Sunday, December 19, 2010

...Keeping Secrets...



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There are secrets keeping secrets wrapped in jealous secret lies. Oh, these secrets disrespect you; too, they're secrets you'd despise.

These are secrets way detestable, a calumny in rot; you'd like to think them needed, but they're "grifting," so they're not.

They're not the same as "confidence," that measurement is off. This "secret" profits keepers... a "confidence" does not.  See, "keepers" hold a higher ground and having held, keep holding; their confidence is with themselves, to you they're not beholding.

They keep "it" to be special, and to have their catbird seat. They keep "it" and degrade our lives, inflating their conceits. They keep it as they've no respect... for what you might hold dear, then appropriate YOUR dreams and such — manipulate your fear.

It's that secret at the flash-point, see? It is coveted, held dear; if they share "it" they're not special, dig? So? They manufacture fear!


Keep "secrets" then, for profit,
But then rot in well earned hell!
Slowly simmer in corruption 'till you die!

I blithely sprint your un-trod path
To YOUR feared edge — I reach that lip...
...I spread my arms and leap! 
I soar!  I FLY!



...Then it's from your edge I'm sailing, and I show we need not fear! What's "scared" us is a blessing, and it's that I would make clear! Mere lies have framed too neatly what you've hid, so well, from us. We're knowing, "move" less awkwardly... ...apart from errant trust!

We leap these wrongful hurdles knowing courage and élan; we tread new paths of tolerance, best practice, and beyond!

...Beyond?  ...There are new star fields — glowing meadows liquid light... where the struggle for creation blooms strange flowers every night! The night is day, or day is night — it's up to you to choose! What you watch, quite simply, changes! Pay attention; slip your noose!

...Turn to see Earth’s *blueness* that we'd sicken toxic brown. See labored breathing's air and sea...ocean currents slowing down. Feel clouds like poisonous pillows; acrid lightening splits dark sky; taste a bitter truth, perchance, where birds refuse to fly!

...Hear the rumble of cetaceans as they make their conversations... to the "winsome wraith-like watchers from beyond the farest reaches." These are, perhaps, connected to the "dreams" that we're discounting, ideals we have chosen to betray, like they were nothing!

No!  I cleave Monk Bruno's heavens! Right this moment? ...Breathing free! I scoff at all rejection. E'en opposed... ...I'm off my knees!

See?  I keep my eyes wide open, see bastards as they are — just motes of sentient carbon born of massive blue white stars. Though, still, they’d keep their secrets like the "manner lords" of old. Their position is not justice, so it's why I warn and scold!

As a person is their way is; if you're mated to the dark? Your *secrets* are crass disrespect; it's you keeps humans "parked"!

Keep your faith untested,
Let tradition keep you shackled,
Let the future be a reason for your fear.

I open up my mind and heart,
Then quickly find my second start!
My way becomes a better kind of clear.




  • Oh... ...it's not a way for everyone.  Ever prepared for the tumult of  "new information" one is encouraged by best practice to have sensible core values, still, even as they themselves are in no way inviolate.  Current information informs consent.  Informed consent is paramount. 
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  • Remaining, one of those aforementioned tentative core values is a decided lack of toleration, by and large, regarding the toleration of secrets wholly disrepecting individuals in a lay citizenry.  This lack of toleration also leavens toleration for errant systems punishing individuals who righteously "whistleblow" as a result of this conjectured—if likely—and wholly unethical secrecy.
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  • On reflection — I would do away with those secrets spelled like they were four letter words. Most secrets are, certainly, like those words... little packets of disrespect taken form for profit. Many times, actually, the traditional four letter words reflect a health superior to the leveling secrets we regard, and which are certainly preferable to secrets we must despise in an unfettered comparison of them.
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  • Why do you keep YOUR secrets, and are the reasons tragic? That UFOs are kept a secret from you is a multiplier of that tragedy, by way of example.
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  • Here's a secret... a secret that, revealed, would be the undoing of many other such secrets. John Ford, by way of example, is innocent of any crime. He's in gulag the last 15 years because his very "official" accusers were, ironically, guilty of multiple crimes!  That said, I expect that an honorably functioning and reasonably transparent governmental body conceived in honesty and making every effort to perform best practice in the interests of its people would in no way be threatened by a... Wikileaks, say.
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  • John Ford incarcerated at the hands of criminal government elite illustrates precisely why Wikileaks is more a likely blessing and less a curse.  Would that Ford could be wiki-leaked.  Someone skilled should try... the pay-off could be in the millions for the right leagal team... Ford restored.
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  • Wikileaks is not thrust upon the undeserved and undeserving; I submit elite bodies provoke it, themselves. I submit decades of crafty mendaciousness, black ops, institutional duplicity, fulsome graft, accepted sociopathy, and dishonorable practice, apart from wasting the lives of cannon-fodder soldiers... facilitates fertile ground for fear of a bright light into "business as usual" politics as disrespecting, reader, as it is disrespectful. 
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  • No, the blame rests with the facilitator of the regarded mess... not a "wikileaks." A "Wikileaks" only provides ample reason with regard to reflecting a revulsion we all must feel for elected officials betraying the public trust as soon as they take their wide-bottomed chairs. That's the real problem, eh?  It's these and the entirely unelected personal empire builders standing behind these who are to blame.  Please note that I point with all ten fingers and the toes by default as is physically required.
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Sunday, December 05, 2010

...Infant God...




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"End time's detection" is what I've been hearing, and, frankly, I'm pissed at the tone... the ones give it credence ... ones knowing that smirk, and the axe they summarily hone.

See, I'm leery of those proud of faith they've not tested — those plainly damned by Comenius. He painted as worthless an untested faith; he said "[useless, inutile and valueless]." I think it Voltaire who had put it the best, and allowed that we'd always be "nuts"; until such a time as the last King in line ... choked the last Priest with that King's steaming guts!

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Metaphoric pretensions? I have intuition
regarding a child thought *bad*.
Believe it? It's true! You "predicted," obfused...
prophesy fulfilled — it's contrived, but you're glad!
 
What's faith but abuse when conveniently used
and employed as a weapon, you see? 
Faith's not permission to doom by oppression,
precluding ones right to be free... 
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It's self-fulfilling prophesy, then, contrived to foul congruence, as the child, is a child ... is a child. Remaining mistreatment, insured by malfeasance, provides for these "sullen" gone wild!

It was us, so inured —in the throws of *conviction*— that we, too quick by half, would set our minds. It was us contrived dictation on the way that child suffers? It was us provoked this loss; the loss is ours we've come to find!

Your *Bible*?  Mere shadow of all that's been told, all the words of it worms on a log. Your tale's  recounted many times in the past — Osiris and Hercules account the Christ story! When Christ comes along... he's corrupted by dogs?
Faith as applied? ...An inadequate drug when the slings of reality wound. Don't count on a brother, accuse your abuser, or work to improve the conditions construed! No, count on your *faith* to sustain you through ignorance; count on your *faith* for your canted insouciance. Count on a *faith* only good for the few; count on a *faith*... that diminishes you!

"A lie in the fog," I've heard it described — an opiate's brainless refrain. It celebrates Able then hates the dissentions that God's surly sparked up in Cain! I'm suspecting a nonsense and a wrong that we're taught! Are we having it backwards! It would seem we've been mocked!

Maybe Able smirked and sneered, and Cain's, perforce, provoked! ...A frame-up, then, who was this Cain... who rates a re-thought write up!


  • See, we don't know what went on.  Maybe Cain had to work, you know...?...do the tedious shit-hauling stuff. Able, perhaps comparatively, frolicked in the forest and did *fun* things all day. Able was old school. Cain was new school. Some might argue that the old must make way for the new...anyway... one might begin to see abundantly fertile ground for some manufactured dissension twixt the brothers from on high, eh? Consider, God engineered the whole thing just to make a point, too.  That's OK, too, our erstwhile leadership would have us believe. 
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  • Here's a wrinkle... did you ever hear that both Cain and Able had twin sisters and the real reason, it's supposed, is that the sturm and drang of the whole consternation was over who was going to be allowed to be boinking whom?  There's some of that old time religion in twitchy action, eh?
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  • Now before you start getting out your piqued boards, rusty hammers and bent nails, otherwise lighting your torches and knocking the cow dung from your green-toothed pitchforks (...some of you...?), read about Enlil and Enki of Sumerian yore... remember that Enlil triumphed in that seminal struggle and is presently worshiped as God the Father... while Enki is reviled as the antithesis... ...and then tell me what conclusions you come to. Read the story at the roots of "your" story. Review what went before a Jewish, Christian, or Islamic heritage was even thought of.
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  • Become aware how your bowdlerized Johnny-come-lately new-spin *Christian* story (to include the Pentateuch or first five books of the old Testament)... was told *first*, you know, preceding all these (comparatively new-age!) religious ideas of Father Judaism, Son Christianity, and Grandson Islam! Read how it's all mixed up with visitations of physical beings from other worlds, realities, or dominions — and UFOs... yea and verily.
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  • Read how things are not quite the way you've been taught they were... ...even from people contrived and manipulated into thinking they "meant well"... Feh! Yeah — feel good about your short-sheeting shorter change... ...this endured and ongoing disrespect to pony up that next tithe or tax. You think these Christo-neofascists now in jealous sway of society remotely respect you, reader? You are, along with myself, just grease for their fatuous wheel.
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  • ...The last priest strangled with the last king's guts. Or we’re to remain irretrievably nuts.
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  • What obnoxiously fetid inculcations have been forced on the truth-seeking individual by errant spiritual fathers, their sociopathic sons, and their pathological grandsons? See, the closer you get back to the inceptions of all these old stories? The less they were spun.
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  • Shunt back to the present...
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  • Here in Alabama, soon after the initial Bush coup in 2000 I recall, we received (....every single mailing address statewide!) in the federal mail, a theatre production of the life of Christ... ...on VCR. WTF?
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  • A way conservative estimate at $5.00 a tape (not counting using FEDERAL postal vehicles for NO POSTAGE paid! No franking at all!) means that, at minimum, 10 MILLION dollars... ...TEN MILLION DOLLARS... ...was money errantly *invested* in a superficial, nebulous, and instantly expended (...and so instantaneously lost ...)... prevarication of self-gratifying-short-term "feel good"... meaning and accomplishing for the individual, reader... bupkis, zilch, nada, or zip! Nothing for the societally abused folks at which it was aimed. Nothig, indeed, but the arrogant and unconstitutional mixtures of church and state.  My outrage is palpable!
  •  
  • ...Who was it made the only profit? ...Trees are judged by fruit produced, fiends and neighbors, a "good Christian" shall not hesitate a moment to point that out to you...
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  • For my part, I can only dream of ten million dollars invested at a conservative rate of 5% that would make 500 hundred thousand dollars a year available for an Alabama education system... ...a system presently bouncing off the freaking bottom of the national education scale!
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  • I’ve lived it folks... it’s egregious. In Alabama, you see, we substitute only one canned religious icon for an individual's efficacy and quality of life. The effects reaped are truly horrifying, squalid, retarding, and sick... ...even for a tree-hugging liberal such as myself. In the same manner that we court disaster feeding meat protein to a herbivore, we (societally) sell a black person on a white person's God.
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  • I was a career soldier in combat and combat training, reader, expecting more out of the greatest nation on the planet. Individual education for the poor black kids of Barbor County (...most!) is atrocious at best. ...Think piles of shabby textbooks published in 1967 smelling of vomit and urine... a true story. Don't ever think that society is not resented by these disenfranchised, even as they are made unable to articulate it by that society.
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  • ...Plato wondered that perhaps the unexamined life was not worth living. John Amos Comenious was abundantly clear that untested faith is not only valueless, it is harmful. I'd add regressive. Destructive... ...insane!
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  • ...And me? I read those guys , while you (...you know who you are!) ... You just scare the hell out'a me. You don’t read a book that might make you question your dodgy convictions... ... all the while holding jealous sway in a satellite powered mainstream of conservative media giants, pathological corporate entities, all three houses of corrupted government, and setting the tone for all the remaining powerful institutions of society... ...in institutions not controlled outright...
  •  
  • ...STILL ...you still have the blithe temerity, glib Christian, to whine that you're being persecuted. Piss on you.  No, really!  Piss. On. You.
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  • Yeah... keep grinding your axe, but also expect me to keep challenging you to prove how sharp your bully axe really is, where you expect to employ that dim-bulb blade, and how much intrusive and controlling crap I’m going to take from you as you prosecute your self-involved and unethical back-stepping sociopathy, on me. You don’t get to dismiss and marginalize me... fundy swine... keep me from employment... persecute and punish me because I won’t validate your dodgy, convenient, and untested faith! No!
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  • You offend me, sir and Madam, because you have arbitrarily disrespected and continue to punitively disrespect me. "I would strike the sun if it offended me" irrighteously. That’s what I learned in school, eh?
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  • Verily! Before the option's denied you! Put down your pitchforks, smother your guttering torches, and open a different book. Give, and get respect... friend and neighbor ...or make an enemy of me and a growing population of disgruntled others who can finally be provoked enough to visit upon you what you are so willing to visit upon others... in the first place!
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  • Finally ...With regard to UFOs, consider. Focusing on them is a little like focusing exclusively on the Pope-mobile so you don't have to think about the leering and child-groping Pope found inside. I suspect that it must be the UFOs, then, that are ancillary to what’s inside them...
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  • The enigmatic *other* will have its conveyance, sure. But, what about that *other*. Does it believe fundamentally in the infant god of socially errant and pathological humankind?  We better hope not!
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  • Restore John Ford. Then we can start to talk. Read on.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

...Shedding Scales...



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Considered anew: does your "culture" respect you? Not when you've checked the details! Consider how it threatens you with what will happen once you've *failed*.
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Consider this but tyranny, convenient, if you please ... Not happy 'till you're brought to heel and bruising up your knees.
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Don’t consider this required, my friend — a "condition of necessity"! This disrespect from leadership? Their optimized casuistry? Their "living well" upon the least while shining people on? This is profiting from misery... ...and, ever, clearly wrong.
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...And know they get away with it ... will not be brought to bear! And know they're hiding *stuff* in spots — yon, hither, here and there! Yes, know its raison d'être is an echo of the past, when Kings and Priests ruled jealously; not well ... but still, in fact.
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"What's this to do with UFO's," the para-nazies ask! Rather, who controls our "blinders," *covers up* — performs that task? Who decides the subterfuge? Who decides what hides? Who's it sets the tone for shame; who sullies and derides?
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Who's it puts O'Reilly's tongue... so firmly up his... ...cheek? Who's it touts *religion*? Who decides when you can speak? Who's the one who dictates just how much you're going to pay? Who decides design that fails; who complicates your day?
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Would you have a billion dollars if a million went without? Would you live in castled mountains if your pleasures caused "the rout"?  Would you give your stuck-up children birth-day parties costing millions, if that insured the suffering of the sick and shoeless billions?
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...Deny our mass salvation to continue like a *god* ... it's roads to hell for innocents employed to take your rod? Would you trade your guilt for riches if it kept us from the stars? Would you drive a family homeless owning million dollar cars? Would you wallow in your excess like the privileged and elite while knowing you're the cause of people living on the street?
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We’re fretting that the *aliens* are here with cruel agendas? No, we’re fretting 'cause we know that we're the world class offenders! We’re fretting that we're found out. We’re fretting "jealous" Gods. We’re fretting that reality may poke, or jam and prod. We’re fretting that our ill got gain —on which we're now dependant— is snatched away from clutching hands that drip with blood! Comprende?
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Any wonder that we're lonely, yes, a little sick at heart, and feeling rather ready for a better... second start? Any wonder why we're slighted by the strange lights in the sky? Any wonder that the space folk won't *come out* and tell us "Why"? Any wonder why they're shifting in the dark behind the clouds... Any wonder that they fear us... when we give them cause! Here's how:
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Why would they really fear us? Why, we show no self restraint! Why should they really fear us? We stress our planet faint!
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Why should they really fear us when our own we disadvantage, so consistent when we screw each other over for *percentage*...
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Why should they really fear us? We breed like squalid flies! So many that it matters not that thousands starve and die...
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Why should they really fear us when we teach our children lies... recorded in our *holy* books we make up! We're despised?
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It's us to do the changing, not the *other* or the grey. It's us that needs the "oil change," it's us to save our day. It's us who needs to grow up. It's us who needs to try. It's us who needs to shed the scales... ...no! Tear them from our eyes!!! 


  • I'm blindfolded and then hog-tied on a societal trestle. I think I hear a train coming ... perhaps feel it in my mental metal tracks. All the official cultural voices say the way is clear ... no train.
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  • ...I'm uneasy still... ...This is the same society endorsing, encouraging, and absolving egregious criminal behaviors issuing from its closed institutions ... I wonder... as might you:
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  • Is culture misleading us? Does the precipitating society ply a disrespect for its individuals? Are we being taken for a cultural ride?
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  • Well into my majority and measurablely longer in the tooth? I perceive that the real difficulty with myself and a presently growing number of others is not that we are "credulous believers without rational filters too willing to believe anything..." ...no. On the contrary:
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  • It is that we are provoked to our social mistrusts by decidedly disrespectful —if conveniently contrived— cultural casuistries, friends ...those duplicitous and manipulative blandishments from on high ...we are provoked to our rages as those insentient and ubiquitous consequences of our rational doubt of officiality... and then DRIVEN to our adjacent disbeliefs! Our burgeoning consciousness to this societal provocation induces our reluctance... TO believe, ironically! See the difference?  Authority compels our skepticism of conventional wisdoms. ...Coerces our cynicism. ...Encourages our incredulity!
  • As stated: real irony there, reader! 
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  • This is almost to say that if culture is to say something is not there... ...it most assuredly is there, after all! The more adamant they are on a point? The more the inverse must be true!!! This is the consequence of their"official" lie (...a tradition of lies!), finally, forgetting a provoked disrespect for that society, and I find that I, as an individual, have less to apologize for... than that liar.
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  • Liars?
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  • Churches, Governments, Agencies, Institutions, Status Quos, and the contrived and manipulative "mainstream" these five precipitate from whole cloth... ...distorting reality in a most appalling and regressive way! See, these facilitate, astonishingly, our disbelief in THEM and the desire, no, the imperative... ...to look beyond them for "the more real deal."
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  • It’s a mainstreamed CSICOPia driving me into the arms of guys named George, not my inability to rationally accept CSICOPia as the default arbiter of what "is real" and what is "not real" among that which goes astonishingly uninvestigated by them all, still. These ironically fundamentalistic "cult" people—only reading their own books—just fool themselves.  Consequently, it follows a skepticult shall not be the arbiter of my reality, reader.  I offer that you might not let them arbitrate yours.
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  • Which begs the question! Presuming, for a moment, the actuality of an officially dismissed *other* ETI or Alien? How much protection from that *other* does the reader really need... ... or want?  Uh-oh.
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  • How much of our fear and revulsion for an *other* is predicated, not on some real threat regarding an "other," but on our own demonstrably sociopathic leadership, a leadership decidedly not having the best interests of the masses close to their blackened hearts! Our "stalwart" leadership, then poisoning the well on the conjectured *other,* manipulates those masses to be duplicitously misled on that subject, among others?  Is jealous culture afraid we'll go "native"?  Folks, "the man" has always had that concern.
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  • Folks!  If the reader believes leadership does have best interest at heart — that culture is your friend? There're bridges for sale, dirt cheap, all over the world... ...and Bill O'Reilly has a wholesome book to sell your kids.
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  • ...Besides, how is it necessary that we are to be denied our intellectual birthright to move on past this approaching concrescence of singularity... ... a mainstream forecast for time and space where all the scientifically derived graphs-lines of conventional *high-domes* and hyper-educated *propeller-heads* go asymptotic... or propel themselves straight up...!...trending ever more vertically...!...accelerating into hyperspace and beyond at the speed of freakin' light!  Reader!  Something looms!  Heaven OR hell!
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  • Sorry to appear alarmist, but culture says there's a light on that is decidedly not on at all, or so dim that we're not seeing what they think we're seeing! Culture's reflexive apologists, then, must be liars, too, explaining my lack of toleration for them, my bellicosity with them, and my vociferous contempt in their regard.
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  • Folks... the seas are dieing and there is wholesale extinction already extant... ...this while the human population of the planet swells, still! Don't think there won't be consequences!  Indifference, complacency, and ignorance of those things is likely not rewarded in the long run.

Sunday, November 07, 2010

...Revive, Refresh, Recharge ... Renew...



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There's a stairway in my yard to move you up, from "here" to "there," but the movement's through a portal like a Stargate, friend — I swear! It looks just like a staircase up a level from the ground, but it's *looks* which are deceiving when you slight the grand profound.

Slighted is potential to affect the existential with an efficacious meme that you'd provide. Slighting you forget you hold the keys to every kingdom you'd required if you really want to thrive!  

...Climb these steps before you, and you see the UFOs that are flashing through the darkness as they tread denying toes. Take the steps before you and provide for change of heart... with the evidence apparent? You've a horse before your cart!

Take these steps before you when you find you crave the truth! See, you're fooled by them no longer. Why? You're longer in the tooth!

Take the steps discovering the length and breadth of now; things are so much larger, quicker, brighter, newer — how?

Admittedly a state of mind, it's a useful acquisition. It's a doorway into thoughtfulness, meditation ... acquisition. It's a way to help your consciousness expand to cosmic reaches... ...it's a way to capture peace of mind from that which oft times freaks us!

See? It's a place you've made inside your brain, the only place that's real. It's real 'cause you make it so; it's real what you feel.

What works? It's what's imagined — what's created in your mind. Your force of will provokes this, friend, and it works you'll come to find.

Create a door in front of you, build it out of wood; fashioned out of stone, or not, you made it and it's good.

That door can take you places you had thought were only dreams! Departing from the 'man' you rise above his spiteful screams. You soar on space-time wings of light, past chasms made of stars. They're red and green, and blue and white — exploding crystal shards! Everything you see is light, even matter it so seems. Matter is this light at rest, and from it... ...shapes your dreams.

Dream you are a sculptor — build an archway in your yard, and through that arch you travel to the places you'd regard.

To slip arcane defenses, and they never know you're there; you plunder jealous secrets, then depart.  You dare to dare.

...Or through that arch you travel and some mystery's explained, the detail all accounted for ... now who would then refrain.

Through this arch? Fresh outlooks which provoke/demand respect; it's found there 'cause you need it. What you need, you truly get.

Oh... ...you've got to need it bad enough; you've got to really want to see ... just set your course and walk on through, and sit here, friend, with me.

Walk on through your archway and see the sky, brand new. See pinpoint lights flash different strobes, and sense a brand new you. Perceive what you've been missing in the dark skies you'd avoid, pushed away 'cause you felt threatened, over anxious, or annoyed.

Know that this is timeless, that it just goes on and on ... and if it does then you do too ... I wouldn't steer you wrong.

Know that *anything* is out there, and what's there deserves respect. Know that feeling is believing, you can join-up ... reconnect.

Shake your own hand; it's forgiven! What you cop to's in your past.  Forgiveness? A delectation, it's a stone groove; it's a gas!

And all this through a doorway that you've made from common things. Revealed! Discover peace of mind... and the calmness that it brings.

One finds they're, really, not alone; there're others in there waiting ... for you to wake up self-aware, is what they're contemplating. You go there through this door you make ... completely up to you... ...Return and step back through that door; be revived, recharged... renewed!



  • Budd Hopkins, assisted by one John Velez, built one of these things for a commission in a client's yard last century. Mr. Hopkins, one discovers, is not so much the Alien Abduction guy. No, rather he is more like what Terence McKenna correctly identified, I suspect, as the true engineer for the fast approaching future. He’s an artist.
  • Fear not. To some degree everyone is. One has to be... ...to be! ...To navigate a 21st Century day.  See, you very likely live a longer life, reader, unrecognizable to people of just a hundred years ago.  You live a potential of enlightened effication undreamed by near term forefathers, as angels even!  That seeming near god-hood has responsibilities also undreamed.  21st century existence requires art for both relevance and meaning leading to satisfaction.  Life requires art, even if only the art of mimicry, to survive — sentience to thrive.  I digress.
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  • The generic artist produces art of divergent quality, sure, but then how many pieces of the ready critic's expression have been featured in the collection of the Guggenheim Museum of Modern Art? No, Mr. Hopkins is very highly regarded as an artist — this is beyond question. I suspect, also, that Mr. Hopkins has never lied in a piece of art he’s produced —unless it was the allowed artist's lie as a device for telling a more ultimate truth— just as I suspect he’s not lying elsewhere...
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  • This aforementioned piece he conceived? It's a portal to a state of mind, and is still a real place, made real in the real world in a real way. Here's how Mr. Hopkins did it, here's how it's done. Here’s how you can do it.  I did it, myself.
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  • Make the "place."
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  • Find a "location", a sheltered, comfortable spot in a remote plot ... a convenient lay. A sentient place for serious sentience. Mr. Hopkins chose a location in a large, circular, and level field on the client's property.
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  • Into the center of this field he had rolled a large, disk shaped stone, a nod to the megalithic perhaps, and solidly set it up, table fashion, on rocky supports. This established the locale. This was the place in Mr. Hopkins mind, made real.
  •  
  • Now. How to get there...
  •  
  • Build an arch. Build a door. Build a portal, gate, hatch or transom. The *point* is that it signals a spot of transition between the inside and the outside, the here and there, or even the before and the after.
  •  
  • It only looks like a door minus the surrounding structure, and is actually more along the lines of the archway Kirk, Spock and McCoy leaped through, to wondrous and exciting locales, in an ancient Star Trek episode.  Just go with me.
  •  
  • The portal is in fact a teleporter to a state of mind ... a dimensional wormhole like of that cutesy "Sliders" series on the Sci-Fi channel. I can't call it imaginary; I mean, your most outlandish conjecture is happening somewhere.  There's far-flung space/time and surface area enough to have monkey beings two-fingering Shakespeare somewhere, you recall. 
  • These are just examples, mind you. Your place has a similar reality (what ever that may mean) remember, and has utility for that. That’s a good thing.  See, it can happen there, so, why not here!
  •  
  • To get to your ... place ... you go through the *door* to it, and you are, of course, *there*. To leave the place, and this is important, you go back through the door, even if you're going to end up going into an inconvenient direction. The door is the only entry and exit to an intellectual location that can be anywhere in space, time, or mind, as these might all be the same thing anyway. The reader might begin to sense the possibilities here. 
  • Remember: "It's a place you've made inside your brain, the only place that's "real." It's real 'cause you make it so; it's real what you feel."
  •  
  • Yeah, yeah ... yeah ... I hear your internal dialogue, "It's.  Only.  Pretend"! You're wrong. Shut up. 'K? ...'K.
  •  
  • The sound of one hand clapping is, decidedly, not the sound of one hand trying to clap. Reality is dictated by the memes transmitted as a result of language, reader, and language is provoked solely as a result of imagination. Revel in yours. It’s a key to the kingdom and it can’t be taken from you, you can only give it up...
  •  
  • When we were kids we had a marvelous capacity to suspend disbelief that is, to our aggregate cultural detriment, burned out of most of us before we leave middle school. The crime of sick culture. ...And what a crime!
  •  
  • As a child I had a space ship. Oh sure, to you it looked like a tall stack of wood and rusty nails — filled with old radio dials, wooden levers, and bottle lids painted like *drive* instruments... ...But to me it was a battle star-wagon. I used it to right the wrongs of the universe just like my heroes "Rocky Jones", and "Captain Video."
  •  
  • When I entered my ship, I was there! ...Even if I had to fly back, quick, because I heard mom calling on the "space radio".
  •  
  • The point? "It's" as real as you make it. "It" has EVER been as real as you make it! A further point: your idlest thoughts are TRUTH REVEALED somewhere in a universe that just goes on and on in an appalling (and I mean that in a good way) if seeming infinity of space/time... and surface area... ...well passed the point of a billion-billion-billion fertile imaginations. Sincerely!
  •  
  • Tell me dreams don't make it into the real world! ...Then think of computers, space shuttles, cell phones, everlasting flashlights, and living power from the sun — mere pie in the sky dreams of the erstwhile "trendlessly fluctuating" past. Stranger than these are ushered into reality by irrepressible imagination, rest assured of that, reader! Somewhere a hundred monkeys are banging out Shakespeare...
  •  
  • It happened in our own history, verily! Additionally, we humans are our own proof of concept, our own indisputable evidence of the "other" ... that the other exists in fact! See, without the *other* there is no... *us*! What has happened once... ...has happened... and will happen again! We are somebody else's monkeys! I digress...
  •  
  • We never lost the capacity to exercise imagination on an individual level, we were just discouraged away from it by the actions of an unjust society, a bone-head society frankly jealous that our individual energies would not be used, solely, to secure conveniently exclusive and callously disrespecting ends for a sociopathic few who manipulate that *society*. ...Not in my world!
  •  
  • I mean, let's face it. If the shadowy elite had any respect for the sum total of us (you and me), they wouldn't allow the overpopulation (they encourage!) which discourages and limits the individual respect we all deserve just for plain, unvarnished, and garden variety existence ... for condensing out of the ether as mere biological facts produced by the imaginations of un-loving parents, even ... ...for just successfully clearing the breech of a mother’s womb! Respect presumed initially, reader. Individual respect that one should just be able to take for GRANTED!  Respect the default initiation, respect that can only be lost!
  •  
  • Budd Hopkins, artist/engineer, only continues a tradition of efficacious consciousness altering that has been carved in stone at disparate locations, all over our globe, by wildly divergent if creatively intelligent peoples, throughout time! I allude to the arcane paths one walks to get to a location vis a vis the spiral labyrinths traversed in ageless meditations, labyrinths which have been around for an unguessed at length of time — usages lost to a completely mysterious and totally forgotten past.  Labyrinths used to focus the mind for intellectual travel?
  •  
  • The labyrinth takes the place of the door, but the idea is the same: a journey to a healthy, positive, and very REAL state of mind — an alternate place, a hyperspace, from which you may return... with something real that can work... or from which you might learn.
  •  
  • Imagination is all things, reader. See it in your very individual mind, and make it so.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

...Strange Treasure...



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L. Moulton-Howe? I'd surmised she was heavy. By that I mean plump, ponderous ... weighty. I'd thought she was mannish, had gained *too much* weight? ...Since beauty queen days she’d emptied some plates. A butterball picture preceded her lecture, I'd thought her an endomorph—too fond French confecture...

And what's wrong with that—well, not a damn thing; it's preferred is the point—as a way to still think.

Oh, don't get me wrong ... I'm making no judgment — I fight it myself — I'm as fat as da' gub'mint. It's just that it's better to get the full message unfiltered by beauty's beguiling advantage. Balance ... confused and derailed enough by diversions inflicted to shake it all up!

I don't want her to *thrill* me... but that I'd want her to share... all her travels, conclusions, and what she's found where. I don't want a romance, or a man/woman thing, but I do want her mind and the songs it could sing.

I wanted her portly, to give her words weight; all 'prettiness' suspect! It changes things, mate.

She'd been just a voice, but I'd heard its expression; its concern, its grand sense ... its truthful connection. She was honest, and forthright ... brave to bring light to a darkness we're facing... ...all near the same plight...

...Our world is dying; her words were its tears. She clearly contends valid reasons for fear! The lungs of our planet are burning up daily, the fish are expiring! She points it up plainly! Conspiracy's real, and it gushes from founts! Enigma's approaching — anomaly mounts!

T'was then that we met, and I've got to be truthful ... transcends the ethereal; good Christ... she is beautiful! She was standing, alone, in front of the lift as I turned a sharp corner — struck dumb and bereft!

I held out my hand and tried to say something; God knows what came out; I felt speechless ... presumptive. See what I mean? Beauty is tyranny! I’d comment to make, but I'd lost all epiphany!

"...You are Ms. Howe..." my question a statement, she said, "why, ah…yes." And her smile was radiant. Her dress was so light, and it moved without breeze. As we walked to the lift? ...I was weak in the knees.

I was fifty years plus, with a seasoned immunity to "the ways of the flesh" in our human community.

...Still, I'm swept up, beguiled, in the scent of her clothes, the wave in her hair ... her pedicured toes. My mind was in hyperdrive, and I grokked her detail... those alien eyebrows, the questions entailed.

Then the way she regards you, your secrets laid bare; I felt compelled to cover up, ashamed what she'd find there...

...See, I'm unimpressed by General Officers! I bow to few women, no strutting, proud man — but something about our Ms. Howe is quite different, and it sails passed beauty ... she's sincere — understand?

...Well, she was on two, and I was on four; we've one floor together, then she's out the door. The time that was spent in the short little trip? I'll remember a while. Though it went by so quick.

I thanked her, her courage, and I lauded her book ... "would you autograph it please," and she said she surely would. ...And then she was gone, and the doors had rolled closed — Linda Howe's a strange treasure, a flower...

...A dark rose.


  • She really is incredibly beautiful. Pity. I would just as soon it not get in the way.  This sentiment could have been made similarly were she to resemble a mossy sack of stomped frogs...
  •  
  • See, "warts" — imperfections likely shared in humanity's aggregate? These are reassuring, actually, and imply a potential for approachability. Beauty can be tyranny, as may the contrary physical ugliness, eh? This is even when it’s not the tyrant's fault. More's the pity.
  • The perception with regard to Ms. Howe; however, is an inverse in some unexplainable way because, somehow... on anyone else? Her brand of personal loveliness would be an unwelcome distraction.  An exception proving the rule, she's the kind of person, you see, who makes her physical appearance fade in the listener's appreciation of what she has to say.
  • Remarkably, she has plenty to say. I’m asserting that, verily, and especially in comparison to her impacted detractors, there is a much more satisfying and efficacious beauty in her expression than can be found in her mere appearance, and I say this remembering my own converse turn at how all I've here-to-fore described can turn cross with you
  • See, she's not a woman you trifle with, clearly and decidedly.  I trifled to the smallest degree and its me in smoldering crosshairs... cut off at the presumptuous knees.
  •  
  • It remains the preceding was my fault, so working it into an appropriate appreciation's evalutory equation is redundantly dishonorable. So?  So, call her gullible, non-discerning, or credulous in my presence and court your back-sides loss.
  • Say she has no filters, is not scientific, and is too self-involved while I'm listening to invite a lesson on ignorance of spirit and mind, n'est ce pas?  Imply she’s mendacious, obfuscating, or misleading to be found mendacious, obfuscating, or misleading, yourself. Call these bogus charges, say these thoughtless epithets, imply these canted assessments until cows return as prodigals... ...and get it as wrong as an out-of-control 720 degree turn from the truth could ever take you... verily.
  •  
  • No, rather... ...she trumps her too often conflicted, presumptive, and suspect detractors with sincerity, imagination, and bravery. Moreover, she is subject to the dismissive slings and arrows of these detractors (agency, institution — status quo) only because in many cases these lack her courage, intelligence, and earnestness. Finally, she is a woman making her way in a male dominated field, and is remarkably even given that fact, in my opinion.  The Dolans, and J. Vallee share a similar opinion.
  •  
  • Frankly, operating as she operates would make her just one of the boys if she was male. But she is female... so assertiveness becomes stridency. She is female... so thoroughness becomes obsessive-ness? She is female... so she’s not passionate... she's emotional. She is female so she’s not served by strong convictions... no ...she’s a "bitch"?
  •  
  • Not at this station... too wary boys and ever warier girls. You know who you are.
  •  
  • True, I usually have to make an effort to be *nice* to unusually pretty people ... by any stripe or definition of prettiness (charisma just pisses me off much to the horror and chagrin of the charisma-tized).
  •  
  • See, I feel many of these are so used to deferential treatment they have (many of them) lost the capacity to respectfully appreciate it, graciously. Ms. Howe is certainly attractive enough for me to dismiss, out of hand.
  • ...But Ms. Howe also has unusual courage (I’m uniquely qualified to know what courage is, Sir and Madam!), plus evidence of putting herself in harm's way (...think about it...), and her obviously uncontrived and (cleanly healthy) passion for her subject is honorably admirable. I am loath to not appreciate what she has to say and the effort made to say it.
  •  
  • And I do appreciate her, share her concern for an abused Earth (the only home we've currently got), and support, in a material way, her ongoing investigation into that which should be of critical (gainful!) interest to every one of us.
  •  
  • I buy her books and eschew M. Shirmer's.
  •  
  • Why? Because the earnest report is preferable to the axe-grinding and exclutionary one. I'd rather have "the truth and a half" than "half the truth"... ...And dead wrong? I suspect she’s still more *correct* (whatever that may mean) than her canted, conflicted, and intellectually constipated opposition.  That's the long and tall right there.
  •  
  • God's speed and cleverness, Linda Howe. It's apparent you're one of the few who's at core as pretty on the inside as you most certainly are on the outside. Lovely, and still a minor god in my personal pantheon, and, currently still (...even if under original protest...)?
  •  
  • "...Reporting my skies."
  •  

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Consciousness On Call...



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Oh my stars and little sputniks, but there's water on the moon! I hope this means a "lunar rush," and I hope it means it's soon! A boon to our economy, it could save us from the "Rock"; let's gird our loins for future's sake; own up and buy some stock!

 
Our destiny is manifest — to live upon new worlds. We crawled from slimy seas at first, progressiveness our herald. 'Twas then we gulped our first clean air — now it's vacuum we're to breathe! We'll step out into timeless space — let's do it! Ready? HEAVE!

 
I cannot know the course you take; progressiveness is now! There's potential, wondrous bounty, resting off the port-side bow. I'm setting sail, the winds are sweet, our canvases are filled; we're looming on prosperity; it's in space we'll be fulfilled!

 
And think of all the up sides — no natives to subvert! A planet of unclaimed dead space; no one to shame or hurt! Low gravity to play in, rare metals to refine, and toxic crap to stay in places safe, secure... confined! We'll sleep well snug from vacuum, and we'll farm the lunar soil; we'll mine that precious water — satisfactions for our toil.

 
We'd do it now! Why would we wait when every second counts! Where's the profit in delay? All our pressures strain and mount! Procrastinate at peril, ignore this carrot on a stick? Our *watchers* will conclude, at last, that we're as thick as bricks!

 
Water on the moon, my friends, water on the moon! It's enough to make you wobbly; it's enough to make you swoon! It's enough to make you wishful that perhaps there is a chance that we might even have hope left... to laugh, and sing or dance.

 
We owe it to ourselves, you see, and generations after! This?  A cosmic plan whose time is come! Let’s shout it from the rafters! Our Earth is drowned in toxic sludge. We suffocate to death! Let’s take this leap to starry space... while we still have some breath!

 

 
  • Make it so! If I was Bill Gates, I'd pay for it myself.
  •  
  • …Or would I... ...Could I?
  •  
  • Back last Century? Bill Gates published inspiringly with regards to his plans to put up a globe-circling string of low orbit communication satellites... in order to shotgun into existence an internet without the limitations presently endured or otherwise threatened. Instant, real time, and responsive... anywhere on the planet... anyplace where a camera could go... ...from the bottom of any sea to the top any mountain, then on into space... anywhere a camera or a microphone could be included at the best resolution of either... fast enough to download a full length feature film in under 5 seconds... ...gives a person grand ideas doesn’t it? World consciousness on call...
  •  
  • Maybe that was the problem...
  •  
  • You know, if you had 50 billion dollars, after taxes, and you could spend less than a fifth of that to produce something similar? Would you? That is to say, could you? ...Would you be allowed?
  •  
  • You see... the bravely inspiring talk dried up overnight, and any reference to it abruptly disappeared from the media. Questions are suggested where they're not begged!
  •  
  • I wonder... was Mr. Gates *honored* with an authoritative visit by stealthy authoritarians? Was he subject to some late night visit of corporate media Czars or government *agency* boys? Beside the point... his brave talk about putting this planet in touch with itself evaporated like the porch light shot out by someone too suddenly wishing your attentions were elsewhere... eh?
  •  
  • ...Keep a billion, Bill, to start your traditionally corrupt personal dynasty [g]. ...Though the rest should go to the moon! C'mon, no one should sit on forty billion dollars, dude, even when it's the law of the land!  It’s unethical, immoral and just plain wrong. Wrong to a level of grok-ness as wide as it is long and as deep as it is unnecessary.
  •  
  • ...Did you know you were biologically compelled to eat less, and so potentially live a lot longer on the moon? Besides, wouldn’t it be kind of neat to have the 21st Century be able to fly back down to you if Earth got whacked by the aforementioned "Rock"?
  •  
  • I suspect it would... Something about placing eggs in different baskets, even?
  •  Restore John Ford!

Sunday, October 03, 2010

...Neither Presidents Nor Popes...

"Wherever you go; well, there you are."

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I've been looking through the Hubble; so, I'll make this terse account. I've wandered distant galaxies, traveled time ... I've been about. I've been going where we all can go; the kingdom's here at hand, too, it just may be we breath upon concrescence — understand?

It's larger than we could have thought —expanding as we speak— its edge beyond the limits of the places we can seek. It just goes on and on in this ...glorious... expanse — swirling frozen fire kissing prepossessing chance.

It doesn't stop with rainbows, but descends to infra-red; its paint then ultra-violet, on to x-rays (yes!), instead! It's pressures are incredible, and then pressure's less than mist — you'd be shredded to your neutrons, friend, or say you'd just been kissed...

In that space and time and distance? There are persons being born. Why, with just one race per galaxy, there are thousands, billions — more! See? Thus contrives the multi-verse! ...We're what it, then, makes up: To provide for insight on itself !  ...Drink deeply from that cup.

It is good... and passing bad, or indifferent, then, as hell! It wallows in the foulest slimes; or, it's ringing sterile bells. Sometimes it is a blessing! Sometimes it is a curse... it could be said it's much like us. That's for better. That's for worse.

We have a million neighbors, then; we've never been alone. Some wait outside the *front doors* of our squalid little homes. Some wait with plates of *brownies*, and some others wait *without*. Some wonder when we'll open doors... and bravely walk on out!

They wonder why we linger when the truth ... it must be plain. We must come out! Like whitewash runs from fences in the rain.

...And we'll all feel so damned foolish, and we'll hang our heads in sorrow... that we wasted all this precious time denying our tomorrows.

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I've been looking through the Hubble and it's hard to get excited with the struggle and travail of human beings. I've just come back from timelessness... all spaciousness —vast distances— no "common sense" conceives it in its dreams.

I've wandered where the black holes and the super novas are, so I can't arouse for ignorant decay. We come across so petty — so unworthy of reflection, we're a race bereft of what would save our day.

And remember, fellow humans, when the *others* do appear, how we spent our time and effort here on Earth. Did we short-sheet our own brothers; did we denigrate our sisters just to keep a spot we covet near some "hearth."

We thought we had our reasons: they weren't the proper faith ... their color was objectionable ( we have this thing with race). ...The other side in "proper towns ... they didn't speak your language ... the sex is too disturbing ... they used a different bandwidth? They "didn't have no schoolin' " ... they "weren't as blessed as me" ... they were from another country, and, "by rights," were bad... you see?

Well — all that's pretty laughable when we wake up to some truth. All our petty little bigotries just dissolve and fall from view. Cop, at last, reality... that we never were alone? Embarrassment shades cheeks bright red, but shame goes to the bone.


  • *Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Dr. Laura... et egregious al...or...what can happen to you when too many people hear you on the radio or TV... power corrupts, absolute power... absolutely!  How does one keep their head?  To start: you don't believe the good reports about you, only be thankful for them.  If you're sincere you have to pay some attention to the negative criticism...
  •  
  • Oh... add the "well meaning" tea-baggers? These seemingly contrive for a complete discredit of Christianity's institution, an institution forever "advantaged" by busy sociopaths and misogynists, anyway... ...but the aforementioned teas-baggers... ...make the discredit complete and worse, actually... ...Worse than fundamentalist suicide-bombing Islam! 
  •  
  • See, government controlled by religion —Theocracy— is what you court with these tea-baggers, legislated morality: an authoritarian theocracy of the most turgid and smothering dogma-worship imaginable.  Real bug-in-the-ass up-tightsmanship of a heavy, come-right-in-your-bedroom, caliber.  How's all that working out for the Arabs, anyway... ...proof of the cognitive infidelity of a "tea-bagged Pal-beckian" initiative because we all have a clear audit-trail of the consequences of that wing-nut initiative, overseas!
  •  
  • Yes, then Christianity would be worse, you see, because their boosters have a ready example of a theocracy to appreciate in the news —such as it is— every day. Islam remains the child of Christianity, and the child the father to the man...
  •  
  • Consider the potentials of President's and Popes. The former is a spiritless-sock-puppet for inhuman and corrosively applied corporate interests unethically imposed as "fair and square." These interests unabashedly and disingenuously use religion, shamelessly, on a wide, diligently uninformed, and trusting base... ...Use religion as a manipulative and unethical control mechanism, reader, so as to relieve that "base" of, not just their cash, but their birthrights, their civil-rights and their rights to satisfaction and self-respect!  But. I. Sugarcoat.
  • I'll know a tree by the fruit it produces, Sir and Madam.
  •  
  • The latter? He is much of the preceding. Plus... traditionally? Why, He protects the interests of pederasts and pedophiles in an unnaturally if allegedly celibate priesthood...reader... ...from that "trusting" base.
  •  
  • Outrage?
  •  
  • Yea and verily, and I say unto ye, my ufological brethren! [g]. Hey, keep one hand on your wallet and the other over your posterior pore, reader. Be sensitive to unwarranted activity in either of those two locales...
  •  

  • Restore John Ford.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

...Between Strange Lines...



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Is there reading between abstruse lines of the *other*? Can we guess at the secrets with which they are blessed? Or's it curses encountered they'd sooner be shed of — of existence they're tired and "living" detest?

Could the tree of their empire be rooted in tyranny? Is it terror they seek to instill — sowing infamy?

What is their purpose? why do they haunt? What are their reasons? What do they want?

What do they take? How do they live? What is their work? What can they give?

...What do they do? It's all such a tangle. How are they recompensedwhat is their angle?!

Perhaps they're a mirror held back at ourselves! We see in them us and it's us that compels. Compelled by abduction — it's what we'd expect! Why, we'd do it to them!  It's that they detect!

You'd have to admit that they're nicer than we'd be. We'd treat 'em like bugs, or at best, a prized queen bee. We've done it before, our history's filled with examples of cruelty, to those we then kill: Persons made subject to "short sighted" judgments; those deemed unworthy of compassioned abutment? We've sliced them and diced them for simple percentage; "exploited, used up" — we've snatched that advantage!


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...No, they're giving better than they'd get taking any odds, that bet— their "disrespect" could be a kind of justice. I mean, consider all our crimes; we let our children starve and die! We should pray we don't serve time for our injustice!!

If the ET comes to you — are you learning? Are you clued? Don't waste your time in horror or disgust! Is there method in the "madness," or are you crippled by your sadness because exploded, friend, is that which held your trust?

Don't bemoan their nameless tactics or mysterious detachment, its your culture that’s the one to keep you down! The ET's are a shadow from the whole of what's unknown... too, might likely usurp culture... by putting smiles over frowns!

See, it's your culture making tears, it's your culture breeding fear! It's your culture at the root of mocking laughter. It sets the tone for your derision... and it's culture's lack of vision that is truly your tormentor and detractor.

Like, define for me "success," and an easy, spot on, guess would be space flight for a species or a race. Live in structures WE enjoin between the stars that WE employ, and have humankind extant across an awesome... "timeless" space!

Note our lack of this "success," and further note profound distress, as we poison our environs; I'll be frank... ...we are hanging by a thread; a bug or rock could strike us dead; we are by no means successful; you might take that to the bank...

If we want ET respect?  We should deserve it, I suspect! We could clean up, first, our act, right here on Earth! We should end our petty tyrannies, be empowered individually — be a synergy much greater... than we were!

See, the individual's now disdained, a manipulated brain — programmed by 'the man' to do his bidding. Though the day will come, and soon, then we'll find we've got more room... as the multi-verse unfolds ... it will be fitting!
...Tick ... tick ...tick ... Who are you? Tick ...tick ...tick ...What do you want? Tick ...tick ...tick ...Why don't you have it? Tick ... tick ... tick ... ... Read on.  Tick ... tick ... ti...

Saturday, September 11, 2010

...One Finger Salute...


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You gaze upon the vastnesses of starry, starry nights... see washed out points of light-polluted... symbols... of your fright. Then, sensing but a fraction of the vastness truly there, you pray its existentialness won't put you to its dare.

Though, proceed into that "darker" space? Why, your fraction's even smaller, despite (because!) you're seeing more? ...Enigma growing taller! That "space" is huge, immense, unknown. Its girth is ever larger. Its length and breadth accelerate, and its not a disobliger.

Space, plus time and surface area! A wealth of all potential! A wealth of what's required for the human not essential. The lesson is: no limits for the perspicacious mind! The individual's paramount, and SHALL NOT BE CONFINED!

It's there are found perspectives of a billion trillion ids! If you've thought it? It has happened, friend, and has happened as it did! And much, much more WILL happen than is thought of in those minds who inhabit our shared multi-verse... quickened hugeness — hoary time!

There is darkness which transcends George Bush, or Hitler — even Stalin! There are miseries undreamed of in the foulness of the fallen. Despair so thick it runs in veins of toxic waste it dreams ... reflecting all the misery of shrieks and moaning screams...

...But balance is equality so "the inverse" also happens! There is truth and light and sun washed right to complement its lesson. There's the loving scent of leaves of grass on a million peaceful worlds, a touch of silk —so cobweb sheer— on healthy frames unfurls. Unclouded and so unafraid... . never "screwing for percentage," they are living, laughing, loving, and they know a sweet advantage.

Like its fiction in a "StarTrek," or a "StarWars"? Love abides. This means: feeling good is honored when it's felt with humble pride. This means looking out to see new works as lasting... without sin! This means achieving all their dreams AND satisfactions found therein!

See, here's breathing free with honor in a world they help build. There's completeness for that *spot* within... you love it when it's filled! They respect the individual, the key to their success! So, they live in lucent Edens they construct, but I digress...

Garibaldi, something like him, lives his life of looming failure; his "Captain" takes a sacrifice to task... ...Anything can happen on a million billion worlds! Dr. Drake can only tell you 'cause he's asked.

Drake's more than just a WAG, my friend; he's conservative as hell; he is science très myopic... ...but he's got a tale to tell. See, he qualifies veracity that *others* do exist, could watch us span potential ... watch some of us resist... ...Could be looking from the shadows some avoid in abject fear... ... go beyond the jealous envelope one maintains and labels: "queer."

We profit from our darknesses? We hasten from the light? We live our short depressing lives in disrespecting spite?  Earth is but a point in space... and cursed with infestation? A cancer rages in her flesh; it's humankind's gestation? Those self-aware must wonder... "...will we meet our test"? Will we wallow in our toxic filth or rise amidst the best?

Will we screw for best percentage like Ms. Ripley once observed, and grind ourselves beneath our heel unrepentant... undeterred? Or will we work to meet these *others*, grok a history handed down, though it crumble proud foundations of old systems non-profound?

I'd like to think we're brave enough to face our craven monsters, though these mosters be ourselves, this chance we should not squander.  We are poets not pretenders, we are languages of paint, we are writers and we're song-smiths... we aspire to the saints!



It does little good and much bad to maintain that these are not ...precipitous... times.
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On the one hand we look into untroubled skies with a good clearing breath in our collective chest — remarking that it's a grand time to be alive ... on the other hand — well, the other hand is empty... empty and cold.
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Worse? It is a hand entirely soiled. See, the vast majority of individuals on this planet are passing their squalid days très miserable, at best... discounted by a psychopathic western civilization as bigoted as it is arbitrary and as wasteful as it is self-consumptive.
Culture would seem to eat its young after dehumanizing, criminalising, and otherwise short-sheeting them. ...It's not your friend.
We feel this on levels underlying the brave fronts we put up during the day, holding this tenuous *thing we call reality* together in gnashing teeth and scratching nails. Some of us are able to hear the screams of those who fall to the wayside, or under foot, in this mad dash to covet some suggested satisfaction; we smell those ground up for grease to lubricate the lifestyles of a dwindling few; we see the disrespected staggers of real people suffering their nutritionally induced retardation; we feel the hopelessness, despair, and anguish of a MAJORITY of INDIVIDUAL persons who inhabit an insignificant and brown tinged, if blue and white, point in space...
I think it explains the popularity of "Titanic" memes — themes of increasing frequency for us as a singularity of concrescence approaches; that ship a metaphor for the *impossible* occurring; a complete and absolute destruction, even disappearance, of the very ground you stand upon; a sudden plunging out of sight into the black, high pressure, and terrifying unknowns of soul death and corporeal dissolution.
Maybe we go out with some blustery passion, or not — but go out we do? The slide to crushing conclusion is complete for both?
Maybe.
I stand as round shouldered and vulnerable as any, but I square those shoulders to hoist a one fingered salute to any fate that sweeps down on all of us, or just on me. I'll face what's true, and make it work, if I'm able! Or not.
The salute, an existential reality of occurrence, remains.

Restore John Ford.