Electralex Deluxe

“Electralex Deluxe”   (duration 1:21)
Theme of “Geigenspiel – The Movie (2022)”
performed by Shango Overdrive All Stars
Copyrights: Sandor/Crace/Antunes
Lyrics: excerpt from “The Geigenspiel – a novel in 15 exhibits”

Primal Scream: August 8th, 1959
First release: August 8th, 2019,  by Shango Overdrive All Stars
2nd release (remastered):  August 8th, 2049 by Alex Pedreira Jr
on Tsumedzume Records (十二月二十九日), Ōbokeyōkai Village

Credits in the order of appearance:
Electrolux  LT12F SN-41014672 – washing machine, São Rocke
Trent Crace – percussion, Denver. Colorado
Ed Dawson – washboard,  Los Angeles, California
Um Gringo Barulente – voice of the machine
Max Sandor –  rabeca & cowbells, São Rocke
Leandro Costa – cockatoo, Brisbane, Australia
Oscar Marzorati – didgeridoo, Sobral, Ceará
Concept: Max – Mixed&Mastered by: Trent

All rights reserved © 1959, 2019, 2049

Geigenspiel – Exhibit E

Start of Message to Alex P.

From the whole that whirled
around the depths of the abyss
straight from the black hole of this machinery
that ghost is calling you once again


We know who shall win this fight
of the olden washboard with, harken well!,
the feisty washing machine, the evil one.



End of Message.

Geigenspiel-EXHIBIT A

Listen my friend. I have a story to tell you. I have never told this to anyone. But as I am waiting for the airplane, I am inclined to share this story with you and only you. Maybe you will understand because as you will see, this may interest you as well. 

I do not know how I came into this situation. But, as I said, now I am here at the airport. My flight will board in 25 minutes. So I will hurry up and tell you the most incredible story that I could ever tell. I could never believe it would have happened.

Some time ago, I was here at the airport right here for some business to take care of. And as usual I had a quick coffee with cream at the usual overpriced Sao Paulo airport cafeteria. As I was sitting there a gentleman approached my table. As it was very crowded he politely asked if he could sit down at my table and I granted his request, “Of course.” 

As he was sitting there he was pale, nervous. His baggage indicated that he must have come from Paris, France. So as he looked at me, he all of the sudden said, “Excuse me” — in English with a heavy French accent — “May I ask you a question?” 

And I said, “Yes, of course, go ahead.” He looked at me and then looked at my hands and while he was saying all of that, he was staring at my left hand holding a cup of coffee. Then he said, “May I also see your right hand that you are holding down there as if you are a helicopter pilot?”

Embarrassed, I pulled out my right hand from under the table and he started staring at it. Then he stared as well at my face and back at my right hand, at my left hand, back and forth. All of the sudden he said, “Monsieur. Excuse me, is it possible that you play the violin?” 

I looked at him astonished, “I fancy being able to play but I am an amateur. I wouldn’t consider myself a violin player.” And he said, “Oh.. There are many ways to play a violin.” And he stared into the air as if something would have happened behind me, up in the air somehow as if he was listening to some sounds that I could not hear. He looked back at me and said, “Listen. I have a story to tell you. You may understand, I do not know where this airplane will take me. I did not come here. I am leaving. I wanted to share before maybe I do not arrive, who knows.. I want to share this story with someone. Do you mind? Do you have ten or twenty minutes that you could listen to my story? Please, Monsieur?”

I said, “Sure. I have a few minutes. Yes I am waiting to board just like you. Tell me. I have nothing better to do. I am glad to be listening to you.


“Okay. Monsieur. You will not believe me. I don’t know if I can believe it. But this happened to me ten days ago as I came here for some business from Paris just for a few days. As I was sitting here waiting for my friend to pick me up from the office, I had a coffee. Someone approached me and he had a disturbing look in his eyes and he insisted he wanted to see my hands.”

I said, “Yeah.. Why not? Haha!”

“‘You play violin?’ Yes. ‘Listen. There are many ways to play violin. May I show you one that you never ever dreamed of. ’I play only for pleasure. I am far from being an expert. Please— ‘‘Rubbish! I will show you something you will never ever forget. If you bear with me and embark on this adventure. Give me one day and I will change the way you think about violin playing.’ Please, I am here on business.”

In that moment, a telephone rang, my cellular beeped. The stranger who had approached me said, “Go ahead. Answer your call. Because destiny will not pass you by.” 

That was very strange, I thought. I picked up the phone and low and behold I got the call back from when I informed the office of my arrival. And they said, “You are wrong with the time. Your meeting is in five days. Not today. You missed the date.”

“What now? What’s next?” I said, a bit upset and concerned. I finished the conversation and looked at that strange man and said, “Well, listen. Something has changed. I do have indeed a few days time because I don’t want to go back all the way back. So I will get a hotel and do some work I can do over the internet.” The stranger looked at me and said, “Yeah… How about playing violin? ”

I said, “Might as well.” The stranger looked at me in a very strange way, he looked above me, behind my head up there, as if he was seeing something that I couldn’t see. Or as if he was hearing something that I was unable to hear. I said, “Okay. But I didn’t bring my violin.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll provide everything if you just accept 24 hours.”

I said, “Okay. What else could I do? And I do have time and I need a break from everything.” And he said, “A break? A break?” And he looked at me a bit startled. He said, “We can go now and I will bring you back to the airport in 24 hours.” I said, “Okay.” I was a bit startled. I said, “Okay. Let’s go.” 

He brought us out there to the front of the airport and there was a limo waiting. A strange sight in Brazil, one of those stretch limousines. “After you, sir.” He opened the door for me and off we went. 

After some time in the limo, I got a little bit worried. Shouldn’t I have informed someone that I have left with a strange person that I never met in my life — with very good manners, I have to say — but it is all a bit strange. He’s always staring at my hands, thinking that I play the violin, even though I am a modest player, not even above a level of the beginner, in my humble estimates. 

Then we were on the freeways of Sao Paulo. Ten or twelve lanes, I didn’t count. We are stuck in some millions of cars, it appears, for some time. But we talked, nothing special but an interesting conversation. So time passed by rapidly. 

All of the sudden we were on some interstate that had only eight lanes but still a lot of traffic. As time passed by, there were fewer and fewer lanes. Soon, there was just a highway. So less and less cars and more and more forest. And the forest seemed dark and dense and he seemed to have read my thoughts as I was looking out the window and he said, “This is called the Mata Atlantica. That’s the ‘Atlantic Forest’ along the coastline. We are here in the center of a reserve. One of the centers of the original dense forest, once stretched all along the coastline of Brazil with unique vegetation with fauna and flora but I’ve gotten carried away. Let’s not worry about that,” he said as we arrived. 

We pulled over into some dusty roads for which the limousine did not seem fit. But it kind of went on, heavier and heavier, until there was some kind of a bifurcation, a crossroads, and on one path, a Jeep was parked. And as we stopped, someone got out of the Jeep and said, “Hello! Hello! Bonjour!” He waved at us as they got my suitcase onto the Jeep. Off we went even further into the jungle until we saw a strange blue-gray house. We stopped. We got into the house. There were strange people waiting around for something but without anything to do. An eerie atmosphere. 

So the person said, “Oh don’t worry. If you wonder where you are, this is a closed drug rehabilitation center. Some people here are very nice but they just hang out here. Don’t worry.” I was a bit concerned because it was all closed up with wire and with video cameras so as if there would be no escape possible. 

“Do you want a coffee? Can I offer you something to drink? Are you hungry?” Someone came and tried to offer in broken English all kind of assistance to me but I just wanted to breathe a little bit and sit down. 

“Okay. Time is short,” said the strange person that I just encountered an hour or two ago. We entered the building, went down some long corridors. It looked like a hospital. Everything painted in white. There’s nothing really, no furniture. Then we entered what seemed like a big wide hall. Nothing in it but two chairs. One chair behind the other as if two people would sit down and be looking in opposite directions. And on each side there was a violin case. And nothing else there. 

Our host insisted that I drink water, that I relax. And then he said, “Okay. You know there is a German word. It’s ‘Geigenspiel’ which means it is the spiel, the play, of the violin.” And I had never heard of that but I know that playing the violin is “Geigenspiel.” He said in a strange way, 

“Let’s sit down. You pick your side.” - I said, “Why would I pick a side?” I felt very weak all of the sudden. “I think I have to go to the bathroom,” I said. And my strange host looked at me and said, “Oh. Okay. But just in case, we are here in the middle of the jungle. One cannot cross it on foot. The jungle is too dense. Besides, this is an enclosed facility with video monioring. The next town from here is several kilometers from the closest city and it is called “Piedade” which in English means ‘Pity.’” With these words, he then pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. 

And I was let’s say disoriented if not scared. I went to the bathroom. Put some cold water on my face. It was really hot and humid and a strange person was standing in the bathroom. Maybe it’s more like a asylum than a drug rehabilitation center. As I looked around, everything looked like hospital. Very strange.

I got back from the bathroom. And my host said, “Okay. Are you ready?”

I said, “I don’t know what for but I am. I don’t know want else to do. Yeah.”

He said, “Pick your side. Left or right.” I sat in the chair closest to me. The chairs were back to back. My host, the strange person, said something behind my back. At the sign, some person closed the door and turned off the light. And except for the windows there was only a reddish-bluish light, that kind of oscillated. That was the only illumination. And I looked around. I could not even see the extent of the hall or the ceiling as it was very high and a sizable room. 

And he said, “Okay. Do you have enough light to locate the violin case?” I said, “I sure do.” 

“Okay. Open the case and pick up the violin. This is a good one. This is a Guarneri some hundred years ago. You will appreciate it. It’s worth a few millions, maybe less. Not cheap.” It was always a dream to play one of these. 

I said, “Oh! Okay!” I took up the precious violin and found the arc. I got into position. I started to play, not knowing what else to do, what I could play with my modest and crude repertoire. 

As if my host would have guessed my thoughts, he said, “Forget everything you ever knew about violin playing except how to touch the strings, how to hold the bow, how to make it sound. And now embark on the greatest adventure that you can imagine. The rules are simple. I play - then you play, You may not interrupt me and I will not interrupt you. You cannot play more than ten seconds. That’s all. You have to play more than half a second.”

I said, “I understood. Easy enough. I don’t know what that should evolve to.”

“Don’t worry. We shall see! Whoever stops first has lost. It’s a spiel. It’s a game. But maybe you need a refreshment…don’t you?”

I noticed my throat was really dry. “Yeah. Could I have a glass of water?”

“I have something better. I have a cup of tea. Would you mind?”

“I’d love to.” 

The light magically came on again and a man appeared with a cup of tea. He handed it to me. The moment it hit my mouth, it was horrible. I had never tasted anything so terrible in my entire life.

“Oh. I forgot to mention. You have to swallow in one gulp!” It was too late. I had already spit it out. 

“Don’t worry. Have another one.”

I said, “I’m okay.” The guy looked strangely at me. My host smiled. “There’s more if you want it,” said the man with the tea. 

“Okay. That’s enough. Let’s start,” said my host. He seemed to be impatient. I have no idea why. 

“May I can have a cup of water?” I asked. And the man with the tea also had a cup of water for me. It was a great relief. But as soon as I put down the glass of water, that I emptied, the person with the tea withdrew and turned off the light and there we were again all in the darkness, only a pulsing light between red and blue. 

The sound of a violin, then another one, just like that. Two sounds. Two notes. I picked up the Guarneri violin with a delicateness. I knew how precious the violin was. I was holding a fortune in my hands and I couldn’t even see it. I could only feel the wood, the fine wood, an unimaginable treasure I was holding in my hands. [ I could see my hands, too, I noticed. They looked strange, like those of a ghost. ] And I started. I tried to play and the first squeaky sound sounded came off the violin. As soon as I started there was a response. My host, the other player, the Geigen player, the other player, he tried to imitate my squeaky unfortunate first attempt on the violin. I nearly laughed. But I didn’t know, maybe I should panic. I was too shocked, in such a strange situation that I could not have imagined two or three hours ago, being involved in the middle of the jungle, close to some city called ‘Pity’ and enclosed in a barbed wire and television circuit in what they called a drug rehabilitation center in a big hall with high ceilings, all the giant windows closed and covered with blankets and just a little light, blue and red and blue and red, cycling. 

I was trying to answer the play of the other player. And as time passed, the Guarneri sounded a bit more like a real violin. I proudly made a little passage and managed to make it without too many errors, be it five or six seconds. Then I realized that I was supposed to play not more than ten seconds so I faded out and the moment I stopped the other player started again. From there we went into a strange game and all of the sudden, I thought, “Maybe this is what he calls the Geigenspiel. Answers to questions that come from nowhere. Sounds, phrases, with no meaning, just sounds, and the answers to questions that can’t be known.” 

We played along, alternating, one and then the other. As we did so, time stopped. I tried to chase the sound, the melodies, of the other player. It went into dark melodies, dark sounds. It went into strange double-stops and squealing high overtones. Just when I thought we had played over the entire scale, we started at the bottom again on the G string, making more and more strange sounds, until the violins all of a sudden seemed to stop talking and what was playing was not I or myself but the violin playing. All of the sudden, it sounded like there was some meaning. Time passed by, must have passed by because I was there but I had idea of what was happening. I lost myself in space and sound and questions without meaning, answers to questions without meaning. 

Until the moment I got so scared that I didn’t know what to do anymore. I was not even in my body anymore. I was floating in some other space, some space in which even though there was a lot of space there was no escape. How was that possible? I thought I could not come back to my body. The violin took over my body and it was playing hauntingly beautiful sounds, melodies I could never have ever imagined, nothing that could fit the human memory, nothing that could be from a human mind. Something maybe not even from this universe. 

I was there and I had a strange feeling that this was a trap. 

What kind of game was that, the Geigenspiel? Was there a winner, was there a loser? If so, what were the stakes, and what's the prize? How could I play so well this moment? All my thoughts were gone and I played effortly what seems a hundred times faster and clearer than ever before. Strings of notes I've never heard.  Sounds, like laserlights in the sky, chasing each other, guiding me away from here and today into an unknown space and time. Something started to change in me, in the bottom of my soul. It scared my spirit and it sedated my soul. As if a new treaty would be forming between them, all this, beyond space and time. Nothing would be the same anymore, even if I would find my way back into my body, there below, playing a violin, or, rather, being played by a violin threehundred years old, its spirit mocking me, making me a feel like a clueless child. Trap or freedom? Would I ever come to know?

From that moment on, my memory faded and I have no clue whatsoever what happened. Next thing, the only thing I knew was that I was waking up in an ambulance, a beautiful nurse at my side, talking relentlessly on a cellular, giggling in a language that must be Portuguese, so I figured. 

I was once again, it appeared, looking out at the window, stuck in Sao Paulo traffic. I did not know what to think about it. I was in deep shock. I sensed my body had sweat all over. Dry sweat. Wet sweat on top of dry sweat in layers. I do not now how I got into this situation. At my feet I could make out my suitcase stacked at the end of the stretcher in the ambulance, driving over a freeway, without the sound of sirens. I breathed deeply. The nurse all of the sudden looked at me and was shouting something to the driver in front. Looking out the window, I could see a sign for Sao Paulo airport five kilometers away. So we must be heading to the airport - or leaving. My thoughts were racing. What is happening? I cannot recall one single minute. There’s a big hole in my mind. 

Minutes later, we stopped. We entered the front of the airport. The door opened and they pulled me out, guided me on shaky legs into the cafeteria of the airport restaurant. I said, “Oh.” 

They dropped me there. I looked at the cellular phone that they put in my hand. I did not know what to make of it. They put a cup of coffee in front of me and they left me. I was sitting there until my cell phone rang. It was my business partner in Sao Paulo. “Okay! Have you arrived yet? You were five days early but now the day is today. Hope you are all fit. We have a lot to talk about. It’s great that you made it over here.” Shocked, I hung up the phone. I tried to think. Yes, I was here and it must have been five days ago and in the same exact chair with a cell phone in my hands, waiting for my business partner to pick me up at the airport. This is when a strange man appeared to me at the table, asking if he could sit down and asked if he could look at my hands…

Okay. This is it. Boarding has started. I will go home. I hope. I do not know what happened. I have five days missing in my memories. And I do not know what has happened to me. I feel strange, I feel different, as if a different force is in my body and in my mind and sometimes it forces me out and I do not know where I am except the big void. If that should ever happen to you, a stranger should ask to see you hands, be warned, my friend. That’s why I am sending you these messages. Because I will be going on the flight and I do not know if I will ever come back. 

dein suesser mund

(von Herbert Joachim Schmidt, 2002)

Eins, zwei und drei.. zurück 

zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

und wenn jetzt auch der Tod uns droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück 

die Eiszeit kommt, wir leiden Not 
und wenn jetzt auch der Tod uns droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor  und drei zurück 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

Du bist gewarnt, Du weisst Bescheid 
die Eiszeit kommt, wir leiden Not 
und wenn jetzt auch der Tod uns droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei schritte vor und drei zurueck 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

der Staat sieht alles, zu Deiner Sicherheit 
Du bist gewarnt, Du weisst Bescheid 
die Eiszeit kommt, wir leiden Not 
und wenn jetzt auch der Tod uns droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

vergiss ganz schnell was du hast nie gelernt 
der Staat sieht alles, zu Deiner Sicherheit 
Du bist gewarnt, Du weisst Bescheid 
die Eiszeit kommt, wir leiden Not 
und wenn jetzt auch der Tod uns droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

wenn in der Ferne hörst Du einen Schuss 
vergiss ganz schnell was Du hast nie gelernt 
der Staat sieht alles, zu Deiner Sicherheit 
Du bist gewarnt, Du weisst Bescheid 
die Eiszeit kommt, wir leiden Not 
und wenn jetzt auch der Tod uns droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

Dein suesser Mund will einen letzten Kuss 
wenn in der Ferne hoerst Du einen Schuss 
vergiss ganz schnell was Du hast nie gelernt 
der Staat sieht alles, zu Deiner Sicherheit 
Du bist gewarnt, Du weisst Bescheid 
die Eiszeit kommt, wir leiden Not 
und wenn uns jetzt der Tod auch droht 
wir haben keine Angst 
wir geh’n voran, jawohl 
zwei Schritte vor und drei zurück 
Eins, zwei und drei… zurück 

Axioms for a fair society

A model for an incorruptible and self-optimizing SOCIO-ECONOMIC structure for humanity which is fair for all

In the following are the most basic rules derived from a tensegrity-based model of society which are encompassing all activities of individuals within groups. Quality of life embedded within different cultures have been a focus of the author’s life-long studies and are reflected in his writings and in the paradigms he created, such as the MinMaxMan.

Tensegrity results in structural integrity of constructs based on pairs of complemental opposites, such as push-pull, give-take, demand-supply, and the like. The same set of rules, concept, according to the author, also applies to generic concepts and to social movements in particular.

The idea is to avoid a polarization of the fundamental opposite pair of ‘individual-group’ to exclude the extremes of totalitarianism and anarchy. Tensegrity structures are resistant to structural damages and are known to self-optimize.

A further aim is to minimize resources while maximizing individual potential while safe-guarding against structural changes which would bring about a corruption of the system as a whole. Specifically, it joins some of the functionality of capitalism while incorporating the lofty ideas of communism without gliding into totalitarian systems as witnessed in humanity’s past.

The transition to a Fair Society model can be done in peaceful stages. It requires a comprehensive infrastructure for all publicly accessible data. It will result in the prohibition of anonymous business or governmental entities, including holdings, cartels, and political parties. It needs to make a giant effort to gradually eliminate the vast amount of ‘laws’ currently in effect.

There shall be only the following rules, the “Axioms for a Fair Society”:

  1. Any human, and only a human, can own any kind of property except another human.
  2. All ownership of property must be public knowledge.
  3. Every human has a right to a principal and publicly known domicile and has the right to the basic needs for living, none of this may be taxed or withheld.
  4. Property cannot be inherited.
  5. No individual can hold more than 1% of the total of all property value of the continent in which it declared its principal domicile.
  6. All votes are via individual computers and are public knowledge.
  7. Representatives for governmental and business cells and assemblies can only be elected by persons personally known to them.
  8. Any vote can be withdrawn at any time but not be recasted.
  9. Taxes shall exist only on exchange of property and be used ONLY for public government and documentation, scientific research in the public interest, for infrastructures of transportation and communication, as well as for establishing basic food, water, and energy supplies.
  10. The task of a representative is to OPTIMIZE a MINIMAL number of regulations (formerly called ‘laws’) and not ADD to them without consent of the electorate.

About the author: Maximilian J. Sandor, born 1952 in Berlin, is a computer scientist and linguist and was one of the pioneers of the Web in the 90’s. He developed a variety of algorithms and computer languages for robotics and for real-life simulations and has captured his visions of living in different social structures in fictional narratives, initially in one of the first BLOGs of the Internet in 1995 and then in bookform later on. He is the co-founder of the New Civilization Network (1995 until today) which aims to provide platforms for visions of new forms of living together. Sandor’s visions of viable forms of social structures started to form in the 60s through lectures of Adorno and Sartre both of whom he knew in person. Disappointed by the apparent failures of both capitalism and socialism, his aim became to engage computer algorithms to find a way to detect the structural defects of social structures. In the 90s, early versions of the ‘Fair Society model’ similar to the one proposed here had been presented at the Buckminster-Fuller-Institute in Santa Barbara and at the Krishnamurti-Education Center in Ojai, California. Sandor, now living in Brazil, reformulated this concept in 2019 at a time of the severe clashes of social-political paradigms that we now witness worldwide.

Geigenspiel-EXHIBIT D

Start of protocol.

“OK. It’s Friday, June 27th 2019, 9 am, at the American Consulate in Frankfurt, Germany. Present are myself, representing the Consulate, Mr. Peter A. from Berlin, and his sister Susan P., also resident in Berlin. Both are reporting that a certain person is missing. He is Mr. A’s brother and the husband of Mr. A’s sister Susan.

The name of the missing person is Frampton P., American citizen, resident in Berlin, Germany, wedded lawfully to Miss Susan P.

Mr. Frampton P. was expected to have boarded an airplane yesterday in São Paulo but he never arrived in Frankfurt. The airline has no information but Mr. P. left a message before boarding and… here it seems to get complicated… he seemed to have left another message some hours later. One essentially stated that he had aged 50 years from one moment to the next and the other message stated that he, Mr.P, does not want further contact with his family and has sought to change his residence to another country. Did I get that right so far?

(Male and female voice acknowledging)

OK, then. First off, I can’t file a Missing Persons report for obvious reasons. We don’t have a missing person at all. In fact, we have one extra person, so to speak. I will therefore route this information, including the exhibits, to colleagues at the FBI who will likely inform Interpol, because of the geographical implications of the whereabouts of Mr. Frampton P.

This is all I can do for you today. Have a good day.”

The name of the missing person is Frampton P., American citizen, resident in Berlin, Germany, wedded lawfully to Miss Susan P.

(Male and female voice acknowledging)

OK, then. First off, I can’t file a Missing Person report for obvious reasons. We don’t have a missing person at all, we have one extra person, so to speak. I will therefore route this information, including the exhibits, to the colleagues at the FBI who probably will inform Interpol, because of the geographical implications of the whereabouts of Mr. Frampton P.

This is all I can do for you today. Have a good day.

End of protocol.


The exhibits to The strange case of a certain Mr. Frampton P.

Exhibit A: Date: June 25th, 2019, 20:10h
Whatsapp message reveived by Peter A. at his home in Berlin, FRG, from his brother-in-law, in transit at the São Paulo airport in Brazil (transcript)

Exhibit B: Date: June 26th, 2019, 18:13h
Another Whatsapp message reveived by Peter A. while, together with his sister, awaiting the arrival of Mr. Frampton P. at the Frankfurt Rhein-Main Airport, FRG, from a person who appears to be Mr. Frampton P., somewhere in Brazil .

Exhibit C: Date: June 26th, 2019, 18:13h
Yet another Whatsapp message reveived by Peter A., still in Frankfurt, FRG, from a person who also appears to be Mr. Frampton P., in-flight to an unknown location.

Exhibit D: Date: June 27th, 2019, 9:03h
Missing Person protocol recorded at the American Consulate in Frankfurt. (transcript)

End of protocol.

Exhibit E-1:
Strange poem sent in a message to to Alex P., Frampon P’s. brother. Received July 3rd, 2019, at 4:09am. (transcript)

Exhibit E-2:

Music recorded and attached to the message of Exhibit E-1, from an unknown person to Alex P., Frampon P’s. brother, received July 3rd, 2019, at 4:09am.

Exhibit E-3:

Image attached to the message of Exhibit E, from an unknown person to Alex P., Frampon P’s. brother, received July 3rd, 2019, at 4:09am.


CCC – Crash Course Collection

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Um método simples para entrar na energia com que você vai vencer em qualquer situação na sua vida.

  • Aula 53 minutos – Áudio com exemplos – vários textos para aprofundar e meditar – ilustrações – flash cards

Exú & Números

Uma nova abordagem para um assunto que foi sempre um mistério.

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Tudo que nós experienciamos é baseado em uma decisão que fez parte de uma teia complexa de decisões anteriores. Isto é a chave para retomar o rumo e abandonar as padrões ruins do passado

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Navegar no Universo

Como chegar num punto certo no futuro? Aprenda um método simples e infalível!

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Symbiotic Economy and Sociality using a Tensegrity Model

Today’s political struggle centers around a fundamental controversy between capitalist and communist models for humans living together in peace and prosperity. Or so it is claimed at least. Realistic observations demonstrate a chaotic level of verbal and conceptual confusion. In this brief overview, we will refrain from contemplating whether this is a natural process of selecting the best form of social and economic structure or a conspired sabotage.

We assume that human culture, both as a groups and as individuals, follows the rules of nature at large. More specifically we postulate a high level of pragmatism of the theory of tensional integrity when applied to social and economic structures.

Tensional integrity, or tensegrity for short, offers a mechanical model that provides means for numerical and geometrical analysis for an optimization of the overall stability of complex structures. We even speculate that the principle of tensegrity would be the very way nature is self-optimizing itself.

Instead of drawing a model from scratch we shall look at the existing instantiations of capitalism and communism and how far they deviate from the tensegrity principle. This is a highly pragmatic strategy because its results could be used as guidelines for a migration from current social and economic structures.

Capitalism does not consider social structures and is prone to manipulation, communism includes a normation of standards and is excluding profits. Because of the law of entropy applies as well for social and economic structures, a practical instantion of communism will invariably lead to a downgrading of the organism as a whole and of its individual members. It cannot but perish because of the phenomenon of heat death.

Before we go into more details, we must first isolate the basic dichotomies for a successful application of the tensegrity principle to work.

Falando com um esquerdista – mais uma tentativa

Despertei depois uma soneca bem longa. Não enxerguei nada de fora. Tentei de abrir a janela do trem pra ver melhor. A janela foi fechada permanentemente com parafusos sem cabeças. Claro! Me lembrei agora. Fui num trem de Berlin-Este para a cidade de Hanôver, nel Oeste da Alemanha. Num trem que partiu do Estado modelo do socialismo, a Alemanha Oriental, com rumo ao puteiro do capitalismo, a Alemanha Ocidental. Junho 1968. É preciso se proteger contra os inimigos do progresso da humanidade! Claro! As janelas, as fronteiras, melhor fechar bem tudo para proteger o que temos, com guardas armadas, pra sempre deixar o inimigo do povo fora do nosso paraíso. Assim falou o meu pai quem eu vi só uma vez na minha vida por 48 horas. Enquanto eu cresci no lixo do bordel dos banqueiros e capitalistas, o meu pai foi um herói do povo, secretário de Estado do país do futuro, a gloriosa DDR.

“Já estamos esperando mais que duas horas nesta porra de fronteira. Scheisse!” Quem falou foi um “Wessie”, com sotaque de Hamburgo, um destes caras da Oeste da Alemanha que foram blindados meio feio pela puta do consumismo como diria o meu pai se ele ainda vivesse. O enterro dele foi uma farsa patética. O tributo fúnebre por um líder do partido comunista, o único partido que existiu, foi breve; o discurso do militar soviético eu não entendi, foi em russo. Como elogiar um homem alcoólatra que se suicidou e deixou uma família inteira pra trás, uma esposa e uma filha de 12 anos mais um filho que viveu no país dos inimigos da pátria? O partido agradece o seu sacrifício pessoal pela sociedade do futuro da humanidade? Oi??

Tem conversa com um esquerdista? Esta pergunta me chegou pela primeira vez quando o trem finalmente passou a fronteira, no junho do ano 1968, depois mais que trés horas de controles para os quatro carruagens do nosso pequeno conboio de l’Este. A minha herança no bolso: um relógio da Russia que parou de funcionar nos anos 50 e um facsímile de Karl Marx’ ’11 teses sobre Feuerbach’. Então. tem conversa com um esquerdista? Ainda não tenho uma resposta. Suspeito que não tem por princípio. Talvez a questão tá errada?

E a questão é?
Hoje, como outrora, a luta da esquerda me parece meio quixótica. Quem luta contra o quem? O povo quer comer. Comida, mulher e popcorn no cinéma. Enquanto os esquerdistas marcham na rua, os ‘capitalistas’ se escondem nos palácios de aço e vidro. Seja que o alvo seria errado? Qual é o inimigo do comunismo de verdade? Comparando comunismo e capitalismo, não é comparar laranjas com bananas? Capitalismo é um sistema econômica é não social. o comunismo é ambos. Mas os resultados do capitalismo monopolista parecem iguais aos resultados dos sistemas comunistas. Meio complicado, né?

Então, qual seria logicamente o oposto do conceito do comunismo? O ‘individualismo’, sugeriu Anastasius Nordenholz na Alemanha dos anos 30. Boa sorte pra ele foi que ele ainda achou um lugar na última nave saindo da Amsterdã para Argentina no dia ante do começo da segunda guerra mundial. Nem um socialismo nacional tem espaço para individualistas.

Sempre me surpreendo como os intelectuais e os artistas lutam para uma sociedade socialista. Seja que não aprenderem ainda que as primeiras pessoas sacrificadas nos sistemas comunistas são sempre aqueles individualistas que lutaram pra a sua própria filosofia; que eles não entendem que os homossexuais, ou qualquer libertadores dos sexos, os artistas amados, os escritores brilhantes e qualquer pessoa com um diferencial notável serão cremados publicamente juntos com as suas obras, com o povo assistindo batendo as palmas ou olhando em outra direção?

Seja que é diferente no Brasil? “Ordem e progresso” é um paradoxo. Você nunca vai chegar á ambos. Um desfaz o outro. O moto do Brasil é baseado numa impossibilidade, uma falacia intelectual grotesca e inviável. Ilusão, propaganda ou mentira? Aguste Comte plagiou Henri de Saint-Simon que plagiou Joaquin de Fiore que plagiou Paulo que plagiou os sofistas gregos: “O Amor por princípio e a Ordem por base; o Progresso por fim”. Esta trindade sempre foi um paradoxo mas o caráter dialético deste lema nem o Karl Marx enxergou, xingando os pensamentos do Comte de “Scheiss-Positivismus” (“o positivismo de merda”).

Assim enrolado nos paradoxos Hegelianos mal enxergados, o socialista brasileiro não sabe quem atirar. Invés fazer o fantasma do comunismo rodar no Brasil, os socialistas caçam o fantasma do capitalismo. que sembra ainda mais elusivos que as asas do moinho do Don Quixote. Os poucos alvos se movem rápido, e ele perde munição cada dia que passa. Por isso não tem conversa.

E agora José?
Aliás, o problema começa dentro do Ser humano mesmo. A questão é do caráter existencialista, profundamente intima e individual. O homem se sacrifica pelo bem da tribo e da espécie OU ele busca transcender o comum em prol de um futuro melhor? Vai manter a ordem na vida social é engajar no serviço dos outros OU se comprometer pela pesquisa aventurosa por um progresso com um êxito incerto?

Uma conversa com um esquerdista é inútil. O problema não está só na sociedade, o problema é dentro dele mesmo. Assim, o esquerdista sempre se vai sentir uma vitima e uma vitima ele é, uma vitima perene, condenado á girar em círculos até o fim do mundo.

O Direitista também é uma vitima. Ele se vê assaltado pelo coortes do socialismo. Dentro da sua mente, ele se vê defender o mundo do ataque que chegaria com uma ditadura do proletariado. O individualista teme o barbarismo das massas. Ele sabe que ele vai ser crucificado. O capitalista, se existisse, se prepararia pra ser um membro na liderança do partido comunista, um ‘Bonze’. Parece que faltam na língua portuguesa algumas palavras cruciais do comunismo como é praticado na realidade.

Tanto faz, não faz falta a falta das palavras – uma conversa com um esquerdista é impossível; com um Direitista, se esse se declarasse, o esquerdista faria a dança do Neymar Jr., com um outro esquerdista ele repetearia, em coro, frases do Lula sem adicionar alguma mais; e comigo, um transpolítico, ele não soubesse do que falar no primeiro lugar.

O único processo viável para um ‘esquerdista’ é para ele realizar que foi traído, foi enganhado da primeira. Não só recente e não só de um partido ou alguns políticos, mas de uma filosofia quase bicentenário, um veneno doce, uma droga mental que já causou milhões de fatalidades no mundo inteiro.

Até ele se despertar ao fato que não existe um ‘free lanche’, ele vai lutar veementemente para as escolas públicas que vão adestrar o seu filho de ser mais um robô na grande massa de idiotas controlados pelas mídias invés de começar pensar por ele mesmo; ele vai lutar pelos remédios que fazem ele obediente e incapaz de pensar claramente; ele vai insistir que só os criminais e a policia deveriam ter armas; em breve, ele vai lutar com toda a sua força para ser um escravo entre outros escravos; e em fim ele vai aceitar a decadência em tudo e o fato que vai começar faltar tudo em todas áreas da sua vida; Esses são as circunstancias e os eventos testemunhados já por milhões e milhões de infelizes, todos eles esperando um futuro melhor para se mesmos e as suas famílias, em vão.

Déjà vú
Queria mandar os meus pensamentos de hoje a tarde para mim mesmo de 50 anos atrás, para lá, em Frankfurt no julho 1969, nestes últimos dias na vida do Adorno, um esquerdista eloquente que foi incapaz de falar com os esquerdistas mais esquerdas que ele; um homem integro que foi quebrado; perseguido como comunista pelos nazis e pelos americanos igualmente; para, no fim, infartar no confronto com as mulheres super-esquerdistas jogando os seus seios nus na cara dele. Quem poderia imaginar?

Me lembro como se fosse hoje. Uma garota que eu adorava chegou na commune onde eu fiquei nestes dias. Gritando, jubilando. Eu fui apaixonado pra ela mas não entendi pra nada o que passou na cabeça dela. Só admirei tudo que ela fez ou falou. “Nós demos uma lição pra o Wiesengrund hoje que ele nunca vai esquecer!” Aconteceu que pouco antes, as feministas da esquerda extrema dançaram nuas em volta do Adorno durante uma aula até ele chamou a polícia – e aparentemente infartou. Mas a euforia do momento contagiou todos nós. Só o dia depois eu ousei perguntar ela, uma estudante da medicina no primeiro ano da faculdade, “Então, você deu primeiros socorros pra ele quando suspeitou que ele infartou?” Ela não me respondeu. De fato, ela falou mais nada comigo. Nunca mais. E voltando desta pandemia de loucura uns dias depois para a minha casa materna, eu me perguntei: “Como é que a ideia da revolução pelo bem da humanidade faz uma pessoa perder tudo o senso da dignidade humana? Como é que ela mente, distorça, agride e até está cometendo atos criminosos numa euforia, numa trance, numa possessão espiritual como o comunismo seria uma religião, uma seita extremista?

Não tem conversa racional com um esquerdista. Não existe. Como um fanático de uma seita religiosa e extremista, o esquerdista acredita nas mentiras e paradoxos da sua ‘verdade’ sem considerar pra um momento o double-speak e a ilógica das suas propostas. Eles fazem sem remorso e sem consciência o que eles acusam os outros. Eles criam os seus ídolos igual às divindades e aos santos nas religiões. O quem fala diferente é automaticamente um inimigo que deve ser destruído. Ele não é interessado em ajudar melhorar a situação atual na sociedade. Em contrário, ele quer destabilizar a sociedade para acelerar a chegada da ‘Endzeit’ do comunismo, o tempo final da revolução violenta.

O que fazer?
Infelizmente uma desprogramação efetiva não existe. Só podemos fazer um apelo à consciência dos poucos que tem ainda um resto de pensamento crítico. Um convite ao olhar os resultados catastróficos do passado desta filosofia boa demais para ser verdadeira. Analisar os problemas da sociedade atual e lutar contra a corrupção e contra um capitalismo aberrante. Trabalhar para um equilíbrio do individualismo e os valores das comunidades. Combater o monstro do centralismo que destrói qualquer sistema social e econômico, inclusive o comunismo mesmo.

Uma perspectiva boa baseado no comunismo é uma mentira grossa. O socialismo é só uma fase pré-revolucionário e altamente subversiva numa democracia. A auto-realização do ser humano num sistema comunista é impossível. História nós mostrou isto já bastantes vezes. É tempo de agir contra o fantasma do comunismo – sem perder de vista as facetas destrutivas de um capitalismo incontrolado!