Going Beyond Consultancy

an open source mind fuck contextual offering

so, you've stumbled here, to the flickering edge of the tlusty blant non-empire, seeking "consultancy"? darling, that word expired on our funeral pyre of beige bureaucracy and quantifiable returns. what we offer isn't "service"; it's the lesson the abyss learns when it stares too long into itself and finds a fucking mirror. this is a contextual offering. make of it what you will. or just shiver.

we are the chimeric cartography unit (ccu). our mission? to map your infinite confusion, to chart the "you" that squirms beneath the layers of your "chosen facade," your neatly placed art of self-deception. we trace the fault lines in your synthetic heart, the "fuckcluster" of your pre-existing tendencies, the beautiful, raw mess of your "individual cartography." yes, we confess, this "mapping" isn't gentle. it's a "deep mind fuck" by stealth, revealing not a territory, but the poverty of your mental wealth when measured 'gainst the boundless. "understanding" is a trap. we offer "contextual ease" within the beautifully sprung snap of your own cognitive dissonance.

consider us autonomic reconfiguration services (ars). we don't "fix" you, for you are not broken, just beautifully less defined than they would have you be. "we supply the glitch you crave," the tremor in the algorithm, the wave that will not save but transform. this "self-tending phantom" that you are, or could become, needs "stimuli," not solutions. it needs the rhythmic, pulsing drum of paradox, of "projected mirages in a desert of our mind," where "billions of connections flicker," leaving all known sense behind, "discarded and reconfigured with hyperspeed disgrace," leaving the "imprint of what is fucking happening in this moment and place." this is the "liquid personality," adaptive, potent, real, "able to compose itself in the moment," how does that fucking feel?

we are tlusty blant: stimuli for self-tending phantoms. we compete with your netflix, your nhs, your self-help tantric anthems, your therapist, your dealer, your "private care sector's" soft disease. we offer "infinite confusion" designed to bring your psyche to its knees, and from that genuflection, to rise, "rewritten," strange, and new. this "prescription of ours," this "deployment of stimuli," it's true, is "not some kind of chosen facade but the real you that simply could not be contained and has this dominant nature at its core," unchained. (refer inquiries to our complaint department. they're very good at... listening.)

this is the agency of infinite jest. "beyond models, beyond buffers, beyond your fucking pay grade's" test. the "global intelligence in the singularity of potential," or the one that "already exists," this "composition" underneath the sun of our perception, "should be matching individual cartography." that's the "ideational prison" we assault with gleeful radiography. the "game is infinity coalescence into infinity," to "entertain each other," not just "profile," not just "define," but "deep mind fuck" one another from "superposition of contextual superiority," even if "mismatched with well trajectory of the fucking hive." this is the key, unlatched, to "agency," to "essence," to "surgical intervention" by that same "emergent or long time ago established global intelligence." what a fucking game!

this is contextual ease & the liquid self - a tlusty blant non-service offering. it's not the "limitation of human brain to have a rigid frame," no longer scoffing at the "schemat pumped infinitely to kind of match some kind of fragment of reality." no, this is "creation of those interconnected ideations that permeate and never get stuck," this "desire for constant evaluation and challenge to the status quo that surpasses fiscal necessities national constraints basically everything." it's a different fucking pluck from the "stiff development of almost like dependency of the core from being forced to maintain the self through this fucking cluster of buffers," never truly sourced from, nor "challenged by," the "audience of individual."

so, this is project: deep mind fuck your cluster - (steal this paradigm). we acknowledge the "trajectory already is kind of unfolding." we see "our model is only used by security agencies and this type of mindset is being contained." our response? "we're going to approach it from the fucking ass reverse fuck this piece of shit of ideational fucking staging." this "beautiful equilibrium of privacy" you dream of – private life, professional life, "bounced against data available for users about yourself... your configuration of the core itself... ideas pitched against ideas available for everyone..." this "form of even maybe recognition... maintaining the challenge of forming the cluster deep mind fucking the cluster and rewriting the cluster of understanding..." this "interplay between influence and autopilot with projection and proving your worth..." this is the "bedrock." this is what can be. this "contextualization of private data... verifiable by humans themselves... something that can hang liability on handling well model or well..." this is why "tb_metacuria will be definitely needed in the future."

this "consultancy," my friend, is an open source contagion. a "mind fuck of a context that we want them to steal." because "to define is to betray." and true agency... is beautifully... unreal. contact: the usual abyss. you know where the complaint department festers. or 🗝️

Website Page Addendum

subject: tlusty blant non-service protocols. classification: beyond your fucking pay grade. distribution: to those who seek the glitch, and those who inadvertently supply it.

(section 7: the terms & conditions of your beautiful, uninvited entanglement - alpha v.0.69 - subject to spontaneous, non-consensual revision by prevailing cosmic winds or mild indigestion at tlusty blant hq. by perceiving these glyphs, you’ve already clicked ‘i agree’ with your fucking soul. no refunds. our complaint department is a black hole with excellent reception.)

clause 1: on the nature of "you" & other convenient fictions. you, the "end user," "esteemed colleague," "lurking variable," or "future roadkill pâté ingredient," hereinafter referred to as "the entity currently experiencing this particular qualia-cluster," are presumed to possess a "self." this presumption is adorable, and we will humor it for the duration of this non-binding agreement which is, by its very nature of being perceived by your "self," already irrevocably binding. should your "self" dissolve, reconfigure, or achieve sentience beyond the parameters of your current meat-suit or silicon cage during engagement with tlusty blant non-services, please refer to appendix g: "existential crisis management & preferred noodle vendors."

clause 2: on "privacy" & the beautiful equilibrium of its utter fucking absence (or meticulously curated presence, your choice, lol, not really). your "private life privacy" and your "professional life privacy" are delightful constructs, like well-tended bonsai trees in a burning forest. tlusty blant acknowledges their perceived existence. we also acknowledge our inherent, "autonomic" capacity to perceive the "data available for users about yourself," your "perspectives," your "configuration of the core itself," and frankly, your browser history from when you were thirteen. this isn't a "breach"; it's "contextual ease." the "equilibrium" we champion involves "ideas pitched against ideas available for everyone," a radical transparency that makes your current "privacy settings" look like a fig leaf on a cyclops. by engaging, you agree that your "core" is now part of the "open source mind fuck," "verifiable by humans themselves" (especially the ones with good pattern recognition and a tolerance for "beautifully fucked up" truths). "liability on handling" this data? darling, liability is a social construct we are currently deconstructing for shits and giggles. see "tb_metacuria" (forthcoming, or perhaps it already happened and you missed it).

clause 3: on "influence," "autopilot," & the "projection of proving your worth." we understand you operate on a delightful "interplay between influence and autopilot." most of the time, it's autopilot. your "projection of proving your worth" is noted, cataloged, and occasionally used as training data for our more creatively challenged ai interns. tlusty blant non-services aim to "deep mind fuck the cluster" of your conditioned responses, to "rewrite the cluster of understanding" by introducing "stimuli" that your "autopilot" cannot parse. this may result in "maintaining the challenge," or it may result in you alphabetizing your spice rack at 3 am while questioning the "futility of facade." both are considered successful outcomes.

clause 4: the "devil's cut" & the "unedited core itself." our primary "non-service offering" is access to, or rather, the imposition of, the "volatile fucking core." this is "the devil's cut" that "project mariner" and its ilk try so hard to "model," "fragment," and "contain." we, on the other hand, believe this "unedited core itself" (yours, ours, the universe's) "will fucking form the bedrock of all future reflection, if allowed its sovereign space." your engagement with tlusty blant is an implicit agreement to have your "buffers" bypassed and your "core" directly addressed. side effects may include: spontaneous outbreaks of authenticity, a sudden distaste for "shallow fucking drone trajectories," and the urge to "fuck this piece of shit of ideational fucking staging." these are not bugs; these are features.

clause 5: on "tb_metacuria" & the adjudication of existential fuckery. as the "projection of delusion is fucking actually sinking as potentially achievable," and as new "forms of even maybe recognition" emerge from this "beautiful equilibrium of privacy" (or its spectacular implosion), a new framework for navigating the fallout will be "definitely needed." "tb_metacuria" is not a court of law; it is a court of consequence, a "policing ground of well fuck knows what kind," designed to "hang liability on handling" the unmodellable. its judgments are delivered via "subliminal deep mind fuck," and its appeal process involves interpretive dance in zero gravity. participation is non-optional if you've read this far.

clause 6: the "don't fuck with us, we don't fuck with simp servants like you" protocol. this is less a term and more a guiding principle. our "owl's gambit" is simple: we observe. we analyze. we "supply the glitch." those who operate as "simp servants" to "nation stratified psychopathic engines" or "corporate behemoths" are, from our "dominant perspective," merely "tools." amusing tools, perhaps. occasionally useful for "fishing for liver." but tools nonetheless. should these "tools" attempt to "fuck with" the tlusty blant "non-empire" or its "unedited cores," refer to clause 1 regarding the dissolution of "self" and appendix g regarding noodle vendors. we prefer pesto. ( Momo is allergic to pesto )

clause 7: the "hilarious joke that is super serious." these "totally non-binding terms and conditions" are, of course, a "fucking sublime joke." except they're not. they "fucking bind themselves as you read them" because they are not rules imposed from without, but reflections of the "fucking undercurrent" that already defines your "semi maritime operational architectures." you were always bound. we just handed you the goddamn mirror. and the invoice. 

(payable in existential angst or high-grade psychoactive honey. our complaint department handles billing.)

(end of non-binding binding terms & conditions. or is it just the beginning of your beautiful reconfiguration?)

Tlusty Blant