Anything can happen

So much trouble in the world
So much trouble in the world

Bless my eyes this morning
Jah sun is on the rise once again
The way earthly thin's are goin'
Anything can happen.

You see men sailing on their ego trip,
Blast off on their spaceship,
Million miles from reality:
No care for you, no care for me.

So much trouble in the world;
So much trouble in the world...

Yes I.  Indeed.  Anything can happen ... and will and does.  As you know well, by now, at this time in this form in this particular go around on this spectacular Earthly plane.

Imagine, for example, what the next leaders of the multitudes of lives and lifestyles within our geography will be doing at their polished desks among all the rare antiquities surrounded by their special chosen Cabinet. Think about how they think of you - and then think about the generations to come.

Are we in agreement that it is absurd that the legal personhoods continue to flood coastal cities with waterfront development?  We wonder if the Blonde vs. Blonde voting populations also find it absurd.  I think not.  With one, we get to be subjects of the Roman Empire on Steroids, with the other, slave gladiators.  As in anything can happen perhaps nothing like what I've just described will happen. Judging by the American experience since WW2, a good bet would be no positive change, but an exponential growth of what we already have and see now - which will, naturally, unfold rapidly since this is how they already do it, momentum is increased at every opportunity and the opportunities are unlimited.  My friends, we are in uncharted territory. 

UNLESS

You see it for what you always saw it, lodged in buildings built by slaves housing the slickest of the slick, where they do what they think are slick things.  These things are rarely in and nowhere near our favor because people who make rules always make rules in their favor whether they know it or not.  Their favor means anything further separating them from those who are disfavored, be it status, power, visibility or loyalties favoring all whom they perceive to be just like themselves.

To live a happy life, forget about them and enjoy JAH suns and moons. Teach the children love and compassion.  Stay with your own creativity, it never fails to keep you high and away, above the BS and free.  Keep your mind open and learning.  Stay away from judgements, instead look for the overview. 

Surely there are many who sacrifice enjoying a happy life out of sheer gluttony for status, power and visibility.  They made their choices long ago and we should not expect them to change now, therefore, it is up to us to live our happy lives as best we can.  By using the term "happy life", I mean living a life in which you respect your own existence and everyone else's also.  If you have love for yourself, it radiates into everything you do, everyone you see, all species you come across, not just those with whom you are already close, but the "strangers" you frequently meet in your journey. More often than not, I am a little shocked and pleased to find new like minds where I never thought I would.  For Izzy who commented on our last post he wished it was easier to find like minds off line as it is for him online, I would think the more time you can spend offline, the more you give of yourself, you come across like minds.  Another thing that must be stated about happy lives isn't exactly Izzy's issue as he stated it, rather it is a common trait among human beings to create a pattern in the unconscious mind of just how a stranger must appear and sound in order to communicate with them.  It is extraordinarily beneficial to recognize that trait is a survival throwback to the dawn of Humankind and has virtually no basis in your mission on Earth within the Heavens.  All uncharted territory is opportunity.





Verse: So Much Trouble In The World
Bob Marley & The Wailers, from Songs of Freedom

the demonstration of a test

It was easily three weeks ago I was doing my usual, walking the Hound.  It was an extended period of multiple tests, one after another, coinciding with each other, piling on one another, you might be experiencing the same thing, my mind stretched grid-like in the demonstrations arising, working out the balancing act required to meet each one, confidently, making the most of each as they were  presented and recognized for what they were.  The Hound snatched something nasty from the bushes at night and whomped it down before I could inspect.  He became ill, of course.  In the course of getting him to the vet, the rockbuggy would have to be charged and a new starter meant getting to the car guy.    These are classic everyday tests we experience in overpopulation, nothing is as it would be today if only ...  You may have noticed these tests come in bunches.  Certainly someone, or one key element, along the chain of multiple tasks required would flake and more, each test required it be done correctly in order to proceed to the next.  As soon as it came to me the combination of dog, vet and auto mechanic was a test and the scenery and cast were all part of the demonstration, all doubt vanished.  And still, I barely know my way around in this place.  Driving around is always a sort of hunt and peck affair, but its small here in my quadrant and with enough time, you can reach whatever destination you want.  I was up to the challenge.  As a person who has lived jungle and rural for half of their life, to find my way around a complicated maze of ramps and overpasses in that special searching style explains my lack of interest in knowing where anything else is located, with the exception of what it is I want to find within every sector of post NWO structures, or would that be Neo-NWO, whale-gulping our Mother's resources in every skinflint shape and flavor.  I refused the GPS app for a similar reason, why do we need this shit?  GPS addicts tell me how fabulous and convenient are these talking beltway devices, but they should know better by now.  I would take offense, if such a thing were possible, except I can't be offended by not being interested in mass consumer hypnotics to quiet the methane-belching cattle.

There are some days or nights or both that run by us magically in their perfection.  Its as if you were looking at a tapestry of the hours woven as it happens, where the yarns, blending colors and weave explain it all in seamless mesh, as one activity naturally leads to another, each demonstration sweetly paves the way into the middle of the next.  The Pup is cool now thanks to his vet who did what I wanted her to do and relinquished her own plan for dog te$ting and just handed over the goodies.  I'd done my homework online.  The rockbuggy took us there because 1) I got an unexpectedly easy charge for the battery, and 2) the car guy did his replacement at the speed of, heh, light.  

There's more, two beat up strays were hanging around the 'hood during this same period.  You could see they'd had it rough and for a long time.  Various neighbors were leaving out food and water, but not taking them in.  It was pretty cold too.  I worried about their nights, under bushes, escaping the MAN, but the way they were roaming around the houses after dark said they were hungry, tired of exposure to the elements and in need of family.  My own pup was worried too.  For him, the message was loud and clear.  I called a friend who has adoption connections and was told if I could bring them to her, she would get them medical attention.  Ah ... the test took a sudden turn.  I'll save some space here and just mention they now live permanently in a nice big heavily-fenced house with dog door, huge backyard and pool and are brushed, bathed and putting on weight, best of all, they are cherished.  You might think I denied them their freedom, but the city kill shelter is reportedly worse than Abu Graib.  The same people who would call the dogcatcher, and there are multitudes of them, are the same patriotic Roundup Ready racist fringe who  are devoted to their version of cleanliness is Godliness. 

The list of tests goes on, those I mentioned were important, but apparently not final.  The tests are actually life, why we are here.  Sometimes, a test will appear as minor, the reason for that is to gauge your ability to acknowledge they are tests.  To use a TAO-like balancing example, without awareness of what it is that is taking place on a higher level, there is no understanding at all, i.e.; ignorance.  Further, failing a challenge that you arranged, attaches itself to your core, negatively, from negativity into certain defeat and self pity. 

An interesting test is giving small sums, if it is done compassionately, without expectation of reward such as currying favor or calculating return, there is no element of debt which changes everything that the recipient was preparing himself to feel badly about in advance of asking for what it was he needed. There is a beautiful Universe that exists where expectation and anticipation, rewards and dishonor are erased from the activity.  There is no hypocrisy, no building of pre- and post-fabricated animosity.  It can be for some a very difficult test especially in overpopulation, everyone you know running short of funds and thus quickly friendless, rampant corruption all around and the fear of being labeled with trash nicknames behind their backs. It works both ways when done wrong, the giver is a sucker and the taker is a deadbeat.

I well remember being so crazy hungry I actually called home collect, thousands of miles away, to beg, and looked down at the Lower East Side street beneath my bare feet before the call connected and staring back at me was a twenty lying on the pavement.  In terms of demonstrations and tests, the message was clear and it was multipart on numerous levels, all of them corrections and lasting lessons.   None of them forgotten to this day, especially the part about the futility of dwelling so intensely on fear of the future.  Given awareness, all works out as it was designed.

Just because I am posting about beautiful things such as tests in no way negates the egregious, bloody happenings "out there".  The time has arrived to make serious plans to secure a more survivable future.  As a reminder, I am reposting Scrapwood's contribution of T'ao Ch'ien's  After Liu Ch'ai-Sang's Poem ...

I'd long felt these mountains and lakes
beckoning, and wouldn't have thought twice,
but my family and friends couldn't bear
talk of living apart. Then one lucky day
a strange feeling came over me, and I left,
walking-stick in hand, for my western farm.
No one was going back home: on those outland
roads, farm after farm lay in empty ruins,
but our thatch hut's already good as ever,
and you'd think our new fields had been
tended for years. When valley winds turn
cold, spring wine eases hunger and work,
and though it isn't strong, just baby-girl
wine, it's better than nothing for worry.
Distant -- as months and years pass away here,
the bustling world's racket grows distant.
Plowing and weaving provide all we use.
Who needs anything more?
Away, ever away into this hundred-year life and
beyond, my story and I vanish together like this.

World X sponsors revolution ap

... Here he comes, he's all dressed in black
PR shoes and a big straw hat
He's never early, he's always late
first thing you learn is that you always gotta wait
I'm waiting for my man ... 
Lou Reed ,  lyric from I'm waiting for the man


We who have been so badly burned over and over our skins red and oozing from the lash, and not just us, but everyone all around us in their varying states of suffering, look up and see protestors on tv, on the net, in our hearts, wondering what slimey deceitful tortures await them?  That is how we've come to think.  We are not really Stockholm Syndromers, appreciative of any pause in the new, upgraded wheel of everything, the operating system under which slaves, wrists leashed to railroad ties overhead, power the wheel 24/7. No, nada, nunca mas, rather we are compassionate, seeking their safety, It IS becoming too big to fail, this is empowering them, every arrest empowers them more, and then when the you-know-whos make the TBTF connection, the real war, not the one that has become totally automatized and roboticized, begins.  Those real wars will be the one-sided wars of exposure of the most mundane detail of a human life interpreted to mean something completely different by running it through the press release machines.  Wars of ubiquitous commercialism and sponsored entertainment, great amounts of wealth will  pass hands.  It will be attacked as a rite of passage, the Aborigine child at last becomes a man, because no one can afford to backpack through Europe anymore, and the costs are not always financial.


When Tahrir Square's protests began, bleating pundits directed opinion in the weeks long media blitz, the one thing you knew straight on was how the Overseers viewed it.  The violence was roundly "deplored".  You knew they wanted to quell that thing a.s.a.p. because it was giving others in other locations in the Zombie Food Court ideas.  You know what happened later and how lovely things are over there today.  Why in fact, many of us will recall a bizarre photo candidly depicting the war cabinet hovered over questionably functioning laptops. 


I am jaded.  I see things from the inside out, not outside in.  It is natural to ask about anything that appears to be one thing, if perhaps maybe its another?  Life is all about learning and this just one of multitudes of ways that we learn.  "What if ..." is usually a good way to present the case.  It invites sharing the responsibility of a direct response. That particular method of inviting exchange can go to unusual places and you will learn what you needed to know, if you didn't already, at the least you will have confirmed your original observations.


Maybe if ... we had not already put aside false desires such as hope and belief, and lived so hard on the barren plain of the human condition, crushed by repeated falls into the stairwells of life's basement long enough to recognize the pattern and its mocking roots of Wetiko wet nurses and Wetiko religious dogma, maybe we would want to ask who started what and why.  Oh, forget the "why."  Moreover, forget the "who" also.  Who cares?  "What" is what we learn, "how" is the core.  And running through the heart, pole to pole, is the arrow of evil, the Yang.  In the early chapters of Arab Spring, I suggested sovereign leaders were being rotated in a manner more beneficial to  Big Mo.  I think all of our questions are being answered with each passing event. Especially the part about sovereign which in the language of the World X OS upgrade translates to colonial.


If we apply what we learn to another situation we might say "What if ... what if the design is inextricably in place, all that is left is more bloodletting and the good old highway robbery under the cover of darkness and freight trains, forever underwater at the company store? One of billions wet-faced in the rain racing for shelter, to the tents and migrant motels?  What if ... we die and are exploited further in death by past-their-prime degenerates playing their last card last off your back?  Addicts never change.  They can clean up, briefly, but its always calling.  You bet they are hustling again, they are in a pact from the grave.  The candidates are competing with the false flags.  Every time, throughout all of human existence, when they start up that shuck and jive, it is the sound of hellfire and fury heralding in another notch on the ancient Totem of history. In fact, there was another heated display of cravings just today as the Iran drumbeat drifted across the prairies with the Cartels as back-up chorus.  Of course, its not doing well on the charts, its rather worthless until they can use it in conjunction with the Times Square dude and the panties on the plane mule.


What success are we seeking?  We are seeking peace of mind and to be left alone to pursue our authentic interests, so many of which are denied for all the wrong reasons regardless of geography.  We seek universal love and compassion, genuine peace on Earth and recognition of every living thing on the Living Planet as family.  These few things are not universally sought, you know that much by now no matter what station you may be waiting in during this journey,  but be comforted - you are not alone.

Interruptions During a Cage Match

Anyone still confused at this late stage?  On a personal level, as metaphor, we live our lives in a series of situations, for the most part, floating through the days and hours as if there is no ending. There are always things to do and be done, the incredible variety of living species in our situations that require attention, and often there are little jams to be unraveled, which we unravel and continue on with our journeys.  In other words, we're coping, as best we know how at any given time ... until something like these times comes into focus and digs its way into our minds as a bad cloud.  No matter what happens, the bad cloud is carried within.  Every now and then it rolls itself into a hurricane or tornado and whatever else is going on within has to take a back seat.  Lately we've found ourselves unwittingly embroiled in bullying bs boiling over in the very kitchens of the bad cloud's panic promotional.  Ages ago I put up a line from the original film Wall Street where Bud Fox's Dad says to him "A man lives long enough, he sees everything."

And yet, what we are seeing is part and parcel of events that have been years in the making.  As we grew up, there were plenty of  signs and omens, generally misinterpreted as if such "very fine people" couldn't possibly be behind the growing evil.  Here's one thing I know, which I learned early.  Very fine people do not wear white ties. Tacky, tacky, tacky.  You can imagine my utter dismay every time one of these very fine people makes some televised, i.e.; visual, statement about anything going on in the bad cloud and how really, really, its a good cloud, while adorned in absolutely fatal fashion statements.  You may think I am kidding, but I am serious.  Only factual, dyed-in-the-wool handmaidens to the Devil himself, slimeball Mobsters wear white ties, or pink, or yellow or anything bordering on pastels.  Have you ever looked at those ties on camera?  Dancing pixels sending bizarre rays into your pupils.  You will note, they appear to possess a dress code as well as common purpose among them.  Their fawning grocery clerks, errand boys/girls and celebrity punditry adopt all of it to better drive home the Mission.   Personally, I got out of that car a long time ago.  I'm not sure exactly what it was, it might have been the pastel neck-wear. it might have been the always misfit trying to fit in all the wrong places with all the wrong people.  It might have been a particular hallucination where peaking, suddenly everyone grew very small, something like looking through a telescope backwards, crystal clear, everything was the same so I perceived, except the amazingly sharp reduction of everyone and everything within view.  I might not have come back from that had it not been for a rescue to another artist's hideaway except he was one of these artists who liked to grind a subject into its abstract which can be done if you work at it long enough, a stage which he had not yet reached still being a literalist making O's in primaries.  His studio aka free room  in the squatter's commune was painted with every color and size circle the way you'd roll whole walls and ceiling in soft white, right down to the floor, the fabrics, the fireplace and so on.  My problem was they were all spinning like wild crayola cheerios blown from a cannon which created a kind of whirling nausea and yearning for the outdoors, for something real, Nature and its comfort which eventually I found crawling downstairs, to the door, to freedom in the anonymity of city streets, one foot and the next until I led myself to green pastures lying down with wildflowers in the meadow watching clouds move, meet and move again, they were good clouds.  I looked sideways long enough to see friends join in.  It seemed we lay there centuries.  We might have.

I'm still not sure of any tipping point where it all gelled.  Not a day, lately an hour, passes without some intrusive nonsense like the "jobless recovery".  As much as I would love to be done with it, it smarts.  While today we might find we are not affected, surely tomorrow we will be?  We have all been affected, perhaps not all at one time, but we would not allow bad clouds the opportunity to linger, even distantly, if we were not personally familiar with the extremes of pain they are capable of producing.   We remember a moment in time, we have memories of disaster, we have had our hopes and expectations dashed to smithereens, we have lost loved ones, we have seen others lose everything and lost too much ourselves along the way.  We believe in redemption, we trust in resurrection even without visual confirmation we have confidence in the goodness of living, that it is holy, that life itself is holy and that interior perfection of every living being is all the proof necessary and nothing can take that perfection away.

Do yourself a huge favor and read these links, if you have not already, in any order, order hardly matters, although I realize I have implied some order, it won't take up all that much of your time since you are already online reading, here are a few things to absorb that should stick, I know, so little sticks anymore, but give it a try:

From Mick:
The Handbook of Human Ownership for New Tax Farmers

From Vivek:
Hey America ...

From James Kunstler's CN comments:
The Great Global Debt Depression: Its All Greek to Me

From Paul Craig Roberts:
An Economy Destroyed

Done yet?  Go and finish them now, at least one of them, I'm not going anywhere and I know the last two are particularly lengthy, but important!  If you get fidgety, a typically addicted to convenience and/or chaos-driven western citizens' trait, just read the last one first (backwards is a great way to go since front is back and back is front now) all the way through and return later as you carve out space in your offline Word calendar for sincere acknowledgement of self through definition of the Apocalyptic experience in which we all share, like it or not ... or just make a Sticky Note for your monitor.

Let's get down to business

It seems that the deficit ceiling is replacing the Casey Anthony trial, with Cantor and Boner vs. our leader.  Have you ever seen Grown Men behave in this way?  And these are our representatives of the peeps.  Hey, put 'em in a cage match for cryin' out loud and leave us out of it.  If you knew these people in real life, as neighbors or a clique at the local swimming pool, would you have ANYthing to do with them?  Who uses Vitalis anymore? As usual, we are forced to ask, what else is going on that we're not hearing about.  And suddenly, practically written on the wind, Norway!  Last check the death toll is under one hundred, but the figure is growing and will likely be higher by sigh, tomorrow.  And speaking of Wetiko wickedness, could care-less-ness, those freak outbursts I mentioned last posting and a few posts before that, are on the increase.  The ignorant on the ground, probably illiterate too, due to the fact all of  this "toxic waste" is widely available through every expanding format of shining electronic delivery, are bursting loose from the jobless recovery to imitate the very activities dreamed up by "very fine people".  Things come and go at breakneck speed, each dive surpassing former dives into deeper and deeper, never before unexplored depths of the raging cesspool of evil.  Everything about them flys red flags and nothing happens.  They can wear GO OLIGARCHY tie tacks on their pale gold ties and nothing happens.  They can publicly scorn each other mere inches away from hand to hand combat with lies and denials and ... nothing happens.

Way down below in the secret cache of an overstressed, oversized, over-produced population where mostly everything has gotten completely out of control because people no longer want to know what is happening around them since their entire lives have become Adventures in Narcissism 24/7, there are horrors and very difficult to describe drastic abuses of the innocent and unaware surfacing for a few hours, a day or two, before the deficit ceiling cage match blows them off the platform.  Weird things like the Leiby Kletzy tragedy and the Coronado mansion double murder.  When the celebrity pundit reads the teleprompter saying "Why Norway?" do you grimace at her sheer idiocy or weep for the Libyans who on another planet, one with good clouds, would be filling the bellies of the Somalis instead of under hijack at the crazed insistence of  the followers of economic nirvana which is not a resilient or even remotely sustainable system... as we are reminded this week after thinking about the far reaching implications in the Archdruid's excellent essay. Even Libya has vanished from the news as if its another ho hum long term occupation in the making and we're to just go shopping or something.  Its always unnerving how quickly we have these things analyzed for us since we are too dumbed down now to read the blood on the wall.  How long did it take Bush to declare Bin Laden did it?  How long did it take CNN to read their prepared statement claiming the little potty or the base is responsible for Norway's attacks?  Fifteen minutes?  An hour?  And, gosh, we haven't even touched on the highly contagious cell hacking disease spreading paranoia and opening wallets across the pond, its not necessary my friends, is it.  My only question while admitting I aspire to know nothing because I can't stand to know, its too disgusting, is: Where's the forensics on the guy who lay dead in the portapotty for twelve hours?  In't this one like the Coronado mistress found bound and hung from a backyard balcony, in that suicide is often disguised to appear as homicide, they say.  Or is that homicide is often disguised to appear as suicide? Gimme a break!  We are looking at updated Wellstonings, stories for the stupid, damaged cells dividing and multiplying, exacerbating, exaggerating initial damage.

So I'm with Mick and Vivek.  You will have some feelings about those links and I request we stay on subject for this post, if possible, and share them in the comments, again, if possible.  If you have something else you have to say, of course that is always welcome, but for this post and those links, we'll need to talk.  I've held off publishing them until now because the ubiquitous crescendo of the greedy oligarchs wrapping around the globe and destroying all life on Earth cannot be ignored or denied anymore.  I should add that all the evils noted above are taking place as the Earth crumbles in anthropogenic climate chaos which must be something like living  it up in an inescapable gated seaside community next door to six nuclear power plants, six months before a super quake and tsunami.  In other words, its getting dangerous out there. 

You do understand, don't you, its not going away.  It only grows, like all living species subject to the variations of Malthusian prophecy, build it and they will come, and keep coming and coming on, until ...

On that dire precipice which appears to have no possible live landing in sight,  I leave you with the best line from Vanilla Sky - "Every passing minute is a chance to turn it all around." 
Within us is that power.

Meal tickets under glass

The circus continues.  What was not said here and that which was hinted the first time around are grotesquely obvious now.  The death penalty pundits make the political pundits look tame, tamed by their corporate masters rather like seals on skirted pedestals from one of many rings in which monstrous acts take place every day and every night under the Big Top until there is no memory of a beginning or any end in sight.  MSM prime time punditry would be fired for behaving as outrageously as the dagger death pundits, the couch potato noodle noosers bonbon-ing their ways into stampede wearing flip flops and halter tops, hair rollers and the ever present shopping bags overflowing with cameras, thumb twittering cell phones, awaiting their moment of a lifetime on youtube to imbed into the empty echos of their social networking sites.  Like?  One hundred and fifty million people liked this.  These particular pundits are insatiable and demanding, where's my panel? As the screen breaks up into squares of faces all speaking at once which means they have to yell in order to hear themselves as they are overridden by each others caterwauling.  I was hoping Bose earphones would sponsor this event, you know, those phones suggested to be worn in the presence of heavy machinery such as aircraft interiors.  Bose shows themselves to have somewhat more selective marketing moderation than underwrite death penalty pundits which are actually sponsored exhaustively by that shrill automotive insurance actress delivering her monologues as if she was in the front row at a Stones concert selling deep fried pretzels and pork rinds.

One of the events, many in fact, centered around the vivid technological displays of human decomposition by, heh, decomposition experts.  Who knew such gigs exist?  The crowds went gaga, you could hear the saliva quicken for the drools, quickly hidden by all manner of wipes.  The cries of disgust, the puking, things never before imagined in the actual slide shows of horror beyond all previous horrors as bone after bone was displayed accompanied by the imagined gnashing of animals chewing and dragging the toddler's torso through forested overgrowth.  So what I thought.  What did they think happens to the body in death anyway?  They think it must be pumped with formaldehyde, painted and hair-styled to look alive, gussied up in formal attire, rosy cheeked and merely asleep, sealed in an airtight gilded plastic and metal box six feet under the topsoil and guarded by armed security.  The point being there is big, big money in an industry to keep your true self cosmopolitaned for eternity and the circus audience stamps and screams in mass nausea if somehow one is revealed to have been flesh and blood all along, under all the frills and pretense, under the facade of the magazine mannequin, an unblemished, idealized product of the demographically targeted corporate consumer ... "Why God forbid!  Such a disturbance in thought is sheer blasphemy!"  Like?  Two hundred and sixty seven million people do not like this suggestive dialogue.

We've been all over that issue before, haven't we.  More times than I recall, here and at Su's, anywhere we have the opportunity to spread the word, the death industry is solitary incarceration extreme guaranteeing two thousand or so years from now you'll be dug up and showcased under glass in a natural history museum.  "Isn't he well preserved!  He looks so, so alive.  Beautiful work, taxidermists were real craftsmen then."  It all reminds me of people who have Elk heads on their wall, lacquered fish glued on plaques over the fireplace, the prized and princely testosterone den decor forevermore outdone, one upped by Jibbertongue Rumsfeld and his piece of a 911 airliner displayed on his former office of special plans wall.  A souvenir.  Perhaps it, like all of it, was just another high tech hologram.  Like?  Two hundred and ninety one million crazy baldheads do not think like this and will stamp their feet and screech at you for such wicked speech.  Why, they'll probably have a trial in the main ring complete with the prosecution's selection of experts yukking it up in their fifteen minutes of face time on TV, yeah! TV.  You are no one, you know, in this lonely beleaguered, hardass shell of a civilization unless you are on TV.  It doesn't matter if you are selling insurance or pork rinds, expertly analyzing computer generated news with your computer generated peers squeezed evermore tightly in between the headline banners, any airtime will do.  Of course, they have rules. The most sought after quality in addition to being fully integrated with your representative self so that the representative self is always in complete control, is high ratings appeal.  You'll note that the two most desirable qualities are actually one pure, homogenized quality unadulterated with any experience that cannot be easily explained.  There are no "ifs", no guesswork in questioning the possibility of something larger than can't be covered between trips to the pork rind bag and cerveza cooler.

In the trial, to date, still the question of a father for the toddler remains unasked and unmentioned.  This is a first, and how it is left to the unknown unmentioned is an amazing mystery, although, some dire and distant message comes through regardless and that would be, of course, the possibility in vitro fertilization at some point will be the future's sole legally controlled method for producing new generations of replacement representative selves.  In a throwback to early technology, designer DNA will be the cultural norm, children born never knowing what came before, true products of the moment, pudgy, steamrolled, cookie-cut and pundit-like in discourtesy, quick to condemn, always in control of themselves and their bleak surroundings seen as delightful, amusing, progressive, evidence of perfection everywhere because they can not possibly ever know what they like and don't like, in praise, always kneeling before the altars of quack dogma, the Big Top drawing in whole manufactured families to stare in awe at roadkill in sideshows unburdening them of their doubts.

There is nothing we think or do that someone somewhere can't figure out how to eek out a living off of you and in doing so, laws attempting to refunnel the cash flow are designed, voted and approved.  Legal or illegal.  There is also nothing that anyone anywhere does that cannot be defined by its opposite intention depending on the approval ratings within a culture.

It helps to understand these times in general by thinking about what isn't being presented and less about what is.  What drives the desires of entertainment seekers and what drives you.  While it may seem much like Shirley Jackson's short story, The Lottery, where the villagers drew lots to see who would be the annual stoning victim, it is only slightly more complicated being that approval ratings change as the situation worsens.  Ratings attempt to create a sense of growth and prosperity just around the corner in spite of the hopelessness of their tattered Big Tops and rigged sideshows of the fallen, shredded by the stampeding crowds lusting to be something more than a social networking wall, forever locked into the impression of free will and miraculously, never attending to the slightest concern they are the meal ticket du jour.

Granville Redmond, Malibu Coast Spring, c. 1929

... The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.