Thursday, July 02, 2020

...Anthropomorphism's Malapropisms...




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I've sensed wild dolphins "thinking
through a treasured friend of mine, 
though their meaning 
swam just in and out... 
of focus. 
You'd think you'd understood it, 
then so quickly it is found... 
*understanding
has some different kinds 
of locus.

Your top is inside out
and you find more room for doubt! 
Any "meaning" frankly crumbles... 
...in your hand. 
You are lost and incomplete... 
disadvantaged, sans receipt
and the values that you're missing 
you're not built to understand.

What follows? 
A portrayal...
 of a dolphin's unique thinking. 
A look inside the process 
of a "mind." 
It's not what you're expecting, 
likely off if you're detecting 
"understanding
in the *pictures* that you find...

So, see the "bigger picture."
See a forest for its trees.
...But remember that
the "bee's knees of creation"...
Is not what humans think...
we, who've led us to the brink
of dissolution, utter chaos,
and destruction...
...
...
[...Splash! ...Then...]
...
...
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Simplicity, eccentricity,
glove-feeling liquid space!
Pair and touch, 
and fly for brunch
...our pleasure is our grace.
                             
Free and clear, 
if one large fear, 
but spread out in the POD;
   the girls provide solidity

it's them who talk to _*_.

Murky water is a clarity 
we can "see" in ultrasound, 
that the water is her body 
makes my lover more profound.
We see undulating liquid ... 
it's the beating of our hearts.
Our brains aglow with energy, 

our fins are fairy art.
Our thoughts are more enduring 

than the canyons out beyond;
It's our presence is a blessing 

That we know the Truer God. 
The *mindless* ones 
are not about 
to suffer any folksters.
Those "senseless ones"

who live up-out 
are enigmatic youngsters.

Our mystery is the *human-being* 

who stay in the *above*,
made captives of their *fingers* 

they are lost, depraved, benumbed.
The water's getting deeper, 

and we wonder what they'll do.
We hope they don't move out with us, 

unless, of course, they'd grok the blue...

...And fribble in the narb way, 

or mittle in the greeb,
and never, never 

slap their bill 
to growl a hapless neeb.
...Wouldn't it be rapture 

if they hammeled 
out their carns?
If they
leedled 

in the briny 
with their vornals 
in their slarns?
Is it feebled artful noffle

Or do they plother nobben falien ...
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...And it's then, right here, you have to stop! 
The thoughts just get too "alien"!

They're accusing 
and they challenge 
what we humans hold so dear. 
They see us as deficient, 
and it's us, friend, 
causing fear. 
It's us, wrong minded and obscene; 
it's us to waste resources; 
it's us to sow our disrespect, 
and tack our errant courses. 
It's us to foul their briny homes; 
filth eats them all alive! 
It's us to catch them in our nets,
then hate them as despised. 
...And still, they won't molest us, 
or give out like they get. 
Even Orcas won't ingest us 
though we've swum with baby seals, 
yet!

The point? 
We don't communicate... 
with "folks" some still think FISH
Some humans even EAT them...
a refined and genteel dish! 
Expand that illustration 
to the folks just down the street...
maybe slightly better eating... 
'til you smell their burning meat...

Like, we impose our motives, folks, 
on creatures from "black space"! 
We would box them into category
we'd assign to them their "place." 
We, who know so little
would pretend to make distinction; 
we, the "gross untested" 
who provide our own extinction!

We would call them *bad* or *good*, 
and write for them their ethics. 
We'd pretend to understand them, 
and predict, for them, aesthetics
We would make pronouncements 
on their conduct or their "badness." 
We would place a value 
on the methods of their *madness*. 
We would squeeze a dollar 
from our wan pontifications, 
and then mock a search 
for honest truth... 
so lost to obfuscation!

Why, we can't "speak" to human beings 
who are the very same... 
yet we'd "humanize an alien," 
and ascribe to them our shame! 
We make them strangely subject 
to the whims of our economy; 
they sell our cars, machines that wash...
they ape our weird philosophy? 
We're, sure (!), our most dishonest 
when we deal amongst ourselves! 
How in hell 
can we decide 
their program; 
(please!) do tell!


...With An *Other*...



  • Especially when no real *looking* is going on, right? No looking, inexplicably, even in this day of official admissions regarding current events from the US Navy. No looking ...except, of course, by an accepted minority of honest, talented, and largely concerned individuals. It remains that these individuals are decidedly apart from the mainstream and found in a deplored ufologist *fringe*. 

  • At least, good reader, as that "fringe" is characterized by those largely self-interested persons who profit in support of a dodgy klatch of errant souls caught under that VAST malapropism of... the mainstream! The mainstream: a mechanism of empowered psychopaths struggling furiously to profit the few at the clear expense of the many... ...and so not any kind of real society serving "mainstream," really, at all.

  • Still—UFOs are jammed up our nose in peculiar, self-limiting, if salable ways... at every conceivable opportunity! Somebody is *paying* to keep the possibility of the *other* alive. But a "safe" possibility—a "controllable," and therefore a malleable or "deniable" one?

  • Why? Why, indeed. Wonder why we'd wonder that in a constructive crunch of metacognition...
  • Perhaps... it's simply but that we really are... ...not alone, reader! Take a moment to let that sink in... then reflect that these suggested entelechies may likely be worse news for the folks in charge and profiting than the folks inadequately charged and paying out too dearly.  Sure... they may eat our heads. They may improve and elevate our heads, too. Both or neither. Remains the future, right? That spins out regardless.
  • Official acknowledgment in the grand sense may even coerce the unadmitted unelected leadership to re-update, re-consider, and revamp its self-serving by-laws, codices, and rules, right? This is a nasty toil and an odious exercise if you weren't doing that as a matter of course... trying to officiate a sane and sensible society. Yeah... this is something they loathe, even if understandably, to do. No one wants to redo work thought done... ...Yet, a pox upon them for their self-serving infidelity and not performing same!
  • It's an intellectually self-serving solitude they crave. No exterior witnesses to their lurid non-constructive crimes...

  • Intellectual solitude? The very idea of an intellectual "solitude" in the multiverse, it's found in reflection, is ludicrous and wasteful... even obscene

  • Moreover, that root idea as expressed has a potentiality so close to zero that you'd win a dozen lotteries before arriving in a universe where the aforementioned "ludicrous" was still, remotely, possible! Truth, I suspect. There is no solitude! There never has been.
  • Forget, see, the too constrained, Drake Equation! Dr. Amir D. Aczel, a Massachusetts University mathematics professor and author of ...Probability 1... (about a minute in on James Fox's Out of the Blue film documentary) shows that the likelihood of an *other* is so close to 100% (a decimal followed by a near unending succession of "9"s), that its ultimate value is indistinguishable from one chance... ...in one! 100%
  • Reader! Indistinguishable! One hundred percent!
  • Remember too, truth-seeker, that humanity itself is its own proof positive that the *other* exists... it's own proof of concept! How does that work?
  • Here it is in a nutshell: Nothing that can happen at all... ...happens just once, reader! Not in this universe.
  • If it's happened "once"...?...it's happened a million times... a billion times.
  • We "happened..." Verily.
  • With regard to Fermi's Paradox? Where are they? Where are these *others*, then?
  • Well, seven categories of very compelling evidence, evidence enduring every risible if highly organized effort to deride, dismiss, and despoil same... ...says... ...*they (plural is obvious)*... ...are here! Run off into the forest, screaming, now... I'll wait for you to come back...
  • [...Jeopardy Music plays...]
  • ...What does the preceding mean to you? Outside of being removed from the playpen and given the supervised run of the *house*, *appliances*, and what-not (...cosmic neighborhood/suburb/state/nation...planet?)? Not a damned thing! You can stay in the play-pen!
  • ...Yes, you can remain in your straining status of imagined cultural stasis, watch the fly-ridden and increasingly fetid feces-piles stack up in somebody else's corner, endure that which is shoveled down upon you, yourself... get increasingly more sick and infirm and then... ...and then expire gracelessly in misery so profound that Greek-like tragedies would be penned, ultimately, in mournful remembrance of it... had anyone survived. A great legacy for the kids, eh?
  • ...Don't think they don't know it, either.
  • The alternative?
  • Well, that's summed up in spreading your arms, neatly cleaving your heavens... ...then deliberately soaring to a spot far in advance of what the "crib-dwellers" keep so far away from them to their fronts...reader. What you'll be perceiving, yourself, as left far behind.
  • Behind is the toxic afterbirth of our tortured spawning.
  • Ahead? A universe of potentiality, profundity... permission—dammit... a responsibility!—to explore these things as an intimation of our conjectured immortality.
  • You choose for humanity, reader. Alone and sullenly masturbating in a stifling closet quickly filling with your own fecal matter, or making a productive and multi-faceted intercourse with a galaxy of *other* beings... ...the evidence says are there... and already interacting with us! What's it going to be?
  • The concrescence LOOMS, folks!
  • Consider. Even in the dim, dim unlikelihood that we were alone, reader. We're much better served by functioning culturally in a manner like we were not.  We are, even as unlikely as that likely may be, alone in the multiverse, or we are not. Both are as astonishing as the other, and here we are, reader... disrespecting, degrading, and dismissive of both potential realities vis a vis our disgustingly juvenile and insentient behavior.

  • Be that as all that may be, our largest humility with regard to the matter would NOT be unjustified. Why, it might even be appreciated.
  • ...Think that alien just conjectured doesn't realize Cetaceans are people
  • Restore John Ford, but read on.

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