Most of us are familiar with the plot of the movie "The Manchurian Candidate," but have merely brushed it off as pure fiction. It's a common belief that brainwashing and mind control were the realms of spy novels and Hollywood fantasy. The unfortunate reality is that both mass and individual hypnotic suggestion to result in political assassination and shooting sprees happens more than you would believe.
The history of this practice dates back to the 50's with the CIA's Project Bluebird. This and it's derivative, Project Artichoke, employed the use of illegal drugs such as heroin, mescaline, high potency marijuana, and principally LSD along with powerful hypnotic suggestion to create an alternate personality or "shell personality" of the subject. The shell personality could be instructed to commit immoral acts or go against the individual's survival instinct. These projects led to the development of Project MK ULTRA, headed by Dr. Ewen Cameron in Canada and Dr. Louis Jolyn West in the US. Cameron and West used these techniques as well as techniques developed by the Nazi's (for which most of whom were prosecuted in the Nuremberg Trials) to develop the shell personality into the perfect assassin, one who would remember neither the assassination nor the instructions given by the hypnotic programmer. Fortunately, this barbaric project was uncovered in 1976 because of the many lawsuits lost due to the provability of physical damage to the victims through the drugging process. The project progressed, under the supervision of Dr. Jose Delgado, to the use of electroshock and focused microwave energy to alter the personality because they left no evidence. This aspect of the project (codename yet to be declassified) continues to this day in many universities like Virginia Tech and military installations like Colorado Springs and Fort Hood. The development of these projects could lead one to believe that some of the assassins and mass shooters in our recent history could by the result of this program. Is it a coincidence that RFK's assassin, Sirhan Sirhan and Timothy McVeigh both had the same court appointed psychologist? Would it be a greater coincidence that he was Dr. Louis Jolyn West, the head of the US branch of MK ULTRA? Is it a further coincidence that Major Nidal Hasan, the Fort Hood shooter, received his undergraduate degree from Virginia Tech and was part of the psychological department at Fort Hood? Add Comment New Mathematics Breakthrough Proves Calculus “Not All It’s Cracked Up To Be” (by Corey Bradberry) 03/16/2010
This past Sunday, a group of renowned mathematicians, gathering for its annual “Math-a-Matters!” lecture series, have come to the startling conclusion that calculus, is, in fact, not as important as previously thought. The group, led by the celebrated physicist Dr. Donald K. Umphrey, made their startling discovery on Tuesday. “Well, I was sitting in on Walter’s Let’s Split the Atom discussion panel and quite frankly, it was boring as a funeral,” Umphrey said. “A group of us were in the back, goofing off, and Danny Avens’s pen bursts and spills ink all over the graph paper we were playing tic-tac-toe on and poof: there it was.” Danny Avens is a junior intern student from the Harvard School of Medicine. The ink spill apparently resembled a proof disproving the importance of calculus. “We all went through life assuming that calculus was important to our field as scientists,” Umphrey continued. “Guess we were wrong.” UCLA’s Dr. Gordon Smith was also present. “When [Avens] came over to sit with us, we were all dreading it because he’s sort of the [loser] of the group. I mean, he’s a complete [dumbo], but when that [crazy] guy dropped his [crazy] pen, even Ole’ Four Eyes sat up and took notice. We were all taken aback.” Ole’ Four Eyes was not available for comment. The ink stain was taken to Dr. Umphrey’s lab in Cambridge, where it was thoroughly tested for errors. Finding none, Umphrey returned the next day to the convention and presented the find, affectionately nicknamed “Aven’s [Mess]-Up.” He announced that the proof is “absolutely flawless.” Reaction in the mathematics world has been mixed, but none can deny the power of Dr. Umphrey’s words, should the formula prove correct. “Imagine the impact this will have!” commented University of North Texas professor Samuel Long. “This will turn the world of mathematics on its parallel axis… Did they show it to me? No, not exactly; no one’s really seen it yet, but it must be horribly complex, and I doubt I’d understand it anyway. Lots of charts and whatnot.” Umphrey is in the process of testing his proof on high school and college aged students. So far, 98% of students tested have agreed with the findings versus 1% disagreeing, with the remaining 1% not being able to differentiate between Aven’s proof and calculus itself. Sampling error is +/- 2 percent. Final numbers are due today.   Untitled (by Josh Katz) 03/16/2010
This is the story of my grandfather’s death, but really it is about my grandmother’s death, eventually, and my father’s, inevitably. This all happened after my grandfather died, but before he taught us all about singularity and time travel. This all happened before my grandmother died, but after she stopped baking cookies. Above all, this is a story about cats, not dogs. It is about swimming pools, but only above-ground pools, pregnant with implausibility and rotting leaves. If you are the type of person to prefer your swimming pools heated, with a serpentine lagoon, you will not enjoy this story.
If this was a better story, I could tell you what parting wisdom my grandfather felt necessary to share on his deathbed, which was in actuality more of a death-driveway: unpaved but final. If this was even a marginally better story I could tell you about my grandmother’s face when she locked the peeling yellow front door of her house for the last time. Instead, all I have is the early imprint of a language interchangeable only with objects and ideas. We didn’t have cookouts or pool parties. We had mildew, mathematics, broken light bulbs. This was our language. Before my uncle lost his leg but after he won a Ford Taurus means more than we were happy. After my grandfather died but before he taught us about potentiality in quantum physics, we had nothing. In plain English, he died of prostate cancer. My family never spoke English, not around each other. We knew the truth. He died of an overdose of memory, more specifically a protracted dose of tampered milligrams administered throughout the last years of his life, when he went back to work to support himself and they took away our fiery tongues. To give you a better idea of where we are, this is before my grandmother threw away her pots and pans but after she stopped sleeping again. This was before my grandfather died, but not much. If that’s not clear to you, you probably like lagoon-like swimming pools. Why Are There School? (by Manda Costoulas) 03/16/2010
 Ok friends. Before we get into what started this very productive Q&A session* we are about to embark upon together, there are a few things we need to clear up first. First of all, I need to explain to you what a Big Rock moment is. Then we're going to talk about reindeer. Big Rock first. In order to adequately set the scene you'd have to know Jesse Greene, the man and the legend. But we'll assume you don't. We'll also assume that you don't know what the hell I'm talking about when I tell you that the Big Rock concert series was a music festival event put on by 99X radio at Stone Mountain. To wit: a Big Rock moment is the moment of dawning realization of something obvious that has eluded you for years, so named after the moment when the legendary Jesse Greene (only spoken of in awed whispers of lore and tales of wonder) realized while at a 99X Big Rock concert at Stone Mountain that Stone Mountain was itself a big rock and thus the title of the concert series was a double entendre. This was proceeded directly afterwards by the realization that the previous series years before was called 'On the Bricks' because indeed Centennial Olympic Park is paved with bricks. As in “Holy shit last year was 'On the Bricks' is that because there are bricks in the park?” His world was thenceforth changed.
I'm sure, the clever little devil that you are, you've realized how this all connects to reindeer and Google. But bear with me, and let's continue on this journey together. On a fine clear night, while ostensibly being very productive while not doing much of anything, a Big Rock moment of such staggering epiphany dawned upon my heart like the bright beacon of the morning sun. My eyes were opened, a veil was lifted, and I could see the innermost workings of the complex gears and levers of our clockwork world in one bright and terrifying moment of clarity. Reindeer are called reindeer because Santa puts reins on them. O, Providence! O, Happy Day! Immediately I knew there was only one thing to do in such a situation: consult the Oracle. Why, Google? Why are reindeer called reindeer? Surely I couldn't be mistaken? As I began to type in my question, I got as far as “Why are” when I saw with dawning dismay that my search for vindication would have to wait. The image before my eyes given to me by Google's predictive text handed me a new destiny. The Internet needed me. Don't worry, America. I'm here now. Shhh. It'll be alright. *all questions answered without the help of Google. A Note 03/16/2010
Dear Hyphen, I'm tired of you. You're pretty unimportant in my book. I'm not even sure I know how to spell you. I am tired of having to pause and figure out where you need to be placed. I don't need you on my checks. If you can't understand the numbers, you don't need to be getting money. While i'm at it, f you unneeded spaces. We all know what i mean when i call you a motherfu(censorship, you’re next). Furthermore, may you be forewarned- i am not banning hyphens, and obviously not spaces, just the superfluous ones that piss me off. Grammar... watch out. Madly, Wayne Benjamin Rush Hoagland A Love Story 03/16/2010
They say you’re really not somebody until somebody else loves you. Well, I say you’re really not somebody until you love yourself. I’ve been loved by plenty of others, until when on that one fateful day (night, really) when there was nobody else around to love me, I took matters into my own hands. Never in my life had I felt like more of a somebody than in the precious waning moments of ecstasy I had brought upon myself. Turns out, none of the others who had previously loved me were able to make me feel as loved as I had just made myself feel on my very first try. I began to feel bad for them (not all of them, for the record), and for myself; I had no idea I could create my own happy ending, that I didn’t have to think, “Well, maybe next time!” roll over, and go to sleep. I’d heard about it in the movies and on T.V…well, actually not really…but I’d heard about it somewhere, this self-serving love that comes so easily to some, but for some reason is more of a challenge, an embarrassment, a faux pas for others. But why is something that feels so good not openly discussed more often? I have never heard any of my friends mention it. Is it because they don’t practice this sacred ritual, or because they are too ashamed to tell anyone? Either way, it is misfortunate. I could have been so much happier, so less stressed, felt so much more powerful for a lot longer had I discovered this earlier in life. I feel like I could rule the world with these two hands. Maybe I can’t make my car payment this month. Maybe I have to go to the grocery store instead of eat out so often. Maybe I’ll have to wait to rent that movie on DVD instead of seeing it in theatres. But there’s one thing I can do that will always be free. And that makes me a Somebody.  Volume One: An Explanation of “The One Way Street” In our modern, rational, American society (as with most, if not all societies these days), a person is born with a set of privileges based solely on skin color, gender, nationality, sexuality, and ability. This set, determined by chance, situates her or him on the hierarchy of hegemony. Other privileges can be {somewhat} chosen, like economic status, political affiliation, religion, etc., but still have a place on the hierarchy. Needless to say, the closer to the top a person is, the more privileges she or he is garnished with (deserving of them or not); the closer to the bottom, the more oppression. Watching the news can highlight this hierarchy with precision, showing the drastic imbalance that this creates. “The One Way Street” was created to shed light on situations that drastically favor one particular group of privileged individuals, typically the closest to the hegemonic, dominant form. By reversing the role of oppressor and oppressed, the imagery created will hopefully move something inside the reader. This is not a personal piece. It is collective. It affects each of us every day. Only when the institutionalization of privilege based on physiology gives way to privilege based on character will anyone in our society truly be free. Our first “One Way” focuses on the prevalence of domestic violence against women. It is extremely rare to have to abuse go the other way around, but we all know that people do in fact drive the wrong way up a one way street sometimes… rarely, but sometimes it does happen. We hope our series makes you think hard about where American normalcy seems to be. After reading hundreds of headlines about men murdering, abusing, raping, and stalking women, it became quite apparent that this disturbing issue should be tackled. Thank you for reading. -Jaime and Aajay Roasted (by Sam Jacobsen) 03/16/2010
 Like Death and Cheese (by Manda Costoulas) 03/16/2010
Some things in life are sacred. Things like the ability to sweat to your trusty Dance 90's VHS with your windows wide open, declaring to the world that yes, you can get jiggy with your bomb diggity self. And who could truly be happy without one's daily right to sit at coffee shops around America and loudly and consistently judge those more successful than yourself? Like people who wear loafers. Loafers are for loafing. When will people understand? These activities are sacred, protected by the inalienable rights we have as sweaty, dancing fools in this the race of humans. I think we all know where this is going. The most sacrosanct of all of life's joys. That's right. Cheese. Now, I know what you're thinking. Who could possibly ruin cheese? What folly is this? You're right, of course. Nobody can ruin cheese. But there is a fine balance between ruining cheese and simply refusing to do what's best for it. In between my frantic schedule of sleeping all day and laying down a few snappy lines of dialogue for my Great Underachiever's Novel, my carefully planned afternoon was thrown way off its axis when, with feigned innocence as to her abomination, my sister bit down into a toasted (toasted!) peanut butter and cheddar sandwich. Trickery! Outrage! Shame! Certain things are better left separate. Outlaws and sheriffs. Pirates and ninjas. Grad students and everyone else. Dogs and wood chippers (don't think about that one too hard). But more than all of these things (I'll take back pirates and ninjas, let's face it that would be awesome), is delicious cheese and sticky, cloying, passive-aggressive peanut butter. Cheese and peanut butter are natural born enemies! They are the Palin/Levi of food products. Please. Do what's best for cheese. Do what's best for humanity. Put the peanut butter down. |  CategoriesAll   |
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