What plan?

We are about to learn something more about mourning than we ever thought we'd experienced beyond that all-encompassing kind of mourning already survived and to come again somewhere within each of our individual stories: a mourning so intense you learned there was no recovery. No, the kind of mourning I am speaking of defies language ... too huge to grasp and too heavy to articulate even in the contemplation of description. You are reading here, then you might try it on, but I caution you, all the Forces whisper you cannot preview the experience and will not want to, either. That's fine. That is a start.

I'm not trying to amuse you, but one of the conclusions I've drawn from the study of anthro-junkieology is that is takes 2 months to become an internet addict all courtesy, of course, to the GOM. I succumbed. Unlike many however, I am quite solid with my role and have some immunity as one needs to keep their cool when the Apocalypse brings on its truths. If you know how to handle your mind, you will know your role ... if you want to be there in the here and now, that is.

This past few remarkably beautiful, late spring - early summer days have been memorable for their perfection of color and composition. I once read in Terrence McKenna's bio something he wanted everyone to understand, after he knew his prognosis, he would look at a tiny bug crawling and break into tears at the perfection of it all.

There will be no grand coming together. Of course there should be, but lies separate humans and we are separated as I've often posted before. We have seen how the story is going to go, there will be lies contradicting lies because no one is allowed to say anything now - except agency copywriters who are flooded with press releases by the second, towering stacks of .pdf's., all of which appear to have no order as if the copywriter was some self-professed "expert" at mind reading on a grand scale ... There will be those who lie and there will be those that cannot speak anything but truth. You can see the difference in the gluttonous desires and homogenization of the character. We, likely of another parallel, to the best of my knowledge, have nothing in common with these models of the new celebrity.

If a man never directly answers my question and lies every time he opens his mouth, I would stay pretty far away. Whatever level we are concerned with in human communication goes for all levels. (Actually, there are no levels if you are dealing with the truth all the time, rather than when truth is just a faux pas.)

How much longer can they keep up appearances when everybody knows its an appearance? It is now surreal to think on our mission in foreign lands which has never been made clear as it should have been all along. On one level, it is of course clear, but on the level it counts, it is kept from us. This game has worn out its ability to serve any purpose other than irreverent marketing entertainment, and it makes us look terrible and evil to our partners who are fading, weary of the game, fully aware of the direction undertaken, wanting nothing to do with us anymore, feeling the requirement of self-protection as healthier. This is only natural and appropriate since the human species is more concerned with humanity than with the pursuit of wealth and technology. It would seem, considering the petro-techno-instawealth detour that got us into this mess, instead of driving straight into a flat dead end, our species would have been better served to examine itself and how itself can expand its consciousness and become one spiritual body encouraging the magnificence and creativity of the human heart/soul/mind progressing towards friendly relations with inhabitants of other planets. What are we doing? We could be soaring in the heavens by now, flying fearlessly under our own power, visiting parallel universes, sharing solutions, communing with the Gods in person in the Human Realm and learning important lessons from those in the Animal Realm. We could have learned knowledge of true value instead of learning garbage. Garbage is at least one suitable term to describe what humanity did not need and is cast out regularly in an effort to purify and sanitize our surrounding oblivious to the miles of towering landfulls with giant dozers gliding up and down the mountains pressing plastic casing and broken plastic parts mixed with used paper towels and the rotted discards of spoiled people who stopped caring about anything because they consumed too much, pressing all of it flat into the previous day's compressed layer of the same until they are forced to cover it up with sod and glide on to the next available acre. When you empty a few 30 gallon bags of garbage in your living room you wind up close to the same place you are today. I ask you, was that necessary? Why did you do that? Now we have to clean it all up and know well in advance of such a project we will be all alone in our living room since many want the garbage to remain exactly where it is and will in fact replace it if you happened to make a dent in the mountain. We will find it a defeating exercise, illegal at its core according the the laws in support of corporate personhood. You will have to live with it for now, repulsive and disgusting as it is, unhealthy, unsanitary, capable of attracting infestations of creepy things and more.

What is the plan?
As it stands today, biblical mass migration and mass evacuation, as was done by the Okies in the 30's and by the Iraqis, the Native Americans, Haitians and countless others throughout history, including our own ancestors. (Migration is just a nicer way of saying evacuation which is to flee, rather than flee with a solid plan of where it is one is landing and where they will live and what they will do when they get there.) In this way, our patchwork quilt will become mixed up even more which means anyone harboring prejudice needs to dissolve the hatred like yesterday. I do not want to hear any bs about bringing down home values in the neighborhood, that's handled by another department in petro-techno-instawealth concerned with garbage distributions anyway. Rather, I expect us to welcome the oppressed and suffering with open arms and make way for them to contribute and rebuild sustainably within our communities. The smallest kindnesses shown are powerful potential for reversing the tide. We all need one another, we are all in this together. Turn no one away. Soon enough we'll be migrating too, since it is more than obvious Ferdinand and Isabella are on a different page in a cheap spy paperback and will never even consider how it ever got to this point. Even though enough history has been upended by rewrites according to the victor, some of it actually happened as real life evidence of tragic effect is to be seen everywhere, such as occurred with the Dutch maritime traders in 1604 barging into Africa and setting loose the Atlantic Triangular Trade monster from Hades which progressed into more elusive, religious and indecent conquests altruistically known as "exploring" and "discovery," bringing huge monetary reward to those reading the same pulp fiction.

I'm fond of Stephen Crane's short story The Open Boat written during an especially dark literary period termed Modernism and published in 1898. You should read it through and if you do, you will remember it for the remainder of your days. It is brief and appropriate for these times:

..."If I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned--if I am going to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees?"...

In other words, and you will be doing that all the way through this timeless work and again as it reinforces itself repeatedly in human interactions: have we come so far, suffered so deeply, loved so dearly, endured torture and needless oppression beyond all reason, all for nothing?

drifting into darkness

Rarely, if ever, have we been more weirded out than by the circus tents and fireworks encircling the...BP and Barry Show. I agree it hangs out foremost in your mind, or at least brings you back to reality if you happened to wander. It is like a Ferris Wheel lurching to a stop as it leaves you rocking in the wind waving a little prize flag while allowing new passengers aboard. A play with many acts in which the curtain comes down between them. Of course, the curtain is gilded and patterned in a Cajun wildlife theme as it exists at this moment. Do you look? You should look. There but for the grace of God go you or I.

While you look, also look at this, just to get a good feel for what is happening.

It is unfortunate that this was entirely predictable, there is nothing quite like being in a disaster that makes it crystal clear your fate is in your own hands, or webbed feet or fins. I know you've been keeping up, it is riveting I'll admit, you can't keep away from it, but when it isn't there, you want it to be. One of the strangest aspects of media handling is the business as usual selection of reports. A general observation calculation would be 10% GOM/BP-OB/Offshore Drilling compared to 90% Treasure in Afghanistan/cellphone wars/female Viagra/Candidate Greene/Miley Cyrus and the Family Values coffee klatchers, etc. What does this say? It says a large part of the media audience is okay with that. Excuse me? Where have you been in the last 10 years? They are as okay with that as they are with laughing at late night comedians delivering one liners concerning the very Cataclysmic Catastrophe taking place in which there is no humor. None. Honestly. "Life goes on" according the cable/dish satellites mostly consisting of twenty-four hour a day, seven days a week, season upon season, sales pitches for something jammed together, shipped here and piled in pyramids of materials distributed to our TBTF variety of branded job lots.

This catastrophe won't be any once in a lifetime catastrophe. Without a total reversal of present policy, we have the extraordinary potential to become another Nigeria, we've been well on our way for some time now, you might not have seen it if you travel only inland. Perhaps eventually there will be pristine [gentrified] places with exorbitant admission policies and the remainder tarry shores and dead zones. Or, perhaps everybody will start migrating inland, there are plenty of vacancies. Multiply exponentially all that you are seeing today by ten years with nothing able to reign it in. Infinite collapse, inside the cyclone of this moment, the days before and days to come, not a pretty picture.

Pardon me, but I am feeling very negative about the crisis having any resolution. The situation at hand appears to be expanding in the usual variety of blunders we've come to recognize is hallmark of our supposed plumbers and cleanup/crisis management crews since the evening of April 20, 2010. This feeling is impacted by the continuance, rather, full throttle escalation of our teetering foreign policies furthering certain previously imagined paranoias in which our worst fears are gradually realized into concrete reality. I wrote in a past post something about I'd love to be wrong, as it becomes increasing clear we were right. You may now remove any and all ideas about anything being a delusional hologram.the paragraph below is all too typical of the wanton waste observed in our careless, dangerous species:

"As you can see in the pictures," said the text of the email, "plastic bags containing snare boom were recklessly placed without consideration for the natural wildlife" on Queen Bess Island where the Plaquemines Parish Inland Waterways Strike Force recently discovered broken eggs and crushed chicks of the precious Brown Pelicans.

"They (the Brown Pelicans) already have the oil affecting their population during their reproduction time. Now we have the so-called clean-up crews stomping eggs,” said Nungesser. “The lack of urgency and general disregard for Louisiana’s wetlands and wildlife is enough to make you sick.”

The above text perceives our situation as a one time, local issue as if a different leader and all the other deepwater drillers will never, ever suffer this problem when the exact opposite is true. Let's say theoretically, being that the damage in the Gulf is somewhere in the mile deep well casing beneath the seabed rendering it impossible to repair, such impossibility leads the reckless and inconsiderate to do anything they think necessary to come out of this mess looking good. They can't of course, we're way past that, but desperate people in desperate situations are too often given to desperate measures, the most desperate is this godawful nuke option which like martial law, lies on the table, eyed by some itchy fingers, awaiting deployment. If you think its bad now, should any other solution evade them, as appears to be emerging, we'll see worse. And worse after that and then again. You see, once the most tragic of steps are taken, the barn door is open for anyone else, anywhere to emulate the action. If the superpower does it, well, hey, it must be okay, right?

As we review the past decade, oh, go further back because they have known what we are seeing today for over half a century, ask yourself what is the real policy? Oil and water. Everything else be damned. Thus, everything else was indeed damned.

The Lunacy Escalates

06.13.10 UPDATE:

U.S. Gives BP Capacity Deadline as Cameron Expresses ‘Sadness’ Concentrate for a moment on what this says about the situation.

... BP recovered about 7,570 barrels of oil from midnight to noon yesterday ...

... In its application for the well, BP told the government it was prepared for a worst-case oil spill of 250,000 barrels a day...

BP gets deadline from government, told to have new containment plan for oil spill by Sunday night

And what then if it does NOT have a new containment plan ready by the deadline? Who will take them to task? Knock, knock, anybody home? As a duck himself, did Scrooge McDuck worry about his defenseless avian bredren while stacking golden coins in his counting room?

Lucky ...

Rescued: Two endangered Kemp's Ridley turtles recover in individual tanks. As the oil spreads in the Gulf of Mexico due to the BP oil spill, many turtles are winding up in shallower waters and feeding on fishing lines, possibly due to hunger. These two were caught by fishermen.

Not so lucky ...

Casualty: Becky Winstead, a research assistant at the Institute for Marine Mammal Studies in Gulfport, Miss., takes swabs of a dead Kemp's Ridley turtle that washed up on the beach in Gulfport, La. Over 300 turtles have been found dead over the last month between Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. Further testing will be done to determine what happened to the turtle. Over 20 turtles were found in one day this week. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times / June 13, 2010) [red emphasis, mine.]

See: Photos: Turtles amid the oil spill | Photo Gallery

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It is my contention that the thread of these disasters running through this era of which we are witness is an unnatural connivance designed to bring home a message. In the GOM, the Gulf of Mexico, the message is clear, the little people are shown the price of convenience is extinction, fomenting a return to what is perceived as hard labor at the wheel. Yes, that is a message most reading here already understood clearly, we are hard wired on one side, that side being the side of the Creator. For those ignorant of our finite resources or invested in resource mutilation is where the bell tolls. If they didn't get it before, they're not going to miss it now - providing they are open to possibility. If they are not, and there are always those who cannot be helped, forgive them for they know not what they do.

As the sun rises on this side of the planet, bringing illumination to everything God and Nature has given us, we awaken inside the most critical disaster yet, still the debates and newscasts rage on evermore dire, evermore fruitless, extending indefinitely. With each passing hour of each passing day, resolution evades the morphing perpetrators proving the limit to our planet's carrying capacity was reached many decades ago. The Industrial Revolution made possible a breach in planetary contract, surely we are not the first or only planet to have detoured so grossly from what could have been? The question is will we find our way home. At anytime, with the volume of slaughter committed counting from this minute long into the past, we cannot. For every word blared globally of reassurance, billions more fill the bandwidth declaring clean energy is the way of future. Once again, we've arrived in that snowstorm, hoping, wishing, blaming, allowing brief consolation assuaging anguish to guide us nowhere, we remain in place stupefied while the shadow of eclipse increases.

If there had been honesty and accountability all along, none of the disasters would have been. If there were no manipulative humans manufacturing personal gain involved, none of these disasters would even be perceived as disaster. Nature must do what she does, it is only fools who see themselves as too big to fail and too powerful and clever to lose that interfere with Earth's natural behavior as they are doing now. However, it is not them I wish to talk about, or their destructive definitions of their fellows such as terriers, malcontents and misanthropes. After enough years of disaster, our primary concerns are with the violations of sanctity taking place. Remove "loss of livelihoods" from the mix and you get genocide exactly as other genocides, which are continuing simultaneous to the GOM genocide, which is one not all that singular in its potential for mass destruction when you consider the complex vegetable matter being laid to waste globally on a continuing basis.

We are past peak everything, the seams are bursting, the planet is obese with corruption and lack of spirituality. All that is and was sacred has been made a mockery by self aggrandizing self representatives of empty shells crippled by cult. Jim Jones was only one of millions. They would like us to go without the convenience of the recent past, okay, we're ready, many already there, but they themselves will not. We're not supposed to notice they talk the talk but do not walk the walk. As the talk is projected enlarged, more volcanoes of disaster erupt, the lava flows freely and things around us change for the worse. Natural attrition is off the table in favor of nuclear devolution as a far more effective method for wealth accumulation.
After you see it a few times, you know what is happening and you know while you personally had nothing to do with it, it is leading the way for much more, much worse (is that possible?).

Put a picture in your mind of Hiroshima/Nagasaki a mile deep in the GOM. They could do it, that one is on the table. Speaking of choices, an alternative to this method is the Nigerian debacle which is doing nothing and which is why BP snuck into the region without trepidations. " So what if we have a problem? This is the way of the world. We're heroes doing heroic works!" Behind every failure lies the glorious promise of infallibility made possible by breaking that timeless contract with Mother Earth.

It doesn't matter what legal minds press for justice or injustice, it doesn't matter what bigger fish swallow up the smaller reckless fish. It can never matter what punishments will or won't be applied here. There is no torture mankind could inflict that would outweigh the damage done and to come.

Has it ever occurred to anyone reading here that we may be the aliens in the mix? That our perceptions of right and wrong were formed though landing in hostile territory while attempting to reverse the ongoing destruction? If so, the mission just may be impossible.

The majority of leadership has always known the Earth is finite and attempt to conceal that knowledge in order to systematize the populations leading us into global slavery. It is the very act of concealing and the foul intention of enslavement that make this world go round. You would have to say then, this mission was exploratory, painful and not terribly educational. It is fun sometimes, but mostly those times are not recognized until you have something to relate with them such as extended disasters, mass poverty and sickness, genocides and never ending war. It is painful indeed to see them killing off all of that on which they depend for survival.

For the record, there is one item of genuine progress to report which is the search effort for Abby Sunderland, the 16 year-old soloing the globe by sail, who lost communications and suffered a broken mast in 30' waves during which the Australian Maritime Safety Authority located her, at great peril to the search plane, without compensation. They say they responded because they want other countries to respond to Australians in trouble.
Already the Family Values Fundies are organizing ... never ones to let opportunity go unnoticed. In a perfect world, AMSA would set the standards.

of saints and beasts in the halfway house

Tempted and tried, we’re oft made to wonder
Why it should be thus all the day long;
While there are others living about us,
Never molested, though in the wrong. ...
author unknown

When you are halfway to somewhere, you are really nowhere at all. You are between somewhere ahead and somewhere past. You can't really accomplish much in that place, you do not know the future, and the past didn't work, so what do you do? You linger in non-action until the passage of time pushes you along, like it or not, and then you are forced to contend with where you land. At least, that is what some people do, here in the land of CAN DO, we'll note they are a majority. Awakening to the late realization they are either nowhere or somewhere they've been dumped against their own unexercised will, they appear to be doing the slow burn. This would be all to the good if they had no fear of consequence and if what needed to be done existed on a small scale, which it does not. Have any of them figured out the idea of choice is nonsense? When you review the current list of necessary repairs required if we are ever going to function decently, we find right away that everything signed, sealed and executed is barely, minimally, addressed in miniscule token and never in our favor. When I say "our" I am speaking of Mother Earth, her body, her species and her glorious (bow your head on bended knee) perfect, all supreme, most elegant system that time after time is shoveled to the back of the line, stumbling, battered, magnificent to the last, here we see honor and the definition of sainthood extraordinaire on its back still giving through its dying breath.

A wise and beloved Rastaman once said "God washed his hands of this place long ago." There are days this may appear to be the case, but now, PRAISES, we have the Apocalypse revealing to us the Divine is right here and the only entity on top of these situations. We learn once again, and again after that, a halfway house is no place to be. Each person living has the true choice of standing up for the whole in spite of the very real threat of consequence. When the job to be done appears beyond your skills, it doesn't matter at all. All that matters is that you are aware and willing to apply yourself when even the vaguest opportunity presents itself. We see these little people in the Gulf taking Pelicans and Spoonbills to the bird cleaning station and the numbers are few, but each worker is a saint. And yet, of what value is sainthood in the growth industry? How often are the saints among us rewarded for their relatively small acts of loving kindness and compassion? They are never rewarded unless they are selected for showcasing at a SOTUS as an example of how benevolently reform stretches above the fruited plain.

Something is missing from the use of the word "reform". It is incomplete as a word without something defining just what is that is being reformed. Health reform, financial reform ... again, its not enough. Reform does not always mean for the better, it does mean" transform" however, which is to change, somewhat, but not completely otherwise it would state so as in Complete Financial Reform Against Corruption. If you pay attention to these kind of sneaky details, you might see that there is no reform of anything. Just a worsening of the condition to the extent we are now seeing (thanks, Apocalypse) the dearth of effective reform is taking us farther along into oblivion in the bullet train. It is this spectacular ineffectuality of our CAN DOs partnering with the courage and heroics of Gumby that reveals to us what to expect in the not too distant future, which is just more of the same as that which came before us in an ever more escalating thrill ride designed to squeeze blood from a rock. Real reform doesn't need up or down votes. That which is filthy and diseased demands a thorough scrubbing and removal of any leftover residue in order to completely reform the health (Livity) of the object undergoing transformation. I don't want to hear about reform delivered by a poseable doll with invented definitions concealing yet another hustle during which sponsor breaks advertise the continuation of exactly what screams for reform in an additional effort to gouge whatever bank accounts of the little people remain intact, if they are intact. You'll note the account gouging is a lot like offshore drilling, resource extraction, its getting louder as there is less and less to gouge. The stakes grow higher with each passing day... the mighty culture of CAN DO has become "WILL DO as long as you don't know what we're doing, besides, you can't do anything about it anyway or you mark yourself but good for some, heh, saintly torture". They mock us. They call us conspiracy theorists and 9-11 enthusiasts in one breath and extract payment with penalties in the next. (Logic: you would think when submitting invoices, if you want your money you would not subject the hapless scofflaw to penalties. That seems to say out front "This is just the beginning of our prosperous relationship where you surrender your first born and the offspring of their unions into infinity.")

Thus it has become increasingly obvious who it is that is really in charge here. We don't actually need anyone in charge in the first place, but especially not when the particular version of being in charge is voting for change and getting genocide. Oops. It may be that we have come so far so fast as to have lost the ball forever. When you think over your past purchases during these several decades of outsourced manufacturing, ask how much of those products and capital goods are genuinely worthy of having been produced, especially at the cost to so many who suffer as a consequence of the insatiability of CAN DO. Now - a step deeper, how could those tragic little people slaving in sweatshops have possibly ever performed as master craftspeople lovingly creating technological wizardry better and at less cost while under incarcerating sweat shop circumstances, indebted servitude, owing their very soul to the company store indefinitely, make ANYTHING that works? And lasts? A pair of socks gets holes on the first wearing, formaldehyde in drywall, melamine in pet food (only pet food?), the blowout preventer seal spawning genocide, every electronic toy you ever bought lies useless next to the useless VCR in the public storage unit rented under duress, but it doesn't matter, there is more where that came from, and all of it run over roughshod with the next release of whatever item/situation/cultural requisite is reformed, improved and upgraded as you wonder how in God's perfect world will we ever be able to recover all that has been lost while it still as of this writing, marches into hell, blaring trumpets, the Beast of Reform hungering, spittle dribbling from its blubber lips, lumbering from side to side, surveying seabeds, tar sands, other peoples' lifeblood needs - always from the point of view of "You Exist, You're Mine ... and here is the pretext we'll follow as I work my way through, limb by limb."

The Beast doesn't give a damn who is in charge or what stupefying reform is pushed through or not. He know its always the same and he damn well knows how to survive. That the beast has no honor is something that would never confuse him. He's a serial killer of the highest order who's work is not just cut out for him, it is handed to him on a sterling tray complete with a cornucopia of the rarest, most sought after, endangered to the extreme, verging on extinction, exquisite jewels such as caviar-covered Pelican eggs. CAN DO is a joke to him, an inside joke, his enabler/supplier always at the ready: "Here, adored Beast, please have more. Its on the house (and senate). Do tell what else should please your grace. The world is your oyster."

You know how it goes. You know what it means and you know where it leads. Addiction never goes well, worse, addiction always leads to justifying addiction, leading to vulnerability, arriving at unwanted coercion. It may be said in some corners it is our fault, but it is not. Our only portion of blame is having been cheated and lied into a dead end detour when all along the road we traveled was meant to lead us to a better place. I'm sure that road is still available if we could only get our bearings. Sometimes I feel like I am watching a secret dog fighting ring, vicious to the death, everything about it wrong and repulsive. Or a cock fight with the tragic rooster in spurs, feathers bloodied, body fluids leaking from every orifice, as screaming crowds shove fistfuls of money into the betting window.

Wondering when enough is enough is a waste of time. Is it not enough to see the truth behind the events taking place, is it not enough to see the response will always be the same despite which event is under discussion or who pens what reform? The dealmaking between the Beast and his caretakers is one sided and that side isn't on the side of saints. They have a special way of dealing with interlopers who have yet to successfully demolish the Beast. But YOU can do it, its a CAN DO culture after all. The not so secret and powerful weapon is to starve him of your attention exactly as they do in the media when they want a story to disappear.

There is good everywhere. Wonders to behold and participate within. I see it on an hourly basis if not more frequently. A healing and hungry Guinea Pig or playing with the dog and his favorite toy, making healthy clean meals for my house of males, planting flowers in the Mofusa and Malcome Memorial Park, taking photos in the desert, a painting that paints itself while I hold the brush, with things like this at the forefront of our attention all the time, why do we need busy Beasts from the halfway house bossing around the populations? Can you explain how these monsters have anything to offer in our time of diminishing resources? They and their psychopath bredren appear to have nothing of more import to do than agitate, snarl and prey on the defenseless even as they know and we know - get hip, we are all in this fix together.