Tag Archives: Religion

Side effects of eloquence, no charge….

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19

Ffolkes,
SIGH….. I know…. one look at the big sigh, and you’re all, “So, what’s his problem?”  Typical…. just kidding. No, the sigh was for real, actually. It was in reaction to a thought I often have at this moment, a thought that can determine the entire day’s direction. Of course, while I was typing, that thought went completely away, and now I’m stuck in the middle of this paragraph with no subject matter, which is about par for my course this early in the morning. How, you are asking, will he ever pull himself out of this one? Well, I’ll tell you, he has no frigging idea at this point. He’s trying hard not to panic, but I’m afraid his effort isn’t getting very far, because he’s about to FREAK OUT!  Shit! Damn it! Now I’m pissed… hold on, be right back….

As you can see, he did. Freak out, that is. So badly, he was forced to take a break, and asked me to sit in for a moment while he pulls himself together. Who, you are asking, are you? Well, you see, I can’t tell you that, or I’d have to kill you, and we don’t want to leave our readers laying about the premises all dead, now, do we? No, we don’t. So, just take your curiosity and shove it quietly back into your back pocket, and we’ll just forget you asked, okay? Better for everyone that way…… that’s better…..

Oh, look, he’s back! It’s been fun, y’all…… ta then!  

Who the hell was that? What? No, I didn’t ask him to sit in, did he say I did? Why, that asshole! No, I have no idea who that might have been; I just had to go wipe up the mess I made when I freaked, and when I come back, there’s stuff all over the screen. Gad! It’s getting so you can’t even trust your own hallucinations!

Fuck this, let’s go Pearl, okay? I gotta get outta here for a while….. C’mon, follow me, I know a shortcut…..
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“[Spirituality is] being able to see anything in a context. If you’re stuck in something that you’re trying to do, you step back and say, “What is this about?” Put it in a larger context. This is what the Gestalt psychiatrists call “insight.” It’s what other psychiatrists call “reframing.” It’s the ability to do this, rather than being stuck in a particular pattern like a computer. This kind of thinking is always in the back of science — theories are provisional. If they don’t work, one steps back and takes another look at them.” — Ian Marshall, Salon 2/18/00

A voice of reason speaks! Of course, there is little hope that anyone is, or will be, listening. First attributed twelve years ago, this statement seems a balanced response to any questions or arguments one might have in the discussions (if such they may be called) that swirl and eddy around the subject of creationism vs. evolution. It accurately points out the mind-set, the attitude, as it were, that one needs to approach any question of science, or philosophy, or religion, or any other subject, that is essential to finding any viable answers to the inquiry. Any picture needs to be beheld in the proper perspective, in order to fully see the characteristics of which it is comprised; when viewed from a different perspective, the picture changes, and may no longer be an accurate representation of what is real, thus altering how we can deal with it.

The seeking of this perspective is a quality of inquiry that is too often overlooked by the proponents of creationism. The view of events and purported evidence that support their position does not yield itself well to such examination; the evidence upon which they are basing their belief shifts about, or disappears entirely if viewed from any viewpoint other than the one from which it is presented. This is due for the most part to the inability of these proponents to verify the evidence by independent means, or by reproducing the evidence anew in another experiment. They can’t do that, because the evidence has no real existence in reality, but is rather based on assumptions that cannot be verified. Generally, pointing this out tends to provoke a certain apoplexy in them, and it’s best at that point to leave them to their own devices, so as not to annoy them further by intruding upon their fantasy with your reality……

“If a little knowledge is dangerous, where is the man who has so much as to be out of danger?” — Thomas Henry Huxley
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ABSENCE
We’ve looked at the whole Solar System:
Mars, Venus, the Moon – you can list ’em.
Wherever we roam,
There’s nobody home.
Perhaps they stepped out, and we missed ’em?

Well, perhaps it isn’t exactly on a par with say, Keats, or Yeats, or Emily D, but I like it…. it speaks to the Bozo in me, as well as to the scientist, and the romantic. Not bad for a simple limerick, eh?

Now you can see why school was never really much of a difficult academic challenge for me, but rather a complex social challenge. Facts, philosophy, language, math, science, I could handle all that just fine, as my grades indicated so well. But, throw me into the mix at a dance, and I was mostly clueless, though not completely, coming from a large family. Having sisters did keep me from the worst social gaffes; but sisters aren’t known for their support and encouragement of younger brothers. In fact, one might say that ridicule and laughter are their preferred methods of emotional interaction with them. But, they didn’t want me embarrassing them in front of their friends, so a minimal amount of helpful information was given (with appropriate physical reinforcement) in that vein….

I also had the educationally neutral, yet socially advantageous status as an athlete, eventually earning varsity letters in three sports, for three years out of four. The before and after game activities were my primary social proving ground, my laboratory, so to speak; needless to say, it took me a long time to really learn anything substantially accurate regarding human interaction on more than a superficial level. In short, I was an engineer, in spirit, if not in actual practice…. pathetically naive about relationships, and women, in both the general, and the specific senses.

Then, I went to Berkeley…. I don’t think I need to say that my education, and even enlightenment in some cases, in social issues of every type, personal, political, relational, general, and specific, assumed a much larger importance, a much larger portion of my time and attention. Simply put, it blew what passed for my mind into tiny pieces of shattered illusions (to use the charming vernacular of the time….).

I’d guesstimate that 95% of what I had believed or thought I knew about most everything to do with society, and how people interact with one another, was either out-of-step, untrue, unreliable, or simply made up nonsense, that seemed to have no real purpose other than to allow some folks to manipulate others with more facility. Let me tell you, that first year away from home was an eye-opener, for sure and for certain….. and I thank my younger self almost daily for deciding on Berkeley the moment I first saw the campus, riding with my Dad in a tiny little Renault compact in 1967…. It was the only college I applied to, or wanted to go to…. and, fortunately for my mind/self, I did….
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“If you wish to make a man your enemy, tell him simply, You are wrong. This method works every time.” — Henry C. Link

This statement is another of those that I almost passed on, thinking it was too obvious a point to make for good discussion. But, as is often the case when I think that at first, a second look at the idea stimulated further thought….

For example, the question occurs to me to ask, “Well, if this is so, what is there in men that makes them so easy to manipulate like this?”  For that is what it is, a simple manipulation. Such a statement as  “you are wrong”, when uttered with confidence and surety,  doesn’t even have to be true; the mere fact that you have said it will activate most men’s towering ego, which, automatically it seems, refuses to believe that it CAN be wrong, much less accept being told so by anyone at all……

Generally, there is no need to even offer any proof of such an assertion. The ego of most who seek argument will blow right past that key step in finding truth, and head right on into outraged anger at the one who would be so rude as to question them. Actually, watching some folks go through the mental steps to this outrage can be pretty entertaining, especially when they turn all those colors in their faces as their anger grows, and they become increasingly apoplectic in response…. fascinating shades the human skin displays when aroused!…..

Of course, once made, you usually have an enemy for life, so it is often wise to withhold such applications of control over others. Allowing oneself to indulge in this sort of manipulation, while satisfying and amusing in the short run, often leads to later regrets, at having to deal with the consequences repeatedly over time (most folks have a long memory for being told they are wrong; they never forget, and they never forgive…. one would think they had nothing better to do…..)

This is another lesson to be learned in these interactions, that compassion for ignorance is not always misplaced, rare as it may be to find an ignoramus deserving of it. For myself, I find it hard to be compassionate when the other person chooses to be ignorant; whether due to fear of the unknown, faith-based denial of reality, or simple laziness, it all tends to piss me off, and I’m not shy about sharing that with them.

But, for those whose lack of understanding comes from an inherent inability to comprehend the necessary information, I am willing to show some tolerance, and make the attempt to educate them….. they can’t help using the deck of cards they have, even if it is missing a jack and half of the queens……

“Anybody who wants religion is welcome to it, as far as I’m concerned — I support your right to enjoy it.  However, I would appreciate it if you exhibited more respect for the rights of those people who do not wish to share your dogma, rapture or necrodestination.” — Frank Zappa, “The Real Frank Zappa Book”

“A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference.” — Pooh’s Little Instruction Book, inspired by A. A. Milne
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“[The Equal Rights Amendment] is about a socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians.” — Pat Robertson

🙂    So, where would you like me to begin with this? ….. Take your time…..  I know, hard to pick, isn’t it?  A few days ago, I found and included here another of Pat’s verbal miscues. That one was amusing mostly because it was so obviously his own natural stupidity that overcame his media chops, turning his attempt at deep philosophy into a soliloquy that Geraldo Rivera would have rejected. It wasn’t even necessary there to even point out what was wrong about it; sheer nonsense needs no explanation.

But this statement is another kettle of old stinky fish altogether. This one reaches for the heights; it seeks to climb the highest peak of human stupidity, and seriously would like to drag all of us along with him, into that clear air, free of any distracting truths. The sheer, complete refusal to even glance in the direction of Reality that this indicates in the speaker is, to me, absolutely astounding. I have watched with resignation and chagrin as the world has, step by step, little by little, “dumbed down”; the percentage of public acts that approach the ludicrous grows larger every day, hastened by the unstoppable march of population growth.

The mathematics of demographics leaves no room for argument with the FACT that average human intelligence decreases as the population increases; it is a proven equation, and not arguable in the slightest. The numbers simply cannot lie. Society is getting dumber. Deal with it…..

And prepare yourselves, as such egregiously insane and ignorant statements as this will no doubt become more frequent, as the number of folks who haven’t a clue, or a care, as to what may or may not be real, grows beyond all expectations, keeping the rest of us busy cleaning up the messes they make. Oh well, it will give us something to do until the inevitable result of such a trend takes effect, at which point the planet will be able to get back to normal, without the infestation of self-destructive mammalians all over the available surface space….
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`Just the place for a Snark!’ the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.

‘Just the place for a Snark!  I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark!  I have said it thrice:
What I tell you three times is true.’

Is there anyone who doesn’t know who wrote this? Or hasn’t heard of he Snark and the Boojum? If so, I pity them, and wish they could have more fantasy in their lives, for they obviously have not had enough thus far, if these names ring no bells for them, and bring no smiles of fond remembrance of childhood days, reading or listening to tales of Wonderland.  Every child needs to experience times of joy in dreams, and flights of unfettered imagination, for without it, they are ill prepared to face reality with any hope of success.

gigoid has spoken….. so be it….
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Any more signs of that asshole that jumped in here at the intro? Good….. I guess I’m going to have to put a password protection on my keyboard for those times I have to leave it unattended suddenly. Of course, since he was most likely a figment out of my own imagination, he could probably find the password in my mind anyway, so that won’t work…. hmm. I’ll have to think about this…. I don’t want to up my meds enough to completely eliminate such hallucinations; sometimes they’re the only company I have for days and days… but, I also can’t have them usurping this blog; it’s counter-productive at minimum, and probably not a completely healthy situation, at least not for me. Can’t say how it affects them…. I never ask, I never tell….

Now that I have thoroughly convinced you of my complete and utter insanity, I can move on to bigger things…… and, as I’m sure you will agree, it’s about damn time….. Y’all take care out there…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Petite lint balls won’t delay the vote…..

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15

Ffolkes,
Preternatural voices careen down the corridor, washing away silence in a cacophony of unadulterated terror, stinging, grasping, bleeding into unheard but deeply penetrating undertones, perilous and weighted with fear. But the walls stand mute, and unafraid. Thus, balance is maintained, and time begins again….

Just as if it had never happened at all, he continued to type, completely unaware that he was still in the grip of the night, and could no more cease to type than he could cease to breathe. Abused by the muse, he succumbs, and swearing to repent, he is allowed to arise, and drink coffee, thus saving his life, and the day….

I don’t know what to say to that, surprising as that may be. I often let myself flow when writing, particularly phantasmagoria such as the first short paragraph. But this sort of got away from me, and I feel a bit used. I think, though I can’t be sure, that my muse did some rather uncivilized things to me last night in my sleep; why else would I feel so cheap before I’ve even had time to entertain any immoral thoughts, or kicked any puppies? I’m thinking at this point, my best hope is to turn to an old technique, one we all use from time to time…. sheer, stubborn denial.

Yeah, that’s the ticket…. no worries! It’s all good now. Hmm? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What you are asking makes no sense, because none of that ever happened. So, let’s not argue, eh? Let’s just get on with what we’re all here for… a healthy serving of oyster gems…… shall we Pearl, then?
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“I can wear my shirts as pants.” — Smart Bee

That’s it. “I can wear my shirts as pants.”  That is the best I’ve come up with so far. For a solid 45 minutes, I have been diligently reading potential pearls, and this is the one that made the grade. I must point out that it only did so because I was so frustrated, this line assumed a much larger significance to my fevered brain, so much so it forced its way onto the page. Pathetic, isn’t it? Today’s process is FUBAR, so far, but we must push on, or, or,….. or I’ll spit!

Well, THAT threat will certainly send my muse into gales of hysterical laughter…. and I wouldn’t blame her a bit. I’m feeling a bit hysterical myself at this point, totally uncertain as to how to deal with this unprecedented state of affairs. Smart Bee has never been this reluctant to dredge up at least a couple of shiny gems, even if it is only out of pity at times. Today, no mercy….. and no inspiration, either….

It is clear that extraordinary methods will have to be applied…. or at least, threatened. Nothing short of taking away her beer allowance ever works, so I’m going straight for the jugular here…. no more Tres Equis until the filter is removed from Smart Bee, and a suitable group of pearls has been harvested. No Tres Equis, and no Bug Lite, either…. That’s the final word, and no more argument will be tolerated. If that doesn’t do the trick, then I’ll be online this afternoon, looking for a deal on a new muse, because this one will be out the door and gone…. I’m done fooling around. If I don’t get this done in a timely fashion, there WILL be changes in personnel made around here, and she can take that to the beer bank!

I am now drawing my shirt up over my legs, buttoning up, tying the tie I’m using as a belt, and will now proceed to search out a gorgeous, shiny new pearl, which I fully expect to be waiting for me when I arrive at the oyster beds…… last warning…..
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“One can imagine a sane, healthy, cheerful human society based on no more than the principles of common sense, as validated each day by work, play, and living experience. But this remains the most Utopian and fantastic of ideals.” — Edward Abbey

I almost skipped over this, because it seems so obvious. But, then I paused, and thought about it a moment, and it occurred to me to ask myself, “Why?” (I know, a generally futile question when applied to reality, but, hey, today is denial day, so, onward…..) Why should such a concept be so easily dismissed as a worthy goal? What keeps us from becoming a society based on reason and compassion, rather than its current format of a culture of avarice and ambition? Answers to these questions are always given with a smirk, a wink, and a knowing look between those that comprise the beloved ruling class that our society has allowed to shape its destiny.

They are smug, and confident, that the great masses of people in society will never ask these questions, knowing they will never receive an answer that provides any real hope of change. The folks who make up the bulk of society long ago gave away their will; they see no hope of change for the better, and have not the energy to make any attempt to make those changes themselves, being too busy trying to survive in a world that doesn’t care at all about their suffering. They meekly accept the indignities that modern life forces them to endure, silently grieving over their once-precious dreams, and hoping only that things will not get worse.

No, the dream of Utopia is dead in the modern world. There is too much evidence that those who seek and gain power over others in this world have already attained their goals. Nothing is going to change if they can help it, and they have had a strangle-hold on the rest of us for a couple thousand years, a hold that gives them perfect confidence that they can do as they wish, and no one is going to do anything about it at all, at all…..  Scary, isn’t it?….. And, all too real……

This has been a moment of Truth, brought to you by gigoid….. for all the good it will do…… it’s the thought that counts, right?

“And sometimes the bear eats you.”– Smart Bee
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ART, n.  This word has no definition.  Its origin is related as follows by the ingenious Father Gassalasca Jape, S.J.

One day a wag — what would the wretch be at? —
Shifted a letter of the cipher RAT,
And said it was a god’s name!  Straight arose
Fantastic priests and postulates (with shows,
And mysteries, and mummeries, and hymns,
And disputations dire that lamed their limbs)
To serve his temple and maintain the fires,
Expound the law, manipulate the wires.
Amazed, the populace that rites attend,
Believe whate’er they cannot comprehend,
And, only edified to learn that two
Half-hairs joined so and so (as Art can do)
Have sweeter values and a grace more fit
Than Nature’s hairs that never have been split,
Bring cakes and wines for sacrificial feasts,
And sell their garments to support the priests.

— Ambrose Bierce, “The Devil’s Dictionary”

I’m getting a picture in my head, of Madonna, standing on stage with Dr. Phil, Andy Warhol, Yoko Ono, and the entire cast of “Borat Sees America”. You know, those folks who are currently the icons of Artists, the avant garde, as it were…. whatever that means. (Oops, sorry, forgot. Andy Warhol passed on. You may exclude him from further inclusion in this discussion…) (Not because I respect him or his art, but he’s no longer around to defend himself, so, just being fair….)  I’m not going to go on too long about this, I just wanted folks to think about the stuff that passes for Art these days, and how it says certain things about the state of society.

“Art has an obligation to offend.” — Edward Albee

This attitude may be a large part of the problem. It is, in reality, an observation that is true, but not exclusively true. But the media, and too many otherwise mediocre singers, painters, writers, etc. take it to be the defining characteristic of what is meant by “good” Art. Sort of like assuming the Big Mac to be the highest form of culinary expression, the ultimate meal for the modern world. Forget elegance, or subtlety, or beauty; to these morons truth is ugly and mean…. hence, we have folks like Justin Bieber atop the charts, and movies like “American Reunion” pulling in millions of dollars in a matter of days. It may be a word I’ve over-used of late, but to me it’s pretty pathetic….

Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
— Alexander Pope (1688-1744) — Essay on Man, Epistle iv, Line 261

In my opinion, a lot of the poetry, prose, painting, and graphic art that I see right here on WordPress is far superior to anything I’ve seen in a museum of modern art in a very long time. (That doesn’t include museum displays of the art of ancient Egypt, or European Masters of the Renaissance, or others of that ilk…. that is a different story altogether….)  Art is a reflection of the soul of society, and a lot of the reflections I see on public display are….. just plain ugly, and full of despair……  think about it, that’s all…..

E’en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E’en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
— Thomas Gray (1716-1771) — Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 23

I hate to mention things like this in this feature, but it is one of the more pressing problems in America today, and that is the lack of tap-dancers in the Miss America contest. — Smart Bee (On the strength of the mere existence of this phrase, that it can even be uttered in jest, I rest my case…..)
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DAMN, v.  A word formerly much used by the Paphlagonians, the meaning of which is lost.  By the learned Dr. Dolabelly Gak it is believed to have been a term of satisfaction, implying the highest possible degree of mental tranquility.  Professor Groke, on the contrary, thinks it expressed an emotion of tumultuous delight, because it so frequently occurs in combination with the word _jod_ or _god_, meaning “joy.”  It would be with great diffidence that I should advance an opinion conflicting with that of either of these formidable authorities. — Ambrose Bierce, “The Devil’s Dictionary”

Delightful! Such eloquent nonsense! It needs no embellishment, and will receive none here. It is here only to tickle my sense of whimsy, which strikes at odd moments, but is always welcome….. just enjoy it, and move on, with a little smile gracing your face….
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The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
— Emily Dickinson

At last! At last, a fitting pearl with which to end this marathon. Finding this particularly shiny, perfectly formed pearl from Ms. Emily has made my entire morning! Such power, such beauty, such insight, such masked pain, and such hope, all condensed into the simplest, most compelling grouping of words one can imagine.  Serendipity has indeed rewarded my perseverance and discipline this morning, throwing this into my path as a parting gift. It puts the perfect cap on the discussion above re: modern Art, providing a counterpoint to the examples of Art we are daily bombarded with in the media circus of modern life. Bonus!….. and the perfect ending point…..
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The best laid schemes o’ mice and men
Gang aft a-gley;
And leave us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.
— Robert Burns, To a Mouse

I would like you all to know that this is a record breaking Pearl of Virtual Wisdom. It has required my utmost effort for almost four  hours to show the discipline to bring it to a (somewhat) successful conclusion. It has taken me an inordinate amount of time to not only find the material about which to write, but to pound and slice and trim that material into usable shapes. I am tempted to use the word Herculean to describe that effort, but Herc might be a bit out of my league. Let’s just say that I put everything I’ve got into this one, and will no doubt need a transfusion later today, once these veins have closed up sufficiently to make it practical.

Hard as it has been to get this done, I now find myself reluctant to stop. Don’t worry, I will, that wasn’t meant as a threat, so calm down. But, I sort of feel like the Jack-in-the-Box clown when the spring is starting to wind down, and there are a couple of turns left. I guess I’ll use them to go fix some breakfast, to replace some of this energy I’ve expended so far today. You’re welcome to join me, if you wish. But, it’s time to get on with it, so adieu for the nonce….. Y’all take care out there…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Even aged literati won’t bow or scrape before six….

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29

Ffolkes,
At 0607 in the morning, I don’t expect my reaction time to be at maximum, nor am I be surprised to find my mind less than fully awake and prepared for immediate use, at least not for any use of sustained duration, or of a complex nature. But, it is a bit embarrassing to sit here and watch the screen-saver come on, while vacantly staring at the screen, and to still be frantically searching the empty, echoing corridors of my thus-far uninspired mind for an opening statement or idea. I have the screen saver set to come on after 3 minutes of no user activity, so I am forced to admit that I sat here and blankly stared for at least that long. Pathetic…..

On further reflection, however, I can see that having the screen-saver pop on has acted as some sort of release, or stimulation, if you will, and the words are now flowing. I guess serendipity comes in different colors and shapes after all…. whatever the case may be, I’ll take it.

I’ve learned not to question such little gifts from the universe; if I did, they might cease to happen, and so far, they’ve been responsible for some of my best work (and, in fact, have often been responsible for the creation of ANY work at all…..). Now, if I could only see what to write about next, I’d be good to go…… can’t have everything, I suppose. As Steven Wright said, “Of course you can’t have everything. Where would you put it all?”

Since I already lack sufficient storage space, we’ll just get on with the business at hand….. shall we Pearl?…
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We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails. — Proverb

This is the sort of pearl that is much, much deeper than it appears at first glance. (Note: It seems common to find the most complex and deep issues described or related in very short sentences. Hmm…. probably something to do with K.I.S.S., which the universe believes in strongly…) Applied as a metaphor for human interactions with reality, the proverb assumes an even greater degree of relevance, as it implies both choice and hope. Both are always present, but not always in view; such aphorisms as this can help one to find where they are standing, hidden in plain sight…

It is clear to most by now that reality does not adjust to our desires; any adjustments made must be on our part, as we have absolutely no power to change any aspect of reality other than our response to it. A hard lesson, one that many never learn, or come to terms with, and one which guarantees they will find life to be one long struggle, as they spend their days in doomed attempts to make what is into what they wish it to be. To use the analogy provided, they never learn to trim the sails of their vessel, and find themselves constantly fighting with, and cursing, the wind, never realizing their own lack of understanding is what sends them into uncharted waters.

Thus, from simplicity does great wisdom arise; to reach our desired destination in life, one must learn to trim and adjust the sails of our vessel, to make the best use of the wind that the universe sends in our direction. Or, more plainly, we can only make changes to ourselves, not to reality. Learning this one simple lesson can turn a life out of balance completely around, and give it the direction and stability it has ever sought, enabling the most troubled soul to sail into the light, and out of the darkness that engulfs those who argue with reality…..
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“I think the sky is blue because it’s a shift from black through purple to blue, and it has to do with where the light is.   You know, the farther we get into darkness, and there’s a shifting of color of light into the blueness, and I think as you go farther and farther away from the reflected light we have from the sun or the light that’s bouncing off this earth, uh, the darker it gets … I think if you look at the color scale, you start at black, move it through purple, move it on out, it’s the shifting of color.  We mentioned before about the stars singing, and that’s one of the effects of the shifting of colors.” — Pat Robertson, The 700 Club

At last! The true, unacknowledged, but obvious, proof of how the concept of Christian Science came to be…… This has to be one of the finest examples I’ve ever seen of a man who, a) had no idea when he started to speak of what he meant to say, and b) opted to “fake it” and just make something up. Pat has apparently been listening to his own hype, and is convinced that, if it comes out of his mouth, it must be divinely inspired….

I imagine that the God that Pat claims to speak for lets him get away with shit like this because He is too busy laughing His divine Ass off to do anything about it. No point in throwing the lightning bolt too long after the causal event; no one would get the lesson. Plus, why give up such a cheap form of entertainment?….. It’s not like Hee Haw, or Laugh In, is still on the air….. and I imagine even God needs a break every so often from listening to Pat, or Oral, or Jim-boy, to keep from frying them in their tracks on live TV…. even He thinks twice about scaring the cattle, er, paying customers, er, congregation……
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“The greater your need to make a good catch, the greater the probability your partner will deliver his worst throw.  (If you can’t touch it, you can’t trick it.)” — The Ninth Commandment of Frisbee — Dan Roddick

Ah, sweet memory! I’ve previously mentioned my status as a hippie, forged during the late 1960’s in Berkeley, at the UC where I attended post-high-school. My life and times in the birthplace of hippie culture during this era of societal change imbued me with a true and complete set of hippie skills and attributes. I play guitar and sing folk music. I wear my hair long. I am politically active, dedicated to peace, brotherhood, and love. And, I am a master of the Frisbee. Well, used to be. Now I’d probably throw myself into a world of hurt if I even made the simplest toss, even if I warmed up first. But, back in the day, (what does that mean, exactly? Which day?….. slang is funky sometimes….) trick catches were one of my specialties, and I can attest to the accuracy of the Ninth Commandment.

One of my best tricks involved a softly hovering throw that approaches the catcher on a level about waist high. I would first kick the disc in the center, on the fly, knocking it straight up, but keeping it spinning in a hover. I’d then step under it, and bump it as it came down, right in the center again, with the top of my head. It went up again, and as it came down, still spinning, I’d strike it with one finger, again in the center, to send it back up again. On the fourth time the disc descended, I would catch it on one finger, in the center, and watch it spin there until I flipped it up and grabbed it with a flourish, or just let the spin run out and let it hang on the finger as it stopped.

In reading back over that passage, I can see that it would definitely be more impressive to see than it is to read…… but, it sure felt good when I nailed the trick, and it invariably impressed any girls in the vicinity; at 19 or 20 years-old, that was key….. especially if I hit the immediate throw back to my compatriot with a double-skip, right to his moving target…. Always a crowd-pleaser, the double-skip…
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A programmer from a very large computer company went to a software conference and then returned to report to his manager, saying: “What sort of programmers work for other companies? They behaved badly and were unconcerned with appearances.  There hair was long and unkempt and their clothes were wrinkled and old. They crashed our hospitality suite and they made rude noises during my presentation.”

The manager said: “I should have never sent you to the conference. Those programmers live beyond the physical world. They consider life absurd, an accidental coincidence. They come and go without knowing limitations. Without a care, they live only for their programs. Why should they bother with social conventions?”

They are alive within the Tao.

Yesterday, a short discussion was posted here on the subject of hacker culture, and the myths and philosophy popular among those who program computers, the ones who write the programs the rest of us use every day…. This pseudo koan exemplifies the type of thinking that permeates the culture, perfectly describing how true hackers see themselves.

As a group, hackers are highly educated in comparison to the general population, and share a certain predilection for science fiction and fantasy literature and media, mythology, philosophy, (particularly Zen Buddhism and Taoism), and properly spoken and written English (very important in computer programming; computers are VERY literal, and precise use of the language is a key element of creating successful programs, i.e. programs that actually perform as requested….) Hacker jargon assumes a deep knowledge of the subjects pertinent to them, and shows not vicious, but amused disdain for “normals”. Ambitions among hackers involve successful hacks, or writing the code for a major OS, or some other piece of programming that achieves industry-wide acceptance and acclimation; to become a demi-god is the ultimate goal, one whose name is familiar to anyone who writes code.

Contrary to many segments of society at large, where too much education creates mistrust, and the most admired qualities are simplicity and acquiescence to being average, in hacker culture, complexity, elegance, wit, a defiant roguishness, and strong math skills are qualities admired by all, and the status of demi-god is sought after assiduously by every individual who considers themselves to be a true programmer…. and demi-gods aren’t required, or expected, to act like normal folks….

“The computer programmer is a creator of universes for which he alone is responsible. Universes of virtually unlimited complexity can be created in the form of computer programs.” — Joseph Weizenbaum, _Computer Power and Human Reason_
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“And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.” — William Shakespeare (1564-1616), The Two Gentlemen of Verona — Act ii, Sc. 1

Okay, so we all know how Will the Thrill failed to make my most wanted list by now, so I won’t go into that. But, more evidence in my argument’s favor keeps cropping up, and this is a fine example. Though I know it is likely a bit clearer if taken in context to the surrounding action in the play, still, this line is just about as obscure as can be. I’m certain that the reaction from the audiences who first were exposed to this was the same as mine; I immediately thought, upon reading it, “HUH? What did you say?” My next thoughts were, in approximate order, “Let me outta here! I’m late for an appointment! I hear my mom calling! I’m on a mission from God! Anything! Just don’t make me listen to that again!”

Perhaps I can make myself clearer re: this opinion by making a small analogy. If Will The Middle English Thrill were alive today, who do you think he would most resemble, in terms of his fame, his literary and/or entertainment skills and accomplishments, and his overall status as a celebrity?  In my inner eye, a picture of Michael Jackson and Madonna fight over who is to pop up first. That frightening image is replaced by Stephen King, which is even more frightening. In a final attempt to find an acceptable comparison that is also accurate enough for my purposes, my third thought was “Aha!” followed by an old image of Yoko Ono sitting with John Lennon on a white bed….. I suppose John Lennon isn’t such a bad comparison, but Yoko Ono? Please… spare me…. and please spare me from any more Shakespeare…. that overblown twit….
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Well, it’s another fine mess I’ve created here, now, isn’t it? Fear not, I’m nothing if not accommodating; you’ll find a box of handi-wipes by the door as you leave the building. I’ve found it to be a well-appreciated amenity after sessions such as this one. Just remember, please, to dispose of them in the proper receptacle, also placed near the exit door for your convenience, and painted a bright orange so you can’t miss it…..

In the words of the prophet, ta ta, then, luvs….. y’all take care out there…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Today only: Tofu Doll Houses….

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2

Ffolkes,
Curious….. my mind this morning as I sit down to begin is empty again. I could have sworn when I woke up that there were lots of things going around in there, clamoring and pushing to be first to get out. But now that I’m faced with an empty screen, I find a matching empty screen in my mind’s eye, sitting there, staring at me like I’ve got something to put on there…. which, needless to say at this point, I don’t. I can’t say where all the stuff that was around earlier went to; if I did, I’d just go there, and cajole a few random thoughts to come on back with me, or maybe fool one of the weaker thoughts into turning into a comedy routine of some sort.

Since I haven’t a clue where they might be, I’m not sure now just what I should do. I can’t sit here typing stream of consciousness for too long; my stream is looking a bit thin at present. If only there were some way to magically call my thoughts back, like in a Harry Potter movie…. “Accio Inspiration!”  With my luck, Inspiration would be a big rock, which would proceed to smack me upside the head, thus inspiring me to curse mightily before heaving the rock out the window (hopefully, AFTER remembering to open said window….. the landlord gets so testy when I forget….). Like that’ll work….

Well, I suppose it’s back to Plan C…. pick up the axe, start chopping, and let the chips fall where they may. Not necessarily the most scientific or artistic solution, or even the most efficient, but brute force has always served me well…. so I’m going for it. If you’d care to tag along, please feel free, after donning the provided hard hats and goggles, both of which are required by law for all visitors to this site….. Thank you for you cooperation with these regulations…. they are filming us to ensure compliance. (See? Just over there, from that fourth story window across the way….) We hope you enjoy today’s tour through the WWW Ocean of Knowledge, and our search for Pearls of Daily Wisdom…..
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Tho’ lost to sight, to mem’ry dear        / Thou ever wilt remain;
One only hope my heart can cheer,–       / The hope to meet again.
Oh fondly on the past I dwell,            / And oft recall those hours
When, wand’ring down the shady dell,      / We gathered the wild-flowers.
Yes, life then seem’d one pure delight,   / Tho’ now each spot looks drear;
Yet tho’ thy smile be lost to sight,      / To mem’ry thou art dear.
Oft in the tranquil hour of night,        / When stars illume the sky,
I gaze upon each orb of light,            / And wish that thou wert by.
I think upon that happy time,             / That time so fondly lov’d,
When last we heard the sweet bells chime, / As thro’ the fields we rov’d.
Yes, life then seem’d one pure delight,   / Tho’ now each spot looks drear;
Yet tho’ thy smile be lost to sight,      / To mem’ry thou art dear.
— George Linley (1798-1865) — Song

I love these poems! I’ve seen several now, though at least two are probably this one seen twice. I’ve seen another in techspeak, written by some hacker. I know I’ve used this before, but it’s been quite a while, so, the hell with it, I’m using it again. I am just so impressed by the creativity, and perseverance, it must have taken to create these three poems in one, I am compelled to include it again today, in spite of my regular policy against repetition of source material for discussions. To keep the left column consistent as a complete work, then the right column, then the poem created by the two together; this to me is poetic genius, or at minimum, a complete refusal to give up on something until it is right….. fantastic!  Enjoy!…..
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“I don’t think we should punish the criminal [a rapist] by killing his child.” — Dr. John Wilke, President, National Right to Life Committee, — Search for Common Ground, taped for television 4/89, as quoted in “The Far Right, Speaking For Themselves”, a Planned Parenthood pamphlet

When I first read this, I could not believe that this is something that could pass the lips of anyone, anyone at all, without choking the speaker. There are so many wrong things about it, it is difficult to choose a starting point.  My next thought was to wonder how such an ignoramus could remember to breathe without someone there to remind them.  I certainly have serious doubts that this “Doctor” was awarded his degree by any accredited educational institution, in ANY field of scientific inquiry,  though I suppose it could be a Piled High and Deep Doctorate in Divinity, or some such faux degree. Such an example of extreme, deliberate ignorance is certainly not something that anyone with a) any compassion at all, or b) an IQ that exceeds 90, would ever contemplate allowing to come out of their mouth, at least, not without a grin and and a wink to assure the listeners that they were not serious.

After I got past the disbelief, (after all, there is no defined limit to just how stupid people can be… the bar keeps getting raised…..), I had a reaction not dissimilar to the one I get when I contemplate those who traffic in human flesh, i.e., pimps, brothel managers, and other WOS assholes of that ilk. (No, not preachers and priests, though they are certainly to be included in that category, for their active encouragement of the trade)

It is almost comforting to envision myself putting a double tap from a Glock 9mm right between their eyes, thus serving the sentence that Mother Nature herself would set if she were to judge such ignorance…. which she does, but leaves the execution of the sentence to other forces of Nature, such as the righteous anger of the brothers, uncles, and fathers of the abused victims…..
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“It is no great wonder if in long process of time, while fortune takes her course hither and thither, numerous coincidences should spontaneously occur. If the number and variety of subjects to be wrought upon be infinite, it is all the more easy for fortune, with such an abundance of material, to effect this similarity of results.” — Plutarch (46-120 AD) — Life of Sertorius

Infinite monkeys, pecking at typewriters over infinite time, would produce all the works of Shakespeare….. It now seems clear from whom the man who wrote that line obtained the obviously plagiarized concept he employed in its composition. If such it may be called, in light of this thought from Plutarch, a man whose reputation has stood through millennia.

With my complete faith in the power of Google, after writing the above little query into Plutarch’s statement, and in the interests of accuracy (and scratching the itch of curiosity it gave me), I typed the essential phrases into the search box, hit enter, and sat back to await the results, trying to find the current author to whom it is attributed.

Sure thing, the first link was to a comprehensive article on Wikipedia on what is known as the Infinite Monkey Theorem. Little did I know when I first took up this subject that I had blundered into a field of intense and continuous scientific and philosophical inquiry that has been raging among the academic and public sectors of society since the time of Aristotle, who is credited in the article as having been one of the first to propose the basic concept in writing.

In scrolling down the Wikipedia page in a quick scan, I realized what I saw there would be equivalent to 30 or more pages of a book, in a tiny font, mentioning discussions by most of the philosophers of the last two thousand years, including many examples of historical and cultural explorations of the concept. This first glance I took only covered the basic elements of the discussion, which was organized into what seemed to be endless divisions of academic, mathematical, and cultural aspects.

There are several other articles listed as well, some even longer and more detailed, that explore the idea’s mathematics, and the implications of that math. There are entire articles on the cultural aspects of the question, and each article is filled with links to more information, literally thousands of web pages of data. It is, in short, a subject worthy of weeks, or even years of study before any discussion to be held would cover any ground that hasn’t likely been covered previously.

It would take a few weeks of eight hour days just to check if any ideas I had for discussion had occurred already somewhere, or some when, not leaving much time to develop the any possibly new arguments in a fresh way, or even much time to organize any, since their relative newness was as yet undetermined. A challenge of a lifetime, or at least one worthy of a doctoral dissertation…. hmmm, I wonder if some university would accept such an article for a doctorate?

Hell, somebody probably thought of that already, too….. I guess I’ll find another subject for discussion here. This one seems to be a dead end….in spite of the 300 or so words I’ve already spewed.

Damn monkeys anyway! Who asked them to write Shakespeare? Though, as I’ve said before, there is some of his stuff that could use a bit of work….. just sayin’…..

“Originality is the fine art of remembering what you hear but forgetting where you hear it.” — Laurence Peter, “Peter’s Quotations”, 1977
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“Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.”– Goya

Master Goya knows whereof he speaks. If you believe it not, just view his body of work, and we will discuss it again.  Here is one of the marvels of which he speaks… I had forgotten how excellent a poet Keats could be. This is obviously a “toss off” poem, a spur of the moment reaction, yet effortlessly gives the reader a taste of the grandeur of what he had read in Chapman, and felt about what he read.  Enjoy!….

Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne,
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific, and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise,
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
— John Keats (1795-1821) — On first looking into Chapman’s Homer

Gorgeous! If you can believe it, I am speechless in admiration….. watch me….. See? Nothing more to say…. well, maybe one thing….

“True eloquence consists in saying all that should be said, not all that could be.” — Francois Duc de la Rochefoucauld
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No, ‘t is slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world.
— William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline
— Act iii, Sc. 4

Not to belabor my point, but see? Shakespeare. Really bad verse. At least 10 too many words, way more than needed, and still so obscure the point has to be shaken out like a peach from a tree. Not unusual for him, in my mind….. I rest my case…..

Kirk: “Spock, comment.”
Spock: “Very bad poetry.”
— “Catspaw”, Stardate 3018.2.
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Well…. I’d feel strange about the lineup today, but, in truth, it’s not an unusual grouping to find here. Since I never plan what to write ahead of time, I suppose that isn’t particularly surprising. It keeps me busy….. a bit of housekeeping, if you would spare me a moment of your attention….

*Smart Bee — Smart Bee is the database program in which a lot of the quotes I use as pearls are found. More of them than I would like are not attributed, as might be expected in a database of 111, 111 quotes amassed by a collection of geeks and programmers (i.e., hackers) in their spare time, and distributed for free.

In the past I have attributed all such orphaned statements to Anonymous, Unknown, and occasionally, no one at all (I feel plagiaristic every time, but whaddyagonnado,  when it’s perfect and you’re in a hurry to get done?) So, in the future, just for the sake of my sanity, such as it is, I’ll be attributing all such taglines found with no one to blame to Smart Bee itself. That way, I don’t have to try to figure out which to use each time, and can just get on with it… thanks for your patience with this little condom for my mental health.

And on that note, classy and elegant guy that I am, I shall bid thee adieu… be warned, please, that I intend to try to post to my blog site again later today…. but it won’t hurt, I assure you, especially if I don’t get to it….. Y’all take care out there…..

 

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

Kowabunga!

Strike the tent! We’ve been pacified!

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13

Ffolkes,
Possessing a passionate nature is not always a blessing. There are many times that my passion is so great that I feel as if I will burst if I cannot do something that will fulfill it somehow; to soothe it, or calm it so that I don’t feel as if I am trying to hold the leash of a rhinoceros who really, really wants to walk, NOW! The hard part of that is that taking the walk, or even slipping the leash off and letting it run, does not necessarily soothe the beast, or release the pent up energy. But, if it’s the only thing to do, or that CAN be done, well, we just have to try it, and hope for the best.

The other hard part of having unresolved passionate feelings is knowing that the event or issue that prompted the feelings is often something for which we have no solution, at least not in the short term. The reasons  behind that failure of solution are not important, other than to point out that reality can often not be changed to suit our desires. But the fact of the matter is that our, or my, passion is thus being controlled by factors in the world over which I have little or no control, and that is a hard pill to swallow, especially for someone who feels responsibility for their own feelings and action. I HATE knowing that there are things going on in the world over which I have no control, and that those things are evil.

This line of thought was prompted by a couple of comments made by a reader who had been taking in some of the articles on human trafficking, sexual abuse, and sex trade practices that I have re-blogged,  articles written by survivors, who know first-hand the evil of which I spoke above. The comment was a plaintive lament, expressing sorrow and astonishment at the extent and Medusa-nature of the trade in modern society, referencing a recent shut-down of a sex trade operation nearby, with the subsequent appearance of three new operations in the same area.

Her lament, naturally, struck a deep chord in me, for it echoes the hollow feelings of my passion over this issue, feelings so deep I weep, even now, as I think of the pain and degradation of my sisters who are trapped by those WOS assholes (I know, pretty lame insult for such evil; I’m still searching for words powerful enough to really show the level of hatred and disdain that I feel) (I don’t engage in hatred very much, it is generally an unproductive emotion. But, in the case of these people, a term I use in lieu of anything more accurate, I am making a deliberate exception to that policy, allowing myself to hate them without reservation…. damn straight I am…..)  who engage in the sex trade.

Sometimes, the only way I can stop myself from crying is to envision myself walking into a place like the Mustang Ranch, or some other brothel in any random city, and methodically assassinating any male figure that stepped into my sight, customer or staff, preferably with some sort of hollowpoint ammunition that would make a real mess when I shoot them in the head. That vision will usually make me feel better, if only for a moment or two.

For now, though, all I can do is try to help these women, who have survived and moved on, but have the compassion in them to want to share their strength with the other women, and children, still enslaved, to tell their story to the world, painful as that is for them. And all I can do to help, until I can get more ammunition anyway, is to help them to spread that story, to engage as many people in society as possible, who may then be pushed to add their voices, and their energies, to stopping this plague, this blight on society.

Since this issue has been present in society for many thousands of years, the eradication of it in its entirety will be a nasty, time-consuming job, not unlike getting rid of an insect infestation in a house or community. But it is a job that is long overdue for completion, so I’ll be doing whatever I can to help, for as long as I am well enough to type, and move a mouse around. (Or pull a trigger, but that is another story, yet to be written…. rest assured, before I die, I will personally take a significant number of assholes down….. one bullet for each asshole, one asshole for each sister I find there…..)

Well, that was a pleasant start to the day, wasn’t it? To be honest, I was torn up pretty well by the emotional storm this created within me…. but those last couple of lines had the beneficial effect of lifting my spirits quite nicely. I’m not sure what that says about me, getting my serenity from thinking about killing assholes, but, hey, too bad, so sad…. I refuse to feel any guilt over my intended future acts. The only guilt I intend to suffer over any of them will be if I miss with my first shot, and have to waste another round to put them down like the dirty, evil dogs they are…… karma be damned, in this case… I’ll take the risk.

“I must do something” will always solve more problems than, “Something must be done.” — Anonymous

There, that said, we can now go on to something a bit less dark and dreary…. well, we can if I can find an appropriate pearl to stimulate said lightness. Let’s go see what we can see, shall we?….. After you……
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“The rights of one are as sacred as the rights of a million.” — Eugene V. Debs, US labor leader.

(Note: Debs received one million votes in 1920 as candidate for US President, while serving a 10-year jail sentence for having said in June 1918: “Wars throughout history have been waged for conquest and plunder…the master class has always declared the wars; the subject class has always fought the battles.” Since we were at war, or just done with one, the beloved ruling class was able to label him a traitor for his words, thus hoodwinking the public, again….)

This pearl is another that doesn’t really need embellishment or long discussion, as I placed it here merely as a warning. Society today is no less tolerant of those who question those in power than it was just after WW I when Mr. Debs was cast down for dissing the beloved ruling class while they were in the middle of their victory dance. Though it is encouraging to note the number of intellectuals that were alert and active in 1920 at the polling booths, it must also be noted that, by virtue of force (i.e., shutting Debs up by locking him away on some trumped up charge) all million of those votes were effectively nullified, and made useless, except as a statement.

I think that all of us today who consider ourselves to be intellectuals, with responsibility to stay alert and speak out against the madness, would be well-advised to keep the example of Eugene Debs in mind, and be ready to repel any attempts to shut us up, by force, or by stealth, or by lying and cheating, all of which have been tried and true methods used by those in power…… Be alert, folks, the world needs more lerts, and that is NOT a joke, but a warning…..
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Just jiggle it a little, it’ll open. — Smart Bee  Wisdom for the ages…. known only to those with the soul of a true engineer…

As a rule, I didn’t, and don’t, write about men/women relationships in a serious vein, a practice most likely left over from my years as a thoroughly married man, one who was, of course, subject to the rules and unwritten laws that go with any such social contract (and, if you are paying attention today, you’ll see I’m not about to start now….). Talking about the relationship seriously is DANGEROUS TERRITORY for a man alone, as such things are more in the purview of women, at least in my experience. I mean, regardless of how honestly, or sincerely, or logically, or reasonably I have approached discussions of a serious nature with a women in relationship, what I said had absolutely no impact at all on the outcome. None. Zero. Zip. Nada. Not a damn thing.

What I discovered in my years of experiencing the phenomenon is that the outcome of all such conversations is a foregone conclusion; whatever reason the woman had for initiating the conversation was irrelevant, as were any thoughts on the matter I might entertain. What was key was to learn to understand that they didn’t need or want any input from me, because their mind, and feelings, were already set in stone; the discussion was merely some kind of ritual formality, necessary to show that they were trying to discuss things with you, or in this case, me….. and my thoughts and feelings on the matter were not merely irrelevant, but counter-productive in their eyes. (Echoes of past cliches are resounding in my mind, but I’m far too polite to include them….   🙂    …… )

One of the less emotional, but still potentially volatile, subjects that might prompt such discussion in a marriage involves chores, or tasks that come up in any household. For example, “Honey, the car is making a funny noise. Would you fix it, please?”  Questions such as this are pretty common, from woman to man, wouldn’t you say? Common enough at my house for the fact to have surfaced that hey, I’m not a mechanic! The one class in school that I ever got less than a B was auto shop, and she KNOWS this. I’m not an ignoramus in the engineering field, but it is NOT my field of expertise by any stretch of the imagination.

Yet my wife would continually assign tasks to me for completion that a man who had worked for 30 years on cars would scratch his head at (not an exaggeration. I took a cars to my VW guru more than once, asking him to track down whatever it was she heard, and he would frequently give it back with no charge, because he couldn’t find anything wrong with it…. not once, not twice, but…. more than that….. at least four times I can remember…. not hard to remember as it was really embarrassing, every time….)

But it didn’t matter to her; she wanted it fixed, and that was my job, regardless of whether or not I had an engineering degree or not, and that was all she wanted to hear on the subject….. SIGH, it was tough living up to those kind of delusions, er, standards, when she obviously believed the following to be a natural law, and expected me to be able, or even willing, to obey it…..

“Anything can be made to work if you fiddle with it long enough.” — Wyszkowski’s Second Law

By God, for a moment there, it all made sense…
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“It is a blessed thing that in every age some one has had individuality enough and courage enough to stand by his own convictions. I believe it was Magellan who said, “The church says the earth is flat; but I have seen its shadow on the moon, and I have more confidence even in a shadow than in the Church.” On the prow of his ship were disobedience, defiance, scorn, and success.” — Robert G. Ingersoll, quoted in _The Great Quotations_

And, on that note, we offer the following…..

1. Politics without principle
2. Wealth without work
3. Commerce without morality
4. Pleasure without conscience
5. Education without character
6. Science without humanity
7. Worship without sacrifice
— Gandhi’s Seven Social Sins

Of these principles, I can fully support 6 of 7, which is the best percentage of belief I’ve admitted to for ANY system of philosophy, so, good for Mahatma…. These two short statements don’t really need my comments, so I’m not going to give any, other than to say that both are very good meditation focus tools, with just a bit of practical editing to put them in the right form, as mindful questions to answer during our meditations…… enjoy!….
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Ingredients: vodka, tomato juice, Tabasco, Worcestershire sauce, A-1 steak sauce, ice, salt, pepper, celery.
Fill a large tumbler with vodka.
Throw all the other ingredients away.

— The Real Man’s Bloody Mary

Having been a bartender for a time, I rather enjoyed making Bloody Mary’s for the club members. As a chef, too, I played with recipe a bit, and came up with a pretty good set of proportions that made the list of classical ingredients able to be brought together into a “perfect” Bloody Mary, by the reports of the members. So, knowing those ingredients, upon reading the above, I was able, and happy, to burst into guffaws of laughter at the last line. Funny, funny, funny shit!  My recipe, which, classically, contains no A-1 sauce (an abomination!), and does contain both celery salt and fresh, strong horseradish, (along with my secret, a half teaspoon of chopped garlic) was popular with a number of the early golfers. But there WAS one member, who came in to play 18 holes just about every day, who would come in and ask for his personal Bloody Mary, (which he told his wife was what he drank while playing each morning).

This gentleman’s (he was no duffer, for sure….) version of the classic drink called for a 32 ounce opaque white cold cup, ice to 2/3 filled, then filled to the top of the cup with straight vodka from the well, a decent, but cheap plonk (it worked out to about 8 or 9 shots of vodka per drink). He’d slap a lid on it, take a huge swallow, grin, ask me to replace the swallow, and hit the course, both of us fully aware that regardless of his score on the front nine, he would be picking up an identical refill on the turn. 

Now, that was a drinking man! Can’t say I admired him, particularly, as a man, because he had a son and daughter, and no doubt spent too much time wasted to be of much use as a father.  But I did stand in amazement at how well he could play golf in that condition (he maintained an honestly earned handicap of 4; he was very, very good, according to his partners, all damn good golfers themselves…..), and at his liver, which hadn’t killed him by the time I left…..
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“It has been said that trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment rooted in the ground. But they never seem so to me. I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do. They go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!” — John Muir, American Naturalist (1838-1914)

John Muir probably did as much, and more, to ensure the preservation of much of the American wilds as any man who ever lived; his lifelong love affair with Mother Nature was not a front. His passion and sheer joy at being out of doors, almost anywhere, but especially in his beloved Yosemite, was obvious in every one of the thousands and thousands of words he wrote, trying to describe what he saw and felt when he was connected to Nature (always capitalized in his mind). He was a good writer, with excellent observational skills, and an engaging style. But, when waxing poetic about the wonders of his love for Nature, he tended to well, gush….. and since he had a very extensive, powerful vocabulary, his is not just gushing, but major gushing….. it can get everywhere if it spills…..   🙂

It’s okay, that is not a complaint, or intended to disparage. It’s just a personal opinion, from a curmudgeon in training, who gets a bit weary after a while of all the hyperbole Mr. Muir uses in his descriptions …. but THIS quote is perfect, to me, and I like it a lot. The image of Man and Tree walking the earth together, side by side as we ride our planetary roller coaster through space, is a lovely one, bringing a smile to my face upon first reading it. I was reminded of the scenes in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy where the hobbits, Pippin and Merry, are introduced to, and learn to appreciate, Greybeard, the Ent, the last and oldest tree in Middle Earth, the remaining guardian of all the less-sentient trees…. a truly wonderful vision of the inter-connecting lines of life force that are common to all the creatures and plants who inhabit Earth….. and not a gush to be seen….. lovely.
___________________________________

Wow. 0711 and I’m done. Not bad, even if I did start before 0500 by a good half hour….. I’ll take it. Maybe today, I can actually get a jump on the day’s email, before it has a chance to bury me again. Yesterday evening, I found myself still going through emails I had not gotten to yet, from 4/3/12, three days ago last night.

It is getting discouraging; I had it down to only 20 unread, and about 85 read but not yet site-visited, for those posts I wanted to acknowledge, or read more fully. Now this morning when I finish this, I flip over to email and find…… yup, as I suspected, 45 new emails to read….. SIGH… the price of fame, or in my case, an equal amount of folly, I suppose.

No es importa, es una problema personal, verdad? Si….  Y’all take care out there…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Plain, old-fashioned articles of modern design….

Posted on by
16

Ffolkes,
Malaise. An innocuous word, wouldn’t you say? Almost sounds like one of those drinks you get on a cruise ship, in a colorful plastic cup with a bamboo umbrella sticking up from the top….. Makes me thirsty just thinking about it, until I think about what the drink inside those cups usually taste like, to wit: six fruits, sugar, and a bunch of cheap rum, with bubbles. This is also only until I remember what the word actually means, and its relevance this morning…..

In the psychiatric healthcare industry, malaise refers to a certain set of symptoms experienced by people who suffer a wide range of mental issues; it is common in depression, neurosis of several types, schizophrenia, and a number of other diagnoses. Malaise is generally reported as a vague, unsettled feeling, centered in the abdomen, much like a low-grade fear, but without any specific cause or stimulus that the sufferer is aware of. All that unfortunately afflicted individual knows is that they are accompanied by a constant sense of impending doom, of dread at what may happen; they cannot tell you why they feel that way, they just do so.

I am here to tell you, it isn’t fun. As a man who has in the past suffered from the deleterious effects of long-term exposure to violence, i.e., post traumatic stress disorder/syndrome, I experience this on an irregular, unwelcome basis. This morning is one of those unwelcome times. I awoke, no earlier or later than usual, and from sleep not troubled by uncomfortable dreams, or excessive pain, either of which are common.

But, as I sat up to begin the morning routine, I was washed over completely, like an unexpected wave at the beach, by a feeling of trepidation and mild fear; sort of anticipation of disaster, much akin to the first moments before wading in to physically control a raging psychopath bent on ripping my head from my shoulders, an event with which I am all-too-familiar.

As a result of all the years I spent doing just that, it is a feeling I know well, and recognize easily. What isn’t so easy is convincing my conscious mind that all that fear does not require any action on its part; the fear is accompanied, you see, by a good strong jolt of adrenaline, which kind of takes over the metabolism, preparing the body for fight or flight. No fight, no flight, just the adrenaline coursing through my system, looking for a convenient asshole, or a plane ticket….

So, here I sit, vibrating lightly in every muscle, determined to ignore this feeling that I should be up searching for the danger so obviously present, according to the feelings of malaise I’m trying to ignore.  It will pass, after a time; it always does. It resembles Murphy in that respect; you never know or expect it when he might show up, and can never be sure he’s really gone, just because you don’t see him anymore. Patience, and will power, are the keys to handling this without ill effects, and needless to say, I’ve had lots of practice at this particular process.

So, we’ll just gather up our belongings, and get back on the bus, which will take us directly to the jumping off point for the day….. Shall we go Pearling? I say we must….. or I’m doomed to spend the rest of the day in a medicated haze, in order to keep from running around naked, throwing rocks at the seagulls, and scaring the neighbors….. Shall we be off, then? Let’s do………
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Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul,
Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness
That even above the smiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature’s favourites: a wealth
That never encumbers, nor can be transferred.
— John Armstrong (1709-1779)

Virtue is the subject of this poem, and justly so, as it is a key element in the make-up of an evolved Man, by my definition of such. In my mind, one of the most important of these virtues is Duty, which could also be said to possess the same qualities as ascribed to virtue in this beautiful piece, in that it “never encumbers, nor can be transferred.”  In fact, Duty is unique among the most important virtues, as it is completely a matter of choice. One must choose Duty; it cannot be thrust upon us by others, unless we consent. It may not be our first, or best choice to assume a Duty, but it is OUR choice, not that of society, or of other people, or of Fate, whatever that means to you.

For the first ten years of my life, my family spent most of those years living on US Army bases. Fort Lewis, Fort Ord, off-base housing in San Pedro, all were what we called home until my father mustered out in 1961. As a result, my upbringing was a bit different from that of most of my civilian classmates. By the time I started school at age 4.8 (November birthday), I had already been to Japan with the family, was well able to perform such tasks as making a bed on which you could bounce a quarter, sweeping and vacuuming, mowing lawns, raking leaves, minding my younger siblings, and a bunch of other stuff that a family with five kids tends to outsource to the young’uns for completion.  And, most significantly, I could perfectly address my seniors with well-rehearsed protocols of politeness, as well as give a pretty fair definition of what the term Duty meant……

Duty has remained as one of the most important elements of my life; to this day there are certain things I must do before I can go to sleep at night, all related to a chosen duty of some sort. And that is the point of this little discussion (at last, they cried!)….. Duty is chosen, not given. It may be accepted if offered, but the choice still remains. If we do not choose a Duty, then we will not be invested in fulfilling it, other than for how we wish others to see us, a very poor way to structure one’s actions. Only by choosing our Duty do we feel the responsibility for completing it; only the choice determines our investment. But, the reward for making that choice, and for meeting the demands Duty places upon us, is being able to sleep at night, with a clear conscience, and an easy heart…..

Self-respect . . . is a question of recognizing that anything worth having has its price. — Anonymous, but true nonetheless….
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“I do not believe in the creed professed by the Jewish church, by the Roman church, by the Greek church, by the Turkish church, by the Protestant church, nor by any church that I know of. My own mind is my own church.” — Thomas Paine

The Founding Fathers had a strong, and justifiable, lack of trust in organized religion, and that mistrust is exemplified in this statement from Thomas Paine. It is a sentiment shared by a significant number of those men who left us our legacy of freedom, as evidenced by similar statements seen in correspondence written by, and/or to, Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin, among others. All these men had direct experience with how organized faiths fall into corruption and oppression, and how those organizations attempt to force non-believers into submission to their dogmatic influence. This corruption and oppression was, after all, the driving force behind their journey to the New World in the first place…..

If we look around society today, the picture that organized religions present is very similar to what was seen back then, only on a much grander scale. The leaders of those religions continue to pervert the teachings of Christ, changing them around to suit their own agenda and purposes, until what they say is completely unrecognizable by any true Christian, and would most likely have Jesus blushing down to his toes at the thought of them using his name to justify their perversions. The only difference in today’s world is in how many different sects of Christianity have surfaced over the intervening 240 years. When the US Constitution was signed, there were maybe eight or ten sects among the populace; now there are literally thousands of different interpretations of what the Bible, and the New Testament, say about life. This doesn’t even address or count the presence of at least five other major religions that the American populace embraces. And each one is thoroughly convinced of their own rightness, that all the others are wrong, and will go straight to hell when they die…..

SIGH…. all I can say at this point is, a) I am VERY, VERY glad that our forefathers had the good sense to build a solid wall between church and state, and b) I am equally as happy that I have not bought into the lies, perversions, or dogma that ANY of these charlatans in priestly robes are handing out, even when they make the offer with candy, or cakes, or sacramental wine, not even a nice Chianti, with some fava beans….. otherwise, I’d feel worse about it all than I already do…..

“If fifty million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.” — Bertrand Russell
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Truckin’, like the do-dah man
Once told me “Gotta play your hand.
Sometimes your cards ain’t worth a damn
If you don’t lay’em down.”
Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
— Truckin’ by Garcia, Weir, Lesh, Hunter

I’m pulling my covers again, though I’ve never really worn them very tightly. I’m a hippie. I became a hippie in 1968, when I decided to attend the University of California at Berkeley, and entered into a world so different from that I had heretofore experienced that I am still seeing, and feeling, the effects, both good and ill. This verse from an iconic tune from those halcyon days is a very good expression of how I feel today, some 44 years later…..

I’ve met the do-dah man, even played a few gigs with him back in the day. I’ve played enough poker to know he was giving me the straight skinny on that; it’s good advice, as evidenced by my lifetime record of breaking even at the game that isn’t a game. I’ve been in the light, and found my way out of the darkness on more than one occasion. And I am completely convinced that my long, strange trip is not yet done, and that there are strangeness’s and wondrous beauty still to be seen and experienced before I pass into the great unknown that awaits us all.

I’m not ashamed of being a hippie. We, as a group of American citizens, were directly and indirectly responsible for a great many societal changes, and the activism we espoused back in the day has not mellowed with age. I’d guess that a significant number of us are active in such organizations as MoveOn.org, the Occupy Protests, the push for equality between the sexes, and those that seek justice for the victimized and oppressed, that are active today, as has been true since the 60’s. Just because I’m getting older doesn’t mean I’m going to cut my hair, stop playing poker, or reduce my sense of outrage at the atrocities I see in our society.

In fact, just the opposite is true. Though much thinner these days, my hair still reaches half-way down my back, and there has been no less outrage in my responses to the news, not that I can see. (I do play less poker, but that is due to lack of available playing partners and a stake, not lack of want-to….)  I can only hope now to provide an example for the youth of this time, to continue to show that honor, duty, and and the journey toward justice for all (Free our sisters, free ourselves!) are not out of favor, but continue to be key elements of right behavior, and right action, for a large number of citizens, past their prime or not…. hell, it just makes us meaner and tougher, not weaker. The PTB and the beloved ruling class might do well to remember that…..

“Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.” — little known, but apt, advice from Merlin the Wise, the most influential wizard in the history of Mankind….
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___) >____) >___   ~\_\_\_\_\_\_\)
~~~//\\_~~//\\_~       ~(\_\_\_\)
~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~

This beautiful example of ASCII art will hopefully translate from where I found it to this post and still retain its clarity. To be certain, and to segue into the discussion I’m planning, allow me to say that you SHOULD see here a picture of a magnificently plumed Tom Turkey, as envisioned in the mind of J. Random Hacker.

Now, when I saw this, after my initial response (“Perfect!”, I thought….), a second, slightly more wicked thought struck me, and I thought I should share it. I have a proposed change to suggest for both, or hell, all of the political parties in the US today. Republicans,Democrats, Libertarians, Independents, Whackos (the Santorum/Romney/Gingrich contingent….    …. sometimes called the Tea Party), they all need to consider taking this image as one to replace the elephant, the donkey, the cartoon characters, etc. that they now use to represent their party line, and how they wish to be viewed. A turkey is very American, much more native here than the majority of political hacks on parade.

Turkeys are survivors, and are considered to be one of the toughest birds to hunt and kill, as they are fast fliers, hyper-alert, and smart as hell in their own environment. Of course, none of these characteristics are common to these political groups as they exist now, but hey, maybe by changing their icons, they can take on some of these virtues…. it couldn’t hurt, and just might make them more palatable to the rest of us……. What do you think? Think they’ll go for it?…. They might just earn my vote, if they should all of a sudden show some common sense, and go along with this novel idea…. Probably not going to happen, but I can dream, can’t I?……
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Limericks are art forms complex,
Their topics run chiefly to sex.
They usually have virgins,
And masculine urgin’s,
And other erotic effects.
— Anonymous

Haiku are always
calmly directing our eyes
pointing to the way.
–gigoid

So, it occurred to me, after writing the above haiku, to ask myself, “Self, which came first, the limerick or the haiku?”  At first, I thought I was just being silly. Then I realized I really wanted to know, but I’m too lazy to Google right now. So, here is the deal…..

I’d appreciate a response from anyone who has any ideas or reactions on this, either by commenting, or by posting a reply; if I follow your blog, I’ll be notified of either method of response, and be able to reply in turn. No prizes will be awarded, though I will mention your name, and your answer to this time-honored query, in a future Pearl. (Well, it’s been honored for the two or three minutes since I asked it, and by the time you answer, it will be more, so….) So, join in the fun, and the challenge, and send me a response today! You won’t regret it, much…..

It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit, it’s so easy to quit:
It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.
It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten–and die;
It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight–
Why, that’s the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each grueling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try–it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.
— Robert W. Service — The Quitter
___________________________________

Got ahead of myself there for a moment. I was so excited at being done, I started to copy and paste to the appropriate destination files, and only then noticed I had not quite finished. So, here I am, to compose one more witty ending to another meandering journey through the labyrinth I call my mind…. easy money, as they say.

Well, the meandering and the ending parts are easy; the witty part is, as always, a notably arguable characteristic of what I write for publication. Ah well, I suppose it is well to remember that the journey is the lesson, not the destination…. Y’all take care out there……

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Betwixt perilous ideological sideboards….

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11

Ffolkes,
Asleep, I lay dreaming I was awake. Now, awake, I sit dreaming I am asleep. Which is true? Am I awake, and dreaming, or am I asleep, dreaming of being awake? How does one tell, when there are no external sources of evidence to check against reality? If awake, am I really asleep, dreaming? And if I am dreaming, what is real? I confess to being confused….. at this hour, with no one about to whom I can appeal for a different view, the edge between reality and dream becomes somewhat indistinct….. It is most likely a good thing that I don’t weird out at weird stuff, or I would definitely be feeling thoroughly weirded out….. but, since I start from weird, it’s all good. I’ll just sip a bit more of this fine coffee, and wait until reality adjusts itself to a bit more clarified state….. no worries!

There are times when I do wish I wasn’t so strange, in relation to the rest of humanity. (No, no, don’t bother to argue…. I know I’m strange, and there’s no need to try to keep from hurting my feelings about it… I accepted it long ago, and now it’s just another part of me that other folks need to deal with…. at their own risk….) Not that I don’t like being strange; there are distinct advantages to having other people think twice about approaching, much less about asking for favors, or “just a moment of your time”.

No, it’s just that it can make it really hard sometimes to write anything people will look at twice. My words, as indicated by the first paragraph, can touch up against weirdness at the drop of a cliche, and it is getting to be an onerous task to edit such weirdness when I’m already feeling strange, such as this morning.

I’m guessing it’s just another little memo gram from reality, reminding me that any perks I may enjoy, due to my inner oddness, are always going to be counterbalanced by an appropriate kick in the ass, and there is no sense or benefit in either trying to avoid any such boots, or in complaining about them. Hence, I’ll just shrug my shoulders, offer a sheepish grin, and move on…..

One section of yesterday’s Pearl was a discussion on the Second Amendment to the US Constitution. I don’t need to go over that again (not after approximately 800 fairly passionate words….), but did wish to note the usual Murphy effect that accompanies much of what I write…. some time after publishing, I found the following pearl, which, as is obvious, is a perfect summary of the concluding portion of my thoughts yesterday. To keep Murphy happy, (always a good policy with that particular force of Nature), I include it now…..

“I believe everybody in the world should have guns. Citizens should have bazookas and rocket launchers too. I believe that all citizens should have their weapons of choice. However, I also believe that only I should have the ammunition. Because frankly, I wouldn’t trust the rest of the goobers with anything more dangerous than string.” — Scott Adams

That seems to cover it…. let’s go Pearling, ‘kay? ‘Kay!….. Kowabunga!…..
___________________________________

During his 1956 presidential campaign, a woman called out to Adlai E. Stevenson “Senator, you have the vote of every thinking person!” Stevenson called back “That’s not enough, madam, we need a majority!”

Obviously proving he was part of the minority…. Mr. Stevenson was perhaps the last truly rational man to ran for the highest office our country offers. I’ve seen a number of articles about that campaign, and it’s clear in my mind that his very rationality is what gave the election to the other candidate. He made every attempt he could to try to engage the minds of Americans, naively, as it turns out. His opponent, Eisenhower, just mostly kept his mouth shut and let his slogans speak for him, such as “I like Ike!”, and other such intellectual standards, that appealed directly to the American public’s misplaced sense of national pride.

After four years of post-Korean war economic boom, it wasn’t hard for the Republicans to rest on their laurels, firmly attached to the coattails of a war hero…. There was, and still is, no place on the political scene in this country for rationality, obviously, as Ike and his ilk won in a landslide….

So much for the opportunity to see what a “thinking man’s president” might be able to accomplish…. The chances of such a man being elected today are even slimmer, considering that those candidates who can be the most sly, underhanded, and completely dishonest are those who catch the eye, and the votes, of the great unwashed, uneducated masses that now comprise the voting public…..

“It has been said that man is a rational animal.  All my life I have been searching for evidence which could support this.” — Bertrand Russell
___________________________________

FOLLY, n.  That “gift and faculty divine” whose creative and controlling energy inspires Man’s mind, guides his actions and adorns his life.

Folly! although Erasmus praised thee once
In a thick volume, and all authors known,
If not thy glory yet thy power have shown,
Deign to take homage from thy son who hunts
Through all thy maze his brothers, fool and dunce,
To mend their lives and to sustain his own,
However feebly be his arrows thrown,

Howe’er each hide the flying weapons blunts.
All-Father Folly! be it mine to raise,
With lusty lung, here on his western strand
With all thine offspring thronged from every land,
Thyself inspiring me, the song of praise.
And if too weak, I’ll hire, to help me bawl,
Dick Watson Gilder, gravest of us all.

— Aramis Loto Frope — Ambrose Bierce, “The Devil’s Dictionary”

Perhaps it is a result of having learned to see around corners at an early age, or that silly prophecy made by that supposed witch who scared my mother a week after I was born.  Perhaps it has to do with spending so many hours and days of my intellectual formative years with my nose buried in a book, generally one that made me a familiar inhabitant of the sleaziest, most disreputable spacer’s dives in every far corner of our Galaxy, surrounded by grizzled old first mates from a dilapidated freighter out of the Pleiades, and a motley group of aliens of all descriptions.

I could probably blame it on being the middle child of five, with a neurotic, if perfectly lovable mother, balanced by a perfectly stable father, and four siblings who had no clue how to deal with me.  Or, it could have been the daily ingestion of frozen, processed vegetables so common on our dinner table during the 50’s and 60’s; as it turns out, the benefits of the vegetables were pretty much nullified by the process of preserving and preparing them for consumption. Who knew?

Whatever the root cause may have been, Folly has long been a fascinating area of study for me, and its influence on my life at large has been extensive. My first attempts at blogging, via email since 1998, then via SFGATE since 2011, were known as “Gigoid’s Folly”, and that was almost used as the title for this blog, as well. But, not wishing to tread, even peripherally, on the estate privileges of Robert Heinlein, even out of respect, I left it at “gigoid” with the subtitle, “Exploring consensual reality” as a tip of the cap to Murphy, and Mother Nature’s fondness for him…..

Folly remains a big part of the process of pearling, and Pearling; if that isn’t obvious, I’m doing something wrong. It has been for me a boon companion throughout my life, ever a contrast and strong defense against the powers of darkness and ignorance, always to be trusted to coax a smile out of me, often in the deepest moments of my despair. If it were not for my Folly, and the humor it infuses into my daily existence, I most likely would have bitten somebody, hard, long before now….  I can only be grateful, and proclaim, “May I and my Folly never part ways, throughout all of my days!”……

“A little nonsense now and then, is cherished by the wisest men.” — Willie Wonka (Roald Dahl)
___________________________________

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!
— William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Twelfth Night
— Act i, Sc. 1

I’ve been pretty clear in past posts in expressing my lack of enthusiasm for most of Will Shakespeare’s work. To my mind, the greatest part of what he wrote is overblown, heavy with excess imagery and verbiage, and even in the time in which it was first written and performed, must have been a pain to follow just by listening…. sorry, but that’s what I think.

But, at the same time, I can acknowledge, as well, that he was an excellent word smith, and did occasionally write material that is far beyond anything else of its time, or of any time. His sonnets hit that nail squarely more often than his plays, in my opinion, but there are exceptions…. this is one of them.

These few lines of verse possess that timeless beauty that is the hallmark of genius, beauty so great that one can not merely see it in these lines, but is surrounded by beauty that floods every sense. Far be it from me to fail to acknowledge such genius…. I’m no Shakespeare, nor do I consider myself either infallible, nor a critic, but I know what I like, and I like this, a lot…..
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“I was walking across a bridge one day, and I saw a man standing on the edge, about to jump off.  so I ran over and said “stop! don’t do it!”  “Why shouldn’t I?” he said.  I said, “Well, there’s so much to live for!”  He said, “Like what?”  I said, “Well…are you religious or atheist?”  He said, “Religious.” I said, “Me too!  Are you Christian or Buddhist?”  He said, “Christian.”  I said, “Me too!  Are you Catholic or Protestant?”  He said, “Protestant.”  I said, “Me too!  Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?”  He said, “Baptist!”  I said, “Wow!  Me too!  Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the Lord?” He said, “Baptist Church of God!”  I said, “Me too!  Are you Original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed Baptist Church of God?”  He said, “Reformed Baptist Church of God!”  I said, “Me too!  Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1879, or Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?”  He said, “Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!”  I said, “Die, heretic scum”, and pushed him off.” — Emo Phillips

(Whew! Whoever transcribed this for the database where I found it was really lazy. They didn’t bother to capitalize the “I’s” or any of the Church names, so I had to go through and put them all in; it’s much clearer to read now, and looks a bit more refined…. but I didn’t change any words, just added capitals, just so you know…..)

Although I had a feeling as to where this would end up, I read it through to the end, and sure enough, it’s worth a full read, just to get to the punch line. My immediate thought was, “What a perfect statement of modern religious philosophy in America!”   🙂

Not trusting my original reaction, I put it down here, then prepared some breakfast, and consumed said comestibles, before coming back to look it over after some inner percolation. It’s still valid, and it still makes me smile, so it stays. No need to embellish any further, either, as I think it pretty well says it all…. Ignorance and bigotry are alive and well, and living in the Mid-West….. in a house, together…..
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Visions of Absolute Truth and Beauty; The Tragedy of Severus Snape

The character of Severus Snape, as revealed in the seven novels that comprise the epic creation by J. K. Rowling, (which I choose to entitle Harry Potter, and The Chronicles of The Infinite Magic of  Love, hopefully with her approval and blessing) is, in my less than humble opinion, destined to become, if not synonymous, at least analogous, with those of Cryano de Bergerac, John Smith the Puritan, or the man from Tale of Two Cities, whose name escapes me (suffering functional disparity as I am from early onset Alzheimer’s, and the subsequent prophylactic application of sour mash bourbon), who said, “It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” Sounds a little sappy for gigoid, doesn’t it? Well, you know what? I am completely and utterly serious…..

As I do not know Ms. Rowling, other than through her writing, and her public persona, which is carefully controlled, relatively speaking, I cannot say if it was her intent to create a character of such power that he would be forever enshrined amid the most famous of the heroic willing victims of tragedy in literary history. It is moot, anyway, because she has done so….

Here is a man who spent his entire life enduring unrequited love, love that, in his mind, could have been his, had he chosen differently. Yet, knowing that he could never have his deepest desire without destroying that which he loved, he still acted with honor to do all he could to keep the object of his obsession safe, to honor her and the love he felt, even after her death, and in defiance of the threat of his own death. 

He braved the wrath of the most terrifying of villains for almost 20 years, betraying that master of evil at every turn, to do what he could only hold as his Duty; he did this, knowing full well that in the end, he would have to kill the only man in the world who trusted him, and that he would die because of it. And, he knew as well, that his sacrifice would never be known to anyone but the son of the man he most envied in life, the son that might have been his…..

I’ve read a lot of what may be termed as classical literature, and in all that I’ve read, I have never found a character who fit the mold of the tragic hero any better, or more deserved the title of nobility it implies. Though flawed and miserable, Snape makes the hard choices, correctly, at the most critical junctures of his life, all for love of his Lily.

As Dumbledore exclaims when he sees the Patronus that Snape produces, a doe, identical to that of Lily, the only other human being he has ever loved,  “Lily! After all this time?”  Snape merely replies, “Always….”   Now, that is a hero, flawed and unlikeable as he is….. a hero that will go down in history, along with many of the characters from this series of books that will one day certainly be called “classics”……
___________________________________

Not a bad lineup…. personal foibles made light of to begin, with a bit of housekeeping, a taste of political irony, a touch of whimsy, Shakespeare, a dip into religious humor and more irony, and a discussion of literary archetypes in modern and classical writing. I think we’ve approached the demarcation between reality and esoterica quite adeptly, without completely crossing over where the border guards might hassle us about returning to our regularly scheduled activities here in Reality…… that should definitely make an impression. On whom, I couldn’t say, but, hey, I’ll take it…. Y’all take care out there…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Empty spaces should be filled with tokens or mangoes….

Posted on by
16

Ffolkes,
I know it’s going to be an Interesting Day when I sit down here to write, and the first thing that pops into my head is, “Whew!”….. Here it is, 5:01 AM, and I’ve already written about oh, 800 or so words in reply to comments made while I was asleep. The comments, from some of my readers with the most stimulating responses to my work, tend to kick in my muse at a moment’s notice, and I have now spent 40 minutes at it, before I even get this started…. hence, interesting day ahead…..

There’s a lot going down out there in Meat Space today; sometimes I think we are approaching Heinlein’s “Crazy Years”, but then I realize that we’ve been there already since the late 1960’s. If you don’t believe me, or him, just go back over the headlines of the world’s newspapers in that period, and see if you don’t agree…. it’s pretty fucking crazy out there, and that is NOT an exaggeration, nor is the vulgarity misplaced. It is more than merely crazy, and less than an End Game Scenario, (though not by much), hence the euphemism for Very Crazy…. any who, there is enough and more to find something about which to rant, er, write this morning. Hell, I could be done before sunrise, if I can get to it…. so let’s Pearl, shall we….? Aye, indeed….

I find myself beside a stream of empty thought…… let’s fill it up!
___________________________________

Guns don’t kill people… bullets do.

Of late I have been reading a number of articles, news items, and posts about gun control, and/or the concept of nullifying the Second Amendment to the US Constitution. The main argument seems to be centered on the obvious fact that society has changed since the Founding Fathers wrote the amendment, and the conditions that prompted its inclusion among the other basic rights they wished to secure are, supposedly, no longer present, or are no longer valid reasons for leaving it intact. Their arguments point to the number of killings and crimes that involve guns, and how much of a plague on society the guns are, how we’d all be better off, and somehow safer, if we took away all the guns from the American citizenry.

I could easily scoff at such naivete, were it not so dangerous. Dangerous to me, and whether they wish to acknowledge it or not, dangerous for them. So, rather than scoff, I will first acknowledge the presence, if not the accuracy, of their statistics on how much guns contribute to crime. These statistics are, in and of themselves, fairly scary, but, they fail to take in to account a couple of very important considerations that tend to skew, or even nullify, the accuracy of their claims.

For one, they never seem to include in these statistics the number of deaths and injuries caused by guns IN THE HANDS of POLICE; they only seem to account for the civilians who use guns to commit crimes. I’d say the numbers would increase dramatically, if the times the police use their weapons inappropriately are included…. second, the statistics do not compare the number of incidents to the total number of guns that are owned by citizens.

I would, in the absence of hard figures, estimate that the number of incidents of crime involving guns is a very, very low percentage of the number of guns that are actually out there in the hands of private citizens. All the quoted figures are bloated to make them seem larger than they really are in comparison to the whole; the by-far largest majority of gun owners do not use them at all, unless threatened. Most never use them at all, at all, keeping them only for home protection, and most of those have neighbors who probably don’t even know the guns are there.

Then, after addressing these two key issues that are not accounted for in their quoted numbers, I would ask a simple, but key question of those who believe we, as American citizens in a modern society, should not own guns. That question, simply put, is this: Do you honestly believe that the people to whom we would be entrusting our safety are going to give up their guns? Do you really trust those of our beloved ruling class to, all of a sudden, out of some irresistible urge to altruism, heretofore absent from their nature, stop lying to us? Do you believe, even for an instant, that they would not be laughing all the way to the bank, at you, me and the rest of the American general public?

Should your answer be yes to any of these questions, I would say to you, as gently as I can, that you are then ready to put on your collar, and admit that you are willing to be their slave, because that is exactly what will happen….

Our beloved ruling class is NOT going to give up their guns. They aren’t; if you don’t believe me, ask them; it’s one of the few queries to which they’ll give an honest answer.  And I don’t care how much you may argue to the contrary, I don’t believe for a nanosecond that anyone in our government, and that includes Saint Barack, can be trusted to hold my best interests in their lying, cheating, sociopathic hands.

Nope, I’m 61 years old, and have sufficient experience in these matters that I can honestly say, with every assurance of being correct, that those who either seek office, or are in office, in this country, or in any other, are NOT people to whom I would give that kind power over me; not for anything, If you want to label me a NRA Nazi, well, feel free; it’s still a free country, for the present.

But, if you convince enough citizens of this asininity that the guns are actually made illegal for citizens to own, it’s not going to be a free country for long. And if you are naive enough to believe the lies that the Powers That Be are handing out re: their trustworthiness, well, then, you will deserve the consequences of that belief, which I would term blind faith…… but don’t expect, for even a second, that I will ever consent to give up my right to own a gun, as I will dispute that to the death. Yours, mine, that is immaterial; if we play that game, it’s to the finish.

I’ve never been a member of the NRA, nor do I feel I have a lot in common with its vocal proponents, but I agree with one of their statements of purpose, to wit: you can take my guns, alright, when you pry them from my cold, dead fingers, but no other way….. I’m NOT giving up my guns, knives, rocks, words, or wit, or the right to bear arms in my own defense, and letting the assholes in charge of this government keep theirs…. uh uh, nope, ain’t gonna happen in my lifetime…. believe it or not, at your discretion….

Hollow point ammo – the ultimate in feminine protection. — Smart Bee

“A society that lacks the patience to read, and loses the ability to do so, is rendered defenseless against its most profound stupidities.  As an example, consider the ease with which Americans came to regard a president known for his inaccuracy and imprecision as the great communicator, and by the tendency of American elections to give victory to the candidate who can afford the greatest number of 30-second TV spots.” — Mike Schmoker  (THESE are the people I’m supposed to allow to hold me at gunpoint?  Snort!….pathetic….)

Who could imagine
That they could freak out in Kansas
Who could imagine
That they could freak out in Washington D.C.
Everybody’s clean, it can’t happen here, no, no
And they thought it couldn’t happen here
They were so sure it couldn’t happen here
It can’t happen here
— Frank Zappa
___________________________________

I saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it,
Time in hours, days, years,
Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov’d; in which the world
And all her train were hurl’d.
— Henry Vaughan — The World

No comment here; this just caught my eye, and my interest, so I put it here, just as a little break from the seriousness of the previous discussion. Balance shall ever be sought herein….
___________________________________

“Honor isn’t about making the right choices.  It’s about dealing with the consequences.” — Midori Koto

Honor, and all of its implications in human society, is in serious danger of becoming atrophic, and of disappearing altogether from sight; not only is its presence seldom felt by society at large, it seems to have fallen out of favor as even a topic of discussion or inquiry. I see very few, if any discussions of honor when reading the news. There is ample evidence therein to indicate it absence, for sure, but none I can see to indicate that it might be hidden somewhere on the back pages. Even the reports of good things happening are spun with humorous disdain clear in the author’s style of reportage; they’re only writing about it so people will think well of them, not of what they are reporting. Hypocrisy in action, as it were…..

But of honor, I see, and hear, nowhere nearly enough, though I keep a sharp look out for it everywhere. There are occasional nuggets of such activity one sees; in the compassion and support given by some people to the victims of abuse, of any species, and of any type (the sheer number of types of abuse common in the human herd is astounding, without even counting how we treat other species on the planet!)

One sees honor in the actions of those who serve their countries out of their sense of honor, and duty, for sure and for certain.  But, I am compelled to ask, how much honor may we attach to the purpose behind the actions they are asked to perform, and to the choice of to whom they are to commit those acts? How much honor is shown by the old men who choose where and against whom these honorable men are to fight, for the personal agendas of the leaders, not for that of the country?

One sees honor in the men and women who love and guide their children, and do all they can to provide them with a loving, secure life. One sees honor in many areas of normal human existence. But, one seldom sees any evidence of honor among those who are in power and authority in the world. One seldom sees any evidence of honor in the news at all; it doesn’t sell well, except as contrast or “comic relief.”

Therein, perhaps lies the problem…. it’s hard to say what the root cause may be, or what solution might exist. What I can say is that though not dead, the concept of honor among men is in serious danger of becoming not only uncommon, but unfashionable…… and then Hell Night begins….
___________________________________

“Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross an infinite sea and so make it finite… The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits.” — G. K. Chesterton “Orthodoxy”

This is so nicely phrased and written that when I found it, all scrunched up in justified lines, I thought it was a poem. Then I noted the author’s name, recognizing it as one whose poetry I had never seen, and never thought that he wrote.  Lots of prose, quick wit, and handy with a finely turned phrase, but no poetry. So, I re-formatted the lines, and, voilá, instant prose! But, nonetheless poetic, for all that, too.

Even before I had reworked its structure, the names and icons of about a dozen or more poetesses, to whose work I’ve been so pleasantly introduced since joining the WordPress World, sprang into my mind, as being perfectly described thus: “The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens.”

I started to list the names that sprang up, but then felt guilty, for fear that I would forget to include one or more, only to hurt their feelings without intent. Plus, there are a couple three or four poets whose work I’ve enjoyed as well. So, to avoid any such unintended circumstance, let me just say this, and you may consider it as gospel truth to me: if you see that I follow your blog, and you write poetry, you may rest assured that I think it is wonderful, even if I don’t always have time to go to the site and click the Like button. I read really, really fast, and I do so with all of what I see in my email, if not at the blog sites, so I see all of it….

Some, of course, is better than others, all in turn, it seems to me. Everybody hits the nail squarely sometimes; other times, not so much. But, since I don’t do it well at all, it’s all admirable in my mind, and in my less-than-humble opinion, much superior to a lot of what passes for classical poetry (call me crazy, but I’ve always thought Shakespeare was over-rated…).

I’ve seen poets here whose work will, in my belief, stand up eventually, and proudly, next to that of Emily Dickinson, ee cummings, T.S. Eliot, Robert Frost, and other such luminaries of the poetic literary pantheon. No shit…..
___________________________________

“Be comforted, that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment, and despite the changing fortunes of time, there is always a big future in computer maintenance.” — Anonymous

I would say this is proof positive that not even Anonymous gets it right every time out of the gate. While this was perfectly valid say, oh, ten years ago, the state of computer technology has progressed beyond this stage, to the point where computer maintenance has become only a minor sector of the industry, thanks to simple economics. It is already the case that one can now purchase a new, improved model of one’s computer for less than it would cost to find someone to fix the old one.

In probably close to 50% of these cases, I’d guess, it’s just easier,  now that they can take the old, even broken, machine, and pull all of your data out of it, and put it in the new one for you, for about the same price as saving the old one. Only physical destruction of the hard drive can make that impossible with current technology. Fasten your safety harnesses, ffolkes, because the future is now here….. break out the party hats and kazoos!…..
___________________________________

Well, I think I have stretched the boundaries of eclecticism enough for one day; I don’t know about you, but I’m dazed and confused, so my work here is done….. “It promises to be an Interesting Day”, as Pooh might have said, but didn’t…… Y’all take care out there…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

May we cauterize now, milady?

Posted on by
6

Ffolkes,
No time for fooling around this morning. Up a bit late, thanks to an extra hour of sleep my body insisted on taking (thanks for small favors!….), and stuff to do. I’m starting the day exhausted, with a sore right forearm and wrist. This is because of the unnatural activity I forced the arm into yesterday, when I went through over 300 emails that had exploded in my inbox, like some kind of replicating virus. I almost wore out my delete button, and read about 150 blogs (very, very quickly, I might add), at least 30% of which demanded a comment. It was a monumental task, and I’m glad it’s done; so is my mouse, I believe…..

That said, I will now proceed to head out into the hinterlands, to dive for pearls, which, for expediency’s sake I hope are not going to hide or be difficult to harvest today. Oysters can be hard to intimidate, and are not known for their quick thinking or pleasant dispositions, so if they’re not in a good place, it can turn on me quickly. In that case, I usually settle for those on the outer perimeter of the oyster beds, and call it a day. We’ll see, I guess, when I get down a few fathoms…. see ya in a while….

Ooh, ooh, here’s my first find; couldn’t wait to share it, trekkie that I am….  

— SMILEY   =-O~~~   The Enterprise firing phasers…

Is that genius, or what?  Well, I like it…..  Okay, the dive is going slowly…. currents are a bit tricky today.  Hang in there….

Still diving, but it’s moving along…. we’ll save a bit of time here, and bring this intro to a close, so we can get on with the regular business of pearling…. Shall we dance, then?….. Perhaps not…. well, let’s go Pearling then, if that is what you really want…..
___________________________________

” … for these truths hold good for everything that is, and not for some special genus apart from others.  And all men use them, because they are true of being qua being …  For a principle which everyone must have to understand anything that is, is not a hypothesis …  Evidently then, such a principle is the most certain of all; which principle this is, let us proceed to say. It is, that the same attribute cannot at the same time belong and not belong to the subject in the same respect.” — Aristotle

I’ve run this through the filters in my head, and thought about it, studied it from all angles, even rinsed it off, shook it out, and let it air-dry…. I still can’t figure out what the FUCK Ari is talking about here….. The most reasonable idea I could come up with is that, while he was out walking through his garden, contemplating some esoteric line of reasoning, somebody came up and asked him where the nearest toilet could be found….. otherwise, it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever…. especially the last line. A true tautology, to my mind, that is both proof and disproof of its own, well, silliness…. and I wonder how in hell it got included with the rest of his work that has come down to us through the intervening years…. if it were mine, I’d have deleted it long before it reached the printer, er, scribe for transcription….
___________________________________

“As great scientists have said and as all children know, it is above all by the imagination that we achieve perception, and compassion, and hope.” — Ursula K. LeGuin

I think that everyone can agree with the above statement; it would be hard to think of an argument that would have any kind of negative effect on this concept, as it is about as true as true can be. Arguing with this would be akin to trying to describe the contents of a room with no lights or windows, from outside the room, with the door and your eyes closed, and no moving around or touching allowed…. Having thus identified the importance of imagination in human existence, we can move on to a discussion of how powerful a tool it can be when applied to the mechanics of living.

As humans, we use imagination in every aspect of life; whenever we encounter a new situation, whether problematic or merely interesting, it is our imagination that we use to inspect the characteristics of the event, and to judge its relative size, shape, and degree of difficulty. It is our imagination we use to discover a course of action that will enable us to deal with the situation to our best advantage, or not, depending on our own skill at using it. And in those situations where a clear course of action is unclear, our imagination can provide us with entirely new ways to approach and cope with what we have encountered.

Of late, I have been reading a lot of articles written by women who have survived and exited, by their own efforts, the atrociously cruel life of those trapped in the human sex-trafficking industry. These articles are perfect examples of the power of imagination, from women who have experienced, and survived, the most degrading, debilitating, indifferently cruel treatment known to humanity.

That life, or living death, more like, was the lot of these enslaved women, and children, until they were able, by virtue of their strength of will and imagination, to free themselves.  For every single one of them, their imagination was both friend and foe, first as fuel to the fire of their very real fears for their lives, but ultimately, the force that enabled them to see the path they would need to walk to take back their life. Without it, they would be doomed to death, ultimately, for the insane, perverted misogynists who control this deadly trade have no compassion, and no compunctions about silencing those who would defy their will…..

But, happily, for these as yet all-too-few amazingly strong, imaginative women, a path to freedom was found, and now, they are all determined not only to live out their own lives according to their own standards, but to support each other, and to speak out against those who would continue the madness from which they fled, to do whatever is needed to give aid to the women and children who are still enslaved by these indifferently cruel masters of evil…. and one of the forms that aid can take, is to stimulate imagination in the victims, so they to may come to an understanding of how it can help even the most despairing soul to fight for freedom….. understanding like this…..

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure… that you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
— Unknown, but brilliant….

And that is what it is all about, to me. Once these unfortunates realize that they do indeed have worth in the eyes of the Universe, a whole new vista of possibility opens for them, each one with the promise of freedom shining brightly, to show the way…..

For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,
And hope and fear (believe the aged friend),
Is just our chance o’ the prize of learning love,–
How love might be, hath been indeed, and is.
— Robert Browning (1812-1890) — A Death in the Desert
___________________________________

A poet is someone who is astonished by everything. — Smart Bee (Anonymous’ new user name…..)

O Music! sphere-descended maid,
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom’s aid!
— William Collins (1720-1756) — The Passions, Line 95

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that ‘s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
— Lord Byron (1788-1824) — Hebrew Melodies, She walks in Beauty

Jove lifts the golden balances that show
The fates of mortal men, and things below.
— Alexander Pope (1688-1744) — The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 271

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness;
And from that full meridian of my glory
I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.
— William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Henry VIII — Act iii, Sc. 2

Life let us cherish, while yet the taper glows,
And the fresh flow’ret pluck ere it close;
Why are we fond of toil and care?
Why choose the rankling thorn to wear?
— J. M. Usteri (1763-1827) — Life let us cherish

Knowledgeable waitrons, maitres d’hotel, chefs, etc., all know that in presentation of food as visual art, odd numbers, 3, 5, 7, etc., make a more compelling and, oddly enough, more balanced, more artful picture than do even numbers. Go figure…. but in this case, exhibition of classical poetry, I think 5 is just right, even if one cannot chew it. No lessons here, unless it is a lesson on how to enjoy beauty…..
___________________________________

“God is more interested in your future and your relationships than you are.” — Billy Graham

Now, if that isn’t a scary thought, I know nothing of fear; however, I assure you, fear is an old friend, with whom I am quite familiar, in all its guises. Now, to give credit where it is due, I suppose it must be noted that, from the standpoint of someone of Mr. Graham’s ilk, this is a very powerful statement of belief; it has all the proper elements for that particular delusional thought process (if one may stretch the definition of ‘thought process’ just a bit).

It is based purely on assumption, with no hint of anything resembling direct, tangible evidence. It implies omnipotence, displays immeasurable deified arrogance, identifies a source for guilt, and encourages a fear of death. Its vagueness allows the moral ambiguity necessary for the complete abrogation of personal responsibility for one’s actions. And, like all such proclamations of this nature, its very words indicate a complete and utter dislike for humans, both individually and as a species.

My immediate and forceful response to this was “If you truly believe that, then you, and God, seriously need to get a Life! If y’all have nothing better to do in your copious free time than to try to shove this kind of crap into people’s minds, then you need to find a new activities director for the imaginary cruise you are on…. or find some better drugs.”  But, that’s just me…..
___________________________________

Conscious is when you are aware of something and conscience is when you wish you weren’t. — Smart Bee (Anonymous, by any other name, smells as sweet…)

Insane politicians (is there another kind?). Human trafficking of various kinds. Rampant racism. Ubiquitous bigotry. Child abuse. Spousal abuse. Slavery. Crack cocaine, heroin, morphine, or other drug abuse. War on crime. War on women. Televangelists. Fundamentalist zealots. National Security Agency. FBI. CIA. Untold trillions of dollars of national debt. Threat of world-wide economic collapse. Genetically modified food. Military Industrial Complex (yep, it hasn’t gone anywhere). The 1%/99% Society. Taxes. Global warming. Air pollution. The oceans are dying. Terrorism. Nuclear accidents. Massive global weather changes. Ozone depletion. Ice caps shrinking. Overpopulation. AIDS. SARS. Mutating viruses. The Bohemian Club. The Tri-Lateral Society. Reaganomics. Nationalism. Elitism. Illuminati Conspiracy. Women’s reproductive rights. Bill of Rights (or rather, loss of same). War on the US Constitution.  Rampant ignorance. Lawyers. Priests. Rabbis. Imams. Pastors. Popes.  Puppy mills. Wall Street. Corporate personhood. The IRS. Insane politicians. (Did I say that already? Well, it deserves mentioning twice….)  Rising incidence of halitosis.

Except for the last, which is more of a personal foible, I’d say that’s a fairly extensive, and reasonably complete, list of stuff I am aware of that I wish I weren’t; and it all came right off the top of my head, no research.  It certainly keeps my sense of outrage in good shape….. which is why we all need to practice the following sentiment at every opportunity…. otherwise, we are all going to be up Shit Creek without a paddle, proverbial or otherwise…..

“Speak out. You’ve got to speak out against the madness.” — Steven Stills
___________________________________

Having thus spoken my share, and possibly a bit more, against the madness, I reach the end of another day’s Pearl of Virtual Wisdom. This one took some effort; late start, reluctant oysters, tricky currents, my own intra-cranial  oddity, all have served to increase the difficulty points to overcome to get to this point in the game. Thanks to a good pot of strong coffee,  with real half and half, and a bit of perseverance (no telling where that came from), what we have here is a “fait acompli”, and boy, am I glad for that!

Thus, I can enter the portal leading to the remainder of the day with a reasonable degree of contentment, if nothing else. Y’all take care out there…. and Blessed Be…..

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!

Question is, was it a carefree dart?

Posted on by
6

Ffolkes,
One of the items of import that was left out of the information and instruction manual we all got at birth relates to the aging process. Nowhere in that manual is any mention of the joy and adventure that awaits one as the years go by (though, admittedly, my battered old copy was missing pages when it was handed down to me. But, they were out of the adolescence section, anyway, and wouldn’t have much relevance for me at this stage of life….)

One of the most consistent adventures at my age has shown itself to be sleep. Or rather, the amusing lack of sleep one may expect on any given day. Getting to sleep, staying asleep, sleeping deeply, all have become a hit and miss proposition, completely lacking in any sort of regularity….. As might be surmised, this presents one with some fascinating and essential adjustments to make in relation to said altered sleep patterns, and how to fit that into one’s life, without going BLOODY FUCKING NUTS from persistent fatigue…..

I wrote the above paragraphs last night, right before toddling off to bed, ever hopeful for a swift journey to the arms of Morpheus. As it was one o’clock AM by that time, and I was very heavy-lidded, I figured I had a decent chance at success. And, as it turns out, I did fall out fairly quickly….. only to have my eyes pop open at 0535, not wide awake after 4.5 hours of rest, but not going back down easily, either. Thus, I find myself once again typing in the dark morning, wondering what the hell I’m doing up so damn early, and putting all my angst and resentment over not sleeping into this morning blurb. SIGH…… Woe is me, alas, alas! Woe is me!

Okay, there, that’s done….. having reached the point of no return, also called “losing one’s cool”, I will now turn a 180, and head off down an alternate path for today, provided I can find one through all this bullshit angst. Woe is me, indeed! I’ll woe is me…. I’ll woe me so much woe, that the house next door will rattle, I will…..

I must apologize, I don’t know how that little snipe got away from me, and got to the typewriter before I woke up all the way. But, I’ve collared the little shit, and we’ll have no more nonsense today from the likes of him. Woe is me…. I’m appalled! I can’t believe he thought that would fly! Such silly, old-fashioned words haven’t seen my typewriter for simply ages, and with good reason, as you can see. That particular phrase is one he KNEW would get to me, as it was placed on the banned usage list some years ago (I had used them for an elegy of a friend, and his wife just cried harder at the funeral when I read it, so I took it off the list…. way too sappy anyway…)

Well, really, this has gotten completely out of hand….. I suppose the only thing left for us to do is to Pearl….. let’s get to it, shall we?…..
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“Don’t SAY things. What you ARE stands over you the while, and thunders so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson — Social Aims

It’s Spring! And the air is full of….. activism and outrage!  Shortly after completing yesterday’s Pearl, and sending it out, I received a response from one of my friends who has been getting these gems in their email for over 10 years. The email was actually from his wife, who had seen the pictures that are at the other end of the link below, and whose sense of outrage and anger over them prompted her to request that I show the link on this blog.

Since I happen to agree with her on this one, as the subjects of the pictures are the children of one of the biggest WOS’s on the face of the planet, I am happy to comply. (Yes, I know, WOS seems to be my latest favorite insulting title….. and in this case falls well short of being too harsh. More like not mean enough, by a long shot…. we’re talking about some MAJOR assholes here…)

And who, you might ask, would that be? That would be that all-too-familiar, and all-too-real, fat, greedy-eyed face of Donald, the Trump, and his spawn. The pictures are of his spoiled, elitist, never worked-a-day-in-their-lives sons, in a display of arrogance and sheer ballsy indifference to any normal set of behavioral standards heretofore unseen in public, even by a Trump. And, if the pictures are any indication, these assholes are not merely monumentally indifferent, but are proud of their lack of moral standards, and even revel in flaunting their complete disregard for any other life form on Earth.

The pictures, no doubt intended as fond memories to take home to their doting, terrified spouses or more likely, mistresses, show us the utter lack of humanity in these two ditto heads,  which clearly indicates that they are perfect clones of their infamous pater familias, sharing his hatred of women, Americans, and anyone else who doesn’t worship at the Altar of the Almighty Dollar…… caution, these images may produce the urge to fire shotguns…. at idiots…..

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2114122/Donald-Eric-Trump-pictured-posing-trophy-carcasses-big-African-hunt.html

Please add these names to your twit lists….. and should you see any of the persons pictured here, please feel free to publicly humiliate them to your heart’s content. Hell, you can spit on them, if you like. Being who they are,  they’re used to it. I’m sure it’s happened before…..
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“Education is a weapon.” — Josef Stalin

“Sleep is a weapon.” — Phillipe D’Anjou, to Jason Bourne in The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum.

You see where this is going, right? C’mon, it’s plain as the rain in Spain…. “Therefore, Education while Asleep is the ultimate weapon.” — gigoid, Sunday, 2012…. Damn skippy it is…. 

Well, it always worked for me, anyway… my teachers, it seems, were unaware of the untapped power of the subconscious, and the  advantages to be found in sleep learning, and tried to insist on my staying awake in classes, other than just at test time, (when I would wake up, dopey smile in place, pencil in hand, seemingly delighted to be there). I didn’t care, I just slept away, soaking in everything said around me, and remembering it perfectly. It was always such a shock to them when I would ace the tests, when I apparently had ignored every word they said; quite fun, actually, to see their faces go purple…. awesome colors! Must have something to do with diet….. or repetitive exposure to smart alecks such as myself….   🙂
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I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There’s more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in a crooked line.
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.
— the Indigo Girls, Closer to Fine

Even though I am performing my duties as Emperor of the Entire World clandestinely, using puppet figures, and liberal application of the Imperious Charm, trying to balance writing, quietly assassinating my list of PTWWBBOW’s, (People The World Would Be Better Off Without…) and getting enough sleep, has all become too taxing for someone who just wants to fully retire and enjoy seeing all of the world I can before my allotted time has elapsed. 

Plus, I figure, if I abdicate now, I will have more time to work on my new list of WOSTBSFE’s (Wastes Of Sperm To Be Scheduled For Elimination….), and still be able to have the time to consume unlimited numbers of brightly colored adult beverages, served by indentured ex-CEO’s in oddly-shaped plastic glasses with bamboo umbrellas, while basking on a semi-tropical nude beach with my entourage of sycophants…..

To be honest, I’m sick of being Emperor OTEW (by now you should have figured out how this works….); even staying in the background is time-consuming and tedious in the extreme (what is it about bureaucracies and their love of forms in triplicate?). And since I had already consented to turn over the reigns of power to Lizzie Cracked and Ginger Snaap when I am done with the job I came to do, I have decided that the time is right for the process of transition to begin.

Therefore, within the next few days, you should see announcements of the power shift, hereinafter to be referred to as The Ascension of the Ambitious and Totally Gorgeous Princesses in all published news releases, and your new Empresses of The Entire World will begin their reign of terror, er, benevolent generosity, months in advance of initial estimates. (Riiiiight…)

I believe it has been agreed that The Indigo Girls will be hired to perform at the Transition Ball, hence I have included my favorite line from one of their best songs above, to give you a taste of what is to come. I think you all will enjoy having the Cracked/Snaap sisters at the head of your beloved ruling class; if nothing else, it should prove to be a unique period in human history…..
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“There is in us a tendency to locate the shaping forces of our existence outside ourselves.  Success and failure are unavoidably related in our minds with the state of things around us. Hence it is that people with a sense of fulfillment think it is a good world and would like to preserve it as it is, while the frustrated favor radical change. The tendency to look for all causes outside ourselves persists even when it is clear that our state of being is the product of personal qualities such as ability, character, appearance, health and so on.” — Eric Hoffer

Whoa! Eric took some mental steroids, or something, when he came up with this. This is as deeply insightful a glimpse into true human nature as I think I’ve ever seen, and I thought I’d seen some pretty good examples of that particular kind of vision. Truly, this is a truth that explains so much of what is giving humanity such a problem, in terms of achieving any real progress of an ethical, moral, or spiritual nature. The kind of progress that would give some new hope to those who would like to continue to live to enjoy what beauty the universe has to give us, as opposed to enduring the lack of connection to reality and truth that most of humanity engages in, to our common regret.

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Following are a number of “Jokes” that perpetuate the lies and propaganda regarding the subjugation of women so ubiquitous in society…… (My comments will appear in parentheses….)

I looked up executrix. It has nothing to do w/ leather and high heels. (Obviously, he wishes it did….)

“Women: You can’t live with them, and you can’t get them to dress up in a skimpy Nazi costume and beat you with a warm squash.” — Emo Phillips  (Do I need to even say how wrong this is?…..)

How many feminists does it take to screw in a light bulb? None. It’s not the light bulb that needs changing. (Reverse psychology; making the feminist the unreasonable party….)

Man who lifts stones off woman get rocks off. — Confucius say  (Nothing of making an object of a woman here, move along, nothing to see…) (Let’s not get into the racist element here…though no less ubiquitous or egregious, one thing at a time…. as if Confucius would actually have said this…)

“Breast feeding is popular now. It wasn’t when I was growing up. In high school, my mom caught me with an inflatable sex doll. I told her, “Hey, you’re the one who got me hooked with those plastic baby bottles.” — Xavier Skinner  (Linking sex objects with addictive nature… and blaming Mom for it…. what a nice guy!)

(Note: as a comment on the ubiquitous nature of these “jokes” in the fabric of society, finding these first six examples took less than three minutes in my database of quotes, which contains a very wide cross section of the diverse segments of our society’s tastes in humor. The numerous others hereafter were found in random database searches for pearls, in only one day)

(This one isn’t a joke, in any sense…. ) “As blushing will sometimes make a whore pass for a virtuous woman, so modesty may make a fool seem a man of sense.” — Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)**

( **Just at first sight, without going into societal norms at all, it seems to me that the fallacy herein is rooted in the deliberately false assumptions that are glaringly apparent in the statement; first, that only a virtuous woman could blush innocently, out of virtue, and second, that a “whore” could not be a virtuous woman….. and a modest fool IS a man of sense, to my way of thinking. At least such a fool knows he is a fool, a condition which seems to have escaped Jonathan’s notice. Sorry Mr. Swift, you win the ignorant button today….)

“There’s no such thing, you know, as picking out the best woman: it’s only a question of comparative badness, brother.” — Titus Maccius Plautus   (Apparently, misogyny is not a new concept in human society……)

What do you call a prostitute with a runny nose? Full!   (I have to say, there are some real sick people out there! Not even very funny by sick standards….)

A woman can never be too rich or too thin.  (Really? I’d wager good money this was first said by a man, not a woman; if not, it was surely a thoroughly indoctrinated woman…..)

That’s enough for now. I think the point is clear….. there is still a long way to go to overcome thousands of years of social propaganda, and there’s no more time to waste…. Free our Sisters, Free Ourselves!  And don’t forget to stand up and point to the things you see that maintain and support these abominable practices; good intentions are useless if not acted upon…..
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You may note that there is no mention herein of the significance of today’s date; no April Fools party here, thank you. Though I can admire a good prank as much as anyone, provided it does no harm to anyone’s pride or self-respect, in general I avoid the day altogether.

This probably is due to bad memories connected to this date; yesterday, March 31, would have been my 33rd wedding anniversary, had my ex-wife not chosen to abandon the family we created some 13 years ago, just prior to both our anniversary, and our daughter’s high school graduation. Great timing, eh? (I’ve never asked her, but I’d guess she blames me for her departure, as having “made her want to leave.” SIGH…..) 

Any who, I’d rather not spend any time thinking along those lines, so I don’t…. I don’t miss it at all, at all….. April Fool’s Day, that is…. I’ll miss my the woman I loved, and still love, and the family we worked so long to make and keep, for the rest of my life…..

We have again reached the end of another day’s work, or whatever one might call this process, and now I must hie off to my Inbox, delete button close to hand, to start the process of eliminating about 200 emails that have piled up over the last two days. It promises to be a long, involved process, so I’d best be about it. Y’all take care out there……

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

gigoid

Kowabunga!