Preface

When the herd "decides" to cross a river, it tends to go, enmasse. It doesn't matter if there are carnivorous reptiles lurking under the water's surface, or if the current is too swift for the weaker members of the herd to withstand. They go because they are a collective, unified by an unconscious urge to follow the impulses they all share. They go because it does not occur to any of the individual members of the herd to "not go". Since this behavior tends to statistically insure the greatest survival rate of the whole, it reproduces itself virtually unchanged over time.

Since an "ultimate goal" is meaningless in terms of apprehending any sort of final purpose, introductions of change into this rythmic behavior - either from without or from within - can only reflect short-ranged ideals at the behest of limited agents or agencies.

Naturally, there will always be competition between these limited agents and agencies; and since this competitive behavior tends to statistically insure the greatest survival rate of the whole, it reproduces itself virtually unchanged over time.

The robotic, stick-like people are everywhere man!

Most of their senses are packed in the central processing organ located in the protected, central core of their small round heads. This organ is incapable of operating on its own without external input sources of information, guidance and nonstop control-feed instructions.

Isolate one of the robotic stick-like people, and it will become devoid of purpose and quickly grow incapable of developing any cognitive metaphors or models of reality to assist in its functionality.

These robotic stick people are extremely volatile and hypersensitive to suggestion; therefore, it is imperative to keep up a continuous flow of sensory data at all times to collectively control the robotic stick people to follow a socially reinforced "best premises" mode of operation.

Occasionally the inevitable will occur and an individual robotic stick-like creature will, through random cause and effect, develop a "will of its own" thus circumventing the effectiveness of the constant feed of behavior-controlling sensory data.

This creates a possibly dangerous situation which must be carefully monitored and seamlessly neutralized or creatively built upon to deflect an adverse chain-reaction amidst the stick people's general roboticism.

Through skillful means, the possibly dangerous anomaly can be utilized to further the reinforcement of roboticized socialization and control.
Flexibility and always being "one step ahead" are some of the greatest assets to this work.

In any event, the inbuilt nature of the "control feedback, self-looping mechanisms" tend to automatically correct all such incidences; and since the occasional discrepant "anomaly" is extraordinarily rare, the integrity of the system is virtually impregnable from within or without.

The programming is genetically encoded.

The Controllers and the Messengers of Deception are themselves genetically programmed.

The flawless fail-safes are near perfect.

Soon all controls will be sanctioned and implemented by The Computer which will govern entirely.

Love

I'm not really sure what the hell's goin on, but, I just went downstairs to the basement to get a couple jars of squirrel juice when I noticed several small individuals standing around with their backs against the walls. Big black sloping eyes wrapping around their oversized grayish brown heads, wearing spandex, and still as statues. As I climbed the stairs, one of them near the wooden staircase whispered furtively in a soft, coughing sound that Mother Terrestrial and Lady Diaphanous were secret lovers who have faked their orgasms and are now enroute to a secret rendezvous spot near the Isle of Man. I am totally freaked out by this and refuse to get more squirrel juice for Mae Brussel. She can drink stale 7Up for all I care. The bitch goddess;
I must lick the ancient muskrat to find peace in my biorhythms.
Monkey Money Loves You.

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