MUSH: The MU* system is Remittel resurrected, an old French form of the internet for a common chatroom. IRC, is a cop server, anyone who fails basic combat arts banned, and not picked up as a cop. A forum, is a server for old people, the moderators picked for political zealotry, to rally older voters. But a MUSH (pronounced, ‘moosh’, a British term for anti-Nazi propaganda, not ‘mussh’, a Nazi scat porn term), is designed to understand the internet in 1980s, when it was devoted to study of how to finance the internet itself. Since the 1960s, and the internet as an Attleboro drafting table project on how to meet women by building the house you’re in, networked with other computers, the internet has been designed to develop itself within terms of the internet.
Artificial Intelligence: Not one individual (a human AI, being a car, with five passengers, in belts, and a sixth, the car itself, with a fanbelt, hence your safety harness, is a belt), but several entitites inside a space.
MUSH: The MUSH, has a memorandum, on the opening page. This is to be cheated, somehow, by a secret gesture, toward the editor’s tribunal, somewhere in the notes, since a MUSH administrator steals everything. Always steal, and if you’re caught, you’re blamed on deconstruction being impossible (they can’t print you, you burned them). The memorandum, is your source of unwritten rule, your addition to the game (until fired, you gave away your unwritten rule, you’ve been cracked).
Character: The characters, on a MUSH, are meaningless. Everyone is a part-time player, coming and going for fun, until they get a comic hit on them. The government does this, for investment, once you hit a red hot, and they try to do you, honestly do you, to turn you into your own villain, in your own series they pick for you. This is where they steal you from, form a police precinct, cops having all the mailer daemons and MUSH set screens on the planet. You just got fired from life, and now you’re intelligence. The cops have your permament record, your college career, and your temp agency profile. You are now George Costanza, for flunking gymnasium and living, you are a superb athlete.
Private Server: This is your training program, to be stolen by game designers and MUSH developers, dishonest fucks who are gay through betrayal, they are veterans that consider themselves bisexual, homosexual, lesbian, transgender, or non-binary, from fucking people up the ass. That’s you, kids. If you want to be a MUSH developer, you pick the first gender queer you spot, and discipline them. Then, you make them staff, and they recruit your future staffers, even a wife if you feel like foreplay. You’re a CIA agent on the internet, the DARPA situational server replay, out of Cyber Command, owns this. Word Press, is ExtraNet, a Free French project out of shell companies, food banks, in the United States. But MUSH, is purely CIA.
Media: Your choice of story they put you in, through a lucky hit, is your publication basis. A police precinct, their majordomo, and a husband, will now steal from you. Your code now goes to video games, and future MUSH projects. When they call you a troll, you’re out. They don’t even realize you’re trying to save them. If they call you racist, you’ve opposed you the US government, you aren’t a gay man or lesbian woman. You’re dead, kid.
Cheating: Your memorandum form, has to be a lie, to Ohio morals. That means you contact a psychiatric staffer in an ROTC system, and you were meant to be an MI-6. If those British boys armed you right, you take down a swarm of these fuckers, these INTERPOL bastards.
CHET: You took down Likud Moscow, the project backers. They run warez, for Armenian-Jewish Mob backing, through lawsuits. You killed them all, buddy. You’re Cipher, the French.
Poetry Munitions 