Monthly Archives: March 2012

Luminescent triangles of pewter, on stolen coasters….

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12

Ffolkes,
“The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.” — May Sarton

Man, I certainly hope so! If not, what the hell am I doing here? I’m sure as hell not spewing out my guts every day just so people will like me; it’s nice when they do, and helps me appreciate the good that remains in this sad old world, but I’m too old to spend any more effort worrying about how what I say when I write might upset somebody’s applecart. I write to get the stuff in my head out where I can look at it objectively, or at least editorially, and where I can make a rational decision as to whether or not it needs to be eased out, gently and persuasively, or spit out, decisively and vehemently.

I try not to spew too widely, to actually aim what I’m throwing, so that individuals don’t get mistakenly drenched in vitriol, but I can’t keep some folks from taking things too literally, or too personally. I think that, considering how forcefully I have been known to rant, I’ve been very fortunate that I’ve never had what I consider to be a flaming response; everyone who’s ever commented has been polite and encouraging, even those who not fully convinced of my sanity. I’ve met a lot of really nice folks here on WordPress, and online in general, and I thank every one of them for their time spent reading this drivel, and for what I get to read in return. I’m a lucky guy…..  So be it….. let’s Pearl….

“…If I seem to give a damn, please tell me. I would hate to be giving the wrong impression.” — Anonymous, but it could’ve been me….  🙂

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“…Another writer again agreed with all my generalities, but said that as an inveterate skeptic I have closed my mind to the truth.  Most notably I have ignored the evidence for an Earth that is six thousand years old.  Well, I haven’t ignored it; I considered the purported evidence and *then* rejected it. There is a difference, and this is a difference, we might say, between prejudice and postjudice.  Prejudice is making a judgment before you have looked at the facts.  Postjudice is making a judgment afterwards.  Prejudice is terrible, in the sense that you commit injustices and you make serious mistakes.  Postjudice is not terrible.  You can’t be perfect of course; you may make mistakes also.  But it is permissible to make a judgment after you have examined the evidence.  In some circles it is even encouraged.” — Carl Sagan, The Burden of Skepticism, Skeptical Enquirer, Vol. 12, pg. 46

This response by Carl Sagan to one of his fundamentalist detractors shows an important side of the entire argument (re: creationism vs. evolution) that few folks either acknowledge, or understand. In addition to this important point, the manner in which he couches his response is also to be admired…. He states, then examines the claim made by the one contending with him over this question, in a very calm, reasonable, and reasoned fashion, and explains exactly how the claim departs the realm of truth.

Carl is gentle with his opponent, indubitably nicer to him/her than I would be; I tend to grow impatient with such nonsensical conversations quickly. But he is very polite in taking the time to show how what he has done is completely different than what he is accused of, for the simple reason that the accuser made his accusation based on an assumption that could not be either proved, nor justified by reasonable argument. On the other side of the coin, and the street, Carl makes his point, with a small smile, and then, with a short, pithy observation at the end, he twists the knife, hard, and adds a touch of irony and sardonicism that most likely went flying merrily, right over the head of his opponent…… Beautiful!…..
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“To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.” — Sun Tzu (fl. c. BC 500)

The appeal of this statement is chiefly seen in its quality of simplicity, that allows even the simplest of minds to grasp and partake of its wisdom. But the grandeur, and the very depth of this piece of knowledge, often go unseen, and are little understood among the common folk. To fully understand this concept in its subtlety, one must place Sun Tzu in the correct context.

As the author of The Art of War, Sun Tzu remains as one of history’s most important figures, both in a military sense, and in a more culture-wide view of his accomplishments; the precepts in that book are still used in military schools world-wide, including West Point and Annapolis. One of those few in human history whose worth was well-known in his own time, Sun Tzu revolutionized thought on the purpose, and the very nature of the structure of armies, strategy, tactics, on the political uses of force, and on the conduct of those who would be warriors. One rumored legend claims that he never lost a battle; I see this as an exaggeration, most likely, but demonstrates the esteem in which he was held by both his supporters, and his enemies.

The strength and grandeur of this statement to which I refer is rooted in what it says, in contrast with who and what Sun Tzu was. Here is a man universally acknowledged to be the greatest warrior of his time, possibly of all time; a man who has spent his life thinking about, and practicing the art and science of war and weaponry. And what is his secret, according to him? That his work is best done when not done at all….. a paradox of unlimited possibility. Attitude, preparation, position, timing, all are key factors in a battle or war, but all are most efficiently utilized when they are never deployed for use….. this may be the single most difficult lesson a true warrior has to learn over the course of life on the warrior’s path, but learning this one key attitude provides the truest context for any other actions one may consider, and the most elegant solution to any problem of conflict…..
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Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe

— _Jabberwocky_, by Lewis Carroll (Charles Dodgson)

Now, on most days, I would include all of the first four stanzas of this classic piece of Victorian literature (which may be recognized, mostly, for it’s irrepressible need to break beyond the oppressive cultural standards of reserve at every opportunity. To be silly was to be, somehow, less than British….). But, today, upon reading this, what immediately went through my mind was, “well, shit, that happens to me all the time!”……

I ask you… is that a normal response? I have no more idea what this means than the next bozo, (without closing my eyes and channeling Zippy…) and I defy anyone at all to say they do, without first showing their certification as recently graduated from therapy (or theology: I think we all confuse those two….. both have their uses, but are extremely annoying to keep around for very long…. not to mention the expense of either one…..) (preachers are always asking for more on top of the 10% tithe they guilt everybody about, it’s what the 700 Club is all about; and let’s not get started on doctor’s fees…. $110 for 50 minutes?  You’re shitting me, right? Psychiatrists are getting as arrogant as lawyers, and we all know what we’d like to do with them…..)

But, all reasonable objections aside, what is a psychiatrist, or even a priest, going to be able to tell me about this? Are they gonna cure me of understanding gibberish? Will they drive this devil out of my fevered mind, to the everlasting regret of my soul? (Not to mention the clean-up after an exorcism; no one ever tells you about that part, do they? It’s the worst part, having to clean up all that blood and vomit that gets spread everywhere…. and who’s gonna ask the priest to do it, eh?….. it’s always the ‘nice’ brother who gets stuck with that crappy chore…..)  No, they’re not, and not merely because I’m pointing a shotgun at them… they can’t…. if I want to understand it, fuck ’em, ain’t none of theirs…. and knowing what it says, well, that’s priceless…..
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“Beauty is a form of genius–is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts in the world like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in dark water of that silver shell we call the moon.” — Oscar Wilde (1856-1900)

Sometimes, when Oscar speaks, it is almost an onomatopoeia, (woo-hoo! spelled it right in one!….). For those of you who, like me, are a bit unclear on the word’s exact meaning, having not used it, or seen it for close to 45 years, well, it may not be unreasonable to expect some confusion. But, as you most likely did, or will do, I looked it up to make sure I remembered correctly what it meant. Since I did, what I said is, for me at least, quite true…. to me, being able to write like that is a thoroughly admirable trait…. I would guess I’m not alone in hoping that my writing will someday achieve the same quality…. to serve by its very existence, structure, and most importantly, its sound, as a perfect expression in Reality of what the words describe.  “Beauty is a form of genius”….. “like sunlight, or springtime, or….”  Just reading the sentence takes one’s mind and imagination precisely to the spot in Reality where that concept resides, where one may look at it, touch its face, and breathe the perfume of its grace and charm…..
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It is the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance.
It is the dream afraid of waking
that never takes a chance.
It is the one who won’t be taken
who cannot seem to give.
And the soul afraid of dying
that never learns to live.
— Bette Midler, The Rose

Well, it seemed to take forever to find the last pearl for today, but serendipity stepped in once more to grace our presence with its bounty…. the above is one of my all-time favorite songs, both for the simple depth and beauty of the poetry, and for the same simple depth and beauty of its performance by Ms. Midler.  If you are not familiar with it, take a couple moments to Google it, or ask You Tube to find a video version; it will be there somewhere. (I think she also sang it in one of her movies, title not in memory, but the one where she and her lover are performers for the USO during WWII….)

Listen closely to the lyrics, not just this stanza, but the entire song, chorus and all.  You won’t regret it, unless, of course, you have left all sense of taste in your other pants….. no lessons here, just let it make your day…… it has that power….. hell, it’s so good, I didn’t even have to go listen to it; it’s playing nice and softly in my head right now…..
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“Don’t try to have the last word. You might get it.” — Lazarus Long

Well…. like most authors, I tend to forget this little bit of important wisdom in the heat and distraction of the creative process… after a while, pounding the keyboard just seems like the natural response to outrage, or angst, or even just incipient boredom. But, it goes hand in hand with another fine old truism from Eastern philosophy, “be careful what you wish for, you might get it”……. Y’all take care out there…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Venal to sublime is ready in booth two….

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7

Ffolkes,
The process of getting up in the morning was somewhat delayed today, when I started to arise, and my brain SNARLED at me! It’s never done that before, and needless to say, I was a bit shocked! It didn’t bite, but it sure sounded serious; I was compelled to soothe it a bit by sitting on the edge of the bed, petting and talking to it softly; after just a moment or two, it stopped its grumbling and joined the rest of the group in getting on with routine. Before it got up to join the rest, it even gave me a big sloppy lick on the face, as if to say it was sorry for growling at me…..

Whew! I don’t think I want to go through THAT every morning; I’d better check its feed, see if something out of the ordinary got in there by mistake. Generally I only feed it massive amounts of well written words in a line, with accompanying classical or blues for music, and the occasional humorous cat or cute animal video for variety. Sometimes the videos will give it gas; maybe that’s the problem. I hope so, I sure don’t need a trip to the psychiatrist, just so I can get up in the AM without a fight…. at$90 or more an hour, it’s not a win-win….

With that short, yet all-too-long little nod to yesterday’s uncommon whimsy, we brace ourselves, and dive in willy-nilly, fully prepared to enjoy our daily Pearl…..
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“It’s said that ‘power corrupts’, but actually it’s  more true  that power attracts the corruptible.  The sane are usually attracted by other things than power.  When  they do  act,  they  think of it as service, which has limits. The tyrant, though, seeks mastery, for which he is  insatiable, implacable.” — David Brin, The Postman

I used this some months back, but it is so accurate, especially in today’s climate of political fooferah, (lovely word, so apropos! even if its made-up…), that I am compelled to use it again, without shame or remorse, for it is a piece of truth that we all need to be familiar with, for our own protection. You see, the current crop of folks vying for the top spot in the limelight that shifts around prior to the upcoming election frenzy in D.C. and all around this battered bastion of alleged freedom we call home, are all clearly members of the latter group, the potential tyrants. Hell, they are not merely clear examples of such, they are seemingly proud of it.

Each and every one of the pretenders to the throne (i.e., the “loyal opposition party”, or “candidates”, or, as they are known on the street, “the dog and pony show”) has made it clear that they are not seeking this position for the benefit of the American people; hell, they clearly don’t even like Americans much. They make statements every day that demonstrate that a) they are clueless as to what being the President actually entails; they continually make remarks that show they would be attempting to perform actions not within the purview, or the actual powers of, the Presidency, and b) they are more interested in promoting the ascendancy of their own particular religion than they are in taking part in a political process. And these guys are the BEST they think they can come up with to challenge the sitting party. Did I mention their apparently ingrained clueless state?….

That, I think, is the saving grace in the entire scenario…. these idiots are so out of touch with reality, and the American public they think they should represent, that no one with any sense at all is paying much attention to their writhing and contortions.  In spite of the nearly limitless presence of it in all sectors of society, there isn’t quite enough ignorance out there to quite be able to push us all down that road….. yet……. but don’t stop watching them! They’re sneaky, by nature……

“A generation which ignores history has no past and no future.” —  Robert Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long
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“I felt like poisoning a monk.” — Umberto Eco on why he wrote the novel The Name of the Rose.

I like this…. I think Umberto and I would have some lovely conversations. I can see us, sitting at a table at the edge of a beautiful garden, with vineyards in the distance, laughing and trading whoppers late into the night, while happily consuming large glasses of excellent wine, and scaring the wildlife….. No, really, what a great way to find one’s inspiration, especially for a tight, well-told murder mystery set in the what, 13th century? You could murder anybody you wanted, and never have to worry about getting arrested; imagine the release of tension as you personally described how the poison caused this pious asshole, (or noisy neighbor, whatever….) to shrivel up and die in unspeakable agony, after personally slipping the poison into the sacrificial wine you knew the pervert would be hitting right after the communion services….. exquisite!

Some mornings you will find, at the beginning of these gurgitations (can’t come up with exactly the word to describe what these are….fill in your own guess, if that one doesn’t do it for you….)….  a short opening paragraph or two from an as-yet unwritten new story that pops into my head on a regular basis. Unfortunately, as I tried to explain to a friend last night when she asked me to finish one of them, those opening paragraphs are the entire content of what my brain is percolating; no further details of said story are ever found anywhere.

But, as I told her, I’m just waiting…. one of these times, an outline of an entire plot-line, complete with suggested side-plots and characters to include or make up, will grow in my inner eye as I type, until there is enough to fill in a complete short story, or novelette, or who knows, an epic poem! (Probably not the latter; I’m aware of my limitations….small as they are….)  And I like to think it will all come from a moment such as Umberto describes…. an instant of mad whimsy that points me toward an opportunity to express my store of unlimited possibility…..
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A poem:                          to be read aloud:

<> !*”#                          Waka waka bang splat tick tick hash,
^`$$-                             Caret quote back-tick dollar dollar dash,
!*=@$_                         Bang splat equal at dollar under-score,
%*<> ~#4                     Percent splat waka waka tilde number 4,
&[]../                             Ampersand bracket bracket dot dot slash,
|{,,SYSTEM HALTED     Vertical-bar curly-bracket comma comma CRASH.

— Fred Bremmer and Steve Kroese — Calvin College & Seminary of Grand Rapids, MI.

The urge to poetry strikes even the humblest among us…..  🙂   Ain’t it Grand!…. and, for full understanding of this, to get the real feel, it MUST be read aloud….. enjoy!
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“Say what you will about the sweet miracle of unquestioning faith, I consider a capacity for it terrifying and absolutely vile!” — Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Yes…. sometimes I DO get tired of writing about heretical, oppositional, or even merely controversial things. But it’s not my fault! Every day, I read the news, I listen to the gossip (best source of REAL info on what folks are thinking about in their copious free time…), and I go online to find out what’s up out there in the world at large. What do I find?

Teens being murdered by bigots, or bullied and persecuted to the point of suicide for being ‘different’. People being starved or beaten, or killed by their own countrymen. People being starved, beaten, or killed by those from other countries (Our country in particular has a nasty habit of dropping bombs on places where we, well, wherever we feel like it….). Children being abused by priests, by educators, by corporations, by priests again, (sorry, but it’s pretty ubiquitous; more common than ever admitted, or guessed….), worst of all, by their own parents. Wars breaking out, over disputed territory, over paranoia, over false claims of insult to promote private agendas and ambitions, over whose imaginary friend dresses better.  Millions and millions of people oppressed economically and kept in ignorance, manipulated to chase after pipe dreams promoted by the elitist, sycophantic, racist churches and religious pundits of all faiths and formats, all of whom preach tolerance while practicing bigotry while supporting corruption. Women being kidnapped and forced to engage in prostitution, by sociopathic and sadistic misogynists (sometimes known as Conservative Republicans, or organized criminals) . OUR OWN FUCKING LEADERS SIGNING AWAY OUR DAMN RIGHTS, JUST AS IF THEY HAD ANY RIGHT TO DO SO, IN THE NAME OF “NATIONAL SECURITY” FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!!!

Odd, I don’t recall anything in the Constitution, or the Bill of Rights, that mentions “national security” as a legal, or even desirable, excuse to restrict the rights of American citizens…. but that may be because it’s not in there….. anywhere….. Tell them all to stop pulling all this stupid shit right in front of me, and I will stop writing about it…. deal?…..
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“I’ve wrestled with reality for 35 years, and I’m happy, Doctor, I finally won out over it.” — Jimmy Stewart in Harvey, 1950.

I’ve never before realized that “Harvey” was released the year I was born…. a nice little fact that adds to my conviction that it was an auspicious year for the Universe. It also may explain why I’ve always felt a particular connection to, and appreciation for, both the movie, and the brilliance of its protagonist, Elwood P. Dowd, so magnificently portrayed by Jimmy Stewart. I’ve always considered it to be one of the five best movies ever made, and still do. Its relevance and appeal for every man, woman, and child, its warmth and humor, its very insightful, accurate, and forgiving  character portrayals, its breezy insouciance and irrepressible positivism, all combine to give it that indefinable quality by which one can always recognize classic truth, costumed here in the guise of a large, amiable six-foot tall rabbit named Harvey……
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And so we come to the end of another day’s trip around my head…. if you’re having second thoughts as to the value of spending this much time on my ramblings, consider this…. it’s original, in a personal sense, if not always entirely new, fresh subject matter; it’s non-fattening, almost entirely protein-based; and the price is right, only a bit of your time and attention….. what a deal!  Come on back tomorrow, for another turn around my oyster beds…..  Y’all take care out there…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Kowabunga!

If the Sweet Bird sings late, Fate lives….

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19

Ffolkes,
Dark events are wont to take place under indifferent moons, which is why I make it a policy never to be out at the same time as a moon. This can be a tough policy to follow on a planet with six moons…. which is why I found myself in a meadow surrounded by tall oaks and madrone imported from legendary Earth, leaves shining in the pearly light, four miles from town in the dead of night, shivering under three of those bloody fake planets masquerading as moons, and watching morosely as a platoon of dark-clad Stank warriors silently filed into the clearing, laser-spears gleaming, to join the rest of us idiots. I could see, already, this was not going to be one of my nights, and I was seriously regretting my weakness in agreeing to join this mad party…..

Well, enough of that…. whoever that was, it doesn’t look like he’ll be having much fun for the next unknown period, so we’ll just leave him to his own devices, and get on with this morning’s real business, the fine art of hunting the creative urge, to trap, hopefully not to kill. T’is a wicked shy beastie, is creativity, and fond of leading me on long, winding chases in the dim morning light. It knows full well that I don’t sleep well, or deeply, and delights in taking advantage of the poor old fat guy who can no longer run very fast….. but, I’m getting smarter in my dotage, so to speak, and have learned to carry some of its favorite food, flattery cakes, which, given the chance, I can use to lure it close enough to use my magic lasso (the one I got from Wonder Woman, that time I loaned her a safety pin to keep her from having a wardrobe malfunction, just as she was getting ready to kick ass on the Penguin…..)  SIGH…. it makes for an interesting morning, but I kind of miss commuting…. NOT!

Having thus fulfilled the government-controlled and regulated daily quota of BS (who else would be in charge of it?), we will now Pearl……
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All we are saying.. is Give Peas a Chance.

This is the bumper sticker I put on my six year old Chivvy Mule…. it complements the one on my Old Bike, that says, “Visualize Whirled Peas”. Both were designed and distributed for sale by the Whirled Peas Institute, a division of the Peas Porridge Hot Corporation, makers of fine cliches and elegant bumper accessories for the entire coven. With their ages-old motto, “Pining for Peas!”, which adorns the dignified Giant Pea Pod atop the whirled-famous Peas HQ in downtown Beirut, shining out of the 75 foot high testament to good taste with cheerful hope, this beloved company stands as an example of the power of Hope, and the profit margins to be made from its devotees among the ignorant masses….

This advertisement is brought to you courtesy of a grant by the Lizzie/Ginger Corp., with supporting funds from Linda Vernon, Inc., that fine old international firm dedicated to bringing humor and insanity to those who need it most. Normally, (if that term can be applied to ANYTHING they do….) they don’t give grants, but this one also serves as a bribe, for advancing their claims as Heiresses of World Domination in the Whirled courts….. a project they have set their sights on for some time now…. encouraged shamelessly by both El Guapo and yours truly, (from whom they will inherit, if they’ll just hold their damn horses…..), using mainly under-funded household accounts sadly neglected by their long-suffering spousal units. Provided all of us can get our shit anywhere close to together, the transfer of power should take place before Christmas…. BUT NOT IF THEY KEEP WHINING ABOUT HOW LONG IT’S TAKING!  CAPISCE, CHICAS?!!!  We now return you to your regularly scheduled nonsense….
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According to experts, the oyster
In its shell – a crustacean cloister –
May frequently be
Either he or a she
Or both, if it should be its choice ter.

The die has been cast, and all dignity and sense is to be avoided at all cost today…. it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it…. You gotta love limericks…. they have to be one of the finest ways to stretch the mind through poetry there is, to my mind. Limericks join Haiku, along with the works of Ogden Nash, Shel Silverstein, Robert Frost, and a very few others, as those literary forms that are completely user-friendly. Anyone can learn to write limericks, or haiku, and learn to do it well. Not everyone may be able to match the creativity and precise outlook of these three sterling examples of this genre, which I like to call the People’s Poems, but just about anyone can make poetry that will please them and others, if only for its uniqueness. I don’t know about others, but writing a good haiku, or limerick, makes me feel pretty damn good…. and it’s a good way to meet like minded folks…. hell, it probably would help bring about whirled peas, if the whole whirled could just see it, and join in the fun….
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“You have to realize that the government, any government, is insane.  You have to treat it the way pagans treated their gods:  As an irrational, capricious, and powerful entity which will mete out total destruction if not sacrificed to or otherwise placated.” — Mike Long (future Libertarian revolutionary)

Okay, so I couldn’t stay funny for a whole post…. so sue me. Wait! Scratch that…. these days, somebody might just take me up on it, claiming cruel and unusual punishment, or some such…. any who, the above statement makes far too much sense to dismiss lightly. Considering my belief that anyone who desires to assume the position of POTUS, or any other similar position of power over others, is, by definition, stark raving mad, this proposition makes perfect sense to me.

As a true Patriot of this country, one who is completely dedicated to protecting the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights, I regard it as sacred Duty to do all I can to prevent any further inroads on the rights we were given as our legacy. These American pundits, who seek office, and power over others, like an addict seeks his needle, are the most dangerous threat our country has faced in over two hundred years. Our Founding Fathers even predicted this; I’ve read several letters from one of them to another, cautioning against the danger to these principles from internal sources. They even identified the most probable culprits, corporations and banks, and those who took their money (definition of an honest politician: one who stays bought…) …. even then, such entities were regarded with mistrust and suspicion as to their motives.

Thus, it becomes not just preference, but Duty, to speak out when new outrages are committed against the principles of freedom, to fight against ignorance, and avarice, and the unholy forces of Indifference with all my faculties and skills. If I, and anyone else who also fears what these people would do in the name of the Almighty Dollar, do not speak up, if we do not fight the modern trend toward apathy and despair, then we will deserve the slavery we accept by so failing to act…….

“Anyway, no drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we’re looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn’t test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.” — P.J. O’Rourke

“A ‘No’ uttered from deepest conviction is better and greater than a ‘Yes’ merely uttered to please, or what is worse, to avoid trouble.” — Mahatma Gandhi
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In the interests of consistency, that hobgoblin, and of continuing today’s attempt to stick to a theme, I present the following, which, though found without any attribution (how could anyone not be proud enough of this to want their name on it?), remains the perfect addition to a lineup that has not merely approached wacky, but left it in the dust….

The sky was dark, the moon was high
All alone just she and I
Her hair was soft, her eyes were blue
I knew just what she wanted to do
Her skin so soft, her legs so fine
I ran my fingers down her spine
I didn’t know how but I tried my best
I started by placing my hands on her breast
I remember my fear, my fast beating heart
But slowly she spread her legs apart
And when I did it I felt no shame
All at once – the white stuff came
At last it’s finished, it’s all over now
My first time ever at milking a cow…

It got me…. how ’bout you? I just wish I knew who wrote it, so I could find more like it….. delicious!….
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Three poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of thought surpass’d;
The next, in majesty; in both the last.
The force of Nature could no further go;
To make a third, she join’d the former two.
— John Dryden (1631-1700) — Under Mr. Milton’s Picture

Do what you wanna, do what you will;
Just don’t mess up your neighbor’s thrill.
And when you pay the bill, kindly leave a little tip
To help the next poor sucker on his one-way trip.
— Frank Zappa, You Are What You Is

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
— John Dryden (1631-1700) — Mariage a la Mode, Act ii, Sc. 1

John Dryden… 10 letters…. Frank Zappa… 10 letters…. John Milton… 10 letters….Coincidence?…. I think not….. further unquestionable evidence of reincarnation, or at least, serendipity, wouldn’t you say?……
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I can only hope that today’s unexpected, but welcome, outburst of whimsy has no deleterious effect on the remainder of my ephemeral consciousness on this diurnal interval, although there are worse ways to spend the day than with furious spates of capriciousness and unadulterated fun. Let’s follow the wisest course, of expecting nothing, and appreciating whatever does turn up…. Y’all take care out there…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Kowabunga!

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8

A completely amazing post from BuddhaKat, complete with the perfect complementary video…. make time to read and watch it all…. you’ll remember it, guaranteed…

BuddhaKat's avatarBuddhaKat

“On July 20, 1969, Commander Neil Armstrong became the first man on the moon. He said the historic words,
“That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.”

A camera in the Lunar Module provided live television coverage as Neil Armstrong climbed down the ladder to the surface of the moon.”   ᔥ  Kidport.com

Photo courtesy Kidport.com (ᔥGoogle Images)
If you were alive on July 20, 1969 and can remember that most exciting day, then you are most fortunate, indeed. If you had your eyes glued to the television, that is. Which was probably black and white. I must admit, back then, I thought it was kind of corny, that whole one step, big step  giant leap thingy. I mean really. That’s not very good poetry.

Then fast forward bzzzzzzz to now. And I think how small I thought back then…

View original post 598 more words

Frantic memories of split infinitives….

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9

Ffolkes,
Certain that I left it here somewhere, I didn’t worry a bit; I figured I’d come out this morning, pick it up, and dive right in. But it’s not here. I distinctly remember setting it down right next to the computer, then….. nothing. No memories are clear after that point. It might have something to do with the bourbon…. nah! Can’t be that; it’s never f___ed with me like that before. But, since it’s the only factor not accounted for, I suppose we’ll have to please all the teetotalers out there, and blame it on Demon Rum, or in this case Satan’s Sour Mash. It’s okay, though, it’s not really a panic…. I’ve lived a long time in my life without any at all, so the loss of this one is no big deal.

What’s that? What am I talking about? Haven’t I said? Oh, sorry…. I am, of course, referring to that classic commodity so important to the creative process, a box of crayons. What else?…. Nothing in nature can achieve quite the same shade of irony that a copper colored crayon imparts, nor does Mother Nature come in shades of sarcasm, or angst. Only the genius’ at the Crayon Factory have perfected the range of colors that are uniquely literary, and can elevate even the humblest of tracts with pale pink sincerity, or darken the mood of star-crossed lovers with a deep green envy…. I don’t know about other authors, but I’d be lost without some crayons to lend that air of elegance and style only a box of crayons can achieve….. shall we then Pearl?….. color me amazed (bright silver), at my own chutzpah…..
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A customer was bothering the waiter in a restaurant. First he asked that the air-conditioning be turned up because he was too hot, then he asked it be turned down cause he was too cold and so on for about half an hour.  Surprisingly, the waiter was very patient; he walked back and forth and never once got angry.  So finally a second customer asked him why he didn’t throw out the pest. “Oh I don’t care,” said the waiter with a smile, “we don’t even have an air conditioner.”

Smart waiter….. I am reminded of 1973, when my friend and I took a vacation to Mazatlan, Mexico. We went the first night to a famous restaurant called Señor Frog. While there, a party of four senior tourists came to the door, laughing and carrying on. A waiter approached them and said, “Follow me, please, and I will take you to the best table in the house.” Turning his back to them, he proceeded to lead the increasingly bemused group in a boisterous parade, through a winding path around every table in the place, finally ending up standing before a table right next to where the party had come in. Laughing, they sat down, as my friend and I just grinned in appreciation of his talent.

This guy was a real pro, very sharp. When the first course of soup was served, one of the women, seated on the aisle, looked down at her bowl, and said, “Oh my, it’s so hot my glasses have steamed up!” The waiter instantly whipped out his serviette, placed it dramatically over his hand, and carefully wiped off the glasses, still on her face, to the accompanying hilarity at both their table, and ours…… Truly, a waiter who knew the basic desire of every restaurant customer, to have a good time…..

Observing this interchange served me well in later years, when I spent my own time in the front of the house. One night, the perfect opportunity occurred and I was lucky enough to have the following exchange: Woman customer: (near the end of the meal, ordering dessert…) “Ned, do you know what I’d really like?” Inspiration struck, and I immediately fell to one knee, crossed my hand over my heart, and cried, “My life and honor would be complete, if only you were to tell me this!”  It took her and her companion almost five minutes to stop laughing (along with the rest of the room’s occupants) and complete her order.  I was glad we had what she wanted on the menu; it would have been somewhat anti-climatic to have to disappoint her after that interaction….. good tips that night, too…
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“Moral certainty is always a sign of cultural inferiority. The more uncivilized the man, the surer he is that he knows precisely what is right and what is wrong. All human progress, even in morals, has been the work of men who have doubted the current moral values, not of men who have whooped them up and tried to enforce them. The truly civilized man is always skeptical and tolerant, in this field as in all others. His culture is based on “I am not too sure.” — H.L. Mencken

Hence the full user name that I took when I first got involved in cyberspace, to wit: “gigoid the dubious”, no caps….. to my mind, that says it all, and humbly (hence no caps). Every time I affix my sig to another file, or piece of work on a computer, I am reminded of what is most important to the continued success of the journey on the path toward excellence upon which I travel. (Whew! Sometimes, though, it forgets to remind me to be less complex in my sentences; no sense in losing the audience while wandering around one of the initial points….)  In short, my user name reminds me of two principles essential to efficient computer use…. GIGO, and doubt.

GIGO, of course, refers to Garbage In, Garbage Out…. this is an expression of how like humans computers really are. If we base our actions or beliefs on erroneous ideas, then what happens to us is no prettier than a pile of garbage; confusion, anger, resentment, all become our constant companions, preventing us from achieving any success, or peace in our lives.

With computers, same same…. if you give it a bad command, or stinky (erroneous) data, it just sits there and hums, or will cheerfully perform its designed operation on the erroneous data, providing you with a nearly instantaneous WRONG answer…..  so, knowing this keeps me alert to the integrity of my data, both personal and digital…. and cuts down on wrong answers….

Doubt, of course, is one of mankind’s most useful, and sadly, lesser known tools. It’s always been around, even though a lot of religious and political pundits regularly try to get rid of it, as it is deathly dangerous to the goals of those particular segments of society. Can’t have the supporters, or the “marks” or “rubes” as they are more honestly referred to at carnivals, having doubts about the infallibility of the God figure, or of their leaders; people just aren’t properly manipulable if they are entertaining Doubt, and are more difficult to persuade to empty their wallets.

But, despite constant attacks from the Doubtless (also known as Conservatives, or Fundamentalists), Doubt remains, and continues its fine work as the leading component of success in the quest for Sanity and Tolerance in Society at large…. without Doubt, people would be in a world of hurt…..

“Well,” said Programmer, “the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.”
“What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?” said End-user. “For I am an End-user of Very Little Brain, and long words bother me.”
“It means the Thing to Do.”
“As long as it means that, I don’t mind,” said End-user humbly. — Chris Mathes, uunet@metter.chris, with apologies to C. Robin And W. T. Pooh
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“When you have shot and killed a man you have in some measure clarified your attitude toward him.  You have given a definite answer to a definite problem.For better or worse you have acted decisively. In a way, the next move is up to him.” — Raphael Aloysius Lafferty

What a wonderfully curmudgeonly re-statement of the old saw about making the best of a bad situation, and about keeping a positive outlook in the midst of conflict!…. Maybe also, one could say that every problem is an opportunity to do good in the world….. I am reminded of the Mark Twain quote: “It must be noted that (blank memory for the name) aimed and shot at an editor, but missed and killed a publisher. But we recall with charity that his intentions were good.”…… But, then, what can one expect from a man whose three names were obviously the mark of a long-standing dispute between his parents…. which was resolved with an obvious compromise…. much to Raphael’s chagrin, I’m sure, until he learned to pronounce Aloysius without stuttering…..
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Some primal termite knocked on wood.
And tasted it, and found it good.
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.
— Odgen Nash (1902-1971)

Admit it…. you smiled, at least for an instant…. it’s hard not to smile when under the influence of Ogden’s unique style. Many people, whose noses are typically set higher than their common sense, or their morals, tend to pooh-pooh his poetry, calling it “common” and “too simple”….To them I say, with relish (sweet pickle, it’s the best…) “You have pooh for brains…”  To my mind, perhaps the most telling mark of good poetry is how accessible it is to the “common man”; if only a few, over-educated snobs read a poet’s work, I can’t call it “good”, for it ignores, or even sneers at, the common man. Without appeal to the entire gamut of human types, it fails the test of universality.

Ogden Nash’s work could never be seen as derisive, or even mildly ironic, toward the commonality of human experience; instead he reveled in that baseness, that closeness to his fellow men, and wrote for them about that experience, in simple words and rhymes they could appreciate, without ever becoming smarmy about it. In the process, he thumbs his nose (with a polite smile) at all those foolish pseudo-intellectuals who are missing out on the joy of life in the streets, in the homes, and in the hearts of the common people……
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“He probably just wants to take over my CELLS and then EXPLODE inside me like a BARREL of runny CHOPPED LIVER!  Or maybe he’d like to PSYCHOLOGICALLY TERRORIZE ME until I have no objection to a RIGHT-WING MILITARY TAKEOVER of my apartment!!  I guess I should call AL PACINO!” — Zippy the Pinhead

Much of what Zippy is quoted as saying approaches the pinnacles of sheer nonsense. But, sometimes, such as with this short statement of paranoid ideation, he is eerily accurate in placing a finger on nightmares common to everyone in society who has more than two active neurons operating in their brain. When I read this, I immediately conjure an image in my inner eye of Rick Santorum, or Newt Gingrich…. and it’s terrifying!

The possibility that one of these flaming idiots will ever get to the White House, though very slim at best, is just enough to have me seriously contemplating arming myself with what some might call an over-abundance of powerful weaponry, like maybe a bazooka to go along with the rifles, handguns, and explosive and incendiary devices of varying destructiveness I already ordered. (Don’t want to cause collateral damage to my fellow citizens, just the ones who want to increase their own freedom by trying to take mine…..)

This being the U.S. of A., that is still my right, and I will be sufficiently well-armed to competently protect that right before they can get organized enough to come for me… We only have those rights we can defend… If not, well, I don’t plan on going quietly, and I have a long history of learning to deal with violence, especially in ways to turn it’s own energy back upon itself. Zippy can rest easy…. Al Pacino is in the house…..
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I think, all things considered, that it is a good thing that I don’t sit down each morning with a defined plan of what I will write about. If I did, I’d probably miss out on a lot of the cool stuff that pops up during my morning dives for pearls, and would most likely end up talking about economics, or fashion, or some such sleep-inducing topic….. since I can’t say “God forbid” with a straight face, I’ll just say, “may William of Occam forfend”, and light a candle for the saving grace of a mind resistant to external influences and dogma…  Y’all take care out there….

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Advents Sadly Unheralded by Prophetic Cheese….

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6

Ffolkes,
Even in the quiet of the hours pre-dawn, Sunday has a different feel than the rest of the days of the week. Why this should be is not immediately apparent, as physically speaking, one day isn’t much different than the next, or the one prior to today. Mere differences in seasonal details like temperature and rain, etc., don’t really apply.; the sun still rises, the planets turn, and we get a bit older over the course of each day. Plus, of course, for our convenience, we name them. (I don’t think a cat cares what day it is, unless the milk delivery comes on a particular day; they’ll notice that kind of thing; but the cat won’t call it Tuesday, or Sunday, or whatever, will he/she?) But, physical differences? Not there….

So, what makes a Sunday feel different? Well, for me, it was a mere matter of a few moments to figure out, Doh!….that it only feels different because of my perception of such. I’m the one who applied the relativity judgment; I’m the one who feels the change in timbre. In reality, nothing has changed that doesn’t do so every day; only my perception and value judgment have given it the altered state. None of the animals, or plants will note anything amiss, and the birds won’t hold back their song, just because a lot of folks want to sleep in the day after indulging in pretending to be Irish for a number of hours the day before, during which uncommonly large quantities of adult beverages were consumed, much to the dismay of millions of livers in this country….. of course, the food coloring industry loves it!

Any who, today is no different than any other day, not according to any of the world’s inhabitants who most rely on its consistency of purpose. The sun will eventually come up in this part of the world, and the plants and animals will greet its arrival just the same as if they didn’t have to go to church later…. which, oddly enough, they don’t…. shall we Pearl?…..
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“The spirit is fascinated by the future, wants to know the meaning of everything, and would like to stretch, if not break altogether, the laws of nature through technology or prayer. It is full of ideals and ambition, and is a necessary, rewarding, and inspiring aspect of human life. The soul is… embedded in the details of ordinary, everyday experience. In the spirit we try to transcend our humanity; in the soul, we try to enter our humanity fully and realize it completely.” — Thomas Moore

Lovely, but a bit overblown, language-wise, wouldn’t you say? This is what happens when a poet tries to explain something subtle without resorting to rhyme. Thomas Moore gets a lot of print time in this blog, but it’s all been examples of his poetry; his prose is, obviously, not his strongest point. Though pretty, in both concept and execution, this basic idea would have been expressed in one line by a competent writer of prose.

Not to say, of course, that poets should NEVER write prose; talent often extends its domain to cover both sides of the creative writing process coin; witness J.R.R. Tolkien. But, in most cases I would say that it is probably best for some folks to stick with what they do best. While complete, accurate, and well written, this piece of insight would have been much better said by my ancestor (we share the surname, Moore) with more structure and scansion, couched comfortably in a pair of rhyming couplets….. at least to my way of thinking (so, that’s what he calls it?….)
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Water wears the rock. — Anonymous

Lately, a lot of my best quotes have been found without attribution. I can’t say whether this is because the database compilers were lazy, or if they considered such basic concepts to be in the public domain, having found it listed with a number of different attributions. Since it matters not a whit to the discussion of the chosen pieces, I can’t say I care a lot, either….. and in this case, public domain might be the right call, anyway…..

The properties of water are of intense interest to any philosopher deserving of the title. It’s unique status as both one of the most common substances to be found in a free state in the universe, and as demonstrable proof of the theory of conservation of matter and energy, ensures that we pay close attention to its qualities and characteristics.

All of us are aware of the power of water to change the face of matter; the Grand Canyon stands as mute evidence of that particular power over the course of eons. And everyone alive is forced to acknowledge the importance of water to our continued existence; a very large percentage of the material our bodies are composed of consists of water, and we must maintain that percentage, or die. So, not only are we dependent on it for our continued survival, but benefit in countless other ways by its presence as a tool for teaching our young, about reality and existence.

Water cannot be destroyed, at least not by any means mankind has discovered. We know how to cause it to change states, from ice to liquid to gas, but destroy it? Nope….can’t do it. Thus it takes on a new importance, as model for our spiritual evolution. By likening one to the other (water=spirit/soul) it gives us both hope and direction. There are a multitude of ancient religions and philosophies who have made it a practice to use the properties of water as the perfect state to emulate in our minds. In the practice of meditation, contemplation of water and its properties is one of the most common mantras used.

Envisioning reality as a still pool of water remains one of the most valuable images we as a species have ever found to help gain understanding of how the universe acts in relation to our quest for peace and enlightenment, demonstrating both the value of assuming the stillness of spirit contained in a quiet pool, while retaining awareness of how a small change to the pool, a dropped pebble, can create ripples of effect that affect the entire pool, or face of reality.

I find it to be a comforting thought to know that our blood, and the water in our bodies, has the exact same salinity and qualities as sea water; it is a constant reminder that we came from the sea, and that it remains there for us, as a place of sustenance and respite, and as our eventual resting place, for all things on earth return eventually from whence they came, in the eternal shifting of the universe to combine the various components into the most pleasing, and most elegant, combinations of beauty and grace that make up the myriad forms of Life on this planet…. all honor, and hail to water, our gift of boundless value from the universe…..
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Hell hath no fury like a vested interest masquerading as a moral principle.– Anonymous, again….

I would say that this is a proposition that finds its proof in the news every day… witness the reaction of Wall Street to the OWS protests of the last few months. Or take a moment to listen to many of the pronouncements made by the group of (insert favorite insulting label here) current vying for the title of “World’s Biggest Boob” on the campaign trail.

Note too, the sweat forming on the brows of countless Congresspersons who are scared shitless that the American people are coming to their senses, and they (Congress) will henceforth be subject to the same laws and regulations as the rest of the American people.

No more publicly funded private health care for them; they can use Medicare and Medicaid, just like we must. No more full retirement pay after one term; they use Social Security, just like the rest of us. If they lie, or steal, or cheat the public, or even each other, they get arrested and jailed, just like the rest of us.

And the best change of all; if the national budget is not balanced by the due date, they don’t get paid until it does, and they automatically lose the right to be re-elected. Currently, they are doing everything they can think of to distract the American public from further consideration of these suggested changes, but I think it is an idea whose time is come.

I also think that the Founding Fathers will be applauding as it happens; I don’t think they intended for Congress to use its power for self-aggrandizement, or for “politician” to become a true profession. I think they had the idea that good men would do their duty by reluctantly serving a term, or two, then return to their natural position among the citizenry.

This would have the effect of making people like Newt Gingrich look just like the common thieves they are, and folks like Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum would be social outcasts, IF they managed to avoid prosecution for meddling in affairs that are none of their concern….. such as contraception, abortion, or trying to force religious principles into law, a practice strictly forbidden by our Constitution and Bill of Rights…..

“Life is but an unfair circle, intertwined among the ruins of my salvation as  a soul of this universe. My humble despair deserves no such fate; perhaps sometime in the near distant future I may live to say ‘This really sucks!'” — Eric Dransfeldt  (Fear not, it HAS been said!)
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The most valuable quotation will be the one for which you cannot determine the source. — Duggan’s Law of Scholarly Research

The source for an unattributed quotation will appear in the most hostile review of your work. — Corollary

Aha! Now I understand the process a lot better…. and I know now who stole all the attributions, just so I couldn’t find them! This explains SO much!….. and gives me a defined target for my shotgun; just look for my most virulent critics, and fire away!…..
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“A doctrine insulates the devout not only against the realities around them but also against their own selves. The fanatical believer is not conscious of his envy, malice, pettiness and dishonesty. There is a wall of words between his consciousness and his real self.” — Eric Hoffer

I may have used this previously; it sounds very familiar. Nonetheless, it bears repeating, as it is possibly the clearest explanation of how fanatics operate I’ve come across in my researches. Succinct and precise, it carves away everything extraneous, and exposes the innate weakness of the zealot’s fantasy that serves as their reality.

I really can’t add much more to this; it would be akin to gilding a lily. So, I’ll just give it to you ala carte, so to speak, but without the usual markup in price….. use it well, it can provide you with both protection from such depredations as suffering their spew, and hours of amusement over their latest antics….
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Well, to quote Neville Longbottom, in HP 8; The Deathly Hallows,  “that went well.”  Another day, another freebie….

Just so you know, I do this every day, mostly for me. But, should you, or anyone you may know, care to consider paying me for my observations, I wouldn’t say nay…. t’would be a good thing to be able to support myself by what I write, and who knows? It might even help out some folks who otherwise would go through their entire lives without benefit of my unique, if somewhat strange, take on the Universe and all its shenanigans…. we wouldn’t want to deprive anyone, now would we?…..

Just something to consider, should you ever find yourself talking with an editor of a major news or entertainment outlet…. and it might even be worth a finder’s fee!…… Just sayin’, as our good friend Lizzie would say…. meantime, y’all take care out there…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Unwarranted pleas for anecdotal briefs….

Posted on by
10

Ffolkes,
Well, I’m going for wishy washy this morning…. yesterday was so stressful, I couldn’t get to sleep until after 1 AM, an hour of the day which I haven’t come within 2 hours of seeing in months. Then, because I’m so worn out, I sleep 3 more hours than normal, which felt good, but put me behind right from the get….. I hate playing catch-up….always that light sense of panic one feels until getting back to normal schedule (whatever normal is when there is nothing ON the schedule after the “Get up” entry each morning)….

Adding to my stress yesterday was my banishment from WordPress…. yes, banishment. I still have been unable to get any Help or Support types to get interested in my problem; why should they worry that I can’t access my own domain, or web page? Or that over a third of the sites I try to go to, to read the posts of those I follow, are also blocked to me; I keep getting dumped off the network to an error page.

It seems like a straightforward problem to me; there is obviously some kind of coding error in the links that are being generated for emails and well, almost everywhere. I got sent to an error page by clicking on all sorts of links, in emails, on the notification toolbar, on gravatar icons, titles… they all were generating errors, and frustrating me endlessly.

Even more frustrating is the absence of ANY response from WordPress…. it’s as if they all went on vacation together, or are at some conference, and forgot to leave anyone watching the shop….. I’ve sent them eight support requests (well, angry demands are more accurate for the last 3; I’m afraid I let my anger color my language a bit….), and have received only one short response, to ask me if I had followed the FAQ suggestion of clearing cache and cookies (which I had done three times by then). To say the least, it pissed me off royally….May the bird of paradise shit on their heads……

So, since I don’t want to spend another day in frustration, I have decided to go wishy washy, and not carry out my threat to write this morning’s post as a rant about WP’s lack of support for users…. yet. Instead, I will immerse my mind into the complex and indefinable process of Pearling, and see if my difficulties extend to the publishing arena…. so, shall we Pearl?….. Yes, I believe we shall…..
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“How infinitely superior to our physical senses are those of the mind! The spiritual eye sees not only rivers of water but of air. It sees the crystals of the rock in rapid sympathetic motion, giving  enthusiastic obedience to the sun’s rays, then sinking back to rest in the night. The whole world is in motion to the center. So also sounds. We hear only woodpeckers and squirrels and the rush of turbulent streams. But imagination gives us the sweet music of tiniest insect wings, enables us to hear, all around the world, the vibration of every needle, the waving of every bole and branch, the sound of stars in circulation like particles in the blood. The Sierra canyons are full of avalanche debris – we hear them boom again, and we read the past sounds from present conditions. Again we hear the earthquake rock-falls. Imagination is usually regarded as a synonym for the unreal. Yet is true imagination healthful and real, no more likely to mislead than the coarse senses. Indeed, the power of imagination makes us infinite.” — John Muir, American Naturalist (1838-1914)

John Muir probably did more for the American people than all of the Congress’ in session for the last 235 years. His advocacy for preserving the natural wilds of this country made it possible for every American to be able to see, and understand, how important and valuable the land and natural life of the wilderness we enjoy as legacy really are in the overall scheme of life. Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, and many more of this nation’s parks and wilderness areas are retained in their natural state, thanks to his efforts during his lifetime.

In addition, he wrote prolifically, singing the praises of life in the wild, and the sheer joy of learning to be at one with the creatures and plants with whom we share our planet. Every one of the quotes and expressions of his that I’ve seen shout out with the absolute love he held for all of Life, and the beauty it shares by its mere existence. The American people owe him a greater debt than they will ever be able to pay, or that most will ever know……
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“Cowardice” and “self-respect” have largely disappeared from public discourse. In their place we are offered “self-esteem” as the bellwether of success and a proxy for dignity. “Self-respect” implies that one recognizes standards, and judges oneself worthy by the degree to which one lives up to them. “Self-esteem” simply means that one feels good about oneself. “Dignity” used to refer to the self-mastery and fortitude with which a person conducted himself in the face of life’s vicissitudes and the boorish behavior of others. Now, judging by campus speech codes, dignity requires that we never encounter a discouraging word and that others be coerced into acting respectfully, evidently on the assumption that we are powerless to prevent our degradation if exposed to the demeaning behavior of others. These are signposts proclaiming the insubstantiality of our character, proclaiming the hollowness of our souls.” — Jeffrey R. Snyder, Fall 1993 _The Public Interest

This is an interesting spot of reasoned discourse, and as indicated by it’s anonymity, probably very close to the truth of the matter at hand, to wit: why society is failing to preserve itself. All of Mr. Snyder’s points are wickedly accurate, and serve to act as their own proof, as these critical observations are rather stridently argued over by those spineless, politically correct slaves to public opinion.

These pitiful assumptions of false attitudes are all mostly a long-winded attempt to distract from the validity of the points in question, so that the public isn’t “offended” by things they don’t like to be told. In fact, the degree of panic found in most pockets of society where this sort of venal shiftlessness is common generally approaches the flash point in mere seconds, as the pundits of PC and perpetrators of societal cowardice boil up like a pit full of snakes that has been poked with a stick, whenever they are confronted with any ideas in conflict with their own foolishness. It’s kind of fun to watch, actually, as long as one is holding the stick……

“There are well-dressed foolish ideas just as there are well-dressed fools.” — Nicholas Chamfort
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“I think we are trying to run the space age with horse and buggy moral and spiritual equipment. Technology you see has no morals; and with no moral restraints man will destroy himself ecologically, militarily, or in some other way. Only God can give a person moral restraints and spiritual strength. While our world is shaking and crumbling, we need to realize that one thing will never change, and that is God. He is the same today as he was ten million years ago, and will be the same ten million years from today. ” — Billy Graham

Have you ever heard a bigger crock of shit in your life? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound antagonistic, but this all just hits me in the wrong spot; it is illogical, cowardly, ignorant, and hatefully passive aggressive….. We’ll take this line by line…..

First line, Mr. Graham begins with a quick and severe judgment of human society today that clearly indicates that he has no respect for anyone else’s opinions or ideas, accusing even the best of us of having the intelligence and education no more complete or moral than that of a hundred fifty years ago. He patently holds us to be no more than savages in a world beyond our comprehension.

In the second line, he makes an absolute statement of fact out of his distorted and ignorant anthropomorphizing of technology, proceeding to predict the demise of the species without bothering to differentiate the methods by which he claims our fate to be inevitable. (It has always been noted that oracular statements have a tendency toward vagueness….. ask the ancient Greeks about Oracles….) (And though I might agree as to the distinct possibility of our extinction, I cannot accept or condone his reasons for believing it to be inevitable. It’s not inevitable…. yet….. just more and more likely if matters don’t change dramatically…. but the moral strength to engender that change is NOT the sole purview of him and his ilk, nor is it to be found anywhere else than it already exists, within the human spirit, slumbering until roused…..)

Then comes the worst part…. ONLY God can give moral restraint and spiritual strength to a person. With one negative assertion, for which no evidence is either quoted or claimed, he has denounced the moral status of literally billions of people in the world, over 2/3 of whom possess moral restraints, and spiritual strength that is obviously greater than his own, (they don’t go around questioning and criticizing HIS moral state, or trying to convince him to convert to their beliefs….). 

And none, not one of those BILLIONS of people is even aware of either his existence, or of his opinion of their status in the Universe….. if they were, they would no doubt laugh gently, shake their heads, and go about their business, a response he would be incapable of emulating, or even understanding…. for he obviously has a deep fear of his own unworthiness, which he then projects onto every other human being he sees. He does not trust or respect himself, so it is impossible for him to trust or respect anyone else. This, of course, makes God the perfect fall guy to blame his weakness on, so he can set himself up as the arbiter of God’s will for the rest of us pitiful sinners….

In the last two lines, his sense of proportion and his memory completely escape his control…. After delivering his last judgment of the state of the world, he assumes again, and assigns to God the power of immutability, for a mere twenty million years. Either he forgot that God made the Universe about 5000 years ago, as his belief system dictates, or that it has been proven by scientific study over millenia that the Universe is AT LEAST 20 BILLION years old, by the latest evidence.  Proven, not deduced, not assumed, not estimated, not guessed at, not divinely inspired…. proven, with, you know, concrete, documented evidence that you can, like, hold in your hand, see with your eyes? It seems clear to the most casual observer that a measly 20 million years is obviously a euphemism for “I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying now, so I’ll just make something up….”

I’m thinking Billy might have benefited by running this by some of his co-conspirators before releasing it for publication; someone a bit sharper, a bit more in tune with reality, might have suggested to him that he tone down the judgmental rhetoric, and check his math…. not to mention explaining to him the advantages of trying not to insult the very people you are trying to convince of your sincerity…. it’s a dead giveaway that what is to follow is nothing more than a long con, just another slick way to get the marks to give up the gelt, while distracting them so you can slip out of town in the dark of night…..

“I guess the hard thing for a lot of people to accept is why God would allow me to go running through their yards, yelling and spinning around.” — Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handey   (I’m not sure why, but it just seems to fit…..)
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Beauty is truth, truth beauty, –that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
— John Keats (1795-1821) — Ode on a Grecian Urn

A small bite of what is probably the world’s most famous poem…. tasty, yet filling. No comments required…. just enjoy…. ‘Nuff said…..
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“…I am opposed to all attempts to license or restrict the arming of individuals…I consider such laws a violation of civil liberty, subversive of democratic political institutions, and self-defeating in their purpose.” — Robert A. Heinlein, in a 1949 letter concerning “Red Planet”

When I first read this, it sounded exactly like something that might have been pulled from a letter written by either Thomas Jefferson or George Mason (quick quiz: how many of y’all know who George Mason is, or rather, was?…..) However, it was no real surprise to find it attributed to Robert Heinlein, whose life-long belief and support of the Bill of Rights and the concepts on which this nation was founded was apparent to anyone familiar with his writing.

He graduated from Annapolis, and might have spent many years in the Navy, had not injury shortened his enlistment; one doesn’t even walk down that path without a firm grounding in democratic philosophy and belief in the rights of the common man. This dedication to the principles of our founding fathers (and mothers; let’s not forget the women who were behind the men who started the Revolutionary War…. how far would it have progressed had those women set their minds against it?……) is one of Heinlein’s most enduring traits, and one that brought him my instant respect and admiration, along with millions of other Americans….. he was a most erudite, and popular bard during his life, and his body of work will endow him with the same popularity as long as men seek to maintain their Freedom…..
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Today’s Pearl came together fairly well; no major difficulties were encountered, and it all looks fairly interesting (well, heck, I guess I wouldn’t have bothered to write it if not, eh?…). Interesting, at least, to one whose mind flits around from subject to subject as mine does as a matter of course. I can only hope that it stimulates the same in other’s eyes and minds….. why else would I put it out there?

Here’s hoping that my woes with WordPress have faded into history…. and if not, well, you might just see another post from me today, one I will be compelled to create should my difficulties continue to be ignored…. in the meantime, y’all take care out there…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Kowabunga!

The Plight of the Stumble Bee…..

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12

Ffolkes,
Unable, or unwilling, to enter the door, the clumsy-looking, shabbily dressed man, in a grimy overcoat that had seen better days, stared hungrily through the window toward the lights inside, a look of quiet determination crossing his face for an instant. I watched, then, as he straightened his shoulders, drew himself up to his maximum height of about 5’3″, and strode purposefully to the door, yanking it open with a fierce pull, banging it against the porch railing, hard. The ensuing deafening crash had the noise of the diner falling silent, as everyone crowding in the booths, and lining the counter, turned to look, startled, toward the noise.

The small man, now trembling with the force of whatever deep emotion held him in thrall, stood quivering in the doorway, moving his eyes from face to face, starting on his left, and working rapidly around the room. As his eyes came to rest upon a party about half-way down the aisle between the counter and booths, just being served at a table by the window, his expression hardened, and he started toward the object of his search, now appearing to glare at the people at the table with the sheer intensity of hatred and loathing.

I, along with the rest of the diner watched in rapt fascination as he came to the table, where he stopped, gazing down at the four well-dressed men who sat there, looking up at him with expressions of polite disinterest, somewhat incongruous, considering the drama of the small man’s approach, and the threatening, hateful visage that he now presented. For a long moment, he stared at each face in turn, then, in a surprisingly soft, lilting voice, he spoke, “Zo! You would send your assassins to the house of Giaccomo, eh? Your trained killers, zo dangerous, no? I will show you dangerous!”

On the last words, he reached into the pocket of his grimy coat, and pulled out a small, indistinct object. “Here….I give you back your assassins, both of them!” With that, he threw down what he held onto the table in front of the four silent, now grim-faced men. They looked down, shocked eyes wide, to where lay two human ears, covered in dried blood, looking a bit worse for wear. “Next time, send more! You will need them, and my garden can use the fertilizer!” Before they could move, the man swept the flatware, dishes, and glasses into the laps of the seated men, who reacted not at all, but merely watched, silent and still, as the small figure turned, and walked out the door, into the night. Inside the diner, silence held reign……

Once more, my manic-depressive Muse has taken over my fingers, to lay out the preceding paragraphs for your reading pleasure, or confusion, as the case may be; I’m tending toward the latter. I hope it does give pleasure, though… because it’s a little weird, having to sit here while words go down on screen that have never passed through my creative filter…. an odd feeling to have one’s subconscious mind playing tricks like that so early. I barely got a sip of coffee down before the Muse just took over, so I’m going to take a short break to soothe my nerves…. be back shortly…. I wonder who Giaccomo is?…

Okay, all better now…. I sure wish I could get my subconscious to quit doing that; it’s a bit disconcerting to have one’s volition so rudely usurped in such a cavalier fashion. It’s not like I wouldn’t share screen time….. ah well, I guess it will all come out in the wash. Let’s Pearl, shall we?……
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“The ideal life is in our blood and never will be still. Sad will be the day for any man when he becomes contented with the thoughts he is thinking and the deeds he is doing — where there is not forever beating at the doors of his soul some great desire to do something larger, which he knows that he was meant and made to do.” — Phillips Brooks

I’ve been pushing this quote forward every day for a week, since I found it and copied it here for discussion. I keep putting it off. I haven’t figured out why that is, but I’m sick of dealing with it, and it’s too good to throw out, so…. deal with it, Ned…

I think the problem here is that I agree with this, and really couldn’t say it much better. And, it’s such a great little piece of insight disguised as a homily, it doesn’t need any expansion to increase or enhance its positive direction. So, I’m going to use a bit of cosmic Judo, and go with the flow… just enjoy it, and its message, which is, essentially, “Carpe diem, as soon as you recognize which diem you’re in!”…..
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“[The artist] speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives; to our sense of pity, and beauty, and pain; to the latent feeling of fellowship with all creation — and to the subtle but invincible conviction of solidarity in dreams, in joy, in sorrow, in aspirations, in illusions, in hope, in fear which binds together all humanity — the dead to the living and the living to the unborn.”     — Joseph Conrad

I can state, with some confidence, my belief that this is what most of us are shooting for as artists. Few of us can express how we approach our Art, or why, or easily answer any such pertinent questions, but all of us can feel what we wish to share, impatiently waiting for our keyboard/camera/computer program/clay/other artistic medium to be applied to the task at hand, giving to the Universe a small piece of our Soul, pieces that cry out for release, eager to be off to be consumed by other ears, other eyes, other minds.

For some of us, it is therapy. For others, it is the creative impulse. For still others, it is ambition, or outrage, or pride of accomplishment, or the desire to be understood. For a million and more reasons, our Art forces its way past our fears and denials, to find the light it must seek in other’s eyes. It is, to me, more proof of humanity, for the impulse to create Art is proof of our innate need for each other, and our need to be acknowledged, and loved. This is why we place our hearts, and souls, firmly in our work, and then give it away, gratis……
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“I wanted a perfect ending … Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.” — Gilda Radner

Why do the best of us have to die so young? “Delicious ambiguity.” What a brilliant summation of a wonderfully wise statement! One wouldn’t normally expect a woman known for her comedy to have such insight into Life, but then, there certainly are precedents for it. Will Rogers, Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Lily Tomlin, Dick Gregory, even Steve Allen, all were best known as comedians, and justly so. But all of them are also some of the most lucid, intelligent, and erudite social critics that ever lived, and they were certainly the most accurate, and important voices of that genre in the last century.

It makes one wonder, what our world would be like, if the love of humanity, the brilliant political and social conscience, and the acerbic wit, shown by these few masters of innuendo and sarcasm were to be set as the rules governing society at large. I know one thing for sure…. there would be more smiles seen everywhere, on the faces of children, adults, and elders, and it would be considered a social faux pas to darken another person’s attitude with sobriety…. much healthier for all of us, don’t you think?……

How he lies in his rights of a man!
Death has done all death can.
And absorbed in the new life he leads,
He recks not, he heeds
Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
On his senses alike,
And are lost in the solemn and strange
Surprise of the change.
— Robert Browning (1812-1890) — After
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…I’ll sulk for the rest of your days and make your life a living hell. So there.

Wait a minute! Who let my ex- in here without telling me?….. ah, okay, it’s only a random memory stim….whew! I thought for sure I’d gone back to Hell on Earth, where I resided for several years prior to her dramatic departure….. I never did get what I did to her that pissed her off so much, but I guess if I had a clue as to that, things would be different….no sense in living backwards, is there?….

But it does bring up a subject not often discussed, or even considered, due to its volatile nature; the impulse to hurt others, for perceived injuries of whatever nature, revenge, at its most petty. I suppose it is mostly a natural response, arising from the basic instinct to preserve life, but it seems to me it gets carried a lot further than necessary; the responses are usually much more powerful than the initial events that cause the perceived injuries.

For some reason, an attack on personal beliefs or self-image is less easily dismissed as are less personal affronts, and there seems to be no limit on the degree of intensity one may use in these instances. For example, it seems a bit harsh to me to throw silverware at someone’s head as a response to being asked “How are you this morning?”, or to scream uncontrollably at someone for being tardy for a meal by less than a minute, because of having paused to pick a flower for the screamer (both of which I have been treated to on more than one occasion….) But, maybe it’s just me….

“We need to talk.” — The scariest words known to man…. as engraved on the Tomb of the Unknown Husband….anonymously, of course….

SIGH… I guess it just goes to show, that everyone has their own idea of what love is, and finding someone who feels exactly the same is still a matter of chance. I’ve always preferred to approach it from the direction implied by the following little piece of common sense…. (well, it’s common in my world…..) It is a sentiment that naturally predisposes one to avoid those sorts of things that one would potentially need to be sorry about….

“There is never anything to feel sorry about with love. Never.” — Robert Heinlein

Curse on all laws but those which love has made!
Love, free as air at sight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
— Alexander Pope (1688-1744) — Eloisa to Abelard, Line 74

Weird….sometimes after I finish a discussion, a number of good pearls on that jump out at me in the search for the next… hmph! Good thing I’m easygoing…. wait, no I’m not!….. oh well, screw it….
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Boop Boop Bee Boop – Betty Boop

I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic’s; his hair was perfect.–from “Werewolves of London”

Some things are just perfect the way you find them…. and serendipity is real!

“I just can’t help myself!” — Standard disclaimer — Babs Bunny
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Well, I’ve probably done enough damage for one morning, and I’m running out of hit points, so I’ll bring this to an end here…. timing, as we know, is everything…. Y’all take care out there…..

—
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!

Few hours in the outer space

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5

Here is an amazingly compelling, compassionate post, on an unusual topic..or at least, a topic not often considered as discussion worthy, but should be…..

Arpit's avatarRound & About

On November 3rd 1957, Russian space agencies launched a dog named Laika in the orbit…and with that, she became the first animal to have been in the orbit. The world(except the americans, that is) looked on, at this historical event, with great awe, admiration and sense of achievement that all the mankind shared. However, in the jubiliant mood and celebrations, the world forgot Laika, who died a lonely death, few hours later in the orbit. Never in the documented history of  mankind, an animal sacrifice was celebrated with such jubiliance and sense of achievement.

But what I can’t stop wondering, is what would laika be thinking? What would she be feeling? Obviously she wasn’t aware of the achievement that she has accomplished for the mankind, and for that matter, entire living world. Ushered in to a confined space, then feeling weird sense of upward push out of the blue and…

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