May the Force be with You

Has everyone been enjoying the internet lately?  Heh.  Its all bad stuff.  They've won.  Yes, the real terrorists are running free, running the whole show and we've bled and watched and waited and bled more and watched more until our Groucho Marx eyeballs sprung from their frames.  They viciously grabbed our attention, rifled hungrily through our empty pockets seeking anything that Wal*Mart could stack into their job lot weather-less caverns and left  us by the side of the dirt road in the heat searing, barren desert brush too beleaguered, too unhealthy, too weak, too empty of spiritual energy to find our way back because ... the gates to the heart of the matter are sealed with nuclear crazy glue.


We're still alive however.  But it is an alive that is like living in a movie set, the Truman Show perhaps, the infrastructure for life itself is there, but nothing works underneath the wall paper of a sky with mannequin characters forever locked into place.  A suitable stage set would be that early Twilight Zone episode concerning the Sterno junkie strangely surviving radiation in a fake model town destroyed by a good nuke testing.


The recent Adam Mayes murder kidnapping episode took us far back into the old moonshining days of inbreds and foliage overgrowth where dummies are still at the still, banjos and preachers and relatives of relatives' friends and their third cousins of ex-spouses and (no traceable relation because its too complicated) hangers-on quikstop cashiers having their say in the press, he said, she said, no one is guilty and everyone clamors for a part, the mothers-in-law of the former spouses of bigamous Zombie creatures slithering through wet, uneven terrain where no child has a father and all the children are reproduced in the exact image of their toothless ancestors combined, emerging from quicksand by the miracles of Jesus.


Why IS this we ask?  It is because the square mileage of our continent allows holdovers from an earlier era to exist in geographies unclaimed by urban sprawl.  Its always been a government problem.  Combing, cleaning out, dumpster diving though these ancient closeted holdovers remains a Fed priority to this day.  Why throw funds at education or municipal improvements when you can simply shine the white hot planetary stage spotlight on its unprofitable worthlessness?


Cockroaches are not allowed to exist in a flattened world armed with singing camera cellphones reviewing their bank accounts and foreclosure proceedings by the hour inside armed gated communities anchored to select chain store strip malls.  From time to time, we are forced to look, as if the "civilized" populace needs another Foie Gras treatment shoved down their esophagus as warning to all to get with, and stick with, the system.  Of course, there is that additionally tasteless re-election component involved.  Their eveready tactical opener, Caveman Nugie, knows all about murder in the backwoods, interesting how he was drafted from the dusty archives a mere days before the Foie Grassing.  You will note in the Adam Mayes episode, no mention was made of performing the usual criminal search practices such as collecting cellphone records and laptop seizures. The Mayes event appears to have been entirely an "on foot, door to door" extraordinarily closed mouth arrangement.  Likely this is why cleaning out and cleaning up Waziristan has been such a nasty problem as well.  Can you imagine?  How can the land even be considered for Wal*Marts and development property leases when there are uh, those insane infestations of swarming insects crawling through the undergrowth up and down the mountains (apparently immune to Roundup, and highly likely that is due to zero percent purchasing power)?  They sought to draw us in on their horrific difficulties during the BP blowout, spotlighting shrimpers and the abundance of backwards, makeshift lifestyles to no avail, the greater issues blocked the effort and were quietly cancelled due to the impotency of the punishment.  A more effective bang for their buck would have been to rip apart the seemingly flawless Anthony family and expose the massive infestation in Orlando's angelic state of make-believe sub-urbanity.  Ah but no, that would not have worked in their favor, we can be sure such dumpster diving would have exposed the poisoned roots of all that appears covetously shiny, lush, clean, nutritious, expensive and healthy.


It would have come out that every man remains an island unto himself and no expensive product or perfectly plasticized contortions of lifestyle, unmarred and ziplocked into purring vehicles under 24/7, 365 day monitoring will ever have effect on the infestations ... anywhere.  If they really meant to do the job effectively, they should call in Wildland firefighters and the backhoes, radio the command planes and cordon off the region, all of which tells us something about the fundamental reason they do not.  They don't because these spotlit events are the Foie Gras method of keeping in line those suburbanites, exurbanites and urbanites who are not absolutely yet convinced or growing less convinced the wonderful new world isn't actually so wonderful.


That it isn't so wonderful is an understatement.  It is useless diversion barricading authentic experience.  All of it wrought long ago by the evil insights of Bernays where realty is contorted by words and imagery into the facade of human advancement.  Surely he was a card carrying CFR Jetsons fan.  Surely his followers felt things were not happening quickly enough to satisfy their own payment plans and upped the program after a brief intermission for Kool smokers and college educated middle class homeowners before abruptly unveiling the new, improved date-stamped Ponzi pyramid.


During that intermission, many of us reading here were selected to enter this journey, at this time, in this place, on this very planet.  And this group, this band of concerned volunteers without memory of our transported altruistic goals, matured along with Earth's inhabitants as if we were a natural part of the program except ... there was always a lingering doubt of its viability, especially as it repeatedly rubbed against the grain, a soft reminder of the forgotten mission, the appearance not at all being what it proclaimed to be, that the species itself seemed deeply flawed preventing the homo sapien from its ability to develop spiritually, to see and know in that way that seeing is wisdom and knowing is acceptance, dis-empowering the individual to achieve any greater purpose other than placing all sensory powers upon the activities and appearance of mannequins, zombies and spotlit personalities, adopting each others' roles, characters, allegiances and opinions - automatically.  It is stated frequently "This is life", as if it is a condition, a helpless syndrome of vacuous and painful wandering from nowhere to nothing and simply must be endured until the big prize of magnificent rapture arrives.   It matters none the rapture doesn't take place, there is always some bible thumping, high moral ground justification encouraging the great sea of homo sapien true believers to press on, endure more.  Should any of those enduring grow weary while pressing on, the length of the average lifespan of the human being is comforting in its brevity fully allowing the tragic possibility any greater potential remains eternally unrealized, unknown, lost in whatever continental universe of in-curiosity and regulated behaviors exist among the retarded faux civilizations doomed to ennui and suffering.

Our mission can be remembered at any time, especially when you are not trying to remember, rather, standing in the welfare lines or gathering flints and interesting rocks in the desert during an oncoming sandstorm or if you are a musician, evading the work of a composition, even though you know it will center you.  It will come back to you in a variety of forms, mostly it is a taking-off of sorts, suddenly airborne, and you will realize it had nothing to do with your wants or what you think about it at all, and everything to do with letting go.  You cannot call it forth, it will alight when and where you'd least expect.


There is a Force in the Cosmos, of that we can be sure, outside of us, that takes care of us, it is love seeking a receptive vessel.  As proof, you can do nothing civilization terms usefully productive for as long as possible and see what happens.  Let it flow through you and radiate it outwards at every opportunity.  Love, compassionate, seva-love is the remedy needed now. 

The downpressors may have won the round, but they will never rule the Force. May the Force be with you.