red planet blue

Making the rounds of blogs is a lot like going to old gas stations. "Fillerup?" If you're vintage lucky these days, you might get a window job thrown in. If you are not, you won't bother to acknowledge with a comment, instead sashay on down the internet highway with your "hope" GPS steering you straight into the waiting arms of the cyber warriors. This begs the question of what it is that you are looking for. Want truth? Or do you want corn stalks? Whatever you are looking for is fuel for the warriors. Its the very act of looking that puts the creamed corn on their dinner tables. What does such employment pay, anyway? Have we reached the stage there aren't anymore jobs for Wal*Mart greeters and the masses are doing anything they have to in order to pay rent and taxes? Indeed, we have reached this plateau.

You can see this plateau perfectly by taking a cross country trip from the Pacific Ocean to Detroit. You'll be crossing extraordinary geography until you beltway your way around Denver and land in what they call the Prairie which flats into Joliet, not unlike OZ at all, btw, until you hit the flatter versions of Orange County madness, barrel-tiled, master-planned, underwater turnkey-tract burial grounds with paper shredders built into the breakfast nooks. The only real difference you might ascertain is these midwest master planners included basements which serve as outbuildings do in Affluencia, little storage units in the same decor as the primary dwelling, maintained for broken and extra everythings that inspire the Stephen Kings and Ann Rices and hot serial bloodlust terror TV ratings.

We are exactly where we glimpsed we would be. It is now. We saw it coming, the stages unfolding, the insertions of Mickey Mouse and Goofy on goofballs, the hand-wringing and hoping, but here we are anyway. Will it get worse, sure, why not? This is just today, one of many landings, tomorrow is another vacant prairie, a pause on the stairway which we're moving down step by step into the basement which has been in full view ever since the door was opened. Cyber warriors slide up and down the banisters, clocking your movements, taking names, documenting your participation in the processes to those who think they need to know. As if the state of western culture in these times isn't already known and the color is ...

If you don't know by now, your windshield needs a little rainex. There have been a thousand points of darkness moving us along in a hurried fashion lest anyone figure it out. No matter how much darkness though, the sun still shines in a few distant corners and always will. You can see that much when you look around from wherever you are looking. People make do with these times until these times emerge as different times. They will buy anything you give them if they don't know anything else for comparison.

We collectively possess a basis for comparison, do we not? Or are we just going to chalk it up to "life goes on" and go away quietly into those thousand point of darkness? Oh, I'm not agitating, actually I'm observing the inuring of civilization, master planned pretense on a level only 7 billion mouths could sustain, the perfect crime having taken place and no one has really gotten the goods on the largess of the scam, not even Spitzer, at least, not yet. We might even read about it someday and then go right back to our saved Solitare, oh, wait, you're probably into Minesweeper.

Bulletin Board: John at Survival Acres is back today for one powerful closing statement. It appears Neptune1 has kicked the habit for good.