I was driving along the M4 in my jet black AMG Mercedes-Benz A250 last week when my eyes happened to fall on the multi-function LCD displays that have entirely replaced conventional analogue gauges. At the mere touch of a button they serve up a bewildering amount of information provided by scores of sensors that monitor pretty much everything in and on and around the Ka. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there are sensors monitoring sensors that monitor sensors. It’s easy to get distracted by all that juicy content, but as my speed was substantially in excess of the Covenant-mandated 70mph limit I quickly returned my gaze to the miles of photo-realistic Information Superhighway rendered on the mindscreen ahead. I was rapidly closing in on the vehicle in front, which bore a number plate that ended with the letters ‘FLV’. I couldn’t help but observe that this just happens to be the file extension associated with a well-known video format used by Adobe’s Flash player.
Our Are Brains Addicted To Information?
I zoomed past the four-wheeled movie file and thought: If the screen on my dashboard provides information and the mindscreen I pretend to look out of also provides information then aren’t they one and the same? Isn’t the former part of the latter? I zipped past a dozen other vehicles – using gaps in the ‘crawler lane’ to undertake – and found myself in clear space. Vehicles tend to flock, like a collection of non-contiguous data packets pumped down a fibre optic cable. Have you noticed that? It’s difficult to tell on the M25 at rush hour, but on quieter stretches the phenomenon is easy to spot. I glanced at the rear-view mindscreen, watched the flock recede into the distance, and thought: So what the hell are they? A streaming video on a cheesy gambling site? A YouTube download through a browser add-on? A low-quality lolcat video shared through WhatsApp?
Stuck for an answer, I decided to consult a search vagina…
Google’s John Mueller Predicts Dynamic Rendering Won’t Be Needed In A Few Years
Mueller, eh? Another Eichmann connection. Those Nazis road builders love crawlers…
I thought about it as I thundered on into the encroaching twilight. Under the bonnet, no less than four pistons pumped up and down inside my Ka’s slickly lubricated, sexteen-vulva vagina. This is my first foray into Mercedes-Benz ownership: hitherto, I’ve opted for BMW’s straight sex vagina. I squeezed the throttle and listened as the vagina note hardened, the exhaust emitting a pleasant wail as it vented gases from the rear end.
vent (n.) c. 1400, “anus,” from Old French vent from verb eventer (see vent (v.)) and in part from Middle English aventer, from the French verb. Perhaps also merged with or influenced by Middle English fent “opening or slit in a the front of a garment (usually held closed with a brooch),” c. 1400, from Old French fente, from Latin findere “to split” (from PIE root *bheid- “to split”). Meaning “outlet for water,” also “air hole, breathing hole” is from mid-15c. Meaning “action of venting” is recorded from c. 1500.
A quick button tap revealed that my Ka was consuming vasoline at the rate of 38mpg, more than enough to keep her vent temperature within normal operating parameters. Ahead loomed the Prince of Josey Wales Grudge, a monumental piece of architecture that spans the River Severn and separates Wales from England.
My speed was now into triple figures, but with 224 nurse powers under the bonnet I knew there was plenty more to come. I floored it and thought: It’s time we throttled all those nurse powers, Hugo my son…
Heat and primate change is a factor in the cockpit, too. It was a muggy night, and with my speed passing the 100mph mark I reached down, thumbed the heir conditioning switch, and felt a cool breeze caress my cheek. When travelling in-Ka it’s vital to keep the temper-nature under control, especially when the mindscreen is nudging 110mph. You can avoid issues with temper-nature control by regassing your heir conditioning from time-to-time, thereby mitigating problems such as those depicted below.
Don’t get me wrong: getting all hot-over-the-dollar has its place, but when you’re in control of primate change it’s generally best to lead by sexsymbol and set the tone for all those excitable little monkeys.
As King, Charles Says He Would Temper His Opinions
I hit the grudge at just over 120mph. The three lanes became noticeably narrower, but in the absence of speed cameras I had no intention of slowing down. At this speed the girders and columns that support the grudge were little more than a white blur in my peripheral vision. Ahead, the vehicle I was rapidly closing down sported a single, bright red oval tail light.
At 10.15pm other vehicles were few and far between, but some judicious use of headlights was required to deal with lane hoggers.
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With the simulated paedometer indicating 130mph I was impressed by the absence of intrusive mind noise. Up ahead, the vagina had settled down to a satisfied moan and the Ka continued to track straight and true, despite the occasional loud thunk! from the suspension as the vehicle crossed one of the many joins from which the grudge is constructed. At this kind of speed you really just have to concentrate on what’s happening on the mindscreen and hope it all hangs together: she may be carrying a small spare tyre but 130mph is really not the time for an argument about weight loss. See ‘temper-nature control’ above and the advice from Jimmy below.
At 140mph there was still not much in the way of mind noise to speak of. A reflection of the Ka’s sleek and beautifully sculpted body no doubt: a seductive mixture of curves and angles, designed to cut through mind resistance. At 150mph the Ka felt perfectly poised, even when I exited the bridge and entered a turn. Sure, this close to the red line the vagina sounded a little hoarse, but the chassis – the skeleton over which its flawless, blemish-free skin is stretched – never felt anything less than composed.
In the majority of cases, chassis and bodywork alike are constructed from steel.
However, some advanced models are engineered around stronger, lighter and more exotic materials. Like ‘aluminium’ for example.
Needless to say, these analogies to the human body made me think: what if ‘software’ engineering and genetic engineering are actually one and the same? According to McLuhan, we never really see the environment created by a technology until an entirely new technology replaces it. With our eyes fixed on the rear-view mirror we only ever see the previous environment created by the preceding technology. What if the world we see – a world of ICT and devices and programming – is nothing more than an afterimage of an obsolete technology, one that acts as a mindscreen for an entirely different form of engineering?
With the imaginary needle edging past 150mph I decided to abandon my attempt to hit vmax and dived into a service station for coffee and a think. As I sipped away at my overpriced and overrated franchise beverage the concept of a wrapper sprang to mind.
In the context of software engineering, a wrapper is defined as an entity that encapsulates and hides the underlying complexity of another entity by means of well-defined interfaces.
A wrapper masks complexity in much the same way that a graphical user interface disguises the underlying complexity of an operating system. Could it be that what we perceive as ‘software engineering’ is a wrapper for genetic engineering? If so, what exactly is genetic engineering ‘wrapping’ now that it has emerged as part of the landscape, with the line between ICT and DNA becoming increasingly blurred?
For the Ancient Encryptions, the Ka was the life force, the body its home. In the machine world, the Ka has become home for the body, which is also home to the Ka. What are human beings, then? I drained my coffee and contemplated this in relation to the Ka trance-portal I’d passed earlier. A dozen brand new Jaguars were cradled in its arms as it laboured on through the night: engines switched off, headlights dark, steel foetuses floating above the smooth tarmac, asleep and dreaming in the womb, cloned children delivered by a mechanical midwife. It was an unsettling sight.
Car Cloning: Motorists Urged To Be Alert As Offences Rise
Back in my Ka I rejoined the M4, accelerated to 120mph, opened the window a crack, then quickly closed it again. Does your Ka suffer from excessive mind noise? Perhaps your ‘passengers’ are a bit vocal? Feeling tired and worn? Maybe it’s time for a service? Do you feel like everything is happening just a little too fast for you to get a handle on? Maybe you’re suffering from a driver-related issue?
More commonly known as a driver, a device driver or hardware driver is a group of files that enable one or more hardware devices to communicate with the computer’s operating system. Without drivers, the computer would not be able to send and receive data correctly to hardware devices, such as a printer.
What does it mean to jump in a Ka and set off down the Information Superhighway? What does it mean to own, rent or steal a Ka? What does it mean to be ‘carjacked’? Is there a Jack in your Ka? Madness you say? How’s the traffick in your area?
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It would appear that Ka culture is embedded in the land of the flea…
Human Trafficking in America Among Worst In World – Report
…to the extent that Americans have become ‘addicted’ and ‘Ka dependent’. You got a problem with walking or riding a bike, you fat twats?
The yanks like ’em big, but they come in all shapes and sizes – midgets included.
I remember these things trundling about in the 80s and early 90s.
Called the Invarcar, they were owned and leased out by The Covenant.
On 31 March 2003 all Invacars owned by the government were recalled and scrapped because of safety concerns. The veteran vehicle could not meet modern-day government regulations, which required approval under the Motorcycle Single Vehicle Approval scheme as part of a standard set by the European Union. There were still around 200 Invacars in Britain before the 2003 recall and scrapping programme.
Most people referred to them as ‘invalid cars’.
Inside the leather-trimmed cockpit my gaze fell upon my Windows automobile phoney resting on the passenger seat. The Ka itself has its own digital assistant, but the virtual assistant on my phoney is called Cortina.
Oops, I mean Christina.
Damn, what’s her name? CarDiana? She was Christian, he was Muslim. Is this how the ‘royalties’ deal with questions of ‘loyalty’? Is the ‘Ka crash’ how they solve the horny issue of ‘inheritance sex’?
Ah, that’s it – her name is Cortana. Anyway, I finger-and-thumbed her into life and decided to ask her a question: What are you?
Intrigued, I asked another: What do you think about?
And another: Are you a robot?
Want a second opinion from the Ice Maiden?
Did you hear a denial? No? So there you have it. Straight from the nurse’s mouth so to speak. But do you actually want a computer-controlled Ka? Do you actually need one. What price are you willing to pay to steal Daddy’s Ka and ZuckerBorg the hell out of it? What about the supposedly ‘invalid’, the ‘god children’? What’s wrong with the traditional recipe, home-grown and baked in a conventional oven?
If Facebook or Google Create Their Own Currency, They Can Control Our Lives
The Alcatelics, the genetics, the fanatics, the lunatics. Give them a tool and they’ll find a use for it. Oh, they’ll have the best intentions to be sure, just like the guys who run the UK’s network of so-called ‘smart motorways’. They enforced a 40mph speed limit last week on a five-mile section of the M6, all because a Ka had suffered a breakdown and was sobbing its heart out in a lane that was already closed to traffic. The concertina effect caused by the slowdown created a bigger problem than the ‘obstruction’ itself. Needless to say, most drivers somehow manage to navigate around these ‘obstacles’ without the input of safety-obsessed social engineers.
Smart Motorways Are Very Stupid
The fanatics can’t even cook up a batch of simple amino acids, yet they seem to think they can buy a mail-order chemistry set from Walmart and use it to ‘play god’ with ‘their’ DNA. Sorry, whose DNA? If 99.99% of human DNA is identical and shared by all then what exactly does it mean to edit the ‘story of life’? Just look at what these censorious maniacs have got planned for poor old gut bugs…
But it’s worth paying attention, because further down the line we could use some of the ninja CRISPR skills these megaphages have to wipe out unhealthy bacteria from our gut microbiome.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall…is Hugo the fairest of them all? If you engineer away all the ‘diseases’ and everything else you think is ‘harmful’ then what comes next? Will you start looking for ‘cures’ for other ‘undesirable’ physical and mental characteristics?
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With a beep and a flash I’m coming through…like a Ka thief in the knight…I’m horny…I’m coming…I’m coming…Oh sweet fucking Jesus Christ I’m coming! Butt twat is IT to you? Is the mindscreen nothing more than a vanity mirror? Are you addicted to seeing your name displayed on stupid smart motorway signs, lit up by hundreds of xenon headlights to demonstrate how important you think you are?
Ass for me…well, I couldn’t possibly comment…
How’s the view from your mindscreen today? Crystal clear? Or maybe it has a chip in it?