Archive for October, 2010

Shamiek, Kevo, and Twan had been best friends since the 7th grade. “Meek” as his two aces called him, was born in Brooklyn and moved to the south side of Chicago when he was 11. Kevo was born and raised in the Chi, as was Twan. They both came up in Stateway Gardens Projects and were residing there when Meek moved there to live with his grandmother after his mom passed. The three of them clicked immediately and were thick as thieves, although individually they were very unique brothas. Kev was the prototypical south side street nigga. He got blessed into the Gangsta Disciples when he was 9, and went hard for the mob until he got popped off on a gun charge and did a year, during which he was supposed to be a freshman at somebody’s college. In spite of his thorough thug pedigree, he was extremely intelligent and an avid reader. His reading habit only got stronger when he was in the joint and he would often tell his partners, “my favorite food is books nigga!”

Twan was the charismatic one of the trio. He knew everybody in the hood and everybody knew him. T-Smoove, as he loved to call himself, was so charming and fly that he could talk his way into, or out of anything. Even though he grew up in the projects he stayed fresh to def because he could always weasel his mom into buyin’ him the hottest sneaks and threads out at the time and whatever she couldn’t afford his stable of girls was happy to provide. Even though he was always out and about with Kevo and Meek he was extremely responsible. He took his role as the man of his house seriously and held his two little sisters down well. Asia and Kana never wanted for candy money or hot meals on his watch and it was known in the hood that if anybody so much as looked at them sideways, Twan would stomp that ass with the quickness.

Shamiek was the God of the crew. He got knowledge of self when he was 8 and put 120 on cap when he was ten, exactly a year before moving to Chicago. An extremely calculating thinker, he was wise beyond his years and had always hung around brothas that were older than him. His enlightener was a powerful older God by the name of Be Wise Allah and he drilled the degrees into Meek’s third tighter than a boa constrictor squeeze. He had always been fascinated by the swag that the Gods in his hood manifested and with multiple cousins and uncles who were part of Allah’s Nation of Gods & Earths, becoming a five-percenter was a no-brainer for him. Due to his thick east coast accent, the fact that he didn’t eat swine, and the mathematical way he saw and built on things, Kevo and Twan consistently made fun of him. The God wasn’t bothered by it though because it was generally good-natured ribbing and over the years he had shown and proven the practical application potential of his culture so they knew it was no joke. He even managed to convince them to reduce their swine intake drastically although Kevo had periodic relapses, especially on the 4th of July. The biggest impact Meek was able to make was getting them to greet him by saying “peace.” He said it so much and they dug the way it sounded so much that they just started doin’ it as well. Since he lived I-God culture to the fullest Meek was the most cerebral of the group and his two counterparts often sought his advice in tough situations. Based on the fact that he was always so level headed they trusted that he would never lead them in the wrong direction.

The three of them were now 22 years of age and their lives were going in different directions. Now that the projects were torn down they didn’t live within’ walking distance from one another although they still hung out a lot and talked on the phone everyday. Kevo lived with his uncle Ron, who was a GD board member with crazy pull in the streets. Even though he had a job he was still sellin’ weed because Ron kept so much of it and gave him such a good price on it since he was family. Twan and Meek shared a spot on 48th and Michigan. Meek was working and in school at Loyola University up north. Twan had a telemarketing job and between that and being a ghetto jiggalo, he was more than capable of paying his share of the bills, keeping gas in his car, and staying freshly dressed. The God Meek was an early riser so he would often leave for work at 5 in the morning. He didn’t start until 8, but he was in good with the supervisor so he always went in early so he could use the office PC to do research and type papers. The fact that he left out so early every day, and came home so late, suited Twan’s program perfectly. That gave him plenty of time to run his girls in an out and play Madden with the volume all the way up, without worrying about disturbing anyone. Although he typically slept in, Twan was up early this morning to the surprise of his roommate.

“Peace Sun,” Meek said as he entered the living room to grab his back pack. “How long you been up G?” “Shit I been up since about 3, couldn’t sleep.” The God Meek saw Supreme Mathematics in everything, a quality that often agitated his friends. Needless to say, he didn’t care. He was living mathematics and anyone in his circumference would either honor it or travel. “You been up since the understandin’ hour? Well, understandin’ is sight of mind so you must have saw somethin’ in your sleep that woke you up. Did you have a dream?” Even though he was accustomed to Meek’s natural inclination to build on everything through math, he still had to talk shit to him. “Damn G, just because I been up since three that don’t mean there’s some mathematical significance which relates that hour to me havin’ a dream. Sometimes you be reachin’ with your supreme math.” Meek smirked and immediately fired back. “God, if I’m reachin’ then show and prove. Answer the question. Did you have a dream?”

“Yeah man.” Twan replied. “Indeed. That shows and proves the mathematical significance and that I wasn’t reachin’ nigga. I been tellin’ you since we was shorties that supreme mathematics speaks Sun and when it does you gotta listen. Now what was the dream about?”

Twan was hesitant to reveal the nature of his dream because he had an idea of where Meek’s analysis of it would go. He’d heard the whole “blackman is god” script more times than he could count and although he could see some plausibility in it, there wasn’t enough for him to fully bear witness.

“Don’t you gotta go to work nigga?” Twan was clearly bowing out of the conversation.

“Why equal self, I’m bout to travel as soon as I get this bagel out the toaster. Yo man, you think you can try to straighten up in the front after you kick that chick out ya bed? My Earth comin’ through to study with me this evening and I don’t want her cleanin’ up after you and yo hookers no more.”

Twan loved when I-Refined came through the rest. Not only would she clean up, even if he tried to stop her, but she could cook her ass off and refused to leave her God or his roommate with an empty belly.

“Aw hell yeah, I-Refined commin’ through? That’s what I’m talkin’ about imma be good and hungry by the time I get in this evening and I know she gone hook somethin’ up for the God and his main man, even if he is a 85er.” They both burst into laughter at the sarcastic remark.

“You are a build power nigga, fortunately for you I’m all about my duty as a civilized person and leadin’ you in the right direction will be my greatest challenge. Frankly, I find it disturbing that you get fringe benefits just because MY Earth is right and exact. Seein’ as how you didn’t teach her a single degree or do anything to cultivate her it just don’t quite seem right.”

At this point, Twan was in rare form and continued to pour the bullshit on thick. “It’s a credit to you ‘Almighty’ you did such a good job makin’ sure her MVP and GCC was laid down right she can’t help but manifest that each and everyday and each and every way!” Meek almost spit apple juice all over the floor the laughter hit his gut so hard.

“I hate you Twan word is bond! And for the record, it’s MGT and GCC idiot. If you stop dealin’ with that mystery God and knowledge 120 you’ll know that.” On his way out, his friend gave him a typical dismissive rebuttal.

“Whatever nigga. Peace.”

Preme.

Mind Games…

Posted: October 28, 2010 in Uncategorized

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Peace,

I’ve long been intrigued by the science of mind games. Today’s degree beautifully illustrates some of the most typical ways in which they’re played. We assume a given role, such as that of a doctor, minister, nurse, or cremator based upon the cipher in which the game takes place. Home field advantage represents a cipher in which the knowledge held by one player, relative to the subject at hand, surpasses that of the other player(s) because this factor is likely to make said player more effective at advancing his or her position & translates to a higher degree of comfort. Among the most prominent tools of the trade are nurse’s needles. The reason being is that they are largely amorphous until they are prescribed a form by the holder. Second guessing, overzealous qualifying, crticism, and outright hating represent staple concepts in terms of styles of play.

Mind games have a political dimension to them which explains the posturing that goes on between players. Disclaimer statements such as ” I could be wrong, but,” or “I’m just saying, but I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” represent aggressive offensive maneuvering. Not to be taken on face value, such mild expressive “courtesies” are simply a fine mist behind which you’re really being told “you need to listen to what I’m telling you because your dumb ass doesn’t know what you’re doing/talking about.” They are lieutenants in the army of a captain embodied by a determined idea to push you off of your square while causing you to doubt the truth in whatever mathematical calculation led you to your position. These games can often be emotionally charged but they are not always played in inclimate cognitive weather. Pratice makes perfect so the more you play, the more dextrous you become at dodging the needles, answering or deflecting qualifying questions, or when appropriate & a clear opening is within mind’s eye view, crushing your opponent by showing & proving that your position is overwhelmingly superior causing theirs to distill back from whence it came. Although we will all win some and lose some, the reality is that it’s not about wins and losses. What it’s really about is victory, which I see as arrival at a desired destination correspondent to a given determined idea. The thing about being victorious is that evidence of it is not yielded by celebratory dances, shit talking, or validation by the person you “played” against. It’s more about the clarity brought about by the understanding you extract from the cipher and the sensation of wiping the figurative coal out of your third eye. When you reach Mt. Everest based on a formula for the climb that you engineered, you have successfully conducted an experiment that didn’t explode in your face. You ran up on a problem, strapped some supreme mathematical dynamite to it, and detonated it in your own good time. Game over!

Peace.
SupremeVictoryAllah

The Asiatic “REAL World”

Posted: October 26, 2010 in Uncategorized

Peace,

So I’m quite sure that your first question is what do I mean by the Asiatic REAL World? I think the most effective way to answer that would be to paint a picture of what doesn’t exemplify said concept. The real asiatic world is not this fantastic utopian realm where all of the Gods & Earths are vegans, they all know 120, and their entire physical existence is organic & free of food additives, diluted water, profanity, drugs, liquor and the like. It’s also not this harmonious cipher in which we get along with the NOI, Nuwabians, Moors, Christians, Sunnis, Buddhists etc. I’m not implying that there’s beef all accross the board, I’m conversely acknowledging the fact that relative to certain subjects there will be heated disagreement among respective groups. Let’s see now, what other key characteristics are not woven into the fabric of the real asiatic world? Ok, here’s one that’s specific to this nation. Not only do we not all have the same understanding of I-God culture & 120, but there will never be a time & space within which we do. And guess what…that’s ok! There’s more than one way to manifest this and my way is what works for ME! We need to wake the fuck up, smell the Maxwell House, and stop searchin’ for that which does not exist. Everthing in this life is real based on our perception of what real-ity is, so let’s be real & deal with reality. I’ll use my self as the guinea pig, fuck it I ain’t got nothin’ to lose.

I’m not a cookie cut-out God by any stretch of the imagination. I drink beer and I fuckin’ love it! Not because I’m a slave of a mental death with no knowledge of the fact that it’s not good for me, but because it tastes good and I like the buzz. I eat turkey, fish, & chicken…fried muthafuckin’ chicken! It’s not always boiled or baked & sometimes it’s drenched with hot sauce & mild sauce & comes from a shack named after a nigga named Harold. Let’s see what else on the “Gods either don’t or shouldn’t do this list” can we check off as it pertains to ole’ Preme. Sometimes I wear a little stud earring in my left ear. And I don’t wanna hear some bullshit ass build about that being gay or feminine because it’s plenty of niggaz that’ll beat yo ass, shoot the shit outta you, or mack the shit outta ya wiz wit terrific speed & an earring in their ear so stop it. I like the look so I fucks wit it, end of story. I advocate and teach Allah’s Self Creation from triple darkness, as a matter of fact that’s my shit and I don’t care who doesn’t teach it or bare witness to it. If you get lessons from me then you will get that too. I have not and will not change my name legally. I don’t see the point. My honorable name is what I’ve made it as is my asiatic name. My ole Earth gave it to me so it’s mine & I’m keepin it in effect as I see fit.  Lastly, but certainly not least I cuss a lot, not curse, I cuss! Obviously I use the minimum required discretion but I can drop f-bombs with the big boys.

So now that I’ve rattled off a list of shit that ,according to some would make me “not true & livin” here’s another list. I got my degrees on cee allah power, showed & proved em’ twice & I LIVE them out. My immediate family knows that I deal with this culture and they also know I could give a fuck less if they like it or approve of it. I’m faithful to my queen. I ain’t strivin’ to add no other wisdoms on because I’d rather direct that energy toward mastering the science of OUR life together. I build in the streets with the most easily led in the wrong direction destroy powers and actually strive to reach and teach them. Now the reason I took the time to manifest all of this shit about myself is because I don’t take myself or my life too seriously. Since I have knowledge of self I’m wise enough to understand this life for exactly what it is. If I only ate healthy shit everyday, drank distilled water only, abstained from liquor & weed, did 10,000 pushups/day, never used profanity or did anything fucked up I still couldn’t circumvent mortality. I could still get shot, hit by a bus, or meet any of a number of life ending fates. Yeah I know about the whole science of man is mind and Allah has no beginning nor ending but fuck the over analysis and digest the build in the raw. Let’s not delude ourselves and perpetuate this idea that people with knowledge of self are, or have to be saints. Refinement is a day by day, life long mathematical principle which represents what we strive to do in order to clean ourselves up. I don’t judge people for being a little dirty so don’t do that shit to me.

Peace.
Preme

Peace,

The following statement will seem harsh because it will be. Regardless, today’s degree compels me to deal with the truth on the square so here it is. Black people, in this wilderness of North America, are undeniably deficient in social grace and the general civilization perceived to be inherent within it. From brother to brother, sister to sister, or across gender lines we act as if we hate each other and consequently, don’t give a fuck about one another. Let’s be real about the situation, I mean who the fuck are we kidding? The average black family contains members that don’t speak to or associate with other members of the same bloodline so wisdom cipher miles outside of said “so-called” connection the concern for someone other than self is naturally absent. Niggaz make babies with any nasty savage chick that’ll take divine eye raw. And of course correspondingly the most lowly destroy power wisdom will do the same with whatever piece of shit lowlife nigga with no ambition that shows them a little attention. Old niggaz hate young niggaz because they’re disrespectful & don’t listen. Young niggaz hate old niggaz because they talk a lot of shit and think they know everything. I could wear my thumbs out manifesting the multiplicity of things that separate black people. The one element that continues to radiate violently in my third is unawareness of the ties that bind us. We can’t seem to wrap our minds around the fact that the bullshit we do as individuals represents detriment to the collective.

Pardon self for deeming that to be among the most elementary of concepts but it damn sure isn’t complicated. Since there is no mystery God regulating the things that take place on this planet, and the black man is God, that means he’s fuckin’ up royally! Allow me to illustrate my point. A few posts ago, I recounted a situation in which I got into it with some young niggaz for loitering on the porch of my building. Today my queen called me & told me that when she came downstairs to leave out there were understandin’ random muthafuckas in our vestibule smokin’ like that shit is just cool. Now let’s draw up some of the potential fallout from this self-centered transgression on the part of said savages. First of all, that shit couldn’t have made the queen feel comfortable or safe which is a huge concern for me. However, since these loser muthafuckas only think about themselves that thought never crossed their minds. Secondly, if I was there or the landlord was there the shit would’ve been addressed swiftly & depending on the current of allah I rule it could have easily escalated. Under this circumstance someone could have gotten hurt resulting in a domino effect involving the police, guns, retaliation, etc. Again, none of this shit ever crossed these niggaz minds before they brought their bum asses into a building that is privately owned, which they don’t live in, just to smoke… SMH. The obvious question is why? Why do black people do shit like this? The answer is because they’re all about themselves. Anything or anyone that doesn’t figure into an equation whereby they can do or have what they want is irrelevant. Niggaz don’t give a fuck about anyone outside of self. When that type of cancerous culture is allowed to fester and goes untreated, there’s always hell to pay. You end up with situations in which kindness is taken for weakness. Lies are told. Theft is commonplace. Effectively, ways and actions like a snake of the grafted type become the norm. Honestly, that shit is really gettin’ on my nerves and I’m fuckin’ sick of it. That’s all the fuck I feel like sayin’………

Peace.
Preme 

The Devil’s Myopia

Posted: October 12, 2010 in Uncategorized

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Peace,

The concept of unalike attract and like repel is a concise illustration of opposition in which one piece of steel acts upon another showing and proving a symbiotic relationship. Grafting takes opposition to a more extreme level of manifestation because the opposing entity is only made manifest when the original is completely stripped of everything that identifies it as such culminating in the creation of a synthetic antithesis. Such is the science of God & devil per the understanding cipher & understanding knowledge degrees in the 1-40. Ever since the devil was manifested on the planet Earth his advancement in the world has been predicated upon lying, stealing, and mastering not only the original man, but ANY man he deems to be a threat to his aspirations. The driving force behind everything he ultimately does, is an inherent determined idea to perpetuate the notion that he’s better than all other human families of the planet Earth, & therefore has some divine right to rule it and do what he pleases on it, and with it. If you observe colored people, you will detect a pronounced sense of entitlement in their disposition. They expect you to serve them with a smile and a kiss on the ass. They also expect to be excused for any problematic situation that they put themselves into. I realize that these are sweeping generalizations, so let me appease the reader & inject the obligatory politically correct disclaimer. All white people don’t act this way. Whew, now that we’re beyond that political shit, let’s get back to the guts of the build.

The motivation for this build is Brett Favre, the quarterback for the Minnesota Vikings. If you don’t know who he is, google him or go to espn.com and read one of the articles about him. I don’t like the muthafucka & have no qualms about stating it plainly. Although I willfully admit he’s had a great career & done some great things on the football field, I don’t fuck with him because I see him for the person that he is. Let me give you a quick profile run down. He’s been in the league for wisdom cipher years, won a Super Bowl, and a couple of mvp awards. He also was addicted to pain killers early in his career which necessitated rehab. He’s also faked his retirement on three separate occasions to either maneuver his team into trading him to the team of his choice, or to avoid going to training camp before the season started. He’s recently been accused of exchanging lewd voice, text, & picture messages with a twenty something year old employee of one of his former teams. By the way, he’s in his culture ciphers & married with children. The media has always deified this man & presented him as this iconic “man’s man” regardless of his transgressions on and off the field. Why you ask? It’s because he fits the mold of what colored people consider a great man to be. The wisdom build degree speaks of how the holy baby’s mother was told to take good care of him, educate him well, & some day he will be a great man. Ironically enough, in some instances, the colored man’s life follows this progression to the letter. Favre is no different. He grew up in Kiln, MS and enjoyed a down home “all american” upbringing. He’s not exactly a rocket scientist, but he did go to college on a football scholarship, so he’s educated and relatively well spoken. Ultimately, he went on to have an illustrious athletic career which, in the wilderness of North America, gives him a free transportation to “great man” status. The fact that he’s white makes this all the more gravy.

Being a great athelete doesn’t make you a great man, it makes you great at a given sport, that’s it. Greatness in a man encompasses far more than master level skill in one science. Additionally, many people who reach this level of excellence in one cipher tend to be deficient in others & such is the case with Brett Favre. Although he’s old, battered, & bruised, he refuses to let his career rest & ride off into the sunset. This is due to a number of different factors. Firstly, he doesn’t know how to do anything else besides play football. He’s a country bumpkin who’s not fit for a snappy commentator job or a career in politics. He’s more of a Wrangler jeans, sun flower seed spittin’ kind of guy. Also, he selfish and self absorbed. The last two off seasons he’s deliberately kept his team guessing as to whether or not he would come back to play. While his teammates are on the field sweating through wisdom practices a day in the hot sun, he’s in Mississippi playing catch with high school kids. However, he miraculously makes a decision and all of his injuries are healed enough for him to return once training camp is over. This aspect of his dirty religion is downplayed by the media but I find it to be very telling. Imagine the nurse’s needle that this jams into the minds of his teammates. The message is that he’s above the rest of the group and therefore can operate by his own set of rules. He’s the captain and they’re just lieutenants. I refuse to believe that this hasn’t bred some level of resentment in the locker room. The narcissism doesn’t stop there. For almost half his life this man has been the center of attention and a recipient of flowing accolades. Throughout his professional career, his wife and children have been behind him and supported him. At what point does he return the favor. He needs to be at his kids games, pickin’ them up from school & given his wife the high hard one multiple nights a week instead of chasing old glory. The longer he plays, the more damage he does to his body so when he finally does stop he will live in pain for the rest of his life. With his remaining vitality poured into these football twilight years there won’t be much left for him to direct toward the people that matter the most.

The most sickening thing about Favre’s myopia is that he’s rarely called on it. He’s so well repected that his public image is virtually unassailable. Certainly, I’m not the only detractor, but he is overwhelmingly revered and held in high regard. I heard one sports talk show host speak on the recent allegations leveraged against him yesterday. His build basically offered a dry dismissal of the issue based on the fact that even if he’s guilty he didn’t break the law. Ok fine, I’ll take that. Regardless, if the NFL investigation shows and proves him to be guilty, he will have embarassed his wife, the league and his team and confirmed that he’s a savage in the pursuit of hapiness. Bottom line, his shit stinks and I will that he ends up standing in the stench stumbling through a press conference trying to explain it away.

Peace.
Preme

Would you sit at home and wait?

Posted: October 10, 2010 in Uncategorized

Peace,

I think a lot about the plight of original people in the wilderness of North America. I ask myself, how can I reverse polarity on this condition? What can I say? What the fuck can I do? Often times, the answers never come but that doesn’t stop me from building toward them. If I keep manifesting with all I have and all within my power then the day in which I have waited 379 years for has no choice but to be born. I was out on the block earlier this evening building with some youth and the Salvation Army van pulled up servin’ cups of chicken soup. The destroy powers bumrushed the victory allah now as if they were roaches magnetized by a motel. It was obvious that they were expecting the van and were looking forward to it’s arrival. I wouldn’t be surprised if many of those who were fed, particularly the young dudes who play the block all day selling weed and loose cigarettes, hadn’t eaten anything prior to that free transportation to nourishment. Immediately, the knowledge knowledge degree in the meat lesson began streaming across the screen in my third. These niggaz actually sit around and wait for this van to bring them god degree instead of getting it for themselves. The extent to which original people in the poor part of the planet are dependent on sources outside of themselves for food, clothing, and shelter is disgusting. Every day I see grown able bodied men stand around “hustlin” and beggin’ strivin’ to obtain said jewels. They have no idea how weak they look. They also don’t realize the image that this presents to the younger generation. If you let your life pass you by without accomplishing anything noteworthy, and an entire generation of young men watch you do it, then it’s highly likely that they will do the same thing. They act according to what they see. The understanding that they formulate is born out of the wisdom of their predecessors which ultimately influences theirs.

It’s become obvious to me that many of our people have thrown in the towel and given up on their lives. Somewhere within their subconscious minds lies an awareness of the mental death and power of which they are a slave, they just are unable or unwilling to face up to it and overcome it. Is it daunting? Sure it is. However, victory can’t be claimed without competing with the devil for it. If you forfeit your life then he wins by default. I’ve stated in previous builds that I don’t draw up hope to be a spooky concept. I see it to represent an optimistic current of thought and the positive energy yielded by said optimism can be powerful enough for us to overcome any hill or mountain. Belief in self and knowledge of self, in my judgment, are two distinct steps in a progression toward self mastery. If you don’t believe in yourself then you most certainly can’t know yourself because knowledge of self represents a more definitive perception of self. Belief in self is confidence based on things that you think are true about yourself and your abilities. You only progress to knowledge of self when you put yourself in positions that force you to show and prove that confidence to have legs upon which to stand. The best part of self is the understanding of self but you can’t get to it without studying and applying knowledge in order to bring light to that dark unknown of self doubt. People who live their lives as savages in the pursuit of happiness don’t trust themselves to show and prove in a manner that requires work and discipline so they prefer a jungle way of life which simply requires that one survive. It’s the typical “me against the world” syndrome as opposed to a “let’s improve our world” attitude.

Black people need to stop waiting for shit to happen and for people to come and save them. The fact is it’s not gonna happen. We need to be able to rely on the collective black body as well as our own singular selves for whatever we need. As long as niggaz keep takin’ the so-called easy route to receive more gold they will keep running into hard times, hunger, nakedness, and being thrown out of doors.

Peace.
Preme

Knowledge of the Cipher…

Posted: October 8, 2010 in Uncategorized

Peace,

Social means to advocate a society or group of men for one common cause. Equality means to be equal in everything. Anyone that is said person of the ability to interact with all human families of the planet Earth can build in a way that borns proof that they truly understand the culture of I-God. We had a team outing at my justice cipher born today. For the last wisdom hours of the shift it was pizza and bowling on the father I rule master…yaaaaaaayyyyyy! The peace thing about these types of events is that you get to observe people in a more natural element. While the justice forces people to shield their dirty religion, the social current encourages people to show & prove what is his/her ownself. My team is a unique group of people who, on face value, don’t look like they would hang out together in social circles. Most of us wouldn’t. Most of the group is colored with just a couple of original faces sprinkled in for seasoning.

Regardless of our differences we tend to get along remarkably well and get a shit load of work done every day. In social settings it’s ill to watch how people you work with behave and how they interact. The little cliques that form, the topics of conversation, on down to the laughs that are shared are all windows into the deeper more true social dynamics of the cipher. Political correctness is hell of an equalizer. There’s a wisdom on my team who doesn’t like me and she’s certainly not on my list of people to have a drink with. Even still our disdain for one another remains in a fine mist that the naked eye can hardly detect. Why? Because the colored man doesn’t advocate open beef like that. They deal in covert hating manifested via trick-knowledge. We have no choice but to honor their corporate rules & regulations showing and proving a degree of mastery over us. It’s amazing how they get a group of people together, throw some unknowns & calculated hard times at them and get them to cooperate with each other. It’s all about the trader’s interorientation because we all need and want more gold. Of course when you come to get that gold they disappear and no longer speak your language.   

Peace.
Preme