Good Evening Friends. Here we are again, it hasn't been that long really, only two weeks as opposed to a real hiatus. I prefer to call it a sabbatical because the word itself conjures something much closer to what I do offline. I'm not sweetening it, actually sweet is too weak a word when you live in the continuous state of Present Shock where every twenty-four hour cycle is Halloween combined with April's Fool's Day. The changes just keep coming, never think anything is static. Anything. The energy fields have been bent to ramp it up. This week's watchword is BELIEVE.
Last night, directly on the heels of our past few weeks into the fall semester, during which we were inundated, drip fed, rudely awakened from our physically and mentally restorative safe havens of creative vesselship, we were taught, in black and white, beyond all shadow of doubt, how foolish and irresponsible are the designers of spaceman hazmat suits, medical caregivers, mass transportation screeners and military scribes when it comes to pandemic preparedness. Kinda like if western medical personnel and those just following orders have turned into the Malaysian Airlines copywriting staff for this one. Why are we supposed to think that?
I'd like to know what the military thinks it can accomplish by exposing its forces to Ebola, which brings me to Dublin Mick's bombshell post where he quotes Jim Stone on the massive wolf cry of Ebola. I read it last night and noted the conversation in the comments on my previous post are quickly turning in that direction and feel probably a lot like everyone else which is:
I don't know what to believe.
Only Jah know what going down.
Of course, I've been over it again and again and unfortunately we have some precedents for this kind of thing, enough so the boy who cries wolf appears to be typical of perhaps, a whining toddler trying to get
his/her way. But we don't really know, do we. There is a progressive negative aftermath to all that we've witnessed on our devices. And for everything we've been thrown, really, there is no other way to think about it. but still ... hope and belief come creepin' round. run...
Things come across the internet that intend to produce an effect. Through this medium, we are taught and shown examples of what is good and what is bad, regardless that these "things" are very often contradictory.
Perhaps we need to stop believing in belief. There is only one thing we can be sure of and that is ourselves, but even personal faith is sometimes unreliable. When it is unreliable to us, we seek opinions from those we "believe" to be wiser than ourselves. In Present Shock, this crazy, ruthless, over-intense, mind and body destroying avalanche of information can debilitate even the most trusted of our vanishing advisers.
Because Hope is belief's accomplice. Together, they are old habits of cowardice in concentration. Delusional U-turns on a circular beltway.
We need neither to survive. We never did and still don't. I shouldn't have to point that out.
Real fact is helpful where you can find it. Connected to our devices, the device on which you are reading this text, there is unfortunately little, perhaps none, to be found. Thus, the marketing, development and continuous upgrading of these devices becomes the only way to manage seven billion hopeful believers while the planet is shredded into a million, quadrillion, tiny pieces.
Showing posts with label end of the world. Show all posts
Showing posts with label end of the world. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
a breed without soul
In a recent post concerning overpopulation, I mentioned the lack of identity among purchasing dependent overpopulators:
... Overpopulators who in elbowing their ways through the journey atop Nascar rated tires or encased in overpriced lookalike cages behind gated walls, the cabs and carriers of which include amenities such as surrogate identity where none actually exists, rooms and inhabitants displaying various cult features such as fashion. style, cosmetic surgery, meaningless logos and rude decals, never used tourbus campers, accessorized show pets, sculpture for the stupid tipped over on the tiny lawns and so forth which when distilled are banners hovering above their bodies as cartoon thought bubbles since the verbal skills of these cage dwellers are limited to uninspired overused phrases meted out under stress with matching facial expression instead of the age old middle finger hand signal which could, if employed outside the safety of shatterproof glass, bring on drastically unintended consequences. For example, our mridang master met up with one of these PDO cultists last week, here is his description of the experience:
Hey, good move my man! Too close to the edge indeed. Call in the Astrologers or perhaps this event was yet another training exercise...
Shall we translate his tongue-tied aggressor's meaning behind "Have a nice day", under those circumstances? How about heated guilt? Guilt so pure and intensely felt inside it burned in a wildfire of panic. Caught, the pretender of rights to the pump was instantly reduced to a cheesy four words - words only used in that particular way by all the other countless guilty who know perfectly well they have destroyed your peace of mind by initiating deliberately violent and dangerous action proving for all who happen to be passing by, whatever they are doing is of more importance than whatever you could possibly be doing and are rendered speechless when the unexpected and unknown consequences of their reprehensible behavior suddenly confronts them face to face. "Have a nice day" means Go away. I have no explanation for my actions, I don't even know why I did what I did. I can't apologize because that would give you (and me) living proof I was wrong. Had it been anyone other than our musician confronting her, you can be certain she was aware her behavior was setting the stage for violence. She took a wild gamble there and lucky for her, walked away to continue ruining the days of whomever else was so unfortunate as to be in her path. I'm sure you've met plenty of these kinds of people, we all have, it is unavoidable, especially now as many of them have been born into a world ripped asunder, minus any comprehension of what exists inside themselves and others or even a shred of vague curiosity why the world is what it is today. To question is to risk exposure. They run the gauntlet and take their gambles and often lose, the losses piling high in their wake. And when they don't lose, they still lose, because living a life in this manner makes them no friends. There is something about being behind the wheel or any imaginary shield that ignites these wannabeWetikos like nothing else because out in the open they become sniveling cowards either looking for the nearest escape or threatening with a show of imaginary protections referring to friends in high places, but when you're looking at them, they are accompanied by no one. Who could stand them? They don't even like each other and are so worried their children won't turn out exactly like themselves, the kids are forced to stay indoors, losing their own curiosity and adding pounds watching candy bars broken in half and magically sealed back together on the wide screen.
Sad to say, I've been coming across this kind of thing too much. I try to stay apart, while being there with others, but alert, you never know what triggers another person's unsuspected anger. Of course, this is not always the case, but it has happened enough in these times to be a recurrent phenomena. However long and however well you think you might know someone, there is still a hidden, rather low level potential, you could, completely accidentally, set them off. When that happens, you never forget, whatever you thought you had previous to that moment is gone, the trust betrayed. The trust I am speaking about is a trust that we accept the totality of others, their baggage, their flaws, their bond with us until it is exposed as one sided, which isn't a bond at all. Regardless of how fully we might join in smothering the outburst and make a long drawn-out show of loyalty, in your own mind and memory, the scene lives on. You may think others have long overlooked your lapses too, but from your own experience, you know it is impossible and you can only hope the passage of time brings opportunities where you or she/he show themselves a better man than that deep, dark, secret memory you have of a seemingly out of character event. Note it works not only both ways, but from an intermingling of angles. If you notice it happening repeatedly, you will eventually be forced to confront yourself, asking what are you in it for anyway? Some know exactly why they engineer face to face crisis. The Wetikos and their vain admirers play us like pianos, confident that following a successful guilt-inducing punishment, if you are still present, still forgiving, you are no threat to their existence. One might think they take it for granted no one is paying attention to the dynamic or how it charts itself in the memory-bank. Over and over I see it going down, day after day, night after night, the same scenes enacted by countless human beings refusing to see the reality of what is happening, what they are doing, stumbling over the damage left in the wake of continuing crisis, poisoned to the gills from a steady diet of pesticides, loaded on mind glazing drugs, oblivious to the tortures they inflict and are being inflicted upon them. They are far beyond caring. What's more, they do not want you to point it out to them either, they already know they are in so deep there can be no escape during their lifetime.
I cannot imagine a life spent like that, can you? They might as well just be lifers on the chain gang cultivating your crops. We like to think somewhere down the road the human underneath will show up, but there is no evidence such a folly ever takes place. That would be like hoping Jerry Sandusky mends his ways or George Zimmerman feels remorse. Ladies and gentlemen, there is a breed out there that has no humanity and has laid claim to entire lifetimes without sensitivity, sorrow, suffering, love or compassion. They have learned to blend in order to thrive and thrive at your expense they will. This breed is one of the worst effects of overpopulation because you cannot avoid meeting up with them in crowds. Avoid crowds. Stay aware of your surroundings and keep a low profile. This breed thrives in a pampered and corrupt culture based on worship of the self. In this way, you could call them vampires - energized by the blood of innocents.
We can also say Great Fortune shined upon our beloved musician while being shown the existence of this breed. The fact the remainder of his day turned out so well, not to mention void of conflict escalation, speaks highly of his self-control. That is a self-control we would all be wise to emulate. Considering the bigger picture, with all its extending pressures and disappointments, the undeniable angst of a planet under siege, the refusal to address responsibility for extinction events immediately under way is leading westerners from denial and refusal into violence as if civility no longer matters. To say civility has no place, is saying there is no love. There will always be love, my friends. No matter how unwieldy it gets, how freaky, how strange, how cruel, humiliating, devastating and physically painful, the one thing we can always count on is Love. Love always wins.
I leave you with a link to an alarming report, Global Warming's Terrifying New Math, written by Bill McKibben and published for the August 2012 edition of Rolling Stone. I am sure some of you have seen it already. The fact that this piece was made available in that publication tells us citizens are meant to see it, share it and lose their cool over it. Isn't that what Wetikos really want? Ah, but I've got news for them, the majority of readers will be concerned only until the next personalized blinking ad grabs their eyes.
."..The next time you find yourself sitting in traffic, take a good look at your surroundings, take note of the decals emblazoned in obese fonts with neon hues on westerners' windsheilds, "American Patriot", "I'm not a bitch, I'm THE Bitch" or the rednecks' fave, bin Laden pissing. These indicate a desperation to stand out among the writhing masses, wouldn't you say, a loneliness so severe that attention is drawn by means of annoying hapless passersby? You might also say its obvious they have no identity anymore (if they ever had any to begin with) and obscene decals are the best they could scrabble together in saying "I am alive, look at me, I count dammit!" ..."
... Overpopulators who in elbowing their ways through the journey atop Nascar rated tires or encased in overpriced lookalike cages behind gated walls, the cabs and carriers of which include amenities such as surrogate identity where none actually exists, rooms and inhabitants displaying various cult features such as fashion. style, cosmetic surgery, meaningless logos and rude decals, never used tourbus campers, accessorized show pets, sculpture for the stupid tipped over on the tiny lawns and so forth which when distilled are banners hovering above their bodies as cartoon thought bubbles since the verbal skills of these cage dwellers are limited to uninspired overused phrases meted out under stress with matching facial expression instead of the age old middle finger hand signal which could, if employed outside the safety of shatterproof glass, bring on drastically unintended consequences. For example, our mridang master met up with one of these PDO cultists last week, here is his description of the experience:
"On the 20th, in town, I was flipped off, cut off and almost rammed by a woman tearing in the exit to get in front of me at the gas pump. As she calmly got out I asked what the problem was. My eyes met the most icy cold, nobody-home, face I've seen in a long time. I was told to 'have a nice day'. Maybe I just don't get out much, and this is the new normal? Heavily meded-up was my take, and too close to the edge for me to pursue it further, as it was already disturbing enough...."
Hey, good move my man! Too close to the edge indeed. Call in the Astrologers or perhaps this event was yet another training exercise...
Shall we translate his tongue-tied aggressor's meaning behind "Have a nice day", under those circumstances? How about heated guilt? Guilt so pure and intensely felt inside it burned in a wildfire of panic. Caught, the pretender of rights to the pump was instantly reduced to a cheesy four words - words only used in that particular way by all the other countless guilty who know perfectly well they have destroyed your peace of mind by initiating deliberately violent and dangerous action proving for all who happen to be passing by, whatever they are doing is of more importance than whatever you could possibly be doing and are rendered speechless when the unexpected and unknown consequences of their reprehensible behavior suddenly confronts them face to face. "Have a nice day" means Go away. I have no explanation for my actions, I don't even know why I did what I did. I can't apologize because that would give you (and me) living proof I was wrong. Had it been anyone other than our musician confronting her, you can be certain she was aware her behavior was setting the stage for violence. She took a wild gamble there and lucky for her, walked away to continue ruining the days of whomever else was so unfortunate as to be in her path. I'm sure you've met plenty of these kinds of people, we all have, it is unavoidable, especially now as many of them have been born into a world ripped asunder, minus any comprehension of what exists inside themselves and others or even a shred of vague curiosity why the world is what it is today. To question is to risk exposure. They run the gauntlet and take their gambles and often lose, the losses piling high in their wake. And when they don't lose, they still lose, because living a life in this manner makes them no friends. There is something about being behind the wheel or any imaginary shield that ignites these wannabeWetikos like nothing else because out in the open they become sniveling cowards either looking for the nearest escape or threatening with a show of imaginary protections referring to friends in high places, but when you're looking at them, they are accompanied by no one. Who could stand them? They don't even like each other and are so worried their children won't turn out exactly like themselves, the kids are forced to stay indoors, losing their own curiosity and adding pounds watching candy bars broken in half and magically sealed back together on the wide screen.
Sad to say, I've been coming across this kind of thing too much. I try to stay apart, while being there with others, but alert, you never know what triggers another person's unsuspected anger. Of course, this is not always the case, but it has happened enough in these times to be a recurrent phenomena. However long and however well you think you might know someone, there is still a hidden, rather low level potential, you could, completely accidentally, set them off. When that happens, you never forget, whatever you thought you had previous to that moment is gone, the trust betrayed. The trust I am speaking about is a trust that we accept the totality of others, their baggage, their flaws, their bond with us until it is exposed as one sided, which isn't a bond at all. Regardless of how fully we might join in smothering the outburst and make a long drawn-out show of loyalty, in your own mind and memory, the scene lives on. You may think others have long overlooked your lapses too, but from your own experience, you know it is impossible and you can only hope the passage of time brings opportunities where you or she/he show themselves a better man than that deep, dark, secret memory you have of a seemingly out of character event. Note it works not only both ways, but from an intermingling of angles. If you notice it happening repeatedly, you will eventually be forced to confront yourself, asking what are you in it for anyway? Some know exactly why they engineer face to face crisis. The Wetikos and their vain admirers play us like pianos, confident that following a successful guilt-inducing punishment, if you are still present, still forgiving, you are no threat to their existence. One might think they take it for granted no one is paying attention to the dynamic or how it charts itself in the memory-bank. Over and over I see it going down, day after day, night after night, the same scenes enacted by countless human beings refusing to see the reality of what is happening, what they are doing, stumbling over the damage left in the wake of continuing crisis, poisoned to the gills from a steady diet of pesticides, loaded on mind glazing drugs, oblivious to the tortures they inflict and are being inflicted upon them. They are far beyond caring. What's more, they do not want you to point it out to them either, they already know they are in so deep there can be no escape during their lifetime.
I cannot imagine a life spent like that, can you? They might as well just be lifers on the chain gang cultivating your crops. We like to think somewhere down the road the human underneath will show up, but there is no evidence such a folly ever takes place. That would be like hoping Jerry Sandusky mends his ways or George Zimmerman feels remorse. Ladies and gentlemen, there is a breed out there that has no humanity and has laid claim to entire lifetimes without sensitivity, sorrow, suffering, love or compassion. They have learned to blend in order to thrive and thrive at your expense they will. This breed is one of the worst effects of overpopulation because you cannot avoid meeting up with them in crowds. Avoid crowds. Stay aware of your surroundings and keep a low profile. This breed thrives in a pampered and corrupt culture based on worship of the self. In this way, you could call them vampires - energized by the blood of innocents.
We can also say Great Fortune shined upon our beloved musician while being shown the existence of this breed. The fact the remainder of his day turned out so well, not to mention void of conflict escalation, speaks highly of his self-control. That is a self-control we would all be wise to emulate. Considering the bigger picture, with all its extending pressures and disappointments, the undeniable angst of a planet under siege, the refusal to address responsibility for extinction events immediately under way is leading westerners from denial and refusal into violence as if civility no longer matters. To say civility has no place, is saying there is no love. There will always be love, my friends. No matter how unwieldy it gets, how freaky, how strange, how cruel, humiliating, devastating and physically painful, the one thing we can always count on is Love. Love always wins.
I leave you with a link to an alarming report, Global Warming's Terrifying New Math, written by Bill McKibben and published for the August 2012 edition of Rolling Stone. I am sure some of you have seen it already. The fact that this piece was made available in that publication tells us citizens are meant to see it, share it and lose their cool over it. Isn't that what Wetikos really want? Ah, but I've got news for them, the majority of readers will be concerned only until the next personalized blinking ad grabs their eyes.
"... This record of failure means we know a lot about what strategies don't work. Green groups, for instance, have spent a lot of time trying to change individual lifestyles: the iconic twisty light bulb has been installed by the millions, but so have a new generation of energy-sucking flatscreen TVs. Most of us are fundamentally ambivalent about going green: We like cheap flights to warm places, and we're certainly not going to give them up if everyone else is still taking them. Since all of us are in some way the beneficiaries of cheap fossil fuel, tackling climate change has been like trying to build a movement against yourself – it's as if the gay-rights movement had to be constructed entirely from evangelical preachers, or the abolition movement from slaveholders. ..."
Friday, June 29, 2012
The Confluence Comes Home
May your noses always sniff out evil.
Let us revisit overpopulation today. Survival Acres has a new post up that requires our attention. Do visit if you can clear the underbrush in your mind long enough to understand the immediacy of the situation. Clearing the mind is not exactly an easy accomplishment during the reelection dogfights, ah, such choiceless mockeries of mockeries, shams of shams, put them in the ring with the mopmen and pressing crowds in formal attire cheering for blood. Are these events even worthy of your attention? Oh please. I look at the past few hours being online as futile except for John's confirmation of what we already know and refused to voice, as stated earlier... We'd better get real and soon. Although, getting real isn't an effortless accomplishment either, humans have some weird optimism trigger that kicks on as worse turns to dire and dire turns to imminent. We've all experienced "the delay" in the face of disaster. For some few, it is extremely brief, for others, a "do anything other than act" sets in which shortly is nonverbally expressed as trust and faith someone else will save your ass.
I moved yet again a few weeks ago, thus the delay in getting up a new post. While it may be seen as a running from, actually it was a welcome relief to hang out with more welcoming, intelligent people, not that there is anything wrong with the desert crowd, but isolation serves to distort one's perspective on just about anything. Lesson learned: sharing is what its all about. I've been doing things I never would have done previously and these are things such as attending open air theater under the backdrop of illustrious Spring Mountain, shown above, and back-breaking weeding on the home landscape neglected for years due to typical citizens' daily routines of ten hour workdays and drive-in takeaway before supine exhaustion. The idea is to help where real help is needed. There is a swimming pool beneath the twelve foot high dandelion greens, which until recently formed a hanging jungle, all of which is gone now including dangerous dead undergrowth matted atop soil. I still have much to do so please bear with me for another few weeks. What is most amazing are the number of helicopters passing overhead. They pass by in parades succeeding one another by sometimes a mere sixty seconds. It goes on all day, probably at night too. These are not news helicopters, these are something else and I have no idea what they are doing yet I've seen them as far away as Hoover Dam which means they are further south and then who knows where else. I expect they will shortly turn into surveillance drones with trails conveniently blazed in advance of their arrival. You have to ask yourself, what is the point? Does illegal immigration matter anymore? It seems to have given nourishment to these insane cartels which I do not think our peeps can control geographically. Indeed, there is a long standing moral about this kind of activity, something about barn doors and horses escaping ...
Do we really need to be surveilled? Or is this whole effort a boon to the security/weapons industries in the way healthcare is a boon to mega-insurers? Considering the disaster rate, insurers could lose their pants immediately and live/breathe avoidance of payouts. Perhaps to counter further failure of global economies, they've been handed the medical/pharmaceutical industries as the lifeboat of all time to stay afloat in our stormy situation. And still more gilded life rings are passed around in spite of their obvious hastening of the planet's demise! Do you believe this? Is it even possible? I really do not want to accept this as truth. They are so off the wall in freely passing out destructive opportunities for financial gain they are either deaf, dumb and blind or they don't believe the very words out of their own mouths, like wooden dummies, seated on the knee of Satan, clucking sarcastically at the gullibility of the dirty unwashed, diseased, whining, broke and broken populations stuck into repetitive patterns of gimme gimme in all its indulgent guises.
The tragedy is to see it when it never should have happened and now it cannot be stopped. In 1963, forty-nine eventful years ago, my child self asked my mother if I could use her aerosol can of hairspray to which she replied, sighing, "Well, do what you want, its your world now." THEY KNEW THEN. And they know now. And they're never going to tell us either because mass chaos would ensue, the mass chaos that makes humanity the object of surveillance. Equally sad is the gross underestimation of humanities' inherent goodness. It is that part especially that stands out as you attempt to do something normal, something decent, like foodshopping or walking the dog, and you can't help but notice the fabric of society in vast disarray, everywhere, caring is for the stupid you know, you are supposed to be at home watching the stations' rotation of news casters, enjoying freecell on your cellphone and singling out those who are not in compliance with the program of delusion, instead of watching live scams go down block by block showing raw evidence of where the money is going and vanishing as some are obliviously unconcerned behind frescoed walls while others carry their domestic anguish into the street. It is my observation, money is always the root of all problems. It may not appear so, in fact it rarely will show itself, but look deeper. It refuses to be acknowledged because such a root would be so crass. When the means of exchange for goods and services turned into paper notes, our end was, from that moment on, written in the wind.
I certainly have enjoyed blogging with such a fine tribe of friends. I see no reason to stop just because we've been lied to, cheated out of the future, cheated in every which way, robbed, trashed, humiliated and scammed, carpet bagged and incarcerated from birth into perpetual falseness as lifetime clowns in sad face, lingering these last few years for the distant roar of the crowd, the GMO popcorn, the Lions, what is left of them, breaking from their master's whip to foist centuries of anger denied them upon the innocent and stupid as the seams burst from overcrowding while the news choppers tape it all for the six o'clock hour where disaster is just another breathless ploy to score ratings which attract paying sponsors.
Jah Guide - and be the good person that you are regardless of circumstance. Do the right thing every time. Blessings abound.
Let us revisit overpopulation today. Survival Acres has a new post up that requires our attention. Do visit if you can clear the underbrush in your mind long enough to understand the immediacy of the situation. Clearing the mind is not exactly an easy accomplishment during the reelection dogfights, ah, such choiceless mockeries of mockeries, shams of shams, put them in the ring with the mopmen and pressing crowds in formal attire cheering for blood. Are these events even worthy of your attention? Oh please. I look at the past few hours being online as futile except for John's confirmation of what we already know and refused to voice, as stated earlier... We'd better get real and soon. Although, getting real isn't an effortless accomplishment either, humans have some weird optimism trigger that kicks on as worse turns to dire and dire turns to imminent. We've all experienced "the delay" in the face of disaster. For some few, it is extremely brief, for others, a "do anything other than act" sets in which shortly is nonverbally expressed as trust and faith someone else will save your ass.
I moved yet again a few weeks ago, thus the delay in getting up a new post. While it may be seen as a running from, actually it was a welcome relief to hang out with more welcoming, intelligent people, not that there is anything wrong with the desert crowd, but isolation serves to distort one's perspective on just about anything. Lesson learned: sharing is what its all about. I've been doing things I never would have done previously and these are things such as attending open air theater under the backdrop of illustrious Spring Mountain, shown above, and back-breaking weeding on the home landscape neglected for years due to typical citizens' daily routines of ten hour workdays and drive-in takeaway before supine exhaustion. The idea is to help where real help is needed. There is a swimming pool beneath the twelve foot high dandelion greens, which until recently formed a hanging jungle, all of which is gone now including dangerous dead undergrowth matted atop soil. I still have much to do so please bear with me for another few weeks. What is most amazing are the number of helicopters passing overhead. They pass by in parades succeeding one another by sometimes a mere sixty seconds. It goes on all day, probably at night too. These are not news helicopters, these are something else and I have no idea what they are doing yet I've seen them as far away as Hoover Dam which means they are further south and then who knows where else. I expect they will shortly turn into surveillance drones with trails conveniently blazed in advance of their arrival. You have to ask yourself, what is the point? Does illegal immigration matter anymore? It seems to have given nourishment to these insane cartels which I do not think our peeps can control geographically. Indeed, there is a long standing moral about this kind of activity, something about barn doors and horses escaping ...
Do we really need to be surveilled? Or is this whole effort a boon to the security/weapons industries in the way healthcare is a boon to mega-insurers? Considering the disaster rate, insurers could lose their pants immediately and live/breathe avoidance of payouts. Perhaps to counter further failure of global economies, they've been handed the medical/pharmaceutical industries as the lifeboat of all time to stay afloat in our stormy situation. And still more gilded life rings are passed around in spite of their obvious hastening of the planet's demise! Do you believe this? Is it even possible? I really do not want to accept this as truth. They are so off the wall in freely passing out destructive opportunities for financial gain they are either deaf, dumb and blind or they don't believe the very words out of their own mouths, like wooden dummies, seated on the knee of Satan, clucking sarcastically at the gullibility of the dirty unwashed, diseased, whining, broke and broken populations stuck into repetitive patterns of gimme gimme in all its indulgent guises.
The tragedy is to see it when it never should have happened and now it cannot be stopped. In 1963, forty-nine eventful years ago, my child self asked my mother if I could use her aerosol can of hairspray to which she replied, sighing, "Well, do what you want, its your world now." THEY KNEW THEN. And they know now. And they're never going to tell us either because mass chaos would ensue, the mass chaos that makes humanity the object of surveillance. Equally sad is the gross underestimation of humanities' inherent goodness. It is that part especially that stands out as you attempt to do something normal, something decent, like foodshopping or walking the dog, and you can't help but notice the fabric of society in vast disarray, everywhere, caring is for the stupid you know, you are supposed to be at home watching the stations' rotation of news casters, enjoying freecell on your cellphone and singling out those who are not in compliance with the program of delusion, instead of watching live scams go down block by block showing raw evidence of where the money is going and vanishing as some are obliviously unconcerned behind frescoed walls while others carry their domestic anguish into the street. It is my observation, money is always the root of all problems. It may not appear so, in fact it rarely will show itself, but look deeper. It refuses to be acknowledged because such a root would be so crass. When the means of exchange for goods and services turned into paper notes, our end was, from that moment on, written in the wind.
I certainly have enjoyed blogging with such a fine tribe of friends. I see no reason to stop just because we've been lied to, cheated out of the future, cheated in every which way, robbed, trashed, humiliated and scammed, carpet bagged and incarcerated from birth into perpetual falseness as lifetime clowns in sad face, lingering these last few years for the distant roar of the crowd, the GMO popcorn, the Lions, what is left of them, breaking from their master's whip to foist centuries of anger denied them upon the innocent and stupid as the seams burst from overcrowding while the news choppers tape it all for the six o'clock hour where disaster is just another breathless ploy to score ratings which attract paying sponsors.
Jah Guide - and be the good person that you are regardless of circumstance. Do the right thing every time. Blessings abound.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
postcard from Planet Backwards
We may have been transported to another planet while we slept. A planet where everything appears as it was when you went to bed, but the rules are different. The certainty is gone, nothing can be counted on to be what you thought it was, including mirrors which show only your preening representative-self, but these mirrors now imported from somewhere gawd only knows, are part of the new, New World lifestyles we all lead helplessly where right is wrong and black is white. I've said it before and will say it again, no one is immune. I'm quite sure you know how it goes, these sudden spring days give us a nostalgia, a screen door barefoot kind of summery happy sadness, something deep within the heart wants to go home again, but we don't really know where home is anymore. Perhaps it never was real considering how much is being revealed in the present, perhaps it was only a lyric in a song you resonated with or an artwork that spoke to you in a way that touched you and you reminisced about something hazy that was just a dream on your way to partake in continuing the dream as if it was endless. And then, BRRRRIIING BRRRRIIING, the cell woke you up with a scam call, an 800 number announcing BofA was here to help. As if anyone needs that kind of help. "Your social please."
I'm thinking about the recent events trying to separate my own conclusions from everyone else's observations. The problem seems to be that so many windup clacking dental jaws make their definitive pronouncements on these situations which muddles us and it takes a lot of silence and a good amount of disgust before strange new worldie ideas come creepin' round. In the midst of this jibber jabber, we forge on with our normal routines, so following my own advice, I make a point to remember fleeting thoughts no matter how absurd because after all, absurdity is rational on Planet Backwards.
To begin with, I labored for years upon years under one set of inviolate basics and as I matured, I took it for granted everyone else matured mentally and spiritually as well. Oh, ho ho. I blew off the Clinton years as a single parent which takes up a lot of attention and time leaving one somewhat ill-equipped to peer into the mysterious direction our world is taking, so when 2001 came along, and the bullhorner kept harping on attacks, I was stunned. Did he mean war? Had we not grown beyond that? What? That's video game nonsense, comics, sandbox bullying. He couldn't be serious! However, obviously we had already been transported and 2001 was the wake-up year we debarked as unwilling hostages, searched and tagged into Planet Backwards. Was it AD, BC, or NWO time? We can't know for sure, that's one of the chief hallmarks of this joint, nothing is what you are forced into pretending it is. Let's take this BP hit for example, didn't they used to be that gas station outfit with Swiss-style greenie graphics? On Planet Backwards, they are a ludicrously wealthy and universally powerful energy provider which appears to possess enough chutzpah to claw a hole in the tectonic plates holding our previous planet in place. And you know what that means, well the plates kept a movin' and a shiftin' until all those tender, flaming tectonic platters overlapped on top of each other and BOOM, there went Japan. Tragedy of all tragedies, Japan proved itself just as ill-equipped as I was to peer into the direction the wonderful wheels of progress had taken them. During all the years they should have known better, they were desperately balancing non-existent yen from a bone dry piggy bank rather than thinking about their rice paper villages despite the 1997 Kyoto Protocols on Climate Change. You have to imagine those very intelligent people that studiously researched the issues got an education that may well have saved their once exquisite paradise given the opportunity to speak truthfully where it counts. Somewhere there are some sad human beings, disoriented and displaced to shelters asking themselves why they took no for an answer.
Then I think about us, what an unholy mess was made of that sweet dream, guaranteed to get messier. Where does it end, you'll notice it is not even paring off, not in the slightest. Is everyone supposed to be homeless? They say this year is a bad one for housing, the word is foreclosures this year will beat all the previous years. Our economy is still in the toilet and the cowardly laureate only worsens the wound with a little altruistic interventionism which when you think about it, isn't this exactly what ignites the bubble bath? Well, around the hallowed dinner tables where pundits are not allowed, a big fat dose of grisly war is just the right prescription for an ailing economy. From Planet Backwards where war is peace, our telescopic star gazers hint stubborn Col. Qaddafi may have given the interventionists (ridiculous label alert) the gift of continuing consumptive prosperity. Does slave labor in China make those gilded plastic coffins for export?
Maybe it would have been more clever to save this entry for April Fools' Day, but many bloggers actually write posts in advance, and with the never ending advent of technology one simply clicks the mouse and posts appear at some exact time and date of their choice. I always wondered on every April 1st, who is the fool?
The sheep are doing very well. All the kids are behaving like human children, busy, curious, enchanted, hungry, frolicking, joyous. They never just walk, they leap and hop. These particular sheep really have it good on Planet Backwards. If we just had wool coats and three-chambered stomachs, we could graze our hearts away too, never having to worry about anything other than staying dry in rainy weather. Although, with their extreme super-coats, rain water bounces right off. The day pen was moved much closer this morning and they are practically grazing at our door. I moved my drawing table right up to the corner windows for some gesture drawings of these guys. Gesture drawings are quick, (one minute is too long) rough pencil sketches for the purpose of loosening one's hand as well as improving the eye's understanding of anatomy so that you learn to see what IS and how it feels, rather than what you thought it was or surmised how it felt. Any art school worth its tuition fees spends the entire foundation year on Nicolaides gesture drawing techniques with live, nude models. This is known as Life Drawing 101. If you don't get to do this, you are condemned to spend your years on Planet Earth doing scritchy scratch on ruled notebook paper. Heh, I am a purist. not.
Allow me to close this post with sincere condolences, comfort and love to the Beageant family and to our brilliant and talented friends, Brian and Chickory, on their recent losses. Joe and those adored Mothers (great women who raised great people) are free at last. Praise Jah and His compassionate benevolence, when we have finally had enough He is there.
I'm thinking about the recent events trying to separate my own conclusions from everyone else's observations. The problem seems to be that so many windup clacking dental jaws make their definitive pronouncements on these situations which muddles us and it takes a lot of silence and a good amount of disgust before strange new worldie ideas come creepin' round. In the midst of this jibber jabber, we forge on with our normal routines, so following my own advice, I make a point to remember fleeting thoughts no matter how absurd because after all, absurdity is rational on Planet Backwards.
To begin with, I labored for years upon years under one set of inviolate basics and as I matured, I took it for granted everyone else matured mentally and spiritually as well. Oh, ho ho. I blew off the Clinton years as a single parent which takes up a lot of attention and time leaving one somewhat ill-equipped to peer into the mysterious direction our world is taking, so when 2001 came along, and the bullhorner kept harping on attacks, I was stunned. Did he mean war? Had we not grown beyond that? What? That's video game nonsense, comics, sandbox bullying. He couldn't be serious! However, obviously we had already been transported and 2001 was the wake-up year we debarked as unwilling hostages, searched and tagged into Planet Backwards. Was it AD, BC, or NWO time? We can't know for sure, that's one of the chief hallmarks of this joint, nothing is what you are forced into pretending it is. Let's take this BP hit for example, didn't they used to be that gas station outfit with Swiss-style greenie graphics? On Planet Backwards, they are a ludicrously wealthy and universally powerful energy provider which appears to possess enough chutzpah to claw a hole in the tectonic plates holding our previous planet in place. And you know what that means, well the plates kept a movin' and a shiftin' until all those tender, flaming tectonic platters overlapped on top of each other and BOOM, there went Japan. Tragedy of all tragedies, Japan proved itself just as ill-equipped as I was to peer into the direction the wonderful wheels of progress had taken them. During all the years they should have known better, they were desperately balancing non-existent yen from a bone dry piggy bank rather than thinking about their rice paper villages despite the 1997 Kyoto Protocols on Climate Change. You have to imagine those very intelligent people that studiously researched the issues got an education that may well have saved their once exquisite paradise given the opportunity to speak truthfully where it counts. Somewhere there are some sad human beings, disoriented and displaced to shelters asking themselves why they took no for an answer.
Then I think about us, what an unholy mess was made of that sweet dream, guaranteed to get messier. Where does it end, you'll notice it is not even paring off, not in the slightest. Is everyone supposed to be homeless? They say this year is a bad one for housing, the word is foreclosures this year will beat all the previous years. Our economy is still in the toilet and the cowardly laureate only worsens the wound with a little altruistic interventionism which when you think about it, isn't this exactly what ignites the bubble bath? Well, around the hallowed dinner tables where pundits are not allowed, a big fat dose of grisly war is just the right prescription for an ailing economy. From Planet Backwards where war is peace, our telescopic star gazers hint stubborn Col. Qaddafi may have given the interventionists (ridiculous label alert) the gift of continuing consumptive prosperity. Does slave labor in China make those gilded plastic coffins for export?
Maybe it would have been more clever to save this entry for April Fools' Day, but many bloggers actually write posts in advance, and with the never ending advent of technology one simply clicks the mouse and posts appear at some exact time and date of their choice. I always wondered on every April 1st, who is the fool?
 |
| the Kids are alright |
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| Amos keeps an eye on his family from the big house |
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| Mother Scarlett watches too |
Allow me to close this post with sincere condolences, comfort and love to the Beageant family and to our brilliant and talented friends, Brian and Chickory, on their recent losses. Joe and those adored Mothers (great women who raised great people) are free at last. Praise Jah and His compassionate benevolence, when we have finally had enough He is there.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
So Jah seh
...What's wrong with you my brother
So jah seh
Ye are the sheep of my pasture
So verily, thou shall be very well
So jah seh... Bob Marley
It is in keeping with the general Wetiko hallmarks that Rogue Planet Niburu would be the cause of all these recent disasters. Yeah, right. This absolves them (they think) of any responsibility for anthropogenic climate change which in turn allows them to pump up the fantasy. And as long as people believe it, because it is on woo CNN, it must be gospel. Drop by Dublin Mick's office for some reality. He's in session at this moment. If Niburu goes into the archives, all you have to do is click on the previous post arrow. He makes it all so simple. Indeed, there are some of us perhaps a little vacant on the Niburu story, as we are on a few other stories, because there is SO much going on in Mother's house lately, it is a little hard to be on top of it all, all the time. Dubs doesn't seem to miss a trick.
Last night the man on the couch with his feet on what passes here for a coffee table, his rectangular plywood slab on a round wicker base because carousing dogs broke the former top, jumped up to announce "That coward is going to attack Libya!" He then went back to what I thought was TV watching, but apparently his mind was wrapped around extra external events in that interesting way which later on proves he was solving mysteries with facts. This is why I've said in the past he's always right. I know, its not easy when the only other human in the household is always right, however, I've learned to listen, coupling it with my own observations, it looks like we are going to undergo yet another erasure of a functioning society. You know how it goes by now. I sped by a headline recently about Gadaffi's coffers emptied by the you-know-whos, I can't verify it with a link, but again, as I said, financial weapons of mass destruction are the first and last resort. But what do we know really? If we don't see a Saddam in the spideyhole/headlice exam followed by the noose, how would we know all these guys and their stand-ins are not living it up in Paraguay soaking up the Guarani Aquifer while sitting in a Cialis bathtub on Ecstasy. Between the very real possibility humanity will vanish from the face of the Earth in a nuclear winter and the prevailing Wetiko paranoid fantasies, anything we might have to say about it is not a consideration. Somehow, like circus performers learning how to walk the tightrope, we have gradually steeled ourselves knowing anything can happen ... at any time.
I caught Rachel Maddow's interview with Naomi Klein tonight. You might like to read the transcript which does not yet exist on MSMBC's site. Here is where it will show up in its own good time. Naomi really has her act together. Not a single blank stare or "Um", just straight shooting drawing from her book The Shock Doctrine, the rise of Disaster Capitalism and how disasters are perfect for a Wetiko strike during which everyone in the shock of disaster is already disoriented by what is happening on the ground, thus they are in no shape to grasp the scale of their losses. I'm sure you are familiar with Naomi's works. Of course there is more to it, the Wetikos are relentlessly busy and they have all sorts of secret compartments in which they labor, all designed to produce the most from the least without the responsibility of having created mass destruction, horrific losses, each event taking us further into that alarming possiblity I mentioned earlier. While we're at it, let me just mention here that as long as they are into farming disasters, just like big ag, there is no stopping the escalation. This naturally creates a mental chart with a red line going straight through the top where it says Implications of Universal Imbalance. Well, somehow you could get the idea if they keep it up, even climate chaos pales in comparison. Certainly, we do not want to let our imaginations get carried away, but you will recall Newton's Law of Motion: Every action has a reaction.
We, meaning us, not them and us, actually have a choice in these areas. Several. Ignore it and love your life. Or, listen with one ear and watch with one eye while loving your life. The other choice is to succumb to hyper paranoia and make yourself a sandwich board to wear at the main intersection in your locale. That last one will definitely get you into diversionary hot water or at least squashed by a tea party bus on its way to an Alaskan meet-up.
I chose the second coping strategy. Scarlett the sheep had her two babies on the morning of March 3rd. It was and is one of the most holy experiences I've ever had just to witness the miracle of something old ranch hands with huge corrals of livestock probably take for granted. It seems that Scarlett is a most fortunate ewe in that she was not just one of thousands, but surrounded by great love and joy. We expect Bella to repeat the holiness next week, hopefully producing two lambs because three means you have to feed the third. Ewes have only two nipples. I have been spending time holding the lambs which puts real truth to the phrase "gentle as a lamb". Over the past few days, they have grown thicker coats and are up wandering around testing the limits of their pen which is growing larger everytime I visit. There are a lot of things to watch for out here, coyotes and the occasional mountain lion, however, every precaution and protection has been taken and predators don't really want to take on Dad, Amos the Ram, who is a sweetheart underneath his unsheared wool. Stella the Mustang miscarried two days earlier and could see everything going on over at the Sheeps' mansion, so I spent extra time with her and gathered huge bags of grass as a diversion from her loss. I've been talking her through it, we all know its best to honestly address another's sorrow, especially those among us who can't speak for themselves, still she made herself clear that nothing will be exactly back together until she has a foal of her own. This will happen, but not this year. Horses are in gestation for eleven months.
Meanwhile. I'd like to express gratitude to the people who continued commenting during my sabbatical in ag science. I used to feel a self-imposed pressure if something new didn't make it to eblogger at least every week, but no more, thanks to chickory who once said the time inbetween posts doesn't matter and to Scrap Wood who gave me permission to quit blogging altogether. There are many other things out there calling us and we should take advantage of those most promising spiritual growth however possible, although sometimes we don't know what surprises we shall meet, whatever they may turn out to be, the opportunity to create spritual growth exists everywhere. When you find yourself stacking logs you are participating in the real history of humanity, most of all you are joyously weaving yourself into stewardship of God's intent.
How do I know God's intent, I don't, I wouldn't begin to presume, but everyday we are made more aware of what was not intended.
So jah seh
Ye are the sheep of my pasture
So verily, thou shall be very well
So jah seh... Bob Marley
It is in keeping with the general Wetiko hallmarks that Rogue Planet Niburu would be the cause of all these recent disasters. Yeah, right. This absolves them (they think) of any responsibility for anthropogenic climate change which in turn allows them to pump up the fantasy. And as long as people believe it, because it is on woo CNN, it must be gospel. Drop by Dublin Mick's office for some reality. He's in session at this moment. If Niburu goes into the archives, all you have to do is click on the previous post arrow. He makes it all so simple. Indeed, there are some of us perhaps a little vacant on the Niburu story, as we are on a few other stories, because there is SO much going on in Mother's house lately, it is a little hard to be on top of it all, all the time. Dubs doesn't seem to miss a trick.
Last night the man on the couch with his feet on what passes here for a coffee table, his rectangular plywood slab on a round wicker base because carousing dogs broke the former top, jumped up to announce "That coward is going to attack Libya!" He then went back to what I thought was TV watching, but apparently his mind was wrapped around extra external events in that interesting way which later on proves he was solving mysteries with facts. This is why I've said in the past he's always right. I know, its not easy when the only other human in the household is always right, however, I've learned to listen, coupling it with my own observations, it looks like we are going to undergo yet another erasure of a functioning society. You know how it goes by now. I sped by a headline recently about Gadaffi's coffers emptied by the you-know-whos, I can't verify it with a link, but again, as I said, financial weapons of mass destruction are the first and last resort. But what do we know really? If we don't see a Saddam in the spideyhole/headlice exam followed by the noose, how would we know all these guys and their stand-ins are not living it up in Paraguay soaking up the Guarani Aquifer while sitting in a Cialis bathtub on Ecstasy. Between the very real possibility humanity will vanish from the face of the Earth in a nuclear winter and the prevailing Wetiko paranoid fantasies, anything we might have to say about it is not a consideration. Somehow, like circus performers learning how to walk the tightrope, we have gradually steeled ourselves knowing anything can happen ... at any time.
I caught Rachel Maddow's interview with Naomi Klein tonight. You might like to read the transcript which does not yet exist on MSMBC's site. Here is where it will show up in its own good time. Naomi really has her act together. Not a single blank stare or "Um", just straight shooting drawing from her book The Shock Doctrine, the rise of Disaster Capitalism and how disasters are perfect for a Wetiko strike during which everyone in the shock of disaster is already disoriented by what is happening on the ground, thus they are in no shape to grasp the scale of their losses. I'm sure you are familiar with Naomi's works. Of course there is more to it, the Wetikos are relentlessly busy and they have all sorts of secret compartments in which they labor, all designed to produce the most from the least without the responsibility of having created mass destruction, horrific losses, each event taking us further into that alarming possiblity I mentioned earlier. While we're at it, let me just mention here that as long as they are into farming disasters, just like big ag, there is no stopping the escalation. This naturally creates a mental chart with a red line going straight through the top where it says Implications of Universal Imbalance. Well, somehow you could get the idea if they keep it up, even climate chaos pales in comparison. Certainly, we do not want to let our imaginations get carried away, but you will recall Newton's Law of Motion: Every action has a reaction.
 |
| First hour on planet Earth |
We, meaning us, not them and us, actually have a choice in these areas. Several. Ignore it and love your life. Or, listen with one ear and watch with one eye while loving your life. The other choice is to succumb to hyper paranoia and make yourself a sandwich board to wear at the main intersection in your locale. That last one will definitely get you into diversionary hot water or at least squashed by a tea party bus on its way to an Alaskan meet-up.
 |
| Day three on Planet Earth |
Meanwhile. I'd like to express gratitude to the people who continued commenting during my sabbatical in ag science. I used to feel a self-imposed pressure if something new didn't make it to eblogger at least every week, but no more, thanks to chickory who once said the time inbetween posts doesn't matter and to Scrap Wood who gave me permission to quit blogging altogether. There are many other things out there calling us and we should take advantage of those most promising spiritual growth however possible, although sometimes we don't know what surprises we shall meet, whatever they may turn out to be, the opportunity to create spritual growth exists everywhere. When you find yourself stacking logs you are participating in the real history of humanity, most of all you are joyously weaving yourself into stewardship of God's intent.
How do I know God's intent, I don't, I wouldn't begin to presume, but everyday we are made more aware of what was not intended.
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