the sliming

Is it not strange to you how there has been a recent cluster of three riveting global disasters, not including the warring separatists and all that symbolizes and portends, with losses in similar numbers, MH370/Malaysia, stolen Nigerian schoolgirls and the sinking of the South Korean ferry ... the numbers of losses change as some have managed escape and dependent on who is doing the reporting, however, they range in the 200 to 300 figure.
UPDATE: Add the Turkish Miners burned to death underground...which presents to us now as a quartetto of riveting global disasters which very nearly if not exactly, are running along at about one x per week.  Ahem ...Oh and the Nigerian schoolgirls have not been found at this writing.  Why is that?  Its not, please tell me its not, its not that which we already know.  A tiny festering sore ignored because energy is getting expensive just like everything throughout civilization is running out.  Slip Sliding Away.  Change soon come, my Spars.
                                           end of update

I am not going to get into the details, all who are reading here at this moment cannot help but absorb international headlines. The trinity  quartet of three four human crises in a row feels other worldly.  It feels like whatever the truth is concerning the cause of each disaster and the actions that led to them, won't ever be known, but generalized in a manner that makes it easy for western peoples to file under Backward with a sub folder of Corrupt and go on to a new tab.


I would like to note in addition to the publicly available data, the media, perhaps to keep these stories live and continue collecting revenue, seem to over emphasize, actually relish, the local backwards handling of these three disasters within each respective country.

 The Message?

In each case, great dishonor has been done to those who acted as they only knew how to act.  After all, when decent human beings are face to face with certain death, do the rules any longer apply?  Instead they are slammed to the wall.  As if anything less than the highest tech, Snowdenized drone militia could have possibly saved everything that happened from happening at all, as if, for example, Nigeria's shores had not already been helplessly shackled by Black Gold under the land where their people arrived into this very world.  They live differently than we do in every way you can and can not possibly imagine. Each country has its own operational style and culture.  How they accomplish what they must is on a very different timetable than ours, certainly under our extended Present Shock. Where does this come-lately, comic book journalism get the hutzpah to brazenly speculate, insinuating blame and fault, when blame and fault always serves to worsen any crisis?  Subterfuge shortly becomes its own crisis.  That would mean more news. More billboarding.  More pop ups on the highways of our trip.  More of everything that makes us what we are perceived as being. Slick badasses with the word.  And that word is money.  The manual: How to Covertly Create Subservience.


We are to think only WE~tikos, yea!, are the only intelligent life form on the planet.  Why, only Vampires and Cannibals always do everything necessary and also, are always right AND in a timely fashion!  Must we remind them of the Bush Brownie Chertoff debacle of Katrina?  Yes, Mr, Chertoff told the nation he read about it in the Saturday morning paper over coffee while bodies were floating upside down in the streets of New Orleans.  And then there was that early news clip following 911, if I recall correctly, immediately following the goat book reading, Bush was reported to have flown around aimlessly in AF1 eating ice cream before deciding to hang out at (safe, comfortably distracting) Warren's crib. 

It does not further one to cross the water

We have a few new links brought to us from Charles in the Free Never Overdue Library over there on the left, please take some time to digest them. A big Thank You to Charles.

So now, it looks like we'll be leaving the Middle East having accomplished the stated objective. Perhaps this objective is included in the Status of Forces agreement with Iraq, and perhaps there never was a SOFA at all. And certainly, we can expect what is left of our weary troops to come home from Afghanistan, right, with their bodies and minds intact since PTSD will soon be a fading footnote in the Diagnostics Manual. And we'll have no more terror talk and idiots on planes doing weird things with their underwear and shoes, so TSA will be furloughing the gropers, right? Did Saddam even know Obama, I mean Osama? One thing is for sure, there will be no more fake Osama videos. Whew. Can Nick Berg come home now? There is one burning question we all need to ask at this time given all the bs that has taken over our lovely planet and that would be Did they hate us for our bank robbers? Heh, you bet cuz the robber barons know nothing of sovereignty.

Writing the blog today is a lot like the end of the year high school yearbook signing fest where everyone tries to nutshell what took place and how much their friendships kept them mentally stable during those times. Your closest friends were allowed to take up a whole page, the more full page memories you collected, the more popular you were. Since popularity is definitely not the objective here, we won't go into all the misery and mischief that has gone down since the towers blew, you are living through the aftermath already. You want to scream, fine by me. You want to cry too? Have a tissue.

If ever you are going to deliberately lie, you need to have an ironclad alibi without holes otherwise someone will figure it out. The problem we are looking at today is lies were told, so many that the liars lost track, got cocky and left gaping craters which immediately were filled by willing loyalists who only created greater caverns of disbelief continuing to remind the victim/shil/mark/you that the string of nonsense produced was just that, nonsense, especially as people were labeled with nonsense terms such as nine eleven enthusiasts, a rather nasty swipe reminiscent of much older ones, nigger lover and close kin to injun lover, updated today to tree hugger, peacenik, pothead and doomer. My friends, have we any skin left that has not been burned, stung, smarting still as loss grows exponentially into greater and greater loss? We stand naked before it, the united federal lying machine, an entity with one sole intention which is to erase anyone who does not go along with the program and worse, anyone who is unable, especially for all the reasons created to keep us never, ever examining holes, buy into the program. What can sweatshop slaves buy into anyway?

We want to ask, hey, what happened? All THAT for what?

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

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

In other words, and you will be doing that all the way through this timeless work and again as it reinforces itself repeatedly in human interactions: have we come so far, suffered so deeply, loved so dearly, endured torture and needless oppression beyond all reason, all for nothing?... What plan? June 2010 archives

Yes, we're back bobbing on the waves in sight of land we'll never reach in Stephen Crane's The Open Boat, we came so far, suffered so deeply, loved so dearly, endured and lost so much ... all for THIS? More than a freekin' decade of that and now this? Get real! Such horrors we would not wish upon our worst enemy, if we had any enemies. We do however, have deviants among us that do wish such things, painstakingly plan and live for the moment to carry them out. Here is your news sir, the lie is over, I am sorry for you because you have no reason any longer to thrive in your deviation. We have instead a series of real life disasters taking place in front of our very eyes and now you must redirect your attentions which means many of you will have nothing to do at all since solving the problems of the suffering is not part of the personal makeup of your representative-selves of whom you are held hijack. You will have gazillionz of trillions coming in now to fix our little oil dilemma, hopefully you will not pretend you misspoke about hologram Osama's instant sea splash and keep kicking the resource rich nations in the groin, assassinating their children, their blood seed, running the old regime change hustle on sovereign peoples, dragging NATO along where it was not officially empowered to assist. We can hope, but you will do what you will do. That is who you are.

You are known by what you do.

The supposed death of the supposed cult leader will change nothing except to further reveal the extent of the disruptive and diversionary psychosis that grips westerners. This latest has everything to do with keeping afloat multilayered fabrications designed to bestow personhood on the global sucking vampires who are not persons at all. They must at all costs keep their failing Ken doll twirling in his executive swivel chair rather than let some over-rich, balding, Chateaubrianded version of Rev. Terry Jones as a rug-headed TV personality realign the people's perceptions yet again. Further, they absolutely require the gods of hyper-jibberish to continue waxing on the hallelujah recovery in order for all of us to reawaken our diminished senses of need and gas it over to the nearest Wal*Mart to consume nonstop at the nonsense trough.

For an interesting mental exercise, imagine the amount of advance coordinated planning that went into gathering thousands of fresh-faced subteens together in front of the cameras, all of whom strangely appeared at first glance to be celebrating Mardi Gras, gushing in glee over the news the old evil hologram met his demise, much the same as if Sukie, the waitress fairy, put an end once and for all to the True Blood leeches.

Now imagine this: The time came the slaves no longer needed the whip for they knew their place well and knew there would be no escape for the remainder of their miserable days on Earth.

So much tragedy barely holding together a weakened, beaten, downgraded infrastructure and disgruntled populace. We could have skipped it entirely and just gotten down to work. Think of what beneficent wonders could have been accomplished during a whole decade had it not been for the neoCons' deathmatch journey into Nevernever Land. Instead, we could be this very day supporting something such as a global Earth-friendly volunteer association open to every nation, developing and otherwise, for sharing resources while simultaneously cooperating with all educational and scientific institutions in discovery and implementation of sustainable systems for poison free agriculture and healthy alternatives to factory farming and slaughter of livestock, realistically addressing the limits of the planet as finite and dealing humanely with overpopulation through multitudes of small and local enlightenment programs which include safe and freely distributed birth control.

We will not be participating in anything remotely as necessary as you can plainly see since baldfaced lying is still perceived as the only way to advance the insatiable hunger of imperialism, which in itself is nothing but covetous, outright theft when you lift away the altruistic veil. A veil which you may have noticed, isn't fooling any of the victim/shil/sufferers/you or me or anybody, anywhere. Thus we get this shabby little Osama story thrown at us interspersed with hundreds of other shabby little stories as if the dumbdown stage was just one of many checklist missions accomplished.

Truly, it makes you wonder what pact with the devil was made to get that which was perceived as so necessary.

Thus, we continue on the treadmill of zero resolution while repeating all the same tired mistakes which brought us to this point of collapse. Abusing Nature and her creations, rampant, heedlessly warring wherever the natural inhabitant species have been intentionally weakened over time, dispossessed and disoriented. We will go on as we are, awakening each day to incessant distortions and deformities of species behavior, including that of the human species, corralled and broken down into levels of useful servitude or slaughter, and all of it for one disgusting, egregious reason, that no thinking person discover the truth behind the greatest and greediest lies since all of recorded history. This is why there will be no repair, the damage done and damage to come is too great. When something this severe occurs, you must go back to the beginning and start anew, something which will never be considered in the program since what we are talking about is comedy for the annual Correspondents Dinner.

Centuries ago when the idea for this experiment towards a better life was undertaken, how many signed on to get away from exactly that which continues unabated and exaggerated today? It does not further one to cross the waters because the same and worse exists on the other side. There is only one safe haven and it is not here, it will only appear before you when the time is right.

How can the time possibly be right today while we measure radiation clouds and the Gulf floor steadily, irreparably, seeps dark, deadly grease destroying any possibility of renewal? Have they yet tasted corexit in Niger?

More on the subject, and don't miss the comments:

Exit the Excuse ... But Elites Insist Their Wars Must Go On

OSAMA BIN LADEN

And my favorite new phrase: Managed Perception. Wow, that's just like managed care or debt management or anger management. Everything must be managed now, you know. Otherwise, things might take their natural course and that is hmmmm, extremely dangerous.

When Does "Managed Perception" Become Reality? Note that Charles never mentions Osama, but he doesn't have to. All of it is related as our frequent readers know only too well.

of saints and beasts in the halfway house

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the song remains the same

Communication Breakdown, It's always the same. I'm having a nervous breakdown, Drive me insane. (Page, Jones, Bonham)

Here's an MSM headline from today, "Experts say cold snap doesn't disprove global warming". As if to subliminally suggest well, hey, we were right all along. Then you go with their flow and payment schedules and voila, they gotcha. What the headline actually says is cap and traders are civilization's heroes. Whatever programs they've agreed upon at this early (too late) date, programs that stripmine the global poor for the benefit of the waddling rich and whatever parts were shelved for later and whatever parts will never be acknowledged even among themselves, none of it addresses the issue the way the issue demands. However, we've come a long way - relatively. Something (the usual) is being allowed to surface. It appeared for a while it was not going to be addressed at all. (It still isn't.) That it is being tossed about like a bolo ball, always returning to the paddle held by the richest (and domineering) nations, is just another bailout in disguise, and there are many - such as the body scanning machine subsidiary waiting patiently under the same no-bid manufacturing umbrella as Abu Ghraib's shackles and waterboards. What is wrong with bailouts? As I understand the movement, the money window provides loans with a large and ominous ball of string attached from which dangles the requirement to "retrofit western or else". We could say, the lenders at the bailout window double duty as the nation's and the world's largest collection agency who's ability to collect rides herd on the sovereigns' ability to grovel penniless while mouthing platitudes and opening up their airspace, obviously a shabby reality subhead under the banner of World Economics aka Foreign Policy in which the global map is being redrawn at gunpoint extincting nice people like the Bedouins.

Retrofitting western means pony up while the pony is collapsing from an extreme overdose of lucrative, but finite, natural resources. When you're out walking and you see an SUV with a pony up bumpersticker you'd know the driver has been driven insane. I saw one parked at the post office last month. Try to stay out of his lane ...

What are we supposed to do? Are we supposed to write complimentary emails to our representatives in congress? Are we supposed to disrupt protests and report on our neighbors comings and goings? No, we are supposed to send donations. That's all they want. Don't expect any return on the invesment. Nothing will buy us any truth. They are not, under any circumstances, including natural disaster and public condemnation, coming clean. Chris Floyd pointed out in his recent and excellent essay, Blowback On the Border: The Purpose of the Terror War System:

...And so, as I wrote the day after 9/11 (and quoted again recently, in this piece about Obama's surging Terror War):

"Blood will have blood; that's certain. But blood will not end it. For murder is fertile: it breeds more death, like a spider laden with a thousand eggs. And who now can break this cycle, which has been going on for generations?"

The cycle will go on -- because that is what is wanted. The purpose of the system is what it does...

Indigenous poverty, poor health and ignorance is policy within the system. In similar style, our friend Publius is being pressured to memorize his employer's corporate mission statement, the peoples of the western world are supposed to memorize and live, to the best of their abilities, the mission statement of the terror system. This is why it is unfailing, repeated in endless reruns, serialized, from top tier to the bottom rung, always with us, in our food, our water, our entertainments, our travels within the permissible minuscule radius. Its like living on a giant sheet of flypaper. Our wings are beating but our bodies stuck.

The facts and questions presented by The Oil Drum come in the format of eloquent essays, painstakingly researched, if you want to know anything about peak, that's ground zero to start. Yesterday's question was Why doesn't government talk about peak oil? I'd judge that question equally as thrilling as Led Zep's Houses of the Holy. We know why they don't, dont we. Today's Oil Drum roll, as you can see in my sidebar, concerns Iraq delaying peak for another decade or so due to massive supply. It shows a chart of deals made per oil field. The US is not on the list. Oops, after all that ongoing carnage? The disclaimer is a new Iraqi administration could revise all the deals when and if it pleases. If I was going to comment over there, I would ask, loudly, why in the hell would they ever give us any deals? Maliki, the current Howdy Doody, has his breaking point as we have seen before, whatever else he may be, can't be pleased to be forever cast in a patsy role and I suspect it won't hold for the long run. Just wait until he's forced to deal with Iran. Bad scene on the horizon... he will be forced against Amindenejad, a man known for making decisions on his own without any outside interlocutors.

We envision the neocon vampires in their midnight office of special plans toiling away at distasteful arrangements laboring to achieve a nefarious goal while bullhorning the goal (the system and its policies) as altruistic. Whenever it became too complicated and might possibly give away its corrupt intent, the items too noxious to speak of were snuck into secret files labeled classified on which a decal was pasted saying executive privileged. In other words, the system and its policies have their own designated language which is the language of True Blood. All the lawyers had to go back to continuing professional education seminars to learn True Blood. Some even managed to lobby for TV courses successfully as evidenced by Dexter and the Sopranos, Sons of Anarchy and the Tudors which they download and watch on their Blackberries between show trials between the hours of daylight and dawn lest they turn to ancient ash.

I wonder if anyone in Yemen (rhymes with lemon) is having an "Oh my God, what have we done?" moment? Likely, but in the spirit of The Vulcans, you'd better keep it to yourself because its all over now.

notebook of a revolutionary jaded

Here we go into Winter. Again. One day it was too hot and today we're sliding down the thermometer - overnight. I am disturbed the Juncos have not shown up, I record their arrival annually and they are weeks overdue. They are my control group for Climate change. Meanwhile, the war drums are growing loud enough for silencer earphones, some sentinel warning siren grinds into the Eustachian tubes burrowing into the deep mind so we are never really settled, always on the brink of disaster somewhere, maybe here, maybe not. If you live in Nevada you would know the drone of Predators send you to sleep, wake you before sunrise, you would have seen the glazed eyes skilled in war games hanging out in the casino, feeding the paycheck into the slots as if ... as if it were all about the joystick. Do you think victims of joystick mania have any idea what is really happening when the drones start humming?

We were driving through a tight canyon sandwiched between semis when a couple of F22's took a detour overhead, low buzzing the lanes. By the time we gathered words of exclamation, they were gone. In that brief second, we were shown how fast death clears the landscape ... maybe families were gathering water, hanging laundry, an ordinary day, a vanilla sky and then nothing.

What accident of birth has us reading here today while Indonesia is swamped? Isn't this a question that has no answer? The western world demands answers for everything, flirting into WW3 where they have yet to understand some people and places will never be understood. The best we can do is observe the irony.

There are some words I detest. My grammar school principal used to close the day over a cloth-covered loudspeaker beamed into each classroom. She had a sense of humor that even 5th graders got. "Wagons Ho" meant the busses arrived. Her most hated word was Harsh. We loved her for that since everyone easily identified with a subconscious harsh reality even if we didn't understand it. My hated word is Urgent. Thus when I see the western world claim urgent action is "required" (also hated) against Iran, my skin crawls. When I see people encouraging one another into WW3, I know they really don't know, they have not been there, they are mouthing opinion without a basis in reality. They have never whispered inside a mosque in Isfahan and listened to their whisper bounce off a trillion tiny pieces of gleaming colored clay set perfectly in place centuries before a western world existed.

I read the small details in news stories, the minimized denial that what you are seeing is not what you see. You could actually read, digest and miss those details, put there for balance, "required" you might say. Those details are the sirens going off, we'd like to make it stop, it hurts, it grinds. Three months it warns and you can't blame us this time. Sounds like we'll make war for Christmas. It can and does happen just like that. Everyone remembers waking up to the nightlights, bombs bursting in air over Iraq.

By an accident of birth, winter finds us continuing our standoff with propane heat delivery, the fatted, gloating truck rolling up and down hairpin turns servicing the underemployed, out of credit, out of luck who convince themselves life is hell on Earth and there is no other way especially when the easy way stares them down. Livity asks we remove our personal survival from pipelineistan. We're ready all but for the chimney cap going into place this week. The primary woodpile is huge with extra piles scattered wherever there is room. The Fireteacher lives up to his name and I am cast in the role of carrier, all-weather assistance, snow, sleet and hail. Out comes the wheelbarrow, on comes the rain, then drizzle, then flakes fall and we are transformed into a fairytale. Today's soliloquy wraps with the last line from The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock: ... Till human voices wake us and we drown.

Intentional Coincidence

When Arthur suggested the line between coincidence and intentional activity as a topic we should explore, it seemed to me we'd been over this question thousands of times in The Story of Nine Eleven, even if only in our own minds, so thoroughly that by now we should be on the other side where coincidence is one of the many hoped-for results of intentional activity.

This is not exactly an essay about 9/11. This is one of my usual word studies leading into the deeper recesses of thought under Deep Thoughts, the levels where seemingly innocuous statements turn into the heebeejeebies of bitter truth. There are no examples offered because any example I might supply can be better supplied by your own.

Blogging and surfing actually lessen our capacity to retain information due to the sheer volume of material being presented. After a while it becomes just more TV, another passive activity where you are fed words and images all the while thinking you are improving your intelligence and enjoying yourself in the process. We've learned that TV is utter nonsense, but we haven't yet figured out the true nature of the web. Yes, I know, we think we have, but the day will come generations of the future will scoff at what the Internet did to their civilization.

Watching 9/11 on TV and watching the 9/11 investigative commission unfold, sending off for your very own copy of the findings-in-full and watching mainstream news, you could form your own opinions without the assistance of the Internet. That's why its lame to legislate against the web, the web is just another tool in the larger bag of Satan's tricks. You'll notice he never runs out. You also might have noticed every trick leaves you in doubt - as if something other than what your mind tells you happened is taking place. What is really going on here, anyway? Taking stock - pause now to take stock - the amount of doubt currently being served to ALL OF LIFE IN GENERAL is equal to the garbage strewn acreage of every landfill dump in every major city worldwide. This makes it unanimous, humans refuse to trust their own judgment at almost every turn. What I am saying is: Coincidence is extremely rare, if it exists at all. We know, but we don't want to know what we know. We will stretch for explanations and sift tirelessly through the universe of pretense partnering with expectation, rather than take it for granted our hearts know best.

How did we get this way? We know that, too, don't we? Come now, from the time of the cave dwellers there has always been someone who wanted a story to fly for various reasons, the first is to place him/herself in the category of being more intelligent than someone else. Another reason of equal priority is manufacturing a pretext for action lest that action betray a scornful lack of integrity. The impressionable mind of the watching listener subject to these "reasons" will more often accept a story at face value rather than do the mental labor of asking questions. Thus the popularity of the student-teacher matrix in which some get away with murder and the others look on in amazement. Amazement is actually just a cover for avoiding the conflict that will naturally arise from disagreeing with the official story and always leads to pain and/or loss. Pain and loss are to be avoided at all costs, or so that story goes, according to the teachers who in reality are grocery clerks fulfilling the agenda of the other side of all that is humane, right, real, compassionate, healing and spiritually enlightening.

Our minds are not very talented in exploring the depths of personal existence. Mostly, we flow through our days unaware. We do whatever we are doing with the comfortable idea that if we don't see it, it isn't there. When things happen, we like to put them off to coincidence because we don't understand how something came to be and we don't understand because we fail to perform the mental labor connecting unknowns to darker unknowns. When we finally get around to doing the heavy work, we are confronted with things we already suspected were taking place and find verification for our suspicions. Then we can say we know what happened with certainty, even though we already knew. We did not like what we would find which makes the work even harder. Its like a grisly job in a dangerous business and you want to get out as fast as possible. It seems that the faster you can return to perusing the glossy brochure of Coincidence the better off you will be since everyone else says its much more enjoyable there.

To travel with Coincidence Vacation Tours, you'll need steamer trunks of expensive stuff like your benzodiazepines, a wardrobe stylist and an image consultant, Jocko's personal physician and Angelo Mozilo's bible for better living. That could possibly deter the average unemployed, credit-riddled, pro-life citizen, however it has never been a real obstacle as the powerful masters of fictional realities know. They know beyond the shadows of doubt or coincidence you will get exactly what you deserve. They create fables out of thin air knowing some people will do anything to avoid the pain of mental labor and worse, damnation from their peers. Coincidence is an intentional avoidance mechanism. Many things are done with just that end in mind. Sometimes the detective work is easy and the criminal confesses, other times coincidence shields a death match.

Of course, there is plenty of coincidence in between those stark contrasts. Its the everyday coincidence that makes huge coincidence possible. Before you know it, everybody is doing it and getting away with it. Have you made a coincidence today? Hurry, its happening now in real time.

Verification word: humancause

As if we needed verification.

Page one again, how did we get here?

Taken individually, and individuals we are, each Internet user is able to come up with enough justifications to justify being online. On an individual basis. Let's assume whole nations as tribes of individuals, the ones making up these nations that are in a position to afford it - are online. Let's say everyone with a bank account jumped on the bandwagon and into the conversation, whatever was being discussed. Got that image? Good. Let's enlarge it. When the cat's away the mice will play. We're the cats.

I wonder why it is Jimmy Carter doesn't just come right out and say it. Maybe he doesn't use the Internet. Who is out there who will risk it?

I remember those days, we were still reading newspapers and watching TV. Our Internet use was intermittent, mostly scholarly then. There were still stores in the malls, places to go, films, theater, concerts, dinners and events. In retrospect, we were too busy to care a whole hell of a lot about politics. We voted if we remembered to vote. The TV determined our vote. Everything beyond the TV seemed to be unfolding normally ... until ... very suddenly too, there was a commotion in the headlines about vote recounts and hanging chads, a lot of peoples' votes were not counted, a general confusion rocked the nation, something big was happening and only the thieves knew where it would lead. The momentum of normalcy and the illusion of progress held us as firmly as if we were lobotomized and lassoed to our chairs. Months after 911 our welcome pages asked questions for us and supplied the answers. "When can we be happy again?" "Is it okay to go shopping yet?" Do you remember that part? You'll note the Internet played a large role then which ballooned over the Earth as the days and nights following September Eleventh wore on.

It is important now and will always be important to unravel the knot. The position we are in requires complete transparency of every detail contributing to our demise. Our demise is worsening, of course you see it too, some want us to know its too late. It isn't too late. To say it is too late is to allow our situation to continue to worsen. Some of the blubber absolutely needed to be lost, like the prices the medical/pharmaceutical industry jacked up beyond reach, although instead of shrinking to being within reason, you know what happened. What DO you think they have in mind while they debate Health Care for All? Ho ho. And another, more snakes swallowing their tails, the corporations have used up everything we used to buy and have nothing to sell now, no one to sell them to, a fine howda ya do. Just like the Illusion, grabbing, shoving, to get the last easy oil, jackbooting over all the dead bodies and not getting it. What can the Illusion get now that they sold everything they needed to sustain this nation? They ate themselves alive.

The hollow state we find ourselves in today is that of trivialization. The governor's tryst I'm afraid, is another slant on Blaggy's last stand, it runs together on the monitor, the media is giving them names to separate these trivias. This is only another wall of cover. As we look at the stones making up that wall, we see it was many years in the making, but will last centuries if allowed to exist. These stones, piled upon each other like the stones in the Pyramids and Machu Picchu are the tombstones of history. We are remembered by our tombstones.

Does it make you question your sanity? When something outside of yourself has you asking that question, you know there is great trouble at hand. This is not a position a thinking person will tolerate for very long. To suppose we'd all just shut up and go away is the assumption of people thinking about their next move, not what they did to you by the last one. Oh, they do not care, What me worry? Why should they, they see we are Occupado. To them, the evil magicians of white phosphorus waving taser wands, we're still pussycats busy licking the catnip.

It doesn't matter what we talk about anymore, who we are or what interesting things we do with our lives as long as the Nine Eleven Wall is in place. Almost a decade has passed and it is growing higher, sturdier still. Are we going to just accept it and trivialize our way through the bloody aftermath?

Haven't you imagined what the planning behind the scenes must have been like, the meetings, the money and sweat? The secret Energy collusion, the crimes committed in advance of the big crime? To go there, to really work it out in your mind is nearly impossible. Their thinking went like this: When something appears as impossible to understand, we generally take it for granted no one would willingly take on the work or the risk of being a spokesperson for the ugly truth.

Now, here we are, watching the Planet self-destruct and knowing it did not have to happen the way it did. But the cats were away, no one was minding the store.

Every time we talk about it, and we talk about it all the time in different words with different mental pictures connected to different experiences, I am more firm in my opinion 911 did not have to happen. All that has followed was going to happen anyway. However, if it did not include the shameless smarmy event of 911, the trail would be cleaner, but we would still know everything we now know without muddy water in the way. In other words, today we know, but it doesn't change the rest.

Dimitri Orlav was right when he suggested it will keep happening,

... Now that the reality of Peak Oil has started to sink in, one commonly hears that "The age of cheap oil is over". But does that mean that the age of expensive oil is upon us? Not necessarily. We now know (or should have learnt by now) that once oil rises to over 6% of global GDP, the world's industrial economy stalls out, and as soon as that happens, oil ceases to be particularly valuable, so much so that investment in maintaining oil production is curtailed. The next time industry tries to stage a comeback (if it ever does) it hits the wall much sooner and stalls again. I doubt that it would take more than just a couple of cycles of this market whiplash for all the participants to have two realisations: that they cannot get enough oil no matter how much they pay for it, and that nobody wants to take their money even for the oil they do have. Those who still have it will see it as too valuable to part with for mere money...

playing itself out in serial crises and catastrophes. We will see it again and then, again. There is no prevention mechanism in place. There are no punishments. They Live.

Add on to your thought process the Twilight Zone episode where Earth steadily moves away from the sun in a dream, but awake we discover its really the Earth slowly moving toward the sun and you have the poison frosting lathered into black roses as the last word in interior design beneath which all these crimes are enacted. No one will be able to survive in the latitudes of the Equator. Simultaneously the return of the Pleistocene in the Northern regions makes survival impossible there as well. Living species will attempt to squeeze in between these regions, elbow to elbow amidst desertification over here, ruined soils, toxic water, impossible winters over there, filthy air, animals and forests long-depleted. Rising sea levels. Again, rising-sea-levels ... This is Climate Chaos. Tell me you're not already seeing it. Tell me this very month of June was not three weeks of hoodies and today, tank tops and bare feet?

And now, UNDULATING clouds. Yeah, I saw them too, last winter, 2,000 miles and 6 months away from June in the midwest. They looked like cities forming in the skies. Above them, whatever activities took place, I don't know.

egos in the woodchipper

In the unlikely event you haven't noticed, things are heating up out there. Your view and my view are probably going to be different because I take thought leaps which make for a very long view. I know not everyone arrives at conclusions which seem obvious to me and lately all the thought leaps I laid out moons ago are taking on physical form. Consider any one of the immediate crises for example, and you will find elements contained within each that are rooted in all crises. This is why I've made seemingly incredulous statements such as "China issued a margin call and we are heading into the Amero" in reference to the economy. As we move along in that direction, many things take place to deny my theses. The distractions of acronym bandages, personalities, numbered G meetings, natural and unnatural catastrophes, all the other crises clamoring for solution, take away our attention from one to another until we sound like Twitterers at the bird feeder, but birds don't go to war. It was just a matter of time before Twitter was hacked, what is there that isn't hackable anymore? Any megaphone is ripe for spreading propaganda, even if its your personal information sold to an entity that "loses" it enroute to another buyer. We're going to have another war. That much is clear. It will be the worst war ever.

The US wants a big war to pull itself out of economic free fall. That will be one objective, the other equally pressing objective is the same IED-pockmarked Neocon objective you've been seeing unfold, wading through blood in the streets to usurp the Mideast's oil supply. These objectives are not lost on our enemy brethren grouping together to figure out how to decouple from the dollar. You'd have to think they are prepared to leave the US out by any means. This is what greed, desperation, death and torture has wrought.

What do they think of when they think of American interests? They easily see the past decade as one huge collaring by noose of their sovereign lands. The truth of this story is in the geography. The problem appears as huge and complex, but simple when paralleled with maps of world resources. Have you noticed this? Have you noticed when the US goes in for the take, it never leaves and the corporatocracy emerges ruthlessly claiming shares, making laws, outfitting a decision-making body mirroring the lassitude of its own vested watchdogs ? It is the rush and grab of the last easy oil, more valued than diamonds or souls. Everything outta the way, here come the mercenaries and the miseries. It does not matter what historic value was held where, nothing is sacred when foreclosure is ordained. No tactic too harsh, too brutish, too under-handed, too dirty. Counterfeiting? That's nothing in these times, hey, its probably de rigeur. You can bet torture will show up carrying a carpetbag and camera phones too. Ahh, but worry not, they want you to know the US does not do white phosphorus.

You know I hate to get on this way. Looking at it is anguish. This isn't how we want to be. But we are just the little people observing, shut out if you will, while the war plans are acted on and the Earth combed clean of everything it needs to support life, not at gunpoint so much as at nuclear warhead, DU, UG99, pandemics, deforestation, overfishing, toxic waste dumping, toxic assets tranched into silk purses, demolition of pensions, demolition of faith ... Where does the US get the idea the remainder of the world is stupid? Maybe from its own citizenry who always fall into line with another deviant diversion, excuse and justification, more burgers, more slushys, more Pelosi, property taxes, bills, furloughs, bankruptcies, its a regular tinseltown Bonfire of the Vanities.

I am just not able to pretty up this picture, if you think I have it skewed, ask why are we in, uh, how many wars right now? Its all one war designed to keep a high living lifestyle afloat while the little people are chained below deck. Who's mother's son, who's father's daughter is next?

The real problem with this picture is the position it puts the rest of us into. It is more than clear we don't matter in this equation. Its like being caught in an argument you never meant to enter, you know who is right and who is wrong, but your input is the last thing they want. They are hell bent on seeing it through, each insisting on the moral high ground, witnesses, coalitions, courts and attacks and there you are, the taxi driver with a family, dying to get away from the fallout. If you want to get home, the one thing you must never do is use what any of them is doing to further your own agenda.

... If a man has some awareness of higher levels and knows that he is free to be anywhere in the universe, he may then seek to justify taking part in a physical game. The most self-flattering way to disguise his appetite is to see himself as a bringer of enlightenment, of purity, of virtue. No one, not even he, will question his motives and results: isn't he doing what he says he is doing? If others fail to reach his height, it's not his fault—and thus he keeps the game going forever. It's self-renewing as long as he is unwilling to see that his own vibrations emphasize the evil and ignorance he sees. The more he hates evil, the more evil there is to hate ... Thaddeus Golus, The Lazy Man's Guide to Enlightenment

Be aware of how it always works to no good end.

Well now now now now darlin

may a have a little talk with you
Because it won't be long before our true love will be through ...

Its too easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when regional catastrophes use up the lemmings' limited attention span. I certainly sympathize with that my lemmings, being another lemming, sometimes its hard. Only you know and I know where this is leading, its high time the bigger picture is painted. Get this straight, everything that is combusting is because, well, because it is combustible.

What were you up to last weekend? Menu planning on a zero budget? Searching the classifieds that vanished because your physical newspaper is yesterday's ash in the nation's fireplace? Sometimes its hard. But maybe you started out your Saturday with Pepe Escobar's Liquid Wars and followed though to his Asia Times version, Obama's Afghan Spaghetti Western? That would have been a real jolt to your weekend rest and recreation. Trust me, it wasn't the generic coffee. Here we are in Monday at last, no question about it either, plain as day the sun still shines, the Earth still turns and we are at war, of course. We are not winding down, we are not withdrawing, the disease is metastasizing as it spread before, with the same old song still playing we heard on the Waffle Ho's jukebox all those years ago while collecting alligator ashtrays on Souvenir Row... something about the wrong place, no apology, really, it was this other place all along, Eureka, At Last...

The fever is spreading and so my lemmings its time to stick another pushpin on your beaverboard war maps. Or turn off the jukebox, which is a little hard to do because there is no off switch. They saw to that. Eisenhower warned us, but that song didn't do as well on the charts, did it.

It is commonly thought there are many ways to tackle a problem. It is less commonly known there is only one way to achieve a solution to any problem. It is extremely unfortunate that problems of any sort carry a brief window of opportunity in which they can be solved before combusting into greater problems and diseases beyond control. This is THE situation everyone NOT a citizen of the oil rich nations finds themselves. To date the geographic dilemma still appears as 'something going on somewhere else'. You would think the situation dire enough for the bumsters to knock-off their cannibalizing of the lemmings, believe me, gentlemen, the flavor should have lost its appeal by now, those growth hormones are bitter, yes? But no. They will continue it appears, in the same stubborn deadbeat manner they evolved. Sometimes its hard.

You do understand what is at stake? I thought so.

The past few decades have been an international used dumpster parking lot of greed and deceit, indeed its been going on much, much longer than that, but these long years do not show evidence of any real solution. They show many minds working to increase the problem. Blame isn't a solution. Greed and deceit are inflammatory antagonists. And they call it 'foreign policy'. National policy, economic policy, community policy, law enforcement policy ... these are subheads under one policy. It is that one policy that defines the west, broken into divisions, each with warring factions and lower level pretensions, desiring and behaving as if they are peak considerations ... this is not a solution. "Pills" Limbaugh is not a solution. News, on the face of it a word implying something new, which more realistically should be called "Olds", is like the antifreeze in Panamanian toothpaste or sprays of white phosphorus on innocently jaywalking collaterals, again, no solutions there.

Sometimes, I would like to hear the other side speak up. What can they be thinking? Do they see it as the building of global Interstates condemning everything standing in its path? Or do they see it as a religious War of the Worlds? What do they say to each other?

Obviously somebody, somewhere sees what they are doing as the solution or they would not continue. But when you really think about it and take the time to ponder the gravity, especially with an abundance of closed minds unable to consider even briefly that the window of opportunity may already be closed, the outcome does not look good. It may well be true that this sad song has no end. It just goes downhill from here with the vocals deeper and slowing like HAL eternally dysfunctioning in outer space.