modern-institute

Sometimes the customer is wrong for unrelated reasons.

Due to the well of my friends’ “def not an axe murderer” date recommendations drying up, I have turned to that most sacred of modern relationship institutions: online dating. As a very busy person trying to get it in with other very busy people, I prize honestly and directness above all else when it comes to profile creation. I include full body shots in my photos, try to minimize the use of MySpace angles in selfies, and write at the very top of the summary/caption/profile that I am fat. Not “curvy,” not “thick,” not “lots to love”–I’m f*cking fat. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also known that weight is a dealbreaker for lots of people. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.

About a year ago I met “Evan” via Tinder. We exchanged friendly messages for a few hours one night and agreed to meet up for drinks the following evening. I waited for a full hour past the designated time, and just as I was getting up to leave, the texts started rolling in.

“I can see you sweating from here.” “How long does it take you to roll out of bed every morning?” “Is there an earthquake or are you just getting up for more pretzels?”

Really idiotic, juvenile shit. Four separate numbers, commenting on things like my clothes, which clued me in that the senders were nearby. This went on for 15 minutes before I finally saw Evan, trying to hide in at a corner table and giggling with a group of buddies. I made eye contact, saw that he saw me, and then walked out. The texts kept up until I blocked the numbers a few hours later.

I ran into Evan about 3 weeks later. We got on the same elevator, and he tried really hard at being super interested in the emergency phone instructions. I just confronted him, and he admitted it was just some “game” that him and his friends play. He knew I was fat before agreeing to meet up; they all did, because that’s what they do. Match up with fat women, then either ghost them or “troll” them at the meet-up. It was also kinda obvious he’d never seen any consequences from this bullshit, as he was sweating pretty hard and looked more humiliated than I felt. I just said whatever and walked out, expecting to never see him again.

About a month ago, some local foodie wrote a great review of the restaurant I own, and we’ve been slammed ever since. In the past, I stayed mostly in the kitchen, but I’ve been doing more and more front-of-house stuff lately, and Valentine’s Day I was working a bit of a split between the two.

I saw Evan just as he was pushing in his date’s chair. My name isn’t on the restaurant, and he didn’t see me. I checked the section up at the hostess stand and saw that one of my favorite old-timers, Nan, was going to be his waitress. I went to the bar till, took out $400, put it in her hands, and said, “This is going to be your only table for the rest of the night. You are going to make this the worst date he has ever been on.”

She spilled every single thing she brought out to the table, all over him. I was waiting for him to blow up on Nan, but he bottled it up, obviously trying to make a good impression on his date. She seemed like a perfectly lovely lady; I told Nan to make sure everything was good for her and terrible for Evan.

She poured ice water on his d*ck. She smacked the back of his head with the edge of a tray. Spilled soup on his shirt. Dropped every fork he asked for. I personally oversalted his food, used the shit liquor for his drinks, used flour instead of sugar on his dessert. To be honest, I don’t know why he didn’t just walk out. He must have really wanted to f*ck this woman.

Finally, he cracked. Demanded Nan find the manager and bring her out. I was only too happy to emerge from the kitchen with my chef’s coat and say what, I’m not ashamed to admit, I’d been planning out all night.

“I would have said hi earlier, but I didn’t want the earthquake to disturb your dinner.”

I will savor the look on Evan’s face for the rest of my life.

He was a little too flummoxed to explain, so I pulled a chair up to the table and introduced myself to his date, Amanda. Told her how I met Evan. Showed her some fun old messages. Then I told gave her a voucher for a free meal on her next visit and told Evan to get the f*ck out and never come back.

He deleted his Tinder profile.

10

Stapleton Library in Staten Island

In the words of the architects Andrew Berman Architect:

The New York Public Library commissioned this branch library of 12,000 square feet. We restored the existing 1907 Carrere and Hastings Carnegie Library and designed a new 7,000 square foot building to be located alongside. The library is conceived as a modern public institution that will contribute to the revitalization of the Stapleton neighborhood.

The facility is an assemblage of old and new. The existing Carnegie Library was converted into the Childrens’ Reading Room. The new building, constructed of glue laminated Douglas fir posts, beams, joists and roof decking, houses books and media. The structurally glazed facade invites the public and supplies natural light. The exposed wood structure provides a sense of rhythm, scale and material richness unexpected in contemporary public buildings.

Follow the Source Link for images sources and more information.

4

“To anyone visiting London, I’d say one essential thing you have to do is just to walk down the Southbank. You’ve got the National Theater, British Film Institute, Tate Modern, Royal Festival Hall. So lots of culture in a kind of public space. All kinds of different people mingling, and to me that’s what makes London special.”

Coming of Age in the Milky Way

From the second-century celestial models of Ptolemy to modern-day research institutes and quantum theory, this classic book offers a breathtaking tour of astronomy and the brilliant, eccentric personalities who have shaped it. From the first time mankind had an inkling of the vast space that surrounds us, those who study the universe have had to struggle against political and religious preconceptions. They have included some of the most charismatic, courageous, and idiosyncratic thinkers of all time. In Coming of Age in the Milky Way, Timothy Ferris uses his unique blend of rigorous research and captivating narrative skill to draw us into the lives and minds of these extraordinary figures, creating a landmark work of scientific history.

BUY THE BOOK

But so far, globalization has been remarkably smooth, and countries that have been isolated for hundreds of years have been able to adopt modern institutions and technology very quickly.

Maybe one day even the US will move away from paper checks and other outmoded technologies.

((I got two asks for the same thing, so here we go! Now, note: I did write something similar to this already. This link goes to a post I made about Sole’s spouse being made into a Courser, but that’s not quite the same thing as a synth, so I chose to write something new. But feel free to check out the previous post!))

Some time after Sole made it into the Institute, Father informed them of a… new project, that he had been working on. After creating the child synth version of himself, he’d sent agents to the surface, to recover some of his dead parent’s DNA. Using that, he managed to have a synth version of them created, memories intact and all.

Father insisted on having Sole and their companion present for the synth’s ‘awakening,’ when he otherwise refused to have Sole’s friends in the Institute at all. He wanted to show off, or so it seemed. Pressing a button, the intercom buzzed, and he sent for the synth. Soon, Sole’s spouse walked into the room, dressed in an Institute jumpsuit with a hesitant expression on their face. “Sole…” They synth took a slow step forward. “It’s really you?”


Cait: She had to physically bite her tongue, a sour expression on her face as she observed the meeting. She hated the Institute. Hated every damn bit of it. Hated the snobbish, educated voices of the scientists, the yellow eyes of the Gen 2s, the subservient words of the Gen 3s mopping the floors. She hated how fucking clean it was, how any speck of dirt or dust was cleaned away before you could spit. Were these people not human? To not have dirt or profanity or laziness - it was unnatural. As Sole’s spouse stepped into the room, she grit her teeth, her right hand curling into a white-knuckled fist. She couldn’t help the glower she gave Father, nor the rising anger heating her blood. How could anyone do this to someone? To their damn parent? Cait had no love lost for her own parents, but Sole… Sole deserved better. Better than Shaun, who just kept smiling and watching, observing the meeting without a word. If Sole weren’t here, if they didn’t need her… She’d show ‘Father’ just how they did it up in the Commonwealth, and wouldn’t stop until either she or he was dead.

Codsworth: Oh… Oh no. What? How could-? What-? Words failed the Mr. Handy, who only watched in stunned silence as Sole reached forward to greet their spouse. Their spouse who wasn’t their spouse, and yet… They had their memories, didn’t they? But they were a synth! They were made, in, in a- in a factory. Made by computers, by robots, by other synths. He saw the looks of want, of need, of desperation and uncertainty that passed over his employer’s face. What a conundrum. He could only imagine the suffering Sole must being enduring that moment, no doubt reliving all the traumas, the moments of their spouse’s death. He just- If only- A thousand wordless feelings plagued him, all crashing together in a storm of code and commands. The line between programming and genuine emotion blurred, and Codsworth trembled when the synth approached him. He couldn’t bring himself to say hello, and turned away when they met his eyes.

Curie: At first, she was overwhelmed by the cleanliness and advanced technology of the Institute. She knew all about technology Pre-War, and the Commonwealth as it was now lacked most modern luxuries. But the Institute… Why, it had everything! Everything and anything you could imagine. But her mood turned solemn as she remembered why she and Sole had come. Ah, yes, the synth. She observed them curiously as they emerged, taking in every aspect of their appearance. So this was the individual that Sole had married! Interesting. And so sad, too. Her sympathy soon drowned out her curiosity as she watched the tense, pained interactions between Sole and synth. A strange sense of guilt washed over her. She was a synth. The body she inhabited now had been made by the same man who created the person standing before them. Confusion and uncertainty made her stand off to the side, lingering in a corner with her hands clutched to her chest. For the first time, she questioned if in this case, science had gone too far.

Danse: Sole’s friend or not, the only chance of him entering the Institute would be after his exile from the Brotherhood. He tries not to look impressed when they enter the Institute, but on the inside, he in awe, in a grudging sort of way. Though that feeling leaves him when the scientists introduce themselves. Ah, the synth! they say, and their eyes run over him in a way that sends shivers down his spine. In the Brotherhood, he was reviled, but this…? This sensation of being… subhuman? At least Maxson valued him enough that his true identity warranted a violent reaction. But here, to these scientists, he wasn’t worth the air he breathed. He felt Father’s eyes on him as Sole’s spouse entered the room, the man’s clinical gaze gauging his reaction. He stared Father down, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Shaun soon averted his eyes. During Sole’s introduction to the… other, synth, Danse felt more uncomfortable than anything, standing awkwardly off to the side. The love in the other synth’s eyes, the pain emanating from Sole… how could he compete with that? What could he do?

Deacon: He took careful note of everything inside the Institute, mentally writing up a report for Des. His stomach twisted in knots at the sight of so many poor Gen 3s, forced into acting as virtual slaves for creators that threatened recall at any small misstep or act of disobedience. Stay calm, Deacon. Gotta stay cool. He gave Father a pleasant smile as they entered his office, leaning against the wall in the corner and staying out of the way. He played the part of faceless companion as Sole and the synth made their awkward introductions. Dull, aching pains pulsed in his chest as sorrow struck both Sole and their spouse. No witty comment rose to his lips, no glib remark designed to ease the tension. He couldn’t bring himself to touch such a sacred moment. No, instead he just lingered in the corner, watching Father from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. Sole would ask him for his opinion when it was safe to talk. What his opinion was, he honestly didn’t know. But in the meantime, he’d get as much information as he could. Fuck that Father guy, by the way. Total jerk.

Dogmeat: It smelled funny in here. Smelled wrong. After a lifetime growing up in the Commonwealth, where almost everything reeked, all the new smells bombarding his nostrils confused him. The Institute smelled like antiseptic, and chemicals, and laundry detergent. Of metal and oil, and fresh-cut grass. He didn’t like the strange, probing glances of the scientists. And when Sole went up to an office, and someone new entered the room, Sole got all tense and unhappy and upset. Dogmeat looked up with a whine, snuffling his nose into their hand. He didn’t like being ignored by everyone. Who were all these weird people? Why did everything smell funny? Why was Sole sad?

Hancock: He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, giving the passing Institute scientists a toothy grin. They recoiled at the sight of his burned, peeling flesh and yellowed, half-rotted teeth. A sick, venomous pleasure burned up his spine, heating up the back of his neck as he took out his frustration on the nosy scientists. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to be picking fights, but he’d at least get a kick out of seeing them gag. Better to laugh than get angry. As Sole’s synth-spouse stepped into the room, he stood proud and strong at Sole’s side, offering his wordless presence as comfort. Father did not take to Hancock, but he ignored the old man’s narrow-eyed look, keeping a faint smirk on his lips as Sole met the synth. It was all real touching, that was for sure. But Hancock didn’t trust a lick of it. The only reason you’d made a thing like that, a synth like that, was if Father wanted to manipulate Sole. And he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Shaun can do and say and make whatever the fuck he wanted. John Hancock would take him on without hesitation, if push came to shove.

Nick Valentine: For once, Nick appreciated the wear and tear of his body, appreciated the battered coat and hat he wore out of modesty. It set him apart from the emotionless, full-bodied synths manning the service stations, with soulless eyes that made him shiver. All those years, loathing his differences… and now he treasured them. Dropping sharp, cutting comments whenever he could, he made sure to draw as much of a reaction as he dared. He wanted to see them squirm, as something - someone they’d discarded so easily, came back to haunt them. He stood aside, letting Sole face their spouse without a word. He waited for them to look to him, if they did, and then he’d cross his arms and offer a single nod. I’m here, said the nod. And I’m not going anywhere. Nick Valentine was a detective. He’d find out why Father was making this synth, he’d find out why he’d been made in the first place, and… he’d help Sole. Whether they needed him or not, he’d always be ready to lend a hand.

MacCready: The whole place creeped him the hell out. The weird slave synths, the ones with yellow eyes, all the scientists that… acted weird…? It send chills sparking across his skin. He wanted to leave as soon as he arrived. Hell, he didn’t even want to come here! But Sole needed him. Sole needed him. And say what you will about Robert Joseph MacCready - he might be an asshole, but he paid his debts, and he owed Sole a whole helluva lot. So much so he might never be able to pay it all back. Thus, he followed them into the Institute, and kept his trap shut under the curious gaze of the scientists and synths. And when Sole’s spouse came staggering into the office, and Sole looked like they were on the verge of goddamn tears… He kept his mouth shut then, too. What was he gonna say? He wanted to tell Sole, they’re not real! They’re not who you loved! But he kept quiet. He’d give them a piece of his mind afterwards. Instead, he just kept glaring at Father, and trying to avoid the gaze of the two people in front of him.

Piper: Teleporting into the Institute aroused all of her reporter’s instincts. A thousand questions bubbled up on her lips, and her fingers itched for her camera, her notepad and pencil. But they’d all been confiscated as soon as they arrived in the facility, and it drove her crazy. Everyone she passed, she had to resist the urge to lunge over and bombard them with questions. What’s with all the white? Do you guys not like dark colors? Why do you make the synths? Why haven’t you guys come up to the surface? Why kidnap people? Why not tell anyone who you are? Why not help people instead of ignoring them, instead of taking from them? But as soon as she and Sole entered that office, and the synth emerged, her brain fell silent. She could only stare in fascinated horror, in horrified fascination, as Sole and the synth greeted each other. Closing her mouth, she made sure Father wasn’t looking, and reached into her pocket for her concealed holotape recorder. She’d get something out of this, damn it.

Preston: Out of all the companions, out of everyone Sole could’ve brought, he was the only one to question the Institute. The only one not commanded by fear, or respect for Sole. He had respect for Sole, of course, but he also spoke for a small army, and worked to represent the interests of the Commonwealth. He stood by Sole as they greeted their dead(?) spouse, but the meeting only cemented his feelings about the Institute. They weren’t good people. Good people wouldn’t force such traumas on someone, wouldn’t make a good person like Sole suffer for no good reason. As soon as he had a moment, he squeezed Sole’s hand, patted them on the back and promised to talk about it when they had a moment. But he had to do his duty first. Taking Father aside, he raised his chin, calling on all the people he represented and the morals in his heart, and demanded answers. Come hell or high water, Preston Garvey wanted to do the right thing, but he’d at least give the Institute a chance to explain itself first. It wouldn’t be just, otherwise.

Strong: Something… tickled, in the back of his brain, when he and Sole teleported into the Institute. Mutants weren’t always in the Commonwealth, you know, weren’t made there Pre-War like in the Capital Wasteland. No, the Institute made the Commonwealth mutants, pumped them full of FEV virus and released them to watch their havoc from a safe distance. Sole may or may not have known this, and Strong had mostly forgotten, but something about re-entered the place of his rebirth triggered memories buried deep in his mutated conscious. He let Sole meet their spouse alone, not really understanding what it was all about. Instead, he wandered around the Institute under the watchful eyes of some Coursers. And for a moment, for a moment, he thought he recognized one of the scientists. An animal roar tore from his throat, and he lunged forward, clawing a thick hand at the person’s throat. It took four Coursers to subdue him, and Sole had to quickly convince Father not to have him killed on the spot.

X6-88: Father didn’t bother acknowledging him as he followed in behind Sole. He clasped his hands behind his back, taking his place beside the door, no different than a trained animal or piece of furniture. But no one had told him what exactly this meeting was about. So when the synth emerged from the other door of the office, and he realized who they were, who they represent, he fights to keep his expression neutral. A synth? But… It conflicts with everything he’s been trained to think. Why make a synth a… a person? Why make them human? Everything Father has ever said affirms the idea that synths are not human, that they are anything but. But then why make a synth like this one? What makes them different from the ones sweeping the floors, or the Coursers like himself that serve as mindless security. He doesn’t understand, and it frustrates him, but he doesn’t let it show. Can’t let it show, not until he’s sure he’s safe to do so.

you’d think leftists critical of capitalism would be critical of the academy and it’s place within capitalism and how it’s driving down wages and making it increasingly harder for those without college degrees to find work. but even within leftist circles the academy usually escapes criticism and the criticism lobbed at the academy is usually pretty weak. seems the most common criticism is that academics are forced to irrationally churn out papers, and that completing your college degree shouldn’t come at the expense of your sanity.

but no one talks about how a college degree isn’t necessary. no one talks about how oversaturation of college education drives down everyone’s wages. no one talks about how the college education bubble is going to ruin the economic prospects of our entire generation.

the academy really is the sacred cow of the left. ya’ll need to be way more critical of the academy because i’m just not seeing it. every other modern institution gets rightly criticized by the left but mysteriously the academy is left mostly unscathed. that shit has to change.

14 Different Methodologies of Mind Control

These are the most necessary to understand because they are the most influential over mass consciousness.

1) Obfuscation: Just basic confusion of one thing for another- a smoke and mirrors game.

2) World View Poisoning: Conditioning the way people view human nature and their own self-value.

3) Conditioning of Primal Fear: The exploitation of primal fears.

4) Divide and Conquer Strategy: Highlight any perceived differences between people and then exploit those differences to create infighting so they are easier to control and conquer.

5) Indoctrination of Education System: A left brain form of Nazis called it mastery learning. grade school, HS and university. Trivium and quadrivium education could counteract this.

6) Controlled Opposition: Basic dialectics - dialectical mechanics or Hegelianism Creating conflict that you already have an outcome management system for. Create the conflict and wait for a type of reaction to the conflict (usually chaotic that demands a resolution) and then you step in and resolve it. Artificial conflict resolution.

7) Monetary System of Control: Debt based fiat currency fractional reserve banking a system of illusion that we call money yet people believe in it like its a religion or god. People seem to be the most powerless to come out of. It exists purely in the mind.

8) Control of Mass Media: If you can control the info that people get to see hear and read you control their perception of reality. If you limit the scope of what they can take into their minds and awareness you limit their possibilities of solutions. Human perception management.

9) Food and Medicine: attack on the physical aspects of the body relates to how our brain development goes. You affect thought and consciousness you are what you eat. Use techniques that are damaging to consciousness through the modern medical system

10) Illusion of Time: Very important for people to grasp. Play on people’s seeming inability to live in true present moment awareness– getting people to live in regret over the past or anxiety over the future. Its a fear based technique. Takes us out of true present awareness. Being fully present now to take on what is happening now. If our consciousness can be manipulated into always looking into what has happened. It takes away effectiveness of dealing with the current situation.

11) The DHR Factor: Denial, Hassle, Ridicule: What other people perceive about you. Denial, hassle ridicule factor. Things are fine the way they are I don’t want to rock the boat because I may have to deal with hassle of other people. The hassle free zone is– I don’t want all the uncomfortable aspects of life that come with standing up for truth. These are all fear based. Heightening those three forms of mental instability. Trap of inactivity and not really doing anything to make things better.

12) Religion: We need to understand these last three the best. Religion is a form of binding. To tie back Re-Ligare tying back. Forms of modern religion are mind control based on astro-theology. Giving people an exoteric version of something that was once esoteric or internal. Government is the binding on the left brain… religion is the binding of the right brain.

13) Use of Subversive Symbolism: Based on ancient sacred symbolism. Based on symbols that have been with us from antiquity. Solar symbolism, life force symbols, energy, blood, or anything we need for existence and life. They use these in modern institutions— banks, police, media, stores. We’re drenched in it. Basic symbols have a powerful psychic influence. They can speak to us without words. A wordless form of communication. Connects to occultism.

14) Problem-Reaction-Solution (Chaos Sorcery): A mass demonstration or a public display of the dark aspects of the Hegelian dialectic. Hegelian dialectic can be used in a positive or negative sense. Chaos sorcery or false flag terrorism. This is ritual magic being used openly in the light of day. You are creating a chaotic situation in the light of day and you know it will elicit an extreme reaction of fear and chaos that demands order be brought as soon as possible. You are manipulating the fear in the limbic system– people are not in a state that they can reason. They are demanding solutions purely out of emotions. They are in a reactive mode of consciousness. They want the outcome of the game known before the game is played. Interject chaos, you know the reaction its going to cause and you know. A leap in consciousness will subvert this technique. This technique works over and over again. Humanity won’t wake up. 9-11 was chaos sorcery.