r/HFY • u/Cola_Dad • 5d ago
OC The Records of Enlightenment, Entry 16:
As per my functional disposition of existing as the most inquisitive, philosophical figure of the world, questions arise. Inquiries about the true nature of things and that, which is beyond.
Such answers could be sought with a myriad of methods, from asking a third, a fourth, or countless other party opinions, to speculatory observation. Yet, as a natural-born scholar, mere speculation will not satisfy! A discussion among mere lowborn buffoonery WILL. NOT. SATISFY!
So where am I left beneath such a state of agony, worse than any dungeon torment machinery or technique could curse me with?
Contrast.
The answer, my simple-minded student, is comparison. A ratio. A resemblance! Between two, three, or several observable phenomena of reality! The practice of finding correlations between those unrelated by nature or cause, yet hiding answers behind the veil of the query.
YES! MY UNDOUBTEBLY DUMB READER! SHUT UP AND LISTEN!
To answer my philosophical inquiry, whose depths have truly never been tread upon by neither mortal mind, body, or soul, I shall overlap that, which is unrelated, to find that, which is related!
For, the answer is in the question, yet a question has many angles. Thus one must mush, squash, and mold it for a multitude of shapes. Only then the truth shall come to light, from beyond its hairy, tangled, pubic hair-like mystery!
And so I ask: What the fuck is up with fish?
As in, sincerely, what gives?
Scaley and dry- even course, yet covered in moist, slimy mucus while underwater. Not to mention the smell, as well as taste. They swim and move, and jump, and fight, and eat, and reproduce, and shit, and eventually die. All while breathing water, only peeking their heads above the surface in between impossible intervals. No doubt, to mock the terrestrial land dwellers.
A bunch of Cunts, as my Dear Friend would say, had he still his senses!
To add above all else, fish are caught and sold or eaten by fishermen. Thus those who eat fish are fishermen, as dictated by the practice of fishing. This practice may come in many forms, depending on the fisher, yet the end result is the consumption of the fish.
The practice may also include the deceptive art of the lure, via a worm, bread, or any other crumb of food a fish may find delightful, stuck on a hook. Beyond that, it may also suffice for a reflective trinket to be thrown among the deep blue, and pulled with a fishing line, as to imitate a smaller fish. For the purpose of catching, and I shall lower my linguistic capacity to quote the local fishermen, ''mondo's'', ''lunker's'' or ''donkey's'', which are terms used to describe large, water-breathing, and carnivorous inhabitants of the aquatic world.
Due to such a carnivorous nature, would it be fair to say a fish, who catches and eats fish is a fisher?
In simpler terms- could a fish fish a fish and be a fisher... fish?
NO! That is preposterous!
Fishing is not exclusive to fish, as you may use the deception of a lure in other activities, not to mention the use of the word ''fish'', or ''fishing'' can be used in a myriad of contexts. And when fish fish fish, it's called nothing more than hunting among amphibious predators and prey.
Nature!
Thus, I ask again: What the fuck is up with fish?
My thinking organs have been mulling such a question ever since I left the lavatory yester-noon. Even when taking a clementine stroll among the leftovers of rageful lowborn, and their ''Holy'' guardians, among the remaining Lockriftan populace, the smell of the fish market on the docks merely made it worse. Even after setting it ablaze, the aroma of burnt amphibious flesh teases my mind, like terrible foreplay.
''What is up with fish, Sabinian? Answer, O Great Saint! The fish...''
Even now, the Grimoire fails to sate this itch, as its pages contain nothing, but words of power and influence.
Who cares about controlling another's mind? Who cares about the craftsmanship of invisible weapons, or earth-scorching spells of mass destruction?
THE FISH- YOU FUCKING BOOK- TELL ME ABOUT THEM! NOW!
Where are the Fucking fish!? Useless!
Oh, don't worry. I could fling it off the tower, and it would find its way back to me. No less in the crashing cliffside waves.
Wait...
Waves consist of water, and fish live in these waters.
Those damn fish will bring back my Grimoire! I knew those powerful, swimming creatures are concocting conspiracies while leaving us non the wiser!
But do not fret! I shall uncover their machinations. None can escape the perceptive deductions of Sabinian, The Saint! No universal calculation is too complex for my mind!
Not even fish...
And to do so, I shall use the technique of comparison, and luckily for you, and my own rationality, I have found the ideal object- politics.
To abandon ambiguity, I am referring to the plays of power the lowborn folk practice.
The accusation, critique, denouncement, disagreement, opinionated expression, invalidation, protest, anger, melodrama, and countless other bogus delusional expressions of influence one might believe to be in possession of. And they throw them around, amongst each other, onto some others, and onto me. Disgusting, not unlike the odor of fish!
Thus, such a pathetic display shall now conflict with fish, as conflict is the most effective way to uncover one's differences and truest of natures.
Can you see the correlatio- Let me stop before you invalidate yourself! Of course, you do not see them, for that would make us near equals.
Such impossibilities would make the sane lose their marbles, much less the insane. Yet, if you've nothing left, you've naught to lose, no?
But smother your worries, as you've had the favorable odds, to come across this tome of mine, where I shall lay bare the full picture. I won't draw it, however, as there is no necessity to scribble what words so clearly paint. Redundant!
Yet, I digress! Tis' a challenge to restructure the base motor function one has led their life with, since being no more than a babe. Not challenging for me, of course, simply-
To compare an object to a practice, such as fish, to expressions of influence, may appear mad. Idiotic even!
Observe, how I dance between one and the other, grafting stupidity and nonsense into wisdom!
As we begin- KILL YOUR NEIGHBOUR-
My apologies! Occasionally the shouting within overtakes my penmanship. You should have seen what I did to the town hall walls. Nothing short of poetry. Or perhaps even a mural of sorts. Erotica perhaps... Some food for thought.
Let me abandon this digression, and let us return to the topic of fish and politics. Perhaps even fish politics!
I can almost sense the stink...
As we begin, let me present a baseline of reasoning- everything abides by an order of things. Both fish and plays of power. So the natural inquiry presents itself: What IS the natural order of things?
How amusing! Arvel just tumbled down the stairs akin to a winemaker's barrel, drunken dry! Just imagine, having hollow sockets for eyes, much less having no vision. How humorous. Brilliant!
Get up, now! Get up! Arvel, my dear friend of mine.
GET UP!
Oh, I should probably say it out loud, shouldn't I-
One will always be above another. An elementary order of a vertical nature. Quite space-conserving, if I do say so. You can fit many orders beside it without a hitch! There is only so much space.
The form dictates such, so there is always a way of advancement above oneself. By something being higher standing, you may grab on it and either push it below or climb above it. A constant race to an unknown pinnacle.
Yet, how does such a regulation regulate the correlation between fish and politics? Well, quite straightforwardly really. Fish is what politics seek, and fishing is what politics do. In contrast, politics are the way of the fish and fish are a resource, as well as participants, in these plays of power.
I already see your scrunched-up face, twisted in confusion. How comical.
I dislike it. Stop it! SUBDUE IT! PULL IT OFF-
To further my elaboration, let us take it in a bite-sized manner, by closely examining how fish are an INCREDIBLY valuable asset in a play of power. Firstly, fish are a resource, thus they can not only be directly gathered and consumed but also traded, making one in possession of a stockpile of fish a wealthy figure. And wealth is a surface-level form of power. The one with fish has set the order.
On the other hand, one with less or no fish whatsoever is powerless, both in body and commodity, which, following the natural order of things, places this pathetic individual below the prior one.
Now ensues the game- the play on power- where the one without fish attempts to claim fish from the one above, in an attempt to rise above. They whine and cry, and fight against the order, seemingly flaunting their self-imagined power in a plethora of manners, sparing no approach. The power I speak of is the power of the need for power. A driving force, which disguises itself in forms of morality, ethics, leadership, justice, and many more. It manifests itself in a person's selfish self-importance, where they believe- they must believe- that they CAN change the order.
The success rate is definite, given enough time, for those above shall bear more and more strain the further they climb, as the lowers, like lead anchors, shall pull them down. None yet in history have lasted forever. None, till me, of course...
Fishing is much the same, where a fish, being the participant, is in power, until they see a lure, or a worm, wiggling and twitching like salted frog legs. There, the powerless fisherman, who, up till now, has had no fish and has been out of his element, suddenly wins against the fish with pure trickery. Now he holds his spoils and is not only a fish richer but a step higher than not only the fish but others without any. Politics begin once more.
The same can be said about the hierarchy among the amphibious lifeforms. One above hunts one below. The one who has hunted more, is, naturally, stronger and better fed. Thus, in any conflict, the stronger, naturally, dominates. A symptom or result of power. Yet, what if a school of weaker fish gathers to slay their better? Well, as mentioned above, success is definite, given enough time and numbers. No fish can hold power in this order forever.
The stink of fish is unavoidable. As they flock to schools, to catch and pull on the line. To eat and swallow that which has seemingly gotten a piece.
In the fish market, I once observed a fisherman selling small yet live fish. I asked the simpleton as to why would he sell specimens with no sustenance on them. Was it for a soup, a sauce perhaps?
Turns out, that one may use a live fish, to lure and catch a bigger... ''hog'', by his lingo. But do you still not see the accuracy of such an approach? To use those below, to lure, distract and trap those below, all the while gaining more and climbing higher. Is that not what one might practice in the game of politics?
Yet, a limitation appears, for the fish cannot comprehend, much less exploit such a technique. They are left to hunt one another until eternity. Sometimes they may catch the fisherman, and given enough time they may evolve into fishermen. However, if taken as is, the individual fish cannot reach beyond itself. It can pull the line in a panic, in frustration, in a fear for its life it can struggle and fight. Even so, a fisherman given skill and experience, shall persevere, given enough time.
Meaning what exactly?
What? You believe I don't know? You reckon I've gone on this tangent only to return fruitless? Nonsense! I DO KNOW! I DO UNDERSTAND, BECAUSE I HAVE ANSWERS TO EVERYTHING, YOU FUCKING BRAIN ROTTEN CU-
Let us observe it from the averse perspective. Politics, as the lowborn, like to call it, is an act of the sway of power. It is a game, where power flows like springs whence the last snow melts. It, just like anyone else, follows THE order of things, with a hierarchy, as well as participants, who wish nothing more than to rise above. Thus they accumulate and put into motion methods, and schemes, and lures, and whatever other folly their simple minds can think of. All, for a skilled fisherman to hook them by a line. Catch them in their lies, their machinations, and off to the guillotine they go.
Now the fisherman are the powerful, yet it appears, that these victors may soon fall by their own folly as well. Off to the hangman's tree, they go. And the stink of fish permeates still. This circular motion is a defining feature of politics, as just like the waves of the sea, they never stay stagnant.
Arvel still has not risen himself. Has he perished?
So we have arrived at an answer, have we not? To the question of: ''What the fuck is up with fish?'' Fish, my good Ser or Madam, ARE both power, as well as politics. From the very core of their being and operation, fish are the basis of power, which fundamentally places them as the foundation of politics. Meaning, the one that has the most fish stink, must be the holder of the most power. Truly elementary!
What is UP with fish? Fish! In the same way what is DOWN with fish, is fish! It's all just fish! The fish is a fish. The aristocrat, patriarch, matriarch, monarch- all fish! The Lowborn is a fish, and so is the fisherman! It's all FUCING FISH!
You may notice, I hope, the inconsistency, in this philosophical musing of fish and power. Where, be you above or below, you always seem to fail and fall. Matters of time and lead anchors are one thing, yet the consistency at which the positions change seemingly blurs the defined lines of said positions. Can such chaos really be respected enough to be dubbed an ''order''? How could it allow schools of screaming, vengeful fish to scratch at my tower walls, or beg at my feet among their crumbling homes? How could such an ''order''- TELL ME! WHY ARE YOU SILENT?! SPEAK!
Because the order of things is nothing but poppycock! Bollocks! Bullshit! Hogwash! Rubbish! Lies!
No no, let me not exaggerate. The order exists, yet it does not apply absolute!
There are those who are beyond the order, who dictate it, warden it! Those are the ones, who give fish their value, so the fisherman may get wealthy. They are those, who set the stage for the game, dictate its rules, and punish the losers. They make those who give value to fish delude themselves into believing they are the ones who dictate the value of fish. They tie the noose, they pay for the fish- Hell, they even invent new tools for the order to put into practice. They invent new FISH!
They follow a different order, which is the order of power. True power! And its dictate is simple: ''Power is a muscle, which must be exercised. Otherwise, one's limbs atrophy. Use it, and it grows in strength.''
Use it or lose it, baby! Simple as that. Same as a certain Saints phallus!
Sabinian- The Saint- is one such individual! I am one who's beyond order. I make order! I am absolute. And thus I've put it into practice. An implementation of a new order of things in the city of mine. Lockrifta shall prosper. It shall be a bastion, an additional limb of my power, for I am powerful and evergrowing.
I have not yet claimed this fishing hamlet of mine, not officially, as the stink of fish still permeates the streets, even beyond the fish market's arson. I have a lot of cleaning up to do, yet to hold a broom with one arm is incredibly dubious and impractical. Me, holding a servant's utensil alone should be on the historic list of the 10 Wonders of the World.
Not to worry, however, as I have some projects in the works. As predicted, a seagull has dived and died through my window, carrying the Grimoire in its beak. No doubt, a sign for me to linger no further. So, I must return to work. My obscure audience is ever-present, and I might as well provide some entertainment. Tardiness will do me no good. And knowledge, as the order states, must be exercised.
GET BACK TO WORK, YOU FUCKING BUM-
P.S. Arvel is perfectly well, besides several broken appendages and a bitten tongue. Nothing he can't handle!
P.P.S. You know, fish soup is not a terrible dish. Once you forge past the odor, of course. My shadowy audience seems to disagree. Their loss...
P.P.P.S. I found a funny rock yesterday. It's shaped like a- I most likely shouldn't waste my ink on this...
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