Before I completely wrap this up, I'll leave a few more observations.
"Wall Street 2" does look like a remake of "Working Girl," doesn't it, main characters being about the same, all of them talking heads on a stick?
What does green really mean? Walking Lahinch or driving an electric car?
It doesn't matter who's in charge, somebody still has to do the work.
If you put on the uniform, you commit to the task the uniform requires, taking the consequences in stride.
It's not always fun to be alive but at least you have a choice of emotions to exercise. I choose to be glad to be alive, pains and aches a temporary diversion.
It takes a lot of support to keep a team undistracted while planning and implementing deep space missions.
Can you manage to maximise discount points in equipment/support purchases and make sure projects complete within narrow constraints without stirring a feather or making your presence felt to those who don't want to know you're there for them?
Can you toot your horn by not making a sound?
Where are negotiations best made - the golf course or the office putting green?
How do you define species preservation - the LHC, the motorway network, crop fertilisation, mass inoculation, or mandatory education?
I focus on clearing a path whereby a future version of ourselves finds many ways to make living spaces across the universe as we know it, learning to "share the road" (appropriate to the situation, of course).
Won't you join me?
Note the leadership changes in places like Brasil, North Korea and the United States. What does the unrest in Ecuador and the EU tell us? Who owns the gold controls seed production, water rights and, thus, food prices.
Look to the future with gladness and a smile on your face. The wealth of difference will astound your friends and family.
2010-10-01
2010-09-26
Whose Sari Now?
Orange camo outfit on the lower deck and orange sari on the upper.
Native American dress in the streets and dancing on the field.
Never give up. Never surrender.
Some days the defenders win, offensive units not fully united as one.
How much Moore can you catch? How many groups can you thank in one invocation? When the name Reveiz is a better tackler than a kicker (has a Reveiz missed five in a row of anything?), then you Poole your resources, rest your aching muscles, remember you're an academic student as well as an athlete and represent yourself well.
After watching the new faces of the marching band, I rest assured that our planet's future rests comfortably in the hands of the next generation, as competent, inexperienced and young as it is.
We old fogeys had our moment to shine. Our days are tarnished, covered with the dents and dings of protecting ourselves from ourselves. Let us step aside and serve as protective guides.
We will not live forever. Our vanity, our attempts at pretending to extend our youth, what do they accomplish? Can we celebrate the wisdom and looks of old age while sharing the spotlight with the younger we're training to take over the world while they grow old, too?
I am not perfect. I am the example of myself to myself who looks down upon those who use plastic surgery and other superficial tricks to make themselves look younger than they are.
I am not wise. I simply have a bunch of experiences and knowledge at my discretion to reference when I don't understand what I seem to perceive.
While moving aside to help discover the forms/shapes we'll need to take to discover new worlds, I pass the last pages of the Book of the Future [of this world] to those who want to discover it for themselves.
I cannot be sensitive to the needs, wants, desires and demands of seven billion people while crafting a new type of "people" who will populate the solar system and galaxy in the trillions (using 3D printers and beams of energy to replicate quickly, for example (sound familiar?)).
The resources of the local environment are all we have. Wisely learn what they are and you'll use them wisely.
My "children" will make planetary conquests* look like collecting a bag of marbles.
Time to close this blog and open a new window on unfamiliar territory.
= = =
* not a carefully thought-out word. Is there any way to make benign contact with the unknown? Guess we're going to find out!
Native American dress in the streets and dancing on the field.
Never give up. Never surrender.
Some days the defenders win, offensive units not fully united as one.
How much Moore can you catch? How many groups can you thank in one invocation? When the name Reveiz is a better tackler than a kicker (has a Reveiz missed five in a row of anything?), then you Poole your resources, rest your aching muscles, remember you're an academic student as well as an athlete and represent yourself well.
After watching the new faces of the marching band, I rest assured that our planet's future rests comfortably in the hands of the next generation, as competent, inexperienced and young as it is.
We old fogeys had our moment to shine. Our days are tarnished, covered with the dents and dings of protecting ourselves from ourselves. Let us step aside and serve as protective guides.
We will not live forever. Our vanity, our attempts at pretending to extend our youth, what do they accomplish? Can we celebrate the wisdom and looks of old age while sharing the spotlight with the younger we're training to take over the world while they grow old, too?
I am not perfect. I am the example of myself to myself who looks down upon those who use plastic surgery and other superficial tricks to make themselves look younger than they are.
I am not wise. I simply have a bunch of experiences and knowledge at my discretion to reference when I don't understand what I seem to perceive.
While moving aside to help discover the forms/shapes we'll need to take to discover new worlds, I pass the last pages of the Book of the Future [of this world] to those who want to discover it for themselves.
I cannot be sensitive to the needs, wants, desires and demands of seven billion people while crafting a new type of "people" who will populate the solar system and galaxy in the trillions (using 3D printers and beams of energy to replicate quickly, for example (sound familiar?)).
The resources of the local environment are all we have. Wisely learn what they are and you'll use them wisely.
My "children" will make planetary conquests* look like collecting a bag of marbles.
Time to close this blog and open a new window on unfamiliar territory.
= = =
* not a carefully thought-out word. Is there any way to make benign contact with the unknown? Guess we're going to find out!
2010-09-25
I Ain't No Saint
Memories: Popeye, Henry, and Katzenhammer Kids.
But then there was Mandy again at Bubba's, along with a North Jackson cheerleader and Auburn fans. And DeRhonda at Hampton. And Chrissy V at Applebees. From Pigeon Forge who can't help but say kite like keight, no thanks to Va boyfriend. And Jenna whose thermostat and fuel pump said, "Whoa!," for $100 (who only took 20 - glad he's family while she's working on nursing degree from Pelississippi State(sp?)). From Wears Valley and boyfriend in Madisonville.
What about the Mr. Digg truck and the folks whose niece plays futbol/soccer for UT?
What of Sonic, RFCU, car wash, Chris Berman losing weight, Vanna looking younger everyday (like Vivian of DOOL), Beckham's salaried grassy kicks, pleasing the people in Persia, healthcare hijinks, butchered English (the language, not the people), butchered Iranian (the people, not the language) Samuel Adams brewing, Jaegermeister, Goldschlager, Maker's Maker and top shelf Long Island teas?
Why does digitised music seem to skip a beat? What has the IBEW local done for you lately? Where are the smiles? Why do penguins taste like headless delights to foxes? Why does a bear bear zucchini/cougrette, regardless of Punctuation Day?
Putin, you da man for seeing Arctic solution where walruses fear to tread water. Obama and Wen weigh serious issues heavy, like, man. Merkel needs to rein in a presidential presentation getting out of hand. Netanyahu, what the hell are you thinking? Where's Menachim Begin (atrocious spelling aside) when you need him?
I am a very patient man when I need to be, jovially clownish most of the time. BUT if you ... well... if you decide that you're somehow outside the social system, then I have no choice but to rely on colleagues to bring you back to reality with no mercy.
See, I know the bare facts. It makes me grumpy when I lack adequate sleep, and when I'm grumpy, I'm sleepy, and like the rest of the out-of-work seven dwarves, I ain't pleasant when the sheep dip hits the phantasmagoric.
Play the fool and they don't know realism from Cathy Pellum or Aimee from her sheared off fingertip at Cuts By Us.
I am a happy man, well aware of what we'll do next in the name of advancing our species off this planet despite diversions that distract our discourses on new discoveries detailing data dotting lines ducking responsibilities unnecessarily necessitated disgustingly - like Alaskan marriage prospects, the odds are good but the goods are odd but so what?
Experts can also provide you with timely advice but where is an expert when the shots hit the fan?
Create content before you consume. Like having sexual relations with your loved one instead of pleasuring yourself in solo tones (NSFW: Or in other words, put masturbation last because it decreaseases your enrgy ahead of time [sic: re: whole phrase].)
But then there was Mandy again at Bubba's, along with a North Jackson cheerleader and Auburn fans. And DeRhonda at Hampton. And Chrissy V at Applebees. From Pigeon Forge who can't help but say kite like keight, no thanks to Va boyfriend. And Jenna whose thermostat and fuel pump said, "Whoa!," for $100 (who only took 20 - glad he's family while she's working on nursing degree from Pelississippi State(sp?)). From Wears Valley and boyfriend in Madisonville.
What about the Mr. Digg truck and the folks whose niece plays futbol/soccer for UT?
What of Sonic, RFCU, car wash, Chris Berman losing weight, Vanna looking younger everyday (like Vivian of DOOL), Beckham's salaried grassy kicks, pleasing the people in Persia, healthcare hijinks, butchered English (the language, not the people), butchered Iranian (the people, not the language) Samuel Adams brewing, Jaegermeister, Goldschlager, Maker's Maker and top shelf Long Island teas?
Why does digitised music seem to skip a beat? What has the IBEW local done for you lately? Where are the smiles? Why do penguins taste like headless delights to foxes? Why does a bear bear zucchini/cougrette, regardless of Punctuation Day?
Putin, you da man for seeing Arctic solution where walruses fear to tread water. Obama and Wen weigh serious issues heavy, like, man. Merkel needs to rein in a presidential presentation getting out of hand. Netanyahu, what the hell are you thinking? Where's Menachim Begin (atrocious spelling aside) when you need him?
I am a very patient man when I need to be, jovially clownish most of the time. BUT if you ... well... if you decide that you're somehow outside the social system, then I have no choice but to rely on colleagues to bring you back to reality with no mercy.
See, I know the bare facts. It makes me grumpy when I lack adequate sleep, and when I'm grumpy, I'm sleepy, and like the rest of the out-of-work seven dwarves, I ain't pleasant when the sheep dip hits the phantasmagoric.
Play the fool and they don't know realism from Cathy Pellum or Aimee from her sheared off fingertip at Cuts By Us.
I am a happy man, well aware of what we'll do next in the name of advancing our species off this planet despite diversions that distract our discourses on new discoveries detailing data dotting lines ducking responsibilities unnecessarily necessitated disgustingly - like Alaskan marriage prospects, the odds are good but the goods are odd but so what?
Experts can also provide you with timely advice but where is an expert when the shots hit the fan?
Create content before you consume. Like having sexual relations with your loved one instead of pleasuring yourself in solo tones (NSFW: Or in other words, put masturbation last because it decreaseases your enrgy ahead of time [sic: re: whole phrase].)
2010-09-24
Intermission
While the carpets are rolled up and floors swept, clearing the studio for the next production, let's look at what just happened.
Pink Floyd completed their moneylosing tour of "The Wall." David Lynch passed off "Eraserhead" as abstract art.
Laurie Anderson hit the charts with pop music.
Trees branched.
The Soviet Union met Ronald Reagan.
Chlorophyll shrank from view and leaves fell.
Afghanistan resisted another heartless, goalless invasion.
Japan enjoyed a lost decade.
Pinochet made his point.
More people lived and died than ever before.
The space shuttle, Mir, and Spacelab passed by.
Looks like the cleaning crew wants to turn off the lights. Time for me to stop recording thanks on this planet for an unspecified time and reconnect with my associates who have an offworld future to decide.
Events on this planet are back under automated control.
Will you recognise your children after their transformation to space-ready travelers? The first to volunteer will receive a heroic reception - the rest will step in line and follow orders well.
Time to suit up!
Pink Floyd completed their moneylosing tour of "The Wall." David Lynch passed off "Eraserhead" as abstract art.
Laurie Anderson hit the charts with pop music.
Trees branched.
The Soviet Union met Ronald Reagan.
Chlorophyll shrank from view and leaves fell.
Afghanistan resisted another heartless, goalless invasion.
Japan enjoyed a lost decade.
Pinochet made his point.
More people lived and died than ever before.
The space shuttle, Mir, and Spacelab passed by.
Looks like the cleaning crew wants to turn off the lights. Time for me to stop recording thanks on this planet for an unspecified time and reconnect with my associates who have an offworld future to decide.
Events on this planet are back under automated control.
Will you recognise your children after their transformation to space-ready travelers? The first to volunteer will receive a heroic reception - the rest will step in line and follow orders well.
Time to suit up!
Felt Pads, Wires, and Fjords of the Lies
What do Wynton Marsalis and Chet Atkins have in common? What about the new menu at Beauregard's and the regard for New Woman political candidates?
Or the movies "God Forgives, I Don't," "Bullets, Blood and a Fistful," and "The Point Men"; or the shows "Glee" and "The Choir: Unsung Town"?
Who do you like better: Eileen Ivers or Natalie MacMaster? Claire Lynch or Rhonda Vincent?
Spiders slowly turn our cathedral-ceilinged living room into a crisscrossed, dustcollecting magical piano or harp in the sky.
Should you feed woodpeckers by letting mud-daubing wasps nest on the side of your house?
To be alive in this time (when I, as I am, can be alive in no other) is a question I cannot answer.
Are leaders leaders because of the luck of their birthday? Are birthdays real?
Do people have a real sense of humour or do they only laugh the way they're socially-programmed to react?
Finding new ways to insightfully poke fun at what we adults call progress in order to make children think for themselves what progress will be called when they're grown up is more difficult than my trainers told me they'd be.
Amazingly we have, for the most part, the ability to take our time and consider the repercussions of our actions and the locaglobal effect on the future of this moment but we rarely do. We enjoy being ourselves too much in the moment to consider others in moments we may or may not spend with them.
I ought to know. I cheer for the hare more often than for the tortoise.
Therefore, let us consider the species as a momentary occurrence.
We will not live as long as a star. We can harvest starpower but not the star's power.
What am I doing today for which I want to remember myself tomorrow?
What is happening in this moment that does not include an identity known as me to which I gladly contribute anonymously?
Can the United States become a national multiparty political system? Can we have a permanent Comedy Party headed by the likes of the Paulsens/Colberts of the humour scene, a permanent Independent Party headed by the Palins of the nontraditional scene, and the usual extreme right/left parties trying to splinter the middle class - every one of them pulling a significant number of votes during locanational elections?
If we can't be nonpartisan, can we be a real plurality, requiring real cooperation to accomplish national goals?
Oh, wait, in this parallel universe blog, nations and corporations do not exist, being merely labels for temporary states of existence.
Be concerned that you can poke fun at your former rival/enemy without repercussion because it means the new rival/enemy taking the old one's place may be worse, less easy to convince, more willing to act unilaterally and/or more subtle in its dominance/manipulation of you.
This is such a small planet, a tiny fraction of the active universe. To rule it was a goal for our species the previous xxxx thousand years and now that it's no longer a limiting factor, ruling it feels like being a big fish in a small pond.
Even so, we live nowhere else (yet). However, I [(have thought/acted)(will think/act)] as if we already populate a wider expanse in our galaxy than one or two rocks stuck circulating around a star.
I have pointed my microtelescope at this planet for too many months now. Time to look back out at the stars and ponder a future greater than what we've lived so far.
Does string theory have a place in a future outside the spider webs of my house? Hmm...
Or the movies "God Forgives, I Don't," "Bullets, Blood and a Fistful," and "The Point Men"; or the shows "Glee" and "The Choir: Unsung Town"?
Who do you like better: Eileen Ivers or Natalie MacMaster? Claire Lynch or Rhonda Vincent?
Spiders slowly turn our cathedral-ceilinged living room into a crisscrossed, dustcollecting magical piano or harp in the sky.
Should you feed woodpeckers by letting mud-daubing wasps nest on the side of your house?
To be alive in this time (when I, as I am, can be alive in no other) is a question I cannot answer.
Are leaders leaders because of the luck of their birthday? Are birthdays real?
Do people have a real sense of humour or do they only laugh the way they're socially-programmed to react?
Finding new ways to insightfully poke fun at what we adults call progress in order to make children think for themselves what progress will be called when they're grown up is more difficult than my trainers told me they'd be.
Amazingly we have, for the most part, the ability to take our time and consider the repercussions of our actions and the locaglobal effect on the future of this moment but we rarely do. We enjoy being ourselves too much in the moment to consider others in moments we may or may not spend with them.
I ought to know. I cheer for the hare more often than for the tortoise.
Therefore, let us consider the species as a momentary occurrence.
We will not live as long as a star. We can harvest starpower but not the star's power.
What am I doing today for which I want to remember myself tomorrow?
What is happening in this moment that does not include an identity known as me to which I gladly contribute anonymously?
Can the United States become a national multiparty political system? Can we have a permanent Comedy Party headed by the likes of the Paulsens/Colberts of the humour scene, a permanent Independent Party headed by the Palins of the nontraditional scene, and the usual extreme right/left parties trying to splinter the middle class - every one of them pulling a significant number of votes during locanational elections?
If we can't be nonpartisan, can we be a real plurality, requiring real cooperation to accomplish national goals?
Oh, wait, in this parallel universe blog, nations and corporations do not exist, being merely labels for temporary states of existence.
Be concerned that you can poke fun at your former rival/enemy without repercussion because it means the new rival/enemy taking the old one's place may be worse, less easy to convince, more willing to act unilaterally and/or more subtle in its dominance/manipulation of you.
This is such a small planet, a tiny fraction of the active universe. To rule it was a goal for our species the previous xxxx thousand years and now that it's no longer a limiting factor, ruling it feels like being a big fish in a small pond.
Even so, we live nowhere else (yet). However, I [(have thought/acted)(will think/act)] as if we already populate a wider expanse in our galaxy than one or two rocks stuck circulating around a star.
I have pointed my microtelescope at this planet for too many months now. Time to look back out at the stars and ponder a future greater than what we've lived so far.
Does string theory have a place in a future outside the spider webs of my house? Hmm...
2010-09-23
Unpaid Gratitude
A thanks to those who gave up much of their personal time in order to fix what they had not broken (but may have participated in its decline).
In three years or so, with the world financial stability shifting and with its shift, drifting, we may have forgotten that wealth redistribution is the game's engine.
Like the frog said, it's never easy being green and so we say goodbye to the last of the greenbacks and hello to the smorgasbord of currency controls.
Economic recovery is a thankless job but those who know tip their hats, nod their heads and raise a hurrah to the people who dedicated themselves to plugging leaks in the sinking ship of the global economy, even if the rudder was unattended, leaving us to drift to new shores and ready for new ventures.
Thanks to Keith at Brix (formerly Luciano), Becky at Marshall's who remembers the old McClellan's and Montgomery Ward stores downtown.
Final note: Be careful letting ethnic hatred get out of hand - good to relieve some of the valve pressure but you don't want to cause an Oriental explosion, do you? Nuclear trigger fingers get itchy for all the wrong reasons.
In three years or so, with the world financial stability shifting and with its shift, drifting, we may have forgotten that wealth redistribution is the game's engine.
Like the frog said, it's never easy being green and so we say goodbye to the last of the greenbacks and hello to the smorgasbord of currency controls.
Economic recovery is a thankless job but those who know tip their hats, nod their heads and raise a hurrah to the people who dedicated themselves to plugging leaks in the sinking ship of the global economy, even if the rudder was unattended, leaving us to drift to new shores and ready for new ventures.
Thanks to Keith at Brix (formerly Luciano), Becky at Marshall's who remembers the old McClellan's and Montgomery Ward stores downtown.
Final note: Be careful letting ethnic hatred get out of hand - good to relieve some of the valve pressure but you don't want to cause an Oriental explosion, do you? Nuclear trigger fingers get itchy for all the wrong reasons.
2010-09-22
Sassafras and Deer Heads
In what way is your body a temple? Do your tattoos tell a whole story?
A group of scientifically-minded friends of mine gave up on their antigravity machine. Instead, they are taking recent data collected from a very expensive instrument to attempt to build an antimass machine.
They had successfully gotten their antigravity machine to work but it kept pushing away Earth and attracting the Moon, messing with tides and centripetal storm forces, rather than allowing my friends to float freely wherever they wished to go.
To know I do not exist is not an easy task to maintain, pretending as I do to participate in the mass hypnosis we call our culture of subcultures. However, I cannot get to where being nonexistent is without giving up the fun of the hypnosis.
In any case, 'tis fun to have fun with the truth in plain view of those who do not know the truth and wouldn't know how to handle the truth so let them keep pretending and I'll play along 'cause I'm well-trained and easy to get along with in these conditions.
Meanwhile, the seduction of our youth in the game of who gets to claim the greatest influence of them moves forward.
Cycles within cycles neverending.
Imagine, for the sake of hypothesis, an extraterrestrial existence (EE) that encounters Earth. The EE doesn't need our resources, finds our definition of intelligence/enlightenment hardly worth considering any different than the survival techniques developed by the other states of energy we call forms of life and thus puts us down as just another planetary example of how the universe swirls up little eddies of different but uninteresting quanta.
Perhaps you've already imagined or read of others' imaginations to that effect.
Point being we are not the center of our known universe, let alone the center of the sum total of existence of the states of energy as we know them now.
So far this morning, a chipmunk and granddaddy longlegs have darted under my chair and a hummingbird has buzzed my ears, the nearby background filled with trees, insects and chirping birds. No more sound of private aeroplanes in the sky - a lost sound of independence.
If TV channels give way to Internet apps, what becomes of independent thinkers who want no gated communities of the thought process blocking their meandering wonderment?
And no, capitalism does not cause poverty. The ways people quench their hunger vary considerably. Personalities take up space comfortably in a large range of sizes. Some are satisfied with a piece of bread and some are not satisfied with a whole planet of wheat fields and bakeries.
Labels are easy to apply and not so easy to remove. Do not confuse capitalism and communism as distinct features of how we live. We barter our way through life - always have and always will. How we barter is a matter of changing tastes and survival techniques. Our skill sets seem to change but don't - we use our bodies and the stuff around us to transform ourselves constantly.
Do you force, coerce and/or encourage those around you to increase their activity, whether "physical" or "mental," in order to increase the means of barter for you and those who you consider your personal friends, colleagues, associates and family? How do you define the increase?: "improved productivity," "pleasing God in more ways everyday," "serving the people more efficiently," "making me richer in your honour"?
How you wish to present the emperor's new clothes to others is up to you but always, always, always be aware that not everyone is fooled.
These are ancient times. We still live like barbarians, slaughtering each other to get ahead, cutting off deer heads to claim superiourity, and boiling sassafras roots to cure ills we know little about.
Never assume this is the age to end all ages. Tens of hundreds of thousands of years will we continue to carve niches to call our own.
As we move into the moment when we discover we are not the center of the universe, let us pause to consider the points of view of extraterrestrial existence that knows us and the EE that doesn't. When we successfully see those views (and we never completely will, any more than we completely know another person), we'll see ourselves in a brighter light, too.
Is our species prepared to realign its goals to show we are a totally cooperative, non self-centered species rather than a warring, cannibalistic species?
Words are meaningless, ultimately. Thoughts are fleeting fantasies with no connection to reality.
Are you ready to have everything you know - all the plants, animals, buildings, social networks and history - change in what will feel like an instant but actually taken a longer time than you'll comparatively remember?
I do not exist. My name and face have no place, being only a placeholder, a mirage, an image representing states of energy.
I do not own the world but this world is mine to give away or save as I please. I choose to save the world because, although I find so much that is wrong with the way we treat one another and the other forms of life on this planet, there is so much more that is right about us and the way states of energy like us have found to exist.
How will you react when you find we are not alone? Will you form a defensive posture? Will you feel guilty? Will you welcome all the unknowns, including the benign "virus" that could reconfigure all of life as we know it? Would you accept that "alien" states of energy have flowed through us since the beginning of time, that there was never a moment we were not all part of the same universe-within-a-universe-outside-a-universe-within-...?
And if thinking was not part of what we'll do when we encounter that which we did not consciously know existed before?
What if we find our daily lives change very little by new information? Will we feel lesser or greater, better or worse, because we aren't the only things wiggling about in space?
We want the familiar. We want to interact the way we've been taught to interact through our socially-acceptable upbringing (according to local subcultural standards, of course), even if our interaction is considered counter- or antisocial.
These words do not exist and you might be able to see that it is so/not so.
States of energy influencing other states of energy, ad infinitum, with no end in sight.
We want levels of influence to keep increasing in order to provide our children bigger goals than the ones we accomplished in our finite lives.
What if the levels our children seek are so outside our realm of understanding we'll never appreciate what they're trying to accomplish while we're alive?
They already are.
A group of scientifically-minded friends of mine gave up on their antigravity machine. Instead, they are taking recent data collected from a very expensive instrument to attempt to build an antimass machine.
They had successfully gotten their antigravity machine to work but it kept pushing away Earth and attracting the Moon, messing with tides and centripetal storm forces, rather than allowing my friends to float freely wherever they wished to go.
To know I do not exist is not an easy task to maintain, pretending as I do to participate in the mass hypnosis we call our culture of subcultures. However, I cannot get to where being nonexistent is without giving up the fun of the hypnosis.
In any case, 'tis fun to have fun with the truth in plain view of those who do not know the truth and wouldn't know how to handle the truth so let them keep pretending and I'll play along 'cause I'm well-trained and easy to get along with in these conditions.
Meanwhile, the seduction of our youth in the game of who gets to claim the greatest influence of them moves forward.
Cycles within cycles neverending.
Imagine, for the sake of hypothesis, an extraterrestrial existence (EE) that encounters Earth. The EE doesn't need our resources, finds our definition of intelligence/enlightenment hardly worth considering any different than the survival techniques developed by the other states of energy we call forms of life and thus puts us down as just another planetary example of how the universe swirls up little eddies of different but uninteresting quanta.
Perhaps you've already imagined or read of others' imaginations to that effect.
Point being we are not the center of our known universe, let alone the center of the sum total of existence of the states of energy as we know them now.
So far this morning, a chipmunk and granddaddy longlegs have darted under my chair and a hummingbird has buzzed my ears, the nearby background filled with trees, insects and chirping birds. No more sound of private aeroplanes in the sky - a lost sound of independence.
If TV channels give way to Internet apps, what becomes of independent thinkers who want no gated communities of the thought process blocking their meandering wonderment?
And no, capitalism does not cause poverty. The ways people quench their hunger vary considerably. Personalities take up space comfortably in a large range of sizes. Some are satisfied with a piece of bread and some are not satisfied with a whole planet of wheat fields and bakeries.
Labels are easy to apply and not so easy to remove. Do not confuse capitalism and communism as distinct features of how we live. We barter our way through life - always have and always will. How we barter is a matter of changing tastes and survival techniques. Our skill sets seem to change but don't - we use our bodies and the stuff around us to transform ourselves constantly.
Do you force, coerce and/or encourage those around you to increase their activity, whether "physical" or "mental," in order to increase the means of barter for you and those who you consider your personal friends, colleagues, associates and family? How do you define the increase?: "improved productivity," "pleasing God in more ways everyday," "serving the people more efficiently," "making me richer in your honour"?
How you wish to present the emperor's new clothes to others is up to you but always, always, always be aware that not everyone is fooled.
These are ancient times. We still live like barbarians, slaughtering each other to get ahead, cutting off deer heads to claim superiourity, and boiling sassafras roots to cure ills we know little about.
Never assume this is the age to end all ages. Tens of hundreds of thousands of years will we continue to carve niches to call our own.
As we move into the moment when we discover we are not the center of the universe, let us pause to consider the points of view of extraterrestrial existence that knows us and the EE that doesn't. When we successfully see those views (and we never completely will, any more than we completely know another person), we'll see ourselves in a brighter light, too.
Is our species prepared to realign its goals to show we are a totally cooperative, non self-centered species rather than a warring, cannibalistic species?
Words are meaningless, ultimately. Thoughts are fleeting fantasies with no connection to reality.
Are you ready to have everything you know - all the plants, animals, buildings, social networks and history - change in what will feel like an instant but actually taken a longer time than you'll comparatively remember?
I do not exist. My name and face have no place, being only a placeholder, a mirage, an image representing states of energy.
I do not own the world but this world is mine to give away or save as I please. I choose to save the world because, although I find so much that is wrong with the way we treat one another and the other forms of life on this planet, there is so much more that is right about us and the way states of energy like us have found to exist.
How will you react when you find we are not alone? Will you form a defensive posture? Will you feel guilty? Will you welcome all the unknowns, including the benign "virus" that could reconfigure all of life as we know it? Would you accept that "alien" states of energy have flowed through us since the beginning of time, that there was never a moment we were not all part of the same universe-within-a-universe-outside-a-universe-within-...?
And if thinking was not part of what we'll do when we encounter that which we did not consciously know existed before?
What if we find our daily lives change very little by new information? Will we feel lesser or greater, better or worse, because we aren't the only things wiggling about in space?
We want the familiar. We want to interact the way we've been taught to interact through our socially-acceptable upbringing (according to local subcultural standards, of course), even if our interaction is considered counter- or antisocial.
These words do not exist and you might be able to see that it is so/not so.
States of energy influencing other states of energy, ad infinitum, with no end in sight.
We want levels of influence to keep increasing in order to provide our children bigger goals than the ones we accomplished in our finite lives.
What if the levels our children seek are so outside our realm of understanding we'll never appreciate what they're trying to accomplish while we're alive?
They already are.
2010-09-21
Waiting For A Phone Call
While waiting to hear back from Euro Tech about getting my 325i serviced due to a crunching sound I can't identify, I ponder the universe and movies like "Reuben, Reuben," "Her Alibi," "Silent Movie," "Monks: The Transatlantic Flashback," and "Airplane!".
Are you Accidental, Occidental, Oriental or Confidential?
My wife and I like to listen to books on tape/CD during long automobile-based trips. Lately, we listened to the 12-disc audio set of "A Tale of Two Cities," a sad but hopeful, triumphant but tragic story of regular lives caught in unusual times.
The narrator's voice, properly English, reminded me of the voice behind "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
In some ways, the stories are all the same: X vs. Y, taking Z into account.
Masks stacked up ready for charades.
I read war books as a child in order to study how to prevent them as an adult.
I read business philosophy books in order to study how unphilosophical we really are.
And always in the background, the steady flow of life.
I do not own the world. The universe is but a parlor game of illusions.
These words do not exist, coming as they do out of electronic bits.
All is all. And yet all is not as it appears.
People want a narrative, unevenly paced, exciting, tense, loving, romantic, deeply layered yet easy to understand, never sure about the ending but assured the ending indeed will occur assuredly.
Tom Swiftian in adverbial niceties.
Can a blog tell you what you cannot see in a blog?
Can the truth tell lies?
My only goal, despite appearances, is to set one word down after another to give the people what they want in batches of subcultural narratives tied into one big story about how we'll live to see another day in this forum or another form, for 'im or 'er.
Lift the blinders, unloose the leashes, release the chains, restore sanity where intolerable insanity has no place and get life as we know it moving off this planet toward the endless horizon of space in which our new forms of life will prosper in our stead.
We'll be like Sydney Carton and the young woman standing at the guillotine, giving our lives for others who will remember us in their own way. Hopefully, our lives will end less violently but our lives will end all the same, making a little bit of room for the next lives here and yet to be.
Thus one generation thinks it lives for itself while living for all following generations, instead.
We live in this moment together, seven billion personal reasons to call this moment one's own. Can we not see we live for one purpose only?: to ensure the states of energy we call ourselves find similarity in moments yet to be?
The religions of the world belong to all of us, whether we belong to them or not. Our hobbies, our jobs, our businesses, our governments - all of them enhance our lives.
It is time to find out what the Book of the Future says we'll be doing in a few years hence. Time to show you/me/us that trends trend up and trends trend down, with new trends trading places with old trends and old trends mixing with older trends to become new old-fashioned out-of-fashion fashionable trendlines.
Seven billion people are all members of the world government. Globalisation is what our species has always been about. Sure, we'd like superheroes to come flying in to save us from the less tolerable members of our species nearby but we've got ourselves to rescue ourselves from ourselves.
Use the power of the majority to protect the beliefs of the minorities because we're all part of one minority or another.
Keep laughing 'cause none of us get out of here alive.
Are you Accidental, Occidental, Oriental or Confidential?
My wife and I like to listen to books on tape/CD during long automobile-based trips. Lately, we listened to the 12-disc audio set of "A Tale of Two Cities," a sad but hopeful, triumphant but tragic story of regular lives caught in unusual times.
The narrator's voice, properly English, reminded me of the voice behind "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
In some ways, the stories are all the same: X vs. Y, taking Z into account.
Masks stacked up ready for charades.
I read war books as a child in order to study how to prevent them as an adult.
I read business philosophy books in order to study how unphilosophical we really are.
And always in the background, the steady flow of life.
I do not own the world. The universe is but a parlor game of illusions.
These words do not exist, coming as they do out of electronic bits.
All is all. And yet all is not as it appears.
People want a narrative, unevenly paced, exciting, tense, loving, romantic, deeply layered yet easy to understand, never sure about the ending but assured the ending indeed will occur assuredly.
Tom Swiftian in adverbial niceties.
Can a blog tell you what you cannot see in a blog?
Can the truth tell lies?
My only goal, despite appearances, is to set one word down after another to give the people what they want in batches of subcultural narratives tied into one big story about how we'll live to see another day in this forum or another form, for 'im or 'er.
Lift the blinders, unloose the leashes, release the chains, restore sanity where intolerable insanity has no place and get life as we know it moving off this planet toward the endless horizon of space in which our new forms of life will prosper in our stead.
We'll be like Sydney Carton and the young woman standing at the guillotine, giving our lives for others who will remember us in their own way. Hopefully, our lives will end less violently but our lives will end all the same, making a little bit of room for the next lives here and yet to be.
Thus one generation thinks it lives for itself while living for all following generations, instead.
We live in this moment together, seven billion personal reasons to call this moment one's own. Can we not see we live for one purpose only?: to ensure the states of energy we call ourselves find similarity in moments yet to be?
The religions of the world belong to all of us, whether we belong to them or not. Our hobbies, our jobs, our businesses, our governments - all of them enhance our lives.
It is time to find out what the Book of the Future says we'll be doing in a few years hence. Time to show you/me/us that trends trend up and trends trend down, with new trends trading places with old trends and old trends mixing with older trends to become new old-fashioned out-of-fashion fashionable trendlines.
Seven billion people are all members of the world government. Globalisation is what our species has always been about. Sure, we'd like superheroes to come flying in to save us from the less tolerable members of our species nearby but we've got ourselves to rescue ourselves from ourselves.
Use the power of the majority to protect the beliefs of the minorities because we're all part of one minority or another.
Keep laughing 'cause none of us get out of here alive.
From lampposts to falling axe blades...
...the French know a thing or two about revolutionary reactions:
...the tumbrils begin to discharge their loads. The ministers of Sainte Guillotine are robed and ready. Crash!—A head is held up, and the knitting-women who scarcely lifted their eyes to look at it a moment ago when it could think and speak, count One.
The second tumbril empties and moves on; the third comes up. Crash!—And the knitting-women, never faltering or pausing in their Work, count Two.
The supposed Evremonde [Sydney Carton] descends, and the seamstress is lifted out next after him. He has not relinquished her patient hand in getting out, but still holds it as he promised. He gently places her with her back to the crashing engine that constantly whirrs up and falls, and she looks into his face and thanks him.
"But for you, dear stranger, I should not be so composed, for I am naturally a poor little thing, faint of heart; nor should I have been able to raise my thoughts to Him who was put to death, that we might have hope and comfort here to-day. I think you were sent to me by Heaven."
"Or you to me," says Sydney Carton. "Keep your eyes upon me, dear child, and mind no other object."
"I mind nothing while I hold your hand. I shall mind nothing when I let it go, if they are rapid."
"They will be rapid. Fear not!"
The two stand in the fast-thinning throng of victims, but they speak as if they were alone. Eye to eye, voice to voice, hand to hand, heart to heart, these two children of the Universal Mother, else so wide apart and differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair home together, and to rest in her bosom.
"Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? I am very ignorant, and it troubles me—just a little."
"Tell me what it is."
"I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I love very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in a farmer's house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she knows nothing of my fate—for I cannot write—and if I could, how should I tell her! It is better as it is."
"Yes, yes: better as it is."
"What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so much support, is this:—If the Republic really does good to the poor, and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may live a long time: she may even live to be old."
"What then, my gentle sister?"
"Do you think:" the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: "that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?"
"It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble there."
"You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now? Is the moment come?"
"Yes."
She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before him—is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two.
"I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."
The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. Twenty-Three.
They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic.
One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe—a woman—had asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given any utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these:
"I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out.
"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward.
"I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both.
"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place—then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement—and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."[From the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/98/98-h/98-h.htm]
WARNING: Some experts believe they are correct
A child asked me if it made sense that the proponents of Randian philosophy (the philosophy in summary: those who work hard for a living deserve to keep their earnings without having to support others) should work in an institute that siphons off money from those who work hard for a living. In additional irony, the child asked, should those Randian com/proponents be allowed to be quoted saying that although they live off others' earnings, they feel that those who work hard for themselves should be put up on pedestals and not harassed for contributions to those who do not work for themselves.
I regret I had but one answer to give that child: we live in the age of entitlement, so, if you work, get used to carrying a harness for the other 50% who don't.
Moo-o-o-o-o.
A consultant approached me about the sensitive subject of Middle East Peace, a euphemism for the "Israel" situation that perplexes the Arab world. The consultant asked what should be done about the settlement issue.
Seeing as how the developers do not want to stop building settlements, I suggested to the consultant (for grins) to recommend the Randian method - the settlements should be sold to the highest bidders throughout the world, regardless of race, gender, nationality, political affiliation, favourite wrestler or hated football rival.
As I walked away, I overheard the consultant talking to his banking friends in the Grand Caymans. Sounds like the usual route to peace - undisguised bribery - will win the day.
Do we know what shapes us? My mother told me a story about her childhood.
In primary school one year, my mother and her classmates were supposed to memorise a complex set of dance routines composed of intertwining circles probably reminiscent of reels or perhaps country, square or round dancing form.
One day that year, a substitute teacher, of stern disciplinary bent, told my mother and the other students that the teacher was stepping out of the room for a while and strictly forbade any students from getting up out of their seats while the teacher was gone.
My mother, not the misbehaving sort, decided it was a good opportunity to practice the complex dances with her classmates so she encouraged them to get up and practice their steps.
The teacher returned, saw what looked to her like children out of control, and punished the whole class by slapping every student on the palm of the hand with a heavy ruler.
My grandfather was displeased that a teacher would use a heavy stick on young people, which could have permanently damaged or broken bones and ligaments in the children's hands. My mother never saw the teacher afterward.
However, my mother never misbehaved in school again, later graduating as valedictorian of her senior class.
I asked my mother if she thought she should consider the substitute teacher the primary reason for my mother's good grades and thus one of my mother's top inspirations for becoming valedictorian.
My mother did not think so.
However, my mother, as a teacher herself (now retired), has seen through the years many of her former first grade students thank her for being the teacher that made the most significant difference in their lives because she kept her class and students under control in order to optimise the learning environment.
Do you see the purpose you serve, the influence you have upon others? I doubt many of us do, because we rarely understand the changing states of energy around us in the moment, let alone the changes we latently cause years later.
I regret I had but one answer to give that child: we live in the age of entitlement, so, if you work, get used to carrying a harness for the other 50% who don't.
Moo-o-o-o-o.
A consultant approached me about the sensitive subject of Middle East Peace, a euphemism for the "Israel" situation that perplexes the Arab world. The consultant asked what should be done about the settlement issue.
Seeing as how the developers do not want to stop building settlements, I suggested to the consultant (for grins) to recommend the Randian method - the settlements should be sold to the highest bidders throughout the world, regardless of race, gender, nationality, political affiliation, favourite wrestler or hated football rival.
As I walked away, I overheard the consultant talking to his banking friends in the Grand Caymans. Sounds like the usual route to peace - undisguised bribery - will win the day.
Do we know what shapes us? My mother told me a story about her childhood.
In primary school one year, my mother and her classmates were supposed to memorise a complex set of dance routines composed of intertwining circles probably reminiscent of reels or perhaps country, square or round dancing form.
One day that year, a substitute teacher, of stern disciplinary bent, told my mother and the other students that the teacher was stepping out of the room for a while and strictly forbade any students from getting up out of their seats while the teacher was gone.
My mother, not the misbehaving sort, decided it was a good opportunity to practice the complex dances with her classmates so she encouraged them to get up and practice their steps.
The teacher returned, saw what looked to her like children out of control, and punished the whole class by slapping every student on the palm of the hand with a heavy ruler.
My grandfather was displeased that a teacher would use a heavy stick on young people, which could have permanently damaged or broken bones and ligaments in the children's hands. My mother never saw the teacher afterward.
However, my mother never misbehaved in school again, later graduating as valedictorian of her senior class.
I asked my mother if she thought she should consider the substitute teacher the primary reason for my mother's good grades and thus one of my mother's top inspirations for becoming valedictorian.
My mother did not think so.
However, my mother, as a teacher herself (now retired), has seen through the years many of her former first grade students thank her for being the teacher that made the most significant difference in their lives because she kept her class and students under control in order to optimise the learning environment.
Do you see the purpose you serve, the influence you have upon others? I doubt many of us do, because we rarely understand the changing states of energy around us in the moment, let alone the changes we latently cause years later.
And speaking of campaigns...
Was it that long ago that my seventh great-grandfather, in and amongst his many adventures, marched through the hills and valleys to rightfully claim home rule? Were he and his comrades not one of the original inspirations for the likes of the Million Man March?:
'Tis great to be remembered, should we so choose. We create the past in this fleeting moment. What past are you creating right now for your descendants to remember fondly later on?
Overmountain Men MarchWithout our ancestors, we wouldn't be here, talking about whatever we want to talk about whenever we feel like talking.
'Tis great to be remembered, should we so choose. We create the past in this fleeting moment. What past are you creating right now for your descendants to remember fondly later on?
2010-09-20
From The Department of Consistent Inconsistencies
Sad news for my campaign finance officer, who had connected a tap into the international monetary exchange system from which he had siphoned off trillions, and the many volunteers around the country who had organised launches to my presidential candidate party aboard the secret Bigelow/SpaceShipTwo joint development project I was going to announce later this week...
My campaign manager advised me, after discussion with the cackle of lawyers I intentionally overpay, that in the slate of promises I successfully used to receive a vote of confidence from the invisible board of directors for total control of the world government in hiding - especially my promise not to double-dip - I cannot serve as leader of the free world and world leader at the same time.
Therefore, with much regret at how much fun I will miss giving stump speeches about:
Back to putting intolerance in its place. No matter who you are or where you live, my network is watching you and making plans on how to put you to use for purposes which you'll never be fully aware!
My campaign manager advised me, after discussion with the cackle of lawyers I intentionally overpay, that in the slate of promises I successfully used to receive a vote of confidence from the invisible board of directors for total control of the world government in hiding - especially my promise not to double-dip - I cannot serve as leader of the free world and world leader at the same time.
Therefore, with much regret at how much fun I will miss giving stump speeches about:
- requirements that all voters must cite at least five promises the candidate for which they'll vote has made, with a guess as to which four promises will not be kept,
- selling a slew of pork barrels (containing everything under the sun but pork), in sizes from one that fits on a keychain to one that can barely roll down a six-lane carriageway, with prizes inside specially-marked packages,
- promising a pony in every garage (as soon as Ford completes its transfer of funds to my offshore account),
- guaranteeing a bottle of HFCS [a/k/a corn sugar] in every kitchen (having already received my ADM multimillion "donation"),
- warm stories recounting my childhood, including the mosquito I saved from a life of addiction to blood,
- finessing the art of heckling the hecklers,
Back to putting intolerance in its place. No matter who you are or where you live, my network is watching you and making plans on how to put you to use for purposes which you'll never be fully aware!
2010-09-19
Commodore PET
Speaking of deals, a friend asked how many contracts he needed to get canceled with a certain chemical company located on the Holston River to prove that annexing any more property will prove unprofitable for the local municipality. I told my friend let's wait and see. I've seen enough companies go bankrupt in that odourous town as it is, with enough mercury poisoning in the streams and creeks to make bottom-feeding politicians catfish wish they were born in a different watershed.
Like I said, give me something funny. Watching Chinese and Japanese argue over a little fishing is about as hilarious as wondering if people driving government vehicles late at night or on weekends are really conducting "official" business.
It's getting ugly around here and I'm not just talking about my BO or my 401(k).
Don't keep me entertained and I tend to get mischievous, sticking my nose into other people's business and causing havoc in order to tickle my funny bone for absolutely no purpose whatsoever.
Think I'll announce my candidacy for the U.S. presidency. I've got about as many credentials as the next person -- I promise I will not raise taxes, start a war or take a salary while in office. I'll make sure members of Congress take all the credit/blame they deserve. I'll turn U.S. government office buildings into free flat rentals for those with no place to live. They just have to vacate their flats during work hours so government employees can keep doing whatever it is they're doing now, only with soiled linens and pictures of other people's families in their cubicles (those working in outsourced customer service call centers will already be familiar with the situation). All my speeches will be available for sale to the bidder with the largest number of comedy writers on staff.
Time to write another story-within-a-building-story-building-a-story in the parallel universe called this blog. Hmm.... who wants to be permanent parody material on a putty pedestal?
Like I said, give me something funny. Watching Chinese and Japanese argue over a little fishing is about as hilarious as wondering if people driving government vehicles late at night or on weekends are really conducting "official" business.
It's getting ugly around here and I'm not just talking about my BO or my 401(k).
Don't keep me entertained and I tend to get mischievous, sticking my nose into other people's business and causing havoc in order to tickle my funny bone for absolutely no purpose whatsoever.
Think I'll announce my candidacy for the U.S. presidency. I've got about as many credentials as the next person -- I promise I will not raise taxes, start a war or take a salary while in office. I'll make sure members of Congress take all the credit/blame they deserve. I'll turn U.S. government office buildings into free flat rentals for those with no place to live. They just have to vacate their flats during work hours so government employees can keep doing whatever it is they're doing now, only with soiled linens and pictures of other people's families in their cubicles (those working in outsourced customer service call centers will already be familiar with the situation). All my speeches will be available for sale to the bidder with the largest number of comedy writers on staff.
Time to write another story-within-a-building-story-building-a-story in the parallel universe called this blog. Hmm.... who wants to be permanent parody material on a putty pedestal?
Alcoholic Commander In The National Guard? [not for children]
Well, well, well. Another interesting situation where national security is at risk because of a drinking problem and a CYAhole. If I was a high-level leader in charge of keeping Bubba bombers out of harm's way in the outer rings of hazmat womd territorial protection, I'd make sure my subordinates could handle their drinks without getting out of control (and thus, lying through their teeth to keep their jobs - how far will they carry their lies?).
But I'm not.
Instead, I'm barraged by those who want to get the modestly conservative voice heard, as in the following quote pointed out to me today [from 1 Timothy 2]:
Thus, the Christian crowd, ultraconservative or not, is asked if it is of literalist or figurativist belief. If the former, then one cannot support Palin, Pelosi, Oprah, O'Donnell, etc., if one believes this is a true Christian nation and 1 Timothy is literally true. If the latter, the Bible is a general guide subject to personal interpretation and anything goes.
Meanwhile, I've got to go cash a reality check that's about to expire. Somebody help me out here. I'm walking through the county fair funhouse mirror maze carrying my corn in a jar. Where's the exit. I need an outhouse, quick!
But I'm not.
Instead, I'm barraged by those who want to get the modestly conservative voice heard, as in the following quote pointed out to me today [from 1 Timothy 2]:
"9 I also want women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, 10 but with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God.
11 A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. 12 I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent. 13 For Adam was formed first, then Eve. 14 And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner. 15 But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety."
Thus, the Christian crowd, ultraconservative or not, is asked if it is of literalist or figurativist belief. If the former, then one cannot support Palin, Pelosi, Oprah, O'Donnell, etc., if one believes this is a true Christian nation and 1 Timothy is literally true. If the latter, the Bible is a general guide subject to personal interpretation and anything goes.
Meanwhile, I've got to go cash a reality check that's about to expire. Somebody help me out here. I'm walking through the county fair funhouse mirror maze carrying my corn in a jar. Where's the exit. I need an outhouse, quick!
Attractions and Detractions
Positive news: UT football team players keep their heads in the whole game. Next on the list will be overcoming mistakes.
Thanks to UT physical plant team; Crown & Goose kitchen staff, Scott, barman; Pizza Palace staff, Ashley.
Negative news: personally, I spit on the folks involved in annexing my folks' area, who claim they are doing my parents and others a favour by increasing their taxes during their fixed income years. Kingsport, I will make sure I reduce my shopping in your landgrab city limits. May the fleas of a thousand stray dogs infect you city planners and others in the Model City's administrative positions!
Good, I feel better. I can look forward to a peaceful week of whatever life is supposed to be all about in the funny pages. Goodbye, Cathy, your domestic comics entertained us quietly.
Thanks to UT physical plant team; Crown & Goose kitchen staff, Scott, barman; Pizza Palace staff, Ashley.
Negative news: personally, I spit on the folks involved in annexing my folks' area, who claim they are doing my parents and others a favour by increasing their taxes during their fixed income years. Kingsport, I will make sure I reduce my shopping in your landgrab city limits. May the fleas of a thousand stray dogs infect you city planners and others in the Model City's administrative positions!
Good, I feel better. I can look forward to a peaceful week of whatever life is supposed to be all about in the funny pages. Goodbye, Cathy, your domestic comics entertained us quietly.
2010-09-17
When are property taxes due?
Today, this past week, probably the past few months and years, the world has not been big enough to satisfy my desire for more.
What is "more"? I do not know.
I repeat my research of subjects of interest.
I run out of curiously funny thoughts and ideas to entertain my brain.
I do not desire to end my life but I have what left to pursue to discover something new?
And yet there is nothing new.
I am tired. My body aches. I know many are in worse conditions than me but I am not them even if they would gladly be in my position.
What do connections get me? What do colleagues and associates bring to me that I don't already know in another place and time, if not now?
There is no worry about saving the species from itself. It will survive in one form or another as the global ecosystem changes.
If I - me, personally - will not live to travel to other worlds, does it matter if some other members of my species go in my place?
If I am not happy, then altruism loses its appeal.
I promote the new ways of life (equality for women, in this case) but I am also connected to the Old Guard, standing on a bridge that crosses to a previous age when a man who liked what a man liked when he wanted to like it took what he wanted without getting permission from polite society. There is that caveman in me, I know.
If the caveman thoughts still roam through my synapses and veins, then it courses through the bodies of others, too, in weaker and stronger doses.
In a world where women are becoming more assertive/aggressive, where does a man like me find a comfortable place to call his own?
I cannot see a place for me. I am trapped in a corner with no escape, my supply of oxygen and food dwindling, reducing me down to nothing, back to the basic states of energy from which I sprang.
The future belongs to the youngest generation whose members have not lived in a state between the old world and the new. They will figure out how the whole equality thing will play out.
I will continue to fade away, wandering the woods in my caveman mode, pretending I'm the king of the forest, peeing against trees and boulders to mark my manly territory while looking for submissive females who no longer exist.
My time has come and gone. I am a relic of a past that may never have existed but at least I let myself be led to believe it did.
What is virility if you can't use it? What are good looks and muscle strength if no females are looking at us strutting peacocks?
I no longer exist (if I ever existed). I am a shell of the man I might have been, lost in a world of thoughts that have no place in the new world order.
I am severing my ties to my colleagues, associates and friends because what they have to show me shows me nothing I can use for myself.
My time on this planet is limited. I want to devote that time to myself and let the rest of the world sort out all the problems that never really existed in the first place.
I am tired of living as if this world is mine because it is not mine. It is yours to do with as you please and always has been.
I'm curling back up into my shell and pretending I live in the world where warriors, cowboys and the James Bonds of the world were men who knew what they wanted and took it.
I am tired. The world goes on without me, my contribution less than an iota of an iota of difference.
This and other blogs, books, poems, etc., I've written, gave me the feeling I was part of something bigger than myself. All along, the world progressed faster and faster ahead of me until I can no longer pretend I am part of it.
I am the fossil I have bemoaned. I am the old fogey stuck in the past I always knew I was, my thoughts locked in at about age 10, listening to easy-listening music made from tunes of the '30s, '40s and '50s.
I am part of the walking dead, stuck in a kind of living purgatory, forever lost in the gee-whiz developments of new technology that pass by like UFOs.
I am tired. I cannot prop myself up any longer. I do not want to cope with or hawk changes that have no meaning to me anymore.
I am an old dog who's run out of the desire to learn new tricks.
You can bury my fossilised remains in the backyard. Maybe an archaeologist will pretend to make heads or tails of what my life was like. I sure can't.
What is "more"? I do not know.
I repeat my research of subjects of interest.
I run out of curiously funny thoughts and ideas to entertain my brain.
I do not desire to end my life but I have what left to pursue to discover something new?
And yet there is nothing new.
I am tired. My body aches. I know many are in worse conditions than me but I am not them even if they would gladly be in my position.
What do connections get me? What do colleagues and associates bring to me that I don't already know in another place and time, if not now?
There is no worry about saving the species from itself. It will survive in one form or another as the global ecosystem changes.
If I - me, personally - will not live to travel to other worlds, does it matter if some other members of my species go in my place?
If I am not happy, then altruism loses its appeal.
I promote the new ways of life (equality for women, in this case) but I am also connected to the Old Guard, standing on a bridge that crosses to a previous age when a man who liked what a man liked when he wanted to like it took what he wanted without getting permission from polite society. There is that caveman in me, I know.
If the caveman thoughts still roam through my synapses and veins, then it courses through the bodies of others, too, in weaker and stronger doses.
In a world where women are becoming more assertive/aggressive, where does a man like me find a comfortable place to call his own?
I cannot see a place for me. I am trapped in a corner with no escape, my supply of oxygen and food dwindling, reducing me down to nothing, back to the basic states of energy from which I sprang.
The future belongs to the youngest generation whose members have not lived in a state between the old world and the new. They will figure out how the whole equality thing will play out.
I will continue to fade away, wandering the woods in my caveman mode, pretending I'm the king of the forest, peeing against trees and boulders to mark my manly territory while looking for submissive females who no longer exist.
My time has come and gone. I am a relic of a past that may never have existed but at least I let myself be led to believe it did.
What is virility if you can't use it? What are good looks and muscle strength if no females are looking at us strutting peacocks?
I no longer exist (if I ever existed). I am a shell of the man I might have been, lost in a world of thoughts that have no place in the new world order.
I am severing my ties to my colleagues, associates and friends because what they have to show me shows me nothing I can use for myself.
My time on this planet is limited. I want to devote that time to myself and let the rest of the world sort out all the problems that never really existed in the first place.
I am tired of living as if this world is mine because it is not mine. It is yours to do with as you please and always has been.
I'm curling back up into my shell and pretending I live in the world where warriors, cowboys and the James Bonds of the world were men who knew what they wanted and took it.
I am tired. The world goes on without me, my contribution less than an iota of an iota of difference.
This and other blogs, books, poems, etc., I've written, gave me the feeling I was part of something bigger than myself. All along, the world progressed faster and faster ahead of me until I can no longer pretend I am part of it.
I am the fossil I have bemoaned. I am the old fogey stuck in the past I always knew I was, my thoughts locked in at about age 10, listening to easy-listening music made from tunes of the '30s, '40s and '50s.
I am part of the walking dead, stuck in a kind of living purgatory, forever lost in the gee-whiz developments of new technology that pass by like UFOs.
I am tired. I cannot prop myself up any longer. I do not want to cope with or hawk changes that have no meaning to me anymore.
I am an old dog who's run out of the desire to learn new tricks.
You can bury my fossilised remains in the backyard. Maybe an archaeologist will pretend to make heads or tails of what my life was like. I sure can't.
2010-09-16
Rumpus Room
More documents/brochures to devour with my bratwurst und bier in time for Oktoberfest:
- Course of the Rhine from Mayence to Cologne (with sidly description and auto - streets), copyright 1950s? Karl Rud. Bremer & Co. publish house, Cologne/Rhine
- Romantic Heidelberg, Speyer City of Emperors
- Germany Land of Artistic Masterpieces, Printed by Buchbender & Kroth, Bonn
- Friedberg in Hessen...die alte Freie Reichsstadt und Kaiserburg
- Alsfeld Hessen, Die Heimstatt Althessischer Bau-Und Handwerkskunst
- Upper Black-Forest Germany, 2600-5000 feet
- Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Museen Sehenswürdigkeiten - Kleinod des Mittelalters, Lebendiges, Zeugnis deutscher Vergangenheit
- Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Sehenswertes, Wissenswertes
- Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Worth seeing, Worth knowing (English)
- Bamberg
- Münchner Woche, 18.-25. März 1955
- Romantische Straβ
- Frankfurt - Information and Tips For The Visitor (english), Stadt, Frankfurt am Main, as of March 1991
- Frankfurt on Main, a cosmopolitan city
- Miltenberg am Main, Hotel Riefen
- Schloβ
- Gruβ aus Wuppertal - Elberfeld
- Institut Kloster Sieβen/Saulgau (Württ.), Lourdesgrotte
- Institut Kloster Sieβen/Saulgau (Württ.),Pfarrkirche
Picking Up, Nothing Down
More sticks than I can throw a thanks at:
Jordan R. at Steak Out; Theron Smith at Hilton; Annaliese and Amier at UBC; Bubba's Stephenson Dairy Bar; Pam Cooper at Dr. Pugh's office; Dan & Fay; Sweet Tooth Cafe; Rogersville Produce Market (Mountain View Bakery butter - mmmm); Pal's Sudden Service; Hobby Lobby; Angie at Cheddar's; Medical Center Pharmacy w/famous grill & sandwich shop; Drs. Velasco and Dalle-Ave (Lisa Cook, RNP); Blaine Hardware & feed; Brittany at Barley's (Cottonwood Pumpkin, Rogue Shakespeare Stout and Southern Pecan Nut Brown); Brandy and Dale at Shoney's; Alex and Chad Miller via ticketsbyphone; Janice at Walmart; Amis Mill Eatery (interesting story about finding original mill wheel in rubble of old river mill); math teacher and others, including SRO, at SCHS; Mom and Dad; Bill Lee; Mrs. B; Peggy; David and Melinda; the Jerdons
Jordan R. at Steak Out; Theron Smith at Hilton; Annaliese and Amier at UBC; Bubba's Stephenson Dairy Bar; Pam Cooper at Dr. Pugh's office; Dan & Fay; Sweet Tooth Cafe; Rogersville Produce Market (Mountain View Bakery butter - mmmm); Pal's Sudden Service; Hobby Lobby; Angie at Cheddar's; Medical Center Pharmacy w/famous grill & sandwich shop; Drs. Velasco and Dalle-Ave (Lisa Cook, RNP); Blaine Hardware & feed; Brittany at Barley's (Cottonwood Pumpkin, Rogue Shakespeare Stout and Southern Pecan Nut Brown); Brandy and Dale at Shoney's; Alex and Chad Miller via ticketsbyphone; Janice at Walmart; Amis Mill Eatery (interesting story about finding original mill wheel in rubble of old river mill); math teacher and others, including SRO, at SCHS; Mom and Dad; Bill Lee; Mrs. B; Peggy; David and Melinda; the Jerdons
A New Hero
"This meeting is called to order."
"The Brotherhood of the Pure French Race is all present and accounted for, sir."
"Good. What is on tonight's agenda?"
"Awarding the Special Commendation of the Order of The Purist."
"For six decades you have brought up this award and offered me no candidates. It is about time we abolish this award and create one for the Not-So-Pure, is it not?"
"As direct heir to the throne of the French Empire, Ms. Bruni, sir, you may do what you wish. However, this evening we would like to nominate your 'usband."
"And what has my husband accomplished that qualifies him for this award?"
"He has started the process whereby we will rid our country of the impure. First, he transfers the gypsy population. Next he will transfer..."
"Enough! You cannot give away state secrets, even in this private of private meetings!"
"But, sir, you yourself said that the World War II was a secret plot by the French to destroy the Germans and establish the French Empire once again."
"I am surrounded by imbeciles. Why did I think that fashion magazine owners and writers could keep quiet?"
"You hired us because we are your biggest fans."
"And you have taught me that 'fan' is not the same as fanatic or fanaticism. If only Napoleon could advise me on what to do..."
"What about your 'usband?"
"He is no Napoleon."
"But does he deserve the award?"
"What? Oui, oui. Give him the award. It will make the extremists happy. The rest of the French people are apathetic and will not care. He will hold the confidence of the ones who count."
"Let the records show that the power behind the throne has selected her 'usband for the award given for the first time in sixty years."
"This meeting is adjourned. We will gather in the cabaret for our apres-meeting aperitifs. Adieu."
"The Brotherhood of the Pure French Race is all present and accounted for, sir."
"Good. What is on tonight's agenda?"
"Awarding the Special Commendation of the Order of The Purist."
"For six decades you have brought up this award and offered me no candidates. It is about time we abolish this award and create one for the Not-So-Pure, is it not?"
"As direct heir to the throne of the French Empire, Ms. Bruni, sir, you may do what you wish. However, this evening we would like to nominate your 'usband."
"And what has my husband accomplished that qualifies him for this award?"
"He has started the process whereby we will rid our country of the impure. First, he transfers the gypsy population. Next he will transfer..."
"Enough! You cannot give away state secrets, even in this private of private meetings!"
"But, sir, you yourself said that the World War II was a secret plot by the French to destroy the Germans and establish the French Empire once again."
"I am surrounded by imbeciles. Why did I think that fashion magazine owners and writers could keep quiet?"
"You hired us because we are your biggest fans."
"And you have taught me that 'fan' is not the same as fanatic or fanaticism. If only Napoleon could advise me on what to do..."
"What about your 'usband?"
"He is no Napoleon."
"But does he deserve the award?"
"What? Oui, oui. Give him the award. It will make the extremists happy. The rest of the French people are apathetic and will not care. He will hold the confidence of the ones who count."
"Let the records show that the power behind the throne has selected her 'usband for the award given for the first time in sixty years."
"This meeting is adjourned. We will gather in the cabaret for our apres-meeting aperitifs. Adieu."
Say "No" To Blonde Hair Bleach
Just one more reason to show that the use of hair bleach at an early age leads to a life of danger...I mean, a life of fun. Yes, fun...and, uh...well... See for yourself:
http://www.knoxnews.com/photos/2010/sep/08/98331/
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