The Crazy Bird

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch...

2012-02-11T13:56:00.009+01:00

You can't see it, but it's there, The Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Millions of tons of trash plastic in all shapes, size, color and form floating with the currents and prevailing winds meet in a big clump of plastic soup in the northern Pacific Ocean. Killing birds and fish, originating mostly from USA, Japan and Russia.

Too spread out to collect, non-degradable, a collector of chemical

polutants from the enviroment - it will not disappear, it will grow

as long as it is fed.

The Garbage Patch - actually, patches as there are 5 ocean gyres which are collecting trash - was predicted by scientists, just like holes in the ozone layer and global climate change.

p.s. Mommy sometimes extincts children who don't mind what Mommy says. (hat tip to Tezkratt Anette)

Since You Mentioned the Debt...

2012-01-25T13:50:00.004+01:00

The surrealistic if not outright wierd thing about politics in the Third Galaxy, especially the United State of Arrogance is the Nat'l Debt.

Ever since Bulimo Charisma took office the Repugnant Party screamed about how Bulimo was doing nothing about the DEBT!!!! Below is a chart showing the amount each Arrogant President has increased the Nat'l Debt since his Holiness, the Exalted Ronald Rixon (Repugnants in red, Dumbrats in blue...) set the standard for true fiscal responsibility...

Martin Luther King Day, 2012

2012-01-22T07:48:00.002+01:00

In his wisdom and mercy, God sent many prophets to the United State of Arrogance - one of the greatest was Martin Luther King, Jr. When murdering him was not enough to silence his voice, he was put on a peidestal and a day given to his honor. As important as civil rights was, the heart of his prophecy targeted arrogance, greed and ignorance.

Paul's Letter to Americans, 4 November 1956 (translated from the greek original by MLK):

I, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, to you who are in America, Grace be unto you, and peace from God our Father, through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

For many years I have longed to be able to come to see you. I have heard so much of you and of what you are doing. I have heard of the fascinating and astounding advances that you have made in the scientific realm. I have heard of your dashing subways and flashing airplanes. Through your scientific genius you have been able to dwarf distance and place time in chains. You have been able to carve highways through the stratosphere. So in your world you have made it possible to eat breakfast in New York City and dinner in Paris, France. I have also heard of your skyscraping buildings with their prodigious towers steeping heavenward. I have heard of your great medical advances, which have resulted in the curing of many dread plagues and diseases, and thereby prolonged your lives and made for greater security and physical well-being. All of that is marvelous. You can do so many things in your day that I could not do in the Greco-Roman world of my day. In your age you can travel distances in one day that took me three months to travel. That is wonderful. You have made tremendous strides in the area of scientific and technological development.

But America, as I look at you from afar, I wonder whether your moral and spiritual progress has been commensurate with your scientific progress. It seems to me that your moral progress lags behind your scientific progress. Your poet Thoreau used to talk about "improved means to an unimproved end." How often this is true. You have allowed the material means by which you live to outdistance the spiritual ends for which you live. You have allowed your mentality to outrun your morality. You have allowed your civilization to outdistance your culture. Through your scientific genius you have made of the world a neighborhood, but through your moral and spiritual genius you have failed to make of it a brotherhood. So America, I would urge you to keep your moral advances abreast with your scientific advances.

I am impelled to write you concerning the responsibilities laid upon you to live as Christians in the midst of an unChristian world. That is what I had to do. That is what every Christian has to do. But I understand that there are many Christians in America who give their ultimate allegiance to man-made systems and customs. They are afraid to be different. Their great concern is to be accepted socially. They live by some such principle as this: "everybody is doing it, so it must be alright." For so many of you Morality is merely group consensus. In your modern sociological lingo, the mores are accepted as the right ways. You have unconsciously come to believe that right is discovered by taking a sort of Gallup poll of the majority opinion. How many are giving their ultimate allegiance to this way.

But American Christians, I must say to you as I said to the Roman Christians years ago, "Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind." Or, as I said to the Phillipian Christians, "Ye are a colony of heaven." This means that although you live in the colony of time, your ultimate allegiance is to the empire of eternity. You have a dual citizenry. You live both in time and eternity; both in heaven and earth. Therefore, your ultimate allegiance is not to the government, not to the state, not to nation, not to any man-made institution. The Christian owes his ultimate allegiance to God, and if any earthly institution conflicts with God's will it is your Christian duty to take a stand against it. You must never allow the transitory evanescent demands of man-made institutions to take precedence over the eternal demands of the Almighty God.

I understand that you have an economic system in America known as Capitalism. Through this economic system you have been able to do wonders. You have become the richest nation in the world, and you have built up the greatest system of production that history has ever known. All of this is marvelous. But Americans, there is the danger that you will misuse your Capitalism. I still contend that money can be the root of all evil. It can cause one to live a life of gross materialism. I am afraid that many among you are more concerned about making a living than making a life. You are prone to judge the success of your profession by the index of your salary and the size of the wheel base on your automobile, rather than the quality of your service to humanity.

The misuse of Capitalism can also lead to tragic exploitation. This has so often happened in your nation. They tell me that one tenth of one percent of the population controls more than forty percent of the wealth. Oh America, how often have you taken necessities from the masses to give luxuries to the classes. If you are to be a truly Christian nation you must solve this problem. You cannot solve the problem by turning to communism, for communism is based on an ethical relativism and a metaphysical materialism that no Christian can accept. You can work within the framework of democracy to bring about a better distribution of wealth. You can use your powerful economic resources to wipe poverty from the face of the earth. God never intended for one group of people to live in superfluous inordinate wealth, while others live in abject deadening poverty. God intends for all of his children to have the basic necessities of life, and he has left in this universe "enough and to spare" for that purpose. So I call upon you to bridge the gulf between abject poverty and superfluous wealth.

I would that I could be with you in person, so that I could say to you face to face what I am forced to say to you in writing. Oh, how I long to share your fellowship.

Let me rush on to say something about the church. Americans, I must remind you, as I have said to so many others, that the church is the Body of Christ. So when the church is true to its nature it knows neither division nor disunity. But I am disturbed about what you are doing to the Body of Christ. They tell me that in America you have within Protestantism more than two hundred and fifty six denominations. The tragedy is not so much that you have such a multiplicity of denominations, but that most of them are warring against each other with a claim to absolute truth. This narrow sectarianism is destroying the unity of the Body of Christ. You must come to see that God is neither a Baptist nor a Methodist; He is neither a Presbyterian nor a Episcopalian. God is bigger than all of our denominations. If you are to be true witnesses for Christ, you must come to see that America.

But I must not stop with a criticism of Protestantism. I am disturbed about Roman Catholicism. This church stands before the world with its pomp and power, insisting that it possesses the only truth. It incorporates an arrogance that becomes a dangerous spiritual arrogance. It stands with its noble Pope who somehow rises to the miraculous heights of infallibility when he speaks ex cathedra. But I am disturbed about a person or an institution that claims infallibility in this world. I am disturbed about any church that refuses to cooperate with other churches under the pretense that it is the only true church. I must emphasize the fact that God is not a Roman Catholic, and that the boundless sweep of his revelation cannot be limited to the Vatican. Roman Catholicism must do a great deal to mend its ways.

There is another thing that disturbs me to no end about the American church. You have a white church and you have a Negro church. You have allowed segregation to creep into the doors of the church. How can such a division exist in the true Body of Christ? You must face the tragic fact that when you stand at 11:00 on Sunday morning to sing "All Hail the Power of Jesus Name" and "Dear Lord and Father of all Mankind," you stand in the most segregated hour of Christian America. They tell me that there is more integration in the entertaining world and other secular agencies than there is in the Christian church. How appalling that is.

I understand that there are Christians among you who try to justify segregation on the basis of the Bible. They argue that the Negro is inferior by nature because of Noah's curse upon the children of Ham. Oh my friends, this is blasphemy. This is against everything that the Christian religion stands for. I must say to you as I have said to so many Christians before, that in Christ "there is neither Jew nor Gentile, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female, for we are all one in Christ Jesus." Moreover, I must reiterate the words that I uttered on Mars Hill: "God that made the world and all things therein . . . hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth."

So Americans I must urge you to get rid of every aspect of segregation. The broad universalism standing at the center of the gospel makes both the theory and practice of segregation morally unjustifiable. Segregation is a blatant denial of the unity which we all have in Christ. It substitutes an "I-it" relationship for the "I-thou" relationship. The segregator relegates the segregated to the status of a thing rather than elevate him to the status of a person. The underlying philosophy of Christianity is diametrically opposed to the underlying philosophy of segregation, and all the dialectics of the logicians cannot make them lie down together.

I praise your Supreme Court for rendering a great decision just two or three years ago. I am happy to know that so many persons of goodwill have accepted the decision as a great moral victory. But I understand that there are some brothers among you who have risen up in open defiance. I hear that their legislative halls ring loud with such words as "nullification" and "interposition." They have lost the true meaning of democracy and Christianity. So I would urge each of you to plead patiently with your brothers, and tell them that this isn't the way. With understanding goodwill, you are obligated to seek to change their attitudes. Let them know that in standing against integration, they are not only standing against the noble precepts of your democracy, but also against the eternal edicts of God himself. Yes America, there is still the need for an Amos to cry out to the nation: "Let judgement roll down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream."

May I say just a word to those of you who are struggling against this evil. Always be sure that you struggle with Christian methods and Christian weapons. Never succumb to the temptation of becoming bitter. As you press on for justice, be sure to move with dignity and discipline, using only the weapon of love. Let no man pull you so low as to hate him. Always avoid violence. If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in your struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos.

In your struggle for justice, let your oppressor know that you are not attempting to defeat or humiliate him, or even to pay him back for injustices that he has heaped upon you. Let him know that you are merely seeking justice for him as well as yourself. Let him know that the festering sore of segregation debilitates the white man as well as the Negro. With this attitude you will be able to keep your struggle on high Christian standards.

Many persons will realize the urgency of seeking to eradicate the evil of segregation. There will be many Negroes who will devote their lives to the cause of freedom. There will be many white persons of goodwill and strong moral sensitivity who will dare to take a stand for justice. Honesty impels me to admit that such a stand will require willingness to suffer and sacrifice. So don't despair if you are condemned and persecuted for righteousness' sake. Whenever you take a stand for truth and justice, you are liable to scorn. Often you will be called an impractical idealist or a dangerous radical. Sometimes it might mean going to jail. If such is the case you must honorably grace the jail with your presence. It might even mean physical death. But if physical death is the price that some must pay to free their children from a permanent life of psychological death, then nothing could be more Christian. Don't worry about persecution America; you are going to have that if you stand up for a great principle. I can say this with some authority, because my life was a continual round of persecutions. After my conversion I was rejected by the disciples at Jerusalem. Later I was tried for heresy at Jerusalem. I was jailed at Philippi, beaten at Thessalonica, mobbed at Ephesus, and depressed at Athens. And yet I am still going. I came away from each of these experiences more persuaded than ever before that "neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come . . . shall separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." I still believe that standing up for the truth of God is the greatest thing in the world. This is the end of life. The end of life is not to be happy. The end of life is not to achieve pleasure and avoid pain. The end of life is to do the will of God, come what may.

I must bring my writing to a close now. Timothy is waiting to deliver this letter, and I must take leave for another church. But just before leaving, I must say to you, as I said to the church at Corinth, that I still believe that love is the most durable power in the world. Over the centuries men have sought to discover the highest good. This has been the chief quest of ethical philosophy. This was one of the big questions of Greek philosophy. The Epicurean and the Stoics sought to answer it; Plato and Aristotle sought to answer it. What is the summon bonum of life? I think I have an answer America. I think I have discovered the highest good. It is love. This principle stands at the center of the cosmos. As John says, "God is love." He who loves is a participant in the being of God. He who hates does not know God.

So American Christians, you may master the intricacies of the English language. You may possess all of the eloquence of articulate speech. But even if you "speak with the tongues of man and angels, and have not love, you are become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."

You may have the gift of prophecy and understanding all mysteries. You may be able to break into the storehouse of nature and bring out many insights that men never dreamed were there. You may ascend to the heights of academic achievement, so that you will have all knowledge. You may boast of your great institutions of learning and the boundless extent of your degrees. But all of this amounts to absolutely nothing devoid of love.

But even more Americans, you may give your goods to feed the poor. You may give great gifts to charity. You may tower high in philanthropy. But if you have not love it means nothing. You may even give your body to be burned, and die the death of a martyr. Your spilt blood may be a symbol of honor for generations yet unborn, and thousands may praise you as history's supreme hero. But even so, if you have not love your blood was spilt in vain. You must come to see that it is possible for a man to be self-centered in his self-denial and self-righteous in his self-sacrifice. He may be generous in order to feed his ego and pious in order to feed his pride. Man has the tragic capacity to relegate a heightening virtue to a tragic vice. Without love benevolence becomes egotism, and martyrdom becomes spiritual pride.

So the greatest of all virtues is love. It is here that we find the true meaning of the Christian faith. This is at bottom the meaning of the cross. The great event on Calvary signifies more than a meaningless drama that took place on the stage of history. It is a telescope through which we look out into the long vista of eternity and see the love of God breaking forth into time. It is an eternal reminder to a power drunk generation that love is most durable power in the world, and that it is at bottom the heartbeat of the moral cosmos. Only through achieving this love can you expect to matriculate into the university of eternal life.

I must say goodby now. I hope this letter will find you strong in the faith. It is probable that I will not get to see you in America, but I will meet you in God's eternity. And now unto him who is able to keep us from falling, and lift us from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope, from the midnight of desperation to the daybreak of joy, to him be power and authority, forever and ever. Amen.

The Wiki Blackout

2012-01-18T14:34:00.003+01:00

Wikipedia has blacked itself out for the day

Good for them.

The SOPA and PIPA acts, like all these laws with nice-sounding names and acronyms are bullshit.

Just as PATRIOT act had nothing to do with patriotism let alone love of country, just as No Child Left Behind was designed to leave children behind, and Clean Air was pure Orwellian double-speak - these acts are not primarily to protect intellectual property rights but to protect the behemoths of the media industry, restrict the free flow of information and opinion.

Years ago when Deng Xiaoping started the controlled reforms to turn China into am economic superpower, the silly pundits of the age said this was good because these measures of economic freedom meant that China would "open up" and "become more like the West".

Silly me, I thought, that may be so, but the flip side is that the West will become more like China, and that has proven to be more correct than I like to think about.

So, good for Wikipedia, but gee, I miss her already although I will see her again tomorrow, but if these laws are passed in their present form, the Internet will shrivel and the flow of free information and opinion will dry up - not just because of these laws but because of the laws which will folow, obviously as we become more like China, reasons for the necessity "to protect our freedom" will be found and trumpted by the millionaire pundit prostitutes of the mass media.

The Little Doggie

2011-11-28T22:56:00.004+01:00

Once upon a time in the Third Galaxy, there was a little doggy. He saw that the Man was eating all kinds of goodies. Being a good little doggy, he sat by the table and wagged his little doggy tail. The man looked at him lovingly, so he lifted his paw and waggled his tail all the more. Surely, he would soon share some of the goodies the Man was gorging on. Suddenly, the doggy felt a sharp pain and was on the verse of yelping in pain - but then, the Man gave the doggie a lovely piece of fresh, raw meat. The doggy was so happy!

The moral of this story is that there are no morals in the Third Galaxy, that go beyond amassing all the wealth you can, that wealth, in itself is a moral good and how it has been acquired or kept is of no importance as long as you haven't stolen (too much) from other fat cats.

The other moral is that little doggies, no matter how hard they work or how loyal they are to the man, get screwed, literally, in the end and end up with less than they started with.

Whoever Controls the Police has the Political Power

2011-11-20T13:32:00.004+01:00

The police in the Third Galaxy belong to those who have the politcal power - and this is as true in the United State of Arrogance as it is in any of the dictatorships we are trained to boo and hiss during public hates, that is, when we watch television.

When you see this at a university and, elsewhere,
the tear gas, the tasers, the stun grenades, the noise cannons, the bulldozers, and - yes, when you know that young people had their mouths forced open so that pepper spray could be sent down their throats...you spit up blood for hours afterwards...

Well, what do you know? First off, you should know that people who are tortured do not have political power.

People who cannot assemble in public are not free and do not have politcal power - whoever the "We, the people" are in the Constitution and Bill of Rights it sure isn't the vast majority who have real political power.

So who has the power? Do you know? Those who control the money, the media, the public debate and the government as well as the police, those who cordinate mayors across the country together with the FBI and Homeland Security [sic] to end demonstrations - it is they who have the power. Who are they? We'd really like to know!

It sure as shit isn't the 99%. Being allowed to touch a computer screen once every four years is not democracy and it does not give political power. Being able to assemble, to demonstrate without being attacked by police, being able to speak your mind freely in public and not behind chain-link fence in a "free speech zone" - that is democracy and is what gives political power.

Where Did All The Money Go?

2011-10-20T09:43:00.005+02:00

[In the Third Galaxy, as terrible times approach, there are bright moments of hope - hope that, to misqoute William Blake, that the anger of our common humanity will burn in miracles throughout the land. For example people were heard singing songs like this:]

There used to be a money tree that grew in our backyard

The leaves were green you see because we all worked so hard

But now we're broke and working hard don't help you keep your job

College kid and six-pack joe feel like they've been robbed

- feel like they've been robbed.

Where did all the money go?

We're just asking!

Nine-nine percent of us

Would really like to know!

Did it go to protect environments where we work and live?

Did it go to make a better world in which to raise our kids?

Did it go to relieve humanity of hunger and disease?

You ought to see a doctor if that's what you believe

- if that's what you believe!

Where did all the money go....

It went to guns, atom bombs, hi-tech killing machines!

It went to fund foreign wars fulfilling Empire Dreams!

And all the while the S.O.B's were skimming off the cream!

They'll end up making nightmares of the American Dream

- the American Dream

Where did all the money go....

When working hard won't help you to find or keep a job

College kid and six-pack joe feel like they've been robbed

- feel like they've been robbed.

_________________

Note: sometimes this version of the chorus was used:

Where did all the money go?
We're just asking!
Where did all the money go?
We'd really like to know!

The Finger of God

2011-10-01T15:24:00.003+02:00

When I first heard, I thought it was absurd and, of course, it is, but still and yet, when I heard it I had to pinch myself.

And as I pinched myself, I heard people screaming in the unknown dungeons of kings even history has forgotten.

Dispite my hopes and misgivings, Bulimo Charisma, for all his media savy and general pizzazz, has assumed the role of Supreme Hole - in secret, without our knowing, quietly, in the chambers of secrecy, far below the clicking relays, he took to himself the terrible Weapon, the FINGER OF GOD.

From now on, until the end of the Terrible Times, with out warning, charge or, least of all, a trial, any person in the Third Galaxy, citizen of the United State of Arrogance, or not, can be killed in a flash of lightning from the skies - the FINGER OF GOD, merciless, probably stupid, strikes death wherever, whenever it whims the Supreme Hole.

What Must Not Be Said...

2011-08-09T21:35:00.003+02:00

What must not be said in the Third Galaxy is to compare, in any way, riots in free countries with troubles in countries with oppresive regimes.

It is a fact, though, that the recuring riots in the free countries follow the same pattern - the hopelessness of poverty and discrimination, oppression and racism by authorities including but not limited to the police create an atmosphere of hatred which, sparked by an incident - a beating, a shooting - and days of rioting with the destruction of property in general, but in particular, symbols of authority and state power.

When this happens in London, Los Angeles, Paris - it is condemned. When it happens in Tunis, Cairo, Bahrain - it is Arab Spring and the bud of democracy. They are not to be compared.

The fact is though, that they are of the same sort - albeit far apart on a scale - the mechanism is the same, an atmosphere of hatred, sparked by some incident, explodes.

It's No Surprise

2011-08-01T07:57:00.004+02:00

[Rejoice that you live in a happier, saner world then the Third Galaxy - pity the poor people living there, enveloped in ever stronger illusions]

It's hard to believe, but then belief has nothing to do with it - just plain greed, raw avarice spiced with walloping portions of arrogance and topped with a groaning mound of ignorance - yes, they really would, they really would destroy the economy of nations all over the world, spreading misery and already pandemic famine just as long as they can sit in their mansions and gated communities, not pay taxes, finance endless wars supporting tiers of empire with a future growing dimmer by the second as terrible times crunch relentlessly toward us and our children.

For a generation and more people bewitched by demonic illusions of Balance of Terror and Mutual Assured Destruction were prepared, in the space of an hour, to destroy, to literally blow up the world and its civilizations - so what they would do now is no surprise.

The bottom line is that when push comes to shove and the nitty gets gritty, the final, inalienable right we are endowed by our creator with is the right to starve to death if you can't find something to eat.

Musings After Mern...

2011-07-28T20:09:00.003+02:00

A week ago I returned home after a week-long song-writing retreat near a place called Mern, full of energy and musical inspiration from having spent time with a couple dozen talented musicians and song writers, not least including the host and instructor, Anette Bjergfeldt.

I was quite aware before leaving Mern that the down side to any retreat can be the fact that, returning to the normal everyday can lead to a certain sort of dryness when the flow of energy is no longer so abundant - but in this case it was more of a jolt because the everyday world had just emitted an incident of an unusually ugly shade.

I drove into my driveway at noon and, not having heard any news at all for a week, turned on the radio to let the midday news-cast run - and was stricken with the news of a double mass murder in Norway.

What to say? There are people who live with dreams and some who live with a nightmare. All too few try to live out their dreams and, although their number is not great, all too many live out the nightmare.

Here in the Happy Little Kingdom of Denmark within a week the thread of commentary one expects from the pundit class and political elites with easy access to mass media ran its course, from the insensitive, past the inane to ridiculous, nasty and down right ugly.

First was the question of the influence of hateful and violent rhetoric - which was denied and brushed aside. However, it is a fact, that hateful and violent rhetoric in my home country has taken its toll in murders, mutilations and beatings many, many times and will continue to do so in the futurre. Norway is no exception and neither is any other country to the effect of violent and hateful rhetoric.

Then came the question: why didn't the people overpower their executioner? This question has been asked about humans trapped in the Nazi charnel houses and industrial abbatoirs of the last century, and will be asked again and again - always by people who have no experience or knowledge of what they speak.

Finally, the question was raised about activists trying to block with civil disobedience the felling one of the last nearly pristine forests in this country - are they not on the same road that leads to atrocity such as that we have just seen in Oslo? When you hear such glorified ignorance as this, one doesn't know whether to cry or puke.

Listen close: What leads to violence is violence. Violence in word and deed, the glorifying of violence of weapons and their use. States do it, politicians do it, media empires do it, racists do, religious extremists do it. But citizens protecting trees with their naked bodies are not doing it.

I conclude this rant with a line from "The American Prophecies".

"All the bombs are in the hands of terrorists!"

Sarin in Leather

2011-05-31T15:31:00.005+02:00

An intelligent person would assume that for Sarah Sarin to make a bid to be the Repugnant Party's candidate for Supreme Hole of the United State of Arrogance was both ridiculous and doomed to failure. However, intelligent people generally continue to misunderstand both the game and the goal.

The fact is, running for the highest office of Arrogance in itself would make Sarin wealthy - more accurately, stinking, filthy rich and losing in the bid in itself would only make her support among the Pee Party fringe of the Repugnant Party more solid than ever. As the Terrible Times slouch closer, a single natural disaster of sufficient magnitude could change the rules of the games being played in the Third Galaxy and apparently worthless marbles could suddenly be valuable indeed.

This may seem like thought fluff, but everyone agrees Sarin is a knock-out in black leather on a motorcycle.

When Peace Came to the Third Galaxy - NOT!!!

2011-05-08T07:12:00.005+02:00

When the news that Ahsawyah ben-Lately was dead, drowned, so to speak in a very, very wet operation - peace broke out like the popping of champagne bottles all over the Third Galaxy, especially of course in the United State of Arrogance.

Actually, what broke out was more like an aggravated rash, a rash of stupidity.

Of course, Bulimo Charisma, having personally ordered Operation "Kick Ass" enjoyed an immense rush of popularity. Bulimo had accomplished what Ronald Rexona had failed to do with wars in Farawaystan and Wud-a-wreck, costing thousands of dead Arrogant soldiers, millions of innocent Masher civilians and last, but not least, gibbery godzillions of good Arrogant dollars?

Less than a week after Ahsawyah's body had been dumped somewhere in the deep sea in a lead-box upgrade on the Mob's famous concrete boot, the Bankers of Illusion discovered that the Great War on Terra was not only not over but only now begun. Everyone, for the security of our our way of life and especially our freedom must continue to be very very afraid. More so now then before, anyone questioning the loss of habeas corpus and other civil rights to privacy and free-speech was showing a least a lack of pariotism or, even worse, treason.

Talking heads began to bobble and babble that that those who had protested Rexona's use of torture were lily-livered wimps: "Had not torture led to the snuff job on Ahsawyah?" Well, no, actually it had delayed finding the notorious terraist - and that by years. However, in the Third Galaxy, facts are abhorrent when they conflict in any way with the web spun by the Bankers of Illusion and that poor world wobbled closer towards the Terrible Times of global catastrophe and total endless war.

Why the World Did Not End on May 21

2011-04-10T16:01:00.008+02:00

Many people were surprised when the world did not end on May 21 as predicted by Trash Camping. With 60 million listeners to his syndicated radio program, how he be could be wrong?

True, his earlier prediction years before had failed to bear fruit, but Trash Camping had explained that the reason for his earlier failure was due to the fact that he had not yet learned the intricacies of long division. That, and the fact that he had not understood some of the more difficult words in the Book of the Holy Idaho, i.e., words of three syllables or more.

To be fair, Trash had not predicted the end of the world - he had predicted the Great Rupture. This is the event where the skies open and the Holy Idaho reaches down and snatches all his chosen ones up to live with Him in the Colender in the Sky. From there they would have a real fine view of what would then happen on that poor world, which is that some really Class A shit would hit the fan followed by the actual end of the world six months later.

As we know, the Rupture did not take place and therefore the End Itself was apparently also postponed, that is if it had ever been on the agenda of the Great Potato.

The explanation was amazingly simple. And again, to be fair, how was Trash Camping and his listeners to know that the day before the Rupture, May 20, was Great Prayer Day in the Happy Little Kingdom of Denmark. True, most of the Danes use this holiday for a chance to have a long week and party a lot more than pray - still, it was enough to put a monkey wrench in Trash Camping's calculations.

On the other hand, it is quite possible that the Great Potato never reads the Book attributed to His authorship, let alone know anything about the calculations of fart-brains like Trash Camping and his ilk.

Yeah, that's a better explanation!

A Late Report from the Third Galaxy

2011-03-10T06:45:00.004+01:00

Surprisingly, the final phase of the dismantling of the middle class in the United State of Arrogance began during the admin of Bulimo Charisma.

Surprising because, Bulimo came to power on a wave of hope - but then, that was not surprising. For all his visions, he was of necessity a politcal creature living with the political reality after Ronald Rexona.

The political reality was that the Repugnant Party was controlled by the monies of megacorps and their agents - "think" tanks, "grass root" organizations and, after the notorius court decision to put megacorps on a complete legal footing with real people, even in donations to politicians, the control became complete. With the dismantling of the unions as an effective force, the main source of alternative funding for politcal campaigns dried up.

Public Radio and Television, never well funded, became a shadow of its own pale self and the ordinary citizen was left to the propaganda news sources controlled by the megacorps. The alternative newssources on the Internet were slowly strangled by bandwidth priority measures in the name of "free market" and then censured in the name of Nat'l Security and the War on Terraism.

In short, as Peoples Republic of Tjaina became more like Arrogance and the other nations of Westworld, Arrogance became more like Tjaina.

And then came the Terrible Times.

Worth our Trust?

2011-01-12T19:38:00.003+01:00

[As we know, the final stanza of a corona is simply the final lines of the preceding thirteen plus the opening line of the first sonnet - the Unknown Poet tweaks the lines in various degrees so that the confused result makes almost as much sense as the rest of his poetry.]

14. Worth Our Trust?

What in all of this was worth our trust
or the loss of our common humanity?

Falling down towards abysmal gates,
we think,
"Can there really be a being without a heart
that would crush the world under iron heels?"

If you squeeze your eyes you’ll see a bit of light,
however, when them snake eyes wink,
do you see something deeper that you’re afraid to mention?

The "Lord" such serve rules a kingdom of death,
but when the wounded heart reappears
from behind a pack of lies and flatulence,
will we hear the Fenris’ guttural cough?

Will War have become greater than Pestilence?
Will we wake up to the sound of dogs barking?

When All Is Dust

2011-01-07T17:03:00.003+01:00

[Here, in the penultimate sonnet of this corona, the Unknown Poet of the Third Galaxy brings, as is his wont, the themes of despair, distrust and even anti-spirit around to a confirmation of a trust in Reality that sees beyond not only the Abyss, but even the Void and negation of All]

13. When All is Dust

With the loss of our common humanity,

we lose the thing we need to know the truth.

Can you see without eyes with which to see,?

Or bite an apple without a single tooth?

Similarly, within the secret heart

is that, the only that with which we can

KNOW,

which yearns to know the start:

"Know the beginning and you will know the end!",

the Master said, he who planted the tree...

He who walked the path to the bitter end!

He who reveals that our common humanity

is closer to us than our closest dearest friend!

"When all is said and done and gone to dust,

what in all of this was worth your trust?"

Our Common Humanity

2011-01-05T10:27:00.005+01:00

[It seemed that in sonnet #11 the Unknown Poet made oblique reference to Milton's "Paradise Lost" - but here it becomes more obvious. Also note that the final lines echoes a theme from the sister corona, "Our Common Insanity]

12. Our Common Humanity

Falling down towards abysmal gates,

shooting stars, blinded by the light

of their own demise, heedless of the final state

of those who enter an atmosphere rife

with self-pity and mad conceit,

burn and burn and when they yearn to turn,

they cannot for none of those they meet

would lift a finger to help anyone but themselves...

It is said by some the way to hell is paved

with good intentions and that may be sometimes so,

and having heard the rants of those who rave

about "God" and "God's Will", I know,

I know for certain that insanity

begins when we lose our common humanity.

The Abysmal Gates

2010-12-31T12:45:00.004+01:00

[What ever the truth if the matter, the Unknown Poet describes how a "being without a heart can occur - among other things it seems it is necessary to make a few rips in the fabric of Reality. How long such a state could last, it would seem that at most it would be unstable and fall through "Abysmal Gates".]

11. The Abysmal Gates

Can there really be a being without a heart?

In theory, "no", in practice, "it all depends".

If the fabric of time and space is torn apart

If any means is justified by the ends

If you think the unthinkable long enough

If you shed the last shreds of decency,

snuffle with pigs at the feeding trough

and sin against our common humanity

Why yes, I suppose it can be arranged!

There's always room for more in Madam's Fat Car,

among the entourage of the deranged.

Who knows? She may even pick you to be a star!

A star? A shooting star, with a dismal fate!

Falling, falling down to the abysmal gates!

A Being Without a Heart

2010-12-28T20:02:00.002+01:00

[Indeed, it is a strange question the Unknown Poet asks here - of course he doesn't mean the physical heart which pumps blood, but the secret heart where the indwelling spirit dwells. What sort of rough beast would such a creature be? No slouch I'm sure, but could one call such a thing, a being?]

10. A Being Without a Heart

"She was chosen to crush the world under her heel,

to suck the world dry like a giant tick."

I hate to write words like that but feel

I have no real choice other than this:

To fearlessly speak the words I find on my tongue,

and spit them out with no regard for taste.

I hear a song demanding to be sung:

"Our living world is being laid waste!

"And for what!", is it not our right to ask?

A pile of dung? A hill of dried beans?

Look closely, see what hides behind the mask:

a slithering, slathering beast beyond obscene.

The mind boggles, belches and falls apart!

Can there really be a being without a heart?

Under an Iron Heel

2010-12-26T08:45:00.004+01:00

[Here it seems the Unknown Poet of the Third Galaxy seems to have a hair up his ass about the activity of cults such as "Divine Lite - but it is mild compared to the vile bile he spews towards the illusion of "Exceptionalism" which blossomed in the United State of Arrogance mutating into a sick and ugly flower with the onset of the Terrible Times]

9. Under an Iron Heel

If you squeeze your eyeballs a bit you'll see light,

and if you stick your fingers in your ears

you'll hear some sounds - go on, give it a try!

If you call such sound the music of the spheres

and a flash of optic nerve the light divine,

that's all you need to open a godbiz store!

(Of course, you'll need to polish your line

to stand out from what's been said before.)

It's kind of disgusting, but on the other hand

it's not pernicious like some others I've heard

who claim that we possess a chosen land,

chosen by God's Holy Word,

"Chosen," I heard an old fart squeal,

"to crush the world under her iron heel!"

Snake Eyes

2010-12-22T10:00:00.002+01:00

[Here, in the 8th. sonnet of "Dogs Barking", the Unknown Poet of the third Galaxy makes a radical departure from the original version of this corona, "Our Common Insanity". As to why there are two versions remains a mystery, despite extensive research in 2nd and 3rd level footnotes of the Absolute Truth (21st Edition)]

8. Snake Eyes

It isn't nice when them snake eyes wink:

The abyss yawns upon a restless night,

civilization totters on the brink.

Meanwhile, blind men rant, "We've seen the light!"

Conspiracies of mediocracy

unfolding plans to cut a cosmic fart:

"To play the Game all you really need

is two cents and a deck of marked cards!"

Combined with a complete lack of shame,

it's easy to get the fools to work for you:

Tell them that you've got a secret name

that you reveal to the chosen few,

they'll work for you day and night

and squeeze their eyeballs out to see some light.

Something Deeper...

2010-12-19T07:48:00.000+01:00

7. Something Deeper?

Is it something deeper that we're afraid to mention,
which fills us with shame and follows us wherever we go?
Is it mortal sin or "just" sins of omission?
Indeed, it's hard to name, but this I know:

We need to understand it soon because
the time is short, in fact, it's running out.
We have trashed the earth, disobeyed her laws
and now, like drunks, all bleary eyed, we shout:

"We're gonna give up the juice, tomorrow, we think,
but we haven't time right now to pay the price,
that is except for another bitter drink..."

"Uh...who's paying for the next round?"
"Let's roll the dice!"
"Sixes and seven will get us to heaven in the wink
of an eye", "O, no! Snake eyes! That wasn't so nice!"

The Lord They Serve...

2010-12-14T20:08:00.003+01:00

6. The "Lord" they Serve...

The "Lord" they serve rules a kingdom of death!

That's what I said and that's exactly what I meant!
How dare they do what they do to Holy Breath!
It's exactly as if the coin of the Kingdom was spent
on dried snot and used toilet wipe.

I try so very hard not to rant,
but when I hear about them selling tripe
as the "Will of God", to keep silent - I cannot!

People are not as stoopid as they think.
We understand how they bamboozle us!
We know what's in the kool-aid they make us drink!

So why don't more of us make more of a fuss?

Is it because we're all afraid of perdition?
Or is it something deeper that we're afraid to mention?

The Wounded Heart

2010-12-11T09:37:00.000+01:00

5. The Wounded Heart

When the wounded heart, so long denied, reappears,

is it really true that the earth will quake and shake,

that the sun will hide and the moon cry bloody tears?

Myself, I've little patience with those who take

our ancient texts and twist them into bits,

writing screenplays about what must come next.

In my book, they are a bunch of little shits,

sending us to hell on phony pretexts!

Shall I really speak what's really on my mind?

First of all, these disasters do not have to be!

Therefore, calling them false prophets is far too kind!

To speak truth to power, that is prophecy!

Come close to me now and smell the bile on my breath:

The "Lord" they serve rules a kingdom of death!

Lies and Flatulence

2010-12-08T15:39:00.002+01:00

[This is odd - it seems that the Unknown Poet of the Third Galaxy produced this sonnet corona in two versions. Either that or he forgot that he had finished what he then called "Our Common Insanity. Whatever the case, it is interesting to see the changes he made in the first part of the corona and how he developed the theme when they take off in different directions just over half way through the circle.]

4. Lies and Flatulence

Behind a pack of lies and flatulence,

finely carved and polished wooden masks,s

projecting simulated excellence,

the Bankers of Illusion go about their tasks:

Purity and Innocence are stripped clear to the bone,

then served up with spicy barbecue sauce.

True feeling then is only felt alone,

and love becomes a commodity that costs

not only your heart's blood, but cold cash!

And, as the Age of Insolence begins,

all human values are shat upon and trashed,

and holiness is counted as mortal sin...

What then, my friend?

What will you do with your fears

when the wounded heart, so long denied, reappears?

The Fenris Coughs

2010-11-26T18:58:00.005+01:00

Fenris is the child of Loki and Angrboda. The name of the chain is Gleipnir (deceive or entangler). It was made of the footstep of a cat, the roots of a mountain, a woman’s beard, the breath of fishes, the sinews of a bear and the spittle of birds. Fenris was chained by this wisp of magic to a rock a mile under the earth. The name of the rock is Gioll (scream). In the end, Fenris will break the chain and roam Midgård during Ragnarok.

3. The Fenris Coughs

I just heard the Fenris’ guttural cough:

On this, the Nordic vision is very clear:

"Wars and rumors of wars" are not enough:

Three Finbul Winters in three consecutive years

must first appear before he breaks his chain.

(The silver chain the dwarves wove and forged.

The magic chain which binds the wolf in pain

as Tyr leaves his arm in the Fenris’ gorge!)

But on such a summerly day as we have today,

how can anyone lend to such dreams any credence?

There are many games afoot and many who play

with our hearts, our minds and souls with no pretense

except a mask of righteousness ensconced

behind a pack of lies and flatulence!

Greater than Pestilence

2010-11-15T06:46:00.001+01:00

[Starting with the final line of the opening sonnet, the Unknown Poet of the Third Galaxy plays with idea that perhaps 4 horsemen for the Apocalypse is, so to speak, "overkill"]

2. Greater than Pestilence

Has War become greater than Pestilence?
How odd!
Do the Four Horsemen now compete?
For what prize do they strive to show their excellence?

A crown of shit?
A diadem of rotting meat?

What strategy will Famine now employ?
Will Disease pull out of his sleeve some tactical trick?
Will Death reunite with his own true joy?

(And will the winner be able to make his victory stick?)

Those are sick questions to have to ask, are they not?
Do we really need to have four Horsemen at all?
Could we not get by with One?
Or would that ruin the "plot"?

Two bites from one apple were enough for one Fall
One Horseman for us all, wouldn't that be enough?

I just heard the Fenris' guttural cough!

Dogs Barking - 1

2010-11-10T19:14:00.003+01:00

[Dear hearts, yet another sonnet corona which I discovered in 2nd level footnotes to the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition - obviously, this is the work of the Unknown Poet of the Third Galaxy]

1. Dogs Barking

We woke because we heard the dogs barking...
We thought it was nothing...

We should have known better!

All too soon, we heard the sound of soldiers' harking,
spitting in the cold, damp, misty damp weather!

I called them soldiers - but that is not what they were:
scoundrels, mercenaries, killers for hire!

It was obvious what would all too soon occur:
a night of pillage and rape and our village on fire...

This was the time of the War of a Hundred Years...
Or was it Seven or Thirty...?

I never could get the numbers straight!

All I know for sure is we harvested tears,
that the root of war is planted in greed and hate.

But we're better today - we kill from great distance
and War has become greater than Pestilence!

Midterm

2010-11-06T06:45:00.003+01:00

Even here in the Happy Little Kingdom we have been awash with effluvia from talking heads and intensely excited experts as to the "meaning" of the media-hyped event that made professional wrestling look like a high school prom.

I give you, free of charge, the meaning which, although it contains words of three syllables, even Ronald Rexona could (sort of) understand:

The United State of Arrogance - The Best Democracy Money Can Buy!!!

Our Father, Revisited...

2010-10-26T05:59:00.005+02:00

[
[When struck by a storm of insomnia, I often practice what might be called breath controlled prayer or silent using certain songs, poems or standard prayers - anyway, the night before last this came into my mind and I fell asleep. I think it can be set to music]

Our father in the heavens!

We are so ashamed!

Our will's been done
and your kingdom's trashed
on earth as in the sea and skies above.

Soon, there will be no love,
let alone daily bread.

Help our children to forgive us
as we forgive one another.

Protect this land in the evil days to come
and lead us to where we make war no more.

You are the kingdom, the power and the glory
- where else to make amends?

Mountain Song Revisited

2010-10-21T06:14:00.001+02:00

My friend Technobabe frequently comes with cogent comments to my infrequent posts here. Her comment here on Mountain Song:

I like this song. Wanting to put into words things that words cannot say is something I understand. And the part about the useless crutch, truly true. The only thing I would change is the last line, I would say sweetness sorrows bring instead of sorrows sweetness brings.

needs more than the simple thank you as it touches on the insights and visions which are the spring well of these song-poems.

Thank you very much, Techno-babe, for the suggestion - if the line stood alone, your suggestion would likely be the better choice.

However, the line should be seen in context with what comes before, "I want to climb a mountain...", a classical image, in fact, even a method for spiritual work. If there was any doubt, "where a lot of real angels fly" should make it clear. As we know from the popular imagination, angels "sing", that is play harps, praise God and all that sort of thing - so here, God's glory is the "sweetness" of which angels sing for joy with "silver wings" [you might think of a fluttering, tinkling sounds of magical silver bells].

It is an old idea that the angels really don't understand what human being really is all about - heck, this is Satan's problem in Milton's "Paradise Lost" and why he falls from heaven, it can't comprehend why magnificent being like Itself should bow down before soft worms, bags of dirty water the Elohim have brought forth in their creation. It's not surprising that the angels don't understand because they are not sexual beings and cannot grasp how it is that in the reality of things as they are, the physical and spiritual are inseparably intertwined. Therefor, human beings "sing with other wings", that is in love's embrace of the "sorrows [such] sweetness brings".

I don't know how to get closer to what is being said without stepping on it and squishing the life out of it. Let me put it this way, if we don't embrace life, then life is worthless, barren. On the other hand, if we embrace life, we stand there, arms full of rosebuds with the thorns sticking out. All we can do is demand an answer of Eternity - is there anything, was there any meaning to it all?

A pink happy spirit realm in heaven is not enough - it can't answer what all us poor boys and girls have gone through down here below! There must be meaning in this human existence in itself, in these "bloody truths". Job asked the question and the answer was in the whirlwind. Jesus, as historical Christ, lived the question unto the ultimate moment of utter despair and, in Christian terminology the answer is in the mystery of the Resurrection.

Mountain Song

2010-10-18T05:47:00.003+02:00

[This song has been hanging out with me for a decade or more, but last night as I had trouble sleeping because of this sharp stabbing pain in my left foot, a new verse appeared, insisting it should be the first verse and and the first should be the last]

If I sang the truth, would you

listen politely.

Or, would you scream and shout

and throw the book at me?

The truth is more than lists of rules

old fools can recite

The truth is like the shining star

that brings day into the night.

I want to sing a song, but

the song cannot be sung

I want to ring a bell, but

the bell cannot be rung

I want to try to put into words

things words cannot say

When you want to do the impossible,

you have to find a way.

The wisdom of the ages will

always be untouched

until the cripple throws away

his useless wooden crutch

That cross I see you wearing is

not the cross you need

The cross you should be bearing is

the cross that makes you bleed

When bankers of illusion try

to modify your soul,

remember when you fled the dead

and wed your self to soul

Remember all those lonely nights

you cried yourself to sleep

Remember all the promises

and the vow you meant to keep!

I want to climb a mountain but

the mountain is so high,

that at the top is where a lot

of real angels fly.

Angels sing with their silver wings

of the joy sweetness brings

Human beings sing with other wings

of the sorrows sweetness brings

Bucky Ball Day

2010-09-04T08:57:00.005+02:00

Google was so kind as to remind us all that it is Bucky Ball Day - in fact the 25th.

Buckyballs are one of the most beautiful things you'll never see with the naked eye.

Just like diamonds, a beautiful thing we can see with the naked eye, buckyballs are made of carbon - and the reason that they can be is that carbon is what it is.

That carbon is what it is is why there can be life.

In fact, combined with how the rest of the manifest universe unfolds from something much smaller than a pin-prick, the way carbon is means that life not only did and does but has to be.

And because of life, we see and know the beauty of the diamond and the buckyball - and pearls and sunsets and the love in a lover's eye - that is to say, come into conscious awareness.

Now, isn't that a wonder!

Love - Being - Aware

Happy Birthday, Mr. Fat Man

2010-08-09T09:33:00.002+02:00

Looking at another lovely day here in the Happy Little Kingdom, I realize that I had a bit too much to eat this past birthday weekend - all of a sudden the scales tend to tip upwards. That reminds me, it's Fat Man's 65th birthday today.

Poor Fat Man, he must feel a bit left out since they always make a fuss about Little Boy's birthday...

By the way, didja know, the US attended (in the person of the ambassador to Japan) the memorial services at Hiroshima for the first time this Friday?

It's about time one might say, for US to recognize our paternity of the little bastard. That, and a necessary gesture if moves towards nuke disarmament are to have any credence whatsoever.

On the other hand, a nuke exchange is inevitable as long as military force continues to be an prime option in resolving conflicts of interest between nations and their peoples.

Finally, the important birthday which every one always forgets in favor of those of Little Boy and Fat Man, is their poor little sister, Ms. Trinity - that is when the countdown really started

Wake Up?

2010-07-20T22:24:00.005+02:00

What happens when you wake up an old fart? Well, I asked myself the question - quietly, so as not to wake myself or anybody else up. You gotta be careful about waking people up! You get a bunch of these "up woke" people running around - you got no way of knowing what might happen. Why, we might even find ourselves in a worse fix than the one were in now!

Lay Down, My Weary Spirit

2010-07-16T09:50:00.005+02:00

Well, there I was, wild eyed in the wilderness, and yet, at the same time, in my living room with two Moroni Missionaries sitting across from me on my sofa - they noticed my little octave guitar and suddenly I was playing it and singing a melody, well maybe more of a caterwauling.

Over the years [since 1973], it developed into the song you hear here - a series of rhyming couplets plus a chorus:

There's a glory in the morning 'cause the earth turns 'round
and a promise in the evening when the sun goes down!
Lay down, lay down, lay down my weary spirit, rest you now
No, don't weep - just sleep!

There's an anger in the ocean, such an awful roaring sound,
but these troubled, darkened waters - they shall lay down!
Lay down....

There's a power in the growing of a tree from its seed,
and a lonesome, helpless feeling when you see how life bleeds!
Lay down....

There's a sadness in our joy when we meet old friends,
and a sweetness in our sorrow when we part once again!
Lay down...

There's a glory in the morning, such a precious sight to see,
and a promise in the evening that looks like eternity!
Lay down....

Scribbles on a Train #2

2010-07-13T21:19:00.002+02:00

[a thick tablet of paper with scribbles between the thin blue lines fell out of a box while I moving some stuff around - I recognized it as notes I wrote during the spring of 2005 while commuting to and from work. They will be posted off and on as I find time to type them up - Elmer Eggplant ]

Our texts state: God created Man in Gods' Image - male and female created them.

First of all, then, man is not Man alone, for man is also Woman - the two are one, that is: the human.

Similarly, God is not He, nor She, nor It, but all of these, separately and together, infinitely more and none of them.

As soon as the human comes to exist, in a sense, God ceases to exist - in the world, so to speak, it is the human who "creates" God in the human image.

As soon as the human is, the world is there. It is the human who, through human being, determines which aspects of the eternal which will be revealed in the temporal, that is, the world.

This is why I am forced to say [although it is not correct in the absolute sense] that God is not Other - in truth, God is not "up there" telling is what to do, God does not have a "Plan" to impose on us which we must follow, or else. We might say that God, so to speak, has a "portfolio" of plans.

In our common humanity, we determine which "plans" may unfold - by our greed or our compassion, by our love or our hate manifested in the world, we determine the "face" of God to be revealed.

Tickling the Dragon's Tail

2010-07-09T22:13:00.002+02:00

Not long after my fourth birthday, in order to refine the ability to make weapons of mass death ever more effective, experiments were done to determine more exactly parameters for the critical mass of the metal of death, plutonium. There was this fellow in the laboratory who’s job was to slowly bring together two halves of a hemisphere of death metal - as they came closer, the increase in radiation was recorded as the setup approached critical mass.

There was a safety mechanism to separate the silvery-white pieces should they come too close. The fellow doing the experiment found this an impediment which prevented him from getting really close as he “tickled the dragon’s tail” - so he disabled the fail-safe device. One afternoon, as he was doing the experiment he had done so many times before, sweat dripped from his nose as the two pieces came closer - observers watched in tense silence. Suddenly, his hand slipped - the two halves came together and touched, a blue light filled the room.

Without a second thought he accepted the death sentence and separated the two pieces of death metal, saving the others in the room. After six weeks of increasingly hopeless agony, Lois Slotin died - his tragedy burned an image in my young pre-teen mind when I first read about it.

It seems to me the image is a symbol of how our common cultural insanity can be seen as a form of “Tickling the Dragon’s Tail” - listen to the night winds wail!

Deep Water - Diamond Body

2010-07-08T12:05:00.004+02:00

The images of the ocean and that of the river descending, that is the River Jordan, the road, that of the mountain and other - they are revolve around and reflect very similar insights into a deep spiritual understanding. If you cannot lose all, you cannot win anything - nothing of value and certainly not freedom.

When I sang this song this afternoon I found myself telling a story about a fellow who won himself a diamond body and ended up losing it in favor of freedom

Scribbles on a Train #1

2010-07-06T14:16:00.007+02:00

With the twentieth century behind us, the century we thought was the worst in terms of human misery caused by human interactions, not disease and natural disaster, with the click of an arbitrary calendar date, we hoped or assumed that a better day would dawn in the 21st century.

However, seeing the storm clouds gathering and knowing what has already been perpetrated in this first decade, it seems that the 21st century may very well prove to be a David to the 20th century's Saul.

How simple it would be be if one could believe that all our troubles were the work of rapacious shape-shifting lizards who have infiltrated and taken over control of our poor world.

Ah, but it is all too obvious that it is the work of all of us people and nothing and no one else - what we see is the sum total of what we are are and what we are choosing to become: humans being or rat-like lemmings dashing to the sea.

The Crazy Bird

2010-06-30T13:20:00.002+02:00

I first met the crazy bird on a dreary gray winter afternoon, wandering in the wilderness, salvaging shards of my shattered mind (I had been trying so hard to find answers to question of hope and truth and faith and love) - suddenly, I heard my love singing, a crazy bird singing the melody of life, of the reality of love being aware.

What I have never understood is that the lark sings in the summer, but this was the middle of the winter, 1973, in the Happy Little Kingdom of Denmark:

[This time I'm using PODBEAN I won't say that pod-o-matic is useless, maybe it's just that I can't figure out how to use it - but in any case it doesn't do what I think I'm trying to tell it to do.]

The Little Girl - an (almost) True Story

2010-06-27T14:24:00.004+02:00

Well, dear hearts, I'm still working on it, but here is a live version of a little story I posted ages ago with a slightly different title

The story goes back to 1968 when I worked for the American Chemical Society - I suspect that it is somehow connected with my first marriage which was then in rapid deterioration after my wife found out that she had married a virgin - she was convinced that meant that I was sure to cheat on her - sheet! I didn't even know how to spell "cheet"

A Night in June

2010-06-25T23:19:00.007+02:00

From the last days of May until the first week of August is a time of bright nights when the evening dusk goes over to the dawn of day without the dark of night. One of these nights can be worth all the trouble of winter’s dreary dark - in the Happy Little Kingdom of Denmark, the best of all is Sankte Hans Aften, Midsummer Eve.

A Night in June

2010-06-25T21:45:00.004+02:00

Well, dear hearts, now we try this from another angle, the thing with this Pod-o-muck-a-bit is that you can't - at least I don't see how you can edit what I think of as a post. So, here we try embedding something from the Google web-site [ www.chuckcliff.dk ] which doesn't work there in I.E.

Anyway, this little snippet of a song was "composed" on the moment, sitting on the patio a June night a couple of years ago with Sunflower Woman sitting on the sofa - somehow I was able to catch it before it flew away on the evening breeze.

updade - it doesn't woik...

2010-06-24T06:55:00.004+02:00

Dear hearts, this is just a test of this pod-o-matic thingie - I've have some snafu embedding gadgets that work for a while, then they don't - in particular on IE browsers

UPDADE: The problem now is that this service kind of "blogs" the podded material, which means that the one you see here is not the one I posted here - this kinna suggs - barf!

Ascension Day 2010

2010-05-14T08:22:00.003+02:00

This is Ascension Day, a remembrance of when, as it is recorded in our scripture, the Resurrected Christ who his disciples had known as Jesus "returned to the Father" (because, as I understand it, it was best for their growth as disciples). I also thought of a word recorded as, "...not a sparrow falls, but your father knows it". Indeed this must be so, for there is nothing except the Reality of what-is -- how could it be otherwise?

Sitting in my chair with a cup of warmed up coffee, I noticed there was this stillness -- well, of course, it's a holiday and people are sleeping, cars are not being started -- but it was more than this. I noticed the thoughts there, take blood pressure, put on water to heat for fresh coffee and other things. It struck me, a thought I had many years ago as a young lad, a teen or even a preteen. And the thought (observation?) was that it is not the "thought" which moves my hand or gets me out of the chair. I can, so to speak, shout at my hand to move or for the body to get up - the thought is not the will that makes things happened. It was most pleasant to observe this condition or state, and even as I was "thinking" about this my hand went up to scratch an itch in my right ear -- now, how did "I" do or decide to do that? A moment later, when the radio was turned on to catch the news at 7 AM, I caught the end of a program "Existence", about an essay this Italian philosopher had composed to explain that God is not just the "Good God" but also the "Bad God", and the speaker was using this word "ontology" (which I have never understood or am even certain that the people who use it really understand it, but I think it means to make statements about the way things really are in an objective manner -- as if that were possible!).

Anyway, it struck me, well, yes, of course, doesn't everybody know that? If there is anything, there is only Reality -- which is both bigger and smaller than "God". The Child, as Old Bill puts it, knows with absolute certainty that Awareness is all embracing Love. Remember, Bill was a fellow who had the groundwork for his understanding laid in battle as explosions blew up places he had just been and body parts were flying through the air. The Lady Caramel has an image I like, which I paraphrase as, faith in God's love is such that even though thrown from an airplane without a parachute, one has faith in the momentous reality of God's love. Indeed, she sees the crucifixion in this light, not as a blood sacrifice to atone for sin, but as a demonstration of how far one must be prepared to go -- in order that we do not necessarily have to go that far -- in trust of God's love. Old Bill also refers to this several times, but one as striking as this does not come to mind at the moment. I do recall though the he does refer more than once to the key phrase in our scripture: "Eli, Eli, lama sabachtani" (My God, My God, why have you forsaken me!?!?"

Here is Where I Am

2010-05-09T06:12:00.004+02:00

Dear hearts, there hasn't been much here of late and I have no idea if there will be more, but I suspect there will, if any thing at all, be less snark and more from the heart.

First of all, I have had a sort of turning around - instead of worrying about why I never got to where I was going or why I never "got anywhre", I discovered that the priorities were all wrong - the important, the only important "goal" for any of us is to learn, know, discover where and be what I am.

And what is that? Indeed, what is that? I have no idea - not that there aren't ideas, but I don't know which one is of any worth or value to put up front at the moment. The funny thing is though, when that happens, you may well find yourself working harder than ever before.

I've had some long and deep conversations, well, correspondence with some friends and as a result I have taken a long and deep look at the experience of this experience we call life (and death). One of my friends has had to slog through life with scars - deep scars - inflicted in childhood (how many haven't?). Another has been struggling with the deep sorrow of the sudden loss of a deeply loved child. The point is, superficial explanations of "why?" come cheap and have the value of band aids on a sucking chest wound.

Love - Being - Aware

Can Peace Be Found...?

2009-11-26T21:41:00.005+01:00

[All I know for sure is that this was composed by the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy -- as to he meant by it, your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps seeing the on-coming of the Terrible Times unhinged his mentality somehow?]

Can peace be found while the wheel spins?
Can that which is outside also be in?
Can that which is broken be complete?

Whatever the truth, the desire is burning bright
for the flame of love’s embrace in holy light;
a desire without desire, a lust without lust!

Words fail and yet I have to speak,
like a little birdy singing with his beak,
like a waterfall gushing towards the sea.

The words tumble out of my mouth and yet, they stick to my tongue,

How can I want that which I know not;
or find that which has no certain form;
or the beginning of that with no final end?

With a riddle unspoken, a promise never broken;
a place where ends blossom with bright beginnings;
and the race is won without even winning!

On some green mountain, where all is lost
and all is won, following his own footsteps,
the web unravels, disappears and never was...

Path of Simplicity -- an Introduction

2009-11-12T20:42:00.006+01:00

[The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, having backtracked on his success with the Short Short Path, addresses his promise of speaking about the Path of Simplicity]

"Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be..."

If it was just a question of what we needed to say in order to find understanding, the answer would be with us in an instant -- in the twinkling of an eye, as it says in the Book of the Holy Idaho [Cornytheans 15:52].

But it's not that simple. In fact, it is simple -- however, the simplicity is of an order of subtlety more than we can know through an intellectual understanding communicable through words or ensconced in traditions or sacraments.

Yet, in reality, it remains the corner stone which the builders ignore. It can be seen in an instant -- and lost just as quickly. We can say that it happens -- but it is useless to ask what makes or causes it to happen. Indeed, in saying that it happens, too much has already been said. And yet, is there not a bright corner, some tiny place where it constantly happens?

It's like with the neutrino, that ittsy-bittsy particle which passes through everything. Each and every moment hundreds of millions of them pass through every one of us, through every square inch of the Earth. But no one notices, in fact, no one can notice it happening.

That is the nature of reality -- you take a breath, hear a sound, taste the spit in your mouth, see the light in your eyes. This is at least an echo of what-is and if this was-not, then what would there be? Would there, could there be any thing?

There is nothing to be concluded here and nothing to say -- except, all the time I was talking about it, the pageant was passing by, unfolding in all its subtle glory. Afterwards, I can understand, intellectually at least, that I was seeing without seeing, hearing without hearing, tasting without tasting, touching...and so on...yes, even thinking without thinking, thinking that I knew something when, in fact, I knew nothing, nothing, nothing at all...

It is a shattering experience to suddenly see that one has seen nothing at all, to realize that we have eaten a meal without tasting the food, lived a life without noticing the love. In such moments the vanity of our lives boggles the imagination leaveing it gasping for breath like a fish on dry land.

Complexity has its place, but without simplicity, there is nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

It would a conceit of the first order to imagine, because you have simplicity, that you have anything -- the moment you have simplicity, once again, you have nothing. As the Holy Idaho supposedly said, foxes have their holes and birds their nests, but the son of man has not even a place to rest his head [Look 9:58].

"And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight."
-- Elder Joseph Brackett of the Shakers

Raping Opium in the Third Galaxy

2009-11-05T20:05:00.003+01:00

[Rampant dishonesty and hypocrisy about what was really going on in the Third Galaxy, politically, economically, environmentally, were ignored by the Bankers of Illusion and together they brewed the cocktail which brought on the Terrible Times. Occasional mention, ouch as the one below, occurred only in small media outlets -- these were, of course, ignored by the mass media (unless there was a sex scandal involved)]

The moral lines we draw between us and our adversaries are fictional. The uplifting narratives used to justify the war in Farawaystan are pathetic attempts to redeem acts of senseless brutality. War cannot be waged to instill any virtue, including democracy or the liberation of women. War always empowers those who have a penchant for violence and access to weapons. War turns the moral order upside down and abolishes all discussions of human rights. War banishes the just and the decent to the margins of society. And the weapons of war do not separate the innocent and the damned. An aerial drone is our version of an improvised explosive device. An iron fragmentation bomb is our answer to a suicide bomb. A burst from a belt-fed machine gun causes the same terror and bloodshed among civilians no matter who pulls the trigger...

[The rest of the article can be found here: ]

When a Short Short Path Isn't...

2009-11-02T16:32:00.003+01:00

It appears that the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, not long after his proclamation of having taken the "Short Short Path" had to eat his words. Well, at least we should give him credit for that much honesty, a commodity in short supply on that unfortunate world...

Well, dear hearts, sorry to say I have to admit that the Short Short Path to Total Complete Enlightenment has a few drawbacks I was not aware of...

First of all, it isn't short, let alone "Short, Short" -- in fact it isn't even a "Path", neither is exactly "Enlightenment" and, therefore, cannot be called "Total" or "Complete".

Secondly, if you have lived all your life with your head up your ass, it will, since it is the nature of things to return to their former state, in this case, pop right back to where from you pulled it out.

Thirdly, the experience of pulling your head out of your ass is just that -- an experience. How can any experience be "complete"? Well, if you blow your brains out or something final like that -- maybe, but then, don't you know, that makes a number of assumptions about the way things are which may not be valid.

So, it would seem the situation is hopeless -- however, there may be hope...

During those few moments of seeming freedom, those rare moments that seem to come to us all., you can blow your nose, take a breath of fresh air and get a somewhat less shit-eyed view of the world. If one is truly fortunate, the concept may dawn for you that there actually is, for want of a better word, a Reality.

Such understanding, can, in its unfolding, become the first steps on the Path of Simplicity.

More about that later...

The Short Short Path to Total Complete Enlightenment

2009-09-11T19:52:00.008+02:00

I've been away for a while, doing deep research into the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition and return now with a report of what that enigmatic fellow, the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy had to say about the Short Short Path...

Well, dear hearts, I finally did it -- I took the short, short Path to Total, Complete Enlightenment.

As you know the Method is quite simple: bend over, grab your right ear with your left hand, your left ear with your right hand and (briskly) pull you head out of your ass.

As I suspected, it does hurt a bit -- however, when one has acquired Total Complete Enlightenment, one does not say, "OW!" or curse and swear -- being detached and overflowing with love and bliss, the Enlightened One does not fuss over things that amount to small skeeter bites...however:

"OW!GAWDDAMN!THIS!SHIT!HURTS!@!#!&!" somehow slipped past my lips.

However, being Totally Completely Enlightened, I realized at once that if people can hear you five blocks away it's okay for an Enlightened One to scream. In my case, I received not only complaints from my neighbors but from people I've never seen before. In fact, there was a notice in the Poosah City Gazette that people thought that a wounded animal had escaped from the City Zoo.

That said though, take some advice from a Totally Enlightened with a sore bum --before taking the Short Short Path, make some serious effort to deflate the empiric ego -- pulling his inflated ego out of his ass is what made the Path so painful for this fellow.

They Suck

2009-02-20T06:36:00.004+01:00

Indeed they do, suck, literally, the banks.

When signing the "Stimulus" bill, Bulimo Charisma said that the thing wasn't perfect and he wasn't just whistling dixie, not that I'd ever expect him to whistle "Dixie".

A minuscule part of the "Stimulus" is $40 billion to help the states defray unemployment costs.

This is necessary, because, the final brainfart of the outgoing Codpiece administration was to give hundreds upon hundreds of billions to the mega-banks so that they could give billions in bonuses to their top management for greeding them into the financial collapse which got them the billions of tax payer dollars with which they were intended to help struggling businesses and people in trouble with their loans and mortgages.

The mega-banks smiled and put the money in their back pocket, to keep their butts warm -- the upshot is that the collapse of the economy continued unabated, in fact was exacerbated and the unemployment curves took a nose dive worthy of a WWII Stuka dive bomber.

That is why the 40 billion in unemployment was a necessity. The banks of course smiled once again and cut a deal with the states so the states could save money -- those receiving unemployment are given plastic cards and the banks charge them money to withdraw their money.

When the unemployed call the bank to ask about these fees they are docked with a fee for calling the bank.

Until the money for the unemployed is actually paid to the recipients, it sits in the banks and draws interest -- which goes, no, not to the unemployed but to the banks.

That dear hearts is how the banks are helping stimulate ~~themselves~~, I mean the economy.

The Pale Worm

2009-02-11T16:52:00.003+01:00

[I've long had a suspicion that the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy was one sick puppy. In this, one of his later sonnettes his malaise with life nearly oozes out of the words. On the other hand, living your life with prophetic knowledge that your world will self-destruct not long after you die is enough to make anyone bang their head against the wall, or a bottle...]

I wish there was a way that I could say
exactly what it is that is killing me.

I caught a glimpse of it the other day,
but was too afraid to really see
it close and -- in a flash -- it was gone!

I havn't the courage to dare to give it a name,
that pale worm, sixty light years long...

With its heart of ice; with its breath of flame:
its coils are squeezing the life out of me!

Could I but look that beast square in its single eye,
I would be free at last! It's not likely
I'll ever do it and that is why, ever faster, I die...

I am tormented by the things I never did,
wracked with words I never said, but hid.

Legal Torture

2009-01-23T10:49:00.003+01:00

[The later sonnettes of the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy are often direct as well as cryptic -- the couplet which introduces the sonnette is apparently his]

When torture is legal, the eagle grins
and without hope, without end -- the nightmare begins...

Legality was then seen to be
a luxury which we could ill afford.

The authority of our democracy
was then given to the Security Boards
who met secretly in soundproofed rooms,
rooms which many entered but few returned.

Across the land there settled a restless gloom
as the canker of security slowly burned
into the soul of our once fair nation,
something ugly and evil, a horror to see.

In fact, at the height of the terrible conflagration,
torture was shown on national tee-vee,
live, on prime time, from coast to coast,
"...and without commercial breaks!", announced the host.

The Slimy Creep of Paranoia...

2009-01-17T16:03:00.005+01:00

[According to 2nd level footnotes of the Absolute Truth (21st Edition) the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy composed this dark sonnette even as the Itsreal military was turning the Eyeless Strip into rubble in a manner horribly remeniscent of the earlier destruction of Falludja in Wudda-wreck and other places like Guanocow]

I woke suddenly, with a slimy creep
of paranoia, a fear of being watched
by shadow things waiting for me to sleep,
so that I, in my restless dreams, might be taught
to surrender to an ugliness of mind
which trumpets "truth", but delivers death;
which preaches "peace" while making new designs
for ways to rend and tear human flesh
into tiny bits of gristle and shattered bone...

The teacher taught that there is an ultimate sin
which no one and nothing can atone,
neither now nor when final judgment begins...

At the end of days, at the end of time,
the ugly evil will never, ever rhyme!

The Neo-Gnostic Anxioms

2009-01-04T18:35:00.004+01:00

[Elmer Eggplant, if you recall, was an autodidact part time theologian and cracker barrel philosopher in the Third Galaxy before the arrival of the Alien Veggies who saved that poor world from self-destruction at the last possible moment. Elmer composed this attempt at a sonnette in blank-verse to explain how it was possible for the Alien Veggies of the Third Galaxy to be able to travel between the stars.

Because of the tremendous distance between the stars and the limit of the speed of light, interstellar travel is a practical impossibility there just as in our more fortunate world. Whether or not Elmer's effort actually explains" why or how the Alien Veggies were able to it depends, I suppose, upon the reader!]

Deceptively plain in their simplicity,
the neo-gnostic axioms are three:

Before there was time -- no time...
Before there was space -- no space...
Before there was anything -- no thing...

Or, as they phrased it in olden times,
there always has, is and always will be:

That Certain Place of No Time or Space.

That is to say, from that single vantage point,
every place, every thing, every space and every time
can be seen, be reached, be touched, be known...

Those who comprehend a bit of this.
clothe themselves in humility,
for only they can walk between the stars!

Riverbend, bless you where ever you are...

2009-01-01T13:53:00.004+01:00

... I'll meet you 'round the bend my friend, where hearts can heal and souls can mend...

That is the logo to Riverbend's blog. She is (and I do hope she still is) a young Iraqi woman. She blogged about the horror and terror of the Arrogant invasion of her country, detailing the downward spiral of misery, from bad to worse, to completely fucked up. Because of the ethnic cleaning in Bodybag, the capitol of Wudda-Wreck, her family fled to Syria -- where we lost contact with her.

I pray she is okay, but I fear for both her life and well-being. Riverbend was/is a gifted observer/writer/documentarian of the Terrible Times as they first began to unfold in her most unfortunate land which, by odd circumstance happens to be the cradle of what we call Western Civilization.

If you know nothing or anything about the utter catastrophe the Codpiece in Chief unleased upon Wudda-Wreck for reasons even a degenerate lizard would find hard to comprehend, please go through Riverbend's archives here and begin to, well, understand is perhaps a bit too much to ask, but comprehension is a good start...

The last we heard from Riverbend was October 22, 2007, may the God of Gods watch over and protect her, whereever she is.

Instant Fertilizer...

2008-12-25T19:28:00.004+01:00

"We need a miracle like that of the first Christmas of the first world war -- only it needs be deeper and more lasting. Otherwise our leaders, while saying "nobody wants war", will take us -- not to world war three, mind you, but terrible times and ultimate endless war..."

[That is how the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy introduced one of his later sonnettes]

Since the very dawn of history,
dreams of glory violently achieved
have plagued the human race -- it's nothing new!

We fought for land, for gold, for God, for "Truth"!
Is there any cause for which we have not been bled?

If you count the "heroes, I will count the dead
and match you many more than a thousand fold!

In olden, times when slaves were sold for gold,
greed tended to temper the lust for blood, you know,
-- dead bodies are of value only to wild dogs and crows!

Today, we're supposedly civilized,
but have we really gotten all that wiser
with our bombs that can take a million lives
and turn them all into instant fertilizer?

With Cold, Incisive Rage...

2008-12-14T07:55:00.006+01:00

With cold, incisive rage, Michael Moore has nailed the screaming, incompetent, heartless, idiotic and disastrous outrage of the mean, lowlife Repugnant senators who sank the bailout of the single most important industry in the United State of Arrogance (well, next after the weapons and pharmaceutic/narcotics industries, I suppose).

They could have given the loan on the condition that the automakers start building only cars and mass transit that reduce our dependency on oil.

They could have given the loan on the condition that the automakers build cars that reduce global warming.

They could have given the loan on the condition that the automakers withdraw their many lawsuits against state governments in their attempts to not comply with our environmental laws.

They could have given the loan on the condition that the management team which drove these once-great manufacturers into the ground resign and be replaced with a team who understands the transportation needs of the 21st century.

Read the rest here, where Moore also roasts the Bankers of Illusion (mass media) for spinning this to slime the unions, as if this was their fault! To all of this I can only add that a strong and informed working middle class is the bulwark of democracy.

Bulimo, Bulimo...

2008-12-02T14:45:00.004+01:00

Bulimo, Bulimo, I'm worried about ya, boy -- oops! sorry! that's a no-word, but still, I'm worried.

As I understand it, as news filters down to the Happy Little Kingdom, things are going to go forward (=backwards) in the United State of Arrogance in a manner different from that of the (thank the Great Potato) the Codpiece -- the difference being in intelligence and efficiency.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all in favor of intelligent efficiency -- the crux, of course, is about what does it all revolve?

As I understand from the little I can see from my little hobbit hole, you intend to combat terraism by preemptive attacks/invasions with greater effienciency than your fumblefingered predecessor. Lots of luck with that, Bulimo, but doing a bad thing better is not a positive...

I also understand that you will not actively seek that the criminals in the (thank the Great Potato) outgoing administration be tried for their crimes against the law, the constitution and humanity. I'm sure you have your reasons and I'm sure they are political and I'm sure they are wrong...

The bottom line is that it is now SOP in the United State of Arrogance that the chief executive is not only above, but beyond the law, that the holder of this position can do whatever he/she fuggin pleases to do...

In this context, the presidential order whereby the chief executive can take complete control of the country, with no regard to the legislative or judicial branches of the gov't will remain in effect -- furthermore, with no protest from anywhere, at least 20,000 military soldiers will be stationed in the United State by 2011 (5000 battle hardened troops are already there!)

I plead with you, Bulimo, I understand that you react to the political realities -- but, what you do as prez not only will mold but create the political reality and the consequences it will have for those of us who live in the real world -- I plead with you, think about the real reality in which real people live, going about their lives, trying and hoping to make a better life for their children.

A Word to Bulimo Charisma

2008-11-16T11:05:00.004+01:00

A word to Bulimo Charisma:

The Codpiece is a war criminal -- it has nothing to do with partisan politics.

Please investigate and prosecute and send the bugger to do some hard time.

The Repugnants will scream -- let them scream. They had the gall to impeach a president for a blow-job -- they have no credence whatsoever.

I repeat, the Codpiece is a criminal and must be prosecuted -- else, the office of the Presidency will be ever tainted by his misdeeds.

Salt's Savor

2008-11-04T19:56:00.004+01:00

I'm sick of the Quadrennial Horse Races -- they can take care of themselves...

"Can the street die?"

"Can a car die?"

"Can a rocking chair die?"

"Can the Sun die?"

A five year old boy asked such questions these many years ago and the answers were, "Yes, the Sun can die, but it takes so long that it is almost like it never happens."

"And, yes, things like a car or a rocking chair fall apart and are gone, so, we can say they sort of 'die' -- but they don't die in the same sense as a bird, a cat or we ourselves die."

"In fact, one might be tempted to say that the more a thing lives, the greater the living of life, the greater the death in its dieing."

"And that is why the salt must never lose its savor."

Salt's Savor

No matter how hard you try to twist the truth,
the fact remains that right in front of your face
resides the answer you've sought since your early youth!

It delights your sight and tantalizes your taste.
It tickles your nose and sometimes even your toes!

It whispers in your ear, "Never fear,
I am with you wherever you ever go
in the spring, summer, fall and winter of all your years..."

It is life, that is to say, all that is.
It is life for only life is what-is.
It is only life that really exists.
Life is the essence of all your "God" business.

Without it, the salt has already lost its savor!
Without it, there was never any savior!

A Tale of a Scarlet Letter...

2008-10-26T11:28:00.003+01:00

[Dear hearts, be thankful that you don't live in the Third Galaxy -- a tale like I am about to tell could never happen in our saner and happier world:]

The Quadrennial Horse Race was taking the final turn and the contestants were getting ready for the home stretch.

A sweet young thing she was -- a twenty year old coed working as a volunteer for the Mad Cain campaign. On her way out to her car in the dark she was accosted by a black man who took offense at the "Mad Cain for Prez" bumper sticker and brutalized her!

The dark monster beat her up, forced her to the ground and, although he didn't rape her like one would normally expect a black man to do to a young white woman he had in his power, this beast did something really nasty, saying that he was "Gonna teach ya a lesson, bitch!" He carved the letter "B" on her face with a sharp instrument.

"That 'B' stands for 'Bulimo', bitch!" was his parting comment to the poor girl. That wasn't quite what she told the police, but it was pretty much what the local Mad Cain campaign manager told the newspaper and media reporters who gobbled the story up.

Unfortunately, the police noticed that the Scarlet Letter was carved in mirror image. Since they figured that a black man wouldn't be able to figure out how to carve a letter while looking in a mirror, they politely asked the young lady if she had not done it herself. She quickly admitted that indeed she had made the story up from out of thin air.

This was the comment of an anonymous blogger in the Third Galaxy:

This incident ought to go into the you-can't-make-shit-like-this up category. And yet, something here disturbs my paranoia...

First of all, I assume the thought has crossed minds that Joe the Plumber and the lady who said Bulimo Charisma was a Masher terraist at Mad Cain campaign event were some kind of plants.

Joe the Plumber was a media flash in the pan who complained that Bulimo's tax plan would mean that he wouldn't be to buy a plumbing business and make a quarter million dollars. Unfortunately, it turned out that Joe was not a plumber, had never been licensed as a plumber and, in fact, had never been apprenticed to learning the trade. Furthermore he was in little danger of ever making a quarter million since the company he couldn't legally buy and run anyway only had receipts of a quarter million, that is before, expenses and wages to workers.

I find myself momentarily thinking that there is something more fishy here then the Tale of the Scarlet Letter being false.

I remember the three who were busted for plotting to whack Bulimo at the convention and then were released. I am aware of several other stories and can only assume there are others who have managed to stay below the radar.

Actually, it were better if these were plots and conspiracies -- what is far more likely is that these "loose cannons", are only acting out what racist campaign memes inspire them to do.

I must have eaten too much pumpkin pie yesterday, but I can't shake the feeling that something really ugly is going to happen somewhere down the line.

Gender of Inanimate Objects

2008-10-22T07:47:00.003+02:00

Although, unlike many other languages, English does not have gender specific definite and indefinite articles, we give many inanimate objects a gendered pronoun when they are referred to in the third person.

For example, a ship is referred to as "she" or with the possessive pronoun "her". Why we do this sort of thing I suppose is because hhumans have an innate tendency to anthropomorphise every thing from our God(s) to the kitchen sink.

Anyway, a wag once quipped that ships are "she" because, when one comes to a harbor, she goes after the buoys -- this inspired someone with much too much time on their hands to figure out through logical induction, the gender of many other inanimate objects.

FREEZER BAGS: male, because they hold everything in, but you can see right through them...

PHOTOCOPIERS: female, because once turned off, it takes a while to warm them up again. They are an effective reproductive device if the right buttons are pushed, but can also wreak havoc if you push the wrong buttons...

TIRES: male, because they go bald easily and are often over inflated...

HOT AIR BALLOONS: male, because to get them to go anywhere, you have to light a fire under their ass...

SPONGES: female, because they are soft, squeezable and retain water...

WEB PAGES: female, because they're constantly being looked at and frequently getting hit on...

TRAINS: male, because they always use the same old lines for picking up people...

EGG TIMERS: female because, over time, all the weight shifts to the bottom..

HAMMERS: male, because in the last 5000 years, they've hardly changed at all, and are occasionally handy to have around...

REMOTE CONTROL: female, they easily gives a man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and while he doesn't always know which buttons to push, he just keeps trying...

A Two Forked Creature...

2008-10-20T06:52:00.003+02:00

Since it is so dirty, it is difficult to make it clear what the nature of the Mad Cain and Repugnant campaign has become.

The campaign has shed its skin and turned into a two forked creature of lies, slime and deception -- that it occurs now, two weeks before the final lap of the Quadrennial Horse Races is no accident. The media and its bobble heads will not call foul until after November, if ever.

The first fork is, with ads and robo-calls, to call forth and nuture the meme that Bulimo is a terraist, an arab, a muslim Masher, a baby killer -- even a socialist. These are dog whistles to remind the right kind of people that he is one of them -- a dark one, a black, a nigra.

The second fork is, through intimidation, caging and purging of voter registrations, challenges at polling places and obstacles at pricincts where many of the wrong kind of people can be expected to vote.

Part of the second fork is the campaign against ACORN -- which in itself is also two pronged. ACORN is smeared with charges of vast amounts of voter fraud (actually, vote registration fraud -- but vote fraud stinks better). These charges have little basis in fact. No more factual basis than four and two years ago when the same tactics were used in a more diffuse manner against the Dumbrat party and US Attorneys fired for not engaging in what they saw as politically motivated charges of vote fraud.

At the same time, ACORN in particular and poor urban (read: black, hispanic, lazy, shiftless) people are being made responsible for the collapse of the housing bubble(s) and the Great Collapse -- i.e. the suffering and losses of hard working real citizens is because of them.

To tie it all together, ACORN is made out to be somehow a tool of the fiendish Bulimo Charisma.

I kid you not, if he survives to the inaguration, a meme that he is the One, the Beast of the Apocolypse and every failure (and success!) of the Bulimo administration will be proof of the truth of the lie.

Ain't Nothing So Bad...

2008-10-18T17:52:00.004+02:00

It's said that there ain't nothing so bad that it ain't good for something.

This may very well be true, or true enough that you won't choke on it.

An example. During the 40+ years of the split between the East and West, the Cold War and the Iron Curtain, there was a zone along the borders between the free countries in the west and the countries enslaved in (evil) commie dictatorships. Barbed wire, mines and watch towers ensured that no one crossed or even entered this death zone.

Although death for people, it meant life for plants, animals, birds. Thousands of miles long, reaching across climate zones, undisturbed, it became a haven for species no longer found in Europe or extremely rare. One example is a fresh water oyster which happens to be one of the oldest animals, if not the oldest.

The sunshine to the story is that after the collapse of the Soviet empire, people with foresight made sure that this nature treasure box was kept for the future.

Sooo, maybe, just maybe something good will come out of the debacle of US foreign policy and the ongoing financial Great Collapse of 2008-9 -- and perhaps even the multitude of crisis which will befall this poor world in the wake of the global climate changes.

On the other hand, whatever good may come of these messes in our nest could probably have been brought forth with a lot less expense in both money and, more important, human suffering.

The Smell of a Rip-off in the Morning...

2008-10-14T07:13:00.003+02:00

Well, well, well -- the news this morning is all a gush as to how the stocks are rising like a 14 year old boy's dick who just got to see his first picture of a nekked lady...

Great! I mean the feel of a boner coming on -- the stock market, I'm not so sure about.

I'm still suspecting that the bail out is mainly designed to keep an otherwise sinking ship afloat until the end of January when the Bulimo administration is inaugurated. Anything bad that happens after that will be the fault of Bulimo Charisma and anything good (if any) to the wisdom and foresight of Paulson.

In fact, there seems to be an immense rip-off by banks going on at the expense of the taxpayers. The trick has to do with index regulated loans, all $300 trillion of them...

You see, the rate of index regulated loans is determined by the LIBOR*.

LIBOR is determined by the loan rates on loans between banks -- these rates are determined by what the banks themselves report...

The present situation is that the banks are not lending to each other -- they are lending from Federal Reserves around the world at very favorable rates.

The result is that the banks are reporting rates that are not only fictitious -- they are outrageous! The normal spread in what the banks report is around .2% -- today, the spread is 1.75%!!!

This means two things:

1. Banks somewhere are sucking up taxpayer money for nothing and private lenders -- businesses and homeowners are getting whacked with higher rates for which they are financing at the other end

2. The real economy -- that is, businesses and people actually doing real things to produce things and services of real value -- the real economy is being suffocated.

*LIBOR is explained here by Bernhard

From a Small Acorn...

2008-10-12T07:35:00.002+02:00

One of the reasons Bulimo Charisma is going to win the final lap of the Quadrennial Horse Races is because of an excellent and well coordinated campaign -- which, by the way, is an indication that, assuming a Bulimo administration is allowed to assume power, it will also be an excellent and well run administration.

This contrasts strongly with the Mad Cain campaign which, although in many ways well coordinated, instead of "excellent", deserves the adjectives "dirty", "smear", "untruthful" and even "dangerous"

One the reasons that the Bulimo campaign gives us a glimmer of hope is that it has energized the young people and people who haven't been voting. The reason that people haven't been voting is a political apathy in the USA which is startling in a western democracy -- a democracy which fancies itself as being an example and light to the world.

There are a number of reasons for this apathy which might be better termed political paralysis. One of the main ones has always been difficulty, in fact obstacles in getting registered to vote and then actually casting a ballot. Now there is nothing wrong in itself that citizens need to actually need to make an effort to vote. However, there is a long tradition of keeping people from voting or having their votes counted when those people are of an ethnic, income or racial group likely to vote for the "wrong" party.

The classic example is of course the Dumbrats in the southern USA where poll taxes, literacy tests, registration fees and "good old boys" hanging around the courthouse were all intended and did keep those we now call black but then were known as "nigras".

However, in today's USA it is the Repugnant party which has updated, modernized voter suppression and out right fraud in order to put a heavy thumb on the scales which they could not otherwise win. Some of these methods are high tech things such as programmed computer "glitches" in electronic voting machines transferring votes to the "correct" party's candidate. "Caging" of voters can also be high-tech in that computer models are used to select people to be struck from the voting rolls who are of the wrong income, ethnic or racial group.

Other methods can be much more crude but none the less effective for that. The most effective is probably the smear campaign based on half truths.

An example, is ACORN (Association of Community Organization for Reform Now). This is an umbrella organization with many activities among the poor and economically oppressed and, as to be expected, has received a lot of flack from Repugnant organizations and media pundits. The focus this year has been upon their efforts to register voters who have difficulty it getting to register -- the poor and the elderly. Why do the poor and elderly have difficulty? The poor and elderly are more dependent on public transportation then others. Public transportation the USA generally sucks.

Another group that has difficulty are invalids, such as those in the Veteran hospitals and people from ACORN seeking to register invalid war veterans have been refused entry to the hospitals.

But that is a small thing. The law says that private organizations collecting registration forms must deliver all forms to the registration committees. This is of course a great idea -- otherwise, they could throw out all forms that registered for the "wrong" party.

What ACORN does do is triage the forms -- they divide then into three piles. One pile is labeled as being okay as far as they know. A second pile is labeled as doubtful. The third pile is labeled as being suspicious, that is probably incorrect or even specious.

However, what Repugnant organizations are doing is taking the third pile (which ACORN must, by law deliver) finding a lot of incorrect application forms and calling "voter fraud" -- and their media pundits scream it from radio and television.

This is a most effective smear campaign and has the effect (intended) to bring the results of the (s)elections in November in doubt. They figure they are going to lose are already gearing up to attack a coming Bulimo administration.

Into this mixture is an element of hate which already exceeds the vitriol poured on the two Flintstone administrations.

The bottom line is that Bulimo, whatever else I might think of his politics is a very brave man to wade into this maelstrom

The Deep White Pit Revisited

2008-10-10T06:50:00.004+02:00

Somewhere during the last few laps of the Quadrennial Horse Races the show has turned into a farce.

If it wasn't for the fact that it is taking place during what more and more is obviously undfolding as the most critical if not final phase of human history it would be hysterically funny. As a matter of fact, maybe it is hysterically funny -- if you happen to be a cockroach or a shape-shifting lizard...

Seeing that they are now almost certain not to win the (s)election, Mad Cain campaiagn is opting to sow seeds of hate which will make the hunting of Prez "Big Dog" Flintstone look like a sunday school picnic compared to what will be thrown at Bulimo Charisma.

At best, it will end with The Man Called Betrayus being (s)elected in 2012, or, far worse, Sarah Cuda. At worst, well, I hope you don't have the sort of imagination I am cursed with -- like the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy spoke three decades before the opening phases of the Terrible Times:

When you've got a crystal ball,
you sometimes wish you didn't have a ball at all!

The nitty gritty dear hearts is that human history is seemingly headed towards either a deep white pit of sand or a pile of excrement.

Speaking of Arrogance...

2008-10-05T07:25:00.006+02:00

Arrogance goes well, in fact magnifies incompetence. Avarice also gives good growing conditions for the first two.

The United State of Arrogance has demonstrated this in a rather pernicious manner, becoming more arrogant even as her incompetence has grown along with avarice by leaps and bounds.

Because Sarah Cuda was able stay on script when she shared the stage for ninety minutes "debate" with Jo Bitem and delivered a couple of zinger sound-bites the Bankers of Illusion could repeat in endless sound loops -- she has suddenly become more suited to assume the duties of Prez should Mad Cain decide to start pushing daisies after a (hopefully) hypothetical inauguration of the two.

Pray tell, is this not a celebration of incompetence? I know people who would vote for Mad Cain and Sarah Cuda simply because they are not "pro-choice".

Doesn't anyone remember how the Codpiece was (s)elected because he was "pro-life" and then proceeded to murder his millions? If Mad Cain is (s)elected, we will be singing like they sang about David and Saul, "Where Saul killed his thousands, David kills his tens of thousands..." [1 Samuall 18,7]

Geeze, is this "Idiocracy" or what?

Meanwhile, hundreds of billions of dollars are forked over in what can only be called "Welfare for the (super)Rich" as a reward for the incompetent arrogance of their avarice.

None of the leading economists who have been consulted for their opinion in this manner have protested -- of course, that is probably because none of them were consulted, most pointedly the economists who warned about the Great Collapse.

On the off chance that this plan wasn't bad enough, 25 billion dollars was forked over to the Arrogant automobile makers -- and they didn't ask for some money back should the automobile makers ever start making profits again! This is an outright subsidy and subsidies and tariffs are exactly what excaberated the Great Depression.

On top all this, a stale cigarette butt put out in a plate of fish and chips, more home owners then ever are going to be foreclosed and evicted from their homes -- there was an alternative!

My Unrequited Love

2008-10-02T21:41:00.005+02:00

is beans -- baked beans, bean soup -- whatever.

I love beans and they repay me with flatulance of an order that might make a lighter person wieghtless if not actually airborne. In the case of beans, it is supposedly compounds known as oligosacchirides (whatever they are) which bring about the windiness. The problem with them is that we can't digest them, but bacteria we carry in our lower intestines find them quite yummy. However, these bacteria have as excrement -- gas...

In any case, if you are going to take beans to task, you must soak them for at least 10-12 hours, preferably changing the water a time or two and rinsing them most carefully before preparing them, for example, in bean soup.

Here is how to make a real mean bean soup:

Take a cup of dry white beans soaked 10-12 hours and well rinsed in clear water, put them in a pot well covered with water and heat to a boil and let them simmer for at least two hours -- frankly though, despite what the cookbooks say, I don't see how you can over cook beans, unless you burn them, of course...

In the beans you should also be cooking an onion, finely chopped, like wise a stalk of celery and a carrot. A peeled potato or two should also find their way to the pot -- but don't chop either them or the slice or two of bacon you throw in the pot.

For spices, there should be sprigs of rosemary, thyme and a bay leaf or two. A clove of garlic is also recomended as well as a cube of chicken boulion. A teaspoon or two of muscovado sugar will help to harmonize the seasonings.

After simmering for at least two hours - three might be better - let the soup cool a bit and trasfer about half of the beans, all the potatoes and most of the liquid to a bowl and puree them. Return the mush to the reast of the beans, heat and serve in bowls, garnished with parsley and a good bread.

Eat your fill and fart with gusto the next day!

A Debate is a Debate is not a Debate

2008-09-30T21:04:00.005+02:00

Here in the Happy Little Kingdom, it started. live at 3 AM and the only reason I saw anything was because, being 67, I had to get up to pee at about a half hour into the debate. True, it can hardly be called a debate -- a debate is what Lincoln and Douglas did.

They talked a half hour at a time, people listened and the next day people all over the country actually read what they had said in the newspapers. Furthermore, the two actually talked about what they meant about the issues they were discussing. Lincoln lost the election to the Senate, but the recognition he recieved nationally led to his becoming president a couple of years later.

Today, the necessary first thing to being (s)elected Senator, is at least $6 million and one or two million for a House member. Debates are carried on by advertisements and 15-30 second slots on TV. What is called a "debate" today between presidential candidates is little more than a session where two fighting cocks bash and slash each other with sound bites...

Anyway, I had made myself a cup of hot milk to drink so that I could better go back to sleep. As I was drinking it, I turned on the TV and the first thing I saw was Bulimo promoting what would amount to preemptive military strikes in Pakistan. It is enough to make a fellow barf seeing him apparently embrace the basic tenet of the "Bush Doctrine" which (are you listening Sarah?) means we, in our arrogance, have the right to commit whatever shit we want anywhere because we are God's Own Chosen People and the Last Best Hope of Mankind...

But then Bulimo said something closer to what one might call intelligent. He said that we had supported a dictator in Pakistan, Musharraf, for years and given him billions of tax payer dollars.

MadCain, without looking at his opponent, responded in a manner consistent with the macho prick that he is -- cold, condescending and arrogant he then stated that Bulimo apparently had not understood (how could a freshman senator understand anything!) that "Pakistan was failed state then" -- the understanding being that "failed states" need a good dictator, if they can get one, especially if he happens to be our dictator. Figuring that barfing in the middle of the night would not help me go back to sleep, I turned of the TV and went back to bed...

The fact is, dear hearts, that Pakistan was not a failed state when Mushareff took power -- that is complete bullshit!

Even now it is not a failed state. True, we may help to kick it over the edge in the not too distant future -- if that happens, then you will really see fun and games. The point is, though, that MadCain not only does not grasp the facts, he really doesn't care. Neither does he care about the troops or the Arrogant people -- all that he cares about is his driving ambition to become prez of the United State of Arrogance.

Regarding Paulson's Heroic Vision

2008-09-28T22:13:00.003+02:00

A book I read in high school, had one dodgey character, a surgeon, who is cutting on this patient and he happens to cut the wrong thing and massive bleeding ensues. So, he throws in some tampons and sews him up real quick and has him hustled him out of the operating theatre on a gurney. The patient dies 30 minutes later in his bed -- but not on the operating table -- a clear cut case of the operation was a success but the patient died.

I figure that is what this "bailout" is really about -- to fend off a crisis for at three months so that it won't be the dodgey surgeon's "fault".

IF, there is then no meltdown, which is what many economists seem to think, but "just" a real bad and deep recession and people lose their jobs, homes and cars -- well, that will be, sigh, the new administration's fault. However, it was the Heroic Vision of Paulson and the Repugnants which saved the country from total collapse. "Sorry, folks," the Repugnants will then say, "but that's what you get for electing a bunch of Dumrats and an off-color prez!!!"

Humpty Dumpty

2008-09-26T21:23:00.001+02:00

The root problem of the present financial crisis is the (nearly) unregulated trading and speculation in the debts of others -- which has been demanded and supported by the present administration, the Repugnants in general, Sen. MadCain in particular and, I'm sorry to say, large elements of the Dumrats..

As the paper pyramid has grown to a virtual value a hundred times more than the debts on which it is based, money -- real, hard cash has been siphoned off in enormous amounts.

That is why the bubble pops, why the camel's back breaks, why Humpty Dumpty falls off the wall and why all the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to put Humpty Dumpty together again.

But that is not what the Repugnants are after. All they want is to paste him together some until after the (s)election so the vampires have time for one last fix and then, after the Inauguration, blame it all on the Dumrats when Humpty turns into a puddle of piss.

Sixty Trillion Dollars Boggles the Mind...

2008-09-24T20:33:00.004+02:00

There are any number of disgusting things one could point out in this unfolding financial crisis.

Repugnant people are now trying to wipe the shit off on blacks and hispanics -- the meme is that the kind hearted loan sharks in response to the pleas of librul bleeding hearts gave loans to them there dark-skinned and swarthy people who, irresponsible dolts that they are (but they can sing and dance!), just hand jive until they are evicted...

Fact is, though, the quarter trillion in loans is just the bottom of the pyramid -- and neither is there any statistic to show that dark-skinned and swarthy people are defaulting more than working whites (i.e., real Americans) whose jobs have been sent overseas -- no, the real burden is the number of speculative monetary instruments like what is called Credit Debit Swaps.

The vampires built a house of cards based on selling and trading in the "value" of loans and skimming the cream off in real money -- the "value" of credit debit swaps in Monopoly money is -- hold your breath -- more than 60 trillion dollars! That is more than 5 times the GDP of the US ans 6 times the present national debt!

Thank the Great Potato that there is at least one congressperson ready to say that not only is the emperor not wearing any clothes but he has shit on his face

Seven Hundred Billion...

2008-09-22T20:01:00.003+02:00

Bernhard at Moon of Alabama has interesting details here, here and here

All I can do is write what the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy calls a sonnete...

No matter how you look at it, it can't be good
that a monster in the kitchen is eating all our food!

Whatever your politics may be, I'm sure you can see
that seven hundred billion is not a cure,
not by throwing our dough out the window, that is!

It's like shooing cats away with a pot of piss!

Saying the "Market will collapse" is a bunch of crap,
it can't collapse because it already has!

So what's the real reason for all the rush?

It's as if they'd seen the LORD in a Burning Bush
who told them to sacrifice the Golden Calf
in order to cut His anger's fire in half!

The fact is that the people we're dealing with
don't have what normal people call a conscience!

A Few Words on Repugnance

2008-09-20T08:37:00.005+02:00

I just discovered an "unofficial" archive of the Great Bilmon and ran across this post there which shows just how repugnant the Repugnant Party can be out in the open -- the Great Potato only knows how repugnant they can be behind closed doors.

Well actually, I think we do have a pretty good idea. The reason for the FISA act being so important to the Codpiece administration and give retroactive immunity to the communication industry is that what the gov't had them doing was so illegal that their own people in the Department of Justice threatened to resign en masse in the runup to the (s)election in 2004 -- so, the Codpiece backed down a notch or two.

Now that the communication industry has immunity, we will never know just what was going on. But one does not have to be much of a cynic to guess that political blackmail was the nicer stuff. Heck one telecom executive is facing time in the slammer because he refused to go along with what he knew was (theen) illegal and didn't get the gov't contracts he thought he had locked in on -- they convicted him of insider trading....

What Kind of World?

2008-09-17T21:40:00.007+02:00

What kind of world are we living in?

Well, it's the only world we have, so maybe it's a bit stoopid to ask.

Also, it depends on what kind of creature you ask.

The house fly says that it's fine and the cockroach too.

Rats are living high on, well not the hog actually, but their tails are fat from what they are getting by on.

The folks running things, the fat cats, the wise guys (of whatever stripe), the fuggin oligarchs -- yeah, they all think it's a fine world.

I used to brew beer as a hobby and it's a fun thing to do, you cook a great big pot of water, malt and hops. If you don't mind criticism from purists, you also put apples, potatoes -- anything to add some sugar...and then you add the yeast. The yeast cells go crazy -- they awaken to Heaven, that is food, food, food! So, the yeast cells eat, multiply geometrically and do the other things that cells do -- they excrete. In the case of yeast, their excrement includes a large portion of alcohol.

Kind of weird, isn't it? All of life is trying to something to do something to get ahead and yeast hit upon shitting (pissing?) alcohol which just happens to be an addictive substance for the (at present) dominant species on this poor planet -- which gives the yeasts which can eat sugars and shit/piss the purest alcohol a leg up on other microorganisms.

That just goes to show you that evolution works in often inscrutable ways -- which is pretty much what we used to say about Yee God.

What I am trying to say is that, although it looks pretty much like we have screwed the pooch as far as our planet is concerned, perhaps the Earth is just an apple and we are making a quality calvados for some divine dilletante...

On the other hand, I figure we could do better than that!

From Tic-Tac-Toe to Chess

2008-09-16T20:51:00.004+02:00

When I sit on the crapper I have what is maybe an odd habit -- I solve chess puzzles on my cell phone, "Find check for White in two moves" is what I am doing now...

Today, while wiping my ass I suddenly thought of a chess puzzle with all the pieces in their starting position -- "Find check for White in x moves..."

Is that possible? Is there one or more opening moves where White can always beat Black? Is there a "solution" to chess?

Or, is chess like tic-tac-toe? In tic-tac-toe, once both players understand the game, neither can win. Or, is there in chess at least one opening move that will always win?

Is it possible to prove it one way or the other?

That's kind of a silly thing to think of I suppose, with all the problems, in fact challenges to our very existence we face on this little blue puff ball hanging in space.

I suspect that, although our leaders think they are playing a Great Game like chess for the world's resources, our situation is actually like tic-tac-toe, that is none of the players can win this fighting over a hill of beans in which we are engaged.

In fact, if we don't stop these silly games, all players will lose.

When News that is News is Not-News...

2008-09-14T15:50:00.002+02:00

I'm sure you have heard about the behavior of the Organs of Public Safety in St. Paul during the Repugnant National Convention -- o, you haven't heard about it?

You didn't hear about the preemptive arrests of people planning to demonstrate, the arrests of two score journalists, [click through a splash screen for a day pass to Salon] the dozen stun grenades lobbed at a small group of demonstrators?

Why is it that news which is news is not news?

More important, why did the police feel they could act with such impunity?

The Repugnant host committee set up a $10 million insurance policy to defray expenses the city might run into because of litigation after the convention. City officials asked for this coverage and were proud of it -- see, that's also news which is not news...

I Didn't Do It...

2008-09-12T12:15:00.004+02:00

I didn't do it!

It really, really cost me, but I didn't do it!

I didn't talk, blog, write, snide or snark about The Day That Changed Everything -- heck, I didn't even observe a moment of silent prayer for the "almost three thousand who died that day..."

As a matter of fact, it has long puzzled me, along with a few other things like how the concept / meme of "Homeland Security" and the legal monster misnamed the PATRIOT ACT appeared, full-blown and ready to rock, like some miscreant Minerva from the forehead of a somewhat bilious and certainly corrupt Zeus -- it has puzzled me why the talking heads always refer to "almost three thousand"...

It's as if there were some sort of sick Death Eater Disappointment that the number of bodies incinerated, smashed to road kill on the pavement to escape the flames was not the three thousand plus first promised the media beast in first few hours of what we can now see was the beginning of a mass psychosis and outright communual insanity.

Very much on the other hand, I do know what the Bush Doctrine is, which is something Sarah Cuda doesn't know after a fortnight or so of intense indoctrination by the Dark Lords in campaign talking points at an undisclosed location.

Out of some measure of respect for you who may be as ignorant as the Gov. of Alaska, the "Bush Doctrine" is sort of like the "Monroe Doctrine" on steroids.

If you don't know what the "Monroe Doctrine" is, you should forthwith return the money spent on your education. The Monroe Doctrine of 1823 warned the European Powers to stop expanding their bloodsucking colony shit in the New World. The Americas were declared to be turf that belonged to the United State of Arrogance and we went to war more than once, twice -- heck a dozen times to make the point clear. If you are not up to speed on this, please read "War is a Racket".

The Bush Doctrine is the policy of preemptive war -- that is that "we" (i.e., whoever happens to be the Codpiece in Chief) has the right to bomb the shit out of anybody he/she fancies as long as his handlers can make up an excuse television pundits can repeat without barfing on screen in front of the cameras.

My Blue Passport...

2008-09-09T07:59:00.003+02:00

I have been an expatriate Arrogant citizen for forty years and more, residing in the Happy Little Kingdom of Denmark.

For the first time I find myself seriously considering exchanging my blue passport for a beet-red Danish one.

If the fools over there actually (s)elect Mad Cain as Prez of Arrogance, I will probably make good on the threat and ask Queen Margaret II if I may become one of her subjects.

If the imprecatory prayers of the Dominionist and Third Wave "work" and Sara Cuda becomes the new Supreme Hole, I'll drive a wooden stake through that blue passport and consider resigning from the human race.

If, on the other hand, if Bulimo Omama makes it all with way to inauguration without getting whacked, I'll relax a bit. At least, after the swearing in, when the feds catch three bozo's plotting to snipe him, they won't release them with hardly a slap on the wrist. Hopefully, people won't face up to seven years in prison for having the intention to lawfully demonstrate and handfuls of actual demonstrators daring to cross a street won't be met with a dozen flash-bang stun grenades.

On the other hand, if Bulimo also gets into the habit of letting himself be called "Commander in Chief", I dunno

Sara Cuda in Waiting

2008-09-06T18:20:00.003+02:00

The selection of Sarah Cuda to ride shotgun on the Repugnant entry into the Quadrennial Horse Races was not, as panned, a fluke or a last minute, desperate decision by the Mad Kane.

Quite on the contrary, it was clever, deliberate, thought out, a work of dark genius. The "sex scandal" angle was thrown out like a bucket of chum to distract the media from the fact that Sara Cuda had proven her commitment to the "kick them in the balls before going for the jugular vein" school of politics.

She had also proved the ability to smile while smearing a bald faced lie by saying that Bulimo Omama would increase taxes on the middle class -- this is true, of course, if you consider the top 5% income group as being middle class.

The next stroke of dark genius was to keep her from the press so that the press would demand that she come and speak to them. After a while she came and, yes the media fell prostrate before her because, in fact, she is not just a pit-bull with lipstick, she is a well-formulated pit-bull with lipstick. That proved that the librul media was on her case just because she was a woman and a god-fearing mother who loves her children almost as much as apple pie.

Sooo, Mad Kane became Prez of Arrogance -- which will prove to be a short-lived joy because when the imprecatory prayers are answered, Mad Kane will be struck down by the Finger of God and Sara Cuda will receive the mantle of power.

The fun and games will begin when she figures out where Russia is in relation to Alaska.

On the positive side, we will know longer need to puzzle over such odd instances such as that of a plane which had been known to fly prisoners to Git'mo and extraordinarily render them to lesser known but darker holes of pain and injury -- that same plane crashed in Mexico with a 3 ton load of that white powder you don't use to brush you teeth but sniff up your nose.

Spewing Sputtering Spit

2008-09-04T21:19:00.003+02:00

*Update below*

Having the good fortune to live in the Happy Little Kingdom, I am only exposed to (mercifully few) sound bites and clips from the opening of the final laps to the Quadrennial Horse Races -- that is the week long parties known as the National Conventions...

But even then, in an unguarded moment I can hear something that makes me spew sputtering phlegm and spit over my poor radio.

Yesterday, it was the words of the Codpiece Himself -- he said that Mad Kane was a man who would rather lose an election if it meant winning a war and that therefore he was the man who is qualified to become the next Commander in Chief [sic !!!]

Dear hearts, how many times must we write on the blackboard, "We the People do not have a Commander in Chief!" We have a President, a chief executive and civilian, one of whose functions is to be top honcho over the military. The Founding Fathers who crafted our Ground Law were, rightly, afraid of the threat a military could be to a republic -- therefore, they made certain that the military would be under civilian control.

But what do we have today? Soldiers are now called "warriors". Sears is offering a line of clothing which locks like real military garb -- and is approved my the Army! A sheriff in South Carolina buys a tank with a 50 caliber belt-fed machine gun mounted on it and says he figures it will "save lives".

At the Repugnant Convention, protesters, journalists and even civil rights lawyers are proactively arrested by police waving machine guns. A group of two dozen protesters daring to cross a street are met with a dozen concussion grenades... [explosions 2 minutes in...] *update below*

Meanwhile, the VP candidate, with a terrible record of authoritarian abuse of power, hard rock creationist, with ties to extreme right wacko groups gets a pass and the media concentrates on her private life as if she was a Bill Flintstone with a shame cave...

I'm sorry, but it seems to me that the Lady of Light and Liberty is morphing even faster than I thought into a Madam who rides a Fat Car...

_________
First of all, these were likely a form of "flash and bang" stun grenades. The concussion grenade is a bit more serious piece of work. CTuttle at Main and Central wrote me that it resembles the M84 stun grenade -- a hand thrown device and not the lobbed bombs sent against the small crowd pf protesting citizens.

However, the stun grenade is not a toy -- the explosion reaches 170db and the smoke, though "harmless" is quite noxious -- a brief description of the M84 with, of course, my stress:

The M84 non-lethal stun grenade is a non-lethal, low hazard, non-shrapnel producing explosive device intended to confuse, disorient or momentarily
distract potential threat personnel. The device produces a temporary
incapacitation to threat personnel or innocent by standers. This device will be used by military personnel in hostage rescue situations and in the capture of criminals, terrorists or other adversaries. It provides commanders a non-lethal capability to increase the flexibility in the application of force during
military operations.

Palin(syn)drom

2008-09-02T20:56:00.002+02:00

It's almost like the finals in the Quadrennial Horse Races is starting to sound and smell like some composite of the National Enquirer and day old poop from Peyton Place.

First, Mad Kane names a complete unknown (on the national scene) to be his running (and soul) mate. No sooner is she presented before the sharks begin to circle (and there was a lot of chum in the water). The fact is that the media being the beast that it is, if there is not a print ready surmise of whom a political person is, that is to say prepared food, the beast awakens and says "feed me!"

The first thing that happened is that somebody noticed that Gov. Palin had birthed a baby boy a few months ago. Then it was noticed that at the time Palin announced she was seven months pregnant, people were surprised. At the same time her daughter was out of sight for 5 months because of mononucleosis. Also, it was noticed that in the official pictures, the only one with an obviously large tummy was her daughter. People, being the nasty little critters that they are began to wonder what the real story was.

According to the official story, Gov Palin was in Texas when her water broke, but she waited 8 hours to give a political speech before flying home to Alaska on a commercial airplane. Bypassing a nearby hospital, got to her own hospital where the baby boy was delivered. Anyone with acquaintance with pregnancies and deliveries would wonder how a 46 year old woman who already birthed 4 babies could wait at least ½ a day from when her water broke and labor contractions began to fly back from Texas after a speech to get to her hospital in Alaska. The wonder is how could it could be done without the baby being born along the way as it is well known that deliveries tend to come quicker after the first couple of times. The mother returned to her official duties only three days later, which is not remarkable in itself but should be noted.

It's kind of disgusting that something maybe even below the level of the National Enquirer, sort of Peyton Place sicko is taking so much public attention when there so many other serious stories like the heavy handed proactive harassment and arrests of demonstrators, news people and even lawyers in St. Paul before the Repugnant Convention. But I suppose that is the way it goes in a country where a loose pasty and an exposed nipple trumps other news...

Old Prayers Revisited

2008-08-31T21:00:00.003+02:00

Surprisingly, "Old Prayers Revisited" is the work of that iconoclast, philosopher and part-time, self-taught theologian, Elmer Eggplant. I write "surprisingly", because usually that cantankerous old coot was much more loquacious than this.

Obviously, "Old Prayers" is a reworking of an old prayer attributed to the Holy Idaho [Madyou 6,9]. Elmer though, always maintained that it was a series of prayers and not a single prayer. He also was convinced that "bread" referred not only to food, but to the activity and struggle of life -- he based this on his observation that, "lechem" in the Strug language had a root meaning of "kneading" the dough from which bread was made.

The heavens is our father and this blue earth is our mother.

Glorify their name in being, awareness and love.

May the kingdom of spirit manifest on earth as in the heavens.

We accept our daily bread even as it is given.

We forgive others that we also be forgiven.

Let us tread not paths of temptation.

We hope to be delivered from all evil.

That which-is, the power and the glory belong to the almighty eternal, forever and ever.

So be it.
________
The reader should note that in his reworking of the prayer attributed to the Holy Idaho, Elmer turned the viewpoint around -- instead of, so to speak, asking the Great Potato for boons, he is building an attitude oriented towards what he refers to both as "what-is" and "almighty eternal". As a matter of fact, according to his notes, his original title for this piece was "Several Statements, Prayers and Injunctions"

Hanging the Witch...

2008-08-29T08:49:00.003+02:00

[The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy maintained that much of his most powerful work was in response to tales related to him by people he knew. As a case in point, here are his notes to "Hanging the Witch", both of which I dug up in the 21st Edition of the Absolute Truth:]

A child was delivered, stillborn, in Greenbrier, Tennessee. The mother died not long after in child bed.

The mark on its head matched the boot of the father, a leading citizen. He accused the midwife of witchcraft and led the mob that lynched her. This event occurred sometime in the 1880's.

As was common in those times, no one was ever arrested.

The child was born dead
with the mark of the devil on top of its head.
"It was the witch who did it!" the father said.

He called the boys around,
they put on their long, white gowns
and pointed hats and rode out of town.

They rode to a certain house
and loudly called the old witch out,
"Come out, witch, you know what this is about!"

"You killed my only son!"
"It was with witch-work your deed was done!"
"You did it, we know it, we know that you're the one!"

Then suddenly, out she came,
her eyes burning blue flame
in the moonlight -- her hair a shining silver mane...

So, you come again with death,"
she said, "and whiskey on your breath!
Behind your masks, you know the truth of this!"

Indeed they did, but they
hung her and the body swayed under the tree
-- they shouted with glee and the stars were amazed!

But no one spoke in speech
about the wife he'd batter and beat
and trample on and kick with his feet.

His hobnailed boots,
how could they not know the truth?
It was in fact himself who had abused

his wife and unborn babe
and laid them rudely in the grave
and yet another woman had to pay...

She was in fact a midwife
and a witch too if that's what you like.
She was both a giver and a healer of life.

Her name was Laura and she
was albino, indian and strange to see.
She was married to a Scottish man named Charley.

The story is true, you see.
Her great granddaughter told it to me.
It happened in 1880 in Tennessee.

Hounds of Hubris

2008-08-27T20:57:00.005+02:00

Here in the Happy Little Kingdom, I have been following a program about the Brits and the history of their troubled isles. Yesterday, the theme was about the time after the Union and the last Jacobite uprising.

At that time, fed up with centuries of endless wars over power, religion and fine points of succession, they revelled in peace, freedom and a certain prosperity -- and the vision was to share this with the rest of the world.

However, in short order, the United Kingdom dominated the world with what, up to then. was the greatest empire the world had ever known. In short order, millions and millions were enslaved, impoverished, even dieing of starvation to feed the machine that fed the empire.

With an historian to guide you, it's easy to see how it happened, but it's harder to understand why it, almost inevitably had to happen.

Similarly, today, we have our Arrogant Empire which grew both quicker and with ever so much more fragility, and has begun to collapse hardly before being recognized for what it is.

Hoping I will not be accused of snark, I can thankfully say that we have already learned our lessons and Arrogance will never be hounded by the hounds of hubris.

On Doing Good and Whacking Bugs...

2008-08-25T20:16:00.003+02:00

Sorry folks, but you are in for some cracker barrel feel-os-o-phee.

That was nice of me, I don't sneak up on you -- it's just like in the old days of tee-vee, when I was a young whippersnapper back in Poosah City: "...and now folks, a word from our sponsor". Then there was a commercial and then they said, "...now we return to our broadcast."

Of course in those days there was only two, then three, then four channels to choose from -- and the zapper had yet to be invented. If you wanted to change channels, you had to get off your butt. Today, depending on how closly you are interfaced with the audiovisual beast, you have at least 30, but more likely 500 channels of illusion to choose from -- and many of them are HD!

But what I wanted to talk about was "doing good".

It's good to do good. Heck, even the bloodiest dictators and tyrants will subscribe to that. Name me one of those mass murderers who wouldn't tell you that they were only trying to "Unite Europe", "Spread Democracy", "Baptize the Heathens", "Give Our Homeland a Place in the Sun" -- or whatever dollop of bullshit that suited the time and culture.

Myself, I like to see the big things in the small, minute daily things. One of my older paroles is: "The Third World War Begins At Home." That is, what is your connection to the holy shit even stoopid guys like me can see flaming down the tube?

I dislike killing bugs just because they are in the house. If possible, I try to escort them outside. Does that mean that I am doing a "good thing"? Well, the honey bee gets lifted outside because there is a serious problem with the number of honey bees here in the Happy Little Kingdom. Yellow jackets and the late summer and early fall get whacked with my little electric fly swatter.

Am I good? I don't know -- is the electric fly swatter really painless? It could well be that getting squished by a rolled up newspaper was the preferred way to go by yellow jackets -- it's hard to get a statement from them, though.

As for escorting little things like moths in my hand outside the house -- it sounds like a no-brainer. Of course it is a "good thing".

But I remember one time I threw a little night moth out the back door and, even as it landed on the tiles there, a little sparrow swooped down and graciously accepted the snack...
So, was there "good" here? I suppose the sparrow would say, "Yum!" And, when you get down to it, who really gives more than a half damn about a bittsy little moth?

Feeling Futility

2008-08-23T13:37:00.005+02:00

Sometimes I suspect the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy must have been one sick puppy.

On the other hand, if you had been born on the day the unholy trinity was revealed to the world and grew up with the knowledge that your poor planet was double damned and doomed and going to hell in a hand basket -- I guess you'd have your dark moments now and then...
When all you ever did was prove your fertility,
ít's hard to be confronted with your own futility.

When everything in front of you is running down at the heels,
and the man in the mirror looks just as tired as you feel:

You're tempted to say:
"O shit!
I'm sick n' tired of all of this!"
"I'd let it go if I only could,
you know, I really would!"

To simply take a simple breath and let it go with a sigh!

If it was that simple, it would be simple --
but you know it really isn't!

You have to wave good bye,
even after you've closed your eyes...

The Pale Sarpint...

2008-08-20T23:21:00.002+02:00

In his notes, the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy writes that he got the unusual spelling of "Sarpint" from a line in an old folk song, "The deadly, pizen sarpint..."

The smell of burning wormwood fills the night,
a disgusting fragrance that could only delight
the Pale Sarpint, who is always ready to bite...

The venom in its teeth is so deadly, that sight
alone is enough to kill -- if seen in the light!

But light is rare in the kingdoms-of-the-night:
Hordes of red-eyed creatures file by
the Onyx Throne, under the Sarpint's eye...

Until the moment comes, when the Sarpint bites,
they continue to exist and, in a sense, they survive.

But what is life, and what is it to die
when you're only waiting for your chance to die?

(The Sarpint rises suddenly to bite
and the smell of wormwood permeates the night!)

Pinch Me...

2008-08-18T22:17:00.005+02:00

It's kind of wierd, these past few days, when I hear the news, even here in the Happy Little Kingdom (where everyone has enough to eat and the King is a Queen and she isn't in drag...) I get this feeling...

Yes, even here, I have to pinch my self when I hear the news.

The UN Peacekeepers, in their response to a blatant attempt to ethnicly cleanse Ossetia, are declared to be ominous aggressors of the same sort that squashed the Czechs in '68 and the Hungarians in '55. The French president is a Hero of Peace. The Codpiece is spewing outrage that someone (other than Himself) is invading a sovereign country and Friend of Peace and Democracy...

Elsewhere, a president, faced with impeachment, abdicates -- the president of a great democracy and major player in the War Against Terror, a Power With Nuclear Weapons...

Umn, it was not the Codpiece (fat chance of that!) -- it was that Hero of Freedom and Democracy, Pervez Musharraf. (Any takers on bets that he will be back in the saddle before Mad Kane is (s)elected?)

Pinch my cheek and tickle my toes -- no it ain't a dream, not even a nightmare, just bullshit served up as usual for joe six-pack...

Soul Pearl

2008-08-16T23:54:00.001+02:00

Daily, willful, loving attentiveness to life unfolding is often a painful experience. Yet it is most necessary for what is all too easily called "spiritual developement".

Among the humblest of creatures, the oyster has little choice in the matter and yet produces something as wonderful as the lusterous pearl. We, with the potential with which we are imbued -- what can we not produce?(!)

The oyster is an animal, tasty swallowed whole,
that can easily assume a different role.
Should a bit of sand or grit stick in its tender flesh,
the oyster will feel pain without any rest.

And how many tears must the oyster cry,
to wash away its pain,
before all its agony undergoes a change?

Every tear the oyster cries is worth far more than gold.
Every tear the oyster cries comes from its very soul.
The product of its tears, you see, can charm a pretty girl.
The product of its tears, you see, is a bright and lusterous pearl!

And how many tears must the oyster cry,
to wash away its pain,
before all its agony undergoes a change?

A necklace of a band of pearls, it is a pretty thing
of beauty held together by a piece of ugly string.
The beauty of the pearl is what we all adore,
but don't you think, if you cut the string, they'll all fall on the floor!

And how many tears must the oyster cry,
to wash away its pain,
before all its agony undergoes a change?

And every time you take a breath,
or let out a sigh,
you show that all of life is exactly the same!

Police State 2.0

2008-08-14T22:03:00.003+02:00

I don't have any outrage to report today about the use, mis- or ab-use of the Portable Instant Torture Device more commonly referred to as "taser".

This of course does not mean that such has not taken place, which it most certainly has. A toy like tool such as this, with the predicate of "harmless" (when used as directed), will of course be used with a certain promiscuity.

But the taser is only symptomatic of larger developments which broadly are known as "crowd control". Ostensibly, "crowd control" should be "humane" -- that is in the sense that the technology should not leave (long lasting) physical marks or (heaven forbid) trails of blood or dead bodies. Such is okay for outright tyranny, but not in free and democratic societies.

However, the purpose of crowd control is to keep people from demonstrating their dissatisfaction or anger over something. The problem is that crowd control cannot distinguish between citizens who have a legitimate bitch or authority which feels itself threatened.

When I was a young fellow, I remember scenes in Asimov's "Foundation and Empire" where the Imperial Police dispersed crowds with "neuronic whips" which, leaving no marks, left people (temporarily) writhing in agony.

Today, we have goo-spray, pepper spray, rubber and plastic bullets, water cannon, heat ray, sonic dispersal and many others. Combined with CCTV, face recognition and many other computer supported technologies to identify and/or red flag undesired activity, the ground work for tyrannies of behavior and even thought control has been laid. The problem is that "the bulwark against tyranny is dissent" as Amy Goodman succinctly puts it.

Naomi Klein points to this development in the 2008 Olympics in her essay Police State 2.0. As always, she's worth a read.

Drill! Drill! Drill!

2008-08-12T21:45:00.005+02:00

"Drill! Drill! Drill!"

No, that is not a paean to the marvels of modern, painless dentistry -- that is the war cry of the Gaia-rapers who sing as they march to the drumbeat of talking points and sound bites:

"We must drill in the national forests, off shore and on land -- only then can we free ourselves from dependency on oil from foreign countries ruled by ogres like Sugo Half-azz and populated by Little Brown People who look like Bulimo Charisma!!!"

And thus it came to pass that the good citizens of Arrogance, trembling in fear of four dollars a gallon at the gas pumps, their fingers hovering over the touch screen voting machines, let their common pinkie point to Mad Kane who then became Prez of the United State of Arrogance!

The result, of course, was such that even a blind drunk stumble bum face down in the gutter could have foreseen it: disaster -- spelled of course, with a capital "D", red and orange flashing lights, wailing sirens, klaxon horns, fart balloons and a chorus crying "Woe!", "Ve!", "Arrgh!" and "Holy Shit, Batman!"

The thing most strange was, even as their banner "Drill!" was being raised as their Jolly Roger on the mobile oil rigs, ready to set sail to the frozen tundra of the far North and start producing oil in, oh, 4, 5, maybe 6 years or more -- at the very same time the Arrogant oil companies were exporting more and more, in fact, record amounts of refined oil and gas to the Little Brown People and even -- gasp! -- the yellow Chinee!!!

When asked about the discrepancy and their apparent lack of Arrogant Patriotism, the fat man with the man with the big cigar shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Money don't never smell bad, sonny boy!"

From Tasers to Tskhinvali

2008-08-10T15:59:00.002+02:00

Digby has yet another interesting and slightly snarky piece about tasers, this time their proposed use in schools on teenagers.

But on to today's topic -- we'll be hearing a lot of loose talk about the recent armed confrontations between Georgia, Ossetia and Russia. In particular, we are sure to hear some comparison to Iraq. Therefore I think it important to set the record straight from the beginning!

True, there are some similarities -- but what are they?

1. S. Ossetia shares a border with Russia while Iraq is only 7000 miles from the US!

2. There is a North Ossetia in Russia with a half million population -- they are of the same ethnic group as the hundred thousand living in South Ossetia (who carry Russian passports). Meanwhile, there are/were only 24 million Iraqis in Iraq who carried Iraqi passports!

3. South Ossetia has been, although not officially recognized, since 1992 de-facto independent of Georgia after Georgia declared independence of the Russians in 1991. Iraq, on the other hand was a sovereign nation until the invasion and occupation in 2003 by the US and the Coalition of the Willing.

4. Georgian military, in an attempt to end the Ossetian separatist movement, attacked on 7 August its capitol, Tskhinvali, turning it into rubble. The Russians responded the next day with air and ground forces more or less finishing the grinding of rubble of Tskhinvali. The US, on the other hand, threatened by the imminent attack by Saddam using model airplanes and hot air balloons filled with rancid chicken shit not only turned much of Baghdad to rubble but also many cities like Falujah and Najaf.

5. The Russians had an interest in protecting the ethnic Ossetians south of their border. The Americans on the other hand had an interest in protecting the buildings of the Ministry of Oil.

6. The Russians have been bombing military air fields in Georgia, while sending both troops and tanks into South Ossetia. The US, meanwhile, has bombed everything in Iraq while deploying tanks and hundreds of thousands of troops and armed "contractors".

Having allowed for these few similarities, I'm sure you will understand that American, Brit and Danish protests over the Russian invasion of sovereign Georgia in no way can be considered a case of "the pot calling the kettle black"!

Actually folks, all snark aside this is the short-short story: whatever your preferences, Russia is the official peacekeeping force in S. Ossetia. When the Georgian president Saakashvili decided to coup an occupation of Tskhinvali while everyone's attention was on the OL, it didn't work. The phrase which West Media uses to describe Saskashvili is that he is "devoutly" pro-West (= American puppet)

The Russians convened an emergency session of the UN Security Council. But their resolution was blocked by the US, Brits and Georgia -- the glitch was in a phrase which required both sides to renounce the use of force. Thereafter, not being Holland in Srebenicia, the Russians sent in troops and armor to reinstate order in Tskhinvali and bombed military bases in Gori and elsewhere in Georgia.

The report is that 1500 Ossetians died under the Georgian attack (as well as a reported 15 Russian peace keepers killed and 150 wounded). If correct, this is more than 1% of the S. Ossetian population!. Under the bombing of a military base in Gori a bomb hit an apartment complex in Gori and 50 Georgians were reported dead. In Iraq such are called "collateral damage" -- unless they are men of military age, then they are Al-Qube terraists.

A last note, the Ossetians are a Persian people who were driven from their original homeland south of the River Don by invading Mongols.

From Tasers to the Terrible Times...

2008-08-08T20:35:00.008+02:00

We note the occasional use of tasers which are both abusive and unusual enough (i.e. sensational) to grab the attention of the national press in the US.

For example, the young fellow who fell off a motor way overpass and broke his back -- when the police, called by alert citizens, arrived, they ordered him to stand up and when he wouldn't (couldn't) comply, they tasered him, uh, 19 times before they realized the was screaming not only because of portable electric torture devices they were using on him (tasers), but because of his (broken) back

But what about the fellow who was going around banging on doors in the neighborhood shouting that someone was going to shoot him. The police were called and his shouting was, in a sense, prophetic. He was tasered and, down on the sidewalk with his hands handcuffed behind his back, he was stomped, kicked, hit in the head.

When he puked into the gutter and went motionless, after a few minutes an ambulance was called to the scene. The medics worked on him for a while, but it was End of Story for the fellow.

I hope I will be forgiven for going off on a tangent which has little to do with the tragedy his death must be to his parents.

The fellow was shouting that "somebody was going to shoot him" -- i.e. he feared he was going to be killed -- and that's pretty much what happened. True, he was "only" shot with tasers, but the end result was the same.

My brains being in their normal state, that is addled, it occurred to me that this individual was perhaps suffering from not being able to cope with a proleptic, that is prophetic, experience of a future event.

I know a couple of people who have had this sort of experience, that is, they had to live with knowledge of an experience which occurs in what we think of as the future. Heck, I've been there myself!

Carl Jung claimed that he presaged the terrors and upheavals of the coming W.W.II in the dreams related to him by his patients. He also related more personal incidences of a related phenomenon he called "synchronicity" -- that is, when events would seem to have a causal connection, but with no possible logical explanation.

(There used to be a word for more dramatic experiences of synchronisity -- miracle.)

As for fellow who puked into the gutter and expired, I would like to compare his situation and fate to that of what seems to be a broad swath of opinion or intuition in our poor world today that "someone is going to shoot us".

My deep feeling is that there is no certain fate; it does not matter how "real" or traumatic the experience of the "shooting" is -- the important thing is the approach we take in living with the knowledge of the coming experience. If the fellow on the sidewalk had in the years before he was "shot" had changed his approach to life and stopped doing alcohol and other drugs, he may have never been "shot" or at least survived it. (The police have been implying this, with a couple of DUI convictions to back it up.)

There are those in our poor world today who maintain that if we but "Accept the Holy Idaho as our Personal Savior", then it doesn't "matter" if we take part in the Terrible times, using all the obscene weapons at our disposal, condemning millions to incineration and billions more to slow and agonizing deaths. When our poor world has been burned to polluted ashes, the Holy Idaho will come in a Cloud of Glory and take his chosen spuds up to live with the Great Potato in the Great Colander in the Sky!

Such Wondrous Bullshit of this grade or worse is, unfortunately, not all that hard to find...

However, it should be obvious that anyone who, by their words and deeds help to usher in the Terrible Times -- however sincere their protestations may seem -- have no relation to or understanding of the Holy Idaho and, consequently, their chances of being allotted a place in the Great Colander is exceedingly slim.

In sum, we may well feel or even know as a certainty that the world is going to hell in a hand basket and that may indeed be the case. But that doesn't mean you need to climb into the hand basket or encourage others to do so.

In the final analysis, all that really matters is our relationship to our common humanity.

Happy Birthday!!!

2008-08-06T09:44:00.004+02:00

Well, it's that time of year again - August 6th and happy birthday to me on a date which most people associate with Hiroshima.

Most people who react thus to the date August 6th thus will also think of August 9th, when Nagasaki was closely wedded in mass death to Hiroshima.

But fewer know that Fat Man and Little Boy formed an unholy trinity with a far less well known figure, Gadget, who bloomed from a tower on July 16th and demonstrated beyond a doubt that the "Bomb in the Mind" could actually blossom into our reality.

I'm reminded of words the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy wrote so many years ago in the Arrogant Prophecies:

"The blossom bursts into the night,
budding bleeding stubs of such sick delight
that all who see it loose their sight,
they madly rage and praise the majesty of might"

After two generations of Cold War, a decade of wasted opportunity for peace and true reconciliation on our poor world followed by yet another decade of wasted human lives and resource in wars pointless, except for world domination -- which in itself is a pointless pursuit, as is obvious from human history -- what has been accomplished?

Indeed, what has been accomplished?

Nada.

Zilch.

Nothing but holes in the ground, filled with blood crying for justice.

If justice were to come in a single night, who could stand before such a wind -- we have indeed "...killed all our yesterdays and tomorrows and today is busting into flame..."

Happy birthday.

Gadget .016 seconds after it's birth on the Tower at the Trinity test.