Sunday, October 24, 2010

...Strange Treasure...


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...


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... 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."


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.


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.