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You know the feeling, right when you've pressed "Post message" and just maybe something is mispelled. Maybe what you're written is backwards of what you yourself will believe in later life. Sometimes, there is a vibrancy, and sometimes the ball misses the racket, that i can plow DU like a farmer a field, hours of post reading and poignancy on this website.
Then isn't just the ultimate video game, unedited global free speech writing. Sometimes, right before leaving in the morning, i wonder why someone would stay up too late writing on a website. More than once, i've logged in and not recognized posts that my moniker wrote.
When the thread is long and complex, I read the tree like a shakespeare play of the collective works of these authors in unity, the entire thread as art. What a private luxury to have the leisure to read DU. The obligation to the few of the millions in wage slavery is to write for those not able. Does the post challenge what truth is.
Then at a dinner table of non-DU'ers i end up talking about DU inadvertantly, and it is a boorish coversation topic for non DU'ers. Indeed. :-)
I'm a DU junkie, checking in for my FIX of alternate telepathic reality with a fraternity, a brotherhoold of anonymous political underground writers. Then i can chat with anyone knowing the secret handshake, and otherwise in common.
I believe in free speech and free will, even the free will to be wrong, and that by stretching the limits of thought, we writers supplement a vital area of free media, the open arena. Defend or parley with your argument, beyond emotion and ad hominem.
I can't fucking belive i just wrote that. Imagine saying that in a bar to your mate. But i've written thousands of posts on this and other websites repeating my evolving ignorance of politics.
I wonder if 100 years from now, the only memory of my life, that it ever happened at all, is on some old DU backup tapes. And the secret handshake i took to my grave.
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