Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Friday, 22 January 2016

The Golden Age Of Scholarship

We have a warped view of continuing education here in the West and it's getting worse. It's entirely possible that my generation would be the last to receive a decent education before the wheels fall off our civilization. The signs were all there, of course, but the real rot and decay had not set yet set in. Shortly after I graduated our universities and colleges stopped being elite and exclusive or meritocracies...and instead became open and inclusive. That in turn lead to them becoming infested with mediocre and poisoned minds that eventually took control of them. Degenerates, atheists and feminists reduced higher education centres to intellectual wastelands. Now? They are bastions of bigotry, zealotry and ignorance where queers can be traumatized by a preacher's sermon. Atheists can be offended by a Christmas tree. Feminists are offended by their own genitals, 250,000 years of human evolution... and hate an loathe the rest of us that are capable of healthy marriages.

And the guys in the labs downstairs? You never see them. I'm talking about the guys that generated pressures and temperatures high enough to make hydrogen gas turn into a metal for a billionth of a billionth of a second - and then gathered  meaningful data from the test. Oh sure - their work may have appeared in some obscure scientific journal ... but the nutters in the courtyards and quadrangles above capered and gibbered for the press. How long can these quiet, nerdy geeks prevail against the posturing, bullying politically correct pink shirts that are taking control of our universities? The guy that landed a space probe on a comet millions of miles from earth nearly lost his job because some femcnut took offense to the print on his shirt.

 
Uncle Bob once said that women are socialists and fascists by nature. The hell, you say....but to be honest I wouldn't wipe my arse with that shirt either. Real men wear plaid...
 
When human beings operate on the leading edge of  the academic/technical/scientific/athletic envelopes - you won't find token queers, blacks or feminists. You may find a very, very few...but they are the exception, not the rule, and they are there based on merit and not (hork, spit) social justice or political correctness. In WW2 the race to build the atomic bomb was never really a race at all - the fascist German leadership airily dismissed the science required to do it as contemptable 'Jewish physics' and ordered their teams to research more politically correct avenues. The Russians started the space race...but the Americans won it. Excellence simply cannot flourish in hives of political correctness and egalitarianism.
 
ACT I: THE PROGRAMMERS
 
I was the old man in my gang at the age of 28 and even though I was not the smartest of most athletic of our gang - I became the unspoken leader of it because I was young enough to relate to the kids and old enough to get along with the profs and instructors. I bailed out Aenus McGroin when he came to class drunk and mouthed off at some people he shouldn't have. I could walk into the instructors lounge and sit with the old farts and banter and exchange friendly insults. They relished the pitched political, philosophical and even intellectual battles I sometimes brought before them. If we had problems with concepts, I would go to them and figure it out, and take it back to the younger men and teach it to them. If life got in the way of studies and the youngsters had dates or needed to go to the bar - I stayed behind, finished the assignments and allowed them to scribe them later - provided they learned the material. I told the Process Theory Loon to go fuck himself when he repeatedly and deliberately kept us late on our last class of the day on Fridays. The kids had buses to catch and girls to chase and he was doing it just to be a dink. When he decided to get stupid and fight about it I sat down with him and the Dept. Head and told him we as students have deadlines and time allotments - and the Process Control Theory Loon had his. He could damned well finish his classes in the allotted time or we would walk out on him and that was that - for that! It wasn't even an argument - The Loon was told to smarten up and we were scolded to be more respectful. Whatever.
 
 
I fell in love with the programmable scientific calculator the second I saw it. We had just gotten them and I had turned my back on one of my most promising protoges - Stu The Jew. He was a merciless practical joker and if you keep your friends close and your enemies closer - Stu and I were very close friends indeed. It was a pleasure to corrupt mentor him that I will always cherish. So it was that I turned on my new calculator to see what Stu had done to it. The alpha numeric display came up:
 
 
ENTER A NUMBER
 
 
A sheen of sweat broke out on my forehead. "What did you do to my new calculator, Stu?" I sobbed, "For the love of gawd - it's brand new!!! What did you do to it???" And ol' Stu? He just leaned back and grinned like a wolf. "Whatsamatter old man? Scared? Why don't you enter a number?" Oh boy. I carefully set the calculator down on the table and started to try and think my way out of the trap Stu had set for me. I assumed a thoughtful tone and began to talk myself through the steps of logic and made a show of the process. "Consider Stu's lack of morals and ethics - they are in no way indicative of his intellect! Never underestimate your opponents fellas! Now then...(keep a safe distance, lads)...there are no obvious trip wires or disturbance mechanisms. He had neither the means nor the time for more elaborate mechanisms like mercury tilt switches or solid state accelerometers or more sophisticated trigger mechanisms..." Damn him...Stu was just glowing with pride at the seriousness of the situation! "Aenus! Do you see any suspicious packages nearby that could contain Thermite, semtex or any other form of IED? No? Under those circumstances, we can now safely assume that the sabotage is limited to corrupted software and algorithms local to this device!"  I congratulated myself over my formidable powers of observation and deduction .... But what to do? I had no interest in the user manual that came with the calculator. A crowd had formed around us as people gathered to watch poor old man Filthie walk into one of Stu's fiendish practical jokes. I looked at the calculator again ... hemmed and hawed...and figured "What the hell? The best way to understand how a trap works is to spring it."
 
 
ENTER A NUMBER
>10
 
 
PRINT
 
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
FILTHIE SUCKS CACK
 
 
Silence fell over all of us while Stu basked in my dismay and the astonishment of our gang. It took me a moment or two to recover... "HFS!!! Excellent work, Stu!" Turning to the rest, I re-assumed command of the situation and summarized. "This is just chock-full of awesome lads! Consider what we saw here: a practical joke that instilled maximum fear, loathing and trepidation in the target - a simply BRILLIANT execution of underhanded bastidry in setting it up - and a FLAWLESS execution to draw maximum entertainment and amusement from everyone else! All hail the Great And Powerful Stu The Jooooooo!"
 
And with that, we got kicked out of the study hall for making too much noise. We went across the street to the food mall and sat down for Stu to give us a product lecture on the calculator and a shit house tutorial on BASIC programming. The more I learned, the more boggled I became. "Holy mackarel, fellas...do you have ANY idea what we can do with these?" Our fellow academic thugs looked at us in slack-jawed apathy...but Stu and I grinned the Devil's grin.
 
The possibilities were staggering to me at the time. Back then, BASIC was the code for the filthy masses and the elite were using the new C++. I think FORTRAN might still have been around too. "Who do we take down first, Old Man?" Stu asked.
 
I reached down for my pack, pulled out a massive text entitled "Elements of Process Control" and slammed it on the table with a theatrical flourish. "We're going straight in to the mouth of the cat, guys!"
 
The Process Control Loon had taken deep offense to the spanking we had handed him - and he had taken it out on us in class. Yes, that is part and parcel of academic professionalism for ya. He did a dismal job of teaching and marked assignments with no quarter of mercy or justice at all. He couldn't touch Stu or I because we knew the material...but some of the younger and less dedicated boys were getting creamed.
 
"It's time to turn the tables." I growled, and grins broke out all around.
 
 
 
 


2 comments:

  1. I saw that physicist on TV last night, wearing a regular shirt. I wonder what he did with that Gunner Girls shirt?

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    Replies
    1. That thing should be enshrined and on proud display over at the Treehouse Unca Bob.

      Funny - I saw a motorcycle helmet just like that at the show last weekend. The graphics depicted schmeebs and skanks that would look really good on a mysogynist like like me - were I to take to full face helmets...

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