Far in the distance, the deep sounds and fury of artillery fire filled the air, while nearby the screams and moans of the wounded provided horrific counterpoint to the symphony of terror being played by the metal flying overhead. As she watched, a building down the street exploded, as a shell burst through the roof. She thought to herself, “That was Mary’s house… I wonder, was she in it?” Without any real thought of why, she stood and started to walk toward what now remained of the house of her friend, a vague idea of helping in her mind, which seemed to waver in and out of focus as she walked…..
Well, that is depressing as all get out, isn’t it? I thought a touch of intro into a war novel might be a good way to warm up, but, upon due consideration, I don’t think I’ll be writing anything like that any more, since I didn’t much enjoy it at all. Even trying to keep it marginally real made it too real for me, I guess, with my no-longer-willing-to-fight-with-anyone attitude. I spent too much time dealing with real, dangerous, emotionally intense situations in my life, and I decided long ago not to take myself back into that kind of emotional morass, if I could help it. It’s not fun anymore to get adrenalized, then have to recover from the physical effects of that wonder drug on the body…. and my body is very sensitive to it these days; it can take a whole day or more to come down after a good jolt hits my system….. I really don’t like it at all…..
I hadn’t realized until now that my sensitivity could extend into what I’m writing like that. That seems a bit odd, but in thinking back, I haven’t really challenged it before, not having sat down to write about anything remotely dangerous, or anything that felt like I needed to feel the feelings of the character to write well, like this felt. It just didn’t come up…. So, now I know, my preference for peace and quiet, over chaos and danger, is not just a preference; it is a demand from my sub-conscious mind to NOT go there, in any way, shape, form, or disguise…..
Perhaps that makes me a coward, in a sense. You know what? I could care less…. Call me whatever you like, I’m done with the feelings that go along with all that, and have no intention of ever allowing them the control over me that they once had. For a long time, I spent a lot of time feeling bad about what happened, and what was done, and not done in the dangerous times in which I participated back then. I’m done with all that feeling bad about it, because A) it’s in the past, and it can’t be changed, and B) you can’t make me…..
It took me a long time to reach the point where I could believe the second part…. A big part of being depressed is not knowing how to get out of it, or away from it; taking back the control of one’s feelings is the first, and most important step, to regaining one’s equilibrium in that respect. Now that I have it, I am pretty jealous of giving it up, for anything, or anybody. I’m sure it’s typical of those of us who emerge from the darkness to make sure we don’t step back out of the light we’ve chosen to seek out, to be firmly against the trip, or trips, back into that hole of illusion; it’s no place anyone would want to call home….
As can be seen by this mini-rant, depression and mental issues are never put aside completely. They tend to jump up and bite at those of us who deal with them occasionally, no matter how well we do what we do to avoid going there. I have an outlet that many don’t have, being able to write what I feel, and get it outside of me, where I can look at it, and take it apart, and even throw it away if needed. Some folks don’t have that, and for them, it can be a miserable time, having to return to those dark feelings we know and hate so much…. For me, well, I just turn to my Pearls, and eventually, I feel better…. after all, I’ve got Zippy, Emily D., Keats, Yeats, and Albert Einstein on my side!…. Who can lose with friends like those?…… Shall we Pearl?……
“Is this an out-take from the “BRADY BUNCH”?” — Zippy the Pinhead
I’m rather hoping it is, in sooth…. if not, we all are in serious trouble, up the proverbial creek without a hint of a paddle. Not that it should be anything new or unfamiliar, as most of our history has been spent thus occupied. Of course, previous centuries didn’t have the distinct advantage of having either the Brady’s, or Zippy, in all his insane wisdom, as cultural icons, as well as ethical touchstones….. They had to make do with Socrates, and Plato, and stuffy old guys like that….. Aristotle was practically a rock star in his day, and remains a pretty smart dude, by all evidence, but I still prefer Carlin, I think, for the most cogent philosophy for modern times….
“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.” — The Constitution of the United States of America Amendment 6, 1791
For a moment, I wondered what my unconscious mind was thinking when it made me copy and paste this amendment into the pearl, as a pearl…. especially as it seems to be in conjunction with the Zippy quote…. Here I am, five minutes later, still wondering what the hell I was thinking…. It happens that way sometimes…. just give me a few moments here, and I’ll come up with it…. Aha! Got it! Naturally, I only needed to go back to basics…. The answer to the question of how the two quotes are related is…. Reality….
Aye, that’s right, reality. It’s what we do here, explore reality, and all its implications, ramifications, and delineations. Also, it’s temperature. Well, perhaps that isn’t the right word, but…. Reality, as is clear and obvious to the most casual observer, exists in varying degrees (hence: temperature…. see?). The degree of reality that is included in an out-take from the Brady Bunch is clearly not the same degree of reality that is implied in the Sixth Amendment. I’d say, the Amendment would hit around 8 or 9 on the real scale, with 10 being the Reality of Amber, where all roads lead. (See Roger Zelazny’s book, The Courts of Amber…..), whereas the highest the Brady’s could hope for would be a 2 or a 3 on that same scale. They’re too oppositional in nature to be rated otherwise, as well as being on opposite ends of the scale of Relative Importance to ME and YOU…..
Now we get to the meat of this matter…. Of late, there has been a lot of public discourse regarding gun control, as a result of the media’s steadfast love of gore and manipulation. Another school shooting took place a few weeks ago, wherein some crazy idiot got hold of some firearms and used them in an insane manner. This, of course, all morality aside, is still a reprehensible act, and, IMHO, most easily solved by just taking one of his own guns and using it on him, at the time of his crime. Bang, problem solved, and since he’s standing there over the bodies he has made, no question of guilt. In such cases, the why of his guilt should not matter; whatever it is, it is reason enough to put him down, in defense of humanity. The other questions can be answered after the children have been defended….
Sadly, there are two segments of humanity who don’t agree with this logical outcome. One segment is what I term the humanitarians, a misleading term, since it usually involves the denial of much of human nature. The other, of course, is our old nemesis, the BRC…. our Beloved Ruling Class…. Neither of these groups will agree that allowing people to have guns should be allowed, or that killing the killers is a proper solution for the issue. In both of these positions, they are dead wrong, and, more, they know they are. This serves to make their arguments more shrill, more emotionally based, and, in their eyes, more valid, in some strange form of weird logic….
“Everybody in this room is wearing a uniform, so don’t kid yourself…” — Frank Zappa
One of the most edifying parts of this discussion, for me, is how it makes it so easy to identify those who are wearing the uniforms, and from what camp they are from, according to their colors and insignia. You can tell the humanitarians, they’re the ones wearing the faux-camouflage pants, in support of the troops, they’ll assure you; they want the police to be the only ones who carry guns, believing, for some unknown reason, that police are somehow more moral or ethical than other people. (Of course, they also would have trouble if you asked them to define the words, “moral”, or “ethical”, in any other terms than those used in a philosophy paper they memorized in college, or in seminary….)
The BRC are always easy to spot, as their sense of entitlement provides them with all the armor against opinion, or law, they ever need. They want guns to be only held by the militia, (which they control), or the police (whom they also control), because it makes them nervous as hell to know there are guns out in the land, in the hands of people who would use them, for certain, if they attempt to perform their illegal lying, cheating, and stealing anywhere in their presence. It also makes them nervous knowing that they would be in danger for real, if the truth about what they do is ever made public with enough evidence to convince the masses to act…. They don’t want to have to worry they will be over-matched in firepower when that day comes along….
SIGH…. I’ve opened a can of worms, again, I know it….. I’m not going to claim to have all the right answers to the situation we find ourselves in today. Though it is a different world, technologically and culturally, from the time when the Second Amendment was written, deciding to abandon its precepts on that basis is not, and should never be, enough to justify any change in a law that is so important to the common man, the very people for whom the laws were created, to protect them from the self-same usurpation that is now being attempted. Once the law is amended, and weakened, the term “slippery slope” becomes very real, and a valid fear for those people.
To put a cap on it for now, I’ll say this…. Quite simply, I do not trust those who would take the right to bear arms from the people. I have seen NO evidence, in history, or in recent current events, that ANY governing body, or ANY group, or ANY single person, of ANY persuasion can be trusted to have guns, and use them solely for the benefit of the people, without turning them to their own purposes, first. NONE. You can’t show me any, either…. Go ahead, I’m listening….
I have studied people every day of my life, and I know too much of human nature to ever believe what I’m told of another person’s intentions; even the best intentions can change in mid-stream, turning its back completely on any commitments made previously. People lie, they cheat, they break in their minds, and they can’t, as a whole, ever be trusted to act rationally on a consistent basis….. at least, not any more rationally than can I myself….
“In all matters of opinion, our adversaries are insane.” — Oscar Wilde
Such being the case, I’d rather keep my guns, thanks. I’ll accept the risks that go with that freedom, which includes the risk of bad people getting their hands on guns, and doing bad things to others. Don’t worry, if they do it in front of me, I’ll help…. and not by running away and hiding…. Life is dangerous, ffolkes, and one either learns to get along with that idea, or one spends a lot of time worrying about shit that can’t be changed…. A very unhappy state of affairs, to my way of thinking, and not very realistic in the long run….
“When the panorama of human existence becomes chaotic and confused, it is quite soothing to watch the sun rise in the East.” ~~ gigoid
On A Dream
As Hermes once took to his feathers light
When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon’d and slept,
So on a Delphic reed my idle spright
So play’d, so charm’d, so conquer’d, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes,
And, seeing it asleep, so fled away:
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
Nor unto Tempe where Jove griev’d a day;
But to that second circle of sad hell,
Where ‘mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kiss’d, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.
“People who take issue with control of population do not understand that if it is not done in a graceful way, nature will do it in a brutal fashion.” — H. Kendall
Considering the several thousand words I’ve already spewed out today on a serious subject, this pearl suggests a way to spare you a repeat performance…. A good thing, too, as this is one of my favorite topics for ranting, and what with the way it is going today, I’d find a lot to say, I’m sure. To forfend any such occurrence, I will merely say this about that…. This is a fact, not a supposition. Nature’s concern with being graceful is far less than its indifference to brutality, though graceful is a part of all it does, ultimately.
Whatever brutal happenstance Nature uses to cleanse the planet of our depredations will, I’m sure, be quite beautiful in its majesty and simplicity, which comprises to make graceful….. Whether the atmosphere becomes unsuitable to breathe, or the water too polluted to drink, or the crust of the Earth breaks free, or an asteroid the size of Kansas falls into the Moon, Nature has a million ways to choose from to end our pitifully insignificant presence in this corner of the universe, and whatever is chosen promises to be a grander show than we’ve seen to this point….. The one thing we can pretty much count on is that whatever takes place is NOT going to be comfortable for us, to put it as euphemistically as I can.
Before this goes any further, threatening to actually become a rant, instead of not-a-rant, I’ll let it alone, and just say, think about it, ffolkes. Unless thinking is something that causes you pain, it can’t hurt, metaphorically speaking…..
You only live twice:
Once when you’re born,
Once when you look death in the face.
— Ian Fleming
Enough is sometimes more than enough, and I’d say we’ve arrived there…. I guess I had a lot to say this morning. And, boy, I can’t believe I just said that! Could I be any more trite, or obvious? Ah well, it’s probably a good thing I’m done then, but for the poem search. That always settles me down….. Not that I’m anxious, or anything, but, there are only 47 hours now until my internet connection at home is scheduled to be up and running…. and yes, I could tell you how many minutes, but that would be a bit obsessive, don’t you think? I’m doing my best not to think about it at all, to avoid any disappointment should it fail to materialize…. Any who….. Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
I just sits.