Sunday, December 27, 2009

Six Facets Of Preponderance



The sky reflects a lot of 'time' as measured presently. The 'space' is... unimaginable, beyond infinity... ! These are dwarfed by 'surfaces': places where we'd stand if we had imagination... were less facile—in command.

The question's begged who's there right now... and peering back at Earth! Consider plans to visit same... There is, I'd bet, no dearth. See, Drake's equation says they "are", and Fermi says they "will"... ...the evidence of UFOs enjoys denial, still.

Drake's equation says they 'are', in figures sans a lie. The numbers are conclusive, mirrored thoughtfulness, is why.

To the "angle of that dangle," add the square of Drake's potential, and smartly find, besides ourselves? The more than insubstantial!

Yes, we have, indeed, their photograph, we've raked their thousand traces, and some have looked upon them and beheld non-human faces...

Now, Fermi says they 'will', of course! If they are 'there', they do so. If there, they have prerogatives we cannot guess or even know. But "they're not here 'cause we're not there" is not a valid answer...if "they were here, we'd know it," was Fermi's "tiny dancer."

Still, we'd occupy their fantasy, a homocentric dream, that they alone inhabit space... their arrogance supreme? Their hubris—bloated 'schism—is provoked by errant men who prosecute too passionately... ...what only profits them! These men are not concerned with 'truth', have abdicated 'trust', and shortchange those beneath them, then, with 'promises' of dust!

Evidentiary ufology is enormous and well vetted, but folks have lost home, love, and lives... while chasing the detected. ...And hows that work, this travesty: to punish good behavior, reward instead its opposite, a point gone non-belabored...

Photographic physicality, it's passed time's acid test! History is larded with accounts not made in jest. Artists have recorded what ...'real people'... heard and saw... and they wrote in ink on parchment or in soot on cave-home walls.

I myself have seen such things as other pilots see... regarded them unflinchingly and not from bended knee.  One must, of needs, be true to self, or risk a cruel despair.  One must report the truth they've known: achieve their croix de guerre!

Six facets of an evidence borne out in guts some had... to qualify existence and to keep from going mad... Six facets of reality that some of needs deny, and this is proof that these are fools who might be vilified.

Six facets of preponderance... a glimmer of the deep... these shock the sensibilities of those not yet asleep. Six facets of near certainty foretell important news; that we are not, have never been, "alone"! Be disabused!


UFOs. Yes, the quality anecdotal evidence, compounded with the vetted photographic evidence, and then added to the documented historical evidence... ...gives every indication that a ufological contention regarding that phenomena must be more real than not... Yet, we tarry, mope, twitter, and futz.
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Moreover, when the preceding is framed by the serious artistic evidence, qualified by the available physical evidence, and then compellingly buttressed by any conclusively personal evidence —if you have some... I do... thousands have— I can only be annoyingly astonished by the continued reluctance of some to face the highly strange music that just cannot be forever marginalized...
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A seventh category is considered concerning a mathematical addition suggested by the Drake Equation but fleshed out by Amir D. Aczel (PhD) in his Probability One.  Simply put, the odds that we are not alone in the universe is so close to 100% that there is one chance in one that such is so. Certainty.
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McKenna, Vallee, Strassman, and Hancock et sig al are quite clear that *Others* truly abound... without regard to where or how they manifested themselves not for the reader's convenience. We're not alone in our little hubristic closets of that cultural squalidness—closets regarded as secret and unobserved. Ha!  These conjectured others are appalled witnesses as we socially defecate in our societal beds and push it down with our classless feet. Disabuse your nose of its less than valid elevation, eh? We are not alone. The suggestion is ludicrous. Can't that be seen?
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Feel the acceleration?
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Lightspeed and singularity of hyperspace around the end of 2012, friends and neighbors. Perchance to soar and cleave beyond the parameters of a mere dream... Don't fret that 2012 could come and go without a visit from hyperspace elves, asymptotic curves remain to be what they are and a piercing of the existential veil seems imminent, still.
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That's not entirely from the aggregate "woo-woo," eh? That's the feeling of the high-domes and prop-heads of a jealous mainstream *academentia* (sic), fellow droobers... and so this writer's considered suspicion.

 Buckle-up, fellow travellers!  All vetted measurements of rational prognostication are straight up and asymptotic as alluded to!  Medicine, tecnology, going small, and looking large are masses becoming infinite! The hyperspace gates swing open to, well, "infinity and beyond" if you'll pardon a prescient Buzz Lightyear — doesn't make it any less descriptive, but... don't take my word for it.

...Read on.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

...Cooking Frogs...






It comes to me, now, all at once; I've been too nice with you! Please! Reiterate your "wounded" disrespect. You'd sneer your schadenfreude, then presume that you'd done penance. All you were, were frightened kiddies turning into you're own parents!

Too,  this is not a good thing and quite apart from sane.  Some change, indeed's, required, nes't ce pas?  Just as toilets need their flushing, some "traditions" needs their pruning, a "changelessness" is static death! Extinction's ever looming!
 

See, the truthful gone ignored will grow too large to hide before you, though the hammers of your gods begin their swing? Remember, you had had your chance... if college was your luck, but you only wanted  "answers" so your "college" blew. It sucked.

For all pontifications of your harshest blithe conservative, for all those stuffy nose-up false pretenders: The class you so desire wouldn't have you on a bet! You see, if YOU were there, you'd take THEIR place; but you don't get that yet!

It's why the tree called Knowledge and her sister tree named Life, those trees in perfect Eden — out of bounds?  The "plural" Gods forbade them when they said as much themselves... we could "live" like them to "know" so be, then, Gods as well.

The rules, contrived, control "made gravid" masses — of which you are composed! The rules are, then, their servants ... do their bidding. So tell me you're OK with all their crass manipulation. Tell me that this feels good, this slowest strangulation...

Heat a frog in water, slowly inching up degrees… Heat too quick, the frog gets wise and hops! Heat the frog just slow enough…and watch it not get shook.  See, the frog will stay there floating 'til he croaks his last and cooks!

Abide the autocratic —at your peril— with indifference. It wont be long they've made their way to you. Where's respect/consideration then, when you're the one who needs it! That slope to hell is paved with oil, and still you lube and grease it.

Don't tell me that your church can see the truest demons clearly. Don't tell me that there's nothing in my sky! Don't tell me the police are even handed —non-diseased— when their records are completely filled with Sodom-sans-surcease!

...Yet, still we have potential... ...and a "better's" never been! We can talk out loud and clear ...until we're heard?  Will huge machines arrive perforce to grind us up to gristle... ...when one points out hypocrisies, rings a bell, or blows a whistle?

Advising intuition will insure this not be so. Our masses are salvation we can make, perforce, ourselves.  Looms, at last, concrescence and a yet unguessed on fate.  All "trends" straight up, we're rocket borne, ourselves we recreate!

Some just won't want to hear it... ...that it all comes down to them. They just don't want to hear they're on the blame line! But there's payin' for their playin'... ...which comes due, I don't know when… and it may be that they're prayin' for some chance to try again?



God might be up for a do-over, as unlikely as that should be. 

I'm asked, "If you think things are so much better now than they were then, why are you still bumping your gums"?

Simply? Because *things* could so EASILY be... so much BETTER ... still! But you have to give up, seriously give in — to get real.  See, we never get to the destinations of our imaginations... but we can still enjoy and be enlivened by "points of interest" along the way!  The only important thing? The quality of your associations on that path at hand.  A spot-on Robert Anton Wilson was not wrong on this point.

~~~


...Wanna know what UFOs are really all about? Jacques Vallee and Terence McKenna shared an inside take on the matter. UFOs are real, but they are two astonishing things among other astonishing things they say.

First, they disguise themselves as an alien invasion of sorts so we don't get needlessly upset with regard to what they ~really~ are, to start. Let that frost your short hairs!  Alien encounters "extant" are just not alien enough, it seems.  They're a lot weirder than they appear.

Secondly, UFOs exist to very convincingly demonstrate to us, from time to time, that Science —not mere scientists, mind you, flawed as they are, but the institution of science itself— has some very serious shortcomings that we human beings are reluctant to consider in the real world and don't remotely cop to.

One is advised to know a tree by its fruit and if the fruit is ordinarily assessed as "nourishing" and "tasteful"... is it? Is it really?

~~~
Wanna know what's really dangerous about the boundary dissolving internet? It is that it is boundary dissolving.

Consider you had, and will have, LAPTOP, breast pocket , or headband -- real time full motion video and CD quality sound in a little *transmitting* station via your cell phone. Everyone is their own TV station with a worldwide reach.

It's hard for anything to threaten you in that kind of *personal* pervasive surveillance. Watchers *watched* and home a castle? UFOs witnessed as they appear in real time? Video records of crimes committed? What man in black visits you at your door or in a deserted parking lot... who would threaten you or harass you while being watched as much as they would presume to watch?

Stalin wouldn't have been allowed to starve millions of his people in a pissy fit of petulant pique, and we won't stand for it when our own starvation, spiritual and otherwise, is pushed up in our face sooner rather than later by the conflated corporate Cardinals of industry, government, and church.

China takes a lot of heat for its paltry surveillance by the rest of the world in the "T" Square incident… Rodney King burst a true cultural pustule when he exposed a very real and obligatory police brutality via HIS video taping. More imagination: how much crack can be sold on a street corner when the transaction is being recorded seventy or eighty times? About the only place you will escape the passive and pervasive surveillance is in a place you have designated to be your own home (castle) — perhaps as it should be.

I want the bastard who pops me to be on somebody's film somewhere. Like it was at Waco.

Yeah, that's right ... Waco. Anybody should be able to live any way they want to —within very broad borders... don't insult yourself wallowing in the up-tight absurd— ANY WAY THEY WANT TO, as long as it is not forcing a "system" to make me, or any individual, live that way, TOO... ...it's fine!

How bad can passive surveillance be if it must also, by definition, keep tabs on the man who makes his surveillance of me? Then, maybe we both stay off each other's ass a bit more.


Sunday, December 13, 2009

...Transmissions At Night Speed...




Some time ago I sent a pulse; it's now so far from here… A sentient vibration — you'd think too faint to hear. A terse twelve lines of quatrain in an honest, heartfelt style ... Away now, friend, some five point nine... times ten to the twelfth odd miles...

Six trillion miles, then, it had flown... in inky —coal-black— space! Who knows what stuff it's rushed right passed... or touched upon its face. Chance comets of antiquity breathing star stuff as they fry; their tails growing longer as they—moth-like— sunward dive?

I can dream of gainful contact as this sphere grows ever larger. It octuples as the radius of it doubles, math empowered.  Eight times the space ...encompassed... at around this time that year. Some years from now ... and as things change? ...A change we must not fear.

One year from then... with challenged children, teaching long division? I'd presumed to be instructing... I digress regards attrition. Remains, that in some future time, *they'd* found a way to listen? Too, if understood, *these* seek me out... to clue me what I'm missing?

...Just what I need! A space-borne visit! ...My world put on notice! We're not alone, we've been observed... from way back they can quote us! Names are named and actions tallied! The hard facts top a list; a few have had their way too long — they're likely better missed!

...And still our message hurries at a strident speed of night. It is swimming passed new planets like a dolphin made of light. Composed of ordered pulses of some thinking I hold valid, it floods the sky with questions, and it undertakes the challenge.

This *vibration* in the ether, it's as true as bursting suns. It's for ending all the ignorance which has had its, too long, run. It's for holding up its end, by God, and taking on 'the man' ... for a truer view of that which is, a place in which to stand!

It swims with other messages of different kinds of stripe. In the late Van Flandren's ether it eschews the standard hype. It hooks and jabs, the gloves come off ... blows are aimed at throats! It needles and it bickers; it survives to get their goat.

The rage you feel, regards this ode, is a ratio of degree. It's pride before a fall, mayhap, when you skin unblemished knees? A measure of your pique is sure; you might even want to fight? The degree to which you're cross, perhaps… the degree to which I'm right!

...And it's not being "on the mark," as proffered, is the issue. Though, I suspect your ill got pride... is tough as toilet tissue. Remains a fairness lacking in what we should... by all means, trust! When synergy is lost, my friend? We're pierced by specious thrusts!

Our species then devolves, perhaps, and we lose a guiding light? We drown in fecal excess, friend, and are gelded by our fright! We lose the prouder gains we've made, as proffered in the history? We return to squalid, dirty caves, eating tree bark in our misery!

This is true while single persons could be turning it around? This is true while naked wealth is laying fallow on the ground? This is true as cosmic signals, then, conflate their globes in space? Yet, it remains, yea verily, we flirt with bald disgrace!



...On a chance CB rig once: "breaker... breaker..." followed by idle verse spoken some years ago — twelve lines on a cold and stormy night still rushing outward at the speed of light, time forever frozen for a thought quick dash performed by a tenuous globe of microwave RF ...

...5. 859 x 10 ^12 odd miles ...(almost 6 trillion miles a year!)... beaming away in an expanding bubble of ordered and vibrating electrical code. The volume of that bubble of space increases by a factor of eight every time the radius doubles if it survived at all. Conjectured, reader, and otherwise submitted for your approval: a huge globe of evidential sentience expanding at night speed in a bubble of energized ether.  Everyone is doing it.

What or whoever could have heard those lines ... as I don't think space has the sterility that some would have for it, do you? I remember that all my art, music, poetic commentary, and critical prose is transmitted in a similar fashion via micro-wave, and so is yours. That's comforting, somehow — self-affirming even, eh? 

We're, essentially, the first of us to vibrate into space in this manner! In effect leaving something of ourselves in the firmament of un-guessed —all but— eternity at our passing... something of us lasting forever in the unknowable ether. The sentience behind that vibration never, really, dies?

Other expressions I have made on the radio include, "Cease fire," ...and "...Chalk two... rockets in the tree-line... ...NOW." This was back in a simpler, but darker time when I was trying to stay sane in our ongoing and everlasting military pit of snakes. I'd had idle dreams of being a "star voyager..." ...

Others have made alternate transmissions over the years. Some of it is stupidity at the speed of light.  I'm not excluding some of my own. Some of it is heartfelt communication. Sadly, some of it paints a better picture of ourselves to a listening *other* than we would have remotely allowed from ourselves.

Too bad.

On the late Dr. Van Flandren:


"Dark Matter, Missing Planets, and New Comets: Paradoxes Resolved, Origins Illuminated." ...is not so important because it challenges the conventional paradigm of the understanding of the universe. This book is important because it exposes the shortcomings of our current inductive system of model-building... and just how far some of these modelers will go to keep YOU worshiping at their particular alters of science!

Read on...

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Brush-strokes, Portraits, And Landscapes Of Sea, Land, And Sky...



The center of the universe? An angry place to be, and ironic it's the only place to get up off your knees. It's there within ones consciousness —still possible to share— that one is loose to "soar and cleave" where others fear to dare.

True — it's likely there without you, that universe you know, plus much, much more your senses miss, as senses miss the show. Though it likely works without you —while you never find that out— then you might as well embrace it, and so look, a bit, about.

You might question your CONVICTIONS, or aspire to test your FAITH. The former loves convenience, and the latter leads to hate. See, faith is not a lapdog to support your party line, and convictions could be sharpened sticks to poke you in the eye.

There's plenty to dissuade you if you think outside the *rules*, and the "systems" of coercion are the shame; you're just the tool.

It won't matter that their *rules* could bear the fruit of all injustice, or their *rule* absolve the holder of their shame. Expect no justice.

The "system's" just a lever that elitists blithely use for a purpose that must benefit the few! Whilst they pump our population ever higher making numbers that must mean much less respect for me and you...

Oh, they HATE the "individual," so they treat her like a witch. A man who's so afflicted is a similar son-of-a-bitch. See... ...and irony's so thick that you could chop it with a knife... but the BEST of ALL ideas come from single persons! Right!

Now, I'll not fault a team that makes "ideas" what they ARE! The difference found between the two's a nova to a star, but consider super novas and remember, FIRST, their seed. It's the STAR that marks her center. It's the "star" that we first need.

True, every meat-bag's not this star, irrelevant if fact. Don't leap to that absurdity, as I'm just not saying that. See?  Culture is a jealous beast that works too hard, it seems, to mark the individual as dismissed to be demeaned. This penalizes poor-folks, and will punish artful geeks. Homely kids must live in fear — unearned shame upon their cheeks.

These kids?  They're shoved around to suit a "crowd" we should decry, and will rise up, on occasion, when their spirits are despised. In our *SCHOOLS* they ARE discounted, and they're slapped around in line, so these might take their guns to class... remember Columbine? These are individuals who are pushed to their extremes... by the haughty —inbred— attitudes of that group that "makes the scene."

These behaviors are encouraged by a process —hand in glove— that demands the mediocrity it promotes from up above!  It's that "bottom half" of fractions they'd inflated, not reduced, and the larger that divisor means the more you're contused. It's a large denominator that they use to damp the breed! It's that large denominator which objectifies their greed!

Too, they pump that NUMERATOR to a number grown so great... individuals are made meaningless and consigned to graceless fate...

See, too damn many artless knobs *pronounce* on you and me. Enraged and therefore outraged, though, we'd leap from callused knees! We're the ones who like our thinking as a process of our own; see, we've been —too blithely— lied to from the "pulpit" and the "throne."

We're the ones without due process. We're the ones DENIED that due. We're misdirected, disrespected, and prefer a larger truth.

I'm at the center of my universe and I'm not surprised to see... a plethora of *centers* who are more or less... like me! And all prefer the base respect that you yourself would have... but denied —to too damn many— for the lawful thoughts we'd had.

We'd make our contribution but we're driven from our herd! We're dismissed from our society. We're discounted and deterred! All most of us had WANTED was a chance to tuck right in, and make our contribution where we saw *it* wearing thin, but based upon convenience of some *bless-ed* non-elected... we must suffer the indifference of our culture's piqued rejection!

It's their willful self-indulgence as they sell us down the river! It's their xenophobic attitudes assumed without a quiver! It's their penchant for discretion that supports their status quo — which is narrow and short sighted, and unjust; I think you know.

It's the lack of toleration that elitists would promote. It's the fascist way they dictate terms they shove right down our throats!

How are we to fare then, friend, where "birds" come home to "roost," and psychopaths presume their will to suck your blood for juice?  How are we at all best served, in reflex arbitration, to legislate morality embracing sick religions. 



I'll write what's writ, written as if to blow a righteous horn from the funnel I am levied, unasked.  Expect no apology, eh?

...Accused of having a rambling style, I assert that my only defense is that  words —to me— are but different color paints. Sentences are brush-strokes, paragraphs are portraits, and pages are the considered landscapes of our experiential sea — the immediate felt presence of the living land and an exciting sky...

If I didn't have decent credentials I wouldn't hang it all out like this INVITING society's favorite-playing track-shoes. Speaking contrarily UP, OUT, and HONESTLY is an occupation filled with uncalled for hazard, sincerely.  Additionally, a loose cannon is a lonely cannon, and all too often a slandered one.  Artless Arty, Richey Red Ridinghood , and one obnoxious little "bastid" from New Zealand know what I mean.  These are the craptastics of an inappropriate reaction to the stress of criticism.

John Ford knows what I'm talking about, too, by way of example. John Ford discovered that the world is infested with soulless serial psychopaths taking great pains to sharpen the archaic spikes on their old-world track-shoes. The grinding stone concerned, in Ford's particular instance, is Ford's obstinately individual backside. Years later Ford STILL rots in prison for a crime, I'd wager, existing only in his accuser's (et al) criminal mind... to facilitate his accuser's documented criminal agenda. 

They hone those smiting shoe spikes to the needle sharpness of a sociopathic shark's tooth... I've discovered personally, as Ford suffers an extreme first hand, but I'm an old soldier and what's an old soldier to do? Fade away?

I don't think so. Not this old soldier.

I was good enough for this country when I was killing people and destroying property and equipment for it as its convenient cannon fodder... I'm good enough NOW to teach its sons and daughters how to be compassionate leaders and critical followers of that which aspires to relevantly reasonable. I would teach them not to suffer tyrants! Or I would have ... likely it's too late for that now...

See?  Arbitrarily and unjustly mash me down "here"... I will only endeavor to pop up over "THERE," just meaner! Our culture never cops to that because it's a culture I suspect the non-elected, only, maintain and facilitate. Anything else hurts their corrosive bottom line.

As example, I was too arbitrarily ash-canned for lawful activities, ethical expressions, and rational positions... I want a righteous chunk of somebody's pecuniary ASS for it! See how it works? I have addressed an ignored grievance, and all I hear are crickets. That's with ALL respect to the crickets I have heard from, but let's not get too worked up by a metaphor. It's the ROACHES to chap my ass.

I was wronged! I want redress! This fault... this injustice... is not mine! Where does this all begin?

I remember high school. Graduating in 1967 I was too close to the forest to grasp the contrived enormity of some very suspicious trees. The individual trees of this parochial forest seemed so hungry for my attention, and, regretfully, it was so few of these trees that I had the wish to understand —more than superficially— and then it was, generally, the WRONG trees. I see that now.

It was a time to have the *right* haircut, wear the *right* clothes, be in the *right* clubs and associations, drive the *right* car, hang with the *right* people — a shamefully wasteful romp to curry the favor of —be accepted by— those who made the "official" scene and their adult facilitators.

Those elite... and non-elected even then...

I was on the periphery of that elite, never quite accepted, but never quite rejected either. I'm a little ashamed to admit that, both ways, but I have to make that painful disclosure to illustrate that I MIGHT know what I'm talking about when I say that the "marginalized majority" outside an "in" crowd are visible to that crowd only as sources of cheap-shot amusement — or as an out and out resource!  That ephemeral, indomitable,and irresistible elite are bred even in public schools — forgetting private ones.

Beyond that, they —a-hem... we, I came to find out— are valueless, expendable, and invisible. This is not what we *learned* in high school.

Being on the uncomfortable periphery of that treasured elite, some of the invisible marginalized (who *should* have been invisible to me) were not. These were the *geeks* with pocket protectors, the poets, splash artists, and underground thespians — the weird, whacked-out, and wild; the quirky stoners, dorks, and assorted nervous burn-outs or afflicted nut-rolls —those not associated with rally club and the football team— these were a MAJORITY.

They were the challenged and misshapen; they were sensitive and miserable. They were overweight or bosom-less — had acne so bad you could HEAR it sometimes, eh?  Chance-less motes, otherwise strangely colored rainbows of ethnic homeliness and unsettling diversity — all in stark contrast to the relative few of cherished all white Ken and Barbi elite-oids they (we)... were everyone ELSE.

Almost too late I would detect the very real cognitive magnificence of the marginalized group and realize that the seeds of a wondrous future potential —better or worse— were held in the fresh thinking hands of THEIR marvelous singularity! Bill Gates, Linus Torvalds, and Steven Jobs would have been worthwhile people to befriend, back in the day. They were individuals, ready examples of the garden-variety uber-geeken, circa 1967... or so I understand...

The in-crowd of my high school? Well, most of them PEAKED in high school, I'd bet. If they didn't crash on some privileged alcoholic shore, or inherit *daddy's* going concern, or end up as trophy wives for a descending succession of male in-crowders, they moved on to the shadow-lands of the few, the proud, but that non-elected and shadowy elite. THIS was my aspiration? I don't think so.

Luckily, I'd only gotten a taste of those *enviable* environs to see how ultimately dry as dust they truly are. So much for the very transitive value of a short sighted "IN" crowd. They are "IN" all right. They were (and still are I suspect) "in" — In self-absorbed, convenient, and perpetual DENIAL.

Why? For THEM, it pays.

That part of "them" surviving the drug addiction, decadence, and largely DESERVED psychological distress? That's the bunch to take their unearned turn to pronounce on the rest of us and decide our faiths, fortunes, and futures, it would seem. I'd surmise that that is the faceless bunch sniping originating orders from around corners, starting the whisper campaigns, or denying and complicating an individual's very livelihood for the purpose of having control over those individuals.

That's the bunch fronting the petty but articulate talking TV-heads in their busy campaign to fan the gonads and sensibilities —of your haplessly clueless brothers and sisters— into the frothy mob of pitchfork waving torch bearers they can too easily become! It's also the bunch that turns some of our kids into early suicides or bomb-making homicidal maniacs, but the point is getting pretty fine already...

We're all at the center of the universe and all those centers are packing together pretty tightly. The finite amount of non-polluted space that we are restricted to —by the shortsighted non-elected— DICTATES that that claustrophobic tightness can only increase as our numbers do.

It's no stretch that even the *best* self-interested social system prosecuting it's unchanging continuance will fail eventually. It always has.  Errant flashes of white hot irritation fly out of control in that flesh clogged human powder keg of ever increasing density... density precipitating the predictable explosion authoritarians would always forswear so not foresee. Too, we've FAR from the best social system... perhaps part of the plan, it excuses an ever inflating professional police force after all... presently near one in a hundred of us in prison.  Such is the police state thrust upon us.

I suspect it is the eventuality of a tolerant and rational, if minimal, liberalism born from the righteous outrage of the middle sixties that keeps those self-repeating instances down to the levels which presently occur! ANY increase in the prevailing level of autocratic authoritarianism would only make that violence occur with much more frequency than it already does. I can only judge how _I_ feel as a victim of that arbitrary and autocratic authoritarianism, a crass authoritarianism on the steady increase. See the link at (http://rense.com/general11/way.htm).

My treatment makes ME angry! Angry enough for violence? No. But then I have a degree of articulation and can jettison pressure in that manner.

...Others do not, howsoever.

America's SON in every category except mindless obedience? I was turned out, turned down, and turned away from a needy billet in America's classrooms for specious, bigoted, uninformed, unenlightened, and finally inappropriate reasons, prosecuted under the guise of my interest in UFOs:

(http://rense.com/general10/teach.htm).

Reminiscent of the arbitrary autocratic unilateral leaping right out of high-school, I have to fight back! Anything else is default agreement with the social forces ignobly aligned against or truly persecuting me and individuals like me.

I'm eternally in a struggle to clear my good name, continue an interrupted substantive —but clearer— contribution to my society, and live a little closer to the truth. I'll use the Arts as my efficaciously ethical and individual weapon in that struggle. The pen IS mightier than the sword.

I will loudly protest a perceived injustice in just this kind of manner. Others similarly effected will fight back (I'm certain) in their own way using weapons of THEIR choice, but whatever the eventual weaponry, IF that outraged response is blithely and conveniently provoked by the corrupted arbitrary, THEN the consequences are, albeit tragically, richly deserved.

"[I'm] a rambler and a gambler and a sweet talkin' [thinking] man... and I love my lovin', but not like I love my freedom"!

Read on!

~~Ã~~

"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, scourged by the scurrilous.