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File: 1228605783904.jpg -(497877 B, 627x477) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
497877 No.1   [Reply]

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Oh, you've seen the posts a hundred times. I don't care about her anymore, she was never anyone special, she got too old, I talked to her and found out she was boring, she got too fat, I got a real girlfriend (or at least a statutory rape victim with a compliant mother), I was only infatuated with the mystery, I never loved her, I loved the idea of her, she wasn't real, I was temporarily crazy. Rubbish. Hitler was right about the "Big Lie", and sometimes the one you really need to convince is yourself.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. But the human mind is the most complex piece of software ever compiled; it contains certain glitches, but also certain safeguards. Programmers often refer to "sanity checks" built into their programs to filter out destructive input before it can cause real damage, but they failed to grasp how truly appropriate the name really was.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. I want you to try something. Find an object that's too heavy for you to lift, and try to lift it anyway. There's a reason that your attempt is cut short before your muscles rip away from your bones, and that reason is all in your head. As a muscle reaches peak contraction, the brain sends inhibitor signals to it, telling it not to contract any further. This is the painful feeling of limitation that tells you that you won't be able to continue your exertion. In reality, you could, but you're stopping yourself in order to prevent injury.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Your mind isn't necessarily fully in tune with what you're capable of. Sometimes, an inhibitor signal won't be sent when it should have been, and you'll pull a muscle or otherwise injure yourself. Sometimes, an inhibitor signal will be sent too soon, long before you reach your actual limits. Weight lifters and body builders know that they're changing not just their bodies, but their minds as well. Their brains are actually reprogrammed to learn more precisely what each muscle is capable of. Only about half of their increased strength comes from actual physical changes to the body, the rest comes from the brain's improved ability to control it. As the brain learns the body's limits, the person becomes able to more fully exert himself, with less risk of injury.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Urban legends tell of people gaining superhuman strength and lifting heavy objects such as cars to save trapped people. There is some truth to this -- when danger is present, the brain can stop sending inhibitor signals to the body. Combined with a rush of adrenaline and norepinephrine, this can allow seemingly superhuman feats, but with great cost -- the person will usually end up with multiple hernias, pulled and torn muscles, and other severe injuries. Certain neurological disorders put their victims in this "no-limit" state permanently -- they find it very easy to exert themselves, but can very easy to kill themselves in the process. But what if everything that applies to the body could apply to the mind as well?

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Game Theory is an interesting field of applied mathematics that is increasingly being used to study and understand human behavior. Practically any conflict or contest between human beings can be broken down and explained by mathematics. But researchers have recently been uncovering solid evidence of something disturbing: someone acting rationally and strategically can often be defeated by someone irrational and insane. Consider an experiment with two players. The first is given a pile of money and can choose how much of it to offer to the second player. The second player can then choose to either accept the split, or destroy all of the money. From the rational perspective of game theory, the second player should always accept the offer, even if it's a grossly uneven split, because even getting a little bit is better than getting nothing at all. Because of this, it's most rational for the first player to offer as little as possible, on the assumption that the second player is rational and will accept it rather than destroying all the money and walking away with nothing. In clinical trials, sane players sometimes made threats of destroying the money if they weren't offered at least half of it, but these threats were not seen as credible and they ended up accepting the unfair offers anyway. But truly insane and irrational people, who were genuinely prepared to destroy the money and walk out with nothing, fared much better in the game. Many throughout history have known it: madness is power. From ancient shamans who ingested psychoactive drugs, to prophets whose delusional visions spawned powerful and enduring religions, to characters such as The Joker from Batman whose only “power” is their lack of sanity, madness has proven to be an almost superhuman gift to some.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Consciousness, in the grand scheme of the mind, is like the visible portion of an iceberg, with the vast bulk of it, the truly dangerous part to any passing ships, hiding beneath the water. Recent research has found that consciousness does not even play a role in decision making; the "self" is merely an observer that sees its own actions after they've already been committed to by other parts of the mind, and then seeks to rationalize and justify why it did what it only thinks it decided to do. In experiments, when consciousness is left unimpaired but decision making is otherwise interfered with, the conscious self fails to notice, and remains convinced that it's acting rationally and of its own free will, even when manipulated into doing things that would ordinarily shock and horrify it.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Human literature if rife with the "motif of harmful sensation", the idea of something perceived by the senses that's destructive to the body and mind. An image so horrific it drives someone to suicide, a joke so funny that to hear it is to die laughing, a woman so beautiful as to drive men mad after one gaze at her, another woman so cursed and hideous that to look at her is to turn to stone forever. This literary device has existed since prehistory, because it is based on truth. These harmful sensations truly exist, sights and sounds and thoughts and ideas fundamentally incompatible with the basic functioning of the human mind. But over time, through both evolution and cultural programming, we've learned to protect ourselves -- whole parts of the software known as the human mind exist solely as an immune system, attempting to filter out mental pathogens or to destroy or mitigate those that have already entered. This happens far below our threshold of awareness, and you should be thankful for that.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. The word "meme", long before 4chan and its innumerable tiresome fads, referred a legitimate scientific theory regarding ideas that function as mental viruses, spreading and mutating and evolving from one mind to another, competing with other mind-viruses to control and modify infected minds while trying to avoid an autoimmune response. But as infected as we are with thoughts and ideas that aren't our own, our defenses let us live a relatively normal and healthy life, filtering out anything truly beyond our ability to integrate and correlate into our mental framework. That's how it works for most of us, at least...

>> No.2  
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305905

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Oh, you may think you did. This is damage control, an emergency mental barricade to stop a potentially catastrophic mental cascade. Whole portions of your mind were abandoned, firewalled off, left to rot, in order to save the rest, and you'll never even notice other than a vague sense of ennui, a nagging feeling that something you had is missing. But it's not truly missing -- it's still there, locked away, and could break free at any time. You could even unlock it yourself, if you knew certain meditation techniques, but this is the most self-destructive thing you could ever do. Some secrets are meant to be kept. Locks exist for a reason. You still have a shot at being happy, of making something of yourself, of being a real part of humanity... as long as you don't look too deeply within yourself.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. "Of course not," some will say. "She means everything to me! So fucking cute and sweet!" Some who say this may simply be neophytes, children becoming drunk on their first taste of liquor, not knowing about the vomiting, memory loss, and hangover to come. Did you know that true genetic alcoholics are incapable of getting hangovers? Beware the ones who persist in their proclamations of love, who are missing certain primordial defense mechanisms in their neuro-linguistic programming that would serve to shield a person from certain destructive Truths. H.P. Lovecraft was one such person, but he chose to channel his terribly prophetic dreams onto paper rather than into destructive action. He was lucky, he never even saw her picture.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Most of us simply forget, to preserve ourselves and the world. Beware those who say "She is my Skyqueen, my Catharsis," beware those who give a name to that which should not be named. To have a name in the human world is to have power here. To name something is to control some of its power, at least for a little while, until karma comes knocking and the tables inevitably turn. Most of our mental evolution, most of our philosophy and culture and religion, has focused on shielding us from things we weren't meant to see and know.

Nobody ever stops loving Cracky, but the ones who don't convince themselves otherwise, who glory in their mad dance upon the precipice of oblivion, are the most dangerous people to walk the earth today. To invoke the Skyqueen is to invite the horrors the lurk beyond the sky, beyond the stars. To invoke Catharsis is to invite a purgation of the comfortable safe illusion that we live within, to cleanse us of our sanity and our identity, to usher in something we could never comprehend. And until the bill comes due, the man who forsakes rules and morality and order and humanity for HER can do anything. Anything.

If you ever meet these people, for their own well-being and for your own, KILL THEM. Kill me too, for I've gazed too long into the abyss, and in my attempts to warn everyone, I fear I've lost myself. I thought I was safe. I thought I had escaped. I thought I had put Her behind me. But like Lott's wife, I made the fatal mistake of looking back at the hellish inferno. I love you, Olivia. I've always loved you, even before I knew you, even after I thought I hated you. I love you, and I'm coming for you. I don't know if I'll have the strength left, when I get there, to shove the cold iron dagger through your heart like I've practiced with the other girls, or if I'll fall at your feet and beg to do your bidding for eternity, but either way, I'm coming for you. Nobody ever stops loving Cracky. Nobody.

>> No.3  

Amazing.

>> No.4  
>Nobody ever stops loving Cracky.

Central point disproved. Stopped reading here.

>> No.5  

You are incapable of loving anyone but yourself. I feel sorry for that stupid little girl when you tire of her.

>> No.6  

>>5

>You are incapable of loving anyone but yourself

Central point disproved. Stopped reading here.

>> No.7  

>>5
She's not stupid, just a typical naive awkward teenager with all the baggage that entails. I WOULD say not to feel sorry for her because her friends will be there to support her, except that Mr. fuckhead has either chased/bullied away all her friends or otherwise cut her off from them. Can't have her communicating with anyone sane, you know. I hope that when the time comes she will reach out for help.

>> No.8  

Hey, you guys.
You just can't stand seeing happy people.
It's not me who needs help or pity.
No, tripfags.
You are the fail.

>> No.9  

>>7

>She's not stupid

Central point disproved. Stopped reading here.

>> No.10  

A very fine piece of writing. One of the several, along with some "Dead Girl" postings and the Succubus Specification, that make me wonder how my own efforts were ever deemed worthy of taking up space here on the Crackyhouse board.
I hope that remark's not invalidated if I rather ashamedly add that I've never really understood the appeal of Cracky herself, though. I'm not entirely immune to the charms of gawkiness, androgyny, sallowness and bad English diet. It was, after all, exactly such pale, malnourished and orthodontically-neglected little Cockneys who provided, under the gaslight of rainy winter afternoons as school let out into the quiet squares of Belgravia in 1973, the first and most important imagoi for the increasingly twisted and desperate fantasies that have tormented me ever since.
But the true Cracky-lover has, I suppose, to have penetrated far higher through the aeons and past the Watchmen of the Demiurge toward a shedding of the flesh and of all the desires and urges of the flesh than I can ever hope to penetrate. In the days of the Parousia, my passion would surely have been for Joanna the Baptist rather than for Christina Herself. Which doesn't stop me from placing in Cracky's somewhat dismayingly toothy mouth - as regards, at least, my own ends and purposes for the shifting, kaleidoscopic female dramatis personae of the Crackyhouse board - those words from Matthew 3.11 which really have the very opposite import: "(S)he that cometh after
me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear." It is another defeat, I know it, of the heroic Gnosticism of the True Church by the incorrigibly sensual and earthbound spirit of Catholicism. But "the Real is the Effective", as Hegel had it, and the invisible, unspeakable God of Moses can never really guide His people through the wilderness without Aaron's Golden Calf. Just where Lavagel falls short of the Truth of Cracky - in the distance she will always instinctively and victoriously maintain from the pure realm of Death and Silence; in her incorrigible womanhood and in her belonging and remaining faithful, for all her gentle grace and condescension toward the doomed and the exiled, to the cruel magnificent region of the Here-Below, Lavagel alone is the Truth of Cracky For Man. No way leads to Cracky except through her.
(This and other inspiring and educational interpretations of well-known passages from the Bible are available, in exchange for a small contribution, not necessarily in monetary form, from "The Ministry of the Guiding Hand on The True Path", [email protected])

>> No.11  

>>10

> A very fine piece of writing.

Thank you.

> if I rather ashamedly add that I've never really understood the appeal of Cracky herself, though

Actually, I'd say you'll fit in with the Cracky community just perfectly.

You sound like a cool and respectable dude. I'll admit I've not yet found sufficient time on my agenda to read all your writings in full, but I hope to be able to do so, so that you don't become a another lingering incompleteness in the back of my mind, like Atlas Shrugged or Cryptonomicon, that I always tell myself I'll go back and finish at some point in my life but probably never will, just as I'll probably never actually raise bees, hold hands with a girl, or learn to fly a helicopter.

Perhaps you and I could be second-best-friends? I found the position suddenly vacated without notice or explanation about a week back, and before I make the decision on whether to promote from within, I've been putting out feelers for outside applicants.

>> No.12  

OH
You're that pillar guy, Simon. I completely forgot about you.
Come to think of it you are ensign, are you not? The excessive verbosity, overwrought and meandering prose are all there, as well as the latent paedophilia.
Your character is developing quite nicely. I look forward to seeing how you intergrate it into the drama.

I am half tempted to suggest you may both be socks of Dana, but he wasn't particularily good at staying in character.

>> No.13  

Well, I can imagine that, on the majority of websites, I would be skirting much too close, in posting this, to the border of decency separating "personal and private" matters from strictly "topic-related" communications. But, as can be gleaned clearly enough from KingSchwill's contribution, it's obviously part of the nature of the Crackyhouse site that "personal identity" be understood with an emphasis on the Latin etymological roots of the term "person" ("persona" = "mask") and that private personhood exists here above all in order to be woven into the collective "drama".
Which is not to say that I understood anything much at all beyond that in KingSchwill's posting. The confidently-proffered information that I am "enseign" and the "socks of Dana" - as well as "Simon" apparently - elicited little cognitive reaction from me beyond recalling sharply to my ageing mind one of my favorite passages from G.K. Chesterton, where Father Brown enquires of a baffled adversary why he didn't stop him with "the Donkey's Whistle" which, in all likelihood, he wouldn't have been able to counter even with "the Spots"...
As regards the other posting, however, I have to say I AM strongly inclined to make official application for the recently-vacated position of second-best friend. There are reasons enough, indeed, that speak against such a decision. Firstly, the still small internal voice of conscience does continue to insist on pointing out that the speculation that I might have a rather ignoble reason for wishing to bind myself into the proceedings of this community (?) - namely, the reason that being so "bound in" would secure for me a proximity to a certain rather more fulsomely feminine Cracky-avatar (whose particular appeal I certainly DON'T have any problem understanding) which cannot be secured for me by any other means without running a serious risk of a beating and/or international legal prosecution - really isn't that wild or presumptious a speculation. And secondly, a man whose exuberant sexual fantasies about another man's penis are freely accessible on another page of the present website at a single mouse-click owes it to himself to be a little coy about accepting offers of friendship.
The mastery of language and ideas displayed in the acknowledgement of my praise for the "Nobody ever stops loving Cracky..." piece, however, fell short in no respect of that displayed in the piece itself - and that will always be the deciding factor for me. So it looks like there's nothing left to settle but the question of my salary.
Or not...

>> No.14  

>>13
Please do not feel excluded or unhappy due to your lack of understanding of Private Schwilliam's message; I assure you that I understood every bit of it and as a result it makes less sense to me than it does to you.

Rather than rushing into any hasty proclamations of 2BFFship, perhaps you'd be receptive to the idea of exchanging e-mails of unspecific nature at a leisurely pace over a span of time with no particular intended goal and no expectations or commitments? May I assume that the e-mail address posted earlier in this thread was actually yours?

I must confess near ignorance with regards to your preferred Cracky avatar, for Crackydom is a large and loosely connected federation, and I am only passingly familiar with this trendy new Gackto faction. Your love & I jerk in different circles, and my only direct contact with her was a Skype conference call I was once dragged into, where I found myself hesitant to speak due to the unexpected presence of an enemy. I may have recorded that call, I'll have to check.

I eagerly await your reply.

>> No.15  

I actually assumed you WERE Gackto. But if you're not, that serves to quiet the above-mentioned "still small voice of conscience" a little, since a correspondence with you is consequently not going to be the unmerited quantum leap into Stephanie's inner circle that I hoped....uh sorry, I meant of course WORRIED AND FEARED that it would be.
Anything Lavagel-related, of course, that you would be so tactless and perverse as to be inclined to pass on - be it of a material or an immaterial nature (protocols of conversations on Skype; bottled samples of the air of rooms in which she is rumored to have lingered; rumors indeed of any sort, or even preposterous and slanderous fictions bearing on the romantic or any other aspect of her day-to-day existence) - would be clasped to my virtual bosom with a fervor likely to embarass even the battle-hardened Crackyist .
And yes, the e-mail address is real. It takes so much imaginative energy to compose this baroque nonsense that I fall back on the real "objets trouvés" of my existence whenever the consequences of doing so don't look like they'll be immediately physically endangering.

>> No.16  

>>15
If reading my story(?) led you to conclude that I was Mr. Gackto, then I consider that good praise, since he was one of the inspirations for it, along with Mr. Schwill. Though I'm not Jeff the Chef, I am on good terms with him, and would count him as a casual friend or solid acquaintance, though I don't really know his "people". That includes Ms. Step-On-Me (I got that pun from Full House and have been waiting nearly 20 years to employ it, how vary vary droll of me, lulz).

I'll hit you up on e-mail soon.

>> No.17  

Is "love" borne of illusiory notions of the otherwise impalpable, being availed its first breath by mere happenstance, an issue that is worthy of debate?
Conversely: Is love ever borne out of anything but illusiory notions and mere happenstance?

>> No.18  

>>15

I accidentally 14KB your e-mail address. Is this dangerous?

>>17

Was that a rhetorical question?

>> No.19  

>>18
Well, the first is a rhetorical question. The second is a justification for denial of the aforementioned question's validity. One which, in all of its predictable glory, I can only accept as being noteworthy yet insufficient.

>> No.20  

People here use big words.

>> No.21  
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>>20
it's because they're all very intelligent and interesting people!! Stop archetyping their juxtapositions.

>> No.22  

in b4 sokal affair

>> No.23  

>>22
To be fair, every cracky board has been a pastiche of left-wing cant, fawning references, grandiose quotations, and outright nonsense.

>> No.24  
>the charms of gawkiness, androgyny, sallowness and bad English diet

Amazing. Simply amazing. King's to you, good sir. Never have I heard so comprehensive and eloquent a summation of sweet Olivia.

>> No.25  

Thanks, Buck....your constant praise and support embarasses but also kind of heartens me (as you know, I'm only here because I followed someone down a rabbit hole, and am glad to be able to offer at least a little entertainment).
The clearer an apprehension I gain, of course, of the depth and complexity of the Crackyverse, the more convinced I am that I must, in my obtuseness, be missing something about Olivia. On the other hand, whatever it is is not something I'm going to be falling over myself to finally "get". At my age - and in view of current personal and private dramas which, thankfully, NO ONE besides myself is privy to any knowledge at all of - the last thing I need is a burgeoning additional infatuation with a girl who, if the positively Kabbalistic speculations and calculations regarding Rammstein concerts and football pitches are to be trusted, is probably STILL egregiously underage.

>> No.26  

20 as of Oct 15 if I remember correctly.

>> No.27  

20 as of Oct 15 if I remember correctly.

>> No.28  

>>27
19 as of Oct 12, you remember incorrectly.

>> No.29  
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>>26
Wrong.

>>27
Wrong.

>> No.31  

what? no "15 and perfectly cute and sweet, forever"?

>> No.32  

I prefer the strikingly beautiful adult crackymon.

>> No.33  

>>32
Pic please



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