Some anons say they see a sort of aura or glow around lies/shill posts. I suspect we all have a heuristic filter because close inspections every shill post would other wise lead to head explosion.
there's a lot we don't see on the boards and in the world.
Take the Paussid beetle. He's a predator who lives unseen among his prey. Pretty creepy right? He eats their larva.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ant_nest_beetle
We have a pretty narrow range of senses, and we don't think much about what might exist out side the sense or technical means available to other, more advanced species to mislead our sense, to impose filters or whatever to stop us from seeing.
Just a thought, and another good reason to stay united, to combine our awareness to stay awake at all times.
WWG1WGA
hot skeet and tried to square dance at the hustings Friday day,
Then oysters, oysters at the club with "One Hoss" Shea,
Who's broken with that prairie snipe who'd tried to tag his ear -
but failed - for all her earnests from the gold fields of Ophir.
The brothers Parc, who know me not, might sneer, "Pearl fishers? Odd, for Witchita Deserta." But those oysters knew Cape Cod,
and One Hoss had them iced and flown: Cotuits, best of breed, cotuits joy of snob and gob, and coveted for seed.
Old Henry Adams mentioned them - I've got a note here somewhere,
or maybe just the piece itself. He'd honeymooned it there with "Claver" she who's long since dead. Her relict haunts us still….
"As queer as quoits" cried Longworth's wife, bitch goddess of The Hill.
…think not he made a pet of me that August of '18
as I was all the worse for wear - no trophy for a queen.
He'd drawn up maps to chart the war - although it made him grieve
to picture France, from where I'd come on convalescent leave.
…near St Michel I'd culled a herd of Huns in swart Argonne
and been shot up a bit myself. In hospital at dawn
I used somebodies swagger stick to lever out of bed
then hopped and crawled half a mile to watch birds defile the dead.
The dead in question was a scamp, a card sharp from Cornell-
they'd drummed him out of Lawerenceville. The rook said, "Go to hell
these eyes is mine. There's others here, why must you play the goat?"
"You go to far!" I told the rook, and shot him in the throat.
TSM 197x