the sad slow-mo blues of history unfolding

As a pre-adolescent, I asked my Chess partner, was it not possible that when he left this room he turned into a solitary cardboard figure and only reanimated in the face of further human interaction.
My Father's response was "That's a very Zen thought."
We continued the game until I was checkmated, as usual, but I knew I was on to something. That something, all these years later, turns out to be freedom.
Yes, I was fortunate. My Father was the definition of a "good man", honest, kind, loyal. His end in that body/envelope came at least a decade or more too soon as I see it, murdered by an anonymous blow with a ball peen hammer in the empty hallway of an ALF where he'd taken rooms to be close to my Mother in the Alzheimer's wing. The Chief Surgeon revealed his findings to us behind closed doors. Our investigations led nowhere of course, especially not in the Corporatocracy. Fast forwarding to the present, his being not around in a physical state to witness and experience the last wheezes and groans of all that which he held sacred is somewhat of a panacea for the surviving family, myself included, living through these times, day by day, complication by extenuating complication, up close and personal, along with every one of you reading this far. Somehow, we make do. But, not always. No, not always.
The worst argument my Father and I ever had was inspired by another early free thinking observation when I asked him how he knew if our votes counted. The reaction to my question was literally an exercise in blood pumping anguish as I ended up on top of his upright piano and he sank into the cabbage rose covered armchair, "You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days." Again, I knew I was on to something.

Sometimes I just can't bring myself to blog. I get revelations coming on top of previous revelations compounded with reflections borne from the five senses that to pause and post it all is arduous and defies everything we already know about our toying with these curious technologies. At best, its advertising, at its worst its advertising having taken over our civilization so that we've misplaced our roots, our raison d'etre, in a global contest of hustle, scam and cruel oxymorons. When you hear and read morons saying and commenting in the same voice, most of it multiple repeats of a once-original zinger, spoken to present themselves as clever, in the know, superior to whatever zeitgeist community they see themselves inhabiting, "how's that working out for you"?

There is no longer any question we are a deluded and deeply conflicted species. How is that working out for us now?

I want you to tell me, baby, tell me
What are we gonna do?

You'll be interested in this week's links of honorable mention while we wait at the depot to board the Shambhala Express:

Somalia's Degrading Environment

...Since the state collapse in 1991, country's environmental degradation has accelerated, especially the rate of deforestation has steadily accelerated while toxic waste dumping became newly established business. Because of the country's political condition and the lack of central system of government, many foreign private companies, which are taking full advantages of the lawlessness and lack of central government in Somalia, started to either plunder or pollute country's natural resources...

The complicated issue of Piracy and the Law of the Sea Treaty

ANY QUESTIONS?

Root Causes of Somali Piracy

...As is apparent these days, one man's pirate is another man's coast guard.

Somali Piracy and American Foreign Policy

...we paralyzed an already weak market, giving hand-outs rather than hand-ups, and extinguishing local farming through a disastrous IMF structural adjustment program.

Americans are in a frenzy over the advance of Somali thugs upon American merchants. What they do not understand is our country’s role in undoing the very fabric of Somali society..

The Titanic's Great Pumps Finally Fail

In honor of the sinking of the great ship Titanic on April 15, 1912, we extend the analogy of its sinking to our current financial situation... from Charles Hugh Smith | Of Two Minds

Dispatch from Victorville: Levine Starts His Journey Into the Heart of America’s Foreclosure Nightmare

... a complicated system of speculator fraud meant to do only one thing: transfer money from the lower-class suckers straight into executive bonuses. For that they needed a constant supply of fresh meat, and Victorville performed exceedingly well. In 2007, a year in which five million Americans migrated to shitholes just like this, Victorville was the second-fastest growing one of them...

(click chart to enlarge)

One final mention, we had snow this Tuesday. You know what's coming ... and they know it too. They have known all along. Believe me, they fear our reactions more than the consequences or it would be known as truth to all without the need for any diversionary debate monkeyshines. They could make themselves heroes, but they'd rather hide.