And another one bites the dust, dubiously….

Ffolkes,

“Life is the sum of all your choices.”

~~ Albert Camus ~~

It might look like as spoked wheel or even a "Chakram" circular weapon wielded by television's fictional warrior Xena, but this ringed galaxy is actually a vast place of stellar life. A newly released image from NASA's Spitzer Space Telescope shows the ga
NGC 1291, through NASA’s Spitzer Space Telescope

Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech


The Beatles first major international hit song was “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”, with Paul belting out the high notes in that pure Scottish tenor, as yet untrained to any great degree, but, showing the promise of his later efforts. That song came out in 1963, before my birthday, so I was still 12 years old…. A few years later, they released another song, about aging, from the point of view of a twenty-something, titled, “When I’m 64”. That song became one of their biggest hits, off one of their best selling albums, and to this day remains an iconic number, that McCartney still plays at his concerts, now and then….

A few days ago, I explained its relevance, but, my site hasn’t had a lot of traffic lately, so I’ll reiterate for those who’ve been avoiding my incredibly long rants, or have been otherwise busily occupied…. Today is my 64th birthday. I had hoped to have a good day, but, it isn’t looking promising at this point. Without going into tedious details, let it suffice to say I’ll be continuing my battle with an incredibly huge, incredibly evil HMO corporation…. They’ve won the last couple of battles, thanks to some support from their equally evil co-conspirators against the public good, to wit: the government….

Both of them are working at their usual stand, doing all they can to make life less comfortable, and much less profitable for the public, while simultaneously continuing to rip off every penny they can from the public treasury, and the pockets of their so-called “members”, with their selfish padding of every salable item they offer as a ‘service’…. Really? Each tissue one uses in a hospital stay is worth $12 a box? A pill taken by a patient costs $2 or more EACH, when it is impossible for the cost of production to exceed a percentage of ONE PENNY…. Those are typical price points in the healthcare field, and are NOT an exaggeration, so, they are making a profit, hand over fist, on everything they charge for, an endless list….

I see I have indulged myself already, by making a good start on a rant here in the intro, as is my bad habit…. In the interests of efficiency, we’ll call that an intro, but, we won’t be proud of it, okay? I AM trying to rant here less often, but, there are so many targets in our world, they seem to jump up while I’m writing, to insist on being discussed, or included in the day’s subject matter listings, with such piteous expressions of sincerity and purpose, I can’t resist…. Ah well, at least it brought us to this point, where we may do this…. Hang on tight….

Shall we Pearl?…..

“It is as useless to argue with those that have renounced the use and authority of reason as to administer medication to the dead.” — Thomas Paine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As mentioned, it’s my birthday, so, today’s selection is a nod to my status as a hippie, since the age of seventeen, when I went off to college at UC Berkeley, where I found a city full of like-minded young, inquiring minds…. This band, if any musical group could be said to do so, epitomized the ambiance and philosophy of the time….. Enjoy, and especially enjoy some of the concerts listed on the same page you find this sound track…. When you learn to ignore the occasional miscue in tuning of guitars, and the weak voices of young artists still reaching for their potential, you can see, and hear, the improvisational genius  that was this band’s legacy….. Abondanza!

The Grateful Dead: American Beauty – Full Album


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since it’s a special day for me, I don’t much feel like putting myself into ranting mode, though, if the intro is any indication, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get there in my head…. But, let’s do this instead…. Nearly a couple years ago, I wrote some pretty good rants, one of which I will reproduce this morning, as the subject matter, i.e., Sun Tzu’s Art of War, has been much on my mind of late, due to my ongoing battles with HMO organizations… Rather than work myself up this morning, here is a good sublimation to fill in this section…. As most of my rants are, it is still very relevant to today’s issues in our society…. or, what passes for society amongst the humans on this planet….

From 1/29/2013:

In difficult ground, press on;
In encircled ground, devise stratagems;
In death ground, fight.

~~ Sun Tzu, The Art of War (circa 400 B.C.) ~~


The Art of War is still considered by military experts to be one of the definitive books on warfare and strategy, after more than 2000 years. I’m not certain, but would certainly be surprised if it is not still used as a reference at West Point, Annapolis, The Citadel, and the Air Force Academy in classes on tactics and strategy in battle, and in peace time. In the book, which is actually quite short, Sun Tzu gives the basic tenets for success in war, and was so perfectly correct that it remains valid today, even though the landscape of war has grown much larger, and more complex. The issues that can decide victory or defeat remain the same……

One of the most surprising features of the book is the idea that Sun Tzu presents regarding the perfect warrior. In his mind, warriors came in a number of types, each of which required a different method of leadership. The surprise lies in his choice of the type of warrior that he considers to be the most valuable; oddly enough, on the surface he chose… the Spy…..

Not the weapons master, not the brilliant tactician, not the engineer… the spy. According to Sun Tzu, a properly trained and experienced agent provocateur was, by far, the most valuable type of warrior, for, with the proper application of truth and lies, and the correct timing, battles might be won without loss of life or property, or with a minimum of effort, due to the efforts before the battle by the spy. This choice indicates that Sun Tzu recognized the true battle that is waging at all times when people interact with each other…. the battle between truth and lies…..

We see this battle raging in our own society every day, as the politicians vie with each other to see which one can get the furthest from the truth and still convince people they aren’t full of shit. When we see priests telling us that we aren’t the masters of our own bodies or minds, and expect us to not even ask why, we are witnessing the constant struggle for control of our minds… and our pocketbooks…. The former, of course, will always lead to the latter, and you can bet your booties that it is the pocketbooks that the preachers and politicians are concerned with, not just our minds, or our souls….. You betcha, compadre…

She was a wight, if ever such wight were,–
Des. To do what?
Iago. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion!

~~ William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Othello — Act ii, Sc. 1 ~~


Normally, or as close as we get to normally, I wouldn’t use a Shakespeare quote, and this one probably shows why, very well… I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell any of it means, but the last line struck home for this discussion… Before what I am saying reaches the point where the last line might apply, I will refer you to the book itself…..  The Art of War, by Sun Tzu;  copies of it are available at any bookstore, and probably online in a number of places.

It is a fairly quick read, (though there are points that do require some thought and pondering), being less than a hundred pages in most of the versions I’ve seen. As I said above, it’s pretty simply written, but covers all that is needed to get his point across, which has to do with winning, not just at war, but in life. As with many things in Chinese culture, there is more to the subject than may be apparent on first view, and it is worth the time to look more deeply into what Sun Tzu has told us….

But war ‘s a game which were their subjects wise
Kings would not play at.

~~ William Cowper (1731-1800)  ~~

~~The Task, Book v, The Winter Morning Walk, Line 187 ~~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While perusing old Pearls to find material for today, this came up, a poem which fits today’s general theme too perfectly to resist….

From 2/7/2013:

Of late, I’ve been writing quite a bit on aging, and it’s effect on me…  an occupational hazard, I suppose, for us retirees. Last night, I was reading some WordPress blogs, and was introduced to this Australian contemporary poet, David Lewis Paget. In looking through his poems on PoemHunter.com, I found this one, which speaks very eloquently of this period of life, and beyond, and I’m happy to include it here as part of the ongoing discussion…. It’s a bit long, but worth it…. Enjoy!….

Age Rage

I was wandering through the Nursing Home
In the town of Morton Rise,
Seeking an old and weathered face
That I’d known in another guise,
For Richard Spratt was my father’s friend
That I hadn’t seen for years,
I was going to let him know his friend
Had taken a turn for the worse.

The eyes that stared from the armchairs there
Were blank, and devoid of pain,
They’d taken the pills that dulled them down
So they wouldn’t be restrained,
The nurses treated them all as fools
This gross humanity,
Whose only sin was they’d given in
To age, and infirmity.

It was all so very depressing, I
Imagined my future there,
Staring in immobility
From the prison of one of their chairs,
Waiting my turn to be spoon-fed
By a very impatient nurse,
Who shovelled the food all over my chin
As I sat, and inwardly cursed.

I wandered the home there, room by room
In search of his friendly face,
This Richard Spratt in a cricketer’s hat
I remembered from Ambergate,
He’d batted a decent fifty, while
My father polished the ball,
And took five wickets alone that day
In his bowling, over all.

It was nigh on forty years before
That I’d watched them play as a child,
Out on the green at Ambergate
With the weather, warm and mild,
But the years dismay as they pass away
And my father grew so old,
Now he lay in bed in a kind of dread
As the bell of his lifetime tolled.

I said that I’d find his friend for him
And let him know, at the last,
That he was remembered, thick and thin
For a friendship, forged in the past,
There were days when they both had sunny skies
And met each day with a grin,
But time drew shrouds like storm-filled clouds
And the end was looking grim.

I heard a shout from a private room
And went to investigate,
Quite a commotion in the gloom,
I hoped I wasn’t too late,
And there was a nurse stood over him
In a wheelchair, Richard Spratt,
He’d thrown his meds all over the room
And sat in his cricketer’s hat.

‘You know what to do with your pills, you witch, ‘
He shouted, and turned to see
Just who was stood in the doorway, I
Was grinning from ear to ear,
‘Well I’ll be… You can get out of here! ‘
He said to the wayward nurse,
Who said, ‘If you’re going to be like that…’
And left the room, with a curse.

I told the news of my father then
And I swear, he sat and cried,
Just a couple of tears escaped
That he hid, he still had pride,
‘Life is a trail of sorrow, son,
But we’re all on the same long train,
Your dad and I in the tunnel, while
Your carriage is still on the plain.’

‘What do you value of life the most? ‘
I saw the pain in his eyes,
‘Youth was that great and precious thing
That with age, you realise!
I’d give it all for an hour to spend
In the glow of my lady’s eyes,
The touch of her skin and a hint of sin
But the thing that we love, it dies! ‘

‘I’ve often thought of those balmy days
On the green in our cricket whites,
And think I hear the crack of the ball
On the willow of sweet delight,
I remember your father’s terse ‘Howzat! ‘
When he scattered another’s bails,
Now I sit in this prisoning wheelchair, here
And all I can hear are wails.’

‘Wails from the ones who want to die,
Wails that they want to live,
The future is lost to the best of us
We have but the past to give.
You’d like to know how I feel right now,
Like a leopard, caught in a cage,
If only I could be young once more…
But all that I feel is rage!’

David Lewis Paget 

4 October 2012

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other than the intro and closing sections, this is the freshest part of today’s Pearl…. It’s an abstruse little group, commenting, it seems, once again, on the vagaries and idiosyncrasies that occur as part of being human, focusing, as always, on how live a full life, in an ethical fashion that preserves honor, rather than destroying it….

“A man’s true wealth is the good he does in the world.” — Mohammed (570-632 A.D.)

“One cannot play chess if one becomes aware of the pieces as living souls and of the fact that the Whites and the Blacks have more in common with each other than with the players. Suddenly one loses all interest in who will be champion.” — Anatol Rapoport

“… denn da ist keine Stelle, die dich nicht sieht. Du musst dein Leben andern.” ~~ (… for there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life.) — Rainer Maria Rilke, “Archaic Torso of Apollo”

“Nobody does good to man with impunity.” — Auguste Rodin (1840-1917)

“A man’s first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own heart, his next to escape the censures of the world.” — English Proverb

“Why, then, do you walk as if you had swallowed a ramrod?” — Epictetus (c. 60 AD) — Discourses, Book i, Chap. xxi

I have known noble ones who lost their highest hope,
and then they disparaged all high hopes.
They lived shamelessly in temporary pleasures,
and hardly had an aim beyond the day.
“Spirit is also voluptuousness,” they said.
Then they broke the wings of their spirit;
it now creeps about, and defiles whatever it gnaws at.
Once they thought of becoming heroes,
but they have become sensualists.
A trouble and a terror is the hero to them.
By my love and hope, I implore you:
do not cast away the hero in your soul.
Maintain holy your highest hope.
Thus spoke Zarathustra.

~~ Friedrich Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” ~~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have yet to go back over this, to see how it turned out…. I will say this, though…. I’m pretty sure it isn’t too bad, and is certainly more than I intended when I began today…. In any case, it’s done, so, I’ll get it posted, then go see if I can find some kind of mischief to get into that will help me feel a bit younger, if only for a short time….. See y’all tomorrow, ffolkes…. I have high hopes of that, anyway….. Maybe I can find that hero in my soul….

Y’all take care out there,
and May the Metaphorse be with you;
Blessed Be, dearest  Carole, Mark, and Theresa…
and everyone else, too…

When I works, I works hard.
When I sits, I sits loose.
When I thinks, I falls asleep.

Which is Why….

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

gigoid, the dubious

PLEASE STOP READING THIS MESSAGE NOW.

Kowabunga!


À bientôt, mon cherí….


					

Mark your place with a curlicue…..

Ffolkes,
These first moments of the day after arising can be a serene, comforting time, on those wonderful mornings when Murphy is occupied elsewhere. There is always such a fine feeling of potential, one of promise and hope. Then, naturally, I open my eyes to reality, and depression crashes back down, filling the world with darkness and despair….

Well, make up my damn mind, would you?…. Which is it, promising and full of hope, or dark and despairing? You can’t have it both ways, not in this house…. although, come to think of it, that might be a totally awesome experience, once…. To feel such completely opposite ranges of feeling at the same time…. it might be entertaining, for a moment or so anyway….

Nah, probably not…. more likely it would just be confusing, as if we don’t have enough in life to do that for us….. Oh well, it was a thought….. I get those now and again, but try not to let them get too messy, and I certainly wouldn’t allow one to drip all over the client’s chair; that one time was an anomaly, I swear…..

Ah hell, who am I trying to kid? We haven’t had a real client in here for ages, and the chair we use for them wouldn’t hold up anyone more than 90 lbs., anyway, so I’d most likely steer them into walking outside, rather than letting them sit down in the deathtrap…. We DO take customer service seriously, even if we don’t have many customers….

Not only do we not have many customers, we have no business. None….. it’s all just another plot device, thrown in by me in a moment of panic, to get me further down the page. It is working okay in that respect, but I don’t think this morning’s intro is going to win many literary prizes for eloquence, or elegance…. I suppose I could use it as a teaching tool, to show how NOT to write….

Of, course, then I’d have to find students, and set up a classroom, find some chalk, and a chalkboard, and….. nope, too much hassle. I’ll just let it lie, like a sleeping dog, or a politician, and we’ll move on to the next stage of this nonsense, whatever that may turn out to be…. It’s still a mystery at this point, as your guess is as good as mine as to where to take this….

Since where I took it worked, I won’t bother to detail the direction, but will merely accept the change without objection, and move on…. And, since it DID work, at least in one sense (all that is required by law….), I can legally get on with the rest of today’s effort without having to concern myself with finding a lawyer to save my ass. It’s always a good thing to avoid litigation when possible, yes? Yes…. Shall we Pearl?…..
__________________________________

“Trust your hunches.  They’re usually based on facts filed away just below the conscious level.” — Dr. Joyce Brothers

I find this to be a fascinating statement, from a person many of today’s youth won’t recognize as a celebrity. Dr. Joyce, as we called her when I was young, was a celebrity from back in the 1950’s and 60’s, who became famous at first as a prodigy child contestant on a quiz show, The $64,000 Question; she later found celebrity as a radio and TV talk show hostess, and a syndicated newspaper column, answering questions about relationships, love, and life in general. She had a calm, friendly, confident manner that was easy for people to accept, and her brilliant mind gave her answers a certain depth and cachet that otherwise would have been lost, had she been less intelligent, or less charismatic…..

What I find to be interesting here is her reliance on the subconscious mind for accurate data resolution and interpretation, and her confidence in proposing that people explore that connection. I was around at the time, and the world was NOT in a place, philosophically speaking, where the reliance on subconscious activities was considered to be a mainstream belief. In fact, it almost put her in the category of mystics and clairvoyants, as far as  established society was concerned….. To many, she might have well just said that we should all become witches….

I suppose what helped in the long run toward acceptance of this kind of thinking  was her documented genius, that gave what she said a certain validity. In addition, she was at her most popular right at the time when society itself was going through some severe upheaval, during the late 50’s and early to late 60’s, so her ideas found more acceptance among the young, then spread to the rest of the culture as the Cultural Revolution went on, and society became more open to such free-wheeling philosophies.

Another effect of that time, that many people lose sight of, is the polarization that occurred in society, as the two intrinsically opposite philosophies, of liberalism and conservatism (as they are understood today….), became the two camps of ideology that would engage in a struggle for control of the government, and society, for the next 60 years, right up to today….. It’s a struggle between two ways of looking at life, and neither one is aware of being under the control of a third party, one that remains in the shadows, unseen and unheard, expect at their own command…..

Okay, here is where those of you who don’t buy into the conspiracy theory of life can skip on to the next section… to your own peril, but, hey, to each his own, right?….. I’m not particularly paranoid about such things as conspiracy; most of the time I think the things the ffolkes who believe in them see, that support their ideas, are seeing examples of human stupidity, rather than conspiracy. But, I am also a scientist, FIRST, and there is just too much evidence that supports the idea that there is a small percentage of humanity that controls the majority of resources (ie, food, land, money, armaments…), and as a consequence, have far more influence and control over the rest of us than is either just, or ethical.

This small group of mega-rich fanatical egotists believe that, because they can, they have the right to hoard all of those resources for themselves, and have the right to determine who should have any access to them. They believe this because they are allowed to do so, having grabbed all the controls (to wit: the guns and money….) long ago, and have arranged matters so that the great bulk of society is not only under their control, but is unaware of being in that position….

To tie this all together for y’all, let me say this…. I have a hunch that this is true. I don’t always have evidence that I can point to that is obviously definitive in the direction of proof of that assertion, but, if what Dr. Joyce tells us is true, my subconscious mind is aware of the facts, and can show me where to find them, if needed. That hunch tells me that, YES, there are a small group of assholes who are in control of society, for their own benefit, and they don’t give a fuck about the rest of humanity…. and there is evidence to support this hunch, even if it isn’t right out in the open where everyone can see it easily.

As yet, I don’t have any viable suggestions about how to go about kicking these punks to the curb; all I know is that we need to do so, and soon, before they kill all of us with their own brand of stupidity…. This isn’t to say they are altogether stupid, or that it is their primary defining characteristic…. but, they are human, and as such are subject to Murphy and his natural law…. So, I suppose it is a matter of watching for the right moment to catch them just at that instant when their own humanity will bring them down….. and hoping that moment comes soon…..

“Do you like “TENDER VITTLES”??” — Zippy the Pinhead
__________________________________

Of late, I’ve been writing quite a bit on aging, and it’s effect on me…  an occupational hazard, I suppose, for us retirees. Last night, I was reading some WordPress blogs, and was introduced to this Australian contemporary poet, David Lewis Paget. In looking through his poems on PoemHunter.com, I found this one, which speaks very eloquently of this period of life, and beyond, and I’m happy to include it here as part of the ongoing discussion…. It’s a bit long, but worth it…. Enjoy!….

Age Rage

I was wandering through the Nursing Home
In the town of Morton Rise,
Seeking an old and weathered face
That I’d known in another guise,
For Richard Spratt was my father’s friend
That I hadn’t seen for years,
I was going to let him know his friend
Had taken a turn for the worse.

The eyes that stared from the armchairs there
Were blank, and devoid of pain,
They’d taken the pills that dulled them down
So they wouldn’t be restrained,
The nurses treated them all as fools
This gross humanity,
Whose only sin was they’d given in
To age, and infirmity.

It was all so very depressing, I
Imagined my future there,
Staring in immobility
From the prison of one of their chairs,
Waiting my turn to be spoon-fed
By a very impatient nurse,
Who shovelled the food all over my chin
As I sat, and inwardly cursed.

I wandered the home there, room by room
In search of his friendly face,
This Richard Spratt in a cricketer’s hat
I remembered from Ambergate,
He’d batted a decent fifty, while
My father polished the ball,
And took five wickets alone that day
In his bowling, over all.

It was nigh on forty years before
That I’d watched them play as a child,
Out on the green at Ambergate
With the weather, warm and mild,
But the years dismay as they pass away
And my father grew so old,
Now he lay in bed in a kind of dread
As the bell of his lifetime tolled.

I said that I’d find his friend for him
And let him know, at the last,
That he was remembered, thick and thin
For a friendship, forged in the past,
There were days when they both had sunny skies
And met each day with a grin,
But time drew shrouds like storm-filled clouds
And the end was looking grim.

I heard a shout from a private room
And went to investigate,
Quite a commotion in the gloom,
I hoped I wasn’t too late,
And there was a nurse stood over him
In a wheelchair, Richard Spratt,
He’d thrown his meds all over the room
And sat in his cricketer’s hat.

‘You know what to do with your pills, you witch, ‘
He shouted, and turned to see
Just who was stood in the doorway, I
Was grinning from ear to ear,
‘Well I’ll be… You can get out of here! ‘
He said to the wayward nurse,
Who said, ‘If you’re going to be like that…’
And left the room, with a curse.

I told the news of my father then
And I swear, he sat and cried,
Just a couple of tears escaped
That he hid, he still had pride,
‘Life is a trail of sorrow, son,
But we’re all on the same long train,
Your dad and I in the tunnel, while
Your carriage is still on the plain.’

‘What do you value of life the most? ‘
I saw the pain in his eyes,
‘Youth was that great and precious thing
That with age, you realise!
I’d give it all for an hour to spend
In the glow of my lady’s eyes,
The touch of her skin and a hint of sin
But the thing that we love, it dies! ‘

‘I’ve often thought of those balmy days
On the green in our cricket whites,
And think I hear the crack of the ball
On the willow of sweet delight,
I remember your father’s terse ‘Howzat! ‘
When he scattered another’s bails,
Now I sit in this prisoning wheelchair, here
And all I can hear are wails.’

‘Wails from the ones who want to die,
Wails that they want to live,
The future is lost to the best of us
We have but the past to give.
You’d like to know how I feel right now,
Like a leopard, caught in a cage,
If only I could be young once more…
But all that I feel is rage!’

David Lewis Paget

4 October 2012
__________________________________

“The wise man’s eyes are in his head; but the fool walketh in darkness: and I myself perceived also that one event happeneth to them all. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool so it happeneth even to me; and why was I then more wise?  Then I said in my heart, that this is also vanity. For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is in the days to come shall all be forgotten.  And how dieth the wise man?  As the fool.” — Ecclesiastes 2:14-16

To look at this, one would tend to be persuaded of its veracity, or at least of its intention to be so. The latter part is the more accurate assessment, because, in truth, this is a complete and utter lie, a lie that I consider to be one of the most egregious of those told by the fanatics who wrote most of the Bible….. “And how dieth the wise man? As a fool.”  What a crock of shit!

Think about this for just a second, okay?…. A wise man approaches his death with equanimity and dignity, arranging matters so that he dies having lived a life filled with the joy of loving, and with compassion for his fellows. The fool dies badly, fearing what comes after, but more afraid to continue living in misery and fear….. Those are very simple observations, based on reality, and what I’ve observed of it in my time.

Vanity isn’t ALWAYS misplaced, you know, as long as it is not embraced as a lifestyle, but rather acknowledged as an amusing form of self-love, one that can serve to motivate toward improvement. Only when assumed as a faith, producing a sense of entitlement based on unreal expectations, does it become ill-conceived, and ugly. (Gee, and doesn’t that sound more like those who preach against vanity, with their sense of entitlement as one of God’s children?….)

It is much the same as with any human characteristic, or emotional state; moderation is the key to handling them with grace and common sense. When people make too much of ANY of their emotions, or their personal characteristics, they tend to go overboard, and act without restraint to achieve their wants…. SIGH…. In this way, as in many, most people are like children, with no control over their own inner self as yet….

But, given their way, the men (very, very few women fall so deeply into the religious BS to become preachers/priests) who want to control the rest of humanity through religion would have us remain children, at least in our emotional responses…. Children are much easier to control than adults, as they are conditioned to accept whatever they’re told by an adult…. If a person manages to get to adulthood without being so conditioned, well, they can kiss that constituent goodbye, because very few of us ever return after becoming aware of how the church is fucking with us…..

Bah, humbug…. I’m a bit worked up now, and it’s getting hard to organize my thoughts enough to keep this on a logical track. I just get so mad, when I think about all these centuries that humanity has wasted under the influence of all those who act for their own benefit, and screw the rest of us. I get SO angry, it takes all of my will to keep from getting up from my chair, grabbing some weapons, and going out to hunt…..

But, then I would have to give up my own philosophy, because, who will play God? If I go out and start eliminating those whom I believe need to be absent from reality, for the betterment of all, then I am making myself into God…. which kind of goes against all I believe. I hate them, those assholes, but, killing is THEIR method of choice for assuming or maintaining the status quo, and really doesn’t fit in with my own choices. I guess I’m just going to have to keep looking for the right way to bring their chicanery out where all can see it, and make fun of it enough to make it go away….

Not the most logical, or strategically or tactically practical plan I’ve come up with, but, for now, it’s the best I’ve got…. If y’all have any ideas, I’d be interested, for sure… We need to figure out some way to boot their asses out the door, before it’s too late…. though I suspect that moment may have passed yesterday…..

“So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.” — Bertrand Russell
__________________________________

I’m at a loss for words to express how this one came out…. After re-reading it, I’m almost impressed. Allowing subconscious control works better than I had imagined, I’d say…. In future posts, we’ll see if we can’t expand that little capability, and see where it takes us…. For now, I’m probably better off to bid thee adieu for today, and let the chips fall where they may…..  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..


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

gigoid

dozer3