Twitter

Hans Mühler vid universitetet i Bonn [CCPA] gjorde, i forskarkretsar, smärre sensation då han 1991 presenterade studien ’att arbeta liggande’ [Arbeitslandschaft und Methodik], där siffrorna påvisade en markant minskad risk för traditionell arbetsskada.

Sedan 2008 har Mühler ägnat sig åt Twitter. Med hjälp av lingvister, antropologer, beteendevetare, historiker, litteraturvetare och psykologer har han, i en tvärvetenskaplig studie, undersökt fenomenet Twitter.

I tre delar presenteras tre skilda riktningar.

I ’Die Siebte Welle’ undersöks Twitter lingvistiskt och psyko-socialt.
”Twitter har fört arbetet med artificiell intelligens framåt med stormsteg”, menar Mühler. Samtidigt har vi en bild av påverkan och gruppsykologi via sociogram där vi nu kan sprida en åsikt till miljoner människor genom att välja en eller två avsändare.”

Den andra delen: ’Die Mauer’, jämför ”sekterism och twitterism”. Charles Manson och ’The Family’ ligger som fond och komparativt material när socialt hierarkiska strukturer och belöningssystem dissekeras. I delkapitlet ’Leben, als in Shadenfreude’ ställs begreppet skamkultur och kopplingen till journalistik och press i fokus.

I den avslutande ’Farblos Schwanger – alt angst’ pekas på amerikanska och japanska kulturella fenomen och hur dessa sammanvävs i 140 tecken.

”Två rader text var allt som behövdes för att hitta essensen i kommunikation när den är som sämst”, sammanfattar Mühler.

Det är en spännande läsning. En bild av en värld där fyrtioårskriser ageras ut i rollspel där ålder, kunskap, kön, utbildning, utseende och andra – tidigare så pregnanta – faktorer, ersätts med en skengraviditet. Hur omsorg spelas och värderas utan insats; hur manga och cosplay flyttats över från japansk kultur; hur Twitter blir det vattenglas vari stormar kan kreeras..

Dystopin anges aldrig, men ligger ständigt närvarande när ikonskapande, social rangordning, symbolmagi läggs ut som pusselbitar och bilden på kartongen.. den som bitarna kan skapa, ändras och ersätts.

I ett ögonblick är det Bowie, Berlin och ’Die Klicke aus den Mitte’. I nästa är det Jonestown och Franska Guyana. Petriplattor, bakteriekulturer, immunologi, svärmsamhällen.. ”allting på”, som man säger i Kebabkiosken.

Som en eftersmak finns siffrorna och graferna. Den verkliga medelåldern hos twitteranvändaren är 32 medan angiven ålder ger snittet 28.

De svenska twitteranvändare som följde länkar till testet ordförståelsedelen i högskoleprovet, fick ett resultat på 52%.. men angav i sina flöden 95%.

Var tredje svensk twitteranvändare anger i flervalsfråga att temperaturen under kalla kriget var ”extremt låg”.

Var femte svensk twitteranvändare associerar ostindiska kompaniet med SALT-avtalen.

”Om du ska läsa en bok i vinter, är det denna triologi”, säger Täppas Fogelberg.

A home for you

Wouldn’t it be nice. A home for you. Somewhere to go. A place to call your own. Where everybody knows your name.
This will not happen.

Groups will drag you in. You will think of them as your family. And they will betray you.

I know how it sounds. Like I want to keep a tight lid on hope. It’s not that. Hope is fine.. but mostly misdirected.

Hope is for you. You are an ant climbing inside a slippery bucket. You will never know. All your hope is in vain. Because you hope for the wrong things. Because you are blinded.

Three people on a desert island. No hope to ever be saved. A lamp, with a genie. Three wishes.
P1: I wish I was home again.
P2: I wish a was a porn-star fucking all the greatest.

P3: Oh.. it’s so lonely here. I wish they’d come back.

If you can not see: be careful what you wish for.

And they welcome you. They make you feel warm, wanted and OK.
For once in your life.. you are OK.
How much are you willing to pay to be OK?
That will be a question. The question will come. It will come soon.

Who are you ready to offer.. to be OK. This will be demanded. You will be giving names.

Or you can: shut the fuck up!
You can start working!

Creation – taking part

What has been done to creation?
You can create THIS but not THAT. If you create THIS, you will get views, likes and grants. But if you create THAT..

Are you working for views, likes and grants. Then I view you as poison; I like you as the plague and I will grant you a kick in your ass.

As soon as your creation is benefiting you in any way.. you must leave it.

“Oh, look! They dragged this old clown up on stage. He’s gonna do one of his famous tricks. He will pretend to sneeze and then his leg comes off. It’s so funny! I’ve seen it millions of times.”

You don’t conform. You don’t sell out. Creation is not sold.
If you SELL it.. i can SMELL it.

Nathan Stolpman Conspiracy

Hey! Why should I be left out? I also want to come up with exciting theories full of mystery and conspiracy. I also want to fight this bogey-man called the Deep State.. or the REM-sleep.

So, here it is:

Nathan Stolpman of Lift the Veil interviews himself

Nathan and the Garbage-man

The acting educated Nathan Stolpman playing role 1 to the left and role 2 to the right. Colored lenses, magnifying glasses, hairpiece, a cap, a close shave, dentals and a prosthetic chin with the lower lip partly overpainted. The rest is light, angles and acting.

Most conspiracy-shows now a day start up with a little technical issues. This is a trick to catch attention from the viewers. The mild irritation is wanted. Then they say: “oh, the hidden hand does everything to stop us!”.

Every single conspiracy-actor have had a public break-down. This is part of the sell-in. You have to sell in to sell out.

When they have nothing else to talk about, they discuss each-other. But they are one. They all use the code-word: “boom!”

Nathan Stolpman belongs to the vapors-faction. He is controlled from the UK and his handler is actually not his cat, but his wife.

So, there it is! My brand new; unique conspiracy theory. Bon apetit!

Comming up:
Nathan is Bart.
The connection to Phil.
and “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?”

Polarization Nation Illustrated says that:
“Last Phantom NaN”, “Lanthanon St. map”, “Ashman not plant”, “Napa months lant” and “Maltha pont anns” are anagrams.

Reading faces

Most people are easy to read. The more they want to hide something, the more they show it off. The “altered” people are more difficult.
By altered I mean, people whose emotional foundation isn’t most common;
ordinary or standard.
But then those emotional alterations is eight times out of ten easy to spot and then you have to adjust the reading.

Take a little known guy like Nathan Stolpman for example. Hard to read, some would say. But if you seen him pressed and unstable, you’d know a lot.

We know when the Brooklyn sounding “For sure!” entered. We know when the script-kid-term “boom!” came along . We also know the three stages of his voice changing.

stage 1: love me! love me! love me! I have so much truth to tell you!
stage 2: why is everybody always pickin’ on me.
stage 3: my survival is secured. I can relax now!

He is also one of the very, very few, who can focus so hard on something that a clown can pet him on his head without him paying it any attention. And that – I promise you – is a  skill!

 

Light on Trond Plaskeby

”Trond Plaskeby always did go for the grandest of explanations”, his aunt Turid resolutes.
“Some boys at school vented the wheels on his bicycle, and he was sure it was a ginger man and that sweet little old lady who minded the emporium.
They where innocent, of course .. at least of that. But he persisted. And when the woman died many years later from heart failure, he was seen for several months, protesting at the cemetery with a sign that said DEATH FAKER!”

In his later years, after blaming the death of the Swedish politician Olof Palme on Palme’s own wife, he found it best leaving Sweden for Spain where he did his best avoiding the plaines.

Hot for the movies but lacking acting-skills, he signed up as an extra but was mostly covering different cutting-room floors. Finaly he had a break in a del Toro movie as a bad example and demanded a diploma for this. His wish was granted.

During this time he also started an underground fanzine about the swedish child-book author Astrid Lindgren.
“He had four subscribers”, Leonid Baskercombie remembers. “Alas, one of them Astrid Lindgren”.

When Trond accused her of being the mastermind behind moving the Spanish stairs to Italy, she had enough and sent the director Ingmar Bergman to talk some sense into Trond.
“It was a bad choice sending Ingmar”, Sven Nyqvist recalls in his diary. “Trond and Ingmar rapidly became friends and started a taverna.

Trond elevated himself to pastry-chef and Ingmar responded swiftly by 86-ing every dish. They also scolded and accused every guest who dared to enter the premises.”

The pair cooked their last meal together on the roof of the restaurant, throwing eggs in the face of a great number of passers by on the street below while singing “Feed the world”.
Ravi Shankar was invited but arrived to late, by a fortnight, and without his sitarr.

By then Ingmar was in France avoiding tax while Trond was walking on egg-shells. The taverna “Whites only, no yoke” and the bistro “Tapastry Inc” was under lock and key.

Trond filed a partnership with Cory Snotass; joined forces with argonaut Mason Slechtjahr of the Youtube-channel “Truth for sale!” and the rest is vital.

In conclusion Rusty Bike and Manly Isle of the conspiracy podcast “Put the tail on the donkey” made a special appearance and then vanished very plainly.

Random memories of Donald

..told my various sources

“We remember his PR-genius”, Cecil Körperbohne muses. He was the one that suggested we’d change our city-slogan to “WE LOVE BOISE” and printed up free Tees with “BOISE, BOISE, BOISE”.

“NAMPA RISES – IDAHO FALLS” was also one of Donalds’ slogans.
But he struck gold with “IDAHO – JUST ANOTHER STATE”, which resulted in Idaho suing Trump for possession of everything he had – which he denied and was instead jailed for contempt of court. His defence was admittance of contempt of the courthouse, but having vague feelings close to a sensation of void regarding the court itself unless they where in session.

“As president”, sources close to the W.H. says, “he always believe he has an upper hand dealing with internal affairs, because of his special interest in proctology”.

Two representatives of United Artists remember Donald Trump showing them his ass (a donkey named Camilla). One of them saw just a crescent while the other saw the whole of the moon. The witness agrees it might have been the angle.

Another story – first told in Barbara Bush’s memoirs “Happy-go-lucky little me!” – describes Donald as a little school-boy being obsessed or obese. Which or if: by what, she can’t recall.

“He wore his heart at his sleeve”, she remembers. “And his leave was a loss”, she oracles and then digress sulkily into memories of rose-buds and phenomenons of unclear origin.

“I’ll never forget where I was when JFK was shot”, Donald himself tells the Rolling Stone Magazine, late August 1988.

“I was in mime-class. Behind an invisible pane of glass. A strong wind almost swept me away, but luckily I got hold of a rope.”