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everything I know to experience; sensory experience. It's as if I'm a
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container moving through life and my senses report back to me what is
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happening.
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What do my senses tell me? "He's lecturing about volcanism." "Move your
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hand, Dork -- That burner is hot!" "She's soft AND warm!" "It smells like
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rain."
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Everything I know about -- or think I know about -- I know because I've
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experienced. There is nothing by which I know that I haven't experienced.
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(With this in mind, we don't truly "know" that the earth is spherical --
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however, based upon our other experiences it seems rational to believe -- but
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that starts to probe beyond the limits of this file..)
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Everything I've experienced I've experienced through at least one of my
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senses; vision, hearing, touch, taste, or smell. My senses are the
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interpreters of reality.
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But, as demonstrated by my dream, my senses deceive me. Even my memories
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deceive me. By all tests that dream appeared to be reality. So how do I even
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know that I'm here, sitting in front of the computer, reading this text file?
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The simple fact is I don't know.
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Consider this; if you have a tape recorder and sometimes you put a tape in
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and press play and it "eats" the tape and other times you put a tape in and it
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merely plays it, then you tend to not trust that tape recorder with your tapes.
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If my senses sometimes report things that are real and they sometimes
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don't, it's not entirely unreasonable to doubt my sensory input as being valid.
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In fact, what is your brain and how does it interact with your sensory
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input? All your senses transmit their information to your brain through the
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central nervous system and what is the central nervous system?
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Wouldn't it be interesting if we could learn more about how the brain
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works? If we could do that, perhaps we could learn more about reality and
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how to recognize it when we're experiencing it.
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I remember (or do I?) reading a passage from a psychology book where
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scientists were experimenting with cats. By electrically stimulating certain
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parts of the brain they could cause the cat to experience different sensations.
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For example, by stimulating one area of the brain the cat would have the
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sensation of extraordinary hunger and would continue to eat as long as that
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area of its brain was being artificially stimulated. Other strange reactions
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occurred; they would stimulate other areas of its brain and the cat might
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suddenly hiss and raise its back -- who knows what it was really experiencing
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at that moment? Perhaps a dog? Another cat? Was it just terror?
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In fact, what makes us so certain of our own reality? Maybe it's really
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one thousand years into the future and I'm a scientist. You're just a brain in
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vat; you have no body. I'm merely electrically stimulating your brain to make
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you think you have a body that's having all sorts of "ordinary experiences"
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that would occur one thousand years ago.
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I thought it would be interesting to inform you about reality and see if
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you reject or accept it. You didn't really read this file; I simply stimulated
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your brain so you would think you're having the experience of reading it.
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There is no need to doubt my claims. If you have no body -- and thus lack
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appendages -- it's impossible for you to kill yourself. After all, how can a
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brain in a vat commit suicide?
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_ _ ____________________________________________________________________
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/((___))\|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|NIHILISM..............517/546-0585|
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[ x x ] |Paisley Pasture......916/673-8412|Ripco II..............312/528-5020|
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\ / |Tequila Willy's GSC..209/526-3194|The Works.............617/861-8976|
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(' ') |Lunatic Labs.........213/655-0691|Condemned Reality.....618/397-7702|
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(U) |====================================================================|
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.ooM |Copr. 1991 cDc communications by Tequila Willy 07/20/91-#170|
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\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away. FIVE YEARS of cDc|
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