This is :www.dark.sport.blog
. . . . Ahhhh . . . so you’ve come.
@@ X seated on a stool, one leg folded demurely over another @@
. . . . You’ve come, you’ve come, you’ve come. At last.
. . . . I stand here at times, I wait, I watch through the gilded-iron crosswork latticework window 50% titanium-silver, I observe the shuffling sounds of those coming into the room, like penitents, like prisoners. But you are here voluntarily; are you not?
. . . . Sometimes I please the eyes, sometimes I dip and dance in a most alarming fashion. I swing this way, I jump that way. Catch me you can’t, alarm you I just might.
. . . . But there’s always some pleasure in store for you, both here on Dark Sport and in Xtasorcery (my)’s greater life outside this virtual spot.
. . . . With a single click, you can dive deep, deeper than your imagination has ever soared. This is an abyss, not the skies. The skies limit us with their gravity; but the abyss provides shelves on which to rest before continuing down on further drafts.
. . . . People are like gold, you know, some of them. And these golden ones are so desperate in their search for matching gold.
. . . . X understands. In the end-analysis, I stand with the adult-boys who never grew up.
. . . . There is a great thing going on here: the chase of dreams and the rebuilding of souls.
A stained glass window, portraying knights against black jet fighters, explodes inwards, scattering glass shards: [pretty, highly reflective] in miscellaneous piles that stretch from X’s slippered feet to the paintings on the wall, regal looking, of American presidents in their self-chosen forms. The glass, the paintings, and the slippered feet combine to make this a surreal environment. Various Senators and Representatives in the future will taste its taint and smile and nod and proclaim wisely that It is good. I speak of two different futures here. The future in which I envision, and the future which has yet to occur.
. . . . I was born to a family cursed with 3 girls and a mother, and a father who wisely chose to abscond himself from the circumstances, from the environment. I had to do some sabotage-work myself before they turned me into their toy. The decades passed with a few salient . . . adjustments. Both to myself and to my surroundings.
. . . . You’re still in my world, the World of Dark Sport. X is the Master of Dark Sport. His ways become its ways. His spoken accent gets magnified a millionfold in all Sport’s ways and crannies and nooks.
. . . . In the year 2016, I found WordPress. I had no friends at that time. Or rather WordPress found me. In the course of examining blogs online, I began to realize rather belatedly that there was a platform here; one could be “deplatformed” or have the rug yanked out from under oneself; one could “monetize” one’s site, or make moolah from it; one could interlink hyperlinks with other similar sites. For example Dalrock of Techno-Christianity fame could write “Enjoy the Decline” and link to “Captain Capitalism” on a competing Canadian blog, blogspot.ca.
. . . . But these were real Great Men of Virtual Fame — THEY COULD BE MY FRIENDS. Moreover, a really clever man could frame a new reality with their aid, construct a whole culture out of blank cloth, build society out of society — the Parallel Society, built from the Family Four, and other words deigned by X.
. . . . So they could be in my future, and I in theirs. I had to learn more about this, and its possibilities.
. . . . In writing on WordPress, thousands of eager horse riders are chomping at the bits to get going and enter this competition. I joined them, posting my ads around Hamilton, Ontario. It was a brainy way to get started. I needed the speed to ramp up to my desires in quick graces.
The United States has forever been the biggest kid on the block. As such, it gets to set the rules and doesn’t have to hear complaints. Yet it is a fair hegemon. It does listen to grievances.
Sometimes it takes an airliner slamming into a gynormous tower to get it to wake up and pay attention, but if you step on its toe it wakes up and studies.
Earlier doomsayers are often pooh-poohed. They should know better than to take it to their superiors. Their superiors don’t listen — Until.
. . . . My ads were actually hand-written for a while. Then I started printing them. Over 3 years I went through 20 iterations — 20 different websites — before I ran into this beautiful design, beautiful content, finale glorioso.
. . . . And myself? I am stuck on this. It came at exactly the right time.
. . . . And I experimented. And I found out a few things about my “fellow” human beings. They are largely cowards. They like the familiar. Word of mouth substitutes for toe-tipping-in-warm-water. And I? I am nothing like them. Nothing.
. . . . But there a few nuggets of gold out there, the aforementioned Dalrocks, Captain Capitalisms, et cetera, men who have labored for long years at thankless tasks. And on the other side there will be a railroad hand carriage of many nuggets of gold.
@@ stepping deliberately on a long shard of glass and pulling it out, centimeter by centimeter, upward thru my foot @@
It’s all a question of who has the better gold . . . and the better bribery for the best gold in the world.
. . . . Are you still listening? Do you want to jump to the action?
. . . . At the end of many X-pieces (these articles) you can click on the blue letters to go somewhere else.
- “Deep Thought.”
- Away we fly through aeries deep
- Till chilled tears reveal we weep
- The monstrous heights have hid their winds
- The lightning sources move over our limbs
- What is that sound getting closer?
- It is the clash of sword on swords
- The other side’s Special Forces say, “No sir!“
- They are with me, join the cords
- Command Center 50 lies outside Washington
- Yet Toronto has only ONE to mull
- The balance seems unequal
- But sheer imagination beats out the dull
- On a teletype machine comes the final word:
- No one sleeps in cots of brass
- Gold has made its way here in thirds
- And X parcels out the rewards at last