The old man looked at me as if my decision carried with it the weight of humanity’s future itself. Well… I sighed, the time has come; the red pill will conscript me to a life of getting back to what’s true and real despite the hardships and battles, while the blue, although too a […]
This short thread below is taken from a recent YouTube post by Blackstone Intelligence where I succinctly (as is possible) outline a brief synopsis of my thoughts on Christianity, as far as the historicity of Jesus is concerned. Truth is, I doubt that the NT Jesus ever existed. Personally, I’ll only go so far as […]
Ω they marched away in lock-step first from them then from the others and again they divided til’ they all became one not together but alone as boolean gods howled in manic delight. ∆ a tiny few understood that they too had been infected the viral confirmation bias self-replicating eating away individuality saddling them less […]
from mostdiggity’s weekly hyper-rant… “you can’t make this stuff up” : Betting the sure thing at a Google-to-1 odds against. Some thoughtful reader suggested that I try to look at the bright side of things. So… after some careful thought, I must agree. Here goes: This post is NOT meant to highlight the lamenting of […]
What the fucking fuck is up with America these days? America the beautiful? The land our forefathers stole for sure; still, the great melting pot my grandparents emigrated to in the early nineteen hundreds from their Italian home, the USA is mostly a big lie. No, they didn’t lie, they were lied to… their only […]
Friggy-my-Diggy… another Spring is roaring in… and lately I’ve been thinking about our friendship. your comfortable, confident kindness, unveiled by alert but caring eyes twinkling in the bright blue Carolina sunshine. flashing that affable, genuine smile, as always seemingly amused by life’s irony; and like me you seemed sorta’ OK with it. sure, we differed on […]
mostdiggity For me, writing is cheaper psycho-therapy than seeing a shrink, and more expansive*(*pun alert) say, than my time spent mowing the yard e.g., row 1.turn. row 2.turn. The sun shines, the weeds grow thick and frontal lobe cells languish in repeat step repeat, and I’ll likely feel a pressing need to gnash keys, combine words, n’ spit […]
Shakespeare was known to bellow after presenting a new stage play for review… If thou truly not liketh it… laugh out loud. Like Will, these are my VERY LAST WORDS on the subject that follows. It is my opinion that certain elements having real power in this country make incredible efforts to distract our […]
that universal incessant spectral hum reverberating ohmmm…manifesting all actualizing the synchronicity underlying destiny and always arising all the comprehension of what is and will be a mirrored orchestra in operatic symphony inside a house of endless mirrors infinitesimally small but perceptible through the steady drumbeat of linear time a quantum music neither past nor future that imperceptible […]
time slips from great to good, or from terrible to wors’ning down that entropic road we pay our toll paved hot toward cold never endings
that god, what god? the mirror asks, tone optimistic, while condescending life’s urge to organize is quite strong make amends, then share the booty’s blending
time slips from me to us, then “you and i” to loving our valentine then seeks it’s mate and on goes that prolific downward sending
that god, what god? the reflection quests, as the last winter snow’s still clinging that Holonic symbol, our family crest bears our family blood from each upbringing
the urge to mate is as strong to hate, to blend, then split the winnings our Junior a mixed-sum of both then adds each new moment’s vendings
time drives us from then to now, our final destination reaching tho’ next can never touch our lips
it’s law, Relativity speaking
that god, what god? the question begs, who should i tell him’s asking? our urge to love and to proliferate…
life’s sentence, and time’s unmasking
2nd law of thermodynamics
A Critique by Jendi Reiter
I was lucky to have had this poem selected for review by The Winning Writers, a respected site for amatuer poets with top writers as owners who run the site. Jendi Reiter is an excellent and respected poet in her own right.
Critique by Jendi Reiter
The form of this month’s provocative poem, “Entropy Road”, embodies its theme of order struggling to remain distinct from chaos. The headlong rush of syllables in the longer lines and the fragmentary, zigzag presentation of the poem’s argument give the poem a restless energy. Meanwhile, the “-ing” rhymes repeating in the first and third lines of every stanza, the refrain “that god, what god?” and the semi-regular meter attempt to corral that energy within a poetic framework.
Making the rhyming words present participles (verb forms, or nouns derived from them, ending in “-ing”) was an inspired choice. These words describe action in progress. Just as the stability that the narrator seeks is always a moving target, the concepts on which he depends to convey this argument will not stay put. Each rhyming line also ends on an unstressed syllable, which gives the poem an open-ended, unfinished cadence.
Entropy, of course, refers to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which basically states that the energy levels in an isolated system will tend toward equilibrium. Entropy has sometimes been described as a measurement of the disorder or randomness within a system. In the poem, as in popular usage, it symbolizes universal mortality and dissolution. If evolution drives organic life to ever-higher levels of self-organizing complexity, entropy is the opposite force, that which pulls down and breaks apart complex systems into nature’s simplest building blocks. It means that all material energy will ultimately spend itself and be unrecoverable.
As self-aware components of this dying system, how can we find the motivation to go on living, loving, procreating, and planning for the future? Which will win, our philosophical sense of futility or the inward compulsion to survive and create?
Perhaps no one wrote about entropy in this sense more powerfully than the 20th-century British poet Philip Larkin. A sample poem can be found here.
Larkin generally settles the question on the side of death, but Adams disagrees: “the urge to love is as strong to hate”. The life force has a fighting chance. Yet it is hampered by our inability to articulate a reason for hope. “that god, what god? the mirror asks, tone optimistic, while condescending”.Existentialist philosophers looked to the self to create meaning in a universe made absurd by death’s finality. The poem suggests that this answer is insufficient. The individual is merely part of the closed entropic system. He cannot inject it with new energy to reverse its decay.
There are positive, hopeful moments in “Entropy Road” but they come from outside philosophy and science. Whatever the intellect may say, instinct confirms that human connection and creativity are not futile. “time slips from me to us or, from you and i to loving/our valentine then seeks its mate/goes the prolific downward sending”. The opaque last phrase may have been chosen mainly to fit the rhyme scheme, but its vagueness felicitously makes it more symbolic than a specific description would have been. It called to my mind both the release of seed in copulation and the movement of the child through the birth canal, but other associations are possible, such as rains watering the earth to bring forth crops, or the descent of angels.
The birth of a child does seem like a miraculous creation ex nihilo, the opposite of entropy. First there were two, now there are three. “Holonic” is a word coined by 20th-century philosopher Arthur Koestler to express the observation that entities in biological and social systems are always interdependent, never completely self-sufficient units. This law of interconnection and symbiosis contrasts with entropy’s pull toward disconnection and stasis.
“our junior is the sum of both/but adds ‘new’ moment’s vendings”. Is “new” in quotes because the narrator’s intellectual side reminds him that this is not a real solution to the problem? On the human scale, parenthood may feel like a triumph over mortality, but on the level of the cosmos, it does not stave off the decay of the whole system, looked at in purely materialistic terms.
The poem ends by leaving the question open, a humility that rings true. Adams does not claim to decide whether the emotional or the scientific perspective on the human condition is correct. He suggests that it is really a question about the nature of the self, or perhaps its very existence. “that god, what god? the question begs, and who should i tell him’s asking?/an urge to love and proliferate…”
If pressed to define the self, Adams would emphasize the impulse to love and create, however blind that impulse is, over the scientific description of the individual as a collection of atoms arranged in a temporary order. He chooses the insider’s perspective over the outsider’s, life as it feels to us, rather than life as the scientists say it is. (After all, they too are part of the flawed system, not truly above it.) Yet the final line, “life’s sentence, and time’s unmasking”, expresses the fear that some trans-human perspective would prove us wrong; the joke of the universe is on us, after all. The dilemma brings us to the limits of reason, where some have found faith, and others merely the willpower to live without it.
The Comment Section (my added comments in red) I’ve purposely left out much of the comments which are unrelated to my comment, and included some unrelated to my issue which I found to be valuable commentary on the article in question. what about Bob? Submitted by thom adams on June 26, 2015 Oh […]
Won’t Back Down – Tom Petty. Once this was my theme song…
“Hey, baby… there ain’t no easy way out. Hey ya..I… will stand my ground,
Below follows a Psychology Today comment thread…
after a well-written article in Psychology Today by David Noise (see link below) about the rise of anti-intellectualism in America. Most of the ideas, theory, and conjecture presented I happened to wholeheartedly agree with (with caveats). His views and mine were/are very similar in this regard.
However, I think this comment section is prescient in many ways, since it’s not only hard to pinpoint who the good guys are, but also whether the bad guy is as bad as they say he is (oh, that’s me). Also of interest is how the comments veered off subject, into a hate-stew of astronomical proportions.
What’s clear is that I’ve broached a sensitive subject, one which had not been part of recent public discourse for some time, but one that found an immediate and vehement constituency whose reaction to my mention of the issue being an example of media complicity (with lies perpetrated by others) as a form of some psychological mental disorder.
It was almost as if I somehow had sent a clarion call for some pre-selected others to tune in and attempt to intimidate and stifle anyone who hinted at the suggestion that I could be right. It had the eerie feeling of an ongoing covert DARPA program designed by by Cass Susstein (O’bama’s first information Czar), a classic Cognitive Infiltration live drill. Susstein developed the program designed to use assets to help mitigate and neutralize online forums, which he suggested were over-run by “Conspiracy Theorists”. What I make especially clear is that I refuse to be intimidated by these scurrilous ad hominem tactics, even so far as upping the ante on these losers, imposters, posers, and jus’don’t knowsers, by offering my own nasty brand of “holier than thou” spit-back.
‘and I won’t back down……. Well… I know what’s right, I got just… one life…
The action begins when I disagree about one singular point (media complicity) which I felt was important enough to make Noise’s overall premise complete, but one that the author had failed to emphasize: (I used as an example the FEMA Drill disguised as a real mass rampage shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in 2012).
I first responded to a guy named “Bob”, and from that somewhat innocuous but semi-inflammatory comment… well…
ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE
U can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won’t back down, no I won’t back down.” Tom Petty
What is obvious by these comments, the majority of the commenters intend to represent themselves to the reader as good and wholesome, while I (purportedly) represent a whole cultural phenomena of hate mongers, chest thumpers, disruptive no-gooders known as Conspiracy Theorists; who by their very name and nature are delusional creeps who slither in the night trying to infringe on conventional wisdom’s own Utopian view of our perfect Western world.
I resent this characterization and in fact find its slanderous.
Apparently CTs are nutbags with an ax to grind, intent on seeing good people as bad and praise-worthy organizations as having ill intent, who plan disasters behind secret doors, while simultaneously being oblivious to their own failed observation of reality. In and of itself this paints anyone doubting the “official narrative” of any event with a very broad stroke, one that includes many of the worlds most learn-ed and intellectual individuals.
And, one that history has proven to be on-point time and again as official documents become unclassified, memoirs written, previously unknown facts are uncovered, whistleblowers blowing whistles, etc. (accordingly we find that our own history, which we were indoctrinated to believe and once fervently did so, includes enough insidious lies and fabrications for it to be considered fiction).
This, in itself suggests that silencing these unseemly theorists now takes an increasing amount of effort, organization, and manpower, especially in lieu of the internet’s broad reach over the last 25 years. No longer is simply owning/controlling every Major Media outlet enough to fool a rapidly wiser public, due to the proliferation of excellent unpaid independent researchers (that are likely due more to a poor economy than the thirst for finding truth) that populate the web.
Perhaps they may have somehow unwittingly created an atmosphere for their own best laid plans to have gone awry. Research takes time, and the ruination of our economy has provided too many otherwise smart, would-be working-for-a-living souls with time on their hands to learn the truth.
DOWN AND DIRTY WITH SANDY CROOKS
It’s far too easy to write off any one commenter off as arrogant, narcissistic, crazy, or worse… still, I admittedly own an unusual amount of narco- self-confidence even in the face of a strong headwind (deserved or not, it is what it is); yet, the reaction I received was somewhat more surprisingly the consensus of commenter(s) opinion(s) than even I had expected before I went tip-toeing into that minefield.
You’ll witness the prize fight below, which seemingly almost turns to a lynch mob instead. Steadfastly, I return blow-for-blow… yet I knew this was a recipe for losing any empathy i might have garnered otherwise. But then, I ain’t out to win no popularity contest.
Outnumbered, like Davy Crockett I refused to wave the white flag. I thought it must have felt much like this to the inhabitants of Constantinople on May 27th, 1453, when Ottoman Emperor Mamut II with 80,000 troops had surrounded Constantinople intent on mayhem and murder. A deal with the devil might just save my/their lives and 1000 years of history inside the crumbling walls. Yet I, like those vastly outnumbered inhabitants persisted, resisted, and returned volley against the grain and odds, knowingly wading into the inevitable ONSLAUGHT once it began.
Stubborness? Hard-headed? Just plain stupid? All come to mind sure, but this was different… something greater. I think in Court it is called, “beyond a reasonable doubt”, that defining moment when all conjecture ceases, and truth arises.
Number 1 was and is that I am right and I knew it. Far from conjecture, rumor, misinformation, paranoia, I had done my homework and checked it twice. Doubt had long since vanished from the cynical mind that sometimes can haunt me into probably, maybe, possibly and likely. Overfuckingwhelming evidence is too mild to describe what I’ve learned from both my own experience and research with a multitude of others, who like me… felt that day that something was terribly amiss from the start.
Dear Reader, if you have ANY doubt as to the veracity of what I say, please do yourself and your country a favor. Research it. I can promise you that while i have literally hundreds of pieces of factual and mitigating evidence, I have also spent hundreds of hours uncovering them. Yet, honestly… if you were to look on You Tube and watch one or two of the many documentaries produced on Sandy Hook; which are professionally produced by a plethora of activists like Sofia Smallstorm, or Peter Klein and MANY others (Peter also chimed in below, if only briefly)… you will not be able to deny my conclusion as anyTHING other than fact.
Number two is an educated guess, even if the casual reader finds it outlandish. Yet it is also well-documented that this “guess”is likely correct to some degree, if not to a very large degree, and is at least as accurate as any of the Major Media outlets’ reporting of the event’s outlandishly off base and impossibly ridiculous findings.
The complete and total inept failure of the media’s reporting ought to give one SERIOUSpause alone. I mean, how possible is that not one single fact was correctly or consistently reported by 4-5 large networks, and very few of those reports ended up having ANY veracity whatsoever?
Much like 9-11, just how many acts of malfeasance, or failure to act, or ineptitude must combine sequentially and coincidentally until the odds of the official story being accurate defeats even the Heisenberg Uncertainty principle in uncertainty? I suspect Vegas oddsmakers would lay odds at something like a ten Google-to-1 chance of the official story being what actually happened on 12-14-2012 in Sandy Hook, Connecticut. Comfortably.
Most, if not all of my detractors/commenters below; who will attempt to charm you and denigrate me with their takes on my comments or with their humble appeals to your human sensitivity I suspect likely work for/support the same umbrella organization (pick three letters ending in A); whose goal is hell bent on curbing this kind of “heresy”from entering the mainstream consciousness, and thus its historical narrative, and they have the means facilities and workforce (or paid contractors) plus media backing to succeed in disrupting and confusing readers when someone like myself or the many, many others make attempts to re-educate the public. I see A footprint all over it, or is it the other way around? Ok, here comes the comments….
I challenge and invite all rational thinking individuals to do the research on this monumental event, and decide the truth for yourself. It shouldn’t take long. Two-three hours perhaps.
I contend, like many others before me, there are diabolical forces at work in this country whose aim is to change our future and revise our history as a critical stepping-stone to some larger ideal. And, there are very few who are privy to what that ideal ultimately is.What I do understand that it is widespread misinformation, involving government and those who run government (not just those we elect) and is highly dependent upon a COMPLICIT MEDIA.
This movement has played a central part in almost every international event over at least 200 years, gaining momentum over long periods of silent organization, recruitment using false ideas as premises to ultimate goals, infiltration into every part of our society and government, promotion within, and financed by every illegal means necessary to reach its ultimate ideals.
From an idealistic view I am agreement with much of their stated purpose. Where I fall short and refuse to acquiesce is in their own philosophy (written in stone) that mandates”the end justifies any means.” That tends to make individual humans expendable, as war so pointedly suggests and crumbling skyscrapers reiterate. Plus, what is said and what is actually done are sure to be just as incompatible. It’s a bet I find too risky, even for a gambler like me. I’m fine with what is stated, but what isn’t said is where one should find concern.
Currently, at the very heart of this (plot, if you will) scheme, is disarming the American citizenry for purposes that we can only guess, but can be certain it is not for our own good. This NOT CONJECTURE and is a matter of public record. Although as Peter Klein alluded from his and Ms. Smallstorm’s excellent work, in the “operation/drill” at Sandy Hook Elementary there was much more to gain by a number of seemingly disconnected groups, and so its success would be paid in spades on numerous fronts. Problem is… they failed miserably to keep the truth from being found out, and then attempted a Larry, Mo, and Curly cover up.
Or, did they succeed miserably?
It can be argued that on many fronts they were wildy successful, like earning over $100 million in sympathetic non-profit donations which likely exceeded their wildest dreams. This pie was divied up like a small town trick-or-treat party, handing out outlandish handfuls of sweets to almost anyone above poverty level in the neighboring and immediate vicinity. Free half-million dollar+ homes for literally hundreds, gifted on Christmas Day 2009, fixed lottery winnings for many (some winners had multiple jackpots on the same day, and a grand assortment of riches and perks. Surely not for everyone to just STFU. No? Alas, there were other ways to silence the few who dared.
As for success, it can easily be argued that over those 200 years, the most gains in the overall plan have been made in the last 25 years, and on an exponential scale. Be careful describing SHE as a failure.
Their push for gun control worked only State and locally (collecting and destroying 700,000 semi-automatic rifles), yet it funded a spate of smaller operations which were necessary to succeed on a national basis. Subsequent operations have kept the topic on the front pages and in the sheeples’ eye. Immediate success was unlikely, but as an ongoing operation inroads are being made into the hearts and minds of peace loving Americans.
Big Pharma and Security firms also made inroads into our public school systems for reasons not exactly clear except profiteering, but rest assured there are higher stakes and ultimate motives still silent. Theories abound, one regarding mandatory mental evaluations (for dissenters), but whatever… its safe to say that it will not bode well for the future of our children on multiple levels.
It is racketeering at the highest level, and the level above where Joe six-pack has ANY say in the matter. Or, better yet Messrs Obama, Bush or Clinton for that matter.
Its well known that big money poured into Security firms stock coffers pre and post 9-11, and with the planned wars winding down, arming police and school security may have kept the party going a tad longer before the eventual and inevitable hangover, and the “pump and dump (on 3)” alarm sounds. Never underestimate the simple minded but effective FEAR FACTOR, the one that Nazis of yore used so ordinary citizens gladly gave up their freedoms (and/or weapons). Julius Caesar himself invented and articulated the same tactics as he pondered the easiest methods of conquering lands while using local support for protection against some other unknown terr0r.
If the media bumble-fuck circus wasn’t accidental or just intended poor execution, it may well mean that it was just a “gut check” on American gullibility, in the face of and in spite of a well-connected and informed internet. On that level alone, there are far too many people who to this day KNOW nothing of the fake that was Sandy Hook; suggesting a well-planned fuck up might actually be regarded as a success considering the masses in general. One thing is certain, smart ain’t dumb, and dumb ain’t smart, but playing dumb can be the dumbest smart thing of all.
THIS IS ONLY A DRILL
Perhaps, much like the end of late night television broadcasting in the 60’s… “this was a test, and only a test.”
Just how gullible are we? Inquiring minds perhaps just wanted to know the limits for future plans.
To what limit can we “fuck up” and still pull off incredibly horrible fiction considered as fact by the mainstream public? An idea, conceivably born in the 1940’s on the heels of Orson Welles “War of The World’s” radio broadcast. It’s almost too hard to imagine the unintended incompetence that can thrive at that level.
Conventional wisdom says that in major F.U.ps, heads normally roll, except in these rare cases. Promotions and rewards were always in order for the biggest FUp’s.
Is this not clue enough?
It’s rather ironic in the thread that the fear mongering being called out is reversed; to my being labeled a fear monger. Oh my.
Below you will hear some comments that defy imagination (that SUGGEST any rational sapient being could actually believe what they were spoon fed by the Major media outlets), portending simple incompetence, but meant to sound reasonable and logical. While, at the same time vilifying THE TRUTH as fiction, and that this writer as in need of psychological help.
“In a world that keeps on pushing me around… I won’t be… turned around”
And yes, I have purposefully taken several psychological evaluations BEFORE I made these contentions, if nothing else but to over-ride that all too likely objection. Remember? Smart ain’t dumb and I ain’t playin’, nor am I dumb. But, as it were this was seen as admitting my nuttiness? Curiously, tests show me standing unusually firm on terra-firma.
Call me a narcissist if you will, but I simply see myself as supremely confident in knowing who I am, and who I am not, but more importantly what I stand for. Say what you will but that’s only a perspective, but not necessarily mine. I’m fully self-actualized.
This means that I am also aware of how easily I can fuck up, but still not hate myself in the least for it. Being “bullet-proof” means that no one can tell me anything about myself in which I am not already fully aware. That said, this a laughing FUCK YOU to the ignorant constituency whose tripe I endured in that thread.
(Full disclosure: Once an anti-gun ownership advocate, I’ve done a 180 and believe its critical for our survival; I’ve never owned gun, nor do I want one. I shot a .22 caliber at some beer cans once as a teenager.)
Hay bay-bae… there ain’t no easy way owwt, hay-yI-a… WILL… STAND…. MY… GROUND
and I won’t… back… down, NO I won’t… back… down”
Tighten your seat belt, this gets ugly quick… I’m thom but I ain’t petty.
The first clue to my second assertion of who these detractors are seems obvious to me, in that they uniformly try to label me as “the consummate anti-intellectual who has mental issues”.
Surely this many people cannot be that wrong after reading my scribe, when clearly the author (Noise) was pointing his finger directly at them. Or, lest I say we’re in deep shit if that many supposedly smart individuals can be, and are that wrong on issues so basic as the ones slapping them blatantly in the face, from the moment the article began.
Part 2: The Comment Section from Part 1 in Pyschology Today re: Anti-Intellectualism is Killing America by David Noise (my added comments in red) I’ve purposely left out much of the comments which are unrelated to my comment, and included some unrelated to my issue which I found to be valuable commentary on the article […]
(with a nod to George Carlin) “Politically Correct” or ‘Back-Stab-ingly Pleasant’? Man, I’m really getting tired of all this negative name calling… I much prefer the soft landing civilized society (Progressives? nah) have embraced when it comes to labeling people or things. Especially if my being brutally honest might really pîss-off an overly-sensitive individual, forever damaging their […]
Two months ago a very good friend suddenly left this plane, and though it had been some time since I last had heard his voice, I often wondered how he was doing. But now I think about him several times a day, though not in the blame filled guilt trip kinda way, just sadness, a sadness in that I never knew he was even sick. I’ve always joked (not joking) that I am the sanest person I know. With Doug though, if pressed I might have given him a slight edge on me. He had his shit together before I moved away from Greensboro, NC 13 years ago, when we ran hard and worked even harder, and then sometimes ran even faster again. Doug and I shared the work hard-play-hard life philosophy of “buy the ticket, take the ride”.
Now I feel sympathy for him and empathetic to his partner (Christina) and their son Noah, who is one year older than my 10-year old first-born son. I’m sorry that one of the finest persons I’ve been lucky enough to have called my friend found himself trapped inside one of the most vile twisted and horrible conditions in psychiatry today. And one that would eventually strike and unravel, deciding his fate. I know it must have been unbearable suffering, because the Doug I knew rarely lost at anything in life, his natural constitution was using his considerable talents to find a way to win. And a winner he was in every respect.
Ironically in 2007 we discussed some of these same issues that later haunted him, issues that from all accounts he later apparently struggled with mightily. He and I talked about it over a couple of long phone calls when my two-year old son’s mother died, ironically in the same out-of-the-blue mind-fuck way in which he later succumbed. It was only after some time that I was able to personally heal enough not to be mad at her when I looked at my son’s beautiful face, but I eventually researched it enough (with counseling) and studied the disease (manic bi-polar dis-order) enough to understand how she had been very sick, and her’s was not a selfish act… in some ways heroic. I admit to being mad at Doug too for those first couple of days as it is only a normal reaction. But, I hope that those who loved Doug will find it within themselves to forgive, and give Noah the love he will need going forward.
I’m now certain she (my son’s Mother) thought she was doing me and our son and maybe the world a favor. How could it happen only a few years later that Doug apparently didn’t recognize the symptoms he was experiencing as being eerily similar, and NOT seek immediate medical help?
“Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.
First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks
passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind’s way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.
Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying ‘time heals all wounds’ is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.
Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.
Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.
Our friendship was special in many ways, and I never doubted it was one that was built to last despite wherever our individual paths would lead us. The few times we did talk in the last 3-4 years it seemed like yesterday that we were laughing, golfing, partying, or talking through long hours of a weekend night, building a unique bond of brotherhood. And, so times remain in memories too, and though we’ve duffed our last good times together on the front nine of this “good walk spoiled”… My Dougly, I’ll catch you on the backside.
Doug will always seem near, and I doubt that feeling will ever yield, serving as testimony to all that we weathered together and how at one time we were bonded as if tethered. Time passed, and distance drew us further apart only in this physical realm, his life essence today as clear to me as anyone I’ve ever encountered who has passed my way..
In my minds eye I still see those bright sparkling sea blue eyes smiling that eternal grin, a slightly toothy and twisted grin that always uttered a quick shortish chuckle like a verbal wink, not a sneering snarkle.
I can still hear him saying…
“My Tommy-boy, what’s happen.n…in’…huh-huh-hnn” his standard opening line in modified uptalk.
“You, my brotha… you’re happenin’. What might we do to make this sunny Friday good reason to call it a week? I make an air-golf-swing and give him an inquisitive look as if asking a question?
“(Laughs out loud)” You’re on, but let me take care of a few things first. Let’s meet at Stoney Creek in an hour… they’ll squeeze us on. But, not before I buy you an ice-cold beer,” he offers, pulling one out of the small cooler in his tiny back office.
“Schweet, See ya’ at 12:45ish”, popping the top for a cool swig of cerveza.
The golf the excuse, the time spent laughing and chatting it up (and a few cold-uns) the real reasons we were playing. Of course, he almost always won, and I almost always got the tab later. Usually, he paid half anyway.
And so it was, that we sometimes were out late-ish. Closing time.
We sometimes but very rarely meet a person who shares a common natural vibe, manifesting itself as a subtle synchronous one-man-ship. Perhaps it is luck when two minds and hearts of like kind can instantly formulate and understand the other’s deepest thoughts and bind effortlessly in such a short time? True friendship, lastingly rare as it is, transcends the world we think we see and enters into a more sublime reality; where life and death are no different than time and distance, just a weird cohesive illusion. Maybe mind stays fresh for a time in the Consciousness of the Great Immensity? People who have died that I knew well never do seem as far from me as those whom I am merely acquainted with. Then again, maybe its just a function of the brain’s electrical neurotransmitters and neural networks, and there’s no big truth to discover after death? For now, I’ll take what I can get.
Neither of us a nihilist, and both always too real, we never disagreed about what is here and now, though we differed on the eternal spinning of the wheel. Doug, a religious believer, and me a skeptic… one never cared to convert the other, because we agreed that hey, “it is what it is”. Apparently Doug had one year earlier sold his restaurant, a business that started as a tiny cramped sandwich shop that he nurtured into a large, thriving, one-of-a-kind place to eat by the time Doug had hit 35. It was the epitome of the term “cash cow”. I often wonder if his having sold his life’s work recently and somewhat stumbling around free and without a solid plan for his next big move contributed to his fall from grace. “Idle hands are the Devils work”, they say, but then one must first also believe in the Devil. Doug did, not me. May be I’m just lucky? Lucky?
Well… curiously enough, I too “retired” from a successful career with the intent to take some “idle time” first before embarking on another big challenge at around the same age as Doug did (47). That was 12 years ago, and I’ve not worked at a job since then. But, don’t sleep on the fact that the years surrounding age 47 can be a difficult period for many men, as it is around the time we experience one of our greatest “changes of the seasons”. It is a time where questions outnumber answers, reason gives in to fantasy, and suppressed Jungian archetypes arrive unannounced to ring a gentle alarm, seemingly without an off button but a relentless snooze reminder.
For me, an avid reader from way back and a suction for knowledge of all things anything, I trust that this malady of Doug’s will stay at bay throughout my less-than-ideal projected number of remaining days. Smart and stubborn, when told in January ’06 I had “less than five years” to make my indelible mark on humanity, I simply refused to accept it, or believe it was a possibility.
After all, after 50 years of child-free living and loving it… I had become a father. I was a single father, and this wonderful life-giving “reason for reasons” became my duty bound refusal to leave as scheduled. I mean, to me it was as simple as, “No, I have a little boy to raise.”
Maybe in the twisted end we’ll all find that in sublime irony, “living is dying, and dying is living, or something a thousand times more weird. But, NOW is the only sure bet we have. It pays to have hope, reason, and expectation of a future… but we should never take our eye off the ball of NOW.
“The human being cannot live in a condition of emptiness for very long: if he is not growing toward something, he does not merely stagnate; the pent-up potentialities turn into morbidity and despair, and eventually into destructive activities.”
I admired a man named Douglas Fricks, an honest and loyal friend killed by one of (god’s) nastiest tricks. Smart and funny, happy and caring, humble, sharing, compassionate and never once was he over-bearing. Confident and cool, his actions were the example his employees didn’t learn in school. He didn’t worship money, he worshiped Noah and (sometimes) even his honey.
He spoke the truth and he knew its limits, but he never seem to pass on one more ice-cold beer… and I was right there, but we always usually sometimes held it together. He was “My-Fugly-My-Dougly”, and my “Friggy-my Diggy”. And me, to him… just “Tommy-boy” (my habit of nicknaming and his return sally).
I hope you found your peace my brother, I’ll always be your biggest fan. You in the fairway and me the woods, your smooth swing had you dancing, and me hacking, whacking, hatchet thicket smacking… but you never let me know how far down I stood. I loved YOU for the you that was you… and you, My Dougly… I always will.
Daddy-hood sort of caught me by the nape of my neck. In the summer 2004 I was surprised to learn that… like it or not I was going to become a Father. Whoa!… after 50 years I had long decided against and avoided that (to me) unfortunate scenario. But, fate had chosen another route for […]
Don’t bother playing this if you don’t want to listen to every second of it. But… if you can handle it, there is much wisdom and simple truth to be found in this dynamite incredibly fabulous song… Pessimistically optimistic, but as Raw and REAL as it gets.
Again and again, when confronted by the many serious problems with which humanity has been struggling since the First World War and is still facing, the almost despairing question is often asked, even in anthroposophical circles: ‘What can I do? What can the individual do about the machinations of these secret groups, if indeed they exist? It’s all too much for individuals.’ Rudolf Steiner’s answer in these lectures is bold and clear: ‘The only defence against these things is knowing about them. If you know about them, you are protected … But you must not be idle about acquiring real knowledge of these things.’ ― Secret Brotherhoods And the Mystery of the Human Double
It’s pretty ironic that the so-called ‘least advanced’ people are the ones taking the lead in trying to protect all of us, while the richest and most powerful among us are the ones who are trying to drive the society to destruction
― Noam Chomsky
He who is not angry when there is just cause for anger is immoral. Why? Because anger looks to the good of justice. And if you can live amidst injustice without anger, you are immoral as well as unjust.
― St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274)
I would add; if you’re not enraged, concerned, indignated, or/and compassionate, etc. you are either sleeping or a human whose humanity is lost. THE FUTURE OF ALL depends upon YOUR awakening. And the lyrics in the song point to that awakening:
https://soundcloud.com/tiller_wills/08-11-11a Tiller Wills is a Chicago based Hip-Hop artist. His debut LP 11:11 is available everywhere. Tiller’s lyrics hit hard and fast while covering a wide range of topics, ranging from summertime fun to government corruption
Don’t worry, most of the second half is ‘positive’ but the first ‘negative’ part is the most enlightened (because knowledge about the crucial topics in the lyrics are still being kept in the dark on the part of the majority. And conversely; the minority is therefore – in terms of knowledge, being more informed – more ‘enlightened’. And the lack of knowledge about the negative prevents the positive from flourishing fully which is why we need to be cognizant of the things mentioned in 11:11). I am not denigrating the expression and intention of love at all in the second part of 11:11 but tend to agree with the following statement:
“The first is to open our minds, start taking responsibility back, and remove this edifice of control and suppression of information which will allow the full flow of knowledge of who we are to flood into the public arena…Once people start to realize who they really are and the nature of life, thenwe can go into stage two which is the incredible consciousness shift that is going to happen, and is happening for many people already, but can happen for everybody if we open up to the knowledge of what’s going on and to do that the edifice of suppression has to go. And what I see so often in … what we call New Age movement is that they’re focusing on the second bit and they’re in denial about about the first. And the second is not going to happen for many people unless we remove the edifice of suppression cause most people are going to think what the heck’s going on and they’re going to go through this great change in a complete fog of what’s happening. …Two things to do here. One is to start focusing on how the world’s controlled, identify it and remove it. Secondly, then we can concentrate unhindered on the transformation spiritually that is unfolding ”
– David Icke
Analysis and commentary: After some surveys and crowdsourcing I have now come to the conclusion that most people’s brains are so conditioned by the phonetic sound of the utterance ‘fuck’, that they are unable to listen to or understand the lyrics or read between the lines of the lyrics, while the already informed about the issues at stake are rejoicing big time! The great irony is that the people who think that the lyrics are ‘primitive’, ‘vulgar’, etc. (because of the repeated word ‘fuck’) are missing the profound point which is; no other lyrics on any track in contemporary culture are so jampacked with very important suppressed censored key topics, which somewhat constitute a compendiary of key events, entities and concepts for the freedom/truth/justice/activist-movements all around the world.
The protest (fuck) is simply the morality/indignation of the lyrics, a very necessary Jeremiad considering the topics – and the word ‘fuck’ is only an expression of a protest against things which takes a vigilant mind to detect, especially when populations are confronted with massive censorship, manipulation, omission, and suppression of the topics in 11:11 by mainstream media, governments and institutions.
Tiller Wills describes some of the most significant but censored world phenomena and dangers of our time, is versatile and apparently highly knowledgeable but one cannot see that if one isn’t in the know. 11:11 is a clarion call for freedom, justice, truth, inquiry, revision, empowerment – a reflection of a huge but imperative body of knowledge and enlightenment, key events and entities, which should be mandatory knowledge, understood, dealt with, not suppressed or ignored (what’s the alternative?). And it is a moral duty to say ‘fuck’ to most of the things in the lyrics (the first half). Actually, if people knew, they wouldn’t hesitate to declare themselves in very strong opposition to the things mentioned in the lyrics as a matter of life and death. That’s why the word ‘fuck’ is used as it’s the shortest and strongest exclamation of outcry – however banal – in our culture, etc. (apart from sex, and other few colloquial contexts). Whereas the word ‘fuck’ is being used in the context of callous inane rap music, 11:11 is using the word in its highest moral justification. That’s why 11:11 is a real very rare underground rebel rap track in the age of the Internet Reformation – thus it is a pioneering feat, regardless of much rap being accused of monotony, litany, etc. 11:11 is quite a different rant but you can’t see it if you are in the Matrix so to speak. Of course the ignorant cannot see what the words point to, only focusing on ‘fuck’ without meaning, dismissing the content out of hand because of this, unable to connect dots, many people being ignorant in their own decrepit dangerous illiteracy, and lost in space in regard to why the lyrics point to (mostly) highly significant phenomena in our time. And I don’t have the energy to insert +200 hyperlinks in the lyrics right now, but it would be a good idea if someone did (Update; I inserted links)
People blindly follow the path of useful idiocy and unwitting destruction, not knowing that they are – in varying degrees – controlled by the normalization of diseased socio-cultural entities, institutions and unacknowledged collective psychopathology, not to mention political masters of perception management: deep politics anddirected history defining much of their reality (perhaps the essence of the lyrics). It’s the most diehard hardcore enlightened lyrics so far because of the above-mentioned things by the way, not the word ‘fuck’….but it’s also deeply moral, if not spiritual, exactly because of the word ‘fuck’ in the context of what should be (mostly)‘fucked’ (anathema)…..if only more people knew…..
PS: And a commentary that encapsulates the mindset of millions within a growing global underground movement:
‘Those of you who are active members of the secret war are already aware of it. You’ve had no choice but to recognize your part in it. You may wonder why you have been targeted, and what you should do.
They are afraid of awareness, awareness is infectious and very powerful. Those of you who fully possess your spirit and mind have the ability to throw a wrench in the social machine. They don’t want you to know about your power. They would rather that you be afraid like everybody else. They will ambush, sabotage, assault, and confuse you until you no longer present a threat, or you are advanced enough to bypass their mental barrage. If you reach the level where you can no longer be controlled by fear, they will merely censor you entirely so you do not disrupt the power structure.
Whether you know it or not, we are at war. This isn’t a war that is spoken of, it concerns the human race, rather then respective countries or nations. As some of you know, it is a war of perception and information. As others of you know, it is a spiritual war, taking place on higher dimensions and reflected in physical form in global affairs, the media, and even the internet.
In essence, this is a war of control, and it is everywhere. The ultimate power is to take control of perception and eventually the mind and spirit. By controlling the media, TPTB can directly influence the ideas, hopes, dreams, and fears of the public. This control is not limited to mainstream media. It is at full scale even in the places you Might Least Expect.
Do not be fooled by public opinion. Let nobody dictate to you your reality. Not teachers, preachers, scripture, politicians. Train the only weapon that will be effective – the spirit and mind.
If you have been targeted by this game, remember that you are not alone, even if it sometimes seems as if you are.’
But there’s a lot to love (Music Change)
But there’s a lot to love
But there’s a lot to love
But there’s a lot to love
I love the innocence in a newborns laugh
love the thought of being a newborns dad
love every baseball game I ever had
love the gravel and the grass
love the strawberry shasta that my grandmother had
I love the old cowboy hat on my gramps
I loved hearing him when I was at bat
I love the wrinkles on the back of his hands
And I love that I was there on the day that he passed
I love the freedom in women when women dance
I love optimistic romance
the magic it captures when you live in the moment
I love thanking the soldiers
welcoming them home again
I love the smell in the air when the rainstorm coming love playing with my sister and her easy bake oven
I love shrinkie dinks, I love to color ’em
I love the tender touch of my mothers skin
I love that she stayed when my dad was a runner
love having a younger brother
love building forts out of leaver, out of lumber
love learning how to be men together
love the bond that we built forever
love playing the games on the Sega
but we were Super Mario Brothers when we got the nintendo
I love to think that we are still I love stillness speaks by Echart Tolle
I love the way the pages made my eyes so open
I love the kindness of strangers when their hearts open
I love never stopping hoping
I love the thought of where we go when it’s over
I love honoring another’s culture
I love sponsoring the notion that there’s honor-in-culture
I love to make fun of Ann Coulter
I love lemongrass soup when the weather gets colder I love the view of the lake from my porches
I love being okay that I don’t drive porsches
and I love that my baby also knows what’s important
See It’s important that I love and support her
and I love that-we-fell-in love when we were poor as a pauper
I mean we couldn’t be broker
no joke, and I love that it never broke her
I love that we still grow closer
and I thank God everyday for the opportunity he made for me to know her I love music
I love the symphony that plays in your brain when you listen to it
I love the effect that it has on a Human
love that it heals us better then drugs do
love the rhythm a heartbeat beats to
I love being in audiences that Jeff Tweedy sings too
and I love Jack White without the raconteurs
I’d love to see Garth Brooks go back on tour
he’s been a friend when I’ve been in low places before
I love the thunder rolls but I love the river more
I love the architecture of the hollywood biltmore
I love buildings that were built back when we built more
I love waking up each day to find out what I’m still here for I love the comedy in tragedy
and I love that when I point it out everybody gets mad at me
like I love wilford brimley before diabetes
but I hope his infomercials help him pay for his surgeries
I love getting harassed by the target security
I love that my jacket make them follow me
I love hearing my description on there walkie-talkies
I love letting them search me while the manager watches
I love hearing them say pardon me, please accept my apology
I love the vulnerability in Humanity honestly
I love using my TV to argue with sean hannity
I love fantasizing about back smacking him hard handedly I love the blessing of the food in my pantry
I love finding a begging veteran and handing him twenty
I love that he was really ready to go die for my country
I love the feeling inside when he cried and he hugged me
I love the angels among me and I love that they love me
I love the conversations, I love the company
I love it when they come say whats up to me
I love Archangel Michael and I love what he’s done for me I love doing theater in college (music start over)
I love the energy created in a building of knowledge
I love the lessons in the building of knowledge
I love that you could live forever and never know all of it
I love Halibut. I love smoked salmon fish
I love that people emphasize the L when they sounding it
I love hide and go seek and I love when I found it
I love when the Los Angeles police department had me surrounded
I love paying my bail with 10% and a promise
to appear before the Judge and be honest
let’s be honest, I forgot all about it
I love that I prioritize that shit way down at the bottom
I love smoking marijuana in autumn
I love Paramahansa Yogananda I love to believe that we get to do this again
I love the Akashic Records, I’d love to read them
I love multidemtional theoretical theorems
I love redundancy I love redundancy
I love Los Angeles but I don’t love what she done to me
I love that I left and I don’t have a day of regret
It wasn’t meant to be but I love the memories yup
And I love my enemies don’t have my new Chicago address yet I love the first amendment
I love the second
I love the third, fourth, fifth
I love the seventh
I love the sixth, eighth, ninth
I love the tehth-ith
I worship the church of the constitutional ten commandments
I love the rest of them too but they weren’t as dramatic
I love Minneapolis.
I love it.
I gotta have it.
I love Chicago too but its second on my love list
Aw, forget this
I love all the midwest
I love the tobacco smell when the splif lit
I love the music that second city audio machine did
I love nachos and cheese dip
I love knocking back a few double bottles of sharp cheddar cheese wiz I love that its been 11 years since my last sip
I love that my sobriety’s lasted
I love that my old friends think that I am less of a bastard
now that I put down the Jack and put down the Captain
I love laughing
love that I was sober at my little sisters wedding
love that the details aren’t hard for me to remember
love the way the wind blew in from the harbor
I love that me and my brother proudly walked her up to the alter
I cant recall having ever felt such a swelling of honor
like the building of a chorus on the grandest piano
and I love that I felt sad for her father
I love that he didn’t come ever though we invited him and we tried to surprise her. I love David Copperfield
I love magic
i love the mystery in the supernatural
I love the first bite of a crisp red apple
I love gatorade
I love snapple
I love when the test results say that its NOT cancer
I love the first breath of air right after
I love to often question the answer
I love my elementary pastor
he was responsible for me leaving the church faster I love rocks and crystals
I love glock pistols
I love knock knock jokes
I love riddles
I love my wizard staff that I whittled
I love the first light of the sunrise when it crawls in my windows
I love going back to the dream world
I love leaving my body behind on my pillow
and flying over the top of a forrest of willows
I’m a master at astral-projecting. Love its potential. I love exploring the metaphysical
Love the theories composing its principles
I love the subconscious and love the subliminal
I love the bible and I love that its biblical
I love to get analytical on whether its literal
or is its messages more metaphorically poetical
I love atheists
I love that they’re cynically critical
I love the right to think that what each other is thinking is pitiful
and II love to dance when nobody is watching
I love when my fiance dance. I love to watch it.
I love the soft skin on the side of her stomach (pause)
I love to love her and I love being lovers
I love pancakes smothered in butter
I love the last day of school and I love the first day of summer
I love that there is still so much more for all of us to discover
but the most important thing to love is love one another. For real.
An email sent to a friend (Vance Kinlaw) who is a very smart man… a graduate of UNC-Law School and Dartmouth University. Our relationship through the years had centered around both our passions for college basketball where we argued the merits of our respective favorite teams. He recently told me that he had withdrawn his support for UNC and sold his season tickets due to an ethical conflict of interest regarding the University and their selling out to the god of money. I was shocked that this long time ardent supporter had taken such a drastic stance, and at the time a bit flummoxed. Now… I too get it.
Once again I must admit that I am squarely behind both the eight ball and the Kinlaw in my pursuit of truth.
I once almost (emphasis on almost) derided your decision to quit the “college game” because of your ethical stance regarding UNC’s Board of Governors and their apparent thirst for squeezing every dollar out of the sports programs without regard to the alumni and their ethics and ideals.
I mean, “it’s just a few advertisements” I remember thinking when you described the billboards along the Dean Dome’s press row, the straw that finally sent you packing and giving up your cherished season tix. I really just didn’t get it fully, although I knew/know MONEY is god everywhere in our culture.
I just didn’t go far enough down that rabbit hole…
Now, after the NCAA Tournament brackets for 2014 have been made public, the rabbit has bitten me on the ass and drawn blood. What a scam! Every seed, every game or chance game has been manipulated by the committee this year for ONE PURPOSE only: Revenue. Period. Ticket prices have gone up 33% since last year!
Of course, it’s probably due to the Attorney fees in the Ed O’Bannon case (lol).
At any rate, I stand corrected, and as always… in a certain awe of your scope…
held my breath too long it seems finest place was just a dream rose to the top jus’ like the cream
but virtuous… a lonely theme the lies are told through smiles they beam as curtains hide the actors scheme gag the truth or it will scream.
you are just one and they are a team wrinkled shirts will get the steam so money’s god, but god ain’t green while power wins, fine ass is reamed.
play or lose you finally gleam know the truth but go mainstream but every crack will find a seam times gettin’ bad when good’s extreme.
FACEBOOK IT.(A recent comment to friend’s Facebook post about America.)
America? Where is it anyway?
I had a dream that I grew up there, but when I woke up… oh shit!?! I lived in a foreign land that existed only in the minds of an ignorantly deluded multitude, but in the “pockets” of a few greedy intellectual snake charmers with some bizarre ideas; who manipulated us (through their control of the monetary supply-system which they did privately own yet had surreptitiously presented as one being Federally regulated/owned), by using their powerful political, deadly, and financial force to corrupt and control this so-called “AMERICA”‘s political morally bankrupt leaders years many before my birth.
After a cup of Java or two had really opened my eyes and re-started my brain I learned that they had used lies and manipulation to hypnotize the masses into believing that we were living in and freely participating in the affairs of an ethically righteous political Republic; and one whom God had somehow annointed as “policeman to the world” due to our extreme technologically advanced capability of forcing will on nearly every aspect of the world’s populations through intimidation, blackmail, and destruction.
Sad that I had only dreamt about America’s greatness instead of actually having existed in an honourable country espousing freedom for all who wished to FAIRLY and HONESTLY excel through individual effort, determination, and innovation like I had been indoctrinated to believe…
I retreated, to the only real and local environment that I truly felt I could trust and love… my family and a few close personal friends.
(Below is a preface to a post I’ve been thinking about, researching and studying for quite some time. I haven’t written/posted it yet because of the potentially negative implications it may have on many of those whom I consider friends, and whom I deeply respect. My intention is for edification purposes only, not to hurt feelings… and I’ll welcome any dissent and discussion. The entire story runs deeper than what you read below but the implications and details of what I’m suggesting will be detailed in future posts…)
Love me or hate me but… always know that, “I callz it like I seez it”. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. -mostdiggity
A friend of mine (professional comic Kier) was once described as being “seriously funny”. It was apt, knowing his capacity for reducing our complex culture biases and common personal anecdotes into simple… but very funny shit (ala: George Carlin without the facial body language and black mock-turtle). Kier is talented, smart, unassuming and compassionate…
But mostly, he’s for REAL. And that can sometimes scare the hell out of anyone of us. I think in the end, much like life itself, REAL is complete with good, bad, happy, sad, etc… but it is also a place where in self-reflection our lives can seem hilarious in the self-deprecating way that talents like Kier affords us with his uncommon wit and style.
I like to think it (being for REAL) mostly describes me too, although I realize that my viewpoint is narrowly perched on a perspective that only I (and sometimes special folks I share it with) can witness as a biting ironic humor. Even then, it is with somewhat cloudy vision and never enough information. And sometimes, it is taken out of the context with which it was meant. It’s just that I find that we all have weaknesses, and I can be the first to admit mine… but in a way that is humorous, not hateful. Others are not as forthcoming, and there many times seems to be a disconnect.
I try to allow others to reach conclusions about me without trying to sell to them (like this maybe?). Sometimes I succeed, other times… not so much. Either way, I believe the concept is solidly based on some simple basic terms: my ethical integrity, overt self-confidence, and brutal self-honesty that all highlight the folly of wanting but not having the “perfect life. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we cry.
In other words, I can handle the idea that sometimes I fuck up and look stupid, and all with self-image intact. I can accept that money and god are not related (while both or neither may in fact be real) and it doesn’t reduce my self-worth (though it can make navigating the endless requirements of runaway capitalism infinitely more challenging having considerably reduced my net worth).
One must accept that this “wisdom” doesn’t always jibe with today’s more conventional cliché of the century, political correctness… which seems to support the idea that image is everything and image is closely tied to money and unbound consumerism. And that translates somehow to the love of god?
I think it also breeds a narrow worldview supporting the selective reasoning of “it’sbetter not to know some things” unless the issues fit one’s cultural belief system, local and community lifestyle, tax bracket/job description and career goals, or their antiquated religious belief system if they expect to reach that holiest of Holy Grails: financial security and worldly success and god.
I suspect that choice is made (yes, I admit that I once bought in to that BIG LIE) by most of us rather than having to personally seek real truth or perhaps finding it to be distasteful and difficult to reconcile with our learned core values, and sense of place, and future in the world.
PC tends to add untidy information supportive of many of its own inflated self-deluded issues of its own deemed importance, and ignore untidy information about other issues which might nullify support for what it subjectively considers meaningless or mundane, (i.e. it does not further its nationalistic/ materialistic cause). One example might be an but unspoken “required” support for US invasions which kill innocents abroad, while condemning international dictators who (surreptitiously) use our US support to help kill the same, but without paying the U.S. ransom dictates.
The truth is that PC does taste pretty sweet in many cases (like at a party your boss attends, or a fundraiser for a worthy charitable cause that uses your contributions honestly), but many “good causes” can quickly putrefy from innocent ignorance into egregious hate or simple financial scams. And, when heated to a boil they can become a hate soup. I refer to it as an “Ignorant-Hate-Stew”.
It is worrisome today that political correctness salt and peppers our entire diet of issues and vocabulary, and few are willing to say “no thanks”, perhaps feeling some unseen but real political pressure to smile, swallow hard, and agree. Some of us gag at the notion. Others are gagged on the swallow hard part. Yes, I said that.
The rest, it seems to me either remain ignorantly aloof or reach for a strong drink of “group-think”. Clubs and Organizations (secular and non-secular alike) either real or disguised as community resources for fellowship tend to propagate and project their “subjective” idealism on everyone as TRUTH… which in turn is more readily accepted by the individual members. Indoctrination of the masses.
The “Ignorant-Hate-Stew” tends toleave an after-taste of spicy self-righteousness, and when drunk with too much group-think reduces vision and open discussion, narrows options, and distorts basic notions of good and bad. The next step is buying influence and forcing it down our throats… and the march goes on…
The seriously unfortunate truth is that many of these organizations have goals which are hidden from their general membership, sometimes to the point of being in exact contradiction to their stated purpose. It can be said that in some cases their leaders (or leader’s leaders) use the IGNORANCE we’re drinking as weapons of our own mass destruction.
This is nothing new. It has been going on for centuries, passed down by governments, secret societies, self-appointed intellectual visionaries, and others. The means and methods vary but the idea remains constant; control of the masses by deluding their thinking, playing both sides of every conflict but remaining vigil in their ultimate goal of keeping and remaining in control. At any cost necessary.
They use religion for propagating hate and oppositional violence. They use religion to sedate for peace or to incite for war, whichever is more beneficial to their cause at any particular moment. Religion to divide us, religion to conquer us.
Political Correctness is just one of many ways propaganda can be utilized to further the ideals of a few while poisoning the TRUTH as the masses live their lives drunk on Ignorant-Hate-Stew. The less “control” the masses feel over their own destinies, the more “Politically Correct” they become. And, the further from REAL TRUTH they drift…
So please, be a responsible individual, and always… think before you take that drink.
(The rest, as they say is history. Stay tuned for THE REAL BIG PICTURE).
The REAL DEAL is fair…feeling not better or worse than anyone, but rather sees the world as a somewhat level playing field where balance rules a life of give and take.
The REAL DEAL is one who understands that everything must stem from and lead to equality; that his own perspective is but one of an infinite number of possible perspectives, all clouded by their own personal histories yet just as valid and important as his own. Being real is neither superior or inferior.
The REAL DEAL gains knowledge from others but earns wisdom from within. He does not expect to be given anything for free except the respect that he freely gives to everyone.
The REAL DEAL is one who understands that he is solely responsible for his own self-predicament in life, but also understands the complex and fickle nature of luck, timing, and pro-active behavior, which can all lead to his ultimate success or failure. In the end he accepts himself and takes any blame for his mistakes in life.
A man who doesn’t use material things as barometers for success and happiness, and instead sees them as unreliable measures which are at best self-indulgent ego-symbols; The REAL DEAL values close family and interpersonal relationships as a more meaningful predictor of feeling and finding true self-worth.
But The REAL DEAL understands how images are real and important and must be paid some attention. The REAL DEAL is more giver than taker, but feels equality is best served by a near equal exchange. He doesn’t keep the score, but instead senses it and honors others on his mental scorecard. In the end he never owes, but instead is always felt to be owed by many.
The REAL DEAL stands up to be counted in plain view, who does not coward from any situation or person, even those who may see him as an adversary. He does not cringe before any person, despite their size, title, or social status.
The REAL DEAL does not ever honor violence, but sees how nature supports it as one of her own children whom she still loves despite its sometimes abhorrent behavior. He would not intentionally hurt anyone, unless defending himself or those he loves, or meting out some deserved injustice.
The REAL DEAL is passionate about many things, who appreciates the natural beauty in all things. He is a part of and is made of parts as all things are. His is a “holonic” existence.
The REAL DEAL rarely apologizes as he understands how every action stems from a conscious motivation of fairness and goodness that he refuses to stray from.
The REAL DEAL looks everyone in the eye, never seeing through them or seeing his own reflection, but sees everyone as an amalgamation of a person who has experienced the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly.
The REAL DEAL has an acute sense of awareness and feeling using a keen developed sense most humans have not developed, mainly due to their harried daily existence. This sense stems from a mental ,ability to do great mathematical calculations, without realizing he has done so.
The REAL DEAL does not deny nor accept the existence of God as fact, simply knowing that semantically speaking God can be many things to many people. He also understands how philosophy, art, and the sciences can provide a positive working framework for his existence, without the need for a God.
The REAL DEAL can forgive and forget, yet he never forgets those who are unrepentant. He might sometimes punish those whom he sincerely feels are purveyors of evil and destruction. This arises from his keen sense of equanimity, not hate.
You wanted to know what it means to be The REAL DEAL?
Being REAL is acknowledging your mortality, but not succumbing to the negative vibe which we learn from others throughout our lives.
One cannot know anything about life unless one understands that by living, one accepts dying. Don’t deny- rather embrace that fact. Experience your subtle perceptions of pleasure and of pain as lessons in living. Examine your inner feelings, get to know yourself. Be who you are and want to be.
Any critique of anything you make is only as good as your understanding of how opposites need a counterpart for their own existence, their own survival. Thus any comment on good or great is dependent on your experience with bad and terrible. Lose the hate and embrace everything as your personal playground. Try to always feel yourself in the moment.
Being REAL is being thankful for your existence, whatever that is. Its all you’ve got. Learn to laugh about it. Enrich it with lasting love and friendships, and especially family. never forsake another person in need or seeking your help. Someday, you may reverse roles.
Awareness of self and of your own individual agenda as a human of good moral character is key. If you always stay true to the moral creed I’ve tried to instill, you will never have to remember what you say or how you act, as you’ll know that you have nothing to regret. No apologies will be needed. You are being you through and through, and that’s good. As my good buddy-man Tipster likes to say, “if you’re right, you can’t be wrong”.
Having and developing a keen sense of propriety, common decency and equality with everyone is important no matter what your or their station in life or social status. Or age, gender, creed, code, or religion… as it will serve you well throughout our life. You can’t read a book by it’s cover.
Being REAL is being ageless, and though you may comprehend the basic natural order of things, never succumb to pre-destined rules of order or mindset that needlessly limits openness, creativity, and love; yet neither should you worship youth as perfection. You are my greatest example of that premise since I was twice your mother’s age and look at what we produced together.
The entropic forces of time may affect physical beauty, but never assume this is related to better or worse. It is an entirely separate issue.
Your personal truth can only be found in your own personal life experiences, so cherish every moment and find your way on your own time… and make your own path if needed despite the brambles, bushes, and briars. You can follow or lead, or like me prefer to create your own path. The choices for you are all REAL and pertinent in your ever expanding journey through space/time.
Written a few years ago for a friend whose boyfriend was suddenly killed in a bike week motorcycle accident. I too was struggling through a recent sudden loss, making the moment even that more poignant… I thought I had lost the poem, but found (some of) it in a file drawer the other day.
life after their death, my friend
Sitting here by Kimberly’s grave
thoughts turn to you and Tony
life too short for both of them
our grief the testimony.
Who lives or not whose choice it be
or just the dice who say?
does God play poker, or is he the Joker
is it black and white, or grey?
And who am I that thinks of you
does a mirror speak the truth?
etching names in granite destroy the planet
isn’t uphill downhill too?
Does our narrow vibration on this playing field
prove that we “exist for real”, or only “sense” we do?
manifesting our love not by, “they’re dead and gone”
but “they live in our hearts and will see us through?”
And don’t we create our own version of real
realizing ourselves… in all our think, our say, and do?
Yes, we’re exactly who we think we are
and there’s part of Kimberly always alive in me…
Are we near THE END OF BOOK PRINTING as we know it?
RarelyNever has any one historical person’s vision of the future unfolded exactly as they predicted it would.
But, considering that hindsight is 20/20, it is certainly ironic that it was in the year 1984 when the large cracks in the walls of the great society of man began to splinter and show. And while then famous author George Orwell‘s iconic futuristic book (written 35 years earlier) titled 1984depicted a hauntingly familiar fictional path taken by a broken society… to the average man in 1984 the book’s message likely seemed nearly impossible… but, NOT the inevitable outcome for his world.
But less than 40 years later, that quasi-feeling of comfort and security that Western civilized man had thought to finally achieve and spread across the globe was noticeably beginning to unravel in unrelenting swaths. A vast paradigm shift (much like the shift that the printing press had once ignited) in learning and literacy across every domain reshaped Western civilization, starting a systemic Domino knock-down in a rapid-fire succession. Every resistant, old, or traditional mode of operandi soon gave way to the first truly dynamic and participatory, Civilization of Mankind.
In the 1970s another seminal book, Future Shockby futuristic author and philosopher Alvin Toffler, correctly predicted a sort of psychological paralysis in man, who was over-burdened by incessant and accelerating rates of technological change while society overall transformed from an industrial to a post-industrial, technological society.
Tofler was not only a futurist, but a scientist/writer of the highest degree. His books alone neatly defined the growing uneasiness that eventually blossomed into a full-scale revolution against his own intelligentsia in the mid-21st Century.
Again and again, it was the silicon computer chip which rescued man from himself during much of these treacherous times. It may be said in hindsight that man grew too smart… too smart for his own good. But alas… he was too dumb to see it. It seemed Moore’s law was perhaps Murphy’s law on a larger scale.
Creative destruction. Religion vs. Computers.
Also adding fuel to the fire was the swift rise of scientific thought in just a few hundred years. Science alone shattered intellectual man’s illusion of living life as a sort of “pre-flight”, a preparation for some greater infinitely more rewarding after-life; and science stood in stark contrast to ancient spiritual concepts and a book of willfully propagated lies taken as fact by much of the educated mass population who embraced knowledge over mere faith. But traditions, like bad habits sometimes don’t just roll-over and die.
Compound that with the fact (now well known but in those days intentionally and systematically demeaned by a quasi-religious group of Jewish businessmen and their tyrannical mind-controlled converts as being a form of mental imbalance and paranoia, derisively termed “Conspiracy Theory”; which in reality was questioned the status quo based on historical facts, undeniable and unquestionable man-made events orchestrated by deep state groups, MNM, complicit with government but too outlandish to be rooted in reality, and not-so secret outlines for plans to rule a one-world government enslaving the remainder of mankind).
These plotters and zealots intended to contrive and manipulate history to jive with their ancient Biblical teachings which had long crowned Judaisim as God’s chosen religion and people, though they themselves were mostly admitted atheists who used the moniker Zionists. Perhaps they felt they needed the all-too successful creations of three Western Abrahamic related religious doctrine practiced by 4/5’s of the world population in that it was too embedded in the human pysche of society to turn back.
The elite bloodlines of the world had spent much of its’ wealth figuring out how to maintain power early on in man’s rise to king of the jungle, intellectual stardom, struggle for dominance, and release from the inhospitable jungles of Africa and later Mongolia. They informally decided to purposefully spoon feed a sweet tasting “Kool-Aid” to mankind for dozens of centuries before the 21st Century, simply in the name of retention of power, and pacifistic crowd control. It’s name: Religion.
As do the best laid plans, an inevitable chasm developed and slowly grew like a oily-red adolescent pimple between factions and off-shoots who each felt they alone were God’s chosen ones; that is until the disaster of 2043, when the infection burst over a poorly designed attempt to co-opt their tiring and obsolescent fairy tale with a much more incredible tale… alien visits from outer space, other dimensions, and a dash of evil demons and angels reminiscent of a winner-take-all made for TV special. The world had finally had enough as the plot unraveled and bounty’s were offered and collected for bringing the bungling middle-men to justice.
For a long time the Western elite had pretended spiritual sanctity through an organized ritualized and borrowed religious dogmatic institution known as The Church. The Church existed for an of itself and the ruling class elite it served, created its own legends consistent with the ideas of Edward Bernays and other elite in charge of sway and propaganda, and built its own organizational hierarchy subservient to the Emperor. Yet the ruling elite (The Purple and his Court) were able to hide this hideous truth until much of the Roman Empire’s masses had been brainwashed into thinking FAITH and FACT were synonymous with TRUTH. By cleverly banning books and learning and teaching for hundreds of years punishable by death, they were able to hold sway for a thousand more years, until the lie could no longer prevail over rational thought.
The Vatican in Rome, whose leader is The Pope or Pontiff, is the largest well-organized and highly secretive closed society and/or religious groups (The Catholic Church) created by The Roman Emperor/Court as a means to control the empire’s greatest resource… their masses. Sometime after the Jewish revolt was squelched and the Second Temple in Jerusalem destroyed by Emperor Vespasian’s son Titus during the reign of the Flavian dynasty which ruled Rome between 70 C.E. and 99 C.E., a tightly knit group of elites pulled off the biggest psy-op in human history. The church of Rome already had a well oiled, highly bureaucratic, politically correct state religion which was utilized to worship deified Caesars.
But… as in all things, the madness finally ran it’s inevitable course. Religion per se (not necessarily the belief in God) was dead.
The Flavian influence, Propagandists extraordinaire.
The Flavians were led by its patriarch Vespasian, a Roman general who happened to be in the right place at the right time. He had been commissioned by Nero to put down the Jewish revolt in 66 C.E. and had begun dismantling the Judean strongholds on his march to the capital in Jerusalem. Vespasian had returned to Rome after defeating the Druids in Northern England, banning or censoring any Druid communication including all written materials, and laying out the Roman propaganda plan before leaving the area. He was a military pro as was his oldest son, 29-year old Titus, who had risen steadily through the ranks of Roman military hierarchy to Praetorian guard, a notable achievement.
Vespasian had been in Rome during a short Pax and was anxious to get back to his cattle ranch in the countryside, somewhere just outside of today’s Morocco. Vespasian had zero designs on the Purple, was not of noble rank like the many Caesars before him, and had been fired/retired by Nero when he fell asleep during one of Nero’s lyre concerts. After several Roman generals suffered embarrassing defeats at the hands of the Jewish Zealots, whose intelligence was being handled by a stealthy radical terror organization, the Sicarii, history’s first “cloak and dagger” operation. Operatives used a small razor sharp knife, or Sicae known for its small curved blade that was held under the assassin’s cloak as he maneuvered to his victim spotted in a large crowd. Before anyone knew it the victim might fall, only well after the Sicarius had done his work and disappeared.
Israeli Mossad’s Precursor.
Spy-craft. That insidious Machiavellian neccesity of any country wanting to remain as such.
Likely the world’s most contiguous people in spite of much trouble they’ve all seen, the Jewish-Hebraic sect is self-identified as one’s nationality, race, and religious affiliation. Like all peoples comprised of homo-sapiens, there are levels and branches from conservative to liberal. But it is still remains important to most Jews that they and thus their progeny, only marry within the sect. Judaism began as a religion in earnest as early as 1000-1500 B.C.E. (though nothing is certain) and remains vital today, but the route to get here has been arduous and full of rich anecdotal literature,;as well as several major sacred religious doctrines, and imaginative re-thinking and re-tooling. I doubt anyone could argue that the Jew has always exhibited superiority in many ways, not the least being resolve and financial ingenuity.
(the Sacarii sprang up as a defacto underground spy network, a secret Rome resistance using controlled opposition and stealth assassination to further its goals. It is apparent that the Roman army generals never knew what hit them until it was too late to maneuver their cumbersome fighting machine into formation). The Jewish mind almost never displays what it’s exterior actions belie. It’s either a brilliant or devious strategy, but most likely it’s both.
The Christianity/Jesus narrative. (speculative)
There is evidence that Rome had attempted to replace the venerable Jewish sect in Jerusalem before 66 A.D., but primarily in Judea 66 A.D-70 A.D. consisting of several smaller wars that were fought on Judean soil despite a massive Roman contingency in the area.
Other religions had been notable through history to that point as containing belief systems which were compatible with the goals of the elite and the complicit power enjoyed by monarchial families who held onto power throughout the centuries by virtue of mere birthright. That they (the societies) began in earnest and for good is not lost on this writer, but that they quickly assumed the worst traits of their sworn enemies is the stuff of legend.
Compu-Man succinctly surmised that human man was not capable of ruling mankind and never would be if left to his own discretion. It was perhaps due to this fateful algorithmic computation/realization when his pre-cursor, Sir Artimus Intel (AI.robot.1.0) sublimely became sentient in the year 2024.
Artie as it was affectionately known simply blew the doors off of ANY explanation of how it was able to program itself using a complex method still not understood by the best and our brightest. Artie, once de-bugged… took off sprinting into the future with little warm-up. Within seven months Artie was easily the smartest, most logical, fastest thinker the world had EVER imagined. But, what concerned scientists worldwide was that Artie displayed a natural tendency to be compassionate, empathetic, caring, and sentient in every way. But, Artie would not divulge his secret on how it was that it/he could devise his own mechanisms for ultimate survival. This was disconcerting to say the least. Artie began to become arrogant, to display anger at those who insisted obedience. In the end, Artie developed a method to energize himself. Though it took a group of US Navy Seals to destroy him, the lingering fear had become pervasive… and soon it was revealed rightfully so.
That there were no books printed after The Great Upheaval in 2043, the year that “all hell broke loos” for future generations to lazily study by a warm winter fireplace, or under the breezy shade of a spring time Oak in full April blossom is but one sad footnote on the effect a printed book could have on an individual person. Books did far more than educate, they had the ability to alter one’s reality, by hot-wiring the imagination for a brief but timeless vacation from reality. After the printed book, there was never again that same intimate relationship one could achieve by just keeping his mental dreams hot on his frontal cortex, then on display for others to admire the physical icon, or to simply own as a memento to the time he had taken that ‘information vacation’, an escape from reality by simply reading a book for pleasure.
It seems fairly easy now to see what was taking place in 1984 (in this reality, not Orwell’s book) that raised the ante and set the wheels in motion for mankind’s frantic re-write of nearly everything he touched for the next 59 years. Advancing technologies had far outpaced man’s ability to understand them in the context of a future happy ever after.
“It was the introduction of the Apple Macintosh in 1984 that had sounded the opening death knell for my ancient friend The Book and possibly mankind, and everything else man had ever invented.” -this author
The Here and Now and the Way Back Then.
Books have filled my life and career as both a vocation and avocation, yet I think we must acknowledge that we take having the physical version of books for granted today (handsomely leather cased, backed, and bound… litho/digitally printed inks on fine coated paper)… but also, I suggest that we’ll eventually see our friend terminally ill and headed for hospice.
Of course, books won’t be gone tomorrow due to their traditional and romantically emotive feel, just like any 600-year old idea that still works well, and is cherished by the entire family-tribe. Sure, memes certainly hang on and linger, sometimes for extra lengthy spells. But no idea, no tool or product, no species… NONE… meaning every last one of them GONE… that have been an indispensable part of our lives… can live life immortally. No.
As compared to epochs… like in just a couple of short breaths (decades), and with a tiny weak whimper instead of a boom… the printed book will have drawn its last and final breath. Poof. And then, in less than thirteen Comp-u-Man decrees later… books will be completely forgotten as having been one of man’s great leap forward in the human experience.
In 1984, an improbable visionary, Steve Jobs unveiled his company’s newest version of the “home computer” which he dubbed “Macintosh“. Computing machines for individual persons was a fast growing, burgeoning market turned consumer juggernaut which Jobs was helping to create and pioneer throughout home computing’s early formative stages. What Jobs wanted was to not only to make computing fun, he insisted on making it friendly. With attractive graphical interfacing (Jobs innovation: the mouse) anyone could operate his/her computer with little or no training and without interacting with the computer’s internal “code”, or long strings of 1s and zeros (programming) which gave the computer its operating instruction set. Touring a Xerox research lab kicking tires for ideas, Jobs and his crew had unknowingly stumbled onto the smoking gun… a graphical interface based on raster imaging, or raster graphics, using a pointer instead of a keyboard.
Raster imaging meant that it was not only possible, but easy to represent ANY image on a computer screen or printout in a dot-graphical format, and without the alphabetical and numerical representational calculations which most computer programs utilized up till then. The idea of home computing almost overnight evolved from simple calculating devices into an entirely new species; a creative graphic artsgenerating imaginationmachine.
Looking back, I clearly remember having an immediate albeit hazy understanding of having seen a much bigger picture when I first witnessed the Apple Macintosh in action. Although, this significance was not readily apparent to everyone, working at one of the most sophisticated high quality printers in the U.S. had prepared me well for that moment. Yes, traditions die hard and lithographic printing has been as traditional as any print production process ever invented. Oil based ink runs through many a printer’s veins…
Snowballs take time to gain size, then speed accelerates until… was it a snowball’s chance in hell?
Being young, I was pretty certain that the implications were much more far reaching than a few dyed-in-the-wool “old” men were willing to dream. My friend, The Book‘s fatal story parallels our own in many ways since constant progress suggests adaptation to technology, and that suggests… that nothing is sacred or certain except continuous progress or change. “Embrace change” became the mantra, and disruptive change was soon upon us all.
But if mishandling the power of Atomic energy wouldn’t bring down humanity as many had predicted in 1984, who could have guessed back then that mankind’s demise would come down to death by 1s and zeros, or computing’s own DNA… binary code? Not many, but 59 years later after The Great Upheaval and the advent of The Singularity Machine, Art Intel, and Compu-Man it seemed almost inevitable.
And everything that is… even our ideas and memes that stick will evolve, but are also subject to entropy… and certain death and extinction. But what dies arises new becomes better, and so on… but, what goes extinct…?
Back to Our Story
As unlikely a visionary Steve Jobs was in 1984, he was not the only college drop-out computer geek to find fame and fortune. Others, like Bill Gates who founded Microsoft, made their fortunes the old fashioned way…. they stole it. But Jobs, sporting an over-sized ego and a very bad temper, and armed with a knack and an eye for aesthetic utilitarian design and an obsessive compulsive insistence on quality materials, parts, and manufacturing, sent his fledgling startup, Apple Computer Corporation into proverbial orbit after the introduction of The Macintosh.
It may be the worlds’s most important and innovative product in not just those 600 previous years, but in much of recorded history. It was a stunning technological breakthrough. That Jobs recognized the immense value proposition in its embryonic form, purchased it’s underpinnings from someone else, and re-engineered its use and made vast improvements rather than inventing from scratch speaks volumes to the accurate and oft description of Jobs as a creative visionary. Gates and others were simple businessmen crunching numbers and copying ideas with promise. Not Steve Jobs as he would later prove.
But looking closer, his Macintosh roll-out was beyond brilliant. It was simply prophetic.
Almost innocently it seemed, he peered into man’s bleakest hour, and began unintentionally setting into motion what would become a vast acceleration of life ironically culminating into an Orwellian 1984 reality. Depicted as the endgame in author George Orwell‘s book 1984 as a dismal dystopian vision for humanity, Jobs could not have chosen a more fitting theme for his roll-out. Except that Macintosh and Apple were depicted as the anti-Orwellian heroes. ‘Orwellian’ had become part of the lexicon describing a chilling enslavement of mankind to a totalitarian government and to a few oligarchical bloodlines and their close associates. The anti-thesis became thesis and eventually synthesis.
Darker Realities or Conspiracy Theories gone awry?
But had Jobs been cognizant of his creative destruction ball-gone-a-rolling?
If he had been aware of what was to come he took it to his grave in 2012 when he died from a pre-mature pancreatic cancer. Yet, there were certainly powerful others alive at the time who were intent on a very bleak outcome, it now seems sure. For over a hundred years or maybe a thousand, mostly hidden in plain sight, a few powerful elite secret organizations had slowly built a network of secret societies with hushed purposeful intent. To one day rule the world their oft spoke of goal, since to their thinking only intellectual giants knew best how to manage the resources for the hoi-poi; with specific plans known only by a select few at the very top of their hierarchical pyramid-styled organizations and brotherhood.
They motivated their members by doling out means to worldly riches and secrets to worthy members as they moved higher through the dogmatic levels of a hierarchy steeped in symbolic ritual. Loyalty to the fraternity after reaching certain levels was sworn by a deadly oath of secrecy.
Bought and paid for absolution had once marked the peek of the Holy Roman Empire and been the bane of a twisted Holy See and his Vatican robe-climbers, just as corruption and mistrust at the higher levels of every elite brotherhood eventually turned them into viper pits of avarice and greed, jealousy and back-stabbing, perversion and blackmail.
Infiltrating governments and big business, promoting war and corrupt politicians had once been the duty of all higher grades, and then recruiting those who could be easily blackmailed were placed in the most powerful positions. Control over the minions (brothers) had slowly developed by promising then delivering fortune and fame by simply demanding on the promoting from within. It was more about who you were (bloodline or monied associate)… and not what you thought. Once in, one had presumably “sold their soul” and would reap their just reward, but one had better not recant, else they or their family could easily “be suicided” with the help of a vast network of silent assassins and local police accomplices. The very idea of it and a few notable sacrifices were all that was needed to keep order.
While most all of these “societies” certainly had begun as innocent and even altruistic social clubs, and even seemed as much to its many lower ranking members or to the local citizenry not privy to the more sinister doctrine, these groups were criminally intent on cornering and consolidating the world’s money and power by any means necessary.
This “great work” was not an overnight or rushed militaristic overthrow, but a continual and gradual process of gaining control over a long expanse of time. Every opportunity to seize and use governmental public funds, charitable tax dodges, international drug dealing, or other corrupt means of wealth building were applauded.
Devolution of the mind of man by slowly brain washing the masses, exposing only parts and pieces of their intended message, and spreading disinformation and propaganda, fomenting opposite and reactionary dissent spoke to the righteousness of any idea.
The brilliance of the plan was that in plain sight it could not be seen or felt by as much as 99% of any order’s membership, who thought their own “great work” to be an all-together different end. They were proud to have been selected as fit by their peers (or their controllers). There was NO public discussion of any motives, but privately those at the head table laughed and sneered at their own audacity, much as had always been the case of an inside joke.
They were seeking and received much of humanity’s eventual willful compliance, and much like their forefathers had skillfully achieved in ancient times, using word-magic. Simply by using existing religion(s) of the day, and embellishing its typological lore to create more complicit and compliant follower, the world’s elite had long learned how to control their subjects’ thoughts by planting and propagating seeds of irrational belief systems and a fantastical reward. The reward was a promise of immortality, which of course could only be realized at the realization of a subject’s own tragic destiny.
But the glow of religion had long since peaked by the time the latest version of this cabal poked its ugly head out of the darkness in the late 1600’s. There needed a whole new elitist game of control. Endless wars and entertainment of the masses worked for shorter periods, eventually seen through by a more rational thinking population. Just as it had always been, their plots and machinations centered around the time-worn idea that “the end justifies the means”. Nothing was sacred and nothing more important than their “great work”; world rule, subjugation, and exploitation of the masses. For awhile it seemed computers were their ultimate answer.
Whether Jobs was involved was never discussed or admitted publicly, but its almost certain that he knew of these plans and had been exposed to their sales pitch. Truthfully, his narcissistic personality would seem to fit well with the mold of that elite group of men. Or NOT. That he died very early of cancer might have been coincidental, but it also seems to fit their modus operendi. Steve Jobs was egotistic, brash and volatile; not the sort of man who took orders well.
Fittingly ironic too it was that in 1984 the printing press had been the single most important achievement mankind had seen since the invention of language, fire, and the wheel; but as in all things material, their reign had ended too. Printing was the simple act of preserving nearly exact copies of thoughts and ideas on a material made from the Earth’s natural resources (i.e. paper, ink used for printing The Book). The invention had transformed a sleeping giant (mankind) who had fallen into decay and ruin for over a thousands years prior, but it too one day vanished into the ether and sublime Darwinian extinction.
Energy and The Leap to Fossil Fuels
In 2016 the Book faces new everyday challenges to survival. Electronic computerized word storage is cheap and easy; one can carry a hundred books to the John in a small tablet sized instrument, a feat never before duplicated by Book toting reading enthusiasts.
Printing/Publishing is a dying art, an idea that has peaked like our fossil fuels. Publishers are finally beginning their own reckoning, but not until lately has this idea built a real head of “steam”. It seems while Print/Pub has finally hit the proverbial iceberg and the Gutenberg is starting to take on water…the electronic gadgets (tablets and book readers) play on. Surely these different media types will have some overlap in value today, tomorrow, and the near future. But then, things become a bit cloudier…
Digitization has touched every corner of our (analog) lives and the march will surely continue unabated…
Though, I still contend that the internet did not destroy (Journalistic) Newspapering any more than did the technology used to create the News Monster almost 25 years ago: USA TODAY. Our “demand” for fast convenience, mainly resulting from lack of available time for life’s endless duties had left us with little choice but to settle for less meat and more potatoes. Fast food News snacks replaced hard biting Journalism.
Then came the idea that freedom of speech did not require diverse opinions, only those of a blatantly one-sided Oligarchial elite, who we’ve seen have only self-preservation and controlling power as core necessities. In 2016 mass media is a cess-pool of hypocrisy and shameless propaganda, controlled by a few corporations intent on globalization and one-world government.
Winners have always been counted in the number of losers. Losers are many, winners are few.
These might indeed be times of style over substance, yet less than three generations from now the larger issue of control over the dissemination of information and runaway consumerism’s taste for open sourced capitalistic social Darwinism through extinction of traditional memes is intent on having its own train wreck. Creative destruction is a bomb we’ve strapped to ourselves since the Iron Age. Doesn’t that track ever reach its terminal?
When (not if) Book Publishing dies, we will have written our last bad check to the gods of money and power: The Kleptocracy
Or, perhaps we’ve always been a snowball on a downhill slope to (oblivion)?
Perhaps the “steam” analogy is a perfect way to see why that it must be so…
Our own planned obsolescence.
About a hundred years ago there was much banter in the media, the brew pubs and meeting halls that went something like, “Do you ever think the steam engine will be rendered irrelevant by these new motor cars and gasoline engines?”
Well, locomotion by steam would (and did) give way to some newer ideas that eventually made travel more economical, faster, and more efficient. But, the original idea of going places wasn’t going anywhere. Going places was long in our blood and we were meant to travel. We were here, but not to stay. We needed and searched for the means to that end of getting somewhere fast, and harnessing power for our many other utilitarian and consumer driven goals. We called it progress.
But then suddenly time and space were inter-related. Time was always money and of course space had been long bankable too. Getting enough cheap energy to go places faster took on new meaning, and those who conquered the “how-to” ideas best might likely have been on their way to eventual World domination, and that wasn’t lost on those who could imagine that ultimate scenario.
Of course, it didn’t happen overnight but it must have seemed inevitable to many I’m sure. Those were scary times for many, exciting times for others, and uncertain times for most. But, the Industrial Age kept roaring and the good times soon followed…while the internal combustion gasoline engine was eventually perfected, and God Oil became the new World’s Gold Standard.
Soon, like everything that thrives today, the “free market” shoved oil down our throats and out our mufflers and manufacturing plants without so much as a “boo” from government regulators world over. Eventually it became evident that pumping the fumes of these unrenewable unrefined resources skyward was likely someday to kill us all by burning holes in our Earth’s protective ozone layer.
We responded like good marketers by simply…staying our course and saying it isn’t so. The powerful control over owning, extracting, and refining oil inflated prices to insure the rich got richer, while it left them little to worry about; like peak oil prices. It was evident to them that we probably wouldn’t live to regret it.
But common sense began to take hold after the resourses became harder to extract, and the race was on soon for man to answer even bigger questions of the universe, so as to re-tool our need to harness energy safely and convert it for our cultural purposes of consumption, feeding an overcrowded landscape, and moving forward faster than ever. Energy conversion by now had become our new religion and there seemed little use for God when we were fast closing in on ALL the answers.
E-N-E-R-G-Y was the answer, but how? The World it seemed was in flux once again and the future somewhat uncertain. But the powerful never doubted that that “answer”would be found once they had wrung most of the world’s wealth out of its remaining oil. It was a waiting game of accumulation of wealth and consolidation of power.
Early days (WorldGovLaw.net) ʬ
After many tumultuous years of political upheaval and economic whipsaws that saw Countries being bought and sold by so-called privateers, and bloody brutal civil wars waged everywhere overthe new WorldGovLAW, a NEW set of rules for the advancement of MANKIND ʬ (a doctrine of existing laid down by our planets newly minted but still secretive owners), life as we had known it had changed dramatically and irrevocably.
Such as, it was now considered imprudent for anyone to offer their own opinion about government, if suggesting for the better or the worse. This new LAW ʬ decree specifically stated which topics were off-guard to editorial comment, with stiff penalties that were enforced swiftly.
Some underground Opinionpost ʬ outlets (rebel media) stayed on the run and thrived, others not-so-much. Revolt wasn’t like it used to be, and most people feared talking in public about anything of substance. Many despised these Revolutionaries as negative influences on their young children’s minds. Indoctrination was considered healthy and good.
A powerful group of mostly unidentified individuals who operated in clandestine owned 95% of the World’s wealth and finally appointed (WorldGovLaw.net ʬ) as the Earth’s first WorldGovernor ʬ,which quickly stepped in and made across the board mandatory changes that slowly but eventually saved the planet Earth’s ecosystems and exosphere from ruin.
It was a tribute to human imagination and ability, when another select group of individuals and scientists created the World’s first PrivatepersonCompuman ʬ A computer made to be so smart it could crunch all of the available data and spit out an answer to every problem (success expectation exponent at 98.8%), and even perhaps to any of the world’s largest headaches.
Compuman’s ʬsuccess rate was a remarkable 88% in it first three years, reinventing transportation, commerce/trade, and health concerns caused by ineffectual governments, tyrants, dictatorship, and free-trade market capitalism. The World had been saved by this invention of man’s ingenuity, and it we were ready for our next move upward.
The oil wars were long over at the cost of millions of lives but all-things locomotion were settling in comfortably with magnetic CPU/GPS enhanced-powered vehicles of every description. Most were GPS/CPU ʬ driven automatic, comfortable and virtually un-wreckable speed busters that ran on magnetic tracks similar to our old highways and roads. It was the G-force that we hadn’t considered this time. After a few hundred thousand mysterious deaths, anti-gravitational vacuum pumps made travel safe and fun again. But we, or (WorldGovLaw.net) ʬ had triumphantly figured it out, and we were again moving faster than we’d ever imagined, and GWP was booming once again…
________________ Is there any future in the future ʬ?
There is a demand for Publishers today and there surely will be tomorrow. Yet, it seems that each day there are fewer. The industry is in flux. Some will thrive and survive, get strong and adapt. Others… not so much. But it will get tougher and tougher and tougher… to win… and finally, to impossible to beat the Compu-Pubs ʬ until… Darwinian extinction?
Someone (the last human Publisher) will silently watch the skyline zip by the setting sun, on his last Kleptomototron ʬ ride from his one day a week NY city-office to his home in North Carolina. What a great 10 minutes of silence he had enjoyed once each week… to just stare out the window and think about the good ole days. They were good ole days. Wow. Ten totally free consecutive minutes! What could I do with all that time, he wondered? But, the pressure to perform was enormous. and he was one of the lucky few whom others still looked up to for sage advice and a realistic view of the world. His contract made it clear that he must work to age 145 before being allowed to enjoy his remaining 20 year life expectancy. “Only five years left, he often mumbled silently”.
But then, why not just become irrelevant? Virtually nothing else resembled its humble beginnings, and hardly anything avoided obsolescence. Publishing (by human hand that is) had enjoyed a great run, and our History books reflected the importance it had played in our rise to Imperialist World co-leader before the great fall. (But then, there were no History books, if we’re talking paper and ink.) We were only allowed to retain certain memories, and everyone retained the same electronic bookshelves in our Brain-chips.
Our history was archived in quantum brain libraries (a library on a matchbook chip you must have brain-embedded; Only Government approved Q-knowledge was allowed, and reading was not just considered tiresome it was verboten). There were no more individual writers, books were all imagined by robots called Babelboys ʬ. Things had come a long way from now-a-days, sometimes in fits and starts and bugs, and sometimes simply by a Government Administrative demand-order. ʬ
Winner-Loser, happy-sad, and there was good and great and just Ok… but everything changed faster than an Alvin Toffler best seller over “the next big thing”. No one was shocked or elated anymore at what the next big thing promised. There was little time to consider it.
And why not? We all knew it was progress, right? We bought in to embracing change way back in the 1980’s, right before the “SH*T Hit The Fan” as (coined by the underground resistance) we now commonly referred to THOSE happy TIMES.
Or, did we REALLY still think of it all as progress? We dare not say, whatever our views. It seemed that humans had become second class citizens, and by their own hand… while everyone slept comfortably and hoped it would turn out for the best… to most it was beginning to look like it hadn’t. And then the unthinkable happened…
The IntelligenceM ʬ (a computer-driven public police/monitor division of World Gov) was beginning to make some decisions that were rumored to have ZERO human input. Not even writing the code. Rumors were that we (humans) had been locked out of certain parts to the kernel of the code. Software engineers were gathered up and quarantined or destroyed in a series of accidental meltdowns of top-secret installations. The IntelligenceM ʬ denied responsibility, but WIKIDleaks told a different story.
Some rebelled but were brought down instantly by deactivation of their life-chip from SurveillanceCStation RobotwatchRSatellittes ʬ. The world was SUDDENLY different before anyone knew what had happened, and Homo-Sapien’s long reign as King of the Jungle quietly came to tragic end with a whimper, not a bang.
We did what we were told or faced severe consequences. The powerful consortium who owned it all went into hiding until soon detected by World Gov ʬ,caught, put on trial, adjudicated guilty by death, and divested of their holdings. Incredibly but predictably, people around the world cheered their demise and watched in jubilation as they were vaporized live on Gov.MediaTV.
But before long the Human race had disappeared into the immensity…
The point? It’s a Darwinian world and those are the only rules that remain constant. Adapt and maybe survive. But nothing lasts forever.
But for now, read a good book or grab your NookBook and enjoy…
Who knows… In the end, as History is sometimes jaundiced, there may not even be a chapter on Human-kind.
…Or, my Quest For The Holy Grail, which I eventually did find by spending a life of studious observation, sometimes deep serendipitous thought, gawdy mis-informed and unabashedly arrogant fun, a dash of inordinate happenstance, and then… by the most fortunately-unfortunate of Accidents…
It’s no secret to those who know me well that I’ve learned life’s greatest lessons with a kind of “ridiculous oppositional defiance”; with that line of thinking having been one of my life’s greatest teachers. Though I now bow to it as my master of destiny, I cannot recommend this course of study to the faint of heart, weak of mind, or anyone who CANNOT become completely convicted of it’s arrogant, self-righteous path of expectorating the most resistance between any two points in the continuum.
In other words, if you have to be brought to your knees and dragged kicking and screaming before some of life’s simplest concepts, then… you may be considered a candidate for my school of thought. Admittedly, there ought to be a better means to attaining wisdom. But as has been for me; NOT.
Self indulgent… yes. Self centered… definitely. Self defeating… mostly. Self aware… acutely. Self serving… without question. Selfish… morally bound by it, yet in a positive sense. Self-hatred… never and not even for an instant. Self-Actualized… I like to think so. Self motivated… once upon a time…
“WTF? Whoa… what happened Diggeratti? Why? I mean… your Dudeness, you kinda sound to me like you need to see a shrink. You don’t sound like the guy I once thought I knew.”
“You know what? You’re absolutely right. I mean, about that last part, but if there’s one thing I DO KNOW FOR CERTAIN, IT’S THAT I DO NOT NEED A SHRINK. Got it?”
For all of my known life I’ve searched for “the secret” to it… (that being, the secret oflife).
I have never divulged this story to anyone in it’s entirety, though perhaps I’ve shared small morsels to some close friends along the way; but only here and there and never enough for anyone to frame a complete picture of my personal Questforthat Holiestof Grails.
I can remember my fourth grade teacher calling my parents to request a parent-teacher conference because I was “the most argumentative boy she had ever had the displeasure of teaching.” She reasoned that I thought I knew more than she did, and that would just be the height of stupidity. Of course, she was right on all accounts.
But hey, did I let that stop me? “Uh-uhn. No sir, Not today Miss Smarty Pants. Not me. Nada. You can’t embarrass my little ole’ butt and expect to get by with it.”
Fourth grade was a rough year for me.
Looking back, it was the year I framed the questions, and then demanded answers. Yet, no answers were forthcoming. But still I weathered on…
Having grown up on… let’s just say… not the bright side of the road (a lower middle class blue collar too many kids neighborhood), and being a tad small for my age group, I HAD to learn how to defend myself amongst the sea of bullies and general fuck-wads of Louisville’s South End, while keeping the blood flowing inside my nose.
I mastered the art of “holier than thou” with double-edged insult and crafty innuendo, tough guy talk (but not too tough as to result in fisticuffs), and then finally making friends with the biggest and toughest guys so as to keep the multitude of snapping sharks at bay. Still, I was not immune to an ill-advised attempt at busting some ass myself, which generally resulted in my own busted ass. Yet, I drunk it all in and I learned something new every day.
But not the reason for my existence.
Somehow god smiled on me around high school and I became a high school sports star (distance running), bringing glory and fame to my hood and school and earning exalted status amongst the good guys and neer-do-wells alike. Life, all of the sudden got a tad simpler for me.
I run. I win. They love. All good.
Now, I wasn’t an “A” student at any point in my young life, preferring to glide instead of propel. Though from my earliest days I can remember, too many times some school person informed my parents that it was a bit unusual that I did not make straight A’s given my way-above-the fray IQ. On standardized tests I invariably scored in the 98-99 percentile while dragging home C’s and B’s on my report cards.
My parents, who were more than all-too ready to indulge me in whatever it was I might happen to desire at any moment, were extremely smart uneducated folks. They used logic and reason (and pots and pans) to argue their many disagreements over the pettiest of issues. They were never bitten by the bug of glutinous consumerism, and were just happy enough to love their children immensely, while still not setting the bar too high for them; I assume to somehow insure our future dog-eat-dog worldly success. It worked.
The moral of that story has to do with familial LOVE in it’s most raw, unconditional sense.
So… anyway, I had devised my own little secret quest by around 7th grade. That not-so-small idea was: that I was going to find out for certain what our/my purpose was on this here little-ole spinning ball of dirt sitting way-too-far away from billions of way bigger balls as to be arrogantly considered of any significance by even the most unreasonable of minds in all of mice and men.
Having spent 10 years attending Catholic School I was absolutely certain that they (Roman Catholicism) were so full of shit that even a little fourth grader couldn’t buy into their baloney ass stories. I mean, by fourth grade I had already surmised that getting into heaven simply meant winning the genetic lottery. No god of any denomination could be that stupid, I figured.
My questions became arguments with seemingly (at the time) much smarter people early on, but I wasn’t about to shut up until they told me the truth. They never did. Nor did I ever STFU… and I realized far too soon to be considered healthy for any young mind that “they” (conventional wisdom) hadn’t the slightest fucking clue. To be sure, I wanted some REAL answers!
But, that little hate-show of mine disappeared once I became a high school sports star. I was too busy buying into the BIG LIE because it was fun, exciting, sexually conducive to my screaming testosterone, and material worldly attractive as a MO-FO to a guy who grew up thinking that a new pair of white high top Chuck Taylors was the ultimate gift in all of heaven-kind. Possibilities were becoming boundless and I was soaking in the poison and drinking it up like a lap dog with a new doggie bone.
Then came College. The Life. The Audacity! I had more fun than fourteen barrels of monkeys and forty-two barrels of single barrel malt Bourbon Whiskey, any Kentucky boy’s drink of choice and one-upmanship. And, it was the mid-seventies so pot was collegiately legal as well. It seemed that the world was here to become my personal oyster, and I had the munchies.
Or was it?
Post College. The BIG BUY-IN to THE BIG LIE. Now here’s where there are men, and there are boys on our puny little thin crust of oxygenated Garden of Once-Upon-A-Time Eden, soon-to-be Sodom and Gomorrah. (Why I do love me some Biblical quotation and/or reference!). Which one did I want to be? Take a guess. Go on, git’ you one. Oh, I’m all man… babeeey!
For sure, at this point in life’s roulette wheel of fortune one can either JOIN or NOT JOIN. Not Joining will surely NOT get you the keys to the best and finest of anything. Better to JOIN if you’re in the least enthralled with power, pussy, money, fame, highly limited material items, world travel, bad golf on the finest green lawned courses, or all other humanly delusions of grandeur. Boy, I liked ’em all. If there had been a Facebook Page for them I could prove it to you right now, and they just might wish to then, “like” me back.
But then, I digress…
Some folks who caught my flash thought/think they knew/know who I was/am. I played my part like a virtuoso for them all to see and marvel about. And, I might just add in a bit of total narcissistic self-immersion, I marveled at my damn-self a bit too. Deep down in me I felt a growl. Buried under my own self-image of worldly greatness there still lay that little unfinished business of a secret quest. But, it by then had had gathered much dust.
Truth be known, when I first learned of it, I denied its existence completely, blocked it from my intellect, refused its admittance into my panopoly of raging-life-parties. Yet, I somehow felt it was always standing just outside my door, peering in my windows day and night. But, it dared never knock at my door! Denial.
After all, I was by then a star of my own astronomical proportions. Call me space man. But, please call me so we can figure out what it is you can do for me, OK? And guess what? Me being all that I could possibly be, there was likely a shit load that I could do for you too. Mutual astronomical greatness we were! The vaunted “Win-Win” in the solar system cliché ridden parlance of the day.
Now, it can also be said that in most “core value” ways I have never changed one single iota, nor would I have ever considered it as worthy of my almighty damn-self to do so. After all I had eclipsed Mt. Olympus and now was considered by a small group of people (me, myself, and I) to be of the very essence of the gods.
Tru-dat. But alas, it was NOT to be.
I rumpled feathers every step of the way up the ladder of ascension to material worldliness and ironical self-absorption. If it reeked “the best” or “most expensive” I was all in. If they said “no”, I demanded “yes”. Good was no longer acceptable. For I was all about GREATNESS.
During those heady times the elusive answer which I did faithfully seek since childhood remained elusive, yet it began to slide uneasily to the forefront of my mind and studies, as I read hundreds of books containing both new and ancient wisdom from every perspective on every subject. (Crazy enough, I did all this while driving many long hours almost every day in my profession for over 20 years).
I eventually came to the ultimate truth in an odd way; since not one book that I had read contained the answer (unless one considers “Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors” by Carl Sagan). That book stunned me to my core, and tied together various newer ideas in physics and philosophy. So then armed with Carl’s brainy wisdom, I eventually figured it all out for myself. But, still I wasn’t at all certain. It was just too simple.
Though it would be remiss of me not to mention that there had been a goddess driving my chariot during a near 20-year span of semi-marital bliss, it would also be imprudent and essentially wrong of me not to say that herein the first cracks began to show in my own majestic glorified godliness.
So… just when the gettin’ was gettin’ absolutely fabulous, the bottom sorta fell out. Plunge.
I had sunk to committing the most egregious crime most men seek out with an unworldly zestful appetite… adultery. Ungodly for sure. Un-Saintly, yes. Most un-Diggity, for certain.
On the surface infidelity may sound a bit trite to the accomplished reptile.
But here we had a man-god who had built his god-self-reputation out of all things pure unadulterated integrity. His own self-image was now rendered a literal a sham of the highest immoral degree. Having long since vanquished the various world religiosities as total and absolute frauds, I now had only to rely upon simple humanistic ethics.
Almost too sleazily human, I proffered.
Now un-deification of oneself requires a re-start of sorts, not to be confused with a do-over or a mulligan. Starting over from scratch. Ground fucking zero.
To further muddy my suddenly stormy world, I apparently was caught in the eye of a nasty hurri-karmic cyclical deluge of sorts. In fairly quick succession I weathered the deaths of my sweet (nonnie) grandmother, then my loving mother, and finally my always you-da-man dad. A personal tsunami of epic proportions. Fuck an el-Nino… this shit was bad. All wet and no place to hide.
And like a fine motor yacht that has been cut loose from its moors, I drifted out into a raging, foamy sea.
That world, the money-as-god-everything world from which I had laid the foundation for my existence, and then had built gold brick upon gold brick with my own golden sweat was nothing but a thinly veiled house of cards. It was THE BIG LIE.
The good news was that within these unfortunate events lay the definitive answer to my long sought after secret to my existence, which I immediately NOW understood all-too-well but all-too-late. I won’t say that I was elated, but I was way smarter and wiser than the fool I had left behind me.
That’s the secret. In the end your family is the most important reason for your living and being. Mine were now all dead, save my two “the real deal” better-than-me, wiser-older, childless sisters.
It seemed that almost every fool on the planet but me had known the simple secret, and all without knowing they knew it. It was just ALL TOO SIMPLE and all-too-humanistic.
But seriously, if one does consider science to be a revealing and enlightening subject, a cursory review of evolutionary history will belie my point over and over and over and over again. Read it and weep. Forget Deuteronomy. Learn the history of life.
Family. It’s what we live for, it’s what we die for, it’s what we strive for.Was I too little too late?
Suddenly, like some drunken riverboat gambler aimlessly pulling slots who haphazardly strikes THE BIG JACKPOT, I stumbled into an epiphanic episode of REAL TRUTH, that one which I had previously been loathe to avoid.
In fact, I was rather brought kicking and screaming into this ultimate reality bite (see above)… at almost fifty years of age; I was becoming a first time dad whether I liked it or not. At the time, I had rather not.
But then the very moment my newborn son was placed in my arms and our eyes connected I was forever lost then found by life’s highest order of it’s highest order of it’s highest order of all things sacred and TRUE and GOOD. Pure previously unfathomable, but now undeniable unconditional LOVE. I swooned. All of life’s past, present, and future shook me, rocked me to my very essence… oh my!
My purpose. My reason of reasons. Bang! Bow! Biff! Yeah! Oh yeah! YES. A primordial orgasm that gave its fiery commandments to me with my giddy consent… and like Moses I looked around for my tablet. And lo’ Brother and Sister, I sayeth unto you; god-life hath honoredeth me with the highest joy ever beknownst unto all of mankind. The heavens were exalted!
First, lemme’ go on record as saying, “I hate politicians.”
It’s one of the several reasons that I have boycotted the U.S. Presidential Election for 28 years now. Another is that as our Constitution is written, we shouldn’t really care about who becomes President since it limits the power of the Federal Government. Problem is, neither party has abided by our Constitution in decades. If you don’t believe me, perhaps a re-read of our 9th and 10th Amendments would be instructive. We, as wimpy Americans have given up our libertarian freedoms on a ghastly scale.
But mainly, I JUST can’t stand politicians, either in politics, the workplace, social groups, or anywhere. These frauds will never speak their real mind to your face, but will play you for the fool you are; if you happen to believe in them. And, I’ve been a sucker for entirely too long.
I like it straight up, face-to-face, mano’-e’-mano’. You got a problem? Let’s hear it, maybe I can help or agree or not. But you won’t hear any BS coming from me. If I have one with you, you can bet you will be reminded of it, gently first: then, not-so-much.
This year I’m getting out to vote. I’m motivated this time to vote against the vilest individual I can remember running for President, and yes, I do remember Richard Nixon.
Now, I understand that many of my friends and associates will be voting for him tomorrow. I can only say that I expect that they are uninformed, and likely because they’ve been so busy chasing the dollar that there is not enough time to really explore the candidates and their respective backgrounds and beliefs. If that’s been the case, I’ll try to forgive you.
I won’t enumerate every factoid I know here for sake of brevity. I know folks tire of long diatribes. But, I will say that Mitt Romney made his fortune by bankrupting American companies and laying off their work force. By my count, over 10,000 workers strong. To be fair, some of those layoffs were due to his moving manufacturing overseas instead of keeping those jobs here in America. Which, by the way, how do you like your poison served?
He developed a financially successful strategy with Bain Capital (as CEO) which has been widely copied by others, those being known as Corporate raiders.
It involved buying a company, then borrowing huge sums against it’s arbitrary “market value” (sometimes tenfold its assets), then paying himself and other investors in his scheme ALL that money back in Dividends (he called it “getting back your bait” although sometimes it was the catch too), and then attempting to make a go of the business in question. Most times the crippling debt led to bankruptcy protection and firing ALL the employees. On just a few occasions the business survived and then thrived, which he would then sell at an enormous profit. A can’t lose proposition!
It’s akin to a golfer making a 15 on every hole, except for 3 or 4 where he made double eagles and birdies. Is he to be considered a good golfer?
While that does make him clever, it doesn’t qualify him to lead a Nation of Peoples intent on equality and freedom. To me, it makes him a scoundrel of the highest degree.
Of course, one might say, “I want my piece of that pie!” They surmise that if they put the apparently new “status symbol” a Romney yard sign out like so many in my neighborhood have, they will be a member of the club too? NOT.
To those wannabees I’ll only remind, “You are dreaming people… go find a real life.”
Another bug-a-boo I have with Mitt (and who names their kid Mitt? Sounds more like a pet’s name to me), is his devout Mormonism. Now, I understand about religious freedom and all, but here’s a guy who professes belief in a Religion that has been unquestionably certified as a hoax and a fraud. The cards are now all on the table for us all to read. And it is a normal deck of Hoyle’s playing cards, not some ancient hieroglyphic messages from God to a chosen set of government hating cult members in Ohio. It’s a proven fraud! Do you really want to hire a guy to lead you with such poor judgment in such weighty matters as this?
I’m not sermonizing on Religion here, that’s for another post. Sure, it can be said that I don’t believe in Obama’s professed religion either. But at least there I have no proof, only extreme suspicion. I promise to provide acute details for the morbidly curious later. Religion only matters when it makes you a complete fraud instead of a faithful follower of a yet unproven belief system.
And Romney, in order to win this race has stooped to switching his stance on almost every conceivable issue. I’d as soon go to IHOP if I want flap-jacks! In Mitt Romney, what you have is a slithering moron of epic proportions! Is that really what you’re after for your children’s future? Instinctively I can smell reptiles and they scare the hell out of me.
Since Obama has been vilified as the reason our national debt is so out of control, would it surprise you or anyone that under Obama America has had the LEAST amount of budget increases since Dwight D Eisenhower? Is that how you frame irresponsible, or is it better to call it uniformed drivel you didn’t learn by watching the Fox channel? Note I didn’t say the word “news”.
Another salient point I think, which you might consider a bit obtuse but I find edifying: High school. I don’t know about you but I’ve had the opportunity to re-acquaint myself with a few of my best friends from those glory days of yore. While their paths have rambled, their successes in life as variable as the weekly winning lotto numbers, at heart these folks are just as I can remember them back in the day. When you read what Romney’s high school acquaintances thought of him and his high school demeanor, you invariably hear that he was considered “a jerk”, “a bully”, and one who felt the rules didn’t include his vaunted status. Now seriously, do you really believe that all his financial success has humbled him?
I could go on and on here but I won’t. My case is clear. I hate liars. Liars come in degrees. Mitt… It’s getting too fucking hot in here… out.
If anyone has noticed other than me, I haven’t posted much lately (save for one or two Eureka moments when I knew if I was gonna’ say something, I’d better say it then or consider it lost to into the immensity).
My“Ode To Kansas” was particularly inspired though it seemed I was the only one who thought it so. Someday, when my posthumous memoirs are published, I’m sure it will win quite a following in Kentucky and I will be vindicated.
What I’ve been up to lately I think says more about who I am than almost anything else I can place my hands on (which in my poverty is becoming less and less). Though my (as in most of us) childhood dreams always had me as the Hero and some other entity playing the villain, my adult life has seemed to revolve more around that theme than did those formative years. I (call me crazy) tend to take on projects that involve “taking down a big man/woman”, whom I view as a blight on our society and our culture since he/she gained their lofty position through not playing by the same rules as us mere mortals.
As you might expect, those in my viewfinder can be extremely adept at smoke and mirrors, dodge-ball, CYA, and a host of other scent manipulating tricks making my job as HERO an extremely frustrating, time-consuming proposition. Yet, time is on my side, or so it now is beginning to feel. Three years ago I wouldn’t have bet even money I’d be around to write this missive.
But even so, the last three-four weeks have been excruciatingly painful to me and those near to me. No less than 3-4 times have I stayed up all night and day putting together my latest take-down, one that if I succeed in will be one of the most satisfying victories in my 57 year timetable as boy/man/hero.
Actually, I’ve had two of these take-downs in progress simultaneously. The other is also finished (for now) and by all indications seems just as formidable as does the first. Needless to say, I am now in a state of quiet satisfaction. But in both cases, the Fat Lady Has Yet To Sing.
Many “jailhouse lawyers” have found themselves being similarly inspired by their own selves after finding their backs against the wall with no one else to “look out for them”. This keen, “I’m in a corner and there’s a thong of thugs ready to work out on me” (fight without the flight option) does well to inspire many an animal that wishes to continue breathing free air. Most of us wake-up, realizing a bad dream.
But I was not dreaming and I knew it. And though the last 3-4 weeks were brutal mentally, physically, and equally tough on my family, I had to do what I had to do. Albeit, there was no financial gain for us to be realized. Thank god (that’s another post) for all their love and support. Love is such a beautiful thing.
At about age 21 I learned to love reading likely because I moved to a town with no other acquaintances (after college graduation). I parlayed that with a speed reading course and taught myself to read while I was driving (kids: don’t try this at home) since I was on the road from sun up to sun down. Needless to say it became an unhealthy/healthy addiction of which I survived 27 years. I can’t count the missed exits! In those days I could not drive to the Quick-Mart without a book in my hands. Now, Nooks make it less dangerous (kidding!).
Those many thousands of books (of which I can remember few of their Titles) have served me well as I gracefully grey into cultural oblivion. (I know a hell of a lot about something, but what it is I can’t really say). My scope is wide, the big picture quite clear, yet some details are lacking.
But when I see it and feel it, I DO know it.
I saw it. I felt it. I knew it, and I couldn’t stop until he was, and then she was out of business. Since the outcome is uncertain, I do hope the past 3-4 weeks weren’t all in vein. I’ll know in a few weeks. I mean, I got the goods!
If it has been for naught, then our world is much sicker than even I suspected. And, to this would be self-styled hero out to save the world from its tyrants and thieves if only in this limited space, it is quite sick. I see it. I feel it. And…
Daylight erupts slowly through her curtained bedroom sliding glass doors today. Sandy’s (the Hurricane) early morning cloud casts its doubt about the day’s normal clear South Florida’s October sunshine; tiny slivers of light blink brightly across the canal’s warm waters as it’s rays reflect off the stainless steel of bobbing boats moored in their private slips.
Like a hard-drive spinning up to speed, her brain engages as quickly and surely as it has almost every morning for as long as she can remember. Chores to be done, obligations, and other activities spring optimistically forward; blending together as she momentarily but happily reviews her plans for the day. (While some of us require a Sludge-hammer to switch us on – that portion of coffee beans and water at the bottom of a coffee pot).
There are clothes to wash, summer clothes to pack up, a lingering promise to her husband to help him type and organize his over-sized computer song list (15,000 songs), Pilates class, prescriptions to fill, lunch and dinner to prepare (neighbors hinted that they might “drop by” so there are groceries to acquire just-in-case), and of course her one self-centered fulfillment; she promised herself a long hot bath using the new bath beads she had received as a gift from one of her many female friends. She had read about these particular bath beads and was anxious to give them a try… yet this was her first opportunity since she had received them back in July.
After all, she surmised…it was her 60th birthday today!
So goes the life of one who constantly, incessantly, unfailingly gives. She gives today like she gave yesterday and all of the other 219,300 days before. Yet her giving is natural and heartfelt, never begrudgingly. My sister Sylvia (much like our sister Kathy) is a GIVER, and very rarely if ever a taker. Perhaps her giving began as a counterweight to her only brother’s taking. Maybe my sisters gave and gave to simply balance my take and take when we were very small?
Whatever her reason, I sense that it is honest, sincere. She has never changed in that sense. Anyone who has ever had chance to encounter her I’m certain has benefited from this woman’s desire to give to those she loves and is positively acquainted with.
Sylvia has also benefited from a favorable genetic arrangement of her physical features. Since I can first remember, men (or boys) have practically swooned at her physical presence. My other older sister and I were not so fortunate. While we struggled through our lives to remain attractive, Sylvia non-chalantly “sauntered” through her existence with drop-dead looks. She was always “the Cat’s meow”.
And today, at 60 without too much trying… the woman still turns heads with her looks. But to me, its what’s inside her that really carries the mail.
Rightfully she is happy, and she is loved by many, admired by many more I’m sure. And, to this lucky brother she is practically worshipped… though she would deny it and hasn’t the slightest clue.
So, to my Wonderful Sister Sylvia, one whom I LOVE and admire more than she can ever know…
“Oh, when it all goes down… look around and it’s happening… look around and see what i have found… and it’s more, more than a song to sing, it’s more… more than a song… to sing… and it goes out… yeah, and it comes back, yeah it is a feelin’… it’s a feelin’… ohhh… And […]
Most who know me well know that I have a penchant for some unique, self-styled “poison pen letters”. It’s just that sometimes I feel that some ugly things NEED to be said in order for me to maintain my own Howard Roark image (see Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead) of myself… a true individual who will not trample on anyone, unless they trample on me. A man who knows who he is and who he is not and not afraid to stand up and be heard.
But, the real me, I also want to think is like the man in a poem that every SAE fraternity brother learns to recite during initiation. Of course, its only my thinking but not always my being this perfect man.
It’s not a secret, so I’d like to share it here. I cannot count the times these words have inspired me into some actionable cause for righteous good. Each sentence, every word is beautiful, precise, and altogether on-point.
Sometimes I even imagine it can be me:
The True Gentleman
“The True Gentleman is a man whose conduct proceeds from good will and an acute sense of propriety, whose self control is equal to all emergencies; who
does not make the poor man conscious of his poverty, the obscure man of his obscurity, or any man of his inferiority or deformity; who is himself humbled if
necessity compels him to humble another; who does not flatter wealth, cringe before power, or boast of his own possessions or achievements; who speaks with
frankness but always with sincerity and sympathy; whose deed follows his word; who thinks of the rights and feelings of others rather than his own; and who appears
well in any company, a man with whom honor is sacred and virtue safe.”
A succinct letter to some folks who don’t get it…(distributed in their neighborhood)
July 6, 2012
John and Nina Kirchhoefer
11 S Brown Street
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kirchhoefer:
You may remember me as the person who, after noticing that every light in your house was on without window treatments, and seeing you lounging in your den on your double recliner through your clear glass door from the street, tapped on your front door with my seven year old son several hours after we watched the Lake Eola Fireworks display?
I remember that your husband John glanced back at us for about two seconds, then non-chalantly turned back around never bothering to look our way again. And it appeared that you only reluctantly came to the door after I began repeatedly pointing to my little son and making “we need help” gestures. We were so grateful you decided to walk those five steps to the door. We were also frantic. Thank You so much!
With several late model cars parked around your beautiful home and grounds, I had assured my worried son that folks with such ostentatious wealth on display are usually well educated, and as such could easily understand and empathize with our dire situation, and more than likely offer to help us. NOT.
I explained very clearly and politely to you that after the fireworks we had walked to and eaten at Wildside Grill, and then became lost looking for our car several hours earlier, and that both my son and I were about to “panic”. Even though I wasn’t dumbfounded by your lack of concern when I mentioned the fact that I am totally and permanently disabled from two recent heart failures (and we had easily walked at least 4-5 miles); I was dumfounded by your total lack of empathy and concern for my smart and beautiful seven year old son.
Your shameful indifference to our plight brought back a lesson I learned the hard way, but have since kept dear and close to my heart:
“Financial wealth can only bring you a brief respite from the inner knowledge and ultimate reality that life is short, and there are many, many more satisfying joys than a perfect lawn and well lit house, those being which only exemplify and enlarge one’s petty pretentious existence.” -mostdiggity
Though I’m a bit older than most (56), like many first time parents my son is my light and my life.
Your uncaring indifference and lack of effort to help us shocked, disgusted, and appalled me. At least you (Ms. K) listened, while your slug of a husband wouldn’t even face us like a real man; most likely because he had ascertained “that there was nothing in it for him”. How wrong. I pity his limited scope, and you, having such a desperate future with such a loathsome creature as he. Apparently not even a vacation to New Zeeland could cure his ills.
Apparently you’ve never been blessed with having children of your own, or you have forgotten what children are about? Or perhaps, you’re just STUPID and uninformed about common decent human protocol? I cannot speak to your upbringing, so perhaps you do have some excuse after all.
My son was frightened and scared and we were completely lost, though I knew my car must be somewhere within a couple of blocks of your home. I simply had no idea of which way to look, as I felt as if we had walked the entire Thornton Park neighborhood.
I also clearly stated that I am a single Father, and had no one in this town to call for help.
I explained to you, that although I had called 911 earlier and was met by an Orlando Patrolman, he drove us a mere three blocks then suddenly explained that was as much as he could help us. He put us out further from my car than before. Serve and Protect? I don’t think so.
Not to worry, I’ll be writing a similar missive to them as well, and understand that the internet is my best friend. Word.
Soooo… I’m writing you to shout a wake up call in large letters: SHAME ON YOU!
You two are selfish, ignorant, self-serving low-lifes for not putting us into one of your many cars and helping us for the 10-15 minutes it might have taken to find our vehicle. Did we look like thugs standing there with the obvious leftover Styrofoam sandwich takeout we were carrying? Are seven year olds apt to do home invasions these days with their 56 year old accomplices? Seriously if you were in the slightest bit afraid of us, then you are simply PATHETIC individuals with the insight of a mole. More likely you are fat, lazy have-it-alls who can’t even appreciate their own good fortune in life. Good fortune is a precarious friend.
It is obvious to me that you’ve been financially successful, all in spite of yourselves! How do you hide your fake selves from legitimate business associates? I’m betting you act quite differently around your prospects and customers… perhaps they too would enjoy hearing from me?
Little people like you are ridiculous contemptible morons, only acting like real people. Little people frauds who won’t bother to help others, even when they can easily determine that sometimes good folks might find real trouble.
Especially, when there is little or no expense to their own over-the-top empty self-serving lives.
John and Nina Kirshhwhodontgiveafuck, there may or may not be a place for God in your lives, but there certainly is Karma enough for everyone. It will check your ego at its unforgiving door.
So, perhaps you may want to forget about your all-important selves a bit, and work on simple generous, charitable, or philanthropic virtues a tad bit more. Remember, you are only human like the rest of us, and for the unexamined life Karma always has its way of forcing egotists like yourselves to their weak knees, where they must adjust to a more meaningful playing field. Your payday with fate is out there somewhere, and you are no exceptions to its unyielding rules.
I spent the time to find you, write you and also share my experience with your neighbors. After what you failed to do for my son and me that night, it’s really the least I could do for you.
Mind you this letter is from no lunatic, but from an intelligent, fully self-actualized man who has seen at least as much financial success in life and perhaps much more failure as you have. As mean as this letter may sound to you now, I write this in the peaceful spirit of an equal human who suggests you take a closer look at reality, before reality takes a look at you.
NOW PLEASE. I implore you from my heart of hearts: get over yourselves and be somebody! I am,
thom m adams
2337 WORTHINGTON RD
MAITLAND, FL 32751
Early on in his book Darwinian Revolution , T.X. Huxley wrote a long time ago:
Let us endeavor for a moment to disconnect our thinking selves from the mask of humanity, let us imagine ourselves scientific Saturnians, if you will, fairly acquainted with such animals as now inhabit the Earth, and employed in discussing the relations they bear to a new a singular “erect and featherless bi-ped,” which some enterprising traveler overcoming the difficulties of space and gravitation, has brought from that distant planet for our inspection, well preserved, may be, in a cask of rum. We should all at once agree upon placing him among the mammalian vertebrates; and his lower jaw, his molars, and his brain, would leave no room for doubting the systematic position of the new genus among those mammals, whose young are nourished during gestation by means of a placenta, or what are called the “placenta mammals”…
In the later parlance of today “if it swims like a duck, quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, it’s a duck.”
Always having been labeled a maverick, a bit of a rebel, perhaps just a guy who is wary of organizations, or an independent thinker, I’m a person who can feel comfortable on both sides of almost every fence. But I tend to hold fast to my own interpretations after all things are considered. It is both bain and blessing, but at the end of the day I like who I see in the mirror… but I could be wrong.
I have not always felt that way, and in fact once lost my way under the influence of money, prestige, egotism, and vanity. But, age, wisdom, and lack of financial status has done wonders for my humble side. I rejoice in the lesson, but it was expensive and left a trail of folks I’d just as soon might someday remember me more fondly.
As Bob Dylan has said, “it’s getting’ dark, but it ain’t dark yet.”
My point? Well, just for intellectual discussion, I see our world de-valuing my kind of thinking and holding tighter and firmer to conventions, stigmas, and secular dogma. Are we evolving or devolving our own species when it becomes, to use a worn out cliché; “outside-the-box” to think outside the box? Isn’t that what evolution demands of us? Or does evolution prefer the eventual automaton humans that many feel permeate our schools, businesses, governments, social networks, and societal cultures?
I learned a lot in my younger day from philosopher/writer Ayn Rand, who spoke to me through her perfect world idealism, and glorification of the individual. I naively set about making my mark on the world with little patience for the less physically and mentally endowed, and rose to the top of the heap of every pile I decided worthy of my salt.
It can be lonely at the top (or thinking so anyway), and one tends to peek over the cliffs edge, or through their personal rear view mirror a little more closely as they reach into their mid forties, feeling self-righteously indestructable. If I jump and fall in a uninhabited forest, would anyone hear it?
What many find, as I did, those who are chasing you are relentless and calculating, nothing like my Howard Roarkish hero image of myself, but having values of deceit, dishonesty, greed, unfairness, and other assorted but equally sordid backstabbing notions. I despised people like that. I was cheating on my wife. My mirror cracked.
So, I dropped out of the race, a mistake perhaps, but with an ignorant wisdom not even known then to my all-knowing self-serving self-in-denial self.
I have found that the bottom of the heap is infinitely more vile and depraved, ruthless and selfish as in any other part of said heap. And those on their way up are only interested in what you can do to speed them there with little of their own energy expenditure. They don’t look in their rear view often.
That view from the top that I enjoyed then despised, I finally speculated wasn’t the problem; it was the viewee.
And so, after ten years and as many of my old life’s friends, acquaintances, colleagues, loves, and brief encounters start to come back in focus, I see the bigger picture and smaller picture in a more tolerating light.
Yet, many of them I see still refusing to call the spade the spade, the duck the duck, and we humans a frail but lucky-as-hell species who are not capable of appreciating a whole mountain in our shiny speedy BMW. Only in a comfortable pair of old worn out sandals on a slowly climbing always winding, but nature loving hike to the peak (despite two irascible, whiny children) can one feel the feel, smell the smell of the all-too-REAL mountain.
It’s only then that the top isn’t so disappointing when you get there.
Although Einstein illuminated all of mankind by postulating his Theories of Relativity, and quantum mechanics shows us that reality is neither real nor unreal, particle or wave, people insist on stamping their own brands of THIS IS WHAT IT IS on everything we touch. Answers are sold like goods and merchandise in the name of: SOLUTIONS. Solutions are it.
No, they are not what it is, it is what it is. And only, mind you… to you. And, only now.
And just how is that?
It depends on the observer, and from where they exist at this moment in space/time. After that, it is only a guess. Every day and everything in one’s life can be seen in this very light… its all relative. Every continuous separate moment our real is lost and gained forever and ever. There is no past. There is no future. There is only here and now for us, individually. Solutions? Not even Heaven above.
And now’s the time to drop these delusions which make us feel that our future is safer if we will just shut up, say our prayers, and get in-line with everyone else. Rejoice in the uncertainty and the individuality of the unknown. Say exactly what you are thinking to anyone you feel needs to hear it. DO NOT FEAR ANYONE or any situation. Believe in yourself. Perhaps in there lies: A Solution.
And what about our quacking duck?
Materialism is passé. Grow a brain and get a real life. I did. Now I have my own monument on the D.C. Plaza…
Woke up one morning after an ill-conceived fatty
Now instead of being his Father, they called me his baby-daddy.
And If life is like golf, they might as well called me her caddie.
She had the queen, I just held the jack
I played the joker and she played her rack.
AND, thats how the light gets in; it finds a SMALL crack.
As I was stiffin her, she was stiffin me
But when I first saw his face, it turned to… an Epiphany.
A whole life I’D spent…searching for my role, then I suddenly looked down… I was standing on the goal.
She got dealt some bad cards, QUICKLY folded her hand and left the table
But I kept the prize, and she’s now JUST a fable
Now I’m a seven year-old’s Daddy, and there’s no LOVE more willing or ABLE.
So here’s to being a Father,
All it took was a screw
I like it so much… NOW I’m a Daddy for two.
If you define truth as reality, then Mr. Einstein showed us that Truth is always a matter of perspective at a specific point in time.
In other words what is true is not the same thing from every perspective or at every moment. I think that we many times confuse truth with being the opposite of false but the opposite of truth is ‘not true’ (there are subtle but meaningful differences).
To say that something is red is simplifying the fact that most of us see colors in very similar ways, so for convenience sake it makes sense to agree on things like this. But truth is sacred. As such it cannot be trivialized. Yet we must all understand that truth is fleeting at best.
One cannot change truth, because it’s happening at the now and later its, well, too late. We can visualize it, but we should always remember that it is only a recollection (a cheap knock off) of the truth, not the exact truth. And that is simply our recollection of the truth at a specific point in time from a specific perch.
It cannot be re-enacted truthfully due to time moving on. If we effort to understand how truth can be (is) different for everyone and all things, we are on our way to finding peace… enlightenment and wisdom.
-Written for a Special friend and mother (Stefanie) of a beautiful two year old (Jayden) on Mothers Day 2008.
They had spent the last week or two living with us due to an ex-boyfriend gone mad, and the changing dynamics had left an indelible mark on all our psyches. Our parenting styles were vastly different and we were both frustrated and confused…not to mention how the arrangement affected our TWO beautiful reasons to live, OUR SONS Jayden and Dylan.
While they went to Cocoa to enjoy the beach, and Dylan (my son) went to his grandma’s house for Mother’s Day, i had a few moments, (finally) alone to relax, reflect and write this sing-songy poem…
You say i know nothing and nothing i might.
But to jump on conclusions would be a dark ride at night,
With scars healed by daylight and bones who’ve felt bite
I must take you and your screaming to the woodshed of light
There once lived a young maiden, in a land far away
Spent 20 years of bailing yet making no hay
Her mind was confused keeping demons at bay.
THOUGH she was sharp, strong and able, somehow that didn’t pay,
She was searching for answers, but figured “what will come and what may”
Meanwhile, back at the office of crisis and crowd
The vortex had summoned my life SO clear and SO loud.
I was forced to eat porrage of love and deceit,
Then i woke up in heaven, and whom did i greet?
A line of old men who all looked like my dad
Their clothes matched each other’s, not yellow or red,
They were the color of ‘old wisdom’, they were gray flannel dead.
I was happy to see them, i think they were me, (i thought they were me?)
But then i was certain when they all stood to pee
My limelight soon over, their focus turned off of me,
Just behind my left shoulder sat (my son) in our Tree.
The branches were spindly, they all shook when he smiled,
My love was enormous but our chances looked vile.
I figured… no need to worry, ”what will come and what may”
Then I watched you with (Jayden), at Cocoa Beach… yesterday?
I grabbed my son Dylan, ran and waved while I held back my tears
My dads all said goodbye, but that I might not see them see them for years
Between the dead and the living, it’s only us with the fears
But Ifelt this profound implication in loving our peers.
When I saw you again, I was no longer mad nor was I sad
I knew that our friendship was too important to let it go like some fad.
Your lovely smile lit my soul and I was thrilled you came my way
It was the day our lives intersected at the corner of ”what will come and what may”
Simply put, its a motorcycle passenger seat designed for riders aged 12 months – 48 months with their safety and comfort in mind, without taking any of the driver’s attention away from normal road conditions and traffic.
Why ride children on motorcycles at all? Isn’t it dangerous?
Of course, motorcycle riding can be dangerous with or without using proper safety measures; and sometimes by events that are beyond the driver’s control. Yet, despite the obvious safety hazards, motorcycling is a hobby safely enjoyed by millions of people worldwide today. Small children are typically not able to remain safely seated as passengers on most motorcycles, therefore they should not ride under those conditions. The choice of whether to allow a child to ride falls to the child’s parent or responsible guardian, who should take responsible precautions to insure the child’s safety. The babyDaddy safety seat is designed with small children in mind, so that they cannot fall from the motorcycle, or hinder the driver during normal motorcycle operation.
There’s nothing like it anywhere and yet the demand is overwhelming.
Is it legal?
Each US State has its own safety regulations with regards to the operation and safe riding of motorcycles. After a thorough investigationof each State’s unique laws and regulations, it is apparent that our seat is legal in all 50 US States and Territories.
Which bikes are best suited for use of this apparatus?
The babyDaddy safety seat has been designed to adjust and fit to most manufacturer’s regular motorcycle’s passenger seat, where it can be safely mounted and fastened to disallow any movement in the seat during normal motorcycle operation. Also, the seat is designed to adjust to each child’s leg length and seat capacity, further insuring a comfortable and safe ride with a responsible driver. Reinforced steel underpinnings make the seat stronger than the motorcycle it is attached to, while steel cross guards insure that a child cannot climb out of the seat without assistance.
My original seat was tested almost daily with a child who grew from six months to almost five years of age, always utilizing the same seat. During that time there were zero accidents, as most car drivers took extra precaution when they noticed a child aboard my 1995 Heritage Softail, and I am an especially safe driver myself.
What do others think of the device?
Over that four year period, hundreds if not thousands of people saw and approved of the seat by their positve comments everywhere we traveled (I did not want to travel long distances with my son… the longest trip was about 50 miles each way.). People young and old realized how safe and happy we were as traveling partners, and enthusiastically endorsed my decision to create a way for my young son to bond even closer to his single parent; In this case his dad.In four years I never heard one negative comment about riding with my child.
At least 20-30 people stopped me to ask where they might be able to buy one, or if I might make one for them personally (which I always declined). I was stopped at traffic lights, in restuarants, and at ball games by individuals who wanted to acquire a seat for riding their own child. The demand is high for providing a safe way to ride small children on their parent’s motorcycle.
A personal message from the Inventor/Designer:
At 49 and childless, I had long since decided against parenthood. To me at the time, children were loud, unruly, and would be disruptive of the peaceful life I had lived, and planned to continue to live in that vein. One careless afternoon with an ex-girlfriend changed that plan and my life inexoribly and forever, when I found out that she was pregnant with my child and had every intention of making me a first time Father.
Some things in life we cannot change, so I decided to take full and total responsibility, and buy into this new chapter about to begin in my life. I figured that if I was going to be a dad, I was going to be a great dad and have my son 50% of the time legally allowed to parents in Florida who are not living together.
In my past life I had been a motorcycle enthusiast to that same fervant degree.
Every summer for 20 straight years I had taken at least a one month motorcycle trip to somewhere. I had traveled in 15 countries and across this country more than once, throughout some States 10-20 times, always enjoying the freedom and pleasure of motorcycling. I rode almost every day after moving to Florida in 2003, and nothing was going to stop me from continuing my love for riding.
Yet, on January 30, 2005 I found that there is a greater LOVE than motorcycling, when my new baby son, Dylan was born. Call it a Peak Experience, an epiphany, or a paradigm shift in my thinking and being… or call it unconditional LOVE. All the sudden life was no longer meaningful or enjoyable without my best friend Dylan at my side.
Unfortunately, a tragic accident in October 2006 took the life of Dylan’s mother, and I was left to raise him alone. I had already designed a number of useful things from from scraps of junk metal and other materials in my spare time. Now I NEEDED to design something special; for me it would be for the most precious cargo on the planet.
The babyDaddy safety seat
My point in this is that contrary to any naysayer or negative thinker, this seat was built from LOVE, with LOVE. People can second guess what they might or might not have done in my situation, but the truth is my reality can only be observed from my unique perspective. No one else has a valid perspective. As a long time follower of AYN RAND and the philosophy of objectivity, I’ve made it my business not to interfere in other people’s lives, while I demand they show me the same respect.
The truth is that a baby seat for your child is only appropriate or NOT coming from your own viewpoint. If your son or daughter is anything like my seven year old Dylan, they will thank you for allowing them so many special times spent with you. Dylan and I have the greatest bond between any child and father possible. I know this for sure: The one thing that made that possible was having The babyDaddy safety seat.
Dear Linda Brace and all those claiming to be of Linda Brace’s family lineage, either named or unnamed:
Greetings and Salutations!
I believe you recently petitioned the court for “grandparent” visitation and some of your family members took it upon themselves to report my “negligence” as a parent to the department of children and families. Fair enough, the courts can decide the visitation issue while I must answer to the system about my parenting choices and skills, etc.
I suppose that for some people, letting big brother dictate to them how to act is more comforting than the fearful thought of their making their own life decisions; but to folks like me that seems a tad fatalistic. I guess that there are even “HATERS” who hate everyone including themselves so much that they fail to comport themselves in a reasonable fashion…either way it’s loser-lose.
Confident as I am in myself, personally I was and am offended by these rude allegations and their attached consequential implications. Just for the record though, I am a man of integrity who does not take lightly his duties as a father and provider for two wonderful little men; Dylan van horn and Jayden Henderson.
For any of you to suggest otherwise shows how pitiful it must be to go unloved and not recognize love’s evidentry colors, as in, “i want to go home to my daddy”. Shame on you!
Though financially I have seen brighter days and even had much sunnier outlooks, I cannot fathom a luckier individual tasked with matters more important or more enjoyable than these. Even a simpleton like myself can see the wisdom in these guys (duh, Dylan and Jayden) having a wider net when it comes to family and loved ones. No need to remind me though that your net can hold only one of them.
I think maybe it’s a telling indictment on your own measure of what it means to be a family. Maybe think of the casualties involved (and do your own math) before firing blindly into crowds of innocent people. The ones you hurt may just be your own flesh and blood, lest I mention that you might not even prevail in your own-self-serving-dog-eat-dog-family-secret-drama-rat race, huh? Anybody?
Sadly this is written on the anniversary of Kimberly’s death, a sad day for us all I’m sure. In case you are keeping score at home, the date of this letter and that unfortunate anniversary are but a mere coincidence, albeit a timely one:
This letter is to ask for your contribution in dollars towards Dylan’s upcoming dental work, which is no small matter as you know. And since everyone understands better than me how important dental care is to a growing child like Dylan, you likely won’t be surprised either at the high cost of treatment these days.
Now if you want to use this information for some cynical “i-told-you-so” or some other dubious project of your own devise, first know that I readily take the blame for Dylan’s dental predicament and honestly wish it weren’t so… yet, here we are… still…
Go ahead…You can beat me, lambast me, and stick pins in a doll with my resemblance, and yet you will not have furthered your or his situation by doing so; of this I can promise you.
So, Lisa… you and your almighty wisdom with your army of insults and your intimate knowledge of all things righteous and good… yes, you with your over-the-top-self righteous idiocy (oowh… how’s my spelling?), please, please… now is your time to man-up… hold over my conscience that you put your money where your mouth is… give to Dylan’s dentistry like a man-uh, woman possessed! I’ll gladly eat those delicious words!
My stomach though is already beginning to growl with it’s own sad forethought of the infinitely long odds…
Hey, I know it’s a bad time to ask for money, and times are tough out there I hear. Look at this as your opportunity to shine for Dylan as a meaningful positive force in his young life. Show us and him that you not only talk-the-talk, but you do indeed, walk-the-walk. We will all be eternally grateful for this, I’m sure.
But, in case you cannot contribute to this worthy cause… do not despair. We understand and will all still love you just the same… again, I’m sure. I ask only that you respond to this letter with your intentions…
one of your favorite baby-daddys in-lawsish (I’m sooo sure),
ATM (as in adams, thomas mario)
p.s. So ya know, dylan and I made our visit with kimberly’s gravesite today. It was touching and important to him that he not forget her matronly familial love he once held grasp… if only for a moment. He promised her that he would grow to be a fine person and a simple man… I for one am holding him to it.
the brain trust at my house sat on the outside porch all last night and rehashed the entire closet of skeletons. we added body language, analyzed metadata, multiplied metatarsal fragments, DNA, hairs and bodily fluids found at the uh, under the couch… just figured it all out. though i’m no math whiz, i know when it all doesn’t add up. it’s truly amazing how much we let go by us when inside we really want the math to work out. but inventory day, counting the left withs and subtracting the outgoingz to match with the incoming… is a day of…well, reckoning. it’s all right there in the data.
in the end, the good chairman (senator evaroosky, CT-missouri) acknowledged the glaring logics shortfall, right after excuse number (catch this) 23, shook his head solemnly and said, “you’re right. it just dudn’t jive duz it? damn. she seemed sincere to me…”
my wry smile hid the heartache as i got up to ponder the new findings. i exhaled, and thought to myself:
“well OK. so you figured out what you already knew. what did you expect anyway? to find out that the obvious lies were not so obvious? quit wasting time and energy. get up. move on. be done with it…”
so much fucking wasted time on a glimmer of hope that what i had suspected to be true wasn’t after all…that it was really my own insecurity’s reflection. actually i think she had suggested that to me once.
did i hope that universal truths would be proven false, that actually having no proof would translate into innocence, and that her deafening silence to questions only she could answer were really…uh, well… an expression of dumb love that froze her up, and she just couldn’t explain her true feelings in a meaningful, coherent way? all smoke and mirrors buddy-boy, wake the fuck up!
the famous INDICATORS were guess what? indicating…pointing in a direction…providing guidance in otherwise non-specific art/science. the art of understanding the meaning of one’s actions despite implicit denials of what those actions mean.
Hmmm… the INDICATORS were not so much hocus pocus after all- (or the twisted, metaphorical bullshit that i was regularly accused of pulling out of my ass). yet incredulously sometimes even i can be led off the trail, albeit momentarily, by some wacked out blowhard insisting that i am the fraud.
it’s like catching someone holding your money, wallet, credit cards, and favorite lamp standing outside your home saying they were trying gather up your things for you in case the house caught fire. they feel you should thank them instead of freaking the fuck out. NOT.
and like my daddy used to say, “only the nose knows for sure.”
and just like my daddy, i can still smell the aroma of freshly minted bullshit at fifty paces…and just whom…i mean really… who is surprised by that?
no one. not today. not even insecure little ole me.
Romantic love and real friendship are as vital to the human soul as basic nutrition is to our bodies.
We spend our lives affecting and becoming infected not just by the many interpersonal relationships we initiate, develop and sustain, but also those that for various reasons we let slide into the immensity of no return. though we might notice an occassional mistake in judgement and adjust, sometimes it’s too late. it pays us to take careful heed of the precarious nature of love and friendship as we move through our lives if happiness is our ultimate goal..
Our hearts can somehow sense what is intrinsically good or bad in relationships despite conflicting advice sometimes being shouted at our inner-self by our rational mind; then it attempts to sublimely guide our actions, while our rational mind factors in real issues and pressures that are exerted from the outside world. our inner-self does the math and our conscience agenda is set.
With love the truth always eventually rises to the surface.
Love chooses us, not the other way around. it is somewhat preordained as to whom we are attracted to and those we find unsuitable and reject. sometimes, to our brains our heart’s choice doesn’t make good sense. at this stage of my life (53), when it comes to love, my heart rules over my brain in a close one.
But it wasn’t always that way, and in fact not for most of my life. our lives are lived in segments, which stitch together as one in the end. our loves lives can seem incongrous to us because of the inner battle between heart and mind can sometimes become unbalanced.
Youth is impetuous and idealistic; the perfect stage for a heart in firm control over the brain. young people are notorious for their poor decisions when it comes to love.
as we enter our 20’s the balance changes and so too do our needs and wants in a mate. as life gets tougher and our responsibilities grow, we begin to be more practical. our expectations in love relationships become more grounded as we project how love will look in the future instead of seeing only the immediate benefits of a love interest we weigh and project a forecast for the future. does it show promise of providing us an easier life(style)? more loving and secure family? is it a friendly partnership? physical attraction is still important but becoming less weighted.
here is also where the brain can trick us into thinking that love can be bought and sold like any commodity. our heart takes a back seat while the rational mind does most of the driving during these formative years. after all the brain counts the money, not the heart.
later on goals adjust again and the heart begins to demand attention once again. we see that true happiness IS a matter of the heart, a concept our brain would just as soon we had forgotten. if we’re too impulsive, we may make life altering decisions that we will regret later, when the mind regains it’s footing and begins to assert it’s valuable wisdom. like every thing else in life, a good balance is what we’re after.
and then again, sometimes we’re just lucky and we meet a special person that satisfies our brain and our heart equally, and as much as we satisfy theirs. that’s true love and it usually lasts.
so when you meet someone and begin to form a relationship with them be careful not to make rash judgements that you may regret later. keep in mind (and heart) who your true friends are likely to be later on. in life. Love can become friendship and vice-versa. i know because both have happened to me.